The Prisoner of Zenda: 2 of 4
Written for the reel_sga challenge
Pairings: Primarily McKay/Sheppard with bits of Weir/Kolya, Wier/Zelenka, and Dex/Teyla
Total word count: 30665
Rating: NC-17
Beta'd by the fabulous lamardeuse
The Prisoner of Zenda
Part 2
The ride back to the hunting lodge was silent. Rodney thought about John, and how it was just his luck to meet someone who might actually want him, only to have to leave the instant that attraction became apparent. Then he thought about how the King was probably gay, and if John was gay, too, well, maybe that explained why he would risk three men's lives in a harebrained substitution scheme. Sure, patriotism probably had something to do with it, but if John von Sheppheim was Rodney V's secret gay lover, that would certainly be a reason for the ridiculous lengths to which he seemed willing to go. And that also probably meant that he wasn't really attracted to Rodney. Which figured. A hot young military captain might want to be with a King, even a drunkard King, but with a pudgy scientist? What were the odds? No, that moment he'd had with von Sheppheim wasn't his moment, but the King's, and he'd best forget about it as soon as he could manage.
It was only a day, but it felt like a decade since Rodney had last seen the King's hunting lodge. The building was dark when Rodney and Dex arrived. Not just we're-all-asleep-now dark, but no-lights-anywhere dark. The colonel flicked the antiquated wall switches as they went in, but there was no response. He called out to Joseph, but again, nothing. Blind fumbling in the dark got them nowhere, and Rodney finally insisted that Dex go back to the car for the flashlight.
Using the weak beam to avoid obstacles, they made their way to the fuse box.
“Fuses? How long has it been since this place was wired?” Rodney would have expected the idiotic European fascination with Old Stuff to give way to some modern conveniences, at least in royal residences, but apparently the hunting lodge missed a lot of updates.
All the fuses had been removed, but it could have been worse. Yeah, the place was deliberately darkened, but it was pretty likely that power was still coming in. Were the fuses conveniently laying around? Of course not. But Rodney used pocket change to close the connections, and the two men climbed out of the subbasement and headed to the wine cellar, Dex with drawn handgun, because whatever they were going to find was sure to be bad.
And it was. When they found Joseph's body sprawled on the floor outside the room where they'd left Rodney V, they suspected the worst, but that, at least did not greet them. The King was not laying dead. Instead, on the table where they'd left him was a note, stained with blood, reading: One king is enough for any kingdom.
“Kidnapped,” grunted Dex as he sat heavily in a nearby chair.
“They could have killed him, and...and...taken the body.” Rodney was too keyed up, and had to pace, waving his hands as he spoke.
“Not enough blood. Besides, they'd have left him here and accused us.”
Rodney stared jerkily around the room as if expecting soldiers to jump out and grab him for murdering the King, then impersonating him.
“Kolya,” Dex grunted.
“He was in the city all day.”
"That devil Hentzau wasn't, and he should have been."
“Hentzau?”
“Count Radek of Hentzau. Does Kolya's dirty work.”
Rodney couldn't imagine deeds too dirty for Kolya. He really didn't want to meet this Hentzau. Which reminded him, “Uh...you realize they know everything now, right?”
“But they can't say anything. Denounce us and they denounce themselves.”
“Right, because they won't think about killing the King and blaming us.”
“Lost their chance. He'd have be be found here or at the palace for that to work, and both places are too well guarded, or will be within the hour.”
There was silence as the two men sat and digested the latest events. Rodney, exhausted from his day, let himself drift. There wasn't anything he could do now, and his part was over. Or should be over. Wasn't it over? He looked up and recognized Dex's narrow-eyed stare.
“Again with the insanity. No. No, no, no, no, no. It's a miracle it worked the first time. Do you understand the concept of 'snowball in Hell?' Because that's how much chance I have at making this work. Especially now that, oh, hey, Kolya knows!”
Colonel Dex appeared to be listening. “You're right. You've already done enough. I'll get you out of the country. We'll deal with it now.”
“We. You and J...Captain von Sheppheim. What will you do?”
“Look for the King. Rescue him, or, more likely, avenge him.”
“And the throne?”
“Teyla's, when she turns twenty-five. Until then, Kolya's Regent.”
“Even after what he's done?” The country would hand power over to the man who killed the King? Had he stepped through a time warp when he got off the plane?
“We'd need absolute proof, and we won't get that.”
Rodney was perfectly capable of connecting the dots. It didn't matter what happened to the country or the throne. Unless the King turned up alive sometime the next day. Dex and von Sheppheim were going to end up dead. They'd die trying to rescue the king, die trying to take revenge on Kolya, or die “accidentally” sometime during Kolya's regency. Prince Kolya couldn't let them live. They knew too much.
As far as Rodney was concerned, Dex could take his chances. This whole idiotic scheme was his idea from the beginning. Now he was trying to manipulate Rodney into more insanity using Rodney's attraction to John.
What pissed Rodney off most was that it was going to work. Rodney would never have John, not his affection, not his friendship, not even casual sex. Nothing. But he wasn't going to leave him in the lurch. Dex would save the King first, Teyla second, and the country third. Rodney was due some protection for his usefulness if nothing else, but John was nothing but cannon fodder to the colonel, and if by sticking around Rodney could keep him the slightest bit safer...
Rodney sighed. “Yes. I hate you, but yes. I'll play the King for a little while longer to give you time to find the real King Rodney. Just make sure you have a plan for getting me out safely when it all goes to hell.”
Colonel Dex didn't display any smugness at Rodney's agreement, but went straight to the telephone to make arrangements with John.
The telephone was dead. Of course the telephone was dead. Probably wires cut by the same people who pulled the fuses. And cell phones didn't work at the lodge. Dead spots because of the mountains. So it was back to the car and to the capital.
Colonel Dex drove in silence, a fierce frown indicating that he was deep in planning his next moves. Rodney was too wired to sleep. He spent the drive staring out the window, not really seeing the darkened landscape as it blurred by. At one point, he must have dozed, because he could have sworn he saw John smiling at him, one brow raised, reflected by the dashboard lights on the car window.
It was a good thing Rodney was used to sleep deprivation. By the time they got back to the city it was almost dawn. They snuck back into the palace using the same secret passage, and Rodney was dressed in the King's nightshirt and tucked into the King's bed just in time for the manservant to enter the room and open the curtains to the sunrise.
Soon after, John came in. Rodney was pretty sure he'd have heard if the captain had thrown himself on his sword overnight, but he felt relieved to see the proof in front of his eyes. His happiness quickly soured when he learned why John was there.
“I've got your schedule for today.”
“No schedule. Coffee.”
“I'll ring for some.” John matched his words with action. “But listen. You have a lot to do today.”
“Oh, God. Coffee!”
“It's coming. About your day...”
“Look, Captain, if you want me to remember anything, you need to wait for the third cup.”
And thank God John backed off. Rodney could have done without the amused smile, in more ways than one, but if he closed his eyes he could pretend he didn't see it.
The next hour had them planning the day. Actually, it had John listing the items on the schedule, and Rodney begging John to find him an excuse to avoid each item. Eventually John found him a way to duck out of everything except that evening's coronation ball.
“A ball? As in dancing? Formal wear? Hundreds of people trying to make conversation with me? You're kidding, right?”
“All you have to do is look haughty, dance one dance with Teyla, and avoid conversations. I'm pretty sure you can do all that.”
“Except for the dancing part. Wait! Tell me there isn't some hoppy skippy national folk dance I'll have to do.”
“A waltz, Rodney. A simple waltz.” John wasn't even bothering to hide his grin now.
Yeah, OK. He could waltz with Teyla. What he couldn't do was sit alone with John all day. And he couldn't go out. He estimated slightly less than three hours in public before he did something that was wrong enough to reveal the man behind the curtain.
He was so screwed.
At least John was babysitting him, and not out there getting himself killed looking for the King. That was something. So what could they do for twelve hours, stuck alone in a lavishly decorated bedroom suite?
Really, really screwed. And not in the good way. It was going to be a very long day.
Between breakfast and lunch Rodney managed to keep control. A selection of classic games in the armoire kept them busy, if not actually amused. Rodney was quite smug as he wiped John off the board, the heavy onyx and jade chess pieces making satisfying little thuds. Then John suggested Go, and proceeded to do his own conquering, and how did a pretty boy Army captain manage to get that good?
There was no repeat of the previous night's unguarded look. Mostly because Rodney was careful not to look John in the eye. He knew he had no poker face, and didn't trust himself not to reveal his sad little crush. The weird thing was how hard it was to accomplish the simple act of avoidance. It was almost as if John was trying to catch his eye.
After lunch, Rodney tried to catch up on a little sleep, but he was still too wired. John must have gotten tired of watching him flop around on the bed like a landed fish, because he finally puffed out a big sigh and stood up from corner chair where he was trying to read War and Peace.
“McKay, will you stop twitching and rest already?”
“I figure I'll stay awake. Because I really love going into a life-or-death situation sleep deprived.” He turned heavily over to his side, with his back to the room.
“McKay.”
Rodney jerked at the touch on his shoulder. What was it with these guys and their silent approaches?
“What, Captain? You couldn't scold me from across the room?”
“I might be able to help you relax, if you let me.” The touch became a firm grip, and John started a one-handed massage of Rodney's shoulder, up near his neck, right at the spot he kept his tension. One of the spots, anyway.
Rodney groaned involuntarily. He was so tired, and it felt so good. Then he stiffened and moved out from under John's hand.
“Stop.” Even Rodney didn't believe his protestation, but John respected it enough to stop. He didn't respect it enough to not argue.
“C'mon McKay. Your back feels like it's made of granite. Let me do this for you.”
“No, really. It's OK. I haven't forgotten grad school. I can still pull all-nighters.”
The bed dipped as John climbed on. He gently pushed Rodney flat onto his stomach, then began to work his back with both hands.
“No...Ohhhhh....” Rodney's groan drew out and faded. He knew he should protest again, but it was so nice just feeling John's warm hands. He didn't want to think how long it had been since someone else touched him on purpose, much less with this sort of concern.
“Think of it this way. You're risking your life for my country. I owe it to you to make it as painless as possible.”
Something inside Rodney went cold at that, but it also clarified things. “Yes, I suppose when you look at it that way...”
John took this as the acquiescence it was, and started to dig into Rodney's back. He worked like a pro, targeting the knots with deep kneading, then soothing the loosened muscles with long, smooth strokes.
Rodney closed his eyes and went with it. The exhaustion made it seem like time was slowing down, and he was soon floating on a gentle sea of sensation. He slipped into a sort of half-sleep, and his subconscious began to spin images - images of John touching him even more intimately, images of John's lips caressing the nape of his neck, images of him turning over to meet those lips with his own.
The hands on his back slowed, and the weight on the bed shifted. Rodney blinked to awareness, and realized that he'd become aroused, and that his hips were rocking rhythmically into the mattress.
He swallowed, grateful that his face, surely blazing red, was turned away from John. “Um...”
John's hands were still on his back, still stroking. “I can help with that, too, McKay,” he said quietly.
Rodney felt an instantaneous blast of fury that subsided just as quickly. It wasn't a pity offer - John couldn't know about his crush. It was like a pal offering to lend a hand, or...or..an anonymous thing at a bar. Maybe even the fact that he looked like John's royal lover. Rodney couldn't be angry. But he couldn't accept, either. His pride wouldn't allow it.
“No. Thanks, but no. Just, umm, pretend it didn't happen, OK, Captain? I'm embarrassed enough as it is.”
“No problem.” John patted Rodney's back gently. “Think you can sleep now?”
Surprisingly, Rodney was still relaxed. Maybe that flash of anger had drained away the last of his energy. Whatever it was, Rodney found himself sinking into the pillow and back into dreamland. He just managed to reply with an incoherent hum before drifting away entirely.
~&~&~&~&~
Like the coronation the day before, the ball passed in a blur. Only a couple of incidents were sharp enough to remember. Dancing with Teyla. Now that was something he'd take with him to his grave. The woman moved like a frictionless puck on an air cushion. She made Rodney feel like he was frictionless. If he wasn't already head over heels in crush with John von Sheppheim, he'd be heading that way with Teyla. Even more impressive were the brilliantly simple suggestions she had for fixing some of the kingdom's problems. Rodney had never had much use for the soft sciences, if you could call them science, but the princess seemed to have a grasp on both sociology and economics that would put most world leaders to shame.
