ficpost: "Phobic" McKay/Weir
May. 23rd, 2005 10:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wisdomeagleTitle: Phobic
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: McKay/Weir
Rating: R
Notes: For the Kink/Cliche Challenge. Prompts were "enclosed spaces" "something with gags" and "first time with a shy or bold virgin". Inspired by all of them, but mostly the enclosed spaces one.
Words: 2155
Summary: There's no such thing as a good time to have this discussion.
Phobic
McKay ruminates on the sad fact that it's never an appropriate time to mention that he's extremely claustrophobic. There are the times when he's not currently trapped in an enclosed space, when it doesn't usually occur to him to mention his laundry list of phobias, and when it does, he's found most people tend to wander away somewhere around atelophobia (fear of imperfection) and so he doesn't get a chance to explain exactly why he's absolutely terrified of enclosed spaces.
And then there are the times when he's trapped, gasping for air, struggling between closing his eyes so he can't see and opening them again to discover just exactly how terribly screwed he is. And those times, he's found, are terrible for describing the way his throat is constricted and his skin is clammy and his brain is about to implode with too much input from too few cubic centimetres of space.
So he gulps and flails and tries not to panic when his hand touches Elizabeth's.
"Rodney, are you okay?" Hearing her voice is like answering a homing beacon; Elizabeth is here and she's okay so he's going to be okay so all they need to do is get out of here and then everything will be fine and there will be space again. Space to breathe, space to feel. His hands keep on jerking away from each other, sometimes hitting Elizabeth, sometimes the walls of the closet. Finally, Elizabeth takes one of his hands and holds it, and it's amazing, how calming that is. He can breathe almost normally again, and he stops spasming. "Rodney. You need to calm down, and then you need to tell me how to get out of here."
"I don't know," he says. "The way the locking mechanism works, I really don't know, actually, it's very complicated, but we triggered -- that is to say..."
"Rodney."
"Well, taking into account the way the door locked behind us, and the walls compressed, and thank you very much if you don't remind me of that too often, and the way our comms seem to be blocked... I think we're in some sort of trap."
"Ah. Any ideas on how to escape?"
"None yet. Working on it. Trying, at least." He tightens his grip on her fingers, and he can feel her squeezing back. It's comfortable. More than comfortable. He feels the veins in her hand and is suddenly acutely aware that he's trapped in a very small space and that he's trapped there with one of the three most beautiful women in the universe, definitely the most beautiful one in this galaxy. He feels garbled words threaten his mouth, and strange new sensations at the place where their hands are touching and the place where his ass is pressed against the wall of the closet they are trapped in.
"Rodney!" He can hear a note of panic in her voice that surprises him, since according to the rules he lives by, Elizabeth rarely experiences fear, at least not the kind of fear that makes her voice shake and her fingers turn white when clutching at his. He suspects there should have been a session on this in mandatory training, half-suspects maybe there was a session that he skipped out on to eat lunch. His annoyingly uncontrollable appetite means that he doesn't know very much about how women deal with stress. Elizabeth. Woman. He usually tries to repress his knowledge that she's a woman, because it leads to less stress when he's forced to actually talk to her coherently, but right now, most of his energy is being channeled into trying not to keep breathing, so he accidentally notices that, besides the hand that hasn't moved from his, Elizabeth's breasts are pushing very lightly against his side.
Just when he's trying very hard to work up a decent fantasy about that in an effort to try to clear his mind of the hideous nightmare fantasies he has about them being locked in a closet forever,
Elizabeth kisses him. And his brain short-circuits, and several electrical impulses misfire at once causing him to remember his cat and wonder if she's being taken care of, attempt to draft a violent response to a former supervisor's critique of his lab work, and of course, try to figure out whether he has any condoms actually handy at the moment or if they are all, like his common sense, Outside The Closet.
And, evidentially, Elizabeth's common sense. And just about every rule of the universe he's ever known to be true. Because right now, he is not only desirable, he's desired, and he's kissing Elizabeth back as hard as he can, trying to open his mouth and find the inside of hers at the same time, and every time his lips slip away from hers and then find them again, there is another spark of joy in his brain that makes it difficult to keep his mind on things, things like, how the hell are they going to get out of here?
