Evidence of Autumn by HYPERFocused
Nov. 26th, 2005 06:58 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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sga_flashficTitle: Evidence of Autumn
Author: HYPERFocused
Pairing: John/OMC, John/Rodney
Rating: NC17
A/N: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
slodwick, inspired by her illuminating post here. Thanks to celli for naming John’s first boyfriend for me.
It was the Autumn Festival on the mainland, and since there didn’t seem to be anyone in need of rescue, other than from boredom if Rodney’s annoyed expression said anything, he and Rodney had taken a puddle jumper for a little excursion. They had the excuse of bringing back food stores, but really, John just wanted to be alone with Rodney, somewhere apart from the bells and whistles of Atlantis.
It was a crisp, beautiful day. The leaf-smoke was rising into the air, adding to the blend of sensations that surrounded him: the not-quite-wine flavor of the Athosian’s harvest drink; the warm leather smell of their traditional clothing, and the familiar combination of chocolate, coffee and a little bit of sweat that Rodney exuded as he trudged next to him.
It was odd, John thought, how even millions of light years from Earth – he’d stopped thinking of it as ‘home’ anymore – little things could bring such memories back to him. The slightly sweet decaying scent of burning autumn leaves made some people think of apple cider, impromptu football games, or their childhood Halloweens. It made John think of sex. The lively sound of Athosian three-string changed in his mind to Genesis’ “ABACAB” on a beat up boom-box. He was sixteen, taking a break from his after school landscaping job, tree-bark rough against his back, crushing the half-empty can of Mello Yello in his hand as his best friend knelt in front of him...
He’d been fifteen when he’d first met Walt. Transferred from ‘Who The Fuck Cares U.S.A’ to ‘Where The Hell Are We Now’ in the middle of his sophomore year. Walt was a senior. Fine, light-brown hair, blue eyes, broad chest and a perfect V of a back. The object of feelings John didn’t want to put a name to, and tried to suppress.
Walt was everything John aspired to be: Suave. Cool. Self-assured. An all-around athlete, he had the body of a man, not the gangly, awkward tangle of arms and legs that John still sported. Sometimes John felt like he was part insect.
He didn’t look like a Walt or even a Walter. Walt was the kind of name your father had. Old fashioned, up-standing. Maybe just a bit dorky. In point of fact, Walt’s father did have that name, and his father before him. Which is why most people called him Dizz (short for Disney). Or Dizz the Whizz because of the way he whizzed past everyone else at their school. He was a sprinter, his speed and grace something to behold. John really never got tired of watching him run, glad for once not to be the fastest one around.
Walt was the kind of guy that pretty much everyone liked, but few knew well. John wanted to know him better, but Walt was an expert at keeping people at bay with his friendly banter and humor. Besides, except for sports, they didn’t exactly run in the same circles.
It wasn’t until they both ended up working as grounds-keepers at the local golf course that summer that John got to know the real Walt. It was funny. John hadn’t wanted the job, and was resentful of his father for pulling the strings so he could get it. (They usually picked guys out of high school). Discovering he would be working alongside Walt changed all that.
It happened on an unseasonably warm day in late November. John started out in jeans and his favorite OP shirt, and was soon uncomfortably warm. “Take that off, man. It’s way too hot.” Walt suggested, pulling off his own soaked baseball T and tossing it by a tree.
John couldn’t stop looking at Walt’s tanned, strong chest, muscled from years of football and wrestling practice. He had a flash of what it might be like to grapple with him, slick bodies moving against one another in a display of skill and power.
Somehow, he didn’t think Walt would be up for the kind of wrestling John wanted to do. He had no right to want such things.
They’d raked the leaves into a quite impressive pile and were taking a rest break when Walt turned to him, and said “Come on. You know you can’t resist.”
John looked at him, clueless. Surely he didn’t mean what John wanted him to mean. “Resist what?”
Walt just laughed, and grabbed him by the wrist, urging him upward. Almost before he knew it, Walt had them both running back towards the leaves. With a yell he pushed John onto the pile, joining him a moment later.
“What the fuck?” John sputtered, but he was laughing too. Walt piled the leaves back on top of John, which made him itch like a bitch.
“Come on. Haven’t you ever wanted to just let go? Do what you keep telling yourself you shouldn’t?” There were twigs and dirt clumps in their hair, but it was the best feeling ever, because Walt was clearly excited to be rolling around on the ground with John. When Walt’s thigh ended up between John’s legs, John could feel the heat of Walt’s erection through his jeans, but he didn’t know if Walt meant for him to feel it.
“Well, yes, but I’m not twelve.” He was good at restraint. He had to be.’You’re a Sheppard, son, act like it.’ He could hear his father’s voice in his head.
“And I’m glad about that,” Walt said, and proved it by kissing John. It was the best kiss he’d ever had, without all the awkwardness he usually felt with the girls he dated. Everything just fit, and John found himself kissing Walt back, hands stroking over Walt’s smooth skin, wherever he could reach. Finally, they had to breathe, and Walt pulled them both out of the leaf-pile. “Come on,” he said. “These leaves are scratchy. I’ve got a better idea.”
