HEY NATHAN, THIS ISN'T LATE AT ALL.
HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY
nathan_p !!!! Did someone order two mad scientists with a side of smut? No? Well…
Title: For Science (And Other Things)
Fandom: Maximum Ride
Words: 2,228
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Roland/Jeb
Warnings: PWP, gay sex in a laboratory with none of the consequences therein, inappropriate use of the Dream Machine (which should be taken advantage of more often, imho).
AN: The porn insisted on plot, but I tricked it and gave it a whacked out scenario instead. SO NATHAN, YOU ARE TO BLAME. Happy Birthday, and I am sorry I couldn't really make it in time. D:
Summary: The usual evil Itex tomfoolery-Jeb and Roland get a taste of their own medicine.
All scientists had this built in sense of curiosity, whether it involved grafting wings on fetuses, turning children into hybrid wolves, or seeing how wet a fellow colleague could get from the Dream Machine. It was all for science, really. That was a favorite excuse of theirs. Jeb never bought it, but he had been on the receiving end of the Dream Machine once, and it was a shame that such technology had to be wasted on the experiments, who probably wouldn’t have had the same appreciation, on account of being mentally tortured with it.
Jeb had never been mentally tortured, and he didn’t want to be anytime soon but, unsurprisingly, Roland had other plans. He always did, and had a knack for springing it up at inconvenient times. In Jeb’s defense, Roland hadn’t called it torture at the time.
“It will be fun, trust me,” Roland said with a rather crafty smile that Jeb want to get rid of, probably by sucking it off Roland’s smug face, but that thought was immediately discarded for a more professional objection; he had been spying of his daughter for far too long, her hormones were probably rubbing off on him.
He knew better, of course, but Jeb had that blessing-and-curse deal that all scientists claimed as curiosity-so here he was, in one of those hospital beds with wires attached to his head. He had prepared himself for this, knew the procedure, but what he didn’t expect was Roland to get in bed with him.
“This may not be a good idea,” he said dubiously, watching Roland hook another set of wires to his scalp.
“Reilly will monitor us,” Roland grunted, settling down beside Jeb. It was tight, and the bed railings were pressing uncomfortably against the right side if his body. Roland wasn’t one to pass up the pastries in the Itex cafeteria, but sometimes he’d bring Jeb a slice of black forest cake for those late nights, and something a little more than cake, so Jeb didn’t really complain about that, specifically.
“Roland, having someone partake in voyeurism while we’re having imaginary dream sex makes me feel violated,” he said, entirely honest, “Especially if it has to be Reilly.”
Reilly, ever so perfect with his timing, entered the room looking none too pleased with the idea himself. “You don’t have to worry about that, Batchelder. I’ll be watching my soaps with the TV, not whatever insane sex acts you two will-ugh. I don’t even want to think about it.”
Jeb considered telling Reilly to leave if he didn’t want to be here, but figured that Roland probably forced Reilly on a month’s extra pay to cover for them. It was oddly sweet, if not totally abusing his superior status.
“I’m just here in case your epic fake orgasms flatlines your heart,” Reilly continued, pulling up a chair. Jeb saw a GQ magazine tucked under the other man’s arm and decided to let it be for now.
Roland chuckled, slipping a pair of clear gas masks over their mouths and noses. In return, Jeb slipped his hand in Roland’s.
Reilly rolled his eyes, not in the least bit fooled by innocent displays of affection, opened his magazine, and flicked the switch for the Dream Machine.
“So,” Jeb yawned, turning his head to Roland, “Where to this time? Sex in space? Sex in Hawaii? Sex change?”
“You will see,” Roland replied whimsically, and then Jeb fell asleep.
Almost immediately after, he awoke with Roland slotted up against his side and both of them very cramped in a hospital bed. Bemused, Jeb turned carefully, slightly embarrassed to be reassured that Roland was conscious and blinking dreamily. Reilly was nowhere to be seen.
