Fic: Perceptions (McKay/Sheppard)
Dec. 24th, 2007 11:25 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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sga_santaTitle: Perceptions
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
reulann
Written for:callmerizzo
Spoilers: for Season 4, especially Doppelganger and Traveler
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Genres: slash, first time.
Words: ~ 5,929
Summary: In the aftermath of his kidnapping, John realizes there have been some changes taking place while he wasn’t paying attention.
Author's Notes: This story turned out rather different than I thought it would. It started out as something dark and broody in my mind but morphed into this without me noticing until it was finished. A big thank you too my beta, you know who you are, I really do appreciate the help, you did great.
I do hope you like it and wish you a very merry Christmas
Yours
Santa
* * *
Perceptions
The sound of footsteps echoed through the city’s long, empty corridors. John had been running for the better part of an hour by now, moving easily in the steady, ground eating pace, Ronon had taught him. Like always, the exhilaration of the run was helping him to gain relief from a mind filled with too many uncomfortable questions; questions he hadn’t yet found an answer to. He could feel the first warning signs from his body, a slow burn in the muscles of his thighs, telling him that it was time to head back.
Stepping out onto the walkway that connected one of Atlantis’ tall spires to the central tower, John couldn’t help the smile settling on his sweat-streaked face as he lifted his head in anticipation. Even in his current state of mind, the sudden, sweeping wind that blew his hair away from his face managed, for a brief moment, to give him the illusion of freedom, of flight. A brief respite before duty fettered him back down to earth.
He loved it here, high above the rest of the city. Everything looked small and insignificant from this point of view, and whatever demons haunted him when he came up here, usually were banished to their proper place by the time he went to re-join the rest of Atlantis’ population.
Taking a slow breath, John called upon the discipline that had gotten him through other emotionally wrought moments of his life here in the Pegasus galaxy, sparing a fond thought for his teacher, before he went through the little mental exercise she had taught him. Thank you, Teyla.
Inhaling deeply the brine-scented air, he steeled himself for the memories, one moment of remembrance before casting them to the winds that swept around the towers and walkways of the city. John conjured up each of the faces that had haunted his nights these last couple of days, filling his dreams with regret and suppressed longing for something different, something more, something forever out of reach.
Chaya, Mara, Teer, Larrin; all had coveted him for reasons of their own, and, in the end, all of them had wanted him for one reason and for one reason only, being a carrier of the coveted ATA gene.
John hadn’t quite figured out what rankled more, the knowledge that he would not be here at all, were it not for his proficiency with Ancient tech and Elizabeth’s friendship and determination, or that, at least twice, he had been tempted to settle for so much less than what he really wanted.
One more step, two, and John felt each connection of foot on metal reverberating through him, feeding his discontent. None of them had seen him, seen John. Whenever they had caught a glimpse of John the man, it had made them feel uncomfortable; didn’t fit in with their preconceived notions of who he was supposed to be; companion, consort, savior or living skeleton key.
When he reached the middle of the open walkway, the wind had died down until only a slight breeze remained to play gently with his loose-fitting running clothes, pushing the sweats against his laky frame in an almost caress. Letting his gaze rest on the vast ocean surrounding the city, John felt a strong sense of connection, of belonging—more so than he had ever managed to feel when on Earth.
The sound of the waves against the city walls rose up around him, mingling with the calls of the strange, purple-black seabirds that had started to migrate to the city a few weeks after their arrival on this planet. They looked a bit like a cross between a crow and an albatross, chasing each other across the water until they dove deep, catching unwary fish to bring back to their nests on the south pier.
When Thomlinson had spotted them that first day, way out on the pier, John’s favorite scientist had thrown a fit when half of his department had run off to go bird watching. The soft sciences—meaning zoologists and parts of the botany department—had gone crazy about their choice of nesting ground, much to Rodney’s very vocal consternation. He’d only calmed down after John had bribed him with coffee and real chocolate, and taken him out there for a closer look. Then again, maybe it had been the realization that Katie Brown was part of the crowd that watched the birds’ antics that had cooled his ire.
John pushed his hands through his sweat damp hair and grimaced, acknowledging that he liked the version in which he was the reason for Rodney’s acquiescence better. Slowing down to a brisk walk, by the time he had crossed the remaining distance to the opposite doorway he had managed to catch his breath.
Leaning his elbows on the railing, John watched the clouds, shifting in a constant dance of merging and separating again, unable to hold on to one form; aimlessly drifting from one partner to the next, just like himself, he thought not without bitterness.
Just let it go already, he told himself. Because, really, Katie was a nice girl, and John had really, really hoped she wouldn’t turn out to be. But John had his own reasons for disliking her—one very obnoxious and completely oblivious reason to be precise—but for Rodney’s sake, he tolerated her presence. They didn’t see much of Katie anyway, to John’s great relief and, on the rare occasions she joined them for a meal, he prided himself on the knowledge, that Teyla was the only one to even guess that his kind enquiries where as fake as his smile, whenever he addressed Katie.
The harsh disappointment that rose suddenly at this reminder of Rodney’s unavailability and his recent, callous treatment of John stung, more than the bruises left by Larrin and her henchmen during his brief imprisonment on her ship. The new healing device Dr. Keller had been working on with Rodney had done wonders for the deep tissue damages, leaving John with only minor blemishes on his torso and a pain in his heart no machine could hope to erase.
Gripping the metal rail tightly, knuckles white under his sun-warmed skin, he closed his eyes for a moment, remembering breakfast, and the way his day had gone downhill from there.
Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy being the center of attention yet again, Colonel. Unable to keep his anger under the tight leash he’d had on it all day, John whirled to the right and struck the wall with the flat of his palm, cursing profusely when the burning sensation in his left hand reminded him why that was a stupid move.
Releasing a pent-up breath, John leant his forehead against the smooth, cool surface of the tower that formed a small alcove by the entrance, sheltering him from the wind. Relaxing John breathed slowly, allowing the contact to soothe him, to strip away the anger at last.
He could feel the city, industrious yet calm, never angry or upset the way humans were wont to get. Grateful for the sense of stability and calm assurance the contact generated, he pulled himself together at last.
His hand trailed along the metal like a caress, a thank you for this refuge when he stepped into the open once more. He needed these last few minutes to prepare before his other life claimed him back, and if it was envy he felt when he watched the seabirds carefree antics, who was there to berate him for it.
* * *
Lost in his own mind, John missed the sound of the door to the main tower sliding open, the approaching footsteps finally calling him out of his reverie when their owner was almost upon him. Twisting around, he cursed inwardly when he saw who his unwelcome companion was.
“Here you are, Colonel.” Rodney looked a bit flushed and windswept himself; wearing uniform pants and a rather frayed, washed-out black t-shirt, his usual after-work-but-will-probably-end-up-down-in-the-lab-anyway attire. Smiling hesitantly at John, he ventured; “You are a hard man to track down.”
John clenched his teeth, half facing in the opposite direction again, not even pretending to be civil.
“You could have used the radio, Rodney.”
“Well, yes, I would have, but someone neglected to put it on before doing a marathon through Atlantis,” Rodney told John’s back, accusation clear in his voice, despite the situation.
There was that, and John had to suppress a smirk of satisfaction at Rodney’s obvious consternation. Serves him right, he crossed his arms over his chest defensively, Jerk.
“Are the Wraith attacking?” John asked; one eyebrow arched for good measure he turned and lent against the rail. Rodney looked at him askance. “No Replicators knocking down the city’s shields?” More silence and a tensing of the down-turned right corner of Rodney’s mouth.
