Predator, by Ellex
Title: Predator
Sequel to Open Blade by magus_minor
Author: ellex42
Challenge: Shark
Pairing: McShep
Rated: Very mature. I really mean it, folks.
Spoilers: Second season, for mention of Ronon.
Disclaimer: Really, really not mine. No profit made on this.
Summary: Turnabout is fair play.
Notes: This owes a lot to stories written by people who have done far more research than myself, and have explained the concept of submission much better than I have.
Also, I want to blame thank magus_minor for inspiring this. The basic concept came to me easily, but to actually write it I had to really work, and it broke the back of a slight case of writer’s block. Thanks, sweetie.
O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O
Almost three weeks pass before Rodney speaks about his discovery again, three weeks during which John can feel the tension rising inexorably, the knife edge of violence building up inside him until he’s almost vibrating from it. He curbs his tongue and his fist with near Herculean effort, trying to bleed it off in vicious sparring bouts with Ronon. The former Runner absorbs his frantic attempts to wear himself out with silent acceptance, unmoved and untouched, but Sheppard catches Ronon eyeing him warily a few times.
He can feel Rodney’s eyes on him, too. The tinge of fear in his gaze makes it even harder for John to control himself; it seems like McKay has only to glance at him for his cock to spring to iron-hard attention. He tries not to regret deleting the video file of Rodney’s torture session with the Genii, but playing it back in his mind just doesn’t have the same effect, and he feels oddly like it would be cheating. He really does feel a certain amount of shame - he’d used McKay’s fear and pain for his own gratification, used Rodney, and that was a clear betrayal of their friendship even in John’s own, admittedly warped, sense of right and wrong.
The problem is that he suspects that it’s part of that very friendship that made the sight of Rodney’s tear-stained and fear-twisted face such a turn-on.
But their missions remain peaceful, and training sessions just don’t bleed off enough of the knife-edge he longs to feel. He’s begun to feel jaded; his usual methods aren’t enough any more, he’s been spoiled by Rodney. He’s on the verge of doing something stupid, something he’ll regret after the heat of the moment.
Until, after three weeks of McKay being polite and distant, making abortive, half-hearted efforts to snark in their former habit, Rodney joins him in a transporter and hisses at him, “Do you trust me?”
His answer is immediate and unthinking. “No.”
“Oh. Well, then. I, umm…look, I think I have a way to satisfy your, er, urges, in a way that we can both accept. But you have to trust me, and I mean trust me completely. Just for an hour or so.”
That’s the last thing he’d ever expected to hear. Some kind of ultimatum, a request that John remove Rodney from his team, even a demand for a confession …but not this strange, vague offer of mutual satisfaction. He still doesn’t trust Rodney, but he really doesn’t trust anyone - including himself - so he answers, “Okay. Where and when?”
“Your quarters in twenty minutes. Make sure you won’t be disturbed for the next…oh, two hours. I don’t know how long this will take, might as well play it safe.”
O~O~O~O~O~O~O
Rodney shows up, right on time, lugging his pack. The first words out of his mouth are “Lock the door.”
The next thing is “Strip and lay down on your bed.”
His voice is calm and quiet, softly commanding in an unemotional monotone. Curiosity piqued, John grins and decides to play along. When he’s naked and flat on his back, Rodney comes over and stands beside the bed.
“I did some research after…well. I learned some things. Interesting things. I think you’ll like them. But we need to set some ground rules. First, we need to keep the status quo. I don’t think you want anyone to learn about your little…kink, any more than I want anyone to know that I’m helping you with it. Agreed?”
John opens his mouth to reply, but Rodney’s hand shoots out unexpectedly and covers his mouth, pressing down hard.
“Don’t speak. Just nod your head yes or no.” The scientist’s eyes meet his with a cold and bitter confidence John’s only seen once before: staring up at Kolya from an underground chamber where they had hoped to find a ZPM. A sudden thrill races up his spine at the thought. He nods his head, and Rodney lifts his hand away.
