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sga_flashficTitle: About Ten Days Before The Wraith Attack
Author: Icarus
Website: Icarus Slash Fiction
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: John/Rodney
Challenge: Virgin Challenge
Summary: It was John's idea, and predictably, Rodney freaked out.
Notes: Thank you to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-syndicated.gif)
electricandroid for the beta. One of two fics inspired by the same line.
About Ten Days Before The Wraith Attack
By Icarus
About ten days before the Wraith were due to attack, John and Rodney started fucking. It was John's idea, and predictably, Rodney had freaked out.
"We can always go back to seeing a movie," John had said, buckling his pants. "But then, you'll always be the guy who turned down sex for a rerun you've seen a million times."
"Gay sex," Rodney had corrected.
"For a rerun."
Rodney had conceded the point and got with the program. But it had taken a long time to get him to relax, let alone take off his shirt.
"I want to fuck your tight ass," John had growled into the back of Rodney's neck, a line he stole from porn that worked on men but never women. He felt Rodney relax, his fingers sliding into him easily.
John probably could have done this with anyone -- there were a lot of decent-looking women in Atlantis -- but it was McKay, and it was going to be McKay, and there was never any question about that.
Afterwards, they argued comfortably about who'd been the most desperate and needed it the most. McKay mentioned that he'd never done it with a guy, which came as a total surprise. Several people in Atlantis would have lost money on that bet. John wouldn't have had Rodney bottom first if he'd known he was a virgin. Certainly he'd have gone a little easier.
So, by way of apology, John had Rodney do him next, with short hard jabs that made his asshole hurt, later, but John held out for it getting better and anyway, Rodney had seemed to enjoy it. But he went back to fucking Rodney as soon as possible, and Rodney was okay with that.
It was funny how they'd gone for the main course right away, then moved on to blowjobs, greedily sucking each other in sixty-nines, before gradually devolving to the smaller stuff, the stroking and touching and kissing.
John knew that some people would call them lovers, but it really wasn't like that. It wasn't mushy and romantic -- except for that one time John had filled his room with Athosian candles just because he liked atmosphere. Rodney had gone all soft and responsive and eagerly put out, doing pretty much everything John wanted. Too bad he hadn't had time to do that again.
But things felt the same as ever except that their friendship had overrun all the boundaries and nothing was off-limits anymore: no touch, no subject of conversation. Rodney was scared shitless, John knew, while John confessed that he wasn't, which worried him because he knew that he should be. He wasn't sure if this was because he'd always thought this was how it would go down -- even if he'd imagined chopper crashes and bullets instead of life-sucking aliens -- or if he was totally screwed up. Rodney had voted for the latter which somehow made John feel better.
Most nights John slept over at Rodney's. There was nothing he'd miss in his room while Rodney always needed something from his pile of junk.
Their conversations would begin in the mornings, continue in the shower as John brushed his teeth and spit in the sink, then carried on through breakfast as they set down their trays and ignored everyone else. Then it bled into briefings where they made outrageous inappropriate jokes -- Rodney was the king of the double entendre and he was not subtle, which cracked John up. Till he noticed the appalled, if amused, look on Elizabeth's face and kicked Rodney under the table to cut it out. John liked to stop by Rodney's office and pretend to read over his shoulder, whispering exactly what he planned to do to him that night. John would saunter away and loved to glance back at the destroyed look on Rodney's too-open face, knowing he'd have bruises on his back later on from how hard Rodney would jump him.
It was stupid and self-destructive. They didn't have time, and they didn't need the distraction. Except that they did.
The busier they were, the more time they found to fuck.
People started looking at them funny and it was no secret that something was going on -- you didn't have a clandestine anything with McKay, he just wasn't capable. But interestingly, no one said a damned thing. Hell, everyone had gotten a little weird.
Besides. John enjoyed shocking them.
Rodney's theory was John was giving the kiss-off to the military because he was mad about dying -- which made a lot of sense to John because he was mad about a lot of little things, but mostly at Sumner for saddling him with command. He was supposed to be able to look over at his commander, see that bleak look on his face and be rest assured that, okay, we're fucked. Not worry if there's something he'd overlooked that could save everyone. He wasn't supposed to be that guy.
John knew that he would do just about anything to get them out of this.
