Title: Ask Me Anything
Prompt: John/Rodney - Hurt/comfort (John on the receiving end)John Sheppard/Rodney McKay/Ronon Dex kinks- bondage, fisting, biting, breath play, blinfolds, cock rings. Something I'd love to see written- inculding Ronon's scarring (not focusing on it so much as actually admitting it exists).
Warning: Erotic Asphyxiation
Summary: Ask me anything. He wasn't expecting the reply he got.
Rodney dashed off the one-sentence e-mail on a whim. It was a rare free moment in the lab, in between bites of turkey sandwich, when he'd leaned over his laptop and opened up the the private channel he'd created for John and himself. He wasn't really thinking about what might come of it, if anything. He and John had explored each other's fantasies considerably and found, fortunately, that their desires were largely complimentary. But even so, no matter how much Rodney learned, he still found that John could surprise him. It was one of the reasons he liked him so much.
* * *
Six simulations, two powerbars, and one shouting match with Zelenka later, Rodney finally got a chance to check his laptop again.
He couldn't hold back a smile when he saw it:
Only it wasn't a message, per se. It was . . . a story. Some kind of pulp-fictiony thing, from the looks of it, and this definitely wasn't what Rodney had been expecting. He slid the laptop around the table, so he could be sure no one was reading over his shoulder, and pulled up a stool.
The story started out like a million like it: A "notorious" leather bar in the wrong part of town . . . muscled, tough-guy tops and spit-shined, pretty-boy subs enacting what Rodney thought were pretty tired cliches . . . a nervous but eager sub, shy and inexperienced, who falls under the spell of the toughest top in the room--the one all the other subs are too afraid to approach.
(Rodney never understood why so much "erotica" portrayed subs as weak, empty-headed, and easily manipulated. Not when there were plenty of smart, tough, definitely-had-their-shit-together subs out there. Subs like John. And that kind was definitely more interesting.)
But this couldn't-hold-a-candle-to-John-sub soon catches the eye of the top of his dreams, of course, who can "see right through him", and after some theatrical display in the bar that to any sane person would be considered a major red flag, but in this sort of alternate universe is practically foreplay, the sub is predictably invited home with the top (making all the other subs jealous!), and is soon bound and gagged and on his knees, "shaking with nervousness and anticipation" and there's some whipping, the standard stuff, and then . . .
Rodney hadn't seen that coming. No wonder John had cut and pasted some pulp-fiction story he found God-knows-where, instead of coming right out with it.
His eyes sped over the relevant parts again, but Zelenka was already trying to get his attention with something, so he snapped the laptop shut with a click.
* * *
That night John and Rodney had what passed for a date between the two of them.
They'd never really dated, at least not in the way some people do, but then again, they weren't the kind of people who probably would have anyway, given different, less "fighting for their lives in a strange galaxy" circumstances: the closeted, mostly gay Air Force officer and the socially awkward, mostly straight astrophysicist who was married to his job.
But neither one of them was discontent with what they did have: an easy friendship that quickly became flirtatious, significant looks that quickly became handjobs (and a particularly memorable blowjob in the lab when someone could have walked in at any time). And then the thrill of secrecy had worn off and they still really, really liked each other, so they'd settled into a pleasant routine of spending the evening in one or the other's quarters a few nights a week. And as they'd gotten to know each other better, they carved out time about once a week for more elaborate sexual activities.
That night, they watched a DVD--or rather, John did--Rodney fell asleep half way through, and when the credits rolled John woke him up with a kiss to his neck and a hand working it's way into his waistband.
"Hey," Rodney said groggily.
"Hey," John said, covering his mouth with a kiss and working Rodney's fly open.
"How'd the movie turn out?" Rodney asked, when John let him catch a breath.
"Started out pretty interesting, but there was a lot of snoring at the end, some drool."
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Excuse me for being in the lab 'til 3AM this morning--"
John cut him off with another kiss, wet and soft-lipped, and before he knew it, Rodney felt gentle, calloused hands stroking him towards an erection. John was already hard, rubbing himself lightly against Rodney's thigh as their tongues slid over one another.
