
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/53476.
  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: 2669
****** Real ******
by dramady, jeck
Summary
     Summary: Derek feels the need to remind John of what's real and
     what's not.
     [This is a coda to "What He Beheld" ; Warning for uncle-cest]

His hands shoved in his pockets, deep in his pockets, balled into fists, John
couldn't look away. He was perched in the doorway, not allowed farther in, his
mom blocking his view of all but Cameron's head. Her hair was singed and part
of her skin burned away from her forehead. John felt something catch in his
chest; an ache. "Is she going to be alright?" He asked, yet again, one too many
times judging from the look Sarah shot him. "John, she's going to be fine. Go
somewhere else. You're making me nervous."
Cameron looked up and over at him. "Rebuilding should be complete in twenty-
four to thirty-two hours, barring any unforeseen system malfunctions."
John supposed that should've made him feel better.
Derek was standing with his feet apart, arms crossed over his chest behind John
and frowning. He caught the look thrown at him by Sarah and he nodded once,
just a very small, hardly visible movement. He slung an arm around John's
shoulder and led him away from the door, closing it before guiding the younger
man to his own room. "She's going to be fine," he said, almost, but not quite,
shoving John in the room, closing the door behind him and he stayed there.
Blocking it with his feet apart, arms crossed over his chest and looking
intensely at John. "Get over it."
"In case you missed it? She was blown up," John huffed, subconsciously
mimicking Derek's stance, brow furrowed, tension evident in the lines of his
slight body. "I think I have a right to be a little bit worried!"
"Worried about what? It is not human!" Derek's voice was low, not at all loud
but the displeasure in his voice was evident; it rumbled in the room. "Or have
you forgotten that?" He took a step closer to John, eye to eye with Derek's
gaze sharp and intense almost as if he was forcing John to go against him on
this one. Go ahead. Prove me wrong.
"No," John retorted, almost sullenly, refusing to meet his uncle's eyes, head
down, hands stuffed back in his pockets. "But I sent her back. Remember?" He
looked up fleetingly. "What if it had been you? Me? Huh? What then? Obviously
somebody figured out something! Enough to rig the explosion!"
"You sent her back to protect you," Derek all but growled, taking a step
forward and leaning down until he stood nose to nose with John. "And that's
what she did. Protect you." He had his hands fisted at his sides now, just so
he could keep from grabbing John and shaking some sense into him.
"And she's injured!" What didn't Derek get about this?! "What am I supposed to
do, Derek?!" John asked, nearly pleading, arms thrown wide, even if he did
still have trouble meeting his uncle's eye. "If you're so smart!"
Derek did growl now, grabbing on to John's collar and heaving him until his
back hit the wall with a thud. "She's NOT injured! She's a machine!" He pressed
himself onto John, breathing in pants against his face, John's hair obscuring
his eyes blowing with each exhale. "Do I need to fucking remind you what's
human and what's cyborg?" This came out low and grated with Derek's face
looking fierce, a sharpness in his gaze.
John's eyes were wide, his breath short in his chest. Derek was really close;
he could feel the lines of his uncle's body. And yet, he still couldn't meet
his gaze. "I know, okay? I know." But Derek wasn't moving back. He wasn't
moving away. Why wasn't he moving away? John was having trouble breathing,
still, inhaling the musk of sweat. He felt his body flush; too close. Derek was
too close. But he couldn't get away; Derek was too strong. "I know," he tried
again, even if it came out breathless and soft.
"Do you?" Derek's eyes flashed, a bit of a predatory gleam in them. He didn't
look away, didn't even blink. Instead he pressed even closer to John and
freeing one hand he cupped his chin and turned that face to look his way. "Look
at me and say that. Tell me again how Cameron's a machine with no soul." He
could see the flush to John's face and it stirred something else deep inside
Derek that right that moment, he chose to ignore.
Pinned, John tried to look away, but couldn't, swallowing hard around the ball
in his throat. How could he say that? How could Derek ask him to? John frowned,
mustering all the will he could. "She's a machine. With no soul." Now let me
go, he should have said. But instead, he just stared. Soon, Derek would let him
go and he could work to forget how sinfully good this was starting to feel.
John's cheeks flushed with shame at even having an inkling of anything like
this. Dirty, hot shame.
