Fic: Too Much Pleasure (No Precious Time Series, 10/28)
Title: Too Much Pleasure (No Precious Time Series, 10/28)
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
"Nothing brings more pain than too much pleasure; nothing more bondage than too much liberty (or libertinism)." - Benjamin Franklin
"Rodney?"
Rodney turned to see Colonel Sheppard hovering just inside the doorway to the infirmary room Carson had been given.
"I heard what happened. Is there... Is there anything I can do?"
"Tell me how to handle this," Rodney answered.
Sheppard smirked. "Have lots of sex?"
"Yes. I kind of got that part. But despite having what I feel is a quite healthy and active sex life for a man of my age, I don't think I'm up to sex every two hours."
"Actually, since you're uninfected, he could probably go four or five."
"Great. So only five or six times a day."
"You don't usually hear men complaining about their partners wanting too much sex," Sheppard said, leaning against the door frame, still smirking.
"Yeah, well, I'm a bit more realistic than your average testosterone-poisoned Neanderthal."
"Well, really, you don't have to do something every time, or even come, so long as you're there."
"Really?"
"Well, yeah. Holding him. Touching. Kissing. Whatever you're into. I had customers--" Sheppard shut up suddenly, the grin leaving his face as his eyes slid shut and he shuddered.
"Colonel?"
Sheppard shook his head as if clearing it. "Sorry. Just... just be there for him, okay?"
There was a gasp of pain from the bed. "Rodney?" Carson's eyes were open, body rigid, face frozen in a rictus of agony.
"I'm here," Rodney answered, throat tightening painfully at the obvious torment his lover was in. He slipped an arm across Carson's body and pressed a kiss to Carson's trembling lips.
"I'll see you later," Sheppard's voice said from the doorway, followed by the click of the door latching.
Carson's mouth was already opening under his, hungry and reckless, hands pulling him into the bed with the strength of desperation. "I need you now," Carson growled, yanking at his clothes.
"Okay. Hold on. Hold on."
Rodney's steadier hands made quick work of removing his shirt, Carson's hands and mouth immediately targeting the expanse of bare skin as Rodney moved to the fastenings on his trousers. He'd gotten them pulled down past his ass when Carson made a move that shouldn't be physically possible in an infirmary bed, undoubtedly learned from wrestling in his youth. Rodney suddenly found himself underneath, pressed face-first into the bed, Carson on top of him, pinning him down. He could feel Carson fumbling with the loose pyjama bottoms most infirmary patients ended up in and then Carson's cock was naked against his ass, hard and hot. There was the sound of Carson spitting, the feel of saliva sliding down between his ass cheeks, more spitting, and then Carson's cock was pressing against his entrance, huge and insistent. "Take me," Carson hissed in his ear.
Rodney forced himself to relax and submit, biting his lip as Carson's cock breeched him, feeling enormous. "God!" he gasped. "G-give me a minute..."
Carson stopped pushing into him, body tense against him, breath coming in gasps. "Sorry." Carson kissed his back and shoulders-- not the slow, sensuous kisses of their usual lovemaking, but desperate and needy, as if trying to distract himself. "Oh, God, love, I've got to move."
"Okay, okay, it's okay now."
Carson made a low sound in the back of his throat and shoved forward, burying himself balls-deep within Rodney's body. "So good," he moaned. He drew back and then pushed in again. "Mine." Another withdrawal and thrust. "Mine..." His rhythm was brutal and hard. "Mine."
"Oh, yeah. Yours," Rodney whimpered, the pleasure and eroticism of giving himself over completely to his lover overwhelming any remaining discomfort.
Carson gasped, his rhythm faltering for a moment before thrusting in hard and deep, pulsing into Rodney's body, filling him.
Rodney groaned as he felt Carson's cock throbbing inside him. He was turned on as hell, but not quite there yet.
Carson rested against him, still buried inside him. As Carson's breathing evened out, Rodney felt his lover's cock swell and harden inside him. "Ah, love," Carson murmured against the nape of his neck, already moving again.
And Rodney could do nothing but lay there, pinned to the bed, as his lover took him again, hard and deep and primal, inexorably pushed over the edge until he was coming into the sheets, Carson following him over and filling him again.
"Sorry," Carson whispered, wrapping his arms around him.
"God, don't be. It was... I don't even have words."
Carson hummed, rolling them over so they were spooned together on their sides, hands slowly stroking him. "Thank you."
"Feeling better now?"
