Self-abuse
My brain just wouldn't let it go.
Look. My story made Daniel Jackson sad.
Title: Tummy Ache
Author: muck-a-luck, posting in brainofck
Pairing: Thor/Jack/Carson
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jack gets a tummy ache.
Content/warnings: None.
Disclaimer: If anybody is planning a script like this for SG-1, I'm certainly not going to claim any rights to it. However, I'd be delighted to work in a co-writing/consulting/first-reader/advisory-type capacity, with my fee to be negotiated at that time. :D
Archive rights: Absolutely none. My journals only. muck_a_luck and brainofck
For my loyal rugbytacklers, I have done a Stargate crash course located here.
Carson looked around in confusion. He had been in his infirmary, working on some unusual bacterial samples from that scraping he took from Ronon's left butt cheek. Then suddenly, he wasn't. He looked around. The room was dimly lit. He could see outer space through the windows. He turned around.
Ah. Asgard ship.
There was one of the little grey guys, sitting in the command chair.
And. Oh, dear.
There was General O'Neill. Sitting on the floor propped up against the chair between the Asgard's pointy knees, head resting on his twig-like thigh. He was looking decidedly green around the gills.
"Dr. Beckett, I apologize for disturbing you," the Asgard addressed him.
"No need to apologize, um..."
"Thor," O'Neill filled in. In a sort of pathetic groan.
"How can I help you, Thor," the doctor asked, eyeing the general with some alarm.
"I have ingested General O'Neill's sperm, and it seems to have caused an allergic reaction," Thor explained.
Carson wished the Asgard went in for more furnishings in their ship. He really wished he could sit down.
Bedside manner. Bedside manner.
"I don't know very much about Asgard physiology," he began, approaching the little grey alien, trying to pretend not to notice General O'Neill lolling all over him.
"You misunderstand, Dr. Beckett. The allergic reaction appears to be O'Neill's reaction to my saliva."
"I keep telling you, little guy, it was the cake," O'Neill protested.
"Cake," Carson repeated stupidly.
"Yes, we were eating cake," Thor agreed.
OK. So Carson had to notice the general after all. He knelt down to look him in the eye.
Which was when the general pounced.
Carson squeaked, then oofed as he tumbled backwards and General O'Neill landed squarely on top of him.
"General," he gasped.
"Call me Jack," he interrupted, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. Carson could practically see the feather at the corner of his mouth.
"General," he repeated emphatically, "I seem to have been brought here under false pretenses."
"O'Neill, I told you he would not be amused by your joke."
"Well, you're the one who brought us all the way to the Pegasus Galaxy to pick him up so he could talk dirty to you."
Carson would sigh if he could just catch his breath.
If he just had a dollar for the number of times he had been abducted to talk dirty to various perverts with accent kinks...
If you're interested, all my stories, in order, from one page. Also, my fiction recommendations.
Look. My story made Daniel Jackson sad.
Title: Tummy Ache
Author: muck-a-luck, posting in brainofck
Pairing: Thor/Jack/Carson
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jack gets a tummy ache.
Content/warnings: None.
Disclaimer: If anybody is planning a script like this for SG-1, I'm certainly not going to claim any rights to it. However, I'd be delighted to work in a co-writing/consulting/first-reader/advisory-type capacity, with my fee to be negotiated at that time. :D
Archive rights: Absolutely none. My journals only. muck_a_luck and brainofck
For my loyal rugbytacklers, I have done a Stargate crash course located here.
Carson looked around in confusion. He had been in his infirmary, working on some unusual bacterial samples from that scraping he took from Ronon's left butt cheek. Then suddenly, he wasn't. He looked around. The room was dimly lit. He could see outer space through the windows. He turned around.
Ah. Asgard ship.
There was one of the little grey guys, sitting in the command chair.
And. Oh, dear.
There was General O'Neill. Sitting on the floor propped up against the chair between the Asgard's pointy knees, head resting on his twig-like thigh. He was looking decidedly green around the gills.
"Dr. Beckett, I apologize for disturbing you," the Asgard addressed him.
"No need to apologize, um..."
"Thor," O'Neill filled in. In a sort of pathetic groan.
"How can I help you, Thor," the doctor asked, eyeing the general with some alarm.
"I have ingested General O'Neill's sperm, and it seems to have caused an allergic reaction," Thor explained.
Carson wished the Asgard went in for more furnishings in their ship. He really wished he could sit down.
Bedside manner. Bedside manner.
"I don't know very much about Asgard physiology," he began, approaching the little grey alien, trying to pretend not to notice General O'Neill lolling all over him.
"You misunderstand, Dr. Beckett. The allergic reaction appears to be O'Neill's reaction to my saliva."
"I keep telling you, little guy, it was the cake," O'Neill protested.
"Cake," Carson repeated stupidly.
"Yes, we were eating cake," Thor agreed.
OK. So Carson had to notice the general after all. He knelt down to look him in the eye.
Which was when the general pounced.
Carson squeaked, then oofed as he tumbled backwards and General O'Neill landed squarely on top of him.
"General," he gasped.
"Call me Jack," he interrupted, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. Carson could practically see the feather at the corner of his mouth.
"General," he repeated emphatically, "I seem to have been brought here under false pretenses."
"O'Neill, I told you he would not be amused by your joke."
"Well, you're the one who brought us all the way to the Pegasus Galaxy to pick him up so he could talk dirty to you."
Carson would sigh if he could just catch his breath.
If he just had a dollar for the number of times he had been abducted to talk dirty to various perverts with accent kinks...
If you're interested, all my stories, in order, from one page. Also, my fiction recommendations.