Fic: These True Friends (No Precious Time Series, 4/28)
Title: These True Friends (No Precious Time Series, 4/28)
Author: The Time Being/SGAtlantisLight
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Genre: Smutty angst, H/C
Rating: NC-17 overall, though some chapters are lower
Author's Notes: Part of the No Precious Time Series. Beta and encouragement from a lot of people, but especially lapislaz, mice1900, and inkscribe.
Warnings can be found here for those who can't read without them. These contain plot spoilers so do not read unless you can't live without knowing.
Disclaimer: I own them all! But, alas, not in this universe.
Previous chapter
"These can never be true friends: Hope, dice, a prostitute, a robber, a cheat, a goldsmith, a monkey, a doctor, a distiller." - Indian Proverb
"Doctor Heightmeyer and I have been interviewing the former slaves to try and determine exactly how they're inoculated with the virus, but unfortunately, only a handful have regained the memories of that time period and none of those truly understand medical technology."
"Colonel Sheppard hasn't provided you with any information?" Caldwell asked. "I thought his memory had returned."
"Yes, his memory is mostly intact. But, it appears he may have been unconscious when he was inoculated."
"So, what you're saying is you're not very close to a cure."
"It's only been a little over a week," Rodney said, glaring at the Daedalus commander. "You have to give him some time."
"And what are your plans until then with regards to the command of the Atlantis military?"
"Doctor Beckett has cleared Colonel Sheppard for light duty," Elizabeth answered. "There's no reason to think he can't handle administrative affairs in his condition."
"Is that wise?" Caldwell asked.
Elizabeth's eyebrows rose, a glint of fire in her eyes. "I'm not sure I understand the question."
"Well, frankly, we have no assurance that he won't make... untoward advances to those under his command. And surely it's apparent that Colonel Sheppard's authority in the eyes of his men has been compromised."
"I believe I'd have to respectfully disagree, sir," Lorne spoke up. "I don't see any reason to assume his professional ethics will be set aside because of his physical condition, nor have I observed anything but the utmost respect and sympathy towards him."
"That may be true, Major, but then given your position it's unlikely you would observe anything but sympathy and respect for him, isn't it?"
"Oh, for... Look, Colonel, the American military may be full of homophobic bigots, but the members of the Atlantis expedition have all been screened for social tolerance, unlike, perhaps, the crew and command of certain spaceships."
"Rodney!" Carson chided.
Caldwell's eyes narrowed. "Social tolerance is all well and good in theory, Doctor, but it doesn't prevent a certain amount of... tarnish when one overhears one's commanding officer begging the head of the science division to..." He glanced down at his notes. "... 'fuck my mouth until you come down my throat.'"
Rodney gaped, his face turning hot.
"He was amnesiac and under the influence of an alien virus. Ye can't hold that against him, Colonel."
"I don't believe I indicated I was holding that against him, Doctor. But someone might. And, may I point out, he's still under the influence of the same alien virus. Are you seriously suggesting this won't affect his command in any way?"
Carson stood, his mouth in an angry line, and slammed his laptop shut. "I'm done here. Doctor Weir has my opinions on Colonel Sheppard's ability to resume his duties. I'm not going tae waste time justifying it to you that would be better spent working on a cure." He turned and nodded curtly to Elizabeth. "If you'll excuse me, Doctor Weir."
"Of course," she said to his retreating back, then turned wide, startled eyes to the rest of the table before regaining her composure. "Was there anything else, gentlemen?"
"I think I've said all I needed to say," Rodney answered, shutting his laptop.
"And I need to get Colonel Sheppard up to speed on what's been going on for the past two and half months," Lorne added.
Elizabeth nodded. "Very well, then. You're all dismissed."
"Wait. You can't just ignore this issue," Caldwell pursued. "You have to give it due consideration."
"I have, Colonel," Elizabeth answered, eyes hard. "You're dismissed."
