Fic: A Truth For a Truth - Part 2 of 2 (McKay/Sheppard, NC-17)
Title: A Truth For a Truth
Author: gottalovev
Recipient: for amy_thrace821, who wished for a slightly angsty John centric fic with a happy ending...
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 12 000 words total, in two parts
Disclaimer: Borrowing the characters for fun, they are not mine... Oh and Johnny Cash let me borrow lyrics for the title, too (but I don't think he knows!)
Author's Notes: A heartfelt thank you to my friends jaydblu, cynthia_arrow and petit_rhino who helped me make this readable! Set post season 5, with slight spoilers for the whole series.
Summary: Severe solitary confinement is a bitch. Ask John.
( A Truth for a Truth - Part 1 of 2 )
-o-
John's pretty sure he's got it all back under control when he hears Lorne asking Ronon to dial Atlantis, at last, after half a dozen decoy planets all over Pegasus. John finally moves his hand to briefly squeeze Rodney's neck in thanks then sits up. John doesn't dare to meet Rodney's eyes, though, even if Rodney is examining him from the floor and awkwardly pats John's foot. When Lorne gives his IDC, open comms and reports that the mission was successful and that everyone is fine, John gets up and strolls into the front compartment to say:
"You kids didn't trash the house while I was out, did you?"
He can hear cheers in the background and grins when Woolsey responds, "Oh, you'd never know. We cleaned up and refilled the bottles with water. Good to hear you Colonel. The shield is down, please come in."
"See you in the jumper bay."
Once they're docked and getting out in the bay to the enthusiastic welcoming committee, John abruptly realizes that this getting everything back under control thing? Not quite done yet. Half of Atlantis seems to be there cheering, the sound deafening, and if the first person to get to him is Carson, Woolsey's right there, too, to shake his hand and there are suddenly a dozen more people who look ready to come close. It's too much, way too much. John's stomach sinks, a cold sweat breaks out on his skin, his legs are like jelly and something's not right because he's having trouble breathing. Carson notices immediately and steadies John, shouting worried orders about a stretcher and going to the infirmary. But that means going through the crowd and that won't do, at all, and with the little coordination and strength John's got left, he fights to back up, towards the jumper.
"Oh for God's sake!" he distantly hears Rodney say, and then feels a strong grip on his elbow steering him exactly where he wants to go. "Could you people just give him some air? Carson, you're with me, Ronon, keep everyone else out then send them on their merry way."
John stumbles as they walk into the jumper but Rodney's holding him so he doesn't fall down. He's still fighting for air, pretty sure he's having a heart attack on top of it. As soon as they've cleared the threshold, Rodney makes the hatch close and suddenly everything is way better, apart from the not getting any oxygen thing. He's lowered to sit on the bench, and Rodney makes him fold in two, head between his knees.
"C'mon, John, easy. Breathe."
"What happened, Rodney?" Carson says, while he's putting fingers on John's pulse at the neck, the sudden touch making John almost recoil. At the same time he can feel a big hand rubbing soft circles on his back and he focuses on that, tries to breathe.
"Oh, I don't know... a panic attack, what do you think!" Rodney sputters and John wants to protest that he doesn't do panic attacks. "Where did you find your medical license?"
"Of course I can recognize... focus, Rodney, I meant on the planet," Carson protests, firm and visibly pissed off, but then more calmly at John himself. "You are going to be fine, Colonel. Slow down the breathing a little: in, pause, then out."
It's hard but John tries, and the black that had been creeping on his vision, like it happens when he goes past 4G for a couple of second, starts to recede.
"Oh. That. He wouldn't say. Easy John, we've got you now," Rodney says, and keeps on with the soothing circles. "I know you want to gulp up the little air that goes through, but slow is actually better. You can do it, John, shhhh."
It takes several minutes, but slowly he can breathe again, all the time being shushed and petted. When the dread fades, humiliation at being so weak kicks in and John can feel his cheeks heat up. He clears his throat.
"Hum."
As if reading his mind, Rodney changes the rubbing a bit, going up and down now and more vigorously.
"It sucks, huh? I know, I had a couple and hated it. I felt like a useless limpet."
"Rodney!" Carson protests but it makes John chuckle.
"Yeah. Fuck." His shuddering breaths ease a bit more and he tries to straighten up but is blocked by the firm hand on his back.
"No. Stay, breathe some more."
"Leave your head between your knees a wee bit more, Colonel. Do you feel strong enough for a trip to the infirmary?"
Just like that, John starts to hyperventilate again.
"Wow, great idea, Carson! Shhh, John, you can stay here as long as you want."
It takes a lot of focus, but John brings it back to slow breathing again.
"No. I'm okay, I don't need..."
"Would you stop saying you're okay? You're not."
John knows it and he's suddenly so close to crying that he has to grind his teeth together. He doesn't cry, it's not him, but right now he can't even speak or he'll lose it.
"I need to examine you, Colonel, run some tests. If you want, we could start here until you feel stronger."
Rodney's hand on his back stops rubbing, then is gone, and John almost keens at the loss.
"That's a better idea. I'll go in the front of the jumper, give you some privacy."
Just like earlier, John manages to grab Rodney's pants before he can walk away.
"No, it's okay. Stay, please." When the circles resume on his back, John sighs in relief. But he doesn't know how to explain. "I'm not physically hurt, I swear. I saw no one, talked to no one for ten days. Everything is just... overwhelming. Too much. I'll be okay."
Rodney stops moving his hand for a second in shock, and John would swear the touch is more careful afterwards.
"What? They left you in that tiny white room with no contact at all?"
"Yeah. The food was automatic, no sound, no nothing. Lights on, all the time, I can't... I can't go to the infirmary, Carson."
"Severe solitary confinement," Carson declares and John can hear in the coldness of his tone that he's furious. He sighs and John sees from the corner of his eyes that he's taking out instruments from his medical toolbox, an ancient scanner and a stethoscope. "I'm going to do a basic physical. Are you fine with that?"
John nods. It's routine, something he's done countless times, and after a minute of going through the motions he feels fine enough to sit up. Rodney stops rubbing his back but sits close, and for that John is insanely grateful. Their thighs touching are grounding him, and Carson checks John's pupils and reflexes before drawing blood.
"I'll do a tox screen. It's possible that they drugged the food to exacerbate the feeling of disorientation in case a prisoner would be able to break free."
As much as the idea of being drugged angers him, John figures that must be it and he's relieved. Give him a couple of hours or days to pass the drugs and he'll be fine.
"Freaks." Rodney spits out. "I bet they roofied you for kicks. Why am I not surprised? Must be the 328th take on the 'Oh, I have a great idea, let's drug Sheppard!' routine." John snort-laughs because the Pegasus galaxy does seem to want to rival Woodstock in the drug department, especially where he's concerned. Rodney's on a roll, though. "I got to say that this is a new low... Creepy aliens are creepy. But we got you now . You'll be fine real soon."
John smiles at him.
"Yeah. I just need a bit of time, go easy."
Rodney smiles back and, yes, John can already feel everything settling. Carson packs his stuff and sits back on his haunches as he looks up at John with a frown.
"Still, I want to do a full exam as soon as possible. We don't know what they might have given you, and the effects. I'd prefer if you wouldn't be on your own for tonight, just in case."
