Fic: Thanks for the Memories (2/4)
Title: Thanks for the Memories
Author: skinscript
Rating: NC-17 (Slash)
Genre: Crossover (SGA/QAF)
Pairing: McKay/Kinney, McKay/Sheppard (preslash)
Wordcount: ~19K
Disclaimer: Seriously?
Posted at: mckay_sheppard
Spoilers (SGA): None
Spoilers (QAF): Season 5
Part One
Thanks for the Memories (2/4)
When they turned to thread the crowd, John knew he had to intervene. This wasn't what he'd expected, hell no, when he insisted on coming back to Earth with Rodney, but he was here to protect him and he would. Even from this. He moved through the dancing crowd with the ease of navigating many alien marketplaces and stopped Rodney a good ten feet before the door. He was reaching for Rodney's arm when the man with him slid adroitly between them, knocking his hand aside in a way that could have been accidental but wasn't.
"Sheppard." Rodney tilted his head, leaned forward to make himself heard. The look on his face was part irritation, part resignation. The crowd parted to give them all room, though no one looked for more than a second. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to see you here. I'm fine! Go on back to the hotel. I'll meet you there before we head back."
John was already shaking his head. "No. We're going back now."
Rodney raised his eyebrows. "We're not on base at the moment, Sheppard." The man standing between them looked amused, and breath-stoppingly beautiful. John barely spared him a glance. Instead, he gritted his teeth, leaned close, pushing into the dark-haired man's space. He wasn't worried about being overheard, but he also wasn't asshole enough to want the whole club to hear him. Not quite, anyway.
"I am aware of that, Rodney. But I'm not letting you go off on your own with some stranger you picked up in a bar."
Rodney laughed. One hand moved to the stranger's shoulder, the other to John's chest, pushing a little and separating them gently. "I don't pick up strangers, Sheppard," he said, at the same time the other man spoke.
"If he's so worried, he's welcome to join us." Malicious merriment danced in dark brown eyes as they raked Sheppard head to foot. It was possibly the most thorough checking-out John had ever had, the other man's posture radiating pure sex. Still, it was the thoughtful, assessing expression on Rodney's face that had his stomach clenching. The man tilted his head to look at Rodney, who was examining John, eyes narrowed in thought. His shoulders stiffened as he decided. There was apology in his voice as he spoke.
"Brian..."
The other man, Brian, John corrected mentally, swung to look at Rodney full on, interrupting what John was sure would have been Rodney making his goodbyes. His lips curved into a smile that was almost but not quite mocking, and then he dropped to his knees in the middle of the floor. There was a gasp from the dancers; audible even over the music, and everyone around them took a step back, clearing the space even more. Brian lifted his face, looking up Rodney's body, lips wet and parted as he offered himself. Deliberately, Brian crossed his wrists behind his back. Unnerved and feeling completely out of his depth, John looked at Rodney, and saw a Rodney he had never seen before.
McKay's eyes had gone cold, reflecting alternating blue and green in the revolving lights. His face was hard, the tightness thinning down his features and making them more pronounced than usual. His body was taut under the snug clothes, his right hand rubbing thumb rapidly across fingers. He looked down into Brian's smirk with an icy lack of expression John didn't recognize. Brian's smile faded and he swallowed hard. "Who are you?" Brian asked, forcing out the words. He closed his eyes and waited. McKay's restlessly moving fingers stilled.
McKay lifted his gaze to John. The full effect slammed into him, and he swallowed hard too, locking his knees against the sudden, almost overwhelming need to kneel. "We're leaving," McKay said. "I suggest you go back to the hotel." He snapped his fingers, just once, and Brian rose unevenly, breathing hard, eyes dark and hot and needy. He leaned his forehead against McKay's shoulder as he stood, just briefly, like he couldn't stop himself. John shook his head stubbornly. "Then come on." Brian's shoulders tightened at the words, but he started moving for the door. McKay followed, pushing John ahead of him, leaning close to growl in his ear. "But if you're coming, you shut up and you don't interfere."
"It's my job to protect you, McKay."
McKay snorted in his ear. "It's not me you're going to want to protect."
***
Brian ignored the astonished looks on the dancers as he stepped through the crowd toward the door. He could feel McKay's presence solid and forceful behind him, was aware of the stranger between them. He lowered his head, relaxed his shoulders, and shortened his steps into a submissive posture as he stepped through the door. The bouncer on the door had been around last time McKay was in town, and just grinned. Brian flicked a smile at him, smirked at the memory of the utterly stunned expression that had still been lurking on McKay’s protector's face when he stopped them. It had been overlaid with resolve, but the shock had still been there.
Wherever McKay had been, he'd been hiding this part of his nature.
It was interesting, along with McKay needing protection, but not actually important. The only important thing right now was the flutter in his stomach and the thrill of anticipation running through his veins. He pictured the look on McKay's face as he'd dropped to his knees in the middle of the dance floor, felt a shiver down his spine.
He could feel the stranger's eyes on him, boring into his back, and couldn't bring himself to care.
***
"So what exactly did you have in mind?'
He'd met McKay at the man's hotel room; apparently the college was willing to shell out for nice accommodations on top of everything else. When he'd asked why, McKay had muttered something about death threats and the school wanting him to stay outside of general residence, which he supposed made sense in a fucked up kind of way. He had the feeling that everything about McKay needed to be viewed through glasses as skewed as he was.
"Think of this, as a hands-on course." McKay told him, stripping off his suit jacket and tossing it absently on the bed. His T-shirt was a bright blue that brought out his eyes. "There's no better teacher than practical experience." He turned and watched Brian with unnerving intensity. "Kneel," he said.
"What?"
McKay's face thinned down with displeasure, his eyes grew arctic. "I don't like repeating myself."
"Look, maybe..."
McKay reached him in one long step, anchoring a hand behind his neck and stepping into him hard, pushing him back against the wall. Through some trick of balance and skill, he had Brian pinned and just that one important inch below him so he could look down at him, so he could dominate. "Who’s in charge, Brian?"
Brian gulped, unable to look away from those icy blue eyes. "You are," he ground out reluctantly. McKay released him.
"Strip, then," he commanded, and Brian slowly obeyed. McKay took the opportunity to remove his shoes, socks, and belt, ultimately facing Brian's nudity still dressed in his jeans, t-shirt and bare feet. Brian shivered a little under the weight of the regard and his unaccustomed vulnerability.
"In order for you to be good at being a top, you need to know why something works. You need to know how it feels, how to make it feel good, *beyond* good. You need to know what felt good for you." McKay paused, snorted a little at himself. "Well, ok, you don't have to. Most don't. They just go with whatever they want. Idiots." He pierced Brian with a glare. "If you want to be the best on top, you need to understand the bottom." Brian frowned. "And to do that, you need to learn how to kneel."
Brian opened his mouth to object.
