Infinite Degrees, by MaisieRita

[maisierita.livejournal.com]

Title: Infinite Degrees
Author: maisierita
Rating: R, I guess
Pairing: McShep.  Again.
Spoilers: None
Summary: ... it was oh-so-many different kinds of wrong to be here, watching this, but even so, it wasn't like she'd done it on purpose.
Author's Notes: You know, I had no idea what, if anything, to write for this challenge, and then I realized I had this little piece of nonsense sitting on my hard drive already.  Talk about serendipity.  All the fun of posting, none of the pressure of a deadline.  Not betaed yet.  And yes, I do have backstory in my head for this, but you can feel free to fill in your own.

It wasn't her fault.
 
Really.
 
It wasn't her fault. At all. Because, well, yes, okay, it was oh-so-many different kinds of wrong to be here, watching this, but even so, it wasn't like she'd done it on purpose.
 
Not the first time, anyway.
 
The first time was definitely Daniel's fault.
 
So that made this Daniel's fault, too. Yeah, that sounded right.
 
It was Daniel's fault.
 
Daniel's fault that she was here, in her office, with the door locked and bolted for good measure, with the speakers turned up just loud enough so she could hear the moans but not so loud that anyone in the corridor could, with the lights down low so that the illicit images from the security feed cast strange, flickering shadows on the walls.
 
This was bad. Being here, watching this, had infinite degrees of badness, and she knew she should turn off the monitor and disconnect the feed and never, ever, ever do anything like this again. Ever.
 
But then, on the screen, John Sheppard arched his back and slammed his head against the wall, and even though she couldn't see all the details, even though most of the interesting parts were obscured by the body in front of him, he was obviously coming and coming hard; his body was shaking with the force of it, and the look on his face ...
 
God, the look on his face.
 
And then his eyes opened slowly, hazel and sleepy and dazed, and he grinned a lazy grin, smiling at the gods and the universe and particularly at the man kneeling on the floor in front of him.
 
"Rodney," he said, in a plain and simple voice, no seduction in his tone because it was all in that languid grin, and extended a hand down to help pull his lover to his feet. Then there was kissing, lots of kissing; fierce and rough and hot, alpha-male kissing with lips and teeth and tongues, and damn it if Rodney McKay didn't give as good as he got.
 
Rodney.
 
McKay.
 
Seriously, who would have thought?
 
Samantha Carter sighed to herself and shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
 
This was all Daniel's fault.
 
Really.

Comments

[maisierita.livejournal.com]

I have this urge to punish Sam for not liking Rodney enough. ;)