time ((and the shadow boys are breaking all the laws))
Okay. The holiday ficlets I’m writing for certain people are supposed to be ficlets, and not ~1400 words.
A present for twincy, who asked for John/Rodney and gave me Traspassers William’s “Vapour Trail” as a prompt. At some point that song hooked up with several others, including the Tori Amos cover of Tom Waits’ “Time.” Consequently, the soundtrack had an awful lot to do with death for a story that has nothing to do with deathfic.
title: Time
with: McKay/Sheppard
rated: R (for sex)
herein: post-ep for the Return II; attendant spoilers
disclaim: not mine in any universe
Rodney lies in bed, curled up on his side. All he did was toe his shoes off before collapsing. He concentrates on the lights, and they dim further. When he closes his eyes he feels dislocated though, like he’s still back in on earth, so he opens them again and brightens the lights back to half-strength. His room is bare. Sterile even. But there’s still a bed in it with scratchy covers. He wants to be grateful for the bed without analyzing why it’s still there.
Both Elizabeth and Carson ordered him to go lie down, and he ignored them at least three times before giving in. There’s no chance his brain will shut up enough for him to catch a nap, but he’ll still get a little bit of rest. He hasn’t paused since they left earth-no, longer than that, since Landry first paged them. Whatever, he’s been up sixty hours straight before, but he knows there’s a solid ten hours of debriefings waiting as soon as they step back through the gate, which they’re scheduled to do in-eighty-four minutes and counting.
God. They blew up the gateroom less than two days ago. It feels like a goddamn cheat.
The door slides open, and Rodney’s not particularly surprised to see Sheppard, even though the odds he’d show up were only hovering around forty-sixty.
John stands a few feet inside the room and frowns at the floor near the bed. The door clicks locked behind him. Rodney rolls onto his back and pillows his head with an arm.
“We blew up the gateroom,” Rodney finally says.
“We did.” John nods, and his eyes slide up to meet Rodney’s. “It was a good plan.”
“It doesn’t feel real, does it?”
John shakes his head and looks away again, studying the walls. Sighing, Rodney turns his own eyes up to the ceiling. He knows John hasn’t slept either.
“We blew up the gateroom, and the Replicators built it back better than it was before.” Maybe if Rodney says it enough times, it’ll start feeling more real.
“Better?”
“Well, it’s more vivid than it used to be, isn’t it? Shinier?” Rodney waves a hand in the air and looks to John for confirmation.
John smiles and strips off his t-shirt as he walks over to the bed. It’s his best smile, the rare one that’s equal parts shy and dopey, and it makes Rodney reach for him. John tugs Rodney’s shirt off before leaning in for a kiss that softens as it deepens. They stretch out on the bed, John draping himself over Rodney, and the reality of the past few days hits full force. Rodney shudders, almost sick with relief. Not that he really believed this was all an illusion-he knows he's not caught in a Replicator mind game.
They kiss slow and dirty until Rodney’s body is humming with it. He makes an embarrassing noise when John breaks away to get rid of their pants, but he’s still coherent enough to notice John’s hands are slightly uncoordinated, making jerky little movements that are still strangely efficient.
John crawls back up Rodney’s body, pressing short kisses along the way. Rodney shifts his weight, sure that John feels the move coming, but he doesn’t resist when Rodney flips them. They both groan when their cocks bump together. Sometimes John needs this, needs to be weighed down, to be grounded.
They kiss and thrust slowly against each other. John’s fingers clutch hard enough to leave bruises. Rodney hates to leave the drag of teeth and tongue, and when he finally breaks away for air, John buries his face against Rodney’s neck.
“Oh God, I can’t believe we’re back,” Rodney pants. Even though he does believe, and he knows it’s real, it still feels like a cheat. Like he’s finally learned how to hack reality. “I can’t believe we blew up the fucking gateroom, and disintegrated a city full of Replicators, and really, the not being dead thing never gets old, does it?”
