Fic: Parts of Speech (Sheppard/Beckett)
May. 15th, 2006 07:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
waldos_writingsTitle: Parts of Speech
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
smallwaldo
Rating: NC-17
Words: 2285
Pairing: Sheppard/Beckett
Summary: “Come on, say something sexy,” John told him. “You’re insane!” Carson said. “That’s not very sexy!” John complained.
A/N: I have no idea what possessed me to write a PWP... it's so not like me.
Carson stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers and sat on the edge of what had become ‘his side’ of the bed, his back to John.
John sat down behind him, his hands on Carson’s shoulders. “Are you okay?” he asked when Carson didn’t even turn to face him. They’d watched a movie and talked a bit for a while before heading off to bed. John hadn’t perceived anything to be wrong all night, but now Carson seemed… off.
“Oh, aye. Fine. Why?” Carson turned at the waist to look at John over his shoulder instead of pulling himself up on the bed, which also struck John as odd.
“You’ve gotten… twitchy in the last couple of minutes.” John slipped up behind him and slid his hands around Carson’s waist, letting them cross over his belly and rest there. John’s eyebrows arched up at what he encountered and he bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud. He was quite sure that wouldn’t be appreciated.
Unconsciously, Carson wiggled against John’s arm, but then he realized what he was doing and stopped, a flush of embarrassment covering his cheeks.
John slid back a little and then grabbed Carson again, pulling him back and over until Carson practically lay on top of him. “You are allowed to jump me, you know,” he said casually.
Carson blushed a little and buried his face in John’s gray t-shirt. His head snapped back up though as John’s hands worked their way under the elastic of his boxers. Trying to project a confidence he didn’t feel, Carson smiled at him. “I have your permission for that now, do I?”
John leaned up and kissed him quickly. “Mm-hm. Not that I really thought I needed to spell it out, but yeah, you have permission.” He kissed him again, longer and harder this time. When they broke off, John looked at him in confusion. “You’ve waited for me to start something every time, haven’t you?”
Carson found the “F” in the faded blue “Air Force” on John’s shirt fascinating all of a sudden. “Sometimes it was more of a… mutual understanding.”
John got an evil glint in his eye. “Well, then I think it’s about time you seduced me for a change.”
Carson’s ears were tingling he was blushing so hard. He’d never been given to being forward. He just found it unnatural and he felt like he was twelve trying to ask someone to a school dance. He knew John wasn’t expecting anything elaborate or even terribly suave, but he never could master that whole asking-someone-to-have-sex-with-him thing. It felt too much like being selfish. What if John didn’t want to have sex that night? What if he did it just because Carson had asked and not because he really wanted to? He wanted to be sure that when they were together it was because they both wanted it. Besides, John was so much more at ease with the words and the smooth gestures. It was just so much less embarrassing to leave that sort of thing to him.
“Come on, say something sexy,” John told him, squeezing Carson’s ass, trying to give him a little encouragement.
“You’re insane!” Carson said, grinding his erection into John’s hip as he wiggled against John’s questing hands.
“That’s not very sexy!” John complained, slapping Carson’s butt hard enough to make a solid sound, but not hard enough that Carson would complain. In fact, John took mental note of the way Carson’s breathing hitched when he did that. “Seriously. Tell me what you want me to do for you.” John held his hands still, trying to convey a slight change in tone – he really wanted Carson to be comfortable asking for what he wanted. He was somewhat chagrinned to realize that for as long as they’d been together, that Carson never had and he’d never noticed.
“I should think it’s somewhat obvious,” Carson said, not meeting his eyes.
John slid his hands up, wrapping his arms around Carson’s back, holding him tight to his chest as Carson tried to wiggle away from the uncomfortable conversation. He caught Carson’s head and brought him back around and kissed him gently. “In the general sense, yes, it’s obvious. But I want you to be specific. Exactly what do you want me to do for you?”
Carson looked away again, not answering. John was starting to get a little nervous. He wanted to push Carson out of his comfort zone, but he didn’t want to completely destroy the mood in doing so. “What?” he asked, deliberately keeping a cocky smile on his face. “You afraid you’ll suggest something totally kinky and I’ll freak out?” It was really the last thing he worried about with Carson. He suspected that Carson had some deeply submerged mild kinks in him somewhere – such as his reaction to the little tap on his ass earlier - but they would be an exploration for another time.
Carson cuffed him lightly on the shoulder, “No… I just…”
“What?” John pushed.
“It’s… awkward.” Carson was still bright red, but John was glad to see him smiling as they tackled the subject.
