Seventeen (McKay/Sheppard, NC-17)
This is a series of interconnected drabbles, written for sonadorita's birthday a while back. Warnings should probably include dubious consent, light bondage, character death, smut, more character death, torture, schmoop, angst, smut again, yet more angst (Post-Trinity), also more torture, drug use, character death, character death, smutty schmoop, and OT4. In that order.
In other words, read at own risk.
Download Seventeen as podfic
~~~
"If you could just keep your big mouth shut for one minute, McKay," Sheppard snapped, yanking bitterly at the buttons of his BDUs, "one goddamn minute, then we wouldn't be in this mess! But no, the great Dr. McKay has to impart his wisdom to all and sundry, never stopping to think about the repercussions!"
Rodney glared at him from where he was tied to the bed, lips pressed together as firmly as the gag allowed. He was anticipating his aneurysm any minute now, and when Sheppard noticed, he actually had the gall to look amused.
"Come on, McKay, just-"
~~~
"-breathe, damn it! Teyla?"
"There is no pulse!"
"Keep up the compressions!" John waited for Ronon to finish counting down for Teyla, then he forced another two breaths into Rodney's lungs. Seven minutes since Rodney'd been struck by the device's energy beam, and finally Beckett arrived, shooing them out of the way. His team fanned out and started to work on McKay, pumping air into him and shouting for syringes, shocking his slack body with the portable defibrillator.
John watched them, anticipating another miracle. He froze with shock when Beckett leaned back and shook his head, defeated. "I'm sorry. He's-
~~~
-dead. Or not. John blinked - or rather, he flickered a little. When the Atlantis infirmary had blurred out of focus, he hadn't expected to ascend. But he had, and he'd take the chance to kick some ascended butt.
"Excuse me?" he asked a nearby floating blob, "do you know Rodney? McKay?" When there was no answer, he added, "Meredith?"
"The rose's name is not its beauty."
"Um, sure. Thanks." No names, fine. John would find him. It had been three years since Rodney had abandoned them for some higher purpose. Three fucking years, and John would be damned if he-
~~~
"-let it go. I mean, what are they going to do, take away your command? That would be the fourth attempt, and they've all failed so far, and I honestly don't think that DADT is going to succeed. Sure, Landry hates you, but even he has to see that you're vital to this mission, and it's no one's business whether or not you have a fuck buddy. Not that I am. I mean, yes, we're fucking, but I'd like to think that we share a certain, uh, connection. Have a, a relationship, if you will. And anyway, I, uh-"
~~~
"I love you. I probably should have told you before." But he hadn't. Partly because Rodney hadn't wanted to be teased for carrying a torch for a straight man by said straight man. Partly because Sheppard knowing wouldn't have changed anything.
And now Sheppard was dead and Rodney was left sitting next to his grave and missing him so much that his chest hurt. Missing the goofy smiles and casual drawl, the way Sheppard had smacked the back of his head, patted his shoulder, laughed with him, fought for him.
He'd give anything for five more minutes. For just another-
~~~
-touch. Playing with the hair beneath his navel, lingering just short of his hipbone, driving him crazy with want; stroking the inside of his thigh just below his balls, once, twice, six times before finally moving that little bit higher, and John hadn't meant to cry out but he did, hips bucking up and hands clutching the sheets, barely hearing Rodney's chuckle over his own pants, and then a hand closed around his dick and a thumb ran over the sensitive head, smearing pre-come as it rubbed over the slit and he was lost, gone, and he couldn't, he couldn't-
~~~
"Wait!"
But the Erinians ignored him, dragging Rodney out of the cage and tying him to the rough St. Andrew's cross they'd put up earlier. Rodney didn't put up much of a fight, blood still seeping from the wound on his temple, more hanging in his bonds than standing upright. The Erinians cheered as their chief brought out the seven-tailed whip and held it up for everyone to see.
"I'll kill you! Stay the fuck away from him!" John kicked against the cage's wooden bars, Ronon growling next to him as the whip came down on Rodney's back for the-
~~~
-first strike.
"Sun! Did you see that? Do you hear any thunder yet? What are we going to do if the lightning strikes the greenhouse? I'm too young to die, I haven't even won the breeders' prize yet!"
"Would you calm down already? It's only a thunderstorm."
Sunflower thought that tulip's panic would have been funny if it hadn't been so genuine. For the last eight days, the other flower had lived in constant fear for his life, despite sunflower's repeated assurance that thunderstorms were perfectly normal for this time of year.
"Thunderstorm? Only?! How can you possibly think we're-"
~~~
"-safe. Don't worry, I've got you."
