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omg_wtf_yeahTitle: The Long Engagement (12/16)
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard (McShep)
Secondary Pairings: background McKay/Keller (predating McShep), Teyla/Ronon
Words: about 51,222
Summary: McShep Steampunk!Atlantis AU. Acrobat John Sheppard of Sheppard Circus Co. unintentionally navigates his troupe into Lantean territory and runs afoul the mistrustful leader of Atlantis, Dr. Rodney McKay. While the troupe plays shows for the Lanteans, Rodney proposes that he and John's adopted sister, Jennifer, get engaged. To get his way and John's blessing, Rodney has to convince John that he's good for John's sister, but his plans go awry as the men get closer and what Rodney wants begins to change.
Notes: My SGA Big Bang entry. Thank you, my superawesome betas:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ishie and teenygozer, my friends: kay_greatness, mad_lynn, and murderdetective, and my artists: fractalreality, saldemonium, and cynicatlantis.
Art: I was fortunate to get three artists who created amazing companion art for the story. I was blown away by what they came up with, it was so perfect and amazing. I completely, totally love them. So, please, check them out!
Full Story on the SGA Big Bang server
Twelve
The nights were still cold and the cold remained into the morning though the spring had broken the sheath of ice that overlaid the ground by then.
John let the fire in his stove burn down to smoldering coals and raked the embers with a poker as he sat at his desk, calculating the costs of supplies for the next month against the ticket revenues. The scarred surface of his desk was scattered with paperwork and open books, discarded maps lain carelessly over the wood. A map of the European coast overhung the edge of his desk, its corners soft with wear.
Night was apparent through the octagonal windows high on the right side of his wagon, a bright smattering of stars piercing through the dark. A record played on the phonograph and the silvery strumming of a guitar hung on the air.
A rap at his door sounded and John glanced up. "C'mon in," he called flatly.
The door opened and Jennifer poked her head inside. "Am I bothering you?" she asked. The light from John's lamp gilded her loose, wavy hair and her cheeks were pink from the cold outside.
John pursed his lips, pushing back from his desk. "No," he replied. "What do you need?"
It was the first time Jennifer had gone out of her way to speak to him since before Ronon and Teyla's wedding. For a week, Jennifer had stubbornly maintained her silence and John avoided the subject by not saying much at all. Again, John predicted that she'd argue for him to accept her engagement to Rodney and John swallowed back his bitter meditations.
Jennifer came into the room and shut the door behind her. Her sky blue skirt brushed the dusty floor, its hem already discolored from the ground outside. She sat on the edge of John's bed and when John turned his chair, their knees almost touched. Her nails shone as she rested her hands on the edge of the bed on either side of her. Her mouth turned down and created two small indentions at the edges of her lips as she lifted her eyebrows and regarded John evasively.
It was funny how they could both not want to talk about it and still end up talking. Finally, John sighed and leaned back, dropping his hand to the desktop. "Look, Jennifer…," he began.
Jennifer lifted her brows and looked at John, squaring her shoulders. "No," she replied evenly.
John shook his head, returning her stare. "Yeah?" he asked.
Jennifer widened her blue eyes. "I think it's time you tell me why you don't want me to marry Rodney."
John scowled and scratched the back of his neck. Outside, in the distance, thunder rumbled across the plain. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"All this time," Jennifer interjected, "You keep saying you're against it. And I've held off because I love you and…" She hesitated and lifted a hand, gesturing vaguely. "And I want your approval." She dropped her narrow hand into her lap and looked up at John beneath her brows. "And I know that after what you've done for me, I owe you that." Jennifer bit her lip and stared into John's eyes, asking for an answer. Her cornflower-colored eyes were bright in the firelight.
John swallowed, staring sidelong at Jennifer. The lamp hardened the line of his cheek with shadow. He frowned and the moment lengthened as he shifted uncomfortably.
"You don't owe me anything, Jennifer," he replied.
"Just tell me…." Jennifer shook her head and dropped her eyes to the knee of her dress as she plucked uncomfortably at the fabric. She lifted her chin and gazed directly at John. "Do you think that Rodney is too good for me?"
John dropped his hand to the table and straightened like a bolt. "What?" he shot back. "Why would you…?" His hazel eyes were fierce. Jennifer shook her head softly and John leaned forward, propping his elbow on his knee. "I don't think that, okay?" he said flatly. "That's not it. What you did in Vienna – we've talked about it, okay? I don't blame you. There's nothing wrong with trying to get by the best you could."
Jennifer nodded her head. "I know that." She took in a breath, and her gaze was on the furnace. "I know that you say that."
John set his jaw, pushing himself back in his chair. His forearm was slung over the papers on the edge of his desk and he swallowed uncomfortably. Before he'd taken Jennifer in, she'd stolen food and money to get by but John was far from puritanical. What she'd done back then was forgivable. It was Jennifer who couldn't let it go.
"It's not that," he said finally. "You know it's not that."
"Then what is it, John?" Jennifer replied. "I need to know."
John hesitated and a feeling of pain blossomed in his chest. He looked away and felt Jennifer's eyes on him. "It's not…," He began and realized that he had nothing he could say. His throat tightened around the words. He swore and Jennifer shook her head, dropping her eyes to her hands. "It's not that," John said. His hazel eyes were on the back of his chair at the table in front of the stove. "It's not."
Jennifer glanced at John attentively and heat rushed to John's face. He had a feeling like reaching the edge of a cliff, like there was no way to turn back. He set his jaw. "I don't want you to marry McKay," he finished finally. His voice was hoarse.
Jennifer's brows shot up. Her hand made a loose fist on her knee. "Why?" she asked passionately. "Why do you keep saying 'no' to us?"
"Because it's your choice," John retorted, shooting a dark look at the young woman. Jennifer stilled, watching John with consideration. "It's always been your choice," John said. He furrowed his brows and met her eyes. "And I think the fact that you haven't taken that into account says more about what you don't want than what you do."
Jennifer swallowed, looking carefully at John. "I want to marry Rodney," she replied.
John scoffed and turned his face toward the stove. The embers glowed amid the ashes. Outside the windows, a cloud passed over the face of the moon. John felt choked by the words he held back.
"I want you to be happy," Jennifer finished softly.
The music on the phonograph ended and faded into a low, static hiss. John looked away. "Then don't marry McKay."
He reticently turned his face toward her and met Jennifer's eyes. The woman's features were clouded with confusion and conflict. "Why?" she asked again. She sounded more patient than before. "I want to know why you oppose our engagement."
John swallowed and shook his head. "Look, I can't…."
He looked down and the shadow followed the creases in his forehead as he frowned. The stubble across his cheeks darkened the lineaments of his face. "Just…don't marry McKay."
Jennifer shook her head. "But Rodney wants—"
"I'm asking you…," John interrupted. He paused and was almost ponderous. "Call it off," he said. "You don't want to marry him; you just know you should."
Jennifer opened her mouth to argue, but John cut her off. "But you shouldn't."
He looked beseechingly at her and Jennifer was quiet, considering his words. "You-you can do better than McKay," he said, gesturing outward. "You should do better than McKay," he paused and felt the weight of his decision, what he was asking her to do though he had no right to. "So I'm asking you to tell him no."
"John," Jennifer replied quietly. She slowly shook her head. "I can't do that…." She peered up at him from beneath her brows and John swallowed. Jennifer pressed her pink lips into a thin line. John's heart thudded in his chest.
"Just do what you want," he said finally. "I won't stop you. If you want to marry him…." He couldn't say the words. "And if…you don't really want to…if that's not what you really want…. Call it off."
Jennifer's round eyes were grave as she looked down and John turned his eyes to the window, scarcely seeing the clouds forming outside through the glass.
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The next day, it rained. John stayed in the camp and practiced in the big top. His mind worked on a constant loop, replaying his conversation with Jennifer. Any time he saw her, she was grim and pale. John thought of the words to say, "It's fine. You have my support. Marry McKay." But he couldn't say it. He wouldn't.
McKay didn't come to the camp until late afternoon, with the sun dropping beyond the horizon and creating a coppery halo on the edge of the visible world. The storm clouds from the previous evening had converged on the sky and passed restlessly, dropping rain on the plain.
