Chapter Text
~ 1986 ~
John rode the pool boy on the decking at the edge of the glistening swimming pool, his knees to either side of Pablo’s waist, Pablo’s cock seated firmly in his ass.
Pablo tilted his head back, groaning in appreciation, his hands spasming against John’s hips, and John grinned, shivering as Pablo's shaft grazed his prostate. He leaned forward to kiss him, his whole body alight with the pleasure coursing through his veins.
He was beginning to speed up, chasing his orgasm, when a bellow broke over them, intruding into their small oasis of delight. John flinched, then staunchly kept going, forcing the tension out of his body as he continued to rise and fall.
Pablo’s eyes widened in fear, his body stiffening, but John leaned down, whispering, “It’s okay, ignore him, carry on,” then kissed him passionately, drawing him back into the fog of arousal.
A moment later, heavy footfalls drew alongside, and, as John languidly straightened up, continuing to pierce himself on Pablo’s solid shaft, he could see from the corner of his eye that his father was wearing his jodhpurs and had his riding crop held stiffly at his side.
“You filthy pervert!” Patrick roared. “Stop that! Stop it this instant! You’re a disgrace to the name! A feral monster!”
John tilted his head towards his father, his eyes at half-mast. “Make me stop, why don’t you?”
Patrick shoved John, trying to push him off, but John wasn’t having it. He didn’t care what his dad thought of this. He was his own person.
Then the riding crop came down across his naked shoulders, hard, and John sucked in a breath, the pain difficult to push aside as he kept impaling himself, refusing to give in.
Patrick struck again and again, giving in to a frenzy of revulsion, vile epithets falling from his lips as he gave reign to his repugnance. But John didn’t falter, actually giving him the ‘fuck you’ as he leaned forward to kiss Pablo, deeply, passionately, with tongue, baring his entire back for his father’s rage to fall against.
Despite the situation, Pablo started to come, his shaft swelling and jerking in John’s channel, and John sat back up, reaching for Pablo’s hand and wrapping it around his cock, wrapping his own hand around Pablo’s as he stripped himself to orgasm, the pain from his back in some sick way enhancing the pleasure that rippled through him. His cum splattered across Pablo’s stomach and chest, and Patrick gave one last outraged howl, one last blow, before he delivered his final diatribe.
“The pool boy’s fired! And you’re confined to your room for the next month. One meal a day until you learn to control this perversion. Sheppard men are NOT faggots!” He spun on his heel and disappeared back into the house, and John started to laugh.
Pablo wasn’t laughing, though. He lay stiff and still beneath John’s body.
Eventually, John straightened up and pulled himself free, letting Pablo’s spent cock slide out. He lay down beside him, trailing his fingertips through his cum where it lay matted in Pablo’s generous chest hair.
“You’re not really fired. I’ll give you a haircut, and I can help you dye it blond. He’ll never know it’s still you.”
Some of the tension left Pablo’s body. “But what about you? Your back?”
John shrugged, then winced. “It’s not the first time, won’t be the last. He thinks he can beat the gay out of me.” He dragged himself up to his feet and padded across to the shower head that protruded from the pool wall a few feet away. Turning on the water, he let it cascade over his back, feeling the heat washing out of the injuries, the pain diminishing. He’d be bruised all over tomorrow, but it didn’t matter. No way was the old man going to stop him being himself.
Pablo appeared next to him, leaning in for a soft kiss. “A haircut?” he asked.
John grinned and French kissed him. “My room, after dark. We’ll do it all then. And try this in a bed.”
Pablo frowned. “You’re confined to your bedroom. There may be a guard. How will I—”
John laughed. “Can you climb a trellis? I asked the gardener to put one in a few months back. It’s been a godsend. You can climb up to my window. Once it’s dark, no-one will see. Even on a full moon that side of the house is shaded.
He gave Pablo one last kiss, then left him there to shower the cum from his chest, and, trailing his towel over his shoulder, he sauntered back into the house, deliberately padding wet footsteps up the middle of the priceless hardwood floors as he headed for the staircase.
***** *****
Three days later, Patrick turned up in John’s room, carrying the tray of bread and soup.
“This has to stop, John. No more. I’ve found you a nice young girl. She’s just turned seventeen, so she’s a touch older than you, but her father’s interested in merging his company to mine, so he’s agreed to a date. Dinner and a movie. And you’d better damn well kiss the girl—and enjoy it!”
John hadn’t bothered to stand when his father entered the room. He was sprawled on his back on his bed, no shirt, no pants, just his boxers on. He lifted his arms up behind his head and gazed at his father. “You should try it, Dad. Having a dick up your ass is the best feeling ever.”
Patrick’s jaw twitched, but he was clearly trying to keep his temper.