Being on his own is the last thing John wants right now, but before he can say anything, Rodney declares:
"I'll stay with him." Then he pauses, fidgets as he looks at John. "If that's okay with you?"
That's fine, that's perfect even, so John shrugs one shoulder and nods.
"Sure."
Of course Carson has to be a killjoy.
"You need to talk about this to Dr. Kusani, too."
John sighs. The last thing he wants right now is to see a shrink and talk about his overwhelming new feelings and the joys of discovering himself in a white room. He's pretty sure he won't escape it, though.
"Okay. I will."
Rodney's hand goes straight to John's forehead.
"Oh my god. Are you sure you didn't miss a fever or something?" he mock exclaims and John laughs, feeling knots unravel in his chest as he bats Rodney's hand away.
"Shut up, Rodney, you're blowing my award-worthy cooperative act out of the water!"
Grinning, Rodney goes "oops!" and taps on his ear piece while Carson shakes his head, fighting a smile.
"Ronon?" Rodney pauses. "Yes, yes, all is under control. Did you get rid of the fan club?"
John gets up, stretches and takes deep breaths as Rodney finally opens the hatch. Thankfully, the only people that are left are Ronon, Woolsey, two guys from the infirmary with a stretcher and Teyla, a sweet sight for sore eyes as always, which makes John grin.
"Hey! You're back!"
Her worried expression morphs into a smile and she comes close for the Athosian salute. If John makes it last a bit more than usual, she gracefully pretends not to notice.
"And you are, too. Welcome back, John." She steps back to look at him more closely and John hopes he doesn't look too much like shit. "I have heard that you are unwell?"
Carson cuts in before John can try to deny.
"The Colonel seems to have caught a bug. Nothing a couple days of quiet and rest won't cure, though."
John shoots him a grateful smile.
"Yeah, I just hope it's not contagious."
"Glad to know it's nothing serious, Colonel," Woolsey adds. "It's great to have you back safe and sound. Take the time you need to get better."
"Yeah, thanks. Now if you don't mind..."
He can't wait to lie down in his own room, lights dimmed. He tries his best to reassure everyone with a smile, but judging from their frowned foreheads, he's not doing that great of a job.
"Sheppard needs to rest now," Rodney declares. "Or maybe you're hungry? What day are we? Hey Radek! I know you're there, I see you sneaking peaks out of Jumper two!"
Effectively, Zelenka pops his head out, looking half way between annoyed and sheepish. He glares at Rodney then wiggles his fingers at John.
"I am working, Rodney. Hello, Colonel Sheppard, I am glad you are home!"
John waves back.
"Hey! Very glad to be back, thanks!"
"Yes, yes, we all are," Rodney says. "Hurray, let's celebrate the return of the prodigal son, yadda yadda. Of course. Seriously, Radek, what's in the commissary tonight?"
Zelenka makes a long suffering sigh.
"How many times will I have to say that I am not your personal menu? We have been over this."
Rodney whines.
"But you always know! Why couldn't I use the information at my disposal, through you? And if you stopped making such a fuss each time, it would be so much..."
Zelenka makes a brisk shut up gestures and talks over Rodney.
"There is almost-beef with gravy and also beans with rice."
John, who had perked up at the mention of food feels suddenly nauseated. Rodney must see him change color, because he grabs John just above the elbow and starts to drag/push him towards the corridor.
"See? That wasn't so hard, was it? Okay, off we go."
John hears Teyla falls in step behind them as Ronon goes in front to clear the path, or so it seems. Anyway, it's efficient because basically everyone ducks into side corridors when Ronon glowers at them, and the bewildered personnel are shooting small smiles at John, who tries his best to look fine and smile back. As they go, John realizes in a way he never had before the sheer hugeness of the city all around him and it makes him dizzy.
In no time they are at his quarters and Atlantis must sense his hurry to be in his room because the door opens when they are still 10 feet away. When it closes behind them, John sags, and once more it's only Rodney's steel grip on his arm that keeps him upright. Ronon fists his shirt to help and John's manhandled to his bed like a helpless five years old. Talk about humiliating.
"What's wrong with you?" As always, Ronon doesn't pussy around the real issues. John throws an arm over his eyes and refuses to answer.
"Hey, give him a break, Hannibal. He's probably drugged and can't stand being around too many people for the moment. There's nothing we can do but give him some space."
John grunts his approval.
"Is there something we could do to make it better, John?" Teyla asks softly, brushing his sleeve. There it is again, the fucking urge to cry like a baby, and now just because his friends are concerned. He gulps and shakes his head no. It's mean to think it, but if they could just go away right this moment it would be the best. He doesn't want them to see him break; he's supposed to be the team leader, strong. Teyla's hand squeezes his shoulder before letting go.
"I'll go get you some dessert," Ronon says casually, as if it's something he does every day.
"And I some tea. We will be back later," Teyla adds.
John clears his throat and manages to sound normal, to his relief.
"I'd love that, but tomorrow, okay? I need to sleep first."
"If that is what you want," she says softly. "Come, Ronon. Rodney?"
"Me? Oh, Carson said I need to stay with him, just in case. Sheppard agreed and everything. Go, I've got it."
The door opens and closes behind his friends footsteps and John lets go of all of the air in his lungs.
"Oh. I didn't... Do you want me to call Teyla back so she stays with you? She would probably be better at this than me, and..."
Only Rodney would take relief for some sort of criticism.
"No. I want it to be you, Rodney."
"Oh, okay, good. Hmm."
John hears Rodney go in the bathroom and there are doors opening and stuff being shuffled around. Curious, John pulls his arm off his face and props himself up on his forearms to try and see what he's doing. The room is now very softly lit, and John wonders if it's Atlantis or Rodney's doing. When Rodney comes back with an Advil bottle and a glass of water and doesn't even make a surprised face at the almost darkness, John has his answer.
"Is your head okay? I can only speak from personal experience, but..." Rodney shows the pill bottle and John makes a grabby hand at it. His head is effectively killing him, he hadn't even noticed in the middle of the feeling like total crap experience. He swallows the three gel caps Rodney puts in his hand and drains the water glass. When he lies back down, Rodney is looking down at him with concern, fiddling with the empty glass.
"Do you need anything? Is there something I could do?"
"Nah. Just sit down." Rodney looks at the desk chair, but John scoots away the most he can on his bed, which is not that much, and pats the mattress beside him, and it makes Rodney blink. "Please?"
To his credit, Rodney doesn't hesitate, puts the glass on the night stand and sits down before getting his boots off, then stretches his legs on the bed while propped against the headboard, leaving the pillow to John. It's easy, probably too easy, for John to turn around, throw an arm across Rodney's legs and bury his face between Rodney's thigh and his pillow. He plans to hide from the world for a little while right here. Yes, he's kind of cuddling, but for the moment he doesn't care. He needs this, dammit, and he breathes deeply the smell of his own pillow, hair gel and Rodney. It's a good mix.
Rodney is silent, for a minute or two, and he starts to rub John's arm on top of his sleeve. Asking of Rodney to just be for a while is a bit much, though, and John's not surprised when he starts to talk softly.