John let out a sob and curled into the warmth of Rodney's arms enveloping him, not caring what the nine marines who were currently guarding the gateroom might think about it. He was back, he was home, and Rodney would take care of him. Rodney was good at taking care of things.
Soft voices were murmuring questions, Carson's hand was on his arm, and Rodney tried to pull away. John only shook his head, holding on, feeling like he might break if he let go.
Then the Replicator pulled its hand back, and John-
~~~
-screamed. John laughed of course, the bastard, one slim finger trailing the ice cube around Rodney's navel.
"Are you trying to kill me?" Rodney snapped, the effect entirely ruined by the gasp that escaped him when an icy drop of water caught in his pubic hair.
John grinned like a ten-year-old. "Nah. Just torturing you a little."
Rodney's answer was lost in his high-pitched whine as John ever-so-lightly pressed the ice cube against his balls. It was hell, bliss, and if John kept mouthing the head of his dick like that, contrasting hot and cold, Rodney really couldn't be held-
~~~
"-accountable for his actions!"
"And so you what, decided to fire him? What about the next time you need someone to come up with an eleventh hour miracle? Zelenka's good, but he's not McKay."
"No, he's not! He never blew up a solar system!"
"Elizabeth-"
"The decision is final, John. When the Daedalus leaves, Rodney will leave with it."
"You're making a mistake."
"Your concerns have been noted. If that's all…?"
John didn't punch the office's glass wall as he left, but it was a close thing. Meeting Rodney's anxious gaze, he shook his head, full of regret. "Rodney, I'm-
~~~
-sorry. That I couldn't fix your shield, that there wasn't enough time, that your people weren't protected. I'm sorry that our weapons didn't cut it, but we've lost our own people, too, and- No! Don't! I'm, I'm sorry I said you were primitive oafs and that living in this village could hardly be called living at all. I'm sorry that your planet was culled twelve times already and that the Wraith take more and more, and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry that your little daughter had to die in such a horrible way, but please, stop hurting him, please, just-
~~~
-stop. Blink a few times, retrace the steps to Rodney's open door, and stare. "What are you doing?"
"Colonel!" Rodney flashed him a loopy smile. Well, actually, Rodney flashed him a hell of a lot. "Have you come to see the monkeys? I've counted thirteen so far," Rodney beamed. "That's a prime."
"Uh, no." John didn't see any monkeys, but then again, his attention was kind of caught by other… things. He closed the door to prevent his friend - his naked, obviously inebriated friend - from running away, and suggested, "What say we get you to Beckett?"
"Huh. What say we-"
~~~
"Fuck!"
"What happened… to your… optimism?" The wheezing chuckle had John's head snap around so fast his neck hurt, but it was a small price for seeing Rodney conscious again, not quite focussing as he looked around the small cave.
"Rodney!" John gave up on trying to un-jam his gun and knelt next to his lover, propping him up to help him breathe a little easier. "You okay?"
"Stupid… question. I mean, zombies?" Rodney coughed, splattering blood all over John's shirt. "Fourteen years… fighting… space vampires, and… I'm killed by… zombies."
"You're not dead yet." Rodney didn't answer, his eyes-
~~~
-sliding shut. Elizabeth stared sightlessly at the closed ceiling, her eyes burning, then she turned and made her way back to the control room, leaving the jumper bay behind.
She'd never thought that it would end this way. And yet it felt strangely fitting that the plague had taken John and Rodney within fifteen minutes of each other. She couldn't imagine either of them alone.
The jumper was a mere blip on the screen she kept watching, imagining the rear hatch lowering and the urns opening into space, leaving their ashes to mingle like the two of them had never-
~~~
-really dared. And that might have been stupid, because John was looking at him like Rodney was chocolate and peanut butter combined, only better.
"Really?" he breathed, his face wearing a smile unlike any Rodney had ever seen before.
"Yeah." He shrugged, desperately trying to appear casual. He'd been doing this stuff since he'd been sixteen, how hard could this be with two?
"Show me."
Rodney took a deep breath and lay down on the mattress, raising his hips and spreading his legs as he got into the bridge variation of the wheel posture, his cheeks heating up as he-
~~~
-exposed everything. And now there were seventeen nations who wanted in on the IOA, several others who wanted the Stargate closed, and millions of people who wanted to go see another world.
Not to mention the press. Some of the articles Jeannie had gleefully mailed them were full of the craziest speculations what life in Pegasus was really like.
If only they knew.
"Didn't you say no eating in bed?"
