I suck at updates; also, FIC!
Many things happened since I last put word to cyber-paper here. Camp, for instance. I've been a lot more social. Work got insane, then less so. And now it's August and I'm faced with a prospect that I thought was much farther off: NaNoWriMo is less than three months off.
The problem I'm trying to overcome is the whole "writing every day" ordeal. So last week I started small, 400 words a day for the entire week. No excuses, even if it was crap.
It was surprisingly easy. This week I've set 600 words as my daily goal. I'm hitting 800 with regularity.
I have about six writing projects, which is nice because I can swap between them and I don't feel as run down by a single idea. It's that swamped feeling when you dream up something that's complex and overwhelming and just doesn't look like it's worth the time. But it is, really it is, I just need to keep moving forward and the plot will open like a flower in the morning sun and reveal something breathtaking. Or at least that's my hope :P. We'll find out in less than three months.
But since I've been writing so much, it seems silly not to just put it out there.
So here's the first bit I've finished, a slashy John/Rodney fanfic from Stargate:Atlantis that clocks in at about 3,500 words and is most definitely not worksafe.
Disclaimer: The crew of the Atlantis expedition is not mine, but they ran off with all my em-dashes, so I followed, picking them up like breadcrumbs.
Spoilers: Continuation of Irresistable
“Burn every drop,” Rodney sneered to himself, his voice pitched high and squeaky, the lack of resemblance to either Carson’s or Elizabeth’s voices indicating that he was trying to imitate both at once. The corridor of Atlantis was empty and he was indulging his habit of talking out loud as he stepped quickly toward his quarters. “Can’t they see the potential of that concoction? It might have similar effects on the Wraith, or even the Ori, but we won’t ever know because it’s all going to be destroyed.” Rodney shook his head, thinking of the loss of scientific knowledge. What a waste.
With the door to his quarters in sight, Rodney was brought abruptly back to the situation that bore more thought but which he instinctively squirmed away from: John Sheppard’s behavior. Sheppard couldn’t have gotten far in his task of straightening Rodney’s room - just the kernel of an idea planted during the mission and it was amazing how quickly Sheppard had picked up on it - and it would be nothing to set him to tasks that would please Elizabeth far more, like cleaning his weaponry or military drills or jogging for God’s sake.
His door slid open in front of him and for a moment Rodney had the strange sense that he was in the wrong place.
The bed was neatly made - military precision and all that - and the notes he had strewn on it before leaving early this morning were in an organized pile on his desk. The haphazard scattering of clothes that usually dangled off chairs, lamps, and any other readily available surface were stacked in a neat pile between the desk and the back wall. The books on his night stand and desk were all stacked carefully. The mound of PowerBar wrappers beside his bed were tucked away in the trash.
Mouth hanging open slightly, Rodney turned to Sheppard, who was grinning. “You did this in five minutes?” he asked, incredulous.
“Imagine what I can do in ten, huh?” Sheppard quipped. He finished stripping his tac vest off and draped it neatly over the back of the desk chair. The coal black shirt underneath fit close to his athletic body and Rodney shook his head, taking two quick steps to the bed.
“I don’t want to imagine what you can do in ten,” he sputtered, making shooing motions in Sheppard’s direction with his hands, not looking at the other man. “But I do know Elizabeth needs you to go talk to her, some briefing or something.”
The door behind him closed and Rodney began unfastening his own tac vest, convinced Sheppard had taken the hint and left. Good riddance. Rodney put a hand to his forehead, felt the sweat there. He could hear his own increased heart rate thumping in his ears. Maybe Sheppard had passed on that cold of his?
“I’ll go talk to Elizabeth once I’m done in here,” Sheppard’s smooth, low voice said from just behind him.
Rodney started, turning quickly to find Sheppard much closer than he sounded. The man’s hazel eyes were twinkling with mischief, which was always a bad thing, especially when he was under the influence of a mind-altering substance.
“N-now,” Rodney stuttered, bringing a finger up between them like he was making a point or delivering a warning. His mind grasped for something, something to say that wasn’t waxing eloquent about the elegance of the bare shadow of stubble coating John’s face and how the tilt of the colonel’s head made him look at once like an angelic schoolboy and a thief about to claim his prize. Of course, his lips were turned in a slightly sardonic grin that instantly banished the image of innocence.
Rodney stopped himself mid-thought, aware of the seconds of silence that had stretched between them, then glared at John. “You did this!” he cried accusingly. “You’re the reason I’m all,” he waved his hand like a cluster of small birds around his head, “messed up right now.”
