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General & Dr Sheppard ~
Part Seven: Submission
Title: General & Dr Sheppard - Part
Seven: Submission Feedback: Yes please! To xanthe@xanthe.org Many thanks to: Bluespirit for unwavering support, constant enthusiasm,
good suggestions and beta help and for just being fabulous. I really
can't thank Bluespirit enough. She's been so fabulous and I seriously
doubt I'd have continued writing this story without her help and
support. Any mistakes are my own. Special thanks also to Flying North
for discussions and suggestions. Separate thanks also due to the
fantastically talented Bluespirit for the amazingly inspiring title
graphic ;-).
General & Dr Sheppard Ten days later, Rodney stumbled sleepily to the door of his quarters and opened it in response to the insistent chiming. "Good morning, Rodney!" Colonel Sheppard said in an insanely cheerful voice, stepping into his room. Rodney glowered at him. "What's good about it?" he grunted, walking back to his bed to pull on his boots. He hadn't bothered shaving because he assumed that whatever it was Colonel Sheppard wanted to do to him would require a lot of sweating and generally being uncomfortable to the point of him requiring a long shower when the hour was up. He had managed to put on his pants, but still hadn't changed from his sleep tee-shirt into his workout tee-shirt. He tied his bootlaces very slowly, like a condemned man delaying his own execution. He'd deliberately left the light off, but Sheppard seemed to feel a need for everything to be as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as he was and he turned it on, making Rodney utter a curse and screw up his eyes against the sudden harsh brightness. "So, you're not a morning person, then?" Sheppard said, leaning against the wall. "It's six a.m.! I went to bed at one and now you've got me up early just so I can wear myself out with pointless calisthenics," Rodney grumbled, finishing with his bootlaces and getting up with a sigh. "Not pointless, Rodney, and who the hell uses the word 'calisthenics,' anyway? It's a drill, so I can teach you how to take care of yourself in a fight." "Why now?" Rodney asked, getting up slowly, his entire body feeling sluggish. "I mean, we've been going on offworld missions for a couple of years and suddenly now you feel I need a military tutorial? And forgive me if I'm wrong, but isn't the whole point of your job to protect me because as a civilian I'm clearly incapable of doing that myself? How would you like it if I insisted you spent an hour a day in the lab with me learning about astrophysics and mechanical engineering, hmm?" "I think it'd be great." Sheppard smiled at him pleasantly and Rodney scowled. "Yes. Well. You still haven't answered my question. Why now?" "I agree. I must apologize to you," Sheppard said. Rodney screwed up his eyes suspiciously. Sheppard grinned. "I should have suggested it a long time ago. It hasn't been fair on you, and the events of our most recent mission brought home to me just how remiss I've been in taking care of your personal safety." "What?" Rodney blinked. "You're invaluable to us, Rodney," Sheppard told him. "Your knowledge and expertise are far too important an asset for us not to take very good care of them. You've always handled yourself pretty well offworld, but you haven't had any formal training and now I'm going to take care of that. A bit late, admittedly, but I promise you I won't fail you again." "Thanks. I think," Rodney said, wondering how the hell this whole conversation had been turned around so that it looked like he should be grateful about the coming hour of hell he was about to be subjected to. "Ready?" Sheppard asked. "Tee-shirt," Rodney muttered, reaching for his clean tee-shirt...and then hesitating. He hated undressing in front of people and he really didn't want to be half-naked in front of Colonel Sheppard of all people. "Well, hurry up, it's already nearly five past," Sheppard said, glancing at his watch. Rodney bit on his lip. It seemed incredibly prissy to ask the colonel to turn around, so in the end, he pulled his bed tee-shirt over his head, feeling his face flush as he did so, and quickly pulled on the other tee-shirt, all the time aware of the colonel's eyes upon him. In fact, the colonel's demeanor of casual indifference was disturbing of and by itself, when contrasted with the tautness of his muscles, and the way he was leaning against the wall, never taking his eyes off Rodney. Rodney had the disturbing sensation of there being a panther in the room, poised ready to spring, sleek and powerful. He shivered and brushed the thought aside; it was only Colonel Sheppard. "Right. I thought we'd go for a little run first, to warm you up. Just a quick jog down to the South West pier. Then we can go to the practice room and start work on some drills. Sound okay?" Sheppard asked. "No. Sounds horrible. Does that mean I don't have to do it?" Rodney asked. Sheppard grinned at him, and Rodney had that same sensation of being locked in a room with a dangerous predator. "You'll be fine," the colonel told him, placing a hand on his shoulder as they exited the room together. It might just have been Rodney's imagination, but that hand felt very warm and oddly affectionate. They set off at a gentle jog which Rodney was surprised to find he was able to maintain. What also surprised him was that the colonel seemed to have a pathological need to talk while running, which struck him as frankly weird—it was hard enough to breathe as it was without also having to make intelligent conversation. "Why did you work so late last night when you knew you had to be up early this morning?" the colonel said, and he wasn't even remotely out of breath—not even a hint of sweat on him. Rodney guessed that their current pace was barely a whisker above walking for him. "There's...a...lot...to...be...done," he replied, between panting breaths. "QDD won't fix itself." "Yeah, but you have Rodney Sheppard and all your team working on it, right?" the colonel asked. "You don't understand, there's weeks of work to be done," Rodney said, stopping for a moment to get his breath back, putting his hands on his knees as he panted. Sheppard circled him, still jogging, in a way that was incredibly annoying. "You can't work at this pace for weeks," he said. "I can." Rodney jutted out his jaw obstinately. "You'll be a wreck." "So?" Rodney shrugged. "So...I'm just saying... Rodney Sheppard has more personally invested in this than you do because he wants to go home, but I'm betting he wasn't there with you until one last night." "No, in fact he's totally work-shy," Rodney grumbled, ambling forwards again as Shep-pard set off once more. "He never works later than seven." "Do any of the rest of the team?" Sheppard asked. Rodney frowned. "I haven't asked them to. I like working on my own, anyway. Fewer people to get in the way." "Maybe you should give yourself a break, Rodney," Sheppard said softly. "If Rodney Sheppard isn't pushing to get home early, then why the hell should you work yourself into the ground? I know you feel guilty about bringing them here in the first place, but it won't help anyone if you keel over with exhaustion because of this." "Your concern is touching, Colonel, but the hours I work really aren't any of your business," Rodney pointed out. "Now, if you don't mind, I need all my breath for this pointless waste of energy, so perhaps you could shut up?" They jogged to the practice room in silence, and when they arrived there, Rodney flung himself down on a bench, feeling utterly exhausted. He glanced at his watch and was appalled to find it was only twenty past six. He couldn't believe he still had another forty minutes of this. "Okay, a few stretches and then we'll start," the colonel said, gesturing to Rodney to get up. "First of all, I'm going to teach you how to fall." "That sounds very helpful," Rodney muttered. "I thought the whole point of this was that I learned how to fight?" "Yeah, but I confidently predict that in learning how to fight, you're going to be taking a hell of a lot of falls in the next few weeks," the colonel told him with a broad grin. "And I want to teach you how to fall properly, so you don't hurt yourself."
