SG Atlantis Light (sgatlantislight) wrote,
SG Atlantis Light

Fic: Ritual Objects (NC-17)

Title: Ritual Objects
Author: SGAtlantisLight
Characters: Rodney, Carson, John, Teyla, Ronon
Relationships: Beckett/McKay
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Smut, first time, not-quite-aliens-made-them-do-it
Spoilers: None
Excerpt: "Look, guys, you don't really have to do anything," Sheppard said, voice low so as not to carry. "It's not like they're going to know."
Disclaimer: Undoubtedly I own them, and a whole lot of other things, in some universe, but not this one.
Author's Note: Thanks to mice1900 for quick beta. This was written to celebrate the new carson-rodney yahoogroup and all the lovely people who've already joined it and was posted there first.

"Look, guys, you don't really have to do anything," Sheppard said, voice low so as not to carry. "It's not like they're going to know."

"Don't worry, Colonel," Carson assured him. "We'll be all right."

Sheppard backed up out of the entryway of the ritual hut, face worried. Rodney gave him a nervous wave and turned to look inside. There was a single bed covered with brightly-woven blankets, a smouldering brazier to provide some modicum of heat, and a small table on which sat a couple of jars and some "ritual objects" in suggestive shapes.

He swallowed hard, then jumped and almost screamed when Carson touched his shoulder.

"It's only me," Carson said, his voice soothing, even though Rodney could hear the undertone of worry there.

Someone cleared their throat very loudly outside the hut door and then came in, carrying two bottles and a couple of earthenware cups. "Mallon wine and a mixed-grain beer," the priest explained, "to relax you."

Rodney looked at the bottles suspiciously. "Are you sure they're safe? I didn't bring in my EpiPen."

"Do you require it for the ritual?" the priest asked.

"Only if things go very badly," Rodney answered.

"Does your Colonel know this object?"

"Yes. He does. It's in the usual pocket of my vest," Rodney explained.

"I will ask him to find it for you, then. We do not wish you to be uncomfortable or worried."

"If ye wanted us to be comfortable and unworried, ye wouldn't be holding our friends hostage," Carson said.

"They violated the sacred grove. A restoration must be made." The priest set the bottles and cups down on the table. "The ritual is very old and not much followed today. In truth, you needn't do anything but remain in the ritual hut together for the night. No one will observe you."

"So why do it at all?" Rodney asked.

The priest gave him a blank look. "It is needed."

"Right. Fine, fine. Whatever." Rodney waved his hands. "My EpiPen?"

The priest nodded and slipped out. Rodney paced, which amounted to only a few steps each direction. Carson watched him.

"Maybe I should have let Colonel Sheppard do this. Ye do sleep with him in the field, after all."

Rodney gave him a horrified look. "And compromise his macho, Kirk image? Besides, he's all knees and elbows."

"Oh, and I'm more comfortable."

Rodney shrugged. "Well, there was that one time in Antarctica with the one movie. What was that?"

"Solaris," Carson answered. "You snored. And you drooled all over my jumper."

"I was having sinus problems!"

The priest did the whole throat-clearing thing again. Rodney wondered if that was their standard "I'm coming in" signal and thought it probably wasn't good on the vocal cords.

"I have brought your EpiPen, Doctor McKay."

Carson took the proffered object. "Thank you."

The priest nodded, a quick little near-bow with head and shoulders, and backed out.

They looked at each other nervously for a moment, and then Carson walked over to the bed and sat down. "Oh! It's quite soft."

"Great. Probably kill my back."

Carson rolled his eyes, set the EpiPen on the table and picked up one of the jars and opened it.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm seeing what's in the jars, Rodney. I'm sure you're familiar with scientific curiosity."

"Oh. Right. Of course."

Carson sniffed and then stuck a finger into the jar and rubbed the glistening liquid between thumb and finger. "This has a nice scent to it. Not strong, just pleasant."