“What could be so hard? You’re a doctor, I’m sure you know all the big fancy words for the parts involved.” John dropped his voice to a seductive whisper, letting his lips actually graze Carson’s ear as he said, “So tell me which of my parts you want me to use and which parts of you, you want me to use them on.”
The warmth of John’s breath against his ear made Carson shiver. He let out an involuntary, “Oh…” when John ran his tongue around the edge of his ear.
He was actually completely unsurprised when John pulled back and said with a disgustingly self-satisfied smirk, “I’m not doing anything else until you tell me what to do.”
Carson pouted at him. “It’s crossing my mind to tell you where to go,” he said petulantly.
John laughed. “You don’t mean that.”
Carson just pouted at him some more but didn’t disagree.
After a few long moments Carson finally buried his face in John’s t-shirt again and then mumbled, “liketheothernight… withyourhand…”
John was afraid he was going to have to ask Carson to repeat himself, but after playing the sounds over again in his head a few times, they finally sorted themselves into words. “See? You can do it,” he said as he flipped them over.
Several night’s ago, John’s team had come back from a four-day mission late in what had turned out to be Atlantis’ night. Carolyn Biro had been on duty and had made quick work of dispatching the team from their physicals and John had made a bee-line for Carson’s quarters, hoping to catch him before he went to sleep.
Carson had been in the shower, so John simply joined him. Carson had gotten him off in the shower with a spectacular blow-job. Fearing that John would collapse and go straight down the drain, Carson had bundled them off to bed before he could reciprocate. But once in bed, John had spooned up behind him and finished him off somewhat quickly, and in his opinion, somewhat inexpertly. They had both been tired, and John didn’t generally think of hand-jobs as something to get terribly worked up over. But apparently there had been something in that encounter that had worked for Carson.
John wiggled Carson’s boxers down and spooned up behind him. Carson, who had found it so difficult to say the words, had little trouble, apparently, indicating what he wanted with his body. He wiggled his bare ass against John’s front, feeling John’s hardness through the soft cotton of his boxer-briefs.
John gripped Carson’s cock in his hand, just taking in the smoothness and heat over such a strong core. He kissed the back of Carson’s neck, causing Carson to shift against him and in his hand. “Like this?” John whispered.
Carson’s breath hitched before he could stutter out a quiet, “Aye.”
John stroked him a couple of times, slowly, lazily. They had time, which was a novelty lately. He knew without looking that Carson had closed his eyes and was now giving himself over to just feeling. John couldn’t remember if he ever told Carson how much he loved it when Carson just gave himself to John like that.
Just as Carson began rocking into the lazy rhythm, John stopped, pulling his hand away and kissing the back of Carson’s head softly. Carson turned around, a look of almost comic alarm on his face. He relaxed as he heard the drawer next to the table open and John’s fumbling around. Carson had to laugh. He knew that there were exactly four things in that drawer: John’s iPod, a packet of cold pills, a flashlight (he’d learned to stop calling them ‘torches’ after having to operate by them and having to repeat everything in British and American just to keep everyone on the same page) and jar of hand cream. It made Carson feel just a bit better that despite John’s air of being totally relaxed and unhurried that he was, in fact, flustered enough that he couldn’t find the hand cream by touch alone.
John finally gave up and sat up enough to look in the drawer, get the damn jar, scoop some cream out and slam the thing back in there. “That shouldn’t have been that complicated,” he said as he rubbed the lotion across his hands a bit and lay back down behind Carson.
And that was when Carson truly relaxed. For all of John’s witty lines and smooth moves, he wasn’t perfect. He never pretended to be. He had just learned to roll with the little hiccups the universe threw at him. Carson made a mental note to try and do that more often.
John took his time bringing him to a place where he could no longer deny his body what it wanted so desperately. John varied the pace just often enough to keep Carson from being able to anticipate what would happen next, just enough to keep him from coming. He would stroke him in long, slow movements, making sure as much of his hand was in contact with Carson as possible and then stop and just draw little lines and patterns with one or two finger tips and then change to more of a squeezing than a stroking motion.
All the while Carson could feel John rubbing himself against his ass, his shorts still on.
Carson’s sucked in a deep breath and held it as his body finally couldn’t take it any more. Behind him he noticed John’s breathing change and he felt John’s arms lock around him as they both came.
After several more minutes of heavy breathing and not having the strength or desire to move, John reached over and grabbed a few tissues, wiping them both off. He shucked his sticky shorts and tossed them on the floor. “Guess I’m doing laundry in the morning.”
