07/29/2007: "SGA Fic: Amplified (McKay/alien whale/Lorne/Atlantis; R)"

Title: Amplified
Characters/Pairing: McKay/Alien Whale/Lorne/Atlantis
Rating: R
Words: About 1100
Summary: It was clearly inappropriate touching.
Notes: mklutz and I decided to do a Week of Unfortunate (aka wacky) SGA Pairings. Yes. A week - five days, six stories. This is story #1. Slight spoilers for episode 3x12 "Echoes". Many thanks to lyrstzha for beta!

This, Evan figures, is one of the last ways he'd choose to spend his day. "McKay, could you tone it down a little –" he tries again. Just like the other times, McKay waves a hand at him and keeps on talking. If the room were bigger, McKay would be pacing.

If they weren't trapped in here, Evan would be running out the door.

"What is this, the fourth time you've tried to get me to shut up? If it hasn't worked yet, Major, why do you think it'll work now? Are you trying to wear me down? Because I'm warning you, Sheppard tries that all the time, and do you think he's been successful? Hmmm? No." McKay pauses, takes a breath, and glares. "I'm hungry, I'm tired, I can't get us out of here, and there's an alien whale –"

Evan shifts, trying to get comfortable. "Aren't they fish –"

"- outside broadcasting a song that's making everyone in the city want to fuck like previously-repressed rabbits –"

"Yeah, I've noticed," Evan mutters, shifting again.

" – the whole city is probably having uninhibited, probably fantastic sex, and I am never going to live this down. Ever." McKay suddenly deflates a little and slides to the floor. "Because I'm pretty sure Sam has some kind of fixation on me, and that's what the signal is about."

Evan snorts. "On you."

"It makes sense, doesn't it?" McKay just looks tired now. Tired, bright-eyed and hard-up. "After all, we've bonded on previous occasions."

"Maybe it isn't about you. Maybe it's broadcasting to Atlantis, saying thanks because it thinks the city saved its people?"

"Oh, please. What kind of sense would that make – huh."

"Huh?"

McKay is watching him, eyes narrowed. "You're rubbing the wall. In a way most people would describe as creepy, disturbing, and porn-like. And your eyes are glazing over."

Evan pulls his hand away and sits on it. The city's smooth floor is warm against his palm. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You were! That was inappropriate touching! With the city! Great. It's bad enough that Sheppard goes starry-eyed for a minute when he gets into a puddlejumper, and constantly makes up reasons to run 'diagnostics'. And you don't even know what happened to Simpson last week when she found that – never mind. Now I'm stuck in a room with someone who likes to rub – and god forbid, probably rub off on – the city."

When McKay puts it that way, it sounds bad. Really, really bad. Evan knew there was a reason he hadn't told anyone about this thing with the city. "Look, I didn't start it."

"Oh, right. The city started flirting with you. You're helpless and being bent to its perverted desires."

The sad thing is it's true. Evan didn't really notice it at first – he'd just taken it for granted, assumed that the city responded to everyone with the natural gene in the same way. It had started with the tenor of a room changing when he was in it; he'd pick up on the slight changes in vibration around him, deviations from the standard background hum of the city. It had been a little odd, but he'd brushed it off.

And then the dreams had started.

It had gotten worse – more insistent – after they got the ZPM, and then tamped down again after McKay had drained it. Honestly, Evan isn't sure he minds. It had been a relief not to have to remind himself that caressing the city in public would be very, very bad.

Even if the dreams had been hot. Very, very hot. And creative.

Now the city is somehow responding to the whale's song, and everything is amplified. It's embarrassing. It's disturbing. Mostly, it's making him want to jerk off, McKay's bitching be damned.

He's so focused on the feeling that he's not even sure why he and McKay are down here in the first place. "Hey, McKay," he starts, just to change the subject, but he doesn't get far.

"Are you having sex with the city?" McKay asks, scooting closer. His expression is intent, hot. "If you are, I'm both disgusted and intrigued. Also, there's a whale outside singing aphrodisiac songs to me, I haven't had sex in months, and I'm pretty sure that I could get off watching. You with the city, that is." He licks his lips, one hand hovering over his leg.