“Didn’t think so,” John snapped, and stepped around him through the obligingly opening doorway, starting to walk down the corridor. Rodney let out a small sound of dismay, but otherwise followed close behind him, remaining strangely silent.
Ignoring him, John contemplated the best way to get rid of the unwanted company, because Rodney’s unusual silence threatened to disturb John’s newfound equilibrium. He really didn’t care, why Rodney had ventured to find him up here of all places, you know he has a problem with heights, don’t you, and he was sure the slightly queasy feeling in his stomach was due to the fact that his last meal had been hours in the past, nothing more. Liar.
John increased his pace. Still, it was he, who ran out of patience first. He blamed this entirely on the fact that, out in the field, a silent Rodney spelled certain doom, and John was conditioned to find out what the problem was when this happened, so he knew whom to shoot as soon as they got their weapons back. It had nothing at all to do with the knowledge that Rodney had hunted him down to talk to him. Nothing at all to do with the fact that even Rodney’s hands seemed to droop unhappily in the face of John’s disapproval as—robbed of their usual eloquence—they remained clenched by Rodney’s side.
“Jesus, Rodney. If all you wanted was to tell me to put on the radio, I got it, okay. Next time, I’ll take it with me so you don’t have to interrupt your precious research in case something comes up. Now go away.”
“No, wait. I really think we need to talk about…” Rodney swallowed the rest of the sentence when John whirled around to face him, leaning into his personal space.
“No, Rodney. We really don’t,” turning away, he walked faster, almost a trot, when Rodney’s voice reached him, tentative and a bit lost sounding. It was the latter that made him stop, made him turn to meet Rodney’s eyes at last.
“I just,” Rodney swallowed hard, eyes straying from John’s face, down his body, to his trainer-clad feet. Sighing, he drew his shoulders back, standing straight and met John’s gaze unflinchingly.
“Earlier, I said some things, things about you and that crazy person who kidnapped you and… and I might have been giving you the wrong impression with the things I implied.”
“You might have,” John questioned, eyebrows drawing together, still not sure he really wanted to do this now. Unfortunately, the look on Rodney’s face told him that he didn’t agree.
Rodney cleared his throat before he rushed out, “I realize that I might have said some things that could be interpreted to imply that you enjoyed being held prisoner by her against your will. Which of course would have meant you would not have been a prisoner at all…and,” Rodney swallowed again before he continued, “it might have been because we were worried about not finding you in time.”
Oh, and John felt a treacherous softening of his resolve.
“And by we, you mean…?” Despite his best intentions, John felt his anger start to slip away in the face of Rodney’s honest remorse. Because while Rodney might be many things, a proficient liar was not one of them, all claims of acting classes aside.
“By we, I mean,” hands, encouraged by John’s willingness to listen, moved to emphasize what Rodney apparently found so hard to put into words. “I have been worried, justifiably so, I might add, that I would not have been able to find you again, after the ship had moved into hyperspace.”
John kept looking at him, waiting for the rest of Rodney’s little speech.
A huff of breath and Rodney’s shoulders rose and fell with the deep exhalation. He paused, looking from John to the tall, stained-glass windows and back at John again. “I’m sorry for what I said. It was insensible and unfair, and I really don’t know why I said it.” Falling silent, Rodney fidgeted with the fingers of his right hand, looking pensive when John remained silent, until John felt like a heel for withholding an answer. Moving into Rodney’s personal space, close enough that their shoulders brushed, he felt himself finally starting to relax.
“Okay,” he said; reaching for the control pad of the transporter, the sudden urge to smile at Rodney soothing the lingering unrest inside, and he was instantly rewarded by the brightening of Rodney’s own expression and a slightly husky sounding “Thank you.”
John nodded in acknowledgement; the urge to reach out and touch, rising as suddenly as his anger had abated, he reined in expertly after all this time, without Rodney being any the wiser.
Stepping into the transporter, John cast a sidelong glance at Rodney; at ease now, a slight bounce in his step as he matched his stride to John’s own, clearly relieved that they were back on speaking terms.
So, maybe John was a bit of a push-over when it came to Rodney, no matter what the man did to annoy him. Nonetheless, when Rodney looked up and smiled as he met John’s gaze, clearly willing to go along with whatever he would suggest they do with the rest of their day off, John felt better than he had in days.
* * *
By unspoken consent, they made their way to John’s room. Rodney telling him about some new discovery concerning the jumpers’ shielding possibilities, something to do with the work he had started before they’d had their last run in with the wraith. It sounded interesting, and John promised to take Rodney and the prototype out for a test drive the next day. Almost at their destination, they ran into the last person John wanted to see right now.
Katie’s steps faltered for a second before she smiled at them. “Colonel Sheppard,” she greeted him, turning to Rodney. “Hello Rodney, good to see you. I hope you’re feeling better now. Dr. Zelenka said you missed lunch because you didn’t feel well?”
John looked from her to Rodney and back, noticing the rather stiff way Katie’s companion, Sergeant Postlewaith, drew to almost attention when Rodney nodded in his direction before addressing Katie. “It was just the usual; too much work and not enough time to rest. You know me, I get carried away.”
“Oh, okay then,” and when Rodney didn’t elaborate further, she continued rater stiffly, ”Have a nice evening then.”
Something, John mused, following Rodney as he continued down the corridor, was decidedly off. Reaching the door to his quarters, he turned around to see Postlewaith put an arm around Katie’s shoulders, pulling her closer. A gesture that looked much too cozy for mere friendship.
His first impulse was relief, because with this development, the ghost of Rodney leaving Atlantis to play happy families with Katie back on Earth seemed banished for the moment.
The second impulse had him turn to go after the creep that had dared put the moves on Rodney’s girlfriend, and to teach him a lesson about poaching, the sergeant would remember for the remainder of his days.
Rodney’s unexpectedly strong grip on his wrist held him back. “John, don’t,” voice a little hoarse but filled with determination he continued, “It’s not what you think.”
“Look, Rodney, I know what I…” But the expression on Rodney’s suddenly pale face left no room for an argument so John subsided.
“It wasn’t Katie’s fault, okay. I ended it.” The earlier smile had vanished without a trace, leaving behind a look John didn’t know how to interpret.
“You…What?” Feeling a bit as if he had fallen asleep in the middle of a movie only to wake up at the end with no clue as to why the serial killer suddenly turned out to be the good guy, John stared down at an increasingly despondent looking Rodney.
“I just… Can we not talk about this here? Please, John.” And, John felt the urge to do anything, everything, to wipe that look off Rodney’s face again.
“Okay buddy, let’s take this somewhere private.” Thinking the doors open, John gestured for Rodney to go first, because this way, Rodney was oblivious to the narrow eyed glare John gave the pair’s retreating backs for good measure.
* * *
The moment the door closed behind John, Rodney—who looked much too shaky in John’s opinion—sank down on the foot of the neatly made, narrow bed.
Heeling off his trainers, John realized that Rodney’s gaze appeared slightly unfocused; face pale even in the room’s dim light. Rodney stared at the bit of floor directly in front of him, still way too pinched looking, when he finally raised his head, and John instantly recognized the way the corners of his mouth trembled just the slightest bit, the tiny beds of sweat on the high forehead and the tired slouch of the broad shoulders.
“Hey, Rodney,” stepping closer to crouch in front of him, John concentrated on staying calm and reassuring; no need to upset Rodney any further at the moment.
“Um, hi?” Rodney answered, blinking at John; too unfocused for his liking, so John snagged his tack-vest from beside the bed, keeping a watchful eye on Rodney. The sound of velcro-fastenings being pulled open, followed by the faint rustling of the powerbar wrapper, managed to catch Rodney’s attention.
“John?” He asked; eyes fastened on the food in John’s hand.
