Fic: Thanks for the Memories (4/4)
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
Part Two
Part Three
Thanks for the Memories (4/4)
McKay knelt over Brian, caging him with arms and thighs, his hand still tracing patterns on his chest and stomach. Brian closed his eyes, clearly struggling, trying to force himself to move away from McKay's hands. "Go on," McKay urged, soft and steely. "Your restraints are waiting."
John watched Brian's fists flex rhythmically, saw him take a deep breath, and only when they moved in unison did he realise he'd been unconsciously copying the other man. Brian wriggled slowly out from under McKay, obviously fighting to continue moving as McKay trailed his fingers along his sides, thighs, even his erection. John was captured by a combination of the rapidly working alcohol and the play of those clever fingers against Brian's pale skin. He followed the line of McKay's arm to the heavy muscle of his shoulder, to his face.
He expected heat, or aggression, or maybe playfulness. Instead he found McKay watching Brian's efforts with a calm, dispassionate gaze, cold. The angle of his view slimmed McKay's face, showing him what he must have looked like fifteen years ago. McKay's lashes cast shadows over his cheekbones, the light spiking through them just enough to light his eyes. Every brush of his fingertips across Brian's skin was deliberate, calculated to torment.
Brian made it the last couple of inches away, sat up, pressed his lips to McKay's in a hard, desperate movement. John lifted the bottle to his lips at the same moment, drank deeply as Brian licked into McKay's mouth. They pulled away in unison.
John closed his eyes, forced himself to relax into the spinning in his head. His free hand slid to his waistband and flicked the button open, reached for his zipper.
In front of him, Brian was rummaging through a dresser, pulling out leather cuffs as McKay leaned against the oversized doorframe marginally defining the bedroom. From his vantage point, John could see the whole room, but his attention was fixed, consumed by the long line of McKay's muscular back, the white roundness of his full ass. John had seen fucking statues less beautiful in that moment than McKay was. All he could think of was running his hands over that pale skin, tasting the heat running through that body. If he'd wanted to be drunk enough to enjoy himself, he'd certainly succeeded.
This was hot, it was gorgeous, it was fucking awesome. He knew he was right on the edge, though, right on the fucking edge of making a decision he wouldn't be able to take back. He could open another beer, he could watch the show, he could tell his brain to back the hell off and give him some goddamned room to breathe, or he could fall over that edge and never be able to see McKay the same way again.
McKay straightened and entered the bedroom, taking his excellent ass with him. He joined Brian on the bed, wrapping the leather bracers around Brian's wrists, stretching his arms over his head and fastening them in some hidden way, placing them both in profile to John. He shoved Brian onto his back, draped Brian's legs over his shoulders then gripped his thighs and pulled until Brian was stretched flat, straining the ropes. Brian moaned loudly.
McKay looked up the length of Brian's body with a wicked grin, then swallowed Brian's erection in one abrupt movement, eyes never leaving Brian's face. Brian arched helplessly, twisting against the leather cuffs with a strangled shout. John huffed a shocked, aroused breath and plummeted over the edge.
John slid his hand into the front of his pants and groaned as his hand closed around his erection.
He was so screwed.
As usual, it felt fucking fantastic.
****
McKay's mouth was a tight circle of heaven surrounding his cock. Brian lunged upwards, or tried to. McKay's hands pinned his hips, his shoulders pressing into the back of Brian's thighs, denying him leverage. As he withdrew, McKay gave the tiniest scrape of teeth, sending starbursts of sensation stuttering up his skin, along with a thread of healthy fear.
Not that McKay would actually hurt him.
Then again, McKay had changed...
Brian looked down, met McKay's eyes just as his mouth pulled free. The hunger was there, naked in a way Brian hadn't seen before, but it was still banked behind that cold control that Brian couldn't get enough of. That icy restraint that made him so fucking hot he felt like his heart would beat out of his chest. Made him want to break it, just to see...
McKay pushed up onto his knees, placed a hand against his thigh and rolled him expertly onto his stomach. There was the familiar click of the lube, the crinkle of foil, and all the while McKay pushing his buttons; teeth harsh against his ribs and the jut of his hip, a hand pushing deeply on the small of his back, driving him into the mattress and giving him just enough friction to drown him in wanting more. A moment later, knees nudged his thighs apart and fingers prodded at his ass, sliding inside and working him roughly. He hissed at the burn, swallowed hard.
He wanted more. He wanted more now.
"It's been a long time," he gasped out. McKay leaned over him.
"I didn't say you could talk," he ground out, the strain of holding back clear in his voice.
Brian huffed a breath, shuddered. McKay's fingers continued to glide inside him, stretching him with careful precision. Some little demon prodded him. "Just... Go slow," he muttered.
McKay stilled, withdrew his hand, ignoring the whimper of protest Brian couldn't keep in his chest. He could feel those icy eyes boring into his back, tiny ripples of sensation spreading from where McKay's other hand was splayed across his lower back. Brian lifted his head, looked in the mirror. McKay looked up as he did, their eyes locking. His lips compressed, his eyes narrowed, and he moved with pure deliberation, shifting his weight against Brian to force his knees wider, to position his legs tightly against the back of Brian's thighs. "What?" His voice was a low threat. His hands moved to grip Brian's hips, fingers flexing hard against the soft skin there.
Brian licked his lips. "Go slow," he repeated, braced himself.
McKay's eyes hardened into blue ice, his fingers tightened even more. "No," he said, and thrust.