McKay stopped the words with his mouth, taking his lips firmly but not bruisingly, consuming him with the kiss. Brian felt a hand behind his neck again, bringing him closer, and he moaned back in his throat. The fingers tightened, sliding forward until they splayed just over his collarbone, thumb pressing against his spine. With the things McKay was doing to his mouth, he barely noticed. The fingers flexed.
An instant later, Brian found himself on his knees, his breath leaving him in a rush of arousal. His back arched involuntarily, and he moved further into the hands holding him in place. He opened his eyes, searching for McKay's face and finding it looking back at him impassively. "Oh, my god," he breathed out. "How did you do that?"
Instead of answering, McKay took a half-step to the side. "Look," he said, gesturing.
The hotel room, as most, featured mirrors. One on the door, one on the wall, and Brian found himself looking at his own reflection from three feet away. He looked... he looked...
He looked *amazing*.
His knees had spread when he hit the floor, involuntarily falling into a perfect triangle. His bare chest heaved, skin flushed and already damp with sweat. His hair fell over his forehead; his eyes were dark and hot with sex. His mouth was open, lips red and wet from McKay's kiss. The dark hair on his stomach was a perfect arrow to his dick, hard and aching at the apex of that triangle. McKay stood just to the side, facing him with that cold look on his face, jeans and t-shirt a pointed statement of power.
God. Brian could barely breathe, it was so hot.
"Now," McKay said. "Arms behind your back." He reached into the dresser beside him and pulled out what looked like leather bracelets. Dazed, still staring at his reflection, Brian obeyed. McKay dropped to one knee beside him, slid the bracers over his wrists and tied them in place with businesslike briskness. He regained his feet. Brian tugged at the restraints a little. The burn and release of his muscles against the resistance felt... it felt... it felt...
He looked up at McKay, panting helplessly in a combination of arousal and fear. McKay slid a hand into his hair, cradling his head gently. Brian leaned into the hold, watching McKay's face. The cold eyes didn't soften.
"This is how you learn how to kneel." McKay shook him by the neck, just a little. Just enough to show that he could. Brian shuddered, his whole body bowing at the sensation that struck right down inside. Something he hadn't known was there answered to this. "And that is *why*."
Brian looked back at the mirror. And *saw*. "Oh, yeah," he said, looking up at McKay hotly, really meaning it this time. "Oh, yeah, you're in charge."
McKay smiled at him coldly. "I didn't say you could talk," he said.
****
John stared at Brian's wide shoulders and wondered what the hell he'd done when he agreed to come along. Something he'd regret, undoubtedly.
"Okay, Brian. You've made your point. Stop, now." McKay said suddenly as he came even with John. His voice was soft but the words clipped.
Immediately, Brian lifted his head and shook himself head to toe. His walk changed to a loose-limbed, easy hipped saunter that swayed his whole body in a way that just shouted 'sex'. John blinked. McKay ignored the change, held out his hand and snapped his fingers once. Brian grinned, dropped a set of keys into the outstretched fingers. McKay unhesitatingly stopped beside a new black Jeep and opened the door. Brian laughed a low, rich sound that made John shiver. "How'd you know it was mine?"
McKay rolled his eyes and pulled the driver's seat forward. Brian swung into the backseat with supple grace, leaving John shotgun. He shrugged, moved around to the passenger door and got in. McKay was already revving the engine. Brian's lips twitched as if he wanted to frown but the smile wouldn't let him. "It's the prettiest fuck-mobile on the street. It had to be yours."
"My other car's a Corvette."
"Of course it is." He peeled out in a squeal of tires, pitching them all back against the seats.
"I would like to have this one back, once you're done with it," Brian said silkily, leaning forward, bracing his arms along the back of the seat and placing his hand on McKay's shoulder. McKay shot him a glare and popped the clutch, throwing Brian back in the seat again. Brian just laughed, sprawling bonelessly across the leather. "Fucking McKAY!" He shouted at the roof of the car, curling his arms around his stomach as he laughed. "I couldn't believe it when I saw you! I thought you were gone, gone, gone."
"I'm back for a conference." McKay's lips twisted into a crooked smile. "Particle physics and applications to the seamless transmission of discrete packets of matter."
Brian gave another bark of laughter, reaching into his pocket for a package of cigarettes and a lighter. "I think I did the publicity for that, come to think of it." He lit up with the ease of long practice, blowing a perfect stream of smoke. "Transporters, huh?" He took another long drag as McKay rolled down the window. "Haven't seen you publish anything in the last four years, and you're doing a talk on transporters." He jerked his head to clear his hair from his eyes. John stared at him, mentally revising his opinion of the guy's brains. Brian flashed him a sultry smile. "I'd have expected inter-dimensional or temporal mechanics at the very least."
McKay grinned fiercely, watching Brian in the rear-view mirror. He lifted his hand, and Brian passed him the cigarette in a motion so automatic it looked rehearsed. "Well," he said, "They won't let me talk about any of that." He flicked the cigarette out the window. Brian just grinned and lit another.
"They." Brian gestured at John in a motion both graceful and dismissive. "He one of 'they'?"
McKay glanced at John, clearly considering exactly what to say. His eyes flared blue as they passed under another streetlight. "This is John," he finally said, smoothly enough. "We're friends. And he's here to protect me this trip. We've had issues the last couple of times I was in the States."
Stung, John narrowed his eyes. "Hey! At least one of those times it was in Vancouver," he muttered. McKay shrugged.
"Truthfully, it's a lot more dangerous for me at home than here," he admitted. "I live on what is pretty much a military base most of the time." His fingers drummed restlessly against the steering wheel as they stopped for a red light. "American military," he added casually.
"Hmmmmm." Brian raked his gaze over John appraisingly. "Ha! Flyboy, right?" His smile widened, turned predatory. John smirked back, the bright empty one he used on superior officers. Brian laughed. "You look kind of familiar. Were you ever stationed in Pittsburgh?"
McKay lifted his head, looked into the mirror, and caught Brian's eyes. "Brian." Nothing else, just his name. A dark flush spread over Brian's cheekbones as their gazes locked.
***
Fucking Christ. Just his name, and Brian was hard in his pants, reacting like a fucking teenager watching his first porn. Just his name, in that conversational tone, soft over steel. The tone that didn't sound like command, didn't have to, because the command was just there.
He realised it with a soft jolt of recognition. He had that voice. It was the voice he used with Justin.
Nervously, Brian licked his lips. McKay's eyes held his in the mirror with the force of a super magnet, the message in them absolutely clear. There would be no fucking around with John. The thought of defying him was heady; he couldn't help wondering what he could goad McKay into if he used this John as leverage.
McKay saw him thinking it, raised his brows just a little. The threat was there, oh yes. If he pushed this, McKay wouldn't give him punishment. No, if he pushed this, McKay wouldn't give him anything at all. Brian swallowed, hard.
Now, that was unthinkable.
***
"You know," Brian gasped breathlessly as McKay did something wickedly sinful and wildly erotic to his neck, bracing himself on one hand and gripping Brian's shoulder tightly. "I'm a top."
