Night Alone

John Sheridan paced restlessly in his quarters, waiting for the message to come through. The information that Ivanova had brought back from Epsilon Three was an unexploded bomb that Sheridan hoped would go off right in Clark's lap.

Dancing around Musante was leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He thought of the political officer with distaste. She was addressing the Nightwatch today so hopefully she'd stay out of his hair tonight. Sheridan sighed. Having her underfoot was going to cause a lot of trouble soon. Hell, it had caused enough trouble already. She'd already set herself up to give him a sleepless night, even before dropping her clothes. That added bit of charm only added to the headache.

The first real offer in who knows when and it's with THAT! John shook his head in disgust. Unfortunately, there's no polite way to say, I'm sorry but you make my penis want to go hide under the bed.

The stellar com beeped, causing him to spin around. "Gold channel message for Captain Sheridan."


"Captain Sheridan. They sent one of their hounds to snoop on you, Johnny."

"General Hague. They did at that. She's keeping me hopping, let me tell you. General, I have some information. It may be the break we've been needing."

"We could use it. The Nightwatch has been placed in every area of government now. Mails and transmissions are routinely scanned for evidence of "sedition". Military officials are being arresting on charges of conspiring to mutiny. We're being screwed bad, Johnny. And they're not even using Astroglide."

John gave a humorless laugh. "They still make that stuff? I thought Slipmaxx is the lube of choice now."

Hague smiled. "No, no. That was so slick it was confiscated by the Psicorps."

John chuckled and held up a data crystal. "I'll scramble this to you, General. You can get it where it needs to go."

"Stay a step ahead of Musante, John. She doesn't miss a thing if she can help it."

"You don't know how much."

"Hague out."

"Sheridan out."

Sheridan went to the bar and poured himself a stiff drink. He belted it back and rubbed his eyes. God, he was tired. Picking up the bottle and glass he went into the bedroom.

Putting the bottle and glass down on the night table and took off his shoes and jacket. "Lights dim. Might as well try to get some sleep." He took off his shirt and trousers and stretched out on top of the comforter. Leaning over, he poured another drink. Resting the glass on his chest, he stared off into nothing.

She did have nice tits. John thought, taking a sip. Why can't someone make a pass at me without having a neon sign saying "Ploy", "Ploy" flashing over their head?

John sighed and took another drink. It had been a long time since he'd had sex. There had been a few random encounters after Anna had gone; rough, hurried, over- sensitized encounters that seemed to suppress passion rather than relieve it. He craved emotional satisfaction as well physical, and right now he had little chance at either. You're just too principled, John. He set the empty glass aside and refilled it. Why don't you just throw Susan down on your desk and bang her brains out?

He laughed to himself as he brought the glass up to his lips. Because she'd headbutt me in the face, that's why. Anyway, I couldn't fuck Susan. It'd be like going to bed with my sister.

She's not who I want... Who am I fooling?

He set the glass down and closed his eyes. There was a chill in his stomach.

Green eyes. Dark, silky hair. A soft touch on his hand, his face.

"Don't look away, Captain."

His breath caught at the memory.


Holding her in his arms after the ordeal with Sebastian. Feeling her warmth, her strength as she pressed against him.

What is she to you?

Who I want...

Was he too scared to know?

The feel of her body, pressed close. The fragrance of her hair intoxicating him. The texture of her bone crest against his cheek.

His cock stirred now as it had not then.

The rise and fall of her sweet breasts against his chest carved into his memory. She had leaned on him as he guided her out of the sector. He'd released her reluctantly, too reluctantly.

He didn't want another drink. Absently, he rubbed himself through his shorts.

He recalled the night they had gone to dinner, when she'd worn the black dress. She'd taken his breath away. If she had been anyone else, he'd have made one helluva pitch. But she wasn't just anyone. She was the ambassador to Minbar. And somehow he didn't think a pass by Starkiller Sheridan would go over well.

