Fic: Filling the World with Surprise and Horror (No Precious Time Series, 6/28)
Title: Filling the World with Surprise and Horror (No Precious Time Series, 6/28)
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
"My own belief is that there is hardly anyone whose sexual life, if it were broadcast, would not fill the world at large with surprise and horror." - W. Somerset Maugham
"Rodney?" Carson called, stepping into their apartment. He'd suggested to Rodney that they invite John to have lunch with them because he'd noticed how isolated the Colonel had been since returning. He understood the aloofness, but had thought it would be good to re-establish some old routines. But neither Rodney nor John had shown up. "Rodney?"
He frowned when he heard the shower running. What had the man gotten into now? Most likely something work-related, he supposed, and headed for the bathroom.
Steam billowed out like a sauna as soon as he opened the door. Carson's was a little startled at that. It took a lot to overwhelm the Ancient environmental controls. He frowned again when he couldn't make out any human form standing in the shower stall. Had Rodney left the thing running?
He turned slowly to take in the condition of the bathroom. Rodney's uniform was shoved into a corner. "Rodney?" he called, pushing the door open to look back into the bedroom.
He froze as he heard a sob behind him, then crisis mode kicked in and he spun around and headed for the shower, images of Rodney, injured, bleeding or maybe burned or Lord knew what, curled on the floor under the spray of water for over an hour, unable to leave, unable to call for help.
He flung the shower door open and was temporarily blinded by the billowing steam. Rodney sat curled in a corner of the stall, head against his knees, rocking, slowly rocking.
"Rodney, love! What--?" He stepped into the stall, forgetting about the spray until he was in it, yelping in surprise at the scalding temperature. He thought off at the controls and dropped beside his lover, eyes scanning his body for signs of injury.
He couldn't see any wounds and there was no tell-tale crimson stream heading for the drain, but Rodney's skin was red and he couldn't see everything, either. Gently he reached out and took his lover's wrist, noting how Rodney shuddered at the touch. There was a good pulse, though a little fast. He let go of the wrist and gently touched Rodney's head. "Rodney, love, can ye look at me, please?"
Rodney let out a stuttering breath and curled in closer on himself, away from Carson.
Carson's heart was pounding in fear now. What was going on? "Rodney? What happened?" He reached out, trying to disengage Rodney's grip on his knees, but his lover flinched away from him with a sob. "Are you hurt? Can I see, love? Let me see, please."
Rodney didn't look up, but shook his head.
"No, you're not hurt or no, I can't see?" Carson asked, gentling his voice.
Rodney let out a laugh that turned to a sob halfway through, and that seemed to break something inside him, as suddenly his body was wracked with sobs, shuddering and trembling under the onslaught.
"Shhhh, it's okay," Carson soothed, trying to control his growing panic at not knowing what had happened to Rodney. "Here, love, let me take care of you."
He slipped a hand to Rodney's shoulder and across his back, watching carefully. Rodney shuddered, but leaned into him rather than flinching away. Taking that as a sign, he carefully pulled Rodney into the circle of his arms, shushing and making gentling sounds as he did so. There was a moment where Rodney seemed ready to pull back, push him away, but then he folded against him, clinging.
"There now, it's all right. I've got you. It'll be okay..."
Rodney made a strange sound in the back of his throat, like a wail he wouldn't let out, and then slid his arms around Carson and pulled him almost painfully tight, burying his face against Carson's shoulder. "I'm sorry!" he gasped. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry!"
A jolt of fear ran through Carson, but he held on and kept his voice gentle. "What happened, love?"
"Oh, God! Don't leave me. Please, don't leave me. I didn't mean to! I was... He was... I don't know how... Please!"
He felt himself tense up, felt the fear coil in his gut, the lump in his throat. "What... What happened?"
"I was just going to ask him to lunch." Rodney's voice was plaintive, confused. "And then he's pushing me against the wall and kissing me and his hand is down my pants and, oh, God! Please, don't leave me! I'm sorry. It won't happen again, I swear."