The paths between the tents were muddy ruts and the bottoms of the walls were discolored by dirt splattered by the rainfall. The sound of the rain was a steady beat like the ticking of a second hand on a watch. John was watching the minutes, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Late in the evening, John stood in the doorway of the big top beneath the canopy and saw McKay walking up the alley, wearing his black frock coat per usual. His sandy brows were furrowed, his upturned lapel high against his cheek as he frowned severely. John swallowed, nervous, and set his jaw. McKay glanced at him and nodded as he passed and John waited until the other man disappeared into the mess before he walked back to his wagon on the edge of camp.
It was a half hour later, after dark, and John was at his desk, turning a protractor on its edge in a pirouette over and over again as he thought of what he'd said and McKay. The rain beat on the roof in a hushing rhythm and the coals on the fire crackled quietly against the grate.
All of a sudden, his door swung in and cracked against the back of his chair by the stove and Rodney came in with it. He glowered furiously at John. "You son of a bitch!" he cried thinly.
John straightened in his chair, dropping the protractor on the desktop as he looked at McKay.
McKay's strong, square body was framed by the doorway and behind him, rain poured off the eave of John's wagon, wavering like sea weed and blocking out sight. "You told Jennifer to break off the engagement!" McKay spat.
John swallowed and nodded. "…Yeah," he admitted evenly. "I did."
Rodney's brows met and his mouth sagged open. His face was damp from the rain. "Why?" he protested. He gestured with a hand, staring at John with a betrayed expression. "After we—" He shook his head, his hands moving in the air to express it. "We were getting along!" he shouted.
The legs of John's chair scraped against the floor as he stood and leant with his hip against the edge of his desk, folding his arms over his chest. "It's not because of that," he replied.
Rodney scowled angrily. Rain water dripped from the ends of his hair onto his forehead. "Then what is it?" he shouted.
John was silent and Rodney's face flushed deeply. His eyes were shiny. Pain tightened John's chest and he swallowed difficultly.
Rodney stared at John and seemed to see something else behind him. "You don't want me to marry Jennifer because you don't like me," he accused petulantly.
"Rodney…," John said warningly. The shake of his head was terse and minute. His hazel eyes were dark beneath furled brows.
"You don't want me to marry Jennifer because you don't think I'm good enough for her!" Rodney cried, glaring at John. His hands fisted at his sides. "That's it, isn't it?" His face was florid, beaded with rain water, and his pale eyes were bright and gleaming in the low light.
"That's not it, Rodney." The raised tone of John's low voice was a warning. Rodney pressed on because he didn't know how to stop when he was ahead.
"That's it! You don't think I deserve to marry Jennifer—!"
"She's a person, Rodney," John growled, scowling at the other man. "She's not a reward for a job well done."
Rodney glowered at the other man from across the space between them, defeated and furious. "Well, I deserve one, don't I?" he shouted, his voice going thin with outrage. His features darkened with blood and his pale eyes were radiant against his flushed skin. "And you just won't listen to reason because you don't think I deserve to marry your precious sister—!"
John shot a hard glare in his direction, his look cutting and Rodney steeled himself, tipping his chin stubbornly, prepared for John to lash out. He didn't really flinch when John reached out and caught him with both hands, his fingers curled on the lapel of Rodney's overcoat. It was a point of connection in the muggy dark.
Some deep, fierce feeling swelled up and overwhelmed John. It caught them both maybe and Rodney opened his mouth, weary and compelled to speak. Before he could, John towed him in and yanked him flush to his body. He fit their mouths together forcefully.
It was like a gear fitting into place; like a perfect mechanism. It made sense.
Rodney moaned softly against John's lips and felt anguish, his hand slipping over John's skin to cup his nape – the strands of John's dark hair soft and ticklish against his palm. He pulled him closer, their bodies touching. They fostered heat between them.
John's shoulders lifted, surging forward into Rodney's solid body. It was the same questing, stubborn pressure John exerted in everything else; it was what Rodney had come to like about him. It was endearing; it said so much Rodney wanted to hear, stuff John would never admit to. What John couldn't admit to anyone seemed suddenly clear.
"Do you get it now?" John breathed against his lips as they broke apart. Rodney's blue eyes moved over John's features, moist and conflicted. He made a soft sound and kissed John back, crowding him backward.
John's face was hot from the fire in the stove, the humid heat of the wagon, the close proximity of their bodies. His cheeks were burning up beneath Rodney's hands.
They opened their mouths, first Rodney then John, his lips a soft and hopeful pressure. Desire was a pinprick in Rodney's chest. "Oh, I knew it," he moaned against John's lips without stopping. "I knew it," he said as he kissed his lips.
John's knuckles ached, curled on the lapels of Rodney's damp coat. "No, you didn't," he replied and he sounded testy and weary.
He flirted with Rodney's bottom lip with the tip of his tongue and they both lost track of any arguments they might have had.
McKay pulled John against his body and their legs tangled. They tried to fit their frames together from head to heel. They fell against the edge of John's desk and John reached back blindly, still gripping Rodney's coat with his other hand.
Papers fell off the edge of the table and fluttered to the floor. Rodney whimpered and pressed against John, curving a hand around his shoulder with a little too much pressure. It was fine.
John tilted his jaw upward and curved his spine, pulling McKay close. He could feel McKay getting hard against his leg and he nipped at his jaw, rubbing his leg against him. The scientist strained against John, moaning in frustration. His breath was hot against John's neck as he pressed his lips against his long throat.
John's lids went low, heavy over his hazel eyes, and he encouraged McKay to press him back with his hands. He dropped one boot to the seat of his chair, and spread his legs to admit McKay between them.
As he leaned back, his books crashed to the floor from the desk top, and landed fanned out flat on the floor. "Fuck," John cursed lowly, glancing back to where they lay.
McKay tightened his hand on John's shirt, pressing his face into John's skin. "Oh, no, please don't stop now," he complained against his collarbone. "I want…."
John shook his head and pressed the heel of his palm to Rodney's length through his trousers. "I'm not stopping," he replied.
McKay jerked and whimpered, surging forward against John's hand. He could feel him through his trousers and Rodney's hardness was a compelling shock. John drew back and, as he did, he felt the strands of McKay's hair against his cheek. They were soft and burnished by the fire light.
Rodney was flushed, his lids low and rosy. John ran one hand up McKay's length and felt McKay press against him, chasing his touch. With his other hand, he grasped the lapel of Rodney's coat at his nape and pulled it down his arms. The fabric bunched at McKay's elbows, low on his back.
John's breath was hard but quiet. He remembered Jennifer and he avoided McKay's gaze. Frustration surged up in him and he swallowed, steeling himself. "I'm gonna suck you, McKay," he said, tugging the scientist forward.
Rodney swayed against him, slapping a hand down on the desk against the outside of John's thigh. "Oh?" he asked helplessly.
John pushed back against the edge of his desk, nodding. He roughly unbuckled McKay's belt with one hand. "You're good with that?" he asked. His heartbeat was a thick, thrumming pulse in his body, synchronized with the ache of his cock.
"Oh, Christ, yes," Rodney replied weakly. His lifted his face to the ceiling and closed his eyes. "Do that." His fingers pressed into John's shoulder leadingly and, for a moment, John thought he was an asshole to forget Jennifer so easily even as he was glad to be the only one on his mind.
He swallowed and slunk down to his knees on the floor, pulling Rodney's belt free from his belt loops. He tossed it on the floor behind him and the buckle clattered on the hardwood. Rodney's hand came down on the edge of John's desk and he exhaled shakily.
It had been a long time since John had done it; even longer since he'd wanted to. But all he wanted then was for McKay to fuck him before he had time for second thoughts.
McKay murmured above him, stroking his hair. John opened his pants and licked him once before swallowed his length. "Ah," McKay mewled, "Oh, God." Then, whimpering thinly, said, "Oh, God."
John inhaled through his nose and closed his eyes, loosening his throat to allow Rodney in. Rodney's length filled his mouth, pressed against the back of his throat, and John could taste salt and skin. The tightness of his chest had nothing to do with lack of oxygen. He fanned a hand on McKay's hip and urged him closer, sucking him hard.
His face was burning and his body was fever-hot. He was a phial of magma. He was a salamander in a jar.
He pressed a hand flat to his crotch and tasted salt on his tongue, rocking his hips as he licked McKay. He wanted to ask him, Is it good? But there was no point to asking. Rodney's quiet whimpers and tense fingers in his hair told him enough.
"Oh, my God," McKay moaned. He jerked his hips and choked John without realizing.
