![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
sihayab.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
sga_flashficA gay romp through a hoary and time-worn cliche. Many thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kassrachel for betaing and encouraging me to make my virgin post to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sga_flashfic. Her advice, as usual, was excellent, and all mistakes are my own. Dedicated to chickwriter, as partial payment for she knows what.
Title: Inertial Coupling
Author:sihayab
Rating: adult
Pairing: John/Rodney
Word count: 2,212
Inertial Coupling: A phenomenon that occurs when a single-engine fighter aircraft is quickly put into a roll, resulting in violent pitching and yawing, and loss of control as the aircraft rotates on all three axes.
“I’m sorry,” John murmured, his fingers busy on Rodney’s belt buckle. His eyes burned; too much smoke from the fire. Though the fire had its uses. First and most important, warmth, which was in short supply on this damned planet. And the smoke blurred the corners of the tent, let them pretend they had some privacy.
“Stop apologizing, Colonel.” Only Rodney could make a whisper sound so peeved. “That makes, what, thirty-seven times?”
John’s hands stilled. “If I had any other choice . . . .”
“Well, you don’t. I’m your second in command.” Rodney hesitated, then his fingers brushed against John’s, oddly tentative. “Still, better me than Teyla or Ronon, right?”
“What?” What the hell did he mean, better? John met Rodney's eyes for the first time since the mission had taken a nosedive into the ground. “Normal” was a relative term in the Pegasus galaxy, but this? Set a new standard for fucked-up. Literally. You must prove your strength, and your second-in-command his dedication. If it had only been his own life on the line, John would have told the Suomina exactly where to shove it. But they’d also threatened the lives of his team, and the folks back on Atlantis needed that sample of nerve toxin, so John had swallowed his pride and given in.
Rodney didn’t flinch from his gaze. He wasn’t calm, not by a long shot, but not as terrified – or angry – as John had expected. John glanced at the figures sitting in the dark corner and lowered his voice again. “Why is raping,” his voice caught on the word, “you better than raping Teyla or Ronon?”
“Because.” Rodney sat on the low platform covered with furs and unfastened one boot.
John knelt, hands on Rodney’s knees. “Because why?”
Rodney stared at the floor, his lips pressed together, as if preventing something from escaping.
“Look,” he finally said, his hands resting lightly on John’s for a moment before tightening into fists and pressing into the fur, “I know I’m usually the first one to freak out when we’re threatened, and I reserve the right to have a loud and messy nervous breakdown later, but if I do, it won’t be because of what we’re doing here and now. On the spectrum of obstacles we’ve had to overcome, this is no big deal. We do this, they give us a sample of the nerve toxin that appears to work against the Wraith, and we leave. Without,” he leaned forward, blue eyes blazing, “any of us getting killed or tortured. Even an idiot would make the right decision here.”
Except for the whole being-raped-is-no-big-deal part, Rodney was right. And compared to the variety of torture, followed by a slow and even more painful death, that the militia had promised if John didn’t display his bond with his second in command, raping a colleague and closest thing to a best friend was definitely the lesser of two evils. Even though John would have to find some way to live with the guilt, and Rodney the shame, Rodney was right as usual, damn him. John’s face burned and his jaw ached and he wished like hell he didn’t have to do this.
Oh, yeah, he had wished . . . but not this way. The one way that killed his chances, and maybe their friendship.
John sat back on his heels and unfastened Rodney’s other boot. Someone shifted in the shadows, but John ignored the movement, focusing on the fine tremors that ran through Rodney’s legs. He pulled off both boots and tossed them to one side, then ran his hands slowly up Rodney’s thighs, then back down to his knees. The only way he’d be able to live with himself would be to make this as good as possible for Rodney.
Rodney made a little noise in the back of his throat.
“Ticklish?” John dredged up a thin smile and pressed Rodney’s knees apart.
“A little.” He sounded breathless. Apprehensive.
