Sense Memory, by Cat Latin, NC-17, Scars Challenge
So I took the extension of the Scars Challenge as a Sign. A Sign for a quick and dirty smutlet. >;-D
Title: Sense Memory
Author: Cat Latin
Pairings: Rodney/Radek, Rodney/Ronon, Rodney/John
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slash and smut
Spoilers: Some references to 38 Minutes, The Storm, Runner and Tao of Rodney.
Disclaimer: Not mine, don’t sue, just having some fun.
Word Count: 455
Summary: Rodney’s hands remember.
Radek’s appeared to be a fresh, gaping and very mortal wound. Twisted, burnt and bloody, it uncovered his ribs and exposed his fragile heart. But Rodney was aware of the white spider webbing scars underneath, from years before. Radek’s glasses had saved his eyes, his reflexes had saved his face, when shards of glass made a momentary blizzard in a lab somewhere, long ago. All of that was gone now, the fresh wound, the old scars, replaced by furry-smooth unbroken skin.
No longer a superhero, still Rodney’s fingers remember, and can follow, with precision, those invisible lines, and Radek shivers under his hands, murmurs reverent nonsense, arches and presses his hard cock into Rodney’s thigh.
Radek tastes like shock and gratitude.
*
It happens in the sparring room, while they’re resting. Ronon rolls onto his stomach and hums, extending his arms, splaying his fingers, stretching from shoulder to waist, slow and languid, up and away from the floor. Rodney looks at Ronon’s long, bare back and the shadowed knobs of his spine. Ronon’s so much like a big cat presenting himself for a friendly stroke that Rodney’s palm is smoothing down Ronon’s skin before he’s even registered his own movement.
Ronon’s breath hitches and his ass comes up off the floor next. Rodney’s pulling him out of his leathers, rolling him over, slithering down to capture Ronon’s cock in his mouth, but Ronon drags him back up and puts Rodney’s hand where he needs it, over that spot between his shoulder blades, virgin skin now thanks to Rodney, after seven years of pain.
Rodney rubs his hand across it, over and over until Ronon is bucking and groaning and coming all over both of them.
*
Rodney never got the chance, when he had the ability, to smooth away the ugly bug scar on John’s neck, to feel that warm pulse under his hand for just a moment. There were opportunities, always opportunities, but there hadn’t been time, what with the meditation lessons and the immanent death and all.
It bothered him now, and his hands ache from the want of it.
So of course Rodney is surprised to wake in the middle of the night and find himself pinned to his mattress. John is everywhere, pushing against Rodney from head to toe, nudging Rodney’s legs apart, stroking his fingers into Rodney, breaching his body easily, so soft and without boundaries from sleep. He’s mouthing along Rodney’s own war memento, the pink keloid ridge running the length of Rodney’s triceps, the spot that aches whenever there’s a storm.
Rodney says yes, god, yes, touches John’s neck, remembers.
Title: Sense Memory
Author: Cat Latin
Pairings: Rodney/Radek, Rodney/Ronon, Rodney/John
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slash and smut
Spoilers: Some references to 38 Minutes, The Storm, Runner and Tao of Rodney.
Disclaimer: Not mine, don’t sue, just having some fun.
Word Count: 455
Summary: Rodney’s hands remember.
Radek’s appeared to be a fresh, gaping and very mortal wound. Twisted, burnt and bloody, it uncovered his ribs and exposed his fragile heart. But Rodney was aware of the white spider webbing scars underneath, from years before. Radek’s glasses had saved his eyes, his reflexes had saved his face, when shards of glass made a momentary blizzard in a lab somewhere, long ago. All of that was gone now, the fresh wound, the old scars, replaced by furry-smooth unbroken skin.
No longer a superhero, still Rodney’s fingers remember, and can follow, with precision, those invisible lines, and Radek shivers under his hands, murmurs reverent nonsense, arches and presses his hard cock into Rodney’s thigh.
Radek tastes like shock and gratitude.
*
It happens in the sparring room, while they’re resting. Ronon rolls onto his stomach and hums, extending his arms, splaying his fingers, stretching from shoulder to waist, slow and languid, up and away from the floor. Rodney looks at Ronon’s long, bare back and the shadowed knobs of his spine. Ronon’s so much like a big cat presenting himself for a friendly stroke that Rodney’s palm is smoothing down Ronon’s skin before he’s even registered his own movement.
Ronon’s breath hitches and his ass comes up off the floor next. Rodney’s pulling him out of his leathers, rolling him over, slithering down to capture Ronon’s cock in his mouth, but Ronon drags him back up and puts Rodney’s hand where he needs it, over that spot between his shoulder blades, virgin skin now thanks to Rodney, after seven years of pain.
Rodney rubs his hand across it, over and over until Ronon is bucking and groaning and coming all over both of them.
*
Rodney never got the chance, when he had the ability, to smooth away the ugly bug scar on John’s neck, to feel that warm pulse under his hand for just a moment. There were opportunities, always opportunities, but there hadn’t been time, what with the meditation lessons and the immanent death and all.
It bothered him now, and his hands ache from the want of it.
So of course Rodney is surprised to wake in the middle of the night and find himself pinned to his mattress. John is everywhere, pushing against Rodney from head to toe, nudging Rodney’s legs apart, stroking his fingers into Rodney, breaching his body easily, so soft and without boundaries from sleep. He’s mouthing along Rodney’s own war memento, the pink keloid ridge running the length of Rodney’s triceps, the spot that aches whenever there’s a storm.
Rodney says yes, god, yes, touches John’s neck, remembers.