Ari (creature of dust, child of God) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wisdomeagle) wrote2004-11-06 06:38 pm
wisdomeagle) wrote2004-11-06 06:38 pm
Entry tags:
McKay ficathon fic!
For my own McKay Ficathon
Trick
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: McKay/Ford
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Not hardly
Notes: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kylielee1000, who requested NC-17 McFord that starts in the puddle jumper
"Trick"
They were orbiting a planet Ford was privately calling Arrakis, since McKay said it looked like the desert planet in Dune. Ford liked things to have names, not designations, although McKay sung the praises of orderly, systematic labeling. He said the designations were easy to remember, and Ford supposed that for people like McKay, who did differential equations to put themselves to sleep, maybe random strings of letters and numbers were best.
McKay was sprawled over at least two seats in the puddle jumper, his hands dangling on the floor. Every three minutes or so (at least, Ford supposed they were minutes; since Earth time had started slipping further away, days and hours and even minutes had started to feel like mythical quantities), McKay would complain that the puddle jumpers hadn't been designed for his personal comfort, and he'd thump the floor in aggravation. Sheppard thwacked him lightly on the arm, and McKay sighed and said, "I miss my recliner. And my television. And my extensive collection of Scientific American."
"Know what I miss?" said Sheppard.
He discussed this approximately daily, but they all looked up expectantly, awaiting a proclamation from their beneficent leader.
"Bars," said Sheppard. "I miss bars."
Teyla looked at him quizzically, and Sheppard started to explain haphazardly about peanuts and strobe lights and beer and women. Lots and lots of women.
"They don't have bars in Antarctica," said Ford, sadly.
"Which means I've been missing them for even longer than you can imagine," sighed Sheppard dramatically.
"Given that I'm almost certainly the one who's been the longest without sex, I think I should have bitching rights," said McKay. Sheppard and Ford began, in unison, to count on their fingers.
"It's different with me, I suppose," said McKay, "since I need less physical stimulation. I'm more cerebrally oriented." Ford stopped counting, but was still trying to remember. Had it been Lance, that weekend he'd flown up to the Falkland Islands? Or had it been the last time he'd been in the US, and Paul, the Marine? He felt bad that he didn't remember. He hadn't promised undying love to either of them, but it would be nice to remember who'd come first, what they looked like, what their voices sounded like when they climaxed.
Sheppard contacted Atlantis and prepared to leave orbit and head through the Stargate. "New game: names of the first and last people you had sex with. Teyla's exempt since she's a lady. My first... ah, that was Anna. Sweet girl. And most recent was Gwen, a real babe."
"Paula," muttered Ford. "I don't remember the name of the first one." Ford wondered if Sheppard had epithets for every girl in his conquered nation. Yuki, pretty girl. Delia, smart girl. Amy, nice tits.
"You rogue," said Sheppard with a wink.
"My first was Celeste," said McKay. "Cheapest prostitute that money could buy."
Teyla looked disgusted; if the word didn't translate, the concept certainly did. Ford was a bit disgusted himself, but he figured that McKay's first time had been a long time ago, and he'd changed since then.
"And the last was Dirk... swell guy," he added, mocking Sheppard.
Ford got a queasy feeling whenever McKay talked about his bisexuality--which, according to Sheppard, was far too often--as if McKay's openness could somehow unmask him, as if McKay could rip the blanket of Don't Ask, Don't Tell right off him and expose his naked self to the world.
They arrived in Atlantis safely. Dr. Weir hurried to greet them. Ford tried to organize his thoughts, strictly business for the debriefing. But minutes after Sheppard and Teyla had left the puddle jumper, McKay was still gathering his equipment. Ford grabbed McKay's uniformed sleeve and said quietly, "It was Paul. Not Paula."
McKay stood up, stared at him for awhile, then finally, with a bitter laugh, pushed him aside.
~~~
That night, Ford found his way to McKay's quarters, to apologize, or maybe just to explain.
McKay was not pleased. "You're going to tell me you're sorry you can't come out, but that maybe we can provide support for each other. That maybe we can start Atlantis's first rainbow committee, only we 'd have to meet after dark, under the cover of secrecy, since no one can know about you, that the precious little Lieutenant is a fudgepacker, can they? Especially not--"
"Hey," said Ford, not really hurt. "I know Dr. Weir isn't military, but I still really don't want a dishonorable discharge from the highest ranking officer here."