John's eyes watered and pride surged up irrepressibly in his chest. Good? he asked mentally and drew off, running his tongue up Rodney's length. His eyes were narrow as he focused on McKay's cock.
Rodney's fingers tightened in his hair. "Jesus. I want…," he breathed. "Can I just…?"
John pressed the heel of his palm into his crotch until he felt pain and the urgency of his desire had somewhat abated. "Wha?" he asked around the head of McKay's member.
Rodney's coat pooled on the floor as he dropped his hand to John's shoulder. He panted dazedly. "Can I fuck you?" he asked breathlessly.
John sat back on his heels and looked up at him, one hand between his legs, the other on McKay's hip. His heart beat in his ears.
McKay grimaced, jerking his hips softly. His weeping length nearly brushed John's cheek. John licked him once more impetuously and Rodney gasped, biting his lip.
"Yeah," John assented.
McKay raised his eyebrows in surprise and urged John up to his feet. As John stood and looked into his face, he found Rodney's features full of naked surprise and arousal. He kissed his lips and Rodney could taste his salty come on John's tongue.
McKay dropped his coat to the floor and pushed both hands under John's black vest. He ran his palms up over John's shoulders and pushed his waistcoat off. John pulled his shirt up over his head and let it fall to the floor, toeing off his boots. The black leather cord he wore tangled up in the fabric of his shirt and fell back onto his chest in its absence.
"I can't believe we're doing this," McKay said softly.
Again, the memory of Jennifer flirted on the edge of John's consciousness. He resolutely pushed it out of his mind. "Believe it," he replied, hoarsely.
He pushed his pants down, and turned to the desk, leaning down on the tabletop. "Fuck me," he said.
He could hear Rodney's shaky breath and the rustling of clothes then McKay leaned over him. John's fingertips overlapped each other, his weight on his elbows. He dropped his forehead to the smooth wood in the shelter of his bent arms and spread his legs apart. He felt McKay's warm breath against his shoulder then the soft pressure of his lips there.
"C'mon, aren't you going to fuck me?" John urged. It didn't sound as demanding as he'd intended. It bothered him.
"God, yes, I'm going to fuck you," McKay replied gently. He laid his hand lightly on the curve of John's waist.
John bit his lip and closed his eyes. "So fuck me." Heat flooded his face and his eyelashes trembled against his arm like the flickering of a flame in a hurricane lamp.
McKay spread his hands out on John's back, running his calloused palms down the length of John's spine. He pressed his lips to the nape of John's neck and John could feel the thickness of his cock against his ass. He pressed his fingers between John's legs and John stilled, his cock throbbing. He pressed his palm into the surface of his desk at chest level, tightening the fingers of his other hand against his brow.
Rodney stroked inside him lightly, then harder and when the tips of his fingers spread him, John bit his lip. "Come on," he demanded. "I can take it a little rough."
It had been a while but Rodney didn't need to know that. He could feel the other man shudder against his back and the pressure of his fingers in John became insistent. Rodney was emboldened by his words.
John pushed back against his fingers, and the hairs on his arms rose. It felt good. His heart pounded. "I want it a little rough," he said.
"Oh, Jesus," Rodney gasped. He dropped his head into the cradle of John's nape and pushed harder, stroking John.
John didn't believe in taking it slow. He didn't like limits. He pressed back and took McKay's fingers, steady and urgently. "Harder," he gasped. McKay obliged, opening him up.
The feeling was one of surrender. John was giving in and giving himself. There was tension in his shoulders as he propped himself up on his elbows and thrust back against McKay's fingers, feeling McKay inside him. He groaned and pressed back. The slick tip of Rodney's cock brushed his ass and John rocked against Rodney's fingers. The sensation was compelling, almost painful.
The scientist gasped lightly and, moaning, fucked John with his fingertips. "Harder," John ground out. "Hurry up, McKay," he worked his hips against his fingers, taking him in deeply, loosening his body up. "Fuck me, fuck me."
This would be the only time.
McKay swallowed and whimpered, flexing his fingers, pressing deep. John hoped he was watching. He could feel how hard he was. "Wait just a…. Are you ready? Can I actually…?"
"Yeah, yeah," John replied. He groaned and the head of his cock brushed the edge of his table as he moved his hips. "Come on."
"God, of course," Rodney babbled. He withdrew his fingers and John made a soft sound of complaint, looking over his shoulder at McKay. McKay's dark, ash hair was almost gold in the firelight. The crown of his head was all John could see. McKay grasped his member and the head of his cock kissed John's opening.
John held his breath as Rodney spread him with his fingers and pushed his cock between his legs. John moaned softly. There was a twinge of pain and of sharp, compelling desire. He pressed back and Rodney whimpered, thrusting forward into him. "All the way," John bit out against his forearm. "I'll take it all."
"Oh," Rodney moaned against his nape. "Oh, Christ." His teeth scored John's neck and his fingers bit into his hips, holding on tightly. He filled him; John's ass rested in the cradle of his pelvis. Their bodies shook and John's cock dripped on the tabletop. He panted, trembling.
"Don't stop. Keep going," John instructed. His voice was strained, tight and rough. Beneath Rodney, the muscles in John's back and shoulders were knotted. The sinewy curve of his spine was an elegant expression of longing.
Rodney buried his flushed face in his shoulder, mapped John's body with his hands. His fingers spread like wings across the span of his shoulders and John shuddered beneath his touch. He pressed deeper and strangled his moan in the bend of John's shoulder, his eyelids falling shut.
"Oh, God, John," Rodney exclaimed.
John jerked back against him, sliding his hand down between his legs.
"Can you feel me?" Rodney panted against his ear.
John's cheek was flushed, half-hidden in his arm. The muffled sound of his agreement was lost in the hitching cadence of their breath.
"Oh, my God," Rodney whimpered. He guided John's hips with his hands, and John thrust back against him, arching his back as he moved his hips. McKay bit his lip and pushed John into the tabletop, rocking into him. "Oh, God, you're so hot." He shook his head. John's fingers flexed, opening and tensing helplessly on the table top over his head.
Rodney gasped and covered John's body with his own.
Little drops of John's come fell on the tabletop, dampening his papers. John's breath hitched and he moaned out loud, surging back against McKay. "Fuck," he gasped and shuddered, pressing his palm over the hood of his cock to stifle his release.
McKay shivered against his back. "Did you come?" he whimpered, blearily gazing at the flushed curve of John's cheek against his arm. "Oh, God." His fingers spasmed on John's hips and he thrust into him, hard and fast and almost helpless, until John felt him come inside him.
Afterward, McKay caught his breath, laying on John's back. He was heavy but John didn't mind.
Too soon, he withdrew and John felt a twinge of pain as he pulled out. He bit his lip and reticently settled back on his elbow. His shoulders were tight as he straightened them out. He half turned and Rodney swallowed, staring wide-eyed at John's naked back.
They didn't know what to say. John had expected that. He bent and picked up his pants, leaning against the desk as he pulled them on.
"I didn't, uh…," Rodney hesitated and, his eyes moving over John's naked body, asked, "I wasn't too rough?"
For a reason he couldn't identify, the words were like a pinprick in John's chest. He shrugged. "I like it rough." John tried not to meet his eyes as he zipped his pants up. He leaned back against the desk with his belt loose and his chest bare.
McKay's blue eyes surveyed him beneath pitched brows as though what he'd said was fascinating, his helpless stare lingering on John's naked skin and the pink, flushed places he'd sucked before. "You're, um…." McKay hesitated.
John swallowed and lay down in his bed, affecting a look of nonchalance. When he moved, he acutely felt the tenderness of his ass, that same desirous ache as he felt after he touched himself, a little roughly because that's how he imagined Rodney would fuck him.
"I have, um," Rodney gestured vaguely toward the door, his gaze drifting over John's bare chest.
John retrieved a book from the floor beside his bed and opened it. He felt his pulse in his fingertips as he pressed them to the cover. "Yeah, I got it," he replied.
Once more, McKay nodded and his face was blank with shock, his brows furrowed.
"See you," John said as Rodney opened the door. The sound of falling rain invaded the dim confines of the wagon.
Rodney looked over his shoulder and frowned. Color rose in his cheeks. "See you," he repeated. He closed the door at his back.
John dropped the book onto his chest and grimaced, throwing an arm across his eyes.
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It didn't turn out to be the last time as John had thought it would be. The next day, McKay ended up at his door. He was flushed and damp from the cold and the rain, his features tight with restraint. His radiant blue eyes fixed on John as the acrobat opened the door, swallowing hard.
