Fic: Missionary Position
siriaeve and chopchica needed cheer-up fic, so I wrote this little post-'Allies' crack comedy. Yes, that's right: post-'Allies.' Crack. Comedy.
Oh God, don't ask.
Title: Missionary Position
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Spoilers: Through ‘Allies’
Length: ~3000 words
Summary: Um. Kind of what the Season 3 premiere would be like, if it were written by Douglas Adams. And he was on crack.
Missionary Position
Rodney couldn’t move. He couldn’t move his arms or his legs, his hands or his feet, his fingers or his toes. But: he could move his mouth.
“Seriously, you don’t want to do this!” he shouted. “I mean, Earth-it’s very polluted! The air quality is terrible! And it’s due to be hit by a meteor, oh, any day now!”
“We will come and we will feed,” the Wraith hissed, smirking at him, and at Ronon’s continued efforts to free himself from the cocoon in which he was imprisoned. “The rest is...irrelevant.”
“No, no, it’s very relevant!” Rodney insisted. “You like to, to breathe, don’t you?”
The Wraith snarled; it looked vaguely confused. “Breathing is not about enjoyment,” it said-and come to think of it, the way it and the rest of the Wraith rasped, maybe for them it wasn’t.
“But, see,” Rodney said, grasping at straws-his mind felt like it was racing at a million miles an hour, but without registering anything, the thoughts as jumbled and as brief as that meteor was going to be breaking up in Earth’s atmosphere. “If you, if you didn’t break your alliance with us, we could have shown you lots of new and enjoyable things! Do you, um, do you have any hobbies?”
The Wraith blinked at him like he was insane. And considering that he was being held prisoner aboard a hive ship full of life-sucking space vampires headed for Earth and he was using his considerable intellect not to plot an admittedly unlikely escape but to inquire about his captor’s hobbies-you know, the things he did when the life-sucking got tedious-well. That wasn’t an entirely inaccurate assessment.
“Hobbies?” the Wraith snarled.
“You know,” Rodney said desperately, “things you do for fun? Sports? Games? Er, collectibles?”
“I repair the ship’s systems,” the Wraith said, and yep, Rodney was definitely going crazy, because he thought he recognized the implied, Simpleton tagged on at the end there.
“Yes, that’s your job,” Rodney agreed-because hey, in for a penny, in for a pound, and they were going to eat him and then destroy human civilization anyway. “But what do you do for fun?”
The Wraith grunted and folded its arms. “I do not understand this concept.”
Rodney blinked. “What, really? Wait, Ronon, have you ever-really?”
“Explain!” said the Wraith, getting, whoa, way way too close to Rodney’s face.
Ronon growled, which Rodney had to admit he appreciated, despite its uselessness.
“Well, see,” said Rodney, thinking fast, “that’s why you should really reconsider this whole ‘consume Earth’ plan! Instead, um, instead-there’s the retrovirus! Why don’t you turn this ship around-” He gestured with his head, it being the only part of his body he could gesture with. “-Come back to Atlantis, all of you can take the retrovirus, and we’ll show you what fun really is!”
Rodney heard a thunk, which was possibly the sound of Ronon smacking his head back against the wall.
“How dare you!” the Wraith spat. “You insult us, when you are clearly defeated, kept alive only on a whim?” It was so close to Rodney now that its chin beards scraped his face. “You are bold!” the Wraith declared suddenly, backing away. “Tell me more of your ridiculous plan! It is a long journey, and you amuse me.”
“Um,” said Rodney, reminding himself that he enjoyed breathing; really, he did, “there are lots of fun things about being human. Right Ronon?”
“I like it,” Ronon said.
“Such as?” said the Wraith, picking at its nails-and oh, God, was that disturbing.
“Well, like-” Rodney’s brain scrambled for purchase. “Food! Human food is delicious! There’s coffee, and, and burritos, and chocolate pudding, and-oh, Twinkies! And Pop Tarts! And pizza and sausages and mashed potatoes with gravy and french toast and-”
He ripped his mind away from this glorious tableau when the Wraith started laughing. “You think you can tempt me with this contemptible list of human delicacies? You are the delicacy, human. I have eaten many of your kind, and they have all been, as you will be...delicious.”
