SGA-fic: The Opposite of Fine (NC-17)
Title: The Opposite of Fine
Author: Zinnith
Rating/Category: NC-17/slash
Pairing: John/Rodney
Spoilers: For 4x09, Miller’s Crossing
Disclaimer: Just borrowing them to play with!
Warnings: Excessive angst, just the tiniest little hint of non-con, and the inside of John Sheppard's screwed up, yet so adorable, head.
Notes: This is a tag to Miller's Crossing, possibly the slashiest episode of SGA yet. Many thanks to
bluespirit_star and
sandyurbahns for the beta! Of course, being me, I couldn’t stop fiddling with it, so any remaining mistakes are mine. ~ 2000 words.
Summary: John is fine.
The Opposite of Fine
John is fine. That’s what he tells himself. He follows Rodney to the mess hall, sits on the opposite side of the table and watches Rodney stuff food into his face. Watches him try to talk even with his mouth full, always always talking.
John pushes his own dinner around on the plate, but when he tries to eat it, his stomach threatens to turn against him. Throwing up in front of people is not on his schedule for today so he just pushes his tray away and keeps watching Rodney. His hands, his lips, his slightly ruffled hair that’s overdue for a haircut. John just aches to reach out and touch, comb his fingers through that hair, press his lips against Rodney’s, feel those hands against his skin. But coming out in front of the entire expedition isn’t on today’s schedule either.
“You okay?” Rodney asks between bites, gesturing to John’s plate. “You’re not eating.”
“I’m fine,” John says. “I’m just not very hungry.”
“Oh. Well, in that case, do you mind?”
Rodney doesn’t even wait for an answer before he reaches across the table and helps himself to John’s dinner as well. It’s all so familiar, so heartbreakingly normal. Rodney stealing his food, rambling on and on without even noticing if John is listening or not. And John finds himself helplessly gravitating towards Rodney. His world is shrinking until it only consists of Rodney’s mouth and hands and broad shoulders, until he can’t take it anymore and pushes his chair back.
“I just remembered, I said I’d go for a run with Ronon,” he says, surprised to find his voice so steady even though it feels like he’s going to burst out of his own body.
Rodney looks up, a little surprised, a little confused, maybe even a tiny little bit hurt. They haven’t done this for a couple of days, not since before Jeannie was taken, and John has only been sitting down for ten minutes or so.
“Oh, okay. See you later? You know, to watch a movie or something?”
‘Watch a movie’ is their code word for ‘have sex’. John supresses a shudder and nods sharply, thinking that if he just can have a little time to himself he’ll be able to face Rodney later. Strip him naked and own every part of his body, take his time and reclaim everything he could’ve lost.
He leaves Rodney to his food, goes back to his room to change into his gym clothes and then goes for a run. Alone. Tries to focus on the beat of his pulse, the sound of his own harsh breathing. Tries to turn his brain off when the only thing he can think of is rodneyrodneyrodney.
John’s on his way back from the East pier when he comes across Ronon, also in running gear. He’s looking a little bit pissed and John wonders if he’s spoken to Rodney, or if he just expected John to wait for him.
Ronon blocks his way so John has no choice but to stop. His thighs are burning and it’s possible he might’ve pushed himself a little too far, but it’s like his body needs it, needs to burn off the energy and the rage and the damn restlessness that’s wriggling under his skin like worms.
“Sorry I went off without you, buddy,” John says. His voice is hoarse and his throat dry and he should’ve brought a waterbottle but for some reason he didn’t.
“You okay?” Ronon asks, one eyebrow raised.
Why is everyone asking that today? “I’m fine,” he says again.
Ronon gives him a searching look, clearly not believing him. “It was the only thing to do,” he says.
John doesn’t know what to say to that so he just ducks his head, breaks Ronon’s steady gaze. He wants to be somewhere else, someone else, someone who didn’t talk a man into killing himself in the worst way imaginable to save his best friend, his... whatever it is they are to each other.
I presented the situation. He volunteered.
Right, John. Repeat that for long enough and you might even start to believe it yourself.
John wants to hit something. For a moment, he considers asking Ronon to go spar with him, but the way he feels right now, wildly out of control, it’s probably not a good idea. Instead, he claps Ronon’s shoulder and manouvres past him, runs back to his room with the adrenaline coursing through his veins, making him a little nauseous.