John’s smile faded. “Rodney.” His hands restlessly rubbed Rodney’s knees. “I’m sorry.”
Rodney glared. “That’s thirty-eight times, which is more than enough for someone of my intellectual gifts to understand the fact that you’d rather court dismemberment and certain death than fuck me.”
“What?” Anger, pure and hot, warmed his face. His fingers dug into Rodney’s thighs. “I’m trying to apologize for raping you, you asshole!”
Rodney lifted his chin. “And I’m saying that it’s rape only if I don’t want it.”
John blinked. Twice. Licked his lips and felt Rodney tremble under his hands.
Rodney . . . didn’t mind. Wanted John to . . . .
A flare of hope eased the tightness in his chest. Maybe he’d be able to pull up, find his way out of the dive, as long as Rodney was telling the truth.
He grabbed Rodney’s shoulders. “Are you sure? You’re not lying, just so we--”
“Shut up.” Rodney leaned forward, slowly pushing into John’s space. His face was flushed but he didn’t look away, just kept coming until his lips met John’s.
Thank God.
As first kisses went, it wasn’t much. A dry brush of lips, a gentle pressure. Rodney’s lashes fluttered against John’s cheek, a fractional release of tension in Rodney’s shoulders.
John could live with this. It wasn’t ideal, but maybe Rodney wouldn’t have to deal with PTSD and years of therapy. Or at least, no more than was usual in the Pegasus galaxy. John ran his hands down Rodney’s arms before pulling back enough to tug on the waistband of Rodney’s trousers. “Off.”
Between the two of them they stripped off Rodney’s trousers and shorts, John pressing close. From the state of Rodney’s hard on, he hadn’t been lying about being okay with this. John wanted to shield Rodney from the clear view of those damned voyeurs in the corner, and . . . Well, yeah, he wanted to hold Rodney to him, feel Rodney warm and panting and hard beneath him. He wanted . . .
John planted a kiss on Rodney’s tee-shirt covered sternum, grabbed a fur on either side of Rodney’s hips and, as he stood, covered Rodney. He wanted to look at Rodney, see more than the glimpses of fair skin he’d caught during missions, but Rodney already had enough to deal with. Maybe later . . .
Reluctantly, John pushed the idea away.
After unfastening his boots and kicking them away, John skinned off his trousers and shorts, heedless of his own erection. If Rodney had to bare his ass, so could he.
“What are you doing?” As John stripped from the waist down, Rodney stared at him, eyes wide. “You’re a lunatic! Admittedly a pretty lunatic, but you didn’t have to . . . .” His gaze dropped to John’s dick, and then he swallowed. Hard. “Oh, God,” Rodney whispered, shifting under the furs, “I’ve got a good feeling about this.”
From the muttered sounds from the watchers, something was unusual. Or maybe they just liked to comment on the performers.
John almost laughed. Leave it to Rodney to turn a disaster into a triumph. Well, not a triumph yet, and if this whole situation wasn’t a reason to have performance anxiety, he didn’t know what was. John grabbed the small pot of oil that sat beside the platform along with a collection of items, some of which he recognized but really didn’t want to think about, and knelt between Rodney’s legs.
Rodney eyed the pot of oil, the sudden tightness around his mouth banking John’s enthusiasm.
John slid his hands up Rodney’s calves, resting them again on his knees. “You still okay?”
“Yeah. Just . . .” Rodney’s gaze flickered toward the corner, where the mutters were growing. “If you’re over your puritanical guilt trip, we’d better do something soon.” One side of his mouth lifted as he turned to John. “I never thought I’d say these words in this context, but how do you want me?”
John wrapped one arm around Rodney’s shoulders and kissed him again, soft and unhurried. Rodney hummed, relaxing a little, and John pressed him onto his back, supporting Rodney’s descent with his arm, bringing him safely to ground.
“Like this,” he breathed into Rodney’s ear, his free hand slipping under the furs and stroking Rodney’s dick.