“That… that was fast,” Jeb said, almost horrified with the thought of completely passing out-damn, he had never blacked out from sex before. He decided that he didn’t really like it, there was absolutely nothing to show for. Sitting up, Jeb carefully started to pull the wires from his head, and the feathers, which were annoying and only got in the-
“Oh,” he said.
Roland looked pleased with himself, rolling off from the bed with the gracefulness of a rather large man with newly acquired means of flying. Come to think of it, Roland looked to be more than a decade younger, with sleek, dark brown wings, like a hawk. Jeb stared. It wasn’t the first time they pulled the time-travel scenario with the Dream Machine, but it was the first that they became the experiments.
Like in most dreams, a mirror had conveniently appeared in the corner of the hospital room. Curious, Jeb took a look and found that he had a pair of white wings, barred at the ends with a sort of dull grey color, and like Roland, he was younger, scraggly blond hair, mid-twenties stubble and everything.
“Do you like?” Roland asked, looking at Jeb with as much interest as Jeb was looking at himself.
“Pretty, I guess,” Jeb said, wondering where this would lead to. Sex while flying? While it did sound interesting, Jeb doubt that it could be done properly, and it sounded like a lot of hard work. He tentatively lifted a wing, and found it surprisingly effortless and natural. Really, what was Max complaining about having wings and being just normal, he couldn’t guess.
That is-until Max came through the hospital door looking like her typically angry self. Normally, this wouldn’t have alarmed Jeb very much, but this Max was older, sterner, and wearing a lab coat.
“Roland, you didn’t,” Jeb gaped, “You just did not reverse our roles with the kids.”
Roland had been lingering behind him and the shocked expression on his face was decently genuine. “That is half-truth. That,” he pointed at Max, “that part was unintentional.”
By the time Fang walked in, Jeb didn’t know what to be afraid of more-the black nurse scrubs or the wickedly long syringe. Either way, none of those things bode well for him and Roland, so Jeb did three things:
He grabbed Roland’s hand, he screamed for Reilly, and then he bolted out the hospital door.
It seemed like a simple plan, but the sight of Fang in scrubs made him uneasy, so he did not get the order of those three things quite right. In actuality, Jeb had shouted for Reilly first-a clear and pointless mistake, as Reilly had the TV monitor off and was probably reading his stupid GQ magazine-which alerted Max and Fang, who made a grab for Jeb. Jeb had meant to take Roland’s hand next, but he missed and ended up bolting out the door without him.
It was all so terribly confusing.
Fortunately, Jeb didn’t have to come up with another plan anytime soon on account of running straight into Iggy.
“Jeb, be reasonable,” Iggy said, sighing a very typical Iggy way, if only Iggy was older and more mature, “We’re going to run some tests on you, just like every day.”
The dream started looking hilarious and very ironic. If he had been a less stubborn person, Jeb would have had some doubts about his current occupation of illegal experimentation. But he didn’t. Obviously not praying sort of guy, Jeb decided to give it a whirl.
“Reilly, now would be a good time for voyeurism,” he muttered, “Please, wake us up. Trip on our wires, smack me with your newest issue of GQ… anything.”
And that was when Fang stuck the syringe in his neck.
For the second time in the dream world, Jeb woke up. He was in a laboratory, strapped loosely to an operating table. When he found nothing directly attached to his body, Jeb relaxed. It was stupid to worry anyway, when it was all technically not real.
“They made me run the maze,” Roland grumbled. Jeb craned his head and saw that Roland was sitting next to him on a stool, wings sprawled messily on the linoleum floor.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, but now I am tired,” Roland complained darkly.
“I’ve heard it’s a natural reaction from excising,” Jeb said, mouth dry and utterly failing to ignore the tone Roland took-slightly raspy and breathless, low, and hell, it had been a little sexy. Where that came from, Jeb blamed it on being tied down to a lab table and having Roland loom over him suddenly, eyes half-lidded and smirking.
“I see strapping you down was a good idea,” Roland murmured into his ear.
