Fic: Who Has Never Hoped (No Precious Time Series, 15/28)

Nov 26, 2009 23:19

Title: Who Has Never Hoped (No Precious Time Series, 15/28)
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



"He who has never hoped can never despair." - George Bernard Shaw

"Hey, Doc," Evan greeted his visitor.

"Just thought I'd stop by and see how you were," Christopher Parrish said.

Evan grinned. "Pretty good. Got a minute for a drink, Doc?"

"Oh. Of course."

Evan stepped back to allow Christopher inside. No sooner had the door slid shut than Evan had fisted Christopher's shirt and pushed him against the wall, mouth taking his in a desperate kiss.

"Oh!" Christopher said, grinning when Evan pulled back. "I hope this isn't just residual effects of the virus."

"Mmmm." Evan pinned Christopher with his body, loving the way the taller man was so compliant. "They did say I might be a little oversensitised for a while. Plus, 'I'm alive!' sex is one of my favourite kinds. You smell good..."

"Ah, well. Oversensitised we can deal with," Christopher answered, slipping his arms around Evan's waist and pulling him closer, eliciting a soft moan. "Oh, yes, definitely can deal with that..."

***

Afterwards, John could never really explain why he'd picked that particular path to go to meet up with Ronon for their sparring match. Maybe unconsciously he was hoping to run into Rodney. Or maybe it was because it ran near Radek's lab and there was a sense of safety in knowing the man was close. Whatever the reason, he found himself there in the mid-morning, hoping the sparring would serve to dampen the need burning along his nerves until lunch time.

There was a sound, low and sensuous. He should have walked on, found Ronon and sparred or made a visit to the facilities for a quick jerk-off session. Instead, he froze, listening for it again. He caught the vaguest tease of a scent and before he could think, he was following it. There was a gasp and then a low moan. Quietly, he reached out and palmed a door open.

Rodney and Carson were silhouetted against the panorama of the Atlantean skyline seen through a large window. Rodney was leaning over a table, legs spread wide, eyes closed and mouth agape as Carson took him from behind, one hand curled around Rodney's hip. Carson's other hand was splayed between Rodney's shoulder blades, holding him down. Carson was looking down, watching Rodney, watching himself take Rodney, wonderment and need and pleasure and possessiveness in his expression.

He stood frozen, watching them, the way they moved, the way they fit, feeling jealousy, desire, despair. He didn't know whether he made a noise or if Carson sensed him in some other way, but Carson looked up suddenly, meeting John's eyes, his own going slightly wider and darker. John couldn't move, couldn't look away, pinned there by Carson's gaze, as Carson thrust into Rodney, withdrew and thrust again, then Carson looked down, inevitably drawing John's attention down with him. He pulled all the way out of Rodney and stroked himself once and then shuddered and came. John couldn't see it from his angle, but could imagine that first spurt against Rodney's hole. And then Carson pushed forward, back into Rodney, who moaned wordlessly as he was filled.

Carson's eyes slid shut and, freed from the gaze, John turned and fled, the sounds of Rodney's voice rising in tenor until he was crying out filling John's ears.

He needed... he needed...

And he couldn't have.

***

Radek looked up at the sound of footfalls entering his lab. John stood there, eyes wild and dark and green-- all the brown swallowed up in the wide pupil. John was shaking, nearly gasping for breath, and quite obviously hard through his sweats.

"Colonel?" he asked, trying to stay calm.

John made a sound in the back of his throat and hit the door panel. It slid shut and clicked locked.

Radek swallowed hard. "John? What are you--?"

His words were cut off when John crossed the intervening space between them in a couple of strides and fisted Radek's lab coat, bodily pressing him against the table, mouth descending against Radek's in desperate need. Radek went hot and cold at the same time, desire flashing through his body even as he panicked. He and John didn't kiss. Ever. He tried to pull away, find out what was going on, but John's grip was too tight.

John pulled back slightly, fingers scrabbling at the buttons of Radek's khakis. "Need you, Radek..."

Radek turned his head when John tried to kiss him again, feeling John's lips and tongue and teeth against the skin of his neck instead. "John, stop. You're frightening me."

"Need you to fuck me." John's breath was hot against his ear.