"Oh, God, you're checking out alien lube," Rodney said, still a little stunned at their situation.

Carson gave him a grin. "Actually, I think it's massage oil." He set the jar down thoughtfully. "Though it probably wouldn't hurt to use it."

This just got more surreal by the second. "We're not having this conversation. Because we don't need lube because we don't need to do anything but stay in this hut together till sunrise."

"Oh, aye. It wasn't meant as a suggestion, just an observation. I doubt they'd provide anything harmful."

"Right, right. Because forcing people to have sex against their will is so terribly friendly."

"They're not forcing us to have sex, Rodney. And would ye stop standing there all agape and come sit down? I don't bite. Usually."

"Haha. Very funny." Rodney sidled over to the bed and sat down beside-- but not too close to-- Carson.

Carson picked up the second jar and peeked in. "Ah. I'm guessing this is the lube," he said, sticking his finger in again.

"Very nice. Now let's put down the weird alien ritual sex oil and find something else to talk about."

Carson gave him an exasperated look. "Some people might find this useful, you know. It's not like sexual lubricants are high on the priority list for the Daedalus."

"You are not seriously talking about taking this home to Atlantis."

"Why not?"

Rodney blinked. He'd never really thought of Carson as someone that people might come to, confide in, with their sexual problems, even if he was a doctor. "Well, I mean... There can't be that many, you know... Well, that need it. Right?"

Carson chuckled. "We're an expedition of explorers. That doesn't stop at the bedroom door, you know."

"Ah. Okay. That's... That's more than I needed to know."

Carson returned the jar to the table. Rodney was just about to heave a sigh of relief when the other man picked up one of the 'ritual objects'-- an ornately-decorated ring. "Ah, now, this is a fine piece of craftsmanship."

Rodney let out a squeak.

Carson gave him another exasperated look, though Rodney thought the corners of his eyes were crinkled just a bit. He set the ring down, his hand moving to pick up the smooth, slender cylindrical object next to it.

"You really shouldn't be handling those," Rodney objected, his voice too high and breathy. "You don't know where they've been."

"They've been boiled for a good long while is where they've been recently," Carson said. "I watched the priest's wife doing so while Colonel Sheppard was arguing with the priest." Carson's fingers slowly traced the surface of the object. "Some sort of stone, I think."

Rodney felt himself flushing, breath catching, staring at Carson's deft fingers slowly exploring.

"Oh, now, I hadn't noticed those before," Carson said, dropping the cylindrical object in the general direction of Rodney's lap. Rodney automatically caught it.


Carson held up a set of leather cuffs. "Look at the leatherwork on these. Aren't they amazing? And the insides are fur-lined, too."

Rodney made a sound in his throat, hands gripping the object in them as if to try and ground himself. He looked down and realised he was clutching a dildo as if for dear life and practically flung it away from him in his surprise.

"Rodney!" Carson exclaimed, then dropped the cuffs when he took a look at Rodney's face. "Shhh... Shhhh... Calm down." His hand curled around Rodney's wrist, a familiar gesture, normal, Carson. With the other he reached out and thumbed open the wine and splashed some out into a cup. "Here. Drink this."

Rodney drank, feeling the warmth of it spread through his gut and out into his limbs, Carson's hand still wrapped around his wrist.

"Are you all right?" Carson asked quietly.

"Yeah. Fine," Rodney answered. "I thought we were just going to sleep. Can't we just sleep and not do the whole... kinky sex toys inventory?"

Carson squeezed his arm gently. "Of course we can. Come on, let's get our shoes off and just call it a night."

Rodney nodded and began kicking off his shoes and then pulling off his jacket, Carson doing the same.

Carson considered him for a moment, then shucked his trousers as well, leaving him in boxers and a tee shirt. "Is this all right?"

"Might as well be comfortable," Rodney answered, following suit. But, of course, once he was ready for bed, there was the small matter of a rather small bed... "Maybe we could move some of the blankets to the floor?"