"Especially since that's John."
Ford didn't think he'd ever heard anyone call Sheppard that before. It hurt him, somehow, and also seemed daring, like McKay coming out to an entire base of military types. Not smart, really, and not really accomplishing anything except showing that McKay could be as brave as the rest of them, match insult for bluster and bravado for war stories.
"Look, unless there's something else you wanted to say, maybe you should leave, go watch the American football tape again."
"McKay..."
"Yeah?"
Ford tried desperately to think of something he could say, something to prolong the moment. Which was weird, because it wasn't actually a good moment, since McKay was about ready to kill him. But it felt oddly intimate, like watching the point man's six and knowing that if you fucked up, he was dead, but that he was relying on you.
Actually, maybe only Ford thought that was intimate.
His eyes panned McKay's quarters, the high stacks of papers, the odd little bits of Atlantis tech that McKay fiddled with and tried not to turn all the power off again, the empty packets of military issue coffee, McKay himself, arms folded across his chest, waiting for Ford to say something or leave.
Ford waited too. For the intimate feeling to go away, for McKay to uncross his arms and look vulnerable for a second. Ford thought that he if came out to anyone, let alone to everyone, his entire being would be laid bare, raw and exposed for whipping and for pain. But everyone knew about McKay, he made no secret of it, and here he was, as stubborn and as unknowable as ever.
"Are you going to leave? I have important things to do."
"So do I," said Ford, and he suddenly remembered how to hit on a guy, and wondered how he ever could have forgotten something like that. He moved a little closer, made himself stand up tall and move closer to McKay, who tensed up, then relaxed.
"You want to have sex?"
Ford shrugged off his flirtatiousness; it didn't suit him. "Sure."
McKay managed to wriggle out of his uniform without looking exposed, and Ford slowly started to unbutton. McKay was searching through his supplies for lube 'n' condoms, and Ford stared at his bare ass and long legs and smiled.
McKay flopped onto his bed, ass upwards, and Ford suddenly realized that he was expecting him to...
"You want me to fuck you?"
"Well, that's what you want, isn't it? I'm not exactly averse to offering my ass up to you. You fuck me. I get fucked. Both of us will have had sex more recently than Major Sheppard."
Ford walked to the bed, sat next to McKay without touching him. "It's just, I haven't ever... well, okay, once. But just once, and it didn't go very well. I usually, um, bottom."
"Oh," said McKay, flipping himself onto his back, a hand slipping to his own dick. Ford stared, remembering just how much he liked dick.
"Can I...?"
"Be my guest," said McKay, and Ford took hold of McKay's dick, being careful not to gentle it too much. He settled into a firm rhythm, focused, intent. It was good to be touching someone else again, and he was growing hard himself. McKay was obviously trying not to make any sound, but this, at least, was something Ford had a lot of practice doing, and McKay was groaning soon, and then squealing, his voice pitched way too high. Ford let his mouth settle over McKay's dick and moved a hand to McKay's dick, first massaging his anus, then slowly slipped a finger in, just part of the way. McKay started moaning something incoherent about particle physics, Sam Carter, Major Sheppard, and imaginary numbers.
Ford sucked harder, and worked another finger up McKay's ass. He realized that this would be one of those one-night stands, the kind where the other guy came, then promptly rolled over and fell asleep. That was okay. Ford had had lots of one night stands of all flavors, and he'd forgotten how good it felt to have a dick in his mouth, to be able to use his tongue and lips and fingers to make another man insensible. He tried not to smile around McKay's cock.
McKay's semen was thin and pungent and didn't make Ford flinch only because he had a lot of practice not gagging.
Instead of rolling over and falling asleep, McKay sat up and struggled to pull his boxers back on. Ford knew there was no way McKay would think of reciprocating, and that was okay. He should really go now. There was no way McKay could possibly ask him to stay.
Probably because he thought Ford was sure to say no.
He would stay anyhow. He fell back onto the bed, which naturally wasn't big enough for two, but they were used to living in cramped quarters, to a lack of personal space. He wondered if a kiss would be appropriate.
Nah. It was way too soon in their relationship for kissing. Heck, they weren't even on a first name basis yet.
"Shove over, Aiden," said McKay, his voice muffled. It was obviously bedtime.
