Summary: John isn't dealing with it.
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Word Count: 2144
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, possessive behavior, mild violence, missing scene for Sanctuary, cheating (sort of), biting, rough sex, romance novel logic, language
Pairing: John/Chaya, John/Meredith
A/N: Sequel to Fever High and Get Down and Crawl. This is really the second half of Get Down and Crawl, but I felt like I was setting up an equivalency between Kolya and Chaya by putting them together, which is just. No. I'm afraid this story still has some issues, but as I told arymabeth, time has come for this damn story to get off my goddamn couch and get a damn job. Or something. I have some more bits floating around for this verse, but this is the last of it until at least the week after Comic-Con. Also, this verse still needs a damn name. Suggestions welcomed.
His relationship with Meredith- if he can even call it that, which he apparently can't- is driving him completely insane.
He wants to touch her all the time; he wants to beat the crap out of anyone who looks at her twice- he doesn't even do that kind of macho shit, but he's suddenly got a burning desire to start. It's messing him up something awful; it's getting to where it hurts every time he has to pretend like there's nothing at all between them.
He keeps it to himself, partly because he's a full grown man and he should theoretically be beyond this shit, but mostly because Meredith's made it pretty clear that she doesn't want this to get too serious.
It takes Chaya for him to realize that she's a goddamned liar.
Chaya is a mistake; he's convinced she's not a security risk, but she's a hell of a personal one, and he knows that even as he's kissing her. The thing is, though, that he only does it because, well, he's just not that into her. She's a nice girl with a nice smile who wants to make out with him; he might never see her again, and he just honestly wouldn't mind all that much. It's refreshingly uncomplicated, and he thinks it might just be the perfect antidote to all these sleepless nights he's been having lately.
And yeah, maybe it's more than a little histrionic and passive aggressive; but it doesn't hurt when he thinks about Chaya, and that's just dandy.
When he comes back in from their- picnic? Date? It's pretty date-like, all things considered- Meredith is waiting for him. She doesn't give him a chance to make his excuses; she doesn't even do him the courtesy of screaming at him.
She just hauls off and slaps him across the face.
It really hurts- it's a solid backhand, none of this prissy stuff for her- but the pain is nothing compared to how intensely embarrassing it is, which he suspects is the point. She turns on her heel and storms off, heading in the direction of her quarters. He can't not follow her, not after an opener like that. He manages to give Chaya an apologetic smile as he goes- because, of course, she sees the whole thing, and she rolls her eyes like she really doesn't think too highly of his diplomatic style.
She must know he's following, because she rounds on him the second the door closes behind them. "Why do you have to make me act so goddamned crazy, John?"
"Welcome to my fucking life," he fires back. "What the hell was that back there?"
"Shut the fuck up," she snaps. "Why do you pull this bullshit on me? First you act like you can't possibly get enough of me, then you're running around with some slut from another planet- and yes, I do know how ridiculously like low-grade science fiction that sounds," she adds, preemptively, losing absolutely none of the rage from her voice. "The entire fucking city knows you're trying to fuck her- and spoiler alert," she says, waving her hands, "she's fucking Ascended- and meanwhile, I'm just supposed to be sitting in my lab with my little experiments, acting like I'm not-" She presses the heel of her hand to her forehead, looking pained, like she's just said too much. "Goddammit-"
She isn't expecting it, the way he's suddenly on her, pressing her hard against the wall, her whole body pinned by his; but he just has to do it, now that he knows she's just as desperate and crazy as he is.
She struggles against him. "Let me go."
He gets closer, pressing his thigh in between hers. "What if I don't?"
"John, I'm not fucking around."
"I'm serious as a heart attack," he tells her, laughing humorlessly. "I understand that you're upset about Chaya because I'm yours, and you're afraid somebody else will get to me," he says, nonchalant and predatory all at once. "I get it- believe me, I do. You know why?" He leans down close to her ear, his voice a harsh whisper. "Because I want to fucking own you, and it drives me out of my goddamned brain that nobody knows it."
She gasps, her hips jerking forward, and, oh yeah, he's got her right where he wants her. "Tell me." He catches her wrists and slams them against the wall, one on either side of her face. "I'm not going to let you go until you say it."
"Oh god, John," she breathes, her head falling back. "I'm yours, I'm all yours."
He can't help grabbing her hair, holding her by it so that she stays like that, her pale neck stretched out for him to bite and kiss. He maps every inch of it before moving up to her lips, clinging to her with both hands, kissing her until he can't even fucking breathe.
"You can't leave me like this," she pants when he pulls away, her fingertips digging into his biceps. "I need- Jesus Christ, please fuck me."
"Get on the bed," he growls into her mouth; she rushes to do it, whipping her shirt off over her head, with John right on her heels. Her bra is problematic, since they both try to unhook it at the same time, and she has to slap his fingers away and do it herself. He'd really like to just tear it off her, but even in his possessive daze, he knows they might never be able to replace it. The pants are easier; John just yanks them down, taking her panties with them.
He wants to take a minute to admire her- always something else to find out about her- but she's not having it. "Yes, yes, you've seen it, come the fuck on, Sheppard," she grumbles.
