Fic: The Slow Seduction of John Sheppard 1/3
Title: The Slow Seduction of John Sheppard
Author: ALF
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Rating: NC17
Word count: 12,123
Artist who did your art: Pe1804
Warnings/Kinks: Bottom!John, Virgin!John, collaring, spanking, use of sex toys, mention of torture/violence and use of drugs
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not for profit
A/N: Thanks to telperion_15 for audiencing, cheerleading and general all-around support including a very short notice read-through for obvious errors. Thanks to my artist Pe1804 for the wonderful, gorgeous, amazing artwork! Contains a blink and you’ll miss reference to Trinity. Otherwise, set vaguely S3, or at least in a universe whether neither Carson nor Elizabeth died.
Dr. Rodney McKay was pacing the room he’d been locked up in for the last day and a half, ignoring the nice furniture and all the other signs that this room wasn’t usually used as a prison cell. He was worried about Colonel John Sheppard, who had been dragged away hours before by their captors. Somehow, he doubted they were giving the colonel tea and crumpets and having a friendly chat, despite the impromptu nature of their prison. Rodney hoped that Teyla and Ronon had managed to make good their escape when negotiations with the Tyranians went wrong. And shouldn’t the name have clued them in that things were bound to go wrong, Rodney thought to himself somewhat hysterically as he completed another circuit of the room.
As Rodney once more considered the three locks on the door and the possibility he could pick them all without alerting the guards that were bound to be lurking outside, the sound of the locks being unfastened from the other side had him backing away in anticipation. He watched warily as the door swung open and then his eyes widened as John Sheppard was thrust hard into the room, the door promptly slamming behind him, locks turning once more. Rodney barely had time to notice their renewed captivity, too busy rushing forward to grab his best friend before he had a chance to crumple to the floor.
“Sheppard!” Rodney cried out in dismay as he went to his knees under the dead weight of a half-naked colonel. He only hoped that his poor mental choice of description wasn’t an accurate one, anxiously feeling for a pulse, as he clutched at Sheppard’s shoulders.
A grunt convinced him that the other man was at least still alive, though clearly in poor shape. The colonel was missing his t-shirt, boots and socks, but still had his pants on, much to Rodney’s relief. His face was bruised and bloody, making Rodney wince sympathetically, even as he catalogued the marks and planned violent death for those who had caused the damage.
“Ro’ney?” The slurred question brought Rodney’s eyes back to Sheppard’s, suddenly aware that his fingers were hovering over a bruised cheekbone.
“What the hell, Sheppard?” Rodney breathed out, reluctantly allowing Sheppard to shift his weight off of Rodney and onto his own knees.
“S’all right, Rodney,” Sheppard said, patting Rodney clumsily.
“All right?” Rodney roared. “This is the furthest thing from the definition of all right a situation could be and still be in the same galaxy.”
Sheppard winced at Rodney’s volume. Pushing himself backwards, he stumbled to his feet, swaying all the time.
“Oh for crying out loud,” Rodney said, tone muted this time, scrambling ungracefully to his feet as well.
Sheppard swayed some more, then turned towards the en-suite bathroom their captors had so graciously provided. That gave Rodney his first look at Sheppard’s back. “Jesus!” he breathed, taking a step forward to examine the tanned flesh more closely.
There was a host of marks across the expanse of Sheppard’s back, some just reddened skin, but others clearly having broken the surface, leaving bloody trails in their wake.
”John!” Rodney cried out, appalled at the sight. It was enough to stop Sheppard in his tracks, body tensing in front of Rodney’s eyes. He turned around slowly, pain clear in every line.
“McKay, I’ve been drugged and whipped and beaten and I’d appreciate it if you’d give me a little space, right now,” he said, words gritted out between clenched teeth.
Rodney sucked in a breath, shocked at the naked vulnerability he was seeing from the normally laidback colonel. He took a step forward, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.
“John,” he spoke quietly, afraid to spook his friend further. “Let me help you, please.” He put a whine in his voice on the last word, but he wasn’t above using every tactic at his disposal to persuade Sheppard to let him do this.
Sheppard’s shoulders slumped and Rodney felt his insides clench at this further indication of how much he was hurting and the fact that he was showing Rodney that hurt. “All right,” he whispered, sounding defeated.
Rodney strode quickly across the room, following Sheppard into the surprisingly well-appointed bathroom. “We need to clean those cuts, make sure they don’t get infected,” he babbled. “God knows what germs could already be breeding in there.”
Sheppard sat on the toilet seat, clearly weary. “Whatever you want, Rodney,” he murmured quietly.
“What I want!” Rodney exclaimed. “You have no idea what I want right now, Colonel.”
Sheppard just shook his head at that. “I’m sure I can guess,” he said.
Rodney snorted at that. “Well, yes, I suppose you probably can at that,” he admitted, fussing with the sink full of water, checking the temperature before dipping in the cloth he’d found in the linen closet in a corner of the room. Finally satisfied, he turned and looked at Sheppard. “Let’s start with your face,” he said.
Sheppard had his eyes closed and didn’t respond, so Rodney stepped forward and carefully began to wipe away the blood, being as gentle as he knew how as he moved the cloth across bruises and scrapes. He used his free hand to cup Sheppard’s jaw, carefully moving his head from side to side to give himself the best access, barely aware of the fact that he was rubbing his thumb against the stubbly skin.
When the cloth was dark with dirt and blood, Rodney reluctantly drew away, rinsing it clean in the water, before turning back to Sheppard. He was surprised to find half-lidded eyes watching him, but didn’t speak, just went back to cleaning the rest of Sheppard’s face, content with the comfortable silence between them.
Eventually, Rodney had to concede he had Sheppard’s face as clean as it was going to get. He turned back to the sink and rinsed out the cloth again, draining the dirty water at the same time.
“Rodney,” Sheppard said quietly, surprising Rodney. He turned to where Sheppard was still sitting on the toilet seat. He should have looked better with the dried blood gone, but instead it just made the bruises and cuts easier to see.
“Well, I don’t think there’s any permanent damage,” Rodney said. “Even if I’m not a voodoo practitioner, like Carson.”
“Thank you,” Sheppard said, still quiet, reaching out to grip Rodney’s wrist. That surprised Rodney, because everyone on Atlantis knew that Sheppard didn’t like to touch, or be touched. He looked down at Sheppard’s hand where it encircled his wrist, unable to look up into Sheppard’s eyes, feeling strangely vulnerable and open in that moment.
“Yes, well, it’s the least I could do, Colonel,” Rodney said, his attempt at bluster falling flat. “Now what about your back?”
Sheppard released his wrist and Rodney forced his eyes upwards, nervous about what he might see. He was beginning to sense that there was more going on here than just Sheppard being beaten and whipped. His mind whirled for a second, replaying their earlier conversation and remembering that Sheppard had said something about being drugged. How had he missed that before? No wonder Sheppard was acting so strangely, clearly he was under the influence of something, even if Rodney had no idea what it was or why it was making Sheppard behave oddly.
“My back,” Sheppard said, surprising Rodney, who had forgotten his earlier question as his mind drifted away.
“Yes, yes, Colonel, your back,” Rodney said , this time managing to convey impatience in his tone, as he gestured towards Sheppard.
Sheppard shrugged, then winced as he clearly realized just how foolish a move that had been. “I guess the bed’ll be easiest,” he suggested.
“All right,” Rodney said, turning to a small cabinet under the sink and rummaging around. He exclaimed in triumph when he found a basin and immediately began to fill it at the sink. While the basin filled, he went to the linen closet again, taking out towels and cloths. Sheppard just watched Rodney’s preparations with a bemused air from his position on the toilet seat.
Once the basin was full, Rodney shoved the stack of fluffy cotton at Sheppard. “You carry this,” he ordered peremptorily, carefully lifting the basin full of hot water from the sink. He led the way back into the bedroom and set the bowl down on the nightstand next to the bed. It was bewildering at times how similar to Earth some of these alien cultures appeared to be.
