Jun. 17th, 2008 08:24 am
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Summary: Rodney's mouth is hot and wet when John kisses him, tasting the salt of Ronon's come on Rodney's tongue.
Kink: (25) (wild card) Double penetration (two holes)
Author's Note: So, this would be the second one of these set in my de-ageified! Rodney verse. I've been assured that by adding a third person to the fucking, I am not actually repeating a couple. Which means that I reached my goal of using twenty-five different pairings for these. And, which also means I'm done! Finished! My card is complete! Princess, buy me a beer, take me home, and screw me senseless! I'm never writing porn again!
John would like to say that he's lost track of all the times he's walked in on Ronon and Rodney fucking. But that would be a lie, and not one of the ones that John can make himself believe. He remembers in stunning, vivid detail, each time he has found them.
The image of Rodney's mouth around Ronon's cock is embedded in John's mind. And right beside it is the image of the muscles in Ronon's back shifting as he moves, Rodney's pale hands sliding over darker skin, all of it playing to the music of their grunts and gasps, the soft sound of skin moving against skin.
John can't get it out of his head, no matter what he tries, and it's driving him crazy. He's not blind, and so he's always been aware of Rodney, of Ronon. They're attractive men, and John had been wrestling with attraction to them both since he met them.
That was before Rodney suddenly went from being built like a line backer with a receding hairline, to looking criminally young, all curls, big blue eyes, and that same crooked mouth. That was before Ronon and Rodney started fucking. And it was certainly before they got bound to each other, or whatever. John still doesn't have an adequate explanation for that, but he doesn't want to have to listen to Ronon trying to explain what the matching burns mean again.
John tries everything he can to clear the images from his head, and nothing works. He dreams about it. His mind drifts to it during meetings, in the field, when he's sparring, when he's flying the Jumper. When John beats off, it is inevitably what he thinks about, try as he might to resist.
It's more than a man can be expected to deal with, which makes John feel a little better, because he's really not dealing with it very well at all. He's drowning in shame, because he's jerking off to memories of his married friends, to Rodney's head thrown back, his mouth open, eyes closed, to Ronon grunting, deep and guttural. And on top of that, he feels like a dirty old man, because Rodney, Rodney who John still thinks of as his age, looks like jailbait.
John is pretty sure that he's reserved himself a seat in special hell. He tries telling Teyla, explaining the strain that walking in on the other two men is causing, but he's fairly sure that she doesn't get it. He doesn't blame her, really, but it doesn't help him at all.
He can't even be around the two of them without getting hard. It's making working together kind of awkward.
Considering all of that, John thinks that really, he deserves some slack for this. He'd meant to walk away when he walked in on Ronon and Rodney again, Ronon sitting on the desk beside Rodney's laptop, his thighs parted, Rodney bent over him, sliding his mouth up and down Ronon's cock. John had meant to go find Teyla and confess to what he'd witnessed.
John had not intended to hesitate long enough to watch Ronon come, the big man's face twisting up with pleasure, one of his hands fisting in Rodney's curls and holding him in place. Watching Rodney slowly pull off Ronon, grinning, his mouth very, very red, had not been part of John's plans when he woke up that morning. And crossing the room had certainly not been.
John isn't thinking clearly, but even he realizes that he's probably about to get his ass kicked. It doesn't matter. He can't stop himself. Rodney's hair is soft when John slides his fingers into it, pulling Rodney's head back. Rodney's mouth is hot and wet when John kisses him, tasting the salt of Ronon's come on Rodney's tongue.
The groaning is coming from John, and John knows that, but he can't stop it. No more than he can stop himself from nipping Rodney's bottom lip, from doing everything in his power to memorize what this feels like.
And then John pulls back, blinking down into Rodney's stunned blue eyes, looking up to find Ronon watching him with a cool expression, and his self preservation instinct chooses then to finally kick in. John licks his bottom lip, nods stiffly, and then turns and walks away. He makes it out the door before he starts running.