Carson jerked back, stung, fear turning to anger. "What did you do?" he demanded and Rodney flinched.
Rodney gaped, mouth moving wordlessly for a moment before he found his voice again. "I let him... I let him hold me there. I tried to tell him, I did! But he was just so strong and-- and desperate! And I let him. And, please, I love you, Carson. Please, don't leave me."
"You let him what?" he asked, not sure he wanted to know, blood running cold and hot and... "You let him what?"
Rodney looked away, looked down at his pruning fingers. "Suck me. I let him suck me."
He closed his eyes, the image coming unbidden to his mind-- John on all fours, lips stretched wide... He shook his head. "You let him?"
"I know I should have... I should have tried to tell him again. I'm... I'm sorry."
It took a second, then Rodney's words sank in. "Wait. Tell him what?"
"Tell him no. I tried once, but he... He didn't stop."
Carson blinked. He took a big breath and pushed away the anger and the hurt. "Tell me again what happened. From the beginning."
***
Elizabeth looked up from the paper before her. "John, I know this is difficult right now, but--"
John held up his hand. "No, don't try to talk me out of this. I can't control myself and I'm a liability. And Caldwell's right-- my command authority is damaged or soon will be."
"You need to be here for Carson to find a cure."
"But I don't need to be here as the military head of Atlantis. And once Beckett cures me, or figures out that he can't..."
The door slid open and Carson walked in, red-faced, clothes notably damp, and stopped short when he saw John there. His hands curled into fists, his jaw tight, blue eyes flashing, then he pointed a trembling finger at John. "If ye weren't so desperate from this virus, I'd be giving ye a pasting right now." His brogue was thick. "As it is, I'm just going to warn you to stay away from Rodney or, virus or no, I'll stoat yer wallies."
"Carson?" Elizabeth said, half-question, half-exclamation.
He glared at John for another second, then turned to her. "I'm putting Rodney on medical leave for a few days. Something happened this afternoon--" Here his eyes flashed to John and back to her. "-- and he needs some time to recover."
Elizabeth swallowed, looking between the two men. "Is he okay?"
"Physically? Yes. Emotionally?" His flicked eyes to John. "Not so much."
John was looking down, shoulders hunched in, cheeks and ears burning red.
"Can you tell me what happened?" she asked.
Carson shook his head, eyes full of fire. "Rodney asked that I not share any specifics."
She nodded. "Very well. I'll be sure Doctor Zelenka is informed."
"Thank you," Carson answered, then turned and strode out, body taut.
She looked up and met John's eyes, full of pain and self-loathing. She looked down at the sheet in front of her and understood. "If you do this, there's no going back, you know."
John nodded. "I know."
"Okay," she said, voice almost a whisper. She reached up and touched her earpiece. "Weir to Lorne... Major? I need to speak with you as soon as possible in my office..."
***
Word travelled fast. Speculation as to why Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard had resigned his commission ran rampant. It didn't take long before McKay's medical leave was brought into the gossip.
"I heard McKay turned him down, so he beat him to a pulp," Lorne overheard a female voice say.
"He hasn't been out of his room is all I know," another female answered.
Lorne turned the corner and took in two women in military black. "Sergeants," he barked, "I didn't just overhear you making slanderous remarks about someone, did I?"
"N-n-no, sir," one answered.
Lorne glowered. "Good, because I'd hate to have anyone's good name ruined by baseless rumours. I'm sure you can pass that on to anyone you happen to hear gossiping."
"Yes, sir," the same woman answered.
Lorne looked at the other, who nodded. "Yes, of course, sir."
"Good."
He walked away, mulling their words. To be honest, he had no better idea what had happened than anyone else had, which might have been for the better. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.
***
John had drawn away from his fellow former slaves when he'd recovered his memory and started to slip back into his life here on Atlantis. Now that it was falling apart, he found himself gravitating to them again. They understood, at least.