The other thing that stuck with Rodney also involved Teyla - and a nice helping of subliminal terror. The two of them were making small talk with the cardinal, and the churchman brought up the marriage, asking them if they'd set a date. Rodney was at a loss. It never even occurred to him that someone would ask, and how stupid could he get? Obviously this was an old fashioned country, and there was a sizable percentage of the population that wouldn't rest until there was a crown prince. With nothing to say, Rodney looked to Dex for some hint on how to reply, and when the colonel's smoldering glower struck him right between the eyes it almost knocked Rodney over. Rodney found himself stammering some number out and leaving abruptly. He was sure he'd insulted the princess and offended the cardinal, but that was a problem he'd leave for someone else to clean up.
Rodney left the ball as soon as he could after that. There was only so much he could take, and he figured he'd better get out before he blew his cover completely.
~&~&~&~&~
Rodney didn't have the presence of mind to notice, but neither Kolya nor Radek was at the ball. That's because they were at Kolya's estate at Zenda. Hentzau had much to tell the prince. Not only had he discovered that the good guys weren't above plotting and scheming, he now had an ace up his sleeve that could be played many ways. Radek was in a very good mood.
Kolya seemed shocked at first, and chagrined, to learn that he hadn't recognized the man crowned as an impostor, but when he learned that Radek had the actual king in custody, he recovered nicely and the two sat in front of the fire with cigars and brandy to lay new plans.
"Wounded, you say?"
"Not badly. More battered."
"So he can be moved?"
"Why bother? Why not just kill him? Surely he's expendable now, and the impostor can be controlled..."
"Not yet, not until we're sure we don't need him."
"When will we be sure?"
"Suppose the impostor dies first, and is buried in the cathedral as a king..."
Radek drew in a mouthful of fragrant smoke and took a moment to consider. From two kings to no kings, and Kolya as Regent. He could work with this. "There are moments in your presence, Your Highness, when I feel myself an amateur."
"This fraud is an insult to the whole country," Kolya said slyly.
Radek heard the implicit order. "Your Highness points out the path of duty. Any patriot ought to kill him on sight."
Also hidden in the conversation was the reward. Do this for Kolya, and get a king's ransom. Radek knew how Kolya's mind worked, and he knew he'd have to have a contingency plan for when he became an inconvenience, but if he got his reward in cash instead of land, well, there were a lot of beautiful places in the world where a European gentleman could make himself quite welcome.
~&~&~&~&~
Rodney was in the King's apartments, getting peeled out of his over-decorated, distressingly hot attire, when John came in. The captain waited impatiently in the corner for the valets to finish unpacking Rodney, and as soon as they left, he pulled out a note and handed it over.
The envelope was addressed to Rodney McKay, c/o John von Sheppheim. Deliver instantly!
Instantly. That would be via email, right? Not in this technological backwater.
And wait. Rodney McKay? So they'd figured out who he really was. Great. It had to be from Kolya.
If Dr. McKay desires to know the whereabouts of the King, let him come tonight at two o'clock to the deserted summer house behind the wall on the Boulevard Elphard. He must come alone.
"Obviously a trap. Kolya can't think you're that stupid!"
"There's more."
If you hesitate, consult Capt von Sheppheim.
"He plainly thinks I'm even dumber."
Ask him what woman would do most to prevent Kolya from becoming king. Ask if her name begins with E.
"E? Elizabeth de Mauban!"
"Elizabeth de what?"
"Kolya's mistress. Except there's something strange going on...”
“What a surprise,” Rodney said dryly. He couldn't imagine anyone voluntarily sleeping with Kolya.
“... and if Kolya becomes king, she's probably on his list of people he doesn't want around anymore."
“So you think she knows where the King is?”
“Likely,” John shrugged.
“Of all the things I'm going to regret about this week, I'm probably going to regret this the most, but - how far is the Boulevard Elphard?”
“You're going?”
“Don't act so surprised. Dex has been looking all day and hasn't found the King. I can't hide here forever.”
“Then I'm going.”
“Thank God. I really didn't want go alone. But not the colonel. He'll have fourteen different reasons why we shouldn't go, and all of them good. But he hasn't found any news of the King, so maybe we can.”
It wasn't that far, though some of the distance was vertical. John had to boost Rodney so he could climb the wall. Rodney was absolutely not thinking of John's strong hands on his upper thighs as he helped him over. They'd had a hissed conversation about John going too, but Rodney didn't want to scare their contact, and besides, trap, right? so someone flanking any attackers was good. John was armed, of course, and he offered Rodney a handgun, but Rodney refused. He'd never used one before, and starting now would probably get him killed.
The summer house was dark and dusty, littered with old furniture. Rodney felt the wall beside the door for a switch, but a hand, slender and unusually strong, stopped him.
“They work, but don't turn them on. The windows aren't covered.” The woman's rich contralto was cultured.
“Ms. de Mauban?”
“Yes, and you're Dr. McKay.”
“Mmm. You know where the King is?”
“I do, but you have to know, three men are coming here to kill you tonight.”
“Yes, yes. What a surprise. So tell me about the King, and then we can both get out of here before the assassin's guild shows up.”
“You have to promise me something first.”
“Right,” Rodney snorted. “You lure me into a trap, then ask for a promise? You have to know anything we say to each other can't be trusted.”
“Please. I don't want Kolya to be Regent, but I want you to promise that you won't kill him. That no one will harm him. He has to be stay alive.” There was a note of pleading in Elizabeth's voice.
“Why do you want to keep a man like that alive?”
“I have my reasons. Promise, or you don't get the King back.”
“All right.” Rodney needed the information quickly. It's not like he'd be in a position to kill Kolya, anyway, so it wasn't exactly lying. “It's a promise. I'll make sure the others know. Now, where is the King?”
“He's at Kolya's castle at Zenda. If the castle is attacked the King will be killed instantly and no trace of his body will be found. You must have his friends near, at his hunting lodge. When I can arrange an escape I'll send you a message.”
“And I'll know the message is from you how?”
Elizabeth removed her earrings and gave one to Rodney. “When I send word, I'll send the mate. That way you'll know it's from me.”
“We're just supposed to trust you in all this, is that it?”
“Please. I'm as good as dead if he gets the throne. I know too much about his plans.” Rodney could tell there was something else.
“Then why the no-harm guarantee? He can't possibly hurt you anymore if he's dead.”
The answer came slowly, softly. It obviously pained her to say it. “It's my brother. He's in prison, and as long as Kolya is alive, my brother stays in the minimum security area. If anything happens to Kolya, Pierre is moved in with the worst prisoners, the criminals who will make his life hell, then in all likelihood kill him. It's why I'm here to begin with. You don't think I want to be with Black Kolya, do you?” Elizabeth turned away from Rodney, hiding her face.
This was more than Rodney wanted to know, but there was really no reason not to agree with her terms. He could check the important parts of her story with Dex when he got back to the palace. He touched her shoulder to get her attention.
“All right. Your terms. We'll wait for your information.”
“Thank you. Now go before...” Elizabeth's voice trailed off as she listened. “They're here too soon! If they find us together...” She looked around frantically.
It just figured.
“Pardon this interruption, Dr McKay. I wish only a word with you.” A voice came through the door.
“It's Radek Hentzau. Don't trust him.” Elizabeth hissed.
“Like I would,” Rodney muttered, and then aloud he said, “We can talk with the door between us.”
“Give me your word of honor not to fire before we talk?”
“He thinks I have a gun. That must mean he has one. Shit. What have I got?” Rodney raised his voice to answer Radek as he looked around the room frantically for something to use as a weapon. “I give you my honor not to fire before you do, but I still won't let you in.” Then under his breath, “by the hair of my chinny chin chin.” And again out loud, “Stand outside and talk.”
“As you wish. A truce while we offer peace terms. $250,000 American dollars, and safe conduct to the frontier.”
“That sounds like a reasonable offer.” Rodney spotted an electric floor lamp laying on its side, long cord trailing, among the broken furniture. He flashed on an old trick he and his cronies used to use to keep the undergrads out of the graduate labs.
“Come out, then. I have a car, and the money ready.”
“Give me a minute to think it over.” Eyes flicking back and forth, Rodney measured, planned and calculated. At least he had his multitool, which he always carried (except when he was dressing up in someone else's ceremonial robes).
Rodney hurried over to the lamp. He sighed with relief to find that the cord was long enough. Dragging it over to the doorway, he pulled out his multitool and stripped the insulation off the wire.
He gestured Elizabeth over and said quietly and quickly, “See if you can find any loose nails. We used to use staples or paper clips to string it up, but... ” He looked at Elizabeth's elaborate coif. “Wait, how are you keeping your hair up?”
Frowning, she put her hand to her head, then drew out a wire hairpin and held it up.
“Yes! Thank God. Give it to me. Give me all of them.” Rodney wiggled his fingers at her, palm up.
When he had a small pile, he started poking two lines of holes in the plaster wall, about chest height, then he stretched the wire along between the holes.
“Put the pins in to hold the wire up. Like they were staples.” He demonstrated. “C'mon, c'mon. They're going to be busting in soon.”
While Elizabeth did as instructed, Rodney guided the bare wire across the doorway, then started attaching it on the other side.
“We used to booby trap the lab doors to keep the undergrads out. It wasn't going to kill them, unless they had a heart condition, and we did put up warning signs. Of course, here you have 240 Volts instead of 120, but then those guys out there have guns, so I don't think it's that unfair.”
While he was talking, Rodney finished his set up. He had his arms out wide, one hand on the plug ready to go into the wall and the other holding a short stick so he could reach the light switch.
Over his shoulder, he said, “Stand out of the line of fire, I'll show you a new use for a lamp.” Then he raised his voice loud enough to be heard outside, “I accept your offer. You can come in.”
After that things moved fast. Hentzau yanked the door open, and the three men started to fire before they even entered the room. At the first shot, Rodney flicked on the lights and plugged in the lamp cord. Thank God the power was on, like Elizabeth had said. The attackers were blinded by the brightness, but their momentum kept them going, right into the bare wire with 240 Volts coursing through it.
The two men with Radek hit the wire first. There was a loud sizzle as they connected, followed by the nauseating smell of burnt meat. Radek came up behind them just as they fell to the ground. He managed to stop before he hit the wire full-on, but he caught enough of a shock to be thrown backward, losing his gun and slamming onto the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of him.
Rodney and Elizabeth, now wrapped in a cloak, ducked under the wire and ran out of the summer house. When Rodney went right, to the place he'd come over the wall, Elizabeth went left, and he quickly lost sight of her in the gloom. He didn't worry too much about her. She'd managed to get in, and he was sure she'd manage to get out just fine. He was more worried about himself, and getting back over the wall, when he saw John drop down into the shrubbery, gun already in hand.
“You won't need that. Let's just get out of here. C'mon. Help me over. Go, go, go, go, go!”
One strong heave had Rodney on his way over the wall, and John soon followed. They tumbled into the car they'd left nearby and started back to the palace. Rodney sagged against the passenger door, panting heavily, positive his heart was about to burst out of his chest. He'd never been so frightened in his life. The captain tried to find out what had happened in the summer house, but Rodney couldn't talk. He just waved his hand weakly and pled for a few minutes' rest before John started in on the inquisition.
By the time they got back to the palace, Rodney was shaking with reaction: he felt weak and nauseous, and he was drenched in sweat even though he couldn't get warm.
“Jesus, McKay. You're going into shock. Why didn't you say something?”
“W-would it have m-made you d-d-drive any f-faster?”
“So not the point. Just sit tight. I'll come around and help you out.” John reached across Rodney's body to pop the lock on the passenger door. Rodney unconsciously leaned into the captain's solid warmth, and would have been embarrassed if he'd had the presence of mind to hear his own whimper when it disappeared.
The warmth came back, though, and this time it was accompanied by support as John helped Rodney undo his seatbelt and inch out of the car. When he had him standing, he paused to ask anxiously, “Are you hurt? There were a lot of bullets flying around. Were you hit?”
