
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/53191.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Terminator:_The_Sarah_Connor_Chronicles
  Relationship:
      John_Connor/Derek_Reese
  Character:
      John_Connor, Derek_Reese
  Stats:
      Published: 2010-01-15 Words: 3431
****** Quick Reflexes ******
by dramady, jeck
Summary
     Derek is doing his part to prepare John for the future. And its every
     eventuality.
     A/N: Slash; Uncle-cest; Plot before porn. But still, porn.
Notes
     DISCLAIMER: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction
     using the names and likenesses of fictional individuals. This
     fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein
     actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are
     engaged in or condoned by the fictional people whose names are used
     without permission.

Derek was stealthy. Yes, he was. He wasn't one of the future's best soldiers
for nothing. He very quietly padded in the room, closing the door and locking
it with nary a sound of a click. With a smirk he bent down over the bed, over
the sleeping form that was almost completely covered in a blanket, only the
face and the disheveled hair peeking out. So pretty even asleep, he thought.
Too bad Derek had to do this...
He slapped his hand over John's mouth and watched those eyes fly wide open and
then pretty green ones looked right back at him. "You need to stay alert even
if you're asleep. Icould've been a T-800 and killed you." He said this in a low
quiet voice, rumbling right by John's ear.
Holy CRAP. For a second, John thought he was going to barf up his heart. GOD.
Breathing noisily through his nose, he stared, his body shivering with
adrenaline that had been poured into his system, eyes wide. "You're not a T-
800," he tried to say, but it came out all muffled-sounded and breathless
because he'd had the crap scared out of him and Derek's hand over his mouth,
making it hard to breathe. Fucking Derek.
He let go his hand and rolled to lay beside John with a chuckle. "Too easy. We
have to change that." He said this while propping his head on his hand, looking
down at John while his other hand began to caress down his chest, lower, lower,
fingers curling the hem of his shirt and the Derek was pulling it up, his warm
palm on John's even warmer belly. "You have to keep vigilant." And just how
vigilant? With a move that's almost lightning fast, Derek's hand left John's
chest, shirt bunched up now and then he cupped John's sweat-pants clad cock.
"Always anticipate." Derek smirked as his hand squeezed John.
One embarrassing string of noises later, John stared at Derek with still-wide
eyes, breath coming out in panted bursts. Whenever Derek did that, it always
caught him off-guard, still. Rough hands, rough touch, that he was learning to
crave. He could feel himself get hard under the hand and in the darkness, his
cheeks heated. "Will a T-800 do this?" He had to ask, hips rocking just
slightly. "Derek?" His own hands werefisted in the sheets. God.
"No." Derek looked him in the eye and smirked. "But a T-triple-eight might." He
chuckled again. Which he knew would throw John off. He rarely smiled, rarely
laughed and when he did, it came out a chuckle that was a bit eerie and evil.
Or so his men told him. Derek though, kept rubbing, teasing, then his hand
slipped under those pants, touching hot hard skin and wrapping his hand around
it. "Tell me what you'd do,hmm? If a T-800 or a T-triple-eight got in the
house?" Yeah. Concentrate, Connor.
Connor couldn't. He... couldn't. He was sixteen. And this was unfair. Really
fucking unfair. But. That didn't mean that John was without tricks. No, he had
one. One. He moaned. He threw his head back, bit his lip, and moaned. Not like
he was faking it, because he wasn't. Because he'd early on discovered that he
... he had no control over his reactions when Derek touched him.
But the moan. He knew the moan would cause Derek to shudder and lean in and
when he did that, John dug his heel into the bed and shoved with all his might
and in that brief moment, he had the upper hand. Still panting, aching for
release, he stared down at his uncle as he straddled him. "I'd do that," he
gasped.
Derek only smirked. Yeah.
===============================================================================
The sound of the shower he could hear from right outside the door. The tin
chick was gone and Sarah was, too. It was only Derek and John in the house.
Perfect.
He turned the knob. It was locked. Derek smirked because he'd noticed that John
had been locking his door a lot lately. What could he possibly be doing in the
shower? Derek picked the lock, quietly he opened it and sneaked in, steam all
over the air, John a mere shadow he could see from the floral shower curtain.
There was humming. Could John be--singing? Derek bet a no.
John bit his lip as his grip tightened. It felt like he was horny all the time
these days. All the time. He leaned against the wall of the shower as his knees
started to give a little. "Oh, god," he whispered, unmindful that he was being
watched.