"Yes. It still hurts, but it's a dull ache now."
"I guess that's good." Rodney turned his head and found Carson's mouth with his. "We'll get through this."
Carson nodded and then shivered. "Rodney, love, are you too sore for another go?"
"You do realise we're in the infirmary, right?"
Carson sat up and reached down to pull off Rodney's khakis and boxers, still tangled around his knees. "Aye, love, I realise that. There's a very good reason they gave me a private room."
Rodney grinned as he settled onto his back, ignoring the sensation of sticky wetness as his back came into contact with the semen from his last orgasm, and raised his legs. "I'll never look at an infirmary bed the same way."
***
"Shouldn't you be giving him something?" Elizabeth asked, looking at the temperature read-out on Colonel Lorne's monitor.
The CO looked at her through glassy eyes, shivering. The nurse held a glass of juice out, moving the straw into his mouth. "Drink some, Colonel," she said gently, then looked back at Elizabeth. "No, actually, we want the fever to run its course. It's the body's natural defense against infection and we don't want to short-circuit it."
"It's a good sign, actually," Biro said, walking into the private room.
Elizabeth turned and gave her an inquiring look. "Why exactly is that?"
"Because so far as we can tell, none of the patients suffering long-term infection from the virus ever had an immune response to it. If he can beat it, we just might have a chance of learning how to cure it."
***
"I miss home," Jastain said suddenly, staring morosely at his hand of cards.
"Me, too," Lein said, looking miserable.
Few of the former slaves knew the gate address for their homeworlds. Doctor Corrigan had been coming by with pictures and descriptions from mission reports, trying to match images to memories. The game room contained paper, crayons, coloured pencils and other art supplies. Heightmeyer used them sometimes to help them express their feelings. Corrigan had been encouraging them to draw what they remembered of their homeworld, homes, families, clothes, anything to give them a hint. They'd managed to figure out a few and teams were being sent to inquire.
Lein's drawings were full of people in peach, apricot, burnt orange, ruddy browns and creams, loose tunics and long vests over trousers or layered dresses and shawls. Their homes and crafts and clothing all made John think of Teer and her people. Obviously, they'd come from somewhere, but no gate team had ever encountered the planet Teer's ancestors had emigrated from. He wished they had.
They were pretty sure Nikal was Genii, but they couldn't find his family.
For most of the adults, it had been too long. There wasn't enough to go on. Veza was an exception, fairly recently enslaved, but they'd found her home planet culled and empty. Stackhouse's team had brought back some of the crops in the fields and Veza had cried when she'd seen the basket of fruit.
"I only wanted to help," Stackhouse had said.
She'd wiped her eyes and put on a brave face. "We should harvest it all. It's not good to let food go to waste."
Some Marines and botanists and Athosians had gone, feeling like vultures, and brought back what they could. Veza had been teaching the Athosians what she remembered of how to plant their crops. She'd also been teaching Sergeants Nguyen and Beltz some of her people's dishes. John suspected it wasn't the only thing she was sharing with Nguyen.
Asan's memories were confused-- some drawings were full of scenes of a city and an advanced society, others of a rural life with more primitive technology.
While the drawings and sessions with Heightmeyer and Corrigan were helping the expedition to locate some of their homeworlds, it was also leaving them homesick and often depressed, despairing of ever seeing their homes and families again.
He looked around at their faces. There was a deep weariness in their eyes, pain and misery. It was especially true for the younger ones and John wondered whether it had been right to deprive them of their one source of non-infected sexual contacts.
He was tired, too-- the constant, relentless pain leaving him frayed beyond telling. They were all popping painkillers like candy, falling into bed with whoever was on offer, subject to sudden crying jags, waking up screaming in the middle of the night. The air of their living areas was saturated with the smell of sex and sweat and pain till it sickened him sometimes.
Now Carson and Lorne were suffering, too, because of them, because of him, and Carson hadn't even come back with the inoculation he needed to cure them.
He wanted to scream. He wanted to weep. He wanted his mother to miraculously appear here and wrap him in her arms. He wanted to die.
And he knew he wasn't the only one.
Ri stood up wearily and took John's hand. "I need you."
John handed his cards over to Marna and allowed himself to be dragged out.
***
"Excuse me," Elizabeth said to the two JAG lawyers, hurrying out of her office to find out what the unscheduled off-world gate activation was. "Sergeant?"
"It's Ladon Radim. On-screen," Lenoir reported.
