melissas_corner: (John/Rodney)
[personal profile] melissas_corner
Author’s Notes I: Written for Annette who won me in the 2008 Doctors without Borders auction for David Hewlett’s birthday. She asked for ‘an SGA slash, McKay/Sheppard fic. First time, I'm good with either romance or angsty (though not too angsty). I'm a big fan of h/c (John hurt), and I love Denial!John. I'm happy with PWP's too, and any rating.’ A couple of days later while on my way to a temp job I couldn’t find anything on the radio I wanted to listen to so I pulled a tape out of the center console without looking at it and popped it into the tape player. That tape ended up being a-ha’s Stay on These Roads. And the song that was playing was There’s Never a Forever Thing. I was surprised I actually remembered the words; it had been years since I’d last listened to that tape, and this song just spoke to me. I emailed Annette with the words and we agreed it worked just perfectly for this pair and the episode The Last Man. This is set during the 700 years John was in stasis. Does anyone really think that Rodney wouldn’t have programmed something to keep John’s mind occupied so it wouldn’t atrophy? There are some minor spoilers for The Prodigal in the form of dialogue and the knowledge that John and Rodney are indeed twelve year old boys trapped in the bodies of forty year old men. I also took some dialogue from the end of The Last Man.
Warnings: Dom!Rodney, sub!John, OOC Rodney, spanking, flogging, BDSM
Spoilers: The Last Man, Outcast, The Tower, Trinity, The Kindred I and II and Doppelganger.




John’s POV:

The last thought I have as the stasis chamber engages is that O’Neill was right: being put into stasis is one hell of a weird-ass feeling. One minute I'm looking at 'old' Rodney's sad face, and the next I'm waking up in the most comfortable bed I've ever been in. My face is buried in the softest pillow, and a sheet of the finest Egyptian cotton is draped over my naked hips. The sound of waves crashing against a shore and the salty scent of the breeze that's caressing my naked back and shoulders tell me I'm either at the beach or still on Lantea. But as far as I know none of the bedrooms have bedding like this, I think, a frown of confusion crinkling my brow as another thought occurs to me. And why would I wake up from stasis in a bed like this? Much as I want to just keep laying there, enjoying soft bedding the likes of which I haven’t felt since Earth – not to mention a bed big enough that I can spread my arms without touching the sides – the answers don’t magically appear, and I sigh. Might as well find out for sure, I tell myself, turning over and blinking my eyes open. Sure enough, behind the Arabian Nights motif is Ancient architecture. This only adds to my confusion, which isn't helped any by the arrival of a young man who appears to be in his late teens/early twenties, carrying a tray and wearing a pair of sleep pants that are slung so low on his hips they're in danger of falling off.

His face breaks into a wide grin upon seeing I'm awake. A grin that's very familiar, one that I would know anywhere. "Ah, you're awake at last," an even more familiar voice says in an oddly formal tone, considering that I best know that voice when it’s snapping irritably at someone to get out of the way.

When he reaches the bed he sets the tray down and I sit up, making sure the sheet continues to cover what it's supposed to cover, and peer over at what appears to be a pile of fresh fruit, cheese and crackers.

"You don't recognize me, do you?" he asks, drawing my attention once again to his face where the left corner of his mouth is turned down in a frown of frustration.

I’d never be able to forget you, I oddly want to blurt out, but I somehow manage to swallow that one down. "Rodney?" I venture instead, praying I'll wake from this dream before he sees the effect his youthful good looks have on me. "You're so young," I blurt then duck my head as I feel a flush explode across my upper torso and up into my face. Young, hell. He’s just this side of fucking jailbait.

"I figured since you saw how I'll look twenty-five years in the future you should see how I looked at twenty," he tells me simply, perching on the edge of the mattress. "Don't you like how I look?" he asks, telling me that he didn't notice my blush. He hastily adds, "I can always make myself look like how you best remember me."

That explains a lot. So he can change his appearance… yet another hologram. But where the other one was old and sad, this one is so exquisitely young that it makes me briefly irritated at the thought of my own age, and I notice the corner of his mouth dip right after I absently frown at myself. "No, the way you look now is fine," I reassure him. More than fine, so very much more than fine. He has no idea how much this 'him' appeals to me. But dwelling on that line of thought reminds me that I don’t have any pants on right now, so I fall back into old habits and decide to get the story behind my surroundings. "Care to explain just where we are?"

He hesitates for just a split second. It's so brief, in fact, that I wonder if I’d actually seen it at all. "Oh, isn't it obvious?" he hedges, turning his attention to pouring a red liquid into a goblet. This is definitely different. He’s not oozing the usual arrogant McKay genius and he’s not explaining everything to the nth degree, and that catches my attention. He’s just calmly sitting on the edge of my bed – a bed I’m still naked in, by the way – and offering me liquor. "Wine?" He holds it out to me, but when I reach for it, he pulls it back.

"What game is this, Rodney? I coulda sworn you just offered that to me," I huff. "I’m not really in the mood for any guessing games right now."

He doesn’t get irritated and he doesn’t hand me the cup. He’s still that same calm that’s doing weird things to me; on one hand it’s starting to get on my nerves, and on the other hand he just seems so… in control. "No game, John. I created this world." He pauses, and I get a brief flash of the real McKay. "Sort of."

One eyebrow climbs my forehead at that. "Sort of? How do you 'sort of' create a VR?"

"Well, I put the parameters into the stasis chamber's memory banks. The rest was up to you."

So he’s saying that it was my idea to wake up naked in a really nice bed in Atlantis? "Except for your appearance," I point out.

He nods. "I put pictures of myself at different ages from eighteen to when we met. This is the 'default' appearance." Well, that’s oddly a relief, because I don’t know what the hell I’d have done if I’d woken up to an eight-year-old supergenius barging into my room.

I squash that thought down and go back to learning my options. "Can I just think of you at any age and your appearance will change?"

He nods his head to the side. "More or less, yes."

I just blink at him, at a loss for words. Then a thought hits me. "Why did you do this?" Why, indeed, had Rodney McKay programmed something like this? I would love to consider the possibilities of why I’m naked in this lovely bed while a nubile young Rodney offers me wine, but again, no pants, so I slouch casually and wait for an answer that hopefully won’t make me drop a pillow on my lap.

He gives me a familiar smug scoff. "Do you have any idea what kind of VR the Ancients put in these things?" He seems offended by the very fact that it exists. "Talk about boring."

"So the way the room's decorated?" I wonder, indicating the gauzy thin drapes and the pillows everywhere, like I woke up in an Ancient’s idea of a harem.

"Is all you." He smirks at me.

Oh, no. My subconscious programmed my bedroom to look like a courtesan’s quarters, and now Rodney knows about it. I do my best to derail that train of thought and stick to business. "And you're here because…?"

His next words make me freeze: "I'm here to give you whatever you want. Or more importantly, what I know you need."

No. He can’t… He can't possibly know that, can he? I shake my head at myself. Of course he doesn't. No one does. I never even told Kate, and I told her things I'd never told another living soul. There’s no way he can know.

"So. Wine?" He brings me back to his presence at my bedside, holding out the goblet like I’m not sitting there wondering what it’s going to do to my best friend to know that I, Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, actually have a pretty damn good reason why I’d picture myself as a harem-boy.

Yeah, alcohol sounds wonderful. Once again when I reach for the goblet he pulls it away. That does it; the last few minutes have been more than a little stressful with the knowledge of what Rodney did with the stasis chamber and what I did with my own chamber, and whatever smug game he’s playing suddenly becomes downright annoying. "Damnit, McKay!" I explode. "I'm fucking thirsty."

"Then drink." Just like that. He doesn’t frown, doesn’t growl back at me, just… remains so perfectly calm, like he’s humoring a small child. ‘Drink.’ Such a simple command and yet I have no idea how to obey it. A snicker has me lifting my gaze to meet his amused one. "Think about it Colonel 'I coulda been in Mensa'," he taunts. Oh, great. Give it a rest, would you? I want to groan. I have regretted telling him I passed the Mensa test every day since I let it slip.

Heaving a sigh, I contemplate the situation, and after several seconds it hits me. He wants me to trust him enough to drink while he holds the goblet. Leaning forward, my eyes locked with his, I place my lips on the rim. I see him swallow and wonder how I look to him right now. Slowly he tilts the goblet until some of the liquid, a very fine wine indeed, slips past my lips. I take a sip and lean back to signal I've had enough for now.

Rodney cocks his head. "That's all? Just one tiny sip? Surely you're thirstier than that. It was extremely hot outside when you went out there."

I’ve stopped thinking about how weird this all is. I’m used to weird, after all. "Have you ever tried drinking from a glass someone else was holding? It's damned awkward."

Rodney’s mouth does something that makes me freeze, again, just short of licking my lips, a sort of darkly lecherous grin that again makes me wish, for the love of God, for pants. His voice doesn’t help either, dropping into something that strikes me as offhandedly sultry. "Well, there is another way, but I figured it was too early for that."

The weird doesn’t leave me alone for very long. His attitude and demeanor are completely confusing me, and I need to know exactly what the hell is going on. "What do you mean, Rodney?"

His young face gives me an all-too-familiar 'Why are you questioning the genius?' frown. "C'mon, John. We both know just what it is you need from me but are too afraid to ask for out there," he tells me, waving one hand in a vague circle. "Or rather, what you can't ask for because of DADT."

My brows lower over my nose and my eyes narrow on his face. It was one thing for him to hint at it, but to just barge right into it like this makes me instantly defensive. "Just what is it you think I need from you?" I demand. Hell if I'll just roll over and spill my deepest, darkest secret to him without first knowing for sure what he’s getting at. I mean, I know what he’s getting at, but… it can’t be true. No. I’m not like that.

Rodney is so totally calm and in control that I can’t help but listen to him. "You need someone to make you let go. To make you give up control if just for a little while. Let me be that someone. In here, DADT doesn't exist."

Oh, this is so not happening. "What a pretty speech, but what about the 'real' Rodney McKay?"

Rodney sighs and slouches a bit while absently twirling the wineglass between his fingers. His new position brings Rodney’s beautiful young shirtless body back to my attention and I’m having a hell of a time ignoring that and concentrating on keeping my defenses up while I listen to his explanation. "While I admit he set this program, there's no way for anyone outside of here, and most certainly not back in the 'present', to know about this. If you take advantage of this offer you'll be perfectly safe from any and all consequences. Of course that means you'll have to decide if you can live with the knowledge of this whenever you see him."

Oh, great. So I won’t be left wondering about the deeper parts of my subconscious anymore. I’ll just have to live the rest of my life in a state of constant denial. "If I say no?"

"You can create whatever kind of world you want. My program will adapt. When you woke up and chose this one I felt sure you'd already decided you were ready to let go and let me catch you."

I didn’t choose anything, at least not consciously, but after having lived this long in the line of fire I’ve learned to trust my instincts. After several minutes of silent debate, I decide that if he’s not right, at least I’ll finally have the answer and I’ll be able to stop wondering about it. I have been trying to find a way around DADT to get what I need from Rodney, and I can’t honestly think of how I’d ever get a safer opportunity. Or – sparing the quickest of glances at Rodney’s youthful torso – a more appealing opportunity. And hey, I’ve been under a lot of stress lately. I could use a vacation.

So, it's settled. Sort of. I do my best to ignore the part of me that’s screaming indignantly about how wrong this is and I look up. "How does this work, Rodney?" I ask in a small voice.

If he’s pleased by the response, he doesn’t give much of an indication. It’s like he was just waiting for me to catch up to him. "Well, first you need rest. So today I'll just take care of you."

Well, that’s a start. I nod at the drink in his hand. "And that includes holding the goblet while I drink?"

"Among other things. Once you're comfortable with that, we'll move on to the next step."

"And just what is the next step?"

"Don't worry about that right now." Oh, like that’s going to reassure me. He sets the goblet back on the tray and then shifts until he's sitting next to me on the bed, leaning back against the headboard with the tray of fruit and cheese on the other side of him. Oh yeah, this has to be a dream. Two men and a fruit platter couldn’t possibly fit on the glorified bunks that the Ancients called beds even if we were all piled on top of each other. Compared to the real Atlantis, this bed looks like it’s big enough for a small orgy. "Hungry?" he asks calmly, despite somehow knowing I am.

Maybe the program lets him know automatically when I’m hungry, and that’s a little irritating, too. "McKay…" I warn, just as my stomach reminds me I haven't eaten in some time.

Rodney just gives me something like a chipper grin. "It's Rodney. For now at least," he scolds, reaching for a cracker and piece of cheese.

I can feel the tightness in my shoulders ease a bit at the hard note that creeps into his tone. Can he actually give me exactly what it is I need? Can he dominate me so completely I lose myself in him? Forget where I end and he begins? Considering how long I’ve pretended that I’ve never once entertained thoughts like this, I feel a strange thrill at what’s being offered here.

He holds the cracker and cheese out to me, and after a brief hesitation I lean forward and open my mouth. Instead of putting the cracker in my mouth he raises one eyebrow, silently demanding I close those scant few inches. The smile I get when I lean in and close my lips around his fingers has a different kind of tightness unfurling low in my belly. This is a smile I haven't seen since he found the Arcturus Weapon.

"Such a good boy," he praises, reaching for the tray again and holding out a piece of apple.

I munch on it diligently until something else occurs to me. "I have a question," I say around my mouthful. "Where'd this fresh fruit come from?" I swallow after my burning curiosity has been taken care of. Bad habits, I know, but at least he doesn’t call me on it.

"Same place I did, John," he replies. Oh, that's helpful. "It's all part of the program Rodney McKay wrote."

So if Rodney wrote a stasis VR for me, then I can’t help but wonder, "Is Carson experiencing the same things?"

"No, there wasn't any time to write a program for Carson."

"If there had been?" I’m not sure if I like the idea of Carson getting the Jailbait Rodney treatment.

The corner of his mouth dips the slightest bit. "No more questions," he orders briskly in that too-familiar Rodney McKay ‘I don’t feel like explaining it to you’ manner, and he stands up and I see that the plate is empty.

A frown mars my forehead, and I can't help but ask, "When'd we finish the food?"

"Not we, John. Just you. Hologram, remember?"

"But…" I start, but he holds up a hand.

"Sleep now. When you wake we'll begin the next part." He fixes me with another look I know all too well. Despite Rodney’s young face, there is no mistaking the look of his stubborn streak rearing its head.

I still want to know, though. "I don't…"

"I said sleep," he says flatly, and it’s as if my brain is conditioned to take orders from him because right then I yawn so wide my jaw cracks and my eyelids get heavy.

Unfortunately, it’s not the first time I’ve had this feeling. "You drugged the wine, didn't you?" I slur.

His answer surprises me. "Didn't need to. You need sleep, so sleep." He picks up the tray and turns to walk out.

"Rodney?"

"Yes, John?" He doesn't even look back at me.

Suddenly I’m exhausted and I can’t really find the urge to think, but I just can’t let it end like this. "You'll be here when I wake up?" I murmur, fighting the urge to let sleep pull me under.

"Yes, John."

"Good." Another yawn and then total blackness as sleep overtakes me.

When next I wake the moons have risen, and my bladder is demanding attention. Naturally I do what any normal man would do: I slip from the bed and make my naked way to the bathroom. With my more pressing issues taken care of, I return to the main room to find Rodney scowling at me from where he's standing in the middle of the room, his feet braced shoulder width apart, and his arms crossed over his chest. His stance brings his appearance to my attention, again, and this time I take a longer look. While I'm completely naked he's wearing a pair of sleep pants that are still in grave danger of falling off his hips, and nothing else. Even his feet are bare.

"Problems?" The rebellious part of me that always has me disobeying orders I disagree with raises its ugly head.

"You are not allowed to leave this room without my permission."

Since when? I wonder. "So I can't take a piss or shit unless you say so?"

"Pretty much."

I unconsciously mimic him and cross my own arms. "I'm an adult, Rodney. I've been potty trained since I was three." I just barely refrain from snarling at him.

He gives his head a little shake. "That is not what this is about."

"Then what is this about?"

"It's about you letting go and allowing me to take care of you."

"You're not my McKay," I blurt, and then I go silent as I feel what could only be a flush staining my cheeks.

His tone is still flat and irritated. "No, I'm not, but can you afford to ask him to do this? Are you willing to risk your career? In here you can get the release you need and go back to him, and Atlantis, a more relaxed commander, which will make you a better leader in the long run."

"You truly believe that?"

"Yes, and so do you if you stop and think about it. How long have you been wondering about this? How long have you thought that this would ease the tension in your shoulders? Allow you to actually sleep at night? Give you a clearer head with which to make life and death decisions?"

While he has a very valid point I can't quite bring myself to just give in completely despite wanting it with every fiber of my being. "How would you know?" I challenge, mentally wincing at the petulant tone.

Of all the reactions I'm expecting, the snort I get is not even in the top five. "I may be oblivious to someone flirting with me, Colonel, but I can spot a submissive personality a mile away."

A… what? Okay, I might entertain occasional thoughts of letting somebody else be in charge, but to just come out and say it like that… "How?"

"I had a boyfriend in college who admitted that he had control issues. We went to a counselor who suggested we see a dominatrix. She gave us a test that showed I'm a Dom and taught me how to spot a sub.” He pauses, studies my face, and decides to give me a little more. "I have found over the years that people with high stress jobs tend to be submissives. You, Elizabeth, O'Neill, just to name a few."

I didn’t see that one coming. "Elizabeth?"

"Yeah. Not with me, though. She's not my type."

"And O'Neill is?" I just can’t see it.

The look that smartass comment earns me has me going weak in the knees. It’s like he’s picturing what I’d look like on my knees.

"By the time I met O'Neill Daniel had already claimed him."

No, I’m definitely not seeing it. I just can’t picture the legendary General Jack O’Neill on his knees for a guy with glasses, not even the SGC’s favored pet archaeologist. "If he hadn't?" I know I'm just delaying the inevitable but I can't seem to help it. The word 'Dominatrix' just conjures up images that scare the beejesus outta me.

Instead of answering my question, Rodney approaches me with a confident swagger I never thought I'd see on him. The image is so appealing that I just stand there and admire him closing the distance. "I know what you are doing," he purrs in my ear, so far into my personal space I can feel the heat from his body. How is that possible? He's a hologram.

My body doesn't seem to know or care that he's not 'real', and my stomach clenches in anticipation at the heated look in his eyes. Swallowing thickly I try to take a step back only to find myself unable to move.

"Rodney," I beg in a soft voice.

"I'm not keeping you here, John. How many times do I have to tell you that this is all you?" His voice has changed. It's deeper, rougher more confident. Is that my doing too? "Everything," he murmurs against my temple, letting me know that this Rodney can read my mind because he's basically…well…me.

My eyes flutter closed, and an unintentional whimper of need escapes at the feel of his lips on the skin of my neck. "Please, John," he whispers, his breath warm against my flesh. "Let me take care of you."

A tremor starts at my feet and races up my spine at the needy note in his otherwise commanding voice.

Something in me shifts, and I find myself nodding and replying "Okay, Rodney. I'll let you take care of me." This is obviously the right response because Rodney lets out a moan that has the blood rushing to my cock. It doesn’t help when my brain decides to be helpful and gives me an image of this beautiful young Rodney naked and in bed with me and laying there while I do other things to make him moan.

"We'll start slow," he tells me, turning and walking away. "John," he commands when he notices I'm not following.

"I…" I falter, fumbling with the words. "I've…never…" Licking my lips I shift my weight from foot to foot. I can’t seem to express the fact that I really don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing right now.

Apparently he realizes that. "It's alright, John," he soothes, holding out one hand fully expecting me to take it. "I said we'll go slow."

"How slow?" I insist, though I do take his hand to show him that I’m listening and I’m not just being rebellious. If it wasn’t for his young face I would swear that there is no way this is a hologram. His hand is warm and solid, and gives mine a little reassuring squeeze as though to prove it.

"As slow you need me to. Even if we've already moved on to the sex, if you need me to back off, I will."

Good to know. "How will you know I need you to slow down?"

"We can discuss that later. For now," he steps closer, "trust me."

"What do you have in mind?"

"John!" His frustration at my continuing hesitation is palpable. "Stop asking questions."

I swallow as his eyes take on a glint I've only ever seen on the field of battle. It doesn’t take a man of Rodney’s intelligence or even my own to realize that I’m in deep shit if I don’t cooperate. I take a breath.

"One final question: where do you want me?"

He grins at that and drops my hand to point off to my left. Turning to look in that direction I see a massage table. Oh, God! I have to endure his hands on me before I learn how to control my reaction to his presence?