It was a slow process of stripping his shirt and pants and boxers without
making much of a sound. But hearing the soft moaning coming from John, Derek
would assume that the boy would be too busy with his jerking off to notice
there was someone else now in the room. He stood in front of the shower
curtain, poised to pull it open and ready to catch John in case he fell back
and slipped. Wouldn't want the savior of mankind to conk his head on the shower
now would he? He pulled the curtain open and quickly. "Bang! You're dead." He
yelled.
"Holy crap!" John did indeed stagger, eyes wide with surprise. "Derek! You
asshole!" Grasping at whatever he could find to keep himself upright, he
wrapped his hand around Derek's forearm. That's when he noticed his uncle was
pretty naked and as he got his footing, he stared, mostly down at Derek's
crotch. God. "That's not funny!" He finally managed. "Not funny at all." And
still, his cock was hard, twitching at what he saw.
"Hmm. Better not let your Mom hear you say that. She'd wash your mouth out."
Heh. Derek would do the same but he'd use his cock. God. That just made him
hard. "I could've been Sarkissian, you know? With a gun." He made a gun with
his finger and pretended to shoot at John right as he was stepping into the
shower, pushing at John so he could get under the spray. "Constant vigilance,
Connor." They were so close that Derek could feel John's breath against his
skin.
And John could feel the heat of Derek's stronger, taller body. He could see the
tattoos that littered his skin. And he wanted, he found, to lick them, to trace
them with his tongue. It was a dirty thought, and when his cock twitched, it
did so against Derek's thigh. And when it did that, John flushed, filled with
shame combined with heightening arousal.
"Did Harry Potter teach you nothing?" He looked down at the boy and could see
the flush to his cheeks. It was pretty. Derek pushed the hair away from John's
face while spewing water from the shower and then he reached for John, pulling
him under the water, too, pressed to his chest. "The snake doesn't bite, you
know?" He pointed to his arm.
Oh, god. John shuddered then, and hard and after flicking his gaze up to
Derek's face, he leaned in and tasted the skin with the water running down it.
He couldn't help it. His eyes closed and his grip on Derek's wrist tightened.
When he felt Derek shiver, just a little, well...
This was all about training. Wasn't that always what it came down to? Wasn't
that what Derek was already telling him? John raised an arm, pressing it
against Derek's throat. So he stood to his full height. "No," he rasped. "But I
might."
Derek grinned and slowly, then he nodded, much as he could with that arm
pressing against his throat. This was, honestly, very arousing that his cock
grew harder. "Good move." Pride shone in his eyes.
John grinned as he stepped back.
===============================================================================
The computer program he was trying to get through was incredibly complex and
John was hunched over the screen, frowning intently. From the corner of his
eye, though, he saw Derek come in. He was getting better. So he just said,
softly, "hey."
Derek grinned. It was a bit on the 'something's up' side. But who cared? John,
whenever he was around, seemed to be more on his toes now. Which was good.
Exactly the point of these exercises. "Whatcha doin'?" Derek was standing over
him, crouching down and looking over John's shoulder. The boy smelled like the
sun and something else Derek still couldn't place. He put a hand heavily on
John's shoulder. "You hacking the porn sites again?"
John snorted. "No. I'm still working on the organization of the files we got.
It's a program I haven't seen before. Dual layers of encryption. I leave the
porn to you." The half-smile stayed on his face as he typed in another line of
code. "Where's mom and Cameron?"
"Kitchen." Derek slid his hand from John's shoulder and down his sides, on his
lap, squeezing a thigh. "Think you can concentrate on that file right there?"
With his free hand he pointed at one of the files on the screen. "Let's see how
long that takes you to decrypt,hmm?" The hand on John's thigh slowly made it's
way between John's legs. Yeah. Very slowly.
His breath catching in his chest, John swallowed hard. But it was a test.
Another one of Derek's stupid tests. So he focused, took a deep breath and
worked and cracking and opening the file, typing in the codes that worked only
half the time. Even through his jeans, he thought he could feel the heat of his
uncle's hand so he ground his teeth together. He could be stubborn too.