John spends a week living in fear for his life. He remembers what happened on MXR-201, where one of the natives had gotten grabby with Rodney. Teyla had managed to get Ronon off of the other man, but not before there'd been broken bones and screams that John doesn't like to remember. John feels like he's on death row, expecting constantly for Ronon to drop down from the ceiling or just ninja up behind him and slit his throat.
When Ronon finally does come for him, the man just slides into the seat across from John in the mess hall. John chokes on his coffee, marveling distractedly at the other man's balls for apparently planning to kill John here, in front of everyone.
Instead of killing him, Ronon just starts eating, and John, his stomach tight with panic, makes himself resume his own meal. It might be his last. He intends to enjoy it. When Ronon finally speaks John nearly drops his fork, "Why'd you kiss him?"
John is not stupid enough to ask for clarification. He clears his throat, trying to keep his voice level, "It seemed like a good idea at the time."
Ronon grunts, taking a big bite of something that might be bacon. John starts to hope that maybe he'll get a painless death. Ronon asks, after swallowing, "Do you want to fuck him?"
John casts a quick look around the room, but no one seems to be paying any attention to their conversation. He fidgets with his coffee cup, taking a moment to wonder if this is going to end up someplace weird, with Ronon bringing up some bizarre Satedan ritual that means he has to give up his boyfriend if his commanding officer wants to fuck him.
John intends to lie, in any case, because to tell the truth here would be stupid for a variety of reasons. What he says is, "Look, I promise not to do it again. Now, if you promise not to kill me, I think we can all move on and forget about the entire situation." Because, really, he thinks that's the best solution all around.
Ronon says nothing, and John finally looks up. Ronon is just watching him, and John holds his gaze for a long moment before Ronon shrugs. John takes that as a stay of execution, nods back, gathers his tray, and absolutely does not flee in mortal terror.
John is just getting used to being able to walk down the hall without worrying about death from above, when Rodney throws himself into John's transporter right before it closes. John grits his teeth, shoving his hands into his pockets and slouching down, managing a tight nod when Rodney grins brightly at him.
For some reason, they appear to be unable to get pants that fit Rodney properly. It's been months now since he changed, and his BDUs still hang loose on his hips, his science jacket just a little oversize. Rodney's hair is messy, and John fights the urge to straighten it while Rodney reaches out, pulls a panel off the wall, and yanks out one of the control crystals.
John jerks, realizing belatedly that, hey, that's probably not a good thing. He blurts, "Hey!"
And Rodney talks over him, sliding the control crystal pointedly into one of his pockets, "I think we need to talk." Rodney is leaning his shoulders back against the wall, wearing an expectant expression. He seems unaware of the curls falling forward into his face.
John takes a deep breath, and forces as much nonchalance into his posture and voice as he can, "Is this about the mission to M20-9MR? Because—"
And then Rodney is stepping into John's space, one hand sliding around the back of John's neck, pulling him down. John isn't sure how he gets his hands out of his pockets and on Rodney's hips, but there they are, gripping at the other man's warmth.
Rodney kisses John stupid, until John forgets why this is a very bad idea. Hell, John forgets pretty much everything, groaning and feeling his brain short circuit, pulling Rodney closer, until their bodies are pressed tight together.
When Rodney shifts away from his mouth, John growls, bringing one of his hands up, dragging Rodney back. His mouth is amazing, and John isn't sure that it's really possible for him to get enough of it. And if this is it, if this is all he gets before Ronon kills him for not being able to keep his mouth to himself, then he intends to get as much of it as he can.
Rodney makes a soft sound, lips parting, and John takes the kiss deeper, only stopping when Rodney hits him hard on the shoulder. When Rodney shifts away his cheeks are stained pink, his mouth wet and slick, his breath panting against John's lips.
Rodney clears his throat, and then speaks, his voice low, "I told Ronon he should have just let me handle this from the beginning, but no, he had to be stubborn and try to talk to you himself. Isn't this way much easier? Now. I need to ask you some questions. Just answer them, don't argue with me."