***
John stumbled and leaned against a strut, panting hard, covered in sweat, feeling his body trembling like a leaf in the wind. Ronon took three more strides before he realised John wasn't keeping up.
"You okay?"
John nodded. "Just out of practice." His head hurt and his body felt like it was on fire and he desperately, desperately needed laid. He'd hoped the endorphin rush from running would help more.
Ronon grunted. "Early to be giving in."
"Well, geez, Ronon, I'm sorry. Next time I'm captured by slavers and sent to a brothel, I'll be sure to remind them I need my daily run to maintain my girlish figure."
Ronon paced away from him, shoulders tensed unhappily. "Sorry."
John leaned hard. He'd have to do something soon. "Look, I'm going to need a little privacy for a few minutes."
"What for?"
John made vague hand-motions that didn't look at all like what he was planning on doing. "You know, to take care of the pain."
"Oh." Ronon nodded.
"Unless you were willing to give a guy a hand," John said and immediately regretted it.
Ronon shrugged. "You're not really my type."
"Yeah? What would I have to do to be your type?"
"Grow breasts."
"Not that desperate yet."
"Though I suppose a mouth is a mouth," Ronon said, looking at him speculatively. "If that would help."
John's mouth went dry and his cock swelled. He stood considering Ronon for a moment and then dropped to his knees. "It'll help."
***
"Thanks," Ronon said, fastening his trousers.
Sheppard lay back on the catwalk floor, one hand flung over his eyes while he licked his own come off the other. His sweatpants and boxers were still pushed down, framing his softening cock. A shiver ran through Sheppard's body.
"You okay?" Ronon asked.
"Fine," Sheppard answered. "Just give me a minute."
Ronon waited, watching as Sheppard's tongue cleaned the last remnant of what they'd done off his hand, occasional shivers running through him.
Sheppard sat up, not meeting his eyes, and righted his clothes. "I've got to go."
Ronon grunted, nodding. "I'm going to finish my run."
"Fine." Sheppard still wouldn't look at him.
"Catch you later," Ronon said.
Sheppard turned away and began walking back toward the central part of the city. "Yeah. Sure."
Ronon watched him for a moment, noting how his shoulders were hunched. Maybe sometimes a mouth wasn't just a mouth. He turned and began running, his thoughts circling around Sheppard and his problem.
***
"Rodney!" Carson groaned, arching up into his body.
Rodney closed his eyes and pushed down onto Carson. "Imagine if this were John..."
"Oh, God!" Carson gasped.
"... Kneeling over you, taking your cock so deep inside him..."
"So tight and hot!"
"Oh, yeah. You'd like it, wouldn't you?"
Carson moaned, thrusting up helplessly.
"You would, wouldn't you? Having him fuck himself on you..."
"God! Ah, God! Nnnngaahh..."
Rodney looked down at Carson, eyes closed, head thrown back, mouth gaping, body sheened with sweat, as he throbbed into Rodney's body. He leaned over and covered Carson's mouth with his own, swallowing his lover's moans.
Carson clung to him, slowly kissing his face, fingers buried in his hair, as his breathing slowed and steadied. He opened blue eyes and looked into Rodney's face. "Ye haven't come yet."
Rodney shook his head. "No, I haven't."
"Scoot up here and let me take care of you."
Rodney shifted up on the bed until he was straddling Carson's face, holding the headboard for support, and slowly slid his cock into Carson's open mouth. "God, you feel good!" he panted.
"Mmmmm," Carson hummed around his cock.
"You'd look really hot doing this to John..."
Carson moaned and closed his eyes.
***
"How are you feeling, Colonel?" Carson asked as John hopped up on the exam table.
"Fine," John answered. It had been four hours since his run with Ronon and he was just starting to feel crappy again. He closed his eyes for a moment while Carson took his pulse and blood pressure, taking in Carson's scent-- earthy and warm and... He didn't really have a good word for it. Comfortable, homelike. He hid a smile as he noted the tang of something else-- someone else-- under Carson's usual scent.