It drew out the last word like a true gourmand. Rodney gulped. “Yes, well,” he said. “I supposed I should have seen that coming.”
There was a rumbling from the cocoon next to him. Rodney attempted to turn his head. “Ronon, was that your stomach?”
“Sorry,” Ronon said. “You made me hungry.”
Rodney felt somehow vindicated. “See?” he told the Wraith. “See?”
“I see nothing but your pathetic, weak human bodies, whining for food,” said the Wraith. “It is preposterous to suggest we would want to so debase ourselves!”
“Hey!” Rodney said. “The human body may be somewhat...awkward and, and messy at times, but it has its perks! Like, like-”
“‘Like’?” said the Wraith, mockingly-and boy, if there was one thing Rodney hated, it was being mocked,
“Sex!” he announced, defiantly.
Then he nearly bit his tongue, because he’d just said sex to a Wraith. That was almost worse than saying it to his Nana.
The Wraith wasn’t scandalized, however: it just let loose with another one of those echoing laughs, the kind that made it sound like a demented version of Little John from The Adventures of Robin Hood. Movies! Why hadn’t he tried to sell the Wraith on the wonders of cinema?
But he’d made his bed. “Yes, sex!” he said. “And if you’re laughing that much, you’ve probably never done it properly!”
“Of course I have never had sex,” the Wraith said, still chuckling, looking to Ronon as if it were seeking confirmation that Rodney was off his rocker. “Would I be standing here, indulging your ridiculous blather, if I had had sex?”
“My blather is not ridiculous!” Rodney said firmly. “Also-what?”
“He acts like he has had sex,” the Wraith said, definitely addressing Ronon now, and laughing so hard it looked like it might hurt itself. And Ronon did not-did not!-mutter what sounded like, “It is hard to believe.”
“I’ve had loads of sex!” Rodney shouted. “Loads and loads!”
The Wraith leaned against one wall, wheezing a bit. “And your partner has-” gasp “-just allowed-” snort “-you to live each time?”
“They’ve all been extremely satisfied, thank you! And-wait. Wait.” Rodney forced himself to push the perceived insult to his manhood aside and address the issue at hand. “You guys are like big bugs. Praying mantises. Black widow spiders. Do the females kill the males after they mate?”
The Wraith wasn’t laughing so hard now. “Of course it is the queen’s prerogative-”
“Ew, why am I not surprised?” Rodney said, wrinkling his nose. “But, but you don’t seriously think that humans do that too?”
“How else do you reproduce so we may cull and feed and-”
“Yeah, no,” Rodney said, dismissing this with a jerk of his head. “Humans have sex all the time! For fun...which, oh right, you know nothing about!”
The Wraith blinked at him-it looked like it was having its own mental meteor storm. “You have sex...and live?”
“Yes, and then if we’re lucky, we have it many, many more times! Right, Ronon?”
Ronon nodded his assent. “We like the fucking.”
“Right!” Rodney said. “We do! Er,” he added. “Not us two, personally. Not together! Separately, we like fucking.”
“Masturbation,” Ronon supplied helpfully.
“Um, yes-that too!” Rodney said. “And sex with other people. Usually one other person. At a time. But sometimes more!”
“I think you’re confusing it,” Ronon said.
This assessment was accurate. The Wraith was pacing up and down in front of their cocoons, looking very perplexed and agitated. It stopped suddenly in front of Rodney. “Describe!” it demanded. “Describe your last sexual encounter!”
Rodney went bright red. “Er,” he said.
“Do it, McKay!” Ronon hissed, unsubtly. “Your plan is working!”
“Er, right,” Rodney said. “My plan.”
“I am waiting,” said the Wraith, folding its arms across its chest. It sounded almost petulant.
“Well, uh,” said Rodney, “I went over to, um, Katie Brown’s place-she’s a woman,” he added, helpfully. The Wraith grunted. “And I, uh, took off her top, and touched her-uh, breast, and-”
“This account is unconvincing!” the Wraith said. “I do not believe you!”
“Me neither,” said Ronon.
