No additional warnings for this scene.
John was scheduled to “train” with “the Emmagen” that morning. McKay let him know that she was teaching him something called “bantos” and the afternoon was going to be spent locked back up in the lab under McKay’s unmerciful care. John was over it before the day had started.
But sometimes his bad luck held, and the Marine sent to fetch him at 0700 was the handsome, messed up sadistic bastard, Sgt. Ramirez.
“Time for the gym.” Ramirez stood in the doorway to John’s room.
John studied him for a moment, making the kid squirm. Ramirez wasn’t particularly young, really, but had the brass-tack attitude of youth that was both shiny and fragile. John was pleased by the reaction.
As he walked past Ramirez into the hallway, he leaned in imperceptibly. “We can be late.” It was a bad idea, a terrible one, and John knew he was likely to get a first class beating instead of a hard core fucking, but the part of him driving the self-sabotage bus was in control. John was not much more than a hair past caring, anyway; and he couldn’t imagine that The Emmagen would give a flying fuck if he showed up twenty minutes past his due date.
Ramirez shoved him hard into the transporter without saying anything, but then punched a location that John knew for a fact was nowhere near the gym or, really, anywhere. When the doors slip open they walked out into a hallway that was dead silent. Ramirez kept shoving him along, and John let him, figuring it was foreplay or enemy assessment…either way, he knew they were both going to be bruised before it was over.
“The Emmagen, she’s punctual.” Ramirez pushed him into an empty, dark room. “You’re nothing but trouble. She’ll wonder where you are.” Ramirez stepped into the room and closed the door behind them.
“Sure. Later.” John slipped off his jacket and pulled his shirt over his head, getting down to business.
Ramirez stacked his weapons and tac vest by the door, unbuttoning his shirt as he walked over.
“You make trouble for me, I’ll beat your sorry ass.”
“Promises, promises,” John growled. Ramirez jumped him and it was more like a wrestling match than fucking. By the time Ramirez had him face down on the floor with his dick pushing inside of him, John was sweatier than he ever got in the gym and nearly delirious with lust and testosterone and frustration. He bucked up, causing Ramirez to hold him down by his neck while he pounded into him. It burned and it hurt and it was glorious.
And then he stopped.
John threw an arm back in protest but caught sight of why Ramirez had frozen mid-stroke. “Fuck.”
“You will get off of him, Sergeant, and you will report to Lorne for KP duty for the rest of fucking time,” McKay said, standing in the open door with the Emmagen next to him. He held a life signs detector in his hand, pointing it at John like a gun as he snarled at Ramirez.
John banged his head against the floor as Ramirez yanked out and stumbled for his clothes and stuttered apologies. “Sir, I—“
“Shut up. Shut up and get out.”
Ramirez was gone within seconds while John stayed pressed to the floor, his pants down around his knees. His high was still fighting its way down, following his dick which had deflated fast. John was torn between humiliation and frustration.
“I will expect him in the gym in ten minutes, Rodney.” The Emmagen’s voice rang out with disapproval as she walked away.
McKay came in and crouched down near John’s head. John worked hard not to check out his crotch.
“Standing up the Emmagen so you could get laid? Not your best move.” McKay clucked.
John was tired of telling McKay to fuck off, and it never worked anyway. He pressed his face to the cool floor, missing the soft purr of Atlantis.
“I thought you gave up men after that near miss in Eglin. Huh. You still surprise me, Sheppard.”
John was not, absolutely was not, going to ask how McKay found that information out. From what he had seen of the wiki McKay kept on him, he knew he had no right to be surprised about anything. McKay had known Anne died pregnant before John did. McKay always knew fucking everything.
“If I asked you to kill me, would you?” John finally pushed himself off the floor, pulling up his pants as he stood.
McKay looked up at him from his crouch, a broken expression that John could not read washing over him for a moment before he shut down. “No.”
“Then you got nothing to offer me. Guess I’ll head to the gym.”
“We’re not done here, Sheppard.”
“Yeah, I really am.” John walked out and shut the door on McKay for a change.
#