Elizabeth quickly composed herself as the Genii leader appeared. "Minister Radim, hello. To what do we owe the call?"
"Doctor Weir," he greeted back. "I called to discuss a medical situation. As you know, two of our raiding party were also inoculated with the virus at the same time as your two men."
She nodded. "Yes. Extremely unfortunate. Has anything happened to them that we need to know about?"
He hesitated a moment. "Well, they both developed very high fevers, as if their bodies were resisting the infection."
She nodded, thinking of Colonel Lorne. "How are they doing now?" she asked.
He looked down. "One is very ill. The other is dead."
She felt her stomach clench. "Dead?"
"He began complaining of the light being too bright and a severe headache, then started vomiting and then having convulsions." He spread his hands. "And then he died. The other is complaining of a severe headache as well. Our doctors are powerless to help. Given you have two men infected, we thought, perhaps, you might be interested."
"Yes. We'd be very interested. Can they be transported here?"
"Both of them? I assure you, the one is beyond help."
"I understand that." She considered carefully. Different cultures reacted quite differently to dealing with death and the dead. This was a risk. "But we may be able to learn something to help the others by studying the one who has already died. If it is acceptable to your people."
"Ah. I see. Yes, our doctors sometimes perform autopsies, though I suppose yours might be able to learn more than ours would." He nodded. "I will speak to the family and see if it is acceptable. Niran Tella, the one still living, has agreed to come to Atlantis if you were willing to take him."
Elizabeth wasn't surprised to hear they'd already talked to the man about coming to Atlantis. Leave it to Ladon to anticipate their willingness to help. "Very well. I'm sure our doctors would be interested in speaking to yours to learn all the details as well."
***
Carole Biro frowned as Colonel Lorne flinched when she turned on the light over his bed. "How are you feeling, Colonel?"
"Like sssomeone took an icepick to my head," he answered, slightly slurred. "The ligh' hurts."
She dimmed the light until he opened his eyes, still glassy from fever.
"How's your stomach?"
He grimaced. "Sick."
"I'm going to order some tests," she said. "In the meantime, we'll get something for that headache."
***
Radek opened his door and blinked up at John. "Colonel Sheppard?"
"John."
"Sorry. Yes. John."
"You busy this evening? I've got more." John held up the laptop he was carrying.
"Oh!" Radek smiled. "Nothing major planned. Come in."
***
"How are they?" Carson asked quietly as Biro unwrapped the blood pressure cuff.
"Not good," she answered honestly. "Initial indications are the one died of encephalitis, which is what's affecting both Colonel Lorne and the Genii, Niran Tella."
Carson sighed. There wasn't much to do with viral encephalitis but treat the symptoms and pray.
"So Carson and Colonel Sheppard and the others are the lucky ones?" Rodney asked.
Biro nodded. "It's not a pleasant way to die."
Rodney reached out and took Carson's hand. Carson squeezed and smiled at his lover. Everyone knew they were together, but Rodney had never been terribly demonstrative in public. Carson appreciated even the simple gestures.
"All right, you are clear to go home, Carson," Biro said. "But promise me you'll come back if you need me to up the dose on your pain meds and not try to tough it out."
"Oh, I will," he promised. Because he had Rodney there, pain management had been easier, but he had suffered an afternoon where Rodney had gotten caught up in problems at the labs and been unable to leave. It had been excruciating and by the end of it, he'd almost been ready to jump the next willing body that passed his way.
He had more sympathy for John and all the other former slaves now, that was certain.
***
John lay curled with Veza, the sweat drying on their skin, his hands slowly stroking down her side as they fought to regain control of their breathing. She kissed him and rolled onto her back, so John opted for caressing her abdomen instead, her hand covering his. The food on Atlantis had obviously been doing her some good. Her breasts seemed fuller now and her body seemed to just glow and her tummy...
John sat up, eyes widening. "You're pregnant."
Her gaze flicked to his face and away.
"Veza?"
"It probably won't live... like Marna's. Carson had hoped since I only had the drugs a short time that it might be possible..." She gave a broken smile. "I haven't told anyone."
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, pulling her close.
The air was pierced with a scream. John scrambled from the bed as another scream sounded, Veza on his heels. Several former slaves stood outside Lein's room.
"Let me through," he ordered, shouldering his way past them.
Marna stood, fist stuffed into her mouth, eyes glued on the hanging body slowly twisting in the air currents of the room. John rushed past her, grabbing Lein's body to try to take weight off the cord around her neck, but he could tell it was too late-- her body was already cooling. Lein was dead.