Brian rocked with the impact, his body bucking back against McKay's bulk even as his mind blanked. He was barely aware of the noises he was making, his whole world spiralled down into the burn of the too-rapid penetration and the white sparks of ecstasy as McKay drove himself over the sweet spot. His hands clenched into fists, twisting the leather cuffs around his wrists. His body pushed back against McKay's weight, his arms pulled him forward, away from the burst of pain. Brian hung suspended between the two warring impulses.
McKay's hand slid up the length of his back to the back of his neck, offering what might have passed for a caress before sliding around to the front and closing tightly over his windpipe. Not enough to cut off his breath, or even enough to hurt, but enough to feel the pressure digging in. Enough to feel the threat. Enough for McKay to use as leverage. Enough to let him pull back slowly, push in again, hard. Enough to break the tie between the pleasure and the pain.
God, enough to make him come.
When he came back to himself he was gasping, straining against the grip McKay had on his throat. McKay kneaded his fingers against Brian's hip, rested his forehead against Brian's shoulder blade, and rode out the last tremors. McKay released his throat, raked his hand over Brian's chest, twisted his nipple. Brian growled. McKay leaned forward, resting his lips against Brian's ear, whispering hoarsely. "I want to feel you move," he said. "I want to fuck you into submission, just the way you like it." Brian felt his dick stir, again. He moaned. McKay rocked a little, just enough to send multi-coloured sparks dancing behind his eyes. "Come on, come on," McKay goaded. Brian could hear the bared teeth. "Struggle."
Brian gathered his strength, threw himself into fighting the restraints, fighting the weight holding him down. His muscles bunched and he pulled hard, hearing the ropes sing into tautness. He jerked against them, the flex and release of his shoulders and arms feeling incredible. He put the rest of his weight into it, shifting to try and get his knees under him, to gain some leverage. McKay laughed in his ear, used his thighs to knock him flat again, still plastered the length of his body, still seated deep inside. He pulled back with Brian's heaves, thrust back inside with brutal snaps of his hips, sending ricochets of pleasure and pain screaming through Brian's body, stroking him higher and higher. By the time Brian exhausted his strength he was panting, dripping with sweat... and achingly hard. .
"Do you yield?" McKay had to be out of breath too, but his voice was calm and even in Brian's ear. Brian tensed, shook against his restraints like a shark on a line. The ropes twanged but held. McKay leaned harder between his shoulder blades, stretching the overworked muscles even further. The ache was bliss. He dragged his hands with agonizing slowness down Brian's heaving sides, settling fingers into well-accustomed places on Brian's hips. He was tense against Brian's back, ready for anything. "Do you yield?" He repeated, harder. A threat.
Brian swallowed hard, his mouth still open and gasping for air. McKay's hand left his hip, fastened around the back of his neck, gave him a tiny shake.
God, McKay always knew exactly what he needed.
Like a switch being thrown, every muscle in his body relaxed, became pliant. Brian breathed out in a sigh, sinking into the mattress in a loose-limbed sprawl. McKay's weight covered him like a blanket, pushing him deeper into the mattress. McKay peeled free, withdrew from his body. Brian groaned his dismay chasing him with his hips, and McKay chuckled softly before turning him onto his back.
"Feeling better?" McKay tilted his head. "Answer me."
Brian nodded slowly, licking his lips and looked up at McKay hotly. "More," he breathed, fuck, just wanting.
McKay's nostrils flared, his lashes sweeping down to cover the expression in his eyes. "More," he agreed, and started taking Brian apart again.
****
Brian stood in front of the mirror on the back of McKay's door, surveying the damage with a kind of complicated awe. Dark splotches in the shape of fingers decorated the planes of his ribs and pecs, more bruises in the form of bite marks stood out starkly against the pale skin of his neck, collarbone, and shoulders. He'd been shocked at the sight, not so much because of the sheer number and variety of bruises, but because he hadn't actually felt them at the time. Slowly he turned, looking over his shoulder at his back, gasped a little. A long line of bite bruises ran across the width of his shoulders, down the sweep of his spine, forming an upper case T. There were two wide sets of marks bracketing his ass; the imprint of McKay's splayed hands pressed deep into flesh. The crowning glory was a wide purple starburst set spectacularly into the join of shoulder and neck, where it looked as though McKay had considered tearing out his throat, maybe. He shrugged just a little, and the muscle under that burst of colour protested sluggishly. Now that he could see them, they started to hurt.
A soft noise from the bathroom had him turning his head, eyes still wide. McKay was looking at him, his own eyes a little wild at the sight. "Brian." He took a deep breath, seemed to struggle for the right words. He finally settled on, "You ok?"
Brian grinned at him, a wide open smile he couldn't hold back. "Never better."
Some emotion flitted across McKay's face too quickly for Brian to pin down. "Really," he said wryly, reaching out with one finger and tracing the outline of the bites on his back. "Well," he muttered, "I don't remember you complaining."
Brian heard the unspoken question. "It was fantastic," he replied then ran his eyes over the hickeys on his neck and jaw line. "Though the guy who's been checking me out all semester is going to be quite put out. He'll probably hate you forever."
McKay's lips twitched in amusement. "Fuck him."
"Oh, I fully intend to." Brian stretched, hissing at the pull of abused muscles. McKay scrubbed a hand over his mouth at the sound, started to step past him to return to the bedroom. Brian turned, stepped, pushed him against the wall with his body. McKay looked at him with surprise edged with irritation. "Come on, McKay," Brian said in a low, dark voice. "I'm bigger than you. I'm stronger than you. You really think I would still be here if I didn't want to be?"