They'd been given living space apart from the Lantians and he'd taken over a room there, though he'd left most of his things in his quarters. Small, private rooms surrounded a handful of larger common areas which had been given over to a dining area, movie lounge, game room and library, and conversation area. By mutual consent, the dining area and game room/library were no-sex zones. Everywhere else was pretty much anything goes. The Lantians tended to avoid the area.
Now he sat sprawled on a couch, watching Asan and Niende having sex while Veza and Ri curled against him, hands everywhere.
"Hey, where the hell has Amaro been lately? He blew me off the other day."
"Ooo!" Veza said.
"Not in the good way."
"Oh." She nodded. "He met someone. One of your people. I guess he's been pretty... occupied since then."
"You're telling me he's sleeping with a Lantian?"
"Yes. His name is Sergeant... something," Ri provided.
"Sergeant isn't a name, it's a rank."
Ri shrugged and then reached for the lube on the end table. "I'm getting achy. Turn over."
***
"Unscheduled off-world activation," Sergeant Lenoir called.
Elizabeth hurried up behind him, mentally cataloguing off-world teams and what sort of trouble they could have gotten into.
"It's Ladon Radim. Radio signal," Lenoir said.
"Any video?" she asked.
"Displaying now."
She looked up and smiled and nodded. "Minister Radim. To what do we owe this transmission?"
"Doctor Weir, we received the images and names of the former slaves you sent us and I'm happy to report we've located the parents of two of them."
"That's wonderful news!"
"Yes. They're very anxious to see their children. I realise there is some ongoing medical difficulty, so I wasn't sure what to tell them."
***
Carson walked through the door calling, "Honey, I'm home!"
Rodney looked up and smiled. "How was your day at the office, dear?"
Carson flopped down onto the couch next to his lover and pulled him in for a kiss, hands sliding along soft, worn denim. "Terrible, but let's not go there. Ye seem to be in good spirits, love. Are ye feeling better?"
"A little," Rodney said, shifting till he had one leg on either side of Carson, kissing him slowly.
Carson closed his eyes, savouring the feel of Rodney against him, the flavour of his kisses. He slipped his hands down into the back pockets of Rodney's jeans, pulling him against him. "Oh, I'd say you're feeling a sight better."
"Mmmm," Rodney answered, burying his face against Carson's neck and then kissing and sucking on the side, making Carson moan.
Since the incident with John, they'd spent a lot of their time together just holding and kissing and caressing. Carson found himself craving that contact, needing his touch to sink into Rodney's skin, into his soul, and wash away the traces of guilt and fear and anger and betrayal that were between them.
He wasn't a fool. Despite his anger at John, he knew Rodney could have fought harder, resisted more forcefully. He also knew their earlier fantasies had brought John into their bed, making what followed all the more devastating. Oh, they'd shared fantasies before, but they'd always been movie and TV characters, actors, stars in Rodney's extensive collection of porn-- unreachable, untouchable-- not the man sitting across the dinner table, not the friend who came by for movies, not the fighter who kept Rodney from harm in the field, and, dear God, not the victim of an alien virus that filled his eyes with such pain and need.
It had been a dangerous game and they'd both emerged hurt. Hell, all three of them had been hurt. Rodney hadn't left their apartment in days and spent a great deal of time stewing, just staring vacantly at the ceiling, or watching Carson as if expecting him to disappear at any moment. Carson had ridden a rollercoaster of emotions while trying to shield Rodney from the full brunt of them, heartsick and grieving an innocence they could never get back. And John Sheppard had resigned his commission, given up Atlantis, his great love. The few times Carson had seen him, he'd been withdrawn and silent, and his eyes had never lifted even once to Carson's face. Carson had been surprised to find that loss of friendship hurt almost as much as his damaged relationship with Rodney.
So now he and Rodney both moved with a strange hesitancy, as if the other man were a priceless but terribly fragile treasure, which, in a sense, was true. Rodney's hands had found their way under his shirt and were making a slow exploration of his back and shoulders. Carson tipped his head back as Rodney's mouth found that spot that sent sparks of pleasure coursing through him.