McKay laughed, fingers tightening and rolling him expertly onto his stomach, pinning him there with his weight and sinking his teeth into the bulge of muscle between his shoulder and neck. Brian sucked in a breath and arched his back involuntarily against McKay's thighs, wondering disjointedly if his head was going to actually explode with the surge of sensation. McKay let go, nudged his nose under Brian's hair until he was breathing into his ear, short, controlled pants. His hands were busy on Brian's hips, tilting him just *so*. "Yeah," he muttered, amusement laid thickly over the heat of arousal. "That's what all the biggest bottoms say."
He thrust, and took the top of Brian's head off in one glorious burst of white.
***
John watched the silent exchange with more than a little disquiet. He'd seen McKay face down all sorts of people, all sorts of things, but this was something entirely different.
Also, none of those had been when he was driving.
After a long moment, he decided it had gone on long enough. "Watch the road, McKay. I'd like to get to wherever in one piece." To his surprise, it was Brian who looked away first, ducking his head a little, flicking his lashes in a brief glance at John before returning to watch the side of McKay's face. Some fleeting emotion flickered across the gorgeous features much too fast for John to name.
"He has no idea, does he?" Brian finally broke the silence, voice darkly amused. McKay arched an eyebrow at him in the mirror. "Who you are, underneath it all?"
"He comes closer than most." He laughed a sharp bark with a thread of bitterness. "But no. Not the way you mean. No."
"You sure he's ready to find out?"
"He is sitting right here," John snapped. Brian just smirked and blew a stream of smoke at him.
"Your friends seem to like me as much as ever,” McKay gave a smirk of his own as he changed the subject. Brian frowned at him. "Martin looked particularly annoyed," he clarified.
Brian's face cleared. "Michael. Ah," he said. "Them." He waved his hand. "Fuck 'em."
"I believe that's how we arrived at them not liking me in the first place." Brian grunted his agreement, taking another drag. John shook his head.
"They don't like you cause you slept with them?" He totally felt as though most of this conversation was in code.
"Oh, no. They don't like me because I refused to." McKay's smirk became a grin that was gleefully malicious. He hit the turn signal, thigh muscles bunching as he downshifted smoothly, pulling into a parking spot in front of a non-descript reclaimed industrial building.
****
"What the hell are you *doing* with him, Brian? He's an asshole! Pretty enough I suppose, but still, *asshole*." Michael hissed angrily. Brian slung an arm around his neck, pulling him in close to his body, using his heat and size to soothe his friend as he'd done so many times. Michael shoved at him half-heartedly. McKay glanced up from across the club, scanning the crowd with ice-cold eyes that stopped on Brian's. He felt his body relax even more, reflexively sinking into that place where only McKay mattered, where he existed only for what McKay would give him. The laser-like gaze moved on, and Brian almost sagged with its passing. He blinked. "Jesus, Brian!" This time when Michael shoved he meant it, and Brian stood up with an aggrieved sigh. "What kind of fucking spell has this guy put on you that you're acting like this?"
Brian shrugged, irritated. "So he's an asshole. In case you haven't noticed," he leaned into Michael's space, as if imparting a secret, "*I'm* an asshole."
"Oh, I've noticed."
"Plus, he fucks like a champion." He pulled out a cigarette, lit it absently.
"I wouldn't know," Michael groused sourly.
"And you never will, Martin." McKay slid against Brian's side, reaching for the cigarette. Brian handed it over immediately, automatically reaching for another for himself, signalled the bartender for another drink. Michael's face darkened with fury.
"It's *Michael*, and I wouldn't want to anyway," he managed to grind out. Brian sighed, knowing already there was no good way for this to end.
"That's convenient." McKay lifted his chin, took the offered drink, caught the bartender's attention with a rapid snap of fingers, flipped him a bill with a quick gesture to indicate he was buying for all of them. He gave Michael a sidelong look from under thick lashes. "Since I don't fuck bottoms anyway." He knocked back the drink, pursed his lips as Brian choked on his scotch and Michael turned even redder. "Not unless they're blond." He tapped on the wrist of the still spluttering Brian before Michael could come up with a retort. "I'm done for tonight." He spun on his heel, strode across the floor towards the door. The dancers peeled out of his way, closed back in when he passed, as if he moved in a force field of his own making.
Brian supposed he did, come to think of it. He swallowed the rest of his drink and followed, ignoring Michael's choked rage behind him. The crowd moved for him a lot more reluctantly than for McKay, and despite his haste it was a good thirty feet past the door before he caught up. Even then, it helped that McKay had stopped to light a cigarette. Brian braced himself.
"I want to go with you tonight."
McKay looked up as his lighter flared, the yellow light turning his eyes black instead of their usual slate blue. "Where?"
Brian firmed his back, straightened his shoulders, used his height. "Home."
McKay snorted. "I don't have a home." He blew a plume of smoke into the night air, watched it idly.
Brian licked his lips. "Anywhere, then. Anywhere at all."
That got McKay's attention, brought his gaze snapping back to Brian's face. His eyes narrowed, and then his lips twisted in a grim smile as he rubbed a hand over his mouth. He leaned into Brian's body, curled his other hand around the back of Brian's neck. The fingers tightened just enough for Brian to feel the bite. McKay nuzzled his nose behind Brian's ear. Brian closed his eyes, lowered his head to McKay's shoulder helplessly. "Kneel," he breathed into Brian's ear.
He obeyed without thinking, dropping to his knees in the middle of the alley, leaning into McKay's hand, into his thigh. The slush on the ground was a cold dampness seeping into the fabric of his jeans, but when McKay's hand slipped to his cheek, thumb pushing boldly into his mouth, he couldn't bring himself to care. "Such an eager student," McKay crooned. "I suppose I could be convinced to give you some more lessons."
Brian stared up at him, swallowed hard, his tongue moving against the pad of McKay's thumb. McKay shifted slightly, setting his feet more solidly against the ground. He curled his fingers under the edge of Brian's jaw, the pressure urging him back to his feet. Brian stood. It took him a moment to gather his nerve, because McKay might take this the wrong way and Brian was not at *all* ready for this to be over. McKay was striding away, not waiting for him to follow, taking another drag on his cigarette. Brian trotted to catch up, falling into step beside him.
"Why?" He finally blurted out. "Why are you doing this?"
McKay looked surprised at the question. He flicked his cigarette to the side, ground it out against the pavement.
Brian persisted. "Really. Why?"
"For the best reason there is," McKay told him. Brian arched an eyebrow at him, and he smiled crookedly in response. "Because I want to."
****
John felt the tension build across his shoulders as he stepped into the industrial elevator. The fact McKay had driven them straight here meant that they weren't walking into a trap, but a part of his brain insisted that there was trouble here. Looking at McKay, looking at this Brian guy leaning against McKay like he was the only support in the universe, he knew that little part of his brain was right. This was trouble.
Not like Genii trouble. More like earthshaking, groundbreaking, never go back to the way things were before kind of trouble. Christ, what was he thinking, letting Rodney come here?