“Rodney,” John started, his face going disarmingly boyish and charming. “Why would you think that?” He reached out and finished unfastening Rodney’s tac vest then deftly pushed it off both shoulders and caught it behind him. With a flick of the wrist and more coordination than Rodney liked to acknowledge unless John was piloting one of the jumpers, he tossed the vest to land atop his own on the back of the chair. “I’m your friend,” John continued, looking seriously into his eyes.
“Nonono,” Rodney nearly fell on the bed in his backpedal to get away, placing the corner between the two of them. “You drank some of the serum this morning.”
He could remember the whole thing vividly now and he had no idea why it hadn’t occurred to him before. Or was the vile stuff so fast-acting that he had noticed but hadn’t realized what he had noticed until just now?
At Rodney’s request, John had shown up in his lab to go over the last of the data on the most recent expedition to harvest more Stargates. Mostly, it involved John sitting at one of the lab stations with his feet propped up on a chair, listening and nodding while Rodney read the final report and theorized about the next possible target. Most importantly, it provided enough time in close proximity to activate John’s unvaccinated system to the pheromone Rodney was producing.
The vial Lucius had stored the serum in had been on the counter near John, just half a swallow left after Rodney’s experimental taste. Hadn’t it been moved, just a little, when Rodney had turned away to collect his belongings before they left?
John sighed, stepping around the corner of the bed to sit on it. His eyes looked a little hurt and the smile had slipped a bit. “I didn’t, Rodney. And if you’ll just calm down…”
“That’s easy for you to say, Mr. Cool and Confident in the Face of Impending Doom,” Rodney shot back, pacing back and forth along the wall. “If you didn’t do this - and I’m not convinced you didn’t because you might just be trying to calm me down in order to please me - then that means there’s something else wrong with me -”
“McKay,” the harshness of John’s voice stopped him, along with the use of his family name. When Rodney’s head snapped around in response, John’s voice quieted. “Come sit down, talk to me a minute. Then I’ll let you go back to your freak-out, ok?”
Rodney blinked several times then nodded slightly. “Ok. I can talk.”
“Good,” John replied. He looked somewhat seriously at Rodney when he sat, then spoke like he was explaining something complicated. “We’re friends here, you and I, and that means we do nice things for each other.”
“I know that,” Rodney cut in. “But the serum…”
“Doesn’t change that we’re friends, right? That was always there.”
Rodney thought about it for a moment. The camaraderie and respect and shared grins… it was all vaguely reminiscent of friendship, but more compelling. And he knew he had felt this same way yesterday. Well, before Lucius came, at any rate. “Ok, friends,” he said decisively. Then he glared at John. “But I wasn’t freaking out.”
With a grin, John fell back on the bed, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. “Were too.”
“I was not,” Rodney frowned. When he noticed John wasn’t paying attention, he lay back beside him. “Would have been odd, though.”
“What?” John asked, typically missing the obvious despite his own tremendous mental assets.
“If we had both taken the serum and come in here, head over heels for each other,” Rodney explained quickly. A sudden thought hit him and he wrinkled his brow. “But wait, I did -”
That’s when John leaned over and cut him off with a kiss. A surprisingly warm, soft kiss that had Rodney responding in kind before his mind had leaped the gap from I’m possibly doomed here to I’m being kissed senseless. John’s hand was tickling up his ribs and his stubble was tickling Rodney’s cheeks and then John’s lips were trailing down his neck and Rodney was finally able to let out that hard-earned moan.
Rodney’s arms wrapped around John’s waist almost of their own volition and one hand slid up his back to cup the messy, dark head closer because dear lord whatever John was doing to that soft spot between his neck and his shoulder was nearly the best thing Rodney had ever felt.
John pulled back slightly, still close enough that Rodney could feel his warm breath on his skin, but not doing whatever-it-was with his mouth anymore and Rodney whined in protest. “Too many clothes,” came the whispered reply, and Rodney felt strong hands at the waistband of his pants tugging at his shirt. Before he could form the thought that maybe he should be helping, John was skinning the shirt off him.
Hazel eyes met blue for a moment and Rodney was surprised at the darkness of them, the depth of passion there. Then he was being kissed senseless again and he was definitely not about to be a passive participant this time, responding to John’s little licks and nips at his lips with a few of his own before boldly pressing his tongue forward into the heat of the other man’s body. One hand was still at the back of John’s neck, holding him close - and Rodney couldn’t help but notice that one of John’s hands was grasping him in precisely the same way - while the other roamed over the fabric covering what was undoubtedly a very impressive back.