Sheppard wandered in, still looking bemused, and Rodney took back the armful of linen. He shook out one towel and spread it on the bed. “Pants off and lie down then,” he told Sheppard with a wave of one hand.
“They didn’t whip my ass, McKay,” Sheppard spluttered after a second.
“Oh, whatever, like I’m going to perve on you when you’re in this state anyway,” Rodney complained. “I just figured you’d be more comfortable with your pants off.”
Shaking his head, Sheppard peeled out of his pants with jerky movements, while Rodney fussed with his preparations over by the bed. When he looked up, Sheppard was stretching out face down on the towel Rodney had laid out, shifting around until he found a position that he could stay in for a while, then pulling a pillow forward to curl his arms around. His head was turned to the side, facing away from Rodney. Not that Rodney was surprised by that, he knew just how uncomfortable Sheppard was with this whole situation and was more than happy to cut him as much slack as he needed to help him deal.
Taking a deep breath, Rodney soaked the cloth in the warm water and wrung it out, then moved to kneel beside Sheppard and begin cleaning his back. Sheppard immediately drew in a sharp breath and Rodney winced.
“I’m sorry,” he babbled. “Some of these cuts are going to open up again, but I figure it’s better, so that we know they’re clean.”
He was surprised by a warm hand gripping his wrist and looked up into Sheppard’s hazel eyes, just as startled by the second touch as he had been by the first. “It’s all right, Rodney, just do it,” Sheppard said, reassuring him.
Rodney gulped, as Sheppard’s fingers stroked over his pulse point for a second. “O-okay,” he muttered and Sheppard’s hand released him, patting briefly, before withdrawing.
Rodney went back to work, going slowly and carefully, doing his best to ignore Sheppard’s little winces and occasional pained noises, knowing that the other man wouldn’t welcome any acknowledgement. It was a long, painstaking process, but Rodney gradually cleaned all the marks and cuts, dabbing away the fresh blood that welled up from the deeper ones. He changed the water twice and used up three cloths, but finally he was satisfied he was done.
“All we need now is some ointment and bandages,” Rodney grumbled. He cleared away the dirty cloths and basin of water, then took the towels he’d used as well.
“Hey,” Sheppard’s voice startled Rodney out of his funk and he looked up to see Sheppard lying on his side, head resting on one bent arm.
“What?” Rodney asked, wincing at himself as he snapped. His emotions were all over the place at the moment, which wasn’t fair to Sheppard.
Sheppard beckoned to him from the bed. “Come stretch out, Rodney”, he said. “You’ve probably been pacing in here all day, try and get some rest.”
Rodney sighed, but he had to admit Sheppard was right, he did feel pretty tired, for all that he hadn’t really done anything all day. Lying down suddenly sounded like a pretty good idea. He took off his jacket, folding it neatly and putting it with Sheppard’s pants on the chair in a corner of the room. Then he untied and took off his boots, wiggling his toes with satisfaction for a second. Looking back at Sheppard, who was lying face down again, he bit his lip, then shook his head. It was only fair to level the playing field somewhat, so he took off his pants as well, but left his T-shirt on.
When he’d vacillated enough, he crossed over to the bed and settled down next to Sheppard, lying on his back in a tense posture. He fixed his gaze on the ceiling, resisting the urge to look at Sheppard, mindful of his earlier remark. Rodney really didn’t want to do anything that Sheppard could call him on and that meant no staring at the expanse of naked expanse of skin next to him.
“Try to relax, Rodney”, Sheppard said, finally breaking the awkward silence that had sprung up between them.
“Hello? Prisoners, remember?” Rodney snapped. “No chance of that.”
“I could hardly forget,” Sheppard said softly.
That made Rodney turn to him, misery and guilt flooding through him at such a stupid remark. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t believe I said something that dumb.”
“Hey, even geniuses have their off moments,” Sheppard joked, looking surprisingly relaxed to Rodney.
“Not me!” Rodney snapped.
“You’re still human,” Sheppard reminded him.
“How are you so laidback anyway?” Rodney asked him, gesturing at Sheppard’s clearly relaxed form, stretched out next to him.
“I trust the others to get us out of here, if we don’t figure something out ourselves,” Sheppard told him.
Rodney gave him a wide-eyed look at that. “Really?” he demanded, suspicious.
Sheppard shrugged as best he could in his position propped on his side next to Rodney. “We have a fairly good track record of getting out of these situations safely,” he said.
Rodney snorted at that. “So you’re trusting to blind luck,” he said, shaking his head in disgust.
“No, I’m trusting to my team’s skills and knowledge,” Sheppard contradicted. And then that hand was on Rodney’s wrist yet again. “I’m trusting you, Rodney,” he said gently.
“Well, I suppose I have got us out of a scrape or two before,” Rodney conceded, trying to hide how much the warmth of Sheppard’s touch and his soft words were affecting him. Doranda was a long way behind them, but Rodney always treasured hearing those words from Sheppard, precisely because he heard them so rarely.
“Yes, you have,” Sheppard said, stroking Rodney’s wrist again, his long tanned fingers mesmerizing Rodney as they moved back and forth against his own paler skin.
“So, uh,” Rodney stuttered, mind going blank as he felt himself start to react to the continued touch against the sensitive skin of his inner wrist.
“What, Rodney?” Sheppard asked, gripping Rodney’s wrist lightly now, thumb stroking back and forth hypnotically. Rodney closed his eyes, trying desperately to will back the inevitable and entirely inappropriate erection that was tenting his boxers.
“What are you doing?” Rodney finally blurted out, giving Sheppard an agonized look.
Sheppard’s face went blank and he just stared at Rodney, before slowly withdrawing his hand. Rodney closed his eyes, unable to deal with Sheppard closing off from him like that, cursing himself internally for his lack of control.
“I’m sorry!” Rodney cried out, grabbing a pillow to cover his lap and bending forward to hide his red face.
“I think the drug they gave me is messing with me,” Sheppard said slowly, making Rodney turn his head from where it was buried in the pillow.
He sat up straight, feeling himself snap into scientist mode all at once. “Messing with you, how?” he asked, going to his knees beside Sheppard and reaching out to touch his forehead.
Sheppard jerked back, the reaction so normal that Rodney felt relieved by it. “I don’t have a fever, McKay,” he said irritably.
“Are you sure about that, Colonel?” Rodney asked. “What symptoms do you have?”
Sheppard took a deep breath and scooted up into a sitting position, though he resisted resting back against the pillows. “I keep feeling like I need to touch you,” he ground out, clearly unhappy with what he was saying, ears turning red.
“And?” Rodney asked, making a carry on gesture as he spoke.
Sheppard glared, making Rodney roll his eyes. Sheppard’s reaction to being asked to talk about anything personal was as predictable as his reaction to being touched. “And it’s as though I can’t stop myself from talking about how I feel or something.”
“Really?” Rodney drew out the question with a deeply skeptical look on his face. He hadn’t noticed that Sheppard was being any different to his usual emotionally stunted self.
“I’m talking to you now aren’t I?” Sheppard said, irritable again.
Rodney snorted at that. “Just barely,” he noted. “No different to normal, honestly.”
“It doesn’t feel like that to me,” Sheppard said.
“Oh,” Rodney said, stumped by that. “So tell me exactly what happened when they took you out of here,” he suggested, deciding that he needed more data before he could form any sort of hypothesis.
Sheppard swallowed hard, shifting around before starting to speak and Rodney made himself concentrate on what he was saying. Most of it Rodney had been able to guess, the tying up and being whipped, trying to force Sheppard to break and tell them what they wanted to know - about Ancient technology, the location of Atlantis, the usual sort of thing.
When that had clearly failed to work - Sheppard’s high pain threshold having been forged in the fires of Afghanistan and torture by Wraith - they had switched to the drugs. Clearly, they were using some Pegasus equivalent of sodium pentathol, except it didn’t seem to be particularly effective on Sheppard. Although Rodney didn’t know if it was a limitation of the drug or something in Sheppard’s own make up that meant it hadn’t worked when they resumed the questioning.