“I . . .” Rodney’s voice caught. “This is good. I can do this.”
John settled back on his heels, and tugged Rodney forward a little, until his ass hung half-off the platform. From John’s limited experience with this sort of thing, he knew it wasn’t the most comfortable of positions, but he wanted to see Rodney’s face as they . . . fucked.
Taking a deep breath, he opened the pot and poured a generous amount into one palm, then rubbed his hands together, coating them both.
“Take it easy,” he said, sliding his oiled hands up Rodney’s thighs and under the furs. “I’ve got you.”
“You’d better do more than just ‘get’ me.” Rodney shuddered as John explored. “I’m expecting the earth to move, not to mention—”
John wrapped one hand around Rodney’s dick and squeezed.
“Oh, my God.” Rodney groaned. The muttering from the corner died down.
Stroking Rodney smoothly, John let the pace build before he moved his other hand lower, pressing one, then two fingers firmly into Rodney. Rodney’s dick twitched in his grasp, and Rodney threw back his head, arched his back.
“What . . . I . . . Oh!”
John grinned. A nonverbal Rodney. He was doing something right.
He twisted his fingers – God, Rodney was so hot, and he wasn’t just talking about the temperature – and Rodney gasped, lifted his head with what seemed like an enormous effort, and speared John with a glance.
“If you make me come before you’re inside me, I will kill you,” Rodney said in one fast breath. He closed his eyes again, his head thudding back against the furs. “I will murder you in your sleep, or maybe when you’re eating, or taking a shower, or . . . .” He groaned again.
John could never resist a challenge, especially one from Rodney. His hands were still slick; a couple of swipes of his fist were sufficient. The platform was a convenient height. All he had to do was lift Rodney’s legs over his shoulders and line himself up, pressing forward.
Rodney panted, his body welcoming John. Tremors shook Rodney’s arms and legs. Not pain, because John’s gaze never left his face, and Rodney’s face . . . John had never seen him look like this, softened and flushed with pleasure, mouth open, lips wet, eyes dark.
With a groan, John slowly pushed inside. Hot. Tight. Better than he’d ever expected, and then God, Rodney squirmed. John’s eyes closed – he couldn’t help it -- and fireworks sparkled and blossomed behind his lids.
No. He wasn’t going to finish alone.
Sucking in a deep breath, John forced his eyes open and grasped Rodney’s dick again. Pleasure bubbled in his joints, raced along his nerves, but he gritted his teeth and stroked Rodney, inside and out.
“C’mon, Rodney,” he murmured, throat dry. “Show me you want this.”
“What the fuck,” Rodney gasped, “have I been saying all this time? Haven’t you paid,” a groan, “any attention at all?”
John choked out a laugh as he buried himself deep, so deep in Rodney that he wasn’t sure he’d ever be entirely free again. Rodney’s dick pulsed in his hand; John felt the warmth and wetness for a moment before he tipped over the edge and fell, headlong.
*
“The nerve toxin looks very promising.” Carter’s eyes sparkled. She hadn’t questioned their heavily edited version of events, hadn’t even raised an eyebrow when Rodney sat down with a wince.
“Glad we could help.” John glanced at Rodney sitting beside him, expecting to see the usual stunned-by-Colonel-Carter glazed expression.
It wasn’t there. Which maybe meant something had . . . changed.
Maybe this didn’t have to be a one-off thing. Maybe -- could he hope? -- he and Rodney could do this again. Only this time, minus the furs and the smoke and the death threats and the witnesses.
Looking faintly smug, Rodney shifted, pressing his knee against John’s thigh as he complained about . . . something. John wasn’t listening.
He couldn’t wait to get Rodney alone – really alone. He had things he wanted to do, places on Rodney he wanted to touch, and lick, and . . .
“Colonel?” Fingers snapped before his face.
John blinked, noticed the room clearing out.
With an impatient glance, Rodney leaned forward. “Are you coming?”