"You know, John, it's not that I don't like the new touchy-feely you, and I understand why you need it, but I must confess it's sort of creeping me out." The bottom drops out of John's stomach and the tries to roll away but he's firmly stopped. "No! Don't move, you idiot, did I say I mind? You're not going anywhere. Shhh." John takes a deep breath and relaxes back against Rodney and scoots even closer, throwing leg across his shins for good measure. It feels good, he's warm for the first time in forever, and John has to stifle a groan when Rodney starts to pet his hair with his right hand, scratching his skull with his fingertips.
"It scares me because... because it means you are so not okay, it's not even funny." John shrugs, can't really argue. "You'll be, though. I'm sure. Back to Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, defender of personal space at all costs. But right now you remind me this tiny kitten I found once near a dumpster and..." John grunts in amusement, not surprised that Rodney's the type to save strays, under his fake facade of being too busy to care about anything. "Oh, well, not that you're a tiny kitten, it's not what I mean, if so you'd be a big manly cat, a panther or something. I've always thought that of you and Ronon, you know, big cats. Deadly."
Rodney McKay is, at the core, incapable of being still. As he's talking, he's patting John's arm and playing with his hair which has always been a big turn on for John. Combine that with being plastered all over Rodney's legs, the talking and everything, all of his starved sense are filled with nothing but rodneyrodneyrodney and John can't fight his natural response as arousal speeds down his entire nerve system like wildfire. When Rodney shifts and his ankle accidentally rubs John's groin, John pushes back on instinct, seeking more pressure, and this time he can't help it and growls deep in his throat. That does the trick, Rodney freezes like a deer in headlights and John pants against his leg, mortified. He's done it, fucked everything up. He's surprised that Rodney's not out the door already.
"John?" The tone is definitely more confused than angry, and since Rodney's not going anywhere and even starts to pet his head gently again, John starts shaking. He wants, he wants so fucking much to just give in and take what he can; it's physically painful to not hump Rodney's leg. "Hey, hey, hey, what's wrong? Look at me!" he says while pushing on his shoulder to make John roll on his back.
John blinks up at him and he sees nothing but concern in those blue eyes. No disgust, no judgment.
"Jesus, John, your pupils are totally blown. Fuck, you're drugged up to the gills, let me call Carson!"
He can't help it, John laughs even if it hurts, not a funny sound or feeling at all. Only Rodney could be so oblivious as to miss that he's two seconds from being jumped.
"No, Rodney, it's not drugs. I'm horny." He's sick of covering up, and as a defence mechanism he goes for shock because it's time to stop the lies and omissions. Rodney gapes at him, and John sees him look at his tented crotch where everything is in plain view before quickly jumping back to his face. John smirks as Rodney's eyes go round and his mouth clips shut. Yeah, right, beginning of the end here, so John hides under his arm once more.
"You can go, Rodney. It's OK. We'll never talk of this again."
Rodney sighs, but doesn't move.
"I... John. Wait. Come on, look at me." When John doesn't move, Rodney sounds angry and pokes him hard in the chest. "Hey, asshole, look at me when I'm talking to you! This is important!"
John composes a blank face and pulls his arm away, meeting Rodney's eyes directly. He doesn't say anything.
"You've got to know by now that I'd do anything for you, right?" Rodney pleads, and it angers John, this comprehension. He could deal with rejection, in fact he's had years to brace for it because he knew that one day he'd be found out. John bares his teeth, a sneer more than a smile.
"Yeah, anything. But not a pity fuck. I get it."
The corners of Rodney's mouth go down and there it is, the anger. That John can play with, use to fuel his own.
"What? A pity fuck? How can you be such a moron?" There's once more hard poking, as Rodney goes on. "If you had been a little less busy with your epic pity party earlier, you'd have seen that I've been hard since you wrapped yourself around me like an overgrown koala and that I was terrified that you'd notice. Pity is not the problem here, fucking is."
Frankly, John doesn't quite know what to say to that. Rodney wants him? He glances at his crotch and, hey, look at that. It changes everything. Feeling suddenly less despondent, hopeful even, John reaches for Rodney's thigh but his hand is captured in a firm grip.
"Oh god, no, please, John, don't make a face like that, it's hard enough as it is. We can't do this."
It doesn't make sense! John searches Rodney's face, sees only anguish.
"Why? If you want me and I want you, where's the problem?"
Rodney pushes John's hand away from him and shakes his head.
"The problem is that you don't really want this. You're touch starved, have been without human contact for ten days. I get it, John, but not with me. I don't want to jeopardize our friendship for a one time thing. It would be all awkward after and no. I could not take it. I'm sorry."
John doesn't know if he should laugh or cry. So close but Rodney still can't see, doesn't understand...
"You don't get it, it's not like that! You think I'd hump anyone who'd be in my bed right now?"
"No, not anyone, don't make me say things I don't mean! I'm familiar, not a threat, you trust me. That's why. I saw your cell, what you drew, who you drew. I wasn't even on that cartoon wall, John. Ford, Ronon, Teyla, Elizabeth, name it, but not me."
Trust Rodney to pick everything relevant in a four second glance around the room. At the same time, it gives John the only argument he can think of that could make its way through Rodney's thick skull. He yanks his hand back and scrabbles until he's kneeling on the bed, facing Rodney who looks frankly miserable.
"You're right. You were not on the wall. Do you want to know why?" Rodney doesn't move but John hikes his left sleeve up anyway, shows him the word TEAM written on his forearm. "It's because the real important stuff? I wrote on me."
Rodney's mouth opens soundlessly some more, as John hikes his right sleeve up, and gets rid of his wrist band which hid the symbol of the point of origin, for Atlantis and Earth. When he's sure he's got every single atom of Rodney's attention, heart hammering like crazy, John unbuttons his shirt, lets it fall open and Rodney stares and stares but doesn't speak. After a handful of seconds John whispers:
"You." That's all he can get out, although what he really wants to say is yours.
With a hand that shakes a little, Rodney finally moves, comes close and uses his index to trace the initials MRM written right over John's heart, making him shudder at the touch.
"Wow." Rodney says, awed, his eyes snapping for a second to John's face before going back to his chest. "This is... wow. Probably the hottest thing I've ever seen, too."
John captures Rodney's hand against his chest, over the marking, wonders if he can feel how hard his heart is beating.
"Rodney, I..." He can't say it, though, because Rodney is kissing him, his free hand keeping John's head firmly in place as if he'd have any intention of going anywhere.
The kiss starts slow and almost gentle, but John feels like he's lighting up like a Christmas tree again. Just like earlier, a desperate want takes him over and he deepens the kiss, asking for access, for everything. Rodney gives as good as he gets, kissing back hard and dirty, and the only thing John wants is more. He slips his hands under Rodney's shirt, finds hot soft skin and keens, pawing, trying to touch him all over, frustrated when clothes get in the way. He freezes, tough, when his fingers touch gauze and tape, as he remembers Rodney going down. Shit.
"I saw you fall, I thought..." he says while trying to pull up the shirt to see but Rodney stops him.
"I'm fine. Looked worse than it was, I swear. I was up right away to see your stupid Rambo act," Rodney says with his best you-are-such-an-idiot voice. He grabs John's chin and makes sure he has eye contact. "You scared the shit out of me, too, falling like a potato sack. Then they TOOK you, John."