"Hop up," he instructs, patting the padded top of the table. "I swear you will enjoy this."

I'm sure I will too, or rather would, if I wasn't getting harder by the second.

"Do not make me tell you again, John." His continued use of my first name should be a clue but I have no idea what he's trying to tell me.

Steeling my nerves I climb up on the table and discover the top is the same Egyptian cotton as the bed sheets. He surprises me by covering me from shoulders to toes with a sheet. It’s a surprisingly touching gesture, that he’s trying to ease my nerves like this.

"Just relax," he murmurs, starting to rub tiny soothing circles on my back. "Shall we have some music?" he asks just before something classical and calming starts to play softly in the background.

Soon the pressure of his hands begins to increase. Just when I think I'll be able to get through this because he's not touching my skin, he folds the sheet down to reveal my back. His touch is just impersonal enough that I don't have a reaction. That's not to say I don't have any reaction, just not a physical one.

When his fingers find a particularly stubborn knot I can't help the grunt that escapes.

"Am I hurting you?" he asks, easing up just a little.

"Not at all. Feels nice actually." Better than nice, if I'm honest with myself, at least. If this wasn’t so arousing, I’d swear I was about to melt and start dripping off the table.

He goes back to trying to get the knot to submit, drawing a few more grunts and groans from me.

"This one's stubborn," he mutters, putting more muscle into it. Finally he seems satisfied that he's loosened it enough and moves to another area. By the time he's moved on to my legs, I'm mostly asleep. Until he starts on my feet, that is.

"Ticklish?" he queries when I jerk my foot from his grasp.

"Very."

"Too bad," he informs me, picking up my foot again.

"McKay…" I growl.

"It’s Rodney," he snaps, slapping me hard on the ass. I yelp in surprise and glare at him over my shoulder. "I already told you. This is going to happen. Let it."

Sighing deeply, I lie back down. "I can't," I mumble to the floor.

"Sure you can."

"You don't understand."

"Oh, but I do, John. You don't think you'll be able to look him in the eye when you get out of here."

Say one thing about Rodney: when he knows something, he isn’t ever shy about beating me over the head with the fact that he knows. "Not if what you want to happen, happens," I confirm, my voice getting softer. Somehow I don't think this is the time for this conversation.

"We can discuss that later. Right now all I want is for you to relax enough to get some much needed rest." He falls silent as he continues to massage my back and legs. "Turn over." He startles me by holding up the sheet so that it's hanging between us. As if he hasn't already seen all of me, I think as I do as instructed.

As soon as I'm on my back he lays the sheet back down so that it once again covers me from shoulders to toes. This time he starts at my feet working his way up to my hips. He then moves to stand at my head, removing the pillow thing I had rested my head on while on my stomach. He runs his hands up and down my chest through the sheet before sliding them under my shoulders and rubbing up into my hair. When I try to help by holding up my head he just gives a mini growl until I let him support my head and shoulders.

He gives a little put upon sigh. "What part of 'relax and let me take care of you' don't you seem to get?"

"Sorry, Rodney. Not used to letting someone else do these things."

"It'll get easier if you just let go."

"I realize that."

"But?" he prompts when I falter to a stop.

"No but," I insist drowsily. "You have very talented hands," I murmur as sleep once again hovers.

"Of course I do," he agrees smugly.

His remark has me throwing off sleep just long enough to look up at him and frown. "Why?"

"Because it's what you need. Now sleep, John," he commands and just like before, my body obeys without question.

The sun is just starting to peek over the horizon when I wake up sometime later. Remembering how Rodney reacted to my going to the bathroom on my own, I just lie there on the bed trying to ignore my full bladder and wonder how I ended up in bed when I fell asleep on the massage table.

Just when I think Rodney's decided to punish me by making me wait until I piss myself, he appears wearing the same sleep pants as before and looking even better, if that's possible.

"Good boy, John," he praises, stopping at the foot of the bed. "You may visit the facilities, now."

Terrified he'll change his mind, I roll from the bed and all but run to the bathroom.

Bladder once again empty, I return to the main room to find him sitting, or rather reclining, on a pile of pillows next to a low table covered with more fruit and cheese and some kind of meat-like thing. Oh great… The Ancient equivalent of SPAM.

"Come," he commands, patting a pillow to his left. "Sit and eat."

Slowly I make my way to his side wondering if he plans to hand-feed me again and hoping he doesn't. Being naked as I am I can't hide my reaction to the sensuality of the act.

"Um, Rodney," I begin. "I was…well…" I falter and rub one hand on the back of my neck. "I was wondering if I could either have some pants or maybe feed myself?"

He looks at me for what feels like eternity before saying 'no' in a flat monotone kind of voice that tells me there is no room for negotiation here.

"Why?" I can't keep from asking, crossing my arms over my chest and shifting all my weight to one foot.

"You don't need to know that."

"But…" I continue to argue.

"You. Do. Not. Need. To. Know. That," he talks over me stressing each word like he does with the stupidest of the scientists under his command.

The look in his eyes has me swallowing and trying once more to grab the reins. "Rod…"

"I could always move this to the final step," he once again interrupts me.

The warning in his voice has the desired effect this time, and I flop down onto the pillow next to him still as naked as the day I was born.

Rodney keeps me distracted with talk of things that interest me the most; planes, ferris wheels, helicopters, surfing and Johnny Cash. With each bite he moves his hand closer to his mouth, without me being aware, until the next bite comes from between his teeth. Without even thinking, I lean forward and take the piece of pear, our lips brushing slightly. A low moan breaks the spell he's had me under. Sitting back, I touch my fingertips to my lips amazed that they're tingling.

"Um…" My brain seems to have short circuited from the touch of his lips against mine.

"Still hungry? Or perhaps you'd like something to drink?"

"Do…do…" I stop to clear my throat. "Do I have to take that drink from your mouth?"

"Not yet. You're not ready for that."

My brows lower over my nose in confused anger. "I'm not ready to drink from your lips but I can take food from them?"

"Easy, John," he soothes. "All will become clear soon enough."

"Cryptic much, Rodney?" I snark earning myself a raised eyebrow. Barely refraining from rolling my eyes I let it go. "Fine. May I have something to drink?"

He holds the goblet out to me like before, and this time I take more than a simple sip.

"Now that that need is taken care of," he says once the goblet and plate are empty, "let's take care of another."

"Now wait just one goddamn minute!" I growl. There is no way in fucking hell I'm gonna let him assist with that!

"John!" he snaps, his tone reminding me of one of my Drill Sergeants from boot camp. She was five feet of pure command. Not a single man defied her after the first week, but then most recruits had to test the leash a little at first. By the end of basic all the recruits jumped to when we saw her coming, and if she gave any kind of order we all obeyed without question or hesitation. Hell, even some of the officers jumped when she said to. Looking in Rodney's eyes something in me shifts, and I decide to see just how far he's willing to go with this. But I'll be damned if I'll just let him hold my dick while I take a piss.

"Sorry, Rodney, but I just can't let you assist with that."

Rodney's brows come together over his nose in confusion before his face breaks into a wide grin, and he laughs so hard tears run down his cheeks. "I wasn't talking about that," he gasps, his laughs tapering off to chuckles. "I meant a shower."

A shower I can do, I think relief flooding me. "A shower sounds nice." A sigh escapes when he gets to his feet with a grace my Rodney doesn't possess before reaching down and pulling me effortlessly to my feet.

Following him into the bathroom I allow my mind to wander to the wonderful shower I'm about to have. I'm so lost in the daydream of a heavenly steam shower that I totally miss him stripping and stepping into the stall with me. Until I feel his body heat at my back, that is.

"What the fuck, McKay?" I demand, jumping back as cautiously as I can given the slippery wet floor of the shower.

"Did you really think I'd let you shower alone?" he questions, one raised brow telling me he's ignoring the 'McKay' versus 'Rodney'. For now.

"Do you wash your hair or your body first?"

"Hair."

Rodney smirks at me. "Kneel."

When I balk, he just rolls his eyes. "I can't reach your head with both of us standing."

Duh! I mentally slap my forehead and do as instructed. It's not as if he demanded I blow him.

As soon as I'm on my knees the water comes on, and he begins to massage my scalp.

Sitting there on my knees, Rodney's groin in my face, I do something I've never thought of doing before; I open my mouth and lean forward just enough that when he shifts closer to scrub at the back of my head the tip of his cock slips between my lips. I close them and begin to suck gently. Just as I'm getting lost in the taste and feel of him in my mouth, pain explodes against the left side of my head knocking me over onto my right side.

I blink up at him, confused as to what just happened. Luckily he doesn't leave me guessing. "I never said you could touch me," he snarls, his face distorted in anger.

"Sorry, Rodney," I stutter. I can’t believe he actually hit me. And since when can he punch like that?

"Never say sorry. It shows weakness."

I dip my head in acknowledgement and start over. "Forgive me, Rodney. I just thought…"

Again he talks over me. "And that's your problem. You're still thinking. This is about letting go, John. Stop thinking, and let me take care of you."

"Will this include sex?" The question is out before I can even stop it. "'Cause I'm not sure I can do that."

"Do not concern yourself with that, John. If I want to fuck that sweet ass of yours then I will, and trust me when I say that by then you will be all but begging me to do so."

His words have me swallowing hard. While I have my doubts about his prediction, I wisely choose to keep them to myself, this time.

"Turn so I can rinse your hair."

I crawl forward until the warm water is beating gently down on my head. Crossing my feet under me I settle in with my head bowed and my shoulders slumped as I realize that Rodney lied. I can't change the scenery.

Time loses all meaning after that. I have no idea if I've been here mere weeks or if months have passed. Rodney keeps to his 'seduction' schedule, one that only he knows. Every time I ask how much longer we're going to be in what I call the 'taming phase' I get a cryptic answer, when he deigns to answer at all that is. Most times he just ignores the question by changing the subject and moving further into my personal space.

Eventually boredom rears its ugly little head, and I begin breaking what up until now have been rather simple to follow rules.

The rebellion starts small; calling him 'McKay', running my fingers through his hair when he's bathing or drying me. But soon it moves on to The Big Ones; not obeying any command and ignoring him when he speaks to me.

The punishments for the small infractions fit the crime; standing on my knees in the corner, being ignored for one trip of the sun across the sky (can't really call it a day because as far as I know time is passing much more quickly than that). The last punishment is more cruel, and he only uses it when I've pushed him too far because it denies me not only Rodney's company but food and drink and leaves me with the conundrum of either breaking another rule or pissing myself.

The punishment for The Big Ones is not what I think of as punishment. Well, not after the first dozen or so times I do it, that is. At first he would just turn and walk away only to return once I start screaming down the rafters for food or drink or to answer nature's call both of which usually happen after a couple of trips of the sun across the sky.

But the day that changed everything started out wrong. I woke to find him sitting in a chair at the foot of my bed just watching me. But before I can build up a decent head of anger he vanishes. Did I just imagine him there? I wonder getting out of bed to do the few exercises I feel comfortable doing while naked.

Rodney enters just as I'm finishing my last wall press, as usual, carrying a tray that holds exactly what it's held every day since I woke up in here.

"Surely you can 'conjure' some different food and drink, McKay," I snap, breaking several rules at once; talking before greeting him, calling him 'McKay' and knocking the tray from his hands. "I'm sick to death of fruit and cheese and sweet meats and wine! I want a burger cooked medium well, some seasoned fries and a fucking beer!" I realize I'm throwing a temper tantrum that would put most toddlers to shame but I can't seem to find the energy to care. Seven hundred years is a long time even if time is so fluid I don't know how long I've been here.

The change in him is instant; his face hardens, his eyes narrow, the left side of his mouth dips more than I've ever seen it, and his voice when he speaks has me quaking in my boots (if I'd've been wearing boots, that is) and has me fighting the urge to drop to my knees to kiss his feet and beg his forgiveness.

"You will pick all that up. Now." His tone leaves no room for argument. "With your teeth," he orders when I stoop to begin picking up the spilled fruit.

A quick peek at his face tells me he's not joking. He actually expects me to clean the mess without using my hands.

First things first, I think and start to stand to walk to where the plate and cup rolled away.

A hand to my shoulder has me wincing and sinking back to my knees. "Crawl." Is snarled in my ear. Easier said than done. I look at the mess on the floor and begin to plot my course through the spilled food.

Carefully I make my way gingerly to the other side of the room, making sure to not 'step' on any of the food. Once I reach the plate I have a moment where I have no idea what to do next. The lip of the plate is flush with the floor and as such there's no room for me to slip my teeth under it in order to flip it over. Then inspiration strikes and I place one knee on the very edge which has the desired effect of tilting the plate just enough for me to grasp the edge with my teeth. I carry the plate back to where Rodney's still standing and set it down on the tray which luckily landed right side up. I then turn and pick up the cup being very careful to avoid the spilled wine. Oh, God! The wine! I look over my shoulder hoping that what I think happened didn't. No such luck. Rodney's front is splattered in wine and some fruit ended up in his hair.

I want to beg his forgiveness but decide to wait until I've completed my task first. After returning the cup to the tray, I begin picking up the food. Eventually I'm done, and despite my aching knees and back, I push the tray aside with my nose so I can rest my forehead on one of Rodney's feet.

"Please forgive me, Rodney," I plead my voice thick with unshed tears.

"You are not finished cleaning up from your temper tantrum, John." His voice is, thankfully, not as hard edged as before which has me thinking my apology worked, somewhat at least.

I bite back a groan when I see how much spilled wine there is but I obediently turn and begin lapping it up. A moan has me looking over my shoulder at where Rodney had been standing watching me. He's turned his back and his fists are clenched at his sides, his head lowered, back ram-rod straight, breathing ragged. So he's not as unaffected as I thought. Good to know. I smirk before quickly finishing with the wine.

"I'm done, Rodney," I call, sitting back on my heels, drawing one hand across my lips to catch any loose drops of wine.

"Actually, no, you are not but I doubt I can handle you cleaning me," he responds his voice strained.

"So…?" I begin to ask but he interrupts me with 'just give me a minute' before vanishing and then reappearing as clean as when he first entered my 'prison'.

"Now. It has become painfully obvious that you need something with which to occupy your time."

"Ya think?" I can't help but snark back, earning myself a stern smile reminiscent of the ones my mother would give whenever she caught me doing something wrong but cute.

"How about some exercising?" he suggests.

"I already do some simple calisthenics due to being naked, Rodney."

"I was thinking of a treadmill. You need to burn off all that childish energy."

"I am not jogging with my junk hanging free like this."

"Then put on some clothes," Rodney says, rolling his eyes as if to say 'Duh!'

"So now it's okay for me to be clothed?"

My question doesn't even get an answer, just a raised brow that tells me he feels he doesn't owe me an explanation.

I wrinkle my forehead in concentration and suddenly find myself wearing a jock strap and a pair of jogging shorts similar to the current PT uniform.

"Now, the treadmill," he tells me as if it's that easy.

Squeezing my eyes shut I bite my lower lip just like I do when I tee off. Cracking one eye open I see a state of the art treadmill in the middle of the room and then notice that the room has changed too. This room is light and airy with plantation windows open to let in the light and sea air and showing a gorgeous unobstructed view of the ocean in three directions.

Rolling to my feet I approach the treadmill, reaching out with one hand to hesitantly touch it with my fingertips as if afraid it'll disappear if I touch too much. "Did I do this?" I ask, hoping I don't sound too much like Steve Urkel, and waving my hand around to encompass the whole room.

"Of course."

"But Atlantis doesn't have a room like this. Does she?"

"No, but that doesn't matter here, John. The rules of the 'real' word don't apply here."

"So you keep saying, Rodney," I sigh, climbing onto the belt of the treadmill and inspecting the control panel.

"And so I'll keep saying until you believe it."

I flick a sideways glance at where he's made himself comfortable before deciding to start slow. Since I'm not positive about how long I've been in here I'm not sure what my stamina is going to be like.

I put the program to start at a slow walk and steadily increase to a jog then realize I forgot shoes. 'Creating' the room and treadmill must have 'turned on' my ability to change things because no sooner do I think 'I need running shoes' than there's a pair just like the ones I wear in the 'real' world on my feet. A tiny smirk surfaces as I begin my workout while trying my damnedest to ignore the man sprawled lord-of-the-manor style on a chaise watching me.

"I need music, Rodney," I call, picking up my pace until I'm trotting.

"So turn some on, John," he drawls.

I turn my head to look at him and instantly regret it. His sprawl is almost indecent, and one that I've never been able to pull off; his pants are drawn tight across his groin, outlining his growing erection perfectly. Oh, God! He's getting off on this! The thought has me missing a step and only my quick reflexes keep me from smacking my face into the support bar.

"Watch what you're doing there, Sheppard," he chuckles, his use of my last name raising my hackles. I had no idea how much I hate the way he says 'Sheppard' until he stopped calling me that.

Swallowing down a retort that'll most likely get me punished further, I turn my attention back to the view of the ocean before me and concentrate on keeping my pace even.

But wouldn't you rather gaze at Rodney than the empty expanse of the ocean? a little voice, one I've never heard before, asks. He's much more pleasing to the eye, no?

"Shut up," I mutter under my breath, increasing my pace until I'm jogging and reach up to increase the incline to forty-five degrees.

You know you can't wait to have his hands on you again, that voice taunts even more.

I just ignore it and lower my head to concentrate on my pace even more and 'turn on' my favorite Johnny Cash album.

C'mon. Fake a cramp or something. You know he'll jump at the chance to get his hands on you again.

Continuing to ignore it, I refuse to even acknowledge what it's saying, I turn the volume up hoping to drown it out.

Once I've got a good sweat going, Rodney calls a halt. "That's enough for today, John."

Without hesitation, I begin slowing my pace. Then the worst happens; a Charlie horse catches me unawares. I trip and slam my forehead into my hand which I just barely managed to raise in time to avoid connecting with the support bar. Unlike when I missed a step before I can't quite find my stride and balance again. Of course the fact that I have one hand wrapped around the offending muscle and have to use the other for support may have something to do with it.

"Fuck!" I scream, trying to find my balance again so I can let go of the support bar and slap the stop button.

"Damnit, John!" Rodney yells, suddenly appearing at my side.

He slaps the stop button and I slide unceremoniously to the floor, panting hard, gritting my teeth while clutching my right thigh in both hands.

"Fuck that hurts!"

"You should have taken it slower," Rodney informs me, helping me to my feet.

"I went as slow as I could stand, Rodney," I reply, letting him help me hop back to my 'prison'. "Massage it for me?" I request, the massage table appearing right in front of us.

The chuckle this causes tells me he knows I faked the cramp but he helps me up onto the table anyway and says, 'As you wish' before removing my shoes and shorts.

Not that long ago I would never have asked for a massage from him, and I would have fought his removal of my shorts. But my time here has begun to work its magic. I've come to realize I can have anything I want (not that that means I'm gonna stop fighting him though), except for my favorite foods, apparently, as a plate of protein snacks appears before me complete with a sports drink. A sigh of resigned frustration escapes but I obediently pop a piece of Power Bar in my mouth before settling my face in the 'pillow' and stretching my arms along my sides like Rodney likes.

This massage is different from all the others. For one thing, I asked for it, and for another he doesn't cover my bare ass with the sheet.

He starts at my feet and by-passes the muscle with the 'cramp' to continue up over my ass to my back. Once he's massaged everywhere else he moves around the table so he can have proper leverage to massage out the 'cramp'. He uses more force than necessary, and I do my best to hide my wince at how hard he's pressing.

"Wow, this one's really stubborn," he mutters, grunting a little as he leans even more into it.

I grit my teeth and make a noise of agreement.

Eventually he deems the 'cramp' gone, and his touch turns from clinical to… not so clinical. I don't really mind until his fingers brush against my balls before traveling up my crack so he can rub his middle finger against my hole.

"What the fuck?" I demand, twisting away from his touch and glaring at him over my shoulder.

The look he gives me has the bottom of my stomach dropping out. I swallow the lump in my throat that is my heart and stand my ground.

"I told you, John. Why must we go through this time and again?"

"Maybe because I'm in the military, and you can't just shove aside decades of repressing and denying overnight."

"Hardly overnight, John. You have been here almost twenty years now."

"Twenty years!?" I exclaim, sitting up to stare incredulously at him.

"Twenty years. Now, I think you can manage your shower on your own tonight. I'll see you later." And with that he vanishes, leaving me feeling strangely abandoned.

