Porn from the id
So, I read this letter a while back in Savage Love (the kinky sex advice column by the fabulous, irascible Dan Savage) from a man whose boyfriend had, you might say, a hair-trigger prostate. Basically, as soon as the top got into his bottom's, well, bottom, the bottom just went off - orgasmed practically instantly.
Obviously, the only thing I can think about ever SINCE I read that letter is, what if John had a hair-trigger prostate? Basically I figure:
When John and Rodney first start doing dirty, naughty, delicious things to one another, it's mostly handjobs and blowjobs and such. And then they start being more adventurous, and John (obviously) knows this thing about himself, but he's John Sheppard, what are the odds that he'll talk clearly about his own sexual desires, much less the fact that two fingers up his ass can send him off like a rocket to the moon? (Rodney later calculates those odds, and they are approximately sixty billion to one, the one being incidents involving alien psychotropics.)
So Rodney discovers John's very, very sensitive prostate by accident. Afterward, John sheepishly admits that yes, he does go off unexpectedly when objects (fingers, dildos, dicks) are introduced to his ass. Rodney just nods (and finishes swallowing) and takes this new data into account.
Mostly it's handy. When he's giving John a blowjob, for instance, and his jaw starts getting tired - hey, stick two fingers up John's ass and he's done. Same goes for handjobs.
And Rodney is really very happy being fucked by John, so it doesn't matter that the three or four times they've tried getting Rodney's cock into John's (tight, narrow, gorgeous) ass, he's gone off before Rodney gets more than two or three strokes in. It's still good, after all - getting John open with tongue and fingers and dick, pushing in slowly because John's so goddamn tight. And by the time Rodney is balls-deep in John, he's shaking and barely holding off his own orgasm. So it doesn't seem to matter much that John whimpers and his eyes slam closed and he arches his back and comes, just like that. Sometimes that makes Rodney come right then anyway, and when it doesn't, Rodney always pulls out, because it seems like the correct thing to do, and besides, it's fun to jerk off and come all over John's sweaty, hairy thighs, or his ass, or the long line of his back. So really, it doesn't matter.
And did Rodney mention that he likes being fucked by John?
Because he does. John has a thing for his ass, loves to roll Rodney over and lie down between his spread legs and rim him until Rodney's pretty much nothing but a puddle of noisy, incoherent lust. Then - and only then - John will shove his fingers in, then his cock. John loves to just fuck Rodney, apparently, pull him onto his hands and knees and watch his dick slide in and out until they're both half-crazy with it. Or sometimes John will bend him over the couch in his quarters and fuck him there. Sometimes they do it face to face, and that's fantastic, but it makes Rodney's thighs ache, afterward, and besides, Rodney likes being face-down in the mattress, ass in the air, John's long-fingered hands clutching his hips as he drives himself in fast and hard.
They both like it.
But, oh, sometimes Rodney just wants to fuck John. And he knows John would take it like a champ. John loves being on his knees, Rodney's hands knotted in his hair as Rodney shoves himself into John's mouth. John loves it when Rodney pins him to the bed and they just rub off against one another, sweaty and rough and grabby and delicious. John likes Rodney's weight, loves Rodney's mouth on his neck, his hands on John's wrists, Rodney's mouth on his balls, licking his hole, opening him just so Rodney can push one finger in, then two, and John loves it when Rodney holds him down and shoves his dick in and makes him come just. Like. That.
Rodney just wants to fuck John for a long time, that's all. He wants to get into him and take his time, fuck him senseless, go senseless and a little crazy himself.
Once, after Rodney pushes in and makes John come, he waits a moment (it's so tight and good, it's better than sweets, maybe better than coffee) before he pulls out and comes all over John's thighs. A minute or two later they're lying beside each other, pleasantly sweaty and still breathing quickly.
"Good," John says, and Rodney makes a hand motion that says yes.
A moment later he turns over to look at John. "Sorry it took me a minute to pull out," he says.
John opens his eyes and lets his head loll on the pillow so he's facing Rodney. "What?"
"You know, after you came. I figure you're - you know. Sensitive. Then." Rodney makes another hand motion, this one meaning you know, since you just came and also sorry, again.
