The End Of The Day

by Merlin7

URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/asm/merlin7/endday.php
Summary: Not supplied

Carson was tired. That bone-deep -- achy -- tired that imprinted itself on his body every night by the end of his shift. He was happy to leave the infirmary, not that he was off duty. Carson was on call, 24/7. He felt a personal responsibility towards every person on Atlantis, and he took every loss personally as well. Carson knew of one other person who felt the same way. Who understood better than anyone else did. Major John Sheppard. As a doctor, Carson was devoted to saving lives. Major Sheppard shared that devotion to saving lives. He just did it in a different way. Carson knew that John would sacrifice his own life to save others and that willingness to put the lives of others above his own made the connection between him and Carson that much more sublime. Carson wasn't sure when it had happened, or how. Or even why. Because he and Major Sheppard were like night and day. Yin and Yang. Fire and water. But in spite of that or - perhaps because of it - they had become friends.

It occured to Carson that he probably knew Major Sheppard better than anyone, and yet he was accutely aware of the fact that he really didn't know the man at all. Not surprising. John didn't like to talk about himself, or his feelings. The major lived in the moment, which meant he did not worry about the past or fret about the future -- an attitude Carson wished he could emulate. What John did do, however, was listen. And he was a hell of a good listener at that. He knew how to listen and when to offer a word to the wise. Of course it was wisdom couched in sarcasm or humor. Sometimes it was a joke or a line from a movie or a song. But he always got his point across and Carson always took it to heart. He sometimes thought that John would have made a good psychologist and had even said that to him.

John had laughed and shook his head, saying that he had been born to fly. That he was nothing but a simple pilot. But Carson knew better. There was nothing --simple -- about John Sheppard. He was as complex as they come. And he wasn't just any one thing either, he was more a little bit of everything to everyone. He was also a man of contrasts. A people person who often sought out solitude. A man who, instinctively, knew what people needed and gave it to them -- willingly. Yet he was pretty much a loner and, seemingly, content. He could crack a joke and make you laugh at the drop of a hat, yet there was an infinite sadness glimmering in his hazel eyes. He was smart on a genius level that might not rival Rodney Mckay, but he could keep the astrophysicist on his toes. Yet, although he didn't play dumb, John did not advertise his intelligence. He never gave away what he was thinking. He played everything close to the vest. And just when you might think you had him all figured out, he'd do something to surprise you. He was an enigma in the truest sense and he fascinated Carson.

He also knew all of Carson's secrets. All his hopes and fears and fantasies. And he had no regrets about sharing them with John. He knew they would be safe with him. He knew he could trust the major to never tell a soul.

Carson had been so deep in thought that he only now realized he had been standing in front of the balcony doors. He liked coming out here every night, before bed. To feel the fresh air on his face as he gazed out over the water that surrounded his new home. A smile curved his lips as he headed for the railing, only to stumble over something on the deck. Carson looked down and found himself staring at a pair of boots and a pile of clothing. It took only a moment to recognize the black shirt that was crumpled on the jacket. "JOHN!" Carson shouted as he leaned over the railing. His heart was in his mouth but dropped back down into his chest and started beating again when he realized there was a rope tied off the railing and that someone was climbing up it.

When John reached the top, Carson reached out to help him over it and onto the deck. He glared at John as the man stood there, dressed only in wet boxers, shivering. "Are you daft, mon?" Carson railed at him. "It's freezing out here! You'll catch your death!"

"It's a bit brisk," John allowed, smiling his little boy smile as he reached for his shirt and tugged it over his head. It clung to his wet skin. "But the water was warm."

"You're a damn fool!" Carson snapped, even as he helped John to get dressed. But he was still shivering once pants and jacket and boots were on. "I need to get you warm!" Carson didn't even hesitate. He grabbed John by the arm, hauled him inside, then headed down the corridor to his the major's quarters. They were closest.

Once there, Carson used his ATA gene to make the door whoosh open and he herded the major inside. "Strip and get in the shower," he ordered.

John quirked an eyebrow at him but obeyed, slipping off his jacket then kicking off his -- unlaced -- boots. "You okay?" he asked, as he shimmied out of his pants.

