wonkyelk

Title: Falling Upright
Pairing: McShep
Rating: Mature
Length: 2829
Summary: John Sheppard had been a geeky, shy, private and solitary boy, until, one day, puberty threw out a last, desperate Hail Mary, and he woke up toned and tall and inexplicably popular.

This had caused something of a clash between his deep personal sense of self and the stereotypes he was suddenly supposed to fit into; but it did get him one hell of a lot of sex.

Notes: For prompt: fallen

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42923298

Title: The Ham-Hock School of Back rubs
Author: WonkyElk
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing/Characters: McShep
Rating: Teen and Up
Length/Size: 899
Summary: John should have practised first

Also on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40078470


“Look, I said I was sorry.”

“Sorry? You’re sorry? Sheppard, my spine has been pulled to pieces, knotted, spindled and mutilated. My ribs have been turned inside out and backwards, my shoulder blades are so traumatised that they’ll need therapy for life, and, as for my internal organs, they’ve all retreated into a quivering, huddled mass for protection against your pokey, pokey fingers of doom.”

“Okay, well, now you’re just exaggerating…”

“Exaggerating? When you managed to get most of my vertebrae to swap places and my whole left kidney to dissolve in sheer terror?”

Rodney shifted slightly in the close confines of John’s apology cuddle and winced, very pointedly and several times. Than he turned his head to give John a look that was equal parts accusatory and plaintive.

“I may never be able to fetch my own coffee ever again.”

John damped down the smile that had darted from him in sheer relief. Rodney had been too startled and winded to yell stop at first, in the face of such nervous over-enthusiasm; and John really had been worried, for a while there, that he might have done some actual damage.

“Like you ever fetch your own coffee anyway. You rely on people wanting you caffeinated for their own protection.”

“Hey, busy man here. When you’re saving the galaxy you don’t have time to percolate.”

John noticed that Rodney was now almost in a comfortable position to kiss and that his indignation had gone down sufficiently for that to be a good idea. Accordingly, he made a few adjustments and followed through on the notion.

Rodney’s last traces of annoyance melted away nicely, as John’s hands soothed and settled his allegedly disorganised back, making amends with firm, easy strokes, that neither displaced any vertebrae, nor dissolved even a smidgeon of organ.

Further amends were made, in a leisurely fashion, to their great and mutual satisfaction. And there was a brief period of harmony and peace with all the universe.

Of course, it was an immutable law of nature that peace and Rodney were not able to coexist for long.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that you didn’t know how to give a massage? I could have done you first, given you some tips. Explained that you shouldn’t use the opportunity to give your best imitation of a rampaging jackhammer.”

John shifted defensively.

“I just… figured I could wing it. A little firm pressure, some kneading, a karate chop or two. It always looked pretty straightforward.”

“Yes, that’s because people usually take the time to do a bit of training first, or, at the very least, research. They don’t just start digging into people’s flesh with their untamed elbows and their fingers of tempered steel. Also, for future reference, there’s a difference between firm pressure and the force required to make diamonds. Look, let me show you…”

John found himself being rolled onto his stomach and adjusted into a comfortable position. He was far too loose and contented to mind.

“…okay, so you start with a little effleurage to warm up the muscles…”

John closed his eyes as Rodney talked him through the stages…

“…now, petrissage is the part where you knead gently, but firmly, not the part where you take Muscle A in a death grip and try to forcibly introduce it to Muscle B, with a quick side trip straight through the liver…”

…along with an efficient practical demonstration that, astoundingly, actually left him feeling more blissed out than he already had been.

“Mmm. You know, I think I might need a few more lessons before I risk another try at massaging you.”

“Hah. As if I’d ever let you near my back again, with those frozen ham-hocks that you have the nerve to call hands.

Oh, hey, are there any bruises? Finger marks? Lumps in alarming places? Sad and desperately wordless cries for help?”

Rodney stretched himself out, like an elongated house cat, to better display his back to John; who examined it minutely. Occasionally, he inspected certain parts with his lips, for greater thoroughness.

“Looks pretty good to me. Somehow, it seems to have miraculously survived the Attack of the Ham-Hocks.”

John ran his hands lightly over Rodney’s spine, lingering at the base and then dipping lower.

“How about I practice my kneading just in this area for a while?”

Rodney gave a slight wriggle of agreement.

“That’s… oh!” he gasped slightly, as John practised being firm, but not too firm. Diamonds were a poor substitute for Rodney’s very grippable buttocks.

“Yes, that would be an… hmmm…acceptable notion. Carry on.” Rodney waved an airy hand and resigned himself to the indignity of being training material, with a happy little sigh.

And, by the time that John had gained his merit badge in the Fine Art of Ass Massage (External, Internal and Gloriously Combined), Rodney had recovered entirely from his traumatic experience and they had even scheduled in a rematch for tomorrow.

And, if John happened to slip by the kitchen just before their appointment, in order to swipe whatever was the closest thing to frozen ham hocks currently available (for certain nefarious, and very childish, purposes); well, he had also done a fair bit of research, got in a copious amount of oil; and had a very good idea of exactly how he would make it up to Rodney afterwards; many, many times over.