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Entry tags:
Knowledge by Little Red (R)
Fandom: STARGATE: ATLANTIS
Pairing: Sheppard/Weir
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mylittleredgirl
Author Website: out of the badlands
Why this must be read: If I could, I would recommend everything that Little Red writes. Long, short... drama, comedy... it doesn't matter what the length, or genre, or even the rating -- at the end of the day, she always delivers impeccable characterisations and a wonderful look at what Sheppard and Weir might be getting up to off-screen. And just in case that's not enough -- she also writes the most incredible telepathic sex I've ever seen. *g*
John Sheppard looks at her across the table and, with a start, knows exactly what she's going to do to him when dinner is over.
Elizabeth's head is down, her eyes flickering curiously over the table right in front of her like her hands or her silverware are doing something strange that only she can see. They're two meters apart, at least, and yet he can hear her breathing like her mouth is against his ear, like she's straddling his lap and stroking fingers between them and panting instead of talking because no actual words are required.
He shakes his head, remembering where he is -- off-world, a banquet, an official diplomatic function -- and writes it off as a premonition. Or a flashback. Or a hopeless, pathetic fantasy.
Knowledge
Pairing: Sheppard/Weir
Author on LJ:
mylittleredgirlAuthor Website: out of the badlands
Why this must be read: If I could, I would recommend everything that Little Red writes. Long, short... drama, comedy... it doesn't matter what the length, or genre, or even the rating -- at the end of the day, she always delivers impeccable characterisations and a wonderful look at what Sheppard and Weir might be getting up to off-screen. And just in case that's not enough -- she also writes the most incredible telepathic sex I've ever seen. *g*
John Sheppard looks at her across the table and, with a start, knows exactly what she's going to do to him when dinner is over.
Elizabeth's head is down, her eyes flickering curiously over the table right in front of her like her hands or her silverware are doing something strange that only she can see. They're two meters apart, at least, and yet he can hear her breathing like her mouth is against his ear, like she's straddling his lap and stroking fingers between them and panting instead of talking because no actual words are required.
He shakes his head, remembering where he is -- off-world, a banquet, an official diplomatic function -- and writes it off as a premonition. Or a flashback. Or a hopeless, pathetic fantasy.
Knowledge