SGA challenge fic: You Can Always Count On An Ancient Computer
For ana_grrl's Random Title Generator Fic Challenge
Title: You Can Always Count On An Ancient Computer
Wordcount: 1,313
Summary: A happy John Sheppard is a happy Atlantis, and Atlantis will make sure John Sheppard is happy no matter the methods.
Rating: R.
Atlantis needs John Sheppard; John keeps Atlantis running smoothly. John makes sure intruders are dealt with. John keeps her alive.
Without John, Atlantis is broken.
Atlantis will give John his dreams on a silver platter.
So if finding out John's dreams means invading his mind while he sleeps, Atlantis will do so immediately.
After all, a happy John Sheppard is a happy Atlantis.
***
Hands, broad and capable, grab John's Tac Vest and tug him, haul him into an empty room and demand demand explanations with touch and pressure and gestures that could conduct symphonies, could rewire Puddlejumpers and undo John's composure. And John answers in hips and teeth and tongue and yes spoken in gasps.
John answers with Rodney on the tip of his mind and tongue, with kisses as slow as pressure leaks.
***
John wakes up alone and depressed, with Rodney at the back of his mind.
***
This time, a wide, gaping, and so so hot mouth pins him to the wall. He inhales like a fish in the desert and drinks drinks like he's dying, tongues sliding together like their hands- fingers interlaced and pressed against the wall above them. A thumb to the pulse at his wrist, so fragile (fragile) and beautiful like spun glass.
They glitter together, like the meeting of light and water outside the window, outside Atlantis, where everything is strange and wonderful and steals their breath. So they steal it back in each other, breathing each others' air and scent and taste.
It burns like salt water in a wound, like the friction between their bodies.
***
John wakes up alone and slides a warm hand beneath the covers, closes his eyes, and sees Rodney's mouth.
***
In the dark of space they find each other. John finds Rodney's lips with his hands, finds the pulse in his neck with his mouth. Rodney finds the button on John's pants with his fingers. They find each other's gravitational force, are drawn in like solar systems to black holes.
Dissolving and melting, swirling like the stars outside the Puddlejumper, blurs of light and galaxies and worlds they've left, must leave. They find each other here, home. In the fit of their bodies, in the slide-and-thrust of their skin, in their breath like jet exhaust, guiding them across the emptiness of space.
Shooting stars and meteors and space junk burning in atmospheres they'll never see again or breathe again but that's all right, that they can live without Earth and Atlantis. John has Rodney.
John has everything.
***
John has his entire bed to himself. He has the silence of dawn and all day with the man he dreams of loving but can never touch.
***
Sometimes, John gets angry and fucks Rodney against the wall, in the transporters, in the mess hall, in public. He is starved and maddened, insatiable. He bends Rodney over the lab table, over a cafeteria table, anywhere, and gets his hands on those shoulders, on that stomach, gets their pants down and just takes and takes and takes.
Rodney lets him.
***
John wakes up and feels dirty, feels dangerous, can feel the flutter of anger beneath his skin and slams his fist into the wall.
***
Sometimes, John lets Rodney tie his wrists together with leather twine to the headboard. He lets Rodney blindfold him, he gives Rodney everything, offers everything, holds nothing back.
Rodney waits, does nothing for so long and then moves, licks his way up John's body and it's like John's flying apart in every direction, like everything that ever held him together dissolves under Rodney's mouth and sarcastic murmurs against his skin. And then Rodney moves away and John can only remember the weight of Rodney's body.
***
John wakes up and can almost feel the expanse of sweat-streaked skin above him, so vivid it could be real, and he holds on to the bit of dream until it fades into the blue light of Atlantis dawn.
***
On the new planet, the natives demand something of them, John can't remember exactly what, but it ends with Rodney and him naked, sliding together under the eyes of an entire civilization. They feel their gazes like lasers, and it lights them up, glows along their spines and dances like fireflies in their blood.
They arch and writhe, sweat getting in their eyes and in their mouths, they thread their fingers in one another's hair and pull-push, lean-thrust into thighs and hands and skinskinskin. They lick slick trails up breastbones and collarbones, mark claims onto necks and jaws, connect like flint and spark.
Connect.
Connect.
***
John wakes up this time and Rodney's in his room.
John, Rodney moans and slides his hands under John's sheets and John closes his eyes and thrusts, thrusts, into Rodney's hands and feels like he's crashing.
***
John wakes up for real this time and wants to break something.
***
Atlantis collects her data in a week. She calculates and decides and stores information.
Atlantis creates a program.
***
They're exploring the East wing of the city when the door jams.
