Fic: Pleasure Principle
My real life (with the exception of mciac-sponsored outings) is boring; instead you get fic.
Title: Pleasure Principle
Rating: R
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Summary: ‘Conversion’ missing scene(s). Three ways it might’ve gone.
PLEASURE PRINCIPLE
superego
“Rodney,” John says, opening the door and stepping inside. Hands hidden carefully away. “I just wanted...”
“Don’t,” Rodney says, turning around, eyes wide with worry. John frowns. “I don’t want to hear a litany of last words and regrets. I don’t want to hear it.”
“Well, maybe I need you to listen,” John says quietly. “I don’t have much time--”
Rodney’s hands fall flat at his sides. “Don’t say that, John.”
He deliberates for a moment, then slowly removes his own hands and holds them out, forcing them into plain sight. “I’m serious, Rodney.”
Rodney shudders, just like John worried he would. “I know.”
John nods. “Then we need to deal with this.”
Rodney shakes his head. “I can’t. I don’t want to. I don’t want to just deal with things anymore. I want--”
“What?” John prompts.
Rodney’s fingers tremble as he reaches out. John realizes what he’s about to do and tries to jerk back, but his body isn’t exactly cooperating, is it, and before he can stop him, Rodney’s hands are sliding slowly over his.
“I want to be honest.”
John sighs. “I’m not sure I know how.”
“We could try.”
He looks down at their clasped fingers, Rodney’s ashen white, his turning blue, turning black.
“Let’s try,” Rodney whispers.
John stares at him, meets weary eyes with weary eyes. “I hope it’s not too late for that.”
ego
“McKay,” John says, slipping quietly into the room. Hands tucked neatly in the pockets of his pants. “I just...”
“Don’t.” Rodney looks irritable as he turns around. John frowns. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“Too bad,” John says, “‘Cause I need you to listen. There isn’t much time--”
Rodney’s hand flashes through the air like a blade, cutting him off. “Don’t be ridiculous, Colonel.”
His own ruined fingers fly out and attach themselves to Rodney’s shoulder. “This is fucking serious, McKay!”
Rodney recoils, just like John figured he would. “I know, all right? You think I don’t know that?”
“Of course you do! So fucking deal with it, already! I am!”
Rodney shakes him off. “You’re not! You’re just giving up, giving in, and I don’t want to--”
“What?” John snarls.
Rodney’s trembling with anger. John realizes what he’s about to do and moves a hand up to block him, but Rodney’s body is more adaptable than it looks and the punch turns into a grab, a snatch that plucks John’s hand out of the air and holds it tight.
“I don’t want to watch you die!”
John blinks. “Believe me, if I knew how to stop it--”
“Goddammit, try!”
Their joined fists break apart with a shudder as Rodney pushes him away, and John feels it with nerve endings that are aching and alive even as he dries up inside.
“Try!” Rodney demands.
John can’t look at him, can’t face his hopeful, hopeless eyes. “I’m afraid it might be too late for that.”
id
“Rodney,” he says, slipping inside. His hands twitch inside his pockets. “I want...”
“Don’t,” Rodney says, and he can see the fear, there, as the other man turns to face him. He smiles. “I don’t want to.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “But I need you. And we have plenty of time.”
Rodney holds his hands out in front of him. “Don’t do this, John.”
A flash of lovely new speed and he has Rodney’s biceps hot under his hands, his body drawn rigid against his own. “You’re not serious.”
Rodney quakes, goes limp, just like he hoped he would. “You don’t know...” He stutters, swallows. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Of course I do. And--I know what I want.”
Rodney’s whole body shakes. “You’re not yourself. You’re not who I--”
“What?” he whispers.
Rodney trembles as he reaches out. He tries to jerk back, but this new body is wonderfully accommodating and there isn’t much Rodney can do to resist it. His hands slide slowly up Rodney’s shoulders and move to caress the sides of his neck, his cheek.
“You’re not who I want.”
He grins. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”
“John, try...”
He draws a thumb over Rodney’s lip, every sensation magnified a thousandfold, the myriad vibrations of Rodney’s deliciously warm, human body an eager instrument under his touch.
“Try to control yourself!” Rodney pleads.
But he just grins at him: wicked-sharp, hands and teeth and eyes. “Sorry,” he says, “but it’s far, far too late for that.”
