dS, F/K, explicit
Ray lets his head fall forward, his
brow against Fraser's shoulder. He only needs to rest a minute, but
Fraser won't let him rest, won't even give him that minute
before he pushes his fingers into Ray's hair and tugs his head up
again. Ray has time to suck in a quick breath and then Fraser's mouth
is on his again, wet and hot, that tongue pushing up to meet Ray's
Ray moans and kisses Fraser back because he can't help
it either, really--more than a year the two of them worked together,
day in and day out, and all that time he was thinking of this. Of
what it would feel like to get naked in a bed with Fraser. To get his
fingers that hair, even, or kiss that fucking...mouth and now
that he can finally do this, now that he's allowed, he doesn't
even want to stop long enough to breathe.
Fraser says, and kisses Ray again, slides his mouth down Ray's chin,
licks the sweat off his neck. "Ray," he says, and bites
Ray's shoulder, gently, his teeth wet and sharp on Ray's skin. Ray
closes his eyes and thrusts into the warm hollow of Fraser's hip and
Fraser's big hand closes hard on his ass, fingers digging in. Ray's
stupid and blind, narrowed down to heat here and roughness there, to
their breath in the silence, to the way Fraser's voice sounds like
sandpaper or like liquor maybe, and Ray knows that doesn't make
sense, but he can't, he can't make himself care.
he says, and his own voice sounds way too high-pitched and he might
maybe be embarrassed about that, sometime. He lets his head fall back
and thrusts again, and Fraser's fingers move on his ass, find the
cleft and press inside it, inside him, slick with spit or
something. He grunts and pushes forward again, then back onto
Fraser's finger. And Fraser slides his other hand around to the back
of Ray's head, pulling him down again so he can press his mouth to
"Ray," he says. "Is this...can
I...is this okay?"
Ray swallows hard. He needs to answer
this because otherwise Fraser's going to stop, but Fraser has
his thighs pressed against Ray's hips, and Ray can still, can still
fucking taste Fraser every time he licks his lips or presses
his tongue to the roof of his mouth, and he keeps getting distracted.
He kisses Fraser's jaw and then he licks Fraser's ear, and then
Fraser's finger is shifting inside him, getting ready to withdraw, so
he lifts his head, forces himself to say something.
Fraser pauses. Ray swallows again and lifts his head
and thank god, Fraser looks about as stupid as Ray feels: eyelids
half-closed, his lips red and swollen. "No," Ray manages.
"I mean, yeah. Or...just don't, uh. Don't stop."
licks his lips. "Okay," he says. And then Ray doesn't even
know what he's doing anymore because Fraser's mouth is open under his
and Fraser's fingers are in his hair, scraping against his scalp,
keeping him close, and they're both breathing hard and the bed is
smacking against the wall--thunk, thunk, thunk--and Ray's thinking
about what if Fraser fucked him. He's thinking what if Fraser had him
pushed into the mattress right now, and instead of that finger
working its way inside him it was Fraser's cock, and he thinks that
holy Christ he wants that, he wants it so fucking much.
"Fuck me," he says against Fraser's cheek. "Fraser,
god--fuck me. I mean it. Please."
And Fraser sucks in a
breath and pulls him even closer, pushes his fingers deeper and
Jesus, Jesus, Ray is losing it, like there are stars in the
dark behind his squeezed-closed eyelids and a ringing in his ears
kind of losing it, and he's coming all over Fraser's stomach,
Fraser's voice low and rough against his ear.
shifted. Broken glass crunched under the soles of his boots, that
small sound echoing in the empty house where he was sheltering.
Beneath the pines at the edge of the yard, something in the shadows
moved. Rodney shivered, tightened his grip on the gun in his hand,
sweat slick on the cool metal.
"Rodney," John said
again. "I mean it. Don't."
Rodney closed his
eyes for a moment, swallowed hard. Then he let all the breath out of
his lungs at once, reached a shaky hand up to the radio in his ear
and tugged it out.
John's strained whisper went silent.
Without it, the night suddenly seemed much larger. Rodney heard the
wind pick up outside, rustling the tops of those pines, stirring the
grass in the yard, making the door swing on its one remaining hinge.
He couldn't see much out there, but it seemed like the yard was
empty. The...whatever-they-were--the Invaders, the locals had
called them--they seemed to be concentrating their attentions on
John, who was stuck in the branches of one of those pines, which John
seemed to think was a perfectly satisfactory situation because it
meant that the locals had been able to escape. Which, Rodney thought,
pulling a grenade from the pouch on his belt with fingers that felt
like rubber, was totally a John Sheppard kind of plan: short-sighted,
unnecessarily dramatic and featuring the heroic sacrifice of hey, you
"Two more minutes," Rodney
muttered. "I would've thought of something. I mean, come on--of
course I would have. I'm great in time-pressured
situations. I do my best planning that way." He hefted the
grenade, gave it a doubtful look. In the training video, they said
you should pick a target and plan your toss before you pulled the
pin, so okay, that meant that now was the time. He took a breath. Let
it out again. Took another breath. Considered making a brief detour
so he could vomit, since that's what his stomach seemed to be
suggesting he do, right now--and rather strenuously
suggesting, too, actually.