It would kill him if he saw people take Rodney away, and he can feel how it was the same for him. In apology, John rains a trail of butterfly kisses all over Rodney's face, and then tries to get to more skin again. It's urgent, a tad desperate but he's not getting anywhere and gets distracted as he starts kissing Rodney deep and thorough again. Luckily, Rodney's being more productive, tugging on John's sleeves until he can throw the shirt away, then he breaks the kiss for the time it takes to pull his own shirt over his head. John grabs Rodney's legs and pulls him down the bed, which makes Rodney flail and yelp as he falls on his back. Laughing, John pounces on him, straddling Rodney's hip, and starts to lick and bite at his collarbone, neck, anything in sight because he can and he wants, and his hips are snapping as he rubs against Rodney's hard on.
"Whoa whoa whoa, Jesus..." Rodney pants, trying vainly to take hold of him.
"John." He teases, licking Rodney's ear, and then worrying the lobe between his teeth. Rodney shivers, tries to pull his head away.
"Oh, god, great, just what I needed, you're going to torture me and..."
John has a glorious idea, and as Rodney babbles, he pants in his ear while he forcefully opens those damn cargo pants.
"Rodney, Rodney, please, I need... let me..."
Rodney takes hold of his head with both hands, brings him in for a scorching kiss where John fucks Rodney's mouth forcefully with his tongue. He manages somehow to get the buttons undone and slides his hand in until he can fist Rodney's cock, and Rodney arches against him with a sexy whimper and his head falls back, breaking the kiss. Rodney's dick is hot, so fucking hard and wet for him; John tries to scoot down but Rodney stops him, bringing him back in for a kiss.
"I want, I need..." John whispers against his lips, now pulling down the pants and boxers maybe a bit too hard, not careful, and it's crazy how Rodney's eyes are wide and oh so blue, looking at him with wonder.
"Shh, it's okay, anything at all, fuck, you are so beautiful. Even, ah, even with the beard, so unfair."
John laughs, kisses him again and there's this big all-encompassing warmth in his chest. He manages to slow down a bit, nips and licks his way down Rodney's chest, being careful over the bandages. Gripping Rodney's hips, he dips his tongue in his belly button and feels the tip of Rodney's cock hit his chin. Rodney moans and John has to push hard to keep him on the mattress. John breathes in the scent of musk and arousal, wants nothing more than to taste it. He hovers over Rodney's dick then glances up, sees that Rodney's up on his elbows to better watch, looking positively wrecked.
"Rodney, I..." John's voice is so raspy with need, he barely recognizes it.
"Oh my god, tell me you're not asking my permission to suck my dick? I'd think my consent is pretty obvious here!" he says, trying to wiggle out of John's grasp to get closer to John's mouth. With a grin, he just stays there to rile Rodney up, licking his lips.
"You sure?"
Rodney flops on his back again, throws his hands in the air before slapping them down on his face and whines.
"I knew it, I knew you'd be the death of me. Jesus Christ, what do I have to do? Jump through hoops? A sonnet, a..."
To shut him up, John finally takes him in his mouth, trying to go as far down as he can, which results in a satisfying shout of pleasure from Rodney. It's been a while since he's done this, but the feeling of a cock filling his mouth, the taste of Rodney and his intoxicating smell makes John moan. He doesn't try for finesse or technique, and it's pretty sloppy but he can't help it, sucks hard and bobs his head, focused on pleasing Rodney, making him feel good. Rodney has finally lost coherence, although he's neither silent nor still, petting John's head and punching the mattress with a constant stream of one syllable words.
John has to hold him down not to get choked, and the almost thrashing is making him lose his mind. He's so turned on, he knows he will probably pop before Rodney: all he needs is a little friction. There is no way he's stopping blowing Rodney even for the couple of seconds it would take to undo his own pants, and anyway he can't or Rodney will shove down his throat by accident. He never managed to get Rodney's pants off, just bunched them down his thighs, which makes it impossible for John to get flat between them on the bed to hump it, so it will have to be on Rodney, which all things considered is not a bad idea. A bit undignified, maybe, way past his age, but John's a little past caring about that stuff right now. He needs to get off, and get off soon. He slides a knee between Rodney's calves before shimmying down until he's covering the leg, the stupid ankle that started it all right against his aching dick, braces on his elbows, arms securely on Rodney's middle and goes for broke, rubbing desperately as he sucks as hard as he can.
By now there aren't any consonants in the sounds Rodney is making, but he's moving his foot against John, making him see stars as pleasure builds even more than he thought possible. He's grunting, frantic, just about there when Rodney starts pulling at his hair hard. By the way Rodney's balls are drawing near his body, it's pretty clear it's a warning that he's about to come, but John ignores it and just humps harder, wanting to get there, too. When his orgasm hits, it's like he's detonated an atomic bomb. It just rolls through him, flattening everything, making him lose his breath as he bucks against Rodney's foot to ride it out. He almost chokes when he tries to take a breath and feels Rodney come in his mouth, and it seems to go on and on. John swallows the best he can, then finally lets go with a lick, making Rodney's dick twitch.
John basically doesn't move, rests his head on Rodney's middle and just goes boneless right where he is, trying to even his breathing as his heart still resonates like a sledgehammer in his chest. He's flying high on endorphins, content in every way, and Rodney's surprisingly silent too, slowly carding his fingers in John's hair. He considers purring. After a couple of minutes, Rodney's the first to talk, of course, but it's soft as if he's weary of breaking something special.
"Hey. Come up here."
For that John would have to find muscle tone and coordination, which he doesn't have at the moment even if it's uncomfortable that his legs below the knees are hanging totally off the bed. After careful consideration he shakes his head, or more accurately rubs his jaw against Rodney's stomach.
"Can't. Later."
The movement makes Rodney wiggle.
"Whoa, tickles! I veto the mountain man look, by the way."
John smiles, rubs his head some more until Rodney's squirming and squawking.
"What, I'm not pretty enough for you like this?" he asks.
That earns John a soft hit behind the head.
"You're always pretty and you know it. But beard burn isn't hot. Stop it, I have delicate skin."
John kisses Rodney's stomach and holds him a little closer with his right arm. The left hand he manages to slide up, following ribs, collarbone and neck up to the jaw, which he caresses softly with his fingertips. He feels strong fingers circle his wrist and Rodney takes John's hand to his lips, kissing each finger in turn, the middle of his palm and then the skin of his forearm. John knows there's a kiss for each letter: team.
"The Aardvark wasn't too bad, y'know."
John smiles. Wasn't too bad is high praise in Rodney-speak. It had been pretty cool, taking all of the ceiling.
"Yeah."
"You, huh, you tried to show me something on the other wall but we didn't have time," Rodney says. "Wanna talk about it?"
John shrugs as Rodney links their fingers before putting their joined hands over his heart.
"Nah. It's okay." He squeezes Rodney's fingers, kisses his stomach again and closes his eyes. "I'll show you instead."
The End.
Note from the sga_santa mods and from the author: the author submitted this story to the mods on December 8th. But, by sheer coincidence, there was one of those case of fandom mindmeld where a story based on similar premises was posted 3 days later. Solitary, by esteefee is a wonderful story exploring what could be John's reaction to solitary confinement, but in a different context. It's brilliant and the author of "A Truth For a Truth" encourages everyone to go and read it! All of the similarities between the two fics are purely coincidental.