When he stepped into a jumper with a nuclear bomb, he mentally upgraded that to "anything." As he guided the jumper towards the mothership, sweat beading on his forehead, he reminded himself that, this close to a nuclear explosion-? He'd be obliterated before he could feel it.
He just didn't expect himself to disintegrate before the bomb went off. It took him a minute to recognize that he'd been beamed up with some technology he didn't even know existed, and another second to get really pissed off at Colonel Caldwell for cutting it so close.
It took staring into the shock in Rodney's eyes to realize that he was still alive.
Three days later, they had won. No one was more surprised than John and Rodney. Except maybe the Wraith.
They got horrifically drunk with the rest of Atlantis, then curled up naked together and didn't do anything but sleep. It felt weird to slap Rodney's bare ass and tell him to move over. The bed felt crowded for the first time.
The next morning was uncomfortable though they both blamed it on their hangovers. But afterwards? They didn't have their "movie nights" any more and didn't bring them up. In the mess hall John was on pins and needles and kept his head down. It felt like people were staring.
John could remember every touch, every detail, every conversation, but still couldn't remember how they got there. Or figure out why he was still reeling. He almost even brought it up with Heightmeyer but decided that he really didn't want her involved in that aspect of his life. He recognized that he missed Rodney even though they saw each other every day.
It was Rodney who made the first move.
He settled his dinner tray across from John one night, saying primly, "I trust this space isn't taken," and then sat down without waiting for an answer. Their conversation was fragile and strained. Polite enough for the BBC.
Then Rodney wiped his hands and said, "I'll leave first. Give it at least five minutes."
John's eyes followed the back of Rodney's head as he left. It was a very agonizingly long five minutes.
In Rodney's room, John hovered in the doorway and asked, "Do you mind if I just sleep?" At Rodney's nod he tucked himself around Rodney's back, arm draped over Rodney's waist, and slept like a log for the first time since they'd conquered the Wraith.
After that, they kept up the careful fiction that nothing was going on. They called each other by their last names. Sat at least a foot apart. Included people in their conversations.
It was completely ridiculous because everyone knew, and by everyone-? They meant everyone. But somehow, it gave them the illusion of privacy that was just a little bit like those first ten days
ETA: to fix messed up html. Ooops.
Author: Icarus
Website: Icarus Slash Fiction
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: John/Rodney
Challenge: Virgin Challenge
Summary: It was John's idea, and predictably, Rodney freaked out.
Notes: Thank you to
electricandroid for the beta. One of two fics inspired by the same line.About Ten Days Before The Wraith Attack
By Icarus
About ten days before the Wraith were due to attack, John and Rodney started fucking. It was John's idea, and predictably, Rodney had freaked out.
"We can always go back to seeing a movie," John had said, buckling his pants. "But then, you'll always be the guy who turned down sex for a rerun you've seen a million times."
"Gay sex," Rodney had corrected.
"For a rerun."
Rodney had conceded the point and got with the program. But it had taken a long time to get him to relax, let alone take off his shirt.
"I want to fuck your tight ass," John had growled into the back of Rodney's neck, a line he stole from porn that worked on men but never women. He felt Rodney relax, his fingers sliding into him easily.
John probably could have done this with anyone -- there were a lot of decent-looking women in Atlantis -- but it was McKay, and it was going to be McKay, and there was never any question about that.
Afterwards, they argued comfortably about who'd been the most desperate and needed it the most. McKay mentioned that he'd never done it with a guy, which came as a total surprise. Several people in Atlantis would have lost money on that bet. John wouldn't have had Rodney bottom first if he'd known he was a virgin. Certainly he'd have gone a little easier.
So, by way of apology, John had Rodney do him next, with short hard jabs that made his asshole hurt, later, but John held out for it getting better and anyway, Rodney had seemed to enjoy it. But he went back to fucking Rodney as soon as possible, and Rodney was okay with that.
It was funny how they'd gone for the main course right away, then moved on to blowjobs, greedily sucking each other in sixty-nines, before gradually devolving to the smaller stuff, the stroking and touching and kissing.
John knew that some people would call them lovers, but it really wasn't like that. It wasn't mushy and romantic -- except for that one time John had filled his room with Athosian candles just because he liked atmosphere. Rodney had gone all soft and responsive and eagerly put out, doing pretty much everything John wanted. Too bad he hadn't had time to do that again.
