SGA FIC: Out Of Bounds - John/Rodney - NC-17 someday

[icarus]

You brave folks in the Playground, risking spoilers and confusion, you've already seen this part.

Or read it on my website here (this should jump to the new part). Probably. ETA: Or maybe not. I don't know what I'm doing wrong with this yet.

I spent the entire day in a hotel mainlining the World's figure skating championships. *burp*

Since I've been stumped a while (I learned some inconvenient facts about figure skating that forced me to make changes) I'm taking a page out of auburnnotlisa's book:

Previously: Known more for his jumps than his artistry, figure skater John Sheppard hired ex-skating champion and 'artiste' Rodney McKay to be his coach. Plagued by a persistant ACL injury and rapidly growing too old for the sport, few believe John has a shot. Rodney quickly developed a crush on his rebellious protege, and he convinced a (very) reluctant John to skate pairs in an effort to break through his many blocks. A teasing friendship developed between them, and when John offered to drive the car-less Rodney to buy groceries, their shopping trip turned into a playful excursion... with dinner afterward.

'Get back out there.' – 'No. I'm taking up hockey. It'll *hurt* less.'
'So why do we have to skate in the nude again?'
Naturally, John had brought the boom box but had forgotten to bring any music.
Rodney wondered if John knew 'Mustang Sally' was a favorite with strippers the world over.
'This is hero worship, isn't it?'
'Me coach. You student. You keep forgetting that lately.'
It was just hockey, not a cardinal sin.
I'm sure when we were being chased by sabre-toothed tigers we did all kinds of neat tricks.
'You want to be alone?' Kim-the-unutterably-stupid asked.
He mentally took back his den and no longer had to worry about John's exercise equipment.
'I take American Express.'
Give John a spotlight and what does he do? Skate in the dark.
Something about a dead hamster-?
Being a UPS driver had been great, nice people, but it worked all the wrong muscle groups.
'I don't think she actually skates -- she just floats over the ice like a fruit fly!'
'You see me naked and you think I'm athlete?'
Pain was good. It told John when he went too far.
'Oh, yes, we're all very impressed with your vapid conversation.'
'Can you give me some hip action now that all your delusions have been shattered?'

Out Of Bounds
by Icarus


Rodney hadn't left the porch light on, so they were swearing at each other and at the overly springy storm door that kept closing on them as Rodney fumbled through his keys. John struggled with the large box of tomato cans in his arms, regretting his decision to get the hard part over first. Finally, John hefted it to his shoulder and onto his head, balancing it with one hand. Rodney popped open the door with a flourish, and John dipped under the doorjamb.

John crossed to the kitchen with a hip swing and a devilish look back at Rodney, eyes glittering.

"There!" Rodney pointed, the bags still tangled on his wrists swinging wildly. "That! That's what I meant today—why can't you do that on the ice?"

"I don't screw in public either, Rodney," John drawled. He dumped the box on the floor.

Rodney gave him a slow head tilt and a dirty smile. "Do you want me to go with the obvious innuendo or try for something more subtle?"

~*~*~

The sultry music was from a pairs routine Rodney had done when he was a little kid. It also reminded John of just why pairs skating under the age of fifteen had always seemed totally inappropriate.

"You skated to this with your little sister?" John said, appalled, both eyebrows raised.

"Shut up, she was twelve. It was cute."

Hand over hand, they changed positions. Rodney twirled his arm over John's head until they were facing each other, John gliding backwards.

"Good. You got the basics." Rodney bobbed his head in approval. "Now give me a little more hip. Make it hot."

Rodney demonstrated with his arms over his head, swinging his hip to the right into a quarter turn.

"No!" John's head dipped, and yes, that was definitely a blush.

With an exasperated eye roll, Rodney reached for his hips. "Look, I'll show you...."

And John backed away abruptly with one quick push of his skate, sliding out of reach. "Forget it, Rodney."

~*~*~

John bumped his ass on the storm door, bouncing it open as he brought in the fourth box. Rodney 'supervised.' "If you could just put that...."

Without comment John dumped it on top of the other boxes, giving Rodney an intent look that dared him to say otherwise.

"...or, alternatively, that will do," Rodney said with an air of graciousness.

