SGA slash - McKay/Beckett - Damage (sequel to Scars)
Title: Damage - (Scars part 2)
Author: lillyjk
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing McKay/Beckett, implied McKay/???
Rating: NC-17
Word count: @ 2000
Spoilers: set immediately after The Hive
Warnings: If you’re here for my usual fic, this is probably not for you. Dark-fic. Abuse. Questionable consent. Bloodplay. Abuse of power. Features Evil!Carson. References to cutting.
Disclaimer: Please note that this is in no way supposed to be a portrayal of a healthy BDSM relationship. These are not equal partners participating in a consensual exchange of power. This is one character taking purposeful advantage of another person’s emotional problems.
Summary: (Damage: the occurrence of a change for the worse) Written for the Cuff ‘Em, Vamp ‘Em, or Just Make ‘Em Come Already Kink and Cliché Multi-Fandom Challenge - prompts: verbal domination and knifeplay. Also for 50kinkyways Biting prompt (2 down, 48 to go). Sequel to Scars
Read Part 1 Scars
Carson smiles as he lets himself into Rodney’s quarters. He thinks the door locked behind him and crosses to Rodney’s nightstand to carefully lay out his tools. He can hear Rodney in the shower, preparing himself as Carson had instructed.
They are going to have such fun.
He steps out of his shoes and starts to strip out of his clothes as he waits for Rodney to finish. Normally he would make Rodney undress him, but tonight he has other plans. Besides, he doesn’t want to have to explain away bloodstains on his clothes when he’s off duty. Carson is down to his boxer shorts by the time the shower cuts off.
A moment later Rodney appears in the doorway with a towel wrapped loosely around his hips. Rodney goes still when he sees Carson, a flash of panic sliding across his face before his mouth settles into a cautious smile. “I meant to be done already.”
Carson frowns and gestures him forward. “We’ll deal with that later. Come here.”
Rodney obeys without question, crossing the room to stand beside him.
“You do understand that you have to be punished, luv.” Carson runs a hand through Rodney’s damp hair, smoothing it back from his forehead. “Enzyme or no, I can’t have you disrespecting me.”
Rodney nods, his eyes firmly fixed on the floor at his feet.
Carson casts a critical eye at the other man. Rodney had lost more weight while he was Ford’s captive, only a hint of softness remains at his belly. “After all, I’m the only one here who cares what happens to you.” Carson cups Rodney’s face, brushing his thumb along his cheek. “Why, Colonel Sheppard never even asked about you. Never bothered to find out if you were safe.” He makes a tsking sound before he continues softly. “They wouldn’t have come back for you. They would have just left you there with Ford’s men.”
Carson feels Rodney tremble under his hand as he leans in to whisper in his ear. “To tell you the truth, I think they’d forgotten all about you. And of course, Elizabeth was only concerned about Sheppard’s whereabouts when you came stumbling through the Stargate. But I didn’t forget about you, did I, luv?”
“No...No, you didn’t forget.” Rodney’s voice is soft, his uncertainty clear.
Carson lets his hand drift down to Rodney’s neck, his thumb pressing against the pulse point. He loves Rodney like this, that arrogant façade gone, exposing all the fragile cracks underneath. “That’s right, Rodney. I stayed with you in the infirmary until every bit of the enzyme was out of your system.”
Carson presses hard with his thumb, knowing there will be a lovely bruise decorating Rodney’s neck when he's done. Usually he’s careful to leave marks only where they will be hidden by Rodney’s clothes. But just this once he can’t resist…Rodney’s pale skin is such a lovely canvas for his handiwork.
“Even though you said horrible hateful things, I stayed with you. And now…” Carson lets his voice trail off, his fingers moving down to brush across Rodney’s nipple, gliding over skin still slick from the shower. “Now, that has to be dealt with.” His fingers close over the nub, squeezing hard enough to make Rodney gasp.
Carson’s eyes drop lower. Rodney was missing for almost a week and then a day in the infirmary and another day searching for Sheppard. Out of Carson’s reach. Gone or inaccessible long enough for most of the cuts and bruises Carson had so lovingly inflicted to fade.
He is going to have such fun redecorating Rodney’s body.
Carson can’t decide what to do first. There’s a part of him that wants to press Rodney down on the mattress and reopen every fading scar all at once. He can feel his fingers twitching with the urge to pick up the scalpel he’s laid out on the nightstand and do just that. Just the thought of it makes him go from half-hard to erect, his cock filling and pressing against his boxers as he imagines Rodney’s pale skin running with blood. Instead he brushes a kiss across Rodney’s cheek and reaches down to tug away the towel.
