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Feeding Frenzy

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It was a vague feeling; nothing concrete, nothing he could put a name to, just an uncomfortable sensation scratching low at the base of his brain. John let Lorne's dick slide out of his mouth. "Hey, do you get the feeling there's something—weird going on?" he asked, licking his lower lip clean while Lorne finished pulsing out over his own belly.

"Huh?" Lorne said, dazed, slumping in the chair.

"I've just got this feeling—" John waved his hand in the air, frustrated.

Lorne shrugged, sort of; his eyes were drooping shut. His hair had gotten all cute and spiky with sweat; John grinned at it, momentarily forgetting the feeling.

Ronon tapped him on the shoulder. "You done?" he asked.

"Looks like it," John said, reaching up a hand and letting Ronon pull him up to his feet. "Where do you want me?"

"It's okay, I've got it," Ronon said, and he manhandled John a little roughly to the table and bent him over it.

"Yeah, no kidding," John said; he was still pretty slick, so it didn't take much time for Ronon to get in, and John wasn't thinking about much of anything after that, especially once Ronon really got into the swing of it and lifted John's hips far enough his feet weren't even on the ground anymore and his whole body was just rocking with each sweet, hot thrust.

He pillowed his head on his folded arms and went with it, letting his muscles stay slack, happy to let Ronon drive. Somewhere along the way Sergeant Liskind came in, and climbed up onto the table so John could bury his face between her long, long legs, and that made it even better, the fun of teasing her with his tongue, hearing that little hiccuping gasp she made every time he flicked her clit.

Afterwards he wandered away from the conference room over to the mess hall. Cadman stopped him along the way to give him a blowjob and fuck him with all four of her long, hard, close-trimmed fingers. "Should I go for it?" she suggested, rubbing her thumb up against his hole; he was sprawled flat on his stomach in the corridor with his legs spread wide, panting over his arms, coming down slow.

He thought about it; he was pretty sure he could take it, and he'd trust her to do it; he'd seen her hands working on a mocked-up bomb in training sessions, and he liked the idea of her working on him like that. "Raincheck?" he said, rolling his hips a little to feel it better while she slid her fingers out slow. "I'm trying to track down Rodney."

"He's down in the infirmary," she said. "I'm going to go pick up some more condoms from storage, we're running low and not everyone's got a Norplant."

Rodney had a little assembly-line of women going; he was lying on his back on one of the beds, and one at a time they'd hop up to straddle his face, get the first one or two orgasms there, then slide down to take a ride while he worked on the next one in line. There were a half-dozen women waiting their turns, mostly nurses, all kissing and making-out, and they happily pulled John in and petted him and kissed him too.

"Hello, kind of busy here," Rodney complained, when John apologetically broke in after Dr. Sejaz wobbled off him. "Also, I need some water." He wiped at his sticky face a little ineffectually with his equally sticky hands.

"Yeah, me too," John said, kissing Rodney's wet shining mouth, licking the hot musky taste out of it; his own mouth was bone-dry. "Come on, there's a cooler in Beckett's office, I need to talk to you."

"Right, okay," Rodney said, groaning, and slid down off the bed to follow him. "Do you have any cups in here?" he demanded to Carson, rifling through the cabinets.

"Behind, behind the monitor," Carson managed, gasping. He was busy giving it to Elizabeth on his carpet; she opened her eyes and smiled up at John and rubbed his ankle in a friendly way, running her nails lightly around the bone in a way that went straight to his dick.

"Hey," he said, hopefully, and she laughed and said, "Come on, Colonel," and he got down on hands and knees over her and fed his dick to her, watching it slide into her perfect coral mouth with the lipstick already smeared, her "Mmm" riding a shiver all the way along his spine while she ran her nails up and down his thighs. Rodney found the coffee cup and dumped out the dregs into the wilting ficus plant, and gave it to John after downing three cups of water himself.

John gulped it down thirstily, handed it to Rodney for a refill, gulped that too, and came: Elizabeth swallowed and let him slide out still pumping, licking the head clean with small swipes of the pink tip of her tongue. He carefully crawled off her, unsteady, and flopped down on his stomach next to her to catch his breath, giving her a sleepy thanks-for-the-blowjob smile; she reached over and ruffled his hair in reply.

"Oh," Rodney said; he was standing over John with the cup in his hand, staring at John's ass thoughtfully; then he put down the cup and got down on his knees and hauled John's hips up and back into position. "Tell me if I'm doing this right," he said, and worked himself in experimentally.