John just nods, leaning back in to brush his lips softly against Rodney's before kissing out across his jaw. He can't seem to untangle his hand from Rodney's hair, but then, he isn't trying very hard. God, he's going to hell for this, for liking the way his mouth fits over the arch of Rodney's throat, the way Rodney's narrow hip feels beneath his hand.
"Long boring story short, Ronon wants to form a crèche, his word, not mine. Something about strength through unity and blahblahblah, I think he just wants to see you fuck me." John groans at Rodney's words, his hips jerking forward automatically. Rodney sounds smug when he continues, "I see you're not opposed to the idea. Anyway. It's not—Ronon doesn't do casual sex, okay? So if you want to do this, then, well, it doesn't get to just be a one time thing, it's—"
John has to kiss Rodney again, twisting, pushing Rodney against the wall. This is more than he ever thought he'd get, and just the thought of it is making him painfully hard. He presses his body up against Rodney's, kissing him deep and hard.
When John pulls away, mouthing kisses down Rodney's throat again, scrambling at the hem of the other man's shirt in an attempt to get at some skin, Rodney rasps up to the ceiling, "Wait, wait!" And John makes himself shift away, breathing hard, his hands itching with the urge to touch. Rodney looks a mess, mouth kiss stung, but his blue eyes are sharp. He continues, "Look, there's a way this has to be done. Come by Ronon's quarters tonight, 2100, okay?"
And all John can do is nod, because then Rodney is pushing past him, replacing the control crystal. Before John really has time to absorb what just happened, Rodney is gone. John slumps against the wall, and then has to shift around awkwardly to hide his hard on when a handful of scientists squeeze into the transporter, babbling about experiments with lettuce.
John is outside Ronon's door a half an hour before he's due. He makes himself walk past, do a quick lap around the north-eastern pier, and comes back ten minutes early. He figures that's marginally more acceptable, and waves his hand over the controls.
When Ronon opens the door a half-second later, John has to grit his teeth to resist jumping out of his skin. John nods, and Ronon echoes the gesture, before stepping back. John takes that as an invitation, stepping into the room and feeling a thrill up his spine when the door slides closed.
Rodney is sprawled out on his stomach across Ronon's bed, working on a laptop. He looks up when Ronon crosses to him, sitting on the bed beside him and running a hand up the back of Rodney's thigh, ending cupping Rodney's ass. John sucks in a breath, feeling his cock go from half-hard to completely and totally invested.
Rodney grins, closing his laptop and sliding it to the floor. Ronon is moving his hand, following the curve of Rodney's ass down, Rodney automatically spreading his thighs. John watches, aching, wondering exactly what he's supposed to be doing here.
Luckily, Rodney is incapable of being silent for more than a few minutes, and tilts his head to the side, voice breathy already when he says, "You sit in this chair, and, mm, watch the first time. It's to make sure you won't change your mind later, or something." Rodney punctuates with an eye roll, and then a deep groan when Ronon does something with his hidden hand.
John finds himself moving, his feet carrying him across to the chair that Rodney had indicated. He drops into it, thighs spread wide, because his cock is hard and aching. He says, throat rough, "I'm pretty sure I'm not going to have a change of heart."
Rodney smirks at him, blue eyes knowing when he says, "You gotta sit there anyway. Feel free to touch yourself, apparently that isn't against the rules." And John has to swallow a groan, cock twitching, and this time it's Ronon smiling at him, a sharp, wild expression.
Ronon slides his hand up Rodney's ass again, shifting on the bed, blanketing Rodney's body. John shivers when Ronon pushes the smaller man down against the mattress, hearing Rodney moan when Ronon lowers his mouth to Rodney's neck.
They're all fully clothed, and John already feels like he's going out of his mind, sliding a hand down to his lap, cupping his erection, just enough pressure to add another layer of need. On the bed Rodney gasps, his hands gripping at the sheets when Ronon shifts up.
Ronon pulls his own shirt off quickly, throwing it aside, revealing his chest and back, muscles working smoothly under bronzed skin. John bites his bottom lip, rocking up against the heel of his hand, watching the muscles in Ronon's arms shift and flex when he runs his big hands down Rodney's sides.