John stood in the doorway, with his hand on the knob, staring at him with what he hoped was casual indifference. He lifted a brow severely. Before he could say anything, Rodney was slamming the door shut at his back and his body was against John's, urgently kissing his lips.
"Oh, my God, I've been thinking about this all day," he swore against his open mouth. "I'm so hard."
His words sent a sudden jolt of longing through John. When the tip of his tongue pressed to the edge John's lower lip, John's resolve broke; he towed him in, his heart beating in his ears as he shoved his hands up Rodney's shirt.
"Oh, Jesus, yes," the scientist moaned.
They fell into the down quilts on John's bed, yanking at each other's clothes. "One more time," John growled into the curve of Rodney's throat. "That's it." If the scientist heard him, he didn't give sign of it; he ran his hands over John's back, making a soft, choked sound as John touched him through his pants.
Then, the day after that, he was on his knees with Rodney's hands in his hair, sucking Rodney as he shoved a hand between his legs. The day after that, Rodney didn't show in camp. But the following day, he was again at John's door. Over a week, John got used to the taste of Rodney's come and the feeling of his dick in his mouth. He waited for McKay at his desk, or on his bed, or by the window.
When he was on his knees with Rodney's cock in his mouth or against the desk with Rodney over his back, John thought of the trapeze. He thought of falling with no net. This free-fall was inevitable – he'd fallen for McKay before he'd known what was happening.
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A week afterward, John was on his bed, catching his breath, his body tingling from his release. A sheen of sweat gleamed on his bare chest, his skin flushed across his collarbone, hip, and nipple from Rodney's kisses. An ebbing throb pulsed through his body, his limbs relaxed on the quilt. His heart pounded, a dull ache that filled his chest. The rain beat on the roof.
"I should be going," Rodney mumbled, sitting up. He swallowed, his eyes moving slowly over John's naked body. He turned away abruptly and placed his feet to the floor.
John watched him from the bed, pretending he wasn't looking. His heart throbbed as he watched Rodney's back from the corner of his eye. Their bodies were still touching; Rodney's hip against John's thigh as the scientist pulled his pants on. He tapped Rodney's arm with the back of his hand, gesturing downward. "You wanna hand me my pants?" he asked.
McKay looked at him over his shoulder as though surprised. "Do I want to hand you your pants?" he asked. He lifted his eyebrows as if he was considering the question. John smacked his arm again and he shrugged. "Fine." He bent over and picked up John's crumpled trousers from the floor, his loose belt buckle glinting in the firelight. He handed them to John and watched wistfully as he lifted his hips off the bed and pulled them up.
John arched an eyebrow, settling back in bed. "Enjoying the view?" he asked. As McKay opened his mouth to reply, a rap sounded on the door and the men started.
John leapt up, stepping forward while Rodney remained by the bedside, his blue eyes wide with shock and fixed on the door. "Hey, wait a—" John began, but no sooner had he found his voice than the door opened. "Hey, hey!" he called out too late. When he called out the first time, the rain outside had drowned out his voice and when he called out the second time, the door was already open.
A pale hand wrapped around the edge of the door and Jennifer's round face became apparent in the doorway. "John," she said, "I need to talk to you—"
Her blue eyes found the two men in the dim interior of the wagon and she stilled. She looked from John at the desk to Rodney by the table, her stare on their bare chests and hastily fastened trousers. Her gaze dropped to the rumpled clothes discarded on the floor of the wagon and dawning realization filled her features and drained the color from her face.
"John…Rodney, what's going on here?" she whispered.
John raised a hand, shaking his head, and Jennifer released a shuddering breath as her eyes filled. "Hey," he began, gesturing for calm with his hands.
Jennifer stared at him blindly, her eyes round and shocked. "Are you…?" she asked helplessly, "What are you doing, John…?"
"Jennifer, this is not how it looks," John said firmly, knowing that his defense was ridiculous. It was exactly how it looked; there was no other way it could be. He swallowed and shook his head nonetheless, shooting a glance at McKay's frozen figure. As he approached her, Jennifer turned and flung the door open; it crashed against the wall and stood open to the pouring rain outside as Jennifer dashed outside.
John darted after her and, as he did, McKay seized him by the elbow. He fell off balance and looked back angrily at the other man. "What the hell, McKay?" he demanded. As his stare fell on McKay, he found the scientist's face florid and enraged.
"You," he snarled furiously. "You planned this?" His voice was thin and reedy.
John's heart skipped, staring blankly at McKay for a moment. Then cold fury filled his body. "What the fuck?" he shot back. "Yeah, McKay! That makes a hell of a lot of sense!"
"So you expect me to believe all of this was a coincidence?" McKay shouted. His fingers tightened on his arm and his face was dark with blood. "You son of a bitch!"
John jerked free of his bruising grasp and advanced on him with menace. McKay held his ground, glowering at John. "I don't care if you believe it," he growled. "Get it together." Then he turned and grabbed his greatcoat from the hook by the door as he ran out into the cold deluge.
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The rain was blinding, obscuring John's surroundings as he dashed off his balcony into the downpour. Raindrops struck his shoulders as he quickly fastened the buttons of his coat. His naked skin was patterned with goose-bumps across his shoulders and chest. He realized belatedly that his feet were bare; the mud was frigid beneath the soles of his feet and between his toes.
He ran down the narrow alley between the circus tents. The varicolored fabric flashed by at the edges of his vision, the colors dark with rain and the night. He lost his footing in front of the big top and smashed into Aiden Ford. He ran on without stopping to apologize until he was across the camp, on the back steps of Jennifer's wagon. The stairs creaked under his weight as he climbed them. His muddy feet left prints on the slick wood of the small balcony. As he laid his hand on the door knob, the door flew back.
Light poured through the open doorway and splashed out onto the balcony and John's drenched frame. Jennifer stood in the door, her hand on the door knob. The candlelight gilded the strands of her hair as the shadow outside darkened her features. Her face shone with wetness.
"Jennifer," John said. He wanted to say more but her expression robbed him of his ability to speak. His heart pounded painfully and his throat was tight. "Look, I…." He swallowed and couldn't think of anything he could possibly say to her. There was no excuse for what he'd done.
As John's silence drew on, Jennifer's rigid expression changed into one of sorrow. "Why?" she asked. "I don't understand."
John's heart pained him. He bit his lip and looked away, his forehead creased. For a moment, he couldn't force himself to speak. "I can't…," he murmured finally.
Jennifer shook her head and raindrops fell from the ends of her damp curls. "Can't what?" she asked. "Please…tell me."
"I'm sorry."
As though his words broke dam of restraint in her, Jennifer's face crumbled and her eyes filled with tears. "How could you do this to me, John?" she demanded. "I trusted you implicitly. You've always helped me and protected me." The tears in her eyes spilled over her cheeks and she shuddered. "You're my brother. How could you betray me like this?"
John shook his head helplessly, his chest tight. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry, Jennifer. I can't say…." He cast his gaze aside and fisted his hand. "I can't say how sorry."
"Because—" Jennifer gasped and buried her chin in her chest, wrapping her arms around her. She raised her head and looked out over John's shoulder, lifting her brows. "Were you trying to hurt me? To prove a point about Rodney?"
"No!" John exclaimed. "I didn't…." He gritted his teeth. "I didn't mean for this to happen." His stubbled cheeks were flushed dark with blood. The muscle in his jaw tensed. "I didn't mean for it to happen," he repeated. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just…." His voice faltered and he stopped. He thought of Rodney and knew that he couldn't tell her the truth – that he wanted him, that he'd wanted Rodney from the start. He shook his head.
"Please leave."
John swallowed. "Jennifer—"
"Please leave," Jennifer repeated. "I want to be alone."
John was silent for a several seconds, the corded muscles in his shoulders tight as he stared across the threshold at the damp face of his sister in the dim candlelight from inside. The rain beat on the roof and seemed to rise between them. Finally, John nodded his head and Jennifer shut the door. For a long time, he remained there, the heat dissipating from his frame as he stared at the door.
As he descended from the steps of his sister's wagon, he saw Aiden Ford by the tent poles of the big top canopy, the young man's face concerned. "Is everything okay, John?" he called out over the rainfall.
John passed him without a second glance, walking back to his abandoned wagon. The rain swallowed the sight of the guards posted at the edge of the camp. The door to his wagon was closed. When he went inside, Rodney was already gone.
