Go Harder, Supernatural/SGA Crossover, NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural/SGA Crossover
Title: Go Harder
Pairing: Dean Winchester/John Sheppard
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1208
Summary: For the ever talented poisontaster who requested: Dean/John Sheppard during the period of time Sam's at Stanford. "Neither one wants to talk about their scars" -- So John Sheppard has been forced on leave, and Dean finds him in a bar. Tequila, beer and alley!sex ensue.
A/Ns & Warnings: Umm...this was harder than I thought...but fun.
Disclaimers: *Yeah...it's all made up...really*
John Sheppard raised his chin at the bartender, beckoning a new beer as he downed the last of the previous one. He was aiming at a pleasant level of intoxication, but thus far four beers hadn’t even created a decent buzz.
He was far enough off base no one should bother him. He was on leave and the reasons left a bad taste in his mouth.
“That looks like it covers up something really nasty,” a voice said beside him and John looked up.
The man smirked and held up his own arm, bandaged in a way not dissimilar to John’s own. John raised an eyebrow. The kid was young…nice looking. So not what he needed. “I’ve had worse,” he said finally, reaching for his new beer.
“Yeah…me too…there was this thing on my thigh last year? Whew. Twenty five stitches…not pretty.” The kid wiggled his eyebrows and thanked the bartender for his beer, turning his back to the bar to survey the room. “Quiet crowd. I was told this place was hopping.”
“It’s a Monday. People work.” He was torn between being annoyed and intrigued. There were maybe ten other people in the bar, some of them pretty and female…yet this kid chose to pry into the quiet, obviously intent on getting drunk man huddled over his beer.
“I guess. I mean…you know…that’s what people do, right?”
“Yeah. I guess.”
He could feel the eyes on him and chose for the moment to ignore them and concentrate on that buzz. “But not you?”
John looked up. “What?”
He shrugged. “Monday. You’re here. Is that because you don’t work?”
“I’m on vacation,” he said dryly. Now he was starting to get irritated. “If you don’t mind, I’m trying to get drunk. I’m having a bad day.”
“I hear that.” He whipped back around, flagging down the bartender. “Two shots of tequila please.”
“I don’t think-“
“Didn’t say I was sharing with you, did I?” The kid took the shots from the bartender and threw them both back, one after the other. “I’m Dean. I’m not on vacation…but I’m all for getting drunk at the end of a shitty day.” He held out his hand and John took it without thinking.
“Sheppard. John Sheppard.”
“There you go. You know beer isn’t gonna get you where you want to go.” He held up the shot glass. “Gotta go harder.”
John smirked and turned away. He knew about going harder. He held up his hand for the bartender. “Tequila. Leave the bottle.” He threw money on the bar and Dean raised his eyebrow. John made a face and raised the shot glass the bartender gave him. “To going harder.”
Dean’s smile was positively wicked. “I’ll drink to that.”
And they did. They drank to that, and other things…fast cars, loose women, weapons…though he still wasn’t sure how they got to that…the boy knew his weapons though. There was a blurry bit in the middle where they mumbled over the reasons for the bandages, never really getting to the why or the how…because neither of them really wanted to talk about the scars…or their causes, but he was fairly turned on by the way Dean’s face went dark and mysterious for a few minutes and the words hunting and fire fell from his lips.
That’s when he knew he’d had enough. When he stopped really hearing anything Dean was saying because he was staring at his lips. Because John Sheppard had put that behind him when he joined the military. It was a drunk thing…a college drunk thing…that he would end up hungover and in some pretty boy’s bed.
“Don’t do beds.” Dean said and John stared at him blearily. “Not with…you know…cause…you’re not that pretty.”
“I must be drunk.”
Dean laughed and poured the last of the tequila into their shot glasses. “You said you wanted to be drunk. Now you are. Cheers.” He clicked the glasses together, then downed both shots.
“Hey!”
“Dude…you’re already drunk.” Dean put the shots down and dropped a twenty on the bar for the bartender, before slinging an arm through John’s and pulling him to his feet. “Besides, if I let you get too drunk you won’t be able to…go harder.”
The night air was cool as Dean pulled him into the alley behind the bar. His kiss caught John off guard and Dean laughed. “You’ve been staring at them for hours…figured you’d want a taste.”
John shook his head to clear it. “I don’t…I mean, I’m not…”
Dean’s smile was odd…sad and wicked and…something else. “Yeah, me too…” He kissed him again, his tongue invading John’s mouth before he could protest.