Author: gottalovev
Recipient: for amy_thrace821, who wished for a slightly angsty John centric fic with a happy ending...
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 12 000 words total, in two parts
Disclaimer: Borrowing the characters for fun, they are not mine... Oh and Johnny Cash let me borrow lyrics for the title, too (but I don't think he knows!)
Author's Notes: A heartfelt thank you to my friends jaydblu, cynthia_arrow and petit_rhino who helped me make this readable! Set post season 5, with slight spoilers for the whole series.
Summary: Severe solitary confinement is a bitch. Ask John.
( A Truth for a Truth - Part 1 of 2 )
-o-
John's pretty sure he's got it all back under control when he hears Lorne asking Ronon to dial Atlantis, at last, after half a dozen decoy planets all over Pegasus. John finally moves his hand to briefly squeeze Rodney's neck in thanks then sits up. John doesn't dare to meet Rodney's eyes, though, even if Rodney is examining him from the floor and awkwardly pats John's foot. When Lorne gives his IDC, open comms and reports that the mission was successful and that everyone is fine, John gets up and strolls into the front compartment to say:
"You kids didn't trash the house while I was out, did you?"
He can hear cheers in the background and grins when Woolsey responds, "Oh, you'd never know. We cleaned up and refilled the bottles with water. Good to hear you Colonel. The shield is down, please come in."
"See you in the jumper bay."
Once they're docked and getting out in the bay to the enthusiastic welcoming committee, John abruptly realizes that this getting everything back under control thing? Not quite done yet. Half of Atlantis seems to be there cheering, the sound deafening, and if the first person to get to him is Carson, Woolsey's right there, too, to shake his hand and there are suddenly a dozen more people who look ready to come close. It's too much, way too much. John's stomach sinks, a cold sweat breaks out on his skin, his legs are like jelly and something's not right because he's having trouble breathing. Carson notices immediately and steadies John, shouting worried orders about a stretcher and going to the infirmary. But that means going through the crowd and that won't do, at all, and with the little coordination and strength John's got left, he fights to back up, towards the jumper.
"Oh for God's sake!" he distantly hears Rodney say, and then feels a strong grip on his elbow steering him exactly where he wants to go. "Could you people just give him some air? Carson, you're with me, Ronon, keep everyone else out then send them on their merry way."
John stumbles as they walk into the jumper but Rodney's holding him so he doesn't fall down. He's still fighting for air, pretty sure he's having a heart attack on top of it. As soon as they've cleared the threshold, Rodney makes the hatch close and suddenly everything is way better, apart from the not getting any oxygen thing. He's lowered to sit on the bench, and Rodney makes him fold in two, head between his knees.
"C'mon, John, easy. Breathe."
"What happened, Rodney?" Carson says, while he's putting fingers on John's pulse at the neck, the sudden touch making John almost recoil. At the same time he can feel a big hand rubbing soft circles on his back and he focuses on that, tries to breathe.
"Oh, I don't know... a panic attack, what do you think!" Rodney sputters and John wants to protest that he doesn't do panic attacks. "Where did you find your medical license?"
"Of course I can recognize... focus, Rodney, I meant on the planet," Carson protests, firm and visibly pissed off, but then more calmly at John himself. "You are going to be fine, Colonel. Slow down the breathing a little: in, pause, then out."
It's hard but John tries, and the black that had been creeping on his vision, like it happens when he goes past 4G for a couple of second, starts to recede.
"Oh. That. He wouldn't say. Easy John, we've got you now," Rodney says, and keeps on with the soothing circles. "I know you want to gulp up the little air that goes through, but slow is actually better. You can do it, John, shhhh."
It takes several minutes, but slowly he can breathe again, all the time being shushed and petted. When the dread fades, humiliation at being so weak kicks in and John can feel his cheeks heat up. He clears his throat.
"Hum."
As if reading his mind, Rodney changes the rubbing a bit, going up and down now and more vigorously.
"It sucks, huh? I know, I had a couple and hated it. I felt like a useless limpet."
"Rodney!" Carson protests but it makes John chuckle.
"Yeah. Fuck." His shuddering breaths ease a bit more and he tries to straighten up but is blocked by the firm hand on his back.
"No. Stay, breathe some more."
"Leave your head between your knees a wee bit more, Colonel. Do you feel strong enough for a trip to the infirmary?"
Just like that, John starts to hyperventilate again.
"Wow, great idea, Carson! Shhh, John, you can stay here as long as you want."
It takes a lot of focus, but John brings it back to slow breathing again.
"No. I'm okay, I don't need..."
"Would you stop saying you're okay? You're not."
John knows it and he's suddenly so close to crying that he has to grind his teeth together. He doesn't cry, it's not him, but right now he can't even speak or he'll lose it.
"I need to examine you, Colonel, run some tests. If you want, we could start here until you feel stronger."
Rodney's hand on his back stops rubbing, then is gone, and John almost keens at the loss.
"That's a better idea. I'll go in the front of the jumper, give you some privacy."
Just like earlier, John manages to grab Rodney's pants before he can walk away.
"No, it's okay. Stay, please." When the circles resume on his back, John sighs in relief. But he doesn't know how to explain. "I'm not physically hurt, I swear. I saw no one, talked to no one for ten days. Everything is just... overwhelming. Too much. I'll be okay."
Rodney stops moving his hand for a second in shock, and John would swear the touch is more careful afterwards.
"What? They left you in that tiny white room with no contact at all?"
"Yeah. The food was automatic, no sound, no nothing. Lights on, all the time, I can't... I can't go to the infirmary, Carson."
"Severe solitary confinement," Carson declares and John can hear in the coldness of his tone that he's furious. He sighs and John sees from the corner of his eyes that he's taking out instruments from his medical toolbox, an ancient scanner and a stethoscope. "I'm going to do a basic physical. Are you fine with that?"
John nods. It's routine, something he's done countless times, and after a minute of going through the motions he feels fine enough to sit up. Rodney stops rubbing his back but sits close, and for that John is insanely grateful. Their thighs touching are grounding him, and Carson checks John's pupils and reflexes before drawing blood.
"I'll do a tox screen. It's possible that they drugged the food to exacerbate the feeling of disorientation in case a prisoner would be able to break free."
As much as the idea of being drugged angers him, John figures that must be it and he's relieved. Give him a couple of hours or days to pass the drugs and he'll be fine.
"Freaks." Rodney spits out. "I bet they roofied you for kicks. Why am I not surprised? Must be the 328th take on the 'Oh, I have a great idea, let's drug Sheppard!' routine." John snort-laughs because the Pegasus galaxy does seem to want to rival Woodstock in the drug department, especially where he's concerned. Rodney's on a roll, though. "I got to say that this is a new low... Creepy aliens are creepy. But we got you now . You'll be fine real soon."
John smiles at him.
"Yeah. I just need a bit of time, go easy."
Rodney smiles back and, yes, John can already feel everything settling. Carson packs his stuff and sits back on his haunches as he looks up at John with a frown.
"Still, I want to do a full exam as soon as possible. We don't know what they might have given you, and the effects. I'd prefer if you wouldn't be on your own for tonight, just in case."