All it took was one breathy, pleading "Rodney--" before Rodney had mercy on him, pulling his pants down just enough to take John's cock in hand with firm, knowing strokes, sliding his thumb over the moistened head until John shuddered and let his head fall into the crook of Rodney's neck as he came.
A few deep breaths later John reached for Rodney's flagging erection.
"Don't worry about it, I'm too tired."
"You're not too tired."
But John's mouth was already on him, warm and wet and insistent, so Rodney couldn't help but thread his fingers through John's dark hair, encouraging him silently, and just as he was beginning to feel guilty for taking too long, John found just the right combination of licking and suction to put over the edge.
* * *
"Got your e-mail this afternoon," Rodney said after they'd laid in silence, half-dozing for awhile.
"Yeah?" John said uncertainly. When Rodney didn't say anything else, he lifted his head
from the pillow.
"If you don't want--"
"No, I do. I'm . . . intrigued, even. Just surprised, that's all."
* * *
The next day, Rodney managed to catch John alone in the transporter after lunch.
"Here it is. We can do this, but . . . it's going to be my way. You're not allowed to pass out. You pass out, I just know I'll freak. So. Take it or leave it, I guess." Rodney looked flushed.
John just stood there with his hands on his hips, his face unreadable for a moment, before leaning in and kissing him, hard, pushing them both against the wall. "I'll be looking forward to it," John grinned (that cocky, flyboy grin, Rodney thought). He pulled away just as the doors opened and left without looking back. Rodney had to take the long way to the lab to wait for his arousal to become less obvious.
* * *
John loved this ritual they had. He took a long, hot shower, cleaned himself inside and out, and got the toys out of the closet so they'd be within easy reach. He looked at the clock at least half a dozen times, until it was finally time for him to kneel in the middle of the floor, naked, with his eyes trained downward. He waited patiently for the shadow to fall across the floor as the door opened with a whoosh, and when it did, he started to relax almost immediately.
John loved this part of the week, where there were no pressures, no politics, no life or death decisions (no decisions, period), just Rodney slowly but surely working him into the headspace where he was completely at ease, where he could completely let go.
Rodney took a seat at the table where their small but well-used set of toys was laid out, looking them over thoughtfully.
"Come here, John." There was never even a hint of uncertainty in his voice when they did this; this was much more like Rodney that ran the lab with complete confidence than the one that might not find the right words in a social situation. But his voice was different than the one he used to cow his scientists--more relaxed, deeper, especially as it took on an edge of lust.
John obeyed without hesitation, even if crawling across the floor on his hands and knees never seemed to get any easier. The color rose to his cheeks, just the way he knew
Rodney liked, and his cock started to grow hard even as his stomach flipped a little in protest.
He took off Rodney's boots, as he was told, folding the socks neatly and placing them to side. Rodney opened his legs for John to settle himself between, and John knew without looking what Rodney was reaching for. His eyes fluttered shut as the collar pulled around his neck, snug but not vicious. He drew in the scent of leather as he took a few deep breaths. Rodney ran his fingers over it approvingly before motioning for John to get up on his lap, facing him, straddling the scientist's strong thighs. John never failed to be amazed at how vulnerable this made him feel--his naked body, his hard, leaking cock pressed up against Rodney's still fully-clothed body.
There was nothing John could do but let himself be touched, let himself be kissed. Rodney’s mouth pressed possessively on his own, his tongue pushing insistently between his lips, warm hands sliding over his chest and sides. Rodney gripped at his biceps as if to hold him still, though John offered no resistance. Rodney pushed two fingers in John's mouth and he sucked them obediently, sighing quietly as Rodney withdrew them and brought them to his nipple, teasing gently, then working up to hard pulls and twists.