Rodney's on it in a second, hands brushing crystals and punching buttons on his data pad and John has to close his eyes and concentrate very hard on not moaning at the sight of Rodney's roaming hands.
“Damn it! I don't get it, it should work but it's just not! It's like it's refusing to open!” Rodney slams his palm on the wall beside the opening mechanism. He turns to John, expectant.
“Don't look at me. I've tried the gene thing, it doesn't work either.” He looks around to avoid meeting Rodney's blue-eyed stare.
They're in a rather small room. On the farthest wall is a large screen. In front of the screen is something that looks curiously like a bed. Rodney rushes over to the screen and feels the wall around it.
“There's not even a control panel for this thing! It's ridiculous.”
“It looks like a movie theater screen.” John sits down on the bed thing.
“What?” Rodney turns to him, distracted.
“Seriously, it looks like the Ancients' version of a movie theater.”
Rodney stops what he's doing and looks from John to the screen.
“Huh.” He sits down next to John.
And then there's the sound like doors opening and the screen in front of them comes to life.
And it turns out to really be a movie theater.
Except the images they see aren't what you'd find in a movie theater on Earth.
***
On the screen, John shoves Rodney into the wall of the transporter and grinds his hips. Rodney bucks forward and sucks John's lip into his mouth.
On the screen, John relives last night's dream.
“Um,” says Rodney.
***
Ten seconds in, they realize they can't leave the bed thing. There's a moment of chaos and panic and then John sees Tuesday night's dream on the screen and they freeze at the sight of John bound in leather strips to a headboard, while Rodney nibbles on his inner thigh.
“Oh, God,” says Rodney.
***
John can't take his eyes from Rodney.
Rodney's eyes are glued to the screen, and John sees in them a reflection, of them on the floor of the Puddlejumper.
Rodney's not moving.
Rodney does not look uncomfortable anymore.
And every time John thrusts into Rodney's thigh on the screen, John sees Rodney's hips shift forward an inch.
***
Three dreams in, Rodney turns suddenly to John and sees something in his face.
“Is this...are these your...dreams?” and of course Rodney got it, he's a genius and John's been waiting!waiting!waiting! For this revelation, and now he can't breathe.
“Yes”, John answers, softly, breathlessly, and Rodney leans forward and kisses him hungrily.
“Mine too,” Rodney says.
***
Finally, Atlantis is happy.
Title: You Can Always Count On An Ancient Computer
Wordcount: 1,313
Summary: A happy John Sheppard is a happy Atlantis, and Atlantis will make sure John Sheppard is happy no matter the methods.
Rating: R.
Atlantis needs John Sheppard; John keeps Atlantis running smoothly. John makes sure intruders are dealt with. John keeps her alive.
Without John, Atlantis is broken.
Atlantis will give John his dreams on a silver platter.
So if finding out John's dreams means invading his mind while he sleeps, Atlantis will do so immediately.
After all, a happy John Sheppard is a happy Atlantis.
***
Hands, broad and capable, grab John's Tac Vest and tug him, haul him into an empty room and demand demand explanations with touch and pressure and gestures that could conduct symphonies, could rewire Puddlejumpers and undo John's composure. And John answers in hips and teeth and tongue and yes spoken in gasps.
John answers with Rodney on the tip of his mind and tongue, with kisses as slow as pressure leaks.
***
John wakes up alone and depressed, with Rodney at the back of his mind.
***
This time, a wide, gaping, and so so hot mouth pins him to the wall. He inhales like a fish in the desert and drinks drinks like he's dying, tongues sliding together like their hands- fingers interlaced and pressed against the wall above them. A thumb to the pulse at his wrist, so fragile (fragile) and beautiful like spun glass.
They glitter together, like the meeting of light and water outside the window, outside Atlantis, where everything is strange and wonderful and steals their breath. So they steal it back in each other, breathing each others' air and scent and taste.
It burns like salt water in a wound, like the friction between their bodies.
***
John wakes up alone and slides a warm hand beneath the covers, closes his eyes, and sees Rodney's mouth.
***
In the dark of space they find each other. John finds Rodney's lips with his hands, finds the pulse in his neck with his mouth. Rodney finds the button on John's pants with his fingers. They find each other's gravitational force, are drawn in like solar systems to black holes.
Dissolving and melting, swirling like the stars outside the Puddlejumper, blurs of light and galaxies and worlds they've left, must leave. They find each other here, home. In the fit of their bodies, in the slide-and-thrust of their skin, in their breath like jet exhaust, guiding them across the emptiness of space.