“No. I don't th-think so. J-just...” Rodney's knees gave out and John had to brace him upright.
“That's it. I'm calling for a doctor.”
“No! You'll ruin everyth-thing. R-really. I'll be OK. J-just get m-me upst-stairs.”
From somewhere, Rodney found strength enough to walk. He did keep his arm over the captain's shoulder, and stayed close enough to let von Sheppheim snug an arm around his waist. There were a lot of stairs along the now familiar secret passage, and he really was still weak from his ordeal.
Rodney recovered somewhat by the time they reached the bedroom. He wasn't shivering anymore, and his gut had settled. He still welcomed the soft bed, and pulled the quilt up around himself as he sat down heavily on the edge.
John dragged a chair over and sat down next to him. He spoke softly, as if unwilling to upset Rodney again now that he'd calmed down.
“Did you find out anything?”
“Oh yeah. Jackpot. He's alive, at Kolya's castle. Zenda? Something like that. She's willing to help us get him back, so long as we don't hurt Kolya.” Rodney gave John the details, suggesting strongly that he follow up on Elizabeth's story about her brother before deciding to trust her.
John listened and nodded in the right places. The look of approval on the captain's face warmed Rodney as much as the blankets around his shoulders. As Rodney wound down, John asked about the escape.
“So, you want tell me how you got away, since you didn't have a gun and they did?”
“Old grad student trick. Booby trapped the door. Oh hell!”
“What?”
“I left my multitool at that damned summer house.”
“I'll get it back for you.”
“You don't understand! It's vital. It could save my life someday. It did save my life. Oh my God. My life needed saving. They were shooting at me. They wanted to kill me. Oh my God!” The night's adventure finally hit Rodney, and now that he was in the safety of the King's bedroom, the panic began to take over. Rodney turned frightened eyes to John and said in a broken whisper. “They were trying to kill me.”
“But they didn't. You're alive, McKay. They didn't kill you.” John reached out and grabbed Rodney's shoulder firmly.
Rodney just kept looking at John, shaking his head.
John shifted off his chair and onto the bed next to Rodney, throwing his arm over the scientist's shoulder and pulling him close. “You're all right. Rodney, you're OK. You beat them. You weren't even armed, and you beat them.” He crooned the soothing words. Rodney shifted closer and leaned his head on John's shoulder.
John fell silent, but his hand came up and he started stroking Rodney's shoulder and back where he could reach. Rodney nestled into him, unconsciously turning his body to make more of his back accessible to the petting.
It had been a hell of a day - Rodney couldn't remember ever being so terrified as those moments when the shooting started and he didn't know if his plan would work. Not even when he'd defended his three PhDs! Rodney thought about those seconds in the summer house, and started tensing up all over again. Then he reminded himself that he'd survived. Against three men with guns, he'd used his brain, figured out a solution, and made it! That was beyond cool. The electrical wire is mightier than the gun. Heh.
And now he was alive. Oh my God, so alive! Rodney sucked in a deep breath, and suddenly was awash John's scent. For a moment, two reactions warred in Rodney's head: What on Earth am I doing practically sitting in John's lap?! and Jesus, he smells good!
It was no contest. Rodney's intellect had already clocked out for the day, satisfied with a job well done. His body, though, was suddenly waking up to the realization that it was gloriously alive. The nose full of John's wonderfully male smell made Rodney's limbic brain sit up and take notice. Add to that the feel of his warm torso, pressed full length against Rodney's, and suddenly fire sizzled its way down to pool in Rodney's groin and bring his cock to attention.
~&~&~&~&~
John had been absently petting Rodney, almost dozing himself, when Rodney's breathing changed and quickened. John wondered for a moment if he was crying, but that seemed unlikely. Then John realized what was going on. Rodney was aroused. Like the previous day, when John had rubbed his back. It was clear that Rodney wanted him.
“Rodney,” John said softly. He didn't want to startle the other man. “McKay.” He reached his free hand to Rodney's chin and turned it up, so they could see each others' faces. The emotions that flashed through the scientist's eyes made John's breath catch. Longing, changing quickly to hopelessness, then an embarrassed blankness as Rodney tried to mask his expression and turn his face away.
Unlike before, this time John refused to be dissuaded. He kept hold of Rodney's chin and looked him straight in the eye. “If you want to be with me, I want to be with you. Let me be with you.”
“I know I'm not the one you want. Don't offer, please, Captain. I don't have the strength tonight to say no.”
“Rodney.”
“Yes, Rodney. That's me. Same name, even.”
John flinched at the bitterness in Rodney's voice.
“Rodney...no...McKay. I know exactly who you are, and I know exactly who I want. And that's you: Dr. Rodney McKay. Don't say no. Let me be with you.”
John watched Rodney's mobile face as he considered, and saw the moment when he decided.
“Oh, God, I'm only human!” Rodney leaned his whole weight against John, pushing him over onto his side, then scrambling up beside him to kiss him, hard and wet and sloppy.
John opened his mouth and let Rodney in.
~&~&~&~&~
Rodney couldn't get enough of John's mouth. The taste, the texture, the mobile lips and sharp white teeth, giving as good as they got. It had been so long since he'd kissed a man, since he'd felt the roughness of another man's stubble against his cheek, since he'd dueled tongue and tooth with someone whose mouth was as big and hot as his own. That it was John's mouth - this beautiful soldier pledged to serve another, but willing to, no, wanting Rodney - it felt so wonderful. Rodney was sure he would come from this alone. He would have been happy to kiss John for hours.
Apparently, though, Captain von Sheppheim had other ideas. Rodney wasn't anywhere near done with the kissing before John started to migrate south. First, he nibbled Rodney's neck, including intermittent nips and sucking kisses to keep Rodney from getting complacent. Without conscious thought, Rodney found himself tilting his head, exposing the tender spots to John's exploring mouth.
John hummed with approval at Rodney's classic gesture of submission, even though he hadn't meant it like that. Not really. But if it got John to concentrate on that extra-sensitive spot just where the jaw met the ear, well, Rodney could accept beta status for now.
John didn't stay at neck level, though. Soon his mouth was dipping below the line of Rodney's collar, and his hands were getting into the act, unbuttoning Rodney's shirt and exposing his chest. By this time, Rodney was lying on his back, and he made a feeble effort to return the favor, sure that John's chest would be a much more aesthetic sight than his own pasty, sparsely-furred, soft torso. John was having none of that. He pushed Rodney's hands back down onto the bed and pressed for a moment, making clear that he wanted Rodney to lie still and let John run the show.
Rodney was exhausted - physically from the exertions of the past couple of days, and emotionally from fighting his attraction all that time. With John above him, mapping his body with lips, tongue, teeth, and hands, Rodney wondered why he was bothering to fight. Relaxing his arms and shoulders, he exposed his neck on purpose. If John wanted him, he could have him. Since this fiasco began, Rodney'd been doing what John wanted. Why stop now, especially when what John wanted was what Rodney wanted.
In reward for his submission, John stopped his exploration momentarily to return to Rodney's mouth. The kiss he bestowed was deep and luxurious, full of promise and heat. Rodney moaned into it. So good. He didn't think he'd ever been more turned on.
John huffed with amusement as he returned to Rodney's chest. “You ain't seen nothin' yet, McKay,” he said, and Rodney could hear the smile.
“Is that a threat, or a promise?” he managed to retort. Von Sheppheim didn't need to know how close to gone Rodney was.
“Yes,” John replied, and went right for Rodney's nipple, sucking it swiftly to a hard point.
“Ahhhh!” Rodney arched into the contact, then arched again, too breathless to cry out as John switched sides, this time pinching the first nipple at the same time as he sucked the second one.
“Thought so.”
The nerve of the man. No need to be smug; Rodney was an easy target tonight. If Rodney had just a little more energy, he'd show John some real technique.
John kept up his attention to Rodney's nipples, sucking and pinching and nibbling and blowing in some random pattern. It didn't take long before Rodney was writhing and gasping beneath him on the bed.
Then, when Rodney thought he'd come for sure, John abandoned his chest. Rodney whimpered in protest, reaching for John to bring him back. But John was gone, off the bed, and as soon as Rodney realized this, he sat bolt upright, half panicked. John wouldn't, couldn't be that cruel.
It took Rodney a moment to focus, then he saw where John had gone. He was standing at the foot of the bed, bare to the waist, socks and shoes off, pants already unzipped and halfway off his narrow hips.
He looked at Rodney a little sheepishly and said, “I was hoping to be done faster. I got a knot in my shoelace.” Rodney guessed that he'd telegraphed his distress, because John's voice gentled and he said, “Hey, it's all right. I'm not going anywhere. I just wanted to get comfortable. No, I want to be naked with you. I want to feel your skin. Let me finish here, then I can...”
John matched action to words, and within seconds he was back on the bed, stripping the rest of Rodney's clothing off. The shirt he left on, but open, and the rest of Rodney's clothing - trousers, briefs, socks, and shoes - soon joined John's on the floor.
As if in penance for frightening Rodney, John returned to kissing. At first he balanced over Rodney on strong arms, but soon Rodney reached up, grabbed him around the middle, and pulled him down until he lay full length on top of Rodney, their bare skin touching from foot to shoulder. This time it was John's turn to moan at the sensation, and Rodney couldn't be sure, since their faces were really too close to focus, but he thought he saw John's eyes roll back in ecstasy before his eyelids fluttered shut.
Soon enough, John started down Rodney's body again. Neck, collarbone, nipples, ribcage, navel, John visited them all. He didn't spend time torturing Rodney with sensation, not like before. This time John had a goal. Rodney had a goal, too, and he only hoped that it was the same as John's.
When John got to where the hair began to thicken, he slowed down. He buried his nose in the tight brown curls and inhaled deeply. The puff of hot breath when he exhaled had Rodney arching his hips, seeking for more of John's mouth.
“God, John. Please.” Rodney could barely choke out the words.
John had to know what Rodney wanted, and thank goodness he was through teasing. Until now, he'd avoided touching Rodney's hard, leaking cock and the accidental brushes of his body, maddeningly light, had only served to push Rodney higher. Now, without warning, John grasped Rodney firmly, making his whole body spasm and wringing from him a wordless cry.
A tiny part of Rodney was mortified by his own response. He was acting like no one had ever touched him before. But the combination of exhaustion and adrenaline had his control stretched thin and fragile as a soap bubble. The fact that it was John doing these things to him made it even worse. If John started to suck him, Rodney would never last.
From his brain to John's mouth. Just as Rodney finished the thought, he felt John go down on him. He couldn't even cry out at that. Nothing came out but a choked gasp. Rodney was sure he'd forgotten how to breathe, but at the moment he didn't care. The hot wet suction was the best thing he'd ever felt. Then John added his tongue, pressing it flat just below the head. And his hands, rolling Rodney's balls gently with one, while stroking beneath them with the other. Combined with the slightest scrape of John's stubble on Rodney's inner thighs, the sensations caused a knife switch in his brain to slam down, shutting off thought and turning him into a creature of pure feeling.
Rodney lasted - oh, at least five seconds. Then he exploded with the most powerful climax of his life, white hot fire gathering at the base of his spine and traveling outward in all directions - up through his head, out his toes and fingers, and forward, in strong pulses of semen out his cock and down John's open, welcoming throat.
John continued to suckle gently at Rodney, soothing him through the aftershocks. Rodney felt light and floaty and barely there, tethered to the Earth by the warm weight of John's body across his thighs. He lay quiescent as John released his spent cock and moved up his body, pecking soft kisses as he went, until he reached his mouth. Rodney had just enough strength to reach an out an arm and reel John in for a deep kiss, the taste of his own essence in John's hot sweet mouth an aphrodisiac even now.
Rodney lost track of the kiss. It went on and on. Instead of robbing his brain of oxygen, it seemed to drag enriched blood up from his strongly beating heart and rejuvenate him, bringing him to life, making him aware of John's hips shifting against his legs. Aware of John's steel-hard erection digging into the muscles of his thigh.
“Hey, you haven't...”
“Not yet, no.” John's voice had been smooth and caressing before. Now it was low and growly. The voice of a man who wanted.
“Ah.” Rodney shifted under John. He'd have to move if he was going to return the favor, right? “Let me just...”