McKay glared up at him. This close, the stare was beyond intimidating, and Brian had to fight against his desire to back up. Instead he held his ground, leaning into McKay, challenging him openly. McKay finally smirked a little. "Sure you would," he said. "I'm Canadian. Even *maps* say my natural place is topping you."
Brian laughed, rested his head against McKay's shoulder. The respite from that cold stare was an outright relief, though he realised that joke or not, he'd looked away first. He had the feeling that if he looked up, McKay would still have not blinked. "Well," he said as he lifted his head. "Who am I to disagree with cartographers everywhere?" Deliberately he slid down McKay's body. McKay's hand moved automatically to his shoulder, cupping the back of his neck, and as it slid across that broad bruise the muscle lit up with a deep aching pain. Brian groaned, his whole body jerking in reaction, his dick springing to attention. McKay pulled away, but Brian stopped him, placed his hand back on the bruise and *pressed* until the ache blossomed, rolling through his nerve endings. "Don't," he said hoarsely. "I love it. I love them all." He closed his eyes. "More."
McKay shifted, and Brian opened his eyes to see him checking his watch. "It's eight thirty," he said. "My first class is at one." When he smiled, the slow stretch of lips made adrenaline shiver across Brian's exposed skin. "I guess it's going to be a long morning."
****
John had always thought of McKay as a bit of a bumbler when it came to sex. God knew he had enough evidence for the opinion, but holy shit had he been wrong in that assessment.
Watching McKay master Brian's body had been just about the hottest thing he'd ever seen. He braced a hand between Brian's shoulder blades, pinned him with his greater breadth and weight, and fucked him into utter submission. If he hadn't seen Brian's willingness, hell, his eagerness, if he hadn't promised not to interfere...
He'd still be fucking fantasizing about it. He'd just also be interfering. Pulling McKay off the other man, maybe using those leather restraint cuffs on him instead.
And wasn't that a thought he never expected to be so goddamned hot.
McKay rolled Brian expertly onto his back, murmured to him softly. Brian looked up at him, and John could see his blown pupils and eager panting from here.
John watched McKay ease back inside Brian, his hand moving in time with McKay's strokes. Every thrust in, every slow draw back felt like it was occurring around his own dick. His head was buzzing with the effects of the beer that he was still drinking as if it was water and he was parched, but every time he looked at the muscles of McKay's back bunching and releasing, every time he saw McKay's teeth set into Brian's flesh his throat would go dry and he'd reach for the bottle again.
John finished his sixth bottle and set it down on the table, his hand never slowing.
McKay lifted a little, pushed Brian's legs as wide as they would go. He pulled on Brian's hips, heaving hard until Brian's groans held just a thread of pain from the uncomfortable stretch of shoulders and arms over his head. He bowed his head, rested his forehead against Brian's breastbone, and started to thrust in earnest. Deep and racking, it made his earlier efforts seem gentle.
Brian's breath left him, and he started to gasp helplessly with every shove. McKay lifted his head enough to set his teeth at Brian's throat, to reach between them with one large hand. He gripped Brian's dick hard, jerking him in time. John's hand tightened too, and the three of them moved together for an endless moment before Brian and McKay groaned together, a drawn out sound of ecstasy that vibrated from John's ears through his skull and straight to his groin, whiting him out in a wash of bliss.
The first sensation he was aware of when his breath returned to normal was that his hand was sticky. And cold.
And wet.
John wrinkled his nose and looked around, ultimately picking a dry, presumably clean towel from the treadmill beside the couch. He wiped his hands and stomach, tucked himself back inside his pants, and wondered hazily how the hell he was ever going to look at his best friend again without remembering the best orgasm he'd had in years, without picturing him staring down at Brian blowing him, without imagining him naked and electric and so fucking hot... He took a deep breath.
McKay moved off of Brian's sated body, stroking thick fingers over soft bruises. Brian rolled into him as much as the restraints would allow, curving against the McKay's bulk. He nuzzled McKay's neck, rested his head into the curve of shoulder. McKay quickly disposed of the condom, returning to petting Brian gently.
Or, he could just torture himself remembering that instead.
He was so goddamned screwed.
His cell phone rang.
McKay's head came up, Brian's thudded back against his pillow with an aggrieved mutter. John scrambled for the phone, blinking as the number swam before his beer-fuddled eyes. Heh. Maybe he was actually drunk enough to forget all this. He closed his eyes, heard again that deep groan of satisfaction that had marked McKay's orgasm. His dick twitched in his pants.
Ok. So forgetting was out.
His phone rang again, and he flipped it open with a sigh. "Yeah." McKay swung his legs over the side of the bed, head turning as he looked for his clothes. "Yeah, yeah. We're on our way to the hotel." The voice on the other end of the cell asked if he wanted Daedalus to pick them straight up. "No! Jesus, no... we have to pick up our gear. We'll call soon as we're ready." McKay watched him hang up. "We need to go."
McKay nodded.
"I'll, uh," John cast desperately for a reason to leave. One that would actually make sense, given that he really should have nothing left to be freaking out about. The thought had him on the verge of hyperventilating again. McKay took pity on him.
"How about you call the elevator for us? I'll be right there."
Yeah. Ultimately, that was what John was afraid of.
He gathered his last beer protectively to his chest and headed for the elevator.
***
McKay watched his bodyguard, friend, whatever, head out the door with an unreadable expression. Brian didn't care. He stretched carefully, feeling the burn through muscles unused to this particular flavour of exercise. He smiled sleepily as McKay tugged against the restraints, rolled over on his stomach and buried his face in his pillow. He heard the heavy rustle of denim as McKay gathered his clothes.