He jumps into the shower, hoping the hot water will help him relax a little. Instead, it almost makes it worse, shuts the rest of the world out so the only thing he can think of is the life draining out of Wallace’s body, and the half grateful, half horrified look on Rodney’s face when he realised what John had done.
I presented the situation. He volunteered.
When Rodney knocks on the door a little while later, John almost doesn’t open it, feels brittle like the thin ice that forms on the puddles in the autumn, like he’d shatter from a single touch. But if he doesn’t open it, Rodney will find a way in like he always does. The same way he’s managed to get past John’s defenses until life without him has become an impossibility.
Rodney’s in civvies and he’s holding a DVD case to keep their cover story plausible. He pauses in the doorway, studies John and then says, for the second time that day, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” John repeats. The blood is buzzing in his ears, his chest is tightening until it feels like he can’t breathe. His fingers are cold.
Rodney gives John his ‘Yeah, right’-look. “Yes, because you look perfectly fine. Not at all like you’ve seen a ghost or something. Seriously, if you don’t want to do this we can call it off. I mean, it’s not like...”
John thinks the door shut and then he’s pushing Rodney up against it, trying to touch everywhere at once, using his mouth to shut him up. It’s rough, almost desperate, like he’s trying to crawl inside Rodney, feel Rodney’s warmth, put his mark on him.
Rodney breaks away, staring at him, panting, “John, are you...”
“Fuck me,” John growls. He needs Rodney inside him, needs it more than he’s ever needed anything or anyone in his life. Skin against skin, breath against breath, Rodney moving inside him, filling him up, cementing the bond between them.
“John...” Rodney begins, but John pushes him towards the bed, down on his back, and crawls on top. Rodney’s shirt has too many buttons and he just wants to rip it off to get to Rodney’s skin, his broad chest and his nipples. “Wait, wait a minute,” Rodney protests. “Calm down a little, will you, we’ve got plenty of time. If you just...”
But it doesn’t feel like they’ve got any time at all. If John lets go, Rodney will disappear, just slip away and never come back again unless John can get his cock inside and keep him here. He finally manages to get Rodney’s clothes off and then his own and he reaches for the lube in the bedstand drawer, squirts it over his hands and uses it to slick Rodney up and jerk him to full hardness. Rodney groans and squirms underneath him, hands pawing at John’s shoulders and arms, trying to slow him down. He’s trying to say something, but John leans forward and silences him by taking his mouth again.
He reaches behind him to get Rodney lined up against his hole and then pushes back, feeling Rodney’s cock press inside. No prep at all and it hurts enough to bring tears to his eyes but it’s good, so good. When he looks down, Rodney eyes are wide open and he’s whispering, “John, don’t... you’ll hurt yourself...”
John starts rocking against him, wants Rodney deeper, wants to swallow him up. “I’m fine,” he says again. Repeats it like a mantra, like another one of those things he can convince himself of if he just tries hard enough. “I’m fine. Come on, fuck me.”
He rolls his hips in that way Rodney likes, feels Rodney’s cock press against his prostate, hot and hard, and he bites his lower lip so hard he can taste blood. Rodney’s hands settle on his hips, try to hold him still, but John won’t have it, keeps up the pace.
“Come on,” he grunts. “Come on, come on, I’m fine, come on...”
Throws his head back, he’s nowhere close to coming, but it doesn’t matter. It’s Rodney’s orgasm he craves, needs the warm wetness of Rodney inside him, like it’ll fix everything, make everything better.
I presented the situation. He volunteered. He volunteered. He volunteered.
He doesn’t realise he’s saying the words out loud until he opens his eyes and looks down to find Rodney staring at him, his expression changing from bewildered into furious. Before John knows it, he’s the one lying on his back with Rodney looming over him, eyes dark with anger.
“You stupid fuck. Don’t ever do that again, do you hear me? You don’t get to use me to punish yourself.”
John opens his mouth but no sound comes out. He’s not even hard, and his ass is sore and burning from Rodney’s cock. He feels empty, hollowed out inside and so, so cold. He tries to speak, tries to explain, but only manages a strangled sob.