John didn't move. “Rodney?” His voice was still in that dangerous low register that went straight to Rodney's suddenly reawakening groin.
“No, really. I can...” Rodney shifted again, trying to squirm out from underneath John.
John still didn't move. “McKay.” If anything, his voice got hoarser, like Rodney's movement had taken him up another notch. “McKay, there's something else...”
“What do you m...Oh.” Oh. “You want to...Uh...”
“Fuck you, McKay. I want to fuck you.” John's coarse, dirty growl set up a resonance that reverberated from one end of Rodney's spine to the other.
And why not? Why shouldn't he let John fuck him? Why shouldn't he get as much from this night as he possibly could? He was in the middle of the most dangerous thing he'd ever done. He might very easily die in this tiny backward country. And even if he survived this adventure he was having, he'd never have another chance to spend the night with John.
“Yes.” Rodney was pretty sure his voice didn't squeak even a little bit.
“Yes?”
“Yes. I said yes. I want you to,” Rodney swallowed, “fuck me.”
Something about the way he said that must have alerted John. “Have you ever...”
Rodney was insulted to have his experience impugned. “I'm a twenty-first century bisexual man. Of course I've...sort of.”
“Uh-huh,” John said dryly. “Fingers, right?”
“Well, yeah. But penetration is penetration. It doesn't make me ineligible, does it?”
“No, McKay, you still get what's behind door number one.” John stopped mocking Rodney and his voice got serious. “I just want to make sure it goes well. I need you to enjoy this. I want you to remember me for all the right reasons.”
Rodney had no answer. What could he say to that? That no matter what, he'd remember John as long as he lived? That he didn't care if he enjoyed it, he still wanted it bad enough to taste? Instead he did what they seemed to do best: he pulled John down into another kiss and didn't stop until he could feel the hot precome smear his leg.
Then, when he was sure John was turned on, he looked into his eyes and asked, low and quiet, “So, how do you want me?”
It was a simple question, but it seemed to turn John's crank, because his eyes darkened and his hips jerked a little.
“I'd love to see your face, but you should probably turn over. It'll be easier.” John knelt up, touching Rodney gently on the cheek, then shifted off him.
Rodney complied in silence, accepting John's help to arrange himself face down on the bed, legs splayed slightly, hands crossed under his forehead. The bed shifted, and Rodney heard a drawer open, and the sounds of some small things hitting the bed. John settled back, kneeling beside Rodney's legs.
The silence stretched, and finally Rodney couldn't stand it anymore. He craned his head back and opened his mouth to say something, but stopped when he saw the look on John's face. The captain was gazing at him like he was something...precious, or beautiful. Like he was important to John.
Rodney's heart twisted into a cold knot. Another man's room. Another man's bed. Another man's condoms and lube, for God's sake! Another man's lover. How could he have fooled himself to think that this was for him?
It must have showed on his face, because John immediately spread himself over Rodney's back like a blanket, kissing and nuzzling the nape of his neck, his ears, rubbing his cheek against Rodney's shoulders, like he was trying to push the belief into Rodney.
“Don't. Don't do this to yourself. It's you, McKay. He's not the one. He was never the one. It's only you. Only I know you'll never believe me, so I have to show you. Let me show you, McKay. I need to show you.”
“McKay...” Rodney had never thought to hear his last name used as an endearment. He'd never thought he'd want to hear it spoken that way, but the way John said it? He was showing Rodney that he really knew who he was with - the man he really wanted.
Rodney still wasn't sure he believed it, but John was making a pretty good argument. It was clear he at least liked Rodney and that he wanted Rodney. When had he ever needed more? Yes, he was offering up some sort of virginity, but he never really believed in Mr. Right, and it was pretty obvious that he was John's Mr. Right Now. They had condoms and lube, John had promised to make it good, so it was all good. So what if the small corner of Rodney's heart that still hoped for something real got a little smaller. So what.
John hadn't stopped the attention, and Rodney let himself go with the sensations. Maybe he relaxed a little, because something signaled his agreement to John, and the kisses and nuzzles began to spread downward. John slowly traced a line of sharp bites followed by soft kisses across his shoulders, then started giving his spine the same treatment. By the time John was halfway down, Rodney was shifting restlessly. When John hit the flat place at the small of his back, Rodney whimpered. He had no idea he was so sensitive there. John spent a very long time there, biting and licking and kissing, torturing Rodney with the building sensation. When Rodney squirmed, tried to turn over, get away, move so that John was someplace different, something, anything, John gripped at his hips and held him in place.
Oh God, more torture! Rodney could feel every finger burning on his skin. The thumbs were up on his ass, and the pressure John was using to hold him down pulled his cheeks apart, stretching the sensitive skin and exposing his hole to the cool air. There was no way John wasn't doing that on purpose!
Deciding to work with him rather than against him, Rodney started to grind his now very hard cock into the bed. The man was tormenting him! Surely he was allowed to get some relief.
But no. As soon as John noticed what he was doing, he pulled Rodney's ass into the air, so that Rodney couldn't rub anymore. And he kept at that same spot. And he kept prying Rodney's ass cheeks apart.
“John! Please. You're killing me here!”
That must have been what John was waiting for - for Rodney to break, because he immediately rewarded Rodney by licking a stripe right down his crack and over his hole. It was a good thing he was still holding Rodney's hips, or Rodney would have bashed his head right through the headboard.
“Shhh, it's OK. I've got you.” John stroked soothing circles over the spot he'd just worked.
Rodney stayed there, ass in the air, head on the bed, cock hard and leaking. “Is that what it takes? I'm begging here. Please. Just...anything!”
“I can do that.”
Rodney heard the soft pop of the lube cap. John steadied Rodney with one hand on his back, and moved the fingers of his other hand, wet with lube, along the sensitive skin between Rodney's cheeks. From top to perineum, up and down, giving a little circling flick as he went over the hole. Over and over he did this, never pushing in, but always just hinting at it by pressing just a little harder there.
This didn't torture Rodney like before. He was still so turned on he couldn't see straight, but this was like being suspended on some plane of arousal, waiting to go higher, but content with the waiting. It soothed and prickled at the same time, and he sighed into the sensation.
John dribbled more lube along the channel he was tracing. A couple of strokes and he'd gathered it onto his fingers. The next time he passed over Rodney's hole, he pushed in. One finger, one knuckle deep, and the rest of the fingers rubbed at the entry ring to soften the muscle.
John's next move wasn't to push in further. He added a finger, stretching the ring of muscle, but staying at the entrance. Then he began twisting, pulling and scissoring his fingers. Rodney had done this before, but it hadn't felt like this. The feelings radiated from his hole outward to make every nerve in the sensitive area pulse. His cock was dripping onto the bed and his balls were drawn tight to his body, and he was so glad he couldn't rub off now because he'd just explode, and he wanted this to last and last.
John had a third finger in him now, and he was pushing deeper. A little hook of the middle finger, and Rodney couldn't contain his shout. It shocked his entire system, and suddenly he couldn't wait any longer.
“Now, John. Now! I'm ready. Do it now!”
Rodney heard John opening the condom packet, and dropped his head back down on his arms, thrusting his hips back and his ass up.
“Jesus, McKay. That's just...Don't do that or it's all going to be over before it starts.”
“Hurry, dammit.”
“Pushy, much?” John teased, but he put one hand on Rodney's hips as he used the other to line himself up.
Rodney felt the blunt head of John's latex-covered cock press against his hole and start to push in. It felt so different than even three fingers. Not bigger, just...more. And better, definitely better. The head popped through the guard ring and John paused. Rodney supposed he was being considerate or something, but stopping now was wrong. He wanted John's cock rubbing against his prostate, he wanted to feel their bodies pressed against each other. He wanted it all.
He knew how to get it, too. Taking a second to gather his strength, Rodney suddenly pushed up and back and there! There it was. John was all the way in, his balls resting against Rodney's ass. It felt...it felt wonderful. He was full and every nerve ending was alive, and if stupid words like “complete” and “home” flitted through his brain, he wasn't going to get too upset. After all, no man could be expected to think clearly in this situation.
Above him, John was gasping. Rodney felt one hand leave his hip, and then he felt scrabbling down where John's scrotum was pressed against his body. He realized that John was squeezing his own balls, and swung his head around as far as he could, trying to catch John's expression.
John's eyes were shut tight and his lower lip was caught between his teeth and he was grimacing like he was in pain. Rodney recognized that look. It said, “Not gonna come, not gonna come, not gonna come.” And he'd just put it on John's face. Cool.
Finally, John grated, “Warn a guy, McKay! Y'know this fucking thing only works if the guy on top hasn't come yet.”
Rodney had his own answer for that. “This fucking thing only works if you move!” He emphasized his point by shifting forward and pushing back, making John's cock slide out and back in again.
“If that's how you want it.” The words were fierce, but the rhythm John set was smooth and firm, not rough at all. A slight change of angle and he was hitting Rodney's prostate on every stroke, causing lightning to fork through Rodney's body. There was only one thing that would make this better, so Rodney shifted his weight a little and brought one hand up to stroke himself.
John growled, really growled, and pushed Rodney's hand away, replacing it with his own. This was better than better. This was the best. Caught between the pounding in his ass and the stroking on his cock, Rodney couldn't hold back. His earlier climax got relabeled as second best orgasm ever, because this one was...was...Rodney didn't have words that good. All he could do was ride it out, feeling his own muscles flex around John's steel-hard cock.
He thought he was going to collapse flat when he was done, but he didn't, because John wasn't through with him yet, and why was that thought so hot? The hand that was jerking him slid across his hips and the other hand came across his chest and he felt himself lifted upright to sit on John's cock. Rodney let his head loll back to rest on John's shoulder. He didn't have much energy, but he did what he could to raise and lower himself to the new rhythm.
John's breath was harsh on his cheek, and his hips moved fast and jerkily as he neared his own climax. The arms across Rodney's torso tightened like iron bands and John arched backwards and thrust his hips forward, driving himself deep into Rodney's body with a guttural moan that almost sounded like Rodney's last name. Rodney could feel John's cock pulsing inside him, and fleetingly wondered what it would feel like without the layer of latex.
A few more weak thrusts and John was really finished. His arms still around Rodney, he tipped them both over sideways, so that he was spooned up behind Rodney, his softening cock still buried in Rodney's ass.
Before Rodney was ready to separate, John reached down between them and shifted Rodney's top leg forward. When Rodney whined a protest, John patted him gently.
“I know, but I have to take care of this.”
John carefully withdrew, hand keeping the condom on, then got up to clean himself off. He brought a warm, wet cloth back to bed, and a towel. He used the cloth to gently clean Rodney, and he spread the towel over the wet spot.
The day before, Rodney had been in the bed and John had slept in the chair. Tonight, Rodney reached out his hand to John and said, “Stay.”
To Rodney's relief, John didn't protest. He just slipped under the covers and curled up behind him. It had been a very long time since Rodney had shared a bed, and he'd never done so with any of his male partners, but he was so tired and so sated that didn't even cross his mind. He pulled John's arm over his side and held it snug againt his heart, and within minutes he fell into the dreamless sleep of the righteous.
~&~&~&~&~
John stayed awake a while longer. He was having an attack of conscience, not only over talking McKay into this whole thing to begin with, putting his life in danger in ways he was ill prepared to face. John was also wondering if he'd done McKay any favors by having sex with him. He could see that McKay was getting too close, and John knew this was going to end soon, one way or another. It was bound to hurt McKay no matter what, and the sex would only make that worse. For his part, John was prepared to deal with the inevitable pain of separation. But after being with...no, being inside McKay, John knew he'd be facing a lot more hurt than he'd expected when it was time for McKay to leave.
There was no other option. This relationship was going nowhere, no matter how much John might wish otherwise. All he could do was keep McKay alive until the situation with Prince Kolya was resolved. Then, he'd say good-bye and go back to serving King and Country, taking cold comfort in duty. At least he wasn't as bad off as Colonel Dex; deeply in love with the princess and sworn to serve the King, who would marry her, bed her, but never love her.
For a treasonous moment, John thought maybe it would have been better if Kolya had killed the King. Then he could kill Kolya, Teyla would be queen unencumbered by an unwilling husband, and John himself would no longer be tied by duty to this quaint, backwater country.