But then, he doesn't want to get out of here, not right now, not when there are so many intriguing things happening right here, Elizabeth's kiss, and his erection that seems to have spontaneously generated, and... and Elizabeth, pressed against him, and no possibility of escape, no possibility of her running away or having something else to do, no possibility of her dismissing him to take care of other people's problems, because this is their problem, and right now, it doesn't really feel like a problem, not when Elizabeth kisses him hard and pushes him, just a little, so he's snug against the wall, and his whole body is enclosed, wall on one side and Elizabeth on the other, but the part of his brain that's terrified of that because of the claustrophobia is tiny compared to the part of his brain that's excited because Elizabeth.
She finally stops kissing him for a minute, and is breathing hard, when it occurs to him that it would be smart to say something, so he says, between his own breathless pants, "That's without a doubt the second or third best kiss I've ever had," and then frowns because a) he's just lied and b) that wasn't a terribly romantic thing to say. "I mean, uh, I mean that was very good. You should feel pleased." That doesn't sound right either, but the words he wants to say, "I love you" "Thank you" "We will get out of here, right?" just won't come out.
Elizabeth has moved back, but she's still just centimetres away from him, and in the dim light that filters in from the gap beneath the door shows him that she's looking a bit tousled and a lot upset.
"Well, in that case," she begins, but he doesn't let her finish.
"No, please, it was excellent and I -- I was rude."
"Yes, you were. It's a habit of yours."
"But not to you," and he wonders if she even knows how hard he tries to always be the picture of, if not politeness, at least decency, when she's around.
"Not normally, no. But I take it the special circumstances mean you think you're exempt from those rules? From being civilized?"
"It's apparently given you the idea that you can take advantage of me."
"Which would imply that you didn't enjoy being kissed, when you've confessed, in your own way, that you did."
Rodney is very confused, but at least he's not terrified anymore, or if he is, the terror is on the back burner, and his puzzlement is taking priority. He thinks he'd like to have sex, but beyond the sheer physical impossibility of doing that while they're still fucking trapped in the closet, he suspects there would be something drastically wrong about having sex under these circumstances. Possibly that's because his knowledge about sex, period, is slightly spotty in places, particularly the lab practical parts, but that's all right, as he sees it, because they're about to have something more like a long talk than a long session of lovemaking.
"What would you say," Elizabeth says, looking in the other direction, "if I told you that I loved you?"
Rodney knows the answer to that one. "Probably something stupid."
"I don't doubt that," Elizabeth says with a chuckle. "But let's pretend for a moment that you have a heart."
Rodney deliberately turns around, which leaves him with his nose smushed against the wall and his ass brushing hers, but it's better than looking at her when he says "Iloveyoutoo."
"Good," she says, then sighs. "What if we both turned around now, and then tried that again?"
"The talking?"
"The kissing, unless you'd rather talk."
"I -- yes please."
When they break loose from the second kiss, Rodney can feel the sweat start to accumulate on his neck and in his armpits, and the heat of her body and the confined space and the sexual excitement combine to make him swelter. They're sweltering together, at least, he feels a thin sheen of sweat on Elizabeth's brow, which he kisses before kissing her mouth again, and he's surprised by how easy it is, now that he's got the hang of it, to kiss, then breathe, then kiss her again, and he never wants to stop. Until she manages to reach a hand under his waistband, and then he wants -- he doesn't even know, but it involves her fingers and his pants and possibly some clothes being removed and being... being exposed for her.
No, he doesn't want that.
But he wants her desperately, and he tries to say that, but it comes out, "Are you entirely sure you want to be doing this? After all, we could be trying to figure out how to get ourselves untrapped. Or, I could. My mental resources should really be focused on that."
Somehow Elizabeth understands what he means, and she smiles against his cheek and whispers, "You didn't mean that, did you?"
"I did," he protests. Then swallows and tries again. "No. I do want to -- I want --"
Elizabeth steps aside, and pulls off her shirt, bumping her elbow into him a few times, but he doesn't mind; he's transfixed by the sight of her almost-naked breasts. When she's got her shirt off, though, she reaches her arms around his head and she -- "What are you doing?"
"Is it okay? So that you stop saying things you don't mean?" He considers the implications of having Elizabeth's shirt around his face, of having Elizabeth's shirt in his mouth, and he chokes back a sob, because he's not sure he wants to give that to her, and kind of suspects he has to, but doesn't know why.
So he says no, but provisionally, so that she'll understand he might change his mind at any moment. And she nods and moves the shirt and then it's just her arms around him, just her tongue in his mouth, and there are her breasts squishing against his chest, and he wants her, wants that. But he can't start stripping, just can't bring himself to move his hands, which are latched permanently to Elizabeth's hips, because if he moves them any higher, he'll be touching bare skin, and he's not sure he's ready for that, though he damn well better be soon because soon, very soon, he knows, kissing won't be enough, and if he moves his hands any lower, they'll be on her ass, and... he tries that, experimentally, and it's a nice fit so he keeps them there, and in an instant everything changes, because Elizabeth rotates and crashes into the wall and, out of control and wanting, he grabs the zipper of her pants and hops a bit as he struggles to get them off her.