Carson laughed as he pulled off his own ruined t-shirt and kicked his shorts the rest of the way off. “You and me both,” he answered, not turning to look at John, wondering why he still felt bashful in moments like this.
Atlantis’ habit of having both medical and military emergencies at all kind of inconvenient hours had kept them from getting in the habit of sleeping naked, even on their own. But tonight, by some kind of unspoken agreement, they just tossed their clothes on the floor and pulled the blankets out from under themselves and snuggled together under them.
John nipped Carson’s shoulder. “You’re going to have to go commando tomorrow morning, aren’t you?” He pressed his face into Carson’s shoulder so that he could be sure Carson could feel him smiling at that thought.
“For as long as it takes me to get from here to four doors down to my own quarters,” Carson said. “I don’t think my need to do laundry is as desperate as yours is.”
John laughed. It was something of a running joke between them. John seemed to have a perpetual need to wash clothes or put away the washed ones. “Even so…” he said softly, “Do it anyway.”
Carson looked over his shoulder at John, his face screwed up in confusion. “Do the laundry?”
John cuffed him on the top of the head playfully, not sure if Carson was being deliberately obtuse or just playing with him. “No, not the laundry.” He kissed Carson’s neck. “Go commando,” he explained.
“John…” Carson wasn’t sure if he planned to argue or agree.
“Come on. Tomorrow’s supposed to be a slow day for everyone. No one’s going off world, no one’s coming back from off world… You said earlier that you plan to get caught up on your paperwork. Come on…” he weedled.
Carson let his head thunk back on the pillow. “The things I let you talk me into.” He couldn’t explain that the idea did turn him on more than he expected it too. He had an evil thought and rolled over to face John. “On one condition.”
“What’s that?” John asked.
“You do it too. You said it yourself, it’s a quiet day, you aren’t going off world.”
“I have hand-to-hand training with Ronon and three groups of Marines on the books for tomorrow. I really don’t think that’s such a good idea. One wrong move and tomorrow night I’ll be seeing you, but as a patient curled up in a little ball in one of your beds begging for morphine.”
“Not fair,” Carson muttered, snuggling in to John’s chest to sleep. “You don’t play fair at all.”
Author:
smallwaldoRating: NC-17
Words: 2285
Pairing: Sheppard/Beckett
Summary: “Come on, say something sexy,” John told him. “You’re insane!” Carson said. “That’s not very sexy!” John complained.
A/N: I have no idea what possessed me to write a PWP... it's so not like me.
Carson stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers and sat on the edge of what had become ‘his side’ of the bed, his back to John.
John sat down behind him, his hands on Carson’s shoulders. “Are you okay?” he asked when Carson didn’t even turn to face him. They’d watched a movie and talked a bit for a while before heading off to bed. John hadn’t perceived anything to be wrong all night, but now Carson seemed… off.
“Oh, aye. Fine. Why?” Carson turned at the waist to look at John over his shoulder instead of pulling himself up on the bed, which also struck John as odd.
“You’ve gotten… twitchy in the last couple of minutes.” John slipped up behind him and slid his hands around Carson’s waist, letting them cross over his belly and rest there. John’s eyebrows arched up at what he encountered and he bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud. He was quite sure that wouldn’t be appreciated.
Unconsciously, Carson wiggled against John’s arm, but then he realized what he was doing and stopped, a flush of embarrassment covering his cheeks.
John slid back a little and then grabbed Carson again, pulling him back and over until Carson practically lay on top of him. “You are allowed to jump me, you know,” he said casually.
Carson blushed a little and buried his face in John’s gray t-shirt. His head snapped back up though as John’s hands worked their way under the elastic of his boxers. Trying to project a confidence he didn’t feel, Carson smiled at him. “I have your permission for that now, do I?”
John leaned up and kissed him quickly. “Mm-hm. Not that I really thought I needed to spell it out, but yeah, you have permission.” He kissed him again, longer and harder this time. When they broke off, John looked at him in confusion. “You’ve waited for me to start something every time, haven’t you?”
Carson found the “F” in the faded blue “Air Force” on John’s shirt fascinating all of a sudden. “Sometimes it was more of a… mutual understanding.”
John got an evil glint in his eye. “Well, then I think it’s about time you seduced me for a change.”