McKay ran his hand absently over Brian's hip, making him actually lean his chin on McKay's shoulder. Right.
After all, Rodney had told him not to come. He really should have listened.
John blinked, returned to studying the walls of the elevator.
"It's a refurbished building," McKay said suddenly, and John realised he'd noticed John's preoccupation. "Turned into urban lofts." The elevator stopped and Brian lifted the cage, rapidly turning off the alarm and opening the door. "Pretty impressive, actually."
Stepping into the loft, John had to agree. "Nice decor," he offered slowly. Brian snorted, heading for the mid-room kitchenette.
"Keeps me off the floor," he said, then grinned a slow, lascivious stretch of lips. "Mostly." He pulled down glasses from the cabinet over the sink. "What'll you have to drink?" He opened a bottle of scotch, poured two generous tumblers, cocked an eyebrow at John.
"Uh. Beer, if you've got it." Brian nodded, opened the fridge. "Mind if I look around?" McKay was already following the perimeter of the room, looking closely at the paintings and drawings on the walls. Brian shrugged, flicked the cap off a Molson Canadian and handed it over. John smirked at the bottle and they exchanged a look of shared amusement. McKay turned, snapped his fingers for his drink.
John followed his path around the room, enjoying the silence after the pounding music at the club. He snuck glances at McKay, still making his circuit of the room. Brian had taken his own drink to the very modern armchair in the minimally defined seating area and had spun it so that he faced the middle of the room. He watched McKay silently, his face unreadable. John turned his attention back to the art on the walls. It was excellent. John tipped his beer bottle, took a long drink. The cold beer slid down his throat eagerly. He flicked another glance at McKay.
He was relaxing, the tension slowly but surely draining from the lines of his body, to be replaced with an entirely different kind of energy. Usually he would look smaller as he smoothed out, but this time as he let go McKay was becoming more. This time it was like all that vibrant energy was building into something explosive.
"Where's Justin?" McKay asked it softly, unexpectedly, velvet over steel.
Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Brian jerk slightly, reach up to rub his chest. "New York," the answer came a long beat later. McKay pursed his lips and nodded, scanned the room restlessly. Brian scrubbed his hand through his hair. "I'm impressed you remembered his name."
McKay's lips twisted into something that could have been a smile on any other day. "I remember the important ones, Brian."
Brian sucked in a breath, and then stood in a contained swirl of motion. Tension radiated from him. He stared at McKay hotly, like he was made of jumpers and Ferris wheels and chocolate all at once. McKay held his gaze impassively, finally flicking a glance at John.
Suddenly John felt tired. Whatever happened, regardless of whether it was a bad idea, he'd chosen to be here, and whatever it was, he could handle it. "Rodney," he said, "Give the man what he wants."
Both men turned to look at him with identical looks of irritation and offense. It was clear that, good intentions or not, that had been the wrong thing to say. "What?" McKay asked irritably. John took another swig of his beer, a smaller one this time, and tried again.
"Tell you what, McKay," he said, dropping into the cushions at the darkest end of the couch so that he could watch the door and the room. "I'll just be over here."
McKay narrowed his eyes, searching his face intently. John kept his expression blank and open, comfortably drinking his beer. Brian smiled crookedly. When McKay spoke he was already moving.
"Brian, can you get John a couple more beers? We're going to be here a while."
***
The anticipation was killing him.
He watched McKay out of the corner of his eyes, watched him circle the room again, watched him shedding that other person little bit by little bit. The silence that should have been awkward was instead charged with electric tension.
John had accepted his six-pack of beers with a head-tilt and a rueful grin and had done his best to become invisible on the couch. Brian appreciated the effort. Frankly he'd rather the man left entirely, but he got it, he did. He was McKay's bodyguard, McKay's friend, and he wasn't going anywhere. But, at least he'd decided not to actively interfere, either. He looked pretty on the couch, all dark hair and dark lines sprawled against the white cushions. Brian licked his lips, considered again using him to force McKay into action. He surveyed John again, the sweep of dark lashes against cheekbones, the pull of t-shirt across chest, the working of his adam's apple as he drank. He pursed his lips, turned to look at McKay.
Ok, yeah.
No contest.
McKay had finally turned from the artwork, was watching him watch John from across the room. He stood at just the right angle that his eyes reflected the light, making them glint coldly. He was close, so close to the surface that Brian could almost taste him already. With McKay looking at him like that, there was no one else in the room. Maybe Justin could compete, but Justin wasn't here.
John might be the most amazing fuck in the world, but ultimately it would be the same thing he could get damned near anywhere else. Only one person could do this to him. Only McKay.
Brian sidled closer, his fingers coming up to the buttons on his shirt.
****
"What's with the name thing?"
McKay lifted his eyes to meet Brian's, hips moving smoothly, lips parted and wet. He took a breath, shoved hard. Brian moaned, eyes fluttering closed. "Am I boring you?" he asked, warning clear in his voice.
"No." Brian gasped, tried to gain some measure of control as his fingers scrabbled at the headboard. The silk ropes binding his wrists together over his head gave just enough to prevent him from catching hold. "More, please?"
McKay rocked back, hands pressing Brian's thighs wider, making him clench more tightly. Even with all the lube it was on the edge of painful, riding that shining line of too much. "What name thing?" He sounded almost conversational, utterly in control. Brian arched, shuddered. "Answer me, Brian. What name thing?"
"You..." He gasped as McKay flexed against the backs of his legs, compelled to answer by the command. "You. Don't remember. Names."
McKay leaned over him, licking a long stripe up his chest and setting his teeth against his nipple, hard. Brian jerked against his ropes, muscles clenching across his ribs, rewarded by a hiss of breath as he tightened even further around McKay's length. "Names are irrelevant," he whispered into Brian's ear, fingers gripping his hips hard, pressing new bruises over old. It felt so fantastic Brian almost swooned. "Mostly. Mine counts, of course."
Brian smiled involuntarily, opening his eyes to see McKay directly above him, staring down at him with that blend of heat and ice that no one else could ever pull off. God, it was hot. "You.." McKay thrust, cutting off the thought. Stubbornly he breathed through the burst of sensation, kept his eyes open as McKay's narrowed. "You remember." He grinned, huffed a noise that might have been a laugh if McKay wasn't fucking the breath out of him. "Mine. Must be ‘cause you like me."
McKay shook his head in amusement, the look on his face almost pitying. "No, not because I like you." He lifted Brian's hips, covered his mouth with one broad hand, and drove into him with all the weight and power in his body. For one long moment, Brian wondered if he'd ever breathe again. His body tightened into a single point of concentration, a singularity of breathless sensation, and then... detonation. He came like he was breaking apart at the seams, like he could never be put back together again. McKay moved his hands to hold his head in place, staring straight into his eyes through the incredible overload of sensations, until Brian was sure he had no secrets left. McKay had plundered them all.
"Not because I like you," McKay told him seriously as he started rocking his hips, started arousing him all over again. "Because I own you."
