a tagathon twofer
fa;skjflasf;ljslkflsl OMG SHOW, THANK YOU FOR NOT SUCKING THIS WEEK. I was maybe getting a little twitchy about this season, but all is well now.
Anyway! I come bearing two little ficlets from the sga_episodefic tagathon challenge, the first a tag for Search and Rescue, the second for The Seed.
Ficlet #1: Man Down (yeah, so. I'm not very good at titles)
Episode: Search and Rescue
Rating: G
Pairing: Mostly John/Rodney preslash, a little Keller/Rodney, but mostly it's John and his man-angst.
Most of John's days after surgery are a haze of pain and pain meds. His first clear memory is Teyla rocking Torrin and crooning softly; his second, Ronon keeping watch over him and the baby, Teyla sleeping quietly nearby.
His third is this: Rodney's head bent close to Keller's, his soft, murmuring voice and elegant hands a language he can almost read, almost speak.
John remembers vividly the older, grayer Rodney, somehow withered and small despite his still-broad shoulders, remembers his story of finally finding happiness and love with Keller only to lose her again. They look good together, he realizes, surprised.
He thinks, briefly, of telling Rodney of his alternate self's relationship with Keller, maybe pushing him in the right direction, imagines listening to Rodney's wondering voice describe successful dates and his miserable eyes as he describes fights, Rodney and Keller eating together in the mess and leaning against each other during movie night; his chest feels tight, oddly far from his stitches.
He slips into sleep again before he can call Rodney to his bedside, and when he next wakes up, he's forgotten about it completely.
Ficlet #2: Tie Me Up, Hold Me Down; or, John Sheppard Got Penetrated By A Tentacle, And All He Got Was This Lousy Handjob.
Episode: The Seed (god, even the episode title is kind of porny)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: John/Rodney.
A/N: No, seriously, it was this or tentacle porn.
Rodney knew he couldn't avoid John forever, but that didn't stop him from trying.
It was pretty easy to pull off that first week, since John was confined to the infirmary after being stabbed with a tentacle (and, seriously, this sort of shit could only happen in the Pegasus Galaxy - where else could being stabbed with a sentient tentacle ever be an actual problem and not some weird kind of porn?), and Keller was as much of a hard-case as Carson had been when it came to keeping people tied to their -- confined to their beds after surgery, for which Rodney was infinitely grateful.
He felt like kind of a dick, though, not going to see John. The feeling only got worse whenever he sat with Ronon and Teyla in the mess, the weight of their disapproving stares and not-so-subtle talk about John's recovery making him eat faster and faster until he finally beat a hasty retreat, a made-up excuse about puddlejumper repairs on his tongue and a half-eaten pudding cup clutched in his hand. He started avoiding them, too.
*****
The problem was, he could still see it whenever he closed his eyes: John, his hands fisted in the sheets next to him, hips shifting restlessly as he convulsed... He knew it was sick, but he couldn't stop thinking about it, thinking about how John had thrown his head back (in pain, he kept telling himself, just a gross parody of pleasure, but somehow that didn't stop his subconscious), his neck taut and vulnerable and begging to be licked. Rodney's first visit to the infirmary had lasted only for a few minutes before he realized, with dawning horror, that he was getting hard. He fled, and hadn't gone back since.
But now, there were only so many places that he could hide before John tracked him down. He stayed out on the west pier for most of the day scheduled for John's release, working on the malfunctioning console that was the main control for the desalinization tanks - a job that, admittedly, could have been done just as easily from the comfort of his lab. His lab that he couldn't be sure would remain Sheppard-free.
He had been forced to bribe Zelenka with a pound of his best coffee to keep his whereabouts quiet, but it was worth it; Sheppard hadn't shown up all day, except in vivid flashbacks that he ruthlessly shoved aside.
*****
Of course, his Sheppardless respite couldn't last.
Rodney had only just toed off his boots when the chime to his quarters sounded. He thought about pretending that he wasn't there, but Sheppard was crafty and Atlantis was a complete slut for him - it was only a matter of time before he got the door opened himself.
"Rodney!" John pounded on the door, forgoing the chime completely.
Rodney sighed and thought the door open.
John stepped into the room, the door swishing closed behind him. "Hey buddy," he said, so falsely cheery and sweet Rodney almost fell into a diabetic coma.
Rodney swallowed nervously and moved back a bit. "Sheppard. It's, uh. Good to see you, walking around and healed and whatnot. No alien tentacles, I see." He laughed a little, the sound high-pitched and forced.
John stepped forward again, closing the distance between them, and oh, God, this was so not good. John looked pissed off, seriously pissed off, and all Rodney could think of was sinking to his knees and sucking his cock. Probably not a good idea at this point.