“Not helping!” Rodney hissed.
“You bore me,” said the Wraith. “Soon we will reach Earth, and then I will have the satisfaction of watching you die.”
It started to turn away. “No, wait!” Rodney said. The Wraith turned back, its eyes narrow. “Okay,” Rodney admitted. “That was a lie. I’m not used to talking-well. I’ll tell you the truth now.” He turned to Ronon, as best he could. “You! Don’t say anything!”
Ronon shrugged, stiffly, within the confines of his cocoon. “I’m not generally chatty.”
The Wraith was looking at Rodney again, fixedly. “Proceed,” it said. “Describe your non-lethal mating procedure.”
“Well.” Rodney wished his fingers were free so that he could properly fidget. “It was right before I came aboard the ship with you. I was in my room getting ready, and-and-and-” He swallowed. Fuck it, he was going to die: if not from having his life sucked, then from embarrassment. “-and he came in. Without knocking, because apparently he thinks he’s above such...but anyway.” Rodney looked down. “We just stared at each other for a couple of seconds, and then, I don’t know, we grabbed each other-it’s often like that, we just grab each other and start kissing-”
“What?” said the Wraith, totally throwing him off what little rhythm he had going.
“Um. Kissing?” A blank look. “You don’t do kissing either?” Well, they wouldn’t; not with those teeth. Still, he was starting to feel almost...sorry for them.
“It’s pressing your mouths together,” Ronon explained.
“Yes,” Rodney nodded. “But it’s more than that, too!” he insisted, when the Wraith looked less than impressed. “It’s...tasting someone, knowing that they’re there, that they’re yours-” Maybe that was too abstract. “It’s a sign of affection, of, of, joining and-”
“It’s really hot,” Ronon said.
“Yes!” said Rodney. “It’s hot and wet, and he always tastes like coffee and that stupid cinnamon gum he chews. And when you kiss-when we kiss, I can always taste how he’s feeling, how he’s gonna want it: slow and easy, or hot and fast and desperate. This was like that-we didn’t have much time-so I pushed him up against the wall, undoing his belt, freeing his-” He broke off, eyes widening. “Wait, you do have-”
“They have cocks,” Ronon said, “remember, Doctor Beckett-”
“Yes, silly me!” Rodney said, before Ronon could remind their Wraith host that the good Doctor Beckett had dissected several of its kind. Why bring that up when they were all getting along so well? Swapping sex stories? Dare he say-bonding?
“Right, so I dropped to my knees and blew him,” said Rodney, who was at this point finding the experience oddly freeing. It did suck that he had to define everything though: the Wraith looked confused again. “I took his cock in my mouth,” he explained.
The Wraith tilted its head. “And this is...pleasurable?”
“If it’s your cock,” Ronon said.
“If it’s your mouth!” Rodney shot back. “God, do you have any idea how hot it is, feeling someone inside you-on your lips, on your tongue-and hearing them moan, feeling them writhe because they can’t fucking contain themselves, knowing that it’s you, you that’s unmaking them like that, causing them that much pleasure? Do you have any idea what that’s like?”
“No,” said the Wraith. It sounded a little sad.
“And that’s just a blowjob,” Rodney confided. “You should try getting fucked.”
Ronon made a contemplative noise: Maybe I should.
“But anyway,” Rodney said, “we didn’t have enough time. So I sucked him off, hard and fast, him gripping my shoulder and petting my head-it’s really nice, he’s considerate. And then we kissed some more, because he’s kind of kinky and he likes to taste himself in me. And then I reminded him that he wasn’t being nearly considerate enough, and so he undid my pants and took my cock in his hand and jerked me off, the really good way: rubbing up against his hand and his thigh, his thumb flicking over the cockhead, and us kissing-hot, desperate, eager-the entire time, until I came. Orgasmed,” he clarified, and when the Wraith still looked blank, “Christ, do you not even get a moment of happy time before the queen sucks you dry?”
“The queen begins the process of draining her mate the moment penetration is achieved,” the Wraith recited blandly, like it had learned it in school-and there was something Rodney had never wanted to think about: Wraith sex ed.
