37. Glass Houses

Mer’s tablet pinged with the alarm he had hacked to John’s medical file to alert him to John being released from the infirmary. Mer had never been above stalking when the circumstances warranted, and if ever a circumstance warranted monitoring 24/7, it was John Sheppard.

He waited until John was in the residential section, hobbling towards his room on the air cast Carson had locked around his fractured ankle. It was a really small fracture but Carson had admitted to Mer that he was playing it particularly safe, given Sheppard’s overall physical condition. If nothing else, the lightweight, temporary but inconvenient cast would slow him down and keep him from doing something stupid. Again.

“I was just on my way to my room,” Mer lied smoothly, inserting himself into Sheppard’s path.

Sheppard looked at him with an expression that clearly said he did not believe a word that came out of Mer’s mouth. “You’re stalking me?”

“Yes.” Mer shrugged. No sense in lying to someone smart enough to figure it out.

Sheppard seemed derailed by the admission, though, and stared at him before rallying with a glare that bordered on hostile. “I wondered how the hell you guys could find me so fast all the time: I’m chipped.”

“If you’re talking about the subcutaneous transmitter, then join the club. Everyone here has one because we can’t afford to just lose people. Nothing about that makes you special. Although you are probably the only person who can sweet talk the city into letting you track anyone you want. The rest of us have to beg, or modify the LSDs.” Mer crossed his arms.

A brief flash of guilt ran across Sheppard’s face. He shook his head. “She’s not really talking to me anymore. Not that I can tell.”

“But the City’s still active, right?” A nervous flutter went through Mer’s gut, which he put down to that afternoon’s serving of not-rice pilaf.

“How the Hell would I know? I guess. I mean the damn lights are on. Isn’t figuring that out your job?”

Mer hated getting his nose rubbed into the fact that he was not ATA-active. “I can only do so much from a distance.”

“Like stalk me?”

“Look, you’re mine, and you’ve just been released from the infirmary. Of course I’m checking up on you.”

Sheppard’s jaw locked, and he looked ready to use his cane as a lethal weapon. “I’m yours?”

Mer nodded. He thought they had settled this the week before.

“I don’t belong to you, McKay. Fuck off.”

“So you can stumble to your room and let some Marine sergeant get his grubby hands on you? I don’t think so.”

“I’m generally not a slut within 24 hours of being released from the hospital,” Sheppard ground out through clenched teeth, moving again in the direction of his room, slamming his cane down with each step. “I save that for the really special occasions.”

“What, like odd days and weekends?”

“Leave me the fuck alone.”

“Oh, we’re wayyyyy past that. Come on.” Mer grabbed Sheppard’s bicep and steered him back to the transporter.

“Hey!” Sheppard resisted, but they both knew that a real fight would land him on his ass. Playing along was the smart move and would keep damage to a minimum, and Mer trusted that Sheppard was intelligent enough to figure that out.

When they finally made it to Mer’s room, John shook him off. “Great. Going to lock me up in here? Won’t people talk?”

“I’m pretty much done with worrying about that.” Mer slipped off his expedition jacket and hung it up.

“I’m military again, now. People talking could be trouble for me.”

“Because, yes, we financed an international expedition to the far side of nowhere—which had and still has a high probability of becoming a lost colony—without addressing the ridiculous American anti-gay policies for military members.” Mer sighed, crossing his arms and facing Sheppard. “Every member of this expedition is exempted from local law. That means Dr. Al-Khalifa can go around without her hijab and not worry about being beaten to death, and everyone can fuck whomever they want. I think the only law that was across the board for all the militaries represented here is the ‘no fraternization’ rule, which while still on the books is probably ignored more often than not. I don’t really care. So get over yourself.”

John rubbed his neck, still leaning on his cane with his other hand. “Look, McKay, I don’t know what you think this is but—”

“You’re thinking too fucking much,” Mer said, wrapping a hand around John’s neck and yanking him into a kiss. John stumbled into it, his cane clattering away, as he grabbed McKay’s biceps. He squeezed hard as he fought for balance, but that did not stop his mouth from being wet and hungry against Mer’s.

