Kylie Lee | Slash fan fiction

"No rules," Teyla Emmagan said.

She bent down and ripped up another clod of dirt. This one hit Halling on the cheek.

Len, Halling's sparring partner, was the first to realize what was happening. "No rules!" Halling heard him yell, a message to the few Athosians on the mainland currently setting up the settlement. Breaking a sparring rule, like throwing dirt in someone's face, as Teyla had just done, meant a declaration of a no-rules game.

Halling shook dirt and hair out of his face. He did not lower his sticks. Only now did he realize that his ploys during their sparring match, when he refused to engage her, when he would not go on the offensive, had truly angered her. She looked furious. Halling was doing his best to ignore the few people watching their match, but he was aware of Carson Beckett, holding Teyla's bag, standing off to the side, next to John Sheppard. He did not want Carson to see him fight. Sparring was one thing, but what Teyla now demanded of him was something else altogether.

Now, Teyla held her empty hands out to him, palms to the sky, and flicked her fingers—a "come on" gesture she'd learned from Sheppard. He knew that she would not permit him to leave the sparring ring without answering her challenge. He could decline to fight and walk out of the ring, thus displeasing Teyla and losing face with the Athosians, but it was a false choice. He had no choice at all, and Teyla knew it.

"No rules," Halling agreed, and he tossed her one of his sticks. Teyla caught it. He resisted the urge to flick his eyes to Carson, because he had to focus.

"We fight to mercy," Teyla said. The other option was the fight to death.

Halling nodded, and then there wasn't time to think of Carson Beckett or anyone, because he wasn't going to wait for Teyla, as he had been. As she'd wanted, he went on the offensive, using his longer reach, his height, and his weight to put her at a disadvantage. He could end it quickly, he thought, if he exploited the lack of rules. She had quickness and speed that his larger body did not have, though, and she easily dodged or blocked moves that required sweeping blows. Halling had fought two other opponents before Teyla and found himself growing fatigued. He couldn't pace himself. When Teyla lashed her stick at his knees, he was unable to dodge quickly enough, and he fell sideways, foot twisting. A brief spurt of agony lanced through his ankle—the same ankle he'd broken a few months ago in battle with the Wraith, the ankle that Carson Beckett had set. He didn't cry out. The pain brought everything into focus.

"Listen to what I am telling you," Teyla yelled. "Listen to your body. Speak."

Half kneeling, he twisted to face her, and he shut his eyes just in time: another handful of dirt hit him in the face.

"Where are the Ancestors?" Teyla easily dodged when he lunged at her. "They do not feed your soul. They starve it. You hide behind them." She hit him a stinging blow on his arm as he passed. His breath sounded loud to his ears.

"It is not your right to do this," Halling yelled. "Are you my leader? You stay among strangers rather than stay with us."

"I am your leader." Teyla struck again. "I am your friend. I remain your friend, though you conspired against me. Do not think I do not know. And do not insult me further by calling my loyalties into question." She rushed at him, without finesse, and shoved him hard. "Break!" she shouted, the word's double meaning hanging in the air between them. He remembered her finger on his chest, her words of three days ago: "You have always been contained. But when Leya died, you went inside. You see, I seem to touch you, but I cannot. There is a shell around you. I cannot break it. I do not hold your heart. You should let Dr. Carson break it, to free you." Now she said, "Leya is gone! Wake up!"

He knew she was taunting him, just as he knew that what she said was the truth, just as he knew that he felt that she had betrayed them all by choosing to stay on Atlantis. He barely ducked out of the way of her next blow. He felt heavy and lumbering next to much smaller, nimbler Teyla.

"Break!" Teyla repeated, and before he could scramble to his feet, she kicked him.

And he broke. The scattered yells receded. He could hear nothing but his breath and hers as he attacked, and then he heard the harsh clash of the sticks. There was no time, there was no arena, no air, no sky, nothing but focus and anger, nothing but the familiar weight of the stick, an extension of his body. His target moved quickly, but he was quicker. No rules, only pattern, only response, and when she fell, when he leaped atop her, when she screamed, his voice joined hers, and it went on and on, longer than his breath, and Len and someone else—Sheppard—pulled him off before he could snap her neck, and the screams were the yell of the Athosians in the crowd, and Teyla was a heap on the ground, horribly still, and he had never heard her say mercy.