“Oh, so it was you. I should have known,” Jeb quipped back, because if Roland wanted to play, Jeb was determined not to go down without biting back-literally, since Roland’s ear was so conveniently within reach. He bit hard enough to have Roland hiss then ran his tongue over the darkening teeth marks.
“The kids will be back soon.”
This struck Jeb as the quickest turn-off ever. Drawing back, he imagined that he might have thrown Roland an ugly glare, but Roland reached over to touch his wings, gently stroking downward, and somehow Jeb had stopped glaring, opting to shiver at the feeling. If he tried to focus the part of him that was a scientist, Jeb would have assumed the sensitivity was caused by the fact that he never had wings before.
Then again, the scientist in Jeb had totally leaped out the figurative window, and all he could do was erratically twitch his wings, still undecided on whether the sensation was merely pleasant or completely weird.
“They’ll probably come in with more drugs and tests to do on us,” Roland said, running his whole hand down the outer vane of feathers, “But I know a way to wake us up before it happens.”
Jeb closed his eyes, and admitted to himself that the feeling was rather pleasant after all. “My guess-my guess is that it won’t involve pinching ourselves, right?”
“Well, there will be a stimulus,” Roland grinned, momentarily stopping his petting to unbuckle Jeb from the table.
So, it was one of those scenario things; limited time, impending danger, new body parts to play with-Jeb hooked a leg over Roland’s waist, gave a tiny, teasing thrust at the right moment, and the bigger man was moaning quietly into his shoulder. “So basically, the only way to get us out of this mess is to fuck ourselves awake,” Jeb clarified, admiring the sick genius of it. “You have to stop stealing Reilly’s romance novels.”
“They occasionally have something worth reading about,” Roland chided, tugging off Jeb’s pants, “For example, one time, I read about…” and he moved down, taking Jeb’s cock into his mouth.
Jeb had the sudden sensation of falling back, but that couldn’t have been right, he was already lying down. Roland’s tongue, god, his tongue was trailing back and forth, only pausing to lave wetly at the head for whenever Jeb writhed too much.
“Oh fuck,” he gasped, feeling slick fingers slide up his ass. He arched up, feebly trying to still his helpless thrusts into Roland’s mouth. “How did-where did you get the l-“ He abruptly stopped. For Christ’s sake, they were in a fake-dream laboratory, and there was bound to be some oil flasks around; it was better if Jeb didn’t think about it, not that he could anyway, not with Roland’s fingers maddeningly rubbing in him and then pulling away.
“L-let me,” he began, hating himself for offering when all he wanted was to do nothing but shudder and gasp for more, but pride wouldn’t allow him to let Roland do all the work. Jeb tried to sit up, grabbing onto Roland’s shoulder, but was impatiently pushed back.
“Do not bother,” Roland said roughly, coming up and licking the corner of his mouth.
Jeb watched for a split-second as if mesmerized, but soon got a hold of himself to haul Roland on top and kiss him long and deep. He could feel that Roland’s cock was already stiff and hard, and his wings fell around them like a dark, restless canopy. When he ran his hands over them, Roland trembled and cursed softly in German.
They got his pants off as quickly as they could manage while taking nips at each other. Jeb was already aching badly enough by the time Roland was slicking himself wet with Mystery Lab Lube. In less than another minute, Roland was pushing Jeb open and fucking him precisely into the table, both of them swearing loudly, even as the door to the lab started to open, Max’s blond head peeking in-
“Fuck, Roland, please,” Jeb panted, burying his head into Roland’s sweaty shoulder, biting his collarbone, anything to get the other man to push in harder, take him completely until he came-
Jeb lurched up in that cramped hospital bed, his breath coming in short and fast, the inside of his pants feeling cool and sticky between his thighs. He shuddered all over, dazedly turning his head and saw Roland blink his eyes up at him, a satisfied smile on his face.
“Good, yes?” Roland asked. Jeb couldn’t help it, damn it all, he grinned and settled back in bed and rested his head over Roland’s chest.
