brains, jitters, and a ficlet
Oct. 10th, 2007 12:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kageygirlBrain, you are un-fired.
Over the weekend, my brain was "encouraged to pursue other opportunities" after a cavalcade of stress nightmares, one of which managed to hit the trifecta of being back in college, being inappropriately naked, and having a homework assignment due that I knew nothing about.
Though I did manage to blackmail a giant robot into doing my homework.
"What do you want this time, human?" said the giant robot.
"I need the answers to these five problems, and your telnet connection," I replied. And then I woke up.
I swear. ("Telnet connection," btw, totally appropriate for the time frame in which I attended college.)
Last night, however? Most excellent NCIS dream. Figured out who the bad guys were, chased them down, kicked their asses, made out with Tony DiNozzo. Two thumbs up, brain!
Also, SGA: I'm having a renaissance, but can I go home again?
I mean, we drifted apart amicably those many months ago--I still kept track of what you were doing, though I didn't hang with you and your friends anymore, 'cause y'all were getting kind of crazy and I wasn't in the best headspace to handle it. But I'd like us to be friends again, maybe, go out for a cup of coffee?
Love, kagey
Or, to be less metaphorical--I've been really out of the game, fandom-wise. I'm feeling the love again--not AT ALL aided by the episode we totally haven't seen anywhere, of course--but I've got new-fandom jitters all over again.
*rubs head* I swear to god, it's like I manufacture things to get anxious about. Dumbass.
Anyway, in the course of my renaissance, I've been looking over the files on my fanfic flash drive, and stumbled upon a really short PWP that I think I never posted. So, I'm tossing it out here while I try to get my sea legs under me again.
Command Performance
Before he opens Rodney's door, John makes damn sure there's no one in the hallway who might get an eyeful. When he steps inside, he's glad he did; from the right angle, anyone could see Rodney lying there naked--on his back, legs drawn up, left hand tucked behind his head, right hand casually fondling his erection. He's damp from the shower, hair still wet and spiky, skin flushed, just begging for John's hands. And mouth.
Though he must have heard the door, Rodney hasn't looked at him yet, eyes half-lidded and face dreamy. John gets an idea and leans against the wall near the end of the bed, crossing his arms and projecting an air of quiet menace.
"Stand down, McKay," he barks, in his best off-duty approximation of his field voice, and Rodney blinks up at him in surprise.
But he freezes, his hand stilling where he's holding himself, and he licks his lips as he stares back at John.
"Slow," John says, softly, and then he remembers the role he's trying to play. He clears his throat and hardens his voice. "Go slow."
Rodney nods, watching John carefully as he starts stroking himself again. John watches Rodney's hand slide smoothly up his dick, the head almost disappearing in the circle of Rodney's fingers before reappearing again, hard and dusky, bobbing with the motion of Rodney's hand. John resettles himself against the wall to get more comfortable with the returning heaviness in his groin.
Rodney's breathing picks up, faster and harsher. When John glances back up at Rodney's face, Rodney looks eager, hungry, but his eyes are on John, watching him avidly.
John licks his own lips, torn between wanting to be there on the bed, too, kissing Rodney, tasting him, touching him, and wanting to see Rodney come by himself, from a distance, as little distance as this is. John always gets so caught up in Rodney that he only comes away with pieces of the whole: dilated eyes, salty skin, hard quivering muscles and sloppy breathless kisses and a beautiful lopsided smile, all of it filtered through John's own haze of want and lust and pleasure.
He compromises, moving up to the foot of the bed, but doesn't let himself touch, crossing his arms over his chest. His shin presses into the base of the bed hard enough to almost hurt. The air feels chilly in here, he thinks distantly.
Rodney lets his legs splay open more, so that John's got a good view. "Keep going," John says, his voice rusty. Completely unnecessary, because Rodney hasn't stopped, but John needs to connect with him, needs to somehow be there with him.
Rodney's still got his left hand behind his head, and John sees his biceps tense up just before Rodney screws his eyes shut and snaps his head back, mouth opening on a breathy moan. His strokes shorten to convulsive jerks, and he comes in spurts across his chest and stomach.
Rodney pants hard, and John can hardly breathe at all, because Rodney's beautiful, in a way that John knew but didn't really know, and that makes no fucking sense but John just has to kiss him, right the hell now, and when Rodney's eyes open, John's will folds and his knees fold and he's falling and crawling up the bed, gathering Rodney up and rolling them both over so he can feel Rodney, sweaty and warm and loose-limbed, draping all over him.