With a smirk, John checked over his shoulder then raised one arm and pirouetted clumsily, falling a little to one side and knocking into the doorjamb. Rodney's eyes went wide again.

"Yes, that's—" John kicked open the front door, the chill rushing in. "—actually, that kind of sucked, but," Rodney called after him, "you're getting the idea!"

At the car, John bent over to get the last of the cans. Rodney wondered if his jeans were tighter than usual, admiring the curves.

John carried two boxes this time, one in each arm. Show off.

~*~*~

John held onto the edge of the boards, scowling with obvious growing annoyance as Rodney showed him the choreography.

"Now. Arch your arm, curved over your head like a ballerina." Rodney raised his arm and demonstrated.

John copied him, sketching the gesture half-heartedly and sloppy. "I'm almost sure I've never seen this move." He let his hand drop.

"Technically, you are skating my little sister's part – John! John, get back here!" Because John had rolled his head, turned and left without a millisecond's hesitation, coasting on his skates for the door. "Oh, come on, you can't expect me to skate her role! I don't know it the way I know my own, it's all backwards." He huffed. "Fine! But if I mess up and you get a skate in the face, it will be entirely your fault and I don't want to hear from you, your lawyer, or your reconstructive surgeon."

"How would I get a skate in the face?" John snowplowed to a stop and actually looked interested, head turned to him quizzically. Leave it to John. If it was dangerous he invariably wanted to try it.

"From this—" And Rodney did a roundhouse tilted spin, head dipped almost to the ice as one leg carved the air.

"Cool!"

Rodney got them both back into position, an arm span apart and hand on John's wrist. "Now. I pull you in, and roll you out with that little rumba hip shimmy...."

"This is pairs skating, and not ice dancing. Right?" John eyed him up and down, lips pressed together sourly.

~*~*~

With a loud thump, John deposited the last of the cans on the floor. "I thought you'd be putting this stuff away or something."

"Away?"

"Yeah, like in the cupboards?" John reached for the nearest cabinet handle.

"Wait, I don't have room—"

A dozen CDs tumbled out onto John, bounced off and clattered, scattering all over the counters and floor.

"Er. Yes. I ran out of space in the living room." Rodney started gathering them up in his arms like a guilty kid.

"No one can own that many CDs," John said, opening another door and then another, to gaze up in awe at row after row of CDs. Above those, a long line of old vinyl albums. Tapes. He even had a stack of old 8-tracks.

"Yes," said Rodney clutching the CDs with grateful desperation. "Thank god for mp3s."

~*~*~

It always felt good to be on the ice, even with recalcitrant students. Rodney brought his skates to a 'T,' smiling and shaking his head at John's idea of 'moving' his hips.

"My God, outside of the jumps you're Al Gore on skates."

That earned him John's nastiest slant-eyed scowl, the one that said, "yes, in fact I do have a weapon and would be happy to blow your head off." Rodney ignored it. Okay, his heart fluttered with fear and something a little more steamy, but outwardly he ignored it.

"It looks gay," John grumbled.

Rodney couldn't help the little laugh that escaped. And there was that hot glare again. "How did you end up figure skating at all?"

To his credit, John blushed. He said with a frustrated gesture. "Look. My first coach said I wouldn't have to do the whole frilly...." He circled a hand to fill in the blanks. "...routine."

"How old were you?" Rodney asked in a skeptical tone.

"I dunno. Fifteen, fourteen. Something like that." He shrugged.

"Congratulations, John," Rodney said. "That, at the tender of age of fourteen, was your first line."

John gave him a blank look.

"He lied. He wanted you."

There was a disbelieving silence. Then John shook the off idea. "Nah. There are things about skating that are more important. Athleticism, pushing your limits...." He emphasized them with a slicing gesture. Rodney could almost hear the quote marks.

"Let me guess." Rodney folded his arms and tipped his head to the side in sarcastic humor. "He had a half dozen little artists and not one on his teenage 'dream team' who could land the jumps consistently."

"Carl could do the jumps." John frowned suddenly. "Mostly." His eyebrows drew down in a disgruntled expression as the facts slotted neatly, and very visibly, into place.

"I'm right, aren't I?"

"Shut up, I'm thinking."

Snickering, Rodney glided forward. "You really should have figured this out years ago. You were kind of trusting weren't you?"