Part 3
Pairings: Primarily McKay/Sheppard with bits of Weir/Kolya, Wier/Zelenka, and Dex/Teyla
Total word count: 30665
Rating: NC-17
Beta'd by the fabulous lamardeuse
The Prisoner of Zenda
Part 2
The ride back to the hunting lodge was silent. Rodney thought about John, and how it was just his luck to meet someone who might actually want him, only to have to leave the instant that attraction became apparent. Then he thought about how the King was probably gay, and if John was gay, too, well, maybe that explained why he would risk three men's lives in a harebrained substitution scheme. Sure, patriotism probably had something to do with it, but if John von Sheppheim was Rodney V's secret gay lover, that would certainly be a reason for the ridiculous lengths to which he seemed willing to go. And that also probably meant that he wasn't really attracted to Rodney. Which figured. A hot young military captain might want to be with a King, even a drunkard King, but with a pudgy scientist? What were the odds? No, that moment he'd had with von Sheppheim wasn't his moment, but the King's, and he'd best forget about it as soon as he could manage.
It was only a day, but it felt like a decade since Rodney had last seen the King's hunting lodge. The building was dark when Rodney and Dex arrived. Not just we're-all-asleep-now dark, but no-lights-anywhere dark. The colonel flicked the antiquated wall switches as they went in, but there was no response. He called out to Joseph, but again, nothing. Blind fumbling in the dark got them nowhere, and Rodney finally insisted that Dex go back to the car for the flashlight.
Using the weak beam to avoid obstacles, they made their way to the fuse box.
“Fuses? How long has it been since this place was wired?” Rodney would have expected the idiotic European fascination with Old Stuff to give way to some modern conveniences, at least in royal residences, but apparently the hunting lodge missed a lot of updates.
All the fuses had been removed, but it could have been worse. Yeah, the place was deliberately darkened, but it was pretty likely that power was still coming in. Were the fuses conveniently laying around? Of course not. But Rodney used pocket change to close the connections, and the two men climbed out of the subbasement and headed to the wine cellar, Dex with drawn handgun, because whatever they were going to find was sure to be bad.
And it was. When they found Joseph's body sprawled on the floor outside the room where they'd left Rodney V, they suspected the worst, but that, at least did not greet them. The King was not laying dead. Instead, on the table where they'd left him was a note, stained with blood, reading: One king is enough for any kingdom.
“Kidnapped,” grunted Dex as he sat heavily in a nearby chair.
“They could have killed him, and...and...taken the body.” Rodney was too keyed up, and had to pace, waving his hands as he spoke.
“Not enough blood. Besides, they'd have left him here and accused us.”
Rodney stared jerkily around the room as if expecting soldiers to jump out and grab him for murdering the King, then impersonating him.
“Kolya,” Dex grunted.
“He was in the city all day.”
"That devil Hentzau wasn't, and he should have been."
“Hentzau?”
“Count Radek of Hentzau. Does Kolya's dirty work.”
Rodney couldn't imagine deeds too dirty for Kolya. He really didn't want to meet this Hentzau. Which reminded him, “Uh...you realize they know everything now, right?”
“But they can't say anything. Denounce us and they denounce themselves.”
“Right, because they won't think about killing the King and blaming us.”
“Lost their chance. He'd have be be found here or at the palace for that to work, and both places are too well guarded, or will be within the hour.”
There was silence as the two men sat and digested the latest events. Rodney, exhausted from his day, let himself drift. There wasn't anything he could do now, and his part was over. Or should be over. Wasn't it over? He looked up and recognized Dex's narrow-eyed stare.
“Again with the insanity. No. No, no, no, no, no. It's a miracle it worked the first time. Do you understand the concept of 'snowball in Hell?' Because that's how much chance I have at making this work. Especially now that, oh, hey, Kolya knows!”
Colonel Dex appeared to be listening. “You're right. You've already done enough. I'll get you out of the country. We'll deal with it now.”
“We. You and J...Captain von Sheppheim. What will you do?”
“Look for the King. Rescue him, or, more likely, avenge him.”
“And the throne?”
“Teyla's, when she turns twenty-five. Until then, Kolya's Regent.”
“Even after what he's done?” The country would hand power over to the man who killed the King? Had he stepped through a time warp when he got off the plane?
“We'd need absolute proof, and we won't get that.”
Rodney was perfectly capable of connecting the dots. It didn't matter what happened to the country or the throne. Unless the King turned up alive sometime the next day. Dex and von Sheppheim were going to end up dead. They'd die trying to rescue the king, die trying to take revenge on Kolya, or die “accidentally” sometime during Kolya's regency. Prince Kolya couldn't let them live. They knew too much.
As far as Rodney was concerned, Dex could take his chances. This whole idiotic scheme was his idea from the beginning. Now he was trying to manipulate Rodney into more insanity using Rodney's attraction to John.
What pissed Rodney off most was that it was going to work. Rodney would never have John, not his affection, not his friendship, not even casual sex. Nothing. But he wasn't going to leave him in the lurch. Dex would save the King first, Teyla second, and the country third. Rodney was due some protection for his usefulness if nothing else, but John was nothing but cannon fodder to the colonel, and if by sticking around Rodney could keep him the slightest bit safer...
Rodney sighed. “Yes. I hate you, but yes. I'll play the King for a little while longer to give you time to find the real King Rodney. Just make sure you have a plan for getting me out safely when it all goes to hell.”
Colonel Dex didn't display any smugness at Rodney's agreement, but went straight to the telephone to make arrangements with John.
The telephone was dead. Of course the telephone was dead. Probably wires cut by the same people who pulled the fuses. And cell phones didn't work at the lodge. Dead spots because of the mountains. So it was back to the car and to the capital.
Colonel Dex drove in silence, a fierce frown indicating that he was deep in planning his next moves. Rodney was too wired to sleep. He spent the drive staring out the window, not really seeing the darkened landscape as it blurred by. At one point, he must have dozed, because he could have sworn he saw John smiling at him, one brow raised, reflected by the dashboard lights on the car window.
It was a good thing Rodney was used to sleep deprivation. By the time they got back to the city it was almost dawn. They snuck back into the palace using the same secret passage, and Rodney was dressed in the King's nightshirt and tucked into the King's bed just in time for the manservant to enter the room and open the curtains to the sunrise.
Soon after, John came in. Rodney was pretty sure he'd have heard if the captain had thrown himself on his sword overnight, but he felt relieved to see the proof in front of his eyes. His happiness quickly soured when he learned why John was there.
“I've got your schedule for today.”
“No schedule. Coffee.”
“I'll ring for some.” John matched his words with action. “But listen. You have a lot to do today.”
“Oh, God. Coffee!”
“It's coming. About your day...”
“Look, Captain, if you want me to remember anything, you need to wait for the third cup.”
And thank God John backed off. Rodney could have done without the amused smile, in more ways than one, but if he closed his eyes he could pretend he didn't see it.
The next hour had them planning the day. Actually, it had John listing the items on the schedule, and Rodney begging John to find him an excuse to avoid each item. Eventually John found him a way to duck out of everything except that evening's coronation ball.
“A ball? As in dancing? Formal wear? Hundreds of people trying to make conversation with me? You're kidding, right?”
“All you have to do is look haughty, dance one dance with Teyla, and avoid conversations. I'm pretty sure you can do all that.”
“Except for the dancing part. Wait! Tell me there isn't some hoppy skippy national folk dance I'll have to do.”
“A waltz, Rodney. A simple waltz.” John wasn't even bothering to hide his grin now.
Yeah, OK. He could waltz with Teyla. What he couldn't do was sit alone with John all day. And he couldn't go out. He estimated slightly less than three hours in public before he did something that was wrong enough to reveal the man behind the curtain.
He was so screwed.
At least John was babysitting him, and not out there getting himself killed looking for the King. That was something. So what could they do for twelve hours, stuck alone in a lavishly decorated bedroom suite?
Really, really screwed. And not in the good way. It was going to be a very long day.
Between breakfast and lunch Rodney managed to keep control. A selection of classic games in the armoire kept them busy, if not actually amused. Rodney was quite smug as he wiped John off the board, the heavy onyx and jade chess pieces making satisfying little thuds. Then John suggested Go, and proceeded to do his own conquering, and how did a pretty boy Army captain manage to get that good?
There was no repeat of the previous night's unguarded look. Mostly because Rodney was careful not to look John in the eye. He knew he had no poker face, and didn't trust himself not to reveal his sad little crush. The weird thing was how hard it was to accomplish the simple act of avoidance. It was almost as if John was trying to catch his eye.
After lunch, Rodney tried to catch up on a little sleep, but he was still too wired. John must have gotten tired of watching him flop around on the bed like a landed fish, because he finally puffed out a big sigh and stood up from corner chair where he was trying to read War and Peace.
“McKay, will you stop twitching and rest already?”
“I figure I'll stay awake. Because I really love going into a life-or-death situation sleep deprived.” He turned heavily over to his side, with his back to the room.
“McKay.”
Rodney jerked at the touch on his shoulder. What was it with these guys and their silent approaches?
“What, Captain? You couldn't scold me from across the room?”
“I might be able to help you relax, if you let me.” The touch became a firm grip, and John started a one-handed massage of Rodney's shoulder, up near his neck, right at the spot he kept his tension. One of the spots, anyway.
Rodney groaned involuntarily. He was so tired, and it felt so good. Then he stiffened and moved out from under John's hand.
“Stop.” Even Rodney didn't believe his protestation, but John respected it enough to stop. He didn't respect it enough to not argue.
“C'mon McKay. Your back feels like it's made of granite. Let me do this for you.”
“No, really. It's OK. I haven't forgotten grad school. I can still pull all-nighters.”
The bed dipped as John climbed on. He gently pushed Rodney flat onto his stomach, then began to work his back with both hands.
“No...Ohhhhh....” Rodney's groan drew out and faded. He knew he should protest again, but it was so nice just feeling John's warm hands. He didn't want to think how long it had been since someone else touched him on purpose, much less with this sort of concern.
“Think of it this way. You're risking your life for my country. I owe it to you to make it as painless as possible.”
Something inside Rodney went cold at that, but it also clarified things. “Yes, I suppose when you look at it that way...”
John took this as the acquiescence it was, and started to dig into Rodney's back. He worked like a pro, targeting the knots with deep kneading, then soothing the loosened muscles with long, smooth strokes.
Rodney closed his eyes and went with it. The exhaustion made it seem like time was slowing down, and he was soon floating on a gentle sea of sensation. He slipped into a sort of half-sleep, and his subconscious began to spin images - images of John touching him even more intimately, images of John's lips caressing the nape of his neck, images of him turning over to meet those lips with his own.
The hands on his back slowed, and the weight on the bed shifted. Rodney blinked to awareness, and realized that he'd become aroused, and that his hips were rocking rhythmically into the mattress.
He swallowed, grateful that his face, surely blazing red, was turned away from John. “Um...”
John's hands were still on his back, still stroking. “I can help with that, too, McKay,” he said quietly.
Rodney felt an instantaneous blast of fury that subsided just as quickly. It wasn't a pity offer - John couldn't know about his crush. It was like a pal offering to lend a hand, or...or..an anonymous thing at a bar. Maybe even the fact that he looked like John's royal lover. Rodney couldn't be angry. But he couldn't accept, either. His pride wouldn't allow it.
“No. Thanks, but no. Just, umm, pretend it didn't happen, OK, Captain? I'm embarrassed enough as it is.”
“No problem.” John patted Rodney's back gently. “Think you can sleep now?”
Surprisingly, Rodney was still relaxed. Maybe that flash of anger had drained away the last of his energy. Whatever it was, Rodney found himself sinking into the pillow and back into dreamland. He just managed to reply with an incoherent hum before drifting away entirely.
~&~&~&~&~
Like the coronation the day before, the ball passed in a blur. Only a couple of incidents were sharp enough to remember. Dancing with Teyla. Now that was something he'd take with him to his grave. The woman moved like a frictionless puck on an air cushion. She made Rodney feel like he was frictionless. If he wasn't already head over heels in crush with John von Sheppheim, he'd be heading that way with Teyla. Even more impressive were the brilliantly simple suggestions she had for fixing some of the kingdom's problems. Rodney had never had much use for the soft sciences, if you could call them science, but the princess seemed to have a grasp on both sociology and economics that would put most world leaders to shame.