“Here you go, Rodney, open wide,” John teased gently, masking his concern behind a smile. Rodney blinked and obeyed without question, taking a careful bite and starting to chew thoughtfully to John’s great relief.
The realization that their falling out had really bothered Rodney, enough so that he’d forgotten to keep track of what he had eaten, or in this case, not eaten, made John wish he had caved earlier. It also made him want to reach out and brush away the stray crumbs that clung to the edge of Rodney’s mouth, but he resisted.
After another bite, Rodney started to look like himself again. Blushing and a little embarrassed, he reached over before John could feed him the rest of the powerbar.
Not quite sure if he should mourn his loss or be glad that Rodney had taken temptation—literally—out of John’s no longer quite steady hand, he opted for a teasing wink.
Rodney fidgeted a bit, but his smile, albeit sheepish, had returned. “I, ah, I guess it’s been a long time since breakfast,” he offered, shrugging at John’s raised eyebrow.
“Breakfast, huh? What happened to lunch?” John asked, remembering Katie’s comment. But John didn’t need to be a mind-reader to know what had happened. Rodney intent on solving a problem, meant he frequently forgot the important things, like stopping to eat when he wasn’t reminded by Radek or John dragged him away to the mess.
“My epiphany happened.” Rodney looked at John, on eye level with him where he still knelt in front of the bed, almost inappropriately close, leaning in as he was between Rodney’s thighs. “And then I had to track down someone who chose to traipse all around the city, for fun.” Pretending to glared at John, gaining an eye-roll for his efforts, his mouth curled into an involuntary smile.
“It’s called exercise, Rodney. It’s good for you.” John teased, purposefully ignoring his position in favor of putting Rodney at ease.
“Yes, well, I got enough exercise for the next few weeks today, thank you very much.” Rodney huffed, managing to look both sincere and a bit goofy as he did so.
“So, how about we go and find us something to eat?” John stood up, and pulled his sweat-soaked shirt away from his chest with a grimace of distaste. “After I had a quick shower. I’m not exactly fit for company right now.”
“Okay,” Rodney said, flopping backwards onto the mattress, apparently deciding that he could wait for John while being as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. “But hurry up, I’m starving.”
He stretched a hand towards the small packet of apple juice on the bedside table. “You mind if I take this, too?” He asked, already fumbling with the straw. “It was those damn, sweet rice balls Miko brought for breakfast. I should know better by now, they always make my blood sugar plummet if I wait too long before eating something more nutritious.” He pulled a face at his own expense.
“I noticed,” John murmured, remembering the first time it happened, and knowing that Rodney would be fine for at least the next two hours with the juice and the powerbar.
Then, John nearly caught his fingers in the dresser drawer, as he allowed himself one small glance at Rodney, sprawled on his bed, sucking the apple juice through the small plastic straw with apparent enjoyment, shirt rucked up a bit so a small sliver of pale flesh was noticable between t-shirt and the waistband of Rodney’s pants. Gathering up his change of clothes, John beat a hasty retreat to the small bathroom, not noticing that Rodney’s eyes had watched his every move in the reflecting surface of John’s window.
* * *
When John emerged from his shower, feet bare, pants riding low on his hips, and cursing the fact that he’d been so distracted by Rodney he’d forgotten to take a fresh shirt as well, he felt as calm as he was ever going to be with temptation so enticingly displayed on his pristine, white sheets.
Turning his back on the picture that was sure to be a main feature in his wet dreams from now on, John started to hunt for a new shirt. Rodney’s voice drifted over to him, sounding relaxed and barely awake, giving John bad desires just from listening to him, until John really started listening to him.
“You know, after the nightmare with the crystal entity, I realized something.” The sound of fabric shifting against bedclothes told him that Rodney had moved off the bed. He kept moving, all the way over from the bed until he stood close behind John, who was still staring into the drawer as if it held the secrets of the universe.
John had had fantasies that featured them like this; with him, half-naked and Rodney all but plastered against him, but John knew that they had no place at all in his everyday life. Where Rodney was his best friend, and had a girlfriend who seemed to adore him, occasional social awkwardness and all. A girlfriend, who is no longer part of the equation, he reminded himself.
Turning slowly, not wanting to startle Rodney, John waited. T-shirt, clutched between his hands like a shield against temptation, his body appreciated the chance to bask in the warmth Rodney emitted, his mind storing the feeling for later contemplation.
Tilting his head questioningly, John felt anticipation rise against his better judgment, making his heart beat faster. With every breath he took, Rodney’s smell filled his senses, almost dizzyingly, making him sway towards Rodney, wanting to be closer still.
Rodney looked up at him, the expression on his face one John wasn’t familiar with. It looked a bit like apprehension with a large helping of determination and a smidgeon of hope sprinkled on top, all directed at him.
When Rodney spoke again, each soft exhalation caressed John’s bare throat and chest, making the small hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention.
“I talked to the others, after. Teyla saw me, and Ronon. Dr. Keller saw people from her staff, close colleagues. Every one of them saw more than just the Entity in their nightmares.”
And like before, Rodney’s hand closed around John’s wrist, albeit gently, as if afraid to spook him if Rodney moved too fast, thumb brushing over the sensitive skin where John’s wristband usually sat, and John shuddered under the almost innocent caress, hands holding on to his by now rather crumpled looking shirt as if to a lifeline.
“Rodney?” He managed to choke out, not quite daring to belief this was happening.
“In my nightmares, I was always alone. No Ronon, no Teyla.” Rodney hesitated, gaugeing John’s reaction before he spoke again. “No Katie either. Just you, John. There was nobody I could think of, no one my mind could conjure up, who, knowing me would stand by me but you.” He reached up with his other hand, gently taking hold of John’s chin, thumb stroking over John’s lower lip in a soft caress.
“So, thinking about it, I came to the conclusion that there was only one thing I could do; be fair to her.” And for a moment, his smile was bittersweet as he looked at John.
“I wanted to talk to you about it, you know,” he shrugged, “But you were all set to go on that stupid supply run, on your own. And just for the record, John, that was very, very stupid. Next time you feel the need to leave your friends behind, at least take some of your goons with you, that’s what they are being paid for.”
The hand on his wrist had squeezed tight for a moment, testament to Rodney’s worry as well as his irritation with John’s behavior. The hand still caressing his face though remained gentle.
John swallowed hard. Thinking about the reason he had taken said supply run—to gain his distance from Rodney, for the sake of his own sanity. A reason, it seemed, that was not a valid reason at all any longer, if John didn’t misread the situation completely.
“I’m not so good at lying to myself anymore, John. I know, what that dream means to me. Do you?”
For a moment, John couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. His tongue flicked out to moisten suddenly dry lips, tasting salt-sweet skin, tasting Rodney.
With a broken sound, John let go of his useless shirt, hands reaching, twisting into the soft material covering Rodney’s back instead, hauling him close until they stood pressed together, chest to chest, John’s thigh wedged between Rodney’s.
Lips, firm and soft, so soft, brushed over John’s own, enticing him to taste, so John did. Their first kiss was power and passion, seduction and surrender, the taste of apple juice and Rodney; too much and not nearly enough. Breaking away from the kiss, he followed the line of the stubborn jaw, his lips rasping faintly against dark stubble. John nipped at the skin beneath Rodney’s ear, whispering his name like a secret against the softness he found there, gaining a throaty laugh as his reward. Not quite what John had been aiming for, so he continued to work his way further down.
“Oh, god, John.” Ah, yes, much better.
Panting himself by now, John held on to Rodney, burying his head in the crook of his neck, tongue flickering out to taste again and again; Rodney’s racing pulse a counterpoint to John’s own.
