John notices her the first time she comes into the bar, and every night thereafter. She's beautiful, her clothes just a little too nice for a woman spending her evenings nursing one or two drinks alone in a place like this. John might not have marked her as anything special except she occasionally got this wistful look on her face that he wished futilely he could fix. He starts talking to her, first just the usual banter, but slowly it turns into something familiar and intimate, comfortable in a way women usually aren't for him.
His life after the Air Force is classes during the days and tending bar at night. It's a good way to not be alone but not have to get too close to anyone. He's older than a lot of the other grad students, even the non-traditional ones. And a lot of the women who come into the bar and flirt with him seem either too young or too old. Their house musicians don't exactly draw a young crowd, although Teyla can rock out when she chooses.
Rodney says he's just being picky. John rolls his eyes and refrains from pointing out that Rodney couldn't stick with anyone for more than a few weeks until Radek suffered whatever severe blow to the head made him fall for Rodney.
Teyla has her disturbingly hot boyfriend who picks her up at night after her set is done and Rodney has helped her pack up their instruments and equipment. Ronon has women young and old throwing themselves at him to get in the door of the bar, but he goes home at night to his wife and their kids.
All three of them have tried to set John up, but it never works. In his bed, in his shower, he pictures her green eyes and pale skin when he touches himself.
He doesn't flatter himself that she comes to the bar to see him, but in the space of a few weeks he finds himself annoyed on nights when she doesn't show. He doesn't have the right to ask where she was, but when she comes back, her eyes give an apology that he can't miss.
She stays late, and then later, until one night they're talking and everyone else has left.
He kisses her, leaning into her body on the barstool, fighting his desires and keeping the kiss almost chaste before he pulls away. He waits, trying to read her eyes for a hint what to do next.
Elizabeth fists her hands in his shirt and drags his mouth back to hers.
In between wet, lingering kisses, he mumbles out something he really hadn't planned on saying. He's intensely surprised when she grins.
Elizabeth lets him lift her onto the surface of the bar and slide her stockings and underwear down her long legs. Her skirt is rucked up around her hips and she throws her head back as he parts her legs and licks her hungrily. He buries himself in her smell and her taste and growls as his body throbs with wanting to be in her. Her thighs squeeze around his head as he makes her come hard with his mouth.
He keeps fingering her as she pants and clings to him, whispering a confession of her own.
He's more than happy to help her down. Elizabeth turns around, holding on to the railing, her skirt hiked up all the way, so he can slide into her from behind. He fondles her ass while she bends over the bar, encouraging him to take her like this.
He knows she's watching them fuck in the mirror above the bar, but he can't see it and he'd rather look at her as he pumps into her hard and fast.
When he's done and they separate she fixes her clothes. He knows she'll probably pat his arm or kiss his cheek and walk out the door and out of his life. She's out of his league, always has been, and he's just been too consumed with lust to care if she was just slumming it. The miserable litany in his head screeches to a halt, though, when she touches his cheek. The look in her eyes is knowing and shy all at once.
"John? Take me home?"
He apologizes for doubting her with a quick kiss and hurries to get his keys so they can leave the bar behind.