* * *
Rodney had the beginnings of a bad headache ten minutes later, after having been thrown onto the exercise mat more times than he could count. He was pretty sure that he was becoming good at falling, though, and if faced by any hordes of hostile aliens, he felt sure he would be able to impress them by his ability to throw himself to the ground. "Great. You're doing well," Sheppard said, holding out a sweaty hand to pull him up for the umpteenth time. Rodney groaned, his body aching from all the unaccustomed exercise. "I think we can move on to something more interesting now." He went over to the side of the room and returned with what Rodney always thought of as 'Teyla's sticks,' although he was sure they had some technical term that he couldn't be bothered to retain in his memory. "Here." Sheppard tossed them to him and Rodney fumbled the catch, so they clattered onto the floor. Rodney stumbled after them, hating this whole thing. Really, it seemed to him, it was just a giant excuse to humiliate him, although he had to admit that Sheppard didn't seem to be taking any particular pleasure in his discomfort and had mainly been encouraging throughout. Sheppard showed him a few moves that looked completely simple in slow motion, but when he came to actually advance on the colonel, somehow he found his hands and legs didn't move at the same pace and Sheppard thwacked him soundly on his arm and the back of his legs. "Ow and ow," Rodney complained, glowering at him. "Well, concentrate, then," Sheppard said, grinning back. "I know you can do better than that." Rodney wasn't entirely sure why he was laboring under that delusion, but he tried to be faster the next time around—with a fairly similar result. "This really isn't as much fun for me as it is for you," he griped. Sheppard shook his head. "It takes a while to pick it up, but you're doing well," he replied. "So...I've been thinking about what you said earlier," Rodney said, trying to twirl one of the sticks and failing miserably. He caught it awkwardly before it spun off out of his reach entirely. "About spending an hour a day in my lab. You're obviously an intelligent man, Colonel—there's the whole MENSA thing apart from anything else—so why did you end up going into the military of all places? You could have done so much more with your life." "Ouch." Sheppard pulled a face. "But no, this is good. You're trying to psyche me out, to distract me. I get it." He did a perfect flip with one of his sticks and grinned at Rodney again. Rodney advanced on him determinedly, slightly annoyed that his ploy had been seen through so easily, but still fairly confident that he could distract the colonel, anyway. The other man had his hot buttons and Rodney was pretty sure he knew how to push them. "I was a fighter pilot, Rodney," John told him, feinting to the left slightly. Rodney hopped back, out of reach. "Did you ever read the entry requirements for becoming a fighter pilot? They expect you to have top grades in every thing. You have to make dozens of fast mental calculations when you're flying at that level." "Hmm. And yet, you could have taken those same qualifications and gone anywhere, done anything, made a real contribution to the field of human learning...instead of offering yourself up as canon fodder the entire time." Rodney jumped forward, his stick raised high and managed to land a blow onto the colonel's stick, which the other man easily deflected. They turned and faced off again. "I wanted to fly," the colonel told him. "Always have, always will. Everything else was worth the sacrifice." "But you don't just have entry level qualifications, Colonel," Rodney persisted. "I've worked with you—you've even assisted me on some high level scientific projects and you're good. For a military man, at least." "Why, thank you, Rodney." Sheppard feinted to the right and landed a blow on Rodney's stick, but Rodney managed to deflect it just in time and hopped back again. "Usually, I find the military mind to be incredibly stupid," Rodney added, making another lunge forward. The colonel sidestepped him easily and landed a tap on Rodney's ass. Rodney growled and turned, fast, sticks raised again. "I just think it's a waste, that's all," Rodney said. "Maybe you were afraid of failing in a more cerebral arena? Maybe you didn't want to put yourself to the test, Colonel." "Maybe," Sheppard chuckled, but Rodney thought he might be getting to him. "One thing I was wondering—back in the puddle jumper, when you were out of it, you called me John. It struck me then, you always call me Colonel, or Sheppard—but you've never called me John, before or since," the colonel said, circling him again. Rodney frowned. "You call Carson and Elizabeth by their first names, but not me. Why is that?" Sheppard asked. Rodney shrugged, feeling uncomfortable. "I've worked with the military for a long time, Colonel," he said, feeling the sweat trickle down the side of his face. "I know how obsessed you all are by your rank." Rodney brushed his arm angrily across his forehead to stop the sweat from dripping into his eyes. Sheppard, by comparison, still looked as fresh as a daisy. "Not all of us," Sheppard replied, running forward and nearly knocking both Rodney's sticks out of his hands. Rodney turned just as Sheppard struck a glancing blow to his hip. "That hurt! And, yes, pretty much all of you. Take you, for example, and how annoyed you were when you found out that your counterpart in another universe outranked you. That really upset you." Rodney lunged in wildly, was caught off balance, and only just managed to escape without being knocked to the floor. He took two hard swats to his ass as Sheppard passed him, though. "Word of advice, Rodney. Distraction is one thing, but pissing people off can be counter-productive," Sheppard growled. "And you were ridiculously pleased when you got the promotion to lieutenant colonel," Rodney continued, gathering himself up and moving forwards again, figuring that attack was the best method of defense. Their sticks clashed and then got tangled and they pushed against each other for several seconds. Rodney could feel the colonel overwhelming him with his superior strength and experience and he went down on one knee, their sticks still locked. "You're right. I liked the promotion," Sheppard said, in a soft, silky tone. "But I don't need to be reminded of it every minute of every day. Call me John." "No," Rodney hissed, his other knee going so that he was now on both knees, his sticks still locked with Sheppard's, his arms shaking from the effort of trying to hold the other man back. "Why not?" Sheppard asked, and his face was close—too close—and Rodney was reminded of that panther again, power barely leashed. Why not? Rodney didn't know why not, just that if he started calling the colonel 'John,' then he'd start thinking of him that way, too, and if he started doing that.... He wasn't sure how that would end. "It's just a name. It's just the same as how you address Elizabeth, and Carson, and Radek and just about everyone else. It doesn't mean anything," Sheppard said. Rodney gave in, his arms dropping, and he slumped back on the floor, panting and covered in sweat, defeated. Sheppard loomed over him and held out a hand to help him up. "That was good," he said, with a little grin. "You're learning, Rodney." "Thank you," Rodney replied, taking the proffered hand and heaving himself to his feet. He paused for a moment, looking into Sheppard's hazel eyes which were gazing at him expectantly. "Colonel," Rodney added softly. Sheppard gave a barely perceptible sigh and Rodney turned away, glad the drill session was over. He knew that he couldn't call Sheppard 'John.' Not because it didn't mean anything, but precisely because it did.