Rodney's entire body was covered in chocolate sauce, both Ronon and Teyla licking like he was the sweetest thing, ever.
"Whu?"
On second thought, maybe it was better they didn't.
~~~
In other words, read at own risk.
Download Seventeen as podfic
~~~
"If you could just keep your big mouth shut for one minute, McKay," Sheppard snapped, yanking bitterly at the buttons of his BDUs, "one goddamn minute, then we wouldn't be in this mess! But no, the great Dr. McKay has to impart his wisdom to all and sundry, never stopping to think about the repercussions!"
Rodney glared at him from where he was tied to the bed, lips pressed together as firmly as the gag allowed. He was anticipating his aneurysm any minute now, and when Sheppard noticed, he actually had the gall to look amused.
"Come on, McKay, just-"
~~~
"-breathe, damn it! Teyla?"
"There is no pulse!"
"Keep up the compressions!" John waited for Ronon to finish counting down for Teyla, then he forced another two breaths into Rodney's lungs. Seven minutes since Rodney'd been struck by the device's energy beam, and finally Beckett arrived, shooing them out of the way. His team fanned out and started to work on McKay, pumping air into him and shouting for syringes, shocking his slack body with the portable defibrillator.
John watched them, anticipating another miracle. He froze with shock when Beckett leaned back and shook his head, defeated. "I'm sorry. He's-
~~~
-dead. Or not. John blinked - or rather, he flickered a little. When the Atlantis infirmary had blurred out of focus, he hadn't expected to ascend. But he had, and he'd take the chance to kick some ascended butt.
"Excuse me?" he asked a nearby floating blob, "do you know Rodney? McKay?" When there was no answer, he added, "Meredith?"
"The rose's name is not its beauty."
"Um, sure. Thanks." No names, fine. John would find him. It had been three years since Rodney had abandoned them for some higher purpose. Three fucking years, and John would be damned if he-
~~~
"-let it go. I mean, what are they going to do, take away your command? That would be the fourth attempt, and they've all failed so far, and I honestly don't think that DADT is going to succeed. Sure, Landry hates you, but even he has to see that you're vital to this mission, and it's no one's business whether or not you have a fuck buddy. Not that I am. I mean, yes, we're fucking, but I'd like to think that we share a certain, uh, connection. Have a, a relationship, if you will. And anyway, I, uh-"
~~~
"I love you. I probably should have told you before." But he hadn't. Partly because Rodney hadn't wanted to be teased for carrying a torch for a straight man by said straight man. Partly because Sheppard knowing wouldn't have changed anything.
And now Sheppard was dead and Rodney was left sitting next to his grave and missing him so much that his chest hurt. Missing the goofy smiles and casual drawl, the way Sheppard had smacked the back of his head, patted his shoulder, laughed with him, fought for him.
He'd give anything for five more minutes. For just another-
~~~
-touch. Playing with the hair beneath his navel, lingering just short of his hipbone, driving him crazy with want; stroking the inside of his thigh just below his balls, once, twice, six times before finally moving that little bit higher, and John hadn't meant to cry out but he did, hips bucking up and hands clutching the sheets, barely hearing Rodney's chuckle over his own pants, and then a hand closed around his dick and a thumb ran over the sensitive head, smearing pre-come as it rubbed over the slit and he was lost, gone, and he couldn't, he couldn't-
~~~
"Wait!"
But the Erinians ignored him, dragging Rodney out of the cage and tying him to the rough St. Andrew's cross they'd put up earlier. Rodney didn't put up much of a fight, blood still seeping from the wound on his temple, more hanging in his bonds than standing upright. The Erinians cheered as their chief brought out the seven-tailed whip and held it up for everyone to see.
"I'll kill you! Stay the fuck away from him!" John kicked against the cage's wooden bars, Ronon growling next to him as the whip came down on Rodney's back for the-
~~~
-first strike.
"Sun! Did you see that? Do you hear any thunder yet? What are we going to do if the lightning strikes the greenhouse? I'm too young to die, I haven't even won the breeders' prize yet!"
"Would you calm down already? It's only a thunderstorm."
Sunflower thought that tulip's panic would have been funny if it hadn't been so genuine. For the last eight days, the other flower had lived in constant fear for his life, despite sunflower's repeated assurance that thunderstorms were perfectly normal for this time of year.
"Thunderstorm? Only?! How can you possibly think we're-"
~~~
"-safe. Don't worry, I've got you."
John let out a sob and curled into the warmth of Rodney's arms enveloping him, not caring what the nine marines who were currently guarding the gateroom might think about it. He was back, he was home, and Rodney would take care of him. Rodney was good at taking care of things.