But then there was a sudden
rustling from the direction of the pines and what sounded like wood
cracking, and Rodney heard John swear out loud, sounding scared--or
at least startled--and then Rodney was running, flat-out, already
halfway across the yard before he even knew what he was doing.
was over pretty quickly from there. Yes, there was almost an issue
when the pin turned out to be ridiculously difficult to pull out of
the grenade, and Rodney had to pause mid-barbarian-charge to fiddle
with the thing, and yes, when it finally come loose, he was so
startled he almost forgot to actually throw it. But he did
throw it, and he didn't blow his own arm off, and he got John out of
the goddamned tree and they made it through the gate.
later, when they were safe in Atlantis and the briefing was
over--when John pulled Rodney into his quarters and shoved him hard
against the wall in the dark, and kissed him like one of them was
drowning, his mouth open and hot and alive, his fingers already
working their way into Rodney's clothes--well. Rodney was willing to
concede that heroics sometimes had their own reward.
SGA, McKay/Sheppard, explicit
"...so then, after all that negotiating, he said 'I'll think
John made a soothing sort of noise and pulled
Rodney's left arm out of his shirt sleeve.
"'I'll think about it.' As if we hadn't just spent three
hours explaining to him why it was absolutely necessary, and
exactly what the consequences were going to be if he didn't--and I am
not talking about minor stuff here, John; I mean, these people are on
the verge of self, uh...what are you doing?"
his mouth from the hard curve of Rodney's shoulder. "I'm sucking
on you," he said.
Rodney blinked. "Oh. Okay. Well,
anyway, after that I might have said some, um...things." John
scraped the fingertips of one hand down Rodney's hairy chest. Rodney
shivered. "So now Elizabeth says I'm not allowed on any more
John smiled against the skin of
Rodney's neck. "What'd you say?" he asked between kisses,
and undid Rodney's fly.
Rodney shivered again, trying to bring
his shoulder up to protect his neck from John's mouth. "I don't
know," he said. "I suppose I said he was exploitative. And
I might have called him a profiteering vulture." He shivered
again, and then gasped when John's hand found its way into his
underwear. "Also a morally vacant asshat," he added
John snorted, lifting his head. "You called the
Grand Duke of Polomy an asshat?"
leaned in a little closer, made his grip a little tighter, watched
Rodney's eyes fall closed. "Well. I think that's pretty
"Oh," said Rodney, without opening his
eyes. John kissed him, then did it again, bringing his unoccupied
hand up to hold the side of Rodney's face, squeezing Rodney's cock
inside his shorts, licking his way into Rodney's unresisting mouth.
Rodney moaned and kissed him back, those big hands closing hard on
his arms. For a little while, he didn't even try to talk.
later, when they were both naked on the bed and John was kissing his
way across Rodney's chest, he heard Rodney take a meditative breath.
(That was the thing about Rodney: he would think of something to say
pretty much any time his mouth wasn't actively occupied--and
sometimes even that wouldn't stop him.)
"I could be
diplomatic," he said now. "Don't you think?"
grinned and licked Rodney's left nipple, shaking his head.
but really--how hard could it be? I'm an intelligent guy."
John said gently, sliding up so he could look into Rodney's eyes,
pushing the sweaty hair from Rodney's face and stroking that flushed
cheek with his thumb. "You are the least diplomatic person I
know. No--" Rodney opened his mouth like he was going to
protest, so John shook his head. "Really. You will never, ever
make a good diplomat. Never. Really. No."
his mouth and gave a frustrated little huff through his nose. John
was obliged to kiss him pretty thoroughly. It took a while.
still a genius, though," he said, eventually, when both of them
"Well, yes," Rodney agreed. He did
sound a little mollified, though; was tracing patterns on the small
of John's back with his fingertips.
know--pretty fucking cute."
"Yeah?" That got
him a grin.
John kissed it. "Mmm," he said. "But
don't, uh. Don't tell anybody I said so."
She shifted, leaning back against the railing and
stretching her bare feet out in front of her. It was difficult to
find a comfortable position. Difficult to force herself to relax at
all. She had been working a lot lately, dividing her time between
offworld missions and the harvest on the mainland; she couldn't
remember the last time she'd done anything this irresponsible.
orders were orders, and Dr. Weir had been very clear. Teyla was to
accompany the rest of the team to the south pier for an afternoon of
mandated "R&R." "It'll do you all a world of
good," she'd said. "You work too hard, and everyone has a
limit. I'd just like to make sure that none of you is in any danger
of reaching yours."
Well, and here they were. As
Out at the end of the pier, John and Ronon were
standing with their toes curled around the edge of the platform, side
by side. They appeared to be having a spitting contest. Rodney,
however, had not adapted as well to the requirements of the
afternoon. He was standing uncomfortably in the shade next to the
nearest spire, his arms crossed over his chest, muttering to himself.
