The Water Rushes
By Deirdre
July, 2006

The doors slide open with a barely audible whoosh, and as Miko steps in, the absolute darkness lightens to a pale pre-dawn grey, welcoming her. She squats to unlace her boots and then pries them off, setting them neatly beside the tumbled trainers at the side of the door, shoes only slightly larger than her own. Their laces tangle together companionably, red and white, and the sight makes her smile, silly though it is to find such a simple, random thing so sweet.

Padding across the living area in her socked feet, she stops at the chair—too big, too soft, but Radek has an unreasoning love of it—she sees a magazine left open on the arm of the chair, and picks it up. The light automatically adjusts to a higher level so she can read, and she sees the article he’d meant for her, an essay on cherry blossom festivals in Japan, lavishly illustrated. The pictures are so vivid, she can almost smell the scent of blossoms, feel the cool spring breeze lift her hair and sprinkle delicate petals along her shoulders. She can remember travelling with her family to Hirosaki for the festival, sitting down with a picnic lunch beneath the clouds of blooms. Back in Kyoto, her mother still has her kimono stored safely away, and Miko wishes Radek could see her wearing the shimmering silk, if only once. He would like it very much, she thinks. Bringing a hand to her mouth, she feels her lips curve into a smile behind her fingertips.

Someday, they’ll visit there and walk beneath the beautifully cloaked black branches, her hand just brushing against his. And someday, he’s promised, they’ll visit Prague, stroll arm in arm along the Charles Bridge and go to the Staré Mesto to listen to the jazz he loves so much. Someday. Miko’s been on Atlantis long enough, has calculated the odds of survival often enough that she knows someday might never come, but the thoughts curl sweetly in her chest, warm promises against the cold terror of uncertainty.

Miko closes the magazine, pleased he’d so kindly thought of her, places it back on the chair, and continues toward the bedroom. The lights go off in the living room and on softly in the bath, muted behind the ambered stained-glass door. A rustle of linens draws her attention; Radek is a lumpy blanket-covered shape, and she waits a moment to see if he shifts into wakefulness, but when he settles once more with a little sigh, she continues on to the bath.

The experiment’s simulations had gone on much longer than they’d anticipated, and she’s weary, more than ready to shower, crawl into bed, and sleep for twelve hours. She’ll get six, if she’s lucky; Dr. Kavanagh will undoubtedly get back to work early and call her repeatedly until she shows up once more. She gives a passing thought to taking her ear comm and tucking it into the toe of her boot so she won’t hear him page, but dismisses that as childish. He is not so difficult to work with, really, if she keeps him away from Dr. McKay; they are far too much alike—brilliant and temperamental and arrogant—to work well together.

Once in the bath, with the door closed behind her, Miko sets her glasses on the counter. Without them, the world gentles into a smudgy blur. She removes her ear comm, clicks it off and leaves it on the counter. With a tired sigh, she pulls the tie from her ponytail, shakes her head, and her hair falls around her shoulders, lank with sweat. Her clothes are not much better, and she sheds them gratefully, then thinks the shower on, and to the perfect temperature. By the time she steps over the little partition that keeps the water in place, the room has filled with warm steam.

She leans against the wall on outstretched arms and lets her head drop to her chest, humming softly under her breath, enjoying the pound of water against the back of her neck and her shoulders. Though Dr. Kavanagh is more patient with her than with anyone else, and they work well together, he is still not an easy man to bear, and tension knots her back and neck from long hours of exposure to him. All she would have to do is murmur something in Radek’s ear, and he would juggle assignments and put her with someone less abrasive, but she likes the research well enough, and Dr. Kavanagh is clever and innovative enough that it outweighs his superior, sarcastic nature. It is, after all, the science which is important, not the personalities of the scientists involved. This she firmly believes, though on some days, she finds that belief greatly tested.

The military issued shampoo is serviceable enough, but she wishes for the shampoo she’d used back in Kyoto—it had a delicate fragrance of jasmine that lingered almost all day. She’d brought a couple of bottles with her, smuggled in amongst equipment—how daring she’d felt, doing that—and remembers how, when she used it, Radek would bury his face in her hair and inhale deeply, blissfully. Though he is no less free with his caresses, she still misses that one in particular.

She steps from beneath the water and flings her hair from her face, wiping water from her face and eyes. When she opens them, she sees movement peripherally, and jumps, startled, feet skittering on wet tile, one hand going to the wall to steady herself.

“It’s just me,” comes Radek’s low voice, and when she focuses, he becomes distinct from the steam, standing just on the other side of the partition.

“Oh,” she breathes, and places her hand over her wildly pounding heart. All of them who lived through the siege of the Wraith are jumpy, easily startled, and it has become habit to announce oneself, or to make some sort of noise, when coming up from behind.

