purely self-indulgent birthday pr0n
Title: "Mountain-Climbing"
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: Three guesses. Yeah, it's McWeir.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: D/s including spanking, purely self-indulgent birthday fluffporn.
Spoilers: I wish.
Disclaimer: TPTB write things with explosions and Wraith. I write birthday!fluffporn. Difference.
Words: 637
Summary: 'Tis Rodney's birthday! Yay!
Mountain-Climbing
"Hugs or spankings?" she asks, smiling, which is, as usual, enough to rush all the blood out of Rodney's face and send it God knows where. And he doesn't even know what she's talking about yet.
"Excuse me?"
She taps the folder that he knows contains his personal file. "Isn't today your birthday?"
He calculates. "Yes. Yes, it is. So?"
"Hugs or spankings?"
He blinks, stares at her, knows where the blood's gotten to now. "Do I need to decide?"
"Do you deserve both?"
"Yes," he says boldly.
"Then we'll see," she says with a wink, and hugs him close.
++
He tries not to show he's nervous. He tries to imagine that he's done this many times before, but whenever he starts imagining it vividly, his brain sort of shuts down and he's worse off, scrambling for purchase on a cliff that is: {desire, Elizabeth's lap, fuckfuckfuck}.
"Are you okay?" she asks. He wishes he had breath enough to answer, that he didn't have to wriggle against her and gasp his consent. He wishes for control. (He doesn't, really. But he's not at the stage yet where he can stop pretending.)
She touches him first, everywhere, to make sure he's okay, to make sure he's comfortable, to make sure he's hard.
Of course he's hard.
Then she starts. It doesn't hurt at first. It's soft, then harder, then the first blow that makes him wince, then the second, and they don't stop. She won't stop; he doesn't know if he has the words to make her stop, doesn't know if he wants to, knows that he's hers, that he's lying over her lap and that her hand is on his ass and that she's slapping him, that Elizabeth owns him and he's glad of it, glad that he doesn't have to try to say no, glad that it hurts, oh *fuck* it hurts. He hadn't thought it would hurt; he hadn't thought he'd want to scream.
"It's okay if you scream," she whispers.
Rodney screams. He bellows, lets his voice carry him away from here, but all that's gone is the scream. He's still here, still over her knees, his elbows still digging into her bed, his ass still ten kinds of painful. He's still hard. He shouldn't still be hard. She shouldn't have the hand that isn't hitting him wrapped around his cock. He shouldn't love it.
He shouldn't love this, love her, and he does. He needs to be punished. "Should I stop?"
"No," he manages, and forces the first tears out. How could he say no? How could he become the kind of man who enjoys this?
++
For him it's all emotion. For her, it's sensation. Her hand is hurting a little; his ass is hurting a lot, is warm and red. She slaps him again. If she lets herself feel this emotion, she's nothing. And she isn't this woman. So she feels the warmth of his skin, the heat of his cock in her left hand, the warmth of her sex. She squirms and Rodney moans and she loves the sound of his screams. Not that kind of woman, Elizabeth? You love this. You live for this. He screams, she strokes him harder and hits him harder and feels the seeping ache of her own orgasm and wants him in her and baffles at the impossible anatomy of desires. She's fully clothed and he's wearing nothing, because that's how it's meant to be, and now she wants to be the naked one, to have him as she wants him, tonguing her clit and pleasing her.
But this is what he wants.
And so she feels his skin, his cock, his pain, and she's still for him, his mountain of calm, and she lets him come.
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: Three guesses. Yeah, it's McWeir.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: D/s including spanking, purely self-indulgent birthday fluffporn.
Spoilers: I wish.
Disclaimer: TPTB write things with explosions and Wraith. I write birthday!fluffporn. Difference.
Words: 637
Summary: 'Tis Rodney's birthday! Yay!
Mountain-Climbing
"Hugs or spankings?" she asks, smiling, which is, as usual, enough to rush all the blood out of Rodney's face and send it God knows where. And he doesn't even know what she's talking about yet.
"Excuse me?"
She taps the folder that he knows contains his personal file. "Isn't today your birthday?"
He calculates. "Yes. Yes, it is. So?"
"Hugs or spankings?"
He blinks, stares at her, knows where the blood's gotten to now. "Do I need to decide?"
"Do you deserve both?"
"Yes," he says boldly.
"Then we'll see," she says with a wink, and hugs him close.
++
He tries not to show he's nervous. He tries to imagine that he's done this many times before, but whenever he starts imagining it vividly, his brain sort of shuts down and he's worse off, scrambling for purchase on a cliff that is: {desire, Elizabeth's lap, fuckfuckfuck}.
"Are you okay?" she asks. He wishes he had breath enough to answer, that he didn't have to wriggle against her and gasp his consent. He wishes for control. (He doesn't, really. But he's not at the stage yet where he can stop pretending.)
She touches him first, everywhere, to make sure he's okay, to make sure he's comfortable, to make sure he's hard.
Of course he's hard.
Then she starts. It doesn't hurt at first. It's soft, then harder, then the first blow that makes him wince, then the second, and they don't stop. She won't stop; he doesn't know if he has the words to make her stop, doesn't know if he wants to, knows that he's hers, that he's lying over her lap and that her hand is on his ass and that she's slapping him, that Elizabeth owns him and he's glad of it, glad that he doesn't have to try to say no, glad that it hurts, oh *fuck* it hurts. He hadn't thought it would hurt; he hadn't thought he'd want to scream.
"It's okay if you scream," she whispers.
Rodney screams. He bellows, lets his voice carry him away from here, but all that's gone is the scream. He's still here, still over her knees, his elbows still digging into her bed, his ass still ten kinds of painful. He's still hard. He shouldn't still be hard. She shouldn't have the hand that isn't hitting him wrapped around his cock. He shouldn't love it.
He shouldn't love this, love her, and he does. He needs to be punished. "Should I stop?"
"No," he manages, and forces the first tears out. How could he say no? How could he become the kind of man who enjoys this?
++
For him it's all emotion. For her, it's sensation. Her hand is hurting a little; his ass is hurting a lot, is warm and red. She slaps him again. If she lets herself feel this emotion, she's nothing. And she isn't this woman. So she feels the warmth of his skin, the heat of his cock in her left hand, the warmth of her sex. She squirms and Rodney moans and she loves the sound of his screams. Not that kind of woman, Elizabeth? You love this. You live for this. He screams, she strokes him harder and hits him harder and feels the seeping ache of her own orgasm and wants him in her and baffles at the impossible anatomy of desires. She's fully clothed and he's wearing nothing, because that's how it's meant to be, and now she wants to be the naked one, to have him as she wants him, tonguing her clit and pleasing her.
But this is what he wants.
And so she feels his skin, his cock, his pain, and she's still for him, his mountain of calm, and she lets him come.