"Mark me," Carson whispered.
Rodney stilled. "What?"
"Right there, up where everyone can see it, mark me." They'd never hidden their relationship, but Rodney had never been a demonstrative man in public and Carson had adjusted to that, reigning in his urges to touch, hold, kiss, claim. But now he needed something people could see.
"Really?"
"Really." Carson moaned as Rodney's mouth latched on to the spot and began to suck. "Do you know what I'd like to do?"
"Mm?" Rodney asked against his skin.
"Make love to you and then clean up just the worst of it-- no shower or anything-- and then go to dinner and hold hands-- show you off, show us off-- with my scent still on you and yours on me... my come still inside you."
Rodney shuddered and pulled away to look into his face, eyes wide. "God, how do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Say things like that? Come up with things like that, that turn me on so fast I think I'd seriously consider it if you asked me to let you fuck me over a table in the cafeteria at dinner... on pizza night."
Carson chuckled, then cupped Rodney's face. "So, will you let me?"
"Fuck me in the cafeteria on pizza night?"
"No, ye great dolt! Make love to you here, in the privacy of our own apartment, and then take you to dinner still smelling of us."
Rodney shivered. "Yes. God, yes!"
"Thank you," Carson said, pulling him in for a kiss. "And ye still owe me a good, dark mark." He tipped Rodney's head back, finger tracing across his throat. "And I think I'll leave one to match."
They hadn't had sex since before the incident, both of them knowing without saying that they needed time, needed to wait until it was right. They didn't rush, but slowly undressed each other with the ease of long familiarity, kissing and touching and whispering as they went. They spent an age just exploring the other, drawing reassurance that they were all right, that what had happened wouldn't ruin them. As their bodies joined, they continued to kiss and caress and murmur words they'd both be chagrinned to own in the harsh light of day. But here in this place, they were perfect words, healing and much-needed, and they spoke them into each other's skin and mouths and hair until pleasure silenced them both.
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
"My own belief is that there is hardly anyone whose sexual life, if it were broadcast, would not fill the world at large with surprise and horror." - W. Somerset Maugham
"Rodney?" Carson called, stepping into their apartment. He'd suggested to Rodney that they invite John to have lunch with them because he'd noticed how isolated the Colonel had been since returning. He understood the aloofness, but had thought it would be good to re-establish some old routines. But neither Rodney nor John had shown up. "Rodney?"
He frowned when he heard the shower running. What had the man gotten into now? Most likely something work-related, he supposed, and headed for the bathroom.
Steam billowed out like a sauna as soon as he opened the door. Carson's was a little startled at that. It took a lot to overwhelm the Ancient environmental controls. He frowned again when he couldn't make out any human form standing in the shower stall. Had Rodney left the thing running?
He turned slowly to take in the condition of the bathroom. Rodney's uniform was shoved into a corner. "Rodney?" he called, pushing the door open to look back into the bedroom.
He froze as he heard a sob behind him, then crisis mode kicked in and he spun around and headed for the shower, images of Rodney, injured, bleeding or maybe burned or Lord knew what, curled on the floor under the spray of water for over an hour, unable to leave, unable to call for help.
He flung the shower door open and was temporarily blinded by the billowing steam. Rodney sat curled in a corner of the stall, head against his knees, rocking, slowly rocking.
"Rodney, love! What--?" He stepped into the stall, forgetting about the spray until he was in it, yelping in surprise at the scalding temperature. He thought off at the controls and dropped beside his lover, eyes scanning his body for signs of injury.
He couldn't see any wounds and there was no tell-tale crimson stream heading for the drain, but Rodney's skin was red and he couldn't see everything, either. Gently he reached out and took his lover's wrist, noting how Rodney shuddered at the touch. There was a good pulse, though a little fast. He let go of the wrist and gently touched Rodney's head. "Rodney, love, can ye look at me, please?"