I continue sitting on the massage table for several minutes trying to wrap my head around just how fluid time has become. I thought I'd been here for several months at most. Maybe a full year but never did I think that twenty years had passed.

Eventually I get off the table and make my way to the bathroom. It feels strange to be bathing myself and being in the shower stall without Rodney. His presence tends to keep my mind from running in circles.

Once clean and dry, I test my new found powers and 'conjure' some sleep pants like Rodney's. But what appears on the foot of the bed is a pair of pants made from a gauzy material that resembles what harem girls would wear. Deciding it doesn't matter just so long as they cover what they need to cover, I slip them on. Once on I discover that they do indeed cover what needs to be covered. The material is bunched around the waist in such a way as to no longer be see-through without added thickness.

Tired of looking at the walls in this 'prison', I step out onto the balcony. The view proves something I already knew. The ocean is my favorite part of the planet I now call home because there is a perfect unobstructed panoramic view of the ocean.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" a familiar voice asks.

Turning to my right, I see another me smirking at me. He's dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with a vampire panda on the front.

I study my double. He doesn’t necessarily look evil or even slightly malevolent, so I give him a companionable nod. "Yeah. It's my favorite thing about Lantea."

"Liar," he calls my bluff.

My brows snap down over my nose in barely suppressed fury. "Excuse me?"

"You lie like a dog, Johnny-boy. Or a slut. But I guess since you are a slut, that's okay."

"What the fuck?"

He rolls his eyes and shifts to prop one hip on the railing. "Your favorite thing about Lantea is Rodney McKay. You've wanted that man since you looked up at him from that chair in the Ancient outpost on Earth."

He's right, of course. I have wanted Rodney from the very first. "But I can't. Military frowns on that, ya know."

"How many times do you have to be told? In here it's like Vegas; what happens in here, stays in here. No one will know."

"I'll know!" I exclaim. "That's the problem. I'll know. I'll have to look at him day in and day out knowing what I know. How can I live with that? I'll never be able to look my best friend in the eye again. Never be comfortable in his presence again."

"How can you not take this gift that he's giving you? He's allowing you to experience what you've wanted for years without fear of losing your job. Take it, John. Cherish it for what it is; a gift from the man who loves you. Bring it out when you need the reminder that you are loved. He risked his life for you. Turned his back on just about everyone, even Jeanie, to make this happen. Saying 'no' is comparable to rejecting him."

What he's saying makes sense, of course, but I just can't bring myself to accept what Rodney's offering. I've had to care for myself for far too long to just sit back and let someone else take care of me. That was one of the main reasons Nancy and I didn't work out.

"Despite all that, you know you want this. Want McKay. You fantasize about him throwing you to the ground and just taking what he wants. Forcing you to give yourself to him. Submit to him. Admit it, John. To yourself at least."

Before I can even form a reply I become aware of another presence in the room. A glance over my shoulder shows Rodney standing in the doorway to the balcony.

"That's taking talking to yourself to a whole new level, John," he quips, the first sign of the Rodney I know best since I've been in here. Oddly, he doesn’t seem bothered or aroused or even slightly surprised that there’s now two of me. How come my double’s allowed to wear real clothes?

And why don’t I mind what I’m wearing now? I chuckle a little 'cause, really, what does all this ultimately say about me? "Makes it easier to argue with myself, that's for sure."

"Just so long as it's not your evil twin, again," he says with a chuckle.

"Never."

I take one last look at the sun setting over the water, subconsciously notice that my double is gone, and then turn to follow Rodney back inside.

"You're wearing clothes," Rodney states the obvious when I brush past him.

If you want to call what I'm wearing clothes. "You never said I couldn't," I remind him.

"You're right; I never actually said no clothes, ever."

Something about his tone has me spinning on my heel to face him. "Are you saying it now?" My heart starts to pound. Please don't, I silently beg. While I don't mind being naked, I don't like being unclothed all the time, especially when the other person in room is clothed.

He leaves me waiting for his answer for several nerve wracking minutes while he walks to the pile of pillows. Kicking a few back into place, he says over his shoulder, "You may wear those pants whenever you are alone. But when I enter the room I expect them to be removed. Is that clear?" He finally glances at me.

I press my lips closed to keep the angry retort inside, won't do to be punished again and give a curt nod of acknowledgement.

He grins at me almost as if he knows what it took to not say anything to his decree. "Good. Did you enjoy your shower?" His question startles me.

"Huh?"

The grin widens as he steps into my personal space, so close I can see each and every eyelash. "You always act like I'm molesting you when I bathe you, so I want to know if you enjoyed bathing yourself."

I open my mouth to say I enjoyed it very much but something in his eyes has me saying "Not really, Rodney. I missed you." This is obviously the right thing to say as it causes his grin to soften into a genuine smile.

"What a sweet thing to say," he murmurs before wrapping one hand around the back of my head and pulling me in so he can capture my lips in a kiss.

God, I really don't ever see it coming, do I?

The kiss starts soft and passionless but soon turns to a lover's kiss. I don't even think before wrapping my hands around his waist and holding on as he sucks on my tongue before mapping each surface and counting each tooth.

Eventually he pulls back so we can both gulp lungfuls of air but since neither of us wants to really stop kissing we continue nibbling on each other’s lips. I'm surprised that I'm not startled by the feel of his erection poking me in the hip.

With a final sweep of his tongue in my mouth, he steps out of my arms. He shushes me when I whimper at the loss of contact. "Soon, John," he whispers against my forehead. "For now, rest, and when you wake we will take the next step." My eyes slide closed during his instructions, and when I open them, he's gone.

I crawl under the covers for once not worried about how my body instantly obeys his order to sleep.

We settle into a routine I can handle after that. Each morning I wake up alone and don my 'harem' pants to do some stretches and other warm up exercises, Rodney comes in carrying a tray that now has a variety of foods as well as different things to drink (water, juice and sports drinks mostly). He feeds me from his mouth, except for eggs, those he feeds me from a fork. The drinks are still given from the cup but I can tell he wants to have me drink from his lips. He then massages me, then I go for a run. It didn't take as much convincing as I thought it would to get him to allow me to run on the beach. Another massage, a shower, more food and sometimes a game of chess then he kisses my forehead, tells me to rest and vanishes. I sleep, then we do it all over again.

Everything's almost perfect until the day I wake feeling anxious and restless for no apparent reason. I've felt these feelings building over the past several 'days' but this morning they've intensified until it's all I can do to do a few simple stretches. Over the last however long since my temper tantrum, Rodney and I have come to an unspoken agreement. He has allowed me to go out onto the balcony without needing his permission. So after donning my pants I step out there to watch the sun rise. Soon I'm pacing the area like a caged tiger. I'm so restless I even entertain thoughts of going for a run on the beach. I quickly discard that notion, however, after remembering the last time I left my 'cell' without permission.

It happened what feels like just a week ago. I was feeling very edgy so I decided to jog on the treadmill. I know I should have put it on my balcony but I was in a bratty mood and so didn't. Rodney was so pissed he couldn't speak. For 'days', up until just yesterday as a matter of fact, every time I had to piss he was right there with me with one hand on my hip and the other on my back between my shoulder blades. Every so often he'd even kiss the nape of my neck. You'd think being in the military would have helped my bladder get over stage fight but you'd be wrong. I haven't had anyone actually watch me pee since I was potty trained.

"John?" Rodney calls from inside the room, pulling me from my thoughts. "What's got you so agitated?"

"Not sure."

"Wanna run on the beach?"

I actually think about his suggestion for a minute, then shake my head. For some reason I don't think a run will get rid of the feeling that my skin is too tight.

"Then what?" he asks, one brow raised.

"I don't know," I grumble before it hits me. Since I've been in here, which has probably been close to one hundred years already, I haven't masturbated or engaged in any sexual activity. This feeling is most likely pent up sexual frustration.

Something of my thoughts must have crossed my face because suddenly he's right there in my space, our bodies touching.

"I think it's time, John," he tells me softly.

Apparently he was waiting for just this moment to make his move. Waiting for me to be so distracted by sexual frustration I'd willingly and gladly take his offer.

"No dice, Rodney."

"John."

"I said no, damnit!"

He then does something that takes me by even more surprise than him kissing me the other day did. He grabs me and tosses me on the bed. Before I can react, he's on top of me and our clothes have mysteriously disappeared.

"You know you want this, John," he growls in my ear. "Stop fighting it; fighting me. Let go, John."

Instinct takes over, and I use his body weight to my advantage, wrapping my legs around his waist and flipping us over. I untangle myself from him and crawl to the edge of the bed but before I even get close his hand clamps down on one ankle, hauling me back up the bed and pinning me to the mattress with my hands held captive in one of his over my head. I never knew he was this strong. He begins rocking his hips against mine. I fight the feelings that his skin against mine evoke in me but I can't. I've been too long without for it not to feel good.

I cry out in surprise when he flips me over like I weigh nothing. The way I hit the bed drives the breath from my body. Before I can get it back I feel something demanding entrance and renew my efforts to get away.

Just as I feel the tip of his dick slipping past the guardian ring of muscle, I jerk awake. I sit straight up in bed, sweat dripping down my face, my breath coming in gasping pants. It takes me several seconds to realize that there is a growing wet spot over my groin area. God! I must really be hard up for it if a rape nightmare can make me come like a teenager.

I can't stay in here anymore, so I throw back the covers and get out of bed. Pulling on my jogging shorts I defy Rodney and head to the beach. I need to be 'outside', breathe 'fresher air'. I walk to the very edge of the water and sit where the waves can lap at my toes. Pulling my knees to my chest I wrap my arms around them and rest my chin on top.

What does all this say about me? Am I cracked? Or crazy? Or do I really need to just let Rodney take control?

Time seems to stop. I sit there on the beach for the longest time just staring at the water, my thoughts running in circles.

"John." Rodney's voice is the softest I've heard it yet. Almost like he's afraid I'll break if he speaks too loud.

Sighing deeply, I bury my head in my arms, doing my best to ignore the man standing behind me.

"John." His voice is closer which tells me he's crouching near my shoulder. I turn my face away, fighting to not cry. "John, it's okay."

"You raped me, Rodney," I tell him in a fierce whisper thick with tears.

"It was just a dream."

"I got off on it!" I snap, looking him in the eye for the first time.

He doesn’t look angry that I’m out here without permission. Instead he looks worried, gentle, like it’s all he can do to not wrap his arms around me and cradle me and ask me where it hurts. "It doesn't mean anything more than you want someone to take control, and that's what I'm here to do."

"I. Got. Off. On. Being. Raped!" I shout, jumping to my feet, my hands fisted at my sides.

"When was the last time you had sex of any kind?" he asks, getting slowing to his feet and facing me.

I actually have to stop and think. When was the last time? Then I remember. The 'princess' in the tower on that one world where people with the ATA gene were nobility. But can that really be called sex? Or rather was it even voluntary? For all I know she could have drugged my wine at dinner. She certainly seduced me.

"John?" Rodney's voice is heavy with suppressed laughter, almost like he knows what I'm thinking.

"It was …" I snap my fingers as I try to recall her name. "The 'princess' on that planet with the twin to Atlantis."

One of his eyebrows climbs his forehead. "That long ago? Really?"

"Well, the last time with another person."

Rodney chuckles. "I said when was the last time for any kind of sexual activity."

"Um…that…that was…" I falter to a stop and rub one hand on the back of my neck. Let’s see, last time I jerked off was… "A couple… of weeks… before that last mission with Lorne."

"Considering how long you've been in here that is a long time."

Great, now he's gonna make fun of me, I think, flopping back down to sit on the sand, once more hugging my knees to my chest.

Rodney sighs deeply and drops back down into a crouch near my shoulder. "C'mon, John. It's time we moved on to the next part."

A quick glance out of the corner of my eye shows him holding out one hand. "Is this where you fuck me, Rodney?" I ask, despite not really wanting to know the answer.

"Not quite yet. Come," he orders, standing up.

He sighs again when I continue to hesitate before once again lowering himself to be on eye level with me. "I'm gonna let you in on a secret that I'm not really supposed to tell you." He pauses and looks over his shoulder almost as if he's afraid someone will hear us. "McKay built in a failsafe."

When he doesn't continue I prompt with "a failsafe?"

"Yeah. One of the wall panels behind your bed. Place your hand on it and say, or think, something along the lines of 'I no longer wish to remember' and you will forget everything that happened before. Your memories will be replaced with the two of you playing chess on a balcony or something like that."

I open my mouth but I'm too stunned to think of anything to say. And then I realize I don't need to say anything. Rodney found a way around any objections I could possibly make. He's given me a way out if I decide I can't handle living with knowing what it'll feel like to have his dick up my ass or down my throat.

With a decisive nod, I place my hand in his, and instantly we're back in my room.

"Your training begins now, John," he tells me, taking a step back. "On your knees. And get rid of those shorts!"

His tone startles me into dropping to my knees without removing the shorts first. As soon as I remember them, though, they disappear.

"Good boy, John," he purrs, walking in a slow circle around me. "Now, spread your knees," he says when he's standing in front of me again. "I want to see your balls. Good," he again praises when I do as instructed. "I want your back as straight as when you are standing at attention. Chin up, eyes down. You are doing so good," he whispers into my ear causing a shiver to skate down my spine. "So good, in fact that I don't think I'll need to use a corset and posture collar to help you learn. I like how you have your hands palm down on your thighs near your hips. I expect you in this position when I arrive every morning.

"Now for the rules. First rule," he begins, dropping his voice to a deeper than normal register. It’s a lot rougher than any I've ever heard from him and has me swallowing thickly.

"You maintain eye contact unless told otherwise." I doubt this one will be a problem. I seem to be entranced by his eyes. How they seem to glow as he wraps the mantle of dominance around himself.

"Two, obey every command without hesitation and you will be rewarded; disobey or hesitate, and you will be punished. Three, my name is Master." These rules are simple to remember and easy to obey or rather they should be which, I’m sure, is why he’s using them. "Understood?" He waits for me to nod before continuing. "Four, your safe word is 'Earth'. Is that understood?" Again, he waits for my confirmation and I can see his pulse picking up speed in the hollow of his throat.

"You may be as vocal as you wish. I want to hear you, John. Do not hold back on anything. I want to know when you like what I'm doing. It is the only time you are allowed to speak without permission. I want you to tell me when you like something. Is this clear?" he whispers.

I can only nod, too stunned by recent events to even think of a response.

"Good. I took the liberty of supplying my own toy chest," he tells me, pointing over my shoulder. I turn to look and see a foot locker similar to the one I was issued during basic. "I figure you won't know most of the toys I'm gonna want to play with. Before we get started, you need to empty your bladder."

So now he knows my body better than I do? "Um, Master?" I hesitantly ask.

"Yes, John?"

"Uh... how do I, um... let you know? When I have something to say? Or ask?"

"Trust me when I say that I pay such close attention to you that I can tell when you need to ask a question. Now, come." He turns and walks to the bathroom.

At least he didn't pat his leg and tell me to heel, I think, turning and crawling after him.

"Very nice, John," he praises, running his fingers through my hair when I settle on my knees at his feet. I can't help but preen at the pride in his voice. "Up," he orders, snapping and pointing toward the ceiling with one finger.

I roll to my feet and get in position in front of the toilet. When I take myself in hand, he slaps it away and wraps his own around me. "Hands behind your head," he instructs.

"I…please don't," I beg in a small voice.

"You can do this, John. Just let go. It'll be okay. I will catch you." The tender note in his voice is my undoing, and I lace my fingers together on the back of my head earning myself an open mouthed kiss to the nape of my neck. The feel of his teeth has a full body shudder wracking my frame before I can stop it.

After several minutes of nothing happening, he places his free hand on my back between my shoulder blades and nuzzles behind my right ear. "You can do this, John. Just relax, and let me take care of you."

Finally I relax enough to pee but my whole body feels as if it's on fire the whole time. "There's no reason for you to be embarrassed, John," he murmurs in my ear before leading me back into the other room. I want to drop to my knees to crawl behind him but his hand on the small of my back prevents it.

"Kneel," he orders when we get to the middle of the room, and of course I obey without thought. "Now, we need to open you up." Do what? Open me up how? He sits down in a chair in front of me. "We'll start slow. Remember, if it gets to be too much just say your safeword and the scene will end."

I give one short nod of my head to show I understand and watch a wicked grin spread over his face. Why do I have the feeling I'm in deep shit?

He reaches into a bag lying on the table and pulls out a handful of…clothespins? I can't help but stiffen in alarm as I try to figure out what he plans to do with them. He notices my reaction and his grin widens into a smirk.

"Arms behind your back. Grab each elbow with your hands and don't move," he instructs before leaning over and pinching some of the skin on my right nut so he can clamp a clothespin on it. "Tell me about your childhood." He reaches into the bag for another clothespin.

Thank God I have a high tolerance for pain, I think, taking a deep breath while trying to figure out where to start. "I have one brother, Dave. We're eleven months apart."

"Who's older?"

"I am. I was born in January, he was born in December."

"So for a few weeks you're the same age."

I swallow when he starts placing clothespins on my dick. "Yeah. Luckily we weren't in the same grade. I doubt I could have handled that."

"Was he your father's favorite?"

"Probably. After Mom died, at least."

"How so?" His voice is so neutral it's scary.

"Well, Dad was grooming us both to take over when he retired but he spent more time with me until I was twelve. That's when Mom died." I have to stop to fight back the tears at the memories of my mother.

Rodney notices and stops putting clothespins on me. "Do we need to stop?"

I shake my head and take another deep breath before continuing. "After Mom died I started acting out. Dad ended up focusing more on Dave which just had me messing up even more. By the time I was a senior in high school I was given a choice; join the military or go to prison." I look up at him and see interest in his eyes which encourages me to finish my tale. "It's obvious which I chose. I signed up for ROTC at Stanford, yet another way to piss off my father. After college I went to basic, then flight school. One of my COs saw something in me he liked, and he recommended me for officer training school. And shortly after gaining my commission I was tapped for black ops."

Rodney has now begun to put clothespins on the skin of my abdomen. "Tell me about Nancy. Ronon said she was very pretty and quite nice."

Tightening my grip on my elbows I allow memories I had locked away for years to resurface. "Nancy and I met in college. It was most definitely not love at first sight. In fact I think we hated each other for close to a year. Unfortunately our best friends were dating and were always dragging us along whenever they went anywhere. I guess we just ended up tolerating each other until one night we played truth or dare. We were dared to kiss, and it just kinda snowballed from there.

"Within a month we were all but living together. Shortly after she met my father we got married. I'm still not sure if it was his idea or mine but regardless the marriage was a huge mistake. While the sex was phenomenal everything else was not even close. We were always arguing. Mostly about my having to go on secret missions."

I clear my throat of the tears clogging it then continue. "It was mostly my fault, our divorce. I couldn't give her what she needed from me. Nor could I accept what she was so very willing to give me in return.

"I didn't, and still don't, deserve to be loved by someone as good as Nancy." Again I have to stop but this time it's to fight off an impending panic attack. "Rodney!" I whimper, forgetting the rules as I strive to maintain my equilibrium.

I'm so focused on not letting him see my weakness that I don't even notice he's removed the clothespins and is kneeling in front of me until he wraps his arms around my shaking shoulders and urges me to just let go. I collapse forward and, burying my face in his lap, finally let go of all my emotions hoping that he was telling the truth and will indeed catch me.

I'm not sure how long we sit there, my arms around his waist and him bent over me, rubbing my back soothingly and whispering encouraging words in my ear. Finally my sobs taper off, and my breathing slowly returns to normal. I pull back and move to stand up but Rodney's thumbs gently wiping the tears from my face has me settling back on my heels, my eyes sliding closed as I allow myself to take what he's willing to give. It won't kill me to let someone else take care of me for a while.

Rodney kisses my forehead and then stands up. "Time for some sleep, John," he says stepping around me to walk to the bed.

For only the second time since I entered the stasis chamber I don't question him about my need to sleep; I just turn and crawl over to the bed and climb up onto it and under the covers. He tucks me in and turns to leave. "M…Master?" I hesitantly ask.

"Yes, John?"

"Can you…hold…me? Just until I fall asleep?"

He doesn't say anything, just climbs under the covers and curls around me; his left arm over my head on the pillow, his right arm wrapped around my chest with our fingers entwined and his right leg between mine. Now I know why Nancy always liked for me to spoon up behind her; it makes one feel safe, secure and loved.

Emotional breakthroughs are great sleep aids. Before I know it I slip into a deep dreamless sleep, and when I wake I find myself alone and for a few brief moments I'm disoriented. If not for the fact that my body is one big throbbing pain and the 'toy chest' in the corner, I could believe that yesterday never happened.