“We won’t use safe words this time. If you decide you want to do it again, we can discuss that later. But for now, if you say ‘stop’, I’ll stop. If you say ‘slow down’…well, you get the picture.” He takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly. John can see him trembling, just a tiny shiver that could be apprehension or could be excitement. “I won’t leave any permanent marks. You get examined by Carson on a regular basis, so everything I do has to be able to fade within twenty-four hours. You might not remember that in the - the heat of the moment, but I will.”
Marks? What the hell is he talking about? John begins to get just an inkling of Rodney’s plans, but he can’t quite believe it. Rodney is…innocent. Vanilla. So inexperienced it’s laughable. But then again, the man devours knowledge like it‘s a drug he’s addicted to, so there’s no telling what he might have read and filed away for possible future use in that bottomless pit of an intellect.
The question is, would John like that? He gets off on inflicting pain - oh, that he knows all too well. Even seeing it second-hand can be enormously titillating, as the video file of Rodney has already proven. But he isn’t so sure he’d like having the tables turned.
He starts to sit up, and Rodney puts a hand on his chest and shoves him back down, leaning in close, grinding out with sudden viciousness, “You’ve always come across as a fair man, Sheppard, whatever your other faults. You can dish it out. Don’t you think it’s time to see if you can take it?”
The challenge has been set, and John never could resist a challenge. Besides, this is starting to excite him, both mentally and physically. He’s rock hard and leaking already, just from the implied threat. Rodney looks down and notices, smiles that crooked smile, and says quietly, “We’ll have to do something about that. Last rule: from this point on, unless you tell me to stop, you do exactly as I say. You like to give the orders around here. Now you’re going to follow them.”
He nods and lies back, and after a moment, Rodney turns away and begins taking things out of his pack. John can’t see everything, but there’s a length of slim black nylon rope, apparently out of a climbing kit, and several pieces of a thinner cord, knotted together. Rodney lays them out on John’s desk, then rummages through the dresser, coming up with two black wristbands and two plain white T-shirts.
He comes back with the wristbands and slips them over John’s hands, then pulls his arms up over his head until they lay just under the short headboard.
“Oh, I almost forgot. I want you to concentrate on the windows. Think about them being mirrored, instead of transparent.”
He quirks an eyebrow at Rodney, but directs his thoughts willingly, and sure enough, the window behind his bed silvers and shows a perfect reflection of the entire room, including John’s pale form sprawled on the bed.
“Perfect,” Rodney breathes. “Keep your eyes on your reflection. Don’t look away, don’t look at me. Look at yourself. God, you’re so…”
He picks up the black rope, loops it around John’s wrists over the sweatbands, and ties them to the headboard, working swiftly. John squirms briefly, suppressing another shiver of excitement under cover of making sure the bonds aren’t too tight. Unexpectedly, Rodney reaches over and twists his nipple hard, making John gasp and lift his torso off the bed.
“God…Rodney…I didn’t know you had it in you!”
‘It was good? You like that?” His face is tentative again, unsure.
“Yeah. Yes. I like it. In fact, you can do it harder.” He tugs a little on his bound wrists, surprised to find he likes the sensation of being trapped, the slight undercurrent of fear it evokes, even though he’s almost certain he isn’t in any real danger.
Rodney obligingly takes the other nipple in his fingers, rubbing it gently before grabbing it and pulling, twisting, watching John’s face carefully.
“I’ll have to remember that,” he mutters, more to himself than to John. “I’m sure I can come up with clamps of some kind…”
He turns back to the desk and picks up the T-shirts and two more lengths of rope. Wrapping the T-shirts around John’s thighs just above the knee, he ties the rope around them to keep them in place, then takes the ends of the ropes back to the headboard. When he tugs on them, John comes back to Earth with a crash, realizing that his legs will be spread wide apart, leaving him completely exposed.