When they pulled apart this time, John was the one who made a desperate sound in his throat and tried to cement them back together. “Clothes,” Rodney panted, before John’s lips were sealed on his, but now John’s hands were gone, moving at his waist and they pulled apart for just long enough to get the shirt over John’s head.
Rodney’s hands found skin easily and began running along finely toned muscles with great delight while John’s lips and tongue moved and twisted with his own in a provocative dance that left him breathless and startled in the moments his mind chose to function.
Then John was moving away, down his body, and Rodney reached out to pull him back up. That crooked grin, which was sure to make his stomach do flip-flops every time he saw it now, was aimed up at him and Rodney struggled to prop himself up on his elbows to look down at John. “What? Why?” were his most coherent remarks.
The predatory look in John’s eyes increased as he deftly unbuckled Rodney’s belt, gaze never wavering from Rodney’s. “Do you want this?” His voice was dusky and sent a sharp spike of pleasure through Rodney, who was still glancing back and forth between John’s hand at work and his intense eyes.
“I-if you’re asking me, why are you still doing that?” Rodney asked, absurdly proud of being able to make a complete sentence leave his brain.
John glanced at the distinct ridge tenting the front of Rodney’s pants between his thighs then looked back, his face almost neutral in a way that always meant I’m about to be funny. “You’re body’s already decided, Rodney,” the hunting look crept back into his eyes, “I’m just waiting for your brain to catch up.”
“My brain happens to be the most developed part of my - oh!” Rodney gasped as John slipped a hand inside, brushing gently at his erection. His previous indignation was momentarily forgotten.
“I’m not saying it’s undeveloped,” John slid up within kissing distance again and Rodney was sure not going to miss the chance at that. “Just slow.”
In the three and a half seconds that their lips locked before Rodney digested those words, the kiss was hungry, passionate, and demanding on both sides. Then Rodney pushed back and John nearly fell off the foot of the bed, so he may have missed some of the indignant roaring when Rodney proclaimed, “My brain isn’t slow and simply because I’m not racing toward the finish line like some thoroughbred on amphetamines -” Leaning back over Rodney, John stole the rest of the words with his mouth. Rodney moaned around his annoyance. The hand down his pants didn’t hurt either.
With swift and careful hands, John finished unzipping Rodney’s pants and shucked them down to his hips. Rodney felt that more appreciation for that kind of coordination during kissing would be appropriate, but since he was the one being kissed, while running his fingers through John’s hair and over his tight, muscled chest, he couldn’t really emphasize that thought except through some more enthusiastic groans and playful nips. Also, and there may have been a point of enlightenment in there somewhere, he couldn’t seem to think very clearly when John had his tongue in his mouth and his hand on his cock.
Of course, the cessation of both sensations at once caused his eyes to fly open - when had he closed them? - and his hands to reach for John, movements almost panicky.
“Don’t worry,” John smiled at him, a real smile instead of a grin or a quirk of lips meant to tease. The look was even more alluring on him than the overwhelming charm he turned on during negotiations. “I’m just making this a bit easier.”
“Oh,” Rodney replied, noticing the movement of John’s hands unfastening his own pants and divesting himself of them just as John leaned back in to kiss him lightly.
With another of those quick, beautiful smiles, John was plastered back up against him in the most exciting way, their arms were wrapped back around one another, and the length of another hard cock pressing against Rodney’s was enough to make him thrust his hips and whine into the kiss.
“Always demanding, aren’t you, Rodney?” John said, his words ghosting over Rodney’s lips as a hand slipped smoothly over both of them.
“Heh,” Rodney panted, leaning in to swipe his tongue along John’s throat and thoroughly enjoying the breathy moan he received for his troubles, “I insist on getting what I want.”
“That makes two of us,” John replied, one hand doubling the pace stroking them while the other pulled Rodney forward into a final kiss as they both neared the proverbial finish line.
Rodney gasped, his hips bucking against John’s and he only had a moment to wonder crazily if he’d won or lost the race when John was moaning into his mouth and shuddering and coming and Rodney let the warmth between them wash over him, pulling his eyes shut and relaxing the rest of him.
Arms pulled him close and it was only fair - only natural - to want to return the gesture, gripping the body next to his tighter than was strictly necessary and for once not considering the meaning behind the action.
Warm breath ghosted over his face, a gentle kiss landed on his brow. “Never thought it’d be that easy,” a low, husky voice said.
“’m not easy,” Rodney mumbled, exhaustion and fatigue stealing a good deal of his conscious thought and motor control. “Jus’ never asked me.”