"Christ, yes," John said, deeply appreciative; he liked it plenty hard and fast from guys, but it had been a long time with nothing but blowjobs in dark alleys with guys who couldn't see his face and the taste of latex in his mouth; a long time after that with no guys at all in the fishbowl world of Atlantis; it felt fantastic to have Rodney taking his slow, easy time about it, his thighs warm and solid for John to brace against.

Rodney and Carson got into kind of a piston-rhythm, alternating thrusts; Elizabeth wound her fingers through John's and squeezed his hand in time. "Come here often?" he said, giving her an arched eyebrow; she poked him in the side for it even while she was giggling. "Ow," he said, mock injury, and then a lower, better, "ow; yeah, yeah, Rodney," and he was trying not to crush her hand, because Rodney was right on target, every single—

"So what was it?" Rodney gasped out, between strokes; he was working faster now, hammering at him tight and quick.

"Aaah," John said, aiming vaguely at interrogative.

"What you wanted to talk to me about," Rodney said, nudging with his hips for emphasis. "Come on, talk, do you want this to last or not?"

That was enough incentive. "Yeah, okay," John said. "Uh, something—I think something's wrong," except he wasn't sure he did, really, because right now he was feeling better than he could ever remember feeling in his entire life, except for the goddamn edgy crawling sensation. "I bet it's nothing," he added, hoping Rodney would tell him he was being stupid, and then he could ignore the weird feeling and concentrate on the important stuff, like racking up at least twenty orgasms before bed; he was at nine so far.

"Huh," Rodney said, frowning, and switched back to the long, thorough strokes, driving John nuts; he squirmed and pushed back, trying to get Rodney to go quicker again. "No, you know what, I think you're right."

"Yeah?" John said. "Rodney, would you mind, come on already—"

"Yes," Rodney said, ignoring him, "yes, something is definitely wrong, the Daedalus was supposed to be finished offloading our new shipment of coffee this morning, and it hasn't come, something's got to be going on over there."

"I was thinking more close to home," John said, jerking his hips again pointedly.

"Like what?" Rodney demanded.

"Something weird, I don't know!" John said, irritably. "Nothing feels weird to you?"

"Well, this isn't a typical workday, I suppose," Elizabeth said with a deep, satisfied sigh, shuddering lusciously as Carson crumpled into her arms. "Nicer than usual, though."

"It is a wee bit physically improbable, come to think of it," Carson said drowsily, lifting his head up from where he was pillowing it on her breasts.

"Oh, hey," Rodney said, "I bet I know what it is. Hang on, let me just—" He pulled John's hips further up and picked up the pace, finally, finally, and oh yeah, there it was, there was orgasm number ten, headed straight for him, and John wrapped his hand around his own dick and helped it along.


"So what's it do?" John asked, staring at the device; it looked kind of like a DHD, only about five times the size, and it was humming and burbling away to itself in the middle of the room, glowing purple and ochre and gold chasing each other iridescently over the domed surface.

"Um," Rodney said, "Huh. You know, I have no idea. We just managed to get it to turn on this morning, we haven't had time to figure it out yet." He stopped and looked at it consideringly. "I thought it might be a booster system for the shield, but it's not having any effect, as far as I can tell. No idea what else it could be doing."

They stood looking at it for a while.

"Maybe we should turn it off?" John suggested.

They looked at it a while longer. It didn't really feel like a great idea. In fact, it felt like a pretty horrible idea the more John thought about it.

"I have a vibrator in my room," Rodney said.

"Yeah, okay," John said, with relief. "Let's go."

"The thing is, though," John said a while later, dreamily licking chocolate out of Rodney's mouth; the vibrator was purring on low deep inside him, and Rodney's hands were kneading his ass, still hot and tender. Orgasm number eleven had hit while he'd been lying over Rodney's lap, freshly showered, with his dick nudging up against Rodney's and Rodney's open hand coming down on his ass: hard, meaty slaps that jolted his whole body, got his skin tingling, and unexpectedly his cock had just started going in the middle of it, spurting all over Rodney's thighs.

Rodney was still hard; John slid down to lick him clean. "The thing is," he mumbled, around Rodney's dick, "it's got to be doing something."

"Mm, yeah," Rodney said, and buried his hands in John's hair and shoved him down entreatingly.

They went and found Zelenka, who was fucking Lorne like a champion in the control room. "Why are you interrupting me?" he said irritably. "We are busy here, if you have not noticed."

"Mmrphm," Lorne agreed, around the gag.