Part Thirteen
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard (McShep)
Secondary Pairings: background McKay/Keller (predating McShep), Teyla/Ronon
Words: about 51,222
Summary: McShep Steampunk!Atlantis AU. Acrobat John Sheppard of Sheppard Circus Co. unintentionally navigates his troupe into Lantean territory and runs afoul the mistrustful leader of Atlantis, Dr. Rodney McKay. While the troupe plays shows for the Lanteans, Rodney proposes that he and John's adopted sister, Jennifer, get engaged. To get his way and John's blessing, Rodney has to convince John that he's good for John's sister, but his plans go awry as the men get closer and what Rodney wants begins to change.
Notes: My SGA Big Bang entry. Thank you, my superawesome betas:
ishie and teenygozer, my friends: kay_greatness, mad_lynn, and murderdetective, and my artists: fractalreality, saldemonium, and cynicatlantis. Art: I was fortunate to get three artists who created amazing companion art for the story. I was blown away by what they came up with, it was so perfect and amazing. I completely, totally love them. So, please, check them out!
The nights were still cold and the cold remained into the morning though the spring had broken the sheath of ice that overlaid the ground by then.
John let the fire in his stove burn down to smoldering coals and raked the embers with a poker as he sat at his desk, calculating the costs of supplies for the next month against the ticket revenues. The scarred surface of his desk was scattered with paperwork and open books, discarded maps lain carelessly over the wood. A map of the European coast overhung the edge of his desk, its corners soft with wear.
Night was apparent through the octagonal windows high on the right side of his wagon, a bright smattering of stars piercing through the dark. A record played on the phonograph and the silvery strumming of a guitar hung on the air.
A rap at his door sounded and John glanced up. "C'mon in," he called flatly.
The door opened and Jennifer poked her head inside. "Am I bothering you?" she asked. The light from John's lamp gilded her loose, wavy hair and her cheeks were pink from the cold outside.
John pursed his lips, pushing back from his desk. "No," he replied. "What do you need?"
It was the first time Jennifer had gone out of her way to speak to him since before Ronon and Teyla's wedding. For a week, Jennifer had stubbornly maintained her silence and John avoided the subject by not saying much at all. Again, John predicted that she'd argue for him to accept her engagement to Rodney and John swallowed back his bitter meditations.
Jennifer came into the room and shut the door behind her. Her sky blue skirt brushed the dusty floor, its hem already discolored from the ground outside. She sat on the edge of John's bed and when John turned his chair, their knees almost touched. Her nails shone as she rested her hands on the edge of the bed on either side of her. Her mouth turned down and created two small indentions at the edges of her lips as she lifted her eyebrows and regarded John evasively.
It was funny how they could both not want to talk about it and still end up talking. Finally, John sighed and leaned back, dropping his hand to the desktop. "Look, Jennifer…," he began.
Jennifer lifted her brows and looked at John, squaring her shoulders. "No," she replied evenly.
John shook his head, returning her stare. "Yeah?" he asked.
Jennifer widened her blue eyes. "I think it's time you tell me why you don't want me to marry Rodney."
John scowled and scratched the back of his neck. Outside, in the distance, thunder rumbled across the plain. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"All this time," Jennifer interjected, "You keep saying you're against it. And I've held off because I love you and…" She hesitated and lifted a hand, gesturing vaguely. "And I want your approval." She dropped her narrow hand into her lap and looked up at John beneath her brows. "And I know that after what you've done for me, I owe you that." Jennifer bit her lip and stared into John's eyes, asking for an answer. Her cornflower-colored eyes were bright in the firelight.
John swallowed, staring sidelong at Jennifer. The lamp hardened the line of his cheek with shadow. He frowned and the moment lengthened as he shifted uncomfortably.
"You don't owe me anything, Jennifer," he replied.
"Just tell me…." Jennifer shook her head and dropped her eyes to the knee of her dress as she plucked uncomfortably at the fabric. She lifted her chin and gazed directly at John. "Do you think that Rodney is too good for me?"
John dropped his hand to the table and straightened like a bolt. "What?" he shot back. "Why would you…?" His hazel eyes were fierce. Jennifer shook her head softly and John leaned forward, propping his elbow on his knee. "I don't think that, okay?" he said flatly. "That's not it. What you did in Vienna – we've talked about it, okay? I don't blame you. There's nothing wrong with trying to get by the best you could."
Jennifer nodded her head. "I know that." She took in a breath, and her gaze was on the furnace. "I know that you say that."
John set his jaw, pushing himself back in his chair. His forearm was slung over the papers on the edge of his desk and he swallowed uncomfortably. Before he'd taken Jennifer in, she'd stolen food and money to get by but John was far from puritanical. What she'd done back then was forgivable. It was Jennifer who couldn't let it go.
"It's not that," he said finally. "You know it's not that."
"Then what is it, John?" Jennifer replied. "I need to know."
John hesitated and a feeling of pain blossomed in his chest. He looked away and felt Jennifer's eyes on him. "It's not…," He began and realized that he had nothing he could say. His throat tightened around the words. He swore and Jennifer shook her head, dropping her eyes to her hands. "It's not that," John said. His hazel eyes were on the back of his chair at the table in front of the stove. "It's not."
Jennifer glanced at John attentively and heat rushed to John's face. He had a feeling like reaching the edge of a cliff, like there was no way to turn back. He set his jaw. "I don't want you to marry McKay," he finished finally. His voice was hoarse.
Jennifer's brows shot up. Her hand made a loose fist on her knee. "Why?" she asked passionately. "Why do you keep saying 'no' to us?"
"Because it's your choice," John retorted, shooting a dark look at the young woman. Jennifer stilled, watching John with consideration. "It's always been your choice," John said. He furrowed his brows and met her eyes. "And I think the fact that you haven't taken that into account says more about what you don't want than what you do."
Jennifer swallowed, looking carefully at John. "I want to marry Rodney," she replied.
John scoffed and turned his face toward the stove. The embers glowed amid the ashes. Outside the windows, a cloud passed over the face of the moon. John felt choked by the words he held back.
"I want you to be happy," Jennifer finished softly.
The music on the phonograph ended and faded into a low, static hiss. John looked away. "Then don't marry McKay."
He reticently turned his face toward her and met Jennifer's eyes. The woman's features were clouded with confusion and conflict. "Why?" she asked again. She sounded more patient than before. "I want to know why you oppose our engagement."
John swallowed and shook his head. "Look, I can't…."
He looked down and the shadow followed the creases in his forehead as he frowned. The stubble across his cheeks darkened the lineaments of his face. "Just…don't marry McKay."
Jennifer shook her head. "But Rodney wants—"
"I'm asking you…," John interrupted. He paused and was almost ponderous. "Call it off," he said. "You don't want to marry him; you just know you should."
Jennifer opened her mouth to argue, but John cut her off. "But you shouldn't."
He looked beseechingly at her and Jennifer was quiet, considering his words. "You-you can do better than McKay," he said, gesturing outward. "You should do better than McKay," he paused and felt the weight of his decision, what he was asking her to do though he had no right to. "So I'm asking you to tell him no."
"John," Jennifer replied quietly. She slowly shook her head. "I can't do that…." She peered up at him from beneath her brows and John swallowed. Jennifer pressed her pink lips into a thin line. John's heart thudded in his chest.
"Just do what you want," he said finally. "I won't stop you. If you want to marry him…." He couldn't say the words. "And if…you don't really want to…if that's not what you really want…. Call it off."
Jennifer's round eyes were grave as she looked down and John turned his eyes to the window, scarcely seeing the clouds forming outside through the glass.
The next day, it rained. John stayed in the camp and practiced in the big top. His mind worked on a constant loop, replaying his conversation with Jennifer. Any time he saw her, she was grim and pale. John thought of the words to say, "It's fine. You have my support. Marry McKay." But he couldn't say it. He wouldn't.
McKay didn't come to the camp until late afternoon, with the sun dropping beyond the horizon and creating a coppery halo on the edge of the visible world. The storm clouds from the previous evening had converged on the sky and passed restlessly, dropping rain on the plain.