John hadn't been told to do anything, so he rested his head on Rodney's shoulder and lost himself in the sensations. Rodney's rough treatment of his nipples made him tense and wince, but he alternated with shiver-inducing softer touches up and down his chest, and the counterpoint between the two making him feel each all the more vividly.
"We’re going to get right to it," Rodney said quietly, pulling John from his revelry, "because I think if we did anything else, you’d just spend the whole time wondering how soon we were going to get there.”
John didn’t speak; he hadn’t been told to. Rodney kissed him again and guided him back onto floor as he stood.
“There’s any number of ways we could do this, but I think you’d like it best if it were my cock, wouldn’t you?”
John didn’t have to answer for Rodney to see the affirmative on his face. He watched as Rodney undid the front of his pants and released his cock, already hard and flushed red. Rodney took him by the hair and pulled his head back, sliding the tip of his cock over John's parted lips, smearing them with pre-come. John's tongue hardly had a chance to seek out the liquid before Rodney pressed the head between John's lips. John suckled the tip and teased the slit with his tongue, his eyes falling shut as he let himself go, focusing completely on Rodney's pleasure, allowing all other thoughts dim and fade out of his consciousness.
When Rodney released his hair, he brought his tongue down to the shaft, sliding his tongue up and down the sensitive underside and sucking in first one, than the other testicle. Rodney moaned, thrusting his hips forward in response. John teased him gently with his mouth and tongue until Rodney took him roughly by hair and pushed into his mouth, quickly enough that he barely had time to open wide enough for him.
"Put your left hand on my hip." John couldn't help but be pleased that Rodney's voice was already ragged with need. "You need to stop, for any reason, drop your hand from there. That's your safe gesture. Understand?"
John obeyed, nodding as best he could, and then Rodney's grip tightened, holding him perfectly still. He closed his lips firmly as Rodney began to fuck his mouth shallowly. He took deep breaths through his nose as Rodney pressed him further and further down the shaft, until his nose was almost against Rodney's body.
And then, in one thrust, Rodney's cock was in his throat, past his gag reflex, and he had to will himself to relax his throat and stay in control of his body as Rodney moaned at the spasming muscles massaging his cock. Just as he started to relax and adjust to Rodney's thrusts, he felt Rodney pinch his nose closed, cutting off his air entirely.
He closed his eyes tightly, concentrating on the incredible feeling of how deep Rodney's cock was, doing his best to lick and suck as Rodney fucked his throat.
And then his oxygen was gone and concentration started to give way to fear. Not panic, because he trusted Rodney completely, but just the visceral reality that he couldn't breathe and his lungs were beginning to ache and he was getting more and more light-headed.
Rodney looked down at him, mesmerized John's submission. It was beautiful, watching him struggle with himself, seeing his basic instinct war with his desire to be completely, totally under Rodney's control. When his eyes fluttered open, helpless, wetness springing to each corner as the last of his oxygen ran out, Rodney knew he couldn't take much more.
"Touch yourself, John. Come for me."
John's hand rushed to his cock and he began thrusting helplessly into his fist. He was on the razor's edge as it was, and now, seeing the raw pleasure on Rodney's face was all it took to push him over the edge. The last thing he remembered, before the mind-shattering orgasm, was his throat filling come and the blackness closing in on him, seconds before the air whooshed back into his lungs.
* * *
He didn't entirely remember ending up in bed, or Rodney undressing and pressing their bodies up against one another, back to front. He slowly became aware of Rodney's breath on the back on his neck, his warm chest against his back, their legs comfortably entwined, and Rodney's hand resting lightly but possessively on his hip.
"How do you feel?"
John had to think a minute to put words to delicious sensations enveloping him. Nothing really came to mind.
"Like I'm . . . floating?"
Rodney chuckled sofly.
"I didn't pass out, did I?"
John could feel the smile against his neck, and the gentle kiss that followed it.
"Not quite. Just about, though."
"I didn't mean--"
"Don't apologize. I really liked seeing you like that. Trusting me so much."
John didn't have the energy to do much more than murmur in response, inching his body closer to Rodney's as he feel asleep.