Almost, At Times by Sihaya Black (Not Dead Yet challenge)
Title: Almost, At Times
Author: Sihaya Black
Rating: adult
Characters: McKay/Sheppard
Words: 835
Summary: “Statistically speaking, you should be dead.”
Notes: As always, thanks go to kassrachel and chickwriter for making this a much better story. MWAH!
Almost, At Times
“You . . . You . . .” John panted, pushing deeper into Rodney. He slid his hands, still gripping Rodney’s arms tight -- God, he couldn’t let go -- up and up, palms catching on cloth that smelled of gun oil and blood, until he clenched his fingers around Rodney’s fists, pressed them against the wall, pressed his dick deeper, his belly slick against Rodney’s damp ass. “Don’t you ever--”
“Didn’t mean . . .” Rodney groaned as John ground against him, thighs quivering, ankles pinioned by their fallen trousers. “I’m okay,” he said, soft and clear, pushing back, pushing John farther inside.
John’s moan caught in his throat. He couldn’t breathe, felt as if he’d lost his structural integrity, was shaking apart. Squeezing his eyes shut, he rested his sweaty forehead on the back of Rodney’s neck.
Rodney might be okay, but John wasn’t.
#
“Seriously?” Rodney sat on the edge of the bed.
John closed his eyes and hoped the meds would kick in soon.
“If you ever do anything as . . . as idiotic and lame as that again,” Rodney continued, “I’m going to put a lead on you before we step through the gate.”
John took a careful breath and sank deeper into the mattress. “Got us out alive, didn’t it?”
Silence.
Stillness.
Warily cracking open an eye, John frowned. Rodney was just sitting there, staring at him. Looking as if he was either going to stroke out or burst into tears. Either option would be bad.
“Listen,” John began, not at all sure what he’d say next.
“No.” Rodney leaned forward, not putting any weight on John’s bruises-on-bruises, and kissed him gently. Pulling back long before John was ready for him to, Rodney twisted, slid his hands into John’s boxers, pushed them down just enough to free John’s soft cock. “No, I don’t think I’m going to listen to you for a while,” he said, as if they were in the middle of a conversation. “I’m going to blow you, then let you sleep. I’ll have more to say tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
After he’d come into Rodney’s warm, wet mouth, after Rodney had cleaned him up and stifled his exclamations when he saw the patches of darkness blossoming beneath John’s skin, Rodney stood beside the bed.
“I should go.”
Biting back a groan, John turned on his side, facing away, scooted toward the edge of the bed. “Stay.”
Rodney stayed.
#
“Well, that was exciting,” Rodney said. He lay beside John in the sort-of-wheat field, both of them flat on their backs, staring up at the crisp blue sky.
“Try terrifying, McKay.” John reached out, blindly grabbing Rodney’s shaking hand.
“Yes. That works, too.”
John took a deep breath, then another. Willed strength into his quivering muscles. “Ready to go home?”
“Just a sec.” Rodney rolled over, fitted his mouth to John’s.
Good. So good. John lifted his hand, fingertips touching the soft skin under Rodney’s jaw. This kiss was all about comfort, not sex -- not yet. Rodney pressed closer.
Teyla gently cleared her throat.
They parted slowly, then struggled to their feet. Rodney grumbled as they crossed the field to the jumper.
#
“I need help over here!” John yelled, bloody hands slipping for a second before hauling Rodney back against his side.
Face as pale as a Wraith, Rodney moaned and sank toward the floor.
Keller appeared, along with three marines and a gurney. They lifted him from John’s arms, placed him on the gurney.
“What happened?”
“Shot in the right thigh. Through-and-through.” John lifted his hands to his face, stopped when he saw the darkening blood coating them. Wiped his palms on his shirt and swallowed the bile that rose in his throat.
Keller fussed over Rodney for a moment, then nodded at the marines. “Right. Let’s get him to the infirmary now.”
John just grabbed Rodney’s hand and ran beside the gurney.
#
Rodney licked him again and then pulled away. “Statistically speaking, you should be dead.”
John shivered at the sudden chill on his ass. Not at Rodney’s words. Much.
“Aw. You always say the nicest things, McKay.” He struggled onto his elbows and glanced over his shoulder. Lifted an eyebrow and spread his legs a little more. Maybe Rodney would get the hint.
“No, honestly. After that stunt you pulled today, I ran a statistical analysis, just, you know, because I wondered how long your luck could last, and--”
“And can we talk about this later? You were in the middle of something.” John raised both eyebrows and shifted his hips. “Remember?”
Rodney stared at him, then licked his lips. “God,” he rasped, “I love it when you wiggle your ass.”
“Wiggle? That was a manly--”
John yelped, hands scrabbling on the sheets, as Rodney spread him wide and went back to work. Climbing higher and higher, John waited, poised for Rodney to send him soaring.