"You're not as cold as you used to be," he muttered lazily.
McKay snorted. "You're not as needy as you used to be."
Brian shrugged. "It's still fucking fantastic." McKay hummed his agreement.
"You know it's time for you to open that New York office. Past time, actually. You should have done it three years ago, the first time I told you to.“ McKay’s voice had Brian cracking open one eye curiously. He pulled up his pants, zipped and buttoned them briskly then reached for his shirt. "I hear you have someone to stay with until you find a place locally."
"Why do you think I'm going to listen to you now?" Brian hid his smile against the pillow.
"Because you aren't that stupid. If you were, I never would have held you after class. Plus, I'm an investor. You have to listen to me. It's in the contract."
McKay pulled his shirt on over his head. On the bedside table, Brian's cell began to vibrate and chime the soft tone that meant, Justin. Ah, impeccable sense of timing as always. Brian wriggled deeper into his comforter. "Can you get that for me?" He rattled his restraints meaningfully. McKay shot him an amused look but flipped open the phone willingly enough.
"McKay," he barked by way of greeting. Brian laughed. "Yeah, he's here. Tied up though. Can I, uh, can I take a message?" There was a long pause. "Sure." He rubbed a hand along his jaw as he listened intently. "No. You'll have to take a car from the airport." Another beat. "Yeah. Whatever. Bye."
McKay tossed the cell onto the bed beside at him, looked down at him with a grin. "Michael called him, wants him to save you from my evil clutches. He'll be here in the morning." He raked his eyes down Brian's body, over the tiny patterns of fingertip bruises and other marks. "You figure he'll be ok with this?"
Brian looked down his body, at the dark march of fingerprints across pale skin. "Not a chance," he said with a wicked smile. "He's going to hate you forever."
McKay sighed. "Oh well," he muttered. "What's one more?" He reached for the leather bracers circling Brian's wrists. Brian pulled away.
"Leave them. They feel good."
McKay frowned.
"It's okay. Leave them. He'll be here in the morning." Brian blinked slowly, luxuriating in the lassitude deadening every muscle he had. "It'll be a welcome back present. Something you give the guy who's had everything." He snickered helplessly.
The frown was joined by pursed lips and narrowed eyes as McKay examined him closely. "You're still high." He ran his eyes over the restraints holding Brian's arms to the head of the bed. "You sure you want me to leave you like this?"
Brian tugged half-heartedly. McKay had loosened the ropes enough that he could move, could at least unhook the rope from the bed if necessary. It was an effort to even roll over, his body heavy with satiation and his mind still buzzing in that soft place where nothing mattered. He might regret it in the morning, but for now he couldn't rouse himself enough to care. "M'Fine. I trust him." He let his eyes drift closed. "What about you? You figure he'll be okay with this?"
McKay sat down beside him, jean-clad thigh a warm abrasion against his naked hip. Brian hummed softly, curled into the touch while watching him through heavy lids. McKay smiled at him, ran a hand gently down the length of his body. Brian felt the touch in every nerve ending, felt his body respond lazily to the heat and pleasure. He gave a low rumble in the back of his throat, like a purr. McKay's smile widened. It was warm, like basking in the sun. His hand slid back up to curl around the back of Brian's neck, raking into the hair. "I think I definitely upset the applecart. And I think he'll hate you forever too." His fingers kneaded gently at the base of Brian's skull. He leaned in until his mouth was right against Brian's ear, until his breath wafted warm against the sensitive flesh there. "I'm not sorry," he said, low and velvety dark. Brian shuddered with reaction to that rumbling whisper, his body twitching as it tried to respond with renewed interest. McKay sat up, stroked him again. "You're beautiful, Brian. Much more than just 'fine'."
Brian closed his eyes, tilted his head for more pressure. "You're not coming back this time, are you?" It wasn't really a question.
"No." McKay replied gently, affectionately even. "I don't think I am."
"Hell of a send off, McKay." Brian burrowed deeper into his pillow, arching against the hand that was once again petting him. "Thanks for dropping by. Come back any time."
McKay laughed, leaned over and pressed his chest against the line of Brian's back. He nuzzled his nose behind his ear, kissed his neck softly. "Goodbye, Brian." One last caress and McKay stood. He turned his back, straightened his shoulders, and strode purposefully for the door, not looking back.
The door clanged shut behind him.
****
"I can't believe you're leaving." Brian hated the whine he heard in his voice.
"It's the end of the semester. Of course I'm leaving." McKay flicked him a glance out of eyes no warmer now than they'd been that first day. "I told you I would." He continued packing with rapid, economical movements.
Brian flopped onto his back on the hard bed, covering his eyes with his arm. "I know! But now it's here, and I ..." He subsided. McKay waited with what passed with him for patience. "But who I will be now? Once you're gone?" Brian asked plaintively, sitting up reluctantly once it became clear McKay was not going to join him.
McKay stared at him, astonished, then burst out laughing. Brian sighed, but he felt his lips curve into a smile of his own. McKay was infectious in all his moods, damn him. The other man stepped into his space, grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "Ok, ok. I want you to listen to me." Brian waited. "Are you listening?"
Brian rolled his eyes. "Fuck! Yes, I'm listening!"
McKay released him. "You're Brian Kinney," he said firmly. "Brian *fucking* Kinney, best fuck in Pittsburgh. Anyone ... *anyone* is lucky to have you." He grinned fiercely, a flash of white teeth in his arrogant face. For the first time Brian could remember, his eyes were warm. "Maybe, even me."
Brian nodded, swallowing hard. "That's right," he said hoarsely. "That's exactly who I am."