Arms came up to wrap around his shoulders, steadying Rodney as he leaned back in John’s embrace, giving him more room to follow the pale throat in a slow, meandering path, until his explorations were thwarted by the uncooperative neck of Rodney’s shirt. He nosed the material aside as far as it would go until, with a sigh, he had to admit defeat.
“Stuck, are we?” Another laugh and god, the teasing smile looked good on Rodney’s face.
“I’ll manage,” John growled playfully, mood shifting lightning quick as the urge to grab and hold on was assuaged by Rodney’s amused compliance. John felt his own, answering grin stretch over-sensitized lips, his hands busy tugging Rodney’s shirt up and over his head, hindered only temporarily by the need to pay homage to Rodney’s nipples as they emerged from under the soft material.
Rodney’s hands caught hold of John’s hair, alternately pulling him closer and pushing him away again, not quite decided, apparently, if the sensation of John’s mouth on his nipples was welcome or deemed too ticklish for the moment. But John wasn’t complaining, because there was still enough of Rodney left to uncover.
John gave Rodney a slight push, sending them both stumbling over to the bed when Rodney refused to relinquish his hold on John. When he pushed at Rodney’s shoulders until he was back in the position he’d been in earlier; sitting at the end of John’s bed, thighs spread so John could sink down on his knees between them, Rodney subsided.
Getting rid of Rodney’s shoes, socks following after, so John could stroke up over bare ankles until pant legs hindered his progress, was imperative; being thwarted by clothing yet again, an annoyance that made Rodney chuckle softly at John. Sliding his palms up the nicely muscled legs so enticingly spread for him, allowing John to explore to his heart's content, he fingered the material of Rodney’s pants, the heavy cotton-blend making him itch to feel bare skin instead. Massaging slowly upwards, John kneaded the strong thigh muscles through the well-washed material, eliciting a slight hiss from Rodney when his thumbs caressed the insides of Rodney’s thighs in a gentle caress, fingers barely brushing against his cloth-covered erection. John did it again, stroking the hardening flesh more firmly this time.
Which, apparently, marked the point Rodney finally had enough of being teased. Wrapping his legs around John’s hips, he pulled until John was close enough that impatient fingers could unzip John’s pants and slide inside to grip him in Rodney’s capable hand, starting to stroke expertly, while John was trying to concentrate enough to return the favor.
Eager hands shoved pants and boxers down wriggling hips until finally they managed to worm their way out of their clothes and up towards the pillows, both of them naked, John covering Rodney like a living, breathing, undeniably aroused blanket.
Trying not to squash Rodney and cursing the fact that he had never gotten around to requisition a bigger bed for himself after their return to Atlantis, John nearly fell off the too narrow mattress, before Rodney’s arms closing around his waist anchored him more securely to the strong body beneath him.
“That could have been embarrassing,” Rodney teased, hands wandering down to cup John’s ass, making him moan instead of an answer and bear down against Rodney, with a groan, Rodney arched into John’s downward push, hot flesh sliding slickly against his own arousal, already leaking with pre-come.
Leaning down, hungry to taste Rodney’s kisses again, John spent long, enjoyable minutes exploring Rodney’s mouth, an endeavor Rodney was decidedly in favor of, if his enthusiasm in the matter was anything to go by. They held on to each other, bodies slick where they were pressing together, kissing and holding on as if trying to climb into each others skin by osmosis.
John’s hand followed Rodney’s leg from where he had wrapped it around John’s hip in a sweeping caress, cataloging muscles flexing under soft skin, its paleness contrasting pleasantly against John’s own, sun-darkened hands. Skin-textures changing with his hand’s journey of discovery, from the soft bristle of hair on Rodney’s shins over an almost hairless inner thigh, dipping down, to caress a firm cock, and up again to a sleek buttock, following the rise up then sliding down again into a more intimate place, stroking softly, a question and a plea.
Rodney’s hitched breath when John repeated the caress, made him simmer nicely until dark lashes blinked slowly, blue eyes gazing at him, holding an expression that, for the fraction of a heartbeat, made John falter. Fearing what Rodney would be able to read in his face. That maybe, despite everything they had been through together, Rodney would look, and find him lacking. John held his gaze unflinchingly, for once not trying to hide behind pretty words, until Rodney’s throat moved once as he swallowed thickly, voice deep and husky, like nothing John has ever heard from him before, murmuring “yes” and “John” and “hurry”.
For once, though John was determined not to rush in, not to hurry, not this time. This time would be as slow as John could make it, because Rodney deserved more, deserved better. He kept his eyes glued to Rodney’s gaze while scrabbling blindly for the lotion in his bedside drawer, still caressing softly, carefully, making Rodney grip John’s forearms with a strength that would probably leave bruises as he moaned, arching and twisting into the pleasure of John’s touch.
Despite his best intentions, things started to go a bit blurry for John, when Rodney decided to speed matters up by starting to stroke John’s cock, slowly, teasingly, while John prepared him as carefully as possible. John nipped on handy shoulder in playful retribution, receiving a yelp and a mock glower from his lover before he soothed the small hurt with his tongue. He could feel Rodney smile against the side of his neck.
When he finally slid into Rodney’s body, slow and easy, and oh, so good, he felt Rodney open for him with gratifying eagerness and passion and John knew, knew that, after today, he would be spoiled for anybody else. John just couldn’t find it in him to worry about that though.
Fully sheathed, he leaned over Rodney. Braced on one hand, the other was free to roam, caressing in breathless wonder across the strong chest, the heaving flanks, the pleasure flushed face, and his mouth followed as far as he could reach, savoring every plea for more, every tiny moan, every exclamation of pleasure from the man in his arms, as they moved together in long, deep thrusts.
It was what John had wanted for years and still not quite enough, until Rodney wrapped his legs around John’s waist and John was able to thrust even deeper, his hand caressing over Rodney’s soft belly, pressing down carefully as if trying to gauge where his flesh was moving inside of his lover, caressing inside as well as out.
Rodney’s eyes grew wide at the realization of what John was doing, glittering with heat, and need and acknowledgment as he arched into every thrust until they couldn’t stall the inevitable slide into release for another second and surrendered together.
Afterwards, Rodney held him close for long blessedly regret-free moments, until the need for a shower and food, in that order, made them crawl out of bed, both not quite back to their usual, more acerbic selves.
Standing behind Rodney in the shower, massaging shampoo into the short hair and gaining an armful of pliant, pleasure-hazy scientist and a very thorough thank you kiss as payment, John smiled, the pleasure he could still feel, saturating every fiber of his being reminding him of the bright exhilaration of flight.
The End
Author:
reulannWritten for:
callmerizzoSpoilers: for Season 4, especially Doppelganger and Traveler
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Genres: slash, first time.
Words: ~ 5,929
Summary: In the aftermath of his kidnapping, John realizes there have been some changes taking place while he wasn’t paying attention.
Author's Notes: This story turned out rather different than I thought it would. It started out as something dark and broody in my mind but morphed into this without me noticing until it was finished. A big thank you too my beta, you know who you are, I really do appreciate the help, you did great.
I do hope you like it and wish you a very merry Christmas
Yours
Santa
* * *
Perceptions
The sound of footsteps echoed through the city’s long, empty corridors. John had been running for the better part of an hour by now, moving easily in the steady, ground eating pace, Ronon had taught him. Like always, the exhilaration of the run was helping him to gain relief from a mind filled with too many uncomfortable questions; questions he hadn’t yet found an answer to. He could feel the first warning signs from his body, a slow burn in the muscles of his thighs, telling him that it was time to head back.