They are trapped in a closet and Rodney can hardly breathe, because he keeps on stealing more kisses, and they leave him breathless and gasping, and because getting undressed in a closet is hard work, and because if he stops to think for even a moment, he'll be terrified and start to scream, but as long as he focuses on Elizabeth's bare skin and on guiding himself into her, he's okay, breathing in and out, no matter how shakily, and his mind is not imploding, though it's coming damned close.
He knows that once they finish, the world will not be over, and they'll still be trapped and naked and needy, and he'll still be stubborn and Elizabeth will still be confusing, but all that doesn't matter half so much as skin-to-skin, as the softness of Elizabeth's skin and her whispery breaths against his neck.
This is enough to convince him that he will save them.
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: McKay/Weir
Rating: R
Notes: For the Kink/Cliche Challenge. Prompts were "enclosed spaces" "something with gags" and "first time with a shy or bold virgin". Inspired by all of them, but mostly the enclosed spaces one.
Words: 2155
Summary: There's no such thing as a good time to have this discussion.
Phobic
McKay ruminates on the sad fact that it's never an appropriate time to mention that he's extremely claustrophobic. There are the times when he's not currently trapped in an enclosed space, when it doesn't usually occur to him to mention his laundry list of phobias, and when it does, he's found most people tend to wander away somewhere around atelophobia (fear of imperfection) and so he doesn't get a chance to explain exactly why he's absolutely terrified of enclosed spaces.
And then there are the times when he's trapped, gasping for air, struggling between closing his eyes so he can't see and opening them again to discover just exactly how terribly screwed he is. And those times, he's found, are terrible for describing the way his throat is constricted and his skin is clammy and his brain is about to implode with too much input from too few cubic centimetres of space.
So he gulps and flails and tries not to panic when his hand touches Elizabeth's.
"Rodney, are you okay?" Hearing her voice is like answering a homing beacon; Elizabeth is here and she's okay so he's going to be okay so all they need to do is get out of here and then everything will be fine and there will be space again. Space to breathe, space to feel. His hands keep on jerking away from each other, sometimes hitting Elizabeth, sometimes the walls of the closet. Finally, Elizabeth takes one of his hands and holds it, and it's amazing, how calming that is. He can breathe almost normally again, and he stops spasming. "Rodney. You need to calm down, and then you need to tell me how to get out of here."
"I don't know," he says. "The way the locking mechanism works, I really don't know, actually, it's very complicated, but we triggered -- that is to say..."
"Rodney."
"Well, taking into account the way the door locked behind us, and the walls compressed, and thank you very much if you don't remind me of that too often, and the way our comms seem to be blocked... I think we're in some sort of trap."
"Ah. Any ideas on how to escape?"
"None yet. Working on it. Trying, at least." He tightens his grip on her fingers, and he can feel her squeezing back. It's comfortable. More than comfortable. He feels the veins in her hand and is suddenly acutely aware that he's trapped in a very small space and that he's trapped there with one of the three most beautiful women in the universe, definitely the most beautiful one in this galaxy. He feels garbled words threaten his mouth, and strange new sensations at the place where their hands are touching and the place where his ass is pressed against the wall of the closet they are trapped in.
"Rodney!" He can hear a note of panic in her voice that surprises him, since according to the rules he lives by, Elizabeth rarely experiences fear, at least not the kind of fear that makes her voice shake and her fingers turn white when clutching at his. He suspects there should have been a session on this in mandatory training, half-suspects maybe there was a session that he skipped out on to eat lunch. His annoyingly uncontrollable appetite means that he doesn't know very much about how women deal with stress. Elizabeth. Woman. He usually tries to repress his knowledge that she's a woman, because it leads to less stress when he's forced to actually talk to her coherently, but right now, most of his energy is being channeled into trying not to keep breathing, so he accidentally notices that, besides the hand that hasn't moved from his, Elizabeth's breasts are pushing very lightly against his side.
Just when he's trying very hard to work up a decent fantasy about that in an effort to try to clear his mind of the hideous nightmare fantasies he has about them being locked in a closet forever,
Elizabeth kisses him. And his brain short-circuits, and several electrical impulses misfire at once causing him to remember his cat and wonder if she's being taken care of, attempt to draft a violent response to a former supervisor's critique of his lab work, and of course, try to figure out whether he has any condoms actually handy at the moment or if they are all, like his common sense, Outside The Closet.