"Your blood pressure is a wee bit high. Are ye sure you're not in too much pain?"
"Define too much," John said before he could stop himself.
Carson stilled, considering him. "I'll do what I can to help, Colonel. I'm just trying to avoid addiction."
"Maybe a wrist brace, then," John suggested, giving Carson a grin.
"A wr--? Ah. Never mind." Carson's cheeks were suddenly turning red. John was surprised that anything about this whole thing could still embarrass the man.
A moan from a nearby bed distracted them both and John turned to see Prio looking pale and shaky, an IV running into his hand. John gave Carson a questioning look.
"He's refused to do anything about the pain, um, activity-wise," Carson answered the unasked question, "since he recovered his memory."
"How is he?"
Carson shook his head. "Not good. His blood pressure keeps rising, even with the painkillers he's on, but he's insistent he's not going to do anything."
John nodded, then flinched as Carson patted his shoulder. Carson raised his eyebrows. "Sorry. I'm just having trouble with touching."
"Ah. Of course." Carson withdrew from him and John found he missed the subtle warmth of his body so close. "You're free to go, Colonel. I want to check on you again tomorrow."
"Got it." He slid from the bed and walked over to Prio.
The other man's eyes widened when he saw John. "Don't touch me!"
"I won't," John assured him. "Just, um, stay strong, okay?"
Prio nodded, then whimpered, his thumb pressing the button on a device in his hand. John was familiar with patient-controlled pain-killers. He was also familiar with the little beep that said it hadn't been long enough since the last dose.
He gave Prio a sympathetic look and then headed toward the exit. He'd just stepped into the corridor when an alarm started sounding in the infirmary. He turned and saw Carson dashing to Prio's bed, where the former slave appeared to be having some sort of seizure.
He stood, unable to move, watching as the infirmary erupted into organised chaos.
Watching as Prio's heart monitor went wild and then flatlined.
Watching as Carson attempted to revive him.
Watching as Carson finally stood back, resignation on his face, and shook his head.
Then John turned and walked away.
Far, far away.
Next chapter
Author: The Time Being/SGAtlantisLight
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Genre: Smutty angst, H/C
Rating: NC-17 overall, though some chapters are lower
Author's Notes: Part of the No Precious Time Series. Beta and encouragement from a lot of people, but especially lapislaz, mice1900, and inkscribe.
Warnings can be found here for those who can't read without them. These contain plot spoilers so do not read unless you can't live without knowing.
Disclaimer: I own them all! But, alas, not in this universe.
Previous chapter
"These can never be true friends: Hope, dice, a prostitute, a robber, a cheat, a goldsmith, a monkey, a doctor, a distiller." - Indian Proverb
"Doctor Heightmeyer and I have been interviewing the former slaves to try and determine exactly how they're inoculated with the virus, but unfortunately, only a handful have regained the memories of that time period and none of those truly understand medical technology."
"Colonel Sheppard hasn't provided you with any information?" Caldwell asked. "I thought his memory had returned."
"Yes, his memory is mostly intact. But, it appears he may have been unconscious when he was inoculated."
"So, what you're saying is you're not very close to a cure."
"It's only been a little over a week," Rodney said, glaring at the Daedalus commander. "You have to give him some time."
"And what are your plans until then with regards to the command of the Atlantis military?"
"Doctor Beckett has cleared Colonel Sheppard for light duty," Elizabeth answered. "There's no reason to think he can't handle administrative affairs in his condition."
"Is that wise?" Caldwell asked.
Elizabeth's eyebrows rose, a glint of fire in her eyes. "I'm not sure I understand the question."
"Well, frankly, we have no assurance that he won't make... untoward advances to those under his command. And surely it's apparent that Colonel Sheppard's authority in the eyes of his men has been compromised."
"I believe I'd have to respectfully disagree, sir," Lorne spoke up. "I don't see any reason to assume his professional ethics will be set aside because of his physical condition, nor have I observed anything but the utmost respect and sympathy towards him."