“And now?” Rodney asked when Sheppard’s words dried up, sliding off the bed to go fetch Sheppard a drink of water from the bathroom.
Sheppard took the cup and drank greedily, seeming not to care that he spilled some of the water as he drank, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when he was done.
Playing with the empty cup, Sheppard had his head ducked down, so that Rodney couldn’t see his expression. Though Rodney didn’t know why he felt the need to do that, Rodney had trouble reading him on a good day, when Sheppard was relaxed and as open as he ever got.
Finally, Sheppard gave a little shrug and looked up. “Like I said, I keep feeling like I need to touch you. And,” he looked a little surprised as he said the next thing. “Like I have to do whatever you tell me.”
“Shit!” Rodney pushed off the bed again and began pacing agitatedly. “Do you think they have this room bugged?” he asked urgently. He began picking up random objects and examining them. “Maybe that’s why they gave you the drug and brought you back, because they thought that you would tell me things that you weren’t telling them.”
“Rodney! Rodney!” The hand gripping his shoulder tightly brought Rodney out of his panic, the vase he was currently examining being taken away as he suddenly registered Sheppard’s presence in front of him, as he realized Sheppard had been calling his name. “That’s it,” Sheppard said. “Just relax.” And he was coaxed into the armchair, their clothes dumped on the floor as Sheppard crouched in front of him, hands resting on his knees as Rodney gulped in air.
When Rodney felt calm again, he looked up into Sheppard’s serious face. “I’m sorry,” he started to apologize, but Sheppard waved it off, shifting to kneel in front of Rodney.
“You’re entitled,” Sheppard said matter-of-factly. “But I don’t think they’re bugging us. They don’t strike me as that kind of people, this is all too ad hoc for them to have bugs in place. Plus, there’s the whole two hours of questioning after they drugged me to take into consideration.”
Rodney choked at that, hating how blasé Sheppard sounded about the whole thing. Sheppard reached out and gripped Rodney’s wrist again and Rodney found himself relaxing into the now-familiar touch. “How about we go lie down again?” Sheppard said.
“Okay,” Rodney agreed, Sheppard rising easily to his feet and tugging Rodney along with the grip on his wrist. “I like the touching,” Rodney confided as he settled onto the bed again.
“Yeah?” Sheppard said, as he stretched out on his side again. “How do you feel about huddling for warmth?”
Rodney snorted at that. “Is that some sort of come on, Colonel?” he asked archly. “Because if so, I wonder how you ever managed to fool anyone with your Kirkian ways.”
Sheppard went pale at that and backed away so fast he nearly fell off the bed. Rodney grabbed his arm and pulled him forward again, but Sheppard flinched so hard, Rodney dropped his grip and moved backwards himself, wondering what the hell was going on. “What the hell?” he gasped, thinking that was beginning to be his default position in this whole crazy situation.
“I’m no Kirk,” Sheppard said defensively. “I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”
“Sheppard?” Rodney asked, confused as hell by the whole situation. “I call you that all the time.”
“And I hate it,” Sheppard gritted out from behind clenched teeth. He was pale and shaking and Rodney hated it, stricken by the sight of his best friend looking so vulnerable.
“I’m sorry,” he said, inching forward slowly and reaching out to put a hand on Sheppard’s ankle, watching warily for his reaction.
“Just don’t say it any more, please?” Sheppard pleaded, his color slowly returning as Rodney rubbed one thumb over his anklebone.
“Okay, I promise,” Rodney agreed, willing to go along with whatever Sheppard wanted, if it kept him calm.
“I’m really not the - the easy slut you seem to think I am,” Sheppard stuttered out, looking miserable, making Rodney wonder if this was more of that weird compulsion Sheppard had been talking about.
“It’s all right, John, I believe you,” Rodney soothed him, hoping the use of Sheppard’s first name would get through to him.
“Really?” John asked, naked hope in his expression, making Rodney gasp in surprise.
“I promise, John,” Rodney said, scooting closer and daring to put an arm around John’s shoulders.
John made a noise at that, a broken sound that tugged at Rodney’s heartstrings and he pulled John into him, drawing him into a hug. He was shocked when John sobbed once, before burying his face in Rodney’s shoulder, arms coming around his waist, as he shook in Rodney’s embrace.
Lost and confused, Rodney did the best he could to offer comfort, patting John’s lower back where it was relatively unmarked, other hand pressing into John’s surprisingly soft hair, while he mumbled reassurances and meaningless words into one pointy ear. He thought furiously at his too-eager dick, which was enjoying all that mostly naked, warm, John skin pressed up against his body. The last thing he needed to do right now was freak Sheppard out even more by getting turned on.
When Sheppard drew back, Rodney let him go reluctantly. Sheppard was dry-eyed, which Rodney hadn’t expected, but should have realized from the lack of a wet patch on the t-shirt he still wore.
“I’m sorry,” Sheppard, no, John said, Rodney corrected himself. After an intimacy like that, he couldn’t distance himself from his best friend any more by using his surname.
“For what?” Rodney asked, honestly surprised by that. “Being human?” he asked, throwing John’s remark back at him.
John fidgeted at that, nodding briefly as his ears turned red again. “Oh, don’t be an idiot,” Rodney huffed. “I’m not going to think any less of you for this. Particularly when you’re under the influence of god knows what alien drugs.”
“Thanks,” John said shyly, shifting next to Rodney once more, then yawning widely.
Rodney snorted at that, shaking his head at the child-like vulnerability John was displaying right now. “Nap time?” he asked wryly, thinking he wouldn’t mind getting some sleep himself.
“Sure,” John said, lying on his side once more, then looking up at Rodney through his lashes. “So, huddling for warmth?” he repeated his earlier question.
This time Rodney took him seriously. “Sounds good to me,” he admitted. “How do you want to do this?” He waved to indicate John’s general physical state.
John considered it for a second, head on one side. “I guess spooning, with me behind you, if you don’t mind?” he suggested.
Rodney bit his lip and shook his head. “I don’t mind at all,” he said, totally sincere and rolled onto his side, listening as John moved up behind him, feeling the warmth of John’s body pressed against his, one arm coming around his waist.
“This okay?” John asked and Rodney had to control a shiver at the sensation of warm air against his neck as John spoke.
“Fine,” he managed to get out, hoping he didn’t sound too strangled, gritting his teeth as his treacherous cock again responded to all that naked flesh touching his own.
“Good,” John said, the words low and breathy, seconds before he heard the sound of John’s almost snore, familiar from all the times they shared a tent off-world.
Rodney gritted his teeth, wishing he could just fall asleep like that. Instead he lay there, carefully regulating his breathing and running equations through his head, until he finally drifted off.
~~~
When Rodney woke, it was to find that they’d shifted position at some point, so that he was now on his back, with John pressed up along his side, head resting on Rodney’s chest. And the arm that had been around his waist had drifted, so that it was now splayed over Rodney’s stomach, with the tips of John’s fingers grazing the waistband of his boxers. Rodney was glad he at least still had his t-shirt on, although it was rucked up, so that half of John’s big hand was on bare skin.
Rodney twitched, aware that his cock wasn’t just morning hard like usual. John made a sleepy noise next to him, fingers petting Rodney’s stomach, then his hand slid lower and Rodney made a strangled noise.
“Shh,” John muttered, hand rubbing back and forth, dangerously close to intimate areas that were sure to freak him out as soon as he woke up.
Rodney shifted, but John’s arm just tightened and one leg moved to tangle with his own. Rodney made a strangled, desperate noise at that and shifted again. Then he froze. He could feel John’s own morning erection pressed against his hip and that was enough to make him harder. He needed to get away, and fast, before they were both embarrassed beyond belief at their circumstances.
Rodney tried again to extricate himself from John’s grip, whimpering when the colonel turned into some sort of clingy child, who thought Rodney was his teddy bear, rolling so that he was now half on top of Rodney, gripping him firmly.
“John,” Rodney whispered, reaching down to take John’s hand in his own and move it away from this waist.