Shooting stars and meteors and space junk burning in atmospheres they'll never see again or breathe again but that's all right, that they can live without Earth and Atlantis. John has Rodney.
John has everything.
***
John has his entire bed to himself. He has the silence of dawn and all day with the man he dreams of loving but can never touch.
***
Sometimes, John gets angry and fucks Rodney against the wall, in the transporters, in the mess hall, in public. He is starved and maddened, insatiable. He bends Rodney over the lab table, over a cafeteria table, anywhere, and gets his hands on those shoulders, on that stomach, gets their pants down and just takes and takes and takes.
Rodney lets him.
***
John wakes up and feels dirty, feels dangerous, can feel the flutter of anger beneath his skin and slams his fist into the wall.
***
Sometimes, John lets Rodney tie his wrists together with leather twine to the headboard. He lets Rodney blindfold him, he gives Rodney everything, offers everything, holds nothing back.
Rodney waits, does nothing for so long and then moves, licks his way up John's body and it's like John's flying apart in every direction, like everything that ever held him together dissolves under Rodney's mouth and sarcastic murmurs against his skin. And then Rodney moves away and John can only remember the weight of Rodney's body.
***
John wakes up and can almost feel the expanse of sweat-streaked skin above him, so vivid it could be real, and he holds on to the bit of dream until it fades into the blue light of Atlantis dawn.
***
On the new planet, the natives demand something of them, John can't remember exactly what, but it ends with Rodney and him naked, sliding together under the eyes of an entire civilization. They feel their gazes like lasers, and it lights them up, glows along their spines and dances like fireflies in their blood.
They arch and writhe, sweat getting in their eyes and in their mouths, they thread their fingers in one another's hair and pull-push, lean-thrust into thighs and hands and skinskinskin. They lick slick trails up breastbones and collarbones, mark claims onto necks and jaws, connect like flint and spark.
Connect.
Connect.
***
John wakes up this time and Rodney's in his room.
John, Rodney moans and slides his hands under John's sheets and John closes his eyes and thrusts, thrusts, into Rodney's hands and feels like he's crashing.
***
John wakes up for real this time and wants to break something.
***
Atlantis collects her data in a week. She calculates and decides and stores information.
Atlantis creates a program.
***
They're exploring the East wing of the city when the door jams.
Rodney's on it in a second, hands brushing crystals and punching buttons on his data pad and John has to close his eyes and concentrate very hard on not moaning at the sight of Rodney's roaming hands.
“Damn it! I don't get it, it should work but it's just not! It's like it's refusing to open!” Rodney slams his palm on the wall beside the opening mechanism. He turns to John, expectant.
“Don't look at me. I've tried the gene thing, it doesn't work either.” He looks around to avoid meeting Rodney's blue-eyed stare.
They're in a rather small room. On the farthest wall is a large screen. In front of the screen is something that looks curiously like a bed. Rodney rushes over to the screen and feels the wall around it.
“There's not even a control panel for this thing! It's ridiculous.”
“It looks like a movie theater screen.” John sits down on the bed thing.
“What?” Rodney turns to him, distracted.
“Seriously, it looks like the Ancients' version of a movie theater.”
Rodney stops what he's doing and looks from John to the screen.
“Huh.” He sits down next to John.
And then there's the sound like doors opening and the screen in front of them comes to life.
And it turns out to really be a movie theater.
Except the images they see aren't what you'd find in a movie theater on Earth.
***
On the screen, John shoves Rodney into the wall of the transporter and grinds his hips. Rodney bucks forward and sucks John's lip into his mouth.
On the screen, John relives last night's dream.
“Um,” says Rodney.
***
Ten seconds in, they realize they can't leave the bed thing. There's a moment of chaos and panic and then John sees Tuesday night's dream on the screen and they freeze at the sight of John bound in leather strips to a headboard, while Rodney nibbles on his inner thigh.
“Oh, God,” says Rodney.
***
John can't take his eyes from Rodney.
Rodney's eyes are glued to the screen, and John sees in them a reflection, of them on the floor of the Puddlejumper.
Rodney's not moving.
Rodney does not look uncomfortable anymore.
And every time John thrusts into Rodney's thigh on the screen, John sees Rodney's hips shift forward an inch.
***
Three dreams in, Rodney turns suddenly to John and sees something in his face.
“Is this...are these your...dreams?” and of course Rodney got it, he's a genius and John's been waiting!waiting!waiting! For this revelation, and now he can't breathe.
“Yes”, John answers, softly, breathlessly, and Rodney leans forward and kisses him hungrily.
“Mine too,” Rodney says.
***
Finally, Atlantis is happy.