They'd lost another one.
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
"Nothing brings more pain than too much pleasure; nothing more bondage than too much liberty (or libertinism)." - Benjamin Franklin
"Rodney?"
Rodney turned to see Colonel Sheppard hovering just inside the doorway to the infirmary room Carson had been given.
"I heard what happened. Is there... Is there anything I can do?"
"Tell me how to handle this," Rodney answered.
Sheppard smirked. "Have lots of sex?"
"Yes. I kind of got that part. But despite having what I feel is a quite healthy and active sex life for a man of my age, I don't think I'm up to sex every two hours."
"Actually, since you're uninfected, he could probably go four or five."
"Great. So only five or six times a day."
"You don't usually hear men complaining about their partners wanting too much sex," Sheppard said, leaning against the door frame, still smirking.
"Yeah, well, I'm a bit more realistic than your average testosterone-poisoned Neanderthal."
"Well, really, you don't have to do something every time, or even come, so long as you're there."
"Really?"
"Well, yeah. Holding him. Touching. Kissing. Whatever you're into. I had customers--" Sheppard shut up suddenly, the grin leaving his face as his eyes slid shut and he shuddered.
"Colonel?"
Sheppard shook his head as if clearing it. "Sorry. Just... just be there for him, okay?"
There was a gasp of pain from the bed. "Rodney?" Carson's eyes were open, body rigid, face frozen in a rictus of agony.
"I'm here," Rodney answered, throat tightening painfully at the obvious torment his lover was in. He slipped an arm across Carson's body and pressed a kiss to Carson's trembling lips.
"I'll see you later," Sheppard's voice said from the doorway, followed by the click of the door latching.
Carson's mouth was already opening under his, hungry and reckless, hands pulling him into the bed with the strength of desperation. "I need you now," Carson growled, yanking at his clothes.
"Okay. Hold on. Hold on."
Rodney's steadier hands made quick work of removing his shirt, Carson's hands and mouth immediately targeting the expanse of bare skin as Rodney moved to the fastenings on his trousers. He'd gotten them pulled down past his ass when Carson made a move that shouldn't be physically possible in an infirmary bed, undoubtedly learned from wrestling in his youth. Rodney suddenly found himself underneath, pressed face-first into the bed, Carson on top of him, pinning him down. He could feel Carson fumbling with the loose pyjama bottoms most infirmary patients ended up in and then Carson's cock was naked against his ass, hard and hot. There was the sound of Carson spitting, the feel of saliva sliding down between his ass cheeks, more spitting, and then Carson's cock was pressing against his entrance, huge and insistent. "Take me," Carson hissed in his ear.
Rodney forced himself to relax and submit, biting his lip as Carson's cock breeched him, feeling enormous. "God!" he gasped. "G-give me a minute..."
Carson stopped pushing into him, body tense against him, breath coming in gasps. "Sorry." Carson kissed his back and shoulders-- not the slow, sensuous kisses of their usual lovemaking, but desperate and needy, as if trying to distract himself. "Oh, God, love, I've got to move."
"Okay, okay, it's okay now."
Carson made a low sound in the back of his throat and shoved forward, burying himself balls-deep within Rodney's body. "So good," he moaned. He drew back and then pushed in again. "Mine." Another withdrawal and thrust. "Mine..." His rhythm was brutal and hard. "Mine."
"Oh, yeah. Yours," Rodney whimpered, the pleasure and eroticism of giving himself over completely to his lover overwhelming any remaining discomfort.
Carson gasped, his rhythm faltering for a moment before thrusting in hard and deep, pulsing into Rodney's body, filling him.
Rodney groaned as he felt Carson's cock throbbing inside him. He was turned on as hell, but not quite there yet.
Carson rested against him, still buried inside him. As Carson's breathing evened out, Rodney felt his lover's cock swell and harden inside him. "Ah, love," Carson murmured against the nape of his neck, already moving again.
And Rodney could do nothing but lay there, pinned to the bed, as his lover took him again, hard and deep and primal, inexorably pushed over the edge until he was coming into the sheets, Carson following him over and filling him again.
"Sorry," Carson whispered, wrapping his arms around him.
"God, don't be. It was... I don't even have words."
Carson hummed, rolling them over so they were spooned together on their sides, hands slowly stroking him. "Thank you."
"Feeling better now?"
"Yes. It still hurts, but it's a dull ache now."