"Fine!" Carson heard the squeak in his voice and winced. But he couldn't help it. He was now staring at naked Sheppard and it was a beautiful sight. And one he had dreamed about often. And just like with all other things -- John Sheppard -- he was uniquely beautiful as well. There were plenty of lovely people on Atlantis, Carson knew. Elizabeth had a regal type of beauty. Teyla was earthy and exotic. Grodin and Lt. Ford were beautiful men. But no one was beautiful like Major Sheppard. And what made him all the more alluring was that he did not realize how beautiful he was. He was blind to the effect it had on others. That it drew people to him because they wanted to touch such beauty -- to bask in it's warmth. John glowed with youth and beauty and vitality. He was older than he looked but he didn't wear the years on face or body. Nor in his energy level. John Sheppard reminded Carson of a hyper seven year old, much of the time. Not now, though. Not when he was naked and beautiful and so damn close. Suddenly, Carson realized John was talking to him. "I'm sorry...what did you say?"

"I said...Join me?" John repeated.

And Carson stopped breathing for a moment . He realized what John was asking. It wasn't really a surprise. They had been moving in this direction for weeks. Baby-stepping their way to this moment. And now it was here and Carson wasn't sure he was ready for it. But then he looked into John's eyes and saw himself reflected there, and what he saw was beautiful. So Carson nodded and stripped out of his own clothes. He watched John watching him and simply stood there a moment, letting the other man look his fill. And Carson could see that John liked what he saw. He could see the desire that smouldered in the hazel eyes. Saw the way John's cock twitched and hardened. But he also could see that John was still shivering. "Into the shower with you," Carson ordered. He stepped forward and reached for John's hand, feeling the slender fingers closing over his own. Then Carson was leading them both into the bathroom area. He started the water and let it steam up, and took the moment to study the man he was about to make love too.

John was taller than Carson by a good two inches. Taller and far leaner, his broad shoulders taperind down to trim hips. His waist seemed impossibly slender, as did John himself, but that was partially his fine bone structure. John was borderline skinny, but there was a tone layer of muscle over his elegant bones, and the man had a gorgeous ass. Carson took note of it as John turned to check on the water temperatute. It was small but firm and Carson had to resist the urge to pinch it. All in all, John looked almost fragile, but it was just an illusion. Major Sheppard was the strongest man Carson knew. When the world tried to knock him down, Major Sheppard dug in and held firm. And for that Carson would be eternally grateful.

He leaned in around John to check the water himself. Hot but not scalding. "In you go," Carson said softly, pushing John under the spray. He quickly followed and found warm lips on his. Carson moaned and leaned into the kiss. It was surprisingly sweet. Not soft, but sweet, and there was a tenderness to it that touched his heart. When they broke apart, Carson looked at John and whispered, "God your beautiful." And the blush the flushed John's skin was a sight to behold. It made Carson smile. But the smile faded as John touched him.

Carson had never had anyone touch him the way John did. He didn't touch him so much as caress him and imprint him with his warmth. Because now John was warm and almost glowing and he shared the heat. And when warm lips closed over the tip of his cock, Carson had to stop him. He pulled John up and asked, "Why me?" Before this went any further, he had to know.

John locked eyes with Carson ."Because you see the real me. Flaws and all."

"The real you is perfect," Carson countered, but he knew what John meant. The major projected a certain image that most everyone bought in to. But Carson saw past it and they both knew it. He did not undertand John's pain, but he felt it all the same.

"You're perfect," John replied. "Perfect for me." Then he laughed and the sound danced in the air around them.

Carson lifted a fingertip to trace John's perfect lips. "I want you." He knew John would understand why and how and accept it for what it was. Pure need wrapped up with desire. Pure passion with a hope for something deeper, richer. Something more permanent for them both.

John kissed Carson and against his lips replied, "I want you inside me."

That stunned Carson enough so that he pulled away. "Are you sure? Have you ever?" I mean --" Carson broke off, as he caught the look in John's eyes. "You've never done this before," he stated.

"But you have." John's eyes glittered with desire.

"A few times," Carson allowed, but he had never wanted it then the way he wanted it now. Now it was John. Now it was special. The first time all over again.

John bit softly on Carson's lower lip. "I want you."

Carson opened his mouth to protest only to have John silence him with a kiss. The type of kiss that melts your insides and makes your toes curl. When he was able to breathe again he asked, "Are you sure?" He wanted John to be really sure. There was no room for regrets.