Being on his own is the last thing John wants right now, but before he can say anything, Rodney declares:
"I'll stay with him." Then he pauses, fidgets as he looks at John. "If that's okay with you?"
That's fine, that's perfect even, so John shrugs one shoulder and nods.
"Sure."
Of course Carson has to be a killjoy.
"You need to talk about this to Dr. Kusani, too."
John sighs. The last thing he wants right now is to see a shrink and talk about his overwhelming new feelings and the joys of discovering himself in a white room. He's pretty sure he won't escape it, though.
"Okay. I will."
Rodney's hand goes straight to John's forehead.
"Oh my god. Are you sure you didn't miss a fever or something?" he mock exclaims and John laughs, feeling knots unravel in his chest as he bats Rodney's hand away.
"Shut up, Rodney, you're blowing my award-worthy cooperative act out of the water!"
Grinning, Rodney goes "oops!" and taps on his ear piece while Carson shakes his head, fighting a smile.
"Ronon?" Rodney pauses. "Yes, yes, all is under control. Did you get rid of the fan club?"
John gets up, stretches and takes deep breaths as Rodney finally opens the hatch. Thankfully, the only people that are left are Ronon, Woolsey, two guys from the infirmary with a stretcher and Teyla, a sweet sight for sore eyes as always, which makes John grin.
"Hey! You're back!"
Her worried expression morphs into a smile and she comes close for the Athosian salute. If John makes it last a bit more than usual, she gracefully pretends not to notice.
"And you are, too. Welcome back, John." She steps back to look at him more closely and John hopes he doesn't look too much like shit. "I have heard that you are unwell?"
Carson cuts in before John can try to deny.
"The Colonel seems to have caught a bug. Nothing a couple days of quiet and rest won't cure, though."
John shoots him a grateful smile.
"Yeah, I just hope it's not contagious."
"Glad to know it's nothing serious, Colonel," Woolsey adds. "It's great to have you back safe and sound. Take the time you need to get better."
"Yeah, thanks. Now if you don't mind..."
He can't wait to lie down in his own room, lights dimmed. He tries his best to reassure everyone with a smile, but judging from their frowned foreheads, he's not doing that great of a job.
"Sheppard needs to rest now," Rodney declares. "Or maybe you're hungry? What day are we? Hey Radek! I know you're there, I see you sneaking peaks out of Jumper two!"
Effectively, Zelenka pops his head out, looking half way between annoyed and sheepish. He glares at Rodney then wiggles his fingers at John.
"I am working, Rodney. Hello, Colonel Sheppard, I am glad you are home!"
John waves back.
"Hey! Very glad to be back, thanks!"
"Yes, yes, we all are," Rodney says. "Hurray, let's celebrate the return of the prodigal son, yadda yadda. Of course. Seriously, Radek, what's in the commissary tonight?"
Zelenka makes a long suffering sigh.
"How many times will I have to say that I am not your personal menu? We have been over this."
Rodney whines.
"But you always know! Why couldn't I use the information at my disposal, through you? And if you stopped making such a fuss each time, it would be so much..."
Zelenka makes a brisk shut up gestures and talks over Rodney.
"There is almost-beef with gravy and also beans with rice."
John, who had perked up at the mention of food feels suddenly nauseated. Rodney must see him change color, because he grabs John just above the elbow and starts to drag/push him towards the corridor.
"See? That wasn't so hard, was it? Okay, off we go."
John hears Teyla falls in step behind them as Ronon goes in front to clear the path, or so it seems. Anyway, it's efficient because basically everyone ducks into side corridors when Ronon glowers at them, and the bewildered personnel are shooting small smiles at John, who tries his best to look fine and smile back. As they go, John realizes in a way he never had before the sheer hugeness of the city all around him and it makes him dizzy.
In no time they are at his quarters and Atlantis must sense his hurry to be in his room because the door opens when they are still 10 feet away. When it closes behind them, John sags, and once more it's only Rodney's steel grip on his arm that keeps him upright. Ronon fists his shirt to help and John's manhandled to his bed like a helpless five years old. Talk about humiliating.
"What's wrong with you?" As always, Ronon doesn't pussy around the real issues. John throws an arm over his eyes and refuses to answer.
"Hey, give him a break, Hannibal. He's probably drugged and can't stand being around too many people for the moment. There's nothing we can do but give him some space."
John grunts his approval.
"Is there something we could do to make it better, John?" Teyla asks softly, brushing his sleeve. There it is again, the fucking urge to cry like a baby, and now just because his friends are concerned. He gulps and shakes his head no. It's mean to think it, but if they could just go away right this moment it would be the best. He doesn't want them to see him break; he's supposed to be the team leader, strong. Teyla's hand squeezes his shoulder before letting go.
"I'll go get you some dessert," Ronon says casually, as if it's something he does every day.
"And I some tea. We will be back later," Teyla adds.
John clears his throat and manages to sound normal, to his relief.
"I'd love that, but tomorrow, okay? I need to sleep first."
"If that is what you want," she says softly. "Come, Ronon. Rodney?"
"Me? Oh, Carson said I need to stay with him, just in case. Sheppard agreed and everything. Go, I've got it."
The door opens and closes behind his friends footsteps and John lets go of all of the air in his lungs.
"Oh. I didn't... Do you want me to call Teyla back so she stays with you? She would probably be better at this than me, and..."
Only Rodney would take relief for some sort of criticism.
"No. I want it to be you, Rodney."
"Oh, okay, good. Hmm."
John hears Rodney go in the bathroom and there are doors opening and stuff being shuffled around. Curious, John pulls his arm off his face and props himself up on his forearms to try and see what he's doing. The room is now very softly lit, and John wonders if it's Atlantis or Rodney's doing. When Rodney comes back with an Advil bottle and a glass of water and doesn't even make a surprised face at the almost darkness, John has his answer.
"Is your head okay? I can only speak from personal experience, but..." Rodney shows the pill bottle and John makes a grabby hand at it. His head is effectively killing him, he hadn't even noticed in the middle of the feeling like total crap experience. He swallows the three gel caps Rodney puts in his hand and drains the water glass. When he lies back down, Rodney is looking down at him with concern, fiddling with the empty glass.
"Do you need anything? Is there something I could do?"
"Nah. Just sit down." Rodney looks at the desk chair, but John scoots away the most he can on his bed, which is not that much, and pats the mattress beside him, and it makes Rodney blink. "Please?"
To his credit, Rodney doesn't hesitate, puts the glass on the night stand and sits down before getting his boots off, then stretches his legs on the bed while propped against the headboard, leaving the pillow to John. It's easy, probably too easy, for John to turn around, throw an arm across Rodney's legs and bury his face between Rodney's thigh and his pillow. He plans to hide from the world for a little while right here. Yes, he's kind of cuddling, but for the moment he doesn't care. He needs this, dammit, and he breathes deeply the smell of his own pillow, hair gel and Rodney. It's a good mix.
Rodney is silent, for a minute or two, and he starts to rub John's arm on top of his sleeve. Asking of Rodney to just be for a while is a bit much, though, and John's not surprised when he starts to talk softly.