Stepping out onto the walkway that connected one of Atlantis’ tall spires to the central tower, John couldn’t help the smile settling on his sweat-streaked face as he lifted his head in anticipation. Even in his current state of mind, the sudden, sweeping wind that blew his hair away from his face managed, for a brief moment, to give him the illusion of freedom, of flight. A brief respite before duty fettered him back down to earth.
He loved it here, high above the rest of the city. Everything looked small and insignificant from this point of view, and whatever demons haunted him when he came up here, usually were banished to their proper place by the time he went to re-join the rest of Atlantis’ population.
Taking a slow breath, John called upon the discipline that had gotten him through other emotionally wrought moments of his life here in the Pegasus galaxy, sparing a fond thought for his teacher, before he went through the little mental exercise she had taught him. Thank you, Teyla.
Inhaling deeply the brine-scented air, he steeled himself for the memories, one moment of remembrance before casting them to the winds that swept around the towers and walkways of the city. John conjured up each of the faces that had haunted his nights these last couple of days, filling his dreams with regret and suppressed longing for something different, something more, something forever out of reach.
Chaya, Mara, Teer, Larrin; all had coveted him for reasons of their own, and, in the end, all of them had wanted him for one reason and for one reason only, being a carrier of the coveted ATA gene.
John hadn’t quite figured out what rankled more, the knowledge that he would not be here at all, were it not for his proficiency with Ancient tech and Elizabeth’s friendship and determination, or that, at least twice, he had been tempted to settle for so much less than what he really wanted.
One more step, two, and John felt each connection of foot on metal reverberating through him, feeding his discontent. None of them had seen him, seen John. Whenever they had caught a glimpse of John the man, it had made them feel uncomfortable; didn’t fit in with their preconceived notions of who he was supposed to be; companion, consort, savior or living skeleton key.
When he reached the middle of the open walkway, the wind had died down until only a slight breeze remained to play gently with his loose-fitting running clothes, pushing the sweats against his laky frame in an almost caress. Letting his gaze rest on the vast ocean surrounding the city, John felt a strong sense of connection, of belonging—more so than he had ever managed to feel when on Earth.
The sound of the waves against the city walls rose up around him, mingling with the calls of the strange, purple-black seabirds that had started to migrate to the city a few weeks after their arrival on this planet. They looked a bit like a cross between a crow and an albatross, chasing each other across the water until they dove deep, catching unwary fish to bring back to their nests on the south pier.
When Thomlinson had spotted them that first day, way out on the pier, John’s favorite scientist had thrown a fit when half of his department had run off to go bird watching. The soft sciences—meaning zoologists and parts of the botany department—had gone crazy about their choice of nesting ground, much to Rodney’s very vocal consternation. He’d only calmed down after John had bribed him with coffee and real chocolate, and taken him out there for a closer look. Then again, maybe it had been the realization that Katie Brown was part of the crowd that watched the birds’ antics that had cooled his ire.
John pushed his hands through his sweat damp hair and grimaced, acknowledging that he liked the version in which he was the reason for Rodney’s acquiescence better. Slowing down to a brisk walk, by the time he had crossed the remaining distance to the opposite doorway he had managed to catch his breath.
Leaning his elbows on the railing, John watched the clouds, shifting in a constant dance of merging and separating again, unable to hold on to one form; aimlessly drifting from one partner to the next, just like himself, he thought not without bitterness.
Just let it go already, he told himself. Because, really, Katie was a nice girl, and John had really, really hoped she wouldn’t turn out to be. But John had his own reasons for disliking her—one very obnoxious and completely oblivious reason to be precise—but for Rodney’s sake, he tolerated her presence. They didn’t see much of Katie anyway, to John’s great relief and, on the rare occasions she joined them for a meal, he prided himself on the knowledge, that Teyla was the only one to even guess that his kind enquiries where as fake as his smile, whenever he addressed Katie.
The harsh disappointment that rose suddenly at this reminder of Rodney’s unavailability and his recent, callous treatment of John stung, more than the bruises left by Larrin and her henchmen during his brief imprisonment on her ship. The new healing device Dr. Keller had been working on with Rodney had done wonders for the deep tissue damages, leaving John with only minor blemishes on his torso and a pain in his heart no machine could hope to erase.
Gripping the metal rail tightly, knuckles white under his sun-warmed skin, he closed his eyes for a moment, remembering breakfast, and the way his day had gone downhill from there.
Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy being the center of attention yet again, Colonel. Unable to keep his anger under the tight leash he’d had on it all day, John whirled to the right and struck the wall with the flat of his palm, cursing profusely when the burning sensation in his left hand reminded him why that was a stupid move.
Releasing a pent-up breath, John leant his forehead against the smooth, cool surface of the tower that formed a small alcove by the entrance, sheltering him from the wind. Relaxing John breathed slowly, allowing the contact to soothe him, to strip away the anger at last.
He could feel the city, industrious yet calm, never angry or upset the way humans were wont to get. Grateful for the sense of stability and calm assurance the contact generated, he pulled himself together at last.
His hand trailed along the metal like a caress, a thank you for this refuge when he stepped into the open once more. He needed these last few minutes to prepare before his other life claimed him back, and if it was envy he felt when he watched the seabirds carefree antics, who was there to berate him for it.
* * *
Lost in his own mind, John missed the sound of the door to the main tower sliding open, the approaching footsteps finally calling him out of his reverie when their owner was almost upon him. Twisting around, he cursed inwardly when he saw who his unwelcome companion was.
“Here you are, Colonel.” Rodney looked a bit flushed and windswept himself; wearing uniform pants and a rather frayed, washed-out black t-shirt, his usual after-work-but-will-probably-end-up-down-in-the-lab-anyway attire. Smiling hesitantly at John, he ventured; “You are a hard man to track down.”
John clenched his teeth, half facing in the opposite direction again, not even pretending to be civil.
“You could have used the radio, Rodney.”
“Well, yes, I would have, but someone neglected to put it on before doing a marathon through Atlantis,” Rodney told John’s back, accusation clear in his voice, despite the situation.
There was that, and John had to suppress a smirk of satisfaction at Rodney’s obvious consternation. Serves him right, he crossed his arms over his chest defensively, Jerk.
“Are the Wraith attacking?” John asked; one eyebrow arched for good measure he turned and lent against the rail. Rodney looked at him askance. “No Replicators knocking down the city’s shields?” More silence and a tensing of the down-turned right corner of Rodney’s mouth.
“Didn’t think so,” John snapped, and stepped around him through the obligingly opening doorway, starting to walk down the corridor. Rodney let out a small sound of dismay, but otherwise followed close behind him, remaining strangely silent.
Ignoring him, John contemplated the best way to get rid of the unwanted company, because Rodney’s unusual silence threatened to disturb John’s newfound equilibrium. He really didn’t care, why Rodney had ventured to find him up here of all places, you know he has a problem with heights, don’t you, and he was sure the slightly queasy feeling in his stomach was due to the fact that his last meal had been hours in the past, nothing more. Liar.
John increased his pace. Still, it was he, who ran out of patience first. He blamed this entirely on the fact that, out in the field, a silent Rodney spelled certain doom, and John was conditioned to find out what the problem was when this happened, so he knew whom to shoot as soon as they got their weapons back. It had nothing at all to do with the knowledge that Rodney had hunted him down to talk to him. Nothing at all to do with the fact that even Rodney’s hands seemed to droop unhappily in the face of John’s disapproval as—robbed of their usual eloquence—they remained clenched by Rodney’s side.
“Jesus, Rodney. If all you wanted was to tell me to put on the radio, I got it, okay. Next time, I’ll take it with me so you don’t have to interrupt your precious research in case something comes up. Now go away.”