Carson shook his head. "Honestly, Rodney, if I promise not to molest you, will you just come to bed?"

"Sorry. I just... Well... I mean... What if they think we're actually... You know?"

Carson paused in pulling down the covers. "What? Having sex?"

"How can you be so... so casual about this?"

Carson held up a finger. "One, it's none of their business." He added a second. "Two, we're all adults here. And three," a third digit, "why should it bother me for them to think we're having sex?"

"But we're not!"

"So? Are ye worried about losing someone's interest or something? Is that it?"

"Well, no."

"Then what's the problem?" He looked at Rodney, his expression unreadable. "Unless it's me."

"No! It's not you at all!"

"Then what is it?"

Rodney sighed. "There's just so much American military with all these archaic rules and..."

Carson chuckled and shook his head. "Believe me, Rodney. The American military people don't care nearly so much as their regulations would make it appear. No one's going to give a rat's arse who you're sleeping with. And speaking of which, come to bed. Ye've got to be feeling chilly out there."

"Fine!" Rodney climbed into the bed, scooting as far from Carson's warm body as the small bed would allow. They both shifted, trying to get comfortable, bumping elbows and knees and shoulders and hips until they ended up back to back, barely not touching, but with Carson's heat sinking into his skin.

Rodney lay, trying to sleep, listening to Carson breathe. He thought Carson might have fallen asleep from the sound of it. He was too wound up to follow suit. He opened his eyes and took in the bedside table with its collection of ritual objects. He shook his head and turned onto his back to stare up at the ceiling instead. At least these people hadn't discovered the kink-value of mirrors over the bed. They certainly seemed to enjoy everything else.

His shoulder brushed against Carson's back and he shimmied away, stopping with one asscheek half off the bed. He stared at the ceiling some more, picking out patterns in the flickering shadows cast by the firelight. He sighed. It was going to be a long night.

"Someone hurt you," Carson said, and it wasn't a question.

Rodney tensed. "What makes you say that?"

Carson turned over to look at him. "The handcuffs, mostly. And how worried ye were that someone might think we'd actually performed this little ritual."

Rodney shrugged defensively. "I just don't like being tied up."


"What? Just okay? You're not going to badger me about it?"

"Did ye want me to badger you about it?" Carson asked.

"No. Of course not."

"Okay, then. I won't."


"Oh, Rodney," Carson breathed and reached across to cup his face and then leaned over and...

Kissing Carson was like coming home, natural, right. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a small voice was saying, "Finally! Finally!" though he hadn't known he was waiting for this.

Carson broke the kiss and pulled back to meet his eyes. "Is this okay?"

"God, yes!"

"Good." Carson slipped his arms around Rodney and pulled him close, taking his mouth again, strong and solid and warm, warm, warm and Rodney clung to him and kissed him back.

They lost themselves in each other, bodies shifting, this time to increase contact between them. Rodney groaned as Carson's tongue traced along his lower lip, teasing, tickling, before slipping inside to explore.

Rodney's hands slipped up and down Carson's back, broad shoulders, muscles shifting under his tee shirt, and he wanted more, this instant, as if he'd been starving for the feel of Carson's body and had just now recognised his hunger. He pulled Carson's shirt up and caressed warm skin.

Carson arched at the touch, erection pressing against Rodney's thigh and Rodney found himself going hard at the feel of it. Carson shifted over him, leg sliding between Rodney's thighs, grinding down, shuddering. "Oh, God, Rodney! I want you. I've wanted you for so long..."

Rodney shuddered, breathless at the yearning in Carson's voice. "I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"Shhhh... It's okay, love," Carson whispered, kissing him, moving from mouth to jaw to nose to eyes to forehead and down to his mouth again. "Will you let me?"

Rodney's breath caught. "God! Yes. But I haven't... It's been a while."

Carson nodded. "I'll be careful. I swear I won't hurt you, Rodney, but I need you. I need inside you."