"That may be true, Major, but then given your position it's unlikely you would observe anything but sympathy and respect for him, isn't it?"
"Oh, for... Look, Colonel, the American military may be full of homophobic bigots, but the members of the Atlantis expedition have all been screened for social tolerance, unlike, perhaps, the crew and command of certain spaceships."
"Rodney!" Carson chided.
Caldwell's eyes narrowed. "Social tolerance is all well and good in theory, Doctor, but it doesn't prevent a certain amount of... tarnish when one overhears one's commanding officer begging the head of the science division to..." He glanced down at his notes. "... 'fuck my mouth until you come down my throat.'"
Rodney gaped, his face turning hot.
"He was amnesiac and under the influence of an alien virus. Ye can't hold that against him, Colonel."
"I don't believe I indicated I was holding that against him, Doctor. But someone might. And, may I point out, he's still under the influence of the same alien virus. Are you seriously suggesting this won't affect his command in any way?"
Carson stood, his mouth in an angry line, and slammed his laptop shut. "I'm done here. Doctor Weir has my opinions on Colonel Sheppard's ability to resume his duties. I'm not going tae waste time justifying it to you that would be better spent working on a cure." He turned and nodded curtly to Elizabeth. "If you'll excuse me, Doctor Weir."
"Of course," she said to his retreating back, then turned wide, startled eyes to the rest of the table before regaining her composure. "Was there anything else, gentlemen?"
"I think I've said all I needed to say," Rodney answered, shutting his laptop.
"And I need to get Colonel Sheppard up to speed on what's been going on for the past two and half months," Lorne added.
Elizabeth nodded. "Very well, then. You're all dismissed."
"Wait. You can't just ignore this issue," Caldwell pursued. "You have to give it due consideration."
"I have, Colonel," Elizabeth answered, eyes hard. "You're dismissed."
***
John stumbled and leaned against a strut, panting hard, covered in sweat, feeling his body trembling like a leaf in the wind. Ronon took three more strides before he realised John wasn't keeping up.
"You okay?"
John nodded. "Just out of practice." His head hurt and his body felt like it was on fire and he desperately, desperately needed laid. He'd hoped the endorphin rush from running would help more.
Ronon grunted. "Early to be giving in."
"Well, geez, Ronon, I'm sorry. Next time I'm captured by slavers and sent to a brothel, I'll be sure to remind them I need my daily run to maintain my girlish figure."
Ronon paced away from him, shoulders tensed unhappily. "Sorry."
John leaned hard. He'd have to do something soon. "Look, I'm going to need a little privacy for a few minutes."
"What for?"
John made vague hand-motions that didn't look at all like what he was planning on doing. "You know, to take care of the pain."
"Oh." Ronon nodded.
"Unless you were willing to give a guy a hand," John said and immediately regretted it.
Ronon shrugged. "You're not really my type."
"Yeah? What would I have to do to be your type?"
"Grow breasts."
"Not that desperate yet."
"Though I suppose a mouth is a mouth," Ronon said, looking at him speculatively. "If that would help."
John's mouth went dry and his cock swelled. He stood considering Ronon for a moment and then dropped to his knees. "It'll help."
***
"Thanks," Ronon said, fastening his trousers.
Sheppard lay back on the catwalk floor, one hand flung over his eyes while he licked his own come off the other. His sweatpants and boxers were still pushed down, framing his softening cock. A shiver ran through Sheppard's body.
"You okay?" Ronon asked.
"Fine," Sheppard answered. "Just give me a minute."
Ronon waited, watching as Sheppard's tongue cleaned the last remnant of what they'd done off his hand, occasional shivers running through him.
Sheppard sat up, not meeting his eyes, and righted his clothes. "I've got to go."
Ronon grunted, nodding. "I'm going to finish my run."
"Fine." Sheppard still wouldn't look at him.
"Catch you later," Ronon said.
Sheppard turned away and began walking back toward the central part of the city. "Yeah. Sure."
