Inhibition2
Moira woke. Tangled in nightmarish images of the sub-Wraith. Their bodies littering the ground after the reverse scan that had effectively killed them. Their loud, chittering noises echoing in her ears. Screeches and screams until she had stopped them. All of them. She sat free of John's arms. He rolled onto his back, gently snoring. Fast asleep. She smiled, staring at him. Distracted by the handsome man in bed with her. His rakish appearance. Wild hair, scruffy jaw. Lips so kissable. Long eyelashes. She kissed him. Slipped out of the bed to start the day.
"Moira! Are you okay?"
She turned, nearly dropping the tray in her hands as Evan Lorne approached her. "Fine. Let's sit." She led him to a table.
"I mean, the way the colonel was acting," Evan explained as they sat at a table across from each other. "I can't believe he dragged you along on that horrible mission."
She frowned. "He didn't drag me, Evan. He needed my expertise."
"And you gave it to him?"
She eyed the tray full of food. Suddenly no longer hungry. "Yes."
"It's not your fault, Moira. Still...to leave you alone in that Jumper...anything could have happened to you! What the hell was he thinking?"
"No." She poured syrup on her pancakes.
"No? What does that mean, no?" Evan persisted, puzzled by her tone, her words. "Moira? His reckless endangerment of you was completely unaccept–"
"Stop right there!" She glared at him, setting down the syrup bottle. "How could you even suggest that? Even think that of him?" She paused, realizing the reason for John's questions. "You! You accused him of being reckless with my safety?"
"Yes! He left you, Moira!" Evan argued, his anger responding to hers. "Again! He is always leaving you, isn't he? First seriously wounded on Pleistocene Park, now this! He left you all alone out there!"
"In the safest place on that mission! How could you ever doubt for a second that John wouldn't make damn sure I was safe?"
"How? You shouldn't have been on that mission in the first place! Don't tell me you agreed with him! I know you! You can't agree with what we did! The entire extermination of a species! An entire species, Moira! Gone! Are you telling me you agreed with that?"
"No. Not at first," she admitted.
"At first? Not at all! Moira, you can't have–"
"John did what he had to do, Evan! You saw the rate at which they were evolving! Progressing! The surge in their population! In their intelligence! You felt the subsonic pulse wave firsthand! Besides, I...I did worse. Far worse than any of you! I was safe in the Jumper! Completely safe. But when that pulse wave started...I...I did the unthinkable! But I had no choice, Evan! To protect my baby! I had to–"
"That's one thing, Moira, and I can understand that," he reasoned. "But the total annihilation of a species! Even if they were Wraith or half Wraith? Do we have that right? Does anyone? That goes against everything you believe! Everything I believe!"
"We, we did what we had to do," she stated, but the words sounded lame even to her.
"And that's it? You'll let your love for him blind you to his callous disregard for you, for your baby, for your safety? For the life of–"
"Stop!" She stood. "Don't you ever say that! Ever! Don't you ever question John like that! Don't ever question John's regard for me! Or for our baby! Don't ever question his military decisions! Do you have any idea what pressure he is under every day? Every fucking day? To make decisions like that? I feel terrible for what I did back there! It makes me sick to think of it! Sick! I'm a monster, Evan, a monster of my own making! But I had to defend my baby and myself! I had to defend John and all of you! All of that precious life on that planet from some abomination that would have destroyed everything! And John...my God, John has to deal with all of that every day! On every mission, in every situation! To make the hard decisions while you have the luxury of debating ethics and morality! Think about that, Evan! The next time you have a moral qualm while our lives hang in the balance and we have no..."
Moira stopped. Feeling the silence. Feeling all eyes on her. She turned suddenly to see everyone staring at her. Frozen in place. To see John standing. Calmly watching her. Listening to her every word. Handsome face serious. Such warmth in his brilliant green eyes she swallowed, turned back to Evan who was staring at her as well. His blue eyes full of surprise, confusion. "Um...just think about what I said..." she advised softly. Sat down and began to eat her breakfast while a blush colored her face.
"Which part?" Evan asked, still stunned by the violent outpouring of words, emotion. "I was concerned, is all. About you, Moira. You." He stood. "Guess I didn't have to be, though, huh?"
Moira felt him leave. Heard conversations resume around her. Wished she could just be swallowed up by a hole in the floor. Instead she nervously stabbed her pancake with her fork. She glanced up as John joined her. Plate loaded with food.