-30-
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
Part Two
Part Three
Thanks for the Memories (4/4)
McKay knelt over Brian, caging him with arms and thighs, his hand still tracing patterns on his chest and stomach. Brian closed his eyes, clearly struggling, trying to force himself to move away from McKay's hands. "Go on," McKay urged, soft and steely. "Your restraints are waiting."
John watched Brian's fists flex rhythmically, saw him take a deep breath, and only when they moved in unison did he realise he'd been unconsciously copying the other man. Brian wriggled slowly out from under McKay, obviously fighting to continue moving as McKay trailed his fingers along his sides, thighs, even his erection. John was captured by a combination of the rapidly working alcohol and the play of those clever fingers against Brian's pale skin. He followed the line of McKay's arm to the heavy muscle of his shoulder, to his face.
He expected heat, or aggression, or maybe playfulness. Instead he found McKay watching Brian's efforts with a calm, dispassionate gaze, cold. The angle of his view slimmed McKay's face, showing him what he must have looked like fifteen years ago. McKay's lashes cast shadows over his cheekbones, the light spiking through them just enough to light his eyes. Every brush of his fingertips across Brian's skin was deliberate, calculated to torment.
Brian made it the last couple of inches away, sat up, pressed his lips to McKay's in a hard, desperate movement. John lifted the bottle to his lips at the same moment, drank deeply as Brian licked into McKay's mouth. They pulled away in unison.
John closed his eyes, forced himself to relax into the spinning in his head. His free hand slid to his waistband and flicked the button open, reached for his zipper.
In front of him, Brian was rummaging through a dresser, pulling out leather cuffs as McKay leaned against the oversized doorframe marginally defining the bedroom. From his vantage point, John could see the whole room, but his attention was fixed, consumed by the long line of McKay's muscular back, the white roundness of his full ass. John had seen fucking statues less beautiful in that moment than McKay was. All he could think of was running his hands over that pale skin, tasting the heat running through that body. If he'd wanted to be drunk enough to enjoy himself, he'd certainly succeeded.
This was hot, it was gorgeous, it was fucking awesome. He knew he was right on the edge, though, right on the fucking edge of making a decision he wouldn't be able to take back. He could open another beer, he could watch the show, he could tell his brain to back the hell off and give him some goddamned room to breathe, or he could fall over that edge and never be able to see McKay the same way again.
McKay straightened and entered the bedroom, taking his excellent ass with him. He joined Brian on the bed, wrapping the leather bracers around Brian's wrists, stretching his arms over his head and fastening them in some hidden way, placing them both in profile to John. He shoved Brian onto his back, draped Brian's legs over his shoulders then gripped his thighs and pulled until Brian was stretched flat, straining the ropes. Brian moaned loudly.
McKay looked up the length of Brian's body with a wicked grin, then swallowed Brian's erection in one abrupt movement, eyes never leaving Brian's face. Brian arched helplessly, twisting against the leather cuffs with a strangled shout. John huffed a shocked, aroused breath and plummeted over the edge.
John slid his hand into the front of his pants and groaned as his hand closed around his erection.
He was so screwed.
As usual, it felt fucking fantastic.
****
McKay's mouth was a tight circle of heaven surrounding his cock. Brian lunged upwards, or tried to. McKay's hands pinned his hips, his shoulders pressing into the back of Brian's thighs, denying him leverage. As he withdrew, McKay gave the tiniest scrape of teeth, sending starbursts of sensation stuttering up his skin, along with a thread of healthy fear.
Not that McKay would actually hurt him.
Then again, McKay had changed...
Brian looked down, met McKay's eyes just as his mouth pulled free. The hunger was there, naked in a way Brian hadn't seen before, but it was still banked behind that cold control that Brian couldn't get enough of. That icy restraint that made him so fucking hot he felt like his heart would beat out of his chest. Made him want to break it, just to see...
McKay pushed up onto his knees, placed a hand against his thigh and rolled him expertly onto his stomach. There was the familiar click of the lube, the crinkle of foil, and all the while McKay pushing his buttons; teeth harsh against his ribs and the jut of his hip, a hand pushing deeply on the small of his back, driving him into the mattress and giving him just enough friction to drown him in wanting more. A moment later, knees nudged his thighs apart and fingers prodded at his ass, sliding inside and working him roughly. He hissed at the burn, swallowed hard.
He wanted more. He wanted more now.
"It's been a long time," he gasped out. McKay leaned over him.
"I didn't say you could talk," he ground out, the strain of holding back clear in his voice.
Brian huffed a breath, shuddered. McKay's fingers continued to glide inside him, stretching him with careful precision. Some little demon prodded him. "Just... Go slow," he muttered.
McKay stilled, withdrew his hand, ignoring the whimper of protest Brian couldn't keep in his chest. He could feel those icy eyes boring into his back, tiny ripples of sensation spreading from where McKay's other hand was splayed across his lower back. Brian lifted his head, looked in the mirror. McKay looked up as he did, their eyes locking. His lips compressed, his eyes narrowed, and he moved with pure deliberation, shifting his weight against Brian to force his knees wider, to position his legs tightly against the back of Brian's thighs. "What?" His voice was a low threat. His hands moved to grip Brian's hips, fingers flexing hard against the soft skin there.
Brian licked his lips. "Go slow," he repeated, braced himself.
McKay's eyes hardened into blue ice, his fingers tightened even more. "No," he said, and thrust.