Ronon watched him for a moment, noting how his shoulders were hunched. Maybe sometimes a mouth wasn't just a mouth. He turned and began running, his thoughts circling around Sheppard and his problem.
***
"Rodney!" Carson groaned, arching up into his body.
Rodney closed his eyes and pushed down onto Carson. "Imagine if this were John..."
"Oh, God!" Carson gasped.
"... Kneeling over you, taking your cock so deep inside him..."
"So tight and hot!"
"Oh, yeah. You'd like it, wouldn't you?"
Carson moaned, thrusting up helplessly.
"You would, wouldn't you? Having him fuck himself on you..."
"God! Ah, God! Nnnngaahh..."
Rodney looked down at Carson, eyes closed, head thrown back, mouth gaping, body sheened with sweat, as he throbbed into Rodney's body. He leaned over and covered Carson's mouth with his own, swallowing his lover's moans.
Carson clung to him, slowly kissing his face, fingers buried in his hair, as his breathing slowed and steadied. He opened blue eyes and looked into Rodney's face. "Ye haven't come yet."
Rodney shook his head. "No, I haven't."
"Scoot up here and let me take care of you."
Rodney shifted up on the bed until he was straddling Carson's face, holding the headboard for support, and slowly slid his cock into Carson's open mouth. "God, you feel good!" he panted.
"Mmmmm," Carson hummed around his cock.
"You'd look really hot doing this to John..."
Carson moaned and closed his eyes.
***
"How are you feeling, Colonel?" Carson asked as John hopped up on the exam table.
"Fine," John answered. It had been four hours since his run with Ronon and he was just starting to feel crappy again. He closed his eyes for a moment while Carson took his pulse and blood pressure, taking in Carson's scent-- earthy and warm and... He didn't really have a good word for it. Comfortable, homelike. He hid a smile as he noted the tang of something else-- someone else-- under Carson's usual scent.
"Your blood pressure is a wee bit high. Are ye sure you're not in too much pain?"
"Define too much," John said before he could stop himself.
Carson stilled, considering him. "I'll do what I can to help, Colonel. I'm just trying to avoid addiction."
"Maybe a wrist brace, then," John suggested, giving Carson a grin.
"A wr--? Ah. Never mind." Carson's cheeks were suddenly turning red. John was surprised that anything about this whole thing could still embarrass the man.
A moan from a nearby bed distracted them both and John turned to see Prio looking pale and shaky, an IV running into his hand. John gave Carson a questioning look.
"He's refused to do anything about the pain, um, activity-wise," Carson answered the unasked question, "since he recovered his memory."
"How is he?"
Carson shook his head. "Not good. His blood pressure keeps rising, even with the painkillers he's on, but he's insistent he's not going to do anything."
John nodded, then flinched as Carson patted his shoulder. Carson raised his eyebrows. "Sorry. I'm just having trouble with touching."
"Ah. Of course." Carson withdrew from him and John found he missed the subtle warmth of his body so close. "You're free to go, Colonel. I want to check on you again tomorrow."
"Got it." He slid from the bed and walked over to Prio.
The other man's eyes widened when he saw John. "Don't touch me!"
"I won't," John assured him. "Just, um, stay strong, okay?"
Prio nodded, then whimpered, his thumb pressing the button on a device in his hand. John was familiar with patient-controlled pain-killers. He was also familiar with the little beep that said it hadn't been long enough since the last dose.
He gave Prio a sympathetic look and then headed toward the exit. He'd just stepped into the corridor when an alarm started sounding in the infirmary. He turned and saw Carson dashing to Prio's bed, where the former slave appeared to be having some sort of seizure.
He stood, unable to move, watching as the infirmary erupted into organised chaos.
Watching as Prio's heart monitor went wild and then flatlined.
Watching as Carson attempted to revive him.
Watching as Carson finally stood back, resignation on his face, and shook his head.
Then John turned and walked away.
Far, far away.
Next chapter