"Are you all right?" Rodney asks, laughing against his mouth. John can feel sticky wetness soaking into his t-shirt, and he's grinning fiercely, thrusting haphazardly against Rodney's hip and cupping Rodney's face with his hands.
"Great," John says, starting to chuckle, himself, because now he's right where he should have been all along. He stops Rodney's disbelieving head-shake with his hands, pulling Rodney down to kiss him, losing himself, finally, in the warmth of Rodney's mouth.
Over the weekend, my brain was "encouraged to pursue other opportunities" after a cavalcade of stress nightmares, one of which managed to hit the trifecta of being back in college, being inappropriately naked, and having a homework assignment due that I knew nothing about.
Though I did manage to blackmail a giant robot into doing my homework.
"What do you want this time, human?" said the giant robot.
"I need the answers to these five problems, and your telnet connection," I replied. And then I woke up.
I swear. ("Telnet connection," btw, totally appropriate for the time frame in which I attended college.)
Last night, however? Most excellent NCIS dream. Figured out who the bad guys were, chased them down, kicked their asses, made out with Tony DiNozzo. Two thumbs up, brain!
Also, SGA: I'm having a renaissance, but can I go home again?
I mean, we drifted apart amicably those many months ago--I still kept track of what you were doing, though I didn't hang with you and your friends anymore, 'cause y'all were getting kind of crazy and I wasn't in the best headspace to handle it. But I'd like us to be friends again, maybe, go out for a cup of coffee?
Love, kagey
Or, to be less metaphorical--I've been really out of the game, fandom-wise. I'm feeling the love again--not AT ALL aided by the episode we totally haven't seen anywhere, of course--but I've got new-fandom jitters all over again.
*rubs head* I swear to god, it's like I manufacture things to get anxious about. Dumbass.
Anyway, in the course of my renaissance, I've been looking over the files on my fanfic flash drive, and stumbled upon a really short PWP that I think I never posted. So, I'm tossing it out here while I try to get my sea legs under me again.
Command Performance
Before he opens Rodney's door, John makes damn sure there's no one in the hallway who might get an eyeful. When he steps inside, he's glad he did; from the right angle, anyone could see Rodney lying there naked--on his back, legs drawn up, left hand tucked behind his head, right hand casually fondling his erection. He's damp from the shower, hair still wet and spiky, skin flushed, just begging for John's hands. And mouth.
Though he must have heard the door, Rodney hasn't looked at him yet, eyes half-lidded and face dreamy. John gets an idea and leans against the wall near the end of the bed, crossing his arms and projecting an air of quiet menace.
"Stand down, McKay," he barks, in his best off-duty approximation of his field voice, and Rodney blinks up at him in surprise.
But he freezes, his hand stilling where he's holding himself, and he licks his lips as he stares back at John.
"Slow," John says, softly, and then he remembers the role he's trying to play. He clears his throat and hardens his voice. "Go slow."
Rodney nods, watching John carefully as he starts stroking himself again. John watches Rodney's hand slide smoothly up his dick, the head almost disappearing in the circle of Rodney's fingers before reappearing again, hard and dusky, bobbing with the motion of Rodney's hand. John resettles himself against the wall to get more comfortable with the returning heaviness in his groin.
Rodney's breathing picks up, faster and harsher. When John glances back up at Rodney's face, Rodney looks eager, hungry, but his eyes are on John, watching him avidly.
John licks his own lips, torn between wanting to be there on the bed, too, kissing Rodney, tasting him, touching him, and wanting to see Rodney come by himself, from a distance, as little distance as this is. John always gets so caught up in Rodney that he only comes away with pieces of the whole: dilated eyes, salty skin, hard quivering muscles and sloppy breathless kisses and a beautiful lopsided smile, all of it filtered through John's own haze of want and lust and pleasure.
He compromises, moving up to the foot of the bed, but doesn't let himself touch, crossing his arms over his chest. His shin presses into the base of the bed hard enough to almost hurt. The air feels chilly in here, he thinks distantly.
Rodney lets his legs splay open more, so that John's got a good view. "Keep going," John says, his voice rusty. Completely unnecessary, because Rodney hasn't stopped, but John needs to connect with him, needs to somehow be there with him.
