Fic nc-17- Expected Pleasures
Title: Expected Pleasures
Author: melagan
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: nc-17
Word count: 769
John caught his breath. He hated being blindsided like this. At least this time he was in a relatively safe place to mentally regroup, even if the circumstances were odd.
The tent was light and airy, the water was warm in its big copper bowl and the soap had a mineral fragrance that was - well John wouldn’t say mineral-ey because his leg still stung from where Rodney had slapped it for saying that the first time. Earthy. Yeah, John would go with earthy.
He worked the lather into Rodney’s soft, baby-fine hair and tried not to get lost in the sensation. McKay’s body was warm where it leaned up against him and the wet, soapy curls clung to John’s fingers, slipping like silk across his rough knuckles.
Rodney was surprisingly pliable when he was getting his scalp massaged - no, not that - his hair washed. It was just a shampoo. A highly impersonal, getting the job done, Lt. Colonel-to-teammate shampoo. Damn alien cleansing rituals.
At least it was a native ritual that made sense. According to the Atlantis database, this place was a mudball seven Earth months of the year, and god thank all the little puddlejumpers in their orbits, this ‘cleansing’ ritual was actually about getting clean.
John had partnered up with Rodney, mostly because Teyla had already claimed dibs on Ronon. She was too wily for John’s good.
John let his hands slide gently across the shape of Rodney’s skull. It was such a fragile house for so much brilliance, and his fingers tensed at the realization of all that genius in his care. It didn’t feel bad. Not bad at all.
“John?” Rodney spoke quietly, not wanting to break the strange intimacy of the moment. “Are you okay?”
John struggled for an answer. If he brought up Chaya’s name now, well, with Rodney there was never a good time to bring her name up, but she was responsible for the mess in his head.
Their one god-damn, glowy date had left him with a few surprises that she’d forgotten to mention. Sure, it had been cool at the time, but sex it sure as hell wasn’t. It was more like being in the top swing of a Ferris wheel with a warm wind rising over you. He'd been lucky to get that much out of it. Defusing molecules didn’t do much for the senses in John’s book.
John bit his lip and grounded himself on the task at hand, namely washing Rodney McKay’s hair and avoiding looking at him face on.
Visions. Premonitions. John had them now and knew it was her doing. They were usually just brief flashes that were rarely useful but they'd always turned out to be true. Mostly he ignored them.
He couldn’t ignore this last one. It showed a change in things John wasn’t sure he wanted changed. It was stuff he’d never even considered before and he knew it was going to happen. Knew it was going to happen the same way he knew he was going to lick the back of Rodney’s warm, clean, neck any minute now.
John had already ‘seen’ what would happen when he did. Rodney would turn to him like flowers to the sun, face open and beaming with joy.
John knew there’d be no interruptions. This space was designated as private to them. Their towels would land tangled at their feet and he and Rodney would figure it out from there. The natives had provided sweet oils to ease dry skin, but they’d have a different use soon.
Thank god he’d been alone in his room when he’d first envisioned this-- this thing with Rodney.
John had panicked. Not so much because of the gay thing, but because he’d been shocked by his own reaction. Heat pooled low in his belly and his cock hardened as he watched his own fingers. He’d seen himself easing two fingers into Rodney, breaching his ass slowly; heard Rodney begging for more as he clutched John’s shoulders. Finally, with Rodney’s desperate moans in his ears, John wasn't able to stand it anymore and he'd had to swallow them with deep, searching kisses, covering Rodney’s mouth with his own until he couldn’t tell which one of them was panting with need.
Rodney gave a little contented sigh, bringing John’s attention back to the here and now. John smiled at the sound, rinsed the last of the soap from Rodney’s hair then bent forward, brushing his lips to the nape of Rodney’s neck.
Author: melagan
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: nc-17
Word count: 769
John caught his breath. He hated being blindsided like this. At least this time he was in a relatively safe place to mentally regroup, even if the circumstances were odd.
The tent was light and airy, the water was warm in its big copper bowl and the soap had a mineral fragrance that was - well John wouldn’t say mineral-ey because his leg still stung from where Rodney had slapped it for saying that the first time. Earthy. Yeah, John would go with earthy.
He worked the lather into Rodney’s soft, baby-fine hair and tried not to get lost in the sensation. McKay’s body was warm where it leaned up against him and the wet, soapy curls clung to John’s fingers, slipping like silk across his rough knuckles.
Rodney was surprisingly pliable when he was getting his scalp massaged - no, not that - his hair washed. It was just a shampoo. A highly impersonal, getting the job done, Lt. Colonel-to-teammate shampoo. Damn alien cleansing rituals.
At least it was a native ritual that made sense. According to the Atlantis database, this place was a mudball seven Earth months of the year, and god thank all the little puddlejumpers in their orbits, this ‘cleansing’ ritual was actually about getting clean.
John had partnered up with Rodney, mostly because Teyla had already claimed dibs on Ronon. She was too wily for John’s good.
John let his hands slide gently across the shape of Rodney’s skull. It was such a fragile house for so much brilliance, and his fingers tensed at the realization of all that genius in his care. It didn’t feel bad. Not bad at all.
“John?” Rodney spoke quietly, not wanting to break the strange intimacy of the moment. “Are you okay?”
John struggled for an answer. If he brought up Chaya’s name now, well, with Rodney there was never a good time to bring her name up, but she was responsible for the mess in his head.
Their one god-damn, glowy date had left him with a few surprises that she’d forgotten to mention. Sure, it had been cool at the time, but sex it sure as hell wasn’t. It was more like being in the top swing of a Ferris wheel with a warm wind rising over you. He'd been lucky to get that much out of it. Defusing molecules didn’t do much for the senses in John’s book.
John bit his lip and grounded himself on the task at hand, namely washing Rodney McKay’s hair and avoiding looking at him face on.
Visions. Premonitions. John had them now and knew it was her doing. They were usually just brief flashes that were rarely useful but they'd always turned out to be true. Mostly he ignored them.
He couldn’t ignore this last one. It showed a change in things John wasn’t sure he wanted changed. It was stuff he’d never even considered before and he knew it was going to happen. Knew it was going to happen the same way he knew he was going to lick the back of Rodney’s warm, clean, neck any minute now.
John had already ‘seen’ what would happen when he did. Rodney would turn to him like flowers to the sun, face open and beaming with joy.
John knew there’d be no interruptions. This space was designated as private to them. Their towels would land tangled at their feet and he and Rodney would figure it out from there. The natives had provided sweet oils to ease dry skin, but they’d have a different use soon.
Thank god he’d been alone in his room when he’d first envisioned this-- this thing with Rodney.
John had panicked. Not so much because of the gay thing, but because he’d been shocked by his own reaction. Heat pooled low in his belly and his cock hardened as he watched his own fingers. He’d seen himself easing two fingers into Rodney, breaching his ass slowly; heard Rodney begging for more as he clutched John’s shoulders. Finally, with Rodney’s desperate moans in his ears, John wasn't able to stand it anymore and he'd had to swallow them with deep, searching kisses, covering Rodney’s mouth with his own until he couldn’t tell which one of them was panting with need.
Rodney gave a little contented sigh, bringing John’s attention back to the here and now. John smiled at the sound, rinsed the last of the soap from Rodney’s hair then bent forward, brushing his lips to the nape of Rodney’s neck.