Dr. Rodney McKay [Stargate: Atlantis] (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
energyfieldgood) wrote2029-09-02 02:54 pm
energyfieldgood) wrote2029-09-02 02:54 pm
IC Inbox for Apocalypse Now
"This is McKay. Leave a message if it's important. And I stress. Important.
Don't make me call you back and reiterate what important means."
audio | video | text
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Rodney hums, returning the kisses - at least the ones that don't leave him overwhelmed - enjoying how his mind and the nanites shut up for once. His face feels flushed and his heart is racing in his chest and he hasn't felt this human in weeks.
"Gonna upgrade..." he forces out in between the onslaught with a breathless chuckle.
"... you to adequate..."
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The purr gets louder, and the onslaught gets a little more onslaughtier.
"Are you sure you want to challenge me?"
He goes in for more breathless kisses, trailing down to his neck.
And then he bites down, a little. Gently, but it's still there.
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That's so many kisses.
He mutters in muffled protest (not really a protest), forgetting what it was that he was supposed to rate, challenge, what challenge, was he challenging something? It's really hard to remember right now and he closes his eyes, enjoying the attention.
And then John bites down.
It's gentle, gentle enough to be playful, but Rodney mutters a dazed protest anyway.
"... swear to God if you leave a hickey again..."
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He grins against his neck, nuzzling it.
“Can nanites even hickey?”
He’s just saying. He practically climbs onto his lap, pulling himself up and over to nestle on him.
Hope that’s okay.
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But then he has a lapful of Hunt Avatar to deal with and that shuts him up again. He makes a little ooff sound and falls back against the couch's backrest, finding himself thoroughly trapped.
"... You're gonna stay there, aren't you."
Just like his cat used to, just refusing to move and claiming that space while his everything will fall asleep in this position...
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He curls up against his chest, nuzzling it. He kisses his collarbone.
“Yep.”
He claims this space.
And the chest.
His tail reaches up and tries to tickle against his neck.
“This is mine.”
…it’s unclear exactly what he’s talking about. Probably all of Rodney.
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His eyebrows climb but he's good-natured about it. It really is just like having a giant oversized cat and automatically his hand comes up to run through John's unruly hair.
"What if you can't have it, though?"
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It’s just simple cat logic. He wants it, so it should be his.
He leans into Rodney’s touch, his purrs rumbling pleasantly and deeply in his own throat and chest.
You can keep doing that too. Maybe forever.
He demands it.
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He keeps running his hand through his hair, gently scratching just above his neck.
"I don't suppose I have a say in any of this?"
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These are just the facts, Rodney.
Sheppard becomes a melted puddle, and somehow manages to curl up even more, slightly defying physics in the way that only cats can. Then again, he was already pretty liquidy even before all this…
“This is nice…” he mumbles. “Maybe we can still have nice things.”
You know, with the whole you-being-a-bunch-of-tiny-robots and him being a werecat with an technomagic arm and all.
He hasn’t thought much about the future—there were bigger pressing issues to be dealt with but he wonders, if they somehow survive another apocalypse…
“You won’t grow old.” He tilts his head up at him, lifting his chin for better access. “I don’t know if I will, either. I don’t feel that hungry for regular food anymore. Or sleep much. Eating fear takes care of everything.”
He’s not sure where he’s going with this.
“I haven’t felt human in a really long time. What about you?”