Rodney let out a stuttering breath and curled in closer on himself, away from Carson.
Carson's heart was pounding in fear now. What was going on? "Rodney? What happened?" He reached out, trying to disengage Rodney's grip on his knees, but his lover flinched away from him with a sob. "Are you hurt? Can I see, love? Let me see, please."
Rodney didn't look up, but shook his head.
"No, you're not hurt or no, I can't see?" Carson asked, gentling his voice.
Rodney let out a laugh that turned to a sob halfway through, and that seemed to break something inside him, as suddenly his body was wracked with sobs, shuddering and trembling under the onslaught.
"Shhhh, it's okay," Carson soothed, trying to control his growing panic at not knowing what had happened to Rodney. "Here, love, let me take care of you."
He slipped a hand to Rodney's shoulder and across his back, watching carefully. Rodney shuddered, but leaned into him rather than flinching away. Taking that as a sign, he carefully pulled Rodney into the circle of his arms, shushing and making gentling sounds as he did so. There was a moment where Rodney seemed ready to pull back, push him away, but then he folded against him, clinging.
"There now, it's all right. I've got you. It'll be okay..."
Rodney made a strange sound in the back of his throat, like a wail he wouldn't let out, and then slid his arms around Carson and pulled him almost painfully tight, burying his face against Carson's shoulder. "I'm sorry!" he gasped. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry!"
A jolt of fear ran through Carson, but he held on and kept his voice gentle. "What happened, love?"
"Oh, God! Don't leave me. Please, don't leave me. I didn't mean to! I was... He was... I don't know how... Please!"
He felt himself tense up, felt the fear coil in his gut, the lump in his throat. "What... What happened?"
"I was just going to ask him to lunch." Rodney's voice was plaintive, confused. "And then he's pushing me against the wall and kissing me and his hand is down my pants and, oh, God! Please, don't leave me! I'm sorry. It won't happen again, I swear."
Carson jerked back, stung, fear turning to anger. "What did you do?" he demanded and Rodney flinched.
Rodney gaped, mouth moving wordlessly for a moment before he found his voice again. "I let him... I let him hold me there. I tried to tell him, I did! But he was just so strong and-- and desperate! And I let him. And, please, I love you, Carson. Please, don't leave me."
"You let him what?" he asked, not sure he wanted to know, blood running cold and hot and... "You let him what?"
Rodney looked away, looked down at his pruning fingers. "Suck me. I let him suck me."
He closed his eyes, the image coming unbidden to his mind-- John on all fours, lips stretched wide... He shook his head. "You let him?"
"I know I should have... I should have tried to tell him again. I'm... I'm sorry."
It took a second, then Rodney's words sank in. "Wait. Tell him what?"
"Tell him no. I tried once, but he... He didn't stop."
Carson blinked. He took a big breath and pushed away the anger and the hurt. "Tell me again what happened. From the beginning."
***
Elizabeth looked up from the paper before her. "John, I know this is difficult right now, but--"
John held up his hand. "No, don't try to talk me out of this. I can't control myself and I'm a liability. And Caldwell's right-- my command authority is damaged or soon will be."
"You need to be here for Carson to find a cure."
"But I don't need to be here as the military head of Atlantis. And once Beckett cures me, or figures out that he can't..."
The door slid open and Carson walked in, red-faced, clothes notably damp, and stopped short when he saw John there. His hands curled into fists, his jaw tight, blue eyes flashing, then he pointed a trembling finger at John. "If ye weren't so desperate from this virus, I'd be giving ye a pasting right now." His brogue was thick. "As it is, I'm just going to warn you to stay away from Rodney or, virus or no, I'll stoat yer wallies."
"Carson?" Elizabeth said, half-question, half-exclamation.
He glared at John for another second, then turned to her. "I'm putting Rodney on medical leave for a few days. Something happened this afternoon--" Here his eyes flashed to John and back to her. "-- and he needs some time to recover."
