6th December
On the Sixth Day of Christmas, Garnet gave to me...
CARSON BECKETT!
TITLE: Demons
AUTHOR: Garneteve
RATING: NC-17(due to content and perhaps non-con)
COMMENTS: Carson has hidden demons
(Carson Beckett was chosen at 7 votes on 11/12/2007 and won a roll for next fic)
“One must master the demons in oneself, not deny them.”
Carson had asked himself this question every night before he fell asleep. What was his personal demon, if he could narrow it down to just one?
Was it the fact that he could deny Rodney nothing?
Was it the fact that he continually called in Sheppard for physical examinations, even though there was nothing wrong with the man. The fact that Carson just wanted to stand there and look at the pure unadulterated beauty before him. The way the muscles carved down from taut shoulders, over the hardened chest to a sleek abdomen, tantalizing all his sense to what lay below the thin covering of cotton.
Carson could remember when he was that fit. Not bulky shoulders or a little bit of pillow-soft bulk around the middle, but a fit healthy young man whose only regret was he never carried enough condoms on his person to be allowed the fucking he so desperately craved.
When the subject of demons came up, when people asked Carson of his vices, he would smirk and shake his head slightly, not wanting to think about them in the stark light of their vision. Not watching him in contempt that they would show at the merest hint of what he kept hidden.
When Carson didn’t answer, people suspected the worst…strangulation, blood fetish, anal torture, needle play.
But the truth was so much more interesting.
Carsons’ fetish was a more…unusual one… Somnophilia.
The sweet surrender of a pliant body beneath his, warm and open.
Carson enjoyed how his patients eyelids would droop under the sedative, and he would imagine, his hand on his hardening cock, about how he’d debase them, how he would fuck them while they were out cold. Carson enjoyed how his patients eyelids would droop under the sedative, and he would imagine, his hand on his hardening cock, about how he’d debase them, how he would fuck them while they were out cold.
They seemed so totally trusting of his every touch, in their unconsciousness of his caress, of his slick gloved finger as it probed, hard through the tight ring of muscle until he knew it was slick enough. There was no fight, no argument on how this wasn’t right. No pesky moral ethics getting in his way to disturb his pleasure.
This was his pleasure, and his alone to enjoy.
Carson would sheath himself in one of the uncomfortable condoms and fill the empty channel with his hard dick, pressing in gentle and slow, no resistance, no thrashing about or whispers of ‘gentle, its ok, ok ok…”
There would be no hands grasping for purchase on his arms or shoulders, no one trying to push back or pull away.
Quiet and needy, was how Carson would be at these times. In the dead of night, a patient under his care, under his sweating body, doped up to the eyeballs on sedatives to keep them asleep and obedient.
The slickness of the lube gliding his hard length in and out of the loosening passage, riding him over into completion, stuttering out his ecstasy into a latex sleeve as he fell, sated and spent over his patients’ body.
Not to say he didn’t enjoy the preparation or the act itself, but Carson would enjoy the immense care that came afterwards.
Carson would relax into his gentle wipes of a warm washcloth, removing any traces of sweat or lube from his willing receptacle. He would kiss every inch of bare skin before it was carefully covered back, and body turned over to resume a normal sleeping posture.
Carson would bend over the unconscious body, always grazing a gentle kiss, dry lips brushing against warm skin in a gesture of gratitude, a small caress to the inside wrist on their left hand as he tucked the sheets up around their chest, before straightening himself up.
Making a note of the time, Carson would check their medical chart, running a careful eye across the curtained off room, ensuring nothing was out of place before turning and walking out, already anticipating the next off world mission to go wrong.
CARSON BECKETT!
TITLE: Demons
AUTHOR: Garneteve
RATING: NC-17(due to content and perhaps non-con)
COMMENTS: Carson has hidden demons
(Carson Beckett was chosen at 7 votes on 11/12/2007 and won a roll for next fic)
“One must master the demons in oneself, not deny them.”
Carson had asked himself this question every night before he fell asleep. What was his personal demon, if he could narrow it down to just one?
Was it the fact that he could deny Rodney nothing?
Was it the fact that he continually called in Sheppard for physical examinations, even though there was nothing wrong with the man. The fact that Carson just wanted to stand there and look at the pure unadulterated beauty before him. The way the muscles carved down from taut shoulders, over the hardened chest to a sleek abdomen, tantalizing all his sense to what lay below the thin covering of cotton.
Carson could remember when he was that fit. Not bulky shoulders or a little bit of pillow-soft bulk around the middle, but a fit healthy young man whose only regret was he never carried enough condoms on his person to be allowed the fucking he so desperately craved.
When the subject of demons came up, when people asked Carson of his vices, he would smirk and shake his head slightly, not wanting to think about them in the stark light of their vision. Not watching him in contempt that they would show at the merest hint of what he kept hidden.
When Carson didn’t answer, people suspected the worst…strangulation, blood fetish, anal torture, needle play.
But the truth was so much more interesting.
Carsons’ fetish was a more…unusual one… Somnophilia.
The sweet surrender of a pliant body beneath his, warm and open.
Carson enjoyed how his patients eyelids would droop under the sedative, and he would imagine, his hand on his hardening cock, about how he’d debase them, how he would fuck them while they were out cold. Carson enjoyed how his patients eyelids would droop under the sedative, and he would imagine, his hand on his hardening cock, about how he’d debase them, how he would fuck them while they were out cold.
They seemed so totally trusting of his every touch, in their unconsciousness of his caress, of his slick gloved finger as it probed, hard through the tight ring of muscle until he knew it was slick enough. There was no fight, no argument on how this wasn’t right. No pesky moral ethics getting in his way to disturb his pleasure.
This was his pleasure, and his alone to enjoy.
Carson would sheath himself in one of the uncomfortable condoms and fill the empty channel with his hard dick, pressing in gentle and slow, no resistance, no thrashing about or whispers of ‘gentle, its ok, ok ok…”
There would be no hands grasping for purchase on his arms or shoulders, no one trying to push back or pull away.
Quiet and needy, was how Carson would be at these times. In the dead of night, a patient under his care, under his sweating body, doped up to the eyeballs on sedatives to keep them asleep and obedient.
The slickness of the lube gliding his hard length in and out of the loosening passage, riding him over into completion, stuttering out his ecstasy into a latex sleeve as he fell, sated and spent over his patients’ body.
Not to say he didn’t enjoy the preparation or the act itself, but Carson would enjoy the immense care that came afterwards.
Carson would relax into his gentle wipes of a warm washcloth, removing any traces of sweat or lube from his willing receptacle. He would kiss every inch of bare skin before it was carefully covered back, and body turned over to resume a normal sleeping posture.
Carson would bend over the unconscious body, always grazing a gentle kiss, dry lips brushing against warm skin in a gesture of gratitude, a small caress to the inside wrist on their left hand as he tucked the sheets up around their chest, before straightening himself up.
Making a note of the time, Carson would check their medical chart, running a careful eye across the curtained off room, ensuring nothing was out of place before turning and walking out, already anticipating the next off world mission to go wrong.