Srsly though?
Jan. 26th, 2009 12:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabinelagrandeTitle: you will be my one last chance
Summary: John saves Tony's life. Tony likes that in a man.
Fandom: Iron Man/Stargate: Atlantis
Word Count: 877
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, AU
Pairing: Tony Stark/John Sheppard
A/N: Written for Oxoniensis's Porn Battle VII, posted here for length. Title stolen from Ambulance by TV on the Radio, which is kinda totally their theme song. I totally wrote this on my lunch break. In public. And now I'm going to the bioarch lab to play with bones.
It's his backup pilot- the pretty one with the messy hair that Rhodey begged him to hire as a personal favor- and his backup plane- a crappy little Cessna that Tony is really only keeping around for sentimental reasons- so when the RPG comes screaming up at them, Tony assumes they're all going to crash and die horribly.
He's pleasantly surprised when they don't.
--
It's a week later and John is standing uncomfortably in the lobby of a restaurant where the water probably costs more than he makes in an hour. Mr. Stark has insisted on taking him out to dinner to show his gratitude- which is nice and all, but if Stark really wants to thank him he can start by getting John more flight time, because he's about one more hundred dollar paycheck from quitting and going to work at the Wal-Mart- and he is, of course, late.
Just as John is on the verge of leaving, the maitre d' tells him that Mr. Stark sends his regrets. He encourages John to have dinner on his tab, the man tells him, and informs him that the limo will arrive afterward so he can meet Mr. Stark for a drink.
John orders a steak the same size and price as a luxury sedan and washes it down with a beer he can't even pronounce the name of.
--
Tony looks up and he's thirty minutes late for dinner.
He reassures himself that Sheppard will totally forgive him later, even if he doesn't know it yet.
--
Stark's house looks exactly like it did in that issue of Architectural Digest that Nancy used to keep in the bathroom- one more thing about her that he never understood.
Stark isn't dressed up, which is great in John's estimation, because it means he can take his fucking tie off finally. He can see Stark's- thing, his chest thing with the lights- which is a little odd, but hell, it's his damn house, isn't it?
Stark tells him he's grateful John didn't consign him to a fiery death- and he says it in more or less those exact words, which John appreciates- he's feeling charitable tonight. As far as he can tell, Stark's generally no-bullshit when it comes to really important stuff, missed dinners notwithstanding.
Stark hands him a glass of something- scotch, John figures, because all businessmen seem to think that tasting like trees equals manly sophistication- and invites John to sit. John takes the middle of the couch, and he tenses up a little when Stark sits down right next to him. Fuck. He's getting fired, isn't he?
John takes a sip of his drink to hide his nervousness, surprised when it turns out to be a really smooth aged rum. He tries to tell himself to calm the fuck down, but mostly he just keeps drinking, which is not at all the same thing.
But Stark wants to talk about John's experiences in the cockpit, funny and possibly death-defying pilot stories, that type of crap. He's neither an idiot nor impressed by John's really exaggerated stories of spectacularly badass maneuvers, which is a nice change. It's become sort of rare in John's world to find anyone who can hold up his end of a good conversation.
Around the third time Stark fills up his glass, John realizes he's not getting fired.
Seduced, maybe, but definitely not fired.
He can deal with that.
He relaxes some, letting his leg brush against Stark's in what might be mistaken for a casual way. Stark catches him at it, leans in close and whispers, “How'd you like to really fly?”
That is seriously the third worst pick up line that John has ever heard in his entire life, and John very nearly gets up and calls a cab- but now Stark's got his hand down his pants, and that seems kind of impolite. “I need a test pilot,” he says, stroking John's half-hard cock, and John freezes.
“Just so we're clear,” he hears himself saying, “is this about a hand job or a real job?”
Stark actually laughs at that, an honest to god one- John might go so far as to call it a guffaw. “Both,” he says, twisting his hand in a way that suggests that this is not his first rodeo.
John lets his head fall back against the couch. “Keep talking,” he manages to say.
“Full time,” Stark tells him, working him steadily, his callused fingers doing wicked things to him. “Full benefits. Fully classified. You'll be directly under me,” John snorts at that one. “Nobody else has ever tested the system.”
Stark gets right up in his ear, his voice low and rough and fucking amazing. “Non-invasive neural interfacing.”
John groans out loud- and he can't really decide which part of this he's really getting off on, but he so doesn't care. “You can't- fuck- really mean-”
“All you have to do is think,” Stark says, pushing John's cock through his fist hard and fast, “and you're flying.”
It is easily the best orgasm he's ever had.
--
“You start Monday,” he tells Sheppard, and Tony doesn't object when Sheppard pushes him into the couch and crashes their lips together.
Summary: John saves Tony's life. Tony likes that in a man.
Fandom: Iron Man/Stargate: Atlantis
Word Count: 877
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, AU
Pairing: Tony Stark/John Sheppard
A/N: Written for Oxoniensis's Porn Battle VII, posted here for length. Title stolen from Ambulance by TV on the Radio, which is kinda totally their theme song. I totally wrote this on my lunch break. In public. And now I'm going to the bioarch lab to play with bones.
It's his backup pilot- the pretty one with the messy hair that Rhodey begged him to hire as a personal favor- and his backup plane- a crappy little Cessna that Tony is really only keeping around for sentimental reasons- so when the RPG comes screaming up at them, Tony assumes they're all going to crash and die horribly.