John stood, his lips almost brushing Rodney’s ear. “Only if you fuck me this time.”
Rodney gaped at him for a long moment. “I can’t believe you said that!” Then he grabbed John’s arm, hauling him out the door and down the corridor, yelling at anyone who got in their way.
John grinned. Who knew that Rodney, citrus allergy and all, could take the proverbial lemons and make lemonade?
kassrachel for betaing and encouraging me to make my virgin post to sga_flashfic. Her advice, as usual, was excellent, and all mistakes are my own. Dedicated to chickwriter, as partial payment for she knows what.Title: Inertial Coupling
Author:
sihayabRating: adult
Pairing: John/Rodney
Word count: 2,212
Inertial Coupling: A phenomenon that occurs when a single-engine fighter aircraft is quickly put into a roll, resulting in violent pitching and yawing, and loss of control as the aircraft rotates on all three axes.
“I’m sorry,” John murmured, his fingers busy on Rodney’s belt buckle. His eyes burned; too much smoke from the fire. Though the fire had its uses. First and most important, warmth, which was in short supply on this damned planet. And the smoke blurred the corners of the tent, let them pretend they had some privacy.
“Stop apologizing, Colonel.” Only Rodney could make a whisper sound so peeved. “That makes, what, thirty-seven times?”
John’s hands stilled. “If I had any other choice . . . .”
“Well, you don’t. I’m your second in command.” Rodney hesitated, then his fingers brushed against John’s, oddly tentative. “Still, better me than Teyla or Ronon, right?”
“What?” What the hell did he mean, better? John met Rodney's eyes for the first time since the mission had taken a nosedive into the ground. “Normal” was a relative term in the Pegasus galaxy, but this? Set a new standard for fucked-up. Literally. You must prove your strength, and your second-in-command his dedication. If it had only been his own life on the line, John would have told the Suomina exactly where to shove it. But they’d also threatened the lives of his team, and the folks back on Atlantis needed that sample of nerve toxin, so John had swallowed his pride and given in.
Rodney didn’t flinch from his gaze. He wasn’t calm, not by a long shot, but not as terrified – or angry – as John had expected. John glanced at the figures sitting in the dark corner and lowered his voice again. “Why is raping,” his voice caught on the word, “you better than raping Teyla or Ronon?”
“Because.” Rodney sat on the low platform covered with furs and unfastened one boot.
John knelt, hands on Rodney’s knees. “Because why?”
Rodney stared at the floor, his lips pressed together, as if preventing something from escaping.
“Look,” he finally said, his hands resting lightly on John’s for a moment before tightening into fists and pressing into the fur, “I know I’m usually the first one to freak out when we’re threatened, and I reserve the right to have a loud and messy nervous breakdown later, but if I do, it won’t be because of what we’re doing here and now. On the spectrum of obstacles we’ve had to overcome, this is no big deal. We do this, they give us a sample of the nerve toxin that appears to work against the Wraith, and we leave. Without,” he leaned forward, blue eyes blazing, “any of us getting killed or tortured. Even an idiot would make the right decision here.”
Except for the whole being-raped-is-no-big-deal part, Rodney was right. And compared to the variety of torture, followed by a slow and even more painful death, that the militia had promised if John didn’t display his bond with his second in command, raping a colleague and closest thing to a best friend was definitely the lesser of two evils. Even though John would have to find some way to live with the guilt, and Rodney the shame, Rodney was right as usual, damn him. John’s face burned and his jaw ached and he wished like hell he didn’t have to do this.
Oh, yeah, he had wished . . . but not this way. The one way that killed his chances, and maybe their friendship.
John sat back on his heels and unfastened Rodney’s other boot. Someone shifted in the shadows, but John ignored the movement, focusing on the fine tremors that ran through Rodney’s legs. He pulled off both boots and tossed them to one side, then ran his hands slowly up Rodney’s thighs, then back down to his knees. The only way he’d be able to live with himself would be to make this as good as possible for Rodney.