* * *
Rodney's life didn't improve over the next couple of weeks. He found the drill sessions with Colonel Sheppard oddly disconcerting. He'd never yet found a way to defeat the other man with those damn sticks, and there was a permanent level of tension between them when they fought which Rodney found both exhilarating and exhausting. It wasn't even as if he disliked the man—he wished that he did—but the truth was that being with Colonel Sheppard, sniping with him, laughing at him and generally exchanging childish insults was fun and they both enjoyed it. All the same, he couldn't shake that feeling that the colonel was like a panther, all tightly controlled power and as dangerous as any predator, and more and more, he got the strange sensation that he was the colonel's prey. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and yet weirdly exciting at the same time. The drills were the least of his problems, though. His main headache was his daily life in the lab. Rodney was used to being the emperor of his own little kingdom during his working life. He ruled his lab with a mixture of irascibility and intellectual enthusiasm and he was used to his staff leaping around to accommodate his moods. Only now there were two of him, and they were both used to being in charge in the lab, and neither of them wanted to give an inch. Rodney found everything about his counterpart irritating, from the way he clicked his fingers when he was excited to his relationship with the general, but most of all he hated the way the other man had barged into his lab and tried to take over. And the worst part of it was that he got the distinct impression that all his staff liked the other Rodney much more than they liked him. Rodney Sheppard giggled inanely at the most inopportune moments; he stopped everyone for a consolatory donut and coffee break when their work had gone spectacularly wrong, and he generally zoomed around the lab making friends and being nice to people when it wasn't remotely necessary. Rodney hated him. It wouldn't have been so bad if he'd been less intelligent than Rodney, but he wasn't—he was on Rodney's exact same level and Rodney realized for the first time in his life just how much he relied upon his genius to make him feel special, in the absence of anything else in his life to feel special about. Now he wasn't even special any more because Rodney Sheppard could do what he could, understand the level of theoretical physics that he understood, and generally keep up with him effortlessly in arguments—which was never a good thing as far as Rodney was concerned. After a couple of weeks enclosed in the confined space of the lab with him, Rodney was close to boiling point. He watched, sulkily, as his counterpart sauntered into the lab one morning, clapping his hands together and raring to go. "Okay, people, gather round. I've been thinking of a way to halve the recovery time on the crystals between imaging sessions," he announced. Rodney glared at him. "Well, that sounds good, but perhaps you should run it past me first," he said. "In case it won't work." "It'll work," his counterpart said loftily. "And it might not and this is my lab, so you ask first," Rodney snapped. His staff all shifted uneasily, clearly sensing yet another flare-up between the two men. "Okay. If you want to waste an hour in pointless explanations, then why not?" the other Rodney snapped back. "Oh, I'm sorry, are we on the clock here?" Rodney raised an eyebrow. "If so, then perhaps you'd be more concerned about the fact that we've all been here for over an hour already while you just showed up." "Well, I was busy thinking this through in my quarters because you make it impossible to think at all in here." "We could have thought it through together if you'd seen fit to bring it to me instead of just announcing it to everyone else first!" Rodney practically shouted. "Uh, perhaps it is time for a coffee break?" Radek suggested meekly, positioning himself between the two men. "Fine. Yes. Caffeine always solves everything," Rodney growled, returning to what he'd been doing before he'd been so irritatingly interrupted. He watched, still glowering, as Radek brought his counterpart some coffee and they chatted easily together. That was another thing he hated about the other Rodney: Rodney had always thought of Radek as in some way his—his to generally boss around and exchange ideas with, and now Radek seemed to be spending most of his time with the other Rodney; it was as if he preferred him. Rodney didn't like that idea so he bent his head again and tried to ignore all these unfamiliar emotions. It was impossible to completely cut Rodney Sheppard's irritating voice out from his consciousness, though. The man seemed to have made it his job to jump up and down on Rodney's nerves until he wasn't sure he could stand it any longer. The day had got off to a bad start and things didn't get any better as the day wore on, either, as the two Rodneys continued to stoke each other up to boiling point, and by the even-ing, Rodney McKay was on the verge of hysteria. He watched Rodney Sheppard cozy up to all his team, one by one, during the course of the day, until he was at the end of his tether. Finally his doppelganger moved in on Miko, all guns in his charm offensive blazing, with the sole purpose, or so it seemed to Rodney, of turning all his staff against him. "Hey, Miko," Rodney Sheppard said, buttonholing the sweet-natured Japanese scientist at her desk. "Are you still coming to dinner tomorrow evening?" "Yes, sir," Miko bowed, nodding nervously at him. Rodney bristled—he'd never invited any of his staff to dinner and he really didn't think it was necessary. "Great. We're having sashimi," his counterpart grinned. "Sashimi? You know how to make sashimi?" Miko asked, in the breathy tone of pure wonder that she usually saved just for Rodney McKay. Rodney felt a wave of intense jealousy. "Sure we do, you taught us," his counterpart grinned. "We're always hanging out together. You make us laugh. Back in my universe, we call you the Dragon Lady." "What?" Miko's eyes were wide with surprise. "Dragon Lady? Why do you call me this?" "Because of your reputation," Rodney Sheppard said, with a sly wink. Rodney found himself gripping his tools extra