Inhibition8

John eyed the marine guarding the door. He didn't have to say a word. A mere motion of his hand and the younger man stepped aside, visibly gulping. "No one disturbs us," he said gruffly.

"Yes, sir!"

John entered the room. Not bothering to knock. He strolled to the table. Evan had been sitting there, reading a book. At the colonel's unannounced, unexpected entrance he moved to his feet, startled. Wary. He stared at the two beers John set down on the table. "Sir?" Baffled Evan could only watch.

John was still silent. He pulled out a chair. Sat. Opened a beer and drank. "I believe we need a beer, major," he finally said. "And a talk. Man to man. Sit."

Evan did so. Grabbed a beer. Opened it. Took a long sip. Set it aside, frowning under John's cold, assessing gaze. "What do you want to talk about, sir?"

"Oh, I think you know. You see, Moira explained it to me. About the pulse wave. Affecting our brain chemistry. Triggering aggression and the like. Sort of like the enzyme but not. The same areas but not in the same way. How you're pissed she's not supposedly Moira O' Meara anymore. Well, that is true. She is Moira Sheppard now. Will always be Moira Sheppard. How that impacts your friendship with her is up to you. She thinks that's all it is. But we know better. Don't we, major?" John took a long sip of beer.

Evan sipped his. "We do, sir? So...you actually listen to her?" he asked. The jibe biting against John's icy tone.

"From time to time," John said mildly, but the edge in his voice was still there. "When I'm not busy fucking her," he added with a sly smile. Saw the other man's surprise, anger. Sullen expression. "Ah. That's what it boils down to, isn't it? I tried to tell Moira but she wouldn't believe me. She wouldn't believe that of her good friend Evan." The last three words were said slowly. Distinctly. Almost, almost bitterly.

"Believe what, sir?" Evan asked, his voice cold now.

"Cut the crap, major! You need to get your shit sorted now. Now! I can't have Moira unduly upset. She's my wife. Pregnant with my child. Nothing is going to change either of those things. However much you dislike it Moira is mine. If I wish to monopolize her time I will. If I wish to keep her to myself for hours I will. If I wish to repeatedly fuck her I will. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Evan said tersely. "And what if Moira doesn't want those things? What if she misses being a scientist? A member of my team? What if she wants to be more than Colonel Sheppard's wife and constant, constant fuck buddy?"

John frowned. Restraining himself with an effort as the phrase made his blood boil. Made a dangerous fury tense every muscle. He downed his beer. Set the bottle onto the table carefully, instead of throwing it into the other man's face. "She is still a scientist. Even I can't change that, and nor would I want to change that. She is still a member of your team until I decide otherwise. Or she does. Soon she won't be traveling much anyway. As far as I know she's very, very happy being my wife. And if you ever, ever call her a fuck buddy again, to my face or to hers, or even not in my hearing I will kill you, major."

"John! John, no!" Moira burst into the room, ran to him. She grabbed his arm as if to restrain him. Nearly falling in her haste. She froze. Stared at the two men. Looked from one to the other. Saw their locked stare at each other. Animosity. Understanding. John's brilliant green eyes were hard emeralds, so cold and dangerous she felt an involuntary shiver. "Um...what are you doing?"

"Colonel, for the love of God, man, don't do..." Carson froze in his rush after Moira. Staring.

John slowly looked at her. Eyes filling with warmth now. Protectiveness. Love. "Moira. We're just two guys having a beer. Right, Evan?"

"Right, John," Evan replied, in an equally mild tone.

"Huh? John, John, you didn't hit him, did you? Evan, are you–"

"Moira, I didn't hit him. We're just having a beer, that's all. Did Tonner deliver the food to our room?" he asked, as if he didn't have a care in the world. As if he didn't just threaten to kill the man sitting across from him.

"Yes, he..." She glanced back at Carson who appeared equally baffled. She looked at Evan. John's hand caught hers on his arm. "What were you talking about? Evan, are you sure you're all right?"

"You." John stood, keeping hold of her hand on his arm. "We understand each other now, don't we, major?"

"Yes, sir."

"Wait, me? Me? John, John, what did–"

"Let's go, Moira." He tried to lead her out of the room but she pulled back from him.

"No! What did you say? John, John–"

"Not now, Moira. Let's go," he repeated.

She looked at John. Looked back at Evan, but let John lead her out of the room. Carson followed. "I don't–"

"John, is everything all right?" Carson asked.

"Fine. We're going back to quarantine now. I'm starving. If there are any developments inform me ASAP, doc. Moira, let's go." He led her down the hallway. Grip firm, gentle, but insistent.

Moira glanced back at Carson, shrugged. Puzzled, but relieved there hadn't been any violence. She sped up to keep pace with John's long strides. "John, John, you–"

"Calm down, Moira. I handled it." He led her into their rooms. Closed the door as she pulled free to face him. "I even found you a jar of peanut butter." He smiled suggestively. "Please tell me that is for later, baby."

"John!" She stood, hands on hips. "What the hell did you do? What the hell did you say to Evan? You, you threatened him didn't you? Didn't you?"

"No. It was no threat," he said quietly. "I merely clarified a few things in regards to you. Being my wife and all." He strolled past her, sat at the table. "Ah. Still hot. Let's eat!"

Moira turned to stare as he began to eat. Devouring the chicken and potatoes. Sipping yet another beer now. She walked over, grabbed the beer from him. "Haven't you had enough?"

He met her gaze. Eyes wandering along her curves. "Hmm...I don't think I'll ever have enough."