Radek shuddered. "I can't. I'm not a young man, John. Between last night and this morning--"

"Then let me fuck you."

Radek's breath caught, heart hammering. No, no, no. That had been established at the very beginning... "Let me go!"

"It'll be good. You'll see." John pushed down his sweats and boxers and fisted his cock. "Need you."

"No. It will not be good. John, let me go."

"Please, Radek, please. Just this once. God, I need you."

John's mouth crushed down on his before he could answer, hands yanking at Radek's khakis, body pushing him back and down against the table. Radek began to fight back in earnest now, pushing against him, trying to stop his hands.

John's tongue was in his mouth, thrusting suggestively. Radek froze, terrified, as he felt John's finger sliding against his perineum, tracing back and back and...

Radek bit down hard.

Blood flooded both their mouths for an instant, then John was stumbling back, hand at his mouth, eyes wide with shock.

"Please, don't hurt me," Radek said and for once John seemed to hear him.

John's face got very pale, his eyes meeting Radek's. He shook his head as if to clear it. Something between a sob and a gasp escaped him and then he turned fled. Radek didn't try to stop him.

After a few minutes of trying to get his shaking limbs under control, Radek righted his clothes as best he could and slid from the table. His knees were weak, though, and he sank down to the floor, hugging himself tightly as he tried to grasp what had just happened.

***

Stackhouse looked up as the door to the shooting range slid open. Few people ever came here at this particular time of day, which was why he liked it, but someone... "Colonel Sheppard? Are you okay, sir?"

Sheppard's eyes flicked to his and Stackhouse felt his blood going cold at the emptiness in them. "Fine. I need some time." His words had an odd lisp to them, like there was something wrong with his tongue.

Stackhouse hesitated. "Well, sir, I mean, you aren't really military anymore and--"

Sheppard squeezed his eyes closed, hands balled up into fists, body tight. "Please, sergeant. Just get out for a while. Just one more time."

He didn't like the sound of that. But maybe it would be better to put in a few calls outside the range of Sheppard's hearing. "Okay. For a bit, sir. For old times' sake."

"Thanks."

Stackhouse holstered the sidearm he'd been shooting and walked out, hearing the door slide shut behind him. As soon as he got a few feet away, he clicked on his radio. "Stackhouse to Lewinson. Major? Sir, there's something kind of weird going on..."

***

He lost himself in the ritual-- brace and shoot, check the target, reload, repeat. His mind was awhirl with too much, too little. Pain crawled through his body, burning him. If they opened him up now, he was sure they'd find his bones hollow-- charred inside. Too much pain. Too much hurt.

Bang.

Maybe Prio had had the right idea. Maybe the best thing was just to be strapped down to a bed and let the fire consume you from the inside out. It was a hell of a way to die, but no one else got hurt.

Bang.

Or Lein. A quick drop, a brief struggle. Done. No more pain. No more yearning.

Bang.

Or even Ri. Use the weapons against the pain to end the pain. Permanently. So long as you weren't caught.

Bang.

But he wasn't them. He wasn't as strong-willed as Prio. He'd give in. And people watched him more closely than they watched Lein and Ri. He'd be caught. Stopped.

Bang.

He emptied the clip. Ejected it. Stared at the pistol. It would all be so easy.

Bang.

He raised the gun to his head, mouthed the word 'bang'. But even knowing the weapon was empty, he couldn't pull the trigger. Never aim at something you don't intend to shoot. Please, let there be a bullet left in the chamber. Let me pull the trigger.

Bang.

His finger wouldn't move. One part of him wanted to live, at least. Maybe Carson should keep it next to the wraith arm-- the finger that wanted to live. He began to laugh, hysterical, mad laughter. He couldn't do it. He couldn't live like this, but he couldn't die.

"Bang!" he said. And laughed.

And cried. White hot pain blossomed along his limbs.

"Bang."

Stackhouse was pounding on the door. John had locked it. Politely asked Atlantis to leave it locked. No reason to now, he supposed.

"Bang, goddammit!"

The light exploded behind his eyes and he was falling, falling, body jerking, his mind trying to make sense of it. It hadn't fired. It hadn't. He hit the ground.

Bang.

Darkness.

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