Inhibition

Black.

The darkness surrounded him. He blinked, blinked, trying to see. Spots of color danced in his sight. Tiny points of light swallowed by the overwhelming blackness. Darkness. Despair. He blinked again, squinting. Suddenly seeing as daylight flooded, as his vision cleared.

John Sheppard struggled to his feet. Violently he wrenched free of the marines holding him down. Nearly dislocating his shoulder in the process. He staggered ahead, spitting blood out of his mouth. Feeling one eye threatening to swell shut. "Moira! Moira!" he rasped. Desperation a raw taste on his tongue, in his throat.

"Daddy! Daddy!" A little boy came into view. Running towards him. A smaller version of himself. As if his childhood self had come to life.

John staggered into an awkward run. Fell to his knees, arms open as the little boy flew into them. "Johnny! Thank God! Johnny, where's your mother?" He moved the boy back to see his face.

Blue eyes met his. Fraught with worry. Widening in shock at his father's battered appearance. "Mommy. Mommy went with bad you, daddy."

"She...still..." John felt his heart drop. Met his son's gaze. "Why? How did you..."

"Mommy told the bad you she couldn't take me. Mommy said..." The little boy paused. Screwed up his face, thinking furiously. The expression very reminiscent of his father. "She said, she said bad you didn't need me because she was...she had a baby now. Mommy told me to go to daddy. My daddy. Tell him she has baby now. Daddy? Mommy don't have baby now."

"Doesn't," he absently corrected. Realizing. He hugged his son to him. "She's pregnant. Pregnant again and has the double ATA...Moira..."

"When will mommy come home, daddy? Daddy? Daddy?"

John woke abruptly. Anguish on his lips as he spoke his wife's name. He sat, heart hammering. He was alone. Sprawled naked in his bed. "Moira!" he harshly called, grasping the blankets. Staring round the dark room. Tensing as he waited, waited for her response. Any response.

Moira Sheppard stepped out of his adjoining room. A pale green nightshirt clung to her curves, making her an almost ghostly figure as the city lights shone upon her. "Sorry, John, I got hungry and we really need to restock the...what's wrong?" She got back into bed, caught his hands. "John? Honey, you...oh no. No. The nightmare?"

"Damn it, Moy! Stop leaving me!" He sighed, fingers closing over hers. "Is there any beer left?"

"Yes. No," she stopped him, a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I'll go." She got up, hastened to the little fridge in his room.

John ran a hand through his hair. Rubbed his scruffy jaw. Rubbed his eyes. Tried to relax. He watched her return with a beer, a sandwich.

"Here, sweetie. Eat first. We skipped dinner."

He took the food, the beer. "In bed?" he queried.

She nodded. "Just this once." She slid in next to him again. "The same nightmare?"

John tore into the sandwich, abruptly ravenous. He ate with big bites. Nodded. "Yeah. But new at the end. More."

"Oh." She watched him eat, finding his appetite strangely fascinating. Arousing. He opened the beer, drank deeply. Long swallows. She waited until he had finished the food. Sat drinking the beer. Gaze on nothing as he stared ahead of him. "New? More? More details?" she guessed. Touching his arm. Fingers a gentle caress as she felt his tension.

"Yeah. I didn't realize how hungry I was," he commented. Sighed. "Did you eat?"

"Yes. I just, I just hope I can keep it down." She touched her stomach, the baby bump under the nightshirt. He met her gaze.

"You had trouble before?" he asked.

"Yeah. I threw up that lovely picnic lunch we had. Causing the total extinction of a new species does that to me," she sardonically noted.

He frowned. "Of an enemy we needed to eradicate, Moy. Simple as that."

"Really, John? You're okay with what we did? 'Cause I'm not."

"I'm okay with it," he refuted.

"Really, John? Then why the nightmare?"

"I don't know." He scowled, drank the beer. "Why the hell didn't you tell me you got sick again? Do you need to see Carson?"

"No, I'm fine. The baby's fine!" she flared, as his gaze ran over the baby bump. "So what was new? What details? John?"

He sighed. "You. Somehow convinced the colonel to relinquish John junior to me. You sent him back to me."

"Oh. See? I told you, John. I'll never take your son from you," she soothed, caressing his arm.

He drank deeply, downing the beer in long, gulping swallows. He leaned back to set the empty bottle on the table. Leaned back to her, licking his lips. "Because you were pregnant again. Had the double ATA, unless that was a bluff to free John junior. But you still, you still went with him." An accusation.

She kissed him. Gently pushed him onto his back. Slid over him. "Maybe...to free John junior I would do anything. To send him to you."

"I...I thought these damn nightmares were done. Over," he complained.

"Maybe the subsonic pulse triggered it," she suggested, kissing him. "Oh John..." She nuzzled his neck. Needing to distract herself from the guilt, the horror of what they had done.

"Moira, I won't let it happen. We've got our contingency plans, right?"

"Yes, sweetie." Moira was more intent on kissing up his throat. Tasting the maleness of him. Feeling the stubble as she progressed up to his jaw. Smelling him. The aroma beer lingering on his lips. She circled his ear. Gently nibbled. Shifting her body on his. But John seemed oblivious.

"We won't let this happen," he vowed, staring up at the ceiling. "We won't. We'll take extra measures, Moy. I won't lose John junior. I won't lose you."

"You won't, John," she soothed. Kissing down his throat now. His lips. Slowly down his chest, fingers wandering as her mouth did. Her hair spilling all over him.

"Moira?" He touched her sides, shifting under her as her mouth progressed down his waist. Kissing along his pelvic bone. Fingers on his thighs, then encircling his aroused cock. Stroking. "Ah fuck..." he breathed. "Moira?"