Part Three
Part Four
Author: skinscript
Rating: NC-17 (Slash)
Genre: Crossover (SGA/QAF)
Pairing: McKay/Kinney, McKay/Sheppard (preslash)
Wordcount: ~19K
Disclaimer: Seriously?
Posted at: mckay_sheppard
Spoilers (SGA): None
Spoilers (QAF): Season 5
Part One
Thanks for the Memories (2/4)
When they turned to thread the crowd, John knew he had to intervene. This wasn't what he'd expected, hell no, when he insisted on coming back to Earth with Rodney, but he was here to protect him and he would. Even from this. He moved through the dancing crowd with the ease of navigating many alien marketplaces and stopped Rodney a good ten feet before the door. He was reaching for Rodney's arm when the man with him slid adroitly between them, knocking his hand aside in a way that could have been accidental but wasn't.
"Sheppard." Rodney tilted his head, leaned forward to make himself heard. The look on his face was part irritation, part resignation. The crowd parted to give them all room, though no one looked for more than a second. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to see you here. I'm fine! Go on back to the hotel. I'll meet you there before we head back."
John was already shaking his head. "No. We're going back now."
Rodney raised his eyebrows. "We're not on base at the moment, Sheppard." The man standing between them looked amused, and breath-stoppingly beautiful. John barely spared him a glance. Instead, he gritted his teeth, leaned close, pushing into the dark-haired man's space. He wasn't worried about being overheard, but he also wasn't asshole enough to want the whole club to hear him. Not quite, anyway.
"I am aware of that, Rodney. But I'm not letting you go off on your own with some stranger you picked up in a bar."
Rodney laughed. One hand moved to the stranger's shoulder, the other to John's chest, pushing a little and separating them gently. "I don't pick up strangers, Sheppard," he said, at the same time the other man spoke.
"If he's so worried, he's welcome to join us." Malicious merriment danced in dark brown eyes as they raked Sheppard head to foot. It was possibly the most thorough checking-out John had ever had, the other man's posture radiating pure sex. Still, it was the thoughtful, assessing expression on Rodney's face that had his stomach clenching. The man tilted his head to look at Rodney, who was examining John, eyes narrowed in thought. His shoulders stiffened as he decided. There was apology in his voice as he spoke.
"Brian..."
The other man, Brian, John corrected mentally, swung to look at Rodney full on, interrupting what John was sure would have been Rodney making his goodbyes. His lips curved into a smile that was almost but not quite mocking, and then he dropped to his knees in the middle of the floor. There was a gasp from the dancers; audible even over the music, and everyone around them took a step back, clearing the space even more. Brian lifted his face, looking up Rodney's body, lips wet and parted as he offered himself. Deliberately, Brian crossed his wrists behind his back. Unnerved and feeling completely out of his depth, John looked at Rodney, and saw a Rodney he had never seen before.
McKay's eyes had gone cold, reflecting alternating blue and green in the revolving lights. His face was hard, the tightness thinning down his features and making them more pronounced than usual. His body was taut under the snug clothes, his right hand rubbing thumb rapidly across fingers. He looked down into Brian's smirk with an icy lack of expression John didn't recognize. Brian's smile faded and he swallowed hard. "Who are you?" Brian asked, forcing out the words. He closed his eyes and waited. McKay's restlessly moving fingers stilled.
McKay lifted his gaze to John. The full effect slammed into him, and he swallowed hard too, locking his knees against the sudden, almost overwhelming need to kneel. "We're leaving," McKay said. "I suggest you go back to the hotel." He snapped his fingers, just once, and Brian rose unevenly, breathing hard, eyes dark and hot and needy. He leaned his forehead against McKay's shoulder as he stood, just briefly, like he couldn't stop himself. John shook his head stubbornly. "Then come on." Brian's shoulders tightened at the words, but he started moving for the door. McKay followed, pushing John ahead of him, leaning close to growl in his ear. "But if you're coming, you shut up and you don't interfere."
"It's my job to protect you, McKay."
McKay snorted in his ear. "It's not me you're going to want to protect."
***
Brian ignored the astonished looks on the dancers as he stepped through the crowd toward the door. He could feel McKay's presence solid and forceful behind him, was aware of the stranger between them. He lowered his head, relaxed his shoulders, and shortened his steps into a submissive posture as he stepped through the door. The bouncer on the door had been around last time McKay was in town, and just grinned. Brian flicked a smile at him, smirked at the memory of the utterly stunned expression that had still been lurking on McKay’s protector's face when he stopped them. It had been overlaid with resolve, but the shock had still been there.
Wherever McKay had been, he'd been hiding this part of his nature.
It was interesting, along with McKay needing protection, but not actually important. The only important thing right now was the flutter in his stomach and the thrill of anticipation running through his veins. He pictured the look on McKay's face as he'd dropped to his knees in the middle of the dance floor, felt a shiver down his spine.
He could feel the stranger's eyes on him, boring into his back, and couldn't bring himself to care.
***
"So what exactly did you have in mind?'
He'd met McKay at the man's hotel room; apparently the college was willing to shell out for nice accommodations on top of everything else. When he'd asked why, McKay had muttered something about death threats and the school wanting him to stay outside of general residence, which he supposed made sense in a fucked up kind of way. He had the feeling that everything about McKay needed to be viewed through glasses as skewed as he was.
"Think of this, as a hands-on course." McKay told him, stripping off his suit jacket and tossing it absently on the bed. His T-shirt was a bright blue that brought out his eyes. "There's no better teacher than practical experience." He turned and watched Brian with unnerving intensity. "Kneel," he said.
"What?"
McKay's face thinned down with displeasure, his eyes grew arctic. "I don't like repeating myself."
"Look, maybe..."
McKay reached him in one long step, anchoring a hand behind his neck and stepping into him hard, pushing him back against the wall. Through some trick of balance and skill, he had Brian pinned and just that one important inch below him so he could look down at him, so he could dominate. "Who’s in charge, Brian?"
Brian gulped, unable to look away from those icy blue eyes. "You are," he ground out reluctantly. McKay released him.
"Strip, then," he commanded, and Brian slowly obeyed. McKay took the opportunity to remove his shoes, socks, and belt, ultimately facing Brian's nudity still dressed in his jeans, t-shirt and bare feet. Brian shivered a little under the weight of the regard and his unaccustomed vulnerability.
"In order for you to be good at being a top, you need to know why something works. You need to know how it feels, how to make it feel good, *beyond* good. You need to know what felt good for you." McKay paused, snorted a little at himself. "Well, ok, you don't have to. Most don't. They just go with whatever they want. Idiots." He pierced Brian with a glare. "If you want to be the best on top, you need to understand the bottom." Brian frowned. "And to do that, you need to learn how to kneel."
Brian opened his mouth to object.
McKay stopped the words with his mouth, taking his lips firmly but not bruisingly, consuming him with the kiss. Brian felt a hand behind his neck again, bringing him closer, and he moaned back in his throat. The fingers tightened, sliding forward until they splayed just over his collarbone, thumb pressing against his spine. With the things McKay was doing to his mouth, he barely noticed. The fingers flexed.