"What? Nah," John says. He closes his eyes and rolls his head away again, smiling a little. "It doesn't bother me."
"Really?" Rodney props himself up on an elbow. "Seriously, not at all?"
"Nah," John says again. "You could probably stay in there all day. I don't mind."
This is food for thought.
Later (not the same night, because seriously - who're we kidding here? - but another night), Rodney pins John to the bed. "Hey," he says, pulling back from some serious naked kissing (the kissing isn't naked, but John and Rodney are seriously naked, and also kissing).
"Hm?" John says. He already looks half debauched, hair like a black inkstain on Rodney's white pillow, mouth red and wet. "What?"
"I'm going to fuck you," Rodney says.
"Mm, good," John says. He smiles. It deepens the crow's feet around his eyes, and Rodney has to kiss him again, then rub his chin against John's to hear the rasp of their stubble, rough and perfect.
Eventually he sits up. "Turn over," Rodney instructs, and John does, still smirking a little.
When he's turned over, Rodney scoots back to kneel between his legs, resisting the urge to rub his hands together in glee at the feast of just - god. Seriously naked John Sheppard, right here in his bed! Instead, Rodney runs his hands down the backs of John's long, lean thighs. His ass and thighs aren't as hairy as you might think, but there is a nice dusting of wiry hair under Rodney's palms, somehow soft and scritchy at the same time. He spends a little time stroking his hands all over John, long sweeps down the narrow, scarred plain of his back, squeezes to his ass, gentle rubbing of his thighs, questing fingers slipping down to play with his balls as John lifts his hips (very accommodating).
After a while, Rodney leans down and, using his thumbs to hold John's cheeks apart, begins licking his way in.
Rodney loves rimming John - loves the way he shifts subtly underneath him, the way John's muscles tense and relax, the way his squirms slowly turn into almost imperceptible rocking motions until he's thrusting raggedly against the bed, breath coming in harsh gasps.
That's when Rodney pulls him up onto his knees. "I'm going to fuck you," he says, and John makes some low, rough sound - agreement, yes, in his groan, in the way he pushes his ass back, buries his head in his arms and clutches at the mattress.
Rodney slathers lube on and pushes in slowly. He has to, because although John is as open and relaxed and wanting as he's ever been, he's still tight, opened only by Rodney's tongue and the shallowest of fingering.
Rodney watches himself slide home - god, he's hard, and John's ass feels so good. He gets all the way in and hears John's breath start to hitch. "Yeah," Rodney says, soft, hands gentle on John's hips. "You feel me in there?"
John grits out "Yes" and Rodney feels him start to shudder. He pulls out and shoves in hard, once - twice - John groans and his back describes the most beautiful curve. He comes, and Rodney holds hard, deep inside him, John's body spasming around his cock.
Long moments later John sags, body collapsing into the bed. "Good?" Rodney asks, holding onto his composure by a thread.
"Mmm," John mumbles.
Rodney pulls out an inch or two, slides back in slowly. "How's that feel?"
"Mm," John says.
Rodney pulls out, grabs John and rolls him over, out of the wet spot, onto his back. John goes easily, a ragdoll with vague ideas of cooperating. "I'm going to fuck you now," Rodney says, tentatively.
John lifts one hand and lets it fall again. "'Kay," he says.
Rodney lifts John's legs further, slinging them over his own thighs; positions himself and stares down as he pushes in again. John's cock is still half hard, lying along the tender line of his thigh, and his body accepts Rodney easily, snug and warm and tight, wet with lube and the rimjob. Rodney looks up at John's face, gauging whether he's causing him discomfort or not. John's eyes are closed, his mouth soft. Rodney hitches John's legs higher and begins fucking him with slow, tight, dragging thrusts - in and out again and yet again, watching his cock slide into John's tight, gorgeous ass over and over. He wants to keep doing this forever, keep fucking John, winding himself tighter and tighter in the grip of his body, the weight of his legs and the way his head tips back, eyes closed and brow furrowed as his lips part.
"Oh god - are you okay?" Rodney gasps.