A few months ago at Christmas, while explaining the whole mistletoe curiosity to her... he'd been so embarrassed. God, he'd almost stammered like a kid. Then when they'd danced in his office, all he could think about was leaning forward and capturing her mouth with his own. Feel her soft lips, touch her tongue, taste her sweet breath. Kiss her over and over and over.

He was very hard now.

You're getting in too deep, John-o.

Then let me drown.

His breath was rapid and irregular. With an embarrassed flush, he reached into the night table drawer and pulled out a small bottle of lube. Psicorps missed this bottle, he thought. With a small flush of shame, he pushed his shorts off.

"I just came to see how you are doing," she had said.

This time, take her in his arms. Claim her sweet mouth. Kiss her, soft and warm. Then with more passion, tasting, exploring. Kiss her along her jaw, her throat, the lobes of her ears. Would she gasp with pleasure, hold him tighter?

The cool lube in his hand. Rubbing the moisture on his hot cock.

Yes. Whisper to her, "I want you Delenn. Here, now. You're so beautiful, you make me feel so much. Say you want this..."

Her voice soft and thick with passion, "Yes, John, yes."

Leading her to his bed. Drawing off her clothes, slowly, teasing her as well as him. Slowly revealing her beautiful body in all its mysteries. He could imagine her beautiful breasts, soft, warm, nipples hardening under his touch. The rapid feel of her heart as he lays his hand between them. Her smooth abdomen, the sweet curve of her hips. She probably doesn't have underarm or pubic hair he reasoned. She doesn't have eyebrows. The idea was strangely erotic to him. Her legs, the color of heavy cream, slowly revealed from beneath her stockings.

She would be a vision.

He imagined she would be somewhat self-conscious. Having your appearance change so radically must affect how you see yourself. He thought she was beautiful, but how would she judge herself?

How would she judge him?

Would she help him undress? His erection throbbed at the idea. Pushing his shirt off, caressing the muscles of his back, kissing his throat, his shoulders. Running her hands down his spine, pushing his trousers down in back as he unfastened them in front. Moving her hands over his flanks, her fingertips grazing his upper thighs. Holding him close, his penis trapped against her belly, growing unbearably hard. Lifting her to the bed. Kissing her, kissing her, kissing her.

God, Delenn.

Her soft gentle touch, growing more hungry every second. Gasping her name at the first touch of his cock. Pulling her on top of him, caressing her back, cupping her soft buttocks. Slipping a hand between her legs as his mouth closes over a nipple. Hearing her moan as he opens her.

His hand moved faster on himself.

Wet, hot, and velvety she instinctively presses against his exploring hand. Her hands hold his head against her breasts. His thumb finds her clitoris as his fingers thrust in and out of her. Her body welcomes him.

He moaned with taboo desire, bending his knees. He stroked himself hard, almost painfully hard.

Her moans of pleasure echo inside. She comes sharply, crying out his name. She falls liquid on his chest, panting. Her whisper, "I love you, John."

Kissing her moist, relaxed mouth roughly. "Tell me again when I'm inside you."

The spark of understanding in her gentle eyes. Moving her legs, taking him in, gasping with pleasure at his penetration. Her hands gripping his shoulders as she meets his fierce rhythm. The intensity of it is beyond his experience.

Delenn, Delenn, Delenn. Her name the mantra to the motion of his touch.

His grip on her hips is close to bruising, but he can't help himself. His eyes are wet. "John, I love you," is torn from her throat as she climaxes again and again.

Now, yes, now.

His swimming gaze finds her sweet face and his control is lost. He draws her into a tight embrace and silvery tears streak down his face.

"Love you, Delenn. Love you so much."

His voice echoed in the empty room. He rolled over on his side, startled.

He'd spoken aloud.

He'd meant it. It was the truth.

He pulled the comforter over him, curling up in its warmth. Closing his eyes, he slipped into sleep.