An instant later, Brian found himself on his knees, his breath leaving him in a rush of arousal. His back arched involuntarily, and he moved further into the hands holding him in place. He opened his eyes, searching for McKay's face and finding it looking back at him impassively. "Oh, my god," he breathed out. "How did you do that?"
Instead of answering, McKay took a half-step to the side. "Look," he said, gesturing.
The hotel room, as most, featured mirrors. One on the door, one on the wall, and Brian found himself looking at his own reflection from three feet away. He looked... he looked...
He looked *amazing*.
His knees had spread when he hit the floor, involuntarily falling into a perfect triangle. His bare chest heaved, skin flushed and already damp with sweat. His hair fell over his forehead; his eyes were dark and hot with sex. His mouth was open, lips red and wet from McKay's kiss. The dark hair on his stomach was a perfect arrow to his dick, hard and aching at the apex of that triangle. McKay stood just to the side, facing him with that cold look on his face, jeans and t-shirt a pointed statement of power.
God. Brian could barely breathe, it was so hot.
"Now," McKay said. "Arms behind your back." He reached into the dresser beside him and pulled out what looked like leather bracelets. Dazed, still staring at his reflection, Brian obeyed. McKay dropped to one knee beside him, slid the bracers over his wrists and tied them in place with businesslike briskness. He regained his feet. Brian tugged at the restraints a little. The burn and release of his muscles against the resistance felt... it felt... it felt...
He looked up at McKay, panting helplessly in a combination of arousal and fear. McKay slid a hand into his hair, cradling his head gently. Brian leaned into the hold, watching McKay's face. The cold eyes didn't soften.
"This is how you learn how to kneel." McKay shook him by the neck, just a little. Just enough to show that he could. Brian shuddered, his whole body bowing at the sensation that struck right down inside. Something he hadn't known was there answered to this. "And that is *why*."
Brian looked back at the mirror. And *saw*. "Oh, yeah," he said, looking up at McKay hotly, really meaning it this time. "Oh, yeah, you're in charge."
McKay smiled at him coldly. "I didn't say you could talk," he said.
****
John stared at Brian's wide shoulders and wondered what the hell he'd done when he agreed to come along. Something he'd regret, undoubtedly.
"Okay, Brian. You've made your point. Stop, now." McKay said suddenly as he came even with John. His voice was soft but the words clipped.
Immediately, Brian lifted his head and shook himself head to toe. His walk changed to a loose-limbed, easy hipped saunter that swayed his whole body in a way that just shouted 'sex'. John blinked. McKay ignored the change, held out his hand and snapped his fingers once. Brian grinned, dropped a set of keys into the outstretched fingers. McKay unhesitatingly stopped beside a new black Jeep and opened the door. Brian laughed a low, rich sound that made John shiver. "How'd you know it was mine?"
McKay rolled his eyes and pulled the driver's seat forward. Brian swung into the backseat with supple grace, leaving John shotgun. He shrugged, moved around to the passenger door and got in. McKay was already revving the engine. Brian's lips twitched as if he wanted to frown but the smile wouldn't let him. "It's the prettiest fuck-mobile on the street. It had to be yours."
"My other car's a Corvette."
"Of course it is." He peeled out in a squeal of tires, pitching them all back against the seats.
"I would like to have this one back, once you're done with it," Brian said silkily, leaning forward, bracing his arms along the back of the seat and placing his hand on McKay's shoulder. McKay shot him a glare and popped the clutch, throwing Brian back in the seat again. Brian just laughed, sprawling bonelessly across the leather. "Fucking McKAY!" He shouted at the roof of the car, curling his arms around his stomach as he laughed. "I couldn't believe it when I saw you! I thought you were gone, gone, gone."
"I'm back for a conference." McKay's lips twisted into a crooked smile. "Particle physics and applications to the seamless transmission of discrete packets of matter."
Brian gave another bark of laughter, reaching into his pocket for a package of cigarettes and a lighter. "I think I did the publicity for that, come to think of it." He lit up with the ease of long practice, blowing a perfect stream of smoke. "Transporters, huh?" He took another long drag as McKay rolled down the window. "Haven't seen you publish anything in the last four years, and you're doing a talk on transporters." He jerked his head to clear his hair from his eyes. John stared at him, mentally revising his opinion of the guy's brains. Brian flashed him a sultry smile. "I'd have expected inter-dimensional or temporal mechanics at the very least."
McKay grinned fiercely, watching Brian in the rear-view mirror. He lifted his hand, and Brian passed him the cigarette in a motion so automatic it looked rehearsed. "Well," he said, "They won't let me talk about any of that." He flicked the cigarette out the window. Brian just grinned and lit another.
"They." Brian gestured at John in a motion both graceful and dismissive. "He one of 'they'?"
McKay glanced at John, clearly considering exactly what to say. His eyes flared blue as they passed under another streetlight. "This is John," he finally said, smoothly enough. "We're friends. And he's here to protect me this trip. We've had issues the last couple of times I was in the States."
Stung, John narrowed his eyes. "Hey! At least one of those times it was in Vancouver," he muttered. McKay shrugged.
"Truthfully, it's a lot more dangerous for me at home than here," he admitted. "I live on what is pretty much a military base most of the time." His fingers drummed restlessly against the steering wheel as they stopped for a red light. "American military," he added casually.
"Hmmmmm." Brian raked his gaze over John appraisingly. "Ha! Flyboy, right?" His smile widened, turned predatory. John smirked back, the bright empty one he used on superior officers. Brian laughed. "You look kind of familiar. Were you ever stationed in Pittsburgh?"
McKay lifted his head, looked into the mirror, and caught Brian's eyes. "Brian." Nothing else, just his name. A dark flush spread over Brian's cheekbones as their gazes locked.
***
Fucking Christ. Just his name, and Brian was hard in his pants, reacting like a fucking teenager watching his first porn. Just his name, in that conversational tone, soft over steel. The tone that didn't sound like command, didn't have to, because the command was just there.
He realised it with a soft jolt of recognition. He had that voice. It was the voice he used with Justin.
Nervously, Brian licked his lips. McKay's eyes held his in the mirror with the force of a super magnet, the message in them absolutely clear. There would be no fucking around with John. The thought of defying him was heady; he couldn't help wondering what he could goad McKay into if he used this John as leverage.
McKay saw him thinking it, raised his brows just a little. The threat was there, oh yes. If he pushed this, McKay wouldn't give him punishment. No, if he pushed this, McKay wouldn't give him anything at all. Brian swallowed, hard.
Now, that was unthinkable.
***
"You know," Brian gasped breathlessly as McKay did something wickedly sinful and wildly erotic to his neck, bracing himself on one hand and gripping Brian's shoulder tightly. "I'm a top."