John made a sleepy noise of protest and entwined their fingers, then seemed to settle back down again, making those breathy half-snores once more. Rodney closed his eyes in despair, then opened them again and spoke more firmly this time.
“John, wake up,” he said louder, trying to move the arm around him once more.
“Sleepin’,” John grumbled, pressing his weight more heavily into Rodney.
”That’s fine, Colonel,” Rodney said tartly, “But some of us need the bathroom and you’re worse than an octopus here.”
John grunted at that and shifted off of Rodney, rolling away, then apparently fell right back to sleep again. Rodney shook his head, baffled at the limpet-like behavior, then shuffled out of bed and into the bathroom. He hadn’t been lying, he did need to pee. While he was there, he took the opportunity to brush his teeth and wash his face, before turning to head back to the bedroom
He paused just outside the door of the bathroom, surprised to see a tray of food on the table inside the door to the bedroom, along with what appeared to be some sort of ointment and bandages. He headed closer to investigate, calling out sharply as he went, “Sheppard!”
John grunted, then Rodney heard the sound of him rolling out of bed. “What’s the matter?” he asked, coming to stand close behind Rodney.
“Did you hear breakfast arrive?” Rodney asked, amazed at how his half-panicked tone had somehow been enough to wake John and bring him to his feet so quickly.
“Oh, cool,” John said, lifting the lid off a plate to reveal what looked like some sort of pastries.
“Cool?” Rodney exploded. “They could have murdered us in our sleep!”
“Rodney,” John put a calming hand on his shoulder. “I think if that was their intention, they would have acted long before now.”
Rodney took a deep breath and tried to calm the hell down. This situation was seriously messing with his head. He picked up one of the cups and sniffed. There was no way it was coffee, but there was a chicory type scent that boded well for caffeine content anyway.
“I don’t think any of these are citrus,” John told him, handing Rodney a plate with several of the pastries on.
“Thanks,” Rodney grunted, already gulping down a cup of the thick black liquid, that definitely had caffeine in. He reached for the pot and poured another cup, then headed over to the armchair. John took his own mug and plate and settled cross-legged on the bed. “I’ll look at your back again after,” Rodney said around a mouthful of pastry.
John looked up, eyebrows raised, from his own plate of food. “Okay, if you want,” he shrugged indifferently.
“I do want,” Rodney told him sharply. “There’s no way I’m letting those cuts get infected, when we’re stuck here for god knows how long.”
John just nodded and bent his head over his plate again. Rodney shook his head and returned to his own food, wondering when something was going to happen with their captors, stomach tightening unpleasantly at that thought. It was enough to make him shove his plate aside, hunger suddenly gone as he realized that it could well be his turn for the torture and truth drugs today.
“Rodney?” The soft call of his name got his attention and he looked up to see John exchanging his empty plate and cup for the bandages and ointment.
“Yeah, okay,” Rodney told him, getting up to put his own plate and cup back on the tray. John handed him the first aid supplies and stretched out on the bed again. Rodney felt a lump in his throat at John’s simple trust in him, swallowing with difficulty as he moved towards the bed.
John turned his head to look at Rodney this time, as he approached the bed. “You can straddle me, I won’t freak out,” he offered quietly.
Rodney went wide-eyed with shock at that. “Are you sure?” he asked, equally quiet as he dropped the supplies on the bed.
“I trust you,” John said, echoing Rodney’s thoughts.
Rodney nodded, finding it impossible to speak for that moment. He climbed on to the bed and carefully settled astride John’s legs, running equations through his head to make sure he didn’t do anything to destroy John’s faith in him, like getting hard. Opening the tube of ointment, Rodney carefully started to apply it to John’s back. The tube wasn’t that big, so he concentrated on the worst spots, where the skin had been broken and was now scabbed over.
“I don’t think the bandages are much good at the moment,” Rodney offered, as he leaned forward to reach a spot up near John’s shoulders.
John shifted beneath him and grunted, making Rodney freeze, before lifting up so that his groin was no longer in close proximity to John’s ass, determinedly turning his thoughts away from how it would feel to cup the tight, muscular buttocks in the palms of his hands, sure that they would fit him perfectly. ‘Kavanagh naked,’ Rodney thought to himself desperately, trying to divert his thoughts from John and John’s naked flesh, warm beneath his hands, or what sounds John might make, as Rodney pushed his cock into that hot, tight ass.
“Rodney,” John said, shifting beneath him once more.
“Right,” Rodney said, knowing he sounded odd, but not able to do anything about it.
John pushed up from below him and Rodney made a strangled noise, practically throwing himself off the bed in his haste to get away. “Rodney,” John grabbed his wrist and stilled his flight.
“Please, let me go,” Rodney begged, desperate for the privacy of the bathroom.
“No,” John said, deliberately tightening his grip. “It’s all right, Rodney.”
“No, no it’s not,” Rodney gasped, body quivering with his need to get free.
“Rodney, buddy, it’s fine,” John said. “Look at me.”
And when he put that note of command into his tone, Rodney had no choice but to look up, face red with anger and embarrassment at his own lack of control. John had clearly taken the opportunity to turn over and sit up when he’d grabbed for Rodney and Rodney took in his expression, naked and vulnerable again.
“You’re not the only one who had a reaction,” John told him, waving a hand at his own body.
“Oh,” Rodney said, knees crumbling beneath him at the obvious erection outlined by John’s thin boxers.
John hauled him towards him and Rodney fell onto the bed, half on John, face practically in his groin. “It’s really all right, Rodney,” John told him, as Rodney shifted around to a less awkward position.
“But you don’t do men,” Rodney said helplessly, certain in the knowledge from a drunken conversation in the early days of the expedition.
“I don’t do anyone,” John said, face and ears going redder than Rodney’s at the admission.
“What?” Rodney squeaked at that. “But, but, what about Chaya and Teer and, and,” Rodney lost steam at that, waving his hands around to try and encompass John’s past history.
John shrugged at that. “Nothing actually happened,” he ventured. “Well, there was the glowy thing with Chaya, but that wasn’t sex.”
“Teer?” Rodney said pointedly.
“Do we have to discuss this?” John asked, sounding weary as he slumped into the pillows.
“I don’t know, John, do we?” Rodney asked. “You were the one who was crossing the line earlier, I was trying to do the decent thing and get away, but you pushed it, pushed me, into this conversation.”
“I know,” John said. “I guess that was a mistake, huh?”
Rodney crossed to the pile of his clothes and grabbed his pants, feeling the need to be a lot more dressed for this conversation.
“Rodney,” John said wistfully from behind him. “Please, buddy.”
“What John? Please Rodney, what?” Rodney asked, turning to face him, pants in hand still. “I think you’re going to actually need to talk this time.”
But before John could react, the sound of the door opening had them both freezing nervously. The door swung inwards and a figure filled the doorway.
“They’re here,” a familiar voice called out.
“Ronon!” John and Rodney yelled in unison.
“Hey Sheppard, McKay,” Ronon said, sweeping the room in a quick glance. “Time to go, where’re your pants?”
Rodney felt himself laugh hysterically at that. He quickly scrambled into the pants he still held, then pulled on his boots. “Here, take these, it’ll be better than nothing,” he said, thrusting his socks into John’s hands. “And don’t think this is over.”
“Yeah, I know,” John said, pulling on the socks and his own pants. “Ronon, any chance you got a spare shirt somewhere I can borrow?”
Ronon turned from his position in the doorway and snorted. “Only you, Sheppard,” he said. He pulled off his leather coat and then the long-sleeved shirt he had on underneath, leaving him in a short-sleeved shirt, which he covered again with his coat.
Rodney watched as John pulled the shirt on quickly. It was stupidly big on him, but that was probably for the best, considering the state of John’s back. “Let’s go,” John said, as soon as he had the shirt on, hurrying towards Ronon, who handed John a 9mm, then held out another towards Rodney. Rodney took it reluctantly, then fell into position behind Ronon obediently, at a gesture from John, who took up their six.
And with that, they got the hell out of there and back to Atlantis, meeting up with Teyla, Lorne and a bunch of Marines en route.
