sga_flashfic | Slavery is the Easy Part, by Miss Pamela [Slave Challenge]

misspamela.livejournal.com posting in

Title: Slavery is the Easy Part
Author: Miss Pamela
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: NC-17
Summary: This is totally not the funny little story I set out to write. It got all sorts of porny on me.

Huge thanks go to

shellmidwife and

kageygirl for answering my desperate, late-night beta pleas.

John gasped, panting, as he ran down the hallway. His hands scrabbled against the crumbling walls, dirt caking into his nails. It was so dark. He was scared to let go, scared the walls were going to just float away and he'd be stuck in the inky blackness, lost and screaming forever.

The one thing that was keeping him here, keeping him sane, was the rope tied from him to Rodney. He could feel it tugging back when he ran too fast, could hear Rodney's ragged breaths in his ear, and that grounded him, focused him. He could do this. He could get them out. He could—

Pounding. Pounding drums and – if it hadn't been so dark, he never would have seen it that far away, but it was there: candlelight flickering at the barest edge of his vision. The Howeras were coming.

"Dammit," Rodney swore, just behind him. They were never going to outrun all of them. John stopped short. They needed to find another way.

"Okay," John said, cutting Rodney loose, "we're getting out of this. We just have to—"

"Just have to what? They took our weapons; they took everything."

"I know, but there has to be something we can use. Just – think, Rodney."

"They said sacrifice. They said that if they caught us, one of us would be a sacrifice. This is bringing to mind something involving volcanoes and virgins, and I really don't like that image, Major!" Rodney hissed.

"You're not a virgin, are you, Rodney?" John asked casually as he frantically searched his pockets for something, anything, as the drums and lights drew closer. They had maybe another two minutes.

"No, but it's been so long, they might get confused."

John smiled briefly. Nothing, he had nothing. "Listen," Rodney said, "If they take me—"

"They're not taking you," John said. He wasn't letting them take Rodney on his watch.

"If they take me," Rodney repeated, a slightly hysterical edge to his voice, "there's a letter to my sister in my nightstand. There's a backup disk of all my research next to it for Zelenka. And—" John still couldn't see clearly enough to see his face, but he could hear his tortured breathing. "And, well, thank you. For everything."

John felt Rodney's hands come up and grab his arms, pulling him forward, and – Holy shit—his mouth, Rodney's mouth on his cheek, brushing against his face and moving down to slide across his lower lip.

"Rodney—" John gasped, but Boom! Boom! Boom! The drums were practically on top of them and the Howeras started chanting.

John could see Rodney's face now, twisted and afraid. "I'm sorry," he said.

The Howeras thundered down the hallway, stopping just short of John and Rodney. The leader stepped forward. "Running was a foolish choice. Before, you might have chosen. Now we will choose."

"Fine, you can take me," John said. Whatever it was, he could handle it. Even if it meant that he wasn't coming back. Better him than Rodney. He just wished Rodney had tried that kissing thing weeks ago.

"No," the leader said. "We take him." He pointed at Rodney and two strong warriors rushed forward. John tried to get in between them, but they just shoved him out of the way.

"We will still trade with you," the leader continued, "but we will take this one until the Festival of the Sun. He will sacrifice his time in order to serve me, then he will be returned through the Sky Waters unharmed."

"Sacrifice his time? Serve you? What the hell does that mean?" John yelled, lunging for Rodney. The big, brooding guard that kind of looked like The Rock just knocked him back down again.

Rodney looked pale. "They said unharmed," he stated, sounding calmer than he looked. "I'm just going to uh, hang out. The Festival of the Sun is in five days, according to Teyla." He shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself. "I'll be fine, really. And if they don't come back with me in five days, get me the hell out of here, okay?"

"Rodney, I'm going to get you the hell out of here tomorrow, if—"

"He will remain unharmed," The Rock intoned, "as long as you allow him to serve his sacrifice."

Rodney met John's eyes. He looked terrified. "Five days," he said.

"Five days," John promised. And when Rodney got back, they were going to do some serious talking about that kiss.

"We will lead you to your ship," the leader said.

>>>>

On the first day, John dreamed about Rodney being tortured. Chained, shackled, cuffed, whipped, bleeding. Screaming his name. He woke up and immediately hassled everyone on Atlantis about a rescue, but Weir said no, they could be good trading partners, they promised they wouldn't hurt him, and spouted diplomatic bullshit until John wanted to punch the wall of her office.

On the second day, John dreamed about Rodney starving to death. Emaciated, begging for food, crying for water, then suffering in quiet pain. Rodney wouldn't let that happen, though. The guy acted like he was dying if he was late for lunch. The Howeras wouldn't stand a chance against Rodney's hypoglycemic ranting. Give 'em hell, Rodney, John thought approvingly when he woke up.

On the third day, John dreamed about Rodney on his hands and knees, cruel chains biting into his shoulders, being penetrated by the Howeras' leader. Rodney was begging and bleeding and shaking. John woke up sick and sweaty, then went to get his ass kicked by Teyla for two hours straight. He needed to get the hell off-world. He needed to get Rodney out.

On the fourth day, John dreamed about Rodney servicing the Howeras' leader again. This time he was bound in slender gold chains, nothing he couldn't get out of. Rodney had his eyes closed in pleasure, moaning and hard, gasping with each thrust. When he came, he was yelling John's name. John woke up, jacked himself desperately, came shuddering into his own hand, and thanked God Rodney would be home soon.

On the fifth day, Rodney came waltzing in through the Stargate, just as they had promised, unfazed as always and utterly unharmed.

"Miss me?" he asked, looking at everyone but Sheppard.

Beckett had been standing by with a medical team. "Rodney, are you all right?"