“No, wait. I really think we need to talk about…” Rodney swallowed the rest of the sentence when John whirled around to face him, leaning into his personal space.
“No, Rodney. We really don’t,” turning away, he walked faster, almost a trot, when Rodney’s voice reached him, tentative and a bit lost sounding. It was the latter that made him stop, made him turn to meet Rodney’s eyes at last.
“I just,” Rodney swallowed hard, eyes straying from John’s face, down his body, to his trainer-clad feet. Sighing, he drew his shoulders back, standing straight and met John’s gaze unflinchingly.
“Earlier, I said some things, things about you and that crazy person who kidnapped you and… and I might have been giving you the wrong impression with the things I implied.”
“You might have,” John questioned, eyebrows drawing together, still not sure he really wanted to do this now. Unfortunately, the look on Rodney’s face told him that he didn’t agree.
Rodney cleared his throat before he rushed out, “I realize that I might have said some things that could be interpreted to imply that you enjoyed being held prisoner by her against your will. Which of course would have meant you would not have been a prisoner at all…and,” Rodney swallowed again before he continued, “it might have been because we were worried about not finding you in time.”
Oh, and John felt a treacherous softening of his resolve.
“And by we, you mean…?” Despite his best intentions, John felt his anger start to slip away in the face of Rodney’s honest remorse. Because while Rodney might be many things, a proficient liar was not one of them, all claims of acting classes aside.
“By we, I mean,” hands, encouraged by John’s willingness to listen, moved to emphasize what Rodney apparently found so hard to put into words. “I have been worried, justifiably so, I might add, that I would not have been able to find you again, after the ship had moved into hyperspace.”
John kept looking at him, waiting for the rest of Rodney’s little speech.
A huff of breath and Rodney’s shoulders rose and fell with the deep exhalation. He paused, looking from John to the tall, stained-glass windows and back at John again. “I’m sorry for what I said. It was insensible and unfair, and I really don’t know why I said it.” Falling silent, Rodney fidgeted with the fingers of his right hand, looking pensive when John remained silent, until John felt like a heel for withholding an answer. Moving into Rodney’s personal space, close enough that their shoulders brushed, he felt himself finally starting to relax.
“Okay,” he said; reaching for the control pad of the transporter, the sudden urge to smile at Rodney soothing the lingering unrest inside, and he was instantly rewarded by the brightening of Rodney’s own expression and a slightly husky sounding “Thank you.”
John nodded in acknowledgement; the urge to reach out and touch, rising as suddenly as his anger had abated, he reined in expertly after all this time, without Rodney being any the wiser.
Stepping into the transporter, John cast a sidelong glance at Rodney; at ease now, a slight bounce in his step as he matched his stride to John’s own, clearly relieved that they were back on speaking terms.
So, maybe John was a bit of a push-over when it came to Rodney, no matter what the man did to annoy him. Nonetheless, when Rodney looked up and smiled as he met John’s gaze, clearly willing to go along with whatever he would suggest they do with the rest of their day off, John felt better than he had in days.
* * *
By unspoken consent, they made their way to John’s room. Rodney telling him about some new discovery concerning the jumpers’ shielding possibilities, something to do with the work he had started before they’d had their last run in with the wraith. It sounded interesting, and John promised to take Rodney and the prototype out for a test drive the next day. Almost at their destination, they ran into the last person John wanted to see right now.
Katie’s steps faltered for a second before she smiled at them. “Colonel Sheppard,” she greeted him, turning to Rodney. “Hello Rodney, good to see you. I hope you’re feeling better now. Dr. Zelenka said you missed lunch because you didn’t feel well?”
John looked from her to Rodney and back, noticing the rather stiff way Katie’s companion, Sergeant Postlewaith, drew to almost attention when Rodney nodded in his direction before addressing Katie. “It was just the usual; too much work and not enough time to rest. You know me, I get carried away.”
“Oh, okay then,” and when Rodney didn’t elaborate further, she continued rater stiffly, ”Have a nice evening then.”
Something, John mused, following Rodney as he continued down the corridor, was decidedly off. Reaching the door to his quarters, he turned around to see Postlewaith put an arm around Katie’s shoulders, pulling her closer. A gesture that looked much too cozy for mere friendship.
His first impulse was relief, because with this development, the ghost of Rodney leaving Atlantis to play happy families with Katie back on Earth seemed banished for the moment.
The second impulse had him turn to go after the creep that had dared put the moves on Rodney’s girlfriend, and to teach him a lesson about poaching, the sergeant would remember for the remainder of his days.
Rodney’s unexpectedly strong grip on his wrist held him back. “John, don’t,” voice a little hoarse but filled with determination he continued, “It’s not what you think.”
“Look, Rodney, I know what I…” But the expression on Rodney’s suddenly pale face left no room for an argument so John subsided.
“It wasn’t Katie’s fault, okay. I ended it.” The earlier smile had vanished without a trace, leaving behind a look John didn’t know how to interpret.
“You…What?” Feeling a bit as if he had fallen asleep in the middle of a movie only to wake up at the end with no clue as to why the serial killer suddenly turned out to be the good guy, John stared down at an increasingly despondent looking Rodney.
“I just… Can we not talk about this here? Please, John.” And, John felt the urge to do anything, everything, to wipe that look off Rodney’s face again.
“Okay buddy, let’s take this somewhere private.” Thinking the doors open, John gestured for Rodney to go first, because this way, Rodney was oblivious to the narrow eyed glare John gave the pair’s retreating backs for good measure.
* * *
The moment the door closed behind John, Rodney—who looked much too shaky in John’s opinion—sank down on the foot of the neatly made, narrow bed.
Heeling off his trainers, John realized that Rodney’s gaze appeared slightly unfocused; face pale even in the room’s dim light. Rodney stared at the bit of floor directly in front of him, still way too pinched looking, when he finally raised his head, and John instantly recognized the way the corners of his mouth trembled just the slightest bit, the tiny beds of sweat on the high forehead and the tired slouch of the broad shoulders.
“Hey, Rodney,” stepping closer to crouch in front of him, John concentrated on staying calm and reassuring; no need to upset Rodney any further at the moment.
“Um, hi?” Rodney answered, blinking at John; too unfocused for his liking, so John snagged his tack-vest from beside the bed, keeping a watchful eye on Rodney. The sound of velcro-fastenings being pulled open, followed by the faint rustling of the powerbar wrapper, managed to catch Rodney’s attention.
“John?” He asked; eyes fastened on the food in John’s hand.
“Here you go, Rodney, open wide,” John teased gently, masking his concern behind a smile. Rodney blinked and obeyed without question, taking a careful bite and starting to chew thoughtfully to John’s great relief.
The realization that their falling out had really bothered Rodney, enough so that he’d forgotten to keep track of what he had eaten, or in this case, not eaten, made John wish he had caved earlier. It also made him want to reach out and brush away the stray crumbs that clung to the edge of Rodney’s mouth, but he resisted.
After another bite, Rodney started to look like himself again. Blushing and a little embarrassed, he reached over before John could feed him the rest of the powerbar.
Not quite sure if he should mourn his loss or be glad that Rodney had taken temptation—literally—out of John’s no longer quite steady hand, he opted for a teasing wink.
Rodney fidgeted a bit, but his smile, albeit sheepish, had returned. “I, ah, I guess it’s been a long time since breakfast,” he offered, shrugging at John’s raised eyebrow.
“Breakfast, huh? What happened to lunch?” John asked, remembering Katie’s comment. But John didn’t need to be a mind-reader to know what had happened. Rodney intent on solving a problem, meant he frequently forgot the important things, like stopping to eat when he wasn’t reminded by Radek or John dragged him away to the mess.
