More Crack!fic
This is the epilogue to The Soap Fic of Doom [NC-17], because wanderingsmith did the prologue. Uh, only read that, and, consequently, this, if you can stomach some really kinky shit. This is pretty short compared to the other two, but that's the way I roll. Short and sweet. XD
Honestly, it's hard for him to remember how she originally got him to wear the damn things, but it was a bit of a slow conditioning type thing - the first time was when he had gotten back from M8X-546, still in shackles, thanks to the insane natives who took him for a wraith worshiper after seeing the scar on his chest (the events leading up to seeing the scar remained a mystery to this day to the expedition, mostly because afterward he had bribed Rodney with coffee and chocolate not to say anything).
Elizabeth had looked entirely too pleased when he'd stepped (rattled) through the gate, and after they'd managed to get the damn things off, that night she had wanted to put them on again, just for fun. He hadn't known whether to be turned on or horrified, but judging from the half-erection he'd had all night, it was somewhere in between.
The next day, he'd found her in the armory, eying the handcuffs there appraisingly and only offering a slightly disconcerting smile when she saw him.
It was this night that she told him she had a specific fantasy, and though he had an inkling what it might be, he agreed on the condition that it didn't leave him paralyzed or with PTSD.
Now, as he lay there with aching wrists as the sun rose, he was happy he did, even if he was going to have to wear long sleeves for the rest of the week. Elizabeth, who was currently mumbling something about chickens and cats, was still fast asleep, and he was debating between laying there or waking her up so he could slip into the bathroom and raid her store of Motrin. Normally, he'd be alright, but he'd been sleeping on his side with one of his tender wrists crushed under her bony shoulder, and when you wake up to that in the morning you have to agree that it hurts like a bitch.
He was about to relent when he heard her groan and watched her eyes flutter open. When she saw him, he received a wicked smirk.
"Well, Colonel, I didn't know you were so kinky."
Wait, that was it! Revenge! He smirked back at her.
"Don't think I don't have any fantasies myself. Do we have a sponge?"
The crack lives on!
Honestly, it's hard for him to remember how she originally got him to wear the damn things, but it was a bit of a slow conditioning type thing - the first time was when he had gotten back from M8X-546, still in shackles, thanks to the insane natives who took him for a wraith worshiper after seeing the scar on his chest (the events leading up to seeing the scar remained a mystery to this day to the expedition, mostly because afterward he had bribed Rodney with coffee and chocolate not to say anything).
Elizabeth had looked entirely too pleased when he'd stepped (rattled) through the gate, and after they'd managed to get the damn things off, that night she had wanted to put them on again, just for fun. He hadn't known whether to be turned on or horrified, but judging from the half-erection he'd had all night, it was somewhere in between.
The next day, he'd found her in the armory, eying the handcuffs there appraisingly and only offering a slightly disconcerting smile when she saw him.
It was this night that she told him she had a specific fantasy, and though he had an inkling what it might be, he agreed on the condition that it didn't leave him paralyzed or with PTSD.
Now, as he lay there with aching wrists as the sun rose, he was happy he did, even if he was going to have to wear long sleeves for the rest of the week. Elizabeth, who was currently mumbling something about chickens and cats, was still fast asleep, and he was debating between laying there or waking her up so he could slip into the bathroom and raid her store of Motrin. Normally, he'd be alright, but he'd been sleeping on his side with one of his tender wrists crushed under her bony shoulder, and when you wake up to that in the morning you have to agree that it hurts like a bitch.
He was about to relent when he heard her groan and watched her eyes flutter open. When she saw him, he received a wicked smirk.
"Well, Colonel, I didn't know you were so kinky."
Wait, that was it! Revenge! He smirked back at her.
"Don't think I don't have any fantasies myself. Do we have a sponge?"
The crack lives on!