Trick
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: McKay/Ford
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Not hardly
Notes: For
kylielee1000, who requested NC-17 McFord that starts in the puddle jumper"Trick"
They were orbiting a planet Ford was privately calling Arrakis, since McKay said it looked like the desert planet in Dune. Ford liked things to have names, not designations, although McKay sung the praises of orderly, systematic labeling. He said the designations were easy to remember, and Ford supposed that for people like McKay, who did differential equations to put themselves to sleep, maybe random strings of letters and numbers were best.
McKay was sprawled over at least two seats in the puddle jumper, his hands dangling on the floor. Every three minutes or so (at least, Ford supposed they were minutes; since Earth time had started slipping further away, days and hours and even minutes had started to feel like mythical quantities), McKay would complain that the puddle jumpers hadn't been designed for his personal comfort, and he'd thump the floor in aggravation. Sheppard thwacked him lightly on the arm, and McKay sighed and said, "I miss my recliner. And my television. And my extensive collection of Scientific American."
"Know what I miss?" said Sheppard.
He discussed this approximately daily, but they all looked up expectantly, awaiting a proclamation from their beneficent leader.
"Bars," said Sheppard. "I miss bars."
Teyla looked at him quizzically, and Sheppard started to explain haphazardly about peanuts and strobe lights and beer and women. Lots and lots of women.
"They don't have bars in Antarctica," said Ford, sadly.
"Which means I've been missing them for even longer than you can imagine," sighed Sheppard dramatically.
"Given that I'm almost certainly the one who's been the longest without sex, I think I should have bitching rights," said McKay. Sheppard and Ford began, in unison, to count on their fingers.
"It's different with me, I suppose," said McKay, "since I need less physical stimulation. I'm more cerebrally oriented." Ford stopped counting, but was still trying to remember. Had it been Lance, that weekend he'd flown up to the Falkland Islands? Or had it been the last time he'd been in the US, and Paul, the Marine? He felt bad that he didn't remember. He hadn't promised undying love to either of them, but it would be nice to remember who'd come first, what they looked like, what their voices sounded like when they climaxed.
Sheppard contacted Atlantis and prepared to leave orbit and head through the Stargate. "New game: names of the first and last people you had sex with. Teyla's exempt since she's a lady. My first... ah, that was Anna. Sweet girl. And most recent was Gwen, a real babe."
"Paula," muttered Ford. "I don't remember the name of the first one." Ford wondered if Sheppard had epithets for every girl in his conquered nation. Yuki, pretty girl. Delia, smart girl. Amy, nice tits.
"You rogue," said Sheppard with a wink.
"My first was Celeste," said McKay. "Cheapest prostitute that money could buy."
Teyla looked disgusted; if the word didn't translate, the concept certainly did. Ford was a bit disgusted himself, but he figured that McKay's first time had been a long time ago, and he'd changed since then.
"And the last was Dirk... swell guy," he added, mocking Sheppard.
Ford got a queasy feeling whenever McKay talked about his bisexuality--which, according to Sheppard, was far too often--as if McKay's openness could somehow unmask him, as if McKay could rip the blanket of Don't Ask, Don't Tell right off him and expose his naked self to the world.
They arrived in Atlantis safely. Dr. Weir hurried to greet them. Ford tried to organize his thoughts, strictly business for the debriefing. But minutes after Sheppard and Teyla had left the puddle jumper, McKay was still gathering his equipment. Ford grabbed McKay's uniformed sleeve and said quietly, "It was Paul. Not Paula."
McKay stood up, stared at him for awhile, then finally, with a bitter laugh, pushed him aside.
~~~
That night, Ford found his way to McKay's quarters, to apologize, or maybe just to explain.
McKay was not pleased. "You're going to tell me you're sorry you can't come out, but that maybe we can provide support for each other. That maybe we can start Atlantis's first rainbow committee, only we 'd have to meet after dark, under the cover of secrecy, since no one can know about you, that the precious little Lieutenant is a fudgepacker, can they? Especially not--"
"Hey," said Ford, not really hurt. "I know Dr. Weir isn't military, but I still really don't want a dishonorable discharge from the highest ranking officer here."
"Especially since that's John."