“My epiphany happened.” Rodney looked at John, on eye level with him where he still knelt in front of the bed, almost inappropriately close, leaning in as he was between Rodney’s thighs. “And then I had to track down someone who chose to traipse all around the city, for fun.” Pretending to glared at John, gaining an eye-roll for his efforts, his mouth curled into an involuntary smile.
“It’s called exercise, Rodney. It’s good for you.” John teased, purposefully ignoring his position in favor of putting Rodney at ease.
“Yes, well, I got enough exercise for the next few weeks today, thank you very much.” Rodney huffed, managing to look both sincere and a bit goofy as he did so.
“So, how about we go and find us something to eat?” John stood up, and pulled his sweat-soaked shirt away from his chest with a grimace of distaste. “After I had a quick shower. I’m not exactly fit for company right now.”
“Okay,” Rodney said, flopping backwards onto the mattress, apparently deciding that he could wait for John while being as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. “But hurry up, I’m starving.”
He stretched a hand towards the small packet of apple juice on the bedside table. “You mind if I take this, too?” He asked, already fumbling with the straw. “It was those damn, sweet rice balls Miko brought for breakfast. I should know better by now, they always make my blood sugar plummet if I wait too long before eating something more nutritious.” He pulled a face at his own expense.
“I noticed,” John murmured, remembering the first time it happened, and knowing that Rodney would be fine for at least the next two hours with the juice and the powerbar.
Then, John nearly caught his fingers in the dresser drawer, as he allowed himself one small glance at Rodney, sprawled on his bed, sucking the apple juice through the small plastic straw with apparent enjoyment, shirt rucked up a bit so a small sliver of pale flesh was noticable between t-shirt and the waistband of Rodney’s pants. Gathering up his change of clothes, John beat a hasty retreat to the small bathroom, not noticing that Rodney’s eyes had watched his every move in the reflecting surface of John’s window.
* * *
When John emerged from his shower, feet bare, pants riding low on his hips, and cursing the fact that he’d been so distracted by Rodney he’d forgotten to take a fresh shirt as well, he felt as calm as he was ever going to be with temptation so enticingly displayed on his pristine, white sheets.
Turning his back on the picture that was sure to be a main feature in his wet dreams from now on, John started to hunt for a new shirt. Rodney’s voice drifted over to him, sounding relaxed and barely awake, giving John bad desires just from listening to him, until John really started listening to him.
“You know, after the nightmare with the crystal entity, I realized something.” The sound of fabric shifting against bedclothes told him that Rodney had moved off the bed. He kept moving, all the way over from the bed until he stood close behind John, who was still staring into the drawer as if it held the secrets of the universe.
John had had fantasies that featured them like this; with him, half-naked and Rodney all but plastered against him, but John knew that they had no place at all in his everyday life. Where Rodney was his best friend, and had a girlfriend who seemed to adore him, occasional social awkwardness and all. A girlfriend, who is no longer part of the equation, he reminded himself.
Turning slowly, not wanting to startle Rodney, John waited. T-shirt, clutched between his hands like a shield against temptation, his body appreciated the chance to bask in the warmth Rodney emitted, his mind storing the feeling for later contemplation.
Tilting his head questioningly, John felt anticipation rise against his better judgment, making his heart beat faster. With every breath he took, Rodney’s smell filled his senses, almost dizzyingly, making him sway towards Rodney, wanting to be closer still.
Rodney looked up at him, the expression on his face one John wasn’t familiar with. It looked a bit like apprehension with a large helping of determination and a smidgeon of hope sprinkled on top, all directed at him.
When Rodney spoke again, each soft exhalation caressed John’s bare throat and chest, making the small hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention.
“I talked to the others, after. Teyla saw me, and Ronon. Dr. Keller saw people from her staff, close colleagues. Every one of them saw more than just the Entity in their nightmares.”
And like before, Rodney’s hand closed around John’s wrist, albeit gently, as if afraid to spook him if Rodney moved too fast, thumb brushing over the sensitive skin where John’s wristband usually sat, and John shuddered under the almost innocent caress, hands holding on to his by now rather crumpled looking shirt as if to a lifeline.
“Rodney?” He managed to choke out, not quite daring to belief this was happening.
“In my nightmares, I was always alone. No Ronon, no Teyla.” Rodney hesitated, gaugeing John’s reaction before he spoke again. “No Katie either. Just you, John. There was nobody I could think of, no one my mind could conjure up, who, knowing me would stand by me but you.” He reached up with his other hand, gently taking hold of John’s chin, thumb stroking over John’s lower lip in a soft caress.
“So, thinking about it, I came to the conclusion that there was only one thing I could do; be fair to her.” And for a moment, his smile was bittersweet as he looked at John.
“I wanted to talk to you about it, you know,” he shrugged, “But you were all set to go on that stupid supply run, on your own. And just for the record, John, that was very, very stupid. Next time you feel the need to leave your friends behind, at least take some of your goons with you, that’s what they are being paid for.”
The hand on his wrist had squeezed tight for a moment, testament to Rodney’s worry as well as his irritation with John’s behavior. The hand still caressing his face though remained gentle.
John swallowed hard. Thinking about the reason he had taken said supply run—to gain his distance from Rodney, for the sake of his own sanity. A reason, it seemed, that was not a valid reason at all any longer, if John didn’t misread the situation completely.
“I’m not so good at lying to myself anymore, John. I know, what that dream means to me. Do you?”
For a moment, John couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. His tongue flicked out to moisten suddenly dry lips, tasting salt-sweet skin, tasting Rodney.
With a broken sound, John let go of his useless shirt, hands reaching, twisting into the soft material covering Rodney’s back instead, hauling him close until they stood pressed together, chest to chest, John’s thigh wedged between Rodney’s.
Lips, firm and soft, so soft, brushed over John’s own, enticing him to taste, so John did. Their first kiss was power and passion, seduction and surrender, the taste of apple juice and Rodney; too much and not nearly enough. Breaking away from the kiss, he followed the line of the stubborn jaw, his lips rasping faintly against dark stubble. John nipped at the skin beneath Rodney’s ear, whispering his name like a secret against the softness he found there, gaining a throaty laugh as his reward. Not quite what John had been aiming for, so he continued to work his way further down.
“Oh, god, John.” Ah, yes, much better.
Panting himself by now, John held on to Rodney, burying his head in the crook of his neck, tongue flickering out to taste again and again; Rodney’s racing pulse a counterpoint to John’s own.
Arms came up to wrap around his shoulders, steadying Rodney as he leaned back in John’s embrace, giving him more room to follow the pale throat in a slow, meandering path, until his explorations were thwarted by the uncooperative neck of Rodney’s shirt. He nosed the material aside as far as it would go until, with a sigh, he had to admit defeat.
“Stuck, are we?” Another laugh and god, the teasing smile looked good on Rodney’s face.
“I’ll manage,” John growled playfully, mood shifting lightning quick as the urge to grab and hold on was assuaged by Rodney’s amused compliance. John felt his own, answering grin stretch over-sensitized lips, his hands busy tugging Rodney’s shirt up and over his head, hindered only temporarily by the need to pay homage to Rodney’s nipples as they emerged from under the soft material.
Rodney’s hands caught hold of John’s hair, alternately pulling him closer and pushing him away again, not quite decided, apparently, if the sensation of John’s mouth on his nipples was welcome or deemed too ticklish for the moment. But John wasn’t complaining, because there was still enough of Rodney left to uncover.
