Title: That Ten Thousand Year Old Stick, pt2
Author: Artifuss
Date: October 11, 2004
Rating: NC17 (just to be on the safe side)
Pairings: none, pre-something
Category: Area52 Challenge #188, Angst, probably AU (cough okay moreso AU)
Season/Episode: Season 1, sometime between Suspicion and Poisoning The Well.
Spoilers: Hide and Seek, Suspicion, Poisoning the Well
Warnings: Needs beta
Summary: When majors get curious anything can happen.
Notes: Part1 was first intended to be sometime after Hide and Seek. It's developed to be between Suspicion and PtW, because a certain character has popped up into part2. And this entry is set during the same time as part1.
Disclaimer: Again, not mine, just sharing an imagined scenario with like-minded people.

The day was pretty much uneventful, as had been yesterday, and the day before that. With Aiden grounded for another two more days, Rodney had requested that they all stay on this side of the 'gate so that he could get some back-logged work finished. Not that he minded the pseudo-vacation, but he was getting just a bit bored.

It was still rather early, but he figured that it was probably for the best if he just went to bed, since everyone else was either too busy to play or were already asleep themselves.

"Awh, gross!" Damn it. Something had found its way around the calf area of his right pant leg, and it was sticky. "What the heck is this stuff?" he wondered aloud, while tossing his garments in the laundry bag and making his way to the sink. It took a while before he was thoroughly satisfied that not a trace of whatever it was could be felt on his hand. And after finishing up his nightly regimen, John headed off for bed, anticipating nightly thoughts on wraith killing, or maybe even home.

Toss.

He went to bed four hours ago. Granted he wasn't exhausted at the time, but he had been confident that sleep would have claimed him eventually.

Turn.

Eventually should have happened already. John lifted his upper body to punch his pillow a few times. As he was having difficulty getting comfortable.

Toss. Suck in breath. Holy...

There was a reason for his being uncomfortable, and it had nothing to do with his pillow, but everything to do with his head. Not the one attached to his neck though. Looking down, in the barely lit room, John could still see the well shaped tent, indicating how very turned on he was.

His mind on the other hand was screaming at him on how turned on he shouldn't be. Not with the thoughts he was currently running.

Sure, Wraith baiting was fun, but not that much fun. And Steve just didn't do it for him.
As Wraith went, he was sure that Steve was one of the more good-looking specimens of his species, possibly even GQ standard. But that shade of blue just didn't do anything for him.

Turn. Groan in frustration.

One thing for sure was that his 'not little at all' problem wasn't going away without any help. He made his way out of bed and headed for his quarter's facilities.

The race that made the Stargate also knew a thing or two about plumbing. Or maybe plumbing was a required skill in 'gate building. Whatever the case was, they knew how to make an efficient water system with instant hot water. A luxury he didn't have while living on Earth. After setting the temperature to 'almost hot enough to rip your skin off', he faced the cascading water with his eyes closed and his head tilted back. Blindly grabbing the conditioner bottle, John squirted a large amount in his hand. Up until now, he was cautious of rationing all of his personal products. But this time, he really didn't care even if he was using the last drop.

Bringing his left forearm up, and resting it against the wall in front of him, the rest of his body followed to lean forward with the added support. His forehead nestled into the crook of his arm, as his conditioner-filled hand made its way down towards his insistent erection.

His mind went to unforgiving places as he caressed his shaft, advancing further down to give equal attention to the sack beneath. He bit his lip as a desperate moan surfaced, his body urgently needing release. John grunted, squeezed his eyes shut, and balled his left hand into a tight fist. His right hand tightened around his straining cock, as his imagination escaped reality freely.

He bit down on his lip all the more harder, surprised that he hadn't drawn blood, knowing that he was about to cross the finish line. "Ah!" Despite all attempts he couldn't help but voice his release.
In one final stroke, his eyes flew open, hoping that would stop him from picturing the unattainable as his orgasm fervently plastered the shower wall. But it didn't work. Even with his eyes wide open, his mind still played out what he wanted as he came. What he needed.

He slid down onto his knees, his erection sitting at half mast, the water cleaning the mixture away from his fingers and palm.

At home, he didn't care much of what had turned him on late at night, but in Atlantis, his thoughts were dangerous.