Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell stood in the mess hall of Atlantis and watched the merriment of its inhabitants, a paper cup of re-hydrated eggnog forgotten in his hand.
"Are you well, Colonel Mitchell?" Teyla inquired politely from where she stood at his side, her arrival unnoticed until she'd spoken.
"Missin' home, is all." Cam answered with a smile that faded before it had properly formed. "Grandma's honey-baked ham 'n’ biscuits."
"I understand Colonel. It has been many moons since I last savoured my mother's dishes." Teyla murmured into her chest, head bowed in quiet memory, "I did not inherit her skill."
Cam had no idea what to say so he stayed silent and took a sip from his cup; damn stuff tasted like the packaging it'd been shipped across two galaxies in.
"Will Doctor McKay have the gate repaired before tomorrow?"
"No, I’m here two days." Cam couldn't help the frown that settled across his brow. He loved Christmas, his favourite holiday, and spending it away from his family just didn't sit right.
"Then you shall attend our Harvest Feast." Teyla declared, her warm brown eyes scanning the crowd, alighting on Atlantis’ military commander where he sat two tables over with Radek, Ronon, Amelia, and a half empty pitcher of Eggnog. "Colonel Sheppard and Ronon are to attend; you would be most welcome Colonel Mitchell."
"Thank you Teyla," Cam smiled, the expression holding a little more warmth than a moment ago. "You won't be serving..." Cam held up his cup with a grimace.
Teyla's eyes sparkled as she laughed. "Our Rhus Wine may be more to your liking, Colonel Mitchell - should you possess courage enough to imbibe."
It was a moment or two into their companionable laughter, before Cam realised his melancholy had eased; maybe Christmas away from home and hearth wouldn't be so bad after all.
John had quietly watched Mitchell at the Christmas Eve drinks in the Mess. Today, throughout the back and forth between Atlantis and the mainland, his eyes had never left his fellow colonel. Now, as they helped with tables and tents, every flex of bicep and thigh, and every poorly-concealed glance in John's own direction made John's mouth dry and his dick hard.
It looked like there’d be more to John's evening than food and drink, and the dodging of hopeful Athosian maidens made brave by their first taste of Rhus wine.
"Hey, Sheppard, need a hand there?"
John snapped from his thoughts back into the interior of the jumper and rubbed the back of his neck, before reaching for his end of the last trestle.
"Yeah, thanks." John stuttered, cheeks hot at the sound of his name, all whiskey'd sex, in Mitchell's lazy Southern drawl.
“Hey, yourself.” Cam smirked, keeping his eyes on the golden atmospheric glow of the main tent.
He felt the heat of Sheppard’s breath on his neck, felt it trip down the knobs of his spine. A pleasant shiver Cam could happily enjoy more of. Hot and intimate and laced with the spiced velvet of Rhus wine; sinful and seductive as the sound of Sheppard’s voice in his ear.
“The Athosians know how to party.” John murmured, spoke more words than usual in an effort to kick-start what they’d been dancing round all day.
“Sure looks that way.” Cam replied, a smile playing on full lips as it creased the corners of his eyes.
The children had been sent off at dusk, leaving those of age to their revelry, and in the light of countless burning torches, the real celebrating had begun. Wooden bowls had circulated, and men and women alike were encouraged to partake. Couples were quick to find each other, eager to meet on the intricately stitched cushions that furnished the floor of the tent.
Cam stared down at the plant in his own palm, its soft green leaves and aqua berries black in the low light. ‘Was he supposed to eat them?’
“It’s like Mistletoe.” Sheppard explained, close enough his shoulder nudged Cam’s. Pressed heat through two layers of fabric. “Make your move by offering it up.”
Sheppard turned towards Cam, blocked his view of the array of bronze-skinned bodies puppy-piling without heed to observers, and held out a matching twig in question. Cam’s gaze took in the quirk of Sheppard’s brow, and darted around the open air room. His desire warring with his instinct for secrecy. But no one was paying him, or Sheppard, any mind. For the Athosians, it seemed the sex of your partner was less important than the pleasure you shared with them.
“’S’okay,” Sheppard breathed, mere inches from Cam’s softly open mouth. “Safe.”
Cam couldn’t think anymore, surrounded by heat, driven by a need that’d been building all day. He twisted his fingers in Sheppard’s shirt and tugged. Drank down the other colonel’s smug chuckle.
John felt Mitchell’s hand on his hip, blocking an escape he didn’t need, and leaned closer; moulded his whole body into Mitchell’s length. Mitchell was gettin’ there, hardening in the crease of John’s thigh.
Cam couldn’t believe this was happening. He was kissing Sheppard, and Sheppard wanted it; was eating him alive! Exploring tongue hot and slick against his own and sharp nips that only served to encourage Cam to answer in kind. Their throaty moans shared in a haze of alcohol and denied lust, as narrow hips ground close; sought elusive friction.