John rose languidly to his feet and strolled across the room, sliding around his dad’s body, hands glossing across his back, his bicep, his stomach. He came to a stop in front and gazed up at his dad through his eyelashes. “The. Most. Incredible. Feeling. Ever. Truly. You should try it.”
He didn’t see it coming. One moment Patrick was standing there, his face contorting into a mask of enraged revulsion, the next, John was flat on his back on the bed, Patrick flipping him onto his stomach and ripping his boxers off him.
“Does it matter whose cock it is to you?” Patrick snarled. “Will anyone’s do? What about this one? Your own father whose body you’ve been fondling, you fucking pervert!”
John tried to buck his dad off, but the old man easily had ninety pounds on him, pinning him to the bed as the sound of a zipper being jerkily pulled down filled the room.
A few moments later, a pillow descended over John’s head, one ass cheek was wrenched to the side, and a turgid cock shoved its way inside.
John bit the inside of his cheek, damned if he was going to give any satisfaction to the fucker who was raping him. He wasn’t prepped for anal, he was as dry as a dessert, and it fucking hurt to have a dick of his father’s size pounding into his ass.
Patrick hissed profanities at him, spilling vile and degrading insults, but John tuned it out and just endured his body being shoved forward as the cock relentlessly thrust in again and again. His own cock started to respond to the anger, to the fuck you! of the situation, and John had a split second to decide which would piss his dad off more—coming with his dad’s dick up his ass or not coming with his dad’s dick up his ass. Coming won, so he shoved a hand into the tight gap underneath his body and managed to wrap his fingers around his shaft, his dad’s violent thrusts providing all the friction he needed. After all, what was that Chinese saying? When rape is inevitable, lie back and enjoy it?
Patrick’s cock eventually began to stutter in John’s channel, his hips thrusting in an uncoordinated fashion as disjointed blasphemies still fell from his lips. John was so close, right on the cusp. In the profound silence that followed Patrick’s orgasm, John cried out his own release, loud and proud as his body convulsed to its own rhythms.
The cock in his ass pulled out instantly and his body was flipped over, the pillow pulled away as Patrick glared at him with sickened disgust.
John forced his expression to one of contemptuous fuckery. “I said a dick up your ass, fuckwit, not your dick up mine.”
The next thing he knew was darkness as his dad’s fist rammed into his face.
***** *****
~ 2004 ~
John settled into his chopper, his heart calming and normalising as everything else fell away and he became as one with the skies.
Beside him, the General he was transporting pulled his headgear on and started asking banal questions about his flight history, probably trying to work out why he was down here at the ass end of the world.
Well, John wasn’t going to tell him he had authority issues. Wasn’t going to tell him about all the reprimands, the COs who were constantly pissed off at him, the fact that he got off on their anger and disappointment when he was alone in the toilet block. His dad had fucked him up good, but John had learned to embrace it. He was wired the way he was wired, and nothing was going to fix that.
“All inbound craft, land immediately and shut down engines. We have a rogue drone that can seek a target on its own.”
***** *****
Apparently, his seat-of-the-pants flying impressed the General, and before nightfall, John had been posted out of McMurdo and into something called the Stargate Program.
A Captain Lorne was assigned as his escort and John twitched at the thought. Lorne looked like he’d bruise easily and John sort of got off on that, too, an extra gift from his early conditioning.
He caught Lorne checking him out in the communal showers at McMurdo, and again in the SGC locker rooms after they’d flown the entire staff from the Antarctic base back to Cheyenne Mountain—only it wasn’t back for John, it was his first time there.
Dreary and dismal, miles underground, soul destroying really… and very unlikely to give him a chance for what he needed with surveillance cameras in every corridor and even in his own quarters. He was tempted to give his own personal security camera the finger and provide a show for whoever was watching the footage, but he actually thought he’d quite like to go to the Pegasus Galaxy, get the fuck away from all the shit that’d gone down in Afghanistan. Antarctica had been good for that, but it was still there inside him. Mitch. Dex. Holland. The asshole CO, fucking them both over like that, leaving Holland to die, waiting days to authorise a rescue mission for John. Although, he’d quite enjoyed the torture, but the Taliban hadn’t liked him orgasming without a single hand on his cock.
***** *****
The promotion ceremony on their last day at the SGC was boring as batshit. It was as if the brass had decided to promote troops just to get the right balance for their precious ‘expedition.’
John wasn’t sure how he felt about coming under a civilian leader. Weir didn’t strike him as someone who would give him much in the way of wanking material, too determined to take the negotiate-to-peace path to suit his need for anger. But Sumner was likely to give him hours of fuck-you imagery to fuel his nighttime activities.
And then they called Captain Lorne up to the podium and John’s cock actually twitched in his BDUs at the realisation that Lorne would be the same rank as him which made him suddenly very accessible. Same ranks spent a lot of time ‘socialising’ together. Maybe they’d be sharing quarters as the only two Majors on the Expedition’s role. That showed promise. If he could get Lorne to let him bruise him a bit where his uniform would cover it; get Lorne to inflict the pain he needed to get himself off. He wasn’t sure Lorne would go for that, but he could fucking well hope.