Evan's breath catches, just briefly. "I'm not having sex with the city," he says. He's pretty sure the dreams don't count. He's also fairly certain it doesn't mean anything that the city varies the way it looks in his dreams – sometimes a short-haired woman, sometimes a man who looks like he laughs a lot, sometimes both together. "That would just be weird." He can't look away from McKay's mouth, his slick lips.

"This is Atlantis," McKay says leaning closer. Warm breath puffs against Evan's cheek. "Everything is weird."

Hell, yes, Evan thinks, as he reaches out and pulls McKay forward, overbalancing both of them. He ends up on his back, McKay on top, awkward and all elbows. "McKay," he grates out, struggling to get his breath.

"Yes, yes," McKay mutters, rearranging himself, repositioning so that his leg is pressed up between Evan's. "This is unfortunate. We will never speak of it again, once we're in our right minds."

"You really know how to sweet-talk a guy," Evan says, shifting enough that he can get one hand between them. He squeezes McKay's cock through fabric, his other hand rhythmically stroking the floor.

"Please," McKay says, and then gasps as Evan squeezes again, "as if I have to – yes, exactly like that, again – sweet talk a guy who's currently stroking the – don't stop, harder, Jesus, pants need to be off, off now – stroking the city." He lifts his hips, enough that Evan can fumble with the zipper and pull McKay's pants and underwear down.

"I'm not the one being serenaded by a horny alien whale," he says, palming McKay's cock. Jesus, it's good having someone else's cock in his hand, someone who isn't a city-dream.

"So you admit Sam's singing to me." McKay eyes are lidded, his mouth a little slack, but he still manages to look like he's won an important argument.

Evan opens his mouth just in time for McKay to lean down and press a biting kiss against his neck.

"No more talking," McKay mutters, teeth grazing Evan's skin.

Evan can do that.

Around them, Atlantis hums.

End.