And, evidentially, Elizabeth's common sense. And just about every rule of the universe he's ever known to be true. Because right now, he is not only desirable, he's desired, and he's kissing Elizabeth back as hard as he can, trying to open his mouth and find the inside of hers at the same time, and every time his lips slip away from hers and then find them again, there is another spark of joy in his brain that makes it difficult to keep his mind on things, things like, how the hell are they going to get out of here?
But then, he doesn't want to get out of here, not right now, not when there are so many intriguing things happening right here, Elizabeth's kiss, and his erection that seems to have spontaneously generated, and... and Elizabeth, pressed against him, and no possibility of escape, no possibility of her running away or having something else to do, no possibility of her dismissing him to take care of other people's problems, because this is their problem, and right now, it doesn't really feel like a problem, not when Elizabeth kisses him hard and pushes him, just a little, so he's snug against the wall, and his whole body is enclosed, wall on one side and Elizabeth on the other, but the part of his brain that's terrified of that because of the claustrophobia is tiny compared to the part of his brain that's excited because Elizabeth.
She finally stops kissing him for a minute, and is breathing hard, when it occurs to him that it would be smart to say something, so he says, between his own breathless pants, "That's without a doubt the second or third best kiss I've ever had," and then frowns because a) he's just lied and b) that wasn't a terribly romantic thing to say. "I mean, uh, I mean that was very good. You should feel pleased." That doesn't sound right either, but the words he wants to say, "I love you" "Thank you" "We will get out of here, right?" just won't come out.
Elizabeth has moved back, but she's still just centimetres away from him, and in the dim light that filters in from the gap beneath the door shows him that she's looking a bit tousled and a lot upset.
"Well, in that case," she begins, but he doesn't let her finish.
"No, please, it was excellent and I -- I was rude."
"Yes, you were. It's a habit of yours."
"But not to you," and he wonders if she even knows how hard he tries to always be the picture of, if not politeness, at least decency, when she's around.
"Not normally, no. But I take it the special circumstances mean you think you're exempt from those rules? From being civilized?"
"It's apparently given you the idea that you can take advantage of me."
"Which would imply that you didn't enjoy being kissed, when you've confessed, in your own way, that you did."
Rodney is very confused, but at least he's not terrified anymore, or if he is, the terror is on the back burner, and his puzzlement is taking priority. He thinks he'd like to have sex, but beyond the sheer physical impossibility of doing that while they're still fucking trapped in the closet, he suspects there would be something drastically wrong about having sex under these circumstances. Possibly that's because his knowledge about sex, period, is slightly spotty in places, particularly the lab practical parts, but that's all right, as he sees it, because they're about to have something more like a long talk than a long session of lovemaking.
"What would you say," Elizabeth says, looking in the other direction, "if I told you that I loved you?"
Rodney knows the answer to that one. "Probably something stupid."
"I don't doubt that," Elizabeth says with a chuckle. "But let's pretend for a moment that you have a heart."
Rodney deliberately turns around, which leaves him with his nose smushed against the wall and his ass brushing hers, but it's better than looking at her when he says "Iloveyoutoo."
"Good," she says, then sighs. "What if we both turned around now, and then tried that again?"
"The talking?"
"The kissing, unless you'd rather talk."
"I -- yes please."
When they break loose from the second kiss, Rodney can feel the sweat start to accumulate on his neck and in his armpits, and the heat of her body and the confined space and the sexual excitement combine to make him swelter. They're sweltering together, at least, he feels a thin sheen of sweat on Elizabeth's brow, which he kisses before kissing her mouth again, and he's surprised by how easy it is, now that he's got the hang of it, to kiss, then breathe, then kiss her again, and he never wants to stop. Until she manages to reach a hand under his waistband, and then he wants -- he doesn't even know, but it involves her fingers and his pants and possibly some clothes being removed and being... being exposed for her.
No, he doesn't want that.
But he wants her desperately, and he tries to say that, but it comes out, "Are you entirely sure you want to be doing this? After all, we could be trying to figure out how to get ourselves untrapped. Or, I could. My mental resources should really be focused on that."
Somehow Elizabeth understands what he means, and she smiles against his cheek and whispers, "You didn't mean that, did you?"
