Fic: At the Violet Hour (Virgin)

Author: linaerys
Title: At the Violet Hour
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Word Count: ~3400
Summary: Something in an abandoned lab changes John. Genderf*ck PWP.
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, nor to I derive any profit from them.
Spoilers: mentions of the events in "Duet"

In the end John takes a poll. He figures he’ll know the right answer when he hears it.

“What would you do if you were turned into a woman?” he asks.

Ronon just gives him a blank look like the mental gymnastics required to get to a place where he can answer that question are not what he had in mind when he came to the gym this morning. Then he kicks John’s ass to the mat, but no worse than he ever has before.

Lorne gives him a cute little grin and mumbles something about staying home and playing with his boobs.

Zelenka grins also and says something in Czech that might be exactly what Lorne said, or might be a lot dirtier. His expression argues for dirtier.

Carson tilts his head to one side and asks John if everything is okay, and John beats a hasty retreat. He’s not surprised that no one can really tell, even if Carson’s medically trained eyes look a little deeper.

If he dresses the same, his smooth cheeks just make it look like he shaved extra close. When he examines himself in the mirror his body looks different, but besides the obvious, not as much as he would have thought.

He has less body hair than he did before, but still a lot more than any of his girlfriends had. John remembers pink cans of shaving cream and pink razors, smelly depilitories and hair clogging the drain. He doesn't want to bother with any of that. The hair starts at his navel, and thickens in a spreading trail down to where his penis used to be, and where now there is still a thick thatch of hair, thicker than would fit under any bikini-bottom.

He’s touched it, oh yeah, once he got over the mind-twisting shock of the transformation, charting out the new sensations, thinking things like “slippery when wet,” and wondering how women get through their days without thinking about sex ten times more than men do. Because when there’s no incriminating physical response, why wouldn’t you fantasize during every boring staff meeting and press your legs together to feel that spreading warmth?

What else has changed? He can run longer with Ronon than he could before, and just as fast. His breasts are slightly bigger than they were when he was male, his waist smaller, his hips bigger, but not by very much in any direction. John goes into the supply room in the middle of the night and steals a sports bra, then starts wearing two t-shirts all the time to hide the lines. No one has to know. He would only look like a woman if he chose to dress like it, and even then, he'd look pretty butch, he thinks, not quite like an East German Olympic swimmer, but still not very feminine.

No one else was affected that he knows of, but no one else with an Ancient gene was exploring down in the lowest level of the North wing either. He plans to figure it out later, but for now he has issued a command that Atlantis can't ignore to lock that abandoned lab down so no one else can be affected.

Maybe the change should bother him more, but John is getting used to transformations, and compared to being turned into a bug-creature, this is nothing.

For now, there is more immediate research to be done. John tries everything he can think of that can be done solo. He gets out a mirror and finds his clit. He figures out that he doesn’t like touching it directly, but loves rubbing around it. The first time he makes himself come as a woman, the new waves of sensation surprise him so much that he stops half-way through and the sensation fizzles, but now that he has a woman’s instantaneous refractory period, he can start again right away.

John tries pushing his fingers into himself while he makes himself come--one, then two, then three, although with three he can't reach far enough in, and his hand isn’t the right shape. He looks contemplatively at the oblong fruits in the mess hall, grown on the mainland by the Athosians. He selects some of different sizes, washes them and puts condoms on them to see how they feel inside. He likes it best with the cucumber-shaped one.

After a few days, he thinks it's time find someone else to help him experiment. He can’t decide if that should be a woman or a man. Teyla doesn’t seem like a likely candidate to have sex with him as a man or a woman, and of course, all the female marines are out of the question.

He imagines what it would be like to have sex with a man—no face attached, just a nice cock that is warm and smooth and velvety instead of hard and cold like the Athosian fruits, someone who's been with a few women before and knows what he's doing. The thought of a cock inside him makes heat collesce between his legs like battery charging. So, okay, he’s not going to rule out women entirely, but finding a man to experiment with is probably his best bet.

He asks Teyla after they spar, “What would you do if you were turned into a man?” The sparring was easier today--her body distracts him less, and his increased endurance serves him well. John rarely asks Teyla personal questions, especially strange ones like this, but she takes it in stride.