Derek could see the pink to John's cheeks and he quickly wondered if this was
the result of Derek forcing him to say the same words that came from John
himself. Maybe he was getting angry at Derek for pinning him to the wall which
only made Derek smirk because he liked this. Liked having the upper hand. A
loud crash sounded from the other room and Derek looked up, ear toward the door
only to hear Sarah telling Cameron to lie back down. Stupid machine.
John had jumped too which had only emphasized how much taller and stronger
Derek was and how firmly he was pressed to the wall. Why wasn't he being let
go? This wasn't fair. "Derek," he finally hissed. "You made your point, now let
me go." Soon, before John embarrassed himself anymore, feeling a stirring where
there wasn't supposed to be any. Fuck. He closed his eyes tight.
Derek felt that and the smile slowly crawled over his face. He pushed his thigh
between John's legs and slowly pressed down, his face inches away from John.
"Feel that?" He grabbed both of John's wrists and pinned those to the wall,
nudging the younger man with the tip of his nose to John's cheek. "That's
real."
Before he could bite down on it, a small sound escaped and John just screwed
his eyes shut tighter. His dick was really hard now and it was all he could do
not to hump Derek's leg. Still, his face flushed. He could feel the breath on
his cheek and it only spiked his arousal higher. "Stop it," he tried to hiss
but it came out a whine. "Derek...come on."
"You never asked me to stop before," he grinned wickedly. "Then again that was
when you just turned thirty. And you were drunk." Derek began to rub his thigh
harder against John's groin, feeling the hardness there. "Reacted the same way,
if I recall." His eyes flashed and then he leaned even closer that their noses
brush. "Still want me to stop?" This John is not unlike future John. Derek's
hands began to move up John's arms, then down his sides, resting on his hips
and pushing against the jut of bone.
Eyes blown wide with pupils to match, John stared. Yes, that bit of news
finally got eye contact. In his chest was a noxious mix of emotions; desire,
nerves, fear, and a good shot of self-loathing. He'd slept with his uncle when
he turned thirty. Or should that be he sleeps? Will sleep? Jesus Christ, no
matter, it was wrong no matter the time or place or situation. Incest. The word
strafed through him leaving him breathless. But his cock twitched and hard.
Willing himself to still at the wicked things Derek's hands were doing to him,
he said through numb lips. "We didn't." But even as he said it, he knew Derek
wouldn't lie, not about this. Cameron had said he'd trusted Derek. One of his
most trusted.
All this flew through John's head too fast. Even as his traitorous body sizzled
and burned with want. "Derek--"
John saying his name like that took him back to the future, the same voice, the
same way John said his name. It made him harden even more, his own erection
pressing against John's thigh. "You should have told me then," yes, time was
messing with his head now, so was the John he was now with. "That I was your
uncle. Should have trusted me. I guess that's why you sent me back. Letting me
think that it was better I wasn't there, huh? That's why. But I guess you never
factored in that I would actually meet you here." His eyes turn predatory and
then he was breathing harsh and warm on John's cheek. "But I'm here now and
so're you. No more running away. Because even if you're my brother's son--
this?" Derek kissed him. It was demanding and brutal and his lips moved almost
devouring as Derek delved in to taste what he knew was his. He pulled back and
released those lips but not before tugging at John's bottom lip with his teeth.
"This is real." And then Derek kissed him again.
Pain. John's head cracked against the wall with the force of the kiss.
Pleasure. The kiss robbed him of thought and breath. His arms, unpinned,
though, acted without his consent, wrapping around Derek's neck, hands balled
fists. What did they do when he turned thirty, he wondered, but only for a
second as he felt, through two pairs of rough denim, his uncle's cock start to
press, repeatedly, against his own. He was sixteen, not thirty. This was too
much. Too good and too much all at once. It was going to happen; it had already
happened-- take your pick. "Derek--" he whispered again, this time against his
uncle's lips. "More," he said this time, face burning impossibly hotter.
Yes. That was it. John was reacting just as Derek liked it. Just as Derek
expected. He pushed him bodily against the wall and deepened the kiss, hands
skating over his sides, his chest, back down to his hips and settled there for
a moment until he heard that one word that he did not expect to hear from John.