"Caramel?" he asked quietly.
She stared at her plate, feeling the heat of her blush on her face. "Yes. Um, um, look, John...I...um..." she stammered.
"How is it that I am more in love with you every day?" he pondered, watching her push the pieces of pancake around the plate. The sea of caramel spreading, spreading.
"Um, look, John...I...what?" She met his gaze. Stared at the passion, the love. Like a wave washing over her. Shielding her.
He smiled. "Um? How can that be, Moy? Last night...now this morning. If I wasn't already married to you I'd propose on the spot."
"Stop teasing me," she scolded. Took a bite of pancake.
He ate, watching her. Making certain she was eating properly. Enamored by her passionate defense of him. Worried over the guilt she felt over what had happened. What they had done. What she had done. "I'm serious, Moira. My Moira."
"You...you had an argument with Evan?"
"Yes. I wish you'd answer my question, sweetheart."
"Shut up, John."
He smiled. "You are so fucking beautiful when you are flustered, Moira. Last night. Now this morning. Makes me want you. All to myself. In our bed. Save that caramel sauce."
"Hilarious, John. I'm sorry."
"Sorry? For what, Moira?" He waited but she was silent. Finished her breakfast. All the while not looking at him, unable to meet his gaze. "Moira? You're even more desirable when you are shy. Makes me want to seduce you slowly. Kiss by kiss. From your luscious lips all the way down to your sweet, sweet center," he intoned slowly. Voice low. Possessive.
She shifted on the chair. Reacting. "Stop it, John."
"No. I'm going to savor every luscious part of you, Moira. The things I can do with my tongue alone will have you melting in a pool beneath me."
"John!" she warned, voice taut with desire, annoyance.
He smiled. "You will come exquisitely, Moira. So sweet and slow until that headlong rush into a series of climaxes, over and over as I fill every lush, pulsing inch of you."
"John Sheppard!" she dropped her fork, met his hot, sensual gaze. He smiled slowly, raised his brow. Licked his lips. Inviting her. Commanding her. "Damn it," she muttered, gaze locked onto his wet lower lip. Wanting. Wanting so badly now she could have wept.
"Shall we, sweetheart?" He stood. Waited. Gaze wandering over her body. Her curves beneath the heavy sweater. Could imagine her vivid reactions to his wooing. Her sweet surrender to him.
Moira sighed. Stood. Briskly walked away from him. He smiled, following, eyes on her swinging loose hair. On her rear as it peeked out underneath the heavy sweater. "I don't want to talk about it, John!" she remonstrated once they were in the hallway.
"Okay, Moira," he amiably agreed.
"I'm serious, John!" she argued, as if he had objected. "Just don't! Don't! Evan was right, you know. What we did was wrong! Horrible! What I did was unforgivable! I know it's your job, your responsibility. I understand that. And I saw the grim necessity of it, but it doesn't make it
right! It makes me sick, John! Sick!" She entered their room, whirled as he followed, doors closing behind him. "I can't sleep at night! How can you? How can any of us? It's affecting all of us, John! This wholesale slaughter!"
"It's war, Moira. Plain and simple," he said.
"Simple? It's not simple! Not at all!" Tears glittered in her eyes. Tears of anger. Of pain. She stepped to him. Hit his chest. "I hate you! I hate you, John! For making me help you do that! For giving me no choice! None! For placing me in that position where I had no choice but to kill them! To defend our baby! I hate you! I hate you!" she flared, pummeling his chest now. Tears falling as she hit him, hit him. A strange kind of exorcism of her own guilt.
John was silent. Letting her hit him, blame him. Accepting it, welcoming it. Letting her release all the horror, the guilt, the pain. He caught her wrists gently, stopping her. "I know. I am sorry, Moira. But the decision is simple. To defend our baby. To defend you. It's not even a decision, Moira. It's instinct. Plain and simple."
She paused, meeting his serious gaze. Wrists caught in his hands. Grasp gentle but firm. "Defending is one thing, but slaughter...slaughtering an entire–"
"War," he repeated. Pulled her into his arms and kissed her. "Moira." He kissed her again. "I don't really care, sweetheart. As long as you are safe, our baby is safe." He ran his mouth down her throat. "I want to bring you, Moy. I want you weeping with pleasure now. I can take it all away, baby, all of it."
"John!" She pushed back from him. "You have to care!"