“No.” John digs his fingers harder into Rodney’s shoulder. “It really doesn’t.”
“Never never never,” Rodney chants, and he can hear himself, half out of his mind with exhaustion and sex-with John’s cock, hard and hot and bumping against his own. With John’s fingers still clawing up and down his back, and John’s leg hooked up over his hip.
John growls a little, face still tucked against Rodney’s neck, and it vibrates into his skin. Rodney laughs, grinding down harder, and his voice is absolutely not tinged with hysteria, only exhaustion. “We get kicked out of the city, we blow up the gateroom, and we get three ZedPMs for our trouble.”
John laughs, and it’s a little shaky too. With exhaustion, of course. “You left out the part where we ignored a direct order from the SGC.”
“Oh right. That too.” Rodney bites the base of John’s neck, not hard enough to mark.
“Landry’s not going to bring us up on charges.”
Rodney snorts. “Of course not.”
Their rhythm doesn’t falter, but Rodney feels the tension in John’s body coil even tighter.
“You didn’t really think he'd-” Rodney draws back a little, forcing himself up on an elbow.
“Yeah, Rodney.” John stares calmly up at him, and it’s that stark, dead serious look John gets when there’s going to be shooting and a possibility for martyrdom, not when they’re alone and in bed together. “I did more than think.”
“I mean, c’mon. Either we rescued Woolsey and O’Neill and the city, or we all died horrible deaths at the hands of the Replicators.” Rodney frowns. “Or possibly at the hands of Caldwell’s nukes while in the hands of the Replicators. Anyway, Landry wouldn’t have-”
“Rodney.” John licks his lips. “He very well could. He revoked all our IDCs.”
“But O’Neill wouldn’t let him-”
“And what if Woolsey and O’Neill were dead before we left Earth?”
“They weren’t, and even still-”
“Rodney.” John’s drawl is well on its way to irritated, but his foot strokes the back of Rodney’s thigh. “Trust me when I say it doesn’t usually end this well.”
They’ve almost stilled completely, and Rodney nods. “I think I like it better when I’m the realist,” he says quietly.
“Me too,” John says, lips quirking. They kiss, and it’s sweeter now. Something that Rodney’s been carrying in his chest for weeks finally unknots. Beneath him, John feels looser, and he slides a hand down to Rodney’s ass.
“You didn’t bring any lube with us, did you?”
“Thought we’d just use your sunscreen.” John’s lips curve against Rodney’s cheek.
“I thought that was on the list of things we are never to speak of again.”
“Is it?” John’s eyebrows do their twisty false-innocent thing. “I thought we negotiated that back onto the list of fair game if we’re in private.”
“Absolutely not,” Rodney huffs, ignoring John’s laugh.
“This is nice.” John hums, kissing his way across Rodney’s jawline. “We can fuck later, when we have more time.”
Rodney sighs, settling back into rhythm of sex. They both know it will be much later before they get the chance. Back on earth, they’ll both be too busy coordinating all the personnel who need to return to Atlantis. Rodney will be lucky if he gets away for an afternoon to see Jeannie, but he’ll try. Then they’ll be back on Atlantis again, living in each other’s pockets and fighting the Wraith. There’s never enough time-and Rodney’s never in his life wanted to be someone who could and would laze in bed all Saturday morning, but he wants it now.
John’s arms tighten around him, pressing them closer and closer. Rodney rolls his hips, and John’s coming, eyes wide and as he arches hard off the bed. John’s grip loosens, but his leg is still locked tight over Rodney’s hip. He murmurs nonsense and strokes the nape of Rodney’s neck as Rodney thrusts down fast, hips stuttering. John kisses him, and he comes, moaning into John’s mouth.
They’re a sticky mess now, but Rodney only shifts over enough that his entire weight isn’t on John. When he turns his head, he can hear John’s pulse thrum, and it would be so easy to crash now. “We have to get up,” he groans, pressing his eyes shut.
