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Hot Sexellence and public displays of roller disco
five stories
kimberlyfdr asked for more Rodney in glasses from Ophthalmology:,

boys who wear glasses

"Hey," Ronon said. As John looked up, he saw that Ronon had a mess tray in each massive hand. Hooking the toe of his boot around a chair, Ronon dragged it out, dropped into it and held one tray out toward John. "Barbecue," he said, mouth already full of Yalita's smoky double basted hetak ribs.

"Thanks." He sampled one and nodded in approval.

"Rodney looks different," Ronon said. Following Ronon's gaze, he could see Rodney looming over a seated Simpson, ostentatiously sipping coffee while she rolled her eyes.

"Because he's wearing glasses, or because you can actually see him now?"

He half-expected Ronon to stick his tongue out at him, but maybe they didn't do that on Sateda. Or maybe they did, and it just meant something else entirely.

"The glasses," Ronon answered, his tone clearly indicating that John shouldn't be giving up his day job for the stand-up circuit any time soon.

"How do you mean?"

Ronon shrugged a little.


"You look different, too. The glasses, I mean." He immediately wished he hadn't said anything, because he didn't think Ronon would appreciate the 'drama school student' comparison, especially once John explained what drama school was, but Ronon just nodded and said, "Yeah. It's weird."

Ronon chomped on another hetak rib and said, "Girls like them, though, I think."

John felt a flutter of perverse panic. Was Rodney getting offers? Just on the strength of looking weirdly focused and oddly adult and even sort of stupidly cute in his glasses? Something must have shown on his face because Ronon dropped the rib he'd been gnawing, frowned at John and sucked on his sauce-glazed fingertips thoughtfully, one at a time, before saying finally, "I get hit on twice as much when I'm wearing them, is all."

John grimaced and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and when he looked up again, Ronon paused his munching on a hunk of corn bread to say, "You got some barbecue sauce in your hair."

John rubbed at his hair and thought about how completely screwed he was.


resonant8 asked me to revisit Third Party:,

two years later

It figures that Ray runs into him at a bar near the 2-7, when his clothes are still damp from the canal he just crawled out of and he's so pissed at Fraser that he's hoping a beer or five will make him at least want to punch somebody else.

Davie's got a golden tan and his hair is shorter, streaked by the sun of some place very obviously not Chicago in October, but Ray remembers his sharp face, even in a sharp suit instead of jeans and a T-shirt. The way his eyes widen, the way red flushes up his cheeks, Ray figures Davie remembers him, too.

"Buy me a shot," he says, and Davie waves the bartender over and orders a shot of Jack. Ray knocks it back and wipes his mouth with the back of one hand before saying, "So, still fucking Stella?"

Davie blushes again, and Ray just feels... numb.

"I haven't seen her." Davie shakes his head, so fucking sincere. "Not since..." He trails away and Ray doesn't need him to say, 'Since you walked in on us'.

Ray taps the scarred wood and the bartender pours him another shot, and he slams that one, too.

"She left me before you two started fucking, you know. She didn't leave me for you."

Davie nods uncertainly, like he doesn't want to admit he knew that, or like he's not sure how much agreeing he should be doing, or like he doesn't remember it so good, maybe, but Ray does, Ray remembers in vivid fucking Technicolor, stopping by her office after work to try one last time to talk her out of filing for the divorce, and finding Davie with his hands buried in her golden hair, her hands clutching his thin T-shirt, bunching up the fabric with her strong little fingers.

He doesn't remember what the hell Davie looked like, but Stella hadn't looked surprised, only tired, so fucking resigned, and Ray realizes only now, two years later, on a bar stool across town from the little place they'd rented on Cleveland Avenue that she had meant him to find her, that she'd known it was the only way he'd let her go.


gritkitty asked for a Radek story from Paper Moon:,

ghi-fish in klur sauce

The feasting table was likely very old, and so deeply and intricately carved with abstract swirls and fine detail work depicting fish and birds that it was quite uneven. Had their wine not been served in low, widemouthed mugs, Radek may well have sloshed some on his plate, or far worse, on Elizabeth, who was seated beside him.

The mugs and plates were of thin, hammered metals that looked like they'd been pounded against raised carvings to make decorations around the rims of the plates and at the bottoms of the cups.

"The woodwork is truly lovely," Elizabeth said, grazing her fingertips against a carving of a long-necked bird.

"Yes. It is reminding me of my Grandfather Miro."

Elizabeth's fine green eyes widened with interest.

"Was he a woodcarver?"

"No, no; he was a banker," Radek explained, "But every Christmas and birthday when I was very small, he would make us maňásek, little jointed dolls on strings—what is the word? Like Pinocchio?"

Clasping her hands together, Elizabeth inclined her head and smiled. "Marionettes. He made you puppets?"

"Yes. My brother and sister and I would put on little show, for the holiday." His mother had built them a little box theater, with painted curtains. It is with his sister, along with all the puppets their dědeček had made them, and the solemn promise that she would not let his nephew touch them until he was twenty-one. Somehow, they had not burned up in the fire that had claimed their house when he was nine, and a little paint had mended them—he said as much to Elizabeth.

"I would very much like to see them some day."

Her voice was so warm, and the memory of the Vefin's extraordinary performance was so fresh, that he felt himself flush, and he ducked his head, feeling foolish.

Happily, Elizabeth's attention was diverted by Major Sheppard and Rodney's late arrival to the table. They took the two remaining empty chairs, looking rather sheepish under Jilan's sharply amused eye. When they were seated at last, Jilan got to her feet and gave a short speech welcoming the diners and particularly recommending the ghi-fish in klur sauce.