tightly to avoid throwing them somewhere. "Everyone thinks you're so polite and quiet, but you've somehow managed to acquire three subs—which I think we'll agree is a little greedy; two sweet girls from the botany department and one of the military boys who likes to kiss your boots. Nobody knows how you keep them all in order, but John says you rule them with a rod of iron." Miko was blushing furiously, looking up at Rodney Sheppard through her eyelashes and giggling nervously, yet clearly utterly flattered and beguiled by him at the same time. Rodney McKay had finally had enough and he flung his tools down and marched across the room. "Just...just shut up," he growled. "And do some goddamn work. You're always drinking coffee and being nice to people. It's disgusting!" "You're just jealous because they like me more than they like you," Rodney Sheppard told him. "They don't like you more than me—you're just a novelty factor," Rodney snapped at him. "With your collar and leash and endless obsession with weird sex." "At least I'm actually having sex," the other Rodney snapped back. "You're always in a bad mood because you're permanently sexually frustrated." "And you have to run whenever Daddy comes calling. 'Yes, John, No, John,'" he mimicked. "'Where do you want me, John?' You can't think for yourself, or feed yourself, or do anything by yourself." "And I can think of one thing that you have to do by yourself," the other Rodney said, his eyes flashing angrily. "Well, at least I don't belong to anyone." "Nobody would have you!" "You are petty, arrogant, and a total...a total...loser!" Rodney yelled, searching for the worst insult he could find. "Look in the mirror sometime!" his counterpart yelled back. Rodney had had enough. If he stayed here, he thought he might very well do something violent, so he collected as much dignity as he could muster and stalked out of the lab. He wasn't entirely sure where he was going so he was as surprised as anyone when his footsteps took him to Colonel Sheppard's quarters. He ignored the door chime and hammered loudly on the door until the colonel opened it, a bemused expression on his face. "Rodney? What the hell is going on? Is there an emergency?" the colonel asked. "Yes, there is. I'm on the verge of committing murder," Rodney said, pushing the colonel aside and charging into his room. "Let me guess—Rodney Sheppard," the colonel sighed. "He is.... He is the most annoying man I've ever met." "Yeah. I know." The colonel gave a wry grin. Rodney glared at him. "I am not that irritating!" he protested. "No...you're not, but neither is he," Sheppard said sensibly. "He's just...you, and for some reason, you really don't like yourself that much." "I...I...." Rodney didn't have an answer to that. He just stood there, gazing at the colonel helplessly. "You're looking really wound up. Come with me, I've got an idea for how we can handle this." "Does it involve sending Rodney Sheppard on a one way trip through the Stargate?" Rodney asked hopefully. "Nope, but it does involve making you feel better," Sheppard replied with a grin. "Okay," Rodney sighed. "I guess I'll have to settle for that." He half walked, half jogged down the hallway with the colonel, gibbering away endlessly about his problems with his counterpart, completely high on his own nervous energy. The colonel listened to him calmly, placing a soothing hand on his shoulder every now and again to guide him in the right direction, and then they finally ended up, much to Rodney's dismay, at the practice room. "Oh, you cannot be serious! I'm in no mood to get whacked around by those bloody sticks right now!" Rodney fumed. "No sticks," Sheppard told him. "I have something else in mind." "Like what?" Rodney asked suspiciously, hopping into the room after the other man. "Hand-to-hand combat," Sheppard told him with a grin. "And that's supposed to make me feel better how?" Rodney enquired. "You'll see. It's just a hunch, but somehow I think this will work. Now come here. Come on...come at me...use all that energy to throw me," the colonel beckoned. It was absurd, ridiculous...and yet, the way he was feeling right now, it made a strange kind of sense. Rodney didn't need telling twice. He threw himself bodily at the other man and tried to trip him onto the floor. The colonel caught him easily, snuck a boot behind his leg, threw him onto the floor and then leapt on top of him and held him down by lying across his chest. "Ow...get off..." Rodney panted, trying to free himself, but the colonel wouldn't budge. "Have to hold you for three seconds—unless you either tap my shoulder or say 'submit'," Sheppard told him. "Those are the rules." "Yeah, like I'm ever going to say that to you," Rodney retorted. "I'm happy to just stay here until you do," the colonel said and then, for the first time, Rodney registered how all Sheppard's body weight was on him, pinning him onto the mat, and the other man's hazel eyes seemed very close. Sheppard's body was hard and muscular and Rodney could barely wriggle an inch beneath him. "One—two—three." Sheppard grinned, finally letting him up. Rodney glared up at him. "Want to try again? Come on. You want to get your own back, don't you?" Sheppard taunted. "Just imagine I'm him. Come on...." Rodney remembered that stupid curly hair and irritating giggle and the way Rodney Sheppard would finger that black leather collar of his dreamily sometimes, when he thought nobody was looking, and how somehow that annoyed Rodney more than anything else, and he got to his feet and threw himself at the colonel. Sheppard was ready for him, though, and he found himself cocooned in a vice-like grip, struggling to get free. "Harder," Sheppard said, his voice warm and tingly against Rodney's ear. "Come on... fight me, really fight me..." Rodney struggled even more, using every ounce of his strength, and managed to get himself free, then lunged at the colonel again—and ended up flat on his back with Sheppard lying across his chest once more. He lay there, winded, feeling strangely exhilarated by the whole thing. Sheppard was so close that he could smell the other man's scent, and the colonel had him pinned down so that he couldn't move, and, to be honest, suddenly Rodney wasn't so sure that he wanted to move.