Soft laughter followed him down into darkness, comforting him, and Rodney didn’t even approach the obvious connections a man of his intellect should be making, even in dreams.
***
Rodney blinked his eyes open, wondered when his dresser had been moved next to the head of his bed. A few things occurred to him in rather quick succession.
First, he was naked from the waist up and while the Atlantean climate controls were marvels of science like everything else in this city, that didn’t mean that one should sleep half-naked without a blanket. Second, he was using his arm for a most uncomfortable pillow, laying sideways on a bed that fit him much better longways. He was also drooling on himself in a rather unbecoming way and though he expected to feel sticky in his lower regions when he moved, he was in fact remarkably clean. And alone.
Rodney sat up and stretched, rubbing at one eye while checking his watch with the other. Just after 2 a.m. He yawned, continued looking for… Sheppard.
Zipping himself up, he checked the bathroom. Except for a still-damp rag on the sink, nothing. The room was empty. He was wondering whether or not it could be a dream - but everything was neat and clean and tidy, so that was a strike against the dream theory - when he saw Sheppard’s tac vest still hanging over his own on his desk chair. He could almost feel his blood pressure, and panic, rising.
“We both,” he told the room, one hand pointing at his chest and the other at the bed where Sheppard had been, “took the serum and then we ended up here and I told him to go see Elizabeth and now he’s not here.”
“This could be… a disaster,” he muttered to himself as he pulled his shirt back on - there had been two rumpled shirts on his floor, one of which he was pretty sure didn’t belong to him - and sat at the desk, booting up his laptop. Pulling up the graphs on recent power spikes within the city and comparing them to areas of power usage, Rodney hunkered down to wait until Carson woke up.
He was still alone three and a half hours later when he made his way down to the infirmary.
***
“But you’ve got to understand, Carson,” Rodney continued, “it wasn’t just him affected, I was, too.”
Carson eyed him with a bit of a smirk and he blew on his cup of coffee, “I don’t think you understand, Rodney,” he began - again - soothingly, “The inoculation counteracts the effects of the drug and will continue to do so for at least a month.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Rodney said, his hands suddenly in motion, “but is it possible that something could counteract the… counteraction?”
Setting his cup down to give the idea some thought - because dismissing it out of hand never helped convince Rodney of anything - Carson weighed the pros and cons. Slightly mushy donut or super-sweet blueberry muffin. Such were the decisions of the intergalactic doctor.
“Yes,” Beckett returned his attention to Rodney, whose face lit up, for some reason, at the possibility that he and the colonel had both been under the influence of Lucius’s drug. “But it would have to have been engineered fairly precisely, not to mention quickly and without our knowledge, then administered to you and the colonel without either of you noticing. Then we have to assume that whoever it is knew there was still a small supply of the liquid. Rodney, do you see how far the odds are here?”
The man in front of him was looking rather more forlorn than Carson would have expected, since that meant no alien mind control, for the moment at least. “Still,” and Carson took no personal pleasure from rubbing this in at all, “it was a fairly nasty joke he played on you.”
“Huh?” Rodney looked puzzled.
But surely the colonel had said… “One of my nurses got overzealous and gave Colonel Sheppard the inoculation yesterday morning before you left. She didn’t tell me about it until after you returned. I’m sorry, Rodney. I thought he’d told you.”
“Hey, Doc,” Sheppard was leaning in the doorway, looking at them both, but smiling at Rodney.
“Good morning, colonel. Glad to see you’re doing well,” Carson replied, returning to his coffee and deciding on the mushy donut that would be waiting for him in the mess.
“Me, too,” his eyes slid over Rodney, who was staring at him, open-mouthed. “McKay, about cleaning my room.”
Rodney’s mouth went very, very dry of a sudden, recognizing that very distinctive twinkle in John’s eyes. That quirky grin, as he had feared, sent his stomach into acrobatics. He couldn’t look away, couldn’t even do more than nod rather dumbly as the events of the previous evening clicked into place in the little puzzle that formed his world. It was rather shocking how easily they fit.
“You’re coming by tonight, right? To clean my room,” John continued as though the repeated words should mean something.
“Yes,” Rodney said slowly, then his eyes opened wide as he understood. “Yes, yes, tonight, to clean your room.”
“Because I helped you clean yours,” John finished, smile honest and clean and Rodney was tempted to throw his arms around him right there. “Cool,” John levered himself off the door frame and walked down the hall, whistling.
Rodney shook his head then called to Beckett, “You still shouldn’t destroy the serum. It could have other uses.”