Rodney’s still not strong enough to take that much damage at once. More’s the pity.
Carson’s hand closes around Rodney’s cock just as he bends his head to bite the curve where Rodney’s neck meets his shoulder. Rodney’s hard already, and Carson feels him grow harder as his teeth break the skin.
It would be so easy, so easy to move his mouth up those few inches to Rodney’s jugular vein. Rodney knows it. Carson has delighted in telling him at great length just how easy it would be to bleed him out. It’s one of Carson’s favorite games to play.
Rodney’s trembling against his mouth. Carson feels the erratic beat of his pulse against his tongue, tastes the bitter bright copper taste of blood. He knows just how hard to bite -- how to break the skin just enough to draw blood to the surface.
The bite turns into a kiss. Carson’s tongue laps against Rodney’s soft skin until Rodney shudders. Rodney’s cock is leaking against Carson’s palm by the time he releases him. After a moment, Carson draws back. He lifts his hand to his mouth and tastes the bitter pre-come, lets it mingle with the hint of Rodney’s blood.
Rodney’s breathing in shallow little pants. His eyes are closed, his cheeks flushed and his dick is hard and dripping, the tip shiny with pre-come. He’s making a noise, a low sound of need.
He’s beautiful. So pliant. So desperate for any kind of attention. So easy to manipulate
Carson can’t decide what he wants to do first.
He wants to fuck Rodney’s mouth, to press past crooked lips into wetness and thrust down Rodney’s throat. He wants to carefully re-carve his initials into Rodney’s thigh, precise little cuts that barely bleed because Carson knows just how much pressure to use for maximum pain and minimum damage. He wants to bend Rodney over, thrust into him with no preparation, fuck him so hard that Rodney’s blood eases the way.
But that would be too much, too fast. The time away has made Rodney skittish; it's given the other man just enough freedom to start having doubts. Carson senses it, can see it in the way Rodney’s eyes flutter open and meet his own before sliding shut.
“Are you ready to play, luv? Ready for me to show you how much I care?” Carson forces a smile when he realizes he’s holding his breath.
Rodney hesitates - just a moment, but long enough for Carson to notice - and then he nods.
Carson’s smile widens even as his plans change. Tonight he has to be gentle. He has to draw Rodney back in with caresses and platitudes.
Carson bends to place a careful kiss against the bite mark on Rodney’s skin. He whispers into Rodney’s neck as he leads him to the bed. Words meant to soothe. Little comments about how worried he was, how much he cares about Rodney, how he stayed by Rodney’s side in the infirmary, even though no one else came to check on him.
Carson feels it working. Rodney’s trembling under his touch as Carson presses him back on the mattress and follows. He ignores the urge to straddle Rodney like he normally would and lies on his side beside him instead. Rodney turns into him, snuggles close as Carson pets him, Carson’s hands moving in soothing little circles along his chest and stomach.
“It’s all right, luv. I’ll take care of you.” Carson punctuates his words by letting his hand drop lower, his fingers brushing against Rodney’s cock. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He waits until Rodney nods before continuing, his hand wrapping loosely around Rodney’s erection. “I’m the only one who takes care of you. Stay still now.” He props up on his elbow so he can watch his hand stroke along Rodney’s cock. His thumb slides over the head, pressing briefly against the slit as his fingers tighten. He can feel Rodney fighting the urge to thrust up into his fist.
Carson’s other hand reaches out to the bedside table, fingers closing over the cool metal scalpel. Perhaps just one cut tonight, one little slice into pale pale skin.
His hand on Rodney’s cock tightens as Carson leans in for a kiss. He’s careful to be gentle with Rodney’s mouth. Just a sweet little press of lips to lips, his tongue sliding out to trace the seam of Rodney’s lips, resisting the urge to push inside.
Rodney turns his head away when Carson pulls back.
Carson feels the doubts return. Something has changed since Rodney’s been away. He’s not sure what, only that Rodney isn’t as pliant as usual - doesn’t seem quite as quick to respond. He pushes the thought away and tightens his hand on the scalpel. He has the sudden urge to strike out, not one cut but many, to re-mark Rodney’s skin, reassert his dominion. Instead Carson slides down the bed. He uses his teeth on the way, not hard enough to draw blood but hard enough to hurt.
Carson bites at one nipple and then the other, the edge of his teeth scraping against sensitive flesh until Rodney starts to beg. His hand is pumping Rodney’s cock, firm grip with just the right twist on the upstroke. The scalpel is in his other hand, and he lets the dull edge float across Rodney’s ribcage.