Rodney’s face softens. He presses a thumb against John’s cheek, against his lips, and then leans down to kiss him. Slow this time, so slow and sweet it’s painful and John is torn between sinking into Rodney and pulling away. It’s like he’s completely lost control over his body, like he belongs to Rodney now, and it fills him with both terror and anticipation. It’s like he’s standing on top of a cliff, ready to throw himself over the edge. His sense of self-preservation shouts at him to stay where he is, keep his feet on solid ground where he knows the rules. Everything else wants to just take the step out into thin air, to soar and trust Rodney to catch him.
Then Rodney’s hand is on John’s cock, slowly stroking him hard. “You are so fucked up,” Rodney murmurs fondly against his face. “Seriously, you need to learn how to talk. And I thought I was bad at relationships.”
John closes his eyes, lets Rodney’s voice wash over him, like floating on the surface of a sea of emotions that’s threatening to pull him under and drown him. “I can’t,” he whimpers. “I’m sorry, Rodney, I can’t...”
Rodney swallows his words, licks his way into John’s mouth. “Hush,” he whispers. “It’s okay, John. I’ve got you. It’s all right, just relax and let it go.”
Fingers squeezing him, so gently it takes his breath away and his world is only this, Rodney’s breath against his skin, Rodney’s low voice in his ear, Rodney’s warmth and weight. It’s such a fine line between pleasure and pain. Even though Rodney is so careful, he’s still tearing John apart with his kindness, breaking him into fragments of himself.
“Let it go, John. Give it up for me.” Rodney says, speeding his strokes up just a little bit, enough to draw the orgasm from John’s body and he stops breathing, arches into Rodney’s touch and comes and comes until he’s got nothing left to give.
Sinks back into himself a few moments later to find Rodney looking down at him with some concern. “Are you okay?” he asks.
“I’m...” John begins, and then changes his mind, too tired and spent to pretend anymore. “I don’t know.”
If he could get a do-over he would change nothing. Rodney has become far too important to him. He doesn’t know where to draw the lines anymore and he’s never been so scared in his life.
Rodney’s hand curls around his neck, pulling John’s head against his shoulder. “John. Stop thinking. We’ll figure it out.”
John relaxes then, lets Rodney wrap his body around him, put him back together again. Surrounded by Rodney’s warmth, he closes his eyes. He’s not fine. As a matter of fact, he’s the exact opposite of fine. But maybe, with time, it’ll get better.
- fin -
Author: Zinnith
Rating/Category: NC-17/slash
Pairing: John/Rodney
Spoilers: For 4x09, Miller’s Crossing
Disclaimer: Just borrowing them to play with!
Warnings: Excessive angst, just the tiniest little hint of non-con, and the inside of John Sheppard's screwed up, yet so adorable, head.
Notes: This is a tag to Miller's Crossing, possibly the slashiest episode of SGA yet. Many thanks to
bluespirit_star and
sandyurbahns for the beta! Of course, being me, I couldn’t stop fiddling with it, so any remaining mistakes are mine. ~ 2000 words.
Summary: John is fine.
The Opposite of Fine
John is fine. That’s what he tells himself. He follows Rodney to the mess hall, sits on the opposite side of the table and watches Rodney stuff food into his face. Watches him try to talk even with his mouth full, always always talking.
John pushes his own dinner around on the plate, but when he tries to eat it, his stomach threatens to turn against him. Throwing up in front of people is not on his schedule for today so he just pushes his tray away and keeps watching Rodney. His hands, his lips, his slightly ruffled hair that’s overdue for a haircut. John just aches to reach out and touch, comb his fingers through that hair, press his lips against Rodney’s, feel those hands against his skin. But coming out in front of the entire expedition isn’t on today’s schedule either.
“You okay?” Rodney asks between bites, gesturing to John’s plate. “You’re not eating.”
“I’m fine,” John says. “I’m just not very hungry.”
“Oh. Well, in that case, do you mind?”
Rodney doesn’t even wait for an answer before he reaches across the table and helps himself to John’s dinner as well. It’s all so familiar, so heartbreakingly normal. Rodney stealing his food, rambling on and on without even noticing if John is listening or not. And John finds himself helplessly gravitating towards Rodney. His world is shrinking until it only consists of Rodney’s mouth and hands and broad shoulders, until he can’t take it anymore and pushes his chair back.
“I just remembered, I said I’d go for a run with Ronon,” he says, surprised to find his voice so steady even though it feels like he’s going to burst out of his own body.