And as they debated the uses verses the abuses of the chemical on the way to the mess, Rodney smiled, just a little, to himself. Because after today, there was tonight. And for tonight, he had plans.
The problem I'm trying to overcome is the whole "writing every day" ordeal. So last week I started small, 400 words a day for the entire week. No excuses, even if it was crap.
It was surprisingly easy. This week I've set 600 words as my daily goal. I'm hitting 800 with regularity.
I have about six writing projects, which is nice because I can swap between them and I don't feel as run down by a single idea. It's that swamped feeling when you dream up something that's complex and overwhelming and just doesn't look like it's worth the time. But it is, really it is, I just need to keep moving forward and the plot will open like a flower in the morning sun and reveal something breathtaking. Or at least that's my hope :P. We'll find out in less than three months.
But since I've been writing so much, it seems silly not to just put it out there.
So here's the first bit I've finished, a slashy John/Rodney fanfic from Stargate:Atlantis that clocks in at about 3,500 words and is most definitely not worksafe.
Disclaimer: The crew of the Atlantis expedition is not mine, but they ran off with all my em-dashes, so I followed, picking them up like breadcrumbs.
Spoilers: Continuation of Irresistable
“Burn every drop,” Rodney sneered to himself, his voice pitched high and squeaky, the lack of resemblance to either Carson’s or Elizabeth’s voices indicating that he was trying to imitate both at once. The corridor of Atlantis was empty and he was indulging his habit of talking out loud as he stepped quickly toward his quarters. “Can’t they see the potential of that concoction? It might have similar effects on the Wraith, or even the Ori, but we won’t ever know because it’s all going to be destroyed.” Rodney shook his head, thinking of the loss of scientific knowledge. What a waste.
With the door to his quarters in sight, Rodney was brought abruptly back to the situation that bore more thought but which he instinctively squirmed away from: John Sheppard’s behavior. Sheppard couldn’t have gotten far in his task of straightening Rodney’s room - just the kernel of an idea planted during the mission and it was amazing how quickly Sheppard had picked up on it - and it would be nothing to set him to tasks that would please Elizabeth far more, like cleaning his weaponry or military drills or jogging for God’s sake.
His door slid open in front of him and for a moment Rodney had the strange sense that he was in the wrong place.
The bed was neatly made - military precision and all that - and the notes he had strewn on it before leaving early this morning were in an organized pile on his desk. The haphazard scattering of clothes that usually dangled off chairs, lamps, and any other readily available surface were stacked in a neat pile between the desk and the back wall. The books on his night stand and desk were all stacked carefully. The mound of PowerBar wrappers beside his bed were tucked away in the trash.
Mouth hanging open slightly, Rodney turned to Sheppard, who was grinning. “You did this in five minutes?” he asked, incredulous.
“Imagine what I can do in ten, huh?” Sheppard quipped. He finished stripping his tac vest off and draped it neatly over the back of the desk chair. The coal black shirt underneath fit close to his athletic body and Rodney shook his head, taking two quick steps to the bed.
“I don’t want to imagine what you can do in ten,” he sputtered, making shooing motions in Sheppard’s direction with his hands, not looking at the other man. “But I do know Elizabeth needs you to go talk to her, some briefing or something.”
The door behind him closed and Rodney began unfastening his own tac vest, convinced Sheppard had taken the hint and left. Good riddance. Rodney put a hand to his forehead, felt the sweat there. He could hear his own increased heart rate thumping in his ears. Maybe Sheppard had passed on that cold of his?
“I’ll go talk to Elizabeth once I’m done in here,” Sheppard’s smooth, low voice said from just behind him.
Rodney started, turning quickly to find Sheppard much closer than he sounded. The man’s hazel eyes were twinkling with mischief, which was always a bad thing, especially when he was under the influence of a mind-altering substance.
“N-now,” Rodney stuttered, bringing a finger up between them like he was making a point or delivering a warning. His mind grasped for something, something to say that wasn’t waxing eloquent about the elegance of the bare shadow of stubble coating John’s face and how the tilt of the colonel’s head made him look at once like an angelic schoolboy and a thief about to claim his prize. Of course, his lips were turned in a slightly sardonic grin that instantly banished the image of innocence.
Rodney stopped himself mid-thought, aware of the seconds of silence that had stretched between them, then glared at John. “You did this!” he cried accusingly. “You’re the reason I’m all,” he waved his hand like a cluster of small birds around his head, “messed up right now.”