Rodney’s breath catches, and when Carson raises his head Rodney’s watching him. Half raised up on the bed, his eyes flicking from Carson’s hand on his cock to the scalpel. Carson smiles reassuringly and bends his head again, licks a wide stripe down the center of Rodney’s chest. He can feel the barely discernable ridges of scar tissue against his tongue, as delicate as a spider web.
The reminder of what he’s done to Rodney -- of what he’ll do again - makes Carson’s cock ache. He grinds himself against the mattress, the wet cotton of his boxer shorts enhancing the friction. Rodney’s cock in his hand is slick from pre-come, throbbing against Carson’s palm.
Rodney’s close. Carson can feel it - slick and hot against his hand and so so close to spilling. Carson pulls back enough to watch, enough to let his eyes wander up Rodney’s body as he picks the perfect place to cut. He likes to cut just at the moment of orgasm, to mix in a precise amount of pain at the moment of ultimate pleasure.
Carson tightens his hand on the scalpel and moves it into place. The belly, he decides, the tender strip of flesh right at Rodney’s waist. That way Rodney will feel it with every step, sweet torture each time the waistband of his pants slides against his belly.
Carson twists his hand along Rodney’s erection, his thumb pressing under the head. “Now luv, come for me now.” He presses the sharp edge of the scalpel to Rodney’s pale skin.
The pain catches Carson off guard.
Rodney’s hand is fastened around Carson’s wrist, bending it back, pushing the scalpel away from his belly. The grip is too hard, Rodney’s thumb digging into the tendon, strain as Carson’s wrist bends back too far, another inch or two and it’ll be a nasty break. Carson’s hand falls open and the scalpel drops to the bed, glittering silver against the sheets. The unexpected violence makes Carson shudder, tears something free in his gut.
Then there’s the hot splash of Rodney’s come against his fingers and Carson’s crying out too. Crying out and thrusting wildly against the mattress with his own orgasm as the pain and pleasure mingle.
Carson shudders with the aftermath, his heart pounding in his ears so hard that he barely hears Rodney’s quiet, “No, not this time.”
Carson doesn’t move when Rodney lets go of his wrist and rolls away from him. Carson doesn’t strike out or speak or acknowledge Rodney’s disobedience. But he sees what he missed before.
There’s a bite mark centered on one curved cheek of Rodney’s ass -- a fresh bite mark.
It’s not Carson’s mark.
Find all my 50kinkyways fics featuring Rodney McKay here
Author: lillyjk
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing McKay/Beckett, implied McKay/???
Rating: NC-17
Word count: @ 2000
Spoilers: set immediately after The Hive
Warnings: If you’re here for my usual fic, this is probably not for you. Dark-fic. Abuse. Questionable consent. Bloodplay. Abuse of power. Features Evil!Carson. References to cutting.
Disclaimer: Please note that this is in no way supposed to be a portrayal of a healthy BDSM relationship. These are not equal partners participating in a consensual exchange of power. This is one character taking purposeful advantage of another person’s emotional problems.
Summary: (Damage: the occurrence of a change for the worse) Written for the Cuff ‘Em, Vamp ‘Em, or Just Make ‘Em Come Already Kink and Cliché Multi-Fandom Challenge - prompts: verbal domination and knifeplay. Also for 50kinkyways Biting prompt (2 down, 48 to go). Sequel to Scars
Read Part 1 Scars
Carson smiles as he lets himself into Rodney’s quarters. He thinks the door locked behind him and crosses to Rodney’s nightstand to carefully lay out his tools. He can hear Rodney in the shower, preparing himself as Carson had instructed.
They are going to have such fun.
He steps out of his shoes and starts to strip out of his clothes as he waits for Rodney to finish. Normally he would make Rodney undress him, but tonight he has other plans. Besides, he doesn’t want to have to explain away bloodstains on his clothes when he’s off duty. Carson is down to his boxer shorts by the time the shower cuts off.
A moment later Rodney appears in the doorway with a towel wrapped loosely around his hips. Rodney goes still when he sees Carson, a flash of panic sliding across his face before his mouth settles into a cautious smile. “I meant to be done already.”
Carson frowns and gestures him forward. “We’ll deal with that later. Come here.”
Rodney obeys without question, crossing the room to stand beside him.
“You do understand that you have to be punished, luv.” Carson runs a hand through Rodney’s damp hair, smoothing it back from his forehead. “Enzyme or no, I can’t have you disrespecting me.”
Rodney nods, his eyes firmly fixed on the floor at his feet.