John gave Rodney a slight push, sending them both stumbling over to the bed when Rodney refused to relinquish his hold on John. When he pushed at Rodney’s shoulders until he was back in the position he’d been in earlier; sitting at the end of John’s bed, thighs spread so John could sink down on his knees between them, Rodney subsided.
Getting rid of Rodney’s shoes, socks following after, so John could stroke up over bare ankles until pant legs hindered his progress, was imperative; being thwarted by clothing yet again, an annoyance that made Rodney chuckle softly at John. Sliding his palms up the nicely muscled legs so enticingly spread for him, allowing John to explore to his heart's content, he fingered the material of Rodney’s pants, the heavy cotton-blend making him itch to feel bare skin instead. Massaging slowly upwards, John kneaded the strong thigh muscles through the well-washed material, eliciting a slight hiss from Rodney when his thumbs caressed the insides of Rodney’s thighs in a gentle caress, fingers barely brushing against his cloth-covered erection. John did it again, stroking the hardening flesh more firmly this time.
Which, apparently, marked the point Rodney finally had enough of being teased. Wrapping his legs around John’s hips, he pulled until John was close enough that impatient fingers could unzip John’s pants and slide inside to grip him in Rodney’s capable hand, starting to stroke expertly, while John was trying to concentrate enough to return the favor.
Eager hands shoved pants and boxers down wriggling hips until finally they managed to worm their way out of their clothes and up towards the pillows, both of them naked, John covering Rodney like a living, breathing, undeniably aroused blanket.
Trying not to squash Rodney and cursing the fact that he had never gotten around to requisition a bigger bed for himself after their return to Atlantis, John nearly fell off the too narrow mattress, before Rodney’s arms closing around his waist anchored him more securely to the strong body beneath him.
“That could have been embarrassing,” Rodney teased, hands wandering down to cup John’s ass, making him moan instead of an answer and bear down against Rodney, with a groan, Rodney arched into John’s downward push, hot flesh sliding slickly against his own arousal, already leaking with pre-come.
Leaning down, hungry to taste Rodney’s kisses again, John spent long, enjoyable minutes exploring Rodney’s mouth, an endeavor Rodney was decidedly in favor of, if his enthusiasm in the matter was anything to go by. They held on to each other, bodies slick where they were pressing together, kissing and holding on as if trying to climb into each others skin by osmosis.
John’s hand followed Rodney’s leg from where he had wrapped it around John’s hip in a sweeping caress, cataloging muscles flexing under soft skin, its paleness contrasting pleasantly against John’s own, sun-darkened hands. Skin-textures changing with his hand’s journey of discovery, from the soft bristle of hair on Rodney’s shins over an almost hairless inner thigh, dipping down, to caress a firm cock, and up again to a sleek buttock, following the rise up then sliding down again into a more intimate place, stroking softly, a question and a plea.
Rodney’s hitched breath when John repeated the caress, made him simmer nicely until dark lashes blinked slowly, blue eyes gazing at him, holding an expression that, for the fraction of a heartbeat, made John falter. Fearing what Rodney would be able to read in his face. That maybe, despite everything they had been through together, Rodney would look, and find him lacking. John held his gaze unflinchingly, for once not trying to hide behind pretty words, until Rodney’s throat moved once as he swallowed thickly, voice deep and husky, like nothing John has ever heard from him before, murmuring “yes” and “John” and “hurry”.
For once, though John was determined not to rush in, not to hurry, not this time. This time would be as slow as John could make it, because Rodney deserved more, deserved better. He kept his eyes glued to Rodney’s gaze while scrabbling blindly for the lotion in his bedside drawer, still caressing softly, carefully, making Rodney grip John’s forearms with a strength that would probably leave bruises as he moaned, arching and twisting into the pleasure of John’s touch.
Despite his best intentions, things started to go a bit blurry for John, when Rodney decided to speed matters up by starting to stroke John’s cock, slowly, teasingly, while John prepared him as carefully as possible. John nipped on handy shoulder in playful retribution, receiving a yelp and a mock glower from his lover before he soothed the small hurt with his tongue. He could feel Rodney smile against the side of his neck.
When he finally slid into Rodney’s body, slow and easy, and oh, so good, he felt Rodney open for him with gratifying eagerness and passion and John knew, knew that, after today, he would be spoiled for anybody else. John just couldn’t find it in him to worry about that though.
Fully sheathed, he leaned over Rodney. Braced on one hand, the other was free to roam, caressing in breathless wonder across the strong chest, the heaving flanks, the pleasure flushed face, and his mouth followed as far as he could reach, savoring every plea for more, every tiny moan, every exclamation of pleasure from the man in his arms, as they moved together in long, deep thrusts.
It was what John had wanted for years and still not quite enough, until Rodney wrapped his legs around John’s waist and John was able to thrust even deeper, his hand caressing over Rodney’s soft belly, pressing down carefully as if trying to gauge where his flesh was moving inside of his lover, caressing inside as well as out.
Rodney’s eyes grew wide at the realization of what John was doing, glittering with heat, and need and acknowledgment as he arched into every thrust until they couldn’t stall the inevitable slide into release for another second and surrendered together.
Afterwards, Rodney held him close for long blessedly regret-free moments, until the need for a shower and food, in that order, made them crawl out of bed, both not quite back to their usual, more acerbic selves.
Standing behind Rodney in the shower, massaging shampoo into the short hair and gaining an armful of pliant, pleasure-hazy scientist and a very thorough thank you kiss as payment, John smiled, the pleasure he could still feel, saturating every fiber of his being reminding him of the bright exhilaration of flight.
The End
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Date: 2007-12-24 08:22 pm (UTC)Ah, but Rodney has seen..... so very lovely......
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Date: 2007-12-24 11:36 pm (UTC)Merry Christmas
Santa
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Date: 2007-12-24 10:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-24 11:38 pm (UTC)Happy Holidays
Santa
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Date: 2007-12-25 10:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-27 05:46 pm (UTC)Santa
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Date: 2007-12-26 07:48 pm (UTC)Beautiful fic! Loved every bit of it!
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Date: 2007-12-27 05:47 pm (UTC)Santa
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Date: 2007-12-27 03:32 am (UTC)I have one question about word usage. You wrote:
Did you mean insensitive rather than insensible? That makes more sense to me.
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Date: 2007-12-27 05:53 pm (UTC)Oh, my. You're absolutely right! It should be insensitive. I've already changed it in my original, but I guess I'll have to wait for the reveal before I can change it here. Thank you!
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Date: 2007-12-27 04:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-27 05:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-28 12:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-05 09:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-02 06:24 am (UTC)Oh, and the teasing! I really love the teasing. :-) Especially this:
“Stuck, are we?” Another laugh and god, the teasing smile looked good on Rodney’s face.
... which just put such a big smile on my face, picturing Rodney saying that, and John's terrific response to it, too. Again, the fact that they *care* about each other so much really comes through througout the whole story. And John almost falling off the bed - heh. Boy needs a bigger bed, for sure! Especially now that he'll be sharing it. ;)
Thank you so much for my gift, I really enjoyed it! (And I apologize for taking so long to comment -- I actually thought I already had, but it doesn't seem to have appeared anywhere, so apparently I screwed something up somewhere. But please rest assured that I loved my gift and thank you so much! :)
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Date: 2008-02-05 09:23 pm (UTC)I'm so glad you liked it. It's always great to know that the story reads the way I intended it to, not an easy feat because my mind is sometimes a very strange and chaotic place ;)
It was fun writing the story because you gave me a lot to chose from and to work with. It started out as a slightly darker piece, but somehow the teasing and the fun turned it around completely. And don't worry, about the late reply. Sometime LJ eats entries or messages, it's a conspiracy of the Replicators, I'm sure of it ;)