Mer pushed him back a little. “You let me do the thinking, hm?” He caressed the corded muscles of John’s neck, picking up on the tension there. “This isn’t supposed to be unpleasant,” he added as he dragged John closer to him.

John didn’t answer with words, instead leaning down to slam his mouth over Mer’s, sucking and licking with an edge of desperation that felt sad and angry to Mer. He was not going to question that, though, having his own memories to bite down on. They made out awkwardly, John leaning against Mer for support while still trying to get his hands under Mer’s shirt. Their hips were not quite touching, their dicks brushing against each other lightly through the fabric of their pants. John finally shoved forward a little, wincing in pain as he did. Mer groaned, leaning his head back, trying to take in all the sensations he could because he was not convinced that John wouldn’t bolt if pushed too hard. Although Mer was beginning to think that John actually got off on being pushed to his limits. In that way he was just like Hedy.

Mer tensed and shoved that thought away.

John picked up on it and kissed along Mer’s jaw and up to his ear slowly, like a lover who cared, trying to settle Mer down again. Mer knew when he was being managed but let it happen and started to massage John’s ass. John huffed out a pleased grunt when Mer’s fingers dipped teasingly into his crack, even through his pants. John tipped his head and blew softly into Mer’s ear, making him shudder. “I can’t decide if I hate you or not.”

Mer tried not to laugh. “You do. You hate everyone who has authority over you. You can’t help yourself.”

John stiffened but did not try to pull away. “Who says you have authority over me?”

“You do.”

John finally put a few inches of space between them. “The hell I do.”

“Both of us know you would have found a way to disappear if you didn’t want to come here.”

“You fucking killed me off like a damn red shirt. I could barely walk out of the hospital.”

“You could barely walk out of the Hive ship, but you did,” Mer said, grabbing John’s shirt and shaking him like a naughty dog. “You did, and you could, and I know for a goddamn fact you’ve thought about stealing a gateship and slipping away to disappear in Pegasus. I know you have.” Mer let go of him before he just pushed him hard enough to make him fall. “Deny it.”

John looked away for a second, just a glance to the side, but it was enough.

“Exactly. You could have fought me in the halls and called security on my ass just now. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been up for sexual harassment because someone decides to have second thoughts about sleeping with an asshole like me.”

John stared at him for a long second before a small smirk broke out, his body language collapsing into a comfortable, amused slouch. “Class act all the way, McKay.”

“Get on the bed so I can blow you, you ungrateful son of a bitch.”

“Yessir,” John drawled, slowly leveraging himself down onto the bed. “I love your romantic streak.”

“You talk too goddamn much, anyone ever tell you that?” Mer snapped, losing his patience and pushing John down.

John’s eyebrows shot up. “Actually, no.”

“Hm. First time for everything,” Mer smirked down at him and quickly flicked open John’s belt and unzipped his pants.

“Not for this,” John said, his voice turning breathy and needy as Mer stripped him out of his clothes, stopping short of yanking everything off for fear of hurting him. John snarled and shoved his knee into Mer’s groin. “I’m not made of glass, goddamnit.”

Mer recovered from his eyes rolling back in his skull from the assault on his dick, then tossed John’s underwear away before shoving his legs apart. John twitched, twisting his back and leaning up on one arm, his erection flagging.

“Maybe not made of glass, but you are broken, Sheppard. Do me the favor of letting me know when I hurt you.” Mer sat back on his heels, his frustration to just fuck John open warring with his protective instincts. He hated his own brain, sometimes.

John grimaced. “My hip.”