McKay laughed, fingers tightening and rolling him expertly onto his stomach, pinning him there with his weight and sinking his teeth into the bulge of muscle between his shoulder and neck. Brian sucked in a breath and arched his back involuntarily against McKay's thighs, wondering disjointedly if his head was going to actually explode with the surge of sensation. McKay let go, nudged his nose under Brian's hair until he was breathing into his ear, short, controlled pants. His hands were busy on Brian's hips, tilting him just *so*. "Yeah," he muttered, amusement laid thickly over the heat of arousal. "That's what all the biggest bottoms say."
He thrust, and took the top of Brian's head off in one glorious burst of white.
***
John watched the silent exchange with more than a little disquiet. He'd seen McKay face down all sorts of people, all sorts of things, but this was something entirely different.
Also, none of those had been when he was driving.
After a long moment, he decided it had gone on long enough. "Watch the road, McKay. I'd like to get to wherever in one piece." To his surprise, it was Brian who looked away first, ducking his head a little, flicking his lashes in a brief glance at John before returning to watch the side of McKay's face. Some fleeting emotion flickered across the gorgeous features much too fast for John to name.
"He has no idea, does he?" Brian finally broke the silence, voice darkly amused. McKay arched an eyebrow at him in the mirror. "Who you are, underneath it all?"
"He comes closer than most." He laughed a sharp bark with a thread of bitterness. "But no. Not the way you mean. No."
"You sure he's ready to find out?"
"He is sitting right here," John snapped. Brian just smirked and blew a stream of smoke at him.
"Your friends seem to like me as much as ever,” McKay gave a smirk of his own as he changed the subject. Brian frowned at him. "Martin looked particularly annoyed," he clarified.
Brian's face cleared. "Michael. Ah," he said. "Them." He waved his hand. "Fuck 'em."
"I believe that's how we arrived at them not liking me in the first place." Brian grunted his agreement, taking another drag. John shook his head.
"They don't like you cause you slept with them?" He totally felt as though most of this conversation was in code.
"Oh, no. They don't like me because I refused to." McKay's smirk became a grin that was gleefully malicious. He hit the turn signal, thigh muscles bunching as he downshifted smoothly, pulling into a parking spot in front of a non-descript reclaimed industrial building.
****
"What the hell are you *doing* with him, Brian? He's an asshole! Pretty enough I suppose, but still, *asshole*." Michael hissed angrily. Brian slung an arm around his neck, pulling him in close to his body, using his heat and size to soothe his friend as he'd done so many times. Michael shoved at him half-heartedly. McKay glanced up from across the club, scanning the crowd with ice-cold eyes that stopped on Brian's. He felt his body relax even more, reflexively sinking into that place where only McKay mattered, where he existed only for what McKay would give him. The laser-like gaze moved on, and Brian almost sagged with its passing. He blinked. "Jesus, Brian!" This time when Michael shoved he meant it, and Brian stood up with an aggrieved sigh. "What kind of fucking spell has this guy put on you that you're acting like this?"
Brian shrugged, irritated. "So he's an asshole. In case you haven't noticed," he leaned into Michael's space, as if imparting a secret, "*I'm* an asshole."
"Oh, I've noticed."
"Plus, he fucks like a champion." He pulled out a cigarette, lit it absently.
"I wouldn't know," Michael groused sourly.
"And you never will, Martin." McKay slid against Brian's side, reaching for the cigarette. Brian handed it over immediately, automatically reaching for another for himself, signalled the bartender for another drink. Michael's face darkened with fury.
"It's *Michael*, and I wouldn't want to anyway," he managed to grind out. Brian sighed, knowing already there was no good way for this to end.
"That's convenient." McKay lifted his chin, took the offered drink, caught the bartender's attention with a rapid snap of fingers, flipped him a bill with a quick gesture to indicate he was buying for all of them. He gave Michael a sidelong look from under thick lashes. "Since I don't fuck bottoms anyway." He knocked back the drink, pursed his lips as Brian choked on his scotch and Michael turned even redder. "Not unless they're blond." He tapped on the wrist of the still spluttering Brian before Michael could come up with a retort. "I'm done for tonight." He spun on his heel, strode across the floor towards the door. The dancers peeled out of his way, closed back in when he passed, as if he moved in a force field of his own making.
Brian supposed he did, come to think of it. He swallowed the rest of his drink and followed, ignoring Michael's choked rage behind him. The crowd moved for him a lot more reluctantly than for McKay, and despite his haste it was a good thirty feet past the door before he caught up. Even then, it helped that McKay had stopped to light a cigarette. Brian braced himself.
"I want to go with you tonight."
McKay looked up as his lighter flared, the yellow light turning his eyes black instead of their usual slate blue. "Where?"
Brian firmed his back, straightened his shoulders, used his height. "Home."
McKay snorted. "I don't have a home." He blew a plume of smoke into the night air, watched it idly.
Brian licked his lips. "Anywhere, then. Anywhere at all."
That got McKay's attention, brought his gaze snapping back to Brian's face. His eyes narrowed, and then his lips twisted in a grim smile as he rubbed a hand over his mouth. He leaned into Brian's body, curled his other hand around the back of Brian's neck. The fingers tightened just enough for Brian to feel the bite. McKay nuzzled his nose behind Brian's ear. Brian closed his eyes, lowered his head to McKay's shoulder helplessly. "Kneel," he breathed into Brian's ear.
He obeyed without thinking, dropping to his knees in the middle of the alley, leaning into McKay's hand, into his thigh. The slush on the ground was a cold dampness seeping into the fabric of his jeans, but when McKay's hand slipped to his cheek, thumb pushing boldly into his mouth, he couldn't bring himself to care. "Such an eager student," McKay crooned. "I suppose I could be convinced to give you some more lessons."
Brian stared up at him, swallowed hard, his tongue moving against the pad of McKay's thumb. McKay shifted slightly, setting his feet more solidly against the ground. He curled his fingers under the edge of Brian's jaw, the pressure urging him back to his feet. Brian stood. It took him a moment to gather his nerve, because McKay might take this the wrong way and Brian was not at *all* ready for this to be over. McKay was striding away, not waiting for him to follow, taking another drag on his cigarette. Brian trotted to catch up, falling into step beside him.
"Why?" He finally blurted out. "Why are you doing this?"
McKay looked surprised at the question. He flicked his cigarette to the side, ground it out against the pavement.
Brian persisted. "Really. Why?"
"For the best reason there is," McKay told him. Brian arched an eyebrow at him, and he smiled crookedly in response. "Because I want to."
****
John felt the tension build across his shoulders as he stepped into the industrial elevator. The fact McKay had driven them straight here meant that they weren't walking into a trap, but a part of his brain insisted that there was trouble here. Looking at McKay, looking at this Brian guy leaning against McKay like he was the only support in the universe, he knew that little part of his brain was right. This was trouble.
Not like Genii trouble. More like earthshaking, groundbreaking, never go back to the way things were before kind of trouble. Christ, what was he thinking, letting Rodney come here?