A half second later Rodney's shirt is being tossed aside as well, and Ronon is leaning over, mouthing kisses at the nape of Rodney's neck. Rodney's shifting around on the blankets, John can see his hips squirming, pushing up against Ronon's crotch. It makes John's fingers tremble when he pulls his zipper down.
Ronon kisses slowly down Rodney's spine, leaving behind skin reddened by the coarse hair of his beard. John itches to soothe with his own fingers and mouth, and it's hard to resist. Rodney's voice startles him, makes him realize that his legs hand been tensed as though to spring, "Take off, take off your shirt, c'mon."
And John doesn't even think about it before pulling the black t-shirt over his head. The air in the room feels burning hot, and it's a relief to not have the restrictive fabric against his skin anymore. Still, he feels a brief moment of nerves, because he's older than both of them, God, so much older than Rodney looks. There's white in his chest hair, and there are some ugly scars.
But Rodney gasps, what sounds like pleasure, licking his bottom lip and dragging his gaze up and down John's chest. Ronon rumbles, his voice muffled against Rodney's skin, "Like that?"
Rodney nods, his eyes starting to look dazed, his voice tight, "Oh, yes," trailing off into a whimper when Ronon shifts up onto his knees. When Ronon pushes his pants off his hips, John finds his attention completely captivated.
Ronon has long, strong legs, a great ass, and a hard cock. John groans, because he's been seeing that cock for what feels like ages, and it looks every bit as good this time. Ronon kicks his pants off, and then he's leaning forward, bracing one hand on the mattress by Rodney's hips, sliding the other beneath Rodney's stomach. John can see the shiver that chases its way across Rodney's skin.
For a moment they stay like that, Rodney making a hoarse sound, thrusting down against Ronon's hand, where Ronon must be cupping him. John shoves his own hand in his pants desperately, gripping his cock as Rodney squirms around on the bed, Ronon grinning above him, muscles in his arm moving as he shifts and adjusts his grip.
Ronon's voice is all gravel and heat, "C'mon, give it up," and Rodney whimpers, his body shaking. Ronon rumbles, wordless, leaning down to kiss Rodney's neck, gently sliding his hand out from under the other man, shifting back and pulling Rodney's pants down.
John decides to anticipate Rodney's next request for clothing removal, bending to tear at his shoe strings, kicking his boots off and shimmying out of his pants and boxers. He has a moment to feel awkward about sitting naked in a chair, cock hard and aching for attention, but then Ronon is pushing Rodney's thighs open and John stops thinking at all.
The lube looks small in Ronon's big hands, and John stares at the man's fingers, grunting at the way they shine when slick. Ronon settles one of his big hands on Rodney's lower back, his other tracing up and down Rodney's ass, over and over again.
Rodney's voice is wrecked, his hips continually trying to shift back into the touch, "Fuck, get in me, goddamnit." And John has to squeeze his cock hard, his head thumping back, pleasure twisting through his gut. Ronon's laughter, low and dirty, does not help.
John makes himself look forward again when Rodney moans, low and drawn out, Ronon's hand is between his legs now, and the movement of Ronon's arm makes John's breath catch. He wishes he could see, because he's never been in a position to see what Ronon's fingers up Rodney's ass look like, but he makes himself stay in the chair. Next time.
After a long moment, Rodney grits out, "Tease," and then cries out, his spine arching. When Ronon finally removes his hand, Rodney whimpers, his expression completely gone. John is stroking his cock, barely aware of the touch.
Ronon grabs Rodney's hips, pulling him up onto his hands and knees. John can see Rodney's cock, now, hard and tight up against his stomach, shiny with come. Ronon nuzzles against Rodney's shoulders, his voice deep, going straight to John's cock, "I want to fuck you hard, can you take it?"
Rodney's head drops forward, and he's trying to shove his hips back, his voice tight as the bow of his back, "Fuck, yes, don't ask stupid questions."
Ronon growls, and then he's shifting, one of his hands reaching between their bodies, lining himself up. When he pushes into Rodney's body it's with one long, hard thrust, that has Rodney shouting, and John thrusting hard up into his hand.