“I’ve really liked your ideas so far,” John said, wondering what was next, and hoping it would involve getting the leaf-bits out of his pants.
Walt just grinned, and stood John against the nearest tree. “Don’t move.” He turned the volume on the radio louder. “Just in case you’re noisy.” There was no one around yet, but John had to agree with his caution.
It was a good thing, because when he felt Walt’s mouth around his dick for the first time, he couldn’t help but cry out. Nobody had ever done that for him before, and he couldn’t get enough. Sure, he’d had his share of hand-jobs -- it wasn’t hard to talk a girl into that – but it was nothing like this.
Of course he didn’t last long, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Walt didn’t seem to mind either. He didn’t even spit it out when John came in his mouth, which John found pretty fucking amazing. He’d tasted himself before, and well, yuck. But maybe it was different when it was straight from the source – so to speak. “God, Walt. I… um, why?” John asked. He didn’t know quite what to say. To ask.
“I wanted to, and I knew you wanted me to. You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”
“I’m not?” He wasn’t?
“I could always feel you watching me. I liked it. And when I got to know you better, I liked that you always called me ‘Walt’. I never really did like ‘Dizz.’ It isn’t me.”
“Walt’s a good name. Strong. It suits you.” John looked over at him. “What do you want me to do?”
“Touch me. It won’t take much.” Walt grabbed John’s hand, placing it on his erection. John could do this. He’d had enough practice on himself. He loved the way Walt closed his eyes while John worked, and how he kissed John again when he came.
“Where were you just now?” Rodney asked.
“A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away,” John answered. Someday maybe he’d tell him. Tell him about Walt, the first guy he ever loved. How much Rodney reminded John of him, even though they had very little in common on the surface. Tell him what it was like to be with him in private, even though no one knew they were anything but buddies in public.
“Dork.” But Rodney looked at him like he thought otherwise.
“Geek.” John punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Come on.” John knew what they had to do. He’d seen it on their way in, red-gold and brown, tall and beautiful, just waiting to be pounced.
“Where are we going? I’m perfectly comfortable here.” Rodney protested.
John didn’t say anything at first, just grabbed Rodney by the wrist and led him away from the festivities. They had an appointment with a pile of leaves. Nobody noticed them go. He made a running jump, Rodney following. The landing was a little harder than he’d remembered from his teenage years.
“What the hell was that for?” Rodney grumbled, echoing John’s own earlier words. Still, he didn’t seem that put out.
“Haven’t you ever wanted to just let go? Do something everyone says you shouldn’t?” John asked, just before he kissed him.
Author: HYPERFocused
Pairing: John/OMC, John/Rodney
Rating: NC17
A/N: For
slodwick, inspired by her illuminating post here. Thanks to celli for naming John’s first boyfriend for me.It was the Autumn Festival on the mainland, and since there didn’t seem to be anyone in need of rescue, other than from boredom if Rodney’s annoyed expression said anything, he and Rodney had taken a puddle jumper for a little excursion. They had the excuse of bringing back food stores, but really, John just wanted to be alone with Rodney, somewhere apart from the bells and whistles of Atlantis.
It was a crisp, beautiful day. The leaf-smoke was rising into the air, adding to the blend of sensations that surrounded him: the not-quite-wine flavor of the Athosian’s harvest drink; the warm leather smell of their traditional clothing, and the familiar combination of chocolate, coffee and a little bit of sweat that Rodney exuded as he trudged next to him.
It was odd, John thought, how even millions of light years from Earth – he’d stopped thinking of it as ‘home’ anymore – little things could bring such memories back to him. The slightly sweet decaying scent of burning autumn leaves made some people think of apple cider, impromptu football games, or their childhood Halloweens. It made John think of sex. The lively sound of Athosian three-string changed in his mind to Genesis’ “ABACAB” on a beat up boom-box. He was sixteen, taking a break from his after school landscaping job, tree-bark rough against his back, crushing the half-empty can of Mello Yello in his hand as his best friend knelt in front of him...
He’d been fifteen when he’d first met Walt. Transferred from ‘Who The Fuck Cares U.S.A’ to ‘Where The Hell Are We Now’ in the middle of his sophomore year. Walt was a senior. Fine, light-brown hair, blue eyes, broad chest and a perfect V of a back. The object of feelings John didn’t want to put a name to, and tried to suppress.
Walt was everything John aspired to be: Suave. Cool. Self-assured. An all-around athlete, he had the body of a man, not the gangly, awkward tangle of arms and legs that John still sported. Sometimes John felt like he was part insect.
He didn’t look like a Walt or even a Walter. Walt was the kind of name your father had. Old fashioned, up-standing. Maybe just a bit dorky. In point of fact, Walt’s father did have that name, and his father before him. Which is why most people called him Dizz (short for Disney). Or Dizz the Whizz because of the way he whizzed past everyone else at their school. He was a sprinter, his speed and grace something to behold. John really never got tired of watching him run, glad for once not to be the fastest one around.