* * *
Rodney Sheppard stormed back to his quarters after his argument with his counterpart, feeling completely outraged. It didn't matter how much he tried, or how many good ideas he brought to their work, Rodney McKay absolutely refused to give him any kind of a break. The man picked arguments where there was no need, and Rodney didn't think he could stand it for much longer. He stormed into his room, threw his laptop down on the table, and kicked a near-by chair. "Bad day?" a voice said sympathetically from the direction of the bed. Rodney turned, surprised; he hadn't expected John to be back yet. He and the colonel had been over on the mainland all day and Rodney had assumed he'd be late home, but instead he was lying on the bed, gazing at Rodney with a quizzical expression on his face. "Very bad day," Rodney growled. "I swear if I have to listen to that man trying to patronize me one more time, then I might not be able to control myself." He kicked the chair again to illustrate the point. John grinned and sat up. "Let me guess—Rodney McKay?" He raised an eyebrow. "Who else? He's always sniping at me. Little comments here and there, all the time. Dig, dig, dig...mostly about my relationship with you and my sexual preferences...he's obsessed! And he seems to think he understands us when he doesn't. He gets it wrong. He makes it sound like what we have—what we do and what we enjoy—like it's bad or unnatural or something, and that makes me furious and he knows that, so he keeps on doing it until he gets a rise out of me." "If you could just learn not to react, then he might stop doing it," John said wisely, swinging his long legs over the side of the bed. "I know, I know! And I try, I honestly do. He has a great team and I love working with them, but it's just him I can't stand." "I like him," John said, getting up and walking over to him. Rodney glowered at him. "I have no idea why," he grumbled. "Because he's kind of like you, and I really like you," John told him, grabbing his chin and bestowing a sweet kiss on his mouth. Rodney sighed and melted against him, trying to allow the kiss to calm him. "You're back early," he said finally when John released him. "I thought you'd be late." "Me, too, but we got done earlier than we thought." "Are we eating in the mess hall tonight or are you cooking?" Rodney asked, leaning against him. "Mess hall. I'll be cooking tomorrow night because I believe we have guests." "Oh, yeah. Miko." Rodney had forgotten about Miko. "It's weird. She's kind of like our Miko, but also...just really timid. Our Miko has that whole cool toppy thing going on underneath the quiet exterior." "Well, this Miko might be like that, too. We'll just have to get to know her better," John said. "I invited Elizabeth over as well. Should be an interesting combination. I was thinking that next week we should invite Colonel Sheppard and Rodney McKay, but I'm guessing that's not such a good idea?" Rodney pulled back and gazed at him in abject horror. "There is no way I am spending a day in the lab with that man and then feeding him anything other than arsenic!" he growled, disengaging himself from his husband's arms. "He's a monster!" He could feel himself getting wound up again, and he spun around, fists clenching and unclenching. "Uh-oh. I sense another rant," John said, stepping back. "It's just that he seems to resent me having any ideas or contributing in any way to our work in anything other than the most menial capacity. It's all 'Dr. Sheppard, do you think you're able to hold my laptop while I get on with the very important and complicated work, or would that be too much for you?'" Rodney gave a growl of frustration and kicked the chair again, only narrowly missing his husband's leg as he did so. "Okay, you need taking down," John said firmly. "And I think I know just the way to do it." "Really?" Rodney gazed at him expectantly. "Oh, yeah. You see...I don't know about you, but I've been missing some of the toys we have back home." "Oh, yes. Me too," Rodney sighed, thinking of their extensive collection of paddles, floggers, whips, clamps, chains, harnesses, gags, cuffs, butt plugs, dildos and other paraphernalia. They had the items that John wore clipped to his belt, but they were just the basics, and more for formal use than anything else, and Rodney longed for the more erotic items that they had in their closet back home. "So...over the past few weeks, while you've been working in the lab...I've been making a few trips over to the mainland, doing some trading, offering up my services to help with anything the Athosians needed in return for them making me a few items... Hell, I even made a couple myself," John grinned. "What kind of items?" Rodney asked excitedly, barely able to restrain himself from hopping up and down. "All kinds. Stand still and I'll show you." Rodney made a conscious effort to clamp down on the high levels of nervous energy currently coursing through his body. Only when he'd stood completely still for a couple of seconds did John nod and go over to their closet. He pulled out a wooden chest which was clearly quite heavy, carried it over to the table, and opened it. Rodney waited for permission to take a peek inside, desperately restraining himself from running straight over there to see what was in it. Finally John beckoned him over and he hopped to his husband's side and then stood there, utterly dumbfounded. "Oh, God," he said at last. "It's like it's my birthday or something." John grinned. "Yeah. Let me show you everything, one by one—then I'm gonna take great pleasure in trying them all out on you." He pulled out a flogger first and Rodney ran his fingers through it in awe. It was soft, its long tails made of some kind of furry animal hide, and Rodney ached to feel it caressing his shoulders. This was an item of serious pleasure. "This one is the good cop," John told him with a smile. "But this one..." He pulled out another flogger, and this one was made of thinly plaited rope and was a much more unforgiving implement. "This one is the bad cop," John said, a look of anticipation glittering in his hazel eyes. Next John pulled out a sturdy wooden paddle. "I made this myself," he said proudly, holding it up. Rodney fingered it, wondering what it would feel like on his ass. He suspected it would be loud and make a thwacking sound, but it wouldn't hurt the way the strap did—John's strap was thick and hard and his husband only ever used it for punishment, not for pleasure. "I'm impressed," Rodney said, grinning delightedly. "I never knew you could carve wood." "Jinto taught me," John replied with a grin of his own. "He wasn't sure why I needed a paddle when I don't have any kids, but I told him there would be a very deserving recipient." Rodney giggled at that and pressed a kiss to the side of his husband's face. A pair of butter-soft wrist and ankle cuffs were next out of the box. Rodney fingered them thoughtfully. "These are beautiful," he whispered. "I know. It's the softest hide the Athosians have. Only the best for you," John murmured, his lips moving over the skin of Rodney's neck as he spoke, making Rodney shiver. "I also got these," John said, pulling out some items of clothing. Rodney sorted through them, his big fingers gently caressing a silk shirt in a dazzling shade of blue. "I thought it would match your eyes," John said. Rodney swallowed hard, feeling a lump rise in his throat. "And these..." John pulled out a pair of black pants that laced up rather than zipped, and some comfortable-looking leather boots. "I know how much you hate the clothes that Dr. McKay gave you. I thought you'd feel more like yourself in this outfit," John told him. "I love you," Rodney told him, fingering the fabrics, loving the sensual feel of them. One of the things he'd found difficult about being in this universe was the lack of sensuality. He liked his clothes to whisper on his skin, to comfort him, restrict him, or caress him. He liked the way silk felt against his naked flesh, and the snug fit of his pants, the way they accentuated his ass for his husband to enjoy. Rodney McKay's clothes provided none of those sensory experiences and he'd missed them. Rodney turned to his husband and ran his fingers through John's dark hair, loving the feel of that, too. "Seriously, I love you," he said again, insistently, before pressing a deep, heartfelt kiss to his husband's lips. John's hands went around his waist and slid down the back of his pants. "That's good," John murmured when the kiss ended. "Because I'm going to spend the next hour or so tormenting you by doing some very slow, very exotic things to your body. And by the time I'm done, you won't even remember who Dr. McKay is because you'll be so boneless with pleasure. It wouldn't matter if he marched right in here and taunted you—you'd just smile and let it all wash over you." Rodney stiffened under his husband's caress. "I'm not seeing that right now," he admitted. "But I'll take your word for it." "Good...because I want you to submit to me now, Rodney. I'm going to take you down, and I want you to give everything up to me."