Rodney's still got his left hand behind his head, and John sees his biceps tense up just before Rodney screws his eyes shut and snaps his head back, mouth opening on a breathy moan. His strokes shorten to convulsive jerks, and he comes in spurts across his chest and stomach.
Rodney pants hard, and John can hardly breathe at all, because Rodney's beautiful, in a way that John knew but didn't really know, and that makes no fucking sense but John just has to kiss him, right the hell now, and when Rodney's eyes open, John's will folds and his knees fold and he's falling and crawling up the bed, gathering Rodney up and rolling them both over so he can feel Rodney, sweaty and warm and loose-limbed, draping all over him.
"Are you all right?" Rodney asks, laughing against his mouth. John can feel sticky wetness soaking into his t-shirt, and he's grinning fiercely, thrusting haphazardly against Rodney's hip and cupping Rodney's face with his hands.
"Great," John says, starting to chuckle, himself, because now he's right where he should have been all along. He stops Rodney's disbelieving head-shake with his hands, pulling Rodney down to kiss him, losing himself, finally, in the warmth of Rodney's mouth.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-10-10 04:52 pm (UTC)Why do I never get dreams with robots? My stress nightmares are all about being lost in mazes.
That's a very pretty picture of Rodney there - I whole-heartedly agree with John's decision to get a proper look!
no subject
Date: 2007-10-11 04:25 am (UTC)That's a very pretty picture of Rodney there - I whole-heartedly agree with John's decision to get a proper look!</i? Hee, thank you!
no subject
Date: 2007-10-10 05:21 pm (UTC)Sweet.
I swear. ("Telnet connection," btw, totally appropriate for the time frame in which I attended college.)
Heh.
Dammit I never get dreams about making out with Tony. Or about giant robots. Hmm. Maybe I should count my blessings on that.
no subject
Date: 2007-10-11 04:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-10 05:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-11 04:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-10 05:42 pm (UTC)Hi babe!
no subject
Date: 2007-10-11 04:29 am (UTC)Oh, I highly encourage your SGA renaissance, and will squee with you whenever you like. Especially if it encourages any more of THIS, which was just delicious.
YAY to both! *g*
no subject
Date: 2007-10-10 07:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-11 04:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-10 07:56 pm (UTC)This is disturbingly similar to my reality.
Also, I think your sea legs are just fine.
no subject
Date: 2007-10-11 04:31 am (UTC)Just remember--no matter how late you might be running, there is ALWAYS time to put on pants. (This is where I run into problems in my dreams.)
Also, I think your sea legs are just fine.
Hee, thanks! Except that it's old; I'm not sure I can still write... things. And whatnot.
no subject
Date: 2007-10-10 08:21 pm (UTC)I love John's thoughts about usually being too caught up the moment to really see all of Rodney, to take him in, and then the way that he just has to get in there and touch as soon as Rodney comes.... Guh. Lots of guh. Thank you.
no subject
Date: 2007-10-11 04:35 am (UTC)Awww. *hugs* At the very least, you will need to watch 4x04 when it airs. Err, I suspect. From the hype. And whatnot. *g*
Thank you--I'm so glad you liked it!
no subject
Date: 2007-10-10 08:34 pm (UTC)Also, totally less than threes your SGA renaissance.
no subject
Date: 2007-10-11 04:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-10 11:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-11 04:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-11 01:31 am (UTC)AWESOME.
no subject
Date: 2007-10-11 04:38 am (UTC)Thanks! *g*
no subject
Date: 2007-10-11 01:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-11 04:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-11 03:33 am (UTC)I highly approve of this renewed interest! If you feel the urge to read anything, I put up recs in my journal today.
And dreams - fannish dreams are the best. College-era anxiety dreams, however, are horrid. I'll be hoping for various fannish lotharios to appear once I slip into slumber - it has to be better than the day :)
no subject
Date: 2007-10-11 04:42 am (UTC)And I saw your recs--I have set them aside for when I have some free time this weekend. *g*
*hugs* May your dreams be sweet! Or, even better, dirty.
no subject
Date: 2007-10-11 10:41 pm (UTC)I'm with you with the looking askance at SGA fandom and thinking, WTF? They scare me. It makes me not want to post.
no subject
Date: 2007-10-21 08:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-17 09:13 am (UTC)