*************
Title: Pleasure Principle
Rating: R
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Summary: ‘Conversion’ missing scene(s). Three ways it might’ve gone.
PLEASURE PRINCIPLE
superego
“Rodney,” John says, opening the door and stepping inside. Hands hidden carefully away. “I just wanted...”
“Don’t,” Rodney says, turning around, eyes wide with worry. John frowns. “I don’t want to hear a litany of last words and regrets. I don’t want to hear it.”
“Well, maybe I need you to listen,” John says quietly. “I don’t have much time--”
Rodney’s hands fall flat at his sides. “Don’t say that, John.”
He deliberates for a moment, then slowly removes his own hands and holds them out, forcing them into plain sight. “I’m serious, Rodney.”
Rodney shudders, just like John worried he would. “I know.”
John nods. “Then we need to deal with this.”
Rodney shakes his head. “I can’t. I don’t want to. I don’t want to just deal with things anymore. I want--”
“What?” John prompts.
Rodney’s fingers tremble as he reaches out. John realizes what he’s about to do and tries to jerk back, but his body isn’t exactly cooperating, is it, and before he can stop him, Rodney’s hands are sliding slowly over his.
“I want to be honest.”
John sighs. “I’m not sure I know how.”
“We could try.”
He looks down at their clasped fingers, Rodney’s ashen white, his turning blue, turning black.
“Let’s try,” Rodney whispers.
John stares at him, meets weary eyes with weary eyes. “I hope it’s not too late for that.”
ego
“McKay,” John says, slipping quietly into the room. Hands tucked neatly in the pockets of his pants. “I just...”
“Don’t.” Rodney looks irritable as he turns around. John frowns. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“Too bad,” John says, “‘Cause I need you to listen. There isn’t much time--”
Rodney’s hand flashes through the air like a blade, cutting him off. “Don’t be ridiculous, Colonel.”
His own ruined fingers fly out and attach themselves to Rodney’s shoulder. “This is fucking serious, McKay!”
Rodney recoils, just like John figured he would. “I know, all right? You think I don’t know that?”
“Of course you do! So fucking deal with it, already! I am!”
Rodney shakes him off. “You’re not! You’re just giving up, giving in, and I don’t want to--”
“What?” John snarls.
Rodney’s trembling with anger. John realizes what he’s about to do and moves a hand up to block him, but Rodney’s body is more adaptable than it looks and the punch turns into a grab, a snatch that plucks John’s hand out of the air and holds it tight.
“I don’t want to watch you die!”
John blinks. “Believe me, if I knew how to stop it--”
“Goddammit, try!”
Their joined fists break apart with a shudder as Rodney pushes him away, and John feels it with nerve endings that are aching and alive even as he dries up inside.
“Try!” Rodney demands.
John can’t look at him, can’t face his hopeful, hopeless eyes. “I’m afraid it might be too late for that.”
id
“Rodney,” he says, slipping inside. His hands twitch inside his pockets. “I want...”
“Don’t,” Rodney says, and he can see the fear, there, as the other man turns to face him. He smiles. “I don’t want to.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “But I need you. And we have plenty of time.”
Rodney holds his hands out in front of him. “Don’t do this, John.”
A flash of lovely new speed and he has Rodney’s biceps hot under his hands, his body drawn rigid against his own. “You’re not serious.”
Rodney quakes, goes limp, just like he hoped he would. “You don’t know...” He stutters, swallows. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Of course I do. And--I know what I want.”
Rodney’s whole body shakes. “You’re not yourself. You’re not who I--”
“What?” he whispers.
Rodney trembles as he reaches out. He tries to jerk back, but this new body is wonderfully accommodating and there isn’t much Rodney can do to resist it. His hands slide slowly up Rodney’s shoulders and move to caress the sides of his neck, his cheek.
“You’re not who I want.”
He grins. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”
“John, try...”
He draws a thumb over Rodney’s lip, every sensation magnified a thousandfold, the myriad vibrations of Rodney’s deliciously warm, human body an eager instrument under his touch.
“Try to control yourself!” Rodney pleads.
But he just grins at him: wicked-sharp, hands and teeth and eyes. “Sorry,” he says, “but it’s far, far too late for that.”
*************