"Shut up, Rodney."

"Can you give me some hip action now that all your delusions have been shattered?"

~*~*~

Steam rose from the bubbling water as John flipped a spatula in one hand. He rocked his shoulders, one, two, three, four, on the heavy descending bass line to The Ramones, bouncing and bobbing his head as he came back up.

Beside him, Rodney very intently sliced vegetables, having been told to cut them smaller. Twice. He glanced over at John with amusement as John lip-synched, his eyes nearly closed:

"I'm the Crusher!
King of the ring!"

He bit his lip as he bobbed his head, and then bent to lower the heat. He caught Rodney's gaze and smiled at him.

Rodney leaned closer and shouted over the music, "Somehow, I don't believe you learned to cook Thai food down home on the farm!"

John's grin spread. He said loudly in Rodney's ear, "I'm a multi-faceted man."

~*~*~

Their epiphany had not improved Sheppard's performance one iota.

"Congratulations," Rodney announced to a very surly looking Sheppard. "This marks our most unsuccessful lesson ever," he said matching John's complete disgust and frustration. "And make no mistake, it's entirely your fault—or rather, the fault of the closeted, homophobic, narrow, mid-western American mindset of Ohio, or Peoria, or whatever two-bit backwater you hailed from."

"Illinois. And I hear Chicago's a pretty big town."

"That is so not the point!"

"I'm just not a dancer, Rodney."

~*~*~

Following dinner John made them wash the dishes. Then they kicked back in the warm light of the kitchen which, after twenty minutes of John, had turned into the cleanest room in the house, boxes of cans notwithstanding.

With a contented sigh, Rodney nibbled a thin slice of brie, tipping his head back against his chair. John's fingers and lips were stained dark pink with raspberry juice, his elbows and forearms resting comfortably on the table. He'd scattered the berries artfully around the brie then proceeded to ignore the cheese completely as he hovered and pecked through them with the air of a predator.

Rodney dangled a slice of brie. "Please eat this, or else I'll never be able to do a jump tougher than a Wally."

"And crack the ice in the process," John agreed all too readily, sucking berry juice from his thumb with a smack of his lips. He dipped his head and accepted it from Rodney's fingers. He made a pleased grunt and said, wagging a raised forefinger, "Oh. That is good with the raspberries. Try it."

Rodney indulged him, then cut himself another slice of brie. He promised his conscience extra sit-ups tomorrow.

"So what kind of music do you like, other than The Ramones and god-awful country?"

"Still teaching?" John regarded him with a bright eye and a smirk.

"Mmmm. Personal interest."

John wiped his hands on his jeans and stood. He opened the kitchen cabinet above the sink. "Well, I think I saw... yeah." He hid the CD behind his back with a playful look, and Rodney heard him stumble over something in the living room, cursing. Then the satisfying click of the stereo. Black Sabbeth poured out as John returned to lean against the doorjamb with an evil victorious grin.

"I. Am. Iron. Man!"

"There's no dancing to that!" Rodney complained.

"Exactly!" John said, dropping to the chair. "That's what I've been trying to tell you."

Rodney mulled it over.

"Everyone can dance," he decided.

That started a laugh out of John. "They can," he repeated, a world of doubt in his voice.

"Of course. All music is sexual in nature. Since sex is something anyone can do, based on the neanderthals you see popping out babies, therefore, ergo and tu whit--" Rodney swept a finger through the air to emphasize his point. "--everyone can dance."

John snorted doubtfully. "I think you're projecting."

Rodney continued, ignoring him. "This particular piece is less mutual, and more masturbatory."

John coughed.

"Come on. You played air guitar to it; everyone did. What do you think air guitar is?" He demonstrated, fingers flying. "What's that about?"

John pointed out, "Everything's sexual to you." He shook his head and leaned forward earnestly. "See, music's about the lyrics. This song... is about disillusionment with the whole self-centered human race."

"No, the lyrics are poetry. Pay attention to just the music."

They leaned back, listening meditatively.

"The music sounds angry to me," John said to the air.

"No, listen to the notes. That is so masturbation, bringing it right up to the cusp and not quite getting there."

John choked and shook his head in disbelief.

After a long moment, Rodney him gave a confused frown. He turned to John. "Do you really think the entire human race is self-centered?"