Sheppard was all around him. A forearm braced on white leather beside Cam’s head, chest pressing into Cam’s own as a hand wriggled under black cotton in search of bare skin eager for its touch.
Mitchell flinched in John’s arms; twitched at the contact of calloused fingertips on heated skin. John broke their kiss.
“You good?” It was barely audible, his breath stolen by the blue-eyed man in his arms. John’d stop if Mitchell gave the word; but he really, really, hoped he wouldn’t.
Cam couldn’t find words, he felt hypnotized by the echo of Sheppard’s kiss and the gentle stroke of the thumb still grazing his flank.
“C’mere, Sheppard.” Cam growled. Sheppard’s jaw in his palms, and kissed his consent into the sweet cavern of Sheppard’s hungry mouth.
‘Damn could Mitchell kiss!’ John wanted more, wanted everything.
He thrust a thigh between Mitchell’s, felt the other man’s shudder as their cocks met; and drank down Mitchell’s moan of encouragement before anyone but the two of them could hear it.
“Let’s take this somewhere else.” Cam murmured, ducked his head into the crook of Sheppard’s neck and tried to control his breathing.
“What, don’t like the show?” John teased as he turned Mitchell to watch.
Cam’s gaze fell on Ronon, the good-looking Pegasus native on Sheppard’s team, who was kissing a nubile Athosian maid – his fingers buried between her thighs – while another rode his hips. Every adult was enjoying themselves in some inventive way.
“Next time?” Cam coaxed, grazing a palm across the front of Sheppard’s BDUs.
“Oh yeah,” John groaned as his hips lunged into the grind of Mitchell’s hand. “Yeah.”
“My place, or yours?” Cam chuckled at Sheppard’s answering eye roll.
“We were always bunking down together, Mitchell.”
“Cam.” Cam pressed close, hand sliding into Sheppard’s back pocket and curving to his ass.
“Good t’ meet ya,” John dragged his fingertips over the sensitive skin of Cam’s inner wrist, entwined their fingers when Cam spread his, and led them away to the smaller, quieter tent they’d been billeted for the night. “Call me John.”
Cam heard the breath of a plea beneath Sheppard’s humour; saw it hidden in the habitual smirk, felt it in the hesitant squeeze on their joined hands. ‘And damn, that was hot!’
“John,” Cam said, clear and commanding, so that the other colonel turned back to face him; stepped into Cam’s space with colour high on his cheeks, and want in his hazel eyes.
John couldn’t fathom how hearing his name in that Southern drawl made him feel. How it amped the fire rushing in his veins and drove him to ravage Cam’s eager mouth, while he tugged off the man’s black tee and gained access to that battle-weary chest. Hard muscle, rasp of hair, and scars that told stories akin to his own.
Cam was suckling, nibbling kisses out along John’s shoulder, when John found his nipples. Tugged them, rolled and tweaked till Cam could do nothing but throw his head back and moan. Fingers tight in unruly black hair.
Cam pulling on his hair had John impatient for more, and getting them both naked seemed the most important thing. That and having Cam’s cock buried deep in his ass.
“Easy, baby,” Cam chuckled softly when John hurried them back towards the raised platform; its rich brown pelts soft and inviting.
He grabbed at John’s biceps when they tripped over each other’s boots; open BDUs loose on their hips as they tumbled. John braced their fall and ground both hips and mouth into Cam. ‘Damn, he was good! Tasted fucking amazing! And felt even better.’
With the soft whisper of fur against his bare skin, Cam believed the rumours about the man who was cradling him. John was seducing him, and with every press of those lips Cam knew there was no turning back. No way o– ‘hell yeah!’
John sensed the release of Cam’s last resolve. The body beneath him opening to him even as it melted into the comfort of their bed. Cam’s thighs parted as John nudged his shoulders between, offering himself to whatever John wanted. John delved close, blew hot teasing breath just to watch the soft skin of Cam’s balls crinkle and retract. He looked up, made eye contact and held Cam’s gaze as he moved in; took both tender orbs in his mouth and rolled them on his tongue.
Cam hissed, tried to ignore the embarrassing tremble in his thighs. John had his balls in his mouth! And damn if it wasn’t the best feeling – sinful lips and playful tongue ruining him while hazel eyes blown black with need, watched from between his legs. Seeing Cam. Missing nothing.
“Ahhhh…yeah!” Cam’s drawl melted John’s bones. He’d been hearing it since last night, but here, in the quiet intimacy between them, it wrapped him close, a deeply seductive warmth that lured him in.
John moved up to Cam’s cock, where it arched hard and eager against the flat of Cam’s belly. He licked, tongue curved and slick, up its length in one pass. He chuckled at Cam’s whimper and stole it, like a thief in the night, from his lover’s lips in a gentle kiss.