Um. Aside from the class he was currently teaching, that is.
“Right, but for humans,” he emphasized, figuring the Wraith needed the reminder, “orgasms are-well, pretty much the best thing ever.”
“Yup,” said Ronon.
“What does it feel like?” asked the Wraith.
Well, that was the only problem: it was really hard to describe. Rodney’s brain scrambled; for a moment, all he could think of was his idiot secondary school health teacher, going on and on about “crashing waves of ever-increasing size...”
“Like you feel so good you can’t stand it, like your whole body is going to break apart from it,” Ronon said.
“Right!” said Rodney, impressed. “Le petit mort-that’s what the French call it. ‘The little death.’ Which, like most French things, is kind of melodramatic, but it’s also-yeah. It’s like being shattered and put back together again, all at once. There’s nothing, nothing, so passionate. So intense.”
“And humans,” the Wraith said, “you have many orgasms?”
“Tons!” said Rodney.
“Loads,” said Ronon.
“Scads!”
“Heaps.”
“Oodles!”
The Wraith let out a long breath. “I must...discuss this,” it said. It swept from the room.
“So...” said Rodney, after a minute. “We’re doomed.”
“Doomed,” Ronon agreed. “But at least you got laid first.”
Rodney was trying to adopt Ronon’s positive outlook when the Wraith came back-bringing with it an extended group of its Wraith friends. They filled the narrow corridor and spilled down the winding halls. “Tell them,” demanded the first Wraith. “Describe for them your many and varied sexual exploits, as you have done for me!”
“Um,” said Rodney. “You want the blowjob and the handjob again?”
“We want everything!” shouted one of the Wraith.
“Yes!” said another. “I am excited by the seemingly limitless possibilities!”
“All right,” said Rodney, “I’m not a human Kama Sutra, you know.”
But neither was he inexperienced. He took a deep breath, and began at the beginning.
*
“I’m sorry, but it’s just creepy,” John said.
After the hysterical cries of Turn this ship around! had gone up on the hive in which Rodney and Ronon were being held prisoner, said cries, along with the motivation behind them, had traveled quickly to the other ships-often with, thanks to the Wraith’s special brand of telepathy, sound bites and other helpful narrative tools. The fleet had returned to Atlantis, beamed Rodney and Ronon down as a sign of good faith, then asked to be supplied with the retrovirus, please, as they wanted to get on with the sexin’, ASAP.
Needless to say, the Atlanteans were surprised by this. Although really, not exactly displeased.
Except for John. John was rather upset, as his cunning ploy-latch his F302 onto one of the hives! Hitchhike through hyperspace! Just like Boba Fett!-ended up being all for naught. Still, he was glad to be back in Atlantis...even if it was an Atlantis filled with creepy, sex-crazed (former) Wraith.
“Creepy,” he repeated, as another Legolas-clone swished by, winking as he passed. “They won’t stop flirting with me!”
“They’re horny,” Rodney explained. “They flirt with everybody.”
John shook his head. “I’ve been told that ‘my reputation precedes me’ on three separate occasions!”
“Um, you’re the head of the military, I’m sure that they just think that makes you virile,” Rodney said, after several seconds’ panicked blinking. A moment later, John heard him mutter, “Are we that obvious? How did they figure it out?”
“That’s another thing I’ve been wondering about,” John said, deciding to wait and press him later. He lowered his voice. “Have you noticed that all the Wraith are...kinda gay?”
“Well,” said Rodney, with chin-tilty authority, “With the species’ male-to-female ratio, it only makes sense-”
“Yeah, but I’m talking, like, all of them.” He shuddered. “Except for Michael, and I wish he were gay. After what I caught him and Teyla doing in there, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to use the gym again.”
“Ah,” said Rodney, “well. I’m sure it’s-maybe they were just inspired in that direction. Inclined. I mean inclined.”
John raised an eyebrow. But there was still a more pressing question: “Do you think we’ll be able to convince other Wraith hives to give humanity a whirl?”
“I don’t know,” Rodney said, rubbing his chin. Then he let his hands fall to his sides: his back straight, decisive. “Let’s go back to your room and discuss it in more detail. After all,” he said, “I need to practice my missionary technique.”