"Huh?" John startled out of his contemplation of the song. "What? No. That's just the song."

"Well, you said I project so...."

John was a quiet for a second. "Okay. Some people won't give you the time of day. I mean, they might think you're good-looking and all, but you're still just a piece of meat in a UPS uniform. Unless you've done something special or different."

"People say I'm self-centered," Rodney said in a worried tone.

"No, you're not," John said with an off-handed wave.

"Huh." Rodney blinked a moment. "Okay."

They listened several minutes longer.

"Now that-- the electric guitar solo there...."

"All right, I can see that. But I think you're corrupting me is what's going on." He shut his eyes. "It's more like oral sex, actually."

~*~*~

They hovered at the door, the night cold and clear behind John. The city lights washed out the stars and stained the one a.m. sky a deep blue. John rocked the storm door back and forth between his hands, still standing in the doorway as Rodney braved the night air, arms wrapped around himself.

"I gotta go," John offered like an apology. "My meds are all back at my place." He thumbed over his shoulder but let his hand fall helplessly as he stayed on Rodney's porch, hip canted against the doorjamb.

"Oh. Does the knee hurt?" Rodney asked. John rolled his eyes slightly. Of course it did. "Never mind. Stupid question."

Rodney took a breath. "So, uh." He sniffed. "See you tomorrow? Four a.m., bright and early." He swung his arms.

"Well, it's Saturday, though I can probably swing it...."

"Oh, right, right, Saturday – I meant Monday, of course."

"Oh. Okay. Monday, then." John nodded, leaning his weight of his shoulder against the flimsy storm door.

"Four a.m., sharp," Rodney added.

John smiled, bright and white. "See you then."

He turned with a coy bob of his head, trundled down the steps, then turned around to walk backwards along the sidewalk, giving Rodney a dorky little wave. He jogged to his car, and cast a look back when he reached the door. Rodney fluttered his fingers at him. As the engine started, Rodney realized it was cold out, though he waited a moment longer as John drove away.


The next part is up, here!


Coming shortly (would I ever deny you music?): The Crusher by the Ramones and
Iron Man by Black Sabbath

Comments

[mkcs.livejournal.com]

The jump to part 19 worked for me.

[icarusancalion.livejournal.com]

Are you getting the strike-throughs? It seems to be treating the jump-to link as an open link, so when you mouse-over the text it does a strike-through effect. I've tried to fix this fifteen time, but the trouble is, I don't know what I'm doing.

Icarus

[mkcs.livejournal.com]

Yes, I am. No idea of why -- your code looks fine.

[icarusancalion.livejournal.com]

Thank you for the confirmation. As far as I can tell, that underlining shouldn't be happening. I'm... puzzled.

[wildestranger.livejournal.com]

Hee. Love your dorky John. :)

[icarusancalion.livejournal.com]

Hee. Thank you.

[blacknblue2.livejournal.com]

So I just re-read this story earlier today, and then, just a few hours later, here's a new chapter! I couldn't have asked for better timing.

Yay!!! I love these wonderful ice skating boys.

[icarusancalion.livejournal.com]

Oh, I love it when that happens. I'm a little obsessive about this story, I admit. Figure skating? Gay boys? What more could you want?

Icarus

[enname.livejournal.com]

*blink*

Am I not part of the playground then, cause I am pretty sure I've never seen this?

Bah. Pity, cause I liked it : )

[icarusancalion.livejournal.com]

I checked, you did volunteer, and you are in The Playground. I think the post must've just slipped by. You saw the new scene with Rodney and the four little girls, I'm sure.

[enname.livejournal.com]

*blink*

I am blaming lj, it has been missing some posts on the flist every now and then. Sometimes I only realise when I go and look at a journal by hand .. a thing I do because of the tendency for lj to lose them.

*is off to do so now*

Hee, neat icon : )

[monanotlisa.livejournal.com]

I love this series so much (and I'm not even a skating fan, though I occasionally watch it for a bit).

Also, you're SUCH a tease.

[icarusancalion.livejournal.com]

What? Tease? Me? :D

33,000 words and still no sex in an NC-17 story. Nah. I'm not a tease. Heh-heh-heh.

(Darn. I can't find that Out Of Bounds icon you made me... where did I put that?)