He's too desperate to bother with his own clothing, past fumbling his fly open and pulling his pants down to his thighs. She's so wet and ready for him, spreading her thighs wide and canting her hips up like she just can't wait another second; he's happy to oblige, one hand heavy on her hip as he pushes inside her. She's just babbling, a litany of God, John, yes, John, spurring him on. He pushes her legs wider, holding her open as he slams in and out of her. He's distantly aware that filthy things are spilling out of his mouth, but he's not even listening to them.
"C'mon, John, claim me," she gasps out, and that's all he can take. He bites down on her shoulder so hard he swears he'll break the skin, pressing into her deep and coming, helpless to stop it.
He comes back to himself, still braced on his arms over her. Her hair is catastrophic, frizzing wildly where his hands have pulled at it. Her lips are red and slick, mouth slightly open, breath still coming heavy and fast. The impressions left by his teeth are clearly visible on her shoulder, purple and red and sure to leave a mark that'll last for a week or more.
He can't remember the last time he felt so guilty or so satisfied.
He starts to get up, making vague, contrite noises about cleaning, getting her some ice or something, but she tugs him back down, wrapping her arms around him. "Oh for fuck's sake, John, I'm fine. Leave it."
As usual, she sprawls out all over him, twining her legs up with his and resting her head on his shoulder. "For the record?" she says, holding up a finger for emphasis. "I'm still pissed about Chaya."
"You slapped me," he protests.
John shrugs. "I thought we were even," he tells her, even though he's very much aware that he'll be doing a lot of grovelling and giving a lot of back rubs in penitence for the whole incident.
She just snorts at him. "This casual thing," she says, sounding uncharacteristically tentative. "It really isn't, is it?"
He sighs. "Not really."
"We could try dating," she says, her inflection making it into a question. "I mean, we can't tell anyone, obviously-"
He cuts her off, surprising both of them. "No."
She narrows her eyes at him. "What do you mean, no?"
"No," he repeats, feeling strangely light and relieved. "I'm done with sneaking around. I'm not going to put up a banner in the mess or anything, but, no. I'm not hiding how I feel about my-" he pauses, trying the word out, feeling a little like he's 15 again- "girlfriend."
"I don't know if I can do that, John," she says, careful and serious, propping herself up on one arm and looking down at him. "I mean, not that that wasn't astoundingly hot or anything, but, there are certain considerations- what I mean is, if I'm going to be taken seriously by-" She breaks off, letting out a long, labored sigh. "Oh, who the fuck am I kidding," she mutters. "I almost stabbed Elizabeth with a fork yesterday for bringing you a piece of cake at dinner."
He can't help smirking a little over that. "I don't even like cake."
She flops back down to the bed, somewhat melodramatically. "I know!"
"She brought you one, too."
"That's beside the point."
"You ate both of them," he says, needling her.
"Shut up," she responds, hitting him lightly on the chest. There's a pause; Meredith's face gets tight and tense. "Are you really sure this is what you want? It sounds very romantic and all, but have you actually thought about it? This isn't a big place. Everyone's going to know."
It's hard to think of a downside to that when she's naked beside him. "Why wouldn't I want everyone to know?"
For a moment, she looks so rumpled and sad that John's heart practically snaps in half. "Yes, well."
"Chaya's Ascended?" he asks, wanting to distract her from whatever dark place she's gone off to.
"I didn't ask for her papers or anything," she responds, rolling her eyes, "but I'm pretty sure. And can we not talk about Chaya?"
She cuddles closer to him. "This is all very bizarre, do you realize that?"
He traces the outline of the bite mark with his fingertip, brushing lightly against her skin. "Yeah, I'm starting to."
"I feel like someone's going to turn up and revoke my NOW membership."
John raises an eyebrow at her. "I doubt it."
"It's entirely possible," Meredith contends. "You've already ruined my lesbian street cred."
"How can you have street cred?" he asks. "We don't even have any streets."
She pulls a face. "Am I supposed to call it 'gate cred'?"
He frowns. "It just doesn't sound right, does it?"
"You're sure this is what you want?" she asks him again, like she's trying to surprise him into admitting he wants out. "You're sure this is," she waves a hand, "good for you?"
He doesn't know what to say. Maybe Christ, Meredith, calm down or I think you might be bad for me or I'm pretty sure you could drive me insane if you wanted.
"I love you," he blurts instead.
She looks at him like she's amazed. "Seriously?"
John squirms, feeling deeply uncomfortable. "Well, yeah."
She just keeps grinning at him, not saying anything; all of a sudden, she remembers she's supposed to respond. "I mean, obviously I love you, too, I just didn't-" She stops, waving. "Never mind. Not important." She unwinds herself from him and stands, still a little shaky.
"Where d'you think you're going?" he asks, catching one of her hands before she gets out of reach.
She tugs at him. "We're going to the shower, then we're coming back here." She puts her hand on her hip. "You didn't think we were done, did you?"
He lets her lever him up, sliding off the edge of the bed and following her. "We could just get in the bathtub," he offers.
"God, I love the way you think," she tells him, pulling him into the bathroom and waving the door closed.
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