************
My apologies. Really. *flees*
Oh God, don't ask.
Title: Missionary Position
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Spoilers: Through ‘Allies’
Length: ~3000 words
Summary: Um. Kind of what the Season 3 premiere would be like, if it were written by Douglas Adams. And he was on crack.
Missionary Position
Rodney couldn’t move. He couldn’t move his arms or his legs, his hands or his feet, his fingers or his toes. But: he could move his mouth.
“Seriously, you don’t want to do this!” he shouted. “I mean, Earth-it’s very polluted! The air quality is terrible! And it’s due to be hit by a meteor, oh, any day now!”
“We will come and we will feed,” the Wraith hissed, smirking at him, and at Ronon’s continued efforts to free himself from the cocoon in which he was imprisoned. “The rest is...irrelevant.”
“No, no, it’s very relevant!” Rodney insisted. “You like to, to breathe, don’t you?”
The Wraith snarled; it looked vaguely confused. “Breathing is not about enjoyment,” it said-and come to think of it, the way it and the rest of the Wraith rasped, maybe for them it wasn’t.
“But, see,” Rodney said, grasping at straws-his mind felt like it was racing at a million miles an hour, but without registering anything, the thoughts as jumbled and as brief as that meteor was going to be breaking up in Earth’s atmosphere. “If you, if you didn’t break your alliance with us, we could have shown you lots of new and enjoyable things! Do you, um, do you have any hobbies?”
The Wraith blinked at him like he was insane. And considering that he was being held prisoner aboard a hive ship full of life-sucking space vampires headed for Earth and he was using his considerable intellect not to plot an admittedly unlikely escape but to inquire about his captor’s hobbies-you know, the things he did when the life-sucking got tedious-well. That wasn’t an entirely inaccurate assessment.
“Hobbies?” the Wraith snarled.
“You know,” Rodney said desperately, “things you do for fun? Sports? Games? Er, collectibles?”
“I repair the ship’s systems,” the Wraith said, and yep, Rodney was definitely going crazy, because he thought he recognized the implied, Simpleton tagged on at the end there.
“Yes, that’s your job,” Rodney agreed-because hey, in for a penny, in for a pound, and they were going to eat him and then destroy human civilization anyway. “But what do you do for fun?”
The Wraith grunted and folded its arms. “I do not understand this concept.”
Rodney blinked. “What, really? Wait, Ronon, have you ever-really?”
“Explain!” said the Wraith, getting, whoa, way way too close to Rodney’s face.
Ronon growled, which Rodney had to admit he appreciated, despite its uselessness.
“Well, see,” said Rodney, thinking fast, “that’s why you should really reconsider this whole ‘consume Earth’ plan! Instead, um, instead-there’s the retrovirus! Why don’t you turn this ship around-” He gestured with his head, it being the only part of his body he could gesture with. “-Come back to Atlantis, all of you can take the retrovirus, and we’ll show you what fun really is!”
Rodney heard a thunk, which was possibly the sound of Ronon smacking his head back against the wall.
“How dare you!” the Wraith spat. “You insult us, when you are clearly defeated, kept alive only on a whim?” It was so close to Rodney now that its chin beards scraped his face. “You are bold!” the Wraith declared suddenly, backing away. “Tell me more of your ridiculous plan! It is a long journey, and you amuse me.”
“Um,” said Rodney, reminding himself that he enjoyed breathing; really, he did, “there are lots of fun things about being human. Right Ronon?”
“I like it,” Ronon said.
“Such as?” said the Wraith, picking at its nails-and oh, God, was that disturbing.
“Well, like-” Rodney’s brain scrambled for purchase. “Food! Human food is delicious! There’s coffee, and, and burritos, and chocolate pudding, and-oh, Twinkies! And Pop Tarts! And pizza and sausages and mashed potatoes with gravy and french toast and-”
He ripped his mind away from this glorious tableau when the Wraith started laughing. “You think you can tempt me with this contemptible list of human delicacies? You are the delicacy, human. I have eaten many of your kind, and they have all been, as you will be...delicious.”
