bironic | SGA anthropomorfic: "Drilled," McKay/Sheppard (drill/stud), adult

Title: Drilled
Fandom: SGA
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: Adult
Word Count: 1,100
Summary: The one where Rodney is a drill and John is a stud.
Contains: Anthropomorphism, really bad puns, power tool angst
A/N: For the

kink_bingo square, "dirty talk." If the sewing machine wasn't enough, here is some carpentry. You guys, www.specialbolts.net had 47 pages of fastener terms and definitions, each dirtier-sounding than the last. Alas that in a minor tragedy of life, it is no longer online. Web archive to the rescue.

"And of course Ronon doesn't have a problem with it, he could hold up this house by himself without so much as cracking under the strain, and besides, he's got nuts of steel—"

"Rodney."

"—unlike that Habitat for Humanity sad sack excuse for a husband Jeannie got herself attached to—"

"Rodney."

"What?"

"It's time."

"Oh." Rodney perked up at the familiar sound of work boots clomping their way down the basement stairs. "Right. Excellent." If he'd had hands, he would have rubbed them together in happy anticipation.

"So…" said John, drawling in the way only a decades-old joist with rakishly fraying splinters could manage. Rodney still couldn't figure out how he managed to maintain military-precision verticality and still look like he was leaning.

"So…" Rodney repeated, not catching on to whatever John was getting at with his typical eloquence.

"Can we?"

Could they…? "Oh! You—the thing? You want to?"

"Yeah."

The lights flicked on overhead and the bootsteps clunked closer.

"Okay. Just… swear to me again that you won't make fun of me later if I mess this up."

"Rodney, I asked you to say the dirtiest things you can think of while you're inside me. I think that makes us even for blackmail."

He supposed that was true. Anyways, he didn't have to reply; the callused hand came down from above, plugged him in and scooped him up, palm cradling his grip, finger resting on his trigger. He grew pleasantly warm at the contact, thrumming with electric potential and the anticipation of finally being able to touch John again.

The other hand was rustling around in the box of screws. Eh, as good a place to start as any.

"All right, John. Are you listening?"

"Yeah." Rodney could practically hear him stand up straighter.

"Good, because I'm about to tell you exactly what I'm going to do to you, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

The hand inserted his bit and tightened his chuck.

"What you need is a good, long screw. And I'm going to give it to you."

The hand selected a few inch-and-a-quarter ovalhead wood screws from the box.

"You see this, John? You see what I'm going to drill into you? Look how thick this thread is. It's going to feel so good sliding into you, twisting around in your hole, pushing deep."

The hand wiggled the first screw until it settled onto his bit.

"Mm. I'm touching it now. I can feel the round head, slotted and shining. And the shaft is long, John. It's stiff and ready for you. It's probably off the Rockwell hardness scale."

He was lifted in midair and brought forward until the tip of the screw rested against John's pencilled "X."

"Are you ready?"

"Yeah, Rodney. C'mon. This is so hot."

"Are you sure you're ready?" It was actually kind of fun to tease him, rolling the point just enough to make a soft dent in that smooth surface. "Because I've seen screw machines in action, and they've got nothing on me."

Then the finger squeezed, cutting off whatever John was going to toss back at him. Rodney whirred into action, and the screw began to press slowly and firmly in. John groaned.

There was some resistance at first—he could feel that John was tense, but then again, so was he; it had been a while—but he kept pressing steadily and doing one of the things he was best at: talking.

"Oh, yeah. John. You're so tight. You feel that preload?" He slipped in a little further. "How does it feel, having me in you, hard and unyielding? Does the friction feel good? We could try lubricant sometime, if you want, but if you ask me, there's nothing like a good… tight… fit."

He was all the way in, now. The hand lifted him away and set the second screw in place.

"I'm coming in again, John," he warned. Now that the human had tested John's resistance, it would know how firmly and swiftly it could push in this time. "You might want to brace yourself. I'm going to ream that hole so wide, you'll feel the stretch all the way down to the floorboards."

Again he was lined up, and again he slid into John. For a minute, he was so absorbed in the sensations that he forgot he was supposed to be talking.

"I'm going to drive into you until you reach your endurance limit, and then I'll give you just a little more."

"God," John moaned. "Rodney. I'm almost—"

Rodney bottomed out, reaching a deeper penetration than before. He stuttered, grunting, before the hand pulled him out again, too soon.

He managed to keep talking while the third and final screw was seated. "You look so hot right now, filled with my fastenings and waiting for more. God." He still couldn't quite believe that he was here, that John was letting him do this with him. "The first time I saw you, I thought, 'I can't wait to tap that.' But I—I wasn't sure it would ever happen."

"And now I'm yours, Rodney. Whenever you want."

"I wish we could—"

"I know. But this is what we have. Let's make the most of it."

"Yeah." He lined up for the last time.

"I'm ready. Do me hard, Rodney."

Rodney screwed in with confidence and not a little urgency, growing even hotter with the effort and the hand's sweaty grip. He gave John more torque, hoping to hit a knot or some other sweet spot as they strained together.

"Maybe next time we'll use a clinch nut to hold you off, get an even tighter fit," he said, barely able to concentrate now. "Or we could try a left-hand thread for variety. I wouldn't want this to get boring." Even though he couldn't imagine these encounters with John ever being boring.

John laughed, said "Boring—pun," and shuddered around him. Rodney whined at the tight clamping force and stuttered to a stop as the screw fit securely in him, releasing his load. He gave one final turn and pulled away.

It was enough, and it wasn't. He was laid gently back down on the floor and unplugged, left to cool down and wait for the next session. The boots trudged back up the stairs and the lights switched off.

"Hey," said John after a while.

"Hey," said Rodney.

"That was amazing. I can still feel you hard in me."

"Mm. I'm still humming from the vibrations."

Another pause. "I liked what you said, about—about trying the clinch nut."

"Really?" That would be really hot, making John work for it.

"Yeah. I think—yeah."

"Next time," Rodney promised.

"Next time," said John.

They waited.

THE END

(OH GOD I'M SORRY)

x-posted to mckay_sheppard, sga_noticeboard and anthropomor_fic