But things felt the same as ever except that their friendship had overrun all the boundaries and nothing was off-limits anymore: no touch, no subject of conversation. Rodney was scared shitless, John knew, while John confessed that he wasn't, which worried him because he knew that he should be. He wasn't sure if this was because he'd always thought this was how it would go down -- even if he'd imagined chopper crashes and bullets instead of life-sucking aliens -- or if he was totally screwed up. Rodney had voted for the latter which somehow made John feel better.
Most nights John slept over at Rodney's. There was nothing he'd miss in his room while Rodney always needed something from his pile of junk.
Their conversations would begin in the mornings, continue in the shower as John brushed his teeth and spit in the sink, then carried on through breakfast as they set down their trays and ignored everyone else. Then it bled into briefings where they made outrageous inappropriate jokes -- Rodney was the king of the double entendre and he was not subtle, which cracked John up. Till he noticed the appalled, if amused, look on Elizabeth's face and kicked Rodney under the table to cut it out. John liked to stop by Rodney's office and pretend to read over his shoulder, whispering exactly what he planned to do to him that night. John would saunter away and loved to glance back at the destroyed look on Rodney's too-open face, knowing he'd have bruises on his back later on from how hard Rodney would jump him.
It was stupid and self-destructive. They didn't have time, and they didn't need the distraction. Except that they did.
The busier they were, the more time they found to fuck.
People started looking at them funny and it was no secret that something was going on -- you didn't have a clandestine anything with McKay, he just wasn't capable. But interestingly, no one said a damned thing. Hell, everyone had gotten a little weird.
Besides. John enjoyed shocking them.
Rodney's theory was John was giving the kiss-off to the military because he was mad about dying -- which made a lot of sense to John because he was mad about a lot of little things, but mostly at Sumner for saddling him with command. He was supposed to be able to look over at his commander, see that bleak look on his face and be rest assured that, okay, we're fucked. Not worry if there's something he'd overlooked that could save everyone. He wasn't supposed to be that guy.
John knew that he would do just about anything to get them out of this.
When he stepped into a jumper with a nuclear bomb, he mentally upgraded that to "anything." As he guided the jumper towards the mothership, sweat beading on his forehead, he reminded himself that, this close to a nuclear explosion-? He'd be obliterated before he could feel it.
He just didn't expect himself to disintegrate before the bomb went off. It took him a minute to recognize that he'd been beamed up with some technology he didn't even know existed, and another second to get really pissed off at Colonel Caldwell for cutting it so close.
It took staring into the shock in Rodney's eyes to realize that he was still alive.
Three days later, they had won. No one was more surprised than John and Rodney. Except maybe the Wraith.
They got horrifically drunk with the rest of Atlantis, then curled up naked together and didn't do anything but sleep. It felt weird to slap Rodney's bare ass and tell him to move over. The bed felt crowded for the first time.
The next morning was uncomfortable though they both blamed it on their hangovers. But afterwards? They didn't have their "movie nights" any more and didn't bring them up. In the mess hall John was on pins and needles and kept his head down. It felt like people were staring.
John could remember every touch, every detail, every conversation, but still couldn't remember how they got there. Or figure out why he was still reeling. He almost even brought it up with Heightmeyer but decided that he really didn't want her involved in that aspect of his life. He recognized that he missed Rodney even though they saw each other every day.
It was Rodney who made the first move.
He settled his dinner tray across from John one night, saying primly, "I trust this space isn't taken," and then sat down without waiting for an answer. Their conversation was fragile and strained. Polite enough for the BBC.
Then Rodney wiped his hands and said, "I'll leave first. Give it at least five minutes."
John's eyes followed the back of Rodney's head as he left. It was a very agonizingly long five minutes.
In Rodney's room, John hovered in the doorway and asked, "Do you mind if I just sleep?" At Rodney's nod he tucked himself around Rodney's back, arm draped over Rodney's waist, and slept like a log for the first time since they'd conquered the Wraith.
After that, they kept up the careful fiction that nothing was going on. They called each other by their last names. Sat at least a foot apart. Included people in their conversations.
It was completely ridiculous because everyone knew, and by everyone-? They meant everyone. But somehow, it gave them the illusion of privacy that was just a little bit like those first ten days
ETA: to fix messed up html. Ooops.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-30 02:57 am (UTC)Icarus