It drew out the last word like a true gourmand. Rodney gulped. “Yes, well,” he said. “I supposed I should have seen that coming.”
There was a rumbling from the cocoon next to him. Rodney attempted to turn his head. “Ronon, was that your stomach?”
“Sorry,” Ronon said. “You made me hungry.”
Rodney felt somehow vindicated. “See?” he told the Wraith. “See?”
“I see nothing but your pathetic, weak human bodies, whining for food,” said the Wraith. “It is preposterous to suggest we would want to so debase ourselves!”
“Hey!” Rodney said. “The human body may be somewhat...awkward and, and messy at times, but it has its perks! Like, like-”
“‘Like’?” said the Wraith, mockingly-and boy, if there was one thing Rodney hated, it was being mocked,
“Sex!” he announced, defiantly.
Then he nearly bit his tongue, because he’d just said sex to a Wraith. That was almost worse than saying it to his Nana.
The Wraith wasn’t scandalized, however: it just let loose with another one of those echoing laughs, the kind that made it sound like a demented version of Little John from The Adventures of Robin Hood. Movies! Why hadn’t he tried to sell the Wraith on the wonders of cinema?
But he’d made his bed. “Yes, sex!” he said. “And if you’re laughing that much, you’ve probably never done it properly!”
“Of course I have never had sex,” the Wraith said, still chuckling, looking to Ronon as if it were seeking confirmation that Rodney was off his rocker. “Would I be standing here, indulging your ridiculous blather, if I had had sex?”
“My blather is not ridiculous!” Rodney said firmly. “Also-what?”
“He acts like he has had sex,” the Wraith said, definitely addressing Ronon now, and laughing so hard it looked like it might hurt itself. And Ronon did not-did not!-mutter what sounded like, “It is hard to believe.”
“I’ve had loads of sex!” Rodney shouted. “Loads and loads!”
The Wraith leaned against one wall, wheezing a bit. “And your partner has-” gasp “-just allowed-” snort “-you to live each time?”
“They’ve all been extremely satisfied, thank you! And-wait. Wait.” Rodney forced himself to push the perceived insult to his manhood aside and address the issue at hand. “You guys are like big bugs. Praying mantises. Black widow spiders. Do the females kill the males after they mate?”
The Wraith wasn’t laughing so hard now. “Of course it is the queen’s prerogative-”
“Ew, why am I not surprised?” Rodney said, wrinkling his nose. “But, but you don’t seriously think that humans do that too?”
“How else do you reproduce so we may cull and feed and-”
“Yeah, no,” Rodney said, dismissing this with a jerk of his head. “Humans have sex all the time! For fun...which, oh right, you know nothing about!”
The Wraith blinked at him-it looked like it was having its own mental meteor storm. “You have sex...and live?”
“Yes, and then if we’re lucky, we have it many, many more times! Right, Ronon?”
Ronon nodded his assent. “We like the fucking.”
“Right!” Rodney said. “We do! Er,” he added. “Not us two, personally. Not together! Separately, we like fucking.”
“Masturbation,” Ronon supplied helpfully.
“Um, yes-that too!” Rodney said. “And sex with other people. Usually one other person. At a time. But sometimes more!”
“I think you’re confusing it,” Ronon said.
This assessment was accurate. The Wraith was pacing up and down in front of their cocoons, looking very perplexed and agitated. It stopped suddenly in front of Rodney. “Describe!” it demanded. “Describe your last sexual encounter!”
Rodney went bright red. “Er,” he said.
“Do it, McKay!” Ronon hissed, unsubtly. “Your plan is working!”
“Er, right,” Rodney said. “My plan.”
“I am waiting,” said the Wraith, folding its arms across its chest. It sounded almost petulant.
“Well, uh,” said Rodney, “I went over to, um, Katie Brown’s place-she’s a woman,” he added, helpfully. The Wraith grunted. “And I, uh, took off her top, and touched her-uh, breast, and-”
“This account is unconvincing!” the Wraith said. “I do not believe you!”
“Me neither,” said Ronon.
“Not helping!” Rodney hissed.