I get out of bed and do a few simple stretches before taking my place in the middle of the room with my feet crossed under me, my legs spread just so, my back straight, shoulders back, chin up, eyes down and hands palm down on my thighs where my legs meet my body. After what feels like an hour, Rodney comes in carrying a tray.

"Such a good little pet," he murmurs, setting the tray on the table and sitting down in the same chair as yesterday. "How are you feeling today?"

"A bit sore."

"I'll massage you after you eat breakfast, that'll make you feel better. And don't worry. Today you'll do nothing but lie around. I think after the emotional rollercoaster of yesterday, you've earned it."

A day of doing nothing but being pampered by Rodney sounds like heaven. I close my eyes and imagine his hands on my body, working out all the aches and pains. My fantasy is interrupted by a piece of fruit being placed against my lips. My eyes pop open, and I frown up at my new Master in confusion.

"Like I said. We are going to take it easy today."

If that's the case then why do I feel like I'm being punished? Maybe because you are? Could this be Rodney's punishment for leaving my room yesterday after my nightmare?

"What, John?" Rodney prompts when I continue to hesitate taking the offered food.

"Is this my punishment?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because up till now you've fed me from your lips." I realize I'm pouting but I can't help it. I've come to enjoy the tongue battles he and I engage in when he passes the food from his mouth to mine.

"So you enjoyed having me feed you like a baby bird." He makes it a statement but I nod in agreement anyway. "Good to know." He smirks and offers the slice of apple again.

Feeling just like I did whenever I would disappoint my father, I lean forward and take the apple from Rodney's fingers, sucking on them a bit in supplication.

He raises one brow at my audacity but does nothing but feed me another piece of fruit. For the next several minutes there's not a word uttered from either of us. He feeds me all the fruit and with each bite I take even more liberties with my tongue and his fingers, growing bolder each time he fails to reprimand me. I do my best to make even drinking from the cup he's holding a sensual act fit for the raunchiest of pornos.

"That was supposed to be a punishment, John," he finally scolds when all the fruit is gone.

I drop my gaze to the floor, instantly contrite but not convinced his heart is in it due to the humor lacing his tone. "Forgive me, Master," I plead, leaning over to place my forehead on one of his feet, not sure what his game is but willing to play.

"Up on the massage table, Pet."

I have to fight the urge to jump up and run to the table, I'm so eager to get his hands on me again. I know I'm not fooling him with how slowly I crawl over to the table but again I can't seem to find the energy to care. Now that my main objection, having to look at him with the knowledge of what kind of lover he is, is out of the way I've discovered I quite enjoy not having to think for myself. I now understand what made my fellow soldiers so good at what they do; following orders is very freeing, not to mention relaxing. Having someone else tell you what to think, when to piss, when to eat and sleep… If it wasn't for DADT I'd leave this chamber, seek out Rodney (once the crisis of rescuing Teyla is over of course) and offer myself to him as his slave for life. It would appear that he was right all along; it is extremely tiring being the one making all the decisions all the time. It won't kill me to let someone else shoulder the burden alongside me. I think I just might have to increase Lorne's responsibilities once this is over.

The massage he gives me isn't really meant to arouse and yet it does. I try not to let it bother me that just a few short weeks ago I'd've been mortified for him to know that his touch turns me on and just let my thoughts drift. By the time he's finished massaging all the aches away I'm mostly asleep. A gentle kiss to my forehead has me blinking blearily up at him.

"Time for lunch."

Lunch is an almost exact repeat of breakfast except instead of fresh fruit and cheese he's feeding me a real hamburger with seasoned fries and a beer! It appears he has decided to reward me for my obedience during breakfast.

The massage has mellowed me out so much that it isn't until half way through that I realize he's still feeding me with his hands. Surely I've been punished enough. I try and not let my disappointment show on my face but I can tell he knows even though he doesn't say anything.

"Is there anything else you would like to have, John?" he breaks the silence to ask, his voice and face a study in innocence.

"I miss the moons."

"The moons?"

"Yeah. Nighttime is my favorite part of the day."

"I would have thought that you would prefer the day; being a pilot and surfer and all."

I chuckle at this misconception. "You can surf at night, too. And I actually prefer to fly at night."

"Because then there's no possibility of flying directly into the sun and being blinded," he finishes for me.

I nod my head to show he's right on the money. "I have trouble seeing in bright sunlight and so really hate when I have to fly directly toward the sun."

He places the last fry in my mouth and stands up. Without a word he walks to the bathroom, and I follow like the good little slave I have become. I try and not dwell on how much I enjoy seeing approval and pride on his face when I do something like crawl along behind him. If anyone had told me prior to my stepping into the stasis chamber that I would soon find myself striving to please Rodney by crawling on the floor and letting him put clothespins on my dick and balls, I'd've laughed in their face. But now... now I find that I don't want to be anywhere else than at his feet; I don't want to do anything he hasn't ordered me to do; and most disturbing to the military part of me, I want him to find sexual pleasure in my body, to use me as his own personal fuck toy.

When he stops in front of the toilet I stand up and take my position, fingers laced together on the back of my head, and wait for him to tell me to take a piss. A soft chuckle in my ear tells me that he knows I've taken the first step down the path he's been showing me. Still without speaking he places one hand on my back between my shoulder blades and wraps the fingers of the other around me. Apparently my body doesn't need to actually hear him tell it what to do because as soon as he touches me I begin to piss. This time I'm not nearly as humiliated as before but there is still that little part of me that says this is taboo – wrong, wrong, so very wrong – and it takes me a moment to realize it's not talking about me obeying his silent order to pee but him holding my dick while I do.

Once my bladder is empty he turns me to face him and takes my mouth in a spine-melting kiss. A kiss that just days ago I'd've fought him for dominance of. Yet more proof that I am no longer Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard; that I am now Rodney McKay's pet, his slave, his to do with as he pleases.

"You have no idea how much you please me right now, John," he utters against my lips in a near growl. His words have a flood of pride rushing through my veins, but he's wrong, I do know how much I please him because I can feel his boner pressing against my belly. "Take us to the beach. I have a surprise for you."

When we arrive at the beach I can't help but try to guess what my surprise could be. A surfboard maybe? I haven't been surfing in way too long.

He doesn't leave me guessing for long. Turning me so I'm facing the water he points at a spot a couple of yards down the beach from where we're standing and tells me "Put a tree right there at the edge of the water. Have one branch, a thick one, jut out over the water. On the branch put a hammock so that it just skims the surface of the water and that when some is lying in it they are partially submerged. And make the hammock big enough for two."

We settle into the hammock, him on his back with one leg draped over the side to help us sway and me curled against his side with my head pillowed in his chest. He begins running his fingers through my hair, and before I know it I'm drifting in and out of sleep. The whole scene is so very relaxing; the sun warmed water gently lapping around my midsection, the sun filtering through the leaves of the palm tree supporting us, the rise and fall of Rodney's chest and the soothing rhythm of his fingers combing my hair. For a while I'm able to forget everything about the world outside my stasis chamber, something I haven't really been able to accomplish since I stepped in it, and just be in the moment; to just be.

Eventually, as all things must, it comes to an end with Rodney gently shaking me awake. "Come, John. It'll be night soon." But when he makes no move to actually get out of the hammock I open my eyes and see why. The sun is about to set. I haven't watched a sunset in a really long time.

"I forgot how beautiful it is," I whisper, keeping my voice as soft as I can so as to not break the spell of this wonder of nature.

"It is beautiful," he concurs. "But not as beautiful as the sight of you kneeling at my feet in complete submission."

His words have a flush of pride staining my cheeks until I realize that I haven't been completely submissive to him, yet. I may be well on my way but I still have a lot to learn.

"Don't worry, John," he says, tilting my head up with two fingers under my chin so he can place a peck to the tip of my nose. "You will soon be the perfect submissive."

Glad he's so very confident. I'm not so sure I ever will be everything he requires. At least not in here. Not with the way time is flying by.

We end the day lying on a pile of pillows on the balcony and watching the moons rise. He once again feeds me with his hand and it's a real struggle to not demand to be fed from his lips. When he puts me to bed I just hold out my arm, and he slides under the covers with me to curl around me just like he did the night before, and I fall asleep with the knowledge that I am truly loved by the man wrapped around me.

We once again slip into a routine. This one is similar to the one before it with three major differences: one, he hasn't returned to feeding me from his lips, two, I wait for him to arrive each day naked and on my knees and three, he holds my dick while I pee. I once asked what he'd do if I had to shit and was told he'd stand there and watch then wipe my ass. I was instantly glad that he'd been feeding me so much cheese that I haven't had a bowel movement since I've been here while simultaneously praying I don't have one until this is over.

Once again I eventually begin to chafe at the bit. I do my best to fight it this time because I have come to really enjoy Rodney's Mastery of me but something deep inside tells me there's more and only by pushing against the confines will he show everything there is to this Master/slave thing.

I begin thinking about how I can force Rodney's hand and quickly settle on the one thing that's sure to make an impression. Other than my reaction to my nightmare I haven't had an orgasm since I've been in here. I wake every morning with a raging hard-on and decide to do something about it instead of just wishing it away like I usually do.

I'm very surprised that it takes him as long as it does to catch me. Not that I mind, seeing as how I'm releasing some tension. The day he catches me I've been teasing myself mercilessly; keeping myself hovering on the edge just waiting for him to walk in. As soon as he does, I let go and climax so hard my back arches so far off the bed that only my heels, the crown of my head and my left arm are still touching the mattress. Once I return to Earth, I run two fingers through the come on my chest, slowly raising them to my mouth to suck them clean. I then gather some more on the same two fingers before reaching between my legs and rubbing it on my asshole. I may not be looking at Rodney but I'm still very much aware of where he is in the room and the fact that he's not a happy camper.

"What the fuck!?" he exclaims.

I crack open my eyes to see that he's approached the bed and is leaning over it. The brief glimpse I get of his face before closing my eyes again has the part of me that belongs to him demanding I roll from the bed and beg his forgiveness but the part of me that is so far beyond bored it's not even on Lantea anymore is insisting I stay right where I am. Unfortunately the bored part of me is louder and that is why I throw caution to the wind and continue to lazily stroke my cock. With a sensual groan I reach my hands over my head in a full body stretch designed to get my ass fucked six ways to Sunday. "Morning, Rodney," I murmur, settling deeper into the mattress. "An early morning hand job does wonders for one's mood, doesn't it?"

"You dare touch what belongs to me?" he growls.

Another peek tells me he's practically nose to nose with me. I just dig my hole deeper by smirking and asking in a lazy drawl "What?"

"Get up!" he orders grabbing a handful of my hair and pulling me from the bed.

It's at this point that I tell my bratty side to shut the fuck up and try to open Rodney's fist so I can drop to my knees and beg forgiveness. His grip just tightens with each of my attempts to dislodge it until real tears of pain prick my eyes.

He uses his grip on my hair to force me to my knees and gets right in my face. "Have you lost your mind?"

The fury on his face has me swallowing hard and fighting to keep from begging for my life. "Please," I whimper, my fear making it impossible to say anything more. "Master, please."

"Oh, so now it's 'Master', is it?" I should have kept my mouth shut because all I've managed to do is anger him more. "Table," he orders, pointing behind him and dragging me by the hair over to the table where he throws me across the top. "If you know what's good for you, you won't move."

Catching myself on the side of the table so I don't hit my abdomen, I watch him walk to the toy chest and try to make things better by stretching my arms out to grab the opposite edge, thanking my lucky stars that the table is exactly waist high to me. Then I have the thought that maybe Rodney designed it that way for just this purpose. Well, maybe not this exact purpose but at least so that he could bend me over a flat surface and fuck me senseless.

When Rodney returns I try to use my eyes to tell him how sorry I am but he won't look at me. He just puts the cuffs he got from the chest on my wrists before clipping them to hidden restraints under the table. "I had thought to use these much later, and for a much more pleasurable reason, but you just had to force my hand, didn't you, John?"

A sob escapes before I can stop it. "Master, please!" I really couldn't care less that I'm begging.

"You will learn, John," he says, stepping around the table until he's standing behind me. I twist my head around to look at him and instantly regret it when he slaps me hard on the ass. "I didn't give you permission to look at me, slave." He stresses the last word, letting me know just what he thinks of me at this moment. "Forty whacks, and you will count each one."

Oh, God! He's going to spank me. I haven't had a spanking since I was a child. "Master, no!" I scream just as he lets fly with his first strike.

"You. Will. Count. Each. One," he stresses again, his hand in my hair pulling my head back at a painful angle.

"One," I whisper, my throat tight with unshed tears.

When he lets go of my hair he gives my head a little push and I smack my forehead against the tabletop. I take this to mean I should leave my head in that position.

The second blow is even more of a surprise and hurts twice as much. "Two."

By the time he's at ten my throat is raw from my efforts to not scream in agony and my ass and thighs have gone numb. Twenty isn't much better and there isn't an inch of my ass and upper thighs he hasn't already swatted with the belt. Thirty has me trying to find a way to avoid getting hit and knowing that my abdomen and wrists are going to be nothing but one big bruise and that sitting is going to be next to impossible for a very long time. When he finally reaches forty my hands are spasming with the need to clutch something and I have no voice left to count out the final three spanks. My legs are quivering uncontrollably, and all I want to do is start the day over.

Rodney surprises me by gently undoing the cuffs before pulling me tenderly into his arms where he encourages me to curl up on his lap. I do so eagerly, my tears still flowing unchecked, my breath coming in huge hiccupping pants. I cling to him in desperation. I need him to know just how sorry I am for what I did and to know that I'll never do anything like it again.

"I am so sorry, Master," I mumble, tightening my arms around his chest.

He sighs and rests his chin on top of my head. "What did I tell you about saying sorry?"

"Please forgive me, Master. Please!"

"You got bored again, didn't you, John?" The disappointed tone of his voice has a fresh wave of tears running down my cheeks and I can only nod. "Why? I've given you just about everything you could possibly want or need."

"Except for one thing," I can't help but counter.

"And that would be?" he prompts when I hesitate. "John." He makes my name a reprimand.

I stall by squirming more firmly into his lap. "You, Master. You've taken yourself from me."

"Explain."

Heaving a deep sigh I force myself to keep my tone respectful. "The way you feed me. I miss being your baby bird."

He chuckles – actually chuckles – at my admission. "I was trying to give you some space so you could concentrate on the actual submission part of our relationship without being hit by the sexual part at every meal. Hand feeding you is just as much about trust and acceptance as feeding you from my mouth."

"I wish you had told me that and that you'd go back to how it was before." I know he can hear my pout in my voice from the way he snickers and starts rubbing my back.

"Did you learn anything today, John?"

"You own me body and soul, and you will let me have an orgasm when you feel like it."

"Hm. Very good, Pet," he praises, his use of my new nickname causing me to preen a little in the knowledge that he has forgiven me my latest transgression. "I don't want another incident like today happening ever again, John, so when you start feeling this way I want you to tell me. Don't make me punish you because you've grown bored with the status quo. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good. Now hop up on the massage table so I can put some salve on your ass."

I climb up on the table and pillow my head on my folded arms. Rodney begins to gently rub some kind of salve into the abused flesh of my ass. Soon the scent of the salve and his familiar touch has me hovering on the edge of sleep. If we were in the real world I'd be a tad worried about much I'm sleeping but then I realize that most people, Keller especially, would say that I'm actually sleeping a normal amount in here because I hardly ever sleep out there.

"Do you think you're ready for the next step, John?" his softly spoken question pulls me from my doze.

"I don't know, Master. Will the next step involve me having to sit?"

"Funny," he gives a huff of humorless laughter. "Yes, it does, and it also involves more pain."

I sigh deeply and peek at him from under my arm. "Good thing I have a high tolerance for pain."

"Yes, it is a good thing," he agrees, moving to rub random patterns on my back. "But now that I've gotten a good look at your ass I think we'll wait a few days for the worst of the bruising to go away."

"As you wish, Master." I snuggle down a bit more on the massage table, trying to get comfortable and ignore the throbbing in my ass.

"I want to take you back to the hammock but I have a feeling that your ass would not appreciate the salt in the water."

Lying in the hammock in his arms sounds like heaven. "I could always make the ocean fresh water," I offer, anything to feel like he loves me again.

"You could but then it wouldn't be your ocean anymore, now would it?"

Apparently relaxing in the hammock is considered a reward and I'm still being punished for my audacity from this morning.

"I should make you spend the day with your dried come all over your chest but I won't. Come, I have yet another surprise for you."

Jumping off the massage table has my sore butt reminding me to move slowly. Hiding a wince I drop to the floor to crawl behind him. I enter the bathroom to find him preparing water for a bath. The last time I took a bath was with Nancy.

I always thought of taking a bath as a girly thing and only agreed to it because she liked it, said it was romantic especially with all the candles she had littering the bathroom. But this bath with Rodney doesn't seem so girly. Of course the absence of candles may have something to do with that.

Rodney strips and steps into the tub, settling back amid the bubbles with a sigh of contentment. "Do I really need to tell you what to do, Pet?" His voice is back to the loving tone I've grown used to, telling me that I am mostly forgiven, if not forgiven completely.

Slowly rolling to my feet I contemplate just how much this is gonna hurt. The water may not have any salt content but it is still gonna sting like a bitch when it comes in contact with my abused flesh. I step to the side of the tub and try to figure out how I'm going to get in and then where I'm going to sit.

"John," Rodney calls bringing my attention to him. "You're thinking again." He's right, of course, but I think in this instance a bit of thinking is called for.

"The tub's not big enough for the both of us," I say, trailing the fingers of my left hand through the water to test its temperature.

"Yes, it is," he informs me. "Considering you'll be sitting between my legs."

Well, duh! I feel really stupid. Of course I'll be sitting between his legs. This whole thing has been one big seduction and part of the seduction game is to take a romantic and sensual bath together with the one being seduced sitting between the seducer's legs. I shake my head at my own stupidity and climb into the tub to settle between his legs, my back to his chest, hissing when the water hits my sore ass. He startles me by slipping his hands under my knees to spread my legs and resettle them over his. Easy access, I suppose. But then he surprises me by just running what has to be the softest washcloth in existence over my chest, alternating between squeezing the water over my shoulder and making odd patterns with the bubbles and soap between my nipples.

Eventually the warm water works its magic, and I find myself relaxing completely against the warm body behind me. Apparently this is what Rodney was waiting for because as soon as I breathe a sigh of contentment, he reaches between my legs and begins to fondle my balls, rolling them each in their sack.

Dropping the washcloth, he reaches up and tweaks a nipple pulling a moan from deep within me. My blood rushes to my groin, filling my dick as Rodney's nimble fingers fuel my arousal. He hasn't even touched my cock, and yet it's hard as a rock. I can't help but rock my hips, trying to get some friction where I need it most.

"Master," I whimper when all he does is continue to torment me.

"Shush, Pet. All in good time," he purrs in my ear, his hand drifting down between my cheeks to tease my hole, his other hand still playing with my nipples.

Burying my nose behind Rodney's right ear, I breathe in his scent. I have never found another person's scent to be intoxicating but I find I can't get enough of Rodney's.

"We're starting to prune," he chuckles, lifting one of my hands to examine my fingers.

I make a noise of disappointment; I was just starting to truly enjoy being fondled by him. "Do we hafta get out?" I pout.

"Yes, Pet," he tells me with a push on one shoulder to get me moving.

Climbing from the tub he dries first me then himself. He doesn't dry me off completely, though, leaving me a bit confused. Until he gets me to the bed, that is. He pushes me down and proceeds to lick every drop of water off my body, turning me over once my front is done. He takes his time with my back, running his tongue in long sweeps up the indent of my spine before using the tip to draw patterns from one shoulder to the other. A shudder runs through me at the feel of his erection poking me in the ass.

Spreading my legs in silent invitation I beg "Please, Master" in a breathy whisper.

Pushing on one hip, he gets me to turn over so he can lower his body to lie flush with mine. I whimper in need at the feel of his hot skin against mine and spread my legs to give him even more room. Planting my feet on the mattress for leverage I begin rocking my hips, hissing at the feel of his naked cock rubbing against mine.

"Be still," he orders, somehow making himself extra heavy. With a soft whine I do as told and receive a kiss in reward. "Now, what is it you want, Pet?" he asks when he pulls back to breathe.

"You," I gasp when he shifts.

"What about me?"

"Fuck…me…please!" I finally manage to say what it is I want most.