Rodney made a little noise in the back of his throat.
“Ticklish?” John dredged up a thin smile and pressed Rodney’s knees apart.
“A little.” He sounded breathless. Apprehensive.
John’s smile faded. “Rodney.” His hands restlessly rubbed Rodney’s knees. “I’m sorry.”
Rodney glared. “That’s thirty-eight times, which is more than enough for someone of my intellectual gifts to understand the fact that you’d rather court dismemberment and certain death than fuck me.”
“What?” Anger, pure and hot, warmed his face. His fingers dug into Rodney’s thighs. “I’m trying to apologize for raping you, you asshole!”
Rodney lifted his chin. “And I’m saying that it’s rape only if I don’t want it.”
John blinked. Twice. Licked his lips and felt Rodney tremble under his hands.
Rodney . . . didn’t mind. Wanted John to . . . .
A flare of hope eased the tightness in his chest. Maybe he’d be able to pull up, find his way out of the dive, as long as Rodney was telling the truth.
He grabbed Rodney’s shoulders. “Are you sure? You’re not lying, just so we--”
“Shut up.” Rodney leaned forward, slowly pushing into John’s space. His face was flushed but he didn’t look away, just kept coming until his lips met John’s.
Thank God.
As first kisses went, it wasn’t much. A dry brush of lips, a gentle pressure. Rodney’s lashes fluttered against John’s cheek, a fractional release of tension in Rodney’s shoulders.
John could live with this. It wasn’t ideal, but maybe Rodney wouldn’t have to deal with PTSD and years of therapy. Or at least, no more than was usual in the Pegasus galaxy. John ran his hands down Rodney’s arms before pulling back enough to tug on the waistband of Rodney’s trousers. “Off.”
Between the two of them they stripped off Rodney’s trousers and shorts, John pressing close. From the state of Rodney’s hard on, he hadn’t been lying about being okay with this. John wanted to shield Rodney from the clear view of those damned voyeurs in the corner, and . . . Well, yeah, he wanted to hold Rodney to him, feel Rodney warm and panting and hard beneath him. He wanted . . .
John planted a kiss on Rodney’s tee-shirt covered sternum, grabbed a fur on either side of Rodney’s hips and, as he stood, covered Rodney. He wanted to look at Rodney, see more than the glimpses of fair skin he’d caught during missions, but Rodney already had enough to deal with. Maybe later . . .
Reluctantly, John pushed the idea away.
After unfastening his boots and kicking them away, John skinned off his trousers and shorts, heedless of his own erection. If Rodney had to bare his ass, so could he.
“What are you doing?” As John stripped from the waist down, Rodney stared at him, eyes wide. “You’re a lunatic! Admittedly a pretty lunatic, but you didn’t have to . . . .” His gaze dropped to John’s dick, and then he swallowed. Hard. “Oh, God,” Rodney whispered, shifting under the furs, “I’ve got a good feeling about this.”
From the muttered sounds from the watchers, something was unusual. Or maybe they just liked to comment on the performers.
John almost laughed. Leave it to Rodney to turn a disaster into a triumph. Well, not a triumph yet, and if this whole situation wasn’t a reason to have performance anxiety, he didn’t know what was. John grabbed the small pot of oil that sat beside the platform along with a collection of items, some of which he recognized but really didn’t want to think about, and knelt between Rodney’s legs.
Rodney eyed the pot of oil, the sudden tightness around his mouth banking John’s enthusiasm.
John slid his hands up Rodney’s calves, resting them again on his knees. “You still okay?”
“Yeah. Just . . .” Rodney’s gaze flickered toward the corner, where the mutters were growing. “If you’re over your puritanical guilt trip, we’d better do something soon.” One side of his mouth lifted as he turned to John. “I never thought I’d say these words in this context, but how do you want me?”
John wrapped one arm around Rodney’s shoulders and kissed him again, soft and unhurried. Rodney hummed, relaxing a little, and John pressed him onto his back, supporting Rodney’s descent with his arm, bringing him safely to ground.