Rodney looks up, a little surprised, a little confused, maybe even a tiny little bit hurt. They haven’t done this for a couple of days, not since before Jeannie was taken, and John has only been sitting down for ten minutes or so.
“Oh, okay. See you later? You know, to watch a movie or something?”
‘Watch a movie’ is their code word for ‘have sex’. John supresses a shudder and nods sharply, thinking that if he just can have a little time to himself he’ll be able to face Rodney later. Strip him naked and own every part of his body, take his time and reclaim everything he could’ve lost.
He leaves Rodney to his food, goes back to his room to change into his gym clothes and then goes for a run. Alone. Tries to focus on the beat of his pulse, the sound of his own harsh breathing. Tries to turn his brain off when the only thing he can think of is rodneyrodneyrodney.
John’s on his way back from the East pier when he comes across Ronon, also in running gear. He’s looking a little bit pissed and John wonders if he’s spoken to Rodney, or if he just expected John to wait for him.
Ronon blocks his way so John has no choice but to stop. His thighs are burning and it’s possible he might’ve pushed himself a little too far, but it’s like his body needs it, needs to burn off the energy and the rage and the damn restlessness that’s wriggling under his skin like worms.
“Sorry I went off without you, buddy,” John says. His voice is hoarse and his throat dry and he should’ve brought a waterbottle but for some reason he didn’t.
“You okay?” Ronon asks, one eyebrow raised.
Why is everyone asking that today? “I’m fine,” he says again.
Ronon gives him a searching look, clearly not believing him. “It was the only thing to do,” he says.
John doesn’t know what to say to that so he just ducks his head, breaks Ronon’s steady gaze. He wants to be somewhere else, someone else, someone who didn’t talk a man into killing himself in the worst way imaginable to save his best friend, his... whatever it is they are to each other.
I presented the situation. He volunteered.
Right, John. Repeat that for long enough and you might even start to believe it yourself.
John wants to hit something. For a moment, he considers asking Ronon to go spar with him, but the way he feels right now, wildly out of control, it’s probably not a good idea. Instead, he claps Ronon’s shoulder and manouvres past him, runs back to his room with the adrenaline coursing through his veins, making him a little nauseous.
He jumps into the shower, hoping the hot water will help him relax a little. Instead, it almost makes it worse, shuts the rest of the world out so the only thing he can think of is the life draining out of Wallace’s body, and the half grateful, half horrified look on Rodney’s face when he realised what John had done.
I presented the situation. He volunteered.
When Rodney knocks on the door a little while later, John almost doesn’t open it, feels brittle like the thin ice that forms on the puddles in the autumn, like he’d shatter from a single touch. But if he doesn’t open it, Rodney will find a way in like he always does. The same way he’s managed to get past John’s defenses until life without him has become an impossibility.
Rodney’s in civvies and he’s holding a DVD case to keep their cover story plausible. He pauses in the doorway, studies John and then says, for the second time that day, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” John repeats. The blood is buzzing in his ears, his chest is tightening until it feels like he can’t breathe. His fingers are cold.
Rodney gives John his ‘Yeah, right’-look. “Yes, because you look perfectly fine. Not at all like you’ve seen a ghost or something. Seriously, if you don’t want to do this we can call it off. I mean, it’s not like...”
John thinks the door shut and then he’s pushing Rodney up against it, trying to touch everywhere at once, using his mouth to shut him up. It’s rough, almost desperate, like he’s trying to crawl inside Rodney, feel Rodney’s warmth, put his mark on him.
Rodney breaks away, staring at him, panting, “John, are you...”
“Fuck me,” John growls. He needs Rodney inside him, needs it more than he’s ever needed anything or anyone in his life. Skin against skin, breath against breath, Rodney moving inside him, filling him up, cementing the bond between them.
“John...” Rodney begins, but John pushes him towards the bed, down on his back, and crawls on top. Rodney’s shirt has too many buttons and he just wants to rip it off to get to Rodney’s skin, his broad chest and his nipples. “Wait, wait a minute,” Rodney protests. “Calm down a little, will you, we’ve got plenty of time. If you just...”
But it doesn’t feel like they’ve got any time at all. If John lets go, Rodney will disappear, just slip away and never come back again unless John can get his cock inside and keep him here. He finally manages to get Rodney’s clothes off and then his own and he reaches for the lube in the bedstand drawer, squirts it over his hands and uses it to slick Rodney up and jerk him to full hardness. Rodney groans and squirms underneath him, hands pawing at John’s shoulders and arms, trying to slow him down. He’s trying to say something, but John leans forward and silences him by taking his mouth again.