John opens glassy eyes and stares wordlessly up at him; his hands are wound into the sheets, long narrow wrists dusted with dark hair, thin fists clutching the cloth. His eyes close again and he starts breathing faster, thighs tensing against Rodney for a moment.
When Rodney looks down he sees that John's cock is hard, thick and heavy against his belly. "Oh god," Rodney says, "can you come again? Can you? John?"
John tenses again, shifts on the bed - Rodney realizes he's trying to push himself up onto Rodney's cock - and reaches blindly for his dick.
"Fuck, gonna fuck you so hard," Rodney croaks, and leans forward, getting a better purchase. He's as good as his word, speeding his strokes and thrusting harder, deeper, until he's slamming against John's ass, the wet slap of skin on skin obscene, as obscene as John's hand on his cock - jerking himself fast and hard - as obscene as John's back, arching again, bowing up toward Rodney's body as his head tips back and his jaw tightens, tendons standing out in his neck.
"Ah, ah," Rodney gasps, "fuck, I'm gonna - come on," he pleads, and John shudders under him, around him and comes, hand clutching his own cock as it spurts, as he gasps. There's not a lot of come - thin, sticky white splatter on his belly - but it feels like an earthquake from inside him and Rodney bows his head and shoves forward three times, coming hard, surge after surge of pleasure making him groan and shake.
When it's done he comes down hard; his arms are shaking from holding himself up over John, and he pulls back gingerly, easing free of the slick grasp of John's body with a hiss, then lowering himself to rest on John, both of them sticky and sweaty and messy and hot and grateful.
"Jesus," John says a minute later, one hand - hopefully not the one covered in semen - coming up to touch Rodney's hair tenderly. "That was intense."
"Yeah," Rodney says. He sighs into John's neck, then rolls to the side, kissing John's shoulder as he goes. "It's a miracle I didn't have a stroke."
"Mm." John pats his hip lazily. "We should do that again soon."
Rodney yawns, and stretches his legs out, ignoring the obvious joke. His thighs are a little achy. "Maybe in a month. After I've had a pacemaker installed."
John makes a small huffing noise - a laugh, probably. "Maybe tomorrow."
Rodney smiles and rolls a little, so he can throw one arm over John's waist. "Maybe."
Obviously, the only thing I can think about ever SINCE I read that letter is, what if John had a hair-trigger prostate? Basically I figure:
When John and Rodney first start doing dirty, naughty, delicious things to one another, it's mostly handjobs and blowjobs and such. And then they start being more adventurous, and John (obviously) knows this thing about himself, but he's John Sheppard, what are the odds that he'll talk clearly about his own sexual desires, much less the fact that two fingers up his ass can send him off like a rocket to the moon? (Rodney later calculates those odds, and they are approximately sixty billion to one, the one being incidents involving alien psychotropics.)
So Rodney discovers John's very, very sensitive prostate by accident. Afterward, John sheepishly admits that yes, he does go off unexpectedly when objects (fingers, dildos, dicks) are introduced to his ass. Rodney just nods (and finishes swallowing) and takes this new data into account.
Mostly it's handy. When he's giving John a blowjob, for instance, and his jaw starts getting tired - hey, stick two fingers up John's ass and he's done. Same goes for handjobs.
And Rodney is really very happy being fucked by John, so it doesn't matter that the three or four times they've tried getting Rodney's cock into John's (tight, narrow, gorgeous) ass, he's gone off before Rodney gets more than two or three strokes in. It's still good, after all - getting John open with tongue and fingers and dick, pushing in slowly because John's so goddamn tight. And by the time Rodney is balls-deep in John, he's shaking and barely holding off his own orgasm. So it doesn't seem to matter much that John whimpers and his eyes slam closed and he arches his back and comes, just like that. Sometimes that makes Rodney come right then anyway, and when it doesn't, Rodney always pulls out, because it seems like the correct thing to do, and besides, it's fun to jerk off and come all over John's sweaty, hairy thighs, or his ass, or the long line of his back. So really, it doesn't matter.
And did Rodney mention that he likes being fucked by John?
