Praying Won't Do You No Good

Jun. 5th, 2008 10:16 am

Fandom: SGA

Characters: Carson/Rodney, implied John/Rodney

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Non-con

Disclaimer: Not mine!

Beta: mgbutterfly, baby, I am amazed by the stuff you put up with from me.

Summary: Rodney's back is bent from the angle, his head turned on the pillow again, his mouth open, his eyes closed. His hands are open, fingers curling just a little up towards his palms. He looks so peaceful. His heart rate hasn't even changed.

Kink: (14) Bondage (immobility)

Author's Note: I completely squicked myself out writing this. Fair warning.

hr

Carson waits until he's sent the last of the day staff home before going to check on Rodney again.

The private room he's set up for Rodney is the farthest away from the heart of the infirmary that Carson could get it, because the last thing Rodney needs is more noise disturbing his rest. Carson waves the door open, stepping through and locking it absently. He'd requested the locks from Earth be installed after a few of the stronger ATA-gene carriers had staged breakouts.

The lights in the room are dim, so as not to harm Rodney's eyes if he wakes early. But he's still sleeping, his heart rate steady for him. Carson smiles, checking his chart though he already knows the information by heart, absently adjusting the drip feeding into Rodney's veins.

The drugs that the natives of P10-67M had pumped Rodney full of have finally wore off enough for them to medicate him. The drugs that Carson administers now have Rodney sleeping peacefully, none of the stress and panic from earlier visible in him.

Carson considers removing the wrist and ankle restraints, but he's seen too many secondary reactions to risk it. Rodney's hands are still balled into fists, in any case, and Carson frowns, taking one of his hands and gently straightening Rodney's fingers out.

Rodney's skin is warm, feverish, and Carson sighs. Rodney gets in ever so much trouble off world, and really, he should know better by now. But there's nothing Carson can do about it, besides take care of him when he gets back.

Carson murmurs, absently, "You daft idiot," reaching up to smooth Rodney's soft hair, messy from his earlier thrashing. Rodney doesn't stir at the touch, his head tilted to the side, breathing soft and shallow through his mouth. There is a slick of spit in the corner of his mouth and Carson huffs, smoothing his thumb across it.

The sheen of it makes Rodney's bottom lip shine, and Carson smiles, rubbing his thumb across the other man's lip again. For as much as Rodney is harsh with his words, his crooked mouth is soft, welcoming. Carson smoothes his free hand back through Rodney's sweat tangled hair again, tilting Rodney's chin towards him.

There are bruises under his eyes, almost disguised by the shadow of his eyelashes across his cheeks. There's a long abrasion down Rodney's cheek, and Carson strokes gently over it, careful to keep his touch soft, to not cause Rodney any further harm.

Rodney doesn't stir, sleeping the sleep of the innocent, soft and beautiful, ever so delicate when he's like this. Carson feels warmth in his chest, a surge of emotion, leaning down and softly kissing the other man. Rodney's mouth is hot and wet, his lips parting easily.

Carson kisses him lazily, sliding his tongue between the other man's unresisting lips, sucking on the man's generous bottom lip. When he pulls back, having drunk his fill for the moment, Rodney's mouth is red, kiss swollen, shiny.

Carson has to touch it again, tracing a fingertip across Rodney's lips, slowly sliding his finger into Rodney's welcoming mouth. There is no resistance, nothing but acceptance, and Carson has to lean forward, to press careful kisses to Rodney's closed eyelids, his forehead, cheek, drawing his finger from between Rodney's lips to kiss him again.

There's a throb of need from Carson's cock, a fire that burns through his blood. He needs to reassure himself that Rodney is fine, as he so often does when Rodney injures himself severely enough to stay overnight in the infirmary.

Carson pets Rodney's hair again, placing one last gentle kiss to his lips before drawing back. Rodney's arms are pinned to the railing of the bed, his ankles to either side of the baseboard. He is still beneath the blankets, wires disappearing under the thin gown he's wearing. There's an I.V. drip in Rodney's right wrist. Care is obviously required to properly handle this situation.