More. That made Derek pull back and slowly he grinned, hands on John's hips
sliding under his shirt and pulling it off quickly, warm hands sliding over
smooth chest while his eyes continued to stare. "Remember how this feels. Each
time you think that machine of yours is real? That it can feel?" He panted, his
voice rough and grated as he leaned over and closer, lips touching lips but
Derek continued to speak. "It can't. Because this," he pinched a nipple between
his fingers, other hand trailing down to cup John's erection. "This is what
it's like to feel." The kiss started up again.
Eyes closed, muscles taut under his skin, John did the only thing he could; he
kissed back, holding to Derek's shoulders to keep from falling down. He was
lost, in the roughness of the stubble against his chin, in the even rougher
hands that drew from him a pleasure that almost hurt. His first time, when he'd
imagined it, hadn't ever been like this. It'd been with a girl, for one, but it
involved a bed and filtered lighting and-- "Unngh!" He gasped when Derek palmed
over him again. "Derek," John groaned, rutting into the grip. "Derek!"
Fuck! John better stop saying his name like that because it was doing a number
on his head. A visual too vivid but the feel of it different. Although still on
the slender side, John of the future felt stronger, more firm, slightly taller
and with rough stubble and shorter hair. His hands... Oh, those hands knew how
to touch, too. More sure and not just clutching to hold on. But the voice? It
was the same. The way his name was said, exactly the same.
All this spiraled in his mind that Derek abruptly pulled back, suddenly
realizing that this is a different John. A very young one, at that. With his
mother in the other room. Derek couldn't decide if this was a situation he
needed to deal with or if it was a complete turn-on.
The way John was panting, the flush to his cheeks that Derek reached to touch,
and those eyes, not to mention hard cock pressing against him was enough to
convince him that this felt too good to resist, or stop. So he pressed his lips
against the side of John's throat, kissing then biting, both hands going to
unbutton and open his fly, fingers brushing over John's erection.
John-- this John, now-- whimpered when he felt that hot, rough hand circle his
dick and for a second, he was pretty sure he was going to come right then and
there, the pleasure was that intense. The closest he'd had was jerking off in
the bathroom with the shower running and this-- this was so much more than
that. Oh, god. God. The teeth in his skin, the hand. His own thought process
short-circuited and all he could do was hold on, wanting no more than to feel
more of this sinful pleasure that was eating him alive.
The sounds John made, those whimpers, the soft moans. Oh, how Derek wanted to
hear more of that. Yes. More. So he stroked him still biting on tender flesh,
clamping it between teeth and sucking while he pushed against that slim body,
his own straining erection pressing down John's hips. "If you wanna stop know.
Say it," Derek pants, wrist flicking as he tugged John's length. "Say it now
cos real soon I won't be able to."
So John didn't say a word, going so far as to bite his lip to keep from making
any noise that would make Derek stop. His chest was heaving as he breathed, his
hips rocking, his fingers digging into Derek's shoulders, head back, neck
bared, and marked. He was claimed, just like Derek had said. He was Derek's. No
stopping. Not now. Not when he was thirty.
Nothing.
Derek kept stroking and he waited for a few beats and still, nothing. His grin
widened where his lips were kissing along John's skin. He released him enough
to fumble quickly with his fly, opening it, his jeans pushed to his thighs,
cock jutting up and out . Derek pushed against John, taking both their
erections in his large hand with a hiss of breath and then he started stroking,
groaning, kissing John's lips once again.
Oh, god. Any remaining brain cells John had were just blown at the feel of
Derek's cock next to John's, that rough grip continuing. He all-out whimpered,
unable to help it, choking on the noises, on the what was happening. He stared,
as best he could, into Derek's eyes, wanting, even then, for his uncle to know
that John was here. In this. With him. Oh, god. His hips stuttered and he came,
hard, his whole body jerking.
He felt the tension and then the splash of warm and wet on his hand and his
cock and Derek groaned, hand tightening as he stroked a few more times before
he himself was coming with a groan. "Fuck!" He pressed harder on John, lips
finding his and kissing him even after their cocks stopped pulsing. Still
panting Derek pulled back just enough to look at John, free hand coming up and
brushing damp hair away from his face. "Real," was all he said, still staring
into John's eyes.
Panting and gasping, all John could do was nod. Derek was holding him up and it
was a good thing because it felt like he was boneless. He stared up to his
uncle's eyes for a long moment before letting his head fall to his shoulder,
breathing in the scent of musk, sweat and sex, as well as Derek's bad
aftershave. And it felt, he thought, like home.
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