Link to part 2
Author: ALF
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Rating: NC17
Word count: 12,123
Artist who did your art: Pe1804
Warnings/Kinks: Bottom!John, Virgin!John, collaring, spanking, use of sex toys, mention of torture/violence and use of drugs
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not for profit
A/N: Thanks to telperion_15 for audiencing, cheerleading and general all-around support including a very short notice read-through for obvious errors. Thanks to my artist Pe1804 for the wonderful, gorgeous, amazing artwork! Contains a blink and you’ll miss reference to Trinity. Otherwise, set vaguely S3, or at least in a universe whether neither Carson nor Elizabeth died.
Dr. Rodney McKay was pacing the room he’d been locked up in for the last day and a half, ignoring the nice furniture and all the other signs that this room wasn’t usually used as a prison cell. He was worried about Colonel John Sheppard, who had been dragged away hours before by their captors. Somehow, he doubted they were giving the colonel tea and crumpets and having a friendly chat, despite the impromptu nature of their prison. Rodney hoped that Teyla and Ronon had managed to make good their escape when negotiations with the Tyranians went wrong. And shouldn’t the name have clued them in that things were bound to go wrong, Rodney thought to himself somewhat hysterically as he completed another circuit of the room.
As Rodney once more considered the three locks on the door and the possibility he could pick them all without alerting the guards that were bound to be lurking outside, the sound of the locks being unfastened from the other side had him backing away in anticipation. He watched warily as the door swung open and then his eyes widened as John Sheppard was thrust hard into the room, the door promptly slamming behind him, locks turning once more. Rodney barely had time to notice their renewed captivity, too busy rushing forward to grab his best friend before he had a chance to crumple to the floor.
“Sheppard!” Rodney cried out in dismay as he went to his knees under the dead weight of a half-naked colonel. He only hoped that his poor mental choice of description wasn’t an accurate one, anxiously feeling for a pulse, as he clutched at Sheppard’s shoulders.
A grunt convinced him that the other man was at least still alive, though clearly in poor shape. The colonel was missing his t-shirt, boots and socks, but still had his pants on, much to Rodney’s relief. His face was bruised and bloody, making Rodney wince sympathetically, even as he catalogued the marks and planned violent death for those who had caused the damage.
“Ro’ney?” The slurred question brought Rodney’s eyes back to Sheppard’s, suddenly aware that his fingers were hovering over a bruised cheekbone.
“What the hell, Sheppard?” Rodney breathed out, reluctantly allowing Sheppard to shift his weight off of Rodney and onto his own knees.
“S’all right, Rodney,” Sheppard said, patting Rodney clumsily.
“All right?” Rodney roared. “This is the furthest thing from the definition of all right a situation could be and still be in the same galaxy.”
Sheppard winced at Rodney’s volume. Pushing himself backwards, he stumbled to his feet, swaying all the time.
“Oh for crying out loud,” Rodney said, tone muted this time, scrambling ungracefully to his feet as well.
Sheppard swayed some more, then turned towards the en-suite bathroom their captors had so graciously provided. That gave Rodney his first look at Sheppard’s back. “Jesus!” he breathed, taking a step forward to examine the tanned flesh more closely.
There was a host of marks across the expanse of Sheppard’s back, some just reddened skin, but others clearly having broken the surface, leaving bloody trails in their wake.
”John!” Rodney cried out, appalled at the sight. It was enough to stop Sheppard in his tracks, body tensing in front of Rodney’s eyes. He turned around slowly, pain clear in every line.
“McKay, I’ve been drugged and whipped and beaten and I’d appreciate it if you’d give me a little space, right now,” he said, words gritted out between clenched teeth.
Rodney sucked in a breath, shocked at the naked vulnerability he was seeing from the normally laidback colonel. He took a step forward, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.
“John,” he spoke quietly, afraid to spook his friend further. “Let me help you, please.” He put a whine in his voice on the last word, but he wasn’t above using every tactic at his disposal to persuade Sheppard to let him do this.
Sheppard’s shoulders slumped and Rodney felt his insides clench at this further indication of how much he was hurting and the fact that he was showing Rodney that hurt. “All right,” he whispered, sounding defeated.
Rodney strode quickly across the room, following Sheppard into the surprisingly well-appointed bathroom. “We need to clean those cuts, make sure they don’t get infected,” he babbled. “God knows what germs could already be breeding in there.”
Sheppard sat on the toilet seat, clearly weary. “Whatever you want, Rodney,” he murmured quietly.
“What I want!” Rodney exclaimed. “You have no idea what I want right now, Colonel.”
Sheppard just shook his head at that. “I’m sure I can guess,” he said.
Rodney snorted at that. “Well, yes, I suppose you probably can at that,” he admitted, fussing with the sink full of water, checking the temperature before dipping in the cloth he’d found in the linen closet in a corner of the room. Finally satisfied, he turned and looked at Sheppard. “Let’s start with your face,” he said.
Sheppard had his eyes closed and didn’t respond, so Rodney stepped forward and carefully began to wipe away the blood, being as gentle as he knew how as he moved the cloth across bruises and scrapes. He used his free hand to cup Sheppard’s jaw, carefully moving his head from side to side to give himself the best access, barely aware of the fact that he was rubbing his thumb against the stubbly skin.
When the cloth was dark with dirt and blood, Rodney reluctantly drew away, rinsing it clean in the water, before turning back to Sheppard. He was surprised to find half-lidded eyes watching him, but didn’t speak, just went back to cleaning the rest of Sheppard’s face, content with the comfortable silence between them.
Eventually, Rodney had to concede he had Sheppard’s face as clean as it was going to get. He turned back to the sink and rinsed out the cloth again, draining the dirty water at the same time.
“Rodney,” Sheppard said quietly, surprising Rodney. He turned to where Sheppard was still sitting on the toilet seat. He should have looked better with the dried blood gone, but instead it just made the bruises and cuts easier to see.
“Well, I don’t think there’s any permanent damage,” Rodney said. “Even if I’m not a voodoo practitioner, like Carson.”
“Thank you,” Sheppard said, still quiet, reaching out to grip Rodney’s wrist. That surprised Rodney, because everyone on Atlantis knew that Sheppard didn’t like to touch, or be touched. He looked down at Sheppard’s hand where it encircled his wrist, unable to look up into Sheppard’s eyes, feeling strangely vulnerable and open in that moment.
“Yes, well, it’s the least I could do, Colonel,” Rodney said, his attempt at bluster falling flat. “Now what about your back?”
Sheppard released his wrist and Rodney forced his eyes upwards, nervous about what he might see. He was beginning to sense that there was more going on here than just Sheppard being beaten and whipped. His mind whirled for a second, replaying their earlier conversation and remembering that Sheppard had said something about being drugged. How had he missed that before? No wonder Sheppard was acting so strangely, clearly he was under the influence of something, even if Rodney had no idea what it was or why it was making Sheppard behave oddly.
“My back,” Sheppard said, surprising Rodney, who had forgotten his earlier question as his mind drifted away.
“Yes, yes, Colonel, your back,” Rodney said , this time managing to convey impatience in his tone, as he gestured towards Sheppard.
Sheppard shrugged, then winced as he clearly realized just how foolish a move that had been. “I guess the bed’ll be easiest,” he suggested.
“All right,” Rodney said, turning to a small cabinet under the sink and rummaging around. He exclaimed in triumph when he found a basin and immediately began to fill it at the sink. While the basin filled, he went to the linen closet again, taking out towels and cloths. Sheppard just watched Rodney’s preparations with a bemused air from his position on the toilet seat.
Once the basin was full, Rodney shoved the stack of fluffy cotton at Sheppard. “You carry this,” he ordered peremptorily, carefully lifting the basin full of hot water from the sink. He led the way back into the bedroom and set the bowl down on the nightstand next to the bed. It was bewildering at times how similar to Earth some of these alien cultures appeared to be.