Panting, hands on knees, he looked down at her body and blinked. Sound suddenly became loud, and he could hear Carson Beckett's voice saying "Teyla!" Teyla rolled over and wiped her bloody nose with the back of her hand. She settled onto all fours. "I am fine," she kept repeating. She waved Carson aside as he leaned over her, but she let Sheppard help her up. She staggered against him, and he held her close to his side to keep her upright until she was able to step away.

"You can't call that a fair fight," Sheppard was saying. "Teyla is half Halling's size."

"No, go—do not touch me," Halling snapped when Len came to his side. He got hold of himself and straightened to his full height. "I did not hear her say mercy. I did not hear."

"She said it," Len said. He put a hand up to stop Sheppard. "It was a fair fight. No rules." He put himself between Halling and Sheppard, as if to protect his friend, which would have amused Halling at any other time.

"Have you so little regard for me?" Teyla demanded of Sheppard.

"What?" Sheppard said disbelievingly. "I have nothing but regard for you. Regard all over the place. But watching one big, heavy guy beat the crap out of a woman he could lift up overhead with one hand is hardly my idea of a fair fight."

"It is ours," Teyla said. "Halling!" The last was shouted after him as he turned to leave. She had just spoken to him without words. He did not now want to hear what she had to say.

"Is this normal for you guys?" Sheppard asked.

"Halling!" Carson called. "Halling, for Christ's sake, stop! Come back! You're hurt, man!"

"I do not require a doctor." Halling deliberately turned his back on Carson and resumed walking, not really caring where he was going. He set a quick pace, the anger at Teyla, at himself for letting her do this to him, at Carson for—for everything driving him on. Until now, he had always stayed in control when he sparred. He saved bloodlust for the Wraith.

He heard Teyla say, "Dr. Carson, go after him—I am afraid I broke a rib when I struck his side."

Although his side hurt, Teyla had not broken his ribs, and she knew it. She wanted Carson to go after him. Halling sped up, leaving the clearing with the settlement behind him. As he walked, he heard Carson crashing after him, occasionally calling his name, but Halling ignored him. He passed his tent and kept going. Teyla had gone to great pains to anger him, all so he would speak, but the rage stopped his mouth. He couldn't, shouldn't, speak. He had spoken before, said the words with Leya in front of everyone. They had clasped hands in front of a festival fire. They had danced. His hair had been short then. He had been a different person. Leya had been swept up by the Wraith. He never saw her body. He had hoped she was alive, hoped for years, but he'd known the whole time that she wasn't.

"Halling!"

He turned, and there was Carson. Carson leapt forward, clearly fearful of another chase, and grabbed Halling's arm.

"You do not want to touch me," Halling said coldly as he tried to shake Carson's hand off. "I would have killed her if I could have, as I have killed others."

"Wraith," Carson said. He looked soft and weak, standing there in the late afternoon sunlight. His hair stuck up in the ridiculous way the Earth men favored. They were like children. He didn't let go of Halling's arm. Carson was most emphatically not a warrior. He would be helpless against Halling, if Halling chose to attack. Halling hurt, and Carson healed. They had less than nothing in common.

"Not just Wraith. Men. I have killed in anger." Halling looked down at Carson's hand pointedly, but Carson did not seem inclined to remove it.

"Teyla looked well enough to me," Carson said. "A bit of blood, but that'll clean up in no time."

"She said mercy, and I could not hear it for the blood," Halling said. "The blood on her face, the blood in my ears." He ripped his arm from Carson's grasp. "Leave me."

"No," Carson said. "Halling, for god's sake, stop. Stop running." He jogged after Halling and, to Halling's annoyance, shoved him to unbalance him. "What has gotten into you?"

Nothing had gotten into him. Rather, the anger had gotten out. "Leave me." Halling tried to sidestep Carson. Carson stepped with him. "I have fought a battle and won," he said. He put a finger on Carson's chest, as Teyla had done to him all those days ago. He deliberately held Carson's eyes as he trailed his finger down. "Leave before I take you as a prize. You are no match for me."

"I know," Carson said.

Halling bent and whispered, "More than once, you have wanted me to take you as if you were a woman." Deliberately, he leaned in and ran his nose along the curve of Carson's neck. "Leave before my anger loses itself in your body." His tongue was next. Carson trembled under his touch but stood steady. "Leave before I cannot stop myself." He bit gently, feeling the soft give of Carson's flesh, and suddenly he was throbbing and ready. It took all his self-control to speak, and when he did, it was an insult, to drive Carson away. "Leave before I take you as I would have taken Teyla, before you all—a spoil of war, my right as victor."

