Summary: "Shit happens" is the only hard and fast rule of life in the Pegasus Galaxy.
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Word Count: 629
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, clonal narcissism, rampaging egotism
A/N: Written for Oxoniensis's Porn Battle VII.
“Shit happens” is the only hard and fast rule of life in the Pegasus Galaxy, so much so that John is starting to think he should have it embroidered on his uniform.
And so, when an alternate version of himself shows up from another universe, John is able to skip the whole “there are more versions of me” freak out and the “which one of us is the real John Sheppard” dilemma. That's all long since become old news.
There's a knock on the door to his quarters, and John very much hopes it is who he thinks it is.
“Hey,” the other him says, and John wonders if he normally looks so cocky.
“C'mon in,” he replies, closing and locking the door behind him.
His double sits down on the bed and looks at him, sizing him up for a moment. “You wanna?”
“Hell yes,” John replies, and he starts unbuttoning his shirt.
This has been one of John's most closely guarded fantasies ever since- since he turned fifteen and discovered science fiction, probably. John knows, that, objectively speaking, he's pretty fucking hot. It's not about that, though, really- he'd probably still want himself if he had one leg and a hairlip. There's just something to the idea of being with somebody who knows exactly what gets him off, somebody he can never shock, somebody who- he's certain- will always be in the mood.
And if they spend a good fifteen minutes making out, that's just so he can check up on himself, isn't it? How else is he going to be able to be certain that he's really as good of a kisser as his girlfriends have said? God knows they all ended up saying things that weren't true.
But he'll be goddamned if they weren't all right.
John is still considering how he should play this when the other him gets down on his knees, unzipping his pants and pulling them roughly down John's legs. The speed and seeming lack of reluctance with which he closes his mouth around John's dick really surprises him. John's really, honestly not gay, has never blown or been blown by another guy before- but shit, if he'd be this damn good at it, maybe he should start. The male population of this reality is seriously missing out on something there.
Other him keeps his eyes trained on John's face, never breaking eye contact, which has never, ever failed to turn John on. John's decided that he's definitely done this before- this is obviously premeditated cocksucking right here. Maybe he's gay in the reality that this him comes from- wouldn't that be weird?
Watching some guy's cock- even his own cock, maybe especially his own cock- sliding in and out of his own lips should really freak him out. Instead it's fucking fascinating- he looks so incredibly hot on his knees like that- damn, why didn't anybody ever tell him?
He feels a little bad for not warning himself that he's about to come, but it sneaks up on him, and he comes deep in his mouth. Other him doesn't have a problem with that though, swallowing him down. John approves; he's always thought that people who spit just shouldn't be giving head in the first place- he'd hate to think he's the kind of guy who would.
It takes himself a second to get his bearings after coming that damn hard, but he pulls himself up off the floor as soon as he does. He presses himself into the bed, hands on his wrists, biting at that one spot on his neck that drives him completely insane.
There is seriously a lot of stuff they need to get done before McKay figures out how to send him back.