"Do you really think you're ready for that, Pet?"

Words escape me so I just nod my head and tighten my grip on the mattress in order to keep from touching him.

He gives a tiny huff of laughter, his breath warm as it washes over my face. "Well, you're wrong. You're not ready for that. Yet. Soon, though."

A sob that I just barely catch tries to make its way out of my throat. I need him so bad it hurts and he's acting like it's nothing, like I beg him to fuck me every day.

"Shush," he murmurs against my temple, undulating his hips just a little bit, just enough to frustrate me.

Biting my lip, I imitate his gesture then swallow a scream when he rolls off to lie on his back at my side. I immediately move to curl against his side, kissing his neck. He pulls me to lie on top of him, capturing my mouth in a kiss designed to leave me totally boneless.

"Teach me how to please you, Master," I beg, raining kisses over his face.

"Oh, but you do please me, Pet. You please me more than you could ever know."

Raising myself up on my hands so I can stare into his eyes I explain exactly what I mean. "Teach me how to please you with my mouth."

A shudder runs through his body at my words and he closes his eyes, releasing a deep guttural groan. When he opens his eyes the heat in them spears straight through me and has an answering shudder tripping down my spine.

Licking his lips he buries his hands in my hair. "I'm not sure you're ready for that but if you really want to try…"

"Yes, Master. Please!" I beg, squirming at the thought of finally giving him some pleasure.

He hisses and grabs my butt to hold me still. "Just do what you like because chances are I'll like it too. If I don't, I'll tell you," he instructs, loosening his grip on my ass cheeks so I can slide down his body.

Since what I'm about to do is something I only recently started thinking about, I decide to start slow. Placing gentle kisses on his neck I tell myself to just stop thinking about what I'm about to do and just let my instincts take over. Leaving tiny bruises along his collarbone, I move on to his chest. The taste of his skin explodes along my tongue as I drag it down his sternum. When my tongue finds a nipple it toys with it for several seconds before I close my lips around it to suckle gently. He drags in a sharp breath, and I take this as encouragement to keep going. Biting down just the tiniest bit gets me a hitch in his breath and a twitch in the dick nestled between my butt cheeks. Turning my attention to the other nipple gets me the exact same response with the added bonus of his fists tightening their grip in my hair. I file this away for later and move lower. I discover one disadvantage to the younger version of Rodney that is currently lying between my legs; his stomach is flat. In the past four years I have developed a bit of a 'thing' for Rodney's pudgy belly. But I don't let that bother me, not when my goal is so very close. Kneeing his thighs apart I stretch out between his legs with my head on his right thigh and contemplate what I'm about to do.

Before I lose my nerve I lean up and run the tip of my tongue up the vein on the underside of his dick. When I reach the head I suck it into my mouth, dipping my tongue into the piss slit earning myself a firm tug to my hair. A quick peek shows just a hint of blue from under heavy lids and the tip of his pink tongue when it swipes across his lower lip leaving behind a moist trail. I run my tongue over every inch of his erection, drawing sounds of pleasure from deep within him. I kiss my way down to his balls and suck them into my mouth, one at a time. His hands tighten in my hair as I lick my way back up to swallow him down as far as I am able. I would dearly love to deep throat him but since this is only the first time I've had a man's dick in my mouth, not counting what I did during that first shower, I know I won't be able to. At least not yet. I have time to learn, though and that thought has me redoubling my efforts to bring him to climax. Painful tugging on my hair and a scream that is my name are the only warnings I get that he's about to come. I begin to swallow a split second before hot liquid hits the back of my throat.

I keep his cock in my mouth until it starts to go soft then release it with a pop before crawling up his body to collapse on top of him, my head buried on the crook of his neck. The need to come is so strong I can't stop my hips from rocking against his. Once again his hands settle on my hips with bruising force, and I'm ordered to be still. A needy little whimper escapes as I try my hardest to do as instructed.

"Easy, Pet," he soothes, rubbing my back. "You haven't eaten all day, have you?"

Food!? Does he seriously think I want to eat now?

"Come. Let's get you fed." He pats my ass, then pushes me off so he can get up.

We go out onto the balcony where we can watch the moons make their way through the sky. It's a perfect ending to what started out as the worst day in a really long time. He's gone back to feeding me from his mouth, and I find it even more sensual than before. And he finally shows me why he thought I wasn't ready to drink from his lips. The feeling of the water dripping from his lips into my mouth reminds me of the feeling of his come hitting the back of my throat. The whole evening is so full of sexual innuendo that I'm harder than I've ever been, well, since I was a teenager that is. By the end of the night I'm ready to start begging him to fuck me again but the look in his eyes keeps me quiet.

We continue to lie on the pile of pillows long after the food's all gone, just enjoying each other and the night.

"Master?" I question.

"Hm?" he hums not even pausing from where he's drawing what feels like the alphabet on my upper back.

"There's something else I miss."

"And that would be?"

"Rain. And thunderstorms."

"So create a storm, John. How often do you have to be reminded that this is all you?"

"All the time, apparently," I chuckle just as the first lighting strike appears.

The storm that I create starts small and slowly grows until the thunder is rattling the windows before just as slowly tapering off to a gentle downpour.

"Come, time for sleep," he says some minutes later running one hand down my flank to squeeze my ass.

I twist my head around to pout up at him. "But I'm not sleepy."

"Of course you are." He chuckles when my pout turns into a frown. "You seriously think I don't know you were dozing just now?"

With a huff I turn my head back to watch the rain. My fit of pique just makes him laugh harder. "Up, pretty pet. I'll hold you while you sleep." That's an offer I can't refuse, and it takes everything in me to not jump up and run into the bedroom; as it is I can't keep the smile off my face as I slowly disentangle myself from his arms so I can crawl into the other room and up onto the bed.

He joins me and tucks me against his side so that I'm laying draped half over him like I was out on the balcony. As I fall asleep to the sound of his heart beating under my ear I find myself wishing this could go on forever. I never want to leave this place, his arms, not the bed. I, also, finally understand the draw of Neverland and why Peter Pan wanted to stay there forever because I find myself wishing I never had to go back to making all the decisions and having all those lives in my hands.

When I wake the next morning it's to find the rain has stopped and I'm not alone in the bed. Sometime during the night we shifted until I'm no longer using him as just a pillow but a mattress as well. Moving slowly so as to not wake him I scoot over to sit next to him and watch him sleep. He looks impossibly young lying there, and I can't help but reach out to brush the lock of hair off his forehead then fight back a chuckle when it just falls back down. Running one finger lightly along one of his eyebrows I say three words I haven't said, and meant, in a really long time. "I love you."

So that's it. He now owns me heart, body and soul. From here on out he has the power to crush me with just a look; an offhand remark. What am I doing? Can I really do this? Can I give him total control and be happy?

Realizing I won't be able to answer those questions right this minute, I lay back down next to Rodney, one arm and leg thrown over him and my head on the pillow next to his. I slip into a light doze waking when Rodney rolls me beneath him. "Morning, Pet," he purrs in my ear. "Did you sleep well?"

"Well enough, I suppose," I grumble, knowing that the hard on I now have will most likely not get any attention.

He laughs and kisses the tip of my nose. "You really need to learn some patience, Pet."

Patience, right. Not fucking likely! I just huff and turn my head to the side. Luckily he seems to be in a great mood because he just takes the opportunity to nibble on my exposed earlobe.

"Do you trust me, John?" he surprises me by asking in a very soft voice.

"Yes, of course. I trust you with my life."

For several seconds he just stares down at me. Finally he nods his head as if he's come to some kind of conclusion. "Come," he orders, pulling me by the hand along behind him.

My confusion grows when he sets me down at the table on the balcony, after stopping in the bathroom to take care of business. "I think you can feed yourself today," he says, placing a plate full of my favorite flavor of pancakes complete with sausage and bacon and a glass of orange juice in front of me.

"Master?" I question in a strained voice.

He takes my chin in his hand and forces me to meet his gaze. "This is not a punishment, Pet. I just have some things I need to take care of before we move on to the next step. Things that are to be a surprise. Now eat." He places a kiss to my forehead then turns and walks back into the bedroom, closing the doors behind him.

After taking only a couple of bites, I have to push the plate away because chocolate chip pancakes have lost their appeal when I'm feeding myself. I flop back in the chair blowing out a frustrated breath. I'm famished but I also don't want to feed myself. I want my Master to do it, to show me how treasured I am by making sure I get the nourishment I need.

A few minutes later he opens the doors. "John." I stubbornly refuse to look at him. "Everything's ready, John." I realize I'm courting punishment but I can't seem to care. "You didn't eat, why?"

I just shrug my answer.

"John?"

His hand in my hair warns me that he's standing right next to me. The part of me that acknowledges his ownership of me convinces me to answer him. "Not hungry, I guess." Unfortunately I can't keep the childish pout out of my tone. Luckily for me he's in the best mood I've ever seen him. My mini rebellion has him laughing and giving my hair a playful tug. I don't even think, just lean into his caress with a sigh and feeling like I've finally come home.

"Come." He runs his hand down my neck to my shoulder which he uses to get me to stand up. When he turns I drop to my knees and crawl along behind him. "Kneel between the bolts in the floor."

I take my position like I've been doing it all my life. "Such a pretty pet," he murmurs, raising my chin to look me in the eyes. The look in his eyes tells me that this is it, what I've been dreading while also waiting for, for what feels like eternity.

Something inside me shifts and in the blink of an eye young Rodney turns into the Rodney I know. I'm totally confused as to what just happened but Rodney seems to know and luckily doesn't leave me guessing. "You changed my appearance, John. This is the McKay you're in love with, not the young version you seemed intent on keeping around. The fact that you changed my appearance means that you're ready for the final step and that you totally belong to me."

He's right, of course. From now until the day I die my heart, my body, my soul, will belong to Rodney McKay. And I don't want it to be any other way.

He brushes a kiss to my forehead then steps over to the table and sits down. "Stand up and come here." I do as told and once I'm standing in front of him I can see the cuffs on the table; the same two he used on my wrists just yesterday plus two more. "Left wrist." He kisses the bruise on my wrist before he buckles the cuff around it. "Right wrist." It receives the same attention as the left. Anticipating what he will want next, I lift my left foot only to have him slap me hard on the thigh. "While I want you to anticipate my every want, now is not the time. Understood?" He waits until I put my foot back down, staring at the floor in repentance. "Now, give me that right foot." The humor in his tone has me sneaking a peek, and I'm encouraged to see a half grin on his face. When I lift my right foot, he buckles a cuff around my ankle, caressing the skin as he does so. "Left foot." When I lift my left foot he places it on his thigh, trailing his fingers up my calf to tickle behind my knee. "Do you have any idea how much you are loved?" I have no words to answer that one and so I just bite my lip while trying to fight the flush that creeps up my torso and blooms to life in my face. With a loving pat to my calf, he pushes my foot off his thigh and stands up. "Go stand between the bolts in the floor."

I stand at attention between the two bolts and wonder what he could possibly have in mind. I watch from the corner of my eye as Rodney stalks over to me. He marches around behind me, and I jump when his hands land on my shoulders. Running his right hand down my right arm, he lifts my cuffed wrist and attaches it to the chain affixed to the ceiling. He then does the same to my left wrist before stooping down to lock my ankle cuffs to the two ‘D’ rings that are embedded in the floor at the width of my shoulders.

Once my feet are secure, he trails the tips of his fingers up my legs causing me to shiver as goose bumps appear on my flesh. His teeth sinking into the skin of my inner thigh has me rising up on my toes and giving a squeal of pained surprise. Licking away the sting, he pulls my cheeks apart so he can place a chaste kiss on the puckered skin of my anus. I can't help but squirm at the thought of where he's kissing me. When I stand flat footed again, I'm rewarded by him circling it with his tongue.

He slowly stands up, placing nipping little kisses along my spine, causing tremors to course through my body. As soon as he's standing upright again, he bites just a bit harder on the knot of bone at the base of my neck before licking a trail across my right shoulder.

“It’s almost a sin to mar such perfect skin,” he muses, trailing one hand down the curve of my spine. “I said ‘almost’,” he confirms when I look at him questioningly over my shoulder.

Placing a chaste kiss right between my shoulder blades, he steps to my left. I hear him take a deep breath, then the whistle of something swinging through the air. When the first strike lands perfectly across my shoulders I give a tiny gasp of surprise at the sting and an instinctual flinch away from the pain. What is he using? He waits for me to resume my previous position before landing the second strike directly below the first. I hold myself perfectly still and wait for him to land the third strike below the second and yet still well above my kidneys.

“You can stop this any time,” he reminds me.

I just shake his head. I've wanted this for way too long to stop this. The fourth strike lands in the exact same place as the first and my response is a hoarse cry of pain and a bigger flinch that has my hips thrusting out past my feet. The fifth and sixth strikes fall in quick succession on top of the second and third ones and take me by even more surprise. This time my only reaction is a hitch in my breath as the flogger makes contact with my skin. The last four strikes land from shoulder to opposite hip making a large ‘x’.

I'm sweating profusely now. My chest is heaving as I take in huge gulps of air. Tiny tremors wrack my frame as my sweat brings the welts on my back to my attention. I wish I could see it. I bet it's a vivid red that’ll be purple by morning and cris-crossed with the marks of Rodney's dominance. Marks I want to wear in the real world.

Pressing up against my back, his erection snug between my ass cheeks – and when the hell did he remove his clothes? – he asks. “Are you still with me, Pet?”

The world is fading in and out and I'm finding it hard to concentrate. Not liking my non-response, Rodney slips his hand onto my belly and asks again. “John? Answer me. Are you still with me?”

Finally I find the breath to respond. “Y…yes, Master.”

“What is your safe word?”

I swallow loudly, needing a moment to think about it. “Earth,” I finally answer.

“Very good,” he praises, nuzzling the back of my head. “Shall I continue?”

“Yes, please,” I say on a shuddering breath.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it gives you pleasure,” I respond.

“What about you? Does it give you pleasure?”

“My pleasure doesn’t matter. Only yours.” My answer surprises me. While I knew I was falling I had no idea where I was going to land. The fact that I landed at his feet where I no longer give a fuck for my own pleasure is a huge shock.

"You…you can't…not yet…" he mutters, stepping out from behind me. "Let me see your eyes, Pet," he orders, taking my chin in his hand. He gasps at whatever it is he sees in my eyes. "It's too soon for you to be this far into subspace."

"Is it, Master?" I tilt my head to the side, resting it against my arm. "How long have I been here?"

"Just over three hundred years."

I smile my most charming smile, the one that has always had women falling all over themselves to bed me. "Plenty of time, then, wouldn't you agree?"

"Hm," he hums, a small smile curling one corner of his mouth, and taps a wicked looking flogger against his thigh.

He's hitting me with that? Wonder what kind of animal hide it's made out of.

Stepping back behind me, he rewards me with a gentle bite to the back of my neck before stepping once again to my left and letting the flogger fly, again.

Ten more strikes and my hands are fisted so tightly that my joints ache. The pain is very close to that of my spanking and has me close to hyperventilating, the tremors have turned into shudders and my dick is steadily leaking pre-come.

Bending down, he unhooks my ankle cuffs, then stands up and does the same with the ones on my wrists. Walking over to the bed gives me some time to get myself under some kind of control. Then I remember that this is all about letting go of control or rather giving it up to him.

Rodney surprises me by laying me gently in the middle of the bed on my back before climbing up to lie next to me. "You have no idea how badly I want to fuck you raw," he growls in my ear. "But I won't because your first time shouldn't hurt."

"It won't be a lasting hurt since nothing in here is really real," I remind him.

"Not a physical hurt, no, but you'd remember the pain all the same."

Closing my eyes, I fist the sheets and fight back a moan, thinking he means this will go no further. The touch of his fingers on my brow has me opening my eyes. "I didn't say I wasn't going to fuck you, my pretty pet. Just that I can't fuck you the way I truly want to. Not now, at any rate."

I so badly want to scream at him to just fuck me already but I don't. I plead with my eyes for him to do something at least and then I remember he said I can talk in situations like this. "Please, Master, take me; make me yours."

"Shush, John. Soon now, I promise. I just need to make sure I don't hurt you."

"You won't, you can't," I whimper. He places two fingers on my lips, then leans down to begin nibbling on my neck. He slips one knee between mine, pressing it up tight against my balls.

A needy little whine escapes, and I fight the urge to squirm. Rodney doesn't take any pity on me. He just starts kissing down my neck, stopping to leaving a line of tiny bruises around my neck. His hands appear to be everywhere at once; stroking, touching, teasing, learning what my hot spots are. Just when I think I can't take anymore, his tongue finds a nipple and he suckles it gently. I never knew my nipples were so sensitive. Arching my back, I try to get closer to the wet warmth of his mouth. He leans back to blow on the nub he was just chewing on causing it to pucker. When he moves to lie on top of me, I spread my legs in enticement and tighten my grip on the sheets to keep from grabbing his hair and moving his head to my other nipple. Rodney begins to kiss down my right side, scraping his teeth along my hip bone, pulling a guttural groan from deep within me. He licks his way to my left side, totally ignoring my raging hard on.

When he begins to nibble his way up my left side, I throw my hands over my head, so I can arch my back more sharply in silent invitation, an invite that Rodney seems inclined to accept to my utter joy. He licks and nibbles every square inch of my chest and abdomen before sucking my nipple into his mouth causing me to cry out as pleasure spikes through my body when he bites down sharply.

"Master, please!" I beg, my voice trembling as I fight the urge to toss him on his back so I can fuck myself on his dick.

He leans up to stare into my eyes, and I raise my head to press my lips to his. It's the first time I've initiated a kiss, and luckily he doesn't seem to mind, although he does quickly seize control, his tongue sweeping in to steal my breath. Just when I think my lungs are going to burst with the need to breathe, he pulls back and leans over to open the nightstand drawer. Sitting back on his heels, he pops the top on a tube of lube and smears some on one finger.

"I need you to relax," he instructs, placing his left hand low on my belly under my erection. Placing the tip of his lube-slick finger against me he rubs it in small circles, slowly increasing the pressure. I can't help the instinctual tightening of my sphincter. "Just press down like you do when getting a prostate exam," he suggests. I'm rewarded with the tip slipping inside when I do so. "Good boy, John. You're doing so good," he praises, causing me to relax even further and earning another reward in the form of him twisting his finger.

When he pulls his finger out, I try to bite back a whimper but am unsuccessful. He leans down and nips my chin. "Patience, my pet," he whispers. "Don't want to hurt you."

He sits back and squeezes some more lube on two fingers before pushing them into me twisting and turning, coating my insides to make his claiming of me less painful. I decide right then and there that when I get out I'm going to have Rodney fuck me raw the very first time, if I don't end up hitting that damn failsafe panel that is, because a claiming should be done dry, with no prep and no lube. Nothing between him and me except his pre-come and maybe some spit.

Eventually the pleasure of his fingers in my ass outweighs the pain, and I relax even further. Rodney takes this as some kind of cue because he squeezes lube directly onto my hole and scoops it up onto three fingers before pushing them into me all the way to the last knuckle. When his fingers brush against something deep inside I nearly jerk right off them at the pleasure that courses through me. He just chuckles and says "That was your prostate. Nothing like how the doctor does it, huh?" He seems to be enjoying torturing me.

He squeezes some lube onto his left hand and slicks himself up before removing his fingers and placing the head of his penis at my entrance. I swallow my gasp of pain as he breaches me. He stretches out on top of me, his arms under my shoulders so he can cradle my head in his hands. "You can touch me now, Pet." I instantly wrap my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his waist.

Holding my head still he kisses me and then begins to slowly thrust in and out, pushing in an extra inch on each in-stroke. He takes his time and it has me on the verge of screaming in vexation. With all the pent up sexual frustration I've been feeling, not to mention all the fucking foreplay, I really just want to be fucked, to be used, to be his fucking fuck toy. But he doesn't seem to be of the same mind.

He eventually bottoms out and just pauses there. We stare into each other's eyes, breathing heavily, our hearts pounding in unison. "I love you, Master. Love you so much. Need you, too. Please!"

"Shush, John." He shifts and an extra hard jolt of pleasure spears through me, causing me to throw back my head and clench down on the fullness in my ass, pulling a groan from him. "God, John. What you do to him. He loves you so much. You have no idea," he begins to babble.