“Rodney,” John started, his face going disarmingly boyish and charming. “Why would you think that?” He reached out and finished unfastening Rodney’s tac vest then deftly pushed it off both shoulders and caught it behind him. With a flick of the wrist and more coordination than Rodney liked to acknowledge unless John was piloting one of the jumpers, he tossed the vest to land atop his own on the back of the chair. “I’m your friend,” John continued, looking seriously into his eyes.
“Nonono,” Rodney nearly fell on the bed in his backpedal to get away, placing the corner between the two of them. “You drank some of the serum this morning.”
He could remember the whole thing vividly now and he had no idea why it hadn’t occurred to him before. Or was the vile stuff so fast-acting that he had noticed but hadn’t realized what he had noticed until just now?
At Rodney’s request, John had shown up in his lab to go over the last of the data on the most recent expedition to harvest more Stargates. Mostly, it involved John sitting at one of the lab stations with his feet propped up on a chair, listening and nodding while Rodney read the final report and theorized about the next possible target. Most importantly, it provided enough time in close proximity to activate John’s unvaccinated system to the pheromone Rodney was producing.
The vial Lucius had stored the serum in had been on the counter near John, just half a swallow left after Rodney’s experimental taste. Hadn’t it been moved, just a little, when Rodney had turned away to collect his belongings before they left?
John sighed, stepping around the corner of the bed to sit on it. His eyes looked a little hurt and the smile had slipped a bit. “I didn’t, Rodney. And if you’ll just calm down…”
“That’s easy for you to say, Mr. Cool and Confident in the Face of Impending Doom,” Rodney shot back, pacing back and forth along the wall. “If you didn’t do this - and I’m not convinced you didn’t because you might just be trying to calm me down in order to please me - then that means there’s something else wrong with me -”
“McKay,” the harshness of John’s voice stopped him, along with the use of his family name. When Rodney’s head snapped around in response, John’s voice quieted. “Come sit down, talk to me a minute. Then I’ll let you go back to your freak-out, ok?”
Rodney blinked several times then nodded slightly. “Ok. I can talk.”
“Good,” John replied. He looked somewhat seriously at Rodney when he sat, then spoke like he was explaining something complicated. “We’re friends here, you and I, and that means we do nice things for each other.”
“I know that,” Rodney cut in. “But the serum…”
“Doesn’t change that we’re friends, right? That was always there.”
Rodney thought about it for a moment. The camaraderie and respect and shared grins… it was all vaguely reminiscent of friendship, but more compelling. And he knew he had felt this same way yesterday. Well, before Lucius came, at any rate. “Ok, friends,” he said decisively. Then he glared at John. “But I wasn’t freaking out.”
With a grin, John fell back on the bed, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. “Were too.”
“I was not,” Rodney frowned. When he noticed John wasn’t paying attention, he lay back beside him. “Would have been odd, though.”
“What?” John asked, typically missing the obvious despite his own tremendous mental assets.
“If we had both taken the serum and come in here, head over heels for each other,” Rodney explained quickly. A sudden thought hit him and he wrinkled his brow. “But wait, I did -”
That’s when John leaned over and cut him off with a kiss. A surprisingly warm, soft kiss that had Rodney responding in kind before his mind had leaped the gap from I’m possibly doomed here to I’m being kissed senseless. John’s hand was tickling up his ribs and his stubble was tickling Rodney’s cheeks and then John’s lips were trailing down his neck and Rodney was finally able to let out that hard-earned moan.
Rodney’s arms wrapped around John’s waist almost of their own volition and one hand slid up his back to cup the messy, dark head closer because dear lord whatever John was doing to that soft spot between his neck and his shoulder was nearly the best thing Rodney had ever felt.
John pulled back slightly, still close enough that Rodney could feel his warm breath on his skin, but not doing whatever-it-was with his mouth anymore and Rodney whined in protest. “Too many clothes,” came the whispered reply, and Rodney felt strong hands at the waistband of his pants tugging at his shirt. Before he could form the thought that maybe he should be helping, John was skinning the shirt off him.
Hazel eyes met blue for a moment and Rodney was surprised at the darkness of them, the depth of passion there. Then he was being kissed senseless again and he was definitely not about to be a passive participant this time, responding to John’s little licks and nips at his lips with a few of his own before boldly pressing his tongue forward into the heat of the other man’s body. One hand was still at the back of John’s neck, holding him close - and Rodney couldn’t help but notice that one of John’s hands was grasping him in precisely the same way - while the other roamed over the fabric covering what was undoubtedly a very impressive back.
When they pulled apart this time, John was the one who made a desperate sound in his throat and tried to cement them back together. “Clothes,” Rodney panted, before John’s lips were sealed on his, but now John’s hands were gone, moving at his waist and they pulled apart for just long enough to get the shirt over John’s head.