* * * "Had enough yet?" Colonel John Sheppard asked, gazing at Rodney's red, sweaty face. The scientist shook his head, grimly. "Think you can beat me?" John taunted, grinning broadly. "Come on, Rodney, you're a big, solid guy. You've probably got a weight advantage on me. Use that." Rodney gazed back at him, an intent look on his face, and then he lunged forwards again. John wrapped his arms around him, holding him back, but he was right—Rodney had a pair of broad shoulders on him and if he could learn how to use them to his advantage, he could be a serious opponent. Unfortunately, he lacked a certain killer instinct, which had surprised John when he'd first gotten to know the scientist. In the beginning, he'd assumed Rodney's bite was as bad as his bark, but he'd soon come to realize that Rodney used words to keep people at bay, and while he might say one thing, he often did the complete opposite. When they'd first arrived on Atlantis, John had had Rodney pegged as a complete coward, but he'd soon been disabused of that notion and had since come to view Rodney as one of the bravest men he'd ever known. The scientist had saved a lot of lives, often putting himself at risk to do so. He might bitch and complain about the little things, but when it came to the really big things, John knew he could rely on Rodney completely. Not that he'd ever tell the scientist that, of course. The other man's ego was a curious mixture of superiority and inferiority complexes and you had to be careful about which side of it you fed. John turned Rodney in his arms, got a hold on the scientist's arm and pinioned it behind his back, then pulled him close, so that his back was against John's chest. Then John wrapped his free arm around Rodney's body, holding him tight. "Now what?" John whispered in Rodney's ear. "What would you do if this happened offworld? If some badass alien had you like this? How would you escape?" John could feel the warmth of Rodney's body pressed against his, could feel Rodney's breathing coming in gulps, could feel Rodney's hot cheek pressed against the side of his face. He wished he wasn't enjoying this quite so much, but he couldn't help it. The general had told him that if he wanted Rodney, he should just go for it, but John knew it wasn't as simple in his universe as it was in his counterpart's. For a start, Rodney had never given any indication that he would welcome his advances, so John had decided to take things very slowly. He'd sought out opportunities to spend time with the scientist, often dropping by his lab late at night for a chat while Rodney was working, or seeking him out in the mess hall. John was enjoying his one-sided courtship—and that's what it felt like to him—a courtship. Maybe that was a little old fashioned, but in some ways John viewed himself as an old fashioned kind of guy. He didn't have any objection to playing a long game, either. He'd just hang out with Rodney for long enough to see whether he had any chance at all with the scientist, or whether Rodney was completely and irrevocably straight. John thought that his tactics might be working as well—it was him, after all, who Rodney had come to this evening. He knew that if this had happened just a few weeks ago, Rodney would have gone back to his room to sulk or had a major explosive outburst that would have been heard all around the city. Now, though, he'd learned to trust John enough to at least cautiously sniff at his fingers, even if he was a long way from eating out of his hand yet. John tightened his arm around Rodney's body, and tried not to become hard as he felt Rodney go still in his arms. He wasn't sure whether Rodney was responding to his own mood, somehow picking up, subconsciously, how best to react when John was overpowering him like this, but John loved it. It turned him on and gave him numerous jerking off fantasies to indulge in when he was alone. Right now he just wanted to push Rodney down, rip his clothes off, and slide his hard cock into the scientist's ass. He wanted to kiss those crooked lips and make Rodney moan and pant with need, but John knew that would have to wait until he had some sign from Rodney that this was what he wanted, too. They stood there for a long moment, Rodney limp in John's arms, until finally John whispered to him again. "Giving up? Or just biding your time?" An elbow in his ribs answered that question and he released his grip on Rodney, allowing him to escape, only to pull him back and throw him easily onto the floor. Rodney went down with a thump and John threw himself on top of him, holding those broad shoulders against the exercise mat with the weight of his body. He wanted to grab Rodney's arms, to hold them above his head and lower his head and force Rodney's mouth open with his lips, but instead he kept himself tightly controlled, just enjoying the sensation of Rodney's warm body under his own. Rodney struggled, but John held him fast. "You could always just say the word—if I'm hurting you," Colonel Sheppard said, gazing down on Rodney with a grin. "You're not hurting me...you're just irritating me," Rodney replied. He'd been growing steadily quieter the longer their session continued as he came down from the agitated state he'd been in when he'd first knocked on John's door. "Just one word...then I'll let you up sooner," John said silkily, loving the way Rodney's blue eyes were flashing at him. "Not gonna say it," Rodney panted. "We'll see." John reluctantly loosened his grip and allowed Rodney up.