"It's an old recipe from my very old friend Tuvyk, who promises that it will delight the senses… and well please your lovers."

The diners cheered and Radek calmly resigned himself to a meal of aphrodisiacs. He was charmed to see that Elizabeth's cheek had colored noticeably and they traded brief, wry smiles as Jilan continued, "And as it is the fivemonth and both moons rise, today we eat west to east. Eat well!"

After a moment to observe the other diners, Radek saw that every person seated served the person to their right from the platters being handed down the table, and that the food was then carved into small bites. He served Elizabeth, who was at the head of the table, and who had no chair on her other side, Radek noted, as she was the evening's honored guest. As he carved her meal, she smiled at him behind her wine mug, and Major Sheppard worked diligently to make the fish on Radek's plate into pieces of uniform size and thickness. Rodney was doing the same for Major Sheppard, and complaining volubly all the while. Teyla carved for Rodney wearing a rather serene look, and Radek could see that Dandin was serving Teyla with every attention.

Raising his fork, he could see Elizabeth hesitating over her meal, studying her portion of ghi-fish with some concern. Radek also studied his plate: the white flaky fish in the thin sauce the color of pomegranate. Looking down the table, he saw Teyla lift her as-yet-unused fork and touch the tines with delicate ceremony to Dandin's before smiling and taking her first bite of the meal.

Meeting Elizabeth's eyes, Radek lifted the unused fork of his place setting to Elizabeth's own offered fork, feeling ridiculous and painfully aware of his own tragic infatuation.

"To the senses," he said softly. She nodded, the color still high in her cheeks; the tines clanged gently against each other and they settled in to dine.

When he felt Elizabeth's hand on his knee (a brief, warm, friendly squeeze) after he'd served her the second course (a jellied eel soup called rusk), Radek felt that perhaps his infatuation was not so tragic, after all.


alizarin_nyc asked for a bit more inhale:,


The cigarette (from a box of stale Camels whose source Rodney had a) refused to divulge and b) ostentatiously crumbled and stuffed in his overfull wastebasket) hadn't seemed to cut Rodney's wind at all, if the urgent, constant moaning proved anything. Face down, Rodney snuffled into his pillow and pushed back hard against John's cock. John did his best not to shove back just as hard and come, clutching at Rodney's hips and going still, screwing his eyes shut, catching his breath and trying to picture everything in the room: the clothing flung at Rodney's computer chair, the framed diplomas on the wall, the random bits of dismantled Ancient tech, the plate on Rodney's desk covered in toast crumbs, a peanut-butter smeared knife set beside it. The sweaty flush of the back of Rodney's neck, the way the muscles in his shoulders and upper arms tensed and flexed as John fucked him, the truly stunning curve of Rodney's ass against John's cupped hand. It was all just so... good.

"If you're having a seizure or something, I'd really appreciate it if you swallowed your tongue after I got off," Rodney said, his voice breathless, muffled by the pillow.

John heard his own low, horsey laugh and he slapped Rodney's ass before shifting his hips, drawing out and slamming back home.

"You're hot, you're amazingly hot, god, I admit it, jesus, harder, but, oh christ, there is no way that I will ever call you 'daddy', so how about, oh shit oh shit--" and John felt Rodney shudder all over, clamping down on John's dick and then going lax, the muscles in his back smoothing out as he panted into the pillowcase and gave a low, crooning sigh.

Rodney's room smelled like new sweat and old socks over the ozone tang of humming electronics, and now it smelled like come, wet and sharp. John leaned over and kissed the ridge of Rodney's spine before spreading Rodney's solid thighs farther apart and changing his angle, every stroke making Rodney give startled little grunts that goaded John on until he broke and shot, balls deep and gasping.

When Rodney shoved him off and rolled over to glare at him, face pink from chafing against the pillow, chest still heaving with exertion and sexual satiety, John laughed again. "Made you say uncle, though," John grinned.

Rodney rolled his eyes.

"Yes, yes, you blew my sex-starved little mind, all right? Also, you're much, much better than a nicotine patch."

"You don't say." John tucked his hands behind his head and flexed his knees before straightening his legs and sighing with every satisfaction.

"Less gloating, more kissing," Rodney sniped, grabbing at John's shoulder.

John obliged him, taking his time.


emeraldsword asked for some sports bra aftermath:


Daniel was still straining beneath her, and her own orgasm hovered just out of reach, like a wiggly little heat mirage hanging over a desert road, when she heard someone behind them clearing his throat with an ostentatious display of polite decorum.

She heard Daniel pant a panicked-sounding, "Jack!" before he stuttered to a halt and stared at her, wide-eyed with guilt.

Clapping on hand over her eyes, she set the free one on Daniel's sleek chest to steady herself.

"Um... We can explain?" she offered weakly.

"This I can't wait to hear," Jack said mildly, settling himself against the wall of the cave, the lantern in his hand throwing shadows on his face that hid his eyes and made him a stranger.

"You were late?" She heard her voice squeak a little.

"You know I hate to miss the previews," Jack complained, setting the lantern down and dragging his shirt over his head.

Daniel let his head drop down to the cave floor in obvious relief. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to check your watch once in a while," he said dryly.

"Bitch, bitch, bitch. Shove over, will ya, I've got a rock digging into my knee," and Jack's warm arm wrapped around her waist as he kissed her shoulder and slid one hand down her thigh, fitting her against him and taking her weight.

"Jack," she said fondly, feeling Daniel squeeze her hand, still hard and strong inside her, feeling Jack sigh in his put-upon way against her hair before nipping her ear.

"Sam," he said, mocking her tone and cupping her breasts in his hot hands. "I think I'm ready for the feature presentation."


dispatch a ninja

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