Because he does. John has a thing for his ass, loves to roll Rodney over and lie down between his spread legs and rim him until Rodney's pretty much nothing but a puddle of noisy, incoherent lust. Then - and only then - John will shove his fingers in, then his cock. John loves to just fuck Rodney, apparently, pull him onto his hands and knees and watch his dick slide in and out until they're both half-crazy with it. Or sometimes John will bend him over the couch in his quarters and fuck him there. Sometimes they do it face to face, and that's fantastic, but it makes Rodney's thighs ache, afterward, and besides, Rodney likes being face-down in the mattress, ass in the air, John's long-fingered hands clutching his hips as he drives himself in fast and hard.
They both like it.
But, oh, sometimes Rodney just wants to fuck John. And he knows John would take it like a champ. John loves being on his knees, Rodney's hands knotted in his hair as Rodney shoves himself into John's mouth. John loves it when Rodney pins him to the bed and they just rub off against one another, sweaty and rough and grabby and delicious. John likes Rodney's weight, loves Rodney's mouth on his neck, his hands on John's wrists, Rodney's mouth on his balls, licking his hole, opening him just so Rodney can push one finger in, then two, and John loves it when Rodney holds him down and shoves his dick in and makes him come just. Like. That.
Rodney just wants to fuck John for a long time, that's all. He wants to get into him and take his time, fuck him senseless, go senseless and a little crazy himself.
Once, after Rodney pushes in and makes John come, he waits a moment (it's so tight and good, it's better than sweets, maybe better than coffee) before he pulls out and comes all over John's thighs. A minute or two later they're lying beside each other, pleasantly sweaty and still breathing quickly.
"Good," John says, and Rodney makes a hand motion that says yes.
A moment later he turns over to look at John. "Sorry it took me a minute to pull out," he says.
John opens his eyes and lets his head loll on the pillow so he's facing Rodney. "What?"
"You know, after you came. I figure you're - you know. Sensitive. Then." Rodney makes another hand motion, this one meaning you know, since you just came and also sorry, again.
"What? Nah," John says. He closes his eyes and rolls his head away again, smiling a little. "It doesn't bother me."
"Really?" Rodney props himself up on an elbow. "Seriously, not at all?"
"Nah," John says again. "You could probably stay in there all day. I don't mind."
This is food for thought.
Later (not the same night, because seriously - who're we kidding here? - but another night), Rodney pins John to the bed. "Hey," he says, pulling back from some serious naked kissing (the kissing isn't naked, but John and Rodney are seriously naked, and also kissing).
"Hm?" John says. He already looks half debauched, hair like a black inkstain on Rodney's white pillow, mouth red and wet. "What?"
"I'm going to fuck you," Rodney says.
"Mm, good," John says. He smiles. It deepens the crow's feet around his eyes, and Rodney has to kiss him again, then rub his chin against John's to hear the rasp of their stubble, rough and perfect.
Eventually he sits up. "Turn over," Rodney instructs, and John does, still smirking a little.
When he's turned over, Rodney scoots back to kneel between his legs, resisting the urge to rub his hands together in glee at the feast of just - god. Seriously naked John Sheppard, right here in his bed! Instead, Rodney runs his hands down the backs of John's long, lean thighs. His ass and thighs aren't as hairy as you might think, but there is a nice dusting of wiry hair under Rodney's palms, somehow soft and scritchy at the same time. He spends a little time stroking his hands all over John, long sweeps down the narrow, scarred plain of his back, squeezes to his ass, gentle rubbing of his thighs, questing fingers slipping down to play with his balls as John lifts his hips (very accommodating).
After a while, Rodney leans down and, using his thumbs to hold John's cheeks apart, begins licking his way in.
Rodney loves rimming John - loves the way he shifts subtly underneath him, the way John's muscles tense and relax, the way his squirms slowly turn into almost imperceptible rocking motions until he's thrusting raggedly against the bed, breath coming in harsh gasps.
That's when Rodney pulls him up onto his knees. "I'm going to fuck you," he says, and John makes some low, rough sound - agreement, yes, in his groan, in the way he pushes his ass back, buries his head in his arms and clutches at the mattress.