"Oh, sure," Rodney waved his hand dismissively, "it was easily the most boring slave experience I've ever had. Not that there have been many." He stopped and grinned. "Though there was this one time at University—"

"Rodney!" Weir cut him off. "I take it the Howeras are still our friends?"

"Yes, Salovri, their—" he made little air quotes "—'magnificent leader' is going to contact us after the festival is over."

"Excellent." She nodded at Rodney. "I think you've earned some rest, Dr. McKay."

"I should say so. It'll be good to sleep in my own bed again." Rodney glanced at John and looked away. He walked off, answering Weir and Beckett's questions on his way to his quarters. John waited a reasonable amount of time, pacing around one of the balconies, before showing up at Rodney's door.

Rodney opened the door. He had obviously just showered. His hair was still wet and he was wearing civilian clothes. John didn't know if it was the jeans and t-shirt made Rodney look so much more vulnerable, or the way he was still rubbing the towel to the side of his neck.

"Hey," John said.

"Hi, listen, okay." Rodney sighed, seeming to come to a decision. "Fine, come in."

"Are you really okay?" John asked.

"Yeah." Rodney rubbed the towel at his hair thoughtfully. "Yeah, I really am. It was stupid, you know? I had to get him tea, wash his clothes, bring him food. They were all really boring, mundane tasks." Rodney stopped and sat on the bed. "It was just…I'd never been that much at the mercy of another person. He never starved me, but I couldn't choose when to eat. He told me what to wear, when to get up, how to walk, when to speak…" Rodney trailed off.

"It's not a fun feeling," John agreed.

"How would you know?"

"Sounds like Boot Camp."

"Well, you signed up for that," Rodney snorted. "And I don't know if you noticed, but I hate being disempowered." He stood up and started pacing. "So, I'm really not in the best headspace right now. I know we have a potentially awkward conversation that we need to have, but I've had enough humiliation and emasculation for one week, so can we just skip it until later?" He didn't meet John's eyes. "Right now, I'd like to take a long nap and then get back to my lab, where I can be the one telling people to do whatever I want."

John didn't want to leave him, not like this. He wanted – he knew what he wanted. He wanted to save Rodney, even though he didn't need it. John felt his own feelings of helplessness churning up in his stomach. He thought about his dreams, and yeah, he knew what he wanted.

He stepped up to Rodney, close and in his space, placing one hand on his chest and resting it there, feeling his heart beat beneath his palm. He wanted to make sure that Rodney had no doubts about what he was suggesting. "I'll do whatever you want."

Rodney's breathing quickened. He stared at John's mouth and licked his lips. "Oh," he said. "That would be…oh."

John had a brief flash of gratitude that Rodney wasn't pretending that John wanted to do his laundry or get him tea. Licking his lips, Rodney whispered, "I'd like you to kiss me."

Closing the distance between them, John pressed his mouth to Rodney's. Rodney opened his mouth and let him in, moaning as John kissed him deeply. John longed to wrap his arms around Rodney, to bring him to the bed, to lay him down and just take…but Rodney was in charge.

John stepped back. Slowly, deliberately, he clasped his hands behind his back and stood at parade rest. He put his head down, waiting. John heard a choked, "Oh, God," and Rodney reached out to cup his chin. "More," he said.

This time, John kissed him fast and dirty, using his tongue and teeth, nipping, licking, barely giving Rodney a chance to breathe. He was hard, so fucking hard, and every time his aching cock brushed gently against the front of Rodney's pants it was torture, but this was Rodney's game here, he was calling the shots. John just hoped he'd call them soon, or this was all going to be over.

Rodney wrapped his arms around John's waist and shoved desperately against him. John could feel him, hard and demanding, moving almost hard enough and almost in the right rhythm. John sucked in a huge breath and shuddered.

"Touch me," Rodney begged. "Touch me and I'll touch you—" John's cock jerked at the thought, and he shoved his hand down Rodney's pants, his wish was John's command—"and then you can, oh God, GOD, s-s-suck me…"

"Jesus!" John gasped and shoved hard into Rodney's hand, which had magically appeared just when it needed to. Not yet, he told himself.

John remembered Rodney's instructions and went down to his knees, freeing Rodney's cock from his pants. "Slow," Rodney murmured from above him. John groaned and took Rodney's cock in his mouth. He sucked him slowly, one hand wrapped around the base and one fist clenched in his lap, not touching himself, not touching anything else. Slow. Steady. John's mouth watered and his muscles twitched with the effort.

Rodney moaned, but he didn't tell John to go any faster. John could feel Rodney's thigh muscles shaking and his cock lengthening even further. "Yes," Rodney said, grabbing John's hair and shoving, fucking his mouth for one, two, strokes and coming, hard, yelling John's name.

John barely had time to recover when Rodney pulled him up, pressed his hand to John's cock and said, low and demanding, "Now." John squeezed his eyes shut and came, finally, white-hot and obliterating.

They stumbled to the bed. Rodney wrapped his arms around John and said, thoughtfully, "I guess we can avoid that potentially awkward conversation now, huh?"

John laughed. "Yeah, I guess so." He stretched out on the bed. "God, I'm exhausted. I haven't slept all week."

Rodney already had his eyes closed. "Stay here. Sleep with me," he mumbled.

John was only too happy to obey.

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From:

zoerayne

John stepped back. Slowly, deliberately, he clasped his hands behind his back and stood at parade rest. He put his head down, waiting. John heard a choked, "Oh, God," and Rodney reached out to cup his chin. "More," he said.

That? That was what killed me. From that point on, I was totally dead from the guh. All your stories should get porny on you, for the good of fandom. Yes.

*takes a deep drag on post-sex cigarette*

That was just what I needed; thank you.