The pace Ronon sets is brutal, hard and fast and deep, and John matches it with his hand. Rodney's body jerks with each slam of Ronon into him, each sound torn from his throat echoing in John's head. There's no time for Rodney to try to meet Ronon's thrusts, nothing for him to do but take it, going down to his elbows, fingers scrambling at the sheets.
When Ronon slides a hand around Rodney's hip, finding his cock and fisting it, Rodney comes. John can see the liquid sliding down Ronon's fingers, grunting, jacking himself faster. Ronon growls, going still, and then thrusting harder, a desperate, wild edge to each stroke into Rodney's body that hadn't been there before.
Ronon's hips are moving raggedly, and John's are lifting off the chair, pressure building in the base of his spine. And then Ronon is reaching out, fisting a hand in Rodney's hair and pulling him up, Ronon's other arm going around Rodney's chest.
They're kneeling in the middle of the bed, Rodney almost limp in Ronon's arms, Ronon thrusting one last time before burying his face against Rodney's neck and shaking his way through orgasm. For a long moment they stay like that, Ronon supporting their weight through some feat of strength that's frankly completely impressive.
And then Ronon sinks down, ass hitting his ankles, and John finds his strokes over his cock slowing, though he's still so hard it hurts, so close to the edge of his own release that he can almost taste it. He wants to see what happens next, and manages to make himself stop, hands gripping his thighs hard.
Ronon kisses at Rodney's neck for a long moment, rubbing his hand up and down the other man's chest and stomach. Rodney's legs are on either side of Ronon's, one of his hands gripping at Ronon's arm, his head hanging forward.
Ronon lowers Rodney slowly to the bed, only then sliding out of Rodney's body, which causes Rodney to shiver full bodied and make a soft, tiny sound. Ronon kisses Rodney's shoulder, standing on shaky legs and then padding across the room towards the bathroom without explanation. After a moment John hears the water running. It takes John a long moment to realize it's the shower.
John passes the time looking at Rodney. His legs are folding up under him, his ass raised, his hair sweaty and messy, hanging in his face. Rodney's eyes are closed. John thinks he might be sleeping, and has to beat back the urge to touch with every bit of his self control.
Ronon appearing at the foot of the bed is enough to startle John, and he blinks up at the tall man. Ronon has a wet rag, that he rubs over the swell of Rodney's ass. Rodney hums, shifting back into the touch, his eyes fluttering open. His voice is soft, "Don't. Come up here."
There's no hesitation or argument. Ronon crawls up the bed, letting Rodney pull on him and arrange him how he wants. Rodney ends up between Ronon's thighs, his cheek resting on one of Ronon's legs, his legs still tucked up under his body. It makes a pretty picture, one that had John moving to stroke himself again.
Rodney's voice startles him, low and thick, "Did John come yet?"
Ronon looks over to John, raising his eyebrows when his gaze drops to John's erection. John shifts under the scrutiny, not sure if it's good or bad that he's still hard. Ronon's voice is rough, and unfortunately gives nothing away, "He's still hard." Ronon is petting a hand back over Rodney's hair, the touch so gentle and absent that it makes John swallow hard.
Rodney shifts around, one of his hands sliding up Ronon's chest, pale skin contrasting with dark. Rodney sounds almost drugged when he speaks, "Ronon, please. I want." And John watches Ronon look down at Rodney, takes in the considering slant of his mouth and wonders what he's missing in this conversation.
And then Ronon looks up, meeting John's eyes and rumbling, "He'll be sore, fuck him careful."
John's brain takes about half a second to wrap around the implications of that, and then he's moving. The bed is soft under his knees, Rodney's skin warm when John runs a hand across his back. John thinks about hell, and how he's going there, kneeling behind Rodney, sliding his hands down to Rodney's ass. There's a line of Ronon's come sliding out of Rodney already, and John groans, squeezing the firm flesh under his hands, trembling with need.