“I didn’t mean to startle you so,” he says, and he sounds apologetic.

Miko waves a hand; already her heart has begun settling down to a normal pace. “It’s all right,” she says. “Were you standing there long?”

“Long enough,” he replies, and now he sounds amused; although she can’t distinctly see his face, she has seen the expression that accompanies that tone often enough.

She feels suddenly exposed, and resists the urge to hide behind her hands. It is foolish to feel so, when she has shared his bed for almost a year, now, and he has touched and kissed every centimeter of skin, when he knows her body as well as his own. “Were you watching me?”

“Oh, yes,” he says, and his voice falls deeper and richer with a masculine appreciation that makes things tighten low in her belly. In spite of the warmth of the shower, she feels heat rise up into her cheeks. She doesn’t really understand why he likes to watch her—she knows she is plain and not beautiful to the eye, like her sister, Midori—but he does, and it doesn’t seem to matter to him whether she’s clothed or naked, on duty, or off. Although she doesn’t understand it sometimes she allows herself to bask in the appreciation she sees in his eyes, and at those times, under his warm consideration, she feels almost pretty.

She can feel his gaze moving down her body, almost like a caress. The fluttery feeling of almost-embarrassment shivers into something else entirely, something that makes her nipples tighten, something that makes heat throb between her legs. It makes her suddenly needy, makes her bold, and she holds out her hand to him and says softly, “I would like it if you did more than look.”

His teeth are very white as he smiles, and were he closer she could see more clearly the deep dimple in his left cheek. She has seldom initiated things between them, preferring to follow his lead, but when she does, he’s always delighted.

He tugs the drawstring of his pajama bottoms and they slide off his hips, pooling at his feet. He steps out of them and over the low partition, and his hand wraps around hers. She pulls him close, and he springs into clear focus: wild, sleep-tossed hair, startlingly pale blue eyes, and without his glasses to blunt the lines, his features are sharper, more aggressive, softened only by the generous curve of his mouth. She runs her thumb over his full lower lip, and he turns his head enough to press a kiss into her palm.

Miko takes a half-step back so she can lean against the wall; her knees feel unexpectedly weak. She blinks water out of her eyes, and with a thought, the shower adjusts so it pours down over her belly and thighs. Radek steps closer, and places his hands on the tile over her shoulders. They are almost of a height, and she likes that, likes that he isn’t large enough to be intimidating.

There are many things she finds attractive about Radek; most are of an intellectual nature or of personality—he’s brilliant, but doesn’t feel the need to club others over the head with his abilities, he’s easy-going, a delight to work with, has a sharp sense of humor, and has little fear of standing up to Dr. McKay in full rage mode. But she can’t deny he moves her on a physical level. He’s not tall, not broad-shouldered nor muscular, but his body, slim with a soft swell of belly, pleases her very much. They fit together, convex and concave, like the yin and yang symbol.

He’s close but he doesn’t touch her, waiting for her to act, his eyes gone huge and dark, his cheeks flushed. Without looking down, she knows he’s more than half-hard; he always desires her, and it still thrills her that she affects him so easily. She reaches out and slides her hand around the nape of his neck, thumb rubbing at his bristly jaw, a gentle scritchscritch sound over the hiss and splatter of the shower. His hair, already damp from the water and steam, lies heavy and curling over the backs of her fingers.

She trails her fingers down his throat, over the bump of Adam’s apple, to the little notch where his collarbones meet. His pulse flutters there like a little trapped bird, and she smiles, knowing his heart beats more quickly for her.

Miko’s never had a lover with so much body hair—forearms, legs, belly, and chest. She likes all of him, but her favorite playground is his chest. The hair there is soft and thick, springy beneath her cheek or mouth or hands, darker than that on his head, though she has found a few silver strands and teased him gently about them. She likes to stroke her fingers through his chest hair as she settles into sleep; it’s oddly comforting. Whenever she can, she likes to curl against him, her cheek to his chest, and hear his heart beat, sure and steady, hear the rush of breath in his lungs, and although she knows it truly is illusory, she feels safe when she does.

When she slides both hands onto his chest, Radek’s breath catches, just a little. It pleases her that her touch affects him so. Though he doesn’t have the bulky muscles of the military men, she can feel them move smoothly beneath his skin, muscles gained not by weight-lifting, but in doing repairs all around Atlantis and by hard work in his labs—he’s never thought of himself as too important to shirk the heavy lifting often required in Lab Four. Little drops of water have caught in his chest hair, sparkling in the light, and when she runs her fingers over them, the hair grows darker, slick arabesques against his skin.

Her hands rub over his dark little nipples, almost hidden in the hair, and they rise sharp and tight beneath her palms. He draws in a deep breath, and his eyes flutter closed for a moment. She’d been surprised at his sensitivity there the first time she touched him; she’d not expected a man to enjoy such a thing. But she likes how he responds now, and lightly scrapes her short nails over them until she feels him shudder, feels him shift slightly closer.