Sheppard wandered in, still looking bemused, and Rodney took back the armful of linen. He shook out one towel and spread it on the bed. “Pants off and lie down then,” he told Sheppard with a wave of one hand.
“They didn’t whip my ass, McKay,” Sheppard spluttered after a second.
“Oh, whatever, like I’m going to perve on you when you’re in this state anyway,” Rodney complained. “I just figured you’d be more comfortable with your pants off.”
Shaking his head, Sheppard peeled out of his pants with jerky movements, while Rodney fussed with his preparations over by the bed. When he looked up, Sheppard was stretching out face down on the towel Rodney had laid out, shifting around until he found a position that he could stay in for a while, then pulling a pillow forward to curl his arms around. His head was turned to the side, facing away from Rodney. Not that Rodney was surprised by that, he knew just how uncomfortable Sheppard was with this whole situation and was more than happy to cut him as much slack as he needed to help him deal.
Taking a deep breath, Rodney soaked the cloth in the warm water and wrung it out, then moved to kneel beside Sheppard and begin cleaning his back. Sheppard immediately drew in a sharp breath and Rodney winced.
“I’m sorry,” he babbled. “Some of these cuts are going to open up again, but I figure it’s better, so that we know they’re clean.”
He was surprised by a warm hand gripping his wrist and looked up into Sheppard’s hazel eyes, just as startled by the second touch as he had been by the first. “It’s all right, Rodney, just do it,” Sheppard said, reassuring him.
Rodney gulped, as Sheppard’s fingers stroked over his pulse point for a second. “O-okay,” he muttered and Sheppard’s hand released him, patting briefly, before withdrawing.
Rodney went back to work, going slowly and carefully, doing his best to ignore Sheppard’s little winces and occasional pained noises, knowing that the other man wouldn’t welcome any acknowledgement. It was a long, painstaking process, but Rodney gradually cleaned all the marks and cuts, dabbing away the fresh blood that welled up from the deeper ones. He changed the water twice and used up three cloths, but finally he was satisfied he was done.
“All we need now is some ointment and bandages,” Rodney grumbled. He cleared away the dirty cloths and basin of water, then took the towels he’d used as well.
“Hey,” Sheppard’s voice startled Rodney out of his funk and he looked up to see Sheppard lying on his side, head resting on one bent arm.
“What?” Rodney asked, wincing at himself as he snapped. His emotions were all over the place at the moment, which wasn’t fair to Sheppard.
Sheppard beckoned to him from the bed. “Come stretch out, Rodney”, he said. “You’ve probably been pacing in here all day, try and get some rest.”
Rodney sighed, but he had to admit Sheppard was right, he did feel pretty tired, for all that he hadn’t really done anything all day. Lying down suddenly sounded like a pretty good idea. He took off his jacket, folding it neatly and putting it with Sheppard’s pants on the chair in a corner of the room. Then he untied and took off his boots, wiggling his toes with satisfaction for a second. Looking back at Sheppard, who was lying face down again, he bit his lip, then shook his head. It was only fair to level the playing field somewhat, so he took off his pants as well, but left his T-shirt on.
When he’d vacillated enough, he crossed over to the bed and settled down next to Sheppard, lying on his back in a tense posture. He fixed his gaze on the ceiling, resisting the urge to look at Sheppard, mindful of his earlier remark. Rodney really didn’t want to do anything that Sheppard could call him on and that meant no staring at the expanse of naked expanse of skin next to him.
“Try to relax, Rodney”, Sheppard said, finally breaking the awkward silence that had sprung up between them.
“Hello? Prisoners, remember?” Rodney snapped. “No chance of that.”
“I could hardly forget,” Sheppard said softly.
That made Rodney turn to him, misery and guilt flooding through him at such a stupid remark. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t believe I said something that dumb.”
“Hey, even geniuses have their off moments,” Sheppard joked, looking surprisingly relaxed to Rodney.
“Not me!” Rodney snapped.
“You’re still human,” Sheppard reminded him.
“How are you so laidback anyway?” Rodney asked him, gesturing at Sheppard’s clearly relaxed form, stretched out next to him.
“I trust the others to get us out of here, if we don’t figure something out ourselves,” Sheppard told him.
Rodney gave him a wide-eyed look at that. “Really?” he demanded, suspicious.
Sheppard shrugged as best he could in his position propped on his side next to Rodney. “We have a fairly good track record of getting out of these situations safely,” he said.
Rodney snorted at that. “So you’re trusting to blind luck,” he said, shaking his head in disgust.
“No, I’m trusting to my team’s skills and knowledge,” Sheppard contradicted. And then that hand was on Rodney’s wrist yet again. “I’m trusting you, Rodney,” he said gently.
“Well, I suppose I have got us out of a scrape or two before,” Rodney conceded, trying to hide how much the warmth of Sheppard’s touch and his soft words were affecting him. Doranda was a long way behind them, but Rodney always treasured hearing those words from Sheppard, precisely because he heard them so rarely.
“Yes, you have,” Sheppard said, stroking Rodney’s wrist again, his long tanned fingers mesmerizing Rodney as they moved back and forth against his own paler skin.
“So, uh,” Rodney stuttered, mind going blank as he felt himself start to react to the continued touch against the sensitive skin of his inner wrist.
“What, Rodney?” Sheppard asked, gripping Rodney’s wrist lightly now, thumb stroking back and forth hypnotically. Rodney closed his eyes, trying desperately to will back the inevitable and entirely inappropriate erection that was tenting his boxers.
“What are you doing?” Rodney finally blurted out, giving Sheppard an agonized look.
Sheppard’s face went blank and he just stared at Rodney, before slowly withdrawing his hand. Rodney closed his eyes, unable to deal with Sheppard closing off from him like that, cursing himself internally for his lack of control.
“I’m sorry!” Rodney cried out, grabbing a pillow to cover his lap and bending forward to hide his red face.
“I think the drug they gave me is messing with me,” Sheppard said slowly, making Rodney turn his head from where it was buried in the pillow.
He sat up straight, feeling himself snap into scientist mode all at once. “Messing with you, how?” he asked, going to his knees beside Sheppard and reaching out to touch his forehead.
Sheppard jerked back, the reaction so normal that Rodney felt relieved by it. “I don’t have a fever, McKay,” he said irritably.
“Are you sure about that, Colonel?” Rodney asked. “What symptoms do you have?”
Sheppard took a deep breath and scooted up into a sitting position, though he resisted resting back against the pillows. “I keep feeling like I need to touch you,” he ground out, clearly unhappy with what he was saying, ears turning red.
“And?” Rodney asked, making a carry on gesture as he spoke.
Sheppard glared, making Rodney roll his eyes. Sheppard’s reaction to being asked to talk about anything personal was as predictable as his reaction to being touched. “And it’s as though I can’t stop myself from talking about how I feel or something.”
“Really?” Rodney drew out the question with a deeply skeptical look on his face. He hadn’t noticed that Sheppard was being any different to his usual emotionally stunted self.
“I’m talking to you now aren’t I?” Sheppard said, irritable again.
Rodney snorted at that. “Just barely,” he noted. “No different to normal, honestly.”
“It doesn’t feel like that to me,” Sheppard said.
“Oh,” Rodney said, stumped by that. “So tell me exactly what happened when they took you out of here,” he suggested, deciding that he needed more data before he could form any sort of hypothesis.
Sheppard swallowed hard, shifting around before starting to speak and Rodney made himself concentrate on what he was saying. Most of it Rodney had been able to guess, the tying up and being whipped, trying to force Sheppard to break and tell them what they wanted to know - about Ancient technology, the location of Atlantis, the usual sort of thing.
When that had clearly failed to work - Sheppard’s high pain threshold having been forged in the fires of Afghanistan and torture by Wraith - they had switched to the drugs. Clearly, they were using some Pegasus equivalent of sodium pentathol, except it didn’t seem to be particularly effective on Sheppard. Although Rodney didn’t know if it was a limitation of the drug or something in Sheppard’s own make up that meant it hadn’t worked when they resumed the questioning.