From where he sat, Reilly rolled his eyes, flipped off the Dream Machine, and left the room before his bosses could have real sex.
nathan_p !!!! Did someone order two mad scientists with a side of smut? No? Well…
Title: For Science (And Other Things)
Fandom: Maximum Ride
Words: 2,228
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Roland/Jeb
Warnings: PWP, gay sex in a laboratory with none of the consequences therein, inappropriate use of the Dream Machine (which should be taken advantage of more often, imho).
AN: The porn insisted on plot, but I tricked it and gave it a whacked out scenario instead. SO NATHAN, YOU ARE TO BLAME. Happy Birthday, and I am sorry I couldn't really make it in time. D:
Summary: The usual evil Itex tomfoolery-Jeb and Roland get a taste of their own medicine.
All scientists had this built in sense of curiosity, whether it involved grafting wings on fetuses, turning children into hybrid wolves, or seeing how wet a fellow colleague could get from the Dream Machine. It was all for science, really. That was a favorite excuse of theirs. Jeb never bought it, but he had been on the receiving end of the Dream Machine once, and it was a shame that such technology had to be wasted on the experiments, who probably wouldn’t have had the same appreciation, on account of being mentally tortured with it.
Jeb had never been mentally tortured, and he didn’t want to be anytime soon but, unsurprisingly, Roland had other plans. He always did, and had a knack for springing it up at inconvenient times. In Jeb’s defense, Roland hadn’t called it torture at the time.
“It will be fun, trust me,” Roland said with a rather crafty smile that Jeb want to get rid of, probably by sucking it off Roland’s smug face, but that thought was immediately discarded for a more professional objection; he had been spying of his daughter for far too long, her hormones were probably rubbing off on him.
He knew better, of course, but Jeb had that blessing-and-curse deal that all scientists claimed as curiosity-so here he was, in one of those hospital beds with wires attached to his head. He had prepared himself for this, knew the procedure, but what he didn’t expect was Roland to get in bed with him.
“This may not be a good idea,” he said dubiously, watching Roland hook another set of wires to his scalp.
“Reilly will monitor us,” Roland grunted, settling down beside Jeb. It was tight, and the bed railings were pressing uncomfortably against the right side if his body. Roland wasn’t one to pass up the pastries in the Itex cafeteria, but sometimes he’d bring Jeb a slice of black forest cake for those late nights, and something a little more than cake, so Jeb didn’t really complain about that, specifically.
“Roland, having someone partake in voyeurism while we’re having imaginary dream sex makes me feel violated,” he said, entirely honest, “Especially if it has to be Reilly.”
Reilly, ever so perfect with his timing, entered the room looking none too pleased with the idea himself. “You don’t have to worry about that, Batchelder. I’ll be watching my soaps with the TV, not whatever insane sex acts you two will-ugh. I don’t even want to think about it.”
Jeb considered telling Reilly to leave if he didn’t want to be here, but figured that Roland probably forced Reilly on a month’s extra pay to cover for them. It was oddly sweet, if not totally abusing his superior status.
“I’m just here in case your epic fake orgasms flatlines your heart,” Reilly continued, pulling up a chair. Jeb saw a GQ magazine tucked under the other man’s arm and decided to let it be for now.
Roland chuckled, slipping a pair of clear gas masks over their mouths and noses. In return, Jeb slipped his hand in Roland’s.
Reilly rolled his eyes, not in the least bit fooled by innocent displays of affection, opened his magazine, and flicked the switch for the Dream Machine.
“So,” Jeb yawned, turning his head to Roland, “Where to this time? Sex in space? Sex in Hawaii? Sex change?”
“You will see,” Roland replied whimsically, and then Jeb fell asleep.
Almost immediately after, he awoke with Roland slotted up against his side and both of them very cramped in a hospital bed. Bemused, Jeb turned carefully, slightly embarrassed to be reassured that Roland was conscious and blinking dreamily. Reilly was nowhere to be seen.