Carson casts a critical eye at the other man. Rodney had lost more weight while he was Ford’s captive, only a hint of softness remains at his belly. “After all, I’m the only one here who cares what happens to you.” Carson cups Rodney’s face, brushing his thumb along his cheek. “Why, Colonel Sheppard never even asked about you. Never bothered to find out if you were safe.” He makes a tsking sound before he continues softly. “They wouldn’t have come back for you. They would have just left you there with Ford’s men.”
Carson feels Rodney tremble under his hand as he leans in to whisper in his ear. “To tell you the truth, I think they’d forgotten all about you. And of course, Elizabeth was only concerned about Sheppard’s whereabouts when you came stumbling through the Stargate. But I didn’t forget about you, did I, luv?”
“No...No, you didn’t forget.” Rodney’s voice is soft, his uncertainty clear.
Carson lets his hand drift down to Rodney’s neck, his thumb pressing against the pulse point. He loves Rodney like this, that arrogant façade gone, exposing all the fragile cracks underneath. “That’s right, Rodney. I stayed with you in the infirmary until every bit of the enzyme was out of your system.”
Carson presses hard with his thumb, knowing there will be a lovely bruise decorating Rodney’s neck when he's done. Usually he’s careful to leave marks only where they will be hidden by Rodney’s clothes. But just this once he can’t resist…Rodney’s pale skin is such a lovely canvas for his handiwork.
“Even though you said horrible hateful things, I stayed with you. And now…” Carson lets his voice trail off, his fingers moving down to brush across Rodney’s nipple, gliding over skin still slick from the shower. “Now, that has to be dealt with.” His fingers close over the nub, squeezing hard enough to make Rodney gasp.
Carson’s eyes drop lower. Rodney was missing for almost a week and then a day in the infirmary and another day searching for Sheppard. Out of Carson’s reach. Gone or inaccessible long enough for most of the cuts and bruises Carson had so lovingly inflicted to fade.
He is going to have such fun redecorating Rodney’s body.
Carson can’t decide what to do first. There’s a part of him that wants to press Rodney down on the mattress and reopen every fading scar all at once. He can feel his fingers twitching with the urge to pick up the scalpel he’s laid out on the nightstand and do just that. Just the thought of it makes him go from half-hard to erect, his cock filling and pressing against his boxers as he imagines Rodney’s pale skin running with blood. Instead he brushes a kiss across Rodney’s cheek and reaches down to tug away the towel.
Rodney’s still not strong enough to take that much damage at once. More’s the pity.
Carson’s hand closes around Rodney’s cock just as he bends his head to bite the curve where Rodney’s neck meets his shoulder. Rodney’s hard already, and Carson feels him grow harder as his teeth break the skin.
It would be so easy, so easy to move his mouth up those few inches to Rodney’s jugular vein. Rodney knows it. Carson has delighted in telling him at great length just how easy it would be to bleed him out. It’s one of Carson’s favorite games to play.
Rodney’s trembling against his mouth. Carson feels the erratic beat of his pulse against his tongue, tastes the bitter bright copper taste of blood. He knows just how hard to bite -- how to break the skin just enough to draw blood to the surface.
The bite turns into a kiss. Carson’s tongue laps against Rodney’s soft skin until Rodney shudders. Rodney’s cock is leaking against Carson’s palm by the time he releases him. After a moment, Carson draws back. He lifts his hand to his mouth and tastes the bitter pre-come, lets it mingle with the hint of Rodney’s blood.
Rodney’s breathing in shallow little pants. His eyes are closed, his cheeks flushed and his dick is hard and dripping, the tip shiny with pre-come. He’s making a noise, a low sound of need.
He’s beautiful. So pliant. So desperate for any kind of attention. So easy to manipulate
Carson can’t decide what he wants to do first.
He wants to fuck Rodney’s mouth, to press past crooked lips into wetness and thrust down Rodney’s throat. He wants to carefully re-carve his initials into Rodney’s thigh, precise little cuts that barely bleed because Carson knows just how much pressure to use for maximum pain and minimum damage. He wants to bend Rodney over, thrust into him with no preparation, fuck him so hard that Rodney’s blood eases the way.
But that would be too much, too fast. The time away has made Rodney skittish; it's given the other man just enough freedom to start having doubts. Carson senses it, can see it in the way Rodney’s eyes flutter open and meet his own before sliding shut.
“Are you ready to play, luv? Ready for me to show you how much I care?” Carson forces a smile when he realizes he’s holding his breath.
Rodney hesitates - just a moment, but long enough for Carson to notice - and then he nods.
Carson’s smile widens even as his plans change. Tonight he has to be gentle. He has to draw Rodney back in with caresses and platitudes.