"The thing that wasn't a shield booster," Rodney said. "You think it might have something to do with—what exactly?" he asked, turning to John.

"Why are you looking at me?" John said. "Whatever weird is going on. Beckett did say we've all got a lot of stamina."

"You are complaining about this?" Zelenka said incredulously. Lorne seconded, muffled, and Zelenka got a little unfocused and stopped paying attention to them.

"He's got a point," Rodney said. "Oh, hey, is that Teyla?"

It was, and Teyla had some seriously cool Athosian herbal cigarettes that were really more like joints, and after sharing a couple of those they had a bunch of giggly mutual groping on the floor of her quarters, and then Rodney gave her head while John worked on her breasts, before they got down to fucking.

John wandered out during Rodney's turn; the high was wearing off along with all the last traces of soreness, and now the weird feeling was coming back and making him restless. He went to the gym to work it off, but even a few rounds with the punching bag didn't really help, and after pacing the room a bunch of times, he sighed and hit his radio.

"Daedalus, do you copy?" he said; he didn't like going to Caldwell for help, but—

"This is Daedalus, go ahead," said a female voice over his radio.

He thought it was Dr. Novak, which was weird; no reason she'd be on the bridge, much less answering the radio. "This is Sheppard, can I talk to Caldwell?"

"I'm sorry, Colonel Sheppard, but Colonel Caldwell won't be available for a while," Novak said. "He's been a very bad boy. I'm sure you understand."

"Oh, uh," John said, squinting, trying to figure out if that was hot or freaky. The loud *crack* that came over the radio next made him wince.

The radio buzzed, and abruptly a different voice came over the line. "Colonel Sheppard, this is Hermiod. I have not been among humans long, but this behavior does not appear to correspond with my limited experience of human interactions. Is this unusual level of mating activity perhaps a seasonal effect?"

"Unusual level?" John said, blankly.

There was a long pause on the channel. "Interesting," Hermiod said finally. "May I ask if any strange events have taken place in Atlantis recently? My sensors are showing some slightly increased power readings, but I cannot pinpoint the central location with great precision."

"Well, we didn't get our coffee shipment from you guys, but that's not that weird," John said. "And there's that glowy thing Rodney and Zelenka turned on this morning, but we're pretty sure it's not doing—"

"Sir?"

John looked back over his shoulder. Bates had come into the room with eight of his security-detail Marines; big guys with broad shoulders and wide, eager faces, scrubbed and still damp from the showers, all of them standing at attention: it was like a portrait gallery from a bordello, cocks from six inches to ten, every gorgeous color skin came in, and Bates was holding a tangle of leather straps that looked like bits and pieces of infirmary restraints.

"Sorry to interrupt, sir," Bates said. "Are you going to be a while with that call?"

"Colonel Sheppard, this device, can you tell me where in Atlantis—"

"Yeah, Hermiod, listen, I'll have to get back to you on that," John said, and cut the connection. He tossed the headset to one side. "Bringing in reinforcements, Sergeant?"

Bates smiled with clenched teeth. "Not if you can't handle it. Sir."

"Oh, I don't see why not." John grinned at the guys; they grinned back, a little abashed, and went quickly expressionless again when Bates glanced around.

Bates tied him up fast and efficiently, draped him over a pile of rolled-up mats with his hands bound at the small of his back. John cracked his neck and flexed his shoulders a little, getting comfortable; all the soreness was gone, and he felt good, better than good, hot for another round. "Anytime you girls are ready, Sergeant," he drawled.

"Landau, you're up first," Bates said, almost snarling. "Denis, Harriman, I think the Colonel needs something to keep his mouth busy."

"Yes, sir," Landau said, "Excuse me, sir," he added to John, politely, in his country-boy twang, and started shoving in, not politely at all.

"Anytime, Corporal," John said, panting; he'd tightened up again somehow, it felt like the first time in months all over again. Harriman and Denis came around, the two of them both jostling hips and trying not to giggle while they crowded his mouth, smooth cut pricks sliding over his tongue, and all he had to do was open up and let them in, no work at all, Bates' heavy, callused hand on the back of his neck pushing him down on them a little.

They all took turns on him, front and back, while John's dick was just bumping up against the mats, stiff and aching. Bates was good, John had to give him that; his hand stayed on John's skin, somewhere: fingers rubbing a little at the sides of his throat, longingly; or in the hollow of his lower back, or, while Chavez was busy giving it to John with his monster, spread over John's belly underneath to push him up into the thrusts; and every single time John got close, Bates managed to pick up on it and ordered the guys off for a break.