“That… that was fast,” Jeb said, almost horrified with the thought of completely passing out-damn, he had never blacked out from sex before. He decided that he didn’t really like it, there was absolutely nothing to show for. Sitting up, Jeb carefully started to pull the wires from his head, and the feathers, which were annoying and only got in the-
“Oh,” he said.
Roland looked pleased with himself, rolling off from the bed with the gracefulness of a rather large man with newly acquired means of flying. Come to think of it, Roland looked to be more than a decade younger, with sleek, dark brown wings, like a hawk. Jeb stared. It wasn’t the first time they pulled the time-travel scenario with the Dream Machine, but it was the first that they became the experiments.
Like in most dreams, a mirror had conveniently appeared in the corner of the hospital room. Curious, Jeb took a look and found that he had a pair of white wings, barred at the ends with a sort of dull grey color, and like Roland, he was younger, scraggly blond hair, mid-twenties stubble and everything.
“Do you like?” Roland asked, looking at Jeb with as much interest as Jeb was looking at himself.
“Pretty, I guess,” Jeb said, wondering where this would lead to. Sex while flying? While it did sound interesting, Jeb doubt that it could be done properly, and it sounded like a lot of hard work. He tentatively lifted a wing, and found it surprisingly effortless and natural. Really, what was Max complaining about having wings and being just normal, he couldn’t guess.
That is-until Max came through the hospital door looking like her typically angry self. Normally, this wouldn’t have alarmed Jeb very much, but this Max was older, sterner, and wearing a lab coat.
“Roland, you didn’t,” Jeb gaped, “You just did not reverse our roles with the kids.”
Roland had been lingering behind him and the shocked expression on his face was decently genuine. “That is half-truth. That,” he pointed at Max, “that part was unintentional.”
By the time Fang walked in, Jeb didn’t know what to be afraid of more-the black nurse scrubs or the wickedly long syringe. Either way, none of those things bode well for him and Roland, so Jeb did three things:
He grabbed Roland’s hand, he screamed for Reilly, and then he bolted out the hospital door.
It seemed like a simple plan, but the sight of Fang in scrubs made him uneasy, so he did not get the order of those three things quite right. In actuality, Jeb had shouted for Reilly first-a clear and pointless mistake, as Reilly had the TV monitor off and was probably reading his stupid GQ magazine-which alerted Max and Fang, who made a grab for Jeb. Jeb had meant to take Roland’s hand next, but he missed and ended up bolting out the door without him.
It was all so terribly confusing.
Fortunately, Jeb didn’t have to come up with another plan anytime soon on account of running straight into Iggy.
“Jeb, be reasonable,” Iggy said, sighing a very typical Iggy way, if only Iggy was older and more mature, “We’re going to run some tests on you, just like every day.”
The dream started looking hilarious and very ironic. If he had been a less stubborn person, Jeb would have had some doubts about his current occupation of illegal experimentation. But he didn’t. Obviously not praying sort of guy, Jeb decided to give it a whirl.
“Reilly, now would be a good time for voyeurism,” he muttered, “Please, wake us up. Trip on our wires, smack me with your newest issue of GQ… anything.”
And that was when Fang stuck the syringe in his neck.
For the second time in the dream world, Jeb woke up. He was in a laboratory, strapped loosely to an operating table. When he found nothing directly attached to his body, Jeb relaxed. It was stupid to worry anyway, when it was all technically not real.
“They made me run the maze,” Roland grumbled. Jeb craned his head and saw that Roland was sitting next to him on a stool, wings sprawled messily on the linoleum floor.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, but now I am tired,” Roland complained darkly.
“I’ve heard it’s a natural reaction from excising,” Jeb said, mouth dry and utterly failing to ignore the tone Roland took-slightly raspy and breathless, low, and hell, it had been a little sexy. Where that came from, Jeb blamed it on being tied down to a lab table and having Roland loom over him suddenly, eyes half-lidded and smirking.
“I see strapping you down was a good idea,” Roland murmured into his ear.