Rodney's only answer was to start desperately pulling off clothes, needing to be skin-to-skin with Carson like he needed air. And then they were kissing again, Carson swallowing his moans as his oil-slicked fingers worked into him, stretching him. Rodney twisted his head away, gasping, bearing down on Carson's fingers desperately. "Need you now. God, Carson. Take me, please."

"Shhh... shhh. Not yet. I need you ready for me, really ready."

Rodney whimpered and Carson covered his mouth with his own, kissing him hard as his fingers twisted and Rodney writhed, needing to be filled deeper and harder and fuller. He wanted to scream in frustration and beg and offer himself up so long as Carson would take him, now, now, now, until he was panting and moaning, sheened in sweat, incoherent with need.

He almost growled as Carson withdrew his fingers, but then his lover was speaking and Rodney's befuddled mind registered that Carson wanted him to hold his legs up and open and, oh, God, yes! Carson's cock pushed into him in one long thrust, stretching and filling him, burning even with all the preparation and Rodney closed his eyes and shuddered and came right then.

Carson gasped and groaned out something that might have been a word in some language, somewhere. While Rodney's body was still twitching with the aftershocks, the last dribbles of semen sliding down his cock to pool into his pubic hair, Carson pulled back and slammed into him and then repeated the motion. Rodney gripped his legs tighter and held on as Carson took him hard and deep and fast, all the while muttering harsh, filthy syllables under his breath that if Rodney had been a younger man would have tipped him over the edge again. And then Carson froze, eyes meeting his with a look of heated wonder, and throbbed into him.

Carson managed to make bonelessly collapsing half-atop him look somewhat graceful and then pulled him close. Rodney could feel Carson's heart still pounding wildly in his chest as Carson dropped kisses onto his face before settling against him, arm flung possessively across Rodney's chest. "I love you," Carson whispered.

Rodney looked at him surprised. "Wh-what?"

Carson pressed a kiss to his temple. "I love you, Rodney McKay."

"Oh." Rodney gave him a tentative smile. "I, um, I love you, too."

It wasn't the smoothest expression of feelings he'd ever pulled off, though it topped more than a few he didn't care to think about, but Carson just smiled, laid his head against Rodney's chest, and drifted off to sleep. He was sticky and sweaty and sore, but Rodney still joined his lover in sleep a few minutes later.


John paced while Teyla and Ronon sat and calmly ate breakfast. "I'm still not sure this was a good idea."

"They will be fine," Teyla said.

"You don't understand. If they, if they thought they had to? This could so wreck them."

Teyla and Ronon exchanged one of their patented "Earth people are weird" looks. Ronon inclined his head. "Here they come."

John spun, watching the two men. Was McKay limping? No, not exactly limping, more... He swallowed hard. "Hey. Everything okay?"

"Just fine, Colonel," Carson said.

"Slept like a log," Rodney said. "What's for breakfast? I'm starved."


As the others disappeared into the stargate, Teyla turned and nodded to the erstwhile priest. "Thank you, D'gow. We were beginning to wonder if they would ever recognise their feelings for one another."

D'gow pulled off the hood and wiped his forehead. "Am I going to have to wear this robe every time you come, Teyla? It's rather uncomfortable."

Teyla's eyes sparkled. "Perhaps your term of office was merely temporary?"

He grinned. "That works. Oh!" He handed her a jar. "For the two new lovers, courtesy of Pienifa. Their voices in the night were quite inspiring." He winked. "And I, for one, will never look at my storage hut the same way again!"

Teyla smiled. "Be well, D'gow. You have done a good thing."

"Always happy to put on a performance, Teyla. You know me."

"Well," she said, looking grave, "so long as the spirits were satisfied with the ritual of restoration."

His laughter followed her as she stepped into the event horizon.

Tags: amtdi, beckett/mckay, fiction, nc-17, slash, smut

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