“I would have children,” she says after a moment’s thought. “Dr. Beckett has assured me that he could help me have children without the Wraith-sensing gene, but I have no wish to be pregnant or nursing now.” She looks too long at John, as if trying to divine the reason beyond the question, and John throws her an innocent look before taking a swig of water and leaving the practice room.

When he asks Cadman, she gives him a wicked smile that makes the blood rise in his face. She doesn’t need to say anything—it’s a given that the first, last and middle thing on Cadman’s mind at any given time is sex, and John belatedly remembers that she already had that opportunity with Rodney. She could probably sympathize with his predicament more than most, but she’s his subordinate, and John still hasn’t given up hope of finding a man.

He can’t find a way to work it into any conversation with Elizabeth, and is pretty sure he doesn’t want the answer anyway.

So John ends up where he always knew he would, in Rodney’s lab, after all the other scientists have gone for the day.

“What would you do if you turned into a woman?” he asks Rodney. Rodney’s not in the middle of anything important, just throwing tools back into drawers and muttering about incompetent Czechs who can’t clean up after themselves.

Rodney looks at John and says without missing a beat, “I would figure out exactly how everything works down to the micron."

John smiles at that--it's exactly what he's been doing. “I thought Cadman would have given you some tips in that arena,” he says.

“God, no. Sadly, that wasn’t the kind of advice she wanted to give.” Rodney frowns. “I think she may have played around a little while I was asleep. I mean, I know I would have.”

“I think she did, too,” John says in a mock-conspiratorial voice. There’s another thing, his voice seems a little higher to his ears than it did before. “What if it couldn’t be quantified, what to do with a woman’s equipment?”

“It would still be very educational,” says Rodney. “One does one’s best with limited access, of course, but . . .” And he seems to see John for the first time since he came into the lab.

“Oh,” he says. “Oh.” He looks at John so long that John has to let his gaze drop.

“How did you know?” John asks.

“Anyone who really looks at you would notice something. You smell different, too.” John starts to feel self-conscious. “When did it happen?” asks Rodney. “Have you been to see Carson?”

“No,” says John. He lowers his voice and leans in a little closer. “I really don’t want this to get out.”

“Don’t ask, don’t tell, don’t get a sex change?” Rodney smirks a little.

“It’s not like it was voluntary.”

John is still a few inches taller than Rodney, so he can see Rodney’s thick, light eyelashes when Rodney lowers his eyes. When John glances at Rodney’s hands and his broad mouth, he feels another new reaction. Rodney didn’t used to make him wet.

Rodney steps back and looks away. “What’s, um, it like?” he asks, looking at John with a pained expression. “Is it better?”

“Once I got it figured out, yeah it is.” John wonders what he has to do to get Rodney to take the next step—as a man he never really had to make the first move, or any move at all.

And now? John tries to think how someone would see him as a woman, and he sees . . . a weird hybrid, still more man than woman with very little in the way of breasts or hips, and all that hair. From what John knows, Rodney gravitates towards the Playboy Bunny type, the more blonde and pneumatic the better.

Rodney sighs heavily. “Sit down,” he says, “we’ll figure this out. When was the last time you were off world?”

John shakes his head. “It happened after the last sweep of Atlantis. There must have been something down in those abandoned labs.” He shifts a little in his seat. Female parts require just as much adjustment as male; the adjustments are simply smaller, and can be managed more subtly. He catches Rodney staring at him.

“What?” asks John.

“You . . . arched,” said Rodney. “I’ve never seen . . .” He gives John an embarrassed smile. “Who did you find to experiment with?”

“Just myself, so far.”

“So far?” Rodney takes a deep breath, and seems to notice the way John is looking at him. “You want to try it with me?” he asks, with a little squeak on the last word.

“Oh, yeah,” says John. “That’s why I came here.”

“You want me to be your first?” asks Rodney. He looks incredulous.

“Hey, don’t make me regret it," says John with a grin. "I know where Kavanagh’s room is.”

Rodney puts his hand on top of John’s he's resting it on the table and deliberately strokes his thumb along the side of John’s index finger. He looks at John’s face as he does and John flushes, his heart suddenly beating faster. He doesn’t know what Rodney is looking for, but that sensual touch confirms that John is making the right decision.

“I think we should go to my room,” says Rodney after they walk out into the hall. He looks self-conscious again, and John glances around to make sure there’s no one listening. “If you want the full experience, that is.”

It doesn’t take John too long to catch on. “What did you bring with you?”