"This will help you sleep, sweetie, I promise. No more nightmares," she purred. Voice soft, low. Sultry. Her fingers danced up and down, up and down the length of him. The increasingly hard length of him.

He shifted, reacting. "Moira...I don't know if I'm really in the mood for...oh baby, oh fuck," he groaned.

She smiled, slid up, out to meet his gaze. "What? John Sheppard's not in the mood for sex? Not even oral sex? Since when?"

He smirked. "Since maybe now, baby. I..." He groaned as her fingers increased their speed. Tightening over him. "Fuck. Moira, you–"

"Easy, sweetie. I can handle this ordnance. You know, John," she began in a serious voice, "I've handled lots of bones. Not many boners before I met you, but the basic concept is the same. The way to excavate, to ease that hardness out, to guide it steadily into place. And this, well, I have to say, colonel, it's quite an impressive specimen. So hard, so big...ooh, look at that, would you? It's coming quite nicely now."

He laughed. "Stop it, Moy! You...oh fuck!" he moaned in surrender, pleasure.

Moira laughed. Slid back under the blankets. "Let me excavate this boner, John. A fine example of a colonel's hard ordnance...ooh, let me clean this impressive specimen." She ran her mouth along his skin.

John groaned in tension, enjoyment, delight as her mouth wetly slid along him. Gently nibbling up towards the head. He jerked, reacting. Balls tightening. Cock hard, so hard now. Pulsing. "Fuck! Oh Moira...Moira," he growled. "Please baby, please! Are you going to oh baby!" His voice fell low, into a guttural growl as he jerked, jerked. As she took him into her mouth suddenly. He shifted, arching, clutching the blankets as she sucked, sucked. Sucked so hard he groaned loudly. She gently bit as he throbbed, throbbed. About to come, helpless. Helpless as her fingers plied between his legs suddenly. Helpless as she ran her mouth abruptly up the length of him to the head. Biting all the way.

"Fuck!" John exclaimed. Loudly. "Oh fuck, fuck! Oh God! Moira, Moira, Moira!" he growled, flinging the blankets back to see her as her teeth scraped and bit all along him. He groaned in ecstasy, rushing between pleasure and pain and back again. Spasms rocked him, so rigid, spilling into such dire need he thought he'd die right there. She captured the head, sucked and bit suddenly. His sound was half groan, half cry. Body writhing, yielding. Thrusting as he came wildly. She freed him, startled by the violent coming. Caught him in her hands as he jerked, sat and fell back. Ejaculating with wild thrusts as the orgasm slammed into him.

Moira squeezed, stroking faster and faster, unable to let go. Tangling his jerking cock in her nightshirt as he spurted, spurted. "John!"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" he stuttered, strained. Released a feral growl as he thrust hard, hard, caught in her hands, in her nightshirt, not caring as he spurted once more. He fell back, breath ragged. Tears in his eyes as the erotic pleasure flooded him.

Breathless, speechless he watched Moira's startled, wide-eyed gaze as she finally freed him. As she slid out of the blankets, holding out her nightshirt. It was heavily stained by his semen. She made a disgusted face, scrambled off the bed and hastened to the dresser. She pulled out another nightshirt and entered the bathroom. "Moira," he croaked. So sated he felt dizzy. Almost giddy with the waves of sexual pleasure, satisfaction.

Moira emerged, in a clean lilac nightshirt. Wiping her now cleans hand on it. She returned to the bed, face flushed. Shifting as her body reacted vividly to his. To his lust. His happiness. His sheer exuberance. "Better, sweetie?" she asked, voice calm. She reclined on her back.

He smiled. "Much."

"Go to sleep, then." She lightly kissed him. Turned away from him. Feeling hot. Astounded at her boldness. At the roughness although he had really enjoyed that. At the hot, salty taste of him in her mouth although she had rinsed out her mouth repeatedly. At the hard, engorged feel of him in her hands, wild and like a separate creature almost. Something to tame. To control.

John could smell her arousal. Could taste it on the air almost. Could only imagine how ripe and wet she was, but he couldn't do anything about it at the moment. Not with his cock anyway. He rolled to spoon against her. Hand on her hip, tugging at the nightshirt. "Moira...my Moira. My God...Moira...you...you baby, you took me all the fucking way this time. You..."

"Go to sleep, John. You always fall asleep after sex," she chided. Embarrassed but pleased she had impressed him.

"Moira." He kissed her cheek. Ran his hand up under the nightshirt. Between her legs. Made a sound feeling her moist, hot. "Oh baby, baby, let me return the–"

"No! I want to sleep, John! You can do me tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? But you need it now, baby. I can feel it. I can't let all that lush sweetness go to waste, now can I?" he teased into her ear. Fingers stroking, sliding stubbornly to find entrance but she caught his hand. Pulled it up to her waist.

"No, John! Go to sleep, sweetie. Please."

"I love you, Moira," he said quietly. Kissing her cheek. His breath tickled her ear. His scruff an erotic abrasion along her skin. His lips soft, so soft.

"Then go to sleep, sweetie." She closed her eyes, feeling every inch of him pressed against her. Felt her own desire, her need but denied both. Refusing to lose herself in sex. Refusing to drown in his love, his passion, as much as she wanted to do both.

John settled, relenting. His hand resting on the baby bump. He kissed her cheek again. "Okay, sweetheart. That was amazing. Fucking unbelievable, baby. I'm going to give you such a climax you'll...no, multiple. Multiple climaxes that you will beg me to–"

"Ssh, John. Sleep now. Please," she added. Staring at the darkness. Her hand on his arm.