“You bore me,” said the Wraith. “Soon we will reach Earth, and then I will have the satisfaction of watching you die.”
It started to turn away. “No, wait!” Rodney said. The Wraith turned back, its eyes narrow. “Okay,” Rodney admitted. “That was a lie. I’m not used to talking-well. I’ll tell you the truth now.” He turned to Ronon, as best he could. “You! Don’t say anything!”
Ronon shrugged, stiffly, within the confines of his cocoon. “I’m not generally chatty.”
The Wraith was looking at Rodney again, fixedly. “Proceed,” it said. “Describe your non-lethal mating procedure.”
“Well.” Rodney wished his fingers were free so that he could properly fidget. “It was right before I came aboard the ship with you. I was in my room getting ready, and-and-and-” He swallowed. Fuck it, he was going to die: if not from having his life sucked, then from embarrassment. “-and he came in. Without knocking, because apparently he thinks he’s above such...but anyway.” Rodney looked down. “We just stared at each other for a couple of seconds, and then, I don’t know, we grabbed each other-it’s often like that, we just grab each other and start kissing-”
“What?” said the Wraith, totally throwing him off what little rhythm he had going.
“Um. Kissing?” A blank look. “You don’t do kissing either?” Well, they wouldn’t; not with those teeth. Still, he was starting to feel almost...sorry for them.
“It’s pressing your mouths together,” Ronon explained.
“Yes,” Rodney nodded. “But it’s more than that, too!” he insisted, when the Wraith looked less than impressed. “It’s...tasting someone, knowing that they’re there, that they’re yours-” Maybe that was too abstract. “It’s a sign of affection, of, of, joining and-”
“It’s really hot,” Ronon said.
“Yes!” said Rodney. “It’s hot and wet, and he always tastes like coffee and that stupid cinnamon gum he chews. And when you kiss-when we kiss, I can always taste how he’s feeling, how he’s gonna want it: slow and easy, or hot and fast and desperate. This was like that-we didn’t have much time-so I pushed him up against the wall, undoing his belt, freeing his-” He broke off, eyes widening. “Wait, you do have-”
“They have cocks,” Ronon said, “remember, Doctor Beckett-”
“Yes, silly me!” Rodney said, before Ronon could remind their Wraith host that the good Doctor Beckett had dissected several of its kind. Why bring that up when they were all getting along so well? Swapping sex stories? Dare he say-bonding?
“Right, so I dropped to my knees and blew him,” said Rodney, who was at this point finding the experience oddly freeing. It did suck that he had to define everything though: the Wraith looked confused again. “I took his cock in my mouth,” he explained.
The Wraith tilted its head. “And this is...pleasurable?”
“If it’s your cock,” Ronon said.
“If it’s your mouth!” Rodney shot back. “God, do you have any idea how hot it is, feeling someone inside you-on your lips, on your tongue-and hearing them moan, feeling them writhe because they can’t fucking contain themselves, knowing that it’s you, you that’s unmaking them like that, causing them that much pleasure? Do you have any idea what that’s like?”
“No,” said the Wraith. It sounded a little sad.
“And that’s just a blowjob,” Rodney confided. “You should try getting fucked.”
Ronon made a contemplative noise: Maybe I should.
“But anyway,” Rodney said, “we didn’t have enough time. So I sucked him off, hard and fast, him gripping my shoulder and petting my head-it’s really nice, he’s considerate. And then we kissed some more, because he’s kind of kinky and he likes to taste himself in me. And then I reminded him that he wasn’t being nearly considerate enough, and so he undid my pants and took my cock in his hand and jerked me off, the really good way: rubbing up against his hand and his thigh, his thumb flicking over the cockhead, and us kissing-hot, desperate, eager-the entire time, until I came. Orgasmed,” he clarified, and when the Wraith still looked blank, “Christ, do you not even get a moment of happy time before the queen sucks you dry?”
“The queen begins the process of draining her mate the moment penetration is achieved,” the Wraith recited blandly, like it had learned it in school-and there was something Rodney had never wanted to think about: Wraith sex ed.
Um. Aside from the class he was currently teaching, that is.