Carson’s ears were tingling he was blushing so hard. He’d never been given to being forward. He just found it unnatural and he felt like he was twelve trying to ask someone to a school dance. He knew John wasn’t expecting anything elaborate or even terribly suave, but he never could master that whole asking-someone-to-have-sex-with-him thing. It felt too much like being selfish. What if John didn’t want to have sex that night? What if he did it just because Carson had asked and not because he really wanted to? He wanted to be sure that when they were together it was because they both wanted it. Besides, John was so much more at ease with the words and the smooth gestures. It was just so much less embarrassing to leave that sort of thing to him.
“Come on, say something sexy,” John told him, squeezing Carson’s ass, trying to give him a little encouragement.
“You’re insane!” Carson said, grinding his erection into John’s hip as he wiggled against John’s questing hands.
“That’s not very sexy!” John complained, slapping Carson’s butt hard enough to make a solid sound, but not hard enough that Carson would complain. In fact, John took mental note of the way Carson’s breathing hitched when he did that. “Seriously. Tell me what you want me to do for you.” John held his hands still, trying to convey a slight change in tone – he really wanted Carson to be comfortable asking for what he wanted. He was somewhat chagrinned to realize that for as long as they’d been together, that Carson never had and he’d never noticed.
“I should think it’s somewhat obvious,” Carson said, not meeting his eyes.
John slid his hands up, wrapping his arms around Carson’s back, holding him tight to his chest as Carson tried to wiggle away from the uncomfortable conversation. He caught Carson’s head and brought him back around and kissed him gently. “In the general sense, yes, it’s obvious. But I want you to be specific. Exactly what do you want me to do for you?”
Carson looked away again, not answering. John was starting to get a little nervous. He wanted to push Carson out of his comfort zone, but he didn’t want to completely destroy the mood in doing so. “What?” he asked, deliberately keeping a cocky smile on his face. “You afraid you’ll suggest something totally kinky and I’ll freak out?” It was really the last thing he worried about with Carson. He suspected that Carson had some deeply submerged mild kinks in him somewhere – such as his reaction to the little tap on his ass earlier - but they would be an exploration for another time.
Carson cuffed him lightly on the shoulder, “No… I just…”
“What?” John pushed.
“It’s… awkward.” Carson was still bright red, but John was glad to see him smiling as they tackled the subject.
“What could be so hard? You’re a doctor, I’m sure you know all the big fancy words for the parts involved.” John dropped his voice to a seductive whisper, letting his lips actually graze Carson’s ear as he said, “So tell me which of my parts you want me to use and which parts of you, you want me to use them on.”
The warmth of John’s breath against his ear made Carson shiver. He let out an involuntary, “Oh…” when John ran his tongue around the edge of his ear.
He was actually completely unsurprised when John pulled back and said with a disgustingly self-satisfied smirk, “I’m not doing anything else until you tell me what to do.”
Carson pouted at him. “It’s crossing my mind to tell you where to go,” he said petulantly.
John laughed. “You don’t mean that.”
Carson just pouted at him some more but didn’t disagree.
After a few long moments Carson finally buried his face in John’s t-shirt again and then mumbled, “liketheothernight… withyourhand…”
John was afraid he was going to have to ask Carson to repeat himself, but after playing the sounds over again in his head a few times, they finally sorted themselves into words. “See? You can do it,” he said as he flipped them over.
Several night’s ago, John’s team had come back from a four-day mission late in what had turned out to be Atlantis’ night. Carolyn Biro had been on duty and had made quick work of dispatching the team from their physicals and John had made a bee-line for Carson’s quarters, hoping to catch him before he went to sleep.
Carson had been in the shower, so John simply joined him. Carson had gotten him off in the shower with a spectacular blow-job. Fearing that John would collapse and go straight down the drain, Carson had bundled them off to bed before he could reciprocate. But once in bed, John had spooned up behind him and finished him off somewhat quickly, and in his opinion, somewhat inexpertly. They had both been tired, and John didn’t generally think of hand-jobs as something to get terribly worked up over. But apparently there had been something in that encounter that had worked for Carson.
John wiggled Carson’s boxers down and spooned up behind him. Carson, who had found it so difficult to say the words, had little trouble, apparently, indicating what he wanted with his body. He wiggled his bare ass against John’s front, feeling John’s hardness through the soft cotton of his boxer-briefs.
John gripped Carson’s cock in his hand, just taking in the smoothness and heat over such a strong core. He kissed the back of Carson’s neck, causing Carson to shift against him and in his hand. “Like this?” John whispered.
Carson’s breath hitched before he could stutter out a quiet, “Aye.”
John stroked him a couple of times, slowly, lazily. They had time, which was a novelty lately. He knew without looking that Carson had closed his eyes and was now giving himself over to just feeling. John couldn’t remember if he ever told Carson how much he loved it when Carson just gave himself to John like that.