“Why?’
Dean backed up until he was against the brick wall. “You remind me of someone.” His hand was in John’s crotch, pressing against him and any real thought of walking away was gone when Dean bit his lip. There was a zipper and a hand warm and calloused stroking against him. His head swam as Dean’s mouth moved down, over his chin, suckling his Adam’s apple.
There was a rustling sound and Dean’s hand left him for a moment, then his hand came back, cooler, wetter. Dean was twisting around, his jeans falling, though his one hand never left John’s dick, which he guided toward his ass. “Hard, John…remember that. Go harder.”
“Yeah…harder.” God…the boy was tight, but he relaxed into the push, leaning into the wall as he muttered filthy words into the molding brick wall. “Fuck.”
He was really drunk…but hard and his arm hurt, but only as a distant reminder of the real world…the one outside of drunken fuck in an alley…and Dean was hot and silky smooth around his dick as he pressed in. “Harder.” Dean grunted, his fists against the wall, pounding in counterpoint as John obeyed, moving faster and harder, driving the younger man face first at the wall.
“Fuck…” He was coming before he could even pull out, stumbling backwards as he watched Dean turn, his hand stroking over his own cock fast and hard now…His face screwed up tight and John thought he heard a name whispered as he came, but it was buried under a grunt, and then it was over and they were two drunk men standing with their dicks out in an alley behind a bar.
Dean smiled, and pulled his pants up, tucked himself in and didn’t look at all like he’d just been fucked up against a wall. “So…thanks for the tequila.” Dean said after a minute, looking pointedly at John’s open jeans. “I’d tuck that in if you’re done using it.”
“What?” John looked down and shook his head. “No more tequila for you.” He tucked himself in as Dean chuckled.
“Yeah, it goes right to your head.”
John groaned and almost wished he could get to know the kid. “I like you Dean.”
“Yeah? Good to know John. Take care of that.” He gestured to indicate the arm…or maybe he meant his dick…or hell…any number of other things…
“Yeah, you too.”
John Sheppard watched him leave the alley and waited. Go harder. It was good advice. His leave was almost over. It was time to go back, and do just that. Go harder. Scars and all.
Title: Go Harder
Pairing: Dean Winchester/John Sheppard
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1208
Summary: For the ever talented poisontaster who requested: Dean/John Sheppard during the period of time Sam's at Stanford. "Neither one wants to talk about their scars" -- So John Sheppard has been forced on leave, and Dean finds him in a bar. Tequila, beer and alley!sex ensue.
A/Ns & Warnings: Umm...this was harder than I thought...but fun.
Disclaimers: *Yeah...it's all made up...really*
John Sheppard raised his chin at the bartender, beckoning a new beer as he downed the last of the previous one. He was aiming at a pleasant level of intoxication, but thus far four beers hadn’t even created a decent buzz.
He was far enough off base no one should bother him. He was on leave and the reasons left a bad taste in his mouth.
“That looks like it covers up something really nasty,” a voice said beside him and John looked up.
The man smirked and held up his own arm, bandaged in a way not dissimilar to John’s own. John raised an eyebrow. The kid was young…nice looking. So not what he needed. “I’ve had worse,” he said finally, reaching for his new beer.
“Yeah…me too…there was this thing on my thigh last year? Whew. Twenty five stitches…not pretty.” The kid wiggled his eyebrows and thanked the bartender for his beer, turning his back to the bar to survey the room. “Quiet crowd. I was told this place was hopping.”
“It’s a Monday. People work.” He was torn between being annoyed and intrigued. There were maybe ten other people in the bar, some of them pretty and female…yet this kid chose to pry into the quiet, obviously intent on getting drunk man huddled over his beer.
“I guess. I mean…you know…that’s what people do, right?”
“Yeah. I guess.”
He could feel the eyes on him and chose for the moment to ignore them and concentrate on that buzz. “But not you?”
John looked up. “What?”
He shrugged. “Monday. You’re here. Is that because you don’t work?”
“I’m on vacation,” he said dryly. Now he was starting to get irritated. “If you don’t mind, I’m trying to get drunk. I’m having a bad day.”
“I hear that.” He whipped back around, flagging down the bartender. “Two shots of tequila please.”