"I guess that's good." Rodney turned his head and found Carson's mouth with his. "We'll get through this."
Carson nodded and then shivered. "Rodney, love, are you too sore for another go?"
"You do realise we're in the infirmary, right?"
Carson sat up and reached down to pull off Rodney's khakis and boxers, still tangled around his knees. "Aye, love, I realise that. There's a very good reason they gave me a private room."
Rodney grinned as he settled onto his back, ignoring the sensation of sticky wetness as his back came into contact with the semen from his last orgasm, and raised his legs. "I'll never look at an infirmary bed the same way."
***
"Shouldn't you be giving him something?" Elizabeth asked, looking at the temperature read-out on Colonel Lorne's monitor.
The CO looked at her through glassy eyes, shivering. The nurse held a glass of juice out, moving the straw into his mouth. "Drink some, Colonel," she said gently, then looked back at Elizabeth. "No, actually, we want the fever to run its course. It's the body's natural defense against infection and we don't want to short-circuit it."
"It's a good sign, actually," Biro said, walking into the private room.
Elizabeth turned and gave her an inquiring look. "Why exactly is that?"
"Because so far as we can tell, none of the patients suffering long-term infection from the virus ever had an immune response to it. If he can beat it, we just might have a chance of learning how to cure it."
***
"I miss home," Jastain said suddenly, staring morosely at his hand of cards.
"Me, too," Lein said, looking miserable.
Few of the former slaves knew the gate address for their homeworlds. Doctor Corrigan had been coming by with pictures and descriptions from mission reports, trying to match images to memories. The game room contained paper, crayons, coloured pencils and other art supplies. Heightmeyer used them sometimes to help them express their feelings. Corrigan had been encouraging them to draw what they remembered of their homeworld, homes, families, clothes, anything to give them a hint. They'd managed to figure out a few and teams were being sent to inquire.
Lein's drawings were full of people in peach, apricot, burnt orange, ruddy browns and creams, loose tunics and long vests over trousers or layered dresses and shawls. Their homes and crafts and clothing all made John think of Teer and her people. Obviously, they'd come from somewhere, but no gate team had ever encountered the planet Teer's ancestors had emigrated from. He wished they had.
They were pretty sure Nikal was Genii, but they couldn't find his family.
For most of the adults, it had been too long. There wasn't enough to go on. Veza was an exception, fairly recently enslaved, but they'd found her home planet culled and empty. Stackhouse's team had brought back some of the crops in the fields and Veza had cried when she'd seen the basket of fruit.
"I only wanted to help," Stackhouse had said.
She'd wiped her eyes and put on a brave face. "We should harvest it all. It's not good to let food go to waste."
Some Marines and botanists and Athosians had gone, feeling like vultures, and brought back what they could. Veza had been teaching the Athosians what she remembered of how to plant their crops. She'd also been teaching Sergeants Nguyen and Beltz some of her people's dishes. John suspected it wasn't the only thing she was sharing with Nguyen.
Asan's memories were confused-- some drawings were full of scenes of a city and an advanced society, others of a rural life with more primitive technology.
While the drawings and sessions with Heightmeyer and Corrigan were helping the expedition to locate some of their homeworlds, it was also leaving them homesick and often depressed, despairing of ever seeing their homes and families again.
He looked around at their faces. There was a deep weariness in their eyes, pain and misery. It was especially true for the younger ones and John wondered whether it had been right to deprive them of their one source of non-infected sexual contacts.
He was tired, too-- the constant, relentless pain leaving him frayed beyond telling. They were all popping painkillers like candy, falling into bed with whoever was on offer, subject to sudden crying jags, waking up screaming in the middle of the night. The air of their living areas was saturated with the smell of sex and sweat and pain till it sickened him sometimes.
Now Carson and Lorne were suffering, too, because of them, because of him, and Carson hadn't even come back with the inoculation he needed to cure them.
He wanted to scream. He wanted to weep. He wanted his mother to miraculously appear here and wrap him in her arms. He wanted to die.
And he knew he wasn't the only one.
Ri stood up wearily and took John's hand. "I need you."
John handed his cards over to Marna and allowed himself to be dragged out.
***
"Excuse me," Elizabeth said to the two JAG lawyers, hurrying out of her office to find out what the unscheduled off-world gate activation was. "Sergeant?"
"It's Ladon Radim. On-screen," Lenoir reported.
Elizabeth quickly composed herself as the Genii leader appeared. "Minister Radim, hello. To what do we owe the call?"