She slides her hands to his sides, watching his face, tipped back, eyes closed, long lashes lying on his cheeks, black and spiky with moisture, his mouth parted as he gives himself over into sensation. He is so alive and present in pleasure, so willing to give himself over to her, and it’s thrilling, empowering, makes her want to offer him more and more.

Radek shivers when she runs her hands down his sides to his waist, and when she pulls him closer. Ducking down, she licks across his left nipple, the more sensitive one, and he tastes a little salty, but mostly of warm water. He grunts when she begins to suck at it, and shifts restlessly beneath her mouth and hands. When she bites, lightly, the way he loves it, he lets out an explosive breath.

“Miko, Miko,” he says, his voice riding rough and needy over her name. She straightens and he presses closer, until they’re skin to skin, from chest to knees, her breasts flattened against him, his thick, hard erection nestled in the hollow of her hip. His arms slide around her, and hers go around him, holding one another so tightly their ribs creak in protest. They’re almost nose to nose, and his eyes are very wide and dark. Miko works to draw in a deep breath, but with the heavy humidity of the air, Radek’s heat, his closeness, and her own spiralling excitement, she’s not sure she can. She can’t resist touching: his cheekbones, the sharp line of jaw, the curve of his ears, the nape of his neck.

His breath is warm and smells faintly of toothpaste as he covers her mouth with his own. She feels the sweet pressure of his mouth, and then Radek licks across her lower lip, seeking entrance, and she opens to him, completely. Always she has loved how he kisses, warm and wet and lingering, his attention completely on her, on her pleasure. And oh, it is a pleasure. At first he tastes of toothpaste, but that slips away until he tastes entirely of himself, and then of them. As his tongue is sly, is never still, so are his hands, sliding over her wet skin, touching her everywhere he can easily reach—the small of her back, the curve of waist to hip, the outer arc of breast.

Miko’s skin feels too tight, as if it’s a size too small for her body, and her heart pounds heavily in her chest. Her blood rushes hotly through her body and hums in her head, echoed by the hard, heavy pulse between her legs. She feels liquid, melting, molten, feels full and achingly empty. She can’t help the tremor that sweeps over her, through her, and the tumultuous clamor of her body, the need to be filled, drives away most thought. Radek’s hips roll and thrust against her belly, a thick hard ridge of flesh pushing aggressively against her softness. His hand slides from waist to her breast, thumb playing over her nipple, sending sharp, sweet sensation zinging down her body, adding to the heated fullness of want.

Radek tears his mouth from hers and they both gasp, loud and harsh above the patter of water. Miko tips her head back against the tiles, trying to catch her breath, trying to think when words seem to have scattered everywhere, leaving her unable to do anything but moan.

He lays down a line of soft, sucking kisses on her neck, and her hand smoothes up his back to knot into the thick hair at the nape of his neck. Her nipples are so hard, and tender from the abrasion of his chest hair, and when she tugs at his hair just a little, he’s easily directed downward, and his mouth, his tongue, soothes them until he begins to suck.

“Please, please,” she manages as feverish heat slithers all along her nerves, her bones, her muscles. It coils low, throbbing hard and demandingly between her legs.

He pulls away, and the water patters over them. Radek’s eyes are dark and serious and intent before he turns her, quickly and just a little roughly in his need, her feet skittering in the water, and eases her against the wall. His hands slide over her shoulders, up her arms and close around her wrists as he directs them upward, pressing her arms and hands flat against the wet tiles. She closes her eyes and puts her hot cheek to the cool wall, her whole body shaking with need. The chill tiles make her nipples tighten and ache in the best way.

Radek presses up against her tightly, pinning her to the wall. She can feel the scrape of chest hair against her back, can feel the heat of his erection slide slickly between her cheeks, between her legs. He puts his face against hers for a moment, then kisses the soft skin beneath her ear and murmurs things to her that she doesn’t understand, but that sound hot and sweet and make desire flow down her body like thick honey.

His arm circles her waist and pulls her hips back and upward just a little for a better angle, and he steps in close behind her, his hips and thighs brushing against hers. Leaning into her again, he slides a hand over her belly and down between her legs, and Miko cries out, the sound bouncing off the tiles.

“No, no,” she says, trying half-heartedly to wriggle away, because she doesn’t want to climax until he’s in her, filling her.

“Yes,” he replies, and she feels his cheek, rough with stubble, rub against her shoulder, feels his chest pressed tightly to her back, scratchy against her skin.