Soft voices were murmuring questions, Carson's hand was on his arm, and Rodney tried to pull away. John only shook his head, holding on, feeling like he might break if he let go.
Then the Replicator pulled its hand back, and John-
~~~
-screamed. John laughed of course, the bastard, one slim finger trailing the ice cube around Rodney's navel.
"Are you trying to kill me?" Rodney snapped, the effect entirely ruined by the gasp that escaped him when an icy drop of water caught in his pubic hair.
John grinned like a ten-year-old. "Nah. Just torturing you a little."
Rodney's answer was lost in his high-pitched whine as John ever-so-lightly pressed the ice cube against his balls. It was hell, bliss, and if John kept mouthing the head of his dick like that, contrasting hot and cold, Rodney really couldn't be held-
~~~
"-accountable for his actions!"
"And so you what, decided to fire him? What about the next time you need someone to come up with an eleventh hour miracle? Zelenka's good, but he's not McKay."
"No, he's not! He never blew up a solar system!"
"Elizabeth-"
"The decision is final, John. When the Daedalus leaves, Rodney will leave with it."
"You're making a mistake."
"Your concerns have been noted. If that's all…?"
John didn't punch the office's glass wall as he left, but it was a close thing. Meeting Rodney's anxious gaze, he shook his head, full of regret. "Rodney, I'm-
~~~
-sorry. That I couldn't fix your shield, that there wasn't enough time, that your people weren't protected. I'm sorry that our weapons didn't cut it, but we've lost our own people, too, and- No! Don't! I'm, I'm sorry I said you were primitive oafs and that living in this village could hardly be called living at all. I'm sorry that your planet was culled twelve times already and that the Wraith take more and more, and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry that your little daughter had to die in such a horrible way, but please, stop hurting him, please, just-
~~~
-stop. Blink a few times, retrace the steps to Rodney's open door, and stare. "What are you doing?"
"Colonel!" Rodney flashed him a loopy smile. Well, actually, Rodney flashed him a hell of a lot. "Have you come to see the monkeys? I've counted thirteen so far," Rodney beamed. "That's a prime."
"Uh, no." John didn't see any monkeys, but then again, his attention was kind of caught by other… things. He closed the door to prevent his friend - his naked, obviously inebriated friend - from running away, and suggested, "What say we get you to Beckett?"
"Huh. What say we-"
~~~
"Fuck!"
"What happened… to your… optimism?" The wheezing chuckle had John's head snap around so fast his neck hurt, but it was a small price for seeing Rodney conscious again, not quite focussing as he looked around the small cave.
"Rodney!" John gave up on trying to un-jam his gun and knelt next to his lover, propping him up to help him breathe a little easier. "You okay?"
"Stupid… question. I mean, zombies?" Rodney coughed, splattering blood all over John's shirt. "Fourteen years… fighting… space vampires, and… I'm killed by… zombies."
"You're not dead yet." Rodney didn't answer, his eyes-
~~~
-sliding shut. Elizabeth stared sightlessly at the closed ceiling, her eyes burning, then she turned and made her way back to the control room, leaving the jumper bay behind.
She'd never thought that it would end this way. And yet it felt strangely fitting that the plague had taken John and Rodney within fifteen minutes of each other. She couldn't imagine either of them alone.
The jumper was a mere blip on the screen she kept watching, imagining the rear hatch lowering and the urns opening into space, leaving their ashes to mingle like the two of them had never-
~~~
-really dared. And that might have been stupid, because John was looking at him like Rodney was chocolate and peanut butter combined, only better.
"Really?" he breathed, his face wearing a smile unlike any Rodney had ever seen before.
"Yeah." He shrugged, desperately trying to appear casual. He'd been doing this stuff since he'd been sixteen, how hard could this be with two?
"Show me."
Rodney took a deep breath and lay down on the mattress, raising his hips and spreading his legs as he got into the bridge variation of the wheel posture, his cheeks heating up as he-
~~~
-exposed everything. And now there were seventeen nations who wanted in on the IOA, several others who wanted the Stargate closed, and millions of people who wanted to go see another world.
Not to mention the press. Some of the articles Jeannie had gleefully mailed them were full of the craziest speculations what life in Pegasus was really like.
If only they knew.
"Didn't you say no eating in bed?"
Rodney's entire body was covered in chocolate sauce, both Ronon and Teyla licking like he was the sweetest thing, ever.
"Whu?"
On second thought, maybe it was better they didn't.
~~~