“Five more minutes,” John says.
…
thanks for reading; feedback always appreciated
A present for twincy, who asked for John/Rodney and gave me Traspassers William’s “Vapour Trail” as a prompt. At some point that song hooked up with several others, including the Tori Amos cover of Tom Waits’ “Time.” Consequently, the soundtrack had an awful lot to do with death for a story that has nothing to do with deathfic.
title: Time
with: McKay/Sheppard
rated: R (for sex)
herein: post-ep for the Return II; attendant spoilers
disclaim: not mine in any universe
Rodney lies in bed, curled up on his side. All he did was toe his shoes off before collapsing. He concentrates on the lights, and they dim further. When he closes his eyes he feels dislocated though, like he’s still back in on earth, so he opens them again and brightens the lights back to half-strength. His room is bare. Sterile even. But there’s still a bed in it with scratchy covers. He wants to be grateful for the bed without analyzing why it’s still there.
Both Elizabeth and Carson ordered him to go lie down, and he ignored them at least three times before giving in. There’s no chance his brain will shut up enough for him to catch a nap, but he’ll still get a little bit of rest. He hasn’t paused since they left earth-no, longer than that, since Landry first paged them. Whatever, he’s been up sixty hours straight before, but he knows there’s a solid ten hours of debriefings waiting as soon as they step back through the gate, which they’re scheduled to do in-eighty-four minutes and counting.
God. They blew up the gateroom less than two days ago. It feels like a goddamn cheat.
The door slides open, and Rodney’s not particularly surprised to see Sheppard, even though the odds he’d show up were only hovering around forty-sixty.
John stands a few feet inside the room and frowns at the floor near the bed. The door clicks locked behind him. Rodney rolls onto his back and pillows his head with an arm.
“We blew up the gateroom,” Rodney finally says.
“We did.” John nods, and his eyes slide up to meet Rodney’s. “It was a good plan.”
“It doesn’t feel real, does it?”
John shakes his head and looks away again, studying the walls. Sighing, Rodney turns his own eyes up to the ceiling. He knows John hasn’t slept either.
“We blew up the gateroom, and the Replicators built it back better than it was before.” Maybe if Rodney says it enough times, it’ll start feeling more real.
“Better?”
“Well, it’s more vivid than it used to be, isn’t it? Shinier?” Rodney waves a hand in the air and looks to John for confirmation.
John smiles and strips off his t-shirt as he walks over to the bed. It’s his best smile, the rare one that’s equal parts shy and dopey, and it makes Rodney reach for him. John tugs Rodney’s shirt off before leaning in for a kiss that softens as it deepens. They stretch out on the bed, John draping himself over Rodney, and the reality of the past few days hits full force. Rodney shudders, almost sick with relief. Not that he really believed this was all an illusion-he knows he's not caught in a Replicator mind game.
They kiss slow and dirty until Rodney’s body is humming with it. He makes an embarrassing noise when John breaks away to get rid of their pants, but he’s still coherent enough to notice John’s hands are slightly uncoordinated, making jerky little movements that are still strangely efficient.
John crawls back up Rodney’s body, pressing short kisses along the way. Rodney shifts his weight, sure that John feels the move coming, but he doesn’t resist when Rodney flips them. They both groan when their cocks bump together. Sometimes John needs this, needs to be weighed down, to be grounded.
They kiss and thrust slowly against each other. John’s fingers clutch hard enough to leave bruises. Rodney hates to leave the drag of teeth and tongue, and when he finally breaks away for air, John buries his face against Rodney’s neck.
“Oh God, I can’t believe we’re back,” Rodney pants. Even though he does believe, and he knows it’s real, it still feels like a cheat. Like he’s finally learned how to hack reality. “I can’t believe we blew up the fucking gateroom, and disintegrated a city full of Replicators, and really, the not being dead thing never gets old, does it?”
“No.” John digs his fingers harder into Rodney’s shoulder. “It really doesn’t.”