"No," Carson said, standing fast.

Halling did bite then, hard, on the still-pink place where he'd marked Carson two nights before, his last night in Atlantis, and Carson made a noise of surprise. Halling sucked, feeling the softness under his teeth, both aroused and disgusted at his immediate response to Carson's body. He wanted to shove Carson onto all fours, to free his erection and push himself in without preliminary and lose himself in sensation and rage and pleasure.

"You can't take that from me," Carson said.

"I will if you do not leave me," Halling promised.

"You can't take it from me because I offer it to you." Halling pulled back in surprise just as Carson leaned up and kissed him hard. "I offer it. Take it. Take me. You already have me. I thought you knew that."

Halling grabbed Carson's head and kissed him back, not slow and tender, as it often was between them, but needy and desperate, and Halling found that Carson was as desperate as he. Carson unfastened Halling's pants, fingers working quickly, but it wasn't fast enough, because everything had become focused sensation: the low sun, the light breeze, the harsh sounds of their breath, Carson's body against his. Every movement and touch seemed magnified, designed to make him throb. When he maneuvered Carson onto all fours, he saw Carson's cock, hard and purple-red, jutting above his swinging balls. Carson was as excited as he was. Halling laid his penis in Carson's crack, pressing it in, feeling the soft flesh surround his hardness, and reached around to encircle Carson's fat cock. His need overwhelmed him—the need to accept the gift of the body before him, the need to push.

"No," he said when Carson tried to move away. He grabbed Carson's hips, jerked him back, and lowered his mouth to Carson's back. "No," he said against Carson's smooth, beautiful, unmarked skin as he ran his beard down the knobs of Carson's spine.

"Don't push inside me," Carson said. "Christ." He moaned the last, because Halling licked lower, teasing the rim of his asshole. "Lube. Oh, Christ."

Halling pierced Carson with his tongue, smelling the musk of Carson's arousal. He lost himself in it, needing the taste, feeling the heavy ring of Carson's opening tremble. His tongue pushed in relentlessly, his cock tightened, and just as had happened when he fought, he felt time slow down, distilling into beads of pure sensation: his excitement, Carson's body under his hands, Carson's moans. Overlaying all of it was the immediacy of the taste. He pulled Carson's ass cheeks apart and dipped his head as his hands squeezed, feeling Carson's excitement rise with every twitch of Carson's body around his tongue.

The next time Carson crawled forward, Halling let him. He watched as Carson, fingers trembling, ransacked his doctor's bag. Then Carson squeezed heavy liquid onto his fingers and took Halling's cock in hand. The sensation of wet slickness nearly undid him; Carson's touch on his cock as he lubed him was shocking in its intensity. He couldn't wait any longer. He pushed Carson onto his back, lifted his legs, grabbed his own cock, and slid in to soothe his inflamed cock, and it was nothing like a woman, nothing at all.

He gasped with each stroke, and underneath him, Carson flung his arms out and moaned. Carson wanted it. He'd always wanted it—Halling inside him, Halling piercing him, riding him, and now Halling gave him what he wanted, rocking into him, grabbing and kneading an ass cheek, fucking him in sweeping strokes, hard and firm. Carson put his hand on his cock and began to stroke. He made a noise at the top of each stroke, when Halling lost himself inside. His face was transcendent. Then Carson shook under him, crying out Halling's name, and Halling could feel Carson's orgasm shiver through him, saw heavy white liquid spatter on Carson's stomach, and Halling knew he had broken Carson apart because his voice was broken too. Carson broke, and Halling broke because no one could withstand being surrounded by such giving. The red of his anger curled into the red of his lust. As his cock pulsed, it all metamorphosed into annihilating white heat that went on and on.

The whiteness burned away the bloodred. When Halling came to his body again, he was still inside Carson, and both of them were moaning. Carson's free hand splayed in the grass and dirt. Halling could see where he'd grabbed at the ground, trying to keep purchase as he was swept away. Halling didn't want to pull out. He wanted to grow soft inside Carson, then grow hard, all so he could break, so he could make Carson speak like that again. But he withdrew anyway, so Carson could put his legs down. They both still wore their shirts. Halling found he couldn't remember how Carson got his pants off.

