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Fiction Main
Notes: Thanks to Zoe Rayne for holding my hand above and beyond the call of duty. Also thanks to Brighid for being such a fabulous writer.
Impact (remix of Brighid's I, Icarus)
by Frostfire
John's been walking on air for too long, now, and Rodney's falling deeper and deeper into trouble. He can see it, he knows when John's thinking of her, when his eyes go spacey and he moves with some weird dreamy Ancient grace, and Rodney can see her through him. Like she's inside John, glowing, like she's touching him, like she's standing there with her hands on his shoulders while he remembers--
Rodney's falling, and pretty soon he's going to hit the ground.
Late night, post-mission, trying to forget the natives and their totally primitive chemistry. Next time, please mention that primitive can still get us killed, John yelled after the third explosion, and Rodney had pretended he was still deaf. Now he's getting the lecture anyway, and John came all the way to Rodney's quarters to give it, isn't he special?
Safety of the team, says John, important to have all relevant information, and do a better job of deciding what's relevant, but Rodney doesn't care because he saw John's eyes afterward. Making love with an Ancient must be something like surviving a big blast of sound, light, and heat, because John Sheppard's feet were barely touching the ground on the way back to the Stargate.
Don't you have enough, he thinks, bitter, while John tells him that one of the big mistakes made by military personnel venturing into undeveloped civilizations is forgetting that spears and rocks can still kill you. Isn't it enough to be gorgeous and charming and kickass and brilliant at math--but no, he has to be--blessed, or--something.
For days after, he could almost see the glowy white residue.
John's still not all here. He's giving the lecture, but Rodney knows as soon as he's done he'll be gone, maybe back to his quarters to jerk off to her memory. Or maybe he doesn't even have to touch himself. Like immaculate conception, a higher plane of orgasm.
Falling at nine point eight meters per second squared, and he's going to bring John down with him if it kills him.
Jesus, Rodney, we could have died, are you listening to me? and Rodney says, you don't have to tell me we almost died, my adrenal glands work just fine.
What's that supposed to mean? and the wandering circuit brings John just close enough to pull in, hand sliding in, do you feel this?
Can you feel this, he thinks, bright tinge of fear, but John's eyes go wide and shocked, he loses his dreamy Ancient grace and almost trips when Rodney pushes him down on the bed and starts kissing him.
John arches under him, small surprised noises and gasps of air, and as Rodney bites his neck and sucks his nipple and opens him and fucks him, he can almost hear the thud of impact.
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