"So," John said, his voice completely impassive, "wanna tell me the reason you've been avoiding me for a week? Cause, last I checked, it's a pretty shitty thing to do, not visiting your best friend in the hospital." He was only a foot away now, well within Rodney's personal space. Well within touching distance.
"What?" he asked, trying for 'indignant' but only managing 'husky'. He coughed a little, clearing his throat. "Avoiding you?" he tried again, "I was in no way avoiding you. I am, as you know, a very busy man, and there were matters, urgent matters! that required my attention." Sheppard had narrowed his eyes, but Rodney blustered on. "I can't help if I've hurt your precious feelings, Sheppard, but keeping the minions from blowing themselves up does require rather a lot of work, you know."
"Rodney. I may have been skewered like a shish-kabob, but I don't have a concussion and I'm not an idiot. What's really going on?" He took a tiny step forward, and, God, there was hardly any room left between them. Rodney could just reach out and --
Shit. He looked down, realizing distantly that he had reached out and now he could feel John's pulse beneath his fingertips. His wrist, he had grabbed John's wrist... the same wrist that had been restrained in the hospital, the thick black strap holding it down, and Rodney dropped it like John's skin was on fire. "Uh," he said, his eyes darting everywhere, looking for a means of escape.
"Oh," John said, very quietly. He reached out and deliberately took Rodney's wrist in his own, stroking over the thin skin on the inside of it, where Rodney's pulse was beating fast. He tugged a little and Rodney went, not really knowing what was going to happen until he felt John's lips close over his own. He may have whimpered then, just a little, and John let out a breath of laughter and used his grip on Rodney's wrist to pull them together, wrapping his free arm around Rodney's middle and pulling some more, until there was hardly any air between them.
Rodney groaned and broke away from John's mouth, panting and pushing his hips forward into John's. He could feel - oh God, that was definitely John's cock, hot and hard and thick through four layers of cloth, and Rodney thrust helplessly against it again. John huffed another laugh against his neck before pulling his mouth away from the spot he'd been licking. Rodney wrapped the hand not entwined in John's around his neck and tried to pull John back towards his mouth, but he resisted, making Rodney frown in irritation.
"So that's why you were avoiding me," he said, and thrust his hips against Rodney' cock. Rodney groaned.
John grinned and pulled away completely, and somehow, quicker than Rodney could comprehend in his lust-addled state, they both ended up naked and in Rodney's bed, Rodney straddling John's thighs. Rodney, being not at all stupid, didn't complain, just started licking at John's throat. And Christ, it was even better than his fantasies, even better than the infirmary, because this time John's head was thrown back in pleasure, and all Rodney could taste was the salty-sweet taste of John's sweat, no bitter undertaste of fear and pain.
John brought his hands up to Rodney's back, stroking over his skin from shoulder to ass; and while that was nice, it wasn't what Rodney wanted. He tugged on John's arms, nipping his collarbone when John started to protest, and pulled until he had his hands over his head, pinned down against the pillow, Rodney's fingers tight on his wrists.
A sharp intake of breath made Rodney look up; John's pupils were blown wide, his hands clenching into fists above Rodney's fingers. "Oh," he said again, his voice breaking, "oh." He tensed for a moment, looking uncertain, before all the tension bled out of him, leaving him loose and pliable beneath Rodney. He closed his eyes and tilted his head up, exposing the long, clean line of his throat to Rodney's gaze.
Rodney shifted both of John's wrists to one hand, keeping him pinned, unable to do anything but allow Rodney to do whatever he wanted. Rodney trailed his fingers down John's throat, feeling his adam's apple bob beneath his touch, before reaching down and taking John's cock in his hand.
John cried out and arched, and it was the same movement he had made while restrained in his hospital bed, his hips thrusting up and moving in an aborted semi-circle. This time, Rodney was there to grind against. "Rodney," he said, his voice rough, "god, Rodney." He opened his eyes; they were dark and unfocused, but they found Rodney's and held for a beat before sliding shut again.
Their cocks slid against each other, already wet and leaking, and John groaned again. His hips stuttered forward and Rodney rode the motion, fisting John's cock as John shook apart, coming all over Rodney's fingers and his own stomach.
"Fuck," Rodney panted, releasing John and going for his own cock with both hands, John's come smoothing the way. John made a whimpery sound in the back of his throat and pushed Rodney's hands away, stroking and squeezing until Rodney couldn't stand it anymore, his come mixing with John's on their bellies and hands. He slumped down on top of John, not caring if he was squishing him, too sated to move.
"Hey," John said, several minutes later, pulling Rodney from the light doze he'd slipped into.
Rodney rolled off John and onto his side, throwing a heavy arm over his waist. "Hmm?" he murmured, already half-asleep again.
John poked him a little, making him grunt, before tugging his arm higher over his chest. "How difficult do you think it would be to get some of those cuffs from the infirmary?"
Rodney was still grinning when he fell asleep seconds later.
