Jul. 31st, 2008
Disclaimer: Not mine!
John watches Rodney all day. He can't help it. Knowing that the plug is there, right under his pants, is all John can really think about. He's starting to think that maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to use it, because he's walking around painfully hard and sooner or later someone is going to notice that he's sporting some serious wood.
It starts in the morning staff meeting, when Rodney keeps shifting, and doesn't sit down through the whole meeting. When Rodney has to give an explanation for a satellite they found, John doesn't even hear a word he says, staring at his ass, remembering what Rodney had looked like this morning in bed, fucked out and gorgeous, the dark plug contrasting with his pale ass. John is ridiculously glad that he brought a magazine with him to the briefing.
Then there's the mess hall, watching Rodney eat while sitting on the very edge of his seat. And that's before he even notices that Rodney's hard too, before he gets fixated on the color high in Rodney's cheeks, the way Rodney keeps biting as his bottom lip and squeezing his eyes shut.
And then there's now, leaning against the wall of Rodney's lab, watching him gasp when he moves too quickly. Zelenka is casting annoyed looks around the room, and Rodney is blushing crimson and John just can't stand it anymore.
Rodney startles when John places a hand on his back, leaning down to growl into his ear, "Can I talk to you in your office for a minute?" The look Rodney shoots him is wide-eyed, and John flashes him a sharp smile.
Rodney swallows audibly, gasping out, "Right, yes, of course you can," and John strokes his thumb across Rodney's spine, steering him towards the little room that is variably Rodney's office and locking the door behind them because he's lost all hope of controlling himself.
Rodney turns to look at him, mouth open around a question, and John leans down, kissing him hard and deep. Rodney whimpers against his mouth, and John groans, leaning his shoulders back against the wall and pulling Rodney tight up against him.
It's easy to slide one of his thighs between Rodney's legs, to slide his hand down the curve of Rodney's ass, pushing his fingers right up against the plug and yanking Rodney closer. Rodney shouts, something that doesn't sound like an actual word, grabbing John's arms and burying his face against John's shoulder, rubbing his erection against John's thigh, already desperate and shaking.
John turns his head, so that he can pant against Rodney's ear, "I keep thinking about this," he pushes against the plug, Rodney making a tight whining sound, grinding against John. "I keep thinking about what you're going to look like when we take it out," Rodney shakes, his whole body trembling, widening his stance, gasping nosily against John's throat. "Me and Ronon's come, just sliding down your legs, all over your skin."
"God, John, please," Rodney is pleading, voice high and tight, and John wonders if he even knows what he's asking for, if he cares. He's trembling, humping against John's thigh, and John pushes hard against the plug again, just to feel the way it makes Rodney jerk.
John grinds out, "You want me to call Ronon? Get him to come down here so we can bend you over your desk and fuck you while our come slicks down your thighs?"
"Yes! Yes, please, John," and Rodney's breath is hitching. John thinks Rodney might just slide to the ground without his support, and the entire thing is too much. He nips at the lobe of Rodney's ear, breathing hard and jerky himself.
John manages, "Come for me first," and Rodney wails against his shoulder, hips jerking hard, going limp with orgasm. John catches him, holds him up, rubbing a hand up and down Rodney's back, thumbing his radio on, his voice coming out thick and deep when he calls for Ronon.
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