She throbs with every beat of her heart, and when he slides his fingers into her to test her wetness, the heel of his hand rubbing against her just right, she’s so primed, so ready and needy that she comes almost instantly against his hand, inner muscles clasping hard against his fingers within her. The pleasure pours over her, liquefies her bones, makes her cry out helplessly and she rides it to the end, though it threatens to shake her apart. When the last spasm has shivered over her, Radek slowly eases his fingers from her. “So wonderful you are, such a gift,” he says, his voice thick and rough, and he kisses the side of her neck as his hand splays over her lower belly, gentle, possessive. His arm around her, his weight pressing her against the wall, are the only things that keep her on her feet.

After she has caught her breath, when she can support some of her own weight, he begins pushing slowly into her. Although she is slick and wet, receptive, he is thick, and he has to work to gain each centimeter within her. The little noises he makes, the stretch of her body to accommodate him, sends shivers down her thighs.

When he is finally sheathed as deeply as possible, he holds her tightly against him, and she can hear him murmuring, just barely above the hiss of the shower spray. She can’t understand any of the words, but they aren’t important; it’s the tone, joyous and ardent, that matters.

Miko pulls her arms down to ease the stretch across her shoulders, and then braces her forearms against the wall, spreading her legs a little for balance. Radek begins to move against her, into her, slowly at first, then harder, faster, rocking her up onto her toes with the power of his thrusts as the pleasure takes him. Miko feels his breath hot against the back of her neck, hears his ragged gasps, feels his hand spread across her lower belly, and arousal flutters downward, followed by his questing fingers. He is too lost in his own drive to orgasm to be as skilful and deft as he usually is, but still, his touch ratchets her to ever-higher levels, and she pushes back against him, taking as well as accepting, her desire growing and swelling once more within her, filling her, threatening to overflow, like a cup filled too-full, the meniscus of the fluid shimmering, ready to break.

She breaks with a bitten-off cry before he does, her body clenching helplessly around and against him as orgasm blooms hotly within her. Radek’s hard, driving rhythm stutters, and then with a harsh gasp, he shoves himself deeply into her, his arm around her waist tightening almost painfully, his forehead pressing to her shoulder, and comes. She feels him pulse inside her, and then with one final, grinding thrust, he sags against her, slick and heavy and hot. Her entire body thrums, and she can feel his heartbeat pounding against her back, as rapid as her own. Their ragged breathing echoes off the tiles.

Just as she trembles, unable to support the both of them any longer, Radek rallies and shifts off her with moan, brushing a kiss over the top of her shoulder. He pulls out, and she immediately misses the feel of him. She turns in his arms, and he looks tired and happy and sated, looks as if pleasure shimmers over his skin as it does hers. With a smile, he cups her cheek and presses a soft kiss to her mouth.

“I would never be without you if I have a choice,” he says, his voice low and scratchy, and she smiles at him, her happiness as warm as the morning sun.

He soaps her, his touch gentle on tender flesh, and in every pass of his hands over her body, she feels what he does not say, and when it is her turn to wash him, her hands speak the same message. By the time she finishes, he is almost asleep against her, his face tucked into the curve of her neck, one arm slung loosely around her waist. She thinks the shower off, and then wrestles them out. Drying off takes a mixture of coaxing and bullying and a threat to let him sleep on the bathroom floor, but eventually, they’re both reasonably dry, and she steers them back into the bedroom, thinking the lights on at half-strength so they won’t stumble over anything.

With a sigh, he flops naked into the bed, and Miko drops the pajama bottoms at his side of the bed. She pulls on a tee shirt and a pair of panties, combs and braids her hair to keep it in place, and brushes her teeth. She picks up her ear comm off the counter, and scowls at it, but brings it back into the bedroom and sets it on the bedside table, along with her glasses.

Radek opens an eye. “If Kavanagh calls too early, I will call him vile and disgusting things in Czech,” he slurs sleepily. “Then I will repeat them in Russian, and then in French, just for good measure. Perhaps I will add in Mandarin, just to prove my vast displeasure.” He rolls to his back, making room for her, and Miko slides in and eels up to him. Already, he is very warm.

“You do not know Mandarin,” she replies.

“I know the swear words, and that is enough.”

Miko pulls up the covers around them. “I hardly think that swearing at him will cause him much distress. I’m certain he’s heard most of the names already.”

“Mm. True enough. But the rotation schedule for maintenance of the sewage treatment center is currently on my desk, and I think that we can come to a mutually-satisfying agreement, for once.” He yawns hugely and rubs at his eyes.

He turns again, facing her, and slings a thigh over her own, slides his arm beneath her head. His arm makes a satisfactory pillow, and Miko thinks off the lights and settles in. She slides her hand over his chest, fingers ruffling through the hair, finally settling over his heart. She can feel it beat strongly against her palm. Reassured, comforted, and at peace, she slips off into sleep, and dreams of cherry blossoms and Radek’s warm smile.