"Doctor Weir," he greeted back. "I called to discuss a medical situation. As you know, two of our raiding party were also inoculated with the virus at the same time as your two men."
She nodded. "Yes. Extremely unfortunate. Has anything happened to them that we need to know about?"
He hesitated a moment. "Well, they both developed very high fevers, as if their bodies were resisting the infection."
She nodded, thinking of Colonel Lorne. "How are they doing now?" she asked.
He looked down. "One is very ill. The other is dead."
She felt her stomach clench. "Dead?"
"He began complaining of the light being too bright and a severe headache, then started vomiting and then having convulsions." He spread his hands. "And then he died. The other is complaining of a severe headache as well. Our doctors are powerless to help. Given you have two men infected, we thought, perhaps, you might be interested."
"Yes. We'd be very interested. Can they be transported here?"
"Both of them? I assure you, the one is beyond help."
"I understand that." She considered carefully. Different cultures reacted quite differently to dealing with death and the dead. This was a risk. "But we may be able to learn something to help the others by studying the one who has already died. If it is acceptable to your people."
"Ah. I see. Yes, our doctors sometimes perform autopsies, though I suppose yours might be able to learn more than ours would." He nodded. "I will speak to the family and see if it is acceptable. Niran Tella, the one still living, has agreed to come to Atlantis if you were willing to take him."
Elizabeth wasn't surprised to hear they'd already talked to the man about coming to Atlantis. Leave it to Ladon to anticipate their willingness to help. "Very well. I'm sure our doctors would be interested in speaking to yours to learn all the details as well."
***
Carole Biro frowned as Colonel Lorne flinched when she turned on the light over his bed. "How are you feeling, Colonel?"
"Like sssomeone took an icepick to my head," he answered, slightly slurred. "The ligh' hurts."
She dimmed the light until he opened his eyes, still glassy from fever.
"How's your stomach?"
He grimaced. "Sick."
"I'm going to order some tests," she said. "In the meantime, we'll get something for that headache."
***
Radek opened his door and blinked up at John. "Colonel Sheppard?"
"John."
"Sorry. Yes. John."
"You busy this evening? I've got more." John held up the laptop he was carrying.
"Oh!" Radek smiled. "Nothing major planned. Come in."
***
"How are they?" Carson asked quietly as Biro unwrapped the blood pressure cuff.
"Not good," she answered honestly. "Initial indications are the one died of encephalitis, which is what's affecting both Colonel Lorne and the Genii, Niran Tella."
Carson sighed. There wasn't much to do with viral encephalitis but treat the symptoms and pray.
"So Carson and Colonel Sheppard and the others are the lucky ones?" Rodney asked.
Biro nodded. "It's not a pleasant way to die."
Rodney reached out and took Carson's hand. Carson squeezed and smiled at his lover. Everyone knew they were together, but Rodney had never been terribly demonstrative in public. Carson appreciated even the simple gestures.
"All right, you are clear to go home, Carson," Biro said. "But promise me you'll come back if you need me to up the dose on your pain meds and not try to tough it out."
"Oh, I will," he promised. Because he had Rodney there, pain management had been easier, but he had suffered an afternoon where Rodney had gotten caught up in problems at the labs and been unable to leave. It had been excruciating and by the end of it, he'd almost been ready to jump the next willing body that passed his way.
He had more sympathy for John and all the other former slaves now, that was certain.
***
John lay curled with Veza, the sweat drying on their skin, his hands slowly stroking down her side as they fought to regain control of their breathing. She kissed him and rolled onto her back, so John opted for caressing her abdomen instead, her hand covering his. The food on Atlantis had obviously been doing her some good. Her breasts seemed fuller now and her body seemed to just glow and her tummy...
John sat up, eyes widening. "You're pregnant."
Her gaze flicked to his face and away.
"Veza?"
"It probably won't live... like Marna's. Carson had hoped since I only had the drugs a short time that it might be possible..." She gave a broken smile. "I haven't told anyone."
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, pulling her close.
The air was pierced with a scream. John scrambled from the bed as another scream sounded, Veza on his heels. Several former slaves stood outside Lein's room.
"Let me through," he ordered, shouldering his way past them.
Marna stood, fist stuffed into her mouth, eyes glued on the hanging body slowly twisting in the air currents of the room. John rushed past her, grabbing Lein's body to try to take weight off the cord around her neck, but he could tell it was too late-- her body was already cooling. Lein was dead.
They'd lost another one.
Next chapter