WIPE-OUT BY sterenyk_strey [LFWS #1 ROUND 4]
Title: Wipe-out
Author: sterenyk_strey
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Stargate belongs to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc., no infringements of any rights is intended.
Spoilers: None
Prompt for the Round: Write a whump fic with John and ONE of his team. John POV.
WIPE-OUT by sterenyk_strey
"I can handle this, just - get outta here! Oh, God, Teyla. Don't watch!"
Sheppard winced. For Teyla's sake, he stifled a groan. How long had he hung there? How many hours - days! - did they whip his raw, bare back? He spied Teyla, squirming in a chair against her bonds, eyes red-rimmed even as she remained tight-lipped.
"Don't... tell 'em anything... Look away! It's n-not that bad, it just - looks b-bad. Stitches'll fix this. And a tr-transf-f-fuck!! Ghaaah!"
"Oh, John... "
"Unh... s-so sorry, Tey-luhhh... "
Sheppard jerked involuntarily even as Teyla bucked and writhed, twisting slick ropes against bloodied wrists, her eyes blazing.
Bloody footprints. Skidmarks. His own bare feet. Screw this! He should be surfing, hanging ten, not dangling in agony from chains, screaming, struggling to bear his own weight. Sheppard hunched his shoulders, desperate to pump blood into numb, oxygen-starved arms.
He was floating, tumbling...
He'd lost his surfboard. It must've hit his head. Hard. Blood trickled from his forehead and into his mouth. He tasted salt. Bitter-sweet seawater roiled, lashing him, churning him, abrading him, pelting him with flotsam.
Torturing him.
He was frozen one minute, roasting the next. Sunstroke. Great. He'd forgotten to slather on the sunblock. McKay would laugh his ass off.
The sound of splintering wood. Shipwreck? Splintering bones. Not his! He faceplanted, as wave after wave eased him further up the beach. Someone was... dragging him by his severed surfboard leash.
'D-Did I w-wipe out, Nancy?'
The California sun was behind her, framing her bronzed body, haloing her honey-gold hair. She threw down two sticks. Chair legs? Firewood.
"John... "
"I f-forgot the sunblock, Nancy. My b-back is on f-fire."
She cried out, her tear-stained face reflecting - anger? Horror?
"Are you m-mad at me? You're always... mad at me... these days. I'll go... gather more f-firewood. I saw some d-driftwood... "
"No, John, I am not mad at you. Please, we must leave. Now!"
"Teyla?! I thought... Y-You okay?"
Mayhem. Dead captors. Malibu this wasn't.
"Sh-Shubies... " he spat.
"Paddlepussies, yes?"
"Hah! Yeah! Nancy?"
"John?!"
"Thanks. Got... w-worked. Raked over. Help... me uhhp."
"Can you walk?"
"S-Surf's up, d-dudette! Reckon... I could... s-suh-swim," he whispered, grimacing at the copious wash of blood. "Crap. Let's... go home, N-Nanc- Unh? Teyla?! Wh-Wh-Whuh-the-f-? Where... ?"
"You hallucinate, John. Home - is our Atlantis! "
"Atlantis?" Sheppard frowned. "Atlantis. Yeah. Home... "
Don’t forget to leave ONLY FEEDBACK in the comments and NOT VOTES. All comments will be screened until the voting closes.
Author: sterenyk_strey
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Stargate belongs to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc., no infringements of any rights is intended.
Spoilers: None
Prompt for the Round: Write a whump fic with John and ONE of his team. John POV.
WIPE-OUT by sterenyk_strey
"I can handle this, just - get outta here! Oh, God, Teyla. Don't watch!"
Sheppard winced. For Teyla's sake, he stifled a groan. How long had he hung there? How many hours - days! - did they whip his raw, bare back? He spied Teyla, squirming in a chair against her bonds, eyes red-rimmed even as she remained tight-lipped.
"Don't... tell 'em anything... Look away! It's n-not that bad, it just - looks b-bad. Stitches'll fix this. And a tr-transf-f-fuck!! Ghaaah!"
"Oh, John... "
"Unh... s-so sorry, Tey-luhhh... "
Sheppard jerked involuntarily even as Teyla bucked and writhed, twisting slick ropes against bloodied wrists, her eyes blazing.
Bloody footprints. Skidmarks. His own bare feet. Screw this! He should be surfing, hanging ten, not dangling in agony from chains, screaming, struggling to bear his own weight. Sheppard hunched his shoulders, desperate to pump blood into numb, oxygen-starved arms.
He was floating, tumbling...
He'd lost his surfboard. It must've hit his head. Hard. Blood trickled from his forehead and into his mouth. He tasted salt. Bitter-sweet seawater roiled, lashing him, churning him, abrading him, pelting him with flotsam.
Torturing him.
He was frozen one minute, roasting the next. Sunstroke. Great. He'd forgotten to slather on the sunblock. McKay would laugh his ass off.
The sound of splintering wood. Shipwreck? Splintering bones. Not his! He faceplanted, as wave after wave eased him further up the beach. Someone was... dragging him by his severed surfboard leash.
'D-Did I w-wipe out, Nancy?'
The California sun was behind her, framing her bronzed body, haloing her honey-gold hair. She threw down two sticks. Chair legs? Firewood.
"John... "
"I f-forgot the sunblock, Nancy. My b-back is on f-fire."
She cried out, her tear-stained face reflecting - anger? Horror?
"Are you m-mad at me? You're always... mad at me... these days. I'll go... gather more f-firewood. I saw some d-driftwood... "
"No, John, I am not mad at you. Please, we must leave. Now!"
"Teyla?! I thought... Y-You okay?"
Mayhem. Dead captors. Malibu this wasn't.
"Sh-Shubies... " he spat.
"Paddlepussies, yes?"
"Hah! Yeah! Nancy?"
"John?!"
"Thanks. Got... w-worked. Raked over. Help... me uhhp."
"Can you walk?"
"S-Surf's up, d-dudette! Reckon... I could... s-suh-swim," he whispered, grimacing at the copious wash of blood. "Crap. Let's... go home, N-Nanc- Unh? Teyla?! Wh-Wh-Whuh-the-f-? Where... ?"
"You hallucinate, John. Home - is our Atlantis! "
"Atlantis?" Sheppard frowned. "Atlantis. Yeah. Home... "
Don’t forget to leave ONLY FEEDBACK in the comments and NOT VOTES. All comments will be screened until the voting closes.