The other thing that stuck with Rodney also involved Teyla - and a nice helping of subliminal terror. The two of them were making small talk with the cardinal, and the churchman brought up the marriage, asking them if they'd set a date. Rodney was at a loss. It never even occurred to him that someone would ask, and how stupid could he get? Obviously this was an old fashioned country, and there was a sizable percentage of the population that wouldn't rest until there was a crown prince. With nothing to say, Rodney looked to Dex for some hint on how to reply, and when the colonel's smoldering glower struck him right between the eyes it almost knocked Rodney over. Rodney found himself stammering some number out and leaving abruptly. He was sure he'd insulted the princess and offended the cardinal, but that was a problem he'd leave for someone else to clean up.
Rodney left the ball as soon as he could after that. There was only so much he could take, and he figured he'd better get out before he blew his cover completely.
~&~&~&~&~
Rodney didn't have the presence of mind to notice, but neither Kolya nor Radek was at the ball. That's because they were at Kolya's estate at Zenda. Hentzau had much to tell the prince. Not only had he discovered that the good guys weren't above plotting and scheming, he now had an ace up his sleeve that could be played many ways. Radek was in a very good mood.
Kolya seemed shocked at first, and chagrined, to learn that he hadn't recognized the man crowned as an impostor, but when he learned that Radek had the actual king in custody, he recovered nicely and the two sat in front of the fire with cigars and brandy to lay new plans.
"Wounded, you say?"
"Not badly. More battered."
"So he can be moved?"
"Why bother? Why not just kill him? Surely he's expendable now, and the impostor can be controlled..."
"Not yet, not until we're sure we don't need him."
"When will we be sure?"
"Suppose the impostor dies first, and is buried in the cathedral as a king..."
Radek drew in a mouthful of fragrant smoke and took a moment to consider. From two kings to no kings, and Kolya as Regent. He could work with this. "There are moments in your presence, Your Highness, when I feel myself an amateur."
"This fraud is an insult to the whole country," Kolya said slyly.
Radek heard the implicit order. "Your Highness points out the path of duty. Any patriot ought to kill him on sight."
Also hidden in the conversation was the reward. Do this for Kolya, and get a king's ransom. Radek knew how Kolya's mind worked, and he knew he'd have to have a contingency plan for when he became an inconvenience, but if he got his reward in cash instead of land, well, there were a lot of beautiful places in the world where a European gentleman could make himself quite welcome.
~&~&~&~&~
Rodney was in the King's apartments, getting peeled out of his over-decorated, distressingly hot attire, when John came in. The captain waited impatiently in the corner for the valets to finish unpacking Rodney, and as soon as they left, he pulled out a note and handed it over.
The envelope was addressed to Rodney McKay, c/o John von Sheppheim. Deliver instantly!
Instantly. That would be via email, right? Not in this technological backwater.
And wait. Rodney McKay? So they'd figured out who he really was. Great. It had to be from Kolya.
If Dr. McKay desires to know the whereabouts of the King, let him come tonight at two o'clock to the deserted summer house behind the wall on the Boulevard Elphard. He must come alone.
"Obviously a trap. Kolya can't think you're that stupid!"
"There's more."
If you hesitate, consult Capt von Sheppheim.
"He plainly thinks I'm even dumber."
Ask him what woman would do most to prevent Kolya from becoming king. Ask if her name begins with E.
"E? Elizabeth de Mauban!"
"Elizabeth de what?"
"Kolya's mistress. Except there's something strange going on...”
“What a surprise,” Rodney said dryly. He couldn't imagine anyone voluntarily sleeping with Kolya.
“... and if Kolya becomes king, she's probably on his list of people he doesn't want around anymore."
“So you think she knows where the King is?”
“Likely,” John shrugged.
“Of all the things I'm going to regret about this week, I'm probably going to regret this the most, but - how far is the Boulevard Elphard?”
“You're going?”
“Don't act so surprised. Dex has been looking all day and hasn't found the King. I can't hide here forever.”
“Then I'm going.”
“Thank God. I really didn't want go alone. But not the colonel. He'll have fourteen different reasons why we shouldn't go, and all of them good. But he hasn't found any news of the King, so maybe we can.”
It wasn't that far, though some of the distance was vertical. John had to boost Rodney so he could climb the wall. Rodney was absolutely not thinking of John's strong hands on his upper thighs as he helped him over. They'd had a hissed conversation about John going too, but Rodney didn't want to scare their contact, and besides, trap, right? so someone flanking any attackers was good. John was armed, of course, and he offered Rodney a handgun, but Rodney refused. He'd never used one before, and starting now would probably get him killed.
The summer house was dark and dusty, littered with old furniture. Rodney felt the wall beside the door for a switch, but a hand, slender and unusually strong, stopped him.
“They work, but don't turn them on. The windows aren't covered.” The woman's rich contralto was cultured.
“Ms. de Mauban?”
“Yes, and you're Dr. McKay.”
“Mmm. You know where the King is?”
“I do, but you have to know, three men are coming here to kill you tonight.”
“Yes, yes. What a surprise. So tell me about the King, and then we can both get out of here before the assassin's guild shows up.”
“You have to promise me something first.”
“Right,” Rodney snorted. “You lure me into a trap, then ask for a promise? You have to know anything we say to each other can't be trusted.”
“Please. I don't want Kolya to be Regent, but I want you to promise that you won't kill him. That no one will harm him. He has to be stay alive.” There was a note of pleading in Elizabeth's voice.
“Why do you want to keep a man like that alive?”
“I have my reasons. Promise, or you don't get the King back.”
“All right.” Rodney needed the information quickly. It's not like he'd be in a position to kill Kolya, anyway, so it wasn't exactly lying. “It's a promise. I'll make sure the others know. Now, where is the King?”
“He's at Kolya's castle at Zenda. If the castle is attacked the King will be killed instantly and no trace of his body will be found. You must have his friends near, at his hunting lodge. When I can arrange an escape I'll send you a message.”
“And I'll know the message is from you how?”
Elizabeth removed her earrings and gave one to Rodney. “When I send word, I'll send the mate. That way you'll know it's from me.”
“We're just supposed to trust you in all this, is that it?”
“Please. I'm as good as dead if he gets the throne. I know too much about his plans.” Rodney could tell there was something else.
“Then why the no-harm guarantee? He can't possibly hurt you anymore if he's dead.”
The answer came slowly, softly. It obviously pained her to say it. “It's my brother. He's in prison, and as long as Kolya is alive, my brother stays in the minimum security area. If anything happens to Kolya, Pierre is moved in with the worst prisoners, the criminals who will make his life hell, then in all likelihood kill him. It's why I'm here to begin with. You don't think I want to be with Black Kolya, do you?” Elizabeth turned away from Rodney, hiding her face.
This was more than Rodney wanted to know, but there was really no reason not to agree with her terms. He could check the important parts of her story with Dex when he got back to the palace. He touched her shoulder to get her attention.
“All right. Your terms. We'll wait for your information.”
“Thank you. Now go before...” Elizabeth's voice trailed off as she listened. “They're here too soon! If they find us together...” She looked around frantically.
It just figured.
“Pardon this interruption, Dr McKay. I wish only a word with you.” A voice came through the door.
“It's Radek Hentzau. Don't trust him.” Elizabeth hissed.
“Like I would,” Rodney muttered, and then aloud he said, “We can talk with the door between us.”
“Give me your word of honor not to fire before we talk?”
“He thinks I have a gun. That must mean he has one. Shit. What have I got?” Rodney raised his voice to answer Radek as he looked around the room frantically for something to use as a weapon. “I give you my honor not to fire before you do, but I still won't let you in.” Then under his breath, “by the hair of my chinny chin chin.” And again out loud, “Stand outside and talk.”
“As you wish. A truce while we offer peace terms. $250,000 American dollars, and safe conduct to the frontier.”
“That sounds like a reasonable offer.” Rodney spotted an electric floor lamp laying on its side, long cord trailing, among the broken furniture. He flashed on an old trick he and his cronies used to use to keep the undergrads out of the graduate labs.
“Come out, then. I have a car, and the money ready.”
“Give me a minute to think it over.” Eyes flicking back and forth, Rodney measured, planned and calculated. At least he had his multitool, which he always carried (except when he was dressing up in someone else's ceremonial robes).
Rodney hurried over to the lamp. He sighed with relief to find that the cord was long enough. Dragging it over to the doorway, he pulled out his multitool and stripped the insulation off the wire.
He gestured Elizabeth over and said quietly and quickly, “See if you can find any loose nails. We used to use staples or paper clips to string it up, but... ” He looked at Elizabeth's elaborate coif. “Wait, how are you keeping your hair up?”
Frowning, she put her hand to her head, then drew out a wire hairpin and held it up.
“Yes! Thank God. Give it to me. Give me all of them.” Rodney wiggled his fingers at her, palm up.
When he had a small pile, he started poking two lines of holes in the plaster wall, about chest height, then he stretched the wire along between the holes.
“Put the pins in to hold the wire up. Like they were staples.” He demonstrated. “C'mon, c'mon. They're going to be busting in soon.”
While Elizabeth did as instructed, Rodney guided the bare wire across the doorway, then started attaching it on the other side.
“We used to booby trap the lab doors to keep the undergrads out. It wasn't going to kill them, unless they had a heart condition, and we did put up warning signs. Of course, here you have 240 Volts instead of 120, but then those guys out there have guns, so I don't think it's that unfair.”
While he was talking, Rodney finished his set up. He had his arms out wide, one hand on the plug ready to go into the wall and the other holding a short stick so he could reach the light switch.
Over his shoulder, he said, “Stand out of the line of fire, I'll show you a new use for a lamp.” Then he raised his voice loud enough to be heard outside, “I accept your offer. You can come in.”
After that things moved fast. Hentzau yanked the door open, and the three men started to fire before they even entered the room. At the first shot, Rodney flicked on the lights and plugged in the lamp cord. Thank God the power was on, like Elizabeth had said. The attackers were blinded by the brightness, but their momentum kept them going, right into the bare wire with 240 Volts coursing through it.
The two men with Radek hit the wire first. There was a loud sizzle as they connected, followed by the nauseating smell of burnt meat. Radek came up behind them just as they fell to the ground. He managed to stop before he hit the wire full-on, but he caught enough of a shock to be thrown backward, losing his gun and slamming onto the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of him.
Rodney and Elizabeth, now wrapped in a cloak, ducked under the wire and ran out of the summer house. When Rodney went right, to the place he'd come over the wall, Elizabeth went left, and he quickly lost sight of her in the gloom. He didn't worry too much about her. She'd managed to get in, and he was sure she'd manage to get out just fine. He was more worried about himself, and getting back over the wall, when he saw John drop down into the shrubbery, gun already in hand.
“You won't need that. Let's just get out of here. C'mon. Help me over. Go, go, go, go, go!”
One strong heave had Rodney on his way over the wall, and John soon followed. They tumbled into the car they'd left nearby and started back to the palace. Rodney sagged against the passenger door, panting heavily, positive his heart was about to burst out of his chest. He'd never been so frightened in his life. The captain tried to find out what had happened in the summer house, but Rodney couldn't talk. He just waved his hand weakly and pled for a few minutes' rest before John started in on the inquisition.
By the time they got back to the palace, Rodney was shaking with reaction: he felt weak and nauseous, and he was drenched in sweat even though he couldn't get warm.
“Jesus, McKay. You're going into shock. Why didn't you say something?”
“W-would it have m-made you d-d-drive any f-faster?”
“So not the point. Just sit tight. I'll come around and help you out.” John reached across Rodney's body to pop the lock on the passenger door. Rodney unconsciously leaned into the captain's solid warmth, and would have been embarrassed if he'd had the presence of mind to hear his own whimper when it disappeared.
The warmth came back, though, and this time it was accompanied by support as John helped Rodney undo his seatbelt and inch out of the car. When he had him standing, he paused to ask anxiously, “Are you hurt? There were a lot of bullets flying around. Were you hit?”
“No. I don't th-think so. J-just...” Rodney's knees gave out and John had to brace him upright.