Icarus

[monanotlisa.livejournal.com]

Where indeed?!

[icarusancalion.livejournal.com]

Okay. I had a paid account and have it no more. My icons are thus reduced to six. So. I'm looking for where I saved that icon... *grumbles*

[roaringmice.livejournal.com]

I like the teasing. The slow build up - very effective.

[fullygoldy.livejournal.com]

I enjoyed the installment, but being a tremendous food geek, I have one quibble. You cannot "slice" a perfectly ripened brie, nor can you hold it in your fingers. No one who appreciates the cheese like Rodney would slice into (purchase) an unripened triple creme. What's on the plate has to be handled more like a schmear, and you've got to have a little cracker or bread or something to schmear it on, because them licking it off their fingers would be a little too obvious and pornographic at this point. Although I'm enjoying the mental image tremendously... and now I too, want triple creme and raspberries, and maybe a glass of sparkly stuff to go with. mmmmmmm.
I love the conversational bits - very them, very guy, and just gay enough :)

[icarusancalion.livejournal.com]

It depends on the type of brie. The French bries are extremely soft and spreadable. They tend to be sharper and have more of a bite. That's probably what you're thinking of.

The Canadian triple cream, which is what they bought, has a more delicate flavor and is firmer, though I do agree that "slice" isn't quite the right word. But it should hold its shape in a droopy sort of way, like un-sticky warm taffy. (Rodney would have to lick his fingers afterward, and John had to duck underneath it take it from his hands. I should probably describe that better. I debated back and forth whether or not it was too pornographic to do this now.) If the triple cream is "spreadable" then it's over-ripe.

By the way, most people eat over-ripe brie. According to the man at my dad's cheese shop in Toronto anyway.

There's also a Belgian brie that I found that I particularly love that's somewhere in between, with a nice nutty flavor. It's a little more waxy and very smooth in texture, very rich, but I haven't been able to find it anywhere lately.

[icarusancalion.livejournal.com]

Shoot. I hit post before I was done.

I love the conversational bits - very them, very guy, and just gay enough :)

Just gay enough, hee. With Rodney flaming ever so much and John just a touch queer. If you catch him at the right moment.

Icarus

[stentoriansista.livejournal.com]

Wonderful and squee-tastic, as always. I've spent a very enjoyable break from my very-close-to-due lit review reading back through the story, and my 15 minute break somehow became 45. Oops.

It's hard to believe you've been stuck; this feels very smooth and well thought out. Thanks for a delightful Sunday morning!

PS. Please more sexing. :)
PPS. Kidding.
PPPS. Kind of.

[icarusancalion.livejournal.com]

It's hard to believe you've been stuck; this feels very smooth and well thought out. Thanks for a delightful Sunday morning!

It does? Right on! Man, I can't judge my stuff at all.

PS. Please more sexing. :)
PPS. Kidding.
PPPS. Kind of.

I'm being called a tease throughout these comments. *beams* But it's only been a mere 33,000 words.

Icarus

[sirkate.livejournal.com]

1) The link worked for me, too.
2) I've never been ice skating, and I dreamed of being a skater last night.
3) I think I'm in love with them dancing around each other. If only John could translate that dance to the ice. *sigh* Also, I really like the various skate-y things they do. The random poses and movements John engages in throughout the day, most of all. It seems both realistic and fun. Though I must admit I'm saddened at Rodney not having a huge stock of various prescriptions stored up in his house. John could've stayed! :-)
4) Thank you so much for sharing this fic. It rocks in totally unexpectedly wonderful ways.

[icarusancalion.livejournal.com]

2) I've never been ice skating, and I dreamed of being a skater last night.

Oh, really? That's happened with me.

Though I must admit I'm saddened at Rodney not having a huge stock of various prescriptions stored up in his house. John could've stayed! :-)

I'm sure Rodney is considering just that.

4) Thank you so much for sharing this fic. It rocks in totally unexpectedly wonderful ways.

Oh. Thank you. <3

Icarus

[amalthia]

I liked this part. :)

[icarusancalion.livejournal.com]

Cool.

[twistedrecesses.livejournal.com]

!!!

This is so much better than chemistry prelabs. I was a little disconcerted by the scene switching within this part, given that you've tended to stick to one timeline within any given post before in this story, but once I figured out what was going on, I really liked it.