Carson pulls the blanket aside gently. Rodney's gown has ridden up, most likely from the thrashing around he did earlier, his legs barely covered by the blue material. His thighs are already parted, and the welcome implied there makes Carson's breath catch. He reaches out, placing one hand on Rodney's warm thigh, rubbing a comforting circle.

Rodney does not startle or stir, and Carson slides his hand higher, his fingers curved around to the softer skin along the inside of Rodney's thigh. His hand disappears beneath the edge of the gown, his fingers brushing against the coarse curls around Rodney's groin. Carson shivers, pushing the gown up with trembling fingers, wishing he could remove it, but knowing that stirring Rodney would probably do him more harm than good.

Rodney's cock is as active as the rest of him, soft between his legs. Carson smiles gently, sliding his hand up over the slight swell of Rodney's stomach, rubbing back and forth comfortingly as he bends, taking Rodney's cock into his mouth.

For a long moment Carson lingers there, sucking and licking, enjoying the feel of Rodney's cock against his tongue, between his lips. Rodney doesn't get hard, the drugs preventing that, but Carson has no doubt that some comfort reaches him anyway.

When he pulls away, Rodney's cock is wet and slick, and Carson frowns, hoping that the chilly air of the infirmary doesn't bother Rodney. Rodney doesn't appear bothered by it, so Carson rubs a circle on the other man's stomach again before carefully stepping back.

All of the exam rooms have lubricant, and Carson grabs a bottle, sliding it into his pocket to allow his body to warm it. He picks up a towel as well, rifling through the drawer for a condom before stepping back over to the bed. Rodney is still waiting for him, relaxed, so open and trusting that it makes Carson's chest ache.

The bed is narrow, but Carson knows how to operate on it. He climbs up carefully, between Rodney's parted thighs, settling onto his haunches. This would be so much easier with Rodney on his stomach, but moving him isn't feasible. Instead Carson scoots forward, lifting Rodney's hips, met with no resistance when he slides his knees up to support the other man.

Carson wishes he could see Rodney's ass, the shape of it, full and firm and perfect, but he accepts that he can't. Not this time. He touches instead, reaching one hand back, relearning the feel of Rodney's soft skin, lingering over the touches, each slide of his fingers and palm over firm flesh going straight to his cock.

Carson finally has to stop, breathing hard, aching so sweetly with want. That such perfection should be offered to him always comes as a shock, makes him harder than he can remember being, makes his chest tight with emotion.

The towel is soft and worn, and Carson folds it carefully before sliding it beneath Rodney's hips. He doesn't want to leave any uncomfortable spots behind for Rodney to have to lie in, so he arranges it carefully, want making his movements clumsy.

Carson fumbles in his pocket for the lube, needing to be in Rodney, to reassure himself that the other man is fine. He spreads it across his fingers, rubbing his other hand up and down Rodney's thigh, biting his lip to keep the groan in his chest when he reaches for Rodney's ass again.

For a moment Carson just catches his breath, circling the other man's hole. Then he can wait no longer, gently pushing one finger into Rodney's body, groaning at the ease with which Rodney takes the intrusion. There is no strain or resistance, just heat and welcome. Carson leans forward, his back aching from the stretch, kissing across Rodney's stomach as he slowly works his finger in and out of Rodney's body.

When Carson slides a second finger in beside the first there is still no resistance. It makes him ache, scissoring his fingers to stretch Rodney, making himself take his time with this. He doesn't want to hurt Rodney, that's the last thing he wants, and so he is careful and thorough.

A third finger is eagerly accepted, and Carson has to squeeze his eyes shut, gasping. His cock is painfully hard, straining against the front of his pants, and Carson makes himself concentrate, resisting his baser urges to rip his fly open and sink into Rodney's perfect heat. Instead Carson keeps stretching Rodney, shivering each time he pushes his fingers into Rodney's body, teasing the tip of his little finger against Rodney's stretched hole.