“Rodney! Stop, I don’t want to do this. I’m not gay!”
“No?” Rodney comes back to the side of the bed and looks down at him. “You were looking at me and jerking off. I realize that it’s the violence that you like, but I’m not a woman, Sheppard.” He pauses, considering. “You know what? I’m not gay either. But I’m having a really good time right now.”
John watches in astonishment as Rodney pulls his shirt over his head, toes off his shoes, undoes his pants, tucks his thumbs under the waist and pushes his pants and boxers down together. His cock springs out, swollen and red, the tip glistening.
Rodney is getting off on this. It runs through his mind like a mantra, over and over. Rodney is getting off on this. On seeing me bound and helpless.
“Just relax, John. You don’t have to be in charge all the time. Relax and let me take care of everything. You know how smart I am, you know I’ll have thought of everything. All you have to do is lie there and enjoy it. No decisions, no orders, no strategies…nothing to worry about, nothing to think about. You’re safe here. Just a warm body, not a soldier or an officer.”
That idea is…oddly attractive. To be nothing more than a body, reacting instead of acting. To let go of the iron-hard control he fights so hard for, without having to worry about consequences, about what anyone will think, about keeping the knife blade hidden. All he has to do is relax…and let go.
He meets Rodney’s eyes and gasps “Yes,” and flings himself off the cliff.
Before he has time to recover his bearings, his knees are almost touching his shoulders, his thighs spread wide. Rodney shoves a pillow under his ass, lifting it off the bed. He hesitates only a moment before grasping John’s stiff, aching erection and wrapping what appears to be a shoelace around the base, then around his balls, tying it tight enough to be more than a little uncomfortable but not quite enough to hurt.
Finally, he picks up the knotted cord and untangles it, showing it to John. Four eighteen inch lengths are knotted together at one end, with a knot at the other end of each individual length.
“Look back. I want you to watch your own face,” Rodney tells him.
He obeys, finding his own features in the perfect reflection. He’s paler than usual, his face looking strange and unfamiliar, softer without the edge of self-control to harden it. He hears a whisper of sound, then a thwap and a sudden exquisite cluster of stings on his inner thigh. A moment later, it comes again on the other leg. If he shifts his gaze, he can see Rodney swing the makeshift whip, know the moment it will hit, but the expression on his own face catches and captivates him. His mouth is open, gasping for air, eyes wide and startled, and his teeth show each time he feels the little knots sting. The blows come at uneven intervals, and with his attention fixed on himself, each one is a surprise he can’t anticipate. The sensation is exquisite, pushing him deeper inside himself.
He feels a pulse at the base of his spine, feels his cock twitch as much as it can within its bindings, feels his balls try to draw up, but he’s held too tightly. The urge to come builds up more and more, the pleasure tipping over into pain almost without any sense of transition.
There’s something odd about the image in the mirror, something about his own face that catches at him with a niggling familiarity. It isn’t until Rodney shoves the full length of a gloved and lubricated finger into his ass, without warning or preparation, that he knows what it is. Tears run down his face, pale and full of pain, his eyes huge and dark, teeth flashing whitely between lips stretched wide.
His mind presents him with a still image from the video file, Rodney on his knees, the knife edge pressed against his arm, blood dripping down his sleeve.
White face, twisted with pain; eyes wide with fear; mouth spread in a grimace of futile protest.
And John, despite the restraints, thrusts his hips into the air, coming and coming and coming.
When he’s completely limp and drained, muscles aching and gasping for breath, he looks for Rodney in the mirror. One hand is on his own member, pulling fiercely at it; the other is grasping John’s knee, fingers pressing into John’s skin deep enough to leave bruises. Their eyes meet in the reflection, and Rodney’s face is hard and excited.
He looks like John, now, the knife blade showing unmistakably. He looks like a predator.
ETA: this is now part 1 of the Shiver Trilogy. Part 2 is here.