“That's it. I'm calling for a doctor.”
“No! You'll ruin everyth-thing. R-really. I'll be OK. J-just get m-me upst-stairs.”
From somewhere, Rodney found strength enough to walk. He did keep his arm over the captain's shoulder, and stayed close enough to let von Sheppheim snug an arm around his waist. There were a lot of stairs along the now familiar secret passage, and he really was still weak from his ordeal.
Rodney recovered somewhat by the time they reached the bedroom. He wasn't shivering anymore, and his gut had settled. He still welcomed the soft bed, and pulled the quilt up around himself as he sat down heavily on the edge.
John dragged a chair over and sat down next to him. He spoke softly, as if unwilling to upset Rodney again now that he'd calmed down.
“Did you find out anything?”
“Oh yeah. Jackpot. He's alive, at Kolya's castle. Zenda? Something like that. She's willing to help us get him back, so long as we don't hurt Kolya.” Rodney gave John the details, suggesting strongly that he follow up on Elizabeth's story about her brother before deciding to trust her.
John listened and nodded in the right places. The look of approval on the captain's face warmed Rodney as much as the blankets around his shoulders. As Rodney wound down, John asked about the escape.
“So, you want tell me how you got away, since you didn't have a gun and they did?”
“Old grad student trick. Booby trapped the door. Oh hell!”
“What?”
“I left my multitool at that damned summer house.”
“I'll get it back for you.”
“You don't understand! It's vital. It could save my life someday. It did save my life. Oh my God. My life needed saving. They were shooting at me. They wanted to kill me. Oh my God!” The night's adventure finally hit Rodney, and now that he was in the safety of the King's bedroom, the panic began to take over. Rodney turned frightened eyes to John and said in a broken whisper. “They were trying to kill me.”
“But they didn't. You're alive, McKay. They didn't kill you.” John reached out and grabbed Rodney's shoulder firmly.
Rodney just kept looking at John, shaking his head.
John shifted off his chair and onto the bed next to Rodney, throwing his arm over the scientist's shoulder and pulling him close. “You're all right. Rodney, you're OK. You beat them. You weren't even armed, and you beat them.” He crooned the soothing words. Rodney shifted closer and leaned his head on John's shoulder.
John fell silent, but his hand came up and he started stroking Rodney's shoulder and back where he could reach. Rodney nestled into him, unconsciously turning his body to make more of his back accessible to the petting.
It had been a hell of a day - Rodney couldn't remember ever being so terrified as those moments when the shooting started and he didn't know if his plan would work. Not even when he'd defended his three PhDs! Rodney thought about those seconds in the summer house, and started tensing up all over again. Then he reminded himself that he'd survived. Against three men with guns, he'd used his brain, figured out a solution, and made it! That was beyond cool. The electrical wire is mightier than the gun. Heh.
And now he was alive. Oh my God, so alive! Rodney sucked in a deep breath, and suddenly was awash John's scent. For a moment, two reactions warred in Rodney's head: What on Earth am I doing practically sitting in John's lap?! and Jesus, he smells good!
It was no contest. Rodney's intellect had already clocked out for the day, satisfied with a job well done. His body, though, was suddenly waking up to the realization that it was gloriously alive. The nose full of John's wonderfully male smell made Rodney's limbic brain sit up and take notice. Add to that the feel of his warm torso, pressed full length against Rodney's, and suddenly fire sizzled its way down to pool in Rodney's groin and bring his cock to attention.
~&~&~&~&~
John had been absently petting Rodney, almost dozing himself, when Rodney's breathing changed and quickened. John wondered for a moment if he was crying, but that seemed unlikely. Then John realized what was going on. Rodney was aroused. Like the previous day, when John had rubbed his back. It was clear that Rodney wanted him.
“Rodney,” John said softly. He didn't want to startle the other man. “McKay.” He reached his free hand to Rodney's chin and turned it up, so they could see each others' faces. The emotions that flashed through the scientist's eyes made John's breath catch. Longing, changing quickly to hopelessness, then an embarrassed blankness as Rodney tried to mask his expression and turn his face away.
Unlike before, this time John refused to be dissuaded. He kept hold of Rodney's chin and looked him straight in the eye. “If you want to be with me, I want to be with you. Let me be with you.”
“I know I'm not the one you want. Don't offer, please, Captain. I don't have the strength tonight to say no.”
“Rodney.”
“Yes, Rodney. That's me. Same name, even.”
John flinched at the bitterness in Rodney's voice.
“Rodney...no...McKay. I know exactly who you are, and I know exactly who I want. And that's you: Dr. Rodney McKay. Don't say no. Let me be with you.”
John watched Rodney's mobile face as he considered, and saw the moment when he decided.
“Oh, God, I'm only human!” Rodney leaned his whole weight against John, pushing him over onto his side, then scrambling up beside him to kiss him, hard and wet and sloppy.
John opened his mouth and let Rodney in.
~&~&~&~&~
Rodney couldn't get enough of John's mouth. The taste, the texture, the mobile lips and sharp white teeth, giving as good as they got. It had been so long since he'd kissed a man, since he'd felt the roughness of another man's stubble against his cheek, since he'd dueled tongue and tooth with someone whose mouth was as big and hot as his own. That it was John's mouth - this beautiful soldier pledged to serve another, but willing to, no, wanting Rodney - it felt so wonderful. Rodney was sure he would come from this alone. He would have been happy to kiss John for hours.
Apparently, though, Captain von Sheppheim had other ideas. Rodney wasn't anywhere near done with the kissing before John started to migrate south. First, he nibbled Rodney's neck, including intermittent nips and sucking kisses to keep Rodney from getting complacent. Without conscious thought, Rodney found himself tilting his head, exposing the tender spots to John's exploring mouth.
John hummed with approval at Rodney's classic gesture of submission, even though he hadn't meant it like that. Not really. But if it got John to concentrate on that extra-sensitive spot just where the jaw met the ear, well, Rodney could accept beta status for now.
John didn't stay at neck level, though. Soon his mouth was dipping below the line of Rodney's collar, and his hands were getting into the act, unbuttoning Rodney's shirt and exposing his chest. By this time, Rodney was lying on his back, and he made a feeble effort to return the favor, sure that John's chest would be a much more aesthetic sight than his own pasty, sparsely-furred, soft torso. John was having none of that. He pushed Rodney's hands back down onto the bed and pressed for a moment, making clear that he wanted Rodney to lie still and let John run the show.
Rodney was exhausted - physically from the exertions of the past couple of days, and emotionally from fighting his attraction all that time. With John above him, mapping his body with lips, tongue, teeth, and hands, Rodney wondered why he was bothering to fight. Relaxing his arms and shoulders, he exposed his neck on purpose. If John wanted him, he could have him. Since this fiasco began, Rodney'd been doing what John wanted. Why stop now, especially when what John wanted was what Rodney wanted.
In reward for his submission, John stopped his exploration momentarily to return to Rodney's mouth. The kiss he bestowed was deep and luxurious, full of promise and heat. Rodney moaned into it. So good. He didn't think he'd ever been more turned on.
John huffed with amusement as he returned to Rodney's chest. “You ain't seen nothin' yet, McKay,” he said, and Rodney could hear the smile.
“Is that a threat, or a promise?” he managed to retort. Von Sheppheim didn't need to know how close to gone Rodney was.
“Yes,” John replied, and went right for Rodney's nipple, sucking it swiftly to a hard point.
“Ahhhh!” Rodney arched into the contact, then arched again, too breathless to cry out as John switched sides, this time pinching the first nipple at the same time as he sucked the second one.
“Thought so.”
The nerve of the man. No need to be smug; Rodney was an easy target tonight. If Rodney had just a little more energy, he'd show John some real technique.
John kept up his attention to Rodney's nipples, sucking and pinching and nibbling and blowing in some random pattern. It didn't take long before Rodney was writhing and gasping beneath him on the bed.
Then, when Rodney thought he'd come for sure, John abandoned his chest. Rodney whimpered in protest, reaching for John to bring him back. But John was gone, off the bed, and as soon as Rodney realized this, he sat bolt upright, half panicked. John wouldn't, couldn't be that cruel.
It took Rodney a moment to focus, then he saw where John had gone. He was standing at the foot of the bed, bare to the waist, socks and shoes off, pants already unzipped and halfway off his narrow hips.
He looked at Rodney a little sheepishly and said, “I was hoping to be done faster. I got a knot in my shoelace.” Rodney guessed that he'd telegraphed his distress, because John's voice gentled and he said, “Hey, it's all right. I'm not going anywhere. I just wanted to get comfortable. No, I want to be naked with you. I want to feel your skin. Let me finish here, then I can...”
John matched action to words, and within seconds he was back on the bed, stripping the rest of Rodney's clothing off. The shirt he left on, but open, and the rest of Rodney's clothing - trousers, briefs, socks, and shoes - soon joined John's on the floor.
As if in penance for frightening Rodney, John returned to kissing. At first he balanced over Rodney on strong arms, but soon Rodney reached up, grabbed him around the middle, and pulled him down until he lay full length on top of Rodney, their bare skin touching from foot to shoulder. This time it was John's turn to moan at the sensation, and Rodney couldn't be sure, since their faces were really too close to focus, but he thought he saw John's eyes roll back in ecstasy before his eyelids fluttered shut.
Soon enough, John started down Rodney's body again. Neck, collarbone, nipples, ribcage, navel, John visited them all. He didn't spend time torturing Rodney with sensation, not like before. This time John had a goal. Rodney had a goal, too, and he only hoped that it was the same as John's.
When John got to where the hair began to thicken, he slowed down. He buried his nose in the tight brown curls and inhaled deeply. The puff of hot breath when he exhaled had Rodney arching his hips, seeking for more of John's mouth.
“God, John. Please.” Rodney could barely choke out the words.
John had to know what Rodney wanted, and thank goodness he was through teasing. Until now, he'd avoided touching Rodney's hard, leaking cock and the accidental brushes of his body, maddeningly light, had only served to push Rodney higher. Now, without warning, John grasped Rodney firmly, making his whole body spasm and wringing from him a wordless cry.
A tiny part of Rodney was mortified by his own response. He was acting like no one had ever touched him before. But the combination of exhaustion and adrenaline had his control stretched thin and fragile as a soap bubble. The fact that it was John doing these things to him made it even worse. If John started to suck him, Rodney would never last.
From his brain to John's mouth. Just as Rodney finished the thought, he felt John go down on him. He couldn't even cry out at that. Nothing came out but a choked gasp. Rodney was sure he'd forgotten how to breathe, but at the moment he didn't care. The hot wet suction was the best thing he'd ever felt. Then John added his tongue, pressing it flat just below the head. And his hands, rolling Rodney's balls gently with one, while stroking beneath them with the other. Combined with the slightest scrape of John's stubble on Rodney's inner thighs, the sensations caused a knife switch in his brain to slam down, shutting off thought and turning him into a creature of pure feeling.
Rodney lasted - oh, at least five seconds. Then he exploded with the most powerful climax of his life, white hot fire gathering at the base of his spine and traveling outward in all directions - up through his head, out his toes and fingers, and forward, in strong pulses of semen out his cock and down John's open, welcoming throat.
John continued to suckle gently at Rodney, soothing him through the aftershocks. Rodney felt light and floaty and barely there, tethered to the Earth by the warm weight of John's body across his thighs. He lay quiescent as John released his spent cock and moved up his body, pecking soft kisses as he went, until he reached his mouth. Rodney had just enough strength to reach an out an arm and reel John in for a deep kiss, the taste of his own essence in John's hot sweet mouth an aphrodisiac even now.
Rodney lost track of the kiss. It went on and on. Instead of robbing his brain of oxygen, it seemed to drag enriched blood up from his strongly beating heart and rejuvenate him, bringing him to life, making him aware of John's hips shifting against his legs. Aware of John's steel-hard erection digging into the muscles of his thigh.
“Hey, you haven't...”
“Not yet, no.” John's voice had been smooth and caressing before. Now it was low and growly. The voice of a man who wanted.
“Ah.” Rodney shifted under John. He'd have to move if he was going to return the favor, right? “Let me just...”