"You know, John, it's not that I don't like the new touchy-feely you, and I understand why you need it, but I must confess it's sort of creeping me out." The bottom drops out of John's stomach and the tries to roll away but he's firmly stopped. "No! Don't move, you idiot, did I say I mind? You're not going anywhere. Shhh." John takes a deep breath and relaxes back against Rodney and scoots even closer, throwing leg across his shins for good measure. It feels good, he's warm for the first time in forever, and John has to stifle a groan when Rodney starts to pet his hair with his right hand, scratching his skull with his fingertips.
"It scares me because... because it means you are so not okay, it's not even funny." John shrugs, can't really argue. "You'll be, though. I'm sure. Back to Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, defender of personal space at all costs. But right now you remind me this tiny kitten I found once near a dumpster and..." John grunts in amusement, not surprised that Rodney's the type to save strays, under his fake facade of being too busy to care about anything. "Oh, well, not that you're a tiny kitten, it's not what I mean, if so you'd be a big manly cat, a panther or something. I've always thought that of you and Ronon, you know, big cats. Deadly."
Rodney McKay is, at the core, incapable of being still. As he's talking, he's patting John's arm and playing with his hair which has always been a big turn on for John. Combine that with being plastered all over Rodney's legs, the talking and everything, all of his starved sense are filled with nothing but rodneyrodneyrodney and John can't fight his natural response as arousal speeds down his entire nerve system like wildfire. When Rodney shifts and his ankle accidentally rubs John's groin, John pushes back on instinct, seeking more pressure, and this time he can't help it and growls deep in his throat. That does the trick, Rodney freezes like a deer in headlights and John pants against his leg, mortified. He's done it, fucked everything up. He's surprised that Rodney's not out the door already.
"John?" The tone is definitely more confused than angry, and since Rodney's not going anywhere and even starts to pet his head gently again, John starts shaking. He wants, he wants so fucking much to just give in and take what he can; it's physically painful to not hump Rodney's leg. "Hey, hey, hey, what's wrong? Look at me!" he says while pushing on his shoulder to make John roll on his back.
John blinks up at him and he sees nothing but concern in those blue eyes. No disgust, no judgment.
"Jesus, John, your pupils are totally blown. Fuck, you're drugged up to the gills, let me call Carson!"
He can't help it, John laughs even if it hurts, not a funny sound or feeling at all. Only Rodney could be so oblivious as to miss that he's two seconds from being jumped.
"No, Rodney, it's not drugs. I'm horny." He's sick of covering up, and as a defence mechanism he goes for shock because it's time to stop the lies and omissions. Rodney gapes at him, and John sees him look at his tented crotch where everything is in plain view before quickly jumping back to his face. John smirks as Rodney's eyes go round and his mouth clips shut. Yeah, right, beginning of the end here, so John hides under his arm once more.
"You can go, Rodney. It's OK. We'll never talk of this again."
Rodney sighs, but doesn't move.
"I... John. Wait. Come on, look at me." When John doesn't move, Rodney sounds angry and pokes him hard in the chest. "Hey, asshole, look at me when I'm talking to you! This is important!"
John composes a blank face and pulls his arm away, meeting Rodney's eyes directly. He doesn't say anything.
"You've got to know by now that I'd do anything for you, right?" Rodney pleads, and it angers John, this comprehension. He could deal with rejection, in fact he's had years to brace for it because he knew that one day he'd be found out. John bares his teeth, a sneer more than a smile.
"Yeah, anything. But not a pity fuck. I get it."
The corners of Rodney's mouth go down and there it is, the anger. That John can play with, use to fuel his own.
"What? A pity fuck? How can you be such a moron?" There's once more hard poking, as Rodney goes on. "If you had been a little less busy with your epic pity party earlier, you'd have seen that I've been hard since you wrapped yourself around me like an overgrown koala and that I was terrified that you'd notice. Pity is not the problem here, fucking is."
Frankly, John doesn't quite know what to say to that. Rodney wants him? He glances at his crotch and, hey, look at that. It changes everything. Feeling suddenly less despondent, hopeful even, John reaches for Rodney's thigh but his hand is captured in a firm grip.
"Oh god, no, please, John, don't make a face like that, it's hard enough as it is. We can't do this."
It doesn't make sense! John searches Rodney's face, sees only anguish.
"Why? If you want me and I want you, where's the problem?"
Rodney pushes John's hand away from him and shakes his head.
"The problem is that you don't really want this. You're touch starved, have been without human contact for ten days. I get it, John, but not with me. I don't want to jeopardize our friendship for a one time thing. It would be all awkward after and no. I could not take it. I'm sorry."
John doesn't know if he should laugh or cry. So close but Rodney still can't see, doesn't understand...
"You don't get it, it's not like that! You think I'd hump anyone who'd be in my bed right now?"
"No, not anyone, don't make me say things I don't mean! I'm familiar, not a threat, you trust me. That's why. I saw your cell, what you drew, who you drew. I wasn't even on that cartoon wall, John. Ford, Ronon, Teyla, Elizabeth, name it, but not me."
Trust Rodney to pick everything relevant in a four second glance around the room. At the same time, it gives John the only argument he can think of that could make its way through Rodney's thick skull. He yanks his hand back and scrabbles until he's kneeling on the bed, facing Rodney who looks frankly miserable.
"You're right. You were not on the wall. Do you want to know why?" Rodney doesn't move but John hikes his left sleeve up anyway, shows him the word TEAM written on his forearm. "It's because the real important stuff? I wrote on me."
Rodney's mouth opens soundlessly some more, as John hikes his right sleeve up, and gets rid of his wrist band which hid the symbol of the point of origin, for Atlantis and Earth. When he's sure he's got every single atom of Rodney's attention, heart hammering like crazy, John unbuttons his shirt, lets it fall open and Rodney stares and stares but doesn't speak. After a handful of seconds John whispers:
"You." That's all he can get out, although what he really wants to say is yours.
With a hand that shakes a little, Rodney finally moves, comes close and uses his index to trace the initials MRM written right over John's heart, making him shudder at the touch.
"Wow." Rodney says, awed, his eyes snapping for a second to John's face before going back to his chest. "This is... wow. Probably the hottest thing I've ever seen, too."
John captures Rodney's hand against his chest, over the marking, wonders if he can feel how hard his heart is beating.
"Rodney, I..." He can't say it, though, because Rodney is kissing him, his free hand keeping John's head firmly in place as if he'd have any intention of going anywhere.
The kiss starts slow and almost gentle, but John feels like he's lighting up like a Christmas tree again. Just like earlier, a desperate want takes him over and he deepens the kiss, asking for access, for everything. Rodney gives as good as he gets, kissing back hard and dirty, and the only thing John wants is more. He slips his hands under Rodney's shirt, finds hot soft skin and keens, pawing, trying to touch him all over, frustrated when clothes get in the way. He freezes, tough, when his fingers touch gauze and tape, as he remembers Rodney going down. Shit.
"I saw you fall, I thought..." he says while trying to pull up the shirt to see but Rodney stops him.
"I'm fine. Looked worse than it was, I swear. I was up right away to see your stupid Rambo act," Rodney says with his best you-are-such-an-idiot voice. He grabs John's chin and makes sure he has eye contact. "You scared the shit out of me, too, falling like a potato sack. Then they TOOK you, John."