Rodney’s hands found skin easily and began running along finely toned muscles with great delight while John’s lips and tongue moved and twisted with his own in a provocative dance that left him breathless and startled in the moments his mind chose to function.
Then John was moving away, down his body, and Rodney reached out to pull him back up. That crooked grin, which was sure to make his stomach do flip-flops every time he saw it now, was aimed up at him and Rodney struggled to prop himself up on his elbows to look down at John. “What? Why?” were his most coherent remarks.
The predatory look in John’s eyes increased as he deftly unbuckled Rodney’s belt, gaze never wavering from Rodney’s. “Do you want this?” His voice was dusky and sent a sharp spike of pleasure through Rodney, who was still glancing back and forth between John’s hand at work and his intense eyes.
“I-if you’re asking me, why are you still doing that?” Rodney asked, absurdly proud of being able to make a complete sentence leave his brain.
John glanced at the distinct ridge tenting the front of Rodney’s pants between his thighs then looked back, his face almost neutral in a way that always meant I’m about to be funny. “You’re body’s already decided, Rodney,” the hunting look crept back into his eyes, “I’m just waiting for your brain to catch up.”
“My brain happens to be the most developed part of my - oh!” Rodney gasped as John slipped a hand inside, brushing gently at his erection. His previous indignation was momentarily forgotten.
“I’m not saying it’s undeveloped,” John slid up within kissing distance again and Rodney was sure not going to miss the chance at that. “Just slow.”
In the three and a half seconds that their lips locked before Rodney digested those words, the kiss was hungry, passionate, and demanding on both sides. Then Rodney pushed back and John nearly fell off the foot of the bed, so he may have missed some of the indignant roaring when Rodney proclaimed, “My brain isn’t slow and simply because I’m not racing toward the finish line like some thoroughbred on amphetamines -” Leaning back over Rodney, John stole the rest of the words with his mouth. Rodney moaned around his annoyance. The hand down his pants didn’t hurt either.
With swift and careful hands, John finished unzipping Rodney’s pants and shucked them down to his hips. Rodney felt that more appreciation for that kind of coordination during kissing would be appropriate, but since he was the one being kissed, while running his fingers through John’s hair and over his tight, muscled chest, he couldn’t really emphasize that thought except through some more enthusiastic groans and playful nips. Also, and there may have been a point of enlightenment in there somewhere, he couldn’t seem to think very clearly when John had his tongue in his mouth and his hand on his cock.
Of course, the cessation of both sensations at once caused his eyes to fly open - when had he closed them? - and his hands to reach for John, movements almost panicky.
“Don’t worry,” John smiled at him, a real smile instead of a grin or a quirk of lips meant to tease. The look was even more alluring on him than the overwhelming charm he turned on during negotiations. “I’m just making this a bit easier.”
“Oh,” Rodney replied, noticing the movement of John’s hands unfastening his own pants and divesting himself of them just as John leaned back in to kiss him lightly.
With another of those quick, beautiful smiles, John was plastered back up against him in the most exciting way, their arms were wrapped back around one another, and the length of another hard cock pressing against Rodney’s was enough to make him thrust his hips and whine into the kiss.
“Always demanding, aren’t you, Rodney?” John said, his words ghosting over Rodney’s lips as a hand slipped smoothly over both of them.
“Heh,” Rodney panted, leaning in to swipe his tongue along John’s throat and thoroughly enjoying the breathy moan he received for his troubles, “I insist on getting what I want.”
“That makes two of us,” John replied, one hand doubling the pace stroking them while the other pulled Rodney forward into a final kiss as they both neared the proverbial finish line.
Rodney gasped, his hips bucking against John’s and he only had a moment to wonder crazily if he’d won or lost the race when John was moaning into his mouth and shuddering and coming and Rodney let the warmth between them wash over him, pulling his eyes shut and relaxing the rest of him.
Arms pulled him close and it was only fair - only natural - to want to return the gesture, gripping the body next to his tighter than was strictly necessary and for once not considering the meaning behind the action.
Warm breath ghosted over his face, a gentle kiss landed on his brow. “Never thought it’d be that easy,” a low, husky voice said.
“’m not easy,” Rodney mumbled, exhaustion and fatigue stealing a good deal of his conscious thought and motor control. “Jus’ never asked me.”
Soft laughter followed him down into darkness, comforting him, and Rodney didn’t even approach the obvious connections a man of his intellect should be making, even in dreams.