“Like this,” he breathed into Rodney’s ear, his free hand slipping under the furs and stroking Rodney’s dick.
“I . . .” Rodney’s voice caught. “This is good. I can do this.”
John settled back on his heels, and tugged Rodney forward a little, until his ass hung half-off the platform. From John’s limited experience with this sort of thing, he knew it wasn’t the most comfortable of positions, but he wanted to see Rodney’s face as they . . . fucked.
Taking a deep breath, he opened the pot and poured a generous amount into one palm, then rubbed his hands together, coating them both.
“Take it easy,” he said, sliding his oiled hands up Rodney’s thighs and under the furs. “I’ve got you.”
“You’d better do more than just ‘get’ me.” Rodney shuddered as John explored. “I’m expecting the earth to move, not to mention—”
John wrapped one hand around Rodney’s dick and squeezed.
“Oh, my God.” Rodney groaned. The muttering from the corner died down.
Stroking Rodney smoothly, John let the pace build before he moved his other hand lower, pressing one, then two fingers firmly into Rodney. Rodney’s dick twitched in his grasp, and Rodney threw back his head, arched his back.
“What . . . I . . . Oh!”
John grinned. A nonverbal Rodney. He was doing something right.
He twisted his fingers – God, Rodney was so hot, and he wasn’t just talking about the temperature – and Rodney gasped, lifted his head with what seemed like an enormous effort, and speared John with a glance.
“If you make me come before you’re inside me, I will kill you,” Rodney said in one fast breath. He closed his eyes again, his head thudding back against the furs. “I will murder you in your sleep, or maybe when you’re eating, or taking a shower, or . . . .” He groaned again.
John could never resist a challenge, especially one from Rodney. His hands were still slick; a couple of swipes of his fist were sufficient. The platform was a convenient height. All he had to do was lift Rodney’s legs over his shoulders and line himself up, pressing forward.
Rodney panted, his body welcoming John. Tremors shook Rodney’s arms and legs. Not pain, because John’s gaze never left his face, and Rodney’s face . . . John had never seen him look like this, softened and flushed with pleasure, mouth open, lips wet, eyes dark.
With a groan, John slowly pushed inside. Hot. Tight. Better than he’d ever expected, and then God, Rodney squirmed. John’s eyes closed – he couldn’t help it -- and fireworks sparkled and blossomed behind his lids.
No. He wasn’t going to finish alone.
Sucking in a deep breath, John forced his eyes open and grasped Rodney’s dick again. Pleasure bubbled in his joints, raced along his nerves, but he gritted his teeth and stroked Rodney, inside and out.
“C’mon, Rodney,” he murmured, throat dry. “Show me you want this.”
“What the fuck,” Rodney gasped, “have I been saying all this time? Haven’t you paid,” a groan, “any attention at all?”
John choked out a laugh as he buried himself deep, so deep in Rodney that he wasn’t sure he’d ever be entirely free again. Rodney’s dick pulsed in his hand; John felt the warmth and wetness for a moment before he tipped over the edge and fell, headlong.
*
“The nerve toxin looks very promising.” Carter’s eyes sparkled. She hadn’t questioned their heavily edited version of events, hadn’t even raised an eyebrow when Rodney sat down with a wince.
“Glad we could help.” John glanced at Rodney sitting beside him, expecting to see the usual stunned-by-Colonel-Carter glazed expression.
It wasn’t there. Which maybe meant something had . . . changed.
Maybe this didn’t have to be a one-off thing. Maybe -- could he hope? -- he and Rodney could do this again. Only this time, minus the furs and the smoke and the death threats and the witnesses.
Looking faintly smug, Rodney shifted, pressing his knee against John’s thigh as he complained about . . . something. John wasn’t listening.
He couldn’t wait to get Rodney alone – really alone. He had things he wanted to do, places on Rodney he wanted to touch, and lick, and . . .