Just as Carson began rocking into the lazy rhythm, John stopped, pulling his hand away and kissing the back of Carson’s head softly. Carson turned around, a look of almost comic alarm on his face. He relaxed as he heard the drawer next to the table open and John’s fumbling around. Carson had to laugh. He knew that there were exactly four things in that drawer: John’s iPod, a packet of cold pills, a flashlight (he’d learned to stop calling them ‘torches’ after having to operate by them and having to repeat everything in British and American just to keep everyone on the same page) and jar of hand cream. It made Carson feel just a bit better that despite John’s air of being totally relaxed and unhurried that he was, in fact, flustered enough that he couldn’t find the hand cream by touch alone.
John finally gave up and sat up enough to look in the drawer, get the damn jar, scoop some cream out and slam the thing back in there. “That shouldn’t have been that complicated,” he said as he rubbed the lotion across his hands a bit and lay back down behind Carson.
And that was when Carson truly relaxed. For all of John’s witty lines and smooth moves, he wasn’t perfect. He never pretended to be. He had just learned to roll with the little hiccups the universe threw at him. Carson made a mental note to try and do that more often.
John took his time bringing him to a place where he could no longer deny his body what it wanted so desperately. John varied the pace just often enough to keep Carson from being able to anticipate what would happen next, just enough to keep him from coming. He would stroke him in long, slow movements, making sure as much of his hand was in contact with Carson as possible and then stop and just draw little lines and patterns with one or two finger tips and then change to more of a squeezing than a stroking motion.
All the while Carson could feel John rubbing himself against his ass, his shorts still on.
Carson’s sucked in a deep breath and held it as his body finally couldn’t take it any more. Behind him he noticed John’s breathing change and he felt John’s arms lock around him as they both came.
After several more minutes of heavy breathing and not having the strength or desire to move, John reached over and grabbed a few tissues, wiping them both off. He shucked his sticky shorts and tossed them on the floor. “Guess I’m doing laundry in the morning.”
Carson laughed as he pulled off his own ruined t-shirt and kicked his shorts the rest of the way off. “You and me both,” he answered, not turning to look at John, wondering why he still felt bashful in moments like this.
Atlantis’ habit of having both medical and military emergencies at all kind of inconvenient hours had kept them from getting in the habit of sleeping naked, even on their own. But tonight, by some kind of unspoken agreement, they just tossed their clothes on the floor and pulled the blankets out from under themselves and snuggled together under them.
John nipped Carson’s shoulder. “You’re going to have to go commando tomorrow morning, aren’t you?” He pressed his face into Carson’s shoulder so that he could be sure Carson could feel him smiling at that thought.
“For as long as it takes me to get from here to four doors down to my own quarters,” Carson said. “I don’t think my need to do laundry is as desperate as yours is.”
John laughed. It was something of a running joke between them. John seemed to have a perpetual need to wash clothes or put away the washed ones. “Even so…” he said softly, “Do it anyway.”
Carson looked over his shoulder at John, his face screwed up in confusion. “Do the laundry?”
John cuffed him on the top of the head playfully, not sure if Carson was being deliberately obtuse or just playing with him. “No, not the laundry.” He kissed Carson’s neck. “Go commando,” he explained.
“John…” Carson wasn’t sure if he planned to argue or agree.
“Come on. Tomorrow’s supposed to be a slow day for everyone. No one’s going off world, no one’s coming back from off world… You said earlier that you plan to get caught up on your paperwork. Come on…” he weedled.
Carson let his head thunk back on the pillow. “The things I let you talk me into.” He couldn’t explain that the idea did turn him on more than he expected it too. He had an evil thought and rolled over to face John. “On one condition.”
“What’s that?” John asked.
“You do it too. You said it yourself, it’s a quiet day, you aren’t going off world.”
“I have hand-to-hand training with Ronon and three groups of Marines on the books for tomorrow. I really don’t think that’s such a good idea. One wrong move and tomorrow night I’ll be seeing you, but as a patient curled up in a little ball in one of your beds begging for morphine.”
“Not fair,” Carson muttered, snuggling in to John’s chest to sleep. “You don’t play fair at all.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-16 07:15 pm (UTC)And I should tell you.. on FT? Lana and Rodney... *shakes head* Getting a little out of hand. ;)
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-17 12:06 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-17 12:17 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-01 02:41 am (UTC)Good job!
(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-10 11:10 pm (UTC)And I hope they're right that it's going to be a slow day for him tomorrow!