The paths between the tents were muddy ruts and the bottoms of the walls were discolored by dirt splattered by the rainfall. The sound of the rain was a steady beat like the ticking of a second hand on a watch. John was watching the minutes, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Late in the evening, John stood in the doorway of the big top beneath the canopy and saw McKay walking up the alley, wearing his black frock coat per usual. His sandy brows were furrowed, his upturned lapel high against his cheek as he frowned severely. John swallowed, nervous, and set his jaw. McKay glanced at him and nodded as he passed and John waited until the other man disappeared into the mess before he walked back to his wagon on the edge of camp.
It was a half hour later, after dark, and John was at his desk, turning a protractor on its edge in a pirouette over and over again as he thought of what he'd said and McKay. The rain beat on the roof in a hushing rhythm and the coals on the fire crackled quietly against the grate.
All of a sudden, his door swung in and cracked against the back of his chair by the stove and Rodney came in with it. He glowered furiously at John. "You son of a bitch!" he cried thinly.
John straightened in his chair, dropping the protractor on the desktop as he looked at McKay.
McKay's strong, square body was framed by the doorway and behind him, rain poured off the eave of John's wagon, wavering like sea weed and blocking out sight. "You told Jennifer to break off the engagement!" McKay spat.
John swallowed and nodded. "…Yeah," he admitted evenly. "I did."
Rodney's brows met and his mouth sagged open. His face was damp from the rain. "Why?" he protested. He gestured with a hand, staring at John with a betrayed expression. "After we—" He shook his head, his hands moving in the air to express it. "We were getting along!" he shouted.
The legs of John's chair scraped against the floor as he stood and leant with his hip against the edge of his desk, folding his arms over his chest. "It's not because of that," he replied.
Rodney scowled angrily. Rain water dripped from the ends of his hair onto his forehead. "Then what is it?" he shouted.
John was silent and Rodney's face flushed deeply. His eyes were shiny. Pain tightened John's chest and he swallowed difficultly.
Rodney stared at John and seemed to see something else behind him. "You don't want me to marry Jennifer because you don't like me," he accused petulantly.
"Rodney…," John said warningly. The shake of his head was terse and minute. His hazel eyes were dark beneath furled brows.
"You don't want me to marry Jennifer because you don't think I'm good enough for her!" Rodney cried, glaring at John. His hands fisted at his sides. "That's it, isn't it?" His face was florid, beaded with rain water, and his pale eyes were bright and gleaming in the low light.
"That's not it, Rodney." The raised tone of John's low voice was a warning. Rodney pressed on because he didn't know how to stop when he was ahead.
"That's it! You don't think I deserve to marry Jennifer—!"
"She's a person, Rodney," John growled, scowling at the other man. "She's not a reward for a job well done."
Rodney glowered at the other man from across the space between them, defeated and furious. "Well, I deserve one, don't I?" he shouted, his voice going thin with outrage. His features darkened with blood and his pale eyes were radiant against his flushed skin. "And you just won't listen to reason because you don't think I deserve to marry your precious sister—!"
John shot a hard glare in his direction, his look cutting and Rodney steeled himself, tipping his chin stubbornly, prepared for John to lash out. He didn't really flinch when John reached out and caught him with both hands, his fingers curled on the lapel of Rodney's overcoat. It was a point of connection in the muggy dark.
Some deep, fierce feeling swelled up and overwhelmed John. It caught them both maybe and Rodney opened his mouth, weary and compelled to speak. Before he could, John towed him in and yanked him flush to his body. He fit their mouths together forcefully.
It was like a gear fitting into place; like a perfect mechanism. It made sense.
Rodney moaned softly against John's lips and felt anguish, his hand slipping over John's skin to cup his nape – the strands of John's dark hair soft and ticklish against his palm. He pulled him closer, their bodies touching. They fostered heat between them.
John's shoulders lifted, surging forward into Rodney's solid body. It was the same questing, stubborn pressure John exerted in everything else; it was what Rodney had come to like about him. It was endearing; it said so much Rodney wanted to hear, stuff John would never admit to. What John couldn't admit to anyone seemed suddenly clear.
"Do you get it now?" John breathed against his lips as they broke apart. Rodney's blue eyes moved over John's features, moist and conflicted. He made a soft sound and kissed John back, crowding him backward.
John's face was hot from the fire in the stove, the humid heat of the wagon, the close proximity of their bodies. His cheeks were burning up beneath Rodney's hands.
They opened their mouths, first Rodney then John, his lips a soft and hopeful pressure. Desire was a pinprick in Rodney's chest. "Oh, I knew it," he moaned against John's lips without stopping. "I knew it," he said as he kissed his lips.
John's knuckles ached, curled on the lapels of Rodney's damp coat. "No, you didn't," he replied and he sounded testy and weary.
He flirted with Rodney's bottom lip with the tip of his tongue and they both lost track of any arguments they might have had.
McKay pulled John against his body and their legs tangled. They tried to fit their frames together from head to heel. They fell against the edge of John's desk and John reached back blindly, still gripping Rodney's coat with his other hand.
Papers fell off the edge of the table and fluttered to the floor. Rodney whimpered and pressed against John, curving a hand around his shoulder with a little too much pressure. It was fine.
John tilted his jaw upward and curved his spine, pulling McKay close. He could feel McKay getting hard against his leg and he nipped at his jaw, rubbing his leg against him. The scientist strained against John, moaning in frustration. His breath was hot against John's neck as he pressed his lips against his long throat.
John's lids went low, heavy over his hazel eyes, and he encouraged McKay to press him back with his hands. He dropped one boot to the seat of his chair, and spread his legs to admit McKay between them.
As he leaned back, his books crashed to the floor from the desk top, and landed fanned out flat on the floor. "Fuck," John cursed lowly, glancing back to where they lay.
McKay tightened his hand on John's shirt, pressing his face into John's skin. "Oh, no, please don't stop now," he complained against his collarbone. "I want…."
John shook his head and pressed the heel of his palm to Rodney's length through his trousers. "I'm not stopping," he replied.
McKay jerked and whimpered, surging forward against John's hand. He could feel him through his trousers and Rodney's hardness was a compelling shock. John drew back and, as he did, he felt the strands of McKay's hair against his cheek. They were soft and burnished by the fire light.
Rodney was flushed, his lids low and rosy. John ran one hand up McKay's length and felt McKay press against him, chasing his touch. With his other hand, he grasped the lapel of Rodney's coat at his nape and pulled it down his arms. The fabric bunched at McKay's elbows, low on his back.
John's breath was hard but quiet. He remembered Jennifer and he avoided McKay's gaze. Frustration surged up in him and he swallowed, steeling himself. "I'm gonna suck you, McKay," he said, tugging the scientist forward.
Rodney swayed against him, slapping a hand down on the desk against the outside of John's thigh. "Oh?" he asked helplessly.
John pushed back against the edge of his desk, nodding. He roughly unbuckled McKay's belt with one hand. "You're good with that?" he asked. His heartbeat was a thick, thrumming pulse in his body, synchronized with the ache of his cock.
"Oh, Christ, yes," Rodney replied weakly. His lifted his face to the ceiling and closed his eyes. "Do that." His fingers pressed into John's shoulder leadingly and, for a moment, John thought he was an asshole to forget Jennifer so easily even as he was glad to be the only one on his mind.
He swallowed and slunk down to his knees on the floor, pulling Rodney's belt free from his belt loops. He tossed it on the floor behind him and the buckle clattered on the hardwood. Rodney's hand came down on the edge of John's desk and he exhaled shakily.
It had been a long time since John had done it; even longer since he'd wanted to. But all he wanted then was for McKay to fuck him before he had time for second thoughts.
McKay murmured above him, stroking his hair. John opened his pants and licked him once before swallowed his length. "Ah," McKay mewled, "Oh, God." Then, whimpering thinly, said, "Oh, God."
John inhaled through his nose and closed his eyes, loosening his throat to allow Rodney in. Rodney's length filled his mouth, pressed against the back of his throat, and John could taste salt and skin. The tightness of his chest had nothing to do with lack of oxygen. He fanned a hand on McKay's hip and urged him closer, sucking him hard.
His face was burning and his body was fever-hot. He was a phial of magma. He was a salamander in a jar.
He pressed a hand flat to his crotch and tasted salt on his tongue, rocking his hips as he licked McKay. He wanted to ask him, Is it good? But there was no point to asking. Rodney's quiet whimpers and tense fingers in his hair told him enough.
"Oh, my God," McKay moaned. He jerked his hips and choked John without realizing.
John's eyes watered and pride surged up irrepressibly in his chest. Good? he asked mentally and drew off, running his tongue up Rodney's length. His eyes were narrow as he focused on McKay's cock.