Derek rubbed, palm warm as he cupped John between the legs, his eyes on that
profile but attention on the open door, ear turned toward it. He had a smirk on
soon as he saw those pretty eyes narrow, those lips press together, John
concentrating. Very good. Now, let's make it harder (Ha! Pun!) shall we? "You
wanna know what I wanna do to you,hmm ? I want to bend you over your computer
there and push your pants down. Fuck you in the ass so hard you won't be able
to sit right for days." This he said in his low grated voice, right by John's
ear, his warm breath blowing the long hair on his cheek.
For a long moment, John's whole body went still, except for his hammering heart
and the erection that suddenly was an issue below. Then he felt the flush creep
up, prickling over his skin. Oh, god, Derek was such a bastard. Then, using all
the will he had, he started typing again, slowly, because to screw up meant to
backtrack and to backtrack would mean Derek won. "I think," John said, as
slowly as he could through clenched teeth. "That if you did as much as you
talked about, you wouldn't have the free time to harass me when I'm trying to
change the future."
Derek continued to rub and then he pressed the heel of his hand on that now
hard bulge between John's legs. He pushed down, his chest on John's back, his
shoulder, his face right next to John's from behind, his breath blew against
the young man's cheek. "Not harassing you. I'm changing the future with you."
His fingers curled around the hard shaft, through the denim of John's pants and
he squeezed. "Savior of the human race needs to learn to concentrate through
the worst possible situations..." At this Derek grinned, lips touching the
shell of John's ear. "Or any kind of," another squeeze, "situation."
"S-sex-xual torture? In the future? Are you s-sure that's n-not just y-you?"
John's breath hitched and he closed his eyes for a second, trying to
concentrate as best he could, which wasn't very good at all, when all he wanted
was Derek's rough hand wrapped around him. Or better yet, that awful mouth.
Holy crap. He twitched, and hard, at that idea, before he forced his eyes open.
One more. One more line of code. If he could just--
"Yes." The file started spilling out pictures and text in a cascade of
information. "Holy crap!" John turned, nearly bashing Derek in the nose.
"Derek--"
"Fuck!" His eyes widened, staring at the screen. "Sarkissian." It was said in a
hiss. "You did good. Now call your mother."
===============================================================================
It was a long day spent all over the city trying to find a trace of that woman
in one of the pictures John unearthed. A long ass day. Derek plopped on the
sofa, one foot up on the table and his head leaning back on the seat, expelling
a long breath. They had turned up nothing. Nothing. Maybe tomorrow. Another
day, another mission and fuck he was tired. He shut his eyes, pulling his arm
over them and then Derek let out another long breath.
"Well, that was a worthless day," John said, flopping down next to Derek, into
the couch, boots falling with a clunk onto the table as he ran a hand through
his hair. "Sometimes, it feels like we're getting nowhere." Turning his head,
he looked over at his uncle. Sarah was in the shower and Cameron was in the
dining room watching out the windows. As tired as he was-- and he was tired-
- he lifted up a hand to rest it on Derek's thigh.
The arm over his eyes he pulled back, peeking just as a brow rose, flicking
first to that hand on his thigh and then John's face. "We're getting
somewhere." Derek said implicitly. "If you hadn't cracked that file open, we
wouldn't have known. That's heading somewhere, okay?" That hand on his thigh
was distracting. Very. It was warm even through his jeans and Derek's hand was
itching to grab on to John and haul him-- well, somewhere preferably dark and
soundproof. Fuck. Maybe he shivered a bit. Maybe. He did that sometimes with
John. Much as the boy thought it was training for him? It was also a way for
Derek to keep on his toes as well. And that hand now sliding up his thigh? A
very good way of keeping him on said toes.
John wasn't sure if it was him that shivered, or Derek. But he was watching his
hand on his uncle's thigh and thinking about how rough the denim felt under his
hand. When he reached the apex of Derek's thigh, hemight've gasped some. It was
clear he was aroused and John could feel his mouth water. When his hand curved
around the bulge, he squeezed.
Just as the door to the bathroom opened and John jumped to his feet, running a
hand through his hair. "I'll... be in my room," he muttered and walked away as
quickly as he could.
Derek had to commend John. No. Really. Should he be surprised the younger man
left in haste when he heard the bathroom door open? Of course not. And his
reaction time, Derek noticed, was definitely improving. Johnmust've had his
hand off Derek and standing a half a second after the door knob creaked.
Awesome.
"Get some sleep," Sarah said, hair dripping wet down her shoulders. "We leave
at dawn."