Sequel to Open Blade by magus_minor
Author: ellex42
Challenge: Shark
Pairing: McShep
Rated: Very mature. I really mean it, folks.
Spoilers: Second season, for mention of Ronon.
Disclaimer: Really, really not mine. No profit made on this.
Summary: Turnabout is fair play.
Notes: This owes a lot to stories written by people who have done far more research than myself, and have explained the concept of submission much better than I have.
Also, I want to blame thank magus_minor for inspiring this. The basic concept came to me easily, but to actually write it I had to really work, and it broke the back of a slight case of writer’s block. Thanks, sweetie.
O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O
Almost three weeks pass before Rodney speaks about his discovery again, three weeks during which John can feel the tension rising inexorably, the knife edge of violence building up inside him until he’s almost vibrating from it. He curbs his tongue and his fist with near Herculean effort, trying to bleed it off in vicious sparring bouts with Ronon. The former Runner absorbs his frantic attempts to wear himself out with silent acceptance, unmoved and untouched, but Sheppard catches Ronon eyeing him warily a few times.
He can feel Rodney’s eyes on him, too. The tinge of fear in his gaze makes it even harder for John to control himself; it seems like McKay has only to glance at him for his cock to spring to iron-hard attention. He tries not to regret deleting the video file of Rodney’s torture session with the Genii, but playing it back in his mind just doesn’t have the same effect, and he feels oddly like it would be cheating. He really does feel a certain amount of shame - he’d used McKay’s fear and pain for his own gratification, used Rodney, and that was a clear betrayal of their friendship even in John’s own, admittedly warped, sense of right and wrong.
The problem is that he suspects that it’s part of that very friendship that made the sight of Rodney’s tear-stained and fear-twisted face such a turn-on.
But their missions remain peaceful, and training sessions just don’t bleed off enough of the knife-edge he longs to feel. He’s begun to feel jaded; his usual methods aren’t enough any more, he’s been spoiled by Rodney. He’s on the verge of doing something stupid, something he’ll regret after the heat of the moment.
Until, after three weeks of McKay being polite and distant, making abortive, half-hearted efforts to snark in their former habit, Rodney joins him in a transporter and hisses at him, “Do you trust me?”
His answer is immediate and unthinking. “No.”
“Oh. Well, then. I, umm…look, I think I have a way to satisfy your, er, urges, in a way that we can both accept. But you have to trust me, and I mean trust me completely. Just for an hour or so.”
That’s the last thing he’d ever expected to hear. Some kind of ultimatum, a request that John remove Rodney from his team, even a demand for a confession …but not this strange, vague offer of mutual satisfaction. He still doesn’t trust Rodney, but he really doesn’t trust anyone - including himself - so he answers, “Okay. Where and when?”
“Your quarters in twenty minutes. Make sure you won’t be disturbed for the next…oh, two hours. I don’t know how long this will take, might as well play it safe.”
O~O~O~O~O~O~O
Rodney shows up, right on time, lugging his pack. The first words out of his mouth are “Lock the door.”
The next thing is “Strip and lay down on your bed.”
His voice is calm and quiet, softly commanding in an unemotional monotone. Curiosity piqued, John grins and decides to play along. When he’s naked and flat on his back, Rodney comes over and stands beside the bed.
“I did some research after…well. I learned some things. Interesting things. I think you’ll like them. But we need to set some ground rules. First, we need to keep the status quo. I don’t think you want anyone to learn about your little…kink, any more than I want anyone to know that I’m helping you with it. Agreed?”
John opens his mouth to reply, but Rodney’s hand shoots out unexpectedly and covers his mouth, pressing down hard.
“Don’t speak. Just nod your head yes or no.” The scientist’s eyes meet his with a cold and bitter confidence John’s only seen once before: staring up at Kolya from an underground chamber where they had hoped to find a ZPM. A sudden thrill races up his spine at the thought. He nods his head, and Rodney lifts his hand away.
