Sam grabbed Sheppard and pushed him up against the wall of the hut. Of all the times she and O'Neill had bumped heads it had never culminated into something like this.

John's lips crashed into hers with bruising ferocity, his hands quickly divesting her of her tack vest and starting on the rest of her clothes. His tongue swiftly found its way into her mouth, his own mouth trying to sway her into submission.

He had no idea what he was in for.

Sam pushed herself away from him, shrugging the rest of her shirt off before pulling John along with her, removing his shirt as they went. John's hands wandered across her skin, moving up toward her breast before she slapped it away.

His confused expression reminded her a bit of O'Neill, though she didn't find it nearly as cute and endearing, yet.

"C'mon, Sam."

"No."

She fixed him with a stern glare, waiting for him to move.

It didn't take long. He grabbed her arm and pulled her against him, holding her close against his chest as his lips made their way to hers.

Sam struggled her way out of his embrace and went for the waist band of his pants. This had absolutely nothing to do with how good or seductive John Sheppard could be, this was all about command structure and John's ability to follow her orders. He needed to get accustomed to yielding to her authority.

John gripped her wrists and for a moment she wondered if he was going to fight her on this. She wasn't concerned that he would try to force her into anything - just as she wouldn't force him; just insist that he follow her lead - only that he would refuse to relinquish his control. She had heard talk of possible issues of him side-stepping and possibly even totally ignoring Elizabeth Weir's orders - and really, hadn't SG1 been guilty of the same at times? - but she had shrugged it off as scuttlebutt and hoped that her being military might help to avoid her having to deal with that particular facet of his personality.

She met his gaze, refusing to back down. If this was going to happen it was going to happen on her terms. He needed to learn that she wasn't going to take any insubordinate crap. All he'd had to do was discuss things with her, especially since she was in the feild with him. If he'd been on the mission with his team and she'd been back on Atlantis this might be another matter entirely, but as far as she was concerned, given the circumstances, he had overstepped his bounds.

He needed to learn that.

John's lips cocked up at the corner's, a cheeky grin spreading across his face before he seemed to realize she wasn't responding in kind and wiped all trace of humor from his expression. His hold on her wrists eased, his hands moving up her arms to her elbows, trying to nudge her closer, but she stood her ground. Her hands slowly working their way through the combination of his belt and fly, then used the excess fabric to tug John forward as she moved back toward the bed.

"So, is this like a form of punishment?"

Sam thought for a moment. 'Punishment' wasn't exactly how she would describe it, more of a 'learning experience', but then she was the one that looked at life like it was one big science experiment; with a series of observations, hypotheses, calculations and conclusions.

"Not exactly." She stopped when the back of her knees hit the bed, the fabric feeling remarkably softer than it looked. "More of a 'lesson'."

"Uh huh..." John almost smiled when Sam's lips approached his. "So, this is a lesson on what exactly?"

Sam pulled him closer, shifting her weight so that he flopped onto the bed as she turned. "If you need to ask, then you're not paying enough attention."

"So, if I pay close attention and learn from the lesson, does that mean that it stops?"

Sam glared at him, realizing that he was deliberately trying to trick her. If she said yes, he might purposely ignore her commands so as to be 'taught' another lesson; however, if she said no, then there really wasn't much of a point to this one.

"Take off your pants."

He shifted before her, slowly sliding the cargo material over his hips and down to mid-calf before stopping. Looking up at her he quirked a smile, "Can I remove my boots, or do I have to leave them on?"

Sam thought for a moment, the idea of John sprawled out on the bed with his legs bound together at the ankle by his boots and pants striking a rather intriguing chord. "You can remove them." She'd save that thought for later, and give him points for asking permission.

He was somehow... fuzzier... than she'd imagined he would be. Despite that, undid her own belt and fly and slipped the rough material of her cargo pants and her military-issue cotton panties past her hips. She watched John's eyes follow her movements attentively, if anything could be said it was that he was definitely trying to be an apt pupil.

Moving onto the bed, Sam placed her hands on John's chest, holding him still. She didn't begin to delude herself that he couldn't flip her under him in a heartbeat if he wanted to, but that was part of the purpose of the lesson. She wanted him to willingly allow her to be in control. He wasn't supposed to take the lead because he was the guy and he was the macho one. He was supposed to respect her decisions and follow her lead.

She knew this wouldn't prevent future incidents of head-butting, but she hoped that it at least got John to voice his concerns openly and follow through with the ultimate decision that she came to - not only as the leader of the expedition but as his superior officer.

The dominance issues needed to stop, and tonight would only be the beginning.