Feeling tears prick my eyes at his words, I turn my head so he won't see them. 'He loves you' he said, not 'I love you'. I know deep down that the man fucking me isn't the real Rodney McKay and that it's irrational, but I really want to hear him say it. I want him to make love to me; to show me how good it can be. He doesn't appear to be aware of my misery, just buries his head in the crook of my neck, nibbling and sucking while slowly fucking me. He licks his way up my neck to my ear. I have always been very self conscious of the shape of my ears, namely the way they end in sharp points similar to Spock's but here and now Rodney makes me think of them in a whole new way. He traces the outter shell with the tip of his tongue then sucks the tip into his mouth to suck on it. The pleasure I feel has me digging my nails into the skin of his shoulders and planting my feet for leverage so I can meet his thrusts. I have never thought of the sound of two bodies slapping together as erotic but I do now. Each smack of his balls against my ass increases my arousal until I think I'm gonna burst if I don't get to come soon, then the part of me that belongs to this man takes over, and I forget about my need and concentrate on his; concentrate on finding a way to get my Master off. The method I settle on is squeezing him where he's buried in my ass. I remember how Nancy, and just about every other woman I ever fucked, would do that, and it always ended things sooner than I wanted, not that they seemed to mind. Unfortunately this has the opposite effect on Rodney. Instead of bringing him closer to orgasm, he just rises up on his knees and pulls my legs over his shoulders. Now he begins to really pound into me hitting my prostate each and every time.

"Say it, Pet," he grunts.

"I belong to you. Heart, body and soul, I am yours to do with as you please," I pant, not able to think enough to pretend to not know what he wants to hear.

"Hm. Such a good boy," he purrs.

Reaching my hands over my head to grab the edge of the mattress, I stretch sensuously and watch the appreciation grow in his eyes. Biting my lip, I throw my head back, baring my neck and moan at the extra hard thrust my wanton behavior earns me. "Such a slut," he murmurs. I'm totally thrown out of the moment by his comment. Is that really what he thinks of me?

He slows then stops and I howl my displeasure. What did I do wrong? What can I do to give him pleasure again? "Shush, Pet. Just want to prolong the wonder of fucking your ass." He again stretches out on top of me and wraps his arms under my shoulders before rolling us so that I'm on top. Pushing on my hips he gets me to sit up and the new position has me moaning and dropping my chin to my chest. His hips continue to slowly undulate. I'm like a puppet with its strings cut; my body flopping gently with each roll of his hips. A sudden slap to my ass startles me into jerking my head up to stare into his eyes. "Move, slave," he growls, and this time the word sounds like an endearment rather than the insult it was the last time he used it. Was it really just yesterday?

I begin to slowly rock back and forth, my hands wrapped tight around his wrists with the same bruising force as he's using on my hips. Rodney slides his hands around to grip my ass to lift and lower me on his shaft. It takes me just a few seconds to figure out what it is he wants me to do. This new position feels incredible and my head falls back on my neck. I pant at the ceiling for several heartbeats. The fog of mind-numbing pleasure lifts momentarily and I raise my head to stare down at the body between my legs. So this is why Nancy enjoyed riding me so much. While I enjoyed it because it gave me access to all her hot spots, and my favorite parts of her body, she enjoyed it because of the feeling of empowerment it gave her. I feel that same sense now while riding Rodney's cock. I know how powerful he is but lying there on his back he looks, and for all intents and purposes is, vulnerable. His hands roam my body, playing it like the piano keyboards from his youth, and I clutch at his chest for something to keep me grounded. I may have discovered a love of flying amongst the stars but I have no desire to be flung to the heavens at this time. I much prefer to remain firmly on my beloved Atlantis with my beloved Master proving his dominance with every thrust of his hips.

I'm beginning to think that he's going to fuck me forever – the man has the stamina of a fucking racehorse! – when he stops and orders me up.

"Master!" I object vehemently.

"I said get up!" He shoves roughly at my hips until I stand up on my knees. "Now, off." More shoving on my flank has me 'dismounting'. "Hands and knees."

Taking up the requested position, I pray he doesn't decide to spank me again. Rodney reenters me without warning, and I scream at the pained pleasure of my ass being stretched to its limit. He drapes himself over my back, his arms inside mine with his hands on top of mine. This position allows him to really pound into me, and I love it. I love the way my body accepts his dominance, love the stretch and burn of him forcing his way inside.

"So tight, so hot," he mutters with an extra hard thrust on each word. "Love this virgin ass of yours, slave. Know what I want most?" I just shake my head. "I want to fuck you until you're a melted pile of skin and bones; until you can feel it for the longest time and when I come I want you to think it just might come out your mouth because I'm buried so fucking deep inside your guts." His words have me stiffening my arms to keep from collapsing and have a powerful shiver making its way through my body. "Ah, the pretty little pet likes that image, does he?" he purrs, his lips pressed against the skin between my shoulder blades.

I'm once again swept away on a wave of pure bliss as he hits my prostate time and again. It soon becomes obvious that he's planning on fucking me all night, and I give myself over to it, telling my brain to shut up when it tries to think of ways to hurry this along. Sure my ass is going to remind me of this for a very long time but I don't care. If my Master is getting pleasure out of fucking me then who am I to tell him to hurry it up? His teeth find a sensitive spot just below my right ear and a hot flood of pleasure flows through my lower abdomen like warm jelly, and I do a face plant into the mattress when my arms finally give out under the sensual onslaught that is my Master fucking my brains out. Apparently Rodney was waiting for just this moment because as soon as my face touches the mattress, he lowers himself to lie on top of me, his hands stacked under my head. His thrusts easy up a bit but not much, just enough to allow me to catch my breath a little.

"Are you ready, Pet?" His voice is tight almost like he's barely holding onto his control. Not entirely sure what he's asking, I nod my head anyway hoping he's asking if I'm ready for him to finish. "Good. You may come when I do." Oh, thank God! I was beginning to think he was never going to let me come, of course if that's what he was to ask of me I would gladly go the rest of my life without another orgasm.

Several more deep, hard thrusts and he sinks his teeth into the muscle connecting my shoulder to my neck. I howl in satisfaction at the pain of his teeth breaking through my skin and relish the warmth flooding my guts as the world around me explodes into a billion multicolored stars.

My orgasm is so powerful it knocks me unconscious. When I come to, I'm draped over Rodney's chest just like on the balcony the other day. This position allows him to play with my hair with one hand and stroke my hip with the other. My body is one big ache, but I love it. Each time I move, hell with each breath, I'm reminded that the man lying under me owns my body and that he played it like a finely-tuned instrument. An involuntary groan escapes when I shift trying to find a more comfortable position, then decide that until my body stops throbbing there is no such thing as a comfortable position.

"How are you feeling?" His question pulls me from my thoughts and tells me that he knows I'm awake.

"There isn't a part of me that isn't sore." I roll over so I can look at him. "Not that I mind."

"So, it's a good hurt?"

"Oh, yes, Master. A very good hurt."

"I must apologize, Pet. I didn't think it would be that intense. This is the only time it should hurt that much."

"'Should be' being the key words in that statement, right?" His relaxed demeanor has put me at ease, and I find myself wanting to bring some of my normal easygoing camaraderie with the real Rodney to this place. I find myself wanting to share that with this Rodney, even though a small part of me argues that this Rodney and the real one are two different men, and when I return, if I don't hit the failsafe panel, I'll have to relearn how to please the real one; how to get along with him.

"Cute, John, but yes. The first time is always the most painful. What would you like to do today?"

That's a no-brainer. A huge grin spreads across my face. "Race RC cars?"

He laughs. "You are so predictable."

I duck my head at his teasing, a blush heating my face. "Is that a yes?"

"Of course." He pats my thigh to get me moving.

Hopping up, I immediately drop into position and wait for Rodney to climb off the bed. "Such a good little pet," he praises, sitting down in his chair. "Come here," he instructs holding out my harem pants. Rolling gracefully to my feet I walk sensuously over to where he's sitting. "Stop that, John. Your ass is in no shape to carry out that promise." He's right, of course, but I can't help flirting, just a little bit. Bracing my hands on his shoulders, I step into the pants letting him pull them up over my hips. "There now," he says in a satisfied tone, giving me a little pat on the butt. "We're ready to go."

A wicked grin spreading over my face I turn on my heel with a flounce, and suddenly we're in a corridor on the east pier, two radio controlled cars at our feet.

"I'm the yellow one!" he calls dibs, scooping up the controller.

I laugh at how like the real Rodney he's acting. What was I worried about? Rodney programmed this version of himself. Just because up till now he hasn't acted like my Rodney doesn't mean he can't, or won't. "That's fine, McKay," I say, hoping he'll let me trash talk like I would out in the real world. "This one's much cooler anyway, with the flames and all."

He totally ignores my use of his last name versus what I'm supposed to call him and jumps right into some trash talk of his own. "Take a good long look, 'cause soon you're gonna see nothing but tail lights."

"Nice try, Speed Racer," I counter with a cackle, setting my car in motion only to have his shoot ahead.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Was that too fast for you, buddy boy?!" he taunts, bumping my shoulder as he steps past to follow our cars.

They skid around a corner and head off down a longer corridor, my car beginning to catch up to Rodney's.

"The nursing home just called, Rodney. They want their scooter back."

"Scooter?! That is a tricell lipo pack under my hood, son!"

I finally manage to pull my car alongside Rodney's, then nudge into it and shove it against the wall. The impact slows it down and I'm able to surge ahead.

"Hey!" Rodney exclaims indignantly.

"Ooh, sorry! My bad!" It's so easy to forget the man standing next to me isn't real, that he's just a hologram; the camaraderie we're sharing is so effortless.

Rodney manages to maneuver his car out of the wall and send it chasing off after mine again. The cars reach the end of the corridor where a small cylinder has been placed to mark the turn-around point. We both twist our controls frantically to swing them around it and head back toward us.

"Oh, yeah. I will trample you!" he gloats, his car taking the lead again.

"Don't trip on your skirt," I call, moving my car up behind his and tapping the rear bumper.

My 'love tap' to the rear of his car sends it into a half spin. "Watch yourself, there, Sheppard," he growls, hip-checking me on his way past in the wake of our cars.

I let the momentum carry me a couple of steps where I 'fall' against the wall. "Ah!" I cry out when my prate-fall turns into a real one and I end up flat on my back with my feet in the air.

"John!" Suddenly, Rodney's standing over me. "You okay?" He reaches down to help me to my feet.

I let him pull me upright and rub at the spot on my butt where yet another bruise will most likely be by morning. Putting on my best pout I tell him "No, it hurts."

Rodney gets a look in his eye that has me swallowing thickly. "Come," he says, holding out one hand. "I'll kiss it better." That's another offer I can't refuse, and when I take his hand we're instantly back in my room. "Up on the massage table, Pet," he instructs, patting the top of the massage table, reminiscent of the first time he ever massaged me.

"How about the bed, instead?" I counter, sauntering across the room to climb up on the bed in a very suggestive manner.

"Just so long as you remember that there will be no sex until you're no longer sore." I throw another pout his way admiring his body as he stalks where I'm lying in the bed on my stomach. "Don't look at me like that, Pet. I was too rough for your first time, and I refuse to do anymore damage. You'll just have to be patient and wait until it doesn't hurt as much."

The bed dips under his weight. He stretches out along my side, sweeping one hand down my spine. "You're such a slut, but you're mine." His words actually make my heart ache, and I sit up on my heels, pulling a pillow over my lap to cover myself up and frown down at him.

"Is that really what he thinks of me?" I will not cry. I will not cry.

"It is what you are, John."

I am so not pouting right now as I mumble, "No, I'm not."

He laughs at my childish tone. "I have a feeling we're not working with the same definition of 'slut'."

My frown deepens. "As far as I know there is only one definition for the word."

He sits up and I tighten my grip on the pillow, afraid he'll take it away. "What does the word mean to you?" he asks, ignoring my defensive posture, for now at least.

Just giving him the definition irritates me, like he should know damn good and well what he just called me. "A slut is someone who will sleep with anyone in order to feel desirable and attractive. I've already told you that the last person I slept with was that bitch princess on that planet where the gene carriers were nobility. But she seduced me. I sure as hell didn't want to, at first."

Rodney smiles as he counters me gently with, "To me a slut is anyone who oozes sex and can get what they want from people without actually sleeping with them just by flirting; someone who isn't even aware they're flirting because it just comes natural to them. And that, my pretty little pet, is you." He reaches out with one hand but before he can make contact, I pull back.

"I don't flirt with everyone I meet," I defend myself.

He rolls his eyes. "You flirted with my sister!"

I give a one-shouldered shrug. "What? She's cute. But I was just saying 'hi'!" It's an old argument and one that's never going to end.

"Fine, whatever, Kirk. Fact of the matter is, you are loved."

The whisper is out before I can stop it: "Am I?"

He pauses and blinks curiously at me. "John? What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

Feeling tears prick my eyes, I just shake my head. "It's nothing."

He doesn't look like he believes me but he lets it go. "Okay. Well, for now anyway." This time when he reaches for me, I lean into his touch.

Turning my head I place a kiss to the center of his palm. Lowering my eyes seductively I bite my lower lip then peek up at him through my lashes, not even caring that I'm confirming what he's just said about me. "I believe you said something about kissing away some hurt?"

The mood effectively lightened, he tugs on the back of my neck until I am once again stretched out on my stomach. "Tell me where it hurts," he purrs in my ear.

"All over."

"Is that so?" he questions, moving to straddle me with his hands braced on either side of my shoulders. I nod, burying my head in my pillow. He chuckles and begins to gently kiss his way down my back, not missing an inch.

When he gets to my ass, he knees my legs apart then kisses all over the left cheek, paying extra attention to the spot I was rubbing earlier from my fall. Moving over to the right cheek he gives it the same treatment. Then he does something that I never expected him to do; he pulls my cheeks apart and licks a trail up my crack from my balls to my asshole. I stiffen at the sensation then relax and just let him do what he will. He runs the tip of his tongue in circles around the puckered opening before sliding it inside. I whimper when he pulls back to blow warm air on my spit-wet skin. "Shush, Pet. You can come whenever you want. You can also touch yourself if you feel the need." Oh, God! He returns to licking around my balls and up to my hole. I moan low in my throat when he slips his tongue back inside. It burns just a little but nowhere near as much as it would if it was his dick. Relaxing into his fucking, I reach under me to 'give myself a hand'.

I can honestly say I love being fucked by Rodney. I'd prefer to have his dick moving in me but will take what he's willing to give. Rodney seems to take perverse pleasure in drawing this out. Squeezing my eyes shut, I pretend that it is his cock pounding into me instead of his tongue.

Rodney pulls back and moves up to flatten on top of me, growling in my ear "Come for me, John. Show me just how much I please you. Come now!" and my body obeys instantly, stars exploding behind my lids.

Tremors wrack my frame as I continue to milk my dick while Rodney babbles dirty nonsense into my ear and grinds his own erection in the crack of my ass. He surprises me by tugging my hand out from under me and licking it clean. He then starts humping the valley between my ass cheeks in earnest until I feel the warm stickiness coating my back that signals his own orgasm.

We lie there for several minutes, panting softly. Eventually our heart rates and breathing return to normal, and he begins to nuzzle behind my right ear. "Bath or shower?"

A sigh escapes. "Bath. Pretty sure my legs won't support me at this time."

His warm breath washes over the back of my neck when he laughs at my answer. "A bath it is then," he purrs in my ear before rolling off me and out of the bed.

When I attempt to follow him I discover I was right and end up kind of slithering off the bed. It's a good thing I don't mind crawling behind him, I think, making my way across the room.

We settle into the tub in the same positions as before. Instead of bathing and then fondling me, we alternate between dozing, and reveling in the intimacy of the moment, and speaking in hushed tones about nothing of any importance. I've turned sideways and curled into his embrace, on the very edge of slumber, when he lightly shakes my shoulder and tells me it's time to get out.

"Nuh," I protest. "Don' wanna move," I mumble, burrowing more firmly into his chest and wrapping my arms around his waist.

"Too bad, Pet. You still need to eat before I can let you sleep."

"No' hungry," I grumble. He chuckles at my childish behavior and gently manhandles me out of the tub. "Master, can I dry you, please?" I hesitantly question when he reaches for the towels.

"You may," he gives his consent, and I drop to my knees to lovingly dry every inch of his skin.

Being this close to his groin has me wanting to lean forward and nuzzle his balls but since I wasn't given the go-ahead to do so, I restrain myself.

When I finish drying him he gently pulls me to my feet then drops to his knees to dry me with the same loving touch. The tender way he's taking care of my needs has me fighting back tears. I haven't had anyone take such loving care of me in longer than I can remember.

Taking me by the hand he leads me out to the balcony where he lays me gently on the pile of pillows. Lowering himself next to me he begins drawing random patterns on my abdomen with his fingertips. "I was thinking we'd do something a bit different today," he says doing a pretty damn good impression of my sexiest under the eyelashes look.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I thought we'd do a role reversal kind of thing."

"Role reversal, huh? Meaning you have to take orders from me?"

He laughs at that. "Not exactly. I really want to eat off your body but since I'm just a hologram and can't eat, I thought you could eat off me."

A spike of lust spears through me at the thought of him stretched out naked in front of me covered in food while I slowly, and sensually, eat it off. "Oh, yeah. We can do that."

He squirms into the pillows until he's more or less flat, and I begin to put pieces of fruit, cheese and candied fruits all over his body from top to bottom. Licking my lips I begin to eat the food off him, starting with his feet, making sure my tongue and teeth make contact with his skin. By the time both legs are cleared, he's quivering uncontrollably. Skipping his torso and arms, for now, I move on to the food on his face. I lick the candied fruit off his forehead, then the pieces on his cheeks ending with the slice of apple in his mouth. Using my tongue to remove it from between his teeth, I go back for a taste of his mouth, stroking his tongue with mine. Then I realize I can take a drink on my own, something I haven't done since I stepped in here. I reach for the goblet of wine and take a sip, locking eyes with Rodney. But being able to defy him isn't nearly as thrilling as I thought it would be, mostly because I have his permission to do so. Setting the goblet back on the tray with a thunk, I swipe the remaining slices of fruit and cheese from his body and climb on top to bury my face in his neck. "I can't do this, Master. Tell me which panel is the failsafe. Please!" I beg, sobs wracking my frame.

He wraps his arms around me and strokes his hands up and down my back. "I can't do that, John."

I pull back to frown down at him. "What? Why not?"

He sighs and, to give him credit, actually looks sorry. "There is no failsafe."

The words hit me like a bolt of lightning, like I’ve just been slugged in the stomach. Jumping to my feet I back up until I hit the railing. "You lied to me?"

"With good reason!" he defends, standing up.

When he reaches for me I pull back. "There is no good reason to lie about this! This is my career! My life!"

Another heartfelt sigh, and his shoulders slump. "I know that, John."

The fact that he looks so fucking guilty has me clenching my fists in fury. My Master, the one who loves me and owns me and takes such good care of me, who gives me his dominance… he fucking lied to me! "How can you be so blasé about this? He only lied to me once! You also said I could change this at anytime. What about that?"

"A lie as well. I'm sorry, John, but this was always how it was going to be."

"But I can change the scenery."

"Yes, but only within this program."

Suddenly I want nothing more than to punch him in the face as hard as I can, but I could never do that. I could never hit Rodney. So I just put every ounce of viciousness I own into the glare locked on his suddenly vulnerable eyes. It’s all too familiar, feeling betrayed by someone that ‘loves’ me. I trusted him, I finally opened up to him and let myself go, and he just… I just feel so fucking used. "I can't believe you did this to me!" I seethe. He starts to speak but I rake my hands through my hair and turn my back on him.

"This is what you needed, John!" he exclaims, grabbing my upper arm and turning me back to face him. "This isn't about you and McKay anymore. This is about your dynamic with Atlantis. You needed to be taken down so you can be a better leader for your people. Atlantis may do things for McKay, but only when she can't get through to you. If you can get unblocked then Atlantis would be able to talk to the both of you, and you know everyone will be happier."

I shake off his hand and take a step back. "My career, Rodney!"

"McKay can be discreet, you know."

"I can't do this! I can't turn it on and off. I can't be his submissive in private and his leader in public."

"You can if you just let yourself go."

"How do I do that? In here…" I stop to clear my throat. Why is he not understanding this?! "In here I could let go because I knew I didn't have to go back out there remembering this if I didn't think I could handle it. How do I let go knowing what it feels like to be loved by you? How do I separate my memories of you from what he'll be doing to me?"

"Who says you have to? Tell him what we did here and then make new memories."

Tears once again pricking my eyes, I pace away from him to the end of the balcony. Combing my fingers through my hair, I tug a little in frustration.

