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Delenn of Mir and John Sheridan

Author: NWHS

Author's Note: This was supposed to be completed and posted on Valentine's Day. Not that it's a Valentine fic per se. It's a fun, fluff piece I just wanted to write. February 14th, notwithstanding, romance and sex is always in order.

Quality, Quantity, Quickie

Chapter 1: Pushed to the Limit

God, this is good. She feels good; too damn good. So close. So. Close.

"Are you ready, honey?" John's low, raspy voice came on a husky moan. The only other sounds in the room were that of flesh slapping against flesh and deep, heavy breathing. His. Hers. "Are you ready, Delenn?" he asked again, looking up and at his wife. Please, God, let her be ready this time.

But Delenn didn't answer him. John wasn't even sure if she'd heard him. Her eyes were closed, head tilted back, hands gripping the sheets at her side. And, damn, she was exquisite when she was in the throes of passion, hair wild, chest heaving, mouth open on a hungry, sensual groan.

And she rode him, not hard and unforgiving, but slow, deliberate, and utterly erotic. Delenn never rushed their lovemaking. In fact, she took great care to make sure they were both satisfied.

John spared a quick glance toward the nightstand and at Delenn's yellow and blue crystal timepiece. Fifty-five minutes. They'd been at this nearly an hour. He didn't think he'd last another five minutes. Hell, two minutes if Delenn swiveled her hips like that again, causing his own hips to involuntarily lift off the bed, slamming into her with a force that brought them both pleasure. Damn her.

She opened her eyes then, peered down at him, and curse her wicked Minbari soul, smiled before swiveling her hips again. Harder. Faster. Wetter.

He was going to explode and Delenn still hadn't come yet. John cursed his wife again, this time her wretched Minbari stamina. If any part of Delenn, other than her long, brown hair, was Human, he'd sure like to know what. Because, damn if he'd ever been with a woman who could go as long as they normally did without begging for him to come and "come now."

And, hell, three months into their marriage and they still fucked as long and hard as they did their first night together. Admittedly, John had a store of pent up sexual tension when he and Delenn finally consummated their union. And, yeah, going an hour or more was no problem. Doing it more than once a day was also no problem. Hell, claiming her a second time on the heels of the first was also no big deal. John had sperm and hardness to spare. It had, after all, been years since he'd seen, no less felt the inside of a woman's body. Sad but true.

But now, with them both back at work, dealing with the Alliance, Rangers, and telepaths, all those long sex sessions were catching up with John Sheridan. While he hated to admit it, his stamina wasn't what it used to be. He wasn't a young man anymore with a perpetual hard-on. Those glorious and taken-for-granted days were long behind him. Then there were his other fears, ones he didn't want to give voice or thought to.

Delenn leaned down and over him. Slowly licked the shell of his ear before whispering, "I'm ready, John." He almost shouted "Thank God," but flipped her onto her back instead.

With a surprised yelp, Delenn quickly adjusted to the change in power positions. But not before he quickly took advantage of her slight disorientation and plunged deep, smiling when a contented breath left Delenn followed by a mumbled Minbari curse.

Oh, yeah, John loved he could do this to Delenn; make her forget all good manners and well-bred Religious Caste training. Besides, there was no room for such nonsense in their bed, not when they could put the space to much better use.

He was, Delenn having set his bull free with her words of "I'm ready." Yes, and so was he, the leash gone, only open plane before him. Snorting at the freedom given him, John barreled forward.

Delenn's legs wrapped around his swiftly moving hips, arms held tight to taut shoulder, mouth captured his lips. And they were together in this, holding each other inexplicably tight, touching on every plane possible. Limbs and lips twined; taking and giving pleasure, sweaty sinews and burning need.

Then they exploded, in unison and loud. Thunderclaps of release shot through John, his organ seeming to expand and lengthen, reaching farther into Delenn, claiming her as deeply as possible. As deep and as much as she could allow, her own banks overflowing, pulling him along with the strong, gripping tide of release.

Ragged breathing. Him. Her.

Boneless limbs. Him. Her.

Satiated bodies. Him. Her.

With effort, John turned to the crystal timepiece again. Ninety minutes. Dear lord, Delenn was going to kill him. It would be a pleasurable death, but still . . .

Before drifting off to sleep, John formulated a plan, one that involved introducing his Minbari lover to a little Earth custom known as the "quickie." As far as John was concerned, a perfectly good ritual practiced by every married couple he'd ever met.

Yes, a Sheridan-initiated ritual. John was pleased with his plan, nodding to himself as he pulled his warm wife to him, snuggling them both under the covers.

He was exhausted, but he wouldn't be come morning.

He and Delenn rarely had morning sex. Not that she was opposed to it, but once they began sharing quarters, John learned exactly when Delenn contacted either her cast or the Grey Council. Four or five o'clock in the god damn morning.

While annoying as hell, it made perfect sense. The time difference between Minbari space and the space station was nearly twelve hours. "It's easier for one person to adjust their schedule, than it is for several," she'd told him the first night he'd awaken alone in bed and staggered out to the living room in search of his missing wife.

So what if it made perfect sense, it did nothing for early morning sex. In fact, the ever accommodating Delenn had taken to arranging all her Minbar conference calls on the days in which she stayed in his quarters, leaving him to his rest while she began her day. "It's better this way, John. I would hate to disturb you, especially since you keep such late hours."

It was true, he did keep late hours. And no matter how quiet Delenn tried to be, he invariably woke, unable to go back to sleep, making him cranky for the rest of the day. Pretty much taking morning sex off the menu.

But now John had a plan. A good plan if he did say so himself. With his last bit of strength, John reached over and adjusted the alarm on his wife's timepiece. Smiling, John floated off to sleep, images of a naked, panting Delenn in his head.