And they're so cute together!

And now I really want to make desert.

[icarusancalion.livejournal.com]

Uh-oh. This is what I was afraid of: sudden scene switching whiplash. Especially since this is, in a way, the second half of the previous scene.

Hmm. Maybe I could fold it in by having the fact that their lesson before the shopping trip went really, really badly. *thinkthinkthink*

[roaringmice.livejournal.com]

I'm glad you got to see the skating!

The results of the ladies' completely messed up my "fantasy skating" picks. :LOL:

[icarusancalion.livejournal.com]

There has got to be a better way than sacking out in a hotel for 12 hours, but yes, it was fun. Next time: more snacks.

Oh god, I bet. Who was expecting that lovely South Korean girl to come out of nowhere? I was so hoping she'd win though. Wow, is she elegant.

Icarus

[bruinsfan.livejournal.com]

Wheee! More fic!

This John is totally one of those guys who normally only have furtive hook-ups with "straight" men, because the thought of seeing anyone that's actually romantic or even enthusiastic about being with him is Too Gay, isn't he?

Does he consciously realize how much flirting he's doing here?

[icarusancalion.livejournal.com]

Close, very close. He's aware of some of the flirting he's doing. The hip-swings, that's deliberate. Some of the things he says? No, he has no idea. Furtive hook-ups? You're dead on the money.

This is a great question. There's some background here.

John, back in high school, managed to keep his figure skating life and school life separate. His best friends knew that he got into figure skating in 10th grade, but for the most part people just knew that he worked out a lot and was scary-good at the rollerskating parties (they were big in the 80s). His closest friends wondered if he might be gay because he didn't have a girl friend and didn't show any interest, but they didn't know. They liked him and kept (at John's request) the figure skating under wraps.

The guys John fooled around with were the figure skaters.

For him it was a safe haven. No one cared if you were gay, half the instructors were, and compared to most of them he was still the straightest guy around. The skating club was a tight incestuous little group where within two years everyone had fooled around with everyone else. They joked and called the "Glen Ellyn Skating Club" the "Glen Ellyn Sex Club."

(By the way, John is still introduced at the regionals, sectionals, and national championships as "John Sheppard of the Glen Ellyn Skating Club from Chicago, Illinois." It makes him smile.)

The other skaters quickly discovered that while John would hook up and fool around, he wouldn't get involved in relationships or anything long term. He managed to avoid most of the drama that way. (And, oh boy, was there drama.) This was the starting point of a habit.

John's type is flamers (and borderline flamers). Which is strange since he wants to keep his own sexuality private. I think he admires guys who have the balls to be that obviously gay, but for whatever reason, that's what he likes. It's a problem because they're hard to pass off as just friends when people already know he's in a pretty gay sport.

After high school, John continued skating at more elite levels (completely hooked). Figure skating became, um, an image problem. He had a girl friend in college to throw his parents off the scent, and now he works hard to be butch and keep his sex life "low key" as he puts it. He's never had a continuous relationship with a guy for more than a month (though he's done on again, off again), largely because his type is so obvious. There are some broken hearts out there. He uses skating and his need to focus on his training as an excuse.

I hate to admit this, but, well, Rodney is totally his type and he really likes Rodney for a lot of reasons that are good reasons. It's the offer of the place to live, Rodney's total careless generousity that's caught John's eye. But in the back of John's mind he's well aware that any closeness between them can be passed off as the tight bond between skater and coach.

Icarus

[mayoihumbert.livejournal.com]

This is terrific, just grand fun! I dearly love a good AU, and this is pure whee. :)

[icarusancalion.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I have to admit, this story is a blast. Now, just have to figure out which scene comes next... I have several written, but the order, hmmm.

[tagetes.livejournal.com]

Oh, god, how could I forget this one?? *slaps self* Now I have to find out where I stopped reading.. I think I´ll have to reread it. Such a hardship :-)

And I so envy you watching the championship.. It aired here in the morning while I was at work :-( Why couldn´t I be ill like I was during the European championship, why?

[icarusancalion.livejournal.com]

Thank you! Heh. The next part is up now, too. :) I have to admit, I should have brought more food for Worlds. It was quite a lot of figure skating.