Brian rocked with the impact, his body bucking back against McKay's bulk even as his mind blanked. He was barely aware of the noises he was making, his whole world spiralled down into the burn of the too-rapid penetration and the white sparks of ecstasy as McKay drove himself over the sweet spot. His hands clenched into fists, twisting the leather cuffs around his wrists. His body pushed back against McKay's weight, his arms pulled him forward, away from the burst of pain. Brian hung suspended between the two warring impulses.
McKay's hand slid up the length of his back to the back of his neck, offering what might have passed for a caress before sliding around to the front and closing tightly over his windpipe. Not enough to cut off his breath, or even enough to hurt, but enough to feel the pressure digging in. Enough to feel the threat. Enough for McKay to use as leverage. Enough to let him pull back slowly, push in again, hard. Enough to break the tie between the pleasure and the pain.
God, enough to make him come.
When he came back to himself he was gasping, straining against the grip McKay had on his throat. McKay kneaded his fingers against Brian's hip, rested his forehead against Brian's shoulder blade, and rode out the last tremors. McKay released his throat, raked his hand over Brian's chest, twisted his nipple. Brian growled. McKay leaned forward, resting his lips against Brian's ear, whispering hoarsely. "I want to feel you move," he said. "I want to fuck you into submission, just the way you like it." Brian felt his dick stir, again. He moaned. McKay rocked a little, just enough to send multi-coloured sparks dancing behind his eyes. "Come on, come on," McKay goaded. Brian could hear the bared teeth. "Struggle."
Brian gathered his strength, threw himself into fighting the restraints, fighting the weight holding him down. His muscles bunched and he pulled hard, hearing the ropes sing into tautness. He jerked against them, the flex and release of his shoulders and arms feeling incredible. He put the rest of his weight into it, shifting to try and get his knees under him, to gain some leverage. McKay laughed in his ear, used his thighs to knock him flat again, still plastered the length of his body, still seated deep inside. He pulled back with Brian's heaves, thrust back inside with brutal snaps of his hips, sending ricochets of pleasure and pain screaming through Brian's body, stroking him higher and higher. By the time Brian exhausted his strength he was panting, dripping with sweat... and achingly hard. .
"Do you yield?" McKay had to be out of breath too, but his voice was calm and even in Brian's ear. Brian tensed, shook against his restraints like a shark on a line. The ropes twanged but held. McKay leaned harder between his shoulder blades, stretching the overworked muscles even further. The ache was bliss. He dragged his hands with agonizing slowness down Brian's heaving sides, settling fingers into well-accustomed places on Brian's hips. He was tense against Brian's back, ready for anything. "Do you yield?" He repeated, harder. A threat.
Brian swallowed hard, his mouth still open and gasping for air. McKay's hand left his hip, fastened around the back of his neck, gave him a tiny shake.
God, McKay always knew exactly what he needed.
Like a switch being thrown, every muscle in his body relaxed, became pliant. Brian breathed out in a sigh, sinking into the mattress in a loose-limbed sprawl. McKay's weight covered him like a blanket, pushing him deeper into the mattress. McKay peeled free, withdrew from his body. Brian groaned his dismay chasing him with his hips, and McKay chuckled softly before turning him onto his back.
"Feeling better?" McKay tilted his head. "Answer me."
Brian nodded slowly, licking his lips and looked up at McKay hotly. "More," he breathed, fuck, just wanting.
McKay's nostrils flared, his lashes sweeping down to cover the expression in his eyes. "More," he agreed, and started taking Brian apart again.
****
Brian stood in front of the mirror on the back of McKay's door, surveying the damage with a kind of complicated awe. Dark splotches in the shape of fingers decorated the planes of his ribs and pecs, more bruises in the form of bite marks stood out starkly against the pale skin of his neck, collarbone, and shoulders. He'd been shocked at the sight, not so much because of the sheer number and variety of bruises, but because he hadn't actually felt them at the time. Slowly he turned, looking over his shoulder at his back, gasped a little. A long line of bite bruises ran across the width of his shoulders, down the sweep of his spine, forming an upper case T. There were two wide sets of marks bracketing his ass; the imprint of McKay's splayed hands pressed deep into flesh. The crowning glory was a wide purple starburst set spectacularly into the join of shoulder and neck, where it looked as though McKay had considered tearing out his throat, maybe. He shrugged just a little, and the muscle under that burst of colour protested sluggishly. Now that he could see them, they started to hurt.
A soft noise from the bathroom had him turning his head, eyes still wide. McKay was looking at him, his own eyes a little wild at the sight. "Brian." He took a deep breath, seemed to struggle for the right words. He finally settled on, "You ok?"
Brian grinned at him, a wide open smile he couldn't hold back. "Never better."
Some emotion flitted across McKay's face too quickly for Brian to pin down. "Really," he said wryly, reaching out with one finger and tracing the outline of the bites on his back. "Well," he muttered, "I don't remember you complaining."
Brian heard the unspoken question. "It was fantastic," he replied then ran his eyes over the hickeys on his neck and jaw line. "Though the guy who's been checking me out all semester is going to be quite put out. He'll probably hate you forever."
McKay's lips twitched in amusement. "Fuck him."
"Oh, I fully intend to." Brian stretched, hissing at the pull of abused muscles. McKay scrubbed a hand over his mouth at the sound, started to step past him to return to the bedroom. Brian turned, stepped, pushed him against the wall with his body. McKay looked at him with surprise edged with irritation. "Come on, McKay," Brian said in a low, dark voice. "I'm bigger than you. I'm stronger than you. You really think I would still be here if I didn't want to be?"