"Ssh, Moira. We'll reach oh John soon enough, I promise. Repeatedly."
"Now? I mean...now?" she asked, hands pressing on his chest but he held her close.
He smiled. "Now. I can't resist you, baby. And after last night...well, it's all I can think about. Sexual pleasure. Sex. You."
"John? You are not–"
"Serious? Yes. I'm always serious about sex, baby, you know that." He kissed her again, sliding his hands under her sweater, her shirt to deftly unhook her bra. "Let's free the girls, shall we?"
She laughed. "John! Sweetie, this is hardly the time to engage in prolonged sexual activity."
"God you make me hard when you talk all sciency," he teased. Moving her to the bed now. "I'm going to suck you inch by inch, Moy. Hell, I'm not even going to use my cock to bring you the first time. Maybe not even the second."
A knock sounded. She bumped into the bed. "John–"
"No." He guided her onto the bed. Onto her back. Moved over her, aggressively running his hands up her thighs. Unzipping her pants. Fingers diving in to rub her crotch. To feel the wet fabric of her panties. He kissed her passionately. Another knock interrupted but John's fingers were sliding into the panties now, feeling all that heat and dampness beckoning, luring. His tongue gliding into her mouth to silence her whimpers, her moans.
Moira moaned, arching as his fingers plied into her. His mouth nibbling her ear, biting gently to make her gasp, cry out. "John! Oh John!" she whimpered. Body a flood of need.
"Every inch of you, baby," he vowed. "But you need to be naked. Every fucking inch." He yanked up her shirt, her bra. Cupping, caressing. Then greedily kissing. Fingers probing now to make her whimper. Legs spreading under him.
He kissed her mouth, taking in her passion, her need. Fingers sliding free. He yanked down her pants, her panties, freeing one leg as she bent her knee to aid him. Bent his mouth to suck her breasts, teasing the hard nipples again. Gently biting to make her gasp, arch, squirm wildly. She moaned, whimpering as his fingers slid between her legs. Roughly stroking, sliding. Searching every inch, every fold, finding every pleasurable spot to mercilessly bring her.
Moira lost herself. Writhing beneath him, helpless. Legs opening, whimpers loud. Noises issuing from her breathless lips as his mouth and tongue sucked wildly at her breasts. As his fingers plied her ruthlessly, inserting now to rub faster, faster, harder. Her soft cries escalating, her muscles pulsing over his fingers now, pulling him, pulling him. Moira was lost in a wild spasm of excruciating sexual pleasure. Pressure building, building. "John! Oh John, John, John!" she exclaimed, clutching at his arms, the blankets, anything.
John's cock was throbbing in his pants, fighting against the confines of his boxers, but he ignored it. Concentrating on her pleasure, her needs. He paused, as if resting, but then simultaneously
bit her nipple as his fingers thrust with rough, direct precision into her.
Moira cried out sharply, arching as if she would jump off the bed. She came abruptly, pleasure flooding as the climax shook her. Drenched in his saliva, her sweat, her arousal gushing onto his fingers. "Oh John! John, John, John!" she cried in a sobbing wave of hysterical pleasure.
John grunted, freed her. "Fuck!" he swore. Roughly unzipped his pants, erection so hard he nearly came in his own hands as he freed himself. "I have to have you, baby, I have to oh fuck!" He thrust into her ripe opening. Thrust hard, deep.
Moira cried out again at this harder, bigger penetration. She arched, lifted. Legs flying up to either side of him as he filled her. Rocking her passionately. A whole new cycle of pleasure building, rushing. Inarticulate gasps and moans were wrenched from her mouth in a stuttering crescendo as another climax burst. Sending her into throes of passionate release.
John grunted, grunted, moving faster and faster. Pleasure so tight, so slick he couldn't get enough of it. He groaned loudly, coming a in a rush of shudders, of shivers. Releasing all that vivid arousal and need. Lust rocking the bed. Locking their bodies together. He thrust, thrust, turned on by her sounds, her body, her passion matching his own. Abruptly he ejaculated. Fell upon her, breathing hard. Pleasure a hot rush over him. He relaxed, catching his breath. Eased out of her with a satisfied sigh. "Fuck. Fuck...those noises you make, baby...they make me rock hard...fuck..." He shifted, entangled with her. Messy. Sticky. Hot.
He wondered at her silence. "Moira? Too much?" he inquired tiredly.