"Here," Ronon sounds almost amused, pushing the tube of lube into John's hand. John fumbles with it, finally managing to get it open, slicking it across his aching dick. Rodney makes a soft sound, shifting around, getting up to his knees again, his hand and arm still pressed up over Ronon's chest, his cheek on Ronon's thigh, right beside Ronon's rapidly hardening cock.
Rodney's voice is breathy, "C'mon, John, you've been waiting for months, hurry up before I—" and then John is shifting forward, easing carefully into Rodney's body, listening to Rodney's voice trail off into a whimper.
Inside, Rodney is tight and hot, slick, with, God, Ronon's come. John groans, sliding in as slowly as he can, dropping one hand down to the bed to steady himself and grabbing Ronon's leg instead. The big man doesn't try to jerk away, so John holds on, pushing in-in-in, until Rodney has all of him.
Ronon rumbles, "Fuck," sounding awed, and John lets out a shaky breath, unable to do anything but nod. He might have a front row reservation for the next hand basket to hell, but he can't say that it isn't worth it. John rolls his hips slowly, and Rodney moans.
John can feel Rodney squirming around, can't not feel Rodney squirming around, really, and his breath escapes in a whoosh. Controlling himself is nearly impossible, but John manages. Each thrust is measured, controlled, moving himself in and out of Rodney's body, one hand on Rodney's hip, one on Ronon's leg.
John feels sweat running down the side of his face, shifting, adjusting his thrusts, and feels Rodney tremble beneath his touch. Rodney's groan is muffled, and that gets John's eyes open. He forces himself to focus, his heart racing, looking up.
And then John groans, biting his tongue so hard blood bursts salty in his mouth, his hips stuttering forward.
Rodney has shifted around, one of his arms curled under Ronon's leg. The back of his head obscures exactly what he's doing, but John isn't an idiot, can translate the up and down of his head, the way Ronon's head is thrown back, into an explanation.
That's how this all started, Rodney blowing Ronon, and seeing it like this is killing John. He tries to keep his thrusts steady, but that's almost impossible, his hips jerking hard, restraint rapidly flying out the window. Rodney moans, and Ronon echoes the sound, one of his big hands coming around, cupping the back of Rodney's head.
John slams his hips forward, sliding his hand down Rodney's hip, needing the other man to come, needing to feel and see it. He finds Rodney hard, fists Rodney's cock, pulling fast and sloppy, his hips still working, watching Ronon guide Rodney up and down his dick.
Rodney comes shaking, hot across John's fingers, his body squeezing John's cock tight. John shouts, hips thrusting a half-dozen more times before he's following Rodney over the edge, his cock emptying deep inside Rodney's body. He wraps his arm around Rodney's waist, holding the other man up when his knees give, supporting him as Ronon's hips lift off the bed, the big man letting go surprisingly quietly.
When Rodney pulls off Ronon's cock, he's breathing hard, and limp in John's hold. John meets Ronon's eyes over Rodney's lax body, wondering if he looks as wrecked as Ronon does. After a long moment Ronon grins, tossing the damp rag at John without warning.
John blinks down at it dumbly for a moment before shaking himself. Sliding out of Rodney gets a shiver from the other man, and a muffled curse from his own throat. He tries to take a steadying breath, wiping his cock off, and then watching Ronon manhandle Rodney up towards the pillows, getting him spread out and loose across the mattress.
Ronon rumbles, "You wanna clean him up, or you want me to?" And John shakes his head, keeping his hand on Rodney's ass, moving the rag carefully. Rodney hums, settling into the bed, and John has to lean down, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, and then startling, looking up at Ronon, not sure if he's allowed.
Ronon nods, grunts, and then he's sliding down to the bed, sprawling on his back. Rodney moves without opening his eyes, pillowing his head on Ronon's shoulder, throwing one arm over Ronon's chest. John hesitates, and Rodney grumps, voice thick with exhaustion, "Get over here, you moron."
John feels himself smiling like an idiot, squirming close to Rodney, spooning up behind him, wrapping an arm around him, flattening his hand on Ronon's stomach. One of them makes a soft, contented sound, but John isn't sure which one of them it is.
::go to 'TLC' —>::
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