Carson bends to place a careful kiss against the bite mark on Rodney’s skin. He whispers into Rodney’s neck as he leads him to the bed. Words meant to soothe. Little comments about how worried he was, how much he cares about Rodney, how he stayed by Rodney’s side in the infirmary, even though no one else came to check on him.
Carson feels it working. Rodney’s trembling under his touch as Carson presses him back on the mattress and follows. He ignores the urge to straddle Rodney like he normally would and lies on his side beside him instead. Rodney turns into him, snuggles close as Carson pets him, Carson’s hands moving in soothing little circles along his chest and stomach.
“It’s all right, luv. I’ll take care of you.” Carson punctuates his words by letting his hand drop lower, his fingers brushing against Rodney’s cock. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He waits until Rodney nods before continuing, his hand wrapping loosely around Rodney’s erection. “I’m the only one who takes care of you. Stay still now.” He props up on his elbow so he can watch his hand stroke along Rodney’s cock. His thumb slides over the head, pressing briefly against the slit as his fingers tighten. He can feel Rodney fighting the urge to thrust up into his fist.
Carson’s other hand reaches out to the bedside table, fingers closing over the cool metal scalpel. Perhaps just one cut tonight, one little slice into pale pale skin.
His hand on Rodney’s cock tightens as Carson leans in for a kiss. He’s careful to be gentle with Rodney’s mouth. Just a sweet little press of lips to lips, his tongue sliding out to trace the seam of Rodney’s lips, resisting the urge to push inside.
Rodney turns his head away when Carson pulls back.
Carson feels the doubts return. Something has changed since Rodney’s been away. He’s not sure what, only that Rodney isn’t as pliant as usual - doesn’t seem quite as quick to respond. He pushes the thought away and tightens his hand on the scalpel. He has the sudden urge to strike out, not one cut but many, to re-mark Rodney’s skin, reassert his dominion. Instead Carson slides down the bed. He uses his teeth on the way, not hard enough to draw blood but hard enough to hurt.
Carson bites at one nipple and then the other, the edge of his teeth scraping against sensitive flesh until Rodney starts to beg. His hand is pumping Rodney’s cock, firm grip with just the right twist on the upstroke. The scalpel is in his other hand, and he lets the dull edge float across Rodney’s ribcage.
Rodney’s breath catches, and when Carson raises his head Rodney’s watching him. Half raised up on the bed, his eyes flicking from Carson’s hand on his cock to the scalpel. Carson smiles reassuringly and bends his head again, licks a wide stripe down the center of Rodney’s chest. He can feel the barely discernable ridges of scar tissue against his tongue, as delicate as a spider web.
The reminder of what he’s done to Rodney -- of what he’ll do again - makes Carson’s cock ache. He grinds himself against the mattress, the wet cotton of his boxer shorts enhancing the friction. Rodney’s cock in his hand is slick from pre-come, throbbing against Carson’s palm.
Rodney’s close. Carson can feel it - slick and hot against his hand and so so close to spilling. Carson pulls back enough to watch, enough to let his eyes wander up Rodney’s body as he picks the perfect place to cut. He likes to cut just at the moment of orgasm, to mix in a precise amount of pain at the moment of ultimate pleasure.
Carson tightens his hand on the scalpel and moves it into place. The belly, he decides, the tender strip of flesh right at Rodney’s waist. That way Rodney will feel it with every step, sweet torture each time the waistband of his pants slides against his belly.
Carson twists his hand along Rodney’s erection, his thumb pressing under the head. “Now luv, come for me now.” He presses the sharp edge of the scalpel to Rodney’s pale skin.
The pain catches Carson off guard.
Rodney’s hand is fastened around Carson’s wrist, bending it back, pushing the scalpel away from his belly. The grip is too hard, Rodney’s thumb digging into the tendon, strain as Carson’s wrist bends back too far, another inch or two and it’ll be a nasty break. Carson’s hand falls open and the scalpel drops to the bed, glittering silver against the sheets. The unexpected violence makes Carson shudder, tears something free in his gut.
Then there’s the hot splash of Rodney’s come against his fingers and Carson’s crying out too. Crying out and thrusting wildly against the mattress with his own orgasm as the pain and pleasure mingle.
Carson shudders with the aftermath, his heart pounding in his ears so hard that he barely hears Rodney’s quiet, “No, not this time.”
Carson doesn’t move when Rodney lets go of his wrist and rolls away from him. Carson doesn’t strike out or speak or acknowledge Rodney’s disobedience. But he sees what he missed before.
There’s a bite mark centered on one curved cheek of Rodney’s ass -- a fresh bite mark.
It’s not Carson’s mark.
Find all my 50kinkyways fics featuring Rodney McKay here