Cam rolled them. John feeling the fur’s caress for the first time. And yeah, this’d be good; better, judging by the way they fit together. Their cocks caught by the wet friction of precome on hair-rough abs. John reached for Cam’s biceps, dug his fingertips into hard muscle and thrilled when Cam answered by rolling his hips down, each motion edging John’s thighs further open.
“Damn boots!” Cam cursed and heard John chuckle. “We stoppin’?”
“Hadn’t planned on it.” John scoffed, the hand not holding Cam’s nape pushing at his BDUs, shoving them to bunch around the tops of his boots.
“So there was planning, huh, Flyboy?” Cam teased as he mimicked John’s motions, getting as much of his body free as his uniform would allow.
“Get Mitchell in bed, was ‘bout it.” John huffed, tone reflecting the shy blush on his cheeks.
“How’s that workin’ for ya?” Cam asked, pushing John’s thighs up and apart – making room to get between, John’s booted feet hobbled at the small of Cam’s back.
The irony that John had nowhere to go, was tied by his uniform for Cam to fuck, wasn’t lost on Cam; in fact, it was probably the hottest thing he’d ever experienced.
He felt John’s fingers caressing his spine, ducked in close for a kiss as he lifted John’s ass and slid his cock along the cleft. Expecting a dry resistant grip, Cam was shocked to find John already slick, lube warm from long contact.
“Damn, am I that easy?”
John pulled Cam in close and smirked.
Cam ducked, forehead against the rasp of chest hair. “Yeah, okay, Flyboy. Your ass is mine!”
“’bout damn time.”
Cam couldn’t breathe. John opened for him with such ease. A welcome so slick and hot, his vision was already fading at the edges, as he drove deep and slow. One long unrelenting slide, a flick of his hips to embed the final inch, and they were there. John impaled on Cam’s cock, muscles flexing, measuring, adjusting.
He held still, riding out John’s helpless wriggles; kept their gazes locked, gave a little shunt so John knew he wasn’t going anywhere.
John shuddered, he wasn’t going anywhere; captured as soundly as he’d ever been. Legs shackled at the ankle by his own pants, boots digging into the swell of Cam’s ass. Cam’s cock was thick and meaty and wedged so sweetly up his needy hole. And now Cam was pinning his arms above his head, grip tight on his wrists as his lover leaned in to whisper against John’s softly parted lips.
“This what y’ wanted, John?”
John swallowed hard and nodded, licked into Cam’s kiss; controlled the only thing he could, and grinned when Cam moaned.
“Look at you, pinned down,” Cam rutted for emphasis, John clenching tight around him with every stroke, “nowhere to go, with my cock in your ass.”
John’s breath was hot on Cam’s neck and he couldn’t hold off any longer. He pulled back, drove deep again, huffed the breath from John, and tightened his grip on narrow hips. Set a rhythm that sent them both climbing.
John was in Heaven. Cam fucked with skill and a careful joy John hadn’t experienced with anyone. He felt safe in the arm that wrapped around his shoulders, lifted him into each empty-and-fill thrust. Fire and lightning coursed down his spine, filled his belly, and jerked his neglected cock.
Cam searched, each stroke aimed slightly over from the one before, until…
John arched; shuddered and keened, and yeah, that was it. “Gotcha!”
John eyed Cam through the fireworks going off in his mind, and his balls. Now he’d found it, it seemed Cam was intent on pounding John’s sweet spot on every pass. John had no objection to that plan; he was sure-as-fuck getting the better end of the deal.
Cam stepped it up, driving hard so that John was practically curled in on himself; hips thrust clear of the bed with the force of Cam’s cock breaching his over stretched rim, pink and tender from the pounding it was taking. Its flutters growing more frequent, squeezing Cam with eager hunger.
John tried to break Cam’s hold on his wrists, arched and twisted with a desperate need to touch his cock. To touch Cam. But the grip only tightened, blurred with the squeak of the bed ropes, and the grunts of his lover; the man who was taking him so completely. Claiming John as his own with every smack-slap of skin on skin.
And he was there. His body contorting, lean lines flexing, rolling, squeezing as his cock erupted his pleasure over their bellies. ‘Creamy and hot and so goddamn good!’
John kept his eyes open, watched Cam as his lover arched back in the noose of John’s thighs, and bellowed his own release. Hips mindlessly driving. Skin glowing slick and flushed in the flickering torchlight.
John came to at Cam’s nudging, soft nonsensical murmurs warm in his ear.
“Gonna let me go?” Cam chuckled even as he shifted his weight from John’s chest to his own forearms; body still caught in the tangle of black cloth and laxed-out thighs.
“Not any time soon.” John teased, his own voice rough with new want in the cool night air.
“Works for me,” Cam agreed, twisting so he was lying on his back, head resting on John’s abs. “Get these damn things off first though.”
John couldn’t agree more as Cam tugged at his laces. He’d need a full range of movement when he put into action the plan that was eagerly forming in his mind.