He reaches behind him to get Rodney lined up against his hole and then pushes back, feeling Rodney’s cock press inside. No prep at all and it hurts enough to bring tears to his eyes but it’s good, so good. When he looks down, Rodney eyes are wide open and he’s whispering, “John, don’t... you’ll hurt yourself...”
John starts rocking against him, wants Rodney deeper, wants to swallow him up. “I’m fine,” he says again. Repeats it like a mantra, like another one of those things he can convince himself of if he just tries hard enough. “I’m fine. Come on, fuck me.”
He rolls his hips in that way Rodney likes, feels Rodney’s cock press against his prostate, hot and hard, and he bites his lower lip so hard he can taste blood. Rodney’s hands settle on his hips, try to hold him still, but John won’t have it, keeps up the pace.
“Come on,” he grunts. “Come on, come on, I’m fine, come on...”
Throws his head back, he’s nowhere close to coming, but it doesn’t matter. It’s Rodney’s orgasm he craves, needs the warm wetness of Rodney inside him, like it’ll fix everything, make everything better.
I presented the situation. He volunteered. He volunteered. He volunteered.
He doesn’t realise he’s saying the words out loud until he opens his eyes and looks down to find Rodney staring at him, his expression changing from bewildered into furious. Before John knows it, he’s the one lying on his back with Rodney looming over him, eyes dark with anger.
“You stupid fuck. Don’t ever do that again, do you hear me? You don’t get to use me to punish yourself.”
John opens his mouth but no sound comes out. He’s not even hard, and his ass is sore and burning from Rodney’s cock. He feels empty, hollowed out inside and so, so cold. He tries to speak, tries to explain, but only manages a strangled sob.
Rodney’s face softens. He presses a thumb against John’s cheek, against his lips, and then leans down to kiss him. Slow this time, so slow and sweet it’s painful and John is torn between sinking into Rodney and pulling away. It’s like he’s completely lost control over his body, like he belongs to Rodney now, and it fills him with both terror and anticipation. It’s like he’s standing on top of a cliff, ready to throw himself over the edge. His sense of self-preservation shouts at him to stay where he is, keep his feet on solid ground where he knows the rules. Everything else wants to just take the step out into thin air, to soar and trust Rodney to catch him.
Then Rodney’s hand is on John’s cock, slowly stroking him hard. “You are so fucked up,” Rodney murmurs fondly against his face. “Seriously, you need to learn how to talk. And I thought I was bad at relationships.”
John closes his eyes, lets Rodney’s voice wash over him, like floating on the surface of a sea of emotions that’s threatening to pull him under and drown him. “I can’t,” he whimpers. “I’m sorry, Rodney, I can’t...”
Rodney swallows his words, licks his way into John’s mouth. “Hush,” he whispers. “It’s okay, John. I’ve got you. It’s all right, just relax and let it go.”
Fingers squeezing him, so gently it takes his breath away and his world is only this, Rodney’s breath against his skin, Rodney’s low voice in his ear, Rodney’s warmth and weight. It’s such a fine line between pleasure and pain. Even though Rodney is so careful, he’s still tearing John apart with his kindness, breaking him into fragments of himself.
“Let it go, John. Give it up for me.” Rodney says, speeding his strokes up just a little bit, enough to draw the orgasm from John’s body and he stops breathing, arches into Rodney’s touch and comes and comes until he’s got nothing left to give.
Sinks back into himself a few moments later to find Rodney looking down at him with some concern. “Are you okay?” he asks.
“I’m...” John begins, and then changes his mind, too tired and spent to pretend anymore. “I don’t know.”
If he could get a do-over he would change nothing. Rodney has become far too important to him. He doesn’t know where to draw the lines anymore and he’s never been so scared in his life.
Rodney’s hand curls around his neck, pulling John’s head against his shoulder. “John. Stop thinking. We’ll figure it out.”
John relaxes then, lets Rodney wrap his body around him, put him back together again. Surrounded by Rodney’s warmth, he closes his eyes. He’s not fine. As a matter of fact, he’s the exact opposite of fine. But maybe, with time, it’ll get better.
- fin -