Rodney speaks, his tone that low soothing note that only minutes ago would have calmed me instantly. "What happened to the man who called me 'Master'? The one who said he loves me? Whose eyes teared up at how tenderly I was caring for him?"

"He's pissed that you lied to him!" I turn back to face him, slashing the air angrily with my hand. “It shouldn’t take a genius to figure that out, McKay!”

He drops his gaze to the ground, wrinkling his brow in what I hope is contrition. "What can I do to make this up to you?"

His question throws me. Can he make it up to me? Would it ever actually be possible for me to forgive him for this? "I…I don't know, Rodney. It's an awful lot to take in."

He turns his head to look out over the water at where the moons are starting to rise, crossing his arms over his chest in thoughtful quiet. Finally he murmurs, "Perhaps I should go and give you some time alone to think."

"Yeah," I snap. "Perhaps you should."

Without meeting my eyes, he nods and vanishes. I concentrate really hard and manage to conjure a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I slip them on, and it takes me a minute to fight the urge to just as quickly pull them off. It’s been so long since I wore real clothes that they feel almost uncomfortable. Soon, however, I'm back to feeling like my old self. That done, I prowl the room trying to figure out what went wrong and how we can go back to where we once were. How can I possibly manage to forget the memories I’ve created here? How I can go back to being ‘just friends’ with the man that owns my fucking soul?

"There is no going back," a new voice says from behind me.

Whirling around I find myself face to face with…me, again. For some reason, I’m not surprised. "What?"

He snorts and slouches against the doorway. "C'mon, Johnny-boy. You're not as dumb as you like to pretend to be. You know that you can only go back to where you've been for just the past couple of days."

I adapt quickly, though, and a small submissive part of me is terrified at wielding my free will again as I growl, "What if I want to go back to how it was before I stepped in here?"

He shakes his head at me. "You can't. Why won't you see that? You've admitted your feelings for him and have been told about his feelings for you. There is no going back from that." Well, shit. "You have a decision to make, John. Right here, right now. You have to decide if you can spend the rest of your days denying what – or rather who – you really want, or if you want to be the competent leader we both know you can be by submitting to the man you love and who loves you in return."

I make a noise of frustration deep in my throat and spin on my heel to march away from him. He has a point. "I know in my heart that you're right," I mutter, turning sharply to continue along the wall.

"But?" he prompts.

"But in my head…" I stammer to a stop still making a circuit of the room one hand trailing along the wall like a blind man feeling his way around. "In my head…I…I just can't. I'm career military, and I've had 'repress and deny' drummed into me since the first day of ROTC. I could lose my commission, my command and my freedom if this ever gets out. Why won't you see that?" I turn to look the other me in the eye. "Do I love Rodney McKay? Yes. Is that love that of a friend for another friend? No. Do I want to spend the rest of my days kneeling at his feet, serving him with my body? Yes. Can I do that and keep my job?" I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. "That's the question I can't answer. No matter how badly you want me to, Atlantis. That is one question that cannot be answered in the time allotted. Or by the people in this VR."

The other me actually looks chagrined. "When'd you figure it out?"

Come on, city, give me some credit here. Not the first time I’ve had somebody come on to me for all the wrong reasons, and I’ve sadly become pretty good at picking up on that. "When Rodney started talking about how this is all about my dynamic with Atlantis. The real Rodney would never see it that way. So tell me, was all this you? Was any of it Rodney's idea?"

My double stands straight and proud, in a way that I so rarely ever stand anymore. "The original program was RodneyMcKay's idea. I quickly realized that you would never go for this so I changed it to where you had no choice. You need this, John. We need you. Please stop fighting it. He told you how the future turns out without you in it. If you keep going as you have… It hurts to even think of it. I really can't bear the thought of losing my children again. Especially you. You are the strongest of all my children. And the one who we cannot live without. If you don't let RodneyMcKay take you down from time to time you will burst into flames, and we simply will not be able to exist without you." As the city continues talking her appearance and speech slowly begin to change. She shifts from looking like me to resembling one of the Ancients and her speech patterns become more formal, almost like the way Teyla talks. "Please understand that we need you to be at your best for the battle that is coming. In this I mean my children and myself. RodneyMcKay is willing and able to catch you when you fall. You just need to let yourself fall, JohnSheppard, for your own sake as well as those of the people you protect."

I incline my head when she reaches what appears to be the end of her speech. "You've given me a lot to think about, Atlantis. I need to be alone, please."

"JohnSheppard," she begins, taking a step toward me.

"Rest assured, your plea has been heard, Atlantis. But I really need to be alone to think about this. Please." She dips her head in acknowledgement. "Before you go," I call her back when she starts to disappear. "Was any of that even Rodney?"

Her expression softens. "Yes, JohnSheppard. Most of it was RodneyMcKay."

"Most of it?"

"It was me at the end. The argument on the balcony."

"I see. And the failsafe?"

"I disabled it."

"To keep me here."

"I told you that your mental health is just as important as your physical health."

"Oh, yeah. This is real healthy. Arguing with, and fucking, a computer program," I mutter, shoving my hands in my pockets.

"Actually, JohnSheppard, you were fucking a hologram," she corrects me, with a grimace at the cuss word. It’s so out-there and amusing that I’m struck by the sudden thought of what Teyla would sound like if she ever really let loose. I know she’s picked up some words by being around so many Marines, and what I wouldn’t give to see the look on Ronon’s face if she ever threw the book at him.

The mental image is enough to bring me out of my blind anger, and I give a sigh of emotional release. "Alright, I get it, I think. Now, if you please?" I hold my hand out as if escorting her to a door.

"As you wish, JohnSheppard," she murmurs, dipping her head again before vanishing.

I spend the rest of the night pacing and thinking about all I've been told. Atlantis is right. I have to make a decision, right now. Can I really spend the rest of my life knowing how he feels about me but never acting on it? Or can I put my fears aside and let him love me? By the time the sun rises I've made up my mind. Stripping off my clothes, I take a shower being sure to wash everywhere at least twice. Finally satisfied I'm clean enough, I step from the stall. Wrapping a towel around my waist after drying off, I stand in front of the mirror and run a hand over the stubble that has appeared on my jaw. I know I can just 'think' it away but I've always enjoyed scraping the whiskers from my skin myself. Once done shaving, I try to tame my hair a little. It was always getting me in trouble in ROTC. Luckily in Basic they shave your head bald but once it started growing back it was more of the same unruly cowlick.

Deciding I'm not gonna be able to tame my hair – now or ever, really – I walk back out to the bedroom, dropping the towel as I go. I kneel in the spot and position my Master prefers then call for him.

Rodney appears, carrying a tray of food. "Are you sure about this, John?" he asks, setting the tray down on the table so he can thread the fingers of one hand in my hair to tilt my head back and meet his eyes.

"I'm positive. Atlantis made a very valid point. I haven't felt this relaxed in a very long time."

Rodney considers that, then asks, "Do you need to start over?"

"No, Master."

He smiles at the ease with which I answer him and tugs on my hair. "Very well. Time to eat then we'll get some sleep since you were awake all night."

I lower my eyes. "As you wish, Master."

Since I deserve to be punished for not trusting him, I get fed from his hand instead of his mouth. I take my punishment like a good little sub, trusting that he'll know when I've been properly chastised and at that point he will reassure me of his love. When the plate is empty, he leads me to the bed, and we settle down; him on his back, me draped half over him. As I fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, I wonder what it'll be like be held like this by the real Rodney.

The next several weeks are pure hell – no, that's too strong a word. Agony – that's it; pure unadulterated agony – because it's become painfully obvious to me that I failed to truly please him when he claimed me. Now I'm not saying Rodney doesn't show he cares because he does. He still pets me, kisses me and feeds me from his mouth. It's just that his every touch is torture, a tease of what he refuses to give me.

I have become shameless in my wanton behavior. I rub my body against his every chance I get. I stretch, lazy as a cat, when we're reclining. I even use my eyes to try and seduce him. Nothing works.

Not sure how to broach the subject, I try to ignore it. I know that Rodney knows what his touch, hell his very presence, does to me but he seems oblivious to my pain or, rather, indifferent. Almost like he couldn't care less that I'm walking around with a hard-on most of the time.

Eventually I reach my breaking point. It's a testament to his conditioning that I'm able to control the urge to explode or act out.

The day it finally comes to a head is one that has been rather slow, even if the tension is thick in the air; or maybe because of it. I can feel myself hovering on the edge, waiting for something to give.

We've been playing a game of chess for most of the day. My inability to concentrate on it is the only reason it's still going on.

"You're thinking again, John." Rodney's softly spoken statement pulls me from my thoughts.

"Chess kinda requires one to think, Master," I counter, stubbornly keeping my gaze locked on the chessboard despite not really seeing it.

"True," he agrees, his hand coming into my line of sight as he makes a move and captures my pawn. "But you're not thinking about the game."

I frown as I realize that he'll have me in check in two moves and checkmate in three. "So, now you're a mind reader?" I question not able to keep my frustration from my tone.

"Don't have to be one, John. You should have beaten me about six moves ago." That has me sitting up straight and blinking at the board. Damn, he's right. "So, what is going through that pretty head of yours?"

A quick glance at his face has me telling the truth, my voice thick with embarrassment. "Did I fail to please you in some way?"

He tilts his head, his eyes narrowed. "Why do you ask?"

I open my mouth but nothing comes out. Should I really be complaining about this?

"I'm waiting, John," he says, his voice rough with impatience.

Taking a deep breath in order to steel myself against what I'm sure is to come, I tell him, "You haven't taken your pleasure with my body in over a week." And how stupid does that sound? What am I? A Harlequin heroine?

One eyebrow climbs his forehead. "My pleasure with your body?" he mimics with a snicker.

Heat explodes in my face and I duck my head in shame.

"John." I refuse to look at him. I know I'll never be able to survive the humor I'm sure is in his eyes. "Look at me." Slowly I obey his command, biting my lip at the suppressed mirth dancing in his gaze but under the laughter is an emotion I can't readily identify. "Have you ever taken a woman's virginity?"

My brows lower in a frown. "What does that have to do with anything?" I demand, my mortification at him laughing at me making me reckless.

"Just answer the question."

"One. My first girlfriend. We lost our virginity to each other."

"Were you able to have penetrative sex without pain soon after?"

"No. In fact she wouldn't let me touch her for several days after." My brows shoot up into my hairline as I finally understand. Rolling my eyes at my denseness, I inform him "Nothing in here is real. There was minimal pain."

"Be that as it may," he states in the voice he usually reserves for stupid people or children. "There was supposed to be a lesson in this."

"What kind of lesson?"

He sighs. "Why must you be so obtuse, John?"

I've obviously missed something vital, here. "I swear I have no idea, Master."

"Do you really think McKay's going to be able to know the exact moment you need something?"

"So this was to teach me how to ask for what I need beyond the basic food and drink?"

"Yes. McKay's too busy saving the universe to be able to tell when you need to be taken down before it becomes a problem. Learn to ask for what you need, John."

"But," I falter. "Wouldn't that invoke a reprimand?"

"Develop a signal so you won't risk punishment."

Anger wells at that statement. What the fuck does he think I've been doing these past weeks? Honing my slut skills? "I've been trying for weeks!" I exclaim, jumping to my feet, inadvertently knocking the chess pieces over.

"I was giving you time to heal."

The calm way he says it angers me further and shoves me over the edge into a tantrum to rival the one from so long ago. I sweep one arm across the table top, sending the chessboard and pieces flying to the floor. "Bullshit!" I scream, spittle flying from my mouth. "You're just being a bastard. Trying to force me to break a rule so you can punish me."

"I don't need a reason to punish you, John. If I want to tan your hide, I will and nothing you say or do can stop me." His voice is soft and calm. It worms through my anger and begins to place the chains back on the beast that coming to Pegasus awoke deep within me. "I think you need to be alone, John."

Panic flares white hot and scares the beast into submission. "No!" I plead, dropping to my knees beside his chair. I can't place my head on his feet from here, nor can I get under the table so I just prostrate myself on the floor, sobs wracking my frame. "Please don't leave me!"

He's silent for so long I'm afraid he's already left so I peek under my arm and feel relief flood me when I see his feet.

"Too bad, John. I really feel you need some time alone. To think about everything." And with that he vanishes.

"No! Master!" I yell, tears flowing unchecked down my cheeks. "Look! I'm cleaning up from my temper tantrum!" I tell the empty air, scrambling on my hands and knees to pick up the scattered chess set. "Master, please," I whimper once my chore is complete. Curling up into a ball there on the floor I give over to the broken heart that I'm sure is going to kill me.

Eventually I slip into a restless slumber that's haunted by nightmares of all the evil I've witnessed, and been a part of, since joining the Air Force.

Sometime later I wake up, my limbs stiff and sore from where I'm still curled on the floor, which tells me louder than words that my Master has decided to wash his hands of me.

A stab of pain flares in my chest as the suffocating realization descends, constricting my lungs with the savage brutal truth: I am alone, I am unwanted, and I will never feel Rodney take pleasure in me again. I surprise myself when I sit up, throw back my head, and send a strangled howl at the ceiling. "You said you love me!!!" I hear my echoes fade away, and it hits me like a hammer when I realize that there is no response, and there never will be again. I bite back a bitter sob and finally stagger to my feet.

My head feels like it's in a vice, the main drawback of crying your eyes out. Drawing the back of one hand across my eyes I conjure a pair of sweats pants and a tee shirt. Slipping them on, I instantly pull the shirt back off. I just can't stand the suffocating feel of the material against my skin after so long without.

I mope around my 'cell' for several days, ignoring the food that appears daily like clockwork, after a rather embarrassing attempt at eating early on that first day. My stomach rebels in the worst way as soon as anything hits it so I find it easier to just do without. Surely Rodney, or rather Atlantis, won't let me starve.

Boredom eventually drives me from the room and despite a flutter of guilt at breaking a 'rule', I set off in exploration of this virtual version of my home.

It soon becomes apparent that Atlantis used scans of how she looked at her peak. I find myself enjoying the discovery of rooms and corridors we can't access in the real world due to the flooding and structural damage.

In an effort to keep myself entertained, I drive my RC car around the city but find it beyond dull with no one to race. An extremely childish fit of pique leaves the car's controller in pieces at my feet.

Deciding I need an outlet for my anger that won't lead to anything else getting broken, I make my way to the gym. Slipping on the sparring gloves I begin to beat the shit outta the heavy bag.

Oblivious to the strain in my shoulders or the sweat pouring into my eyes and soaking my hair, I keep pounding away until a sob nearly knocks me off my feet. Clutching the bag for support, I let everything come pouring out.

"Rodney." His name is a plea and a promise rolled into one. "I need you," I whisper, my arms giving out so that I slump to the floor in a heap. "I love you. Please save me." The words are out before I can stop them.

I must have drifted off because I jerk awake when a pair of strong arms, familiar arms, beloved arms wrap around me along with a much sought after voice. "Shush, John. I've got you," my Master murmurs in my ear.

Licking dry lips, I try to beg his forgiveness but find I have no voice. Fresh tears escape as I realize that I can no longer scream in pleasure should he decide to grant me any.

"Here." A cup is pressed to my lips and blessed coolness slips past and over my tongue. Swallowing is painful but I force myself to do so because my Master wishes it. "Easy. Not too much," his command is spoken in that same soft tender voice I've come to love. "I never took you for a fool, John." His voice has hardened to a reprimand.

A tiny whine escapes my throat. "Forgive…Master," I rasp my voice rusty from my emotional explosion.

"Of course, you idiot," he says a smile evident in his voice. A quick sniff followed by a fake gag precedes his demand, "When was the last time you bathed?"

A bath, along with food and drink, had been the furthest thing from my mind these past days? Weeks? A shrug, then "Not sure. How long have I been alone?"

"Not funny," he replies.

"Not trying to be. I honestly have no idea how long it's been."

"It's been about two weeks."

Two weeks…two long weeks without my Master's loving presence. I'm surprised I didn't find a way to end this program so that my mind would be left alone in the dark of the stasis chamber. Then I realize that Rodney probably wrote a failsafe into the program to prevent that from happening.

Gentle hands prod me into standing on unsteady legs. "Come, John," Rodney commands. "A shower then some food."

In the blink of an eye I have us back in my room. Confident I'll follow, he turns and strides to the bathroom.

I'm unable to enjoy his attentions during our shower because I'm too busy waiting for the other shoe to drop. He notices my distraction, much to my annoyance. "Stop thinking," he orders with a sharp slap to my flank.

"Can't help it," I mumble. "Surely what I did deserves a severe punishment."

"It does." His agreement has my heart dropping to my feet. "But I think you've punished yourself enough, don't you?"

My eyes snap up to his face. What does he mean I punished myself? "I don't understand, Master."

"I never went anywhere, John. I was here the whole time. You decided to punish yourself with exile and so you couldn't see me until you were ready to."

I don't know how to respond to that so I just lower myself to my knees and rest my head on his feet, loving the fact that I haven't lost the right to do so.

A hand on my back and a whispered word of encouragement has me sitting up and meeting his eyes. "Come," he commands gently.

Rising slowly to my feet, I follow him out of the shower and stand still while he dries us. When he turns to go back to the bedroom, I drop to my knees and crawl along behind him. I had forgotten how wonderful it feels to do so. He stops next to the table and gestures for me to take a seat. My confusion rises when I see the plate of food and glass of water.

"Eat, John." His voice is still soft and tender, almost as if he's afraid I'll break if he speaks too loud. And he just might be right. I find myself flinching with each word out of his mouth.

"I can't," I whisper, feeling my stomach roll at just the mere thought of food.

"You must eat."

"Food has no taste," I tell him, raising pleading eyes to his face. "If you really were here all this time you know that nothing I ate stayed down."

"I was here, John. But you can't seriously expect people to fail to notice the head of the military no longer eating in the mess hall. Nor can you risk letting McKay feed you in public."

I hadn't thought of that. Returning my gaze to the plate, I pick up the fork and scoop up some scrambled eggs. I take a bite and almost instantly begin to choke when they turn to dust in my mouth. Grabbing the glass, I gulp some water, not even caring that I spill some down my chin.

"Easy, John." Rodney's voice has taken on a sharp edge in his worry.

"Told you," I croak, wiping my mouth.

"Hm," he hums. Shifting his weight to one foot, he tucks one hand under an arm and rests his other elbow on that arm, holding his chin in his hand. "I suppose I could always wean you back to feeding yourself."

I perk up at that. "Yes, Master. Please!" I beg, my stomach deciding that now is a good time to remember it hasn't had anything in it for weeks.

Sitting in the chair opposite, he beckons me over. I instantly kneel at his side but his hand under my arm has me standing up. Everything he's done since coming to me in the gym has thoroughly confused me. My confusion lifts, however, when he guides me to sit sideways on his leg like a child on its parent's lap.

Settling down in one of my favorite spots, I give into the urge to rest my head on his shoulder. He strokes his hand down my back, allowing me a moment to reconnect on a physical level with him. "Now, John," he begins, pushing me into an upright position. "You will eat everything." Pulling the plate across the table he picks up the fork and loads it with some eggs. When he offers it to me I obediently open my mouth, chew, then swallow.

Despite the fact that food still has no taste, I eat everything he offers because he told me to.

By the time the plate and glass are empty I'm fighting to keep my eyes open as well as stifling several yawns.

A sharp slap to my backside has my eyes widening. "Bed," he instructs, giving a gentle push to my hip that has me sliding off his lap.

We get into bed and I'm asleep almost before he gets me settled against his side. The last thing I hear before I slip into slumber is "You are so very loved, John. Never doubt that."

The next morning everything is different. He is even more attentive than ever. He also shows me just what it's like to be owned by him. I no longer wear clothes when in my room because he tends to rip them in his haste to fuck my ass. It doesn't matter if he just took me a few minutes before; if he wants me, he takes me.

And he doesn't take me in just my room either. He takes me wherever we happen to be when he gets the urge.

One day we went exploring and he bent me over the DHD (I never knew he had that fantasy), then he laid me on my desk (definitely one of mine), then in a jumper (my number one fantasy).

When racing our cars he even uses sex for our bets; if I win he pushes my pants down and blows me, pulling my orgasm from me in no time and if he wins, he shoves me face first against the wall and fucks my brains out.

I learn that despite all the awesome fuck sessions, my favorite way to be taken is him propped against the headboard with me facing him while riding his cock.