“Lots of stuff. You’ll see.”

As they walk to Rodney’s room, John catches him staring with a puzzled expression on his face. “What?” he asks again.

“Your walk is different,” he says. “You’re still graceful, but . . . it’s different.” John never knew Rodney watched him so closely.

Once they get there, Rodney closes the door and then rummages around in his bedside drawer for a moment, before pulling out an impressive selection of condoms, dildos, vibrators, and different kinds of lube.

“Didn’t they say one personal item?” John asks.

“It was a stupid rule.” So of course Rodney would have decided he was above it.

“Were you expecting alien orgies or something?” asks John.

“I just like to be prepared,” says Rodney, huffily, but then he looks at John again and his expression softens. “We can do as little or as much as you want.” He hesitates. “So what do you want to do?”

“What do you usually do with a gi—a woman?” Rodney raises his eyebrows at John’s slip but doesn’t say anything.

He puts his hand on John’s cheek and kisses him. John doesn’t respond at first, doesn’t kiss back, just lets Rodney kiss him, and enjoys the sensation, but then he starts to move with it, to taste Rodney’s mouth, and that’s when Rodney pulls away. “That’s usually what I do first,” says Rodney, leaving John breathless. He looks worried. “But we don’t have to.”

“No, it just takes some getting used to.” He can’t help initiating the next kiss like he always does, drawing Rodney’s face to his with his hands. Rodney’s lips under his turn John on more than he would have thought possible, even with the stubble, even with part of his brain reminding him he’s kissing a man.

Rodney kisses him harder and slides his hand up over John’s shirt, trying to find the breast and nipple through the three layers of fabric. “Can you get this off?” he asks.

John still isn’t adept at dealing with the sports bra, but he manages to tug everything over his head. Rodney stares at his torso, as if transfixed. “Wow, you’re . . .” he says.

“I’m what?” asks John, fighting the urge to cover up.

“Beautiful.”

John looks down at his chest, which still has fine hairs on it, ringing each nipple, but Rodney’s not a good liar in any situation so John believes him now. Rodney reaches out to touch, then pulls his hand back. “May I?” he asks.

“God, yes,” says John. Having Rodney’s hands on him, touching him, feels entirely unlike when John did this on his own. Rodney’s fingers are callused where John’s are smooth, and each stroke of his hand is a fresh discovery. Rodney rubs one of John’s nipples between his fingertips and it tightens and stands up. He supposes that’s not too different than when he was male, but this sensation is an order of magnitude more intense than it used to be.

“What does it feel like?” Rodney asks.

“The same, but better,” says John.

“Is everything better?”

“I think Tiresias might have been right.”

“You are such a nerd,” says Rodney. His smile is broad, tinged with disbelief.

“You’re one to talk.” He kisses Rodney again, traces his lips with his tongue, and tugs the lower one between his teeth. He doesn’t know if this feels so good because he’s got a woman’s parts now, or because it’s been too long since he kissed anyone. Or because it’s Rodney. He feels Rodney’s erection pressing against his leg, and that takes him aback. You wanted to have sex with a man, he reminds himself. Dicks, or at least one of them, come with the territory.

The new part of his mind that seems to have appeared with his new anatomy thinks about Rodney’s cock in a different way, imagines it up inside him, and sends a rush of warmth down between his legs. A literal rush, John realizes; he feels wet and slippery, sticky and sexy at the same time.

He pulls Rodney’s shirt off and traces his nipples with his fingertips, feels the expanse of Rodney’s back under his hands. “Please,” John’s begging, “fuck me.” He reaches down and cups Rodney’s cock in his hand. It’s a good size, maybe a little bigger than John’s used to be, and radiates heat even through Rodney’s trousers.

“Lots of time for that,” says Rodney. He pushes John down onto the bed, none too gently, and starts undoing John’s belt. John feels a moment of worry again—whatever Rodney’s expecting, it won’t be the Big Brown Bush, and John’s taken to calling it. But Rodney’s not slowing down, and John can’t bring himself to stop this.

“Some things didn’t change,” he says when Rodney gets his trousers and his boxers off. “I couldn’t face shaving.”

“Please,” says Rodney, dismissing John’s concerns. “Siberian women don’t shave, either. It’s too cold up there.” He slides his hand down between John’s legs. “It’s warm down here, though.”