“And now?” Rodney asked when Sheppard’s words dried up, sliding off the bed to go fetch Sheppard a drink of water from the bathroom.
Sheppard took the cup and drank greedily, seeming not to care that he spilled some of the water as he drank, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when he was done.
Playing with the empty cup, Sheppard had his head ducked down, so that Rodney couldn’t see his expression. Though Rodney didn’t know why he felt the need to do that, Rodney had trouble reading him on a good day, when Sheppard was relaxed and as open as he ever got.
Finally, Sheppard gave a little shrug and looked up. “Like I said, I keep feeling like I need to touch you. And,” he looked a little surprised as he said the next thing. “Like I have to do whatever you tell me.”
“Shit!” Rodney pushed off the bed again and began pacing agitatedly. “Do you think they have this room bugged?” he asked urgently. He began picking up random objects and examining them. “Maybe that’s why they gave you the drug and brought you back, because they thought that you would tell me things that you weren’t telling them.”
“Rodney! Rodney!” The hand gripping his shoulder tightly brought Rodney out of his panic, the vase he was currently examining being taken away as he suddenly registered Sheppard’s presence in front of him, as he realized Sheppard had been calling his name. “That’s it,” Sheppard said. “Just relax.” And he was coaxed into the armchair, their clothes dumped on the floor as Sheppard crouched in front of him, hands resting on his knees as Rodney gulped in air.
When Rodney felt calm again, he looked up into Sheppard’s serious face. “I’m sorry,” he started to apologize, but Sheppard waved it off, shifting to kneel in front of Rodney.
“You’re entitled,” Sheppard said matter-of-factly. “But I don’t think they’re bugging us. They don’t strike me as that kind of people, this is all too ad hoc for them to have bugs in place. Plus, there’s the whole two hours of questioning after they drugged me to take into consideration.”
Rodney choked at that, hating how blasé Sheppard sounded about the whole thing. Sheppard reached out and gripped Rodney’s wrist again and Rodney found himself relaxing into the now-familiar touch. “How about we go lie down again?” Sheppard said.
“Okay,” Rodney agreed, Sheppard rising easily to his feet and tugging Rodney along with the grip on his wrist. “I like the touching,” Rodney confided as he settled onto the bed again.
“Yeah?” Sheppard said, as he stretched out on his side again. “How do you feel about huddling for warmth?”
Rodney snorted at that. “Is that some sort of come on, Colonel?” he asked archly. “Because if so, I wonder how you ever managed to fool anyone with your Kirkian ways.”
Sheppard went pale at that and backed away so fast he nearly fell off the bed. Rodney grabbed his arm and pulled him forward again, but Sheppard flinched so hard, Rodney dropped his grip and moved backwards himself, wondering what the hell was going on. “What the hell?” he gasped, thinking that was beginning to be his default position in this whole crazy situation.
“I’m no Kirk,” Sheppard said defensively. “I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”
“Sheppard?” Rodney asked, confused as hell by the whole situation. “I call you that all the time.”
“And I hate it,” Sheppard gritted out from behind clenched teeth. He was pale and shaking and Rodney hated it, stricken by the sight of his best friend looking so vulnerable.
“I’m sorry,” he said, inching forward slowly and reaching out to put a hand on Sheppard’s ankle, watching warily for his reaction.
“Just don’t say it any more, please?” Sheppard pleaded, his color slowly returning as Rodney rubbed one thumb over his anklebone.
“Okay, I promise,” Rodney agreed, willing to go along with whatever Sheppard wanted, if it kept him calm.
“I’m really not the - the easy slut you seem to think I am,” Sheppard stuttered out, looking miserable, making Rodney wonder if this was more of that weird compulsion Sheppard had been talking about.
“It’s all right, John, I believe you,” Rodney soothed him, hoping the use of Sheppard’s first name would get through to him.
“Really?” John asked, naked hope in his expression, making Rodney gasp in surprise.
“I promise, John,” Rodney said, scooting closer and daring to put an arm around John’s shoulders.
John made a noise at that, a broken sound that tugged at Rodney’s heartstrings and he pulled John into him, drawing him into a hug. He was shocked when John sobbed once, before burying his face in Rodney’s shoulder, arms coming around his waist, as he shook in Rodney’s embrace.
Lost and confused, Rodney did the best he could to offer comfort, patting John’s lower back where it was relatively unmarked, other hand pressing into John’s surprisingly soft hair, while he mumbled reassurances and meaningless words into one pointy ear. He thought furiously at his too-eager dick, which was enjoying all that mostly naked, warm, John skin pressed up against his body. The last thing he needed to do right now was freak Sheppard out even more by getting turned on.
When Sheppard drew back, Rodney let him go reluctantly. Sheppard was dry-eyed, which Rodney hadn’t expected, but should have realized from the lack of a wet patch on the t-shirt he still wore.
“I’m sorry,” Sheppard, no, John said, Rodney corrected himself. After an intimacy like that, he couldn’t distance himself from his best friend any more by using his surname.
“For what?” Rodney asked, honestly surprised by that. “Being human?” he asked, throwing John’s remark back at him.
John fidgeted at that, nodding briefly as his ears turned red again. “Oh, don’t be an idiot,” Rodney huffed. “I’m not going to think any less of you for this. Particularly when you’re under the influence of god knows what alien drugs.”
“Thanks,” John said shyly, shifting next to Rodney once more, then yawning widely.
Rodney snorted at that, shaking his head at the child-like vulnerability John was displaying right now. “Nap time?” he asked wryly, thinking he wouldn’t mind getting some sleep himself.
“Sure,” John said, lying on his side once more, then looking up at Rodney through his lashes. “So, huddling for warmth?” he repeated his earlier question.
This time Rodney took him seriously. “Sounds good to me,” he admitted. “How do you want to do this?” He waved to indicate John’s general physical state.
John considered it for a second, head on one side. “I guess spooning, with me behind you, if you don’t mind?” he suggested.
Rodney bit his lip and shook his head. “I don’t mind at all,” he said, totally sincere and rolled onto his side, listening as John moved up behind him, feeling the warmth of John’s body pressed against his, one arm coming around his waist.
“This okay?” John asked and Rodney had to control a shiver at the sensation of warm air against his neck as John spoke.
“Fine,” he managed to get out, hoping he didn’t sound too strangled, gritting his teeth as his treacherous cock again responded to all that naked flesh touching his own.
“Good,” John said, the words low and breathy, seconds before he heard the sound of John’s almost snore, familiar from all the times they shared a tent off-world.
Rodney gritted his teeth, wishing he could just fall asleep like that. Instead he lay there, carefully regulating his breathing and running equations through his head, until he finally drifted off.
~~~
When Rodney woke, it was to find that they’d shifted position at some point, so that he was now on his back, with John pressed up along his side, head resting on Rodney’s chest. And the arm that had been around his waist had drifted, so that it was now splayed over Rodney’s stomach, with the tips of John’s fingers grazing the waistband of his boxers. Rodney was glad he at least still had his t-shirt on, although it was rucked up, so that half of John’s big hand was on bare skin.
Rodney twitched, aware that his cock wasn’t just morning hard like usual. John made a sleepy noise next to him, fingers petting Rodney’s stomach, then his hand slid lower and Rodney made a strangled noise.
“Shh,” John muttered, hand rubbing back and forth, dangerously close to intimate areas that were sure to freak him out as soon as he woke up.
Rodney shifted, but John’s arm just tightened and one leg moved to tangle with his own. Rodney made a strangled, desperate noise at that and shifted again. Then he froze. He could feel John’s own morning erection pressed against his hip and that was enough to make him harder. He needed to get away, and fast, before they were both embarrassed beyond belief at their circumstances.
Rodney tried again to extricate himself from John’s grip, whimpering when the colonel turned into some sort of clingy child, who thought Rodney was his teddy bear, rolling so that he was now half on top of Rodney, gripping him firmly.
“John,” Rodney whispered, reaching down to take John’s hand in his own and move it away from this waist.
John made a sleepy noise of protest and entwined their fingers, then seemed to settle back down again, making those breathy half-snores once more. Rodney closed his eyes in despair, then opened them again and spoke more firmly this time.