“We won’t use safe words this time. If you decide you want to do it again, we can discuss that later. But for now, if you say ‘stop’, I’ll stop. If you say ‘slow down’…well, you get the picture.” He takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly. John can see him trembling, just a tiny shiver that could be apprehension or could be excitement. “I won’t leave any permanent marks. You get examined by Carson on a regular basis, so everything I do has to be able to fade within twenty-four hours. You might not remember that in the - the heat of the moment, but I will.”
Marks? What the hell is he talking about? John begins to get just an inkling of Rodney’s plans, but he can’t quite believe it. Rodney is…innocent. Vanilla. So inexperienced it’s laughable. But then again, the man devours knowledge like it‘s a drug he’s addicted to, so there’s no telling what he might have read and filed away for possible future use in that bottomless pit of an intellect.
The question is, would John like that? He gets off on inflicting pain - oh, that he knows all too well. Even seeing it second-hand can be enormously titillating, as the video file of Rodney has already proven. But he isn’t so sure he’d like having the tables turned.
He starts to sit up, and Rodney puts a hand on his chest and shoves him back down, leaning in close, grinding out with sudden viciousness, “You’ve always come across as a fair man, Sheppard, whatever your other faults. You can dish it out. Don’t you think it’s time to see if you can take it?”
The challenge has been set, and John never could resist a challenge. Besides, this is starting to excite him, both mentally and physically. He’s rock hard and leaking already, just from the implied threat. Rodney looks down and notices, smiles that crooked smile, and says quietly, “We’ll have to do something about that. Last rule: from this point on, unless you tell me to stop, you do exactly as I say. You like to give the orders around here. Now you’re going to follow them.”
He nods and lies back, and after a moment, Rodney turns away and begins taking things out of his pack. John can’t see everything, but there’s a length of slim black nylon rope, apparently out of a climbing kit, and several pieces of a thinner cord, knotted together. Rodney lays them out on John’s desk, then rummages through the dresser, coming up with two black wristbands and two plain white T-shirts.
He comes back with the wristbands and slips them over John’s hands, then pulls his arms up over his head until they lay just under the short headboard.
“Oh, I almost forgot. I want you to concentrate on the windows. Think about them being mirrored, instead of transparent.”
He quirks an eyebrow at Rodney, but directs his thoughts willingly, and sure enough, the window behind his bed silvers and shows a perfect reflection of the entire room, including John’s pale form sprawled on the bed.
“Perfect,” Rodney breathes. “Keep your eyes on your reflection. Don’t look away, don’t look at me. Look at yourself. God, you’re so…”
He picks up the black rope, loops it around John’s wrists over the sweatbands, and ties them to the headboard, working swiftly. John squirms briefly, suppressing another shiver of excitement under cover of making sure the bonds aren’t too tight. Unexpectedly, Rodney reaches over and twists his nipple hard, making John gasp and lift his torso off the bed.
“God…Rodney…I didn’t know you had it in you!”
‘It was good? You like that?” His face is tentative again, unsure.
“Yeah. Yes. I like it. In fact, you can do it harder.” He tugs a little on his bound wrists, surprised to find he likes the sensation of being trapped, the slight undercurrent of fear it evokes, even though he’s almost certain he isn’t in any real danger.
Rodney obligingly takes the other nipple in his fingers, rubbing it gently before grabbing it and pulling, twisting, watching John’s face carefully.
“I’ll have to remember that,” he mutters, more to himself than to John. “I’m sure I can come up with clamps of some kind…”
He turns back to the desk and picks up the T-shirts and two more lengths of rope. Wrapping the T-shirts around John’s thighs just above the knee, he ties the rope around them to keep them in place, then takes the ends of the ropes back to the headboard. When he tugs on them, John comes back to Earth with a crash, realizing that his legs will be spread wide apart, leaving him completely exposed.