It would kill him if he saw people take Rodney away, and he can feel how it was the same for him. In apology, John rains a trail of butterfly kisses all over Rodney's face, and then tries to get to more skin again. It's urgent, a tad desperate but he's not getting anywhere and gets distracted as he starts kissing Rodney deep and thorough again. Luckily, Rodney's being more productive, tugging on John's sleeves until he can throw the shirt away, then he breaks the kiss for the time it takes to pull his own shirt over his head. John grabs Rodney's legs and pulls him down the bed, which makes Rodney flail and yelp as he falls on his back. Laughing, John pounces on him, straddling Rodney's hip, and starts to lick and bite at his collarbone, neck, anything in sight because he can and he wants, and his hips are snapping as he rubs against Rodney's hard on.
"Whoa whoa whoa, Jesus..." Rodney pants, trying vainly to take hold of him.
"John." He teases, licking Rodney's ear, and then worrying the lobe between his teeth. Rodney shivers, tries to pull his head away.
"Oh, god, great, just what I needed, you're going to torture me and..."
John has a glorious idea, and as Rodney babbles, he pants in his ear while he forcefully opens those damn cargo pants.
"Rodney, Rodney, please, I need... let me..."
Rodney takes hold of his head with both hands, brings him in for a scorching kiss where John fucks Rodney's mouth forcefully with his tongue. He manages somehow to get the buttons undone and slides his hand in until he can fist Rodney's cock, and Rodney arches against him with a sexy whimper and his head falls back, breaking the kiss. Rodney's dick is hot, so fucking hard and wet for him; John tries to scoot down but Rodney stops him, bringing him back in for a kiss.
"I want, I need..." John whispers against his lips, now pulling down the pants and boxers maybe a bit too hard, not careful, and it's crazy how Rodney's eyes are wide and oh so blue, looking at him with wonder.
"Shh, it's okay, anything at all, fuck, you are so beautiful. Even, ah, even with the beard, so unfair."
John laughs, kisses him again and there's this big all-encompassing warmth in his chest. He manages to slow down a bit, nips and licks his way down Rodney's chest, being careful over the bandages. Gripping Rodney's hips, he dips his tongue in his belly button and feels the tip of Rodney's cock hit his chin. Rodney moans and John has to push hard to keep him on the mattress. John breathes in the scent of musk and arousal, wants nothing more than to taste it. He hovers over Rodney's dick then glances up, sees that Rodney's up on his elbows to better watch, looking positively wrecked.
"Rodney, I..." John's voice is so raspy with need, he barely recognizes it.
"Oh my god, tell me you're not asking my permission to suck my dick? I'd think my consent is pretty obvious here!" he says, trying to wiggle out of John's grasp to get closer to John's mouth. With a grin, he just stays there to rile Rodney up, licking his lips.
"You sure?"
Rodney flops on his back again, throws his hands in the air before slapping them down on his face and whines.
"I knew it, I knew you'd be the death of me. Jesus Christ, what do I have to do? Jump through hoops? A sonnet, a..."
To shut him up, John finally takes him in his mouth, trying to go as far down as he can, which results in a satisfying shout of pleasure from Rodney. It's been a while since he's done this, but the feeling of a cock filling his mouth, the taste of Rodney and his intoxicating smell makes John moan. He doesn't try for finesse or technique, and it's pretty sloppy but he can't help it, sucks hard and bobs his head, focused on pleasing Rodney, making him feel good. Rodney has finally lost coherence, although he's neither silent nor still, petting John's head and punching the mattress with a constant stream of one syllable words.
John has to hold him down not to get choked, and the almost thrashing is making him lose his mind. He's so turned on, he knows he will probably pop before Rodney: all he needs is a little friction. There is no way he's stopping blowing Rodney even for the couple of seconds it would take to undo his own pants, and anyway he can't or Rodney will shove down his throat by accident. He never managed to get Rodney's pants off, just bunched them down his thighs, which makes it impossible for John to get flat between them on the bed to hump it, so it will have to be on Rodney, which all things considered is not a bad idea. A bit undignified, maybe, way past his age, but John's a little past caring about that stuff right now. He needs to get off, and get off soon. He slides a knee between Rodney's calves before shimmying down until he's covering the leg, the stupid ankle that started it all right against his aching dick, braces on his elbows, arms securely on Rodney's middle and goes for broke, rubbing desperately as he sucks as hard as he can.
By now there aren't any consonants in the sounds Rodney is making, but he's moving his foot against John, making him see stars as pleasure builds even more than he thought possible. He's grunting, frantic, just about there when Rodney starts pulling at his hair hard. By the way Rodney's balls are drawing near his body, it's pretty clear it's a warning that he's about to come, but John ignores it and just humps harder, wanting to get there, too. When his orgasm hits, it's like he's detonated an atomic bomb. It just rolls through him, flattening everything, making him lose his breath as he bucks against Rodney's foot to ride it out. He almost chokes when he tries to take a breath and feels Rodney come in his mouth, and it seems to go on and on. John swallows the best he can, then finally lets go with a lick, making Rodney's dick twitch.
John basically doesn't move, rests his head on Rodney's middle and just goes boneless right where he is, trying to even his breathing as his heart still resonates like a sledgehammer in his chest. He's flying high on endorphins, content in every way, and Rodney's surprisingly silent too, slowly carding his fingers in John's hair. He considers purring. After a couple of minutes, Rodney's the first to talk, of course, but it's soft as if he's weary of breaking something special.
"Hey. Come up here."
For that John would have to find muscle tone and coordination, which he doesn't have at the moment even if it's uncomfortable that his legs below the knees are hanging totally off the bed. After careful consideration he shakes his head, or more accurately rubs his jaw against Rodney's stomach.
"Can't. Later."
The movement makes Rodney wiggle.
"Whoa, tickles! I veto the mountain man look, by the way."
John smiles, rubs his head some more until Rodney's squirming and squawking.
"What, I'm not pretty enough for you like this?" he asks.
That earns John a soft hit behind the head.
"You're always pretty and you know it. But beard burn isn't hot. Stop it, I have delicate skin."
John kisses Rodney's stomach and holds him a little closer with his right arm. The left hand he manages to slide up, following ribs, collarbone and neck up to the jaw, which he caresses softly with his fingertips. He feels strong fingers circle his wrist and Rodney takes John's hand to his lips, kissing each finger in turn, the middle of his palm and then the skin of his forearm. John knows there's a kiss for each letter: team.
"The Aardvark wasn't too bad, y'know."
John smiles. Wasn't too bad is high praise in Rodney-speak. It had been pretty cool, taking all of the ceiling.
"Yeah."
"You, huh, you tried to show me something on the other wall but we didn't have time," Rodney says. "Wanna talk about it?"
John shrugs as Rodney links their fingers before putting their joined hands over his heart.
"Nah. It's okay." He squeezes Rodney's fingers, kisses his stomach again and closes his eyes. "I'll show you instead."
The End.
Note from the sga_santa mods and from the author: the author submitted this story to the mods on December 8th. But, by sheer coincidence, there was one of those case of fandom mindmeld where a story based on similar premises was posted 3 days later. Solitary, by esteefee is a wonderful story exploring what could be John's reaction to solitary confinement, but in a different context. It's brilliant and the author of "A Truth For a Truth" encourages everyone to go and read it! All of the similarities between the two fics are purely coincidental.