This position gives him access to every one of my hot spots, well the ones on the front of my torso, that is and he takes complete advantage. He nibbles on my lips, my chin, my collarbone and pinches, twists and flicks his nails against my nipples. On one memorable day he pulled me closer, bent his head and sucked, bit and licked them until I begged for mercy. I learned that day that he has no mercy where I'm concerned.

On another memorable day instead of fucking me he just had me sit there, his dick lodged deep inside. Despite that, there was nothing sexual about it. The kisses we traded were soft and designed to comfort, not arouse. We talked quietly about just about everything. I told him about the dreams I'd had for my future before my mother's death sent me on a slow slide into the criminal world. I finally realized that my father did care very much because he found a way for me to get out of that hell. He could have just let me self-destruct but he didn't and now it's too late for me to tell him I understand and love him too. Tears, hot bitter tears of regret, fell as I buried my head in Rodney's neck. Rodney just held me through it. Finally my tears dried up and that's when my orgasm hit me like a truck. It was totally different from any other orgasm I'd ever had for two reasons, one, it snuck up on me and two, I wasn't hard so it was dry and bordered on painful.

Horrified at my lack of control, I reluctantly pulled back to risk a glance at his face. What I found surprised me more than my orgasm did. Rodney had his eyes squeezed shut and his lower lip was caught between his teeth. It took me several seconds to figure out that he was trying to not come.

"Master?" I called quietly. My softly spoken word was obviously enough to push him over the edge because he groaned long and low as warmth flooded my guts.

When he opened his eyes my surprise and shock were reflected back at me. Before I could beg his forgiveness he chuckled. "Damn, Pet. I knew you were sexy as all get out but I never for a moment thought you'd be able to give me such a strong orgasm with no stimulation."

"So, you're not angry I came without permission?"

"Of course not. Your orgasm was as much a surprise to me as it was to you."

Unfortunately that never happened again. In fact he never again took me in that position. While I was distressed by that, I pushed it from my mind. He was still taking me whenever and wherever he wanted so I had nothing to complain about.

In time I'm back to feeding myself, albeit while sitting on his dick, but still.

At every meal I can see the restraints on the table and I have to concentrate real hard to not shudder at the reminder of my one and only punishment spanking. Eventually he catches me looking at it from the corner of my eye.

"Not a pleasant memory, is it, Pet?"

I shake my head and swallow my mouthful before replying "I once again beg your forgiveness for my impudence that day, Master."

His chuckle has me moaning as it has him rubbing against my prostate. "Not sure that's what I'd call it, but you have been forgiven several times over, Pretty Pet."

When I was younger I hated being called pretty, even by my mother, but hearing my Master call me that has me preening with pride. Just knowing that my appearance brings him pleasure and will make others envious of him has my chest puffing out with conceit.

"What say we erase that bad memory and make a new one, one that'll bring us both pleasure when we think of it?" he suggests.

Feeling suddenly shy, I drop my gaze and nod my agreement. Not that he needs it. It is his right to use me whenever he wants and he has made it his mission these past weeks to remind me of that.

"Good. Now up," he says with a pat to my butt. I do as told and stand there waiting for his next instruction. "Bend over the table, John. Just like you did that day." Slowly I turn to face the table, grateful for his reassuring presence at my back.

When I hesitate, he pushes on my shoulders until I lean forward. Stretching out on the cool tile of the table, I grab the opposite edge. A hand in my hair gently guides me to rest my cheek on the tabletop. "This is to be a pleasant memory, my pretty," he murmurs in my ear, "and so you will not be restrained. Show me how much you love me by not moving. Can you do that, John?" I nod my answer. "Good," he praises. Placing one hand between my shoulder blades, he runs the other in a tickling caress down my right leg until it catches on the back of my knee. Shifting his grip, he cups my knee and raises it to place it on the table leaving me open and exposed. "Don't move. Hold it for me," he orders. "So very beautiful," he purrs, his voice coming from further away telling me he's stepped back.

I feel panic starting to unfurl in my belly as his hands leave my body. A whimper escapes as I try to see where he is without moving my head.

"Shush, John," he soothes. "Just want to look at what belongs to me. You wouldn't deny me this pleasure, would you?"

"No, Master," I whisper, fighting my rising panic. My heart knows this is his right and that he'll find immense pleasure in what he sees, but my head is scared that what he sees will fail to please him and he'll leave me again.

"You're doing so good, John." He seems to know that I need constant praise. Even his reprimands are worded as praises.

Before my panic reaches its peak, Rodney is pressing into me with a groan of pleasure.

"Still so tight," he pants, continuing to push slowly into me.

Once fully seated in my ass, his hands come to rest on my hips and he leans down to nuzzle behind my right ear. "You may come when you want," he tells me. "I also want to know when your leg starts to hurt. Understood?" I nod, knowing that both will be difficult for me to obey.

He just holds there and I revel in the feel of my Master's dick being once more lodged deep inside me. Squeezing my muscles earns me a deep chested growl. Startled I stop and hold my breath waiting for him to pull out and walk away, leaving me lying there on the table.

"That's it, Pet. Squeeze those muscles. Show me how much you love having your ass fucked." Each word is punctuated with a deep press of his hips against mine.

I do what he asks, knowing he'll tell me when to stop. Instead of thrusting he just stays there draped over my back with his nose buried behind my right ear. He sweeps his thumbs up over my hips, pressing down into the pressure points above.

Slowly he begins to thrust, angling each in-stroke to hit my prostate. He keeps the pace slow, ending each thrust with a hard wiggle of his hips against mine. Gradually he picks up the pace, making sure to hit that spot over and over. The pleasure is so intense at first that all I can do is hold on to the edge of the table, bite my lip and squeeze my eyes shut in order to concentrate on not coming too soon. I know he said I could come whenever I want, but I'd much rather hold off. Anticipation makes the end so much better.

Once I get myself back under control, I open my eyes and attempt to look at my Master. All I manage to do is give myself a headache so I close them again and lie there enjoying being fucked by the man who owns me.

An especially hard thrust forces me to grunt "Master". He apparently likes that because he makes sure to do it again and again. "Master, please," I beg.

"Please, what, John?"

"Harder, Master."

"Harder, Pet?"

"Yes, please."

"How hard? This hard?" he asks thrusting just a bit harder. "Or this hard?" His thrust this time has his balls smacking wetly against my ass.

"That one," I groan.

"Which one, Pet? You have to be more specific."

"Make it hurt, Master. Make it hurt so good!"

"Oh, so like this?" he asks, shoving in so hard the table moves a couple of inches.

"Yes, Master, please! Give me more!"

He braces his hands on the table next to my hips and gives me what I asked for. Each hard slap of his hips against mine has me crying out in pleasure. He continues to pound into me, occasionally leaning down to nuzzle behind my right ear.

"Fuck me! Yeah, that's it! Fuck me!" I shout out encouragement, not that he needs any, while also fighting my impending orgasm.

"What are you doing?" His question, snarled directly in my ear, has me holding my breath and my eyes opening wide. "I told you to come when you want and yet I can feel you holding back. Are you seriously trying to defy me?"

"No, Master," I pant, whining low in my throat when he stops.

"Then what?"

"I…I…can't," I whimper, reminding him that he's conditioned me to not come without his consent.

"I've already given you permission, John. Do you really need to hear the words?" I nod my head, forcing myself to relax into his fucking. "Very well. Come for me, John. Now!"

My orgasm rips through my body at the very first word and has me rearing back so hard I almost clock him in the nose with the back of my head. I literally collapse on the table when my dick stops spurting. I spare half a thought to hope Rodney doesn't make me lick it up despite the fact that he doesn't seem to be into humiliation. Then all thought splinters when he leans down and bites me where my neck meets my shoulder, the feel of his teeth breaking the skin causing me to howl in pained pleasure.

He surprises me when he starts talking dirty. The words have my cock twitching in renewed interest. "Yeah. That's it. Take it, John. Take my dick." He's alternating between growling and outright snarling, each word punctuated with a thrust hard enough to move the table. The screech of the legs against the floor is loud in my ears.

The position of my leg on the table puts just enough pressure on the pulse point that by the time he's empting himself into my guts, I can't feel my toes. His hips stutter against mine several times then he crumples on top of me, his tongue darting out to taste the skin and sweat on my neck.

We lie there for several minutes, both of us breathing hard. I spare a brief thought to be thankful for the solid table beneath me. With a swipe of his tongue to my right shoulder, he worms his hands under my chest and pulls us both upright.

Our legs give out and we both tumble to the floor. He chuckles and buries a kiss in my hair. "I doubt I can carry you to the bed. Can you walk?"

"Doubtful."

"Guess you should have told me when your leg was starting to hurt, huh?"

"I didn't want you to stop. Besides it felt really good."

"It probably would have felt even better if you had lowered your leg from the table."

Probably would have felt better… The thought has my heart picking up speed. I lower my lashes and peek up at him through them. Licking my lips I say in my sexiest purr "Next time, then?"

He smiles fondly at me. "Maybe. But for now, sleep."

Despite knowing that I won't get my way in this, I pout a little, pulling yet another chuckle from him. He stands and pulls me to my feet, slinging one arm over his shoulder and helping me hop to the bed.

Once I'm settled on the mattress, he takes my ankle in his hands and soothes away the aching pins and needles until it feels normal again. I smile drowsily, and wait for him to curl around me before I murmur, "How'd you know?"

"The skin of that foot had lost all its color. Now, sleep, John," he tells me with a kiss to the back of my neck.

Wiggling a bit to find a more comfortable position, I tuck our twined fingers under my chin and let sleep pull me under, knowing that my Master will keep me safe.

The remainder of my time in stasis is spent learning how to deep throat, discovering just what it feels like to be pushed face first over the balcony railing and fucked to within an inch of my life, just how long I can go without coming and exactly how high my pain threshold is. And I love every fucking second of it.

Until the day Rodney tells me it's all about to end. We're lounging in the hammock; him on his back, one leg draped over the side to keep us swinging and me curled up against his side, one arm and leg thrown over his body. The gentle lapping of the warm water, the soothing warmth of the sun combined with the calming effects of his fingers in my hair has me hovering on the verge of sleep, just like always.

"John?" he calls in a soft voice designed to not wake me if I had fallen asleep.

"Hm?" I hum, turning my head to rub my nose against his chest, smiling at the way the coarse hairs tickle.

"It's time," he says as if I'll understand what he means.

Which of course I do. "No," I whimper, tightening my grip on his waist.

"John," he gently scolds, giving my hair a warning tug.

"I'm not ready," I whisper, swiveling my head around to pout up at him.

"It'll be alright," he assures me, running one hand down my side.

"Do you promise?"

"Yes." From here on out he will have the power to calm me with just a word, so long as he uses that voice.

That night he makes love to me like he never has before and it's all I can do not to cry like a woman. I want to prolong every touch, every sound, every second of this last time.

The next morning, I wake to him once again making slow sweet love to me and this time I do cry. As we lie in each other's arms afterward I realize that he cried too. Guess he doesn't want this to end either.

"We have to get up now," he mutters against my hair much sooner than I want.

"Why can't we just stay here?"

"Because they need you, John. Come," he orders with a slap to my flank.

Heaving a huge sigh and grumbling under my breath, I roll off him and out of the bed. I drop to my knees automatically settling into the proper position. "Really wish I could leave the way I entered; fall asleep in one place and wake up in another."

"Is that really how you want it?" he asks stepping into my line of sight dressed like the real Rodney would be.

"I think it would be easier, yes."

"Sorry. We waited too long. Get dressed," he says, pointing to a pile of clothes that has appeared to my right.

I roll to my feet and slowly begin pulling on clothes that I've worn almost every day for the last four years, dreading each second of it because I know it brings me that much closer to having to leave here.

"I love you, John," he whispers, pressing a kiss to my forehead once I'm completely dressed. "Close your eyes and when you open them the McKay hologram will be there to make sure you get to the gate in time."

"I love you, Master," I say on a sob, closing my eyes.

Coming out of stasis is just as weird a feeling as going in. As soon as I'm totally free of the chamber, 'old' Rodney whisks me away. Over the past seven hundred years the sand has been mostly worn away which allows us – me – to run straight to the gateroom. I dial the gate back to the planet I was on with Lorne. Before stepping through the wormhole, I glance back at 'old' Rodney and see him lift his hand in a little wave similar to the one he gave me when I went into stasis.

"See ya on the other side, Master," I whisper, throwing him a sloppy salute and stepping into the event horizon.

The trip through the gate is as exciting as always and before I know it, I'm stepping out onto M4S-587. I quickly dial Atlantis and watch the wormhole explode to life. Once the vortex has settled, I send through my IDC and wait for confirmation that they received it before stepping through to my home.

When I enter the gateroom, it's to find a contingent of Marines with their weapons pointed at the gate. "Whoa!" I call out, holding my hands up at shoulder height, palms out.

"John!" Sam seems surprised to see me.

"Colonel!" I greet, looking past her for my Master. "It worked! It worked. Rodney, you're a genius!" I crow when I spot him standing just behind Sam.

He looks confused. "Okay."

"John, what happened?" Sam asks, bringing my attention back to her.

"How much time has gone by?" I demand, ignoring her question, stepping closer.

"You've been missing for twelve days." Her voice has taken on a hard edge of warning that I'd be wise to heed.

"Twelve days, twelve days. Okay, she won't have had her baby yet," I mutter under my breath, looking down while I try to remember everything 'old' Rodney told me. I raise my gaze to meet Sam's head on. "Look, I know this sounds kinda weird, but we're on the clock." I'm getting frantic. I have to make them understand now that the fate of the universe is at stake.

"John, what are you talking about?" Sam is starting to get annoyed with my non-answers.

"I know where Teyla is." I just spit it right out. "No time to go into details. We have to get moving now!" Sam and Rodney exchange a look that speaks volumes. I need to get Rodney alone so I can tell him what happened. He'll understand, and he'll fix it. When they look back to me, I can tell they don't believe me. Great. I'm gonna end up in iso, I just know it.

Sure enough, Sam has the Marines escort me to the isolation chamber. As I pass Rodney I whisper "I need to speak to you alone." He gives me an odd look before turning to go back up the steps to the control room.

About an hour later, Rodney enters the iso room. "You said you needed to talk?" he questions.

"I also said alone," I counter with a glance up at the observation lounge.

"I've turned off all recording devices and locked the doors to the observation room. We're as alone as we're ever going to get."

I have to fight the urge to drop to my knees and offer myself to him. Snapping to attention to show him how much I respect him as my Master, I begin my tale. "In the future you created two holographic programs. One to help me get to the stasis chamber so I could come back here and rescue Teyla. And one to keep me 'company' while in stasis."

His eyebrows go up at that. "One to keep you 'company' while in stasis?"

"Yes," I answer and bite my tongue to keep from calling him 'Master'.

"Why are you standing at attention? I'm not one of your superiors." He gives me a once over reminiscent of the one he gives to the scientists under his command when they screw up.

I can only smirk at that. "Oh, but you are. In fact you're my only superior."

His brows now lower over his nose. "Your…only…" Suddenly I see the light bulb go off in his eyes. "Oh, my God. I didn't. Tell me I didn't!" Now I drop to my knees and place my forehead on the toe of his boots. "John! Get up! Get up!" he orders, pulling on the back of my shirt until I'm once again standing at attention. "I couldn't… I wouldn't…!"

"But you did, Master," I tell him, whispering the last word.

"John," he breathes my name in a soft voice, his eyes getting glassy. "You don't understand."

"No, Master, I understand perfectly. I need you. Need your dominance. Your love. Your discipline. Please, Master. Don't push me away," I plead desperately, leaning forward to press my lips to his.

Rodney pulls back like he's been burned, his fingers going instantly to press against his lips. "Are you insane?!" he demands, pacing around the room. "Have you forgotten about DADT?"

Just barely refraining from rolling my eyes, I answer him. "As long as we're discreet that's not a problem."

"Hello! Have you met me?!" He's really getting into his rant now, and when he passes in front of me I see him flailing his arms in the air in typical McKay fashion. "I don't know the definition of 'discreet'."

I sigh deeply. Why do I have a feeling he's gonna fight this harder than I did? "Are you saying you're willing to risk the safety of Atlantis by not giving me what you, yourself, told me I need?"

That stops him in his tracks and has him spinning to face me. "I said no such thing!"

"You did. In the chamber."

"That was an older me talking then."

"So you didn't have a college boyfriend who had control issues that sent the two of you to a counselor who sent you to a Dominatrix who gave you a test that showed you as a Dom and then taught you how to spot a submissive?" I’m amazed to get it all out in one breath.

So is he, apparently, judging by the way he just blinks at me. "How did… know that…? I've never… no one…"

"Because you told me."

Rodney's mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. After several seconds he finally finds his voice. "But…but…why?"

"Why, what, Rodney?"

"Why would I tell you that?"

"You said it was what I need. And for the record, Atlantis agrees with you."

"What do you mean Atlantis agrees with me?"

This time I do roll my eyes as well as sighing deeply in frustration. "She hijacked your program and changed it so that I got what she, and you, feel I need."

"And?" he demands. I can tell he's starting to get it but for some reason it appears he wants to hear me say it.

Relaxing into the now familiar feeling of being taken down by my Master, I again drop to my knees, instantly getting into the proper position. "Take me, Master. Make me yours. Claim me. Make me scream your name while you leave your marks on my body. I am yours to do with as you please. You own me heart, body and soul. Let me please you, Master."

Before he has a chance to answer, he puts his hand to the ear that has his radio. "Yes, Sam, I know." A pause. "I locked the door." Another pause. "Because he said he needed to talk to me alone." An even longer pause that has me fighting the urge to squirm. "Yes, I also turned off the cameras. Why are you worried about that? Keller has already told you he's not a clone!" This time the pause accompanies a dark cloud forming on his face. "I don't care! He's my best friend, my team leader, and he requested a word alone with me. I didn't see the harm." He appears to be actually listening to Sam this time instead of trying to find a place to jump in with his defense of me. "What did he want to talk about? It's personal. And no, it will not be going in my report! Now if you don't mind I need to finish my conversation so I can go search the sensor logs." He pulls his radio from his ear with a sound of frustration. "Damn nosey woman," he mutters, stuffing the earpiece in his pocket before turning back to me. "Now, where were we?"

Biting back a smile I remind him. "I just offered myself to you as your submissive."

"Hm," he hums walking around me. "So you did. As much as I'd love to take you up on that offer, I believe we have a mission to complete first. Don't we, Pet?" he leans down to growl softly in my ear.

"Yes, Master," I pant, my cock immediately responding to his tone with a very interested twitch.

My heart soars when he just jumps right in like the last seven hundred years of my life weren’t a dream. "I don't want to see a physical response until we can be alone. Can you do that for me, Pet?"

"Of course, Master," I answer, my voice taking on a dreamy quality as I imagine just how he'll claim me for the first time.

"Very good. Get up. Sam wants to talk to you while I look for that solar flare. Do I need to level you out or anything?" He places one hand on my hair.

I lean into his touch, nuzzling against his leg for a minute before rolling to my feet. "No. I don't need to be leveled out." I twist my neck to get rid of some kinks.

He nods his head, wringing his hands as nerves kick in. "Good, good. Now you just… just be…well, you."

Giving him a fond smile, I lean over and brush his lips with mine again. "I think I can do that."

He turns to leave, then suddenly spins back and marches over to where I'm still standing. Taking my face in his hands he pulls me in for a gut-heating kiss that clearly says 'I own you' and leaves me dizzy and gasping for breath when he pulls back. His gaze burns when it travels down my body before landing on my groin. The thing I hate the most about BDUs is that they don't hide an erection very well. "Care to explain why you're disobeying me already?" he asks, one brow halfway up his forehead.

I duck my head and clear my throat several times. "Forgive me, Master. I had no idea that kissing the real you would be so arousing."

"Huh," he grunts. "Get rid of it!" he orders, turning away and pulling his radio out of his pocket to call and harass Radek.

While I wait for Sam to arrive, I envy Rodney the ease with which he can pretend nothing just happened. A wicked grin spreads over my face as I plot ways to torture him once this mission is over.

Before Sam arrives, I take the time to look up at the ceiling. “Okay, Atlantis, you were right. Happy?”

I don’t expect a response, but the lights brighten just a little, enough to bathe me in a much warmer glow than the harsh clinical lighting from earlier. I smile, and the lights dim back down as I hear Sam’s familiar footsteps outside the door.

8/14/10 ETA: This story has been nominated for a 'No Rest for the Wicked' Award. ETA: Didn't win but was the runner-up.
July 2011 ETA: also nominated for a 'GateFic award'. ETA: Didn't win.

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