Rodney takes it, and Carson groans, kissing desperately at the other man's skin. He doesn't push the four fingers in far, just shallow thrusts into Rodney's body until Carson can wait no longer. He presses one last kiss to Rodney's hip, before straightening.

Carson almost sobs with relief when he finally releases his cock. He's hard, pre-come already smeared across the head. Were anyone else here he might have been ashamed by his lack of control, but Rodney has to know what he does, how he affects Carson, and so there is no shame.

The condom packet is hard to open with his lube slick fingers, but Carson manages. He rolls it on, groaning at the touch along his aching cock, gripping himself hard, forcing the edge of orgasm away. He hasn't yet come across Rodney's thighs like a child, and he doesn't intend to start tonight. He grabs the lube again, slicking it across his cock, panting now, heart racing.

Carson shifts back forward, lifting Rodney's hips, bringing their bodies together. Carson reaches down, rubbing a finger across Rodney's hole just once before replacing it with the head of his cock.

Rodney takes him, and Carson curses, amazed by the feel of him. He slides in slow, trying to give Rodney time to adjust to him, drowning in the pleasure when he finally bottoms out. Rodney's back is bent from the angle, his head turned on the pillow again, his mouth open, his eyes closed. His hands are open, fingers curling just a little up towards his palms. He looks so peaceful. His heart rate hasn't even changed.

Carson sets a slow rhythm, relishing each slow slide in and out of Rodney's body. Each stroke is such perfection that it nearly hurts. It takes all of Carson's self control not to just thrust into Rodney desperately, but he's in no shape for that.

Slow and careful is the way to go, and Carson can do that. He thrusts, over and over, until he feels that he might go insane, looking down to watch his cock sliding in and out of Rodney's body. Carson thinks that he could do that forever, loving Rodney like this.

And then Rodney twitches, his fingers jerking, his body squeezing down almost painfully tight around Carson. Carson cries out, head falling forward, coming hard, his hips jerking a few last, clumsy times. He makes himself pull out, scrambling off the bed, shoving his cock, still trapped in the condom, clumsily back into his pants.

Rodney's eyes are fluttering open, blue and barely focusing, still dazed from the drugs. Rodney jerks his arms, not hard, rolling his head around, managing to focus on Carson for less than a second at a time. Carson is surprised when Rodney manages to speak, his voice rough, confused, "Carson—what? Hurts—"

Carson reaches for the syringe laid out, fitting it into the port on the I.V. He leans over Rodney, rubbing his hair, smiling comfortingly, "Sh, now, go back to sleep, love. You'll feel better when you wake."

For a moment Rodney frowns, his eyes clearing somewhat, stubbornness bringing him closer to coherent than should be possible. Rodney mumbles, "John—I want John—" and then his eyelashes are fluttering, the tension draining out of his body. He blinks one last time, heavy lidded, before his eyes shut again.

Carson smiles, shaking his head fondly, pressing a last soft kiss of Rodney's mouth, before shifting. He straightens Rodney's gown, pulling the towel from beneath his hips, drawing the blanket back up over him, tucking him in.

Rodney is sleeping peacefully again when Carson steps away from the bed, moving towards the door, remembering only at the last moment to zip up his fly. He shakes his head, rolling his eyes at himself and stepping out.

One of the night nurses waves at him, and Carson waves back, heading for his quarters. He's exhausted, the stress from the day finally coming down on him all at once. The main doors open before he reaches them, and Carson frowns when John Sheppard steps into his infirmary.

The man has the decency to look abashed to be found, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. John says, "Hey, Doc, how's he doing?"

Carson makes himself force his irritation down. John can hardly be blamed for sharing Carson's affection for Rodney. Still, it's effort to keep his voice friendly, "He's resting now. There'll be no waking him, he needs the sleep."

John frowns, holding his hands up, "Relax. I just want to see him. You know how much he hates staying overnight in here."

Carson frowns, but John is already moving past him, nodding to one of the nurses, opening Rodney's door and stepping into the room, closing it behind him. By the time Carson makes it back to his quarters his earlier good mood has completely evaporated.

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