"I did," he protests. Then swallows and tries again. "No. I do want to -- I want --"
Elizabeth steps aside, and pulls off her shirt, bumping her elbow into him a few times, but he doesn't mind; he's transfixed by the sight of her almost-naked breasts. When she's got her shirt off, though, she reaches her arms around his head and she -- "What are you doing?"
"Is it okay? So that you stop saying things you don't mean?" He considers the implications of having Elizabeth's shirt around his face, of having Elizabeth's shirt in his mouth, and he chokes back a sob, because he's not sure he wants to give that to her, and kind of suspects he has to, but doesn't know why.
So he says no, but provisionally, so that she'll understand he might change his mind at any moment. And she nods and moves the shirt and then it's just her arms around him, just her tongue in his mouth, and there are her breasts squishing against his chest, and he wants her, wants that. But he can't start stripping, just can't bring himself to move his hands, which are latched permanently to Elizabeth's hips, because if he moves them any higher, he'll be touching bare skin, and he's not sure he's ready for that, though he damn well better be soon because soon, very soon, he knows, kissing won't be enough, and if he moves his hands any lower, they'll be on her ass, and... he tries that, experimentally, and it's a nice fit so he keeps them there, and in an instant everything changes, because Elizabeth rotates and crashes into the wall and, out of control and wanting, he grabs the zipper of her pants and hops a bit as he struggles to get them off her.
They are trapped in a closet and Rodney can hardly breathe, because he keeps on stealing more kisses, and they leave him breathless and gasping, and because getting undressed in a closet is hard work, and because if he stops to think for even a moment, he'll be terrified and start to scream, but as long as he focuses on Elizabeth's bare skin and on guiding himself into her, he's okay, breathing in and out, no matter how shakily, and his mind is not imploding, though it's coming damned close.
He knows that once they finish, the world will not be over, and they'll still be trapped and naked and needy, and he'll still be stubborn and Elizabeth will still be confusing, but all that doesn't matter half so much as skin-to-skin, as the softness of Elizabeth's skin and her whispery breaths against his neck.
This is enough to convince him that he will save them.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-05-24 04:04 am (UTC)This, however, killed me:
Rodney deliberately turns around, which leaves him with his nose smushed against the wall and his ass brushing hers, but it's better than looking at her when he says "Iloveyoutoo."
HEE!
(no subject)
Date: 2005-05-24 04:06 am (UTC)I <3 panicked!Rodney too.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-05-24 04:26 am (UTC)You know, I think I can handle McKay/Weir when you write it :)
(no subject)
Date: 2005-05-24 04:32 am (UTC)You know, I think I can handle McKay/Weir when you write it :)
Hee. Since in my world, all the McKay/Weir fic out there is a) written by me or b) written *for* me by flisters I've cunningly persuaded to write for me, I'm pretty much with you on that one.
Thanks!
(no subject)
Date: 2005-05-25 01:14 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-05-25 11:57 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-05-25 10:35 am (UTC)I'm in absolute and utter awe.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-05-25 11:58 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-05-26 03:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-05-26 06:09 pm (UTC)You know they'd adore this on the weirmckaysmut group.
Yahoo! Groups kind of give me hives, or else I'd put it there.
Thanks for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2005-05-26 06:53 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-05-26 08:19 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-05-26 09:51 pm (UTC)Love this. So good.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-05-27 06:32 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-05-27 03:59 pm (UTC)Elizabeth kisses him. And his brain short-circuits, and several electrical impulses misfire at once causing him to remember his cat and wonder if she's being taken care of, attempt to draft a violent response to a former supervisor's critique of his lab work, and of course, try to figure out whether he has any condoms actually handy at the moment or if they are all, like his common sense, Outside The Closet.
So priceless! I love it! <3
(no subject)
Date: 2005-05-27 06:33 pm (UTC)<3 Thanks for reading.
YAY!!!
Date: 2005-05-28 12:24 am (UTC)BethV a/k/a taurichick :)
Re: YAY!!!
Date: 2005-06-09 11:15 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-05-28 04:01 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-06-09 11:18 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-05-28 09:56 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-06-09 11:19 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-06-07 02:53 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-06-09 11:23 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-24 04:39 pm (UTC)OMG, I read McKay/Weir!
Your Rodney in this is SO PERFECT AND FANTASTIC. It is wonderful and awesome. Still not converted, but very glad I read this, because YAY. RODNEYYYY!
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-24 04:55 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-05 11:56 pm (UTC)Oh, and I used this story as one of my McKay/Weir recs over at
(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-06 02:44 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-15 05:26 am (UTC)