"I've wanted that since our first night," Carson said. "You inside me. You wanting to be inside me."

Halling lay next to him and slid a hand under his shirt. He leaned down and kissed Carson, slowly and sweetly to make up for the roughness of their lovemaking. He ran his hands along Carson's chest, feeling nipples and chest hair and unscarred skin. "Oh," Halling said, because the sensation of skin on his palms shivered through his entire body. When his hands wandered lower, he felt hot, thick semen on Carson's belly, evidence of his pleasure. He had very much enjoyed watching Carson touch himself while Halling was embedded in him, giving Carson such pleasure. He cupped Carson's thick, semierect penis and soft balls. "I did not want to be reminded of love with my wife," he said.

"Did it?"

"No. It was nothing like that. Just as you are nothing like her." Halling's hand wandered down to stroke Carson's thigh, heavy, hairy, and strong. "I must say something."

Carson looked up at Halling and simply waited.

"I want you. My heart longs for you. I am incomplete without you. I do not mind who knows. Come live with me. Join me and the other Athosians on the mainland. Come be a father to Jinto."

The enormity of what he offered did not match the enormity of how he felt. Teyla had wanted him to speak, and now that he had, he realized that although it could change nothing, it changed everything. He wanted to wake up with Carson beside him, to touch Carson in public. He wanted his son, and everyone else, to know of his love. He had known that before, but speaking it out loud validated it.

Carson stroked Halling's beard. "Stay on Atlantis," he whispered. "We will find a suite, with a room for Jinto and a room for us. You can join an expedition team, like Teyla. Or you could train with the soldiers. I'm certain Dr. Weir would authorize it."

"The city hurts me," Halling said. "There is no land, no earth. The Athosians do not feel welcome. We are all outsiders. I do not want my son to grow up unable to feel the earth."

"My place is there," Carson whispered.

"I know. My place is here."

"You're not coming back, are you." It wasn't a question.

"No. Jinto will pack my things, and Wex's parents will see to him. I cannot return to the city."

"The settlement is not far from the city by jumper," Carson said. "And of course Major Sheppard is very keen on my logging in training hours. I could come for a night once every two weeks, maybe more frequently."

"Jinto," Halling said.

"Tell him."

"I would rather not, until you come to live with us as a family. That day may not be today, but it may be tomorrow, or next month, or next year."

"You're the strategist, Halling. I will come calling, and you must figure out how we can have privacy."

"I just—I just want—" Halling trailed off.

"What?"

"If we are to live apart, then I want you to be free."

"Free in what way?"

"Free to love elsewhere. What if you should meet a woman who wishes to bear your children? I would never deny you the opportunity to become a father."

"Ah." Carson considered. "It would be the intelligent thing to do, yes? To see others, since we feel we cannot live on the same continent?"

"Yes. That is it. The intelligent thing."

Carson took Halling's hand and placed it on his cock. "Right now, I don't feel intelligent. I feel sleepy. I want to do what we just did, all over again. I want you in my bed every night. But since it is not to be, I feel that I will come visit you frequently, and you will come visit me. But I promise that if I meet a beautiful woman who wants to bear my children, you'll be the first to know."

"I can ask no more," Halling said, in keeping with the light tone. When they no longer shared a context, they would probably grow apart. Carson's trips would grow more infrequent, until they broke it off. Halling had seen it happen before. But who knew what the future held? Someone who touched him so deeply did not come along every day. It had taken many years, in fact, for such a one to come along. Their relationship, with both of them in positions of leadership in their communities, could lead to useful, and frequent, intercourse and commerce between the two settlements.

"Halling."

Halling kissed Carson. "Yes."

"Can you tell me about your wife? About Leya?" At Halling's look, Carson added, "During the match, I heard Teyla say something about Leya, and I thought it must be your wife. You've never mentioned her name."

"Yes. Leya."

"You don't often speak of her."

"No. No, I do not. What would you like to know?"

"I am curious about her, it's true," Carson said. "But it's you I'm interested in. So I would like to hear your interpretation of her."

Today, it did not hurt him to speak of her. He had not betrayed her by moving on. Teyla was right. He had betrayed himself by refusing to change. Now he was moving to be close to the land, and he had Carson. Change was in the air.

Halling thought, then spoke.