===============================================================================
The room was dark, close. The air was hot, it felt moist. There was sweat
beading at John's hairline and the wall was rough, exposed brick; it was sharp
under his palm. He rested his cheek against his hand to keep from getting
scratches that would be too hard to explain. His chest hurt as he tried to
breathe. His jeans were around his ankles and kept his legs from being as far
apart as he wanted. It was so quiet, aside from their twinned labored
breathing. Reaching back with his other hand, he felt a hip, sharp and angular
under his grip. "Please," he whispered hoarsely. "Derek. Please."
"Shh..." Derek whispered against John's sweat damp hair, nuzzling right by his
ear, lips touching his temple. "Shh..." He repeated, "Quiet, remember?" Biting
back his own groan, Derek thrust in deeper, cock dragging slow, out and then
back in. Slow. John felt good. So fucking hot. So fucking tight. Derek could
easily lose control, if he was one to quickly lose it. Lucky for them both, he
wasn't that kind of person.
They needed to be silent, Sarah was in the other room. Derek reminded John yet
again. "Quiet, okay?"
And, with measured movements, hands digging fingers on John's hips, he
quickened his thrust but moved deliberately so that much as he wanted to, they
do not slap skin on skin. "Shhhh..." Derek murmured again while one arm snaked
around John, wrapping a hand around his cock and stroking, counter to his
thrust.
The hand around him was perfect, calloused and rough just like he knew it'd be,
and John dug his teeth into his lower lip to keep from shouting. This wasn't a
test, not anymore, not really. This was about need, desire, connection, at
least for John. It was about losing his virginity and feeling like he belonged
somewhere, somehow, if only for a moment. And it was about pleasure eating his
brain. He wanted to beg again, for more, for Derek not to stop. Each thrust in
felt like he was being invaded, broken in half each time Derek pushed in and
patched back together each time he pulled back out.
When Derek's hand tightened around him, John couldn't help it; he whimpered and
bucked, feeling the burn of the brick as he tried to get a grip, failing at
that as he pushed back. "Oh, god."
The hand in a vice on John's hip released and then Derek cupped his cheek,
tilting his face while turning his and it didn't matter suddenly that the angle
was awkward, that both of them were straining their necks. A smirk from Derek
and then he shushed him again. "Quiet..." And he said that by dragging that
word out, voice low, a whisper. "Shh..." Then he kissed him.
This wasn't a lesson, no. This? This was reward. Although there was still a
matter of John learning to be more quiet. That, well, came with the territory.
Derek was amazed at the young man's resilience, his strength, his intelligence.
All proving to him that, yes, this was the same John of the future that could
save the world. But none of that seemed to matter at this moment. This specific
moment. Because this one, now, what they were sharing was beyond the stupid
tests and lessons Derek enforced. Now was about being human. Being together.
Connecting. Feeling. Things that could easily disappear when fighting with
machines. Things that made them flesh and blood; more than metal and computer
chips. Things that made them alive.
As John whimpered against his mouth, Derek was very quickly losing control. His
thrusts were becoming erratic as the pleasure mounted, and instead of biting
back the groan, he kissed John more fervently, lips locked, tongues tangling,
moving with a desperation as Derek neared release. The kiss muffled the moans,
the grunts, the noises they otherwise would have made, all of it overpowered by
something as simple as a kiss.
When John came, his body bucked and shuddered and for a spiraling and dizzy
moment, he couldn't breathe and it felt like his heart stopped. Even as his
cock jerked in Derek's grip, he worried idly that he was going to pass out,
fall down, do something he couldn't control as he fell back against his uncle.
The clench was overwhelming that it pulled Derek's orgasm from him, starting
from the base of his spine, it spiraled uncontrollably until he was spilling
deep inside John. He didn't release the kiss, moans swallowed up, muffled with
Derek very much aware of how quiet they needed to be. It was when he stopped
pulsing that he pulled away, breathing heavily, hand still cradling John's
cheek, smiling a more sincere smile. One that even reached his eyes.
All John could do was stare back. Vaguely, he realized that he was only
partially grasping the ramifications of what they'd done. Of what it meant. He
felt the ache and he felt the need that hadn't been dampened by what they'd
just done. Finally, in a whisper, he asked, "how'd I do?"
"Passed." Derek grinned. "With flying colors." He pulled out with a hiss but
wrapped an arm around John, pulling him flush to his chest so that the younger
man wouldn't fall. "Next week." He breathed in a rough and grated voice right
by John's ear. "Round two."
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