McKay glared up at him. This close, the stare was beyond intimidating, and Brian had to fight against his desire to back up. Instead he held his ground, leaning into McKay, challenging him openly. McKay finally smirked a little. "Sure you would," he said. "I'm Canadian. Even *maps* say my natural place is topping you."
Brian laughed, rested his head against McKay's shoulder. The respite from that cold stare was an outright relief, though he realised that joke or not, he'd looked away first. He had the feeling that if he looked up, McKay would still have not blinked. "Well," he said as he lifted his head. "Who am I to disagree with cartographers everywhere?" Deliberately he slid down McKay's body. McKay's hand moved automatically to his shoulder, cupping the back of his neck, and as it slid across that broad bruise the muscle lit up with a deep aching pain. Brian groaned, his whole body jerking in reaction, his dick springing to attention. McKay pulled away, but Brian stopped him, placed his hand back on the bruise and *pressed* until the ache blossomed, rolling through his nerve endings. "Don't," he said hoarsely. "I love it. I love them all." He closed his eyes. "More."
McKay shifted, and Brian opened his eyes to see him checking his watch. "It's eight thirty," he said. "My first class is at one." When he smiled, the slow stretch of lips made adrenaline shiver across Brian's exposed skin. "I guess it's going to be a long morning."
****
John had always thought of McKay as a bit of a bumbler when it came to sex. God knew he had enough evidence for the opinion, but holy shit had he been wrong in that assessment.
Watching McKay master Brian's body had been just about the hottest thing he'd ever seen. He braced a hand between Brian's shoulder blades, pinned him with his greater breadth and weight, and fucked him into utter submission. If he hadn't seen Brian's willingness, hell, his eagerness, if he hadn't promised not to interfere...
He'd still be fucking fantasizing about it. He'd just also be interfering. Pulling McKay off the other man, maybe using those leather restraint cuffs on him instead.
And wasn't that a thought he never expected to be so goddamned hot.
McKay rolled Brian expertly onto his back, murmured to him softly. Brian looked up at him, and John could see his blown pupils and eager panting from here.
John watched McKay ease back inside Brian, his hand moving in time with McKay's strokes. Every thrust in, every slow draw back felt like it was occurring around his own dick. His head was buzzing with the effects of the beer that he was still drinking as if it was water and he was parched, but every time he looked at the muscles of McKay's back bunching and releasing, every time he saw McKay's teeth set into Brian's flesh his throat would go dry and he'd reach for the bottle again.
John finished his sixth bottle and set it down on the table, his hand never slowing.
McKay lifted a little, pushed Brian's legs as wide as they would go. He pulled on Brian's hips, heaving hard until Brian's groans held just a thread of pain from the uncomfortable stretch of shoulders and arms over his head. He bowed his head, rested his forehead against Brian's breastbone, and started to thrust in earnest. Deep and racking, it made his earlier efforts seem gentle.
Brian's breath left him, and he started to gasp helplessly with every shove. McKay lifted his head enough to set his teeth at Brian's throat, to reach between them with one large hand. He gripped Brian's dick hard, jerking him in time. John's hand tightened too, and the three of them moved together for an endless moment before Brian and McKay groaned together, a drawn out sound of ecstasy that vibrated from John's ears through his skull and straight to his groin, whiting him out in a wash of bliss.
The first sensation he was aware of when his breath returned to normal was that his hand was sticky. And cold.
And wet.
John wrinkled his nose and looked around, ultimately picking a dry, presumably clean towel from the treadmill beside the couch. He wiped his hands and stomach, tucked himself back inside his pants, and wondered hazily how the hell he was ever going to look at his best friend again without remembering the best orgasm he'd had in years, without picturing him staring down at Brian blowing him, without imagining him naked and electric and so fucking hot... He took a deep breath.
McKay moved off of Brian's sated body, stroking thick fingers over soft bruises. Brian rolled into him as much as the restraints would allow, curving against the McKay's bulk. He nuzzled McKay's neck, rested his head into the curve of shoulder. McKay quickly disposed of the condom, returning to petting Brian gently.
Or, he could just torture himself remembering that instead.
He was so goddamned screwed.
His cell phone rang.
McKay's head came up, Brian's thudded back against his pillow with an aggrieved mutter. John scrambled for the phone, blinking as the number swam before his beer-fuddled eyes. Heh. Maybe he was actually drunk enough to forget all this. He closed his eyes, heard again that deep groan of satisfaction that had marked McKay's orgasm. His dick twitched in his pants.
Ok. So forgetting was out.
His phone rang again, and he flipped it open with a sigh. "Yeah." McKay swung his legs over the side of the bed, head turning as he looked for his clothes. "Yeah, yeah. We're on our way to the hotel." The voice on the other end of the cell asked if he wanted Daedalus to pick them straight up. "No! Jesus, no... we have to pick up our gear. We'll call soon as we're ready." McKay watched him hang up. "We need to go."
McKay nodded.
"I'll, uh," John cast desperately for a reason to leave. One that would actually make sense, given that he really should have nothing left to be freaking out about. The thought had him on the verge of hyperventilating again. McKay took pity on him.
"How about you call the elevator for us? I'll be right there."
Yeah. Ultimately, that was what John was afraid of.
He gathered his last beer protectively to his chest and headed for the elevator.
***
McKay watched his bodyguard, friend, whatever, head out the door with an unreadable expression. Brian didn't care. He stretched carefully, feeling the burn through muscles unused to this particular flavour of exercise. He smiled sleepily as McKay tugged against the restraints, rolled over on his stomach and buried his face in his pillow. He heard the heavy rustle of denim as McKay gathered his clothes.
"You're not as cold as you used to be," he muttered lazily.