"I'm sure," John breathed. He turned away for a moment then he was holding out a small bottle.

"Baby oil?" Carson was stunned. "Why do you have baby oil?" Was he expecting this to happen? Hoping?

John offered a quirky grin. "I brought it to oil my knife," he replied. "It's an old army trick my grandfather taught me when I was a kid. Just a bit smoothed into the blade is supposed to help it slide out of the sheath better. Don't know if that's true but I brought it as a reminder." He pressed the bottle into Carson's hand.

Carson realized that John had just given him a bit of insight into his past. More than ever before. He loved his grandfather and the baby oil was a way to keep the memory of the man alive. A way to keep John connected to him. But given the grin on John's face, he was able to see the humor in what they were about to use the oil for. Not that it was funny, Carson knew . But it set the tone. He nodded then slicked his fingers with the oil. "Turn around," he ordered, and his voice was husky to his own ears. When John obeyed, pressing his hands against the wet wall to brace himself, Carson took a moment to stare at the beautiful body offered up to him. He knew that this was about trust as much as it was about want and desire, and that meant the world to him in a way he didn't even want to think about right now. All he wanted to do in this moment was -- feel.

So he did just that, slicking his fingers with the oil then touching John everywhere. By the time he had him stretched open, they were both panting with need. Carson leaned over the slim back, turning John's head so he could kiss him. "It's going to hurt a bit," he stated. "Actually..alot."

"I don't mind," John replied, silencing more statements with a kiss.

"John -- "Carson began.

John shook his head. "We'll talk later. I want to feel you right now."

Carson wanted that too. So he eased back to line himself up, then he pressed into John, moving slowly but surely. He felt John's body open to him, letting him in, but only up to a point. There was always that point of resistance and they worked past it together. THen Carson was all the way inside and it was tight and warm and perfect. He leaned into John again, kissing the nape of his neck as he slid one arm around the slender waist, closing his fingers over John's hardness. When Carson began to move inside of John, he stroked his lover's cock in the same rythmn. And when John began to move with Carson, it was like a dance. Carson had always wanted to dance.

His release came in a rush that surprised him. Carson had felt John's wetness slicking his hand, had felt John's inner mucles contracting around him, and then he was seeing stars and hearing music and all kinds of cliched things until he fell back into reality and it was a pretty wonderful place to be. Inside John.

They stayed connected for a long moment then Carson pulled out and watched as John turned around. He didn't know what to say, but John knew what to do. They kissed as they washed each other. Kissed some more as they stepped out and dried each other off. The doctor in Carson had to resist the urge to get all technical and examine John for tearing . Carson knew he had been gentle but he knew some wounds could go unseen if not checked. But John was kissing him again and nothing else mattered. Until they headed back into the other room. Carson saw the pile of his clothes on the floor. He knew it was late and they both needed sleep. "I should go."

"Don't," John protested. "Stay with me. The bed is big enough for two...if you hold me."

Carson realize that John was begging him. John never begged, he always - asked. But he was begging now and Carson could not ignore it. "I'll stay," he whispered, and he let John lead him to the bed. They lay down together and it was only natural for Carson to lay on his back and draw John down over him.

They let silence wash over them for a long time, then John whispered, "This is nice."

"Aye," Carson agreed. It was better than nice, but nice would do.

"You're strong enough to hold me," John continued, and there was a world of meaning in his words.

Carson understood. "You're strong enough to let me," he replied. And it made him almost nervous to realize the level of trust that John had just bestowed upon him.

John lifted his head and locked eyes with Carson. "Don't tell anyone."

"Never," Carson promised, and he smiled to himself as John laid his head back down and snuggled into him. "Go to sleep," he ordered, for he knew tomorrow would bring another day full of the unknown. And they both needed to be ready for it.

"Sweet dreams," John breathed, almost wistfully.

Carson hugged him in reply then felt John relax against him, as if knowing Carson would chase away the shadows. After a time he heard John's breathing change and knew he was asleep. Carson closed his own eyes thinking, *Perfect end to a perfect day.* And he hoped every day on Atlantis would end the same.

He drifted to sleep knowing that -- with John in his arms -- they would.

THE END