He had been there for almost thirty minutes already--ever since he'd
discovered that Dr. Weir had removed his computer from the bag he'd
insisted on bringing, replacing it with a paper book and a deck of
Teyla tipped her head back against the rail and
closed her eyes. "Rodney," she called. "Perhaps you
would find that the afternoon would pass more quickly if you did not
spend it pacing?" She did not even have to open her eyes to know
he was glaring at her now. She smiled a little. "Come, sit down.
I'll help you with your sunscreen."
She could feel him
waffling between the pleasures of continued sulking and the more
immediate ones associated with having someone else rub lotion into
your skin. Truly, he was as transparent as a little child, at times.
It was a good thing that he was also cute.
sulking lost, as she had known it would. She heard his feet cross the
pier, felt the whoosh of displaced air as he took a seat beside her.
"How can you do this, just...give in like this?"
She heard a rustling, and his voice grew muffled as he pulled his
shirt over his head. "I mean, I know you aren't like those two
over there--you aren't the kind of person who can just spend the
whole afternoon happily...hmm. What is it that they're doing,
Teyla opened her eyes and they both watched
John and Ronon for a time. The spitting war was over; the newest game
seemed to require them to clasp hands and wave their thumbs
"I have no idea," Teyla admitted, after a
while. She took the lotion Rodney pressed into her hand and squeezed
a goodly portion of it into the other palm. "But are you hungry?
Perhaps it would be a good idea for us to eat while those two
are...occupied." She reached sideways and began to smooth the
lotion over Rodney's shoulders.
Rodney groaned and shifted
closer. "That--mmm--that is a good idea. I know they only
packed us a couple of those ham and cheese sandwiches. I think it's
entirely appropriate for the two of us to claim them."
smiled and leaned back against the railing again. The lotion was
well-spread on Rodney's back, but she left her hand there anyway,
warm against his spine, and he smiled at her, briefly, as he dug
through the insulated bag into which the kitchen staff had packed
their food. The sun beat down, sleepy and bright and warm against
Teyla's eyelids, and even the enormous splash at the end of the pier
couldn't persuade her to open them again.
In a little while,
John and Ronon would be here, too, dripping salt water and demanding
a fair share of the food, breathless and laughing, somehow managing
to make even this wide-open space feel crowded. Rodney would complain
and they would probably throw him in the ocean, and then they would
all four of them spend the rest of the afternoon drying slowly in the
Teyla smiled and patted Rodney's back before she drew her
hand away. Perhaps Elizabeth had been right. They'd needed this. One
day of childish ease in the midst of all the rest.
think I've had enough, Fraser. This is done."
looked up from the book he was reading, squinting into the shadows
outside the pool of light cast by his reading lamp. "Well,"
he said. "I suppose you might want to throw it out then,
Dief lifted his head from his forepaws and gave a
"Diefenbaker, there is no way on this
green earth that you could possibly be hungry. I personally saw you
eat more than half your own weight in popcorn tonight." Dief
grumbled, but lowered his head again. Fraser sighed.
up from the table, put one hand over his slightly distended belly and
gave the remnants of his slice of berry pie a doubtful look. "Maybe
in a little while?" he said. "I mean, once stuff has a
chance to, uh...settle."
Fraser sighed again, settling
deeper into the cushions. He was careful not to say anything about
overindulgence and the costs thereof, but he did allow himself a
small disapproving shake of the head as he lifted his book again. He
heard Ray snort, heard the sound of his feet on the kitchen tile and
then the rattle of the refrigerator opening, a small chink as the
plate touched the metal shelf within. A moment later, he felt the air
move above him and had just enough time to look up before Ray himself
landed on the cushions beside him, all elbows and protuberant
"Ouch," Fraser said mildly.
Ray squirmed and shifted, and Fraser sighed and accommodated him
until they'd somehow managed an arrangement in which Ray rested
between Fraser's body and the back of the couch, his head propped on
Fraser's chest, one arm flung across his belly. He squirmed a little
more, then, sneaking one bare foot between Fraser's warmer, sock-clad
ones before he gave a satisfied grunt and closed his eyes.
lifted the hand that wasn't holding his book and dropped it into
Ray's untidy hair, rubbing gently at his scalp. "I'm impressed,"
he murmured. "I wouldn't have thought the couch was sturdy
enough to hold both of us and half the berry pie in Christendom as
"Mmmph," agreed Ray. "It's a good
couch." He patted at it without opening his eyes.
smiled and let his hand fall flat against the back of Ray's head. The
fire popped and sent a shower of sparks up the darkened shaft of the
chimney, briefly brightening the rest of the room. Outside, it was
snowing; Fraser could hear the soft hiss-hissing against the
"Should we go to bed?" he asked, eventually,
setting his book on the floor.
Ray sniffed and held him a
little harder, already most of the way asleep. "Mmhmm," he
said. "Yeah. In, um. In a little while."