Walt was the kind of guy that pretty much everyone liked, but few knew well. John wanted to know him better, but Walt was an expert at keeping people at bay with his friendly banter and humor. Besides, except for sports, they didn’t exactly run in the same circles.
It wasn’t until they both ended up working as grounds-keepers at the local golf course that summer that John got to know the real Walt. It was funny. John hadn’t wanted the job, and was resentful of his father for pulling the strings so he could get it. (They usually picked guys out of high school). Discovering he would be working alongside Walt changed all that.
It happened on an unseasonably warm day in late November. John started out in jeans and his favorite OP shirt, and was soon uncomfortably warm. “Take that off, man. It’s way too hot.” Walt suggested, pulling off his own soaked baseball T and tossing it by a tree.
John couldn’t stop looking at Walt’s tanned, strong chest, muscled from years of football and wrestling practice. He had a flash of what it might be like to grapple with him, slick bodies moving against one another in a display of skill and power.
Somehow, he didn’t think Walt would be up for the kind of wrestling John wanted to do. He had no right to want such things.
They’d raked the leaves into a quite impressive pile and were taking a rest break when Walt turned to him, and said “Come on. You know you can’t resist.”
John looked at him, clueless. Surely he didn’t mean what John wanted him to mean. “Resist what?”
Walt just laughed, and grabbed him by the wrist, urging him upward. Almost before he knew it, Walt had them both running back towards the leaves. With a yell he pushed John onto the pile, joining him a moment later.
“What the fuck?” John sputtered, but he was laughing too. Walt piled the leaves back on top of John, which made him itch like a bitch.
“Come on. Haven’t you ever wanted to just let go? Do what you keep telling yourself you shouldn’t?” There were twigs and dirt clumps in their hair, but it was the best feeling ever, because Walt was clearly excited to be rolling around on the ground with John. When Walt’s thigh ended up between John’s legs, John could feel the heat of Walt’s erection through his jeans, but he didn’t know if Walt meant for him to feel it.
“Well, yes, but I’m not twelve.” He was good at restraint. He had to be.’You’re a Sheppard, son, act like it.’ He could hear his father’s voice in his head.
“And I’m glad about that,” Walt said, and proved it by kissing John. It was the best kiss he’d ever had, without all the awkwardness he usually felt with the girls he dated. Everything just fit, and John found himself kissing Walt back, hands stroking over Walt’s smooth skin, wherever he could reach. Finally, they had to breathe, and Walt pulled them both out of the leaf-pile. “Come on,” he said. “These leaves are scratchy. I’ve got a better idea.”
“I’ve really liked your ideas so far,” John said, wondering what was next, and hoping it would involve getting the leaf-bits out of his pants.
Walt just grinned, and stood John against the nearest tree. “Don’t move.” He turned the volume on the radio louder. “Just in case you’re noisy.” There was no one around yet, but John had to agree with his caution.
It was a good thing, because when he felt Walt’s mouth around his dick for the first time, he couldn’t help but cry out. Nobody had ever done that for him before, and he couldn’t get enough. Sure, he’d had his share of hand-jobs -- it wasn’t hard to talk a girl into that – but it was nothing like this.
Of course he didn’t last long, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Walt didn’t seem to mind either. He didn’t even spit it out when John came in his mouth, which John found pretty fucking amazing. He’d tasted himself before, and well, yuck. But maybe it was different when it was straight from the source – so to speak. “God, Walt. I… um, why?” John asked. He didn’t know quite what to say. To ask.
“I wanted to, and I knew you wanted me to. You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”
“I’m not?” He wasn’t?
“I could always feel you watching me. I liked it. And when I got to know you better, I liked that you always called me ‘Walt’. I never really did like ‘Dizz.’ It isn’t me.”
“Walt’s a good name. Strong. It suits you.” John looked over at him. “What do you want me to do?”
“Touch me. It won’t take much.” Walt grabbed John’s hand, placing it on his erection. John could do this. He’d had enough practice on himself. He loved the way Walt closed his eyes while John worked, and how he kissed John again when he came.
“Where were you just now?” Rodney asked.
“A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away,” John answered. Someday maybe he’d tell him. Tell him about Walt, the first guy he ever loved. How much Rodney reminded John of him, even though they had very little in common on the surface. Tell him what it was like to be with him in private, even though no one knew they were anything but buddies in public.
“Dork.” But Rodney looked at him like he thought otherwise.
“Geek.” John punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Come on.” John knew what they had to do. He’d seen it on their way in, red-gold and brown, tall and beautiful, just waiting to be pounced.
“Where are we going? I’m perfectly comfortable here.” Rodney protested.
John didn’t say anything at first, just grabbed Rodney by the wrist and led him away from the festivities. They had an appointment with a pile of leaves. Nobody noticed them go. He made a running jump, Rodney following. The landing was a little harder than he’d remembered from his teenage years.
“What the hell was that for?” Rodney grumbled, echoing John’s own earlier words. Still, he didn’t seem that put out.
“Haven’t you ever wanted to just let go? Do something everyone says you shouldn’t?” John asked, just before he kissed him.