***
Rodney blinked his eyes open, wondered when his dresser had been moved next to the head of his bed. A few things occurred to him in rather quick succession.
First, he was naked from the waist up and while the Atlantean climate controls were marvels of science like everything else in this city, that didn’t mean that one should sleep half-naked without a blanket. Second, he was using his arm for a most uncomfortable pillow, laying sideways on a bed that fit him much better longways. He was also drooling on himself in a rather unbecoming way and though he expected to feel sticky in his lower regions when he moved, he was in fact remarkably clean. And alone.
Rodney sat up and stretched, rubbing at one eye while checking his watch with the other. Just after 2 a.m. He yawned, continued looking for… Sheppard.
Zipping himself up, he checked the bathroom. Except for a still-damp rag on the sink, nothing. The room was empty. He was wondering whether or not it could be a dream - but everything was neat and clean and tidy, so that was a strike against the dream theory - when he saw Sheppard’s tac vest still hanging over his own on his desk chair. He could almost feel his blood pressure, and panic, rising.
“We both,” he told the room, one hand pointing at his chest and the other at the bed where Sheppard had been, “took the serum and then we ended up here and I told him to go see Elizabeth and now he’s not here.”
“This could be… a disaster,” he muttered to himself as he pulled his shirt back on - there had been two rumpled shirts on his floor, one of which he was pretty sure didn’t belong to him - and sat at the desk, booting up his laptop. Pulling up the graphs on recent power spikes within the city and comparing them to areas of power usage, Rodney hunkered down to wait until Carson woke up.
He was still alone three and a half hours later when he made his way down to the infirmary.
***
“But you’ve got to understand, Carson,” Rodney continued, “it wasn’t just him affected, I was, too.”
Carson eyed him with a bit of a smirk and he blew on his cup of coffee, “I don’t think you understand, Rodney,” he began - again - soothingly, “The inoculation counteracts the effects of the drug and will continue to do so for at least a month.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Rodney said, his hands suddenly in motion, “but is it possible that something could counteract the… counteraction?”
Setting his cup down to give the idea some thought - because dismissing it out of hand never helped convince Rodney of anything - Carson weighed the pros and cons. Slightly mushy donut or super-sweet blueberry muffin. Such were the decisions of the intergalactic doctor.
“Yes,” Beckett returned his attention to Rodney, whose face lit up, for some reason, at the possibility that he and the colonel had both been under the influence of Lucius’s drug. “But it would have to have been engineered fairly precisely, not to mention quickly and without our knowledge, then administered to you and the colonel without either of you noticing. Then we have to assume that whoever it is knew there was still a small supply of the liquid. Rodney, do you see how far the odds are here?”
The man in front of him was looking rather more forlorn than Carson would have expected, since that meant no alien mind control, for the moment at least. “Still,” and Carson took no personal pleasure from rubbing this in at all, “it was a fairly nasty joke he played on you.”
“Huh?” Rodney looked puzzled.
But surely the colonel had said… “One of my nurses got overzealous and gave Colonel Sheppard the inoculation yesterday morning before you left. She didn’t tell me about it until after you returned. I’m sorry, Rodney. I thought he’d told you.”
“Hey, Doc,” Sheppard was leaning in the doorway, looking at them both, but smiling at Rodney.
“Good morning, colonel. Glad to see you’re doing well,” Carson replied, returning to his coffee and deciding on the mushy donut that would be waiting for him in the mess.
“Me, too,” his eyes slid over Rodney, who was staring at him, open-mouthed. “McKay, about cleaning my room.”
Rodney’s mouth went very, very dry of a sudden, recognizing that very distinctive twinkle in John’s eyes. That quirky grin, as he had feared, sent his stomach into acrobatics. He couldn’t look away, couldn’t even do more than nod rather dumbly as the events of the previous evening clicked into place in the little puzzle that formed his world. It was rather shocking how easily they fit.
“You’re coming by tonight, right? To clean my room,” John continued as though the repeated words should mean something.
“Yes,” Rodney said slowly, then his eyes opened wide as he understood. “Yes, yes, tonight, to clean your room.”
“Because I helped you clean yours,” John finished, smile honest and clean and Rodney was tempted to throw his arms around him right there. “Cool,” John levered himself off the door frame and walked down the hall, whistling.
Rodney shook his head then called to Beckett, “You still shouldn’t destroy the serum. It could have other uses.”
And as they debated the uses verses the abuses of the chemical on the way to the mess, Rodney smiled, just a little, to himself. Because after today, there was tonight. And for tonight, he had plans.