“Right, but for humans,” he emphasized, figuring the Wraith needed the reminder, “orgasms are-well, pretty much the best thing ever.”
“Yup,” said Ronon.
“What does it feel like?” asked the Wraith.
Well, that was the only problem: it was really hard to describe. Rodney’s brain scrambled; for a moment, all he could think of was his idiot secondary school health teacher, going on and on about “crashing waves of ever-increasing size...”
“Like you feel so good you can’t stand it, like your whole body is going to break apart from it,” Ronon said.
“Right!” said Rodney, impressed. “Le petit mort-that’s what the French call it. ‘The little death.’ Which, like most French things, is kind of melodramatic, but it’s also-yeah. It’s like being shattered and put back together again, all at once. There’s nothing, nothing, so passionate. So intense.”
“And humans,” the Wraith said, “you have many orgasms?”
“Tons!” said Rodney.
“Loads,” said Ronon.
“Scads!”
“Heaps.”
“Oodles!”
The Wraith let out a long breath. “I must...discuss this,” it said. It swept from the room.
“So...” said Rodney, after a minute. “We’re doomed.”
“Doomed,” Ronon agreed. “But at least you got laid first.”
Rodney was trying to adopt Ronon’s positive outlook when the Wraith came back-bringing with it an extended group of its Wraith friends. They filled the narrow corridor and spilled down the winding halls. “Tell them,” demanded the first Wraith. “Describe for them your many and varied sexual exploits, as you have done for me!”
“Um,” said Rodney. “You want the blowjob and the handjob again?”
“We want everything!” shouted one of the Wraith.
“Yes!” said another. “I am excited by the seemingly limitless possibilities!”
“All right,” said Rodney, “I’m not a human Kama Sutra, you know.”
But neither was he inexperienced. He took a deep breath, and began at the beginning.
*
“I’m sorry, but it’s just creepy,” John said.
After the hysterical cries of Turn this ship around! had gone up on the hive in which Rodney and Ronon were being held prisoner, said cries, along with the motivation behind them, had traveled quickly to the other ships-often with, thanks to the Wraith’s special brand of telepathy, sound bites and other helpful narrative tools. The fleet had returned to Atlantis, beamed Rodney and Ronon down as a sign of good faith, then asked to be supplied with the retrovirus, please, as they wanted to get on with the sexin’, ASAP.
Needless to say, the Atlanteans were surprised by this. Although really, not exactly displeased.
Except for John. John was rather upset, as his cunning ploy-latch his F302 onto one of the hives! Hitchhike through hyperspace! Just like Boba Fett!-ended up being all for naught. Still, he was glad to be back in Atlantis...even if it was an Atlantis filled with creepy, sex-crazed (former) Wraith.
“Creepy,” he repeated, as another Legolas-clone swished by, winking as he passed. “They won’t stop flirting with me!”
“They’re horny,” Rodney explained. “They flirt with everybody.”
John shook his head. “I’ve been told that ‘my reputation precedes me’ on three separate occasions!”
“Um, you’re the head of the military, I’m sure that they just think that makes you virile,” Rodney said, after several seconds’ panicked blinking. A moment later, John heard him mutter, “Are we that obvious? How did they figure it out?”
“That’s another thing I’ve been wondering about,” John said, deciding to wait and press him later. He lowered his voice. “Have you noticed that all the Wraith are...kinda gay?”
“Well,” said Rodney, with chin-tilty authority, “With the species’ male-to-female ratio, it only makes sense-”
“Yeah, but I’m talking, like, all of them.” He shuddered. “Except for Michael, and I wish he were gay. After what I caught him and Teyla doing in there, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to use the gym again.”
“Ah,” said Rodney, “well. I’m sure it’s-maybe they were just inspired in that direction. Inclined. I mean inclined.”
John raised an eyebrow. But there was still a more pressing question: “Do you think we’ll be able to convince other Wraith hives to give humanity a whirl?”
“I don’t know,” Rodney said, rubbing his chin. Then he let his hands fall to his sides: his back straight, decisive. “Let’s go back to your room and discuss it in more detail. After all,” he said, “I need to practice my missionary technique.”
************
My apologies. Really. *flees*