He wasn’t dead yet, but this might just kill him.
###
Author: Sihaya Black
Rating: adult
Characters: McKay/Sheppard
Words: 835
Summary: “Statistically speaking, you should be dead.”
Notes: As always, thanks go to kassrachel and chickwriter for making this a much better story. MWAH!
Almost, At Times
“You . . . You . . .” John panted, pushing deeper into Rodney. He slid his hands, still gripping Rodney’s arms tight -- God, he couldn’t let go -- up and up, palms catching on cloth that smelled of gun oil and blood, until he clenched his fingers around Rodney’s fists, pressed them against the wall, pressed his dick deeper, his belly slick against Rodney’s damp ass. “Don’t you ever--”
“Didn’t mean . . .” Rodney groaned as John ground against him, thighs quivering, ankles pinioned by their fallen trousers. “I’m okay,” he said, soft and clear, pushing back, pushing John farther inside.
John’s moan caught in his throat. He couldn’t breathe, felt as if he’d lost his structural integrity, was shaking apart. Squeezing his eyes shut, he rested his sweaty forehead on the back of Rodney’s neck.
Rodney might be okay, but John wasn’t.
#
“Seriously?” Rodney sat on the edge of the bed.
John closed his eyes and hoped the meds would kick in soon.
“If you ever do anything as . . . as idiotic and lame as that again,” Rodney continued, “I’m going to put a lead on you before we step through the gate.”
John took a careful breath and sank deeper into the mattress. “Got us out alive, didn’t it?”
Silence.
Stillness.
Warily cracking open an eye, John frowned. Rodney was just sitting there, staring at him. Looking as if he was either going to stroke out or burst into tears. Either option would be bad.
“Listen,” John began, not at all sure what he’d say next.
“No.” Rodney leaned forward, not putting any weight on John’s bruises-on-bruises, and kissed him gently. Pulling back long before John was ready for him to, Rodney twisted, slid his hands into John’s boxers, pushed them down just enough to free John’s soft cock. “No, I don’t think I’m going to listen to you for a while,” he said, as if they were in the middle of a conversation. “I’m going to blow you, then let you sleep. I’ll have more to say tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
After he’d come into Rodney’s warm, wet mouth, after Rodney had cleaned him up and stifled his exclamations when he saw the patches of darkness blossoming beneath John’s skin, Rodney stood beside the bed.
“I should go.”
Biting back a groan, John turned on his side, facing away, scooted toward the edge of the bed. “Stay.”
Rodney stayed.
#
“Well, that was exciting,” Rodney said. He lay beside John in the sort-of-wheat field, both of them flat on their backs, staring up at the crisp blue sky.
“Try terrifying, McKay.” John reached out, blindly grabbing Rodney’s shaking hand.
“Yes. That works, too.”
John took a deep breath, then another. Willed strength into his quivering muscles. “Ready to go home?”
“Just a sec.” Rodney rolled over, fitted his mouth to John’s.
Good. So good. John lifted his hand, fingertips touching the soft skin under Rodney’s jaw. This kiss was all about comfort, not sex -- not yet. Rodney pressed closer.
Teyla gently cleared her throat.
They parted slowly, then struggled to their feet. Rodney grumbled as they crossed the field to the jumper.
#
“I need help over here!” John yelled, bloody hands slipping for a second before hauling Rodney back against his side.
Face as pale as a Wraith, Rodney moaned and sank toward the floor.
Keller appeared, along with three marines and a gurney. They lifted him from John’s arms, placed him on the gurney.
“What happened?”
“Shot in the right thigh. Through-and-through.” John lifted his hands to his face, stopped when he saw the darkening blood coating them. Wiped his palms on his shirt and swallowed the bile that rose in his throat.
Keller fussed over Rodney for a moment, then nodded at the marines. “Right. Let’s get him to the infirmary now.”
John just grabbed Rodney’s hand and ran beside the gurney.
#
Rodney licked him again and then pulled away. “Statistically speaking, you should be dead.”
John shivered at the sudden chill on his ass. Not at Rodney’s words. Much.
“Aw. You always say the nicest things, McKay.” He struggled onto his elbows and glanced over his shoulder. Lifted an eyebrow and spread his legs a little more. Maybe Rodney would get the hint.
“No, honestly. After that stunt you pulled today, I ran a statistical analysis, just, you know, because I wondered how long your luck could last, and--”
“And can we talk about this later? You were in the middle of something.” John raised both eyebrows and shifted his hips. “Remember?”
Rodney stared at him, then licked his lips. “God,” he rasped, “I love it when you wiggle your ass.”
“Wiggle? That was a manly--”
John yelped, hands scrabbling on the sheets, as Rodney spread him wide and went back to work. Climbing higher and higher, John waited, poised for Rodney to send him soaring.
He wasn’t dead yet, but this might just kill him.
###