“Rodney! Stop, I don’t want to do this. I’m not gay!”
“No?” Rodney comes back to the side of the bed and looks down at him. “You were looking at me and jerking off. I realize that it’s the violence that you like, but I’m not a woman, Sheppard.” He pauses, considering. “You know what? I’m not gay either. But I’m having a really good time right now.”
John watches in astonishment as Rodney pulls his shirt over his head, toes off his shoes, undoes his pants, tucks his thumbs under the waist and pushes his pants and boxers down together. His cock springs out, swollen and red, the tip glistening.
Rodney is getting off on this. It runs through his mind like a mantra, over and over. Rodney is getting off on this. On seeing me bound and helpless.
“Just relax, John. You don’t have to be in charge all the time. Relax and let me take care of everything. You know how smart I am, you know I’ll have thought of everything. All you have to do is lie there and enjoy it. No decisions, no orders, no strategies…nothing to worry about, nothing to think about. You’re safe here. Just a warm body, not a soldier or an officer.”
That idea is…oddly attractive. To be nothing more than a body, reacting instead of acting. To let go of the iron-hard control he fights so hard for, without having to worry about consequences, about what anyone will think, about keeping the knife blade hidden. All he has to do is relax…and let go.
He meets Rodney’s eyes and gasps “Yes,” and flings himself off the cliff.
Before he has time to recover his bearings, his knees are almost touching his shoulders, his thighs spread wide. Rodney shoves a pillow under his ass, lifting it off the bed. He hesitates only a moment before grasping John’s stiff, aching erection and wrapping what appears to be a shoelace around the base, then around his balls, tying it tight enough to be more than a little uncomfortable but not quite enough to hurt.
Finally, he picks up the knotted cord and untangles it, showing it to John. Four eighteen inch lengths are knotted together at one end, with a knot at the other end of each individual length.
“Look back. I want you to watch your own face,” Rodney tells him.
He obeys, finding his own features in the perfect reflection. He’s paler than usual, his face looking strange and unfamiliar, softer without the edge of self-control to harden it. He hears a whisper of sound, then a thwap and a sudden exquisite cluster of stings on his inner thigh. A moment later, it comes again on the other leg. If he shifts his gaze, he can see Rodney swing the makeshift whip, know the moment it will hit, but the expression on his own face catches and captivates him. His mouth is open, gasping for air, eyes wide and startled, and his teeth show each time he feels the little knots sting. The blows come at uneven intervals, and with his attention fixed on himself, each one is a surprise he can’t anticipate. The sensation is exquisite, pushing him deeper inside himself.
He feels a pulse at the base of his spine, feels his cock twitch as much as it can within its bindings, feels his balls try to draw up, but he’s held too tightly. The urge to come builds up more and more, the pleasure tipping over into pain almost without any sense of transition.
There’s something odd about the image in the mirror, something about his own face that catches at him with a niggling familiarity. It isn’t until Rodney shoves the full length of a gloved and lubricated finger into his ass, without warning or preparation, that he knows what it is. Tears run down his face, pale and full of pain, his eyes huge and dark, teeth flashing whitely between lips stretched wide.
His mind presents him with a still image from the video file, Rodney on his knees, the knife edge pressed against his arm, blood dripping down his sleeve.
White face, twisted with pain; eyes wide with fear; mouth spread in a grimace of futile protest.
And John, despite the restraints, thrusts his hips into the air, coming and coming and coming.
When he’s completely limp and drained, muscles aching and gasping for breath, he looks for Rodney in the mirror. One hand is on his own member, pulling fiercely at it; the other is grasping John’s knee, fingers pressing into John’s skin deep enough to leave bruises. Their eyes meet in the reflection, and Rodney’s face is hard and excited.
He looks like John, now, the knife blade showing unmistakably. He looks like a predator.
ETA: this is now part 1 of the Shiver Trilogy. Part 2 is here.