And they did it and did it right away, no matter how much they groaned about it, even when Denis had to yank out in the middle of coming; John was starting to seriously hate all that iron discipline. But they'd get him some water, and every once in a while one of them would sneak him a fast grope when Bates wasn't watching. Then Bates would come up and cup his balls and roll them in his hand, a little roughly, and breathe in John's ear, "Anytime you've had enough, sir, you just say the word."

"I'm doing just fine over here, Sergeant," John said, even though the effect was cut a little by the fact he sounded a little high to his own ears, and his hips kept twitching. It still got him the sound of Bates grinding his jaw.

Finally he gave orders and they took John off, retied his hands in front and lay him flat on the ground so he couldn't even rub up against the mat, his dick lying stiff and red and wet against his belly, and then Bates climbed on and pushed John's legs up and over his shoulders and shoved in. Not all that much there; John didn't say it out loud, just smirked it at Bates, who bared his teeth unsmiling and proved that he knew plenty about what to do with what he had, slamming home, and he took John right up to the edge, once, twice, three times, and right before he'd have stopped the third time, John clutched the scraps of self-control and said, with an immense effort at lazy unconcern, "That all you've got?"

"Son of a bitch," Bates said, and bent John nearly double to give it to him, pushing a couple of fingers in alongside his dick, shoving his tongue in John's mouth, hot and angry and biting, and John came so hard the room fuzzed out for a little, his dick striping Bates' chest all the way up to the neck.

Bates swore a tight, muffled streak, pounding away at him, and then he yanked out and came over John's belly. John was already limp and relaxed, tied hands behind his head, one leg slipping down Bates' arm to dangle over the crook of his elbow, idly swinging. "Not bad," he said, yawning.

Bates dumped his legs to either side and got up, red streaks burning high on his cheekbones. John stretched slowly, luxuriously, and Bates gritted out, "Anything else, sir?"

John cheerily said, "No, I'm good. Dismissed, Sergeant," and Bates stalked out. John blew out a sigh and let himself flop back on the mat.

"Sir, are you, uh," Chavez said, and stopped. John lifted his head up off the mat. The poor kid wasn't exactly asking outright, but he hadn't gotten to come, Bates had pulled him off too fast, and now that big, gorgeous dick was bobbing in mid-air, begging loudly all on its own. The other guys were standing around awkwardly, rubbing at the backs of their necks, throwing sideways looks down at John; no one was going to be the first to say it, but they all looked pretty ready for another round.

"What the hell," John said. He wasn't all that sore.


They took him into the showers and cleaned him up, after, and then Landau and Harriman carried him back to his quarters and put him to bed. "Night, sir," they said, trooping out.

"Night, guys," he said, vaguely waving a few fingers in their general direction. Okay, now he was sore. Chavez had some serious firepower there.

The worst of it was already fading away, though, even if this time the fatigue was staying behind; now it was just the feeling after the best kind of workout; no pain, just pushed to the limit, all his muscles gone easy and loose and liquid, his whole body melting into the bed. He counted up on his fingers; seventeen out of twenty. "Not bad," he said, wistfully, closing his eyes, and he didn't think he could've managed any more even if he'd been able to move.

"So I was just thinking," Rodney said, barging in, "there's no rational reason for us not to turn off the device, if it's not doing anything, which means it must be doing something, if only to cause us to not turn it off—are you listening?"

"Nah," John said. He still had the weird feeling, but clearly his subconscious had just developed a flutter, and he needed to ignore it. It would probably go away eventually.

"Oh," Rodney said, and let his arms drop. As soon as he stopped talking and moving, he yawned like crazy. "Oh, huh, bed," he said, and crawled in with John.

"Yeah," John said, and rolled over to make Rodney his pillow. Rodney was warm and well-padded, steady heartbeat going, and Rodney's hands carded into his hair, petting him. John yawned and snuggled in, the lights going down around them helpfully. He'd only had his first orgasm at 1100 hours, so it would still count for the total, he figured, if they worked in a few more rounds in the morning before then.


Elsewhere in the city, an Asgard teleportation beam delivered its passenger down into the room with the glowing bulbous device.

Hermiod examined it with interest. It had taken him some time to isolate the particular signal being emitted and then track down the location. However, the device itself appeared quite straightforward. He doubted there would be any difficulty about deactivating it. He judged that would most likely restore the humans to their usual behavior.

He paused, approaching it. Most intriguing; despite the species barrier and the anatomical... difficulties, he felt a certain unusual stirring sensation. It bore further study.

= End =

 

 

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