Mer reached out and resettled John’s right leg, bending it slowly as he shuffled forward until it was wrapped loosely around his own hip, his thigh holding it up. John relaxed visibly. Before John could take another breath, Mer leaned forward and took John’s semi-soft cock into his mouth, sucking on it softly. John gave an unmanly squeak followed by a curse, but his hands were grabbing at the bed cover, twisting it the way he could not twist his own body anymore. Mer did not find physical damage in and of itself sexy, but the way John was redirecting his energy by sheer force of will was hot as hell. Mer wanted that energy to be his, in his hands and in his mouth; he needed John to give over to him completely. Mer rested his hands on John’s ribs, symbolically holding him down although Mer put no force there. He saved his attention for John’s lovely, thick cock which was swelling and bouncing with energy.

Contrary to the reputation he encouraged about himself, Mer did not take lovers often. It had been two years after Hedy’s death before he had sex with anyone again, and even then he kept it to one night stands off-base. He was open minded and figured that one day he’d get back to being a sex god again, but without Hedy it had seemed pointless. So sucking cock was something Mer had not done in four years, and he thought it probably showed in his sloppy technique, but John did not seem to mind too much.

Mer’s back started to hurt but the weight of John’s cock on his tongue, slipping in and out between his lips, was too good to give up. He bobbed his head and moved one hand to start jacking John, trying to push him over, wanting something worthwhile out of all of it because he knew damn good and well that sex was not going to make things easier between them.

He felt John tense up, babbling something that might have been English, and start scratching at Mer’s shoulder. Mer jacked him harder, faster, and concentrated on sucking the head of his cock, popping it in and out of his mouth swiftly. John came with a whisper, his body stuttering as he tried to keep his hips from snapping. Even that far gone, John was still in control, and it pissed Mer off.

He sat back while John breathed heavily, looking like he had just run a marathon. Mer finally unzipped his own pants, shoving them down around his thighs.

John looked up at him, loose and languid, his eyes dark with pleasure. “Fuck me?”

“No. Goddamnit, no, I’m not going to fuck you, not…fuck…” Mer leaned forward on one hand, holding himself over John, and stripped his dick. John looked at him in confusion. Mer shook his head. “I’m not having what every hole-puncher in Vegas has already sampled…I’m…oh, Jesus, I’m not…yet…” Mer groaned as his orgasm struck him hard, his cum dropping onto the silvery, hairless scar that ran down the entirety of John’s abdomen. Mer squeezed himself out and stayed where he was, shaking a little, trying not to fall down and break John again, staring at the scar and his cum and John’s legs wrapped loosely around his waist, everything wretched and beautiful and incomplete. “Fuck.”

John ran a hand through his hair. “Well, that was fun.”

“Don’t start with me.” Mer extracted himself and went to the bathroom to wet down a towel for clean-up. When he came back out, John was slowly rolling himself into a sitting position. It was easy to shove him back down, despite the squawking. “No, you’re staying. We’re sleeping. Move over.”

“Christ, your bossy.” John let Mer wipe him down quickly but then batted the towel away. “I’ll get a shower later.”

Mer let him grumble. He finished undressing himself after cleaning his dick and climbed into bed. John was stiff and unwelcoming, but Mer simply curled around him.

“You’re a cuddler? The great Dr. McKay?”

“Are you so fucking insecure in your manhood that you can’t deal with affection?”

John relaxed a fraction, but when he answered his voice was tense and questioning. “Is that what this is?”

“Go to sleep.”

Mer woke up when John fumbled his way out of bed later that night, but kept his eyes closed and his breathing steady. Chances were good that John knew he was awake, but they both had a vested interest in keeping up the charade. John was stealthier on pain medicine and with one foot in an air cast than Mer was on a good day in the field with three cups of coffee in him, though, and dressed so quietly that Mer almost fell back asleep before John left.

He was glad he didn’t, because he would have missed the moment John trailed his fingers over Mer’s forehead and down over his cheek. It was a gentle caress offset by John’s mumbled “You fucker,” but Mer was willing to take what he got. It had been far too many years since loving hands had touched him.

John slipped out of the room and Mer resigned himself to waking up alone again…at least for a little while yet.

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