Entry tags:
Ficlet: SG1, Cameron Mitchell Waiting, maybe an R
This is entirely ![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
amara_m 's fault. She asked for "Cameron Mitchell, naked, on his knees, metal collar, metal restraints at wrists, ankles, thighs, blindfolded, waiting to be claimed." How, I ask you, is it even possible not to go there?
::sighs from happy place::
::shares::
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Cameron waited. The lights were bright even through the leather blindfold and they painted his skin with heat where it was exposed.
Which was pretty much everywhere.
He tried to kneel back, but as he did the metal cuffs bit into his thighs, painfully tight against his flexing muscles. Cam straightened back up too quickly and nearly overbalanced, unable to catch himself easily because of the steel bars spreading him at ankle, wrist and thigh. The metal and chains clinked as he fumbled himself back upright, but the noise wasn't enough to conceal the flurry of interest from the crowd above him.
He could hear them shifting and whispering to each other all around him, the noise persistent and inescapable. Cam felt their stares sweep across his skin, exposing him and burning hotter than the damn lights. The weight of their interest was thick and oppressive, seeming to suck all the air out of the tiny arena.
Swallowing hard, Cam felt his throat work against the warm metal circling his neck. Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe, his body frantically convinced that the collar was too tight, too restrictive and that he couldn’t draw air into his lungs past it. He tried to reach up for it with his hands, but it was useless. Held apart as they were, he could only get one to his neck at a time and…
Laughter ran through the crowd above him and it cut through his panic. Mockery was familiar. Cam had bucked the odds for most of his life and was used to being mocked for it. He straightened his spine and dropped his hands, letting his knees settle into the sand beneath him and finally coming into a stable stance. He puffed his chest out a bit and knelt tall, no longer trying to hide himself at all.
Panting had dried his mouth, so Cam began to breathe very deliberately through his nose. He allowed himself to wet his lips just once before settling into a stillness that would have made Teal’c proud. The crowd settled back into quiet.
Maybe they’d get bored with him and go away.
And maybe his grand-daddy’s pigs were in training to fly F-304s right now.
Or maybe he shouldn’t have laughed so hard when their En’ii hosts had asked which of his team “owned” him. Then he probably wouldn’t be kneeling here, wondering when one of them – wondering which one of them – was going to come into the arena and lay claim to him…
TBC?
amara_m 's fault. She asked for "Cameron Mitchell, naked, on his knees, metal collar, metal restraints at wrists, ankles, thighs, blindfolded, waiting to be claimed." How, I ask you, is it even possible not to go there?::sighs from happy place::
::shares::
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Cameron waited. The lights were bright even through the leather blindfold and they painted his skin with heat where it was exposed.
Which was pretty much everywhere.
He tried to kneel back, but as he did the metal cuffs bit into his thighs, painfully tight against his flexing muscles. Cam straightened back up too quickly and nearly overbalanced, unable to catch himself easily because of the steel bars spreading him at ankle, wrist and thigh. The metal and chains clinked as he fumbled himself back upright, but the noise wasn't enough to conceal the flurry of interest from the crowd above him.
He could hear them shifting and whispering to each other all around him, the noise persistent and inescapable. Cam felt their stares sweep across his skin, exposing him and burning hotter than the damn lights. The weight of their interest was thick and oppressive, seeming to suck all the air out of the tiny arena.
Swallowing hard, Cam felt his throat work against the warm metal circling his neck. Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe, his body frantically convinced that the collar was too tight, too restrictive and that he couldn’t draw air into his lungs past it. He tried to reach up for it with his hands, but it was useless. Held apart as they were, he could only get one to his neck at a time and…
Laughter ran through the crowd above him and it cut through his panic. Mockery was familiar. Cam had bucked the odds for most of his life and was used to being mocked for it. He straightened his spine and dropped his hands, letting his knees settle into the sand beneath him and finally coming into a stable stance. He puffed his chest out a bit and knelt tall, no longer trying to hide himself at all.
Panting had dried his mouth, so Cam began to breathe very deliberately through his nose. He allowed himself to wet his lips just once before settling into a stillness that would have made Teal’c proud. The crowd settled back into quiet.
Maybe they’d get bored with him and go away.
And maybe his grand-daddy’s pigs were in training to fly F-304s right now.
Or maybe he shouldn’t have laughed so hard when their En’ii hosts had asked which of his team “owned” him. Then he probably wouldn’t be kneeling here, wondering when one of them – wondering which one of them – was going to come into the arena and lay claim to him…
TBC?
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Thus the question of earlier I take it. Thank You!
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I finally gave this a middle and an ending. Naked, bound Cam gets what's coming to him over here.