Rodney's fingers tightened in his hair. "Jesus. I want…," he breathed. "Can I just…?"
John pressed the heel of his palm into his crotch until he felt pain and the urgency of his desire had somewhat abated. "Wha?" he asked around the head of McKay's member.
Rodney's coat pooled on the floor as he dropped his hand to John's shoulder. He panted dazedly. "Can I fuck you?" he asked breathlessly.
John sat back on his heels and looked up at him, one hand between his legs, the other on McKay's hip. His heart beat in his ears.
McKay grimaced, jerking his hips softly. His weeping length nearly brushed John's cheek. John licked him once more impetuously and Rodney gasped, biting his lip.
"Yeah," John assented.
McKay raised his eyebrows in surprise and urged John up to his feet. As John stood and looked into his face, he found Rodney's features full of naked surprise and arousal. He kissed his lips and Rodney could taste his salty come on John's tongue.
McKay dropped his coat to the floor and pushed both hands under John's black vest. He ran his palms up over John's shoulders and pushed his waistcoat off. John pulled his shirt up over his head and let it fall to the floor, toeing off his boots. The black leather cord he wore tangled up in the fabric of his shirt and fell back onto his chest in its absence.
"I can't believe we're doing this," McKay said softly.
Again, the memory of Jennifer flirted on the edge of John's consciousness. He resolutely pushed it out of his mind. "Believe it," he replied, hoarsely.
He pushed his pants down, and turned to the desk, leaning down on the tabletop. "Fuck me," he said.
He could hear Rodney's shaky breath and the rustling of clothes then McKay leaned over him. John's fingertips overlapped each other, his weight on his elbows. He dropped his forehead to the smooth wood in the shelter of his bent arms and spread his legs apart. He felt McKay's warm breath against his shoulder then the soft pressure of his lips there.
"C'mon, aren't you going to fuck me?" John urged. It didn't sound as demanding as he'd intended. It bothered him.
"God, yes, I'm going to fuck you," McKay replied gently. He laid his hand lightly on the curve of John's waist.
John bit his lip and closed his eyes. "So fuck me." Heat flooded his face and his eyelashes trembled against his arm like the flickering of a flame in a hurricane lamp.
McKay spread his hands out on John's back, running his calloused palms down the length of John's spine. He pressed his lips to the nape of John's neck and John could feel the thickness of his cock against his ass. He pressed his fingers between John's legs and John stilled, his cock throbbing. He pressed his palm into the surface of his desk at chest level, tightening the fingers of his other hand against his brow.
Rodney stroked inside him lightly, then harder and when the tips of his fingers spread him, John bit his lip. "Come on," he demanded. "I can take it a little rough."
It had been a while but Rodney didn't need to know that. He could feel the other man shudder against his back and the pressure of his fingers in John became insistent. Rodney was emboldened by his words.
John pushed back against his fingers, and the hairs on his arms rose. It felt good. His heart pounded. "I want it a little rough," he said.
"Oh, Jesus," Rodney gasped. He dropped his head into the cradle of John's nape and pushed harder, stroking John.
John didn't believe in taking it slow. He didn't like limits. He pressed back and took McKay's fingers, steady and urgently. "Harder," he gasped. McKay obliged, opening him up.
The feeling was one of surrender. John was giving in and giving himself. There was tension in his shoulders as he propped himself up on his elbows and thrust back against McKay's fingers, feeling McKay inside him. He groaned and pressed back. The slick tip of Rodney's cock brushed his ass and John rocked against Rodney's fingers. The sensation was compelling, almost painful.
The scientist gasped lightly and, moaning, fucked John with his fingertips. "Harder," John ground out. "Hurry up, McKay," he worked his hips against his fingers, taking him in deeply, loosening his body up. "Fuck me, fuck me."
This would be the only time.
McKay swallowed and whimpered, flexing his fingers, pressing deep. John hoped he was watching. He could feel how hard he was. "Wait just a…. Are you ready? Can I actually…?"
"Yeah, yeah," John replied. He groaned and the head of his cock brushed the edge of his table as he moved his hips. "Come on."
"God, of course," Rodney babbled. He withdrew his fingers and John made a soft sound of complaint, looking over his shoulder at McKay. McKay's dark, ash hair was almost gold in the firelight. The crown of his head was all John could see. McKay grasped his member and the head of his cock kissed John's opening.
John held his breath as Rodney spread him with his fingers and pushed his cock between his legs. John moaned softly. There was a twinge of pain and of sharp, compelling desire. He pressed back and Rodney whimpered, thrusting forward into him. "All the way," John bit out against his forearm. "I'll take it all."
"Oh," Rodney moaned against his nape. "Oh, Christ." His teeth scored John's neck and his fingers bit into his hips, holding on tightly. He filled him; John's ass rested in the cradle of his pelvis. Their bodies shook and John's cock dripped on the tabletop. He panted, trembling.
"Don't stop. Keep going," John instructed. His voice was strained, tight and rough. Beneath Rodney, the muscles in John's back and shoulders were knotted. The sinewy curve of his spine was an elegant expression of longing.
Rodney buried his flushed face in his shoulder, mapped John's body with his hands. His fingers spread like wings across the span of his shoulders and John shuddered beneath his touch. He pressed deeper and strangled his moan in the bend of John's shoulder, his eyelids falling shut.
"Oh, God, John," Rodney exclaimed.
John jerked back against him, sliding his hand down between his legs.
"Can you feel me?" Rodney panted against his ear.
John's cheek was flushed, half-hidden in his arm. The muffled sound of his agreement was lost in the hitching cadence of their breath.
"Oh, my God," Rodney whimpered. He guided John's hips with his hands, and John thrust back against him, arching his back as he moved his hips. McKay bit his lip and pushed John into the tabletop, rocking into him. "Oh, God, you're so hot." He shook his head. John's fingers flexed, opening and tensing helplessly on the table top over his head.
Rodney gasped and covered John's body with his own.
Little drops of John's come fell on the tabletop, dampening his papers. John's breath hitched and he moaned out loud, surging back against McKay. "Fuck," he gasped and shuddered, pressing his palm over the hood of his cock to stifle his release.
McKay shivered against his back. "Did you come?" he whimpered, blearily gazing at the flushed curve of John's cheek against his arm. "Oh, God." His fingers spasmed on John's hips and he thrust into him, hard and fast and almost helpless, until John felt him come inside him.
Afterward, McKay caught his breath, laying on John's back. He was heavy but John didn't mind.
Too soon, he withdrew and John felt a twinge of pain as he pulled out. He bit his lip and reticently settled back on his elbow. His shoulders were tight as he straightened them out. He half turned and Rodney swallowed, staring wide-eyed at John's naked back.
They didn't know what to say. John had expected that. He bent and picked up his pants, leaning against the desk as he pulled them on.
"I didn't, uh…," Rodney hesitated and, his eyes moving over John's naked body, asked, "I wasn't too rough?"
For a reason he couldn't identify, the words were like a pinprick in John's chest. He shrugged. "I like it rough." John tried not to meet his eyes as he zipped his pants up. He leaned back against the desk with his belt loose and his chest bare.
McKay's blue eyes surveyed him beneath pitched brows as though what he'd said was fascinating, his helpless stare lingering on John's naked skin and the pink, flushed places he'd sucked before. "You're, um…." McKay hesitated.
John swallowed and lay down in his bed, affecting a look of nonchalance. When he moved, he acutely felt the tenderness of his ass, that same desirous ache as he felt after he touched himself, a little roughly because that's how he imagined Rodney would fuck him.
"I have, um," Rodney gestured vaguely toward the door, his gaze drifting over John's bare chest.
John retrieved a book from the floor beside his bed and opened it. He felt his pulse in his fingertips as he pressed them to the cover. "Yeah, I got it," he replied.
Once more, McKay nodded and his face was blank with shock, his brows furrowed.
"See you," John said as Rodney opened the door. The sound of falling rain invaded the dim confines of the wagon.
Rodney looked over his shoulder and frowned. Color rose in his cheeks. "See you," he repeated. He closed the door at his back.
John dropped the book onto his chest and grimaced, throwing an arm across his eyes.
It didn't turn out to be the last time as John had thought it would be. The next day, McKay ended up at his door. He was flushed and damp from the cold and the rain, his features tight with restraint. His radiant blue eyes fixed on John as the acrobat opened the door, swallowing hard.