He's pleasantly surprised when they don't.
--
It's a week later and John is standing uncomfortably in the lobby of a restaurant where the water probably costs more than he makes in an hour. Mr. Stark has insisted on taking him out to dinner to show his gratitude- which is nice and all, but if Stark really wants to thank him he can start by getting John more flight time, because he's about one more hundred dollar paycheck from quitting and going to work at the Wal-Mart- and he is, of course, late.
Just as John is on the verge of leaving, the maitre d' tells him that Mr. Stark sends his regrets. He encourages John to have dinner on his tab, the man tells him, and informs him that the limo will arrive afterward so he can meet Mr. Stark for a drink.
John orders a steak the same size and price as a luxury sedan and washes it down with a beer he can't even pronounce the name of.
--
Tony looks up and he's thirty minutes late for dinner.
He reassures himself that Sheppard will totally forgive him later, even if he doesn't know it yet.
--
Stark's house looks exactly like it did in that issue of Architectural Digest that Nancy used to keep in the bathroom- one more thing about her that he never understood.
Stark isn't dressed up, which is great in John's estimation, because it means he can take his fucking tie off finally. He can see Stark's- thing, his chest thing with the lights- which is a little odd, but hell, it's his damn house, isn't it?
Stark tells him he's grateful John didn't consign him to a fiery death- and he says it in more or less those exact words, which John appreciates- he's feeling charitable tonight. As far as he can tell, Stark's generally no-bullshit when it comes to really important stuff, missed dinners notwithstanding.
Stark hands him a glass of something- scotch, John figures, because all businessmen seem to think that tasting like trees equals manly sophistication- and invites John to sit. John takes the middle of the couch, and he tenses up a little when Stark sits down right next to him. Fuck. He's getting fired, isn't he?
John takes a sip of his drink to hide his nervousness, surprised when it turns out to be a really smooth aged rum. He tries to tell himself to calm the fuck down, but mostly he just keeps drinking, which is not at all the same thing.
But Stark wants to talk about John's experiences in the cockpit, funny and possibly death-defying pilot stories, that type of crap. He's neither an idiot nor impressed by John's really exaggerated stories of spectacularly badass maneuvers, which is a nice change. It's become sort of rare in John's world to find anyone who can hold up his end of a good conversation.
Around the third time Stark fills up his glass, John realizes he's not getting fired.
Seduced, maybe, but definitely not fired.
He can deal with that.
He relaxes some, letting his leg brush against Stark's in what might be mistaken for a casual way. Stark catches him at it, leans in close and whispers, “How'd you like to really fly?”
That is seriously the third worst pick up line that John has ever heard in his entire life, and John very nearly gets up and calls a cab- but now Stark's got his hand down his pants, and that seems kind of impolite. “I need a test pilot,” he says, stroking John's half-hard cock, and John freezes.
“Just so we're clear,” he hears himself saying, “is this about a hand job or a real job?”
Stark actually laughs at that, an honest to god one- John might go so far as to call it a guffaw. “Both,” he says, twisting his hand in a way that suggests that this is not his first rodeo.
John lets his head fall back against the couch. “Keep talking,” he manages to say.
“Full time,” Stark tells him, working him steadily, his callused fingers doing wicked things to him. “Full benefits. Fully classified. You'll be directly under me,” John snorts at that one. “Nobody else has ever tested the system.”
Stark gets right up in his ear, his voice low and rough and fucking amazing. “Non-invasive neural interfacing.”
John groans out loud- and he can't really decide which part of this he's really getting off on, but he so doesn't care. “You can't- fuck- really mean-”
“All you have to do is think,” Stark says, pushing John's cock through his fist hard and fast, “and you're flying.”
It is easily the best orgasm he's ever had.
--
“You start Monday,” he tells Sheppard, and Tony doesn't object when Sheppard pushes him into the couch and crashes their lips together.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-01-26 07:13 pm (UTC)Tony Stark is the best.
I love the line about the scotch.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-26 07:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-26 08:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-26 09:21 pm (UTC)Great, um, porn. I like that John didn't figure out he was being seduced until the 3rd glass of rum, the John Sheppard Obliviousness. And the mention of Nancy was a nice detail.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-26 11:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-26 11:41 pm (UTC)He tries to tell himself to calm the fuck down, but mostly he just keeps drinking, which is not at all the same thing. Beautifully put.
Thank you.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-27 03:50 am (UTC)lol
loved this. Not a pairing I'd ever thought of, but it works somehow.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-27 06:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-27 06:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-27 06:01 am (UTC)Glad you liked it!
no subject
Date: 2009-01-27 06:03 am (UTC)Thanks!
no subject
Date: 2009-01-27 06:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-27 06:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-27 06:05 am (UTC)Thanks, anon!
no subject
Date: 2009-01-27 07:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-28 01:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-28 03:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-28 08:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-28 08:35 pm (UTC)If Rodney was utterly convinced that people found him irresistibly charming, he'd be Tony Stark.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-29 09:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-05 05:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-05 05:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-05 05:08 am (UTC)And now I am TERRIFIED of confident!Rodney. He'd conquer Pegasus before lunch.
no subject
Date: 2009-02-10 10:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-11 01:13 am (UTC)And thanks!