PS, if anyone knows the correct spelling for Teyla's baby, that would be awesome.
Anyway! I come bearing two little ficlets from the sga_episodefic tagathon challenge, the first a tag for Search and Rescue, the second for The Seed.
Ficlet #1: Man Down (yeah, so. I'm not very good at titles)
Episode: Search and Rescue
Rating: G
Pairing: Mostly John/Rodney preslash, a little Keller/Rodney, but mostly it's John and his man-angst.
Most of John's days after surgery are a haze of pain and pain meds. His first clear memory is Teyla rocking Torrin and crooning softly; his second, Ronon keeping watch over him and the baby, Teyla sleeping quietly nearby.
His third is this: Rodney's head bent close to Keller's, his soft, murmuring voice and elegant hands a language he can almost read, almost speak.
John remembers vividly the older, grayer Rodney, somehow withered and small despite his still-broad shoulders, remembers his story of finally finding happiness and love with Keller only to lose her again. They look good together, he realizes, surprised.
He thinks, briefly, of telling Rodney of his alternate self's relationship with Keller, maybe pushing him in the right direction, imagines listening to Rodney's wondering voice describe successful dates and his miserable eyes as he describes fights, Rodney and Keller eating together in the mess and leaning against each other during movie night; his chest feels tight, oddly far from his stitches.
He slips into sleep again before he can call Rodney to his bedside, and when he next wakes up, he's forgotten about it completely.
Ficlet #2: Tie Me Up, Hold Me Down; or, John Sheppard Got Penetrated By A Tentacle, And All He Got Was This Lousy Handjob.
Episode: The Seed (god, even the episode title is kind of porny)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: John/Rodney.
A/N: No, seriously, it was this or tentacle porn.
Rodney knew he couldn't avoid John forever, but that didn't stop him from trying.
It was pretty easy to pull off that first week, since John was confined to the infirmary after being stabbed with a tentacle (and, seriously, this sort of shit could only happen in the Pegasus Galaxy - where else could being stabbed with a sentient tentacle ever be an actual problem and not some weird kind of porn?), and Keller was as much of a hard-case as Carson had been when it came to keeping people tied to their -- confined to their beds after surgery, for which Rodney was infinitely grateful.
He felt like kind of a dick, though, not going to see John. The feeling only got worse whenever he sat with Ronon and Teyla in the mess, the weight of their disapproving stares and not-so-subtle talk about John's recovery making him eat faster and faster until he finally beat a hasty retreat, a made-up excuse about puddlejumper repairs on his tongue and a half-eaten pudding cup clutched in his hand. He started avoiding them, too.
*****
The problem was, he could still see it whenever he closed his eyes: John, his hands fisted in the sheets next to him, hips shifting restlessly as he convulsed... He knew it was sick, but he couldn't stop thinking about it, thinking about how John had thrown his head back (in pain, he kept telling himself, just a gross parody of pleasure, but somehow that didn't stop his subconscious), his neck taut and vulnerable and begging to be licked. Rodney's first visit to the infirmary had lasted only for a few minutes before he realized, with dawning horror, that he was getting hard. He fled, and hadn't gone back since.
But now, there were only so many places that he could hide before John tracked him down. He stayed out on the west pier for most of the day scheduled for John's release, working on the malfunctioning console that was the main control for the desalinization tanks - a job that, admittedly, could have been done just as easily from the comfort of his lab. His lab that he couldn't be sure would remain Sheppard-free.
He had been forced to bribe Zelenka with a pound of his best coffee to keep his whereabouts quiet, but it was worth it; Sheppard hadn't shown up all day, except in vivid flashbacks that he ruthlessly shoved aside.
*****
Of course, his Sheppardless respite couldn't last.
Rodney had only just toed off his boots when the chime to his quarters sounded. He thought about pretending that he wasn't there, but Sheppard was crafty and Atlantis was a complete slut for him - it was only a matter of time before he got the door opened himself.
"Rodney!" John pounded on the door, forgoing the chime completely.
Rodney sighed and thought the door open.
John stepped into the room, the door swishing closed behind him. "Hey buddy," he said, so falsely cheery and sweet Rodney almost fell into a diabetic coma.
Rodney swallowed nervously and moved back a bit. "Sheppard. It's, uh. Good to see you, walking around and healed and whatnot. No alien tentacles, I see." He laughed a little, the sound high-pitched and forced.
John stepped forward again, closing the distance between them, and oh, God, this was so not good. John looked pissed off, seriously pissed off, and all Rodney could think of was sinking to his knees and sucking his cock. Probably not a good idea at this point.
"So," John said, his voice completely impassive, "wanna tell me the reason you've been avoiding me for a week? Cause, last I checked, it's a pretty shitty thing to do, not visiting your best friend in the hospital." He was only a foot away now, well within Rodney's personal space. Well within touching distance.
