Of course I'd heard the old story about Colonel Carter's little stunt in the locker room with General O'Neill. Everyone had. It was something of a legend, and when I asked her if it was true, she just turned red and wouldn't talk about it. But I had never really taken it seriously – it sounds like a terrible Star Trek plot – so I laughed it off. And it's always a woman who jumps a man. And since none of this was explicitly covered in any of the preliminary briefings, this was not my fault and I would prefer to just get this over with.

But there was nothing to warn me that day. John was quiet during the debriefing, but I could tell he was worn out from a long mission, and there was nothing particularly important to report from his end. I dismissed them and they walked out, Rodney harping at John about John having eaten something on the planet. "You know you're not supposed to."

"I was hungry. The natives said it was fine."

"Yeah, well don't come crying to me when your skin turns orange."

I smothered a smile at their antics and closed the folder. Missions like this were good. Quiet, unexciting, and non-violent, which meant that not only did we gain scientific perspective on agriculture methods, but also that John didn't end up covered in blood and hooked to a respirator. I could live with that.

I was up late that night with duty rosters. When I realized I had read three pages without remembering a word, I gave up and decided to sleep and finish them in the morning.

I had just pulled off my socks in my room when someone knocked at the door. That was unfortunate. I was exhausted, but it might be important, so I just sighed and rubbed my eyes. The floor was cool under my bare feet and I hoped it wasn't an emergency because I wanted to go to bed. "Come in."

It was John. But he didn't say anything. He simply stepped inside, and the door shut behind him as he looked at me.

"Do you need something?" He didn't answer, just stared at me with that unreadable look. "John, is something wrong?"

"I want you."

I was not prepared for that. Maybe I hadn't heard him correctly.

"What?"

"I want you, Elizabeth."

He was just a few feet away, and there was something low and gravelly and husky in his voice that made me skin tingle. Obviously I was just too tired.

So this was not my fault. It was his. I was tired and in no state to resist him.

But damn him, he was good at this. His eyes were burning into mine, and I was almost shivering. But not afraid. He wasn't aggressive or threatening. Just . . . hungry.

"John, what are you –" I couldn't breathe. Even to me, my voice sounded hesitant. John heard it too.

"Elizabeth, you're beautiful and everything about you is so incredibly enticing –" his voice lowered, and when he reached out to take my hand I didn't stop him "- and you've been driving me crazy –" he planted a kiss on the palm of my hand, and I couldn't stop a soft gasp from escaping; I couldn't speak – "I've wanted you for so long – " my God, my self-control was slipping – "let me make love to you –"

John Sheppard was seducing me. I knew that. But my head was spinning. He was doing a damn good job of it. I didn't want him to stop.

Somehow my brain gave an attempt to pull me out of the lust-induced daze – I needed him to leave, but my mouth wouldn't form the words – so I finally pulled my hand back from his and turned away.

Without those blazing eyes holding mine, my mind was starting to resume operation and I took a long, shaky breath.

"John –"

But then I realized that turning around was a bad idea. As I tried to say he needed to stop, his lips were on my throat and the words vanished. I was lost. My mind sank back into a puddle of lust.

"John – please –"

His hands settled on my shoulders.

"I want to touch you all over -" his hand started to slowly run down my arm - "I want to make love to you all night -" his other hand was creeping around my waist. You could have asked me my name and I couldn't have told you. "I want you writhing under me -" the hand on my stomach was tracing lazy circles and I was gasping for air - "as I make you scream my name again and again and again -"

His lips found the spot behind my ear, my eyes rolled back and I had to bite back a moan.

"Do you want me to?"

The soft whisper was hot in my ear, his lips brushing against it and right then I gave in. Screw it all. Pent-up sexual energy and the long-standing fact that John Sheppard was the hottest man in the galaxy, combined with the fact that I was practically melting under his hands as he begged me to let him make love to me, was too much and I had just enough brain cells left for one word.

"Yes."

He was an animal. I couldn't stop the breathy gasp from escaping as he roughly turned me back to face him and finally kissed me on the mouth. And I had never been kissed like that. He was everywhere, his hands trailing burning paths as they slid under my shirt, his tongue battling mine in a sweet fight for control, which he had without question as my knees got weak. My mind whirled giddily. This wasn't real. We weren't going to . . .going to actually . . . oh yes. Yes we were. Right here and right now. The only question was whether or not we'd make it to the bed first. I was thinking no.