Yeah, Rodney was the right choice for this, thinks John again, as Rodney pushes back the hair from John’s pussy and licks a broad stroke up the middle. It’s like nothing John’s ever experienced—it’s soft and wet and tantalizing. He pushes himself more against Rodney’s mouth, but Rodney holds John’s hip down and teases him with his tongue. He slides one finger gently up inside, and then two, as he keeps his tongue circling John’s clit. John is getting into the middle of a long slow build when Rodney stops and looks up at him.

“Just tell me if I’m doing anything wrong, or you want me to try something else,” he says.

“It was great until you stopped to chat,” says John. He’s petulant for a moment, but then breaks into a grin. Damn if a girlfriend hadn’t once said the exact same thing to him.

John lifts his knees to give Rodney’s fingers more access, and Rodney licks harder and more rhythmically, moving his fingers in and out of John in the same cadence. John starts coming—not quite as intense as what he’s managed on his own but still good.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he tells Rodney, and Rodney slows down for a moment as John’s pussy spasms around Rodney’s fingers, but he doesn’t stop. He licks slowly and gently, and teases one wet finger at the edge of John’s ass. He slowly pushes the opening, while keeping his mouth on John’s clit, and then pushes a finger in. John’s clit jumps unexpectedly—he didn’t think he’d like that, but wow, it feels really good, and then his pussy tightens up and he comes again, and he wants Rodney’s cock inside him more than anything else in the world.

“Fuck me, Rodney, please, please, please fuck me.” John props himself up on his elbows and looks at Rodney, who sits between his legs, his face wet with John’s juices and his eyes big and blue like a summer sky.

Rodney wipes off his face on the sheet and picks up a condom from the bedside table. He takes off his trousers, which John didn’t even realize he still had on, and his penis springs up from its nest of light brown hairs. Rodney’s cock, huh, thinks part of John’s mind, but the other part just nods and says yes, yes, yes, yes please, and drowns out any doubts.

“Do you have to?” asks John. “I’m probably not even capable of getting pregnant.”

Rodney frowns. “I really don’t want to take that chance, do you?” He rolls the condom onto his penis, and spreads John’s lips open with one hand, while guiding himself in with the other. “You might have to tilt your hips or something,” he says. John raises his knees up as Rodney pushes into him, adjusting to get the angle right. He feels his pussy expanding to accommodate him; the sensation is just on the pleasurable side of pain.

Then Rodney’s cock bumps up against something, and John feels like he might have to pee, or he might just be full to bursting. “Oh. G-spot,” says John.

“So it is real,” says Rodney with a smirk. “I never doubted it.” He leans down to kiss John, but stops six inches away so John reaches up and pulls Rodney down to him. He tastes himself in Rodney’s mouth, all over Rodney’s swollen lips and he feels Rodney sliding in and out of him as they kiss, tongue and cock in different hypnotic rhythms.

John’s not too far from coming again. He can feel Rodney’s movements everywhere, dragging noises out of him that he’s never heard himself make before. This time it’s much more intense, like an slow explosion that starts between his legs and radiates through his whole body down to his fingertips.

Rodney comes sometime while John's rides the waves of his own orgasm, eyes closed, and he only notices because Rodney stops moving. He wishes he had watched Rodney’s face as he came. Next time.

Then the sensation starts to fade, as the contractions of John’s new muscles slow, and he becomes aware of Rodney weight on top of him, still inside him. Their chests are stuck together with sweat and John wraps his legs up around Rodney’s waist, enveloping him completely. Rodney kisses him again slowly, their lips softly sliding against each other.

Eventually Rodney has to pull out and he gives John a sad look, like he’s worried this will be the only time.

“We should do that again,” says John when Rodney comes back to bed after disposing of the condom.

Rodney presses his lips together and then sighs as he lies down next to John. “You really should find out how it happened,” he says. “I mean, I assume you don’t want to stay like this.”

It’s true. John’s been distracted by the new possibilities his body offers but he realizes he should at least find out if it’s reversible. Although turning back doesn’t seem that tempting when his limbs are still heavy with sex and his clit still tingles with every breath of air that touches it, he’ll probably feel differently if he starts to experience some of the less convenient parts of being female.

“It can wait until tomorrow,” says John. He leans over and licks Rodney’s nipple, tasting the salt sweat on it. “Everyone says the second time is better, and we haven't played with any of your toys. I don’t want to change back without trying everything.”