"The beer!"she clarified angrily.

"Oh. No."

"I drive you to drink, don't I?" she sighed. Sat next to him. "We have to make this right, John. I have to make this right."

"I already did, Moy. I told you. I handled it. Now eat your dinner before it gets cold. And can I please have my beer back?"

She slid it to him, stared at the food on her uncovered plate. "I'm not hungry."

"What? You? Not hungry?"

"Hilarious, John." She pondered, elbow on the table, chin in hand as she stared at nothing. "I don't know. I honestly don't know how to make this right."

"I told you, Moy. I handled it. Don't you worry."

"You mean you bullied and blustered. Like last time. That's not handling it, John. I'll have to fix this. Fix Evan. Jason too. You can't have your men at odds with each other."

"I handled it, Moy. Give it no further thought. Now eat, please." He pushed the full plate in front of her.

She ignored it. "This doesn't make any sense. All this fuss and bother over, over me. Don't laugh, John, but you know it doesn't make any sense. I don't care what you think you know, or think you see. Evan doesn't feel that, that way about me. Never has, never will. It's not that. It's more insidious because of our friendship and being on his team and all. You see? And Jason was just defending me because he's a gentleman and because I'm his commander's wife. Is all. It doesn't make sense, John. No one gave me a second thought until, until you. Until I became involved with you. Married you. Got pregnant by you."

"So you're saying it's me. Okay, I'm fine with that, Moira. Whatever. I know what I know, even if you can't see it. You, Moira. You're a beautiful woman, Moira. Of course men are going to give you more than just second thoughts. Even being married to me. Being pregnant by me."

She met his gaze, scowling. But he was serious. Ate a spoonful of pudding. Licked his lips. "Shut up, John," she finally said, looked at nothing again.

He smiled. "Then eat. Sweetheart, please."

She sighed. Sullenly grabbed a fork. Began to eat. Found herself abruptly ravenous. John smiled, relaxing as she ate heartily, finishing off every last piece of food. Licking the fork clean of potatoes. Spooning the pudding into her mouth with enjoyment. He sipped his beer, sitting back in the chair. Blinked. Yawned.

"Wow. I think that sedative is finally kicking in," he commented. Voice slurring a little.

"You think? Or is it the three beers you've had?" she noted caustically.

He smiled as she regarded him. "Yeah, could be that too, I guess. Plus the exuberant, passionate sex. Toegasms and all, baby." He snorted with laughter. "Hey, baby, was it both feet? Was it every single toe?"

She sat back, staring at the table. "Yes, sweetie. Every single toe." But her tone was sullen. Sad. She bit her lower lip, trying to hold back a tide of emotion.

John sighed. Touched her thigh. Set his beer aside. "Moira," he whined.

She stood. "No." She moved to the window, stared out at the sunset over the waters. A curtain of orange and red that filled the sky. Colored the waters with a vibrant sheen. "I'm fine! Damn hormones, is all! I can fix this, John. I just need to figure out how. I...I don't even know what I did, or didn't do! Damn it, John, I just want to be with you! I'm pregnant, John! I don't need any more stress or aggravation!"

He moved to her. Wrapped his arms around her. Drew her close. "I know, sweetheart. Relax. I told you. I handled it. All of it. Don't you worry. It's done. You didn't do or not do anything."

"What?"

"You know what I mean. All you need to think about is John junior. Yourself. Me."

"Oh? That's all?" she scoffed.

"Yes." He ran kisses up her throat. Moving her hair out of the way. "That's all," he whispered into her ear. "Oh. And sex. Lots of sex with me, baby. Toegasms and all."

She smiled despite her mood. "That's the problem, sweetie."

"What? Toegasms?"

"No! No...the, the sex."

"Sex is never a problem, baby." He kissed down her throat. Hands sliding up to cup her breasts. "Moira...let's go to bed."

"No. We've been selfish, John. I've been selfish," she realized.

"So? Don't we have a right to be?" He turned her to him. Kissed her. A slow, long kiss. Hands sliding to her back. Down to her rear to squeeze. "Nothing is going to interfere, Moira. No one is going to intrude on our little circle here." He kissed her again. Again. "Just relax, Moira. I won't let anything or anyone keep you from me."

"John...you..." she whispered, fingers sliding up his chest. She kissed him. Tired of arguing, worrying. Just wanting him. "Oh John..." she sighed.

He smiled. "Oh Moira. It's just us now...and John junior. Let's go to bed, sweetheart. I'll be out in five with this buzz so if you want me you'd better take me now."

She smiled. "Really, John? We'd better hurry, then, before your ordnance becomes a liability. We better oh no! We can't! Don't you see? We–"

He kissed her. "Four and counting, baby. We can do whatever we damn like or want. So?" He pulled her to the bed. Pushed her gently onto it. Followed. "Three," he reminded. Kissed her. Hands roaming.

"John, oh John...we, we have to be quiet, we have to oh oh," she moaned as his fingers wandered over her breasts, then between her legs. His kisses sloppily slid across her ear, her throat.

"Two..." he said low, becoming aroused despite his weariness and drowsiness. "My Moira...my own sweet Moira," he wooed. Catching her mouth with his. "One..." he muttered, shifting on her. Abruptly settled, face buried in her hair, on her breasts.

"John? John?" She nudged him. Laughed gently as he snorted, shifted. "Okay, then, colonel." She patted his shoulder, easing herself out from under him. She snuggled next to him as he sprawled on his stomach, already beginning to snore. "Men," she sighed fondly.