He pinned me back against the wall and within seconds I had stopped caring. His tongue ravished my mouth and his hands were under my shirt. I couldn't get enough of him. By the time I registered that he was still fully clothed and I wasn't, my shirt was long gone and I was helpless as he deftly rid me of my pants. At this point I gave up and let him do what he wanted to me. He seemed to be in charge anyway. Within seconds he had me on the bed and he was taking his sweet time, kissing me senseless as his hands drifted, hot and urgent, over my bare skin.

And oh, did I want him. I had wanted him for longer than I cared to admit. My entire body was burning, aching with sheer unbridled want as I strained desperately against him. His hands drifted lower, tracing the outline of my underwear, and the ache in my belly grew tighter. One hand trailed up my stomach to my bra, rubbing through the fabric as I whimpered. I wanted everything off and I wanted it now.

"Elizabeth -" he whispered, slowly planting kisses down my neck. "You're so beautiful -"

And then without warning everything stopped, he went still, his eyes closed and he simply dropped on top of me.

Terrified, I shook him, trying to get the heavy body on top of me to move, when suddenly it hit me. He had eaten something on the planet, and then ended up in my quarters. What if - but it had to be -

He'd been drugged.

Barely coherent, I felt his throat with trembling fingers - his pulse was steady - and managed to push his heavy bulk off of me, reaching for my com to call for medical help to assist Colonel Sheppard, who had collapsed in my quarters. Thankfully I was able to pull my clothes back on and run a hand through my tousled hair before the doctors arrived. The last few minutes had stretched my mind beyond its limits; I was still shaking and unsteady. John didn't move, just lay there on my bed unconscious as I stared at him, unable to think. The doctors arrived quickly and took over. Keller checked his vitals and sent him back to the infirmary with the others, but stopped to take a look at me before following them.

"Are you all right?" She frowned. "You're flushed, and you look agitated."

I had been preparing for the most explosive, mind-blowing, earth-shattering animal sex ever, with a John Sheppard who had seemed intent on making sure I screamed myself completely hoarse, even if it took all night to do it.

"I'm fine," I assured her with a faint smile. "Just a little shaky."

She left me alone, and I stared at my rumpled sheets before collapsing onto bed with a long, shaky sigh. My heart was still racing. What the hell just happened?

As it turned out, administrative tasks kept me running from one thing to the next, and I was only able to visit the infirmary once in the next few days. The rest of John's team kept me updated on his progress, which was steady, and the one time I was able to stop by, late in the evening, he was asleep and I didn't have the heart to wake him. Or the nerve. What if he remembered? Keller doubted there would be serious amnesia beyond that of a high fever, though the toxin had taken a toll on his body, which meant there would be hazy sections but the rest would be pretty clear. I had no doubt he would remember that insane ten minutes of mind-blowing foreplay (and I couldn't stop thinking that if it was that good, how amazing would the sex have been?). That would teach John not to eat an unknown native plant that turned out to be a way-too-powerful aphrodisiac. But to my mind, he had the easier end of the situation, seeing as no one had really asked what he'd been doing in my quarters that night. At least he had a scientific excuse for his behavior. What was mine?

I had been informed the afternoon he was released, and I wasn't surprised when he appeared in my office that night.

"Um -"

He seemed uncomfortable. I swore mentally. He remembered.

"About what happened?"

"Yeah." He looked relieved at not having to bring it up on his own. "No one else knows. But I figured that's probably why you've been avoiding me. I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I tried to take advantage of you."

"You were drugged, John."

His eyes narrowed. "But you weren't."

My face went red, but I kept my composure. "No."

"I didn't -" sudden fear flitted through his eyes - "did I try to -"

"No." I knew what he didn't want to think he had done. He would never do that. "You asked."

"And you said yes." It was a statement, not a question. He was watching me with that look - the one I could never interpret, despite years of experience, and right now it was making me uncomfortable. He hadn't seen me naked, but . . . he almost had. And given two more minutes, he would have.

I just nodded in response.

"Why?"

Because I was sexually frustrated? Because I trusted him so much I wasn't afraid of him? Because I had never been so incredibly turned on by anyone in my life?

Because I was afraid it might not happen again?

I was about to deflect the question - I was tired; I wasn't thinking - but then I glanced back at him, and realized that John Sheppard was looking at me with a hesitant sort of hopefulness. He had been so worried that he'd hurt me, but now he was almost pleading me to tell him whether or not I was OK with it. Whether I had wanted it. Almost as if . . .

. . . he wanted to try it again.

A smile tugged at my lips, but I managed a careless shrug and met his eyes boldly. "Sometimes even I yield to persuasion."

A sudden flash of satisfaction darkened his eyes, and my breath caught as for a wild second I thought he was going to kiss me. But he just gave me a small smile, the kind that lit up his face but left his eyes dancing with wicked mischief.

"I'll have to keep that in mind."