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Title: And we shall never speak of it again
Author: FlatlandDan
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard Beckett/Bates
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None.
Rodney McKay hadn’t pissed his pants since he was two years old. It was a very good thing he didn’t have pants on right now. He dropped the towel that had covered what little modesty he had left and grappled for the lights with his mind. He couldn’t concentrate, his mind was so full of it. The city couldn’t see past his terror
The evil snicker from the bed propelled him forward. Tears streamed down his face. He squeezed his legs together, abandoning the lights all together. If he could just reach the toilet, just shut the door and get away from him he would be ok. He would survive.
And then, like some sort of Picasso inspired piece of art, the toilet was there. Rodney sighed softly as he leaned his head against the cool wall.
The snicker filtered in from the doorway.
“I hope your happy.” Rodney snapped. John Sheppard leaned against the doorframe, sheets wrapped around him like a toga. “If you ever mention Beckett, Bates and bondage in that much detail again I won’t bother getting out of your bed and you can clean up the piss.”
“I wonder if he calls him Master Bates?”
Author: FlatlandDan
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard Beckett/Bates
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None.
Rodney McKay hadn’t pissed his pants since he was two years old. It was a very good thing he didn’t have pants on right now. He dropped the towel that had covered what little modesty he had left and grappled for the lights with his mind. He couldn’t concentrate, his mind was so full of it. The city couldn’t see past his terror
The evil snicker from the bed propelled him forward. Tears streamed down his face. He squeezed his legs together, abandoning the lights all together. If he could just reach the toilet, just shut the door and get away from him he would be ok. He would survive.
And then, like some sort of Picasso inspired piece of art, the toilet was there. Rodney sighed softly as he leaned his head against the cool wall.
The snicker filtered in from the doorway.
“I hope your happy.” Rodney snapped. John Sheppard leaned against the doorframe, sheets wrapped around him like a toga. “If you ever mention Beckett, Bates and bondage in that much detail again I won’t bother getting out of your bed and you can clean up the piss.”
“I wonder if he calls him Master Bates?”