Lorne actually came to stand beside him as the next guy was called, a 2nd Lieutenant Ford being promoted to 1st Lieutenant. Jesus, he looked too young and naive to be a Marine. John had barely finished the thought when newly promoted Major Lorne shuffled half a step closer, and John’s fuck yeah! meter started to chime with anticipation.
***** *****
After they’d raised the city to the surface and settled all the stray Athosians and rescued Sumner and Teyla and sundry others, he and Lorne were dismissed and sent to get some rest. There was a lot of adrenaline from his day that needed somewhere to go and directing that energy towards Lorne’s body seemed like a great choice… if he’d be willing to go for it.
They’d been allocated shared quarters just as John had hoped, and everyone else had been buddied up, too. Safety in numbers and all that bullshit. Keeping them close together so no-one would go nuts alone at night in a huge, unpopulated city floating on an ocean on a strange planet in another galaxy. Well, John wasn’t going to go nuts. He wondered if Lorne would, and if that would help him get what he wanted or hinder it.
As soon as they were through the door, John dropped his duffel on the closest bed and started to strip. The quarters they’d found for everyone had two beds and an ensuite which was fucking perfect. The showers were huge and John had plans.
There was perfect silence behind him as he pulled off his boots and socks—making sure to stick his ass in the air as much as possible, then slinked off his BDU pants, pulled off both tops, and dropped his boxers on top of the pile of discarded clothes. Wearing only his dogtags, he turned to face Evan, his hands on his hips, as he said, “I’ll take first shower, but I checked it out earlier. It’s as big as a communal one in any barracks, so feel free to come in when you’re ready.”
Evan’s eyes widened. His mouth was already open, hands clenched at his sides which John took as excellent indications of sexual interest. He’d pulled his tops off while John had been stripping, and a cursory glance showed that the skin on Evan’s stomach and chest was golden and only lightly scattered with hair… the bruises would be beautifully obvious.
John’s cock was already filling as he sauntered across the room to the bathroom door located behind Evan and he bloody well hoped Evan had noticed.
***** ****
The shower was hot and soothing. John had his head tilted back under the stream of water, enjoying the cascade over his sore shoulders, when he felt a blast of cold air from the shower door opening and closing. He grinned. Evan had accepted the offer! He’d joined John. Fuck yeah!
John turned around, tipping his head forward and swiping his eyes of water. Evan was standing on his own side where the water had started to flow from another three outlets, and John let his eyes roam everywhere.
Evan sucked in a breath, his cock twitching. John’s was already more than half hard in anticipation, and he grinned. “Gotta love private communal showers,” he said as he took the two steps needed to get to Evan’s side of the shower. More outlets started to release water, and the glass was fully opaque from all the steam, giving them complete privacy if someone happened to come in. John kinda hoped they did—if they were the sort who was likely to be angry and shout at him. Sumner would be a good intruder, enraged that his two Majors were fucking each other. Or one was fucking the other, hopefully.
Evan’s expression was a bit hesitant, but John stepped in close and dropped his forehead down against Evan’s, the water cascading down the sides of their faces, but leaving their eyes and lips free to converse.
“I want you,” John whispered, his mouth ghosting across Evan’s cheeks. “I want you inside me. Fucking me hard against the wall. Really hard. Can you do that?” He reached his hand down and wrapped it around Evan’s cock, feeling the stiffness beneath the velvety exterior. “I think you can,” he said, as he slid his mouth down to Evan’s neck and sucked for a moment.
Evan pushed his head away. “No marks where they’ll see, John.” He was breathless, gasping as John’s hand tightened on his cock.
“Okay,” John agreed obligingly, and shifted lower, latching onto a nipple and tugging with his teeth, feeling Evan’s cock jump in his hand. He slid his mouth off to the side, and bit into the muscle there, sucking hard as he released the bite. He’d been right. Evan’s flesh was reddening nicely already, showing his teeth marks, the skin darkened from his sucking. Oh, this was going to be fun! John dove back in, biting and sucking, his hand tight around Evan’s shaft as he gave it some desultory pumps.
The fingers in his hair were a nice touch, but he wanted Evan to tug, not caress. He pulled away from the hickey that was fast deepening to a delicious purple.
“Hard, Evan. Tug harder.” His own cock was full and heavy, pressing against Evan’s hip as he picked a new spot and bit again, sucking and biting and creating a beautiful, luscious bruise nearly the size of his fist against the golden tan of Evan’s belly. And then he dipped lower and sucked Evan’s cock into his mouth, finally feeling the fingers in his hair starting to bite, to tug, to pull, nails scraping against his scalp, just this side of painful enough to draw blood. The cock in his mouth throbbed, growing harder by the moment, releasing some salty precum that made John’s asshole start to clench in anticipation. He pulled off, rising sharply until he was level with Evan’s mouth, plundering it ruthlessly as he shoved him back against the wall.