“Oh, so it was you. I should have known,” Jeb quipped back, because if Roland wanted to play, Jeb was determined not to go down without biting back-literally, since Roland’s ear was so conveniently within reach. He bit hard enough to have Roland hiss then ran his tongue over the darkening teeth marks.
“The kids will be back soon.”
This struck Jeb as the quickest turn-off ever. Drawing back, he imagined that he might have thrown Roland an ugly glare, but Roland reached over to touch his wings, gently stroking downward, and somehow Jeb had stopped glaring, opting to shiver at the feeling. If he tried to focus the part of him that was a scientist, Jeb would have assumed the sensitivity was caused by the fact that he never had wings before.
Then again, the scientist in Jeb had totally leaped out the figurative window, and all he could do was erratically twitch his wings, still undecided on whether the sensation was merely pleasant or completely weird.
“They’ll probably come in with more drugs and tests to do on us,” Roland said, running his whole hand down the outer vane of feathers, “But I know a way to wake us up before it happens.”
Jeb closed his eyes, and admitted to himself that the feeling was rather pleasant after all. “My guess-my guess is that it won’t involve pinching ourselves, right?”
“Well, there will be a stimulus,” Roland grinned, momentarily stopping his petting to unbuckle Jeb from the table.
So, it was one of those scenario things; limited time, impending danger, new body parts to play with-Jeb hooked a leg over Roland’s waist, gave a tiny, teasing thrust at the right moment, and the bigger man was moaning quietly into his shoulder. “So basically, the only way to get us out of this mess is to fuck ourselves awake,” Jeb clarified, admiring the sick genius of it. “You have to stop stealing Reilly’s romance novels.”
“They occasionally have something worth reading about,” Roland chided, tugging off Jeb’s pants, “For example, one time, I read about…” and he moved down, taking Jeb’s cock into his mouth.
Jeb had the sudden sensation of falling back, but that couldn’t have been right, he was already lying down. Roland’s tongue, god, his tongue was trailing back and forth, only pausing to lave wetly at the head for whenever Jeb writhed too much.
“Oh fuck,” he gasped, feeling slick fingers slide up his ass. He arched up, feebly trying to still his helpless thrusts into Roland’s mouth. “How did-where did you get the l-“ He abruptly stopped. For Christ’s sake, they were in a fake-dream laboratory, and there was bound to be some oil flasks around; it was better if Jeb didn’t think about it, not that he could anyway, not with Roland’s fingers maddeningly rubbing in him and then pulling away.
“L-let me,” he began, hating himself for offering when all he wanted was to do nothing but shudder and gasp for more, but pride wouldn’t allow him to let Roland do all the work. Jeb tried to sit up, grabbing onto Roland’s shoulder, but was impatiently pushed back.
“Do not bother,” Roland said roughly, coming up and licking the corner of his mouth.
Jeb watched for a split-second as if mesmerized, but soon got a hold of himself to haul Roland on top and kiss him long and deep. He could feel that Roland’s cock was already stiff and hard, and his wings fell around them like a dark, restless canopy. When he ran his hands over them, Roland trembled and cursed softly in German.
They got his pants off as quickly as they could manage while taking nips at each other. Jeb was already aching badly enough by the time Roland was slicking himself wet with Mystery Lab Lube. In less than another minute, Roland was pushing Jeb open and fucking him precisely into the table, both of them swearing loudly, even as the door to the lab started to open, Max’s blond head peeking in-
“Fuck, Roland, please,” Jeb panted, burying his head into Roland’s sweaty shoulder, biting his collarbone, anything to get the other man to push in harder, take him completely until he came-
Jeb lurched up in that cramped hospital bed, his breath coming in short and fast, the inside of his pants feeling cool and sticky between his thighs. He shuddered all over, dazedly turning his head and saw Roland blink his eyes up at him, a satisfied smile on his face.
“Good, yes?” Roland asked. Jeb couldn’t help it, damn it all, he grinned and settled back in bed and rested his head over Roland’s chest.
From where he sat, Reilly rolled his eyes, flipped off the Dream Machine, and left the room before his bosses could have real sex.