Elizabeth swallowed, looking between the two men. "Is he okay?"
"Physically? Yes. Emotionally?" His flicked eyes to John. "Not so much."
John was looking down, shoulders hunched in, cheeks and ears burning red.
"Can you tell me what happened?" she asked.
Carson shook his head, eyes full of fire. "Rodney asked that I not share any specifics."
She nodded. "Very well. I'll be sure Doctor Zelenka is informed."
"Thank you," Carson answered, then turned and strode out, body taut.
She looked up and met John's eyes, full of pain and self-loathing. She looked down at the sheet in front of her and understood. "If you do this, there's no going back, you know."
John nodded. "I know."
"Okay," she said, voice almost a whisper. She reached up and touched her earpiece. "Weir to Lorne... Major? I need to speak with you as soon as possible in my office..."
***
Word travelled fast. Speculation as to why Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard had resigned his commission ran rampant. It didn't take long before McKay's medical leave was brought into the gossip.
"I heard McKay turned him down, so he beat him to a pulp," Lorne overheard a female voice say.
"He hasn't been out of his room is all I know," another female answered.
Lorne turned the corner and took in two women in military black. "Sergeants," he barked, "I didn't just overhear you making slanderous remarks about someone, did I?"
"N-n-no, sir," one answered.
Lorne glowered. "Good, because I'd hate to have anyone's good name ruined by baseless rumours. I'm sure you can pass that on to anyone you happen to hear gossiping."
"Yes, sir," the same woman answered.
Lorne looked at the other, who nodded. "Yes, of course, sir."
"Good."
He walked away, mulling their words. To be honest, he had no better idea what had happened than anyone else had, which might have been for the better. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.
***
John had drawn away from his fellow former slaves when he'd recovered his memory and started to slip back into his life here on Atlantis. Now that it was falling apart, he found himself gravitating to them again. They understood, at least.
They'd been given living space apart from the Lantians and he'd taken over a room there, though he'd left most of his things in his quarters. Small, private rooms surrounded a handful of larger common areas which had been given over to a dining area, movie lounge, game room and library, and conversation area. By mutual consent, the dining area and game room/library were no-sex zones. Everywhere else was pretty much anything goes. The Lantians tended to avoid the area.
Now he sat sprawled on a couch, watching Asan and Niende having sex while Veza and Ri curled against him, hands everywhere.
"Hey, where the hell has Amaro been lately? He blew me off the other day."
"Ooo!" Veza said.
"Not in the good way."
"Oh." She nodded. "He met someone. One of your people. I guess he's been pretty... occupied since then."
"You're telling me he's sleeping with a Lantian?"
"Yes. His name is Sergeant... something," Ri provided.
"Sergeant isn't a name, it's a rank."
Ri shrugged and then reached for the lube on the end table. "I'm getting achy. Turn over."
***
"Unscheduled off-world activation," Sergeant Lenoir called.
Elizabeth hurried up behind him, mentally cataloguing off-world teams and what sort of trouble they could have gotten into.
"It's Ladon Radim. Radio signal," Lenoir said.
"Any video?" she asked.
"Displaying now."
She looked up and smiled and nodded. "Minister Radim. To what do we owe this transmission?"
"Doctor Weir, we received the images and names of the former slaves you sent us and I'm happy to report we've located the parents of two of them."
"That's wonderful news!"
"Yes. They're very anxious to see their children. I realise there is some ongoing medical difficulty, so I wasn't sure what to tell them."
***
Carson walked through the door calling, "Honey, I'm home!"
Rodney looked up and smiled. "How was your day at the office, dear?"
Carson flopped down onto the couch next to his lover and pulled him in for a kiss, hands sliding along soft, worn denim. "Terrible, but let's not go there. Ye seem to be in good spirits, love. Are ye feeling better?"
"A little," Rodney said, shifting till he had one leg on either side of Carson, kissing him slowly.