The Ancient tech was incredible. His mind spared a moment to glory in the perfect heat, more jets coming on around them, spraying them in all the right places, sharp jets against his skin, softer for Evan’s. Maybe that was a clue that Evan wasn’t into the rough stuff, not like John was. He gentled the kiss a bit, not wanting to scare his new roommate and hopefully new lover away.
He reached for the shampoo he’d strategically left on a handy ledge and slopped some onto his fingers, shoving them between his legs and up into his hole for just a few moments. It'd been a few days since he'd played there, but it didn’t take much to get him ready for what he wanted tonight—prepped just enough to take it, but tight enough to really feel it, to feel every thrust, every shove. He’d be sore tomorrow but he didn’t care. The pain just raised the stakes, made him want more.
He wrenched his lips from Evan’s, letting go of his dick as he turned to lean against the shower wall. More jets came on, bathing his front in pinprick streams, hard enough to bruise, and John hissed with the pleasure as Evan moved in behind him. He turned his head, catching Evan’s lips in a bruising kiss.
“Make it rough,” he said, and Evan swallowed heavily, then nodded.
Hands gripped John’s hips, tight enough to be painful, and he grinned as he pushed his ass backwards, feeling Evan’s cock lining up against his hole. Then Evan seated himself in one swift, brutal thrust, and John tilted his head back, feeling the pain, relishing in it. This was his dad, all over again, taking him when he wasn’t ready, thrusting into him in anger, in rage, wanting to punish John for being who he was—but coming in his ass every single fucking time he tried to prove the point.
With one hand holding him up against the wall, John reached the other back to grab Evan’s ass and pull him in, harder, firmer. He thrust his hips back eagerly, desperate for the burn, for the pain of Evan’s cock—thicker than his dad’s had been—shoving against the walls of his channel, setting his body alight. Evan grunted as he thrust, and John joined in the symphony as Evan’s hand slid around his torso to grab John’s cock, squeezing it hard before starting to pump it in time with his thrusts.
The fire began in John’s belly, radiating outwards as his nerves sizzled with delight. Oh fuck! He could feel the pain, feel the pleasure, they were mingling in perfect chorus. And then the orgasm burst through him, his cum streaking the wall of the shower as his passage clenched tightly around Evan’s cock.
Evan didn’t stop thrusting, he pushed through the tight lock of muscles, speeding up his thrusts until his cock started to pulsate and John knew he was coming as Evan bit his shoulder, hard, his hips stuttering against John’s ass, warmth filling him up inside.
John slumped forward, sated and happy. Evan hadn’t hit him, not once. But he’d been just as rough as John had asked and it’d been an awesome first attempt. Bites and bruises for them both, two orgasms, and two sated bodies, ready to flop into bed until tomorrow night when hopefully they’d get to the full-on pain stuff that John craved the most.
Evan’s hips pulled away and his spent cock slipped free. John turned around, catching a weird expression on Evan’s face, but it was gone before he could decode it, and a moment later Evan surged up to kiss him, thrusting his tongue in deep, his lips hard against John’s own as Evan’s hands ran firmly up and down his sides.
The shower nozzles started to turn off, one by one. Was that Atlantis’ way of telling them they’d finished? Or was the city sensing something from him or Evan to say they were gentling towards bed? Well, that was something else to work out tomorrow.
John pulled away from Evan’s delicious body and tossed a towel at him, admiring the sight of the hickeys he’d made on Evan’s torso. He actually reached out to caress one of the bruises, oddly gentle in the face of the marks he’d left.
Evan shivered at the touch, his eyes catching John’s and holding them as John slowly withdrew his hand. Evan stepped in, dropping his towel and pulling John’s face down for a soft, gentle kiss, backing off when John tried to make it firmer, harder, until John got the message and went with the soft meeting of lips, the soft caresses on his body.
Slowly, Evan pulled away, giving John a beautiful smile, all dimples and pleasure, and John grinned, happily finishing toweling himself off, then heading out of the bathroom.
Evan trailed him as John pulled on his used boxers and T-shirt and slid into his bed.
A moment later, Evan was in his own bed, lying on his side, facing John. “I'll lead next time,” he said softly, and John couldn’t help the grin of anticipation.
“Cool,” he said, then the lights went out and he laughed. “Sentient cities are awesome. We’re gonna have so much fun here.”
Evan laughed too, but softly, sweetly, and something in John’s stomach turned over. That’d never happened before and he glanced down his body, wondering if something was wrong. But the feeling didn’t repeat, so he shuffled until he was comfortable, pulled the blankets up around his neck, and composed himself for sleep.