Rodney slathers lube on and pushes in slowly. He has to, because although John is as open and relaxed and wanting as he's ever been, he's still tight, opened only by Rodney's tongue and the shallowest of fingering.
Rodney watches himself slide home - god, he's hard, and John's ass feels so good. He gets all the way in and hears John's breath start to hitch. "Yeah," Rodney says, soft, hands gentle on John's hips. "You feel me in there?"
John grits out "Yes" and Rodney feels him start to shudder. He pulls out and shoves in hard, once - twice - John groans and his back describes the most beautiful curve. He comes, and Rodney holds hard, deep inside him, John's body spasming around his cock.
Long moments later John sags, body collapsing into the bed. "Good?" Rodney asks, holding onto his composure by a thread.
"Mmm," John mumbles.
Rodney pulls out an inch or two, slides back in slowly. "How's that feel?"
"Mm," John says.
Rodney pulls out, grabs John and rolls him over, out of the wet spot, onto his back. John goes easily, a ragdoll with vague ideas of cooperating. "I'm going to fuck you now," Rodney says, tentatively.
John lifts one hand and lets it fall again. "'Kay," he says.
Rodney lifts John's legs further, slinging them over his own thighs; positions himself and stares down as he pushes in again. John's cock is still half hard, lying along the tender line of his thigh, and his body accepts Rodney easily, snug and warm and tight, wet with lube and the rimjob. Rodney looks up at John's face, gauging whether he's causing him discomfort or not. John's eyes are closed, his mouth soft. Rodney hitches John's legs higher and begins fucking him with slow, tight, dragging thrusts - in and out again and yet again, watching his cock slide into John's tight, gorgeous ass over and over. He wants to keep doing this forever, keep fucking John, winding himself tighter and tighter in the grip of his body, the weight of his legs and the way his head tips back, eyes closed and brow furrowed as his lips part.
"Oh god - are you okay?" Rodney gasps.
John opens glassy eyes and stares wordlessly up at him; his hands are wound into the sheets, long narrow wrists dusted with dark hair, thin fists clutching the cloth. His eyes close again and he starts breathing faster, thighs tensing against Rodney for a moment.
When Rodney looks down he sees that John's cock is hard, thick and heavy against his belly. "Oh god," Rodney says, "can you come again? Can you? John?"
John tenses again, shifts on the bed - Rodney realizes he's trying to push himself up onto Rodney's cock - and reaches blindly for his dick.
"Fuck, gonna fuck you so hard," Rodney croaks, and leans forward, getting a better purchase. He's as good as his word, speeding his strokes and thrusting harder, deeper, until he's slamming against John's ass, the wet slap of skin on skin obscene, as obscene as John's hand on his cock - jerking himself fast and hard - as obscene as John's back, arching again, bowing up toward Rodney's body as his head tips back and his jaw tightens, tendons standing out in his neck.
"Ah, ah," Rodney gasps, "fuck, I'm gonna - come on," he pleads, and John shudders under him, around him and comes, hand clutching his own cock as it spurts, as he gasps. There's not a lot of come - thin, sticky white splatter on his belly - but it feels like an earthquake from inside him and Rodney bows his head and shoves forward three times, coming hard, surge after surge of pleasure making him groan and shake.
When it's done he comes down hard; his arms are shaking from holding himself up over John, and he pulls back gingerly, easing free of the slick grasp of John's body with a hiss, then lowering himself to rest on John, both of them sticky and sweaty and messy and hot and grateful.
"Jesus," John says a minute later, one hand - hopefully not the one covered in semen - coming up to touch Rodney's hair tenderly. "That was intense."
"Yeah," Rodney says. He sighs into John's neck, then rolls to the side, kissing John's shoulder as he goes. "It's a miracle I didn't have a stroke."
"Mm." John pats his hip lazily. "We should do that again soon."
Rodney yawns, and stretches his legs out, ignoring the obvious joke. His thighs are a little achy. "Maybe in a month. After I've had a pacemaker installed."
John makes a small huffing noise - a laugh, probably. "Maybe tomorrow."
Rodney smiles and rolls a little, so he can throw one arm over John's waist. "Maybe."