“Never never never,” Rodney chants, and he can hear himself, half out of his mind with exhaustion and sex-with John’s cock, hard and hot and bumping against his own. With John’s fingers still clawing up and down his back, and John’s leg hooked up over his hip.
John growls a little, face still tucked against Rodney’s neck, and it vibrates into his skin. Rodney laughs, grinding down harder, and his voice is absolutely not tinged with hysteria, only exhaustion. “We get kicked out of the city, we blow up the gateroom, and we get three ZedPMs for our trouble.”
John laughs, and it’s a little shaky too. With exhaustion, of course. “You left out the part where we ignored a direct order from the SGC.”
“Oh right. That too.” Rodney bites the base of John’s neck, not hard enough to mark.
“Landry’s not going to bring us up on charges.”
Rodney snorts. “Of course not.”
Their rhythm doesn’t falter, but Rodney feels the tension in John’s body coil even tighter.
“You didn’t really think he'd-” Rodney draws back a little, forcing himself up on an elbow.
“Yeah, Rodney.” John stares calmly up at him, and it’s that stark, dead serious look John gets when there’s going to be shooting and a possibility for martyrdom, not when they’re alone and in bed together. “I did more than think.”
“I mean, c’mon. Either we rescued Woolsey and O’Neill and the city, or we all died horrible deaths at the hands of the Replicators.” Rodney frowns. “Or possibly at the hands of Caldwell’s nukes while in the hands of the Replicators. Anyway, Landry wouldn’t have-”
“Rodney.” John licks his lips. “He very well could. He revoked all our IDCs.”
“But O’Neill wouldn’t let him-”
“And what if Woolsey and O’Neill were dead before we left Earth?”
“They weren’t, and even still-”
“Rodney.” John’s drawl is well on its way to irritated, but his foot strokes the back of Rodney’s thigh. “Trust me when I say it doesn’t usually end this well.”
They’ve almost stilled completely, and Rodney nods. “I think I like it better when I’m the realist,” he says quietly.
“Me too,” John says, lips quirking. They kiss, and it’s sweeter now. Something that Rodney’s been carrying in his chest for weeks finally unknots. Beneath him, John feels looser, and he slides a hand down to Rodney’s ass.
“You didn’t bring any lube with us, did you?”
“Thought we’d just use your sunscreen.” John’s lips curve against Rodney’s cheek.
“I thought that was on the list of things we are never to speak of again.”
“Is it?” John’s eyebrows do their twisty false-innocent thing. “I thought we negotiated that back onto the list of fair game if we’re in private.”
“Absolutely not,” Rodney huffs, ignoring John’s laugh.
“This is nice.” John hums, kissing his way across Rodney’s jawline. “We can fuck later, when we have more time.”
Rodney sighs, settling back into rhythm of sex. They both know it will be much later before they get the chance. Back on earth, they’ll both be too busy coordinating all the personnel who need to return to Atlantis. Rodney will be lucky if he gets away for an afternoon to see Jeannie, but he’ll try. Then they’ll be back on Atlantis again, living in each other’s pockets and fighting the Wraith. There’s never enough time-and Rodney’s never in his life wanted to be someone who could and would laze in bed all Saturday morning, but he wants it now.
John’s arms tighten around him, pressing them closer and closer. Rodney rolls his hips, and John’s coming, eyes wide and as he arches hard off the bed. John’s grip loosens, but his leg is still locked tight over Rodney’s hip. He murmurs nonsense and strokes the nape of Rodney’s neck as Rodney thrusts down fast, hips stuttering. John kisses him, and he comes, moaning into John’s mouth.
They’re a sticky mess now, but Rodney only shifts over enough that his entire weight isn’t on John. When he turns his head, he can hear John’s pulse thrum, and it would be so easy to crash now. “We have to get up,” he groans, pressing his eyes shut.
“Five more minutes,” John says.
…
thanks for reading; feedback always appreciated