“I don’t think-“
“Didn’t say I was sharing with you, did I?” The kid took the shots from the bartender and threw them both back, one after the other. “I’m Dean. I’m not on vacation…but I’m all for getting drunk at the end of a shitty day.” He held out his hand and John took it without thinking.
“Sheppard. John Sheppard.”
“There you go. You know beer isn’t gonna get you where you want to go.” He held up the shot glass. “Gotta go harder.”
John smirked and turned away. He knew about going harder. He held up his hand for the bartender. “Tequila. Leave the bottle.” He threw money on the bar and Dean raised his eyebrow. John made a face and raised the shot glass the bartender gave him. “To going harder.”
Dean’s smile was positively wicked. “I’ll drink to that.”
And they did. They drank to that, and other things…fast cars, loose women, weapons…though he still wasn’t sure how they got to that…the boy knew his weapons though. There was a blurry bit in the middle where they mumbled over the reasons for the bandages, never really getting to the why or the how…because neither of them really wanted to talk about the scars…or their causes, but he was fairly turned on by the way Dean’s face went dark and mysterious for a few minutes and the words hunting and fire fell from his lips.
That’s when he knew he’d had enough. When he stopped really hearing anything Dean was saying because he was staring at his lips. Because John Sheppard had put that behind him when he joined the military. It was a drunk thing…a college drunk thing…that he would end up hungover and in some pretty boy’s bed.
“Don’t do beds.” Dean said and John stared at him blearily. “Not with…you know…cause…you’re not that pretty.”
“I must be drunk.”
Dean laughed and poured the last of the tequila into their shot glasses. “You said you wanted to be drunk. Now you are. Cheers.” He clicked the glasses together, then downed both shots.
“Hey!”
“Dude…you’re already drunk.” Dean put the shots down and dropped a twenty on the bar for the bartender, before slinging an arm through John’s and pulling him to his feet. “Besides, if I let you get too drunk you won’t be able to…go harder.”
The night air was cool as Dean pulled him into the alley behind the bar. His kiss caught John off guard and Dean laughed. “You’ve been staring at them for hours…figured you’d want a taste.”
John shook his head to clear it. “I don’t…I mean, I’m not…”
Dean’s smile was odd…sad and wicked and…something else. “Yeah, me too…” He kissed him again, his tongue invading John’s mouth before he could protest.
“Why?’
Dean backed up until he was against the brick wall. “You remind me of someone.” His hand was in John’s crotch, pressing against him and any real thought of walking away was gone when Dean bit his lip. There was a zipper and a hand warm and calloused stroking against him. His head swam as Dean’s mouth moved down, over his chin, suckling his Adam’s apple.
There was a rustling sound and Dean’s hand left him for a moment, then his hand came back, cooler, wetter. Dean was twisting around, his jeans falling, though his one hand never left John’s dick, which he guided toward his ass. “Hard, John…remember that. Go harder.”
“Yeah…harder.” God…the boy was tight, but he relaxed into the push, leaning into the wall as he muttered filthy words into the molding brick wall. “Fuck.”
He was really drunk…but hard and his arm hurt, but only as a distant reminder of the real world…the one outside of drunken fuck in an alley…and Dean was hot and silky smooth around his dick as he pressed in. “Harder.” Dean grunted, his fists against the wall, pounding in counterpoint as John obeyed, moving faster and harder, driving the younger man face first at the wall.
“Fuck…” He was coming before he could even pull out, stumbling backwards as he watched Dean turn, his hand stroking over his own cock fast and hard now…His face screwed up tight and John thought he heard a name whispered as he came, but it was buried under a grunt, and then it was over and they were two drunk men standing with their dicks out in an alley behind a bar.
Dean smiled, and pulled his pants up, tucked himself in and didn’t look at all like he’d just been fucked up against a wall. “So…thanks for the tequila.” Dean said after a minute, looking pointedly at John’s open jeans. “I’d tuck that in if you’re done using it.”
“What?” John looked down and shook his head. “No more tequila for you.” He tucked himself in as Dean chuckled.
“Yeah, it goes right to your head.”
John groaned and almost wished he could get to know the kid. “I like you Dean.”
“Yeah? Good to know John. Take care of that.” He gestured to indicate the arm…or maybe he meant his dick…or hell…any number of other things…
“Yeah, you too.”
John Sheppard watched him leave the alley and waited. Go harder. It was good advice. His leave was almost over. It was time to go back, and do just that. Go harder. Scars and all.