* * *
"On your knees," General John Sheppard told his husband, in a low, sibilant tone. Rodney dropped immediately to his knees, gazing up at him with those bright blue eyes of his, with an expression of total trust. "Shirt first." John slipped his fingers under Rodney's uniform shirt and then slowly slid it up his husband's body, revealing Rodney's naked chest. "Hands behind your back," John ordered and Rodney obeyed immediately again. John fastened the new cuffs to Rodney's wrists, and then clipped them together behind his back. "Mmm, looks good," he whispered into Rodney's ear, as he ran a fingernail down Rodney's bare back. Rodney shivered and John smiled to himself. He loved doing this to his husband—he'd never had a submissive as satisfying to play with as Rodney. Rodney could be completely hyper, full of high octane nervous energy, but John knew how to bring him down, gradually, slowly, finally quieting that endlessly chatting mouth and stilling the overactive brain, reducing Rodney to a mass of sheer physical sensation. It was so incredibly fulfilling to John as a top, and he relished it. In fact, it was making him hard just thinking about it and he decided to deal with that first so that he could really enjoy working on Rodney for the next hour or so without his own sexual urgency getting in the way. And by the time he was done, he was pretty sure that he'd be ready to come all over again—this time in Rodney's plump ass. John stroked his fingers over Rodney's torso, gently, softly, just ghosting over the surface of the bare skin with his fingernails, seeing goosebumps rise on Rodney's flesh. He circled him, stroking him the entire time, and he could see that it was all Rodney could do to keep still. Finally, John ended up in front of his husband once more. He undid his fly and released his aching cock, then took hold of Rodney's face in his hands. "I'm going to use your mouth," he whispered, in that same low, dark tone that he saved for their most erotic encounters. "I don't want you to move. I want you to kneel there, and take me." This was the first step in getting Rodney to forget all the anxieties and irritations of the day and surrender himself to John's will. It might take a while for them to get there, but after a couple of years together, Rodney was pretty well trained by now—and John knew how best to get the response he wanted. He caressed Rodney's ears for a second, and then slid his hand around and grabbed the hair on the back of his husband's head. He jerked Rodney's head back and his husband opened his mouth automatically. John took advantage of that to slide his hard cock between Rodney's lips, not loosening his hold on Rodney's hair as he did so. John let out a sigh as he slid his cock deeper into Rodney's open mouth, savoring the warmth of Rodney's tongue on his hard length. "That's good," he whispered. "I'm going to go deep—relax your throat." Rodney was pretty good at deep-throating him, but it was easier for him to do that when he was moving his head down on John's cock. Now John had him immobile and it was much harder to suppress the gag reflex in those circumstances. Rodney's eyes widened and John could see he was struggling with it, but making him submit to what John wanted was one way they both got off, so John wasn't about to let him get away without trying. He could feel Rodney gulping, swallowing convulsively, and he used his free hand to stroke the side of his husband's face, relaxing and calming him. Rodney responded immediately, making a visible effort to accommodate John's cock, and then John was sliding in further, deep into Rodney's throat. He slid in and out for a long time, loving the way his cock disappeared so far inside Rodney's mouth. His balls slapped against Rodney's chin with every inward thrust and it felt so good. Finally, he backed up a little. "I'm going to fuck your mouth hard now," he told Rodney, in a very low voice, barely above a whisper. "I want you to take it. Just kneel there and worship my cock, Rodney." Rodney gave a little moan and John grinned, seeing by the tenting of Rodney's pants just how turned on he was by this. He released his grip on Rodney's hair, grabbed the sides of his husband's face, and then sank himself into Rodney's mouth again, fast and hard, as he'd promised. His hips were moving like a piston now, in and out, just one shade short of brutal, and Rodney was struggling to stay in position under the onslaught with his hands tied behind his back. Only the pressure of John's hands on the sides of his face was keeping him steady. John bucked into him over and over again, loving the expression in Rodney's blue eyes, loving the way he was offering himself up to his top, surrendering himself to John's demands. Then John felt himself coming, and he held Rodney's face in a firm grip and ejaculated down his throat. Finally he came to a halt, his fingers stroking Rodney's hair gently. He stood there for a long moment, enjoying the way his softening cock felt, still lying against Rodney's tongue, and the little panting movements of Rodney's breathing around the sensitive organ. Eventually, he withdrew and tucked his cock away again in his pants. Rodney knelt there, a dreamy expression in his eyes. "Up," John said, helping Rodney to his feet. He undid his husband's pants and then removed the rest of his clothes until he was standing there completely naked. Then John circled around him again, drinking in the sight of him. He loved Rodney's body and even though it was completely familiar to him, he still couldn't get enough of it. John trailed a finger over his husband's broad shoulders, reveling in their strong shape. Rodney's body wasn't hard and lean like his own, but it was nicely toned, and his biceps bulged just the right amount. John pressed his lips against Rodney's shoulders and kissed them. "I'm going to flog you here later," he whispered. "Nice and long and hard, until these shoulders are red." Rodney didn't reply. He just stood there, shivering again. John grinned, loving how responsive Rodney was to everything he said to him as well as everything he did. He undid the clip holding Rodney's cuffs together and allowed his hands to go free. "I made the most of my free time earlier to make some modifications to the room," John said. "Just some hooks in the right places." Rodney glanced up and caught sight of the hooks John had fastened to the ceiling and walls, and he made a little moaning sound. "I want you spread-eagled. I'll fasten you to the hooks above and those set in the floor." John nodded downwards. "Then I'm going to spend a long time playing with you," he promised. Rodney swallowed, hard, his blue eyes wide with a combination of anticipation, fear and arousal. John loved that look. "Shh," he whispered, running a finger over Rodney's skin again. "Surrender to me, Rodney. Give it up to me. You can't stop me, anyway. It's going to happen whether you fight it or not, so give it up and let me do what I want to you." Rodney sighed, as if a huge weight had been lifted from him, and his body was already starting to look less tense. John grinned and began fastening the chains from the wooden chest to the hooks in the ceiling. When he was done, he turned back