Carson closed his eyes, savouring the feel of Rodney against him, the flavour of his kisses. He slipped his hands down into the back pockets of Rodney's jeans, pulling him against him. "Oh, I'd say you're feeling a sight better."
"Mmmm," Rodney answered, burying his face against Carson's neck and then kissing and sucking on the side, making Carson moan.
Since the incident with John, they'd spent a lot of their time together just holding and kissing and caressing. Carson found himself craving that contact, needing his touch to sink into Rodney's skin, into his soul, and wash away the traces of guilt and fear and anger and betrayal that were between them.
He wasn't a fool. Despite his anger at John, he knew Rodney could have fought harder, resisted more forcefully. He also knew their earlier fantasies had brought John into their bed, making what followed all the more devastating. Oh, they'd shared fantasies before, but they'd always been movie and TV characters, actors, stars in Rodney's extensive collection of porn-- unreachable, untouchable-- not the man sitting across the dinner table, not the friend who came by for movies, not the fighter who kept Rodney from harm in the field, and, dear God, not the victim of an alien virus that filled his eyes with such pain and need.
It had been a dangerous game and they'd both emerged hurt. Hell, all three of them had been hurt. Rodney hadn't left their apartment in days and spent a great deal of time stewing, just staring vacantly at the ceiling, or watching Carson as if expecting him to disappear at any moment. Carson had ridden a rollercoaster of emotions while trying to shield Rodney from the full brunt of them, heartsick and grieving an innocence they could never get back. And John Sheppard had resigned his commission, given up Atlantis, his great love. The few times Carson had seen him, he'd been withdrawn and silent, and his eyes had never lifted even once to Carson's face. Carson had been surprised to find that loss of friendship hurt almost as much as his damaged relationship with Rodney.
So now he and Rodney both moved with a strange hesitancy, as if the other man were a priceless but terribly fragile treasure, which, in a sense, was true. Rodney's hands had found their way under his shirt and were making a slow exploration of his back and shoulders. Carson tipped his head back as Rodney's mouth found that spot that sent sparks of pleasure coursing through him.
"Mark me," Carson whispered.
Rodney stilled. "What?"
"Right there, up where everyone can see it, mark me." They'd never hidden their relationship, but Rodney had never been a demonstrative man in public and Carson had adjusted to that, reigning in his urges to touch, hold, kiss, claim. But now he needed something people could see.
"Really?"
"Really." Carson moaned as Rodney's mouth latched on to the spot and began to suck. "Do you know what I'd like to do?"
"Mm?" Rodney asked against his skin.
"Make love to you and then clean up just the worst of it-- no shower or anything-- and then go to dinner and hold hands-- show you off, show us off-- with my scent still on you and yours on me... my come still inside you."
Rodney shuddered and pulled away to look into his face, eyes wide. "God, how do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Say things like that? Come up with things like that, that turn me on so fast I think I'd seriously consider it if you asked me to let you fuck me over a table in the cafeteria at dinner... on pizza night."
Carson chuckled, then cupped Rodney's face. "So, will you let me?"
"Fuck me in the cafeteria on pizza night?"
"No, ye great dolt! Make love to you here, in the privacy of our own apartment, and then take you to dinner still smelling of us."
Rodney shivered. "Yes. God, yes!"
"Thank you," Carson said, pulling him in for a kiss. "And ye still owe me a good, dark mark." He tipped Rodney's head back, finger tracing across his throat. "And I think I'll leave one to match."
They hadn't had sex since before the incident, both of them knowing without saying that they needed time, needed to wait until it was right. They didn't rush, but slowly undressed each other with the ease of long familiarity, kissing and touching and whispering as they went. They spent an age just exploring the other, drawing reassurance that they were all right, that what had happened wouldn't ruin them. As their bodies joined, they continued to kiss and caress and murmur words they'd both be chagrinned to own in the harsh light of day. But here in this place, they were perfect words, healing and much-needed, and they spoke them into each other's skin and mouths and hair until pleasure silenced them both.
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