John stood in the doorway, with his hand on the knob, staring at him with what he hoped was casual indifference. He lifted a brow severely. Before he could say anything, Rodney was slamming the door shut at his back and his body was against John's, urgently kissing his lips.
"Oh, my God, I've been thinking about this all day," he swore against his open mouth. "I'm so hard."
His words sent a sudden jolt of longing through John. When the tip of his tongue pressed to the edge John's lower lip, John's resolve broke; he towed him in, his heart beating in his ears as he shoved his hands up Rodney's shirt.
"Oh, Jesus, yes," the scientist moaned.
They fell into the down quilts on John's bed, yanking at each other's clothes. "One more time," John growled into the curve of Rodney's throat. "That's it." If the scientist heard him, he didn't give sign of it; he ran his hands over John's back, making a soft, choked sound as John touched him through his pants.
Then, the day after that, he was on his knees with Rodney's hands in his hair, sucking Rodney as he shoved a hand between his legs. The day after that, Rodney didn't show in camp. But the following day, he was again at John's door. Over a week, John got used to the taste of Rodney's come and the feeling of his dick in his mouth. He waited for McKay at his desk, or on his bed, or by the window.
When he was on his knees with Rodney's cock in his mouth or against the desk with Rodney over his back, John thought of the trapeze. He thought of falling with no net. This free-fall was inevitable – he'd fallen for McKay before he'd known what was happening.
A week afterward, John was on his bed, catching his breath, his body tingling from his release. A sheen of sweat gleamed on his bare chest, his skin flushed across his collarbone, hip, and nipple from Rodney's kisses. An ebbing throb pulsed through his body, his limbs relaxed on the quilt. His heart pounded, a dull ache that filled his chest. The rain beat on the roof.
"I should be going," Rodney mumbled, sitting up. He swallowed, his eyes moving slowly over John's naked body. He turned away abruptly and placed his feet to the floor.
John watched him from the bed, pretending he wasn't looking. His heart throbbed as he watched Rodney's back from the corner of his eye. Their bodies were still touching; Rodney's hip against John's thigh as the scientist pulled his pants on. He tapped Rodney's arm with the back of his hand, gesturing downward. "You wanna hand me my pants?" he asked.
McKay looked at him over his shoulder as though surprised. "Do I want to hand you your pants?" he asked. He lifted his eyebrows as if he was considering the question. John smacked his arm again and he shrugged. "Fine." He bent over and picked up John's crumpled trousers from the floor, his loose belt buckle glinting in the firelight. He handed them to John and watched wistfully as he lifted his hips off the bed and pulled them up.
John arched an eyebrow, settling back in bed. "Enjoying the view?" he asked. As McKay opened his mouth to reply, a rap sounded on the door and the men started.
John leapt up, stepping forward while Rodney remained by the bedside, his blue eyes wide with shock and fixed on the door. "Hey, wait a—" John began, but no sooner had he found his voice than the door opened. "Hey, hey!" he called out too late. When he called out the first time, the rain outside had drowned out his voice and when he called out the second time, the door was already open.
A pale hand wrapped around the edge of the door and Jennifer's round face became apparent in the doorway. "John," she said, "I need to talk to you—"
Her blue eyes found the two men in the dim interior of the wagon and she stilled. She looked from John at the desk to Rodney by the table, her stare on their bare chests and hastily fastened trousers. Her gaze dropped to the rumpled clothes discarded on the floor of the wagon and dawning realization filled her features and drained the color from her face.
"John…Rodney, what's going on here?" she whispered.
John raised a hand, shaking his head, and Jennifer released a shuddering breath as her eyes filled. "Hey," he began, gesturing for calm with his hands.
Jennifer stared at him blindly, her eyes round and shocked. "Are you…?" she asked helplessly, "What are you doing, John…?"
"Jennifer, this is not how it looks," John said firmly, knowing that his defense was ridiculous. It was exactly how it looked; there was no other way it could be. He swallowed and shook his head nonetheless, shooting a glance at McKay's frozen figure. As he approached her, Jennifer turned and flung the door open; it crashed against the wall and stood open to the pouring rain outside as Jennifer dashed outside.
John darted after her and, as he did, McKay seized him by the elbow. He fell off balance and looked back angrily at the other man. "What the hell, McKay?" he demanded. As his stare fell on McKay, he found the scientist's face florid and enraged.
"You," he snarled furiously. "You planned this?" His voice was thin and reedy.
John's heart skipped, staring blankly at McKay for a moment. Then cold fury filled his body. "What the fuck?" he shot back. "Yeah, McKay! That makes a hell of a lot of sense!"
"So you expect me to believe all of this was a coincidence?" McKay shouted. His fingers tightened on his arm and his face was dark with blood. "You son of a bitch!"
John jerked free of his bruising grasp and advanced on him with menace. McKay held his ground, glowering at John. "I don't care if you believe it," he growled. "Get it together." Then he turned and grabbed his greatcoat from the hook by the door as he ran out into the cold deluge.
The rain was blinding, obscuring John's surroundings as he dashed off his balcony into the downpour. Raindrops struck his shoulders as he quickly fastened the buttons of his coat. His naked skin was patterned with goose-bumps across his shoulders and chest. He realized belatedly that his feet were bare; the mud was frigid beneath the soles of his feet and between his toes.
He ran down the narrow alley between the circus tents. The varicolored fabric flashed by at the edges of his vision, the colors dark with rain and the night. He lost his footing in front of the big top and smashed into Aiden Ford. He ran on without stopping to apologize until he was across the camp, on the back steps of Jennifer's wagon. The stairs creaked under his weight as he climbed them. His muddy feet left prints on the slick wood of the small balcony. As he laid his hand on the door knob, the door flew back.
Light poured through the open doorway and splashed out onto the balcony and John's drenched frame. Jennifer stood in the door, her hand on the door knob. The candlelight gilded the strands of her hair as the shadow outside darkened her features. Her face shone with wetness.
"Jennifer," John said. He wanted to say more but her expression robbed him of his ability to speak. His heart pounded painfully and his throat was tight. "Look, I…." He swallowed and couldn't think of anything he could possibly say to her. There was no excuse for what he'd done.
As John's silence drew on, Jennifer's rigid expression changed into one of sorrow. "Why?" she asked. "I don't understand."
John's heart pained him. He bit his lip and looked away, his forehead creased. For a moment, he couldn't force himself to speak. "I can't…," he murmured finally.
Jennifer shook her head and raindrops fell from the ends of her damp curls. "Can't what?" she asked. "Please…tell me."
"I'm sorry."
As though his words broke dam of restraint in her, Jennifer's face crumbled and her eyes filled with tears. "How could you do this to me, John?" she demanded. "I trusted you implicitly. You've always helped me and protected me." The tears in her eyes spilled over her cheeks and she shuddered. "You're my brother. How could you betray me like this?"
John shook his head helplessly, his chest tight. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry, Jennifer. I can't say…." He cast his gaze aside and fisted his hand. "I can't say how sorry."
"Because—" Jennifer gasped and buried her chin in her chest, wrapping her arms around her. She raised her head and looked out over John's shoulder, lifting her brows. "Were you trying to hurt me? To prove a point about Rodney?"
"No!" John exclaimed. "I didn't…." He gritted his teeth. "I didn't mean for this to happen." His stubbled cheeks were flushed dark with blood. The muscle in his jaw tensed. "I didn't mean for it to happen," he repeated. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just…." His voice faltered and he stopped. He thought of Rodney and knew that he couldn't tell her the truth – that he wanted him, that he'd wanted Rodney from the start. He shook his head.
"Please leave."
John swallowed. "Jennifer—"
"Please leave," Jennifer repeated. "I want to be alone."
John was silent for a several seconds, the corded muscles in his shoulders tight as he stared across the threshold at the damp face of his sister in the dim candlelight from inside. The rain beat on the roof and seemed to rise between them. Finally, John nodded his head and Jennifer shut the door. For a long time, he remained there, the heat dissipating from his frame as he stared at the door.
As he descended from the steps of his sister's wagon, he saw Aiden Ford by the tent poles of the big top canopy, the young man's face concerned. "Is everything okay, John?" he called out over the rainfall.
John passed him without a second glance, walking back to his abandoned wagon. The rain swallowed the sight of the guards posted at the edge of the camp. The door to his wagon was closed. When he went inside, Rodney was already gone.