“Colonel?” Fingers snapped before his face.
John blinked, noticed the room clearing out.
With an impatient glance, Rodney leaned forward. “Are you coming?”
John stood, his lips almost brushing Rodney’s ear. “Only if you fuck me this time.”
Rodney gaped at him for a long moment. “I can’t believe you said that!” Then he grabbed John’s arm, hauling him out the door and down the corridor, yelling at anyone who got in their way.
John grinned. Who knew that Rodney, citrus allergy and all, could take the proverbial lemons and make lemonade?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-13 08:19 pm (UTC)::grin::
It's apparently a good day for Aliens Made Them Do It stories here at
:-)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-14 02:26 pm (UTC)(And since I'm not into death-as-really-really-dead stories, yours tickles me to bits!)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-13 08:28 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-14 02:27 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-13 08:41 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-14 02:28 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-13 08:42 pm (UTC)Hee, this made me grin.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-14 02:29 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-13 09:14 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-14 02:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-13 09:45 pm (UTC)I like when authors touch on the issue of consent and having the first time due to Aliens Made Them Do It possibly being a problem to continuing in a relationship. Nicely done.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-14 02:36 pm (UTC)I agree. It's no where near as conveniently cut-and-dried as in this story. But then, I didn't want to write a 500K rape-recovery story, so I took the easy way out and followed the well-trodden path of many other romance writers.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-14 12:37 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-14 02:36 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-14 01:23 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-14 02:37 pm (UTC)(And your icon? Nnnnnngggggghhhh...)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-14 02:01 am (UTC)I’m expecting the earth to move - only Rodney. ::g::
BTW, spot on voices. I'm SO glad I pimped you into this fandom!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-14 02:38 pm (UTC)I love you for that.
;>
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-14 02:08 am (UTC)*dances*
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-14 02:40 pm (UTC)It's great to share a fandom again. ::g::
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-14 02:19 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-14 02:40 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-14 03:17 am (UTC)poor John, apologizing 38 times before Rodney could disabuse him of his guilt...
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-14 02:45 pm (UTC)Don't think that Rodney didn't get full value of all those apologies... After all, he *was* keeping count. ;>
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-14 04:53 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-14 02:46 pm (UTC)::many hugs::
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-14 05:35 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-15 02:16 pm (UTC)Hey! Fabulous to share a fandom with you again!
Glad you enjoyed the story. (And yes, Rodney SO tops from the bottom that John has to keep reminding himself that HE'S the one doing the fucking...) ;>
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-15 12:51 am (UTC)Go John! And go you! This all hot and lovely and very well thought-out for, well, a flashfic.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-15 02:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-15 05:31 am (UTC)and the last line was ridiculously cute.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-15 02:19 pm (UTC)But it's JOHN. And RODNEY. Therefore, hot! ::g:: J + R = scorching!
Thanks! Glad the last line worked for you.
Inertial Coupling
Date: 2007-11-18 12:17 am (UTC)Thank you.
Re: Inertial Coupling
Date: 2007-11-18 03:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-19 03:00 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-19 02:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-19 08:51 pm (UTC)Yay for you getting sucked into SGA and writing!!
*smooch*
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-20 09:48 pm (UTC)Hey, with all the pimping, I didn't have a choice! I feel like a kid in a candy shop when I look around and see ALL THE FABULOUS STORIES! ::twirls::
::smooches you back::
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-20 02:41 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-20 09:49 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-22 05:40 am (UTC)Um, more, please? You know, if the mood should strike. *g*
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-22 08:41 pm (UTC)More? Um. Well, we'll see. I'm still inhaling the VAST quantity of SGA stories out there -- that'll take some time.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-27 01:41 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-27 10:22 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-07-20 06:23 am (UTC)Only Rodney would complain and threaten when on the verge of orgasm. :-D
Fun and hot fic!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-07-20 02:43 pm (UTC)Glad you enjoyed it!!