Jul. 31st, 2008
Series: Branding Verse
Disclaimer: Not mine!
The thing is, John thinks, watching Rodney laugh and jump onto Ronon's back, toppling them both down onto the motel bed, the thing is that she hadn't said anything that John hadn't already thought about himself. Somehow, hearing it actually spoken makes it all so much worse.
Ronon and Rodney are pushing and shoving at each other, Ronon's expression all affection and desire when he allows Rodney to roll him onto his back. Rodney is laughing breathlessly, grinding his hips down against Ronon's and tossing his hair back out of his face and all John can hear is, You're letting your dad take you out for your birthday? That's so sweet!
On the bed, Ronon is flipping Rodney, shoving a leg between Rodney's thighs, grabbing Rodney's wrists and pinning them to the bed before they lock together in a hard, desperate, kiss. When they break apart Rodney is laughing again, writhing beneath Ronon, gasping when Ronon shifts down to mouth at his chest through his shirt, "John! John, get over here!"
And John wants to. God knows he wants to. But. But it's hard to see anything but how young Rodney is, blond curls spilling across white sheets, blue eyes bright with lust. John doesn't really have any idea who he thought he was fooling, because, god, what kind of pervert does it make him that he wants someone who looks young enough to be his son? Knowing that he wants Ronon too doesn't make him feel much better, because hell, Ronon's ten years younger than him as well.
On the bed the laughter is fading, Ronon rocking up onto his heels and staring at John. Rodney pushes up onto one elbow, his cheeks flushed red, a bruise purpling up on his neck where Ronon bit him. He tilts his head to the side, mouth twisting down when he says, "John? You can't leave me alone to deal with this maniac."
John shifts his weight from foot to foot, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat. He nods towards the door, "I was actually thinking I might go out for a while." And damn that flash of hurt across Rodney's features, the way he blinks rapidly and sits up completely, crawling across the bed towards John.
Rodney's protesting, "What? No. No, it's my birthday and you're gong to come over here and fuck me with Ronon." He stumbles a little when he stands, a little drunk too. John feels something go tight in his stomach, and then Rodney is there, in his space, sliding his clever hands under John's coat, up over John's chest, rocking up onto his toes to kiss John filthily.
When Rodney rocks back, after a long moment, his mouth is wet and shiny and John's hands have found their way to Rodney's waist, quite without any instruction from John himself. Rodney tugs on the lapels of John's coat, "John? I want you to. You want to. I'm not seeing a big issue here."
John wishes it were easier to think with Rodney's body pressed all up against his. He licks his lips, cutting a glance to the side when Ronon stands and moves towards them. He finally manages, "I'm old enough to be your father."
Rodney blinks, frowning, and then tilts his head to the side. He sounds completely puzzled, "What? No you're not. You're, what, one year older than me? My dad is sixty-four. How much did you have to drink?"
John shakes his head, the words sour and heavy in his mouth, "With you like this," he waves a hand helplessly, looking to Ronon for support, because Ronon is insanely protective of Rodney, and surely he's got to be aware that this whole thing says something disturbing about John's mind.
And then Rodney heaves a sigh, and says, "Ronon," all firm and expectant. John doesn't even have time to blink before Ronon is grabbing him, tearing John's coat off and restraining his arms when John tries to jerk away. John finds himself manhandled over to the bed, Rodney grumbling the entire time, "I should have expected you to pull something this stupid. Honestly, are you that concerned what some random strangers might think about us?"
That sharp flare of hurt is still in Rodney's eyes, and John now feels like an asshole and a pervert. Ronon pushes him down onto the bed, shoving John down against the mattress and kissing him hard. John manages, when Ronon pulls away, "You deserve—"
And Rodney is kissing him again, stealing the words, cupping the back of John's head and turning the kiss into something slow and languid. When he pulls away his eyes are closed, lashes dark across his cheeks, voice rough, "How about we just go with what I want? I want Ronon. I want you. I'm a forty year old man, I don't think you have to worry about taking advantage."
John opens his mouth, because he can be stubborn when he needs to be, and Ronon rumbles, "I wouldn't let you do anything to him if it was hurting him. You're okay." And, oddly, that's a relief. John blinks up at them and then nods, though his stomach is still tense and the waitress' words are still replaying through his mind.
Rodney huffs, "Finally," and then he slaps John's stomach, "Take your clothes off and get on your back, c'mon."
John thinks about protesting again, but it's Rodney's birthday, and he's done quite enough already. They can continue this later. Instead he pulls his shirt off, pausing to watch Ronon strip, and then squirming out of his jeans.
John is just leaning back on the sheets, thinking that it seems kind of unfair to have Rodney ride him on his birthday, when the lube clicks open. John shifts up onto his elbows, because he might be feeling guilty about this whole thing, but he can't help but wanting to watch, and Rodney pushes John's thighs apart, settling between them and sliding a slick finger back over John's balls.
John shouts, surprised, and Ronon braces a hand flat on his chest. Rodney pauses, gaze dark and serious, still dressed, and asks, "Is this okay?"
For a moment all John can do is gape at them both, and then he just nods, speechless. Rodney smiles at him, sweet and crooked, and then he's sliding his finger back, into John's body. John groans again, because it's been a long time. He presses up against Ronon's hand, and Ronon bends over him, kissing him deep and slow while Rodney works him open.
When John moans, Ronon catches the sound, swallowing it down. John reaches for him desperately, holding on to the other man's arms as Rodney works another finger into him. John's pretty sure his legs are trembling, surprise and want making him dizzy. Ronon rasps against his mouth, "We've got you."
John manages another nod, digging his fingers into Ronon's biceps, gasping when Rodney eases a third finger into him, and crooks them. And John had thought for sure there was no chance he was going to manage words again, but he grunts out, "Fuck, yeah."
Rodney answering smile is unrepentantly smug. And then he's shifting back, bending forward to kiss John's stomach when he slides his fingers free. John squirms on the blankets, and Ronon kisses him again, shutting him up and giving him something to focus on, and John hears the whisper of Rodney's zipper being pulled down as loudly as a scream.
Rodney runs his palms up the inside of John's thighs, and then hesitates. His voice is tense, "Can I?" and John pushes Ronon back long enough to nod, before pulling him back, holding on.
It's not a one smooth stroke in. Rodney has to pause, hands squeezing tight around John's thighs and hips, easing in and breathing hard. John and Ronon shift apart again, and John finds himself staring at Rodney's expression, his head hanging down, bottom lip caught between his teeth, eyes squeezed tight.
John shifts his hips just a little, taking Rodney deeper, and Rodney groans loud, sinking into him. For a moment they freeze like that, and then Rodney blinks, eyes fluttering. His mouth is red from the bites, his voice low and thick when he rasps, "I won't, god, won't last."
And all John can do is grin, wrapping his legs around Rodney's waist and squeezing.
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