to Rodney, bearing a plain black blindfold. He bound it tightly around his husband's eyes so that Rodney wouldn't be able to see anything. "You don't get to be in control," John told him. "You don't get to see anything I'm going to do to you. You just have to accept it. That's all." Rodney was trembling in earnest now and John grinned, loving the way the power was flowing between them, back and forth, being surrendered and being taken, turning them both on. "Now the gag," John said, knowing how much Rodney hated not being able to talk or scream. Rodney stiffened. "I don't want you to even think about talking. In fact I don't want you to think at all. I just want you to feel every single thing I'm going to do to you. I want you to con-centrate on that and nothing else." Rodney nodded, his lips trembling slightly. John pushed the leather gag between those lips, and buckled it behind his head, and then he placed a little kiss on each of Rodney's cheeks, running his hands up and down Rodney's body as he did so, until some of the trembling subsided. Finally, John took hold of Rodney's wrists and tied him to the chains above them. Then he knelt down, fastened a cuff on each of Rodney's ankles, and chained him to the hooks in the floor. Rodney was now completely spread-eagled—legs wide apart, arms stretched equally wide above him, naked, blindfolded and gagged. John sighed. "Oh, that's a good sight," he whispered, stroking Rodney's bare ass with his hands, holding it and squeezing it affectionately. He stood back for a moment, just gazing at Rodney, drinking in the sight of him, bound like this, waiting for his attentions. It turned him on so much that he could feel his cock hardening again, despite the fact that he'd so recently come. It wasn't urgent yet, though—he had time to play with Rodney for a good long while before he needed to slide into that ass and claim him again. Rodney was tense beneath his gaze, and John shook his head. Rodney was trying to second guess him, his brain working at top speed as he wondered what John would do to him first, and John wanted to stop that. He wanted Rodney to submit, to stop thinking and just accept.
* * *
Rodney McKay stood in the practice room, his breathing coming in heavy pants. "Had enough yet?" Colonel Sheppard taunted. Rodney shook his head grimly, wondering what the hell was wrong with him. Usually, he couldn't get out of the practice room quick enough, but not today. Not right now. Right now, he only wanted to hurl himself on the colonel, to wrestle him to the floor and take him down. He wasn't sure why, or how, but on some level this was working. He could feel himself becoming quieter and calmer by the second. He'd almost forgotten why he'd been so uptight earlier. He wasn't sure why being thrown around and generally sat on by Colonel Sheppard was helping his mood, but somehow it was. He could feel the blood zinging around his body and he had a sensation that he almost never had. It took him a moment to identify it and then he realized that he was simply glad to be alive. This—this was somehow good. He didn't understand it and he knew that intellectually it made no sense at all, but he couldn't deny how his body was feeling right now. And then there was Colonel Sheppard, standing right in front of him with that endless bloody grin on his face, always besting him, forever just a step out of reach, or able to turn Rodney's most adept lunges into an opportunity to throw the scientist down on the floor. It was... annoying, and yet oddly addictive at the same time. Rodney caught his breath, and then began circling the colonel again. The other man moved as well, lithe and graceful as a panther, and Rodney knew he couldn't match him in that. He didn't have Sheppard's speed or his hand-eye coordination, but Sheppard was right—he did have upper body strength. He just had to find a way to use it to his best advantage. It would feel so good to trap Sheppard beneath him, the way the colonel had been doing to him for the past hour or so. He'd like that. He'd like to be the one holding the colonel down, being victorious over him. In fact, he'd like it so much that he wasn't sure he could give up until it happened, even if they had to stay here all night. Maybe it wasn't the colonel he wanted to beat, a small voice inside told him. Maybe he was just transferring all his competitive feelings towards Rodney Sheppard onto the colonel, but Rodney didn't much care one way or another right now. He moved in, feinted to the left, and then caught the colonel by surprise, lunging at him. He managed to get a firm hold on Sheppard's waist, and used all the power in his shoulders to throw the colonel down onto the mat. Then with a triumphant growl, he threw himself on top of him...only to land with a bump on the exercise mat as the colonel twisted away from under him, and then threw himself on top of Rodney, holding him fast. "No!" Rodney roared. "That was good. You did all the hard work for me there," the colonel said, that dark hair of his flopping over one hazel eye. "Dammit...!" Rodney struggled with all his might and managed to get one arm free, but Sheppard just grabbed the freed arm and thumped it onto the mat above Rodney's head. Rodney got his other arm free, but Sheppard just did the same with that. Now he was kneeling on Rodney's body, both his hands tight around Rodney's wrists, holding his arms above his head, holding him down. Rodney wriggled and writhed, but he was held fast. All he could see were Sheppard's amused hazel eyes and he could smell the other man's sweat; it was all so incredibly raw and basic. Rodney struggled again, giving it everything he could, and then, finally he slumped back, feeling exhausted. "Submit?" Sheppard asked, his white teeth seeming very close to Rodney's face. Rodney shook his head mutely. The colonel's expression changed, and he slammed Rodney's hands down above his head again. "Got you, Rodney," he hissed. "You're not going anywhere until you say it." Suddenly the colonel's hazel eyes didn't look so amused any more. They looked dangerous, as if he could kill Rodney without even thinking about it. Just slip a hand around his neck and squeeze, or bite down hard on his jugular with his teeth.... Rodney gazed up at him for a long time, lost in the moment. He felt tired—and all those emotions he'd been feeling about his counterpart seemed to have disappeared. His shoulders felt loose and open, free of the tension that had been in them earlier. He felt...good. In fact, he didn't think he'd ever felt so good before in his life. What did it matter if he said the word? John—Sheppard—had done what he'd promised he would; he'd made Rodney feel better. Besides, Rodney had the feeling that unless he said the word, Sheppard wouldn't release him this time. There was just something about the other man's expression that made him shiver. He could well imagine that they'd just stay here all night, until he said it, before Sheppard would let him go. Rodney surrendered to the inevitable, allowing his muscles to relax, losing all fight in his body. "Submit," he said softly.
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End of Part Seven Friendly feedback adored at Xanthe@xanthe.org |