"What?" he asked, trying for 'indignant' but only managing 'husky'. He coughed a little, clearing his throat. "Avoiding you?" he tried again, "I was in no way avoiding you. I am, as you know, a very busy man, and there were matters, urgent matters! that required my attention." Sheppard had narrowed his eyes, but Rodney blustered on. "I can't help if I've hurt your precious feelings, Sheppard, but keeping the minions from blowing themselves up does require rather a lot of work, you know."
"Rodney. I may have been skewered like a shish-kabob, but I don't have a concussion and I'm not an idiot. What's really going on?" He took a tiny step forward, and, God, there was hardly any room left between them. Rodney could just reach out and --
Shit. He looked down, realizing distantly that he had reached out and now he could feel John's pulse beneath his fingertips. His wrist, he had grabbed John's wrist... the same wrist that had been restrained in the hospital, the thick black strap holding it down, and Rodney dropped it like John's skin was on fire. "Uh," he said, his eyes darting everywhere, looking for a means of escape.
"Oh," John said, very quietly. He reached out and deliberately took Rodney's wrist in his own, stroking over the thin skin on the inside of it, where Rodney's pulse was beating fast. He tugged a little and Rodney went, not really knowing what was going to happen until he felt John's lips close over his own. He may have whimpered then, just a little, and John let out a breath of laughter and used his grip on Rodney's wrist to pull them together, wrapping his free arm around Rodney's middle and pulling some more, until there was hardly any air between them.
Rodney groaned and broke away from John's mouth, panting and pushing his hips forward into John's. He could feel - oh God, that was definitely John's cock, hot and hard and thick through four layers of cloth, and Rodney thrust helplessly against it again. John huffed another laugh against his neck before pulling his mouth away from the spot he'd been licking. Rodney wrapped the hand not entwined in John's around his neck and tried to pull John back towards his mouth, but he resisted, making Rodney frown in irritation.
"So that's why you were avoiding me," he said, and thrust his hips against Rodney' cock. Rodney groaned.
John grinned and pulled away completely, and somehow, quicker than Rodney could comprehend in his lust-addled state, they both ended up naked and in Rodney's bed, Rodney straddling John's thighs. Rodney, being not at all stupid, didn't complain, just started licking at John's throat. And Christ, it was even better than his fantasies, even better than the infirmary, because this time John's head was thrown back in pleasure, and all Rodney could taste was the salty-sweet taste of John's sweat, no bitter undertaste of fear and pain.
John brought his hands up to Rodney's back, stroking over his skin from shoulder to ass; and while that was nice, it wasn't what Rodney wanted. He tugged on John's arms, nipping his collarbone when John started to protest, and pulled until he had his hands over his head, pinned down against the pillow, Rodney's fingers tight on his wrists.
A sharp intake of breath made Rodney look up; John's pupils were blown wide, his hands clenching into fists above Rodney's fingers. "Oh," he said again, his voice breaking, "oh." He tensed for a moment, looking uncertain, before all the tension bled out of him, leaving him loose and pliable beneath Rodney. He closed his eyes and tilted his head up, exposing the long, clean line of his throat to Rodney's gaze.
Rodney shifted both of John's wrists to one hand, keeping him pinned, unable to do anything but allow Rodney to do whatever he wanted. Rodney trailed his fingers down John's throat, feeling his adam's apple bob beneath his touch, before reaching down and taking John's cock in his hand.
John cried out and arched, and it was the same movement he had made while restrained in his hospital bed, his hips thrusting up and moving in an aborted semi-circle. This time, Rodney was there to grind against. "Rodney," he said, his voice rough, "god, Rodney." He opened his eyes; they were dark and unfocused, but they found Rodney's and held for a beat before sliding shut again.
Their cocks slid against each other, already wet and leaking, and John groaned again. His hips stuttered forward and Rodney rode the motion, fisting John's cock as John shook apart, coming all over Rodney's fingers and his own stomach.
"Fuck," Rodney panted, releasing John and going for his own cock with both hands, John's come smoothing the way. John made a whimpery sound in the back of his throat and pushed Rodney's hands away, stroking and squeezing until Rodney couldn't stand it anymore, his come mixing with John's on their bellies and hands. He slumped down on top of John, not caring if he was squishing him, too sated to move.
"Hey," John said, several minutes later, pulling Rodney from the light doze he'd slipped into.
Rodney rolled off John and onto his side, throwing a heavy arm over his waist. "Hmm?" he murmured, already half-asleep again.
John poked him a little, making him grunt, before tugging his arm higher over his chest. "How difficult do you think it would be to get some of those cuffs from the infirmary?"
Rodney was still grinning when he fell asleep seconds later.
PS, if anyone knows the correct spelling for Teyla's baby, that would be awesome.