	Home Archives July 2007 SGA Fic: Amplified (McKay/alien whale/Lorne/Atlantis; R) [Previous entry: "SGA Fic: Five alien rituals that Lorne will never admit he enjoyed (PG)"] [Next entry: "SGA Fic: Substitute (Zelenka/Sheppard's pants; NC-17)"] 07/29/2007: "SGA Fic: Amplified (McKay/alien whale/Lorne/Atlantis; R)" Title: Amplified Characters/Pairing: McKay/Alien Whale/Lorne/Atlantis Rating: R Words: About 1100 Summary: It was clearly inappropriate touching. Notes: mklutz and I decided to do a Week of Unfortunate (aka wacky) SGA Pairings. Yes. A week - five days, six stories. This is story #1. Slight spoilers for episode 3x12 "Echoes". Many thanks to lyrstzha for beta! This, Evan figures, is one of the last ways he'd choose to spend his day. "McKay, could you tone it down a little –" he tries again. Just like the other times, McKay waves a hand at him and keeps on talking. If the room were bigger, McKay would be pacing. If they weren't trapped in here, Evan would be running out the door. "What is this, the fourth time you've tried to get me to shut up? If it hasn't worked yet, Major, why do you think it'll work now? Are you trying to wear me down? Because I'm warning you, Sheppard tries that all the time, and do you think he's been successful? Hmmm? No." McKay pauses, takes a breath, and glares. "I'm hungry, I'm tired, I can't get us out of here, and there's an alien whale –" Evan shifts, trying to get comfortable. "Aren't they fish –" "- outside broadcasting a song that's making everyone in the city want to fuck like previously-repressed rabbits –" "Yeah, I've noticed," Evan mutters, shifting again. " – the whole city is probably having uninhibited, probably fantastic sex, and I am never going to live this down. Ever." McKay suddenly deflates a little and slides to the floor. "Because I'm pretty sure Sam has some kind of fixation on me, and that's what the signal is about." Evan snorts. "On you." "It makes sense, doesn't it?" McKay just looks tired now. Tired, bright-eyed and hard-up. "After all, we've bonded on previous occasions." "Maybe it isn't about you. Maybe it's broadcasting to Atlantis, saying thanks because it thinks the city saved its people?" "Oh, please. What kind of sense would that make – huh." "Huh?" McKay is watching him, eyes narrowed. "You're rubbing the wall. In a way most people would describe as creepy, disturbing, and porn-like. And your eyes are glazing over." Evan pulls his hand away and sits on it. The city's smooth floor is warm against his palm. "I don't know what you're talking about." "You were! That was inappropriate touching! With the city! Great. It's bad enough that Sheppard goes starry-eyed for a minute when he gets into a puddlejumper, and constantly makes up reasons to run 'diagnostics'. And you don't even know what happened to Simpson last week when she found that – never mind. Now I'm stuck in a room with someone who likes to rub – and god forbid, probably rub off on – the city." When McKay puts it that way, it sounds bad. Really, really bad. Evan knew there was a reason he hadn't told anyone about this thing with the city. "Look, I didn't start it." "Oh, right. The city started flirting with you. You're helpless and being bent to its perverted desires." The sad thing is it's true. Evan didn't really notice it at first – he'd just taken it for granted, assumed that the city responded to everyone with the natural gene in the same way. It had started with the tenor of a room changing when he was in it; he'd pick up on the slight changes in vibration around him, deviations from the standard background hum of the city. It had been a little odd, but he'd brushed it off. And then the dreams had started. It had gotten worse – more insistent – after they got the ZPM, and then tamped down again after McKay had drained it. Honestly, Evan isn't sure he minds. It had been a relief not to have to remind himself that caressing the city in public would be very, very bad. Even if the dreams had been hot. Very, very hot. And creative. Now the city is somehow responding to the whale's song, and everything is amplified. It's embarrassing. It's disturbing. Mostly, it's making him want to jerk off, McKay's bitching be damned. He's so focused on the feeling that he's not even sure why he and McKay are down here in the first place. "Hey, McKay," he starts, just to change the subject, but he doesn't get far. "Are you having sex with the city?" McKay asks, scooting closer. His expression is intent, hot. "If you are, I'm both disgusted and intrigued. Also, there's a whale outside singing aphrodisiac songs to me, I haven't had sex in months, and I'm pretty sure that I could get off watching. You with the city, that is." He licks his lips, one hand hovering over his leg. Evan's breath catches, just briefly. "I'm not having sex with the city," he says. He's pretty sure the dreams don't count. He's also fairly certain it doesn't mean anything that the city varies the way it looks in his dreams – sometimes a short-haired woman, sometimes a man who looks like he laughs a lot, sometimes both together. "That would just be weird." He can't look away from McKay's mouth, his slick lips. "This is Atlantis," McKay says leaning closer. Warm breath puffs against Evan's cheek. "Everything is weird." Hell, yes, Evan thinks, as he reaches out and pulls McKay forward, overbalancing both of them. He ends up on his back, McKay on top, awkward and all elbows. "McKay," he grates out, struggling to get his breath. "Yes, yes," McKay mutters, rearranging himself, repositioning so that his leg is pressed up between Evan's. "This is unfortunate. We will never speak of it again, once we're in our right minds." "You really know how to sweet-talk a guy," Evan says, shifting enough that he can get one hand between them. He squeezes McKay's cock through fabric, his other hand rhythmically stroking the floor. "Please," McKay says, and then gasps as Evan squeezes again, "as if I have to – yes, exactly like that, again – sweet talk a guy who's currently stroking the – don't stop, harder, Jesus, pants need to be off, off now – stroking the city." He lifts his hips, enough that Evan can fumble with the zipper and pull McKay's pants and underwear down. "I'm not the one being serenaded by a horny alien whale," he says, palming McKay's cock. Jesus, it's good having someone else's cock in his hand, someone who isn't a city-dream. "So you admit Sam's singing to me." McKay eyes are lidded, his mouth a little slack, but he still manages to look like he's won an important argument. Evan opens his mouth just in time for McKay to lean down and press a biting kiss against his neck. "No more talking," McKay mutters, teeth grazing Evan's skin. Evan can do that. Around them, Atlantis hums. End.