Ford didn't think he'd ever heard anyone call Sheppard that before. It hurt him, somehow, and also seemed daring, like McKay coming out to an entire base of military types. Not smart, really, and not really accomplishing anything except showing that McKay could be as brave as the rest of them, match insult for bluster and bravado for war stories.
"Look, unless there's something else you wanted to say, maybe you should leave, go watch the American football tape again."
"McKay..."
"Yeah?"
Ford tried desperately to think of something he could say, something to prolong the moment. Which was weird, because it wasn't actually a good moment, since McKay was about ready to kill him. But it felt oddly intimate, like watching the point man's six and knowing that if you fucked up, he was dead, but that he was relying on you.
Actually, maybe only Ford thought that was intimate.
His eyes panned McKay's quarters, the high stacks of papers, the odd little bits of Atlantis tech that McKay fiddled with and tried not to turn all the power off again, the empty packets of military issue coffee, McKay himself, arms folded across his chest, waiting for Ford to say something or leave.
Ford waited too. For the intimate feeling to go away, for McKay to uncross his arms and look vulnerable for a second. Ford thought that he if came out to anyone, let alone to everyone, his entire being would be laid bare, raw and exposed for whipping and for pain. But everyone knew about McKay, he made no secret of it, and here he was, as stubborn and as unknowable as ever.
"Are you going to leave? I have important things to do."
"So do I," said Ford, and he suddenly remembered how to hit on a guy, and wondered how he ever could have forgotten something like that. He moved a little closer, made himself stand up tall and move closer to McKay, who tensed up, then relaxed.
"You want to have sex?"
Ford shrugged off his flirtatiousness; it didn't suit him. "Sure."
McKay managed to wriggle out of his uniform without looking exposed, and Ford slowly started to unbutton. McKay was searching through his supplies for lube 'n' condoms, and Ford stared at his bare ass and long legs and smiled.
McKay flopped onto his bed, ass upwards, and Ford suddenly realized that he was expecting him to...
"You want me to fuck you?"
"Well, that's what you want, isn't it? I'm not exactly averse to offering my ass up to you. You fuck me. I get fucked. Both of us will have had sex more recently than Major Sheppard."
Ford walked to the bed, sat next to McKay without touching him. "It's just, I haven't ever... well, okay, once. But just once, and it didn't go very well. I usually, um, bottom."
"Oh," said McKay, flipping himself onto his back, a hand slipping to his own dick. Ford stared, remembering just how much he liked dick.
"Can I...?"
"Be my guest," said McKay, and Ford took hold of McKay's dick, being careful not to gentle it too much. He settled into a firm rhythm, focused, intent. It was good to be touching someone else again, and he was growing hard himself. McKay was obviously trying not to make any sound, but this, at least, was something Ford had a lot of practice doing, and McKay was groaning soon, and then squealing, his voice pitched way too high. Ford let his mouth settle over McKay's dick and moved a hand to McKay's dick, first massaging his anus, then slowly slipped a finger in, just part of the way. McKay started moaning something incoherent about particle physics, Sam Carter, Major Sheppard, and imaginary numbers.
Ford sucked harder, and worked another finger up McKay's ass. He realized that this would be one of those one-night stands, the kind where the other guy came, then promptly rolled over and fell asleep. That was okay. Ford had had lots of one night stands of all flavors, and he'd forgotten how good it felt to have a dick in his mouth, to be able to use his tongue and lips and fingers to make another man insensible. He tried not to smile around McKay's cock.
McKay's semen was thin and pungent and didn't make Ford flinch only because he had a lot of practice not gagging.
Instead of rolling over and falling asleep, McKay sat up and struggled to pull his boxers back on. Ford knew there was no way McKay would think of reciprocating, and that was okay. He should really go now. There was no way McKay could possibly ask him to stay.
Probably because he thought Ford was sure to say no.
He would stay anyhow. He fell back onto the bed, which naturally wasn't big enough for two, but they were used to living in cramped quarters, to a lack of personal space. He wondered if a kiss would be appropriate.
Nah. It was way too soon in their relationship for kissing. Heck, they weren't even on a first name basis yet.
"Shove over, Aiden," said McKay, his voice muffled. It was obviously bedtime.
no subject
We haven't? Thought we had a Sam/Fred/McKay threesome. :p
no subject
no subject
That's what was missing in this fic. Not enough threesomes.
:p.
no subject
Call me?