John didn't move. “Rodney?” His voice was still in that dangerous low register that went straight to Rodney's suddenly reawakening groin.
“No, really. I can...” Rodney shifted again, trying to squirm out from underneath John.
John still didn't move. “McKay.” If anything, his voice got hoarser, like Rodney's movement had taken him up another notch. “McKay, there's something else...”
“What do you m...Oh.” Oh. “You want to...Uh...”
“Fuck you, McKay. I want to fuck you.” John's coarse, dirty growl set up a resonance that reverberated from one end of Rodney's spine to the other.
And why not? Why shouldn't he let John fuck him? Why shouldn't he get as much from this night as he possibly could? He was in the middle of the most dangerous thing he'd ever done. He might very easily die in this tiny backward country. And even if he survived this adventure he was having, he'd never have another chance to spend the night with John.
“Yes.” Rodney was pretty sure his voice didn't squeak even a little bit.
“Yes?”
“Yes. I said yes. I want you to,” Rodney swallowed, “fuck me.”
Something about the way he said that must have alerted John. “Have you ever...”
Rodney was insulted to have his experience impugned. “I'm a twenty-first century bisexual man. Of course I've...sort of.”
“Uh-huh,” John said dryly. “Fingers, right?”
“Well, yeah. But penetration is penetration. It doesn't make me ineligible, does it?”
“No, McKay, you still get what's behind door number one.” John stopped mocking Rodney and his voice got serious. “I just want to make sure it goes well. I need you to enjoy this. I want you to remember me for all the right reasons.”
Rodney had no answer. What could he say to that? That no matter what, he'd remember John as long as he lived? That he didn't care if he enjoyed it, he still wanted it bad enough to taste? Instead he did what they seemed to do best: he pulled John down into another kiss and didn't stop until he could feel the hot precome smear his leg.
Then, when he was sure John was turned on, he looked into his eyes and asked, low and quiet, “So, how do you want me?”
It was a simple question, but it seemed to turn John's crank, because his eyes darkened and his hips jerked a little.
“I'd love to see your face, but you should probably turn over. It'll be easier.” John knelt up, touching Rodney gently on the cheek, then shifted off him.
Rodney complied in silence, accepting John's help to arrange himself face down on the bed, legs splayed slightly, hands crossed under his forehead. The bed shifted, and Rodney heard a drawer open, and the sounds of some small things hitting the bed. John settled back, kneeling beside Rodney's legs.
The silence stretched, and finally Rodney couldn't stand it anymore. He craned his head back and opened his mouth to say something, but stopped when he saw the look on John's face. The captain was gazing at him like he was something...precious, or beautiful. Like he was important to John.
Rodney's heart twisted into a cold knot. Another man's room. Another man's bed. Another man's condoms and lube, for God's sake! Another man's lover. How could he have fooled himself to think that this was for him?
It must have showed on his face, because John immediately spread himself over Rodney's back like a blanket, kissing and nuzzling the nape of his neck, his ears, rubbing his cheek against Rodney's shoulders, like he was trying to push the belief into Rodney.
“Don't. Don't do this to yourself. It's you, McKay. He's not the one. He was never the one. It's only you. Only I know you'll never believe me, so I have to show you. Let me show you, McKay. I need to show you.”
“McKay...” Rodney had never thought to hear his last name used as an endearment. He'd never thought he'd want to hear it spoken that way, but the way John said it? He was showing Rodney that he really knew who he was with - the man he really wanted.
Rodney still wasn't sure he believed it, but John was making a pretty good argument. It was clear he at least liked Rodney and that he wanted Rodney. When had he ever needed more? Yes, he was offering up some sort of virginity, but he never really believed in Mr. Right, and it was pretty obvious that he was John's Mr. Right Now. They had condoms and lube, John had promised to make it good, so it was all good. So what if the small corner of Rodney's heart that still hoped for something real got a little smaller. So what.
John hadn't stopped the attention, and Rodney let himself go with the sensations. Maybe he relaxed a little, because something signaled his agreement to John, and the kisses and nuzzles began to spread downward. John slowly traced a line of sharp bites followed by soft kisses across his shoulders, then started giving his spine the same treatment. By the time John was halfway down, Rodney was shifting restlessly. When John hit the flat place at the small of his back, Rodney whimpered. He had no idea he was so sensitive there. John spent a very long time there, biting and licking and kissing, torturing Rodney with the building sensation. When Rodney squirmed, tried to turn over, get away, move so that John was someplace different, something, anything, John gripped at his hips and held him in place.
Oh God, more torture! Rodney could feel every finger burning on his skin. The thumbs were up on his ass, and the pressure John was using to hold him down pulled his cheeks apart, stretching the sensitive skin and exposing his hole to the cool air. There was no way John wasn't doing that on purpose!
Deciding to work with him rather than against him, Rodney started to grind his now very hard cock into the bed. The man was tormenting him! Surely he was allowed to get some relief.
But no. As soon as John noticed what he was doing, he pulled Rodney's ass into the air, so that Rodney couldn't rub anymore. And he kept at that same spot. And he kept prying Rodney's ass cheeks apart.
“John! Please. You're killing me here!”
That must have been what John was waiting for - for Rodney to break, because he immediately rewarded Rodney by licking a stripe right down his crack and over his hole. It was a good thing he was still holding Rodney's hips, or Rodney would have bashed his head right through the headboard.
“Shhh, it's OK. I've got you.” John stroked soothing circles over the spot he'd just worked.
Rodney stayed there, ass in the air, head on the bed, cock hard and leaking. “Is that what it takes? I'm begging here. Please. Just...anything!”
“I can do that.”
Rodney heard the soft pop of the lube cap. John steadied Rodney with one hand on his back, and moved the fingers of his other hand, wet with lube, along the sensitive skin between Rodney's cheeks. From top to perineum, up and down, giving a little circling flick as he went over the hole. Over and over he did this, never pushing in, but always just hinting at it by pressing just a little harder there.
This didn't torture Rodney like before. He was still so turned on he couldn't see straight, but this was like being suspended on some plane of arousal, waiting to go higher, but content with the waiting. It soothed and prickled at the same time, and he sighed into the sensation.
John dribbled more lube along the channel he was tracing. A couple of strokes and he'd gathered it onto his fingers. The next time he passed over Rodney's hole, he pushed in. One finger, one knuckle deep, and the rest of the fingers rubbed at the entry ring to soften the muscle.
John's next move wasn't to push in further. He added a finger, stretching the ring of muscle, but staying at the entrance. Then he began twisting, pulling and scissoring his fingers. Rodney had done this before, but it hadn't felt like this. The feelings radiated from his hole outward to make every nerve in the sensitive area pulse. His cock was dripping onto the bed and his balls were drawn tight to his body, and he was so glad he couldn't rub off now because he'd just explode, and he wanted this to last and last.
John had a third finger in him now, and he was pushing deeper. A little hook of the middle finger, and Rodney couldn't contain his shout. It shocked his entire system, and suddenly he couldn't wait any longer.
“Now, John. Now! I'm ready. Do it now!”
Rodney heard John opening the condom packet, and dropped his head back down on his arms, thrusting his hips back and his ass up.
“Jesus, McKay. That's just...Don't do that or it's all going to be over before it starts.”
“Hurry, dammit.”
“Pushy, much?” John teased, but he put one hand on Rodney's hips as he used the other to line himself up.
Rodney felt the blunt head of John's latex-covered cock press against his hole and start to push in. It felt so different than even three fingers. Not bigger, just...more. And better, definitely better. The head popped through the guard ring and John paused. Rodney supposed he was being considerate or something, but stopping now was wrong. He wanted John's cock rubbing against his prostate, he wanted to feel their bodies pressed against each other. He wanted it all.
He knew how to get it, too. Taking a second to gather his strength, Rodney suddenly pushed up and back and there! There it was. John was all the way in, his balls resting against Rodney's ass. It felt...it felt wonderful. He was full and every nerve ending was alive, and if stupid words like “complete” and “home” flitted through his brain, he wasn't going to get too upset. After all, no man could be expected to think clearly in this situation.
Above him, John was gasping. Rodney felt one hand leave his hip, and then he felt scrabbling down where John's scrotum was pressed against his body. He realized that John was squeezing his own balls, and swung his head around as far as he could, trying to catch John's expression.
John's eyes were shut tight and his lower lip was caught between his teeth and he was grimacing like he was in pain. Rodney recognized that look. It said, “Not gonna come, not gonna come, not gonna come.” And he'd just put it on John's face. Cool.
Finally, John grated, “Warn a guy, McKay! Y'know this fucking thing only works if the guy on top hasn't come yet.”
Rodney had his own answer for that. “This fucking thing only works if you move!” He emphasized his point by shifting forward and pushing back, making John's cock slide out and back in again.
“If that's how you want it.” The words were fierce, but the rhythm John set was smooth and firm, not rough at all. A slight change of angle and he was hitting Rodney's prostate on every stroke, causing lightning to fork through Rodney's body. There was only one thing that would make this better, so Rodney shifted his weight a little and brought one hand up to stroke himself.
John growled, really growled, and pushed Rodney's hand away, replacing it with his own. This was better than better. This was the best. Caught between the pounding in his ass and the stroking on his cock, Rodney couldn't hold back. His earlier climax got relabeled as second best orgasm ever, because this one was...was...Rodney didn't have words that good. All he could do was ride it out, feeling his own muscles flex around John's steel-hard cock.
He thought he was going to collapse flat when he was done, but he didn't, because John wasn't through with him yet, and why was that thought so hot? The hand that was jerking him slid across his hips and the other hand came across his chest and he felt himself lifted upright to sit on John's cock. Rodney let his head loll back to rest on John's shoulder. He didn't have much energy, but he did what he could to raise and lower himself to the new rhythm.
John's breath was harsh on his cheek, and his hips moved fast and jerkily as he neared his own climax. The arms across Rodney's torso tightened like iron bands and John arched backwards and thrust his hips forward, driving himself deep into Rodney's body with a guttural moan that almost sounded like Rodney's last name. Rodney could feel John's cock pulsing inside him, and fleetingly wondered what it would feel like without the layer of latex.
A few more weak thrusts and John was really finished. His arms still around Rodney, he tipped them both over sideways, so that he was spooned up behind Rodney, his softening cock still buried in Rodney's ass.
Before Rodney was ready to separate, John reached down between them and shifted Rodney's top leg forward. When Rodney whined a protest, John patted him gently.
“I know, but I have to take care of this.”
John carefully withdrew, hand keeping the condom on, then got up to clean himself off. He brought a warm, wet cloth back to bed, and a towel. He used the cloth to gently clean Rodney, and he spread the towel over the wet spot.
The day before, Rodney had been in the bed and John had slept in the chair. Tonight, Rodney reached out his hand to John and said, “Stay.”
To Rodney's relief, John didn't protest. He just slipped under the covers and curled up behind him. It had been a very long time since Rodney had shared a bed, and he'd never done so with any of his male partners, but he was so tired and so sated that didn't even cross his mind. He pulled John's arm over his side and held it snug againt his heart, and within minutes he fell into the dreamless sleep of the righteous.
~&~&~&~&~
John stayed awake a while longer. He was having an attack of conscience, not only over talking McKay into this whole thing to begin with, putting his life in danger in ways he was ill prepared to face. John was also wondering if he'd done McKay any favors by having sex with him. He could see that McKay was getting too close, and John knew this was going to end soon, one way or another. It was bound to hurt McKay no matter what, and the sex would only make that worse. For his part, John was prepared to deal with the inevitable pain of separation. But after being with...no, being inside McKay, John knew he'd be facing a lot more hurt than he'd expected when it was time for McKay to leave.
There was no other option. This relationship was going nowhere, no matter how much John might wish otherwise. All he could do was keep McKay alive until the situation with Prince Kolya was resolved. Then, he'd say good-bye and go back to serving King and Country, taking cold comfort in duty. At least he wasn't as bad off as Colonel Dex; deeply in love with the princess and sworn to serve the King, who would marry her, bed her, but never love her.
For a treasonous moment, John thought maybe it would have been better if Kolya had killed the King. Then he could kill Kolya, Teyla would be queen unencumbered by an unwilling husband, and John himself would no longer be tied by duty to this quaint, backwater country.
Part 3