McKay ran his hand absently over Brian's hip, making him actually lean his chin on McKay's shoulder. Right.
After all, Rodney had told him not to come. He really should have listened.
John blinked, returned to studying the walls of the elevator.
"It's a refurbished building," McKay said suddenly, and John realised he'd noticed John's preoccupation. "Turned into urban lofts." The elevator stopped and Brian lifted the cage, rapidly turning off the alarm and opening the door. "Pretty impressive, actually."
Stepping into the loft, John had to agree. "Nice decor," he offered slowly. Brian snorted, heading for the mid-room kitchenette.
"Keeps me off the floor," he said, then grinned a slow, lascivious stretch of lips. "Mostly." He pulled down glasses from the cabinet over the sink. "What'll you have to drink?" He opened a bottle of scotch, poured two generous tumblers, cocked an eyebrow at John.
"Uh. Beer, if you've got it." Brian nodded, opened the fridge. "Mind if I look around?" McKay was already following the perimeter of the room, looking closely at the paintings and drawings on the walls. Brian shrugged, flicked the cap off a Molson Canadian and handed it over. John smirked at the bottle and they exchanged a look of shared amusement. McKay turned, snapped his fingers for his drink.
John followed his path around the room, enjoying the silence after the pounding music at the club. He snuck glances at McKay, still making his circuit of the room. Brian had taken his own drink to the very modern armchair in the minimally defined seating area and had spun it so that he faced the middle of the room. He watched McKay silently, his face unreadable. John turned his attention back to the art on the walls. It was excellent. John tipped his beer bottle, took a long drink. The cold beer slid down his throat eagerly. He flicked another glance at McKay.
He was relaxing, the tension slowly but surely draining from the lines of his body, to be replaced with an entirely different kind of energy. Usually he would look smaller as he smoothed out, but this time as he let go McKay was becoming more. This time it was like all that vibrant energy was building into something explosive.
"Where's Justin?" McKay asked it softly, unexpectedly, velvet over steel.
Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Brian jerk slightly, reach up to rub his chest. "New York," the answer came a long beat later. McKay pursed his lips and nodded, scanned the room restlessly. Brian scrubbed his hand through his hair. "I'm impressed you remembered his name."
McKay's lips twisted into something that could have been a smile on any other day. "I remember the important ones, Brian."
Brian sucked in a breath, and then stood in a contained swirl of motion. Tension radiated from him. He stared at McKay hotly, like he was made of jumpers and Ferris wheels and chocolate all at once. McKay held his gaze impassively, finally flicking a glance at John.
Suddenly John felt tired. Whatever happened, regardless of whether it was a bad idea, he'd chosen to be here, and whatever it was, he could handle it. "Rodney," he said, "Give the man what he wants."
Both men turned to look at him with identical looks of irritation and offense. It was clear that, good intentions or not, that had been the wrong thing to say. "What?" McKay asked irritably. John took another swig of his beer, a smaller one this time, and tried again.
"Tell you what, McKay," he said, dropping into the cushions at the darkest end of the couch so that he could watch the door and the room. "I'll just be over here."
McKay narrowed his eyes, searching his face intently. John kept his expression blank and open, comfortably drinking his beer. Brian smiled crookedly. When McKay spoke he was already moving.
"Brian, can you get John a couple more beers? We're going to be here a while."
***
The anticipation was killing him.
He watched McKay out of the corner of his eyes, watched him circle the room again, watched him shedding that other person little bit by little bit. The silence that should have been awkward was instead charged with electric tension.
John had accepted his six-pack of beers with a head-tilt and a rueful grin and had done his best to become invisible on the couch. Brian appreciated the effort. Frankly he'd rather the man left entirely, but he got it, he did. He was McKay's bodyguard, McKay's friend, and he wasn't going anywhere. But, at least he'd decided not to actively interfere, either. He looked pretty on the couch, all dark hair and dark lines sprawled against the white cushions. Brian licked his lips, considered again using him to force McKay into action. He surveyed John again, the sweep of dark lashes against cheekbones, the pull of t-shirt across chest, the working of his adam's apple as he drank. He pursed his lips, turned to look at McKay.
Ok, yeah.
No contest.
McKay had finally turned from the artwork, was watching him watch John from across the room. He stood at just the right angle that his eyes reflected the light, making them glint coldly. He was close, so close to the surface that Brian could almost taste him already. With McKay looking at him like that, there was no one else in the room. Maybe Justin could compete, but Justin wasn't here.
John might be the most amazing fuck in the world, but ultimately it would be the same thing he could get damned near anywhere else. Only one person could do this to him. Only McKay.
Brian sidled closer, his fingers coming up to the buttons on his shirt.
****
"What's with the name thing?"
McKay lifted his eyes to meet Brian's, hips moving smoothly, lips parted and wet. He took a breath, shoved hard. Brian moaned, eyes fluttering closed. "Am I boring you?" he asked, warning clear in his voice.
"No." Brian gasped, tried to gain some measure of control as his fingers scrabbled at the headboard. The silk ropes binding his wrists together over his head gave just enough to prevent him from catching hold. "More, please?"
McKay rocked back, hands pressing Brian's thighs wider, making him clench more tightly. Even with all the lube it was on the edge of painful, riding that shining line of too much. "What name thing?" He sounded almost conversational, utterly in control. Brian arched, shuddered. "Answer me, Brian. What name thing?"
"You..." He gasped as McKay flexed against the backs of his legs, compelled to answer by the command. "You. Don't remember. Names."
McKay leaned over him, licking a long stripe up his chest and setting his teeth against his nipple, hard. Brian jerked against his ropes, muscles clenching across his ribs, rewarded by a hiss of breath as he tightened even further around McKay's length. "Names are irrelevant," he whispered into Brian's ear, fingers gripping his hips hard, pressing new bruises over old. It felt so fantastic Brian almost swooned. "Mostly. Mine counts, of course."
Brian smiled involuntarily, opening his eyes to see McKay directly above him, staring down at him with that blend of heat and ice that no one else could ever pull off. God, it was hot. "You.." McKay thrust, cutting off the thought. Stubbornly he breathed through the burst of sensation, kept his eyes open as McKay's narrowed. "You remember." He grinned, huffed a noise that might have been a laugh if McKay wasn't fucking the breath out of him. "Mine. Must be ‘cause you like me."
McKay shook his head in amusement, the look on his face almost pitying. "No, not because I like you." He lifted Brian's hips, covered his mouth with one broad hand, and drove into him with all the weight and power in his body. For one long moment, Brian wondered if he'd ever breathe again. His body tightened into a single point of concentration, a singularity of breathless sensation, and then... detonation. He came like he was breaking apart at the seams, like he could never be put back together again. McKay moved his hands to hold his head in place, staring straight into his eyes through the incredible overload of sensations, until Brian was sure he had no secrets left. McKay had plundered them all.
"Not because I like you," McKay told him seriously as he started rocking his hips, started arousing him all over again. "Because I own you."
Part Three
Part Four