“John, wake up,” he said louder, trying to move the arm around him once more.
“Sleepin’,” John grumbled, pressing his weight more heavily into Rodney.
”That’s fine, Colonel,” Rodney said tartly, “But some of us need the bathroom and you’re worse than an octopus here.”
John grunted at that and shifted off of Rodney, rolling away, then apparently fell right back to sleep again. Rodney shook his head, baffled at the limpet-like behavior, then shuffled out of bed and into the bathroom. He hadn’t been lying, he did need to pee. While he was there, he took the opportunity to brush his teeth and wash his face, before turning to head back to the bedroom
He paused just outside the door of the bathroom, surprised to see a tray of food on the table inside the door to the bedroom, along with what appeared to be some sort of ointment and bandages. He headed closer to investigate, calling out sharply as he went, “Sheppard!”
John grunted, then Rodney heard the sound of him rolling out of bed. “What’s the matter?” he asked, coming to stand close behind Rodney.
“Did you hear breakfast arrive?” Rodney asked, amazed at how his half-panicked tone had somehow been enough to wake John and bring him to his feet so quickly.
“Oh, cool,” John said, lifting the lid off a plate to reveal what looked like some sort of pastries.
“Cool?” Rodney exploded. “They could have murdered us in our sleep!”
“Rodney,” John put a calming hand on his shoulder. “I think if that was their intention, they would have acted long before now.”
Rodney took a deep breath and tried to calm the hell down. This situation was seriously messing with his head. He picked up one of the cups and sniffed. There was no way it was coffee, but there was a chicory type scent that boded well for caffeine content anyway.
“I don’t think any of these are citrus,” John told him, handing Rodney a plate with several of the pastries on.
“Thanks,” Rodney grunted, already gulping down a cup of the thick black liquid, that definitely had caffeine in. He reached for the pot and poured another cup, then headed over to the armchair. John took his own mug and plate and settled cross-legged on the bed. “I’ll look at your back again after,” Rodney said around a mouthful of pastry.
John looked up, eyebrows raised, from his own plate of food. “Okay, if you want,” he shrugged indifferently.
“I do want,” Rodney told him sharply. “There’s no way I’m letting those cuts get infected, when we’re stuck here for god knows how long.”
John just nodded and bent his head over his plate again. Rodney shook his head and returned to his own food, wondering when something was going to happen with their captors, stomach tightening unpleasantly at that thought. It was enough to make him shove his plate aside, hunger suddenly gone as he realized that it could well be his turn for the torture and truth drugs today.
“Rodney?” The soft call of his name got his attention and he looked up to see John exchanging his empty plate and cup for the bandages and ointment.
“Yeah, okay,” Rodney told him, getting up to put his own plate and cup back on the tray. John handed him the first aid supplies and stretched out on the bed again. Rodney felt a lump in his throat at John’s simple trust in him, swallowing with difficulty as he moved towards the bed.
John turned his head to look at Rodney this time, as he approached the bed. “You can straddle me, I won’t freak out,” he offered quietly.
Rodney went wide-eyed with shock at that. “Are you sure?” he asked, equally quiet as he dropped the supplies on the bed.
“I trust you,” John said, echoing Rodney’s thoughts.
Rodney nodded, finding it impossible to speak for that moment. He climbed on to the bed and carefully settled astride John’s legs, running equations through his head to make sure he didn’t do anything to destroy John’s faith in him, like getting hard. Opening the tube of ointment, Rodney carefully started to apply it to John’s back. The tube wasn’t that big, so he concentrated on the worst spots, where the skin had been broken and was now scabbed over.
“I don’t think the bandages are much good at the moment,” Rodney offered, as he leaned forward to reach a spot up near John’s shoulders.
John shifted beneath him and grunted, making Rodney freeze, before lifting up so that his groin was no longer in close proximity to John’s ass, determinedly turning his thoughts away from how it would feel to cup the tight, muscular buttocks in the palms of his hands, sure that they would fit him perfectly. ‘Kavanagh naked,’ Rodney thought to himself desperately, trying to divert his thoughts from John and John’s naked flesh, warm beneath his hands, or what sounds John might make, as Rodney pushed his cock into that hot, tight ass.
“Rodney,” John said, shifting beneath him once more.
“Right,” Rodney said, knowing he sounded odd, but not able to do anything about it.
John pushed up from below him and Rodney made a strangled noise, practically throwing himself off the bed in his haste to get away. “Rodney,” John grabbed his wrist and stilled his flight.
“Please, let me go,” Rodney begged, desperate for the privacy of the bathroom.
“No,” John said, deliberately tightening his grip. “It’s all right, Rodney.”
“No, no it’s not,” Rodney gasped, body quivering with his need to get free.
“Rodney, buddy, it’s fine,” John said. “Look at me.”
And when he put that note of command into his tone, Rodney had no choice but to look up, face red with anger and embarrassment at his own lack of control. John had clearly taken the opportunity to turn over and sit up when he’d grabbed for Rodney and Rodney took in his expression, naked and vulnerable again.
“You’re not the only one who had a reaction,” John told him, waving a hand at his own body.
“Oh,” Rodney said, knees crumbling beneath him at the obvious erection outlined by John’s thin boxers.
John hauled him towards him and Rodney fell onto the bed, half on John, face practically in his groin. “It’s really all right, Rodney,” John told him, as Rodney shifted around to a less awkward position.
“But you don’t do men,” Rodney said helplessly, certain in the knowledge from a drunken conversation in the early days of the expedition.
“I don’t do anyone,” John said, face and ears going redder than Rodney’s at the admission.
“What?” Rodney squeaked at that. “But, but, what about Chaya and Teer and, and,” Rodney lost steam at that, waving his hands around to try and encompass John’s past history.
John shrugged at that. “Nothing actually happened,” he ventured. “Well, there was the glowy thing with Chaya, but that wasn’t sex.”
“Teer?” Rodney said pointedly.
“Do we have to discuss this?” John asked, sounding weary as he slumped into the pillows.
“I don’t know, John, do we?” Rodney asked. “You were the one who was crossing the line earlier, I was trying to do the decent thing and get away, but you pushed it, pushed me, into this conversation.”
“I know,” John said. “I guess that was a mistake, huh?”
Rodney crossed to the pile of his clothes and grabbed his pants, feeling the need to be a lot more dressed for this conversation.
“Rodney,” John said wistfully from behind him. “Please, buddy.”
“What John? Please Rodney, what?” Rodney asked, turning to face him, pants in hand still. “I think you’re going to actually need to talk this time.”
But before John could react, the sound of the door opening had them both freezing nervously. The door swung inwards and a figure filled the doorway.
“They’re here,” a familiar voice called out.
“Ronon!” John and Rodney yelled in unison.
“Hey Sheppard, McKay,” Ronon said, sweeping the room in a quick glance. “Time to go, where’re your pants?”
Rodney felt himself laugh hysterically at that. He quickly scrambled into the pants he still held, then pulled on his boots. “Here, take these, it’ll be better than nothing,” he said, thrusting his socks into John’s hands. “And don’t think this is over.”
“Yeah, I know,” John said, pulling on the socks and his own pants. “Ronon, any chance you got a spare shirt somewhere I can borrow?”
Ronon turned from his position in the doorway and snorted. “Only you, Sheppard,” he said. He pulled off his leather coat and then the long-sleeved shirt he had on underneath, leaving him in a short-sleeved shirt, which he covered again with his coat.
Rodney watched as John pulled the shirt on quickly. It was stupidly big on him, but that was probably for the best, considering the state of John’s back. “Let’s go,” John said, as soon as he had the shirt on, hurrying towards Ronon, who handed John a 9mm, then held out another towards Rodney. Rodney took it reluctantly, then fell into position behind Ronon obediently, at a gesture from John, who took up their six.
And with that, they got the hell out of there and back to Atlantis, meeting up with Teyla, Lorne and a bunch of Marines en route.
Link to part 2