McKay snorted. "You're not as needy as you used to be."
Brian shrugged. "It's still fucking fantastic." McKay hummed his agreement.
"You know it's time for you to open that New York office. Past time, actually. You should have done it three years ago, the first time I told you to.“ McKay’s voice had Brian cracking open one eye curiously. He pulled up his pants, zipped and buttoned them briskly then reached for his shirt. "I hear you have someone to stay with until you find a place locally."
"Why do you think I'm going to listen to you now?" Brian hid his smile against the pillow.
"Because you aren't that stupid. If you were, I never would have held you after class. Plus, I'm an investor. You have to listen to me. It's in the contract."
McKay pulled his shirt on over his head. On the bedside table, Brian's cell began to vibrate and chime the soft tone that meant, Justin. Ah, impeccable sense of timing as always. Brian wriggled deeper into his comforter. "Can you get that for me?" He rattled his restraints meaningfully. McKay shot him an amused look but flipped open the phone willingly enough.
"McKay," he barked by way of greeting. Brian laughed. "Yeah, he's here. Tied up though. Can I, uh, can I take a message?" There was a long pause. "Sure." He rubbed a hand along his jaw as he listened intently. "No. You'll have to take a car from the airport." Another beat. "Yeah. Whatever. Bye."
McKay tossed the cell onto the bed beside at him, looked down at him with a grin. "Michael called him, wants him to save you from my evil clutches. He'll be here in the morning." He raked his eyes down Brian's body, over the tiny patterns of fingertip bruises and other marks. "You figure he'll be ok with this?"
Brian looked down his body, at the dark march of fingerprints across pale skin. "Not a chance," he said with a wicked smile. "He's going to hate you forever."
McKay sighed. "Oh well," he muttered. "What's one more?" He reached for the leather bracers circling Brian's wrists. Brian pulled away.
"Leave them. They feel good."
McKay frowned.
"It's okay. Leave them. He'll be here in the morning." Brian blinked slowly, luxuriating in the lassitude deadening every muscle he had. "It'll be a welcome back present. Something you give the guy who's had everything." He snickered helplessly.
The frown was joined by pursed lips and narrowed eyes as McKay examined him closely. "You're still high." He ran his eyes over the restraints holding Brian's arms to the head of the bed. "You sure you want me to leave you like this?"
Brian tugged half-heartedly. McKay had loosened the ropes enough that he could move, could at least unhook the rope from the bed if necessary. It was an effort to even roll over, his body heavy with satiation and his mind still buzzing in that soft place where nothing mattered. He might regret it in the morning, but for now he couldn't rouse himself enough to care. "M'Fine. I trust him." He let his eyes drift closed. "What about you? You figure he'll be okay with this?"
McKay sat down beside him, jean-clad thigh a warm abrasion against his naked hip. Brian hummed softly, curled into the touch while watching him through heavy lids. McKay smiled at him, ran a hand gently down the length of his body. Brian felt the touch in every nerve ending, felt his body respond lazily to the heat and pleasure. He gave a low rumble in the back of his throat, like a purr. McKay's smile widened. It was warm, like basking in the sun. His hand slid back up to curl around the back of Brian's neck, raking into the hair. "I think I definitely upset the applecart. And I think he'll hate you forever too." His fingers kneaded gently at the base of Brian's skull. He leaned in until his mouth was right against Brian's ear, until his breath wafted warm against the sensitive flesh there. "I'm not sorry," he said, low and velvety dark. Brian shuddered with reaction to that rumbling whisper, his body twitching as it tried to respond with renewed interest. McKay sat up, stroked him again. "You're beautiful, Brian. Much more than just 'fine'."
Brian closed his eyes, tilted his head for more pressure. "You're not coming back this time, are you?" It wasn't really a question.
"No." McKay replied gently, affectionately even. "I don't think I am."
"Hell of a send off, McKay." Brian burrowed deeper into his pillow, arching against the hand that was once again petting him. "Thanks for dropping by. Come back any time."
McKay laughed, leaned over and pressed his chest against the line of Brian's back. He nuzzled his nose behind his ear, kissed his neck softly. "Goodbye, Brian." One last caress and McKay stood. He turned his back, straightened his shoulders, and strode purposefully for the door, not looking back.
The door clanged shut behind him.
****
"I can't believe you're leaving." Brian hated the whine he heard in his voice.
"It's the end of the semester. Of course I'm leaving." McKay flicked him a glance out of eyes no warmer now than they'd been that first day. "I told you I would." He continued packing with rapid, economical movements.
Brian flopped onto his back on the hard bed, covering his eyes with his arm. "I know! But now it's here, and I ..." He subsided. McKay waited with what passed with him for patience. "But who I will be now? Once you're gone?" Brian asked plaintively, sitting up reluctantly once it became clear McKay was not going to join him.
McKay stared at him, astonished, then burst out laughing. Brian sighed, but he felt his lips curve into a smile of his own. McKay was infectious in all his moods, damn him. The other man stepped into his space, grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "Ok, ok. I want you to listen to me." Brian waited. "Are you listening?"
Brian rolled his eyes. "Fuck! Yes, I'm listening!"
McKay released him. "You're Brian Kinney," he said firmly. "Brian *fucking* Kinney, best fuck in Pittsburgh. Anyone ... *anyone* is lucky to have you." He grinned fiercely, a flash of white teeth in his arrogant face. For the first time Brian could remember, his eyes were warm. "Maybe, even me."
Brian nodded, swallowing hard. "That's right," he said hoarsely. "That's exactly who I am."
-30-