Birthday Pressie for mckays_girl
Hi, Sweetie!
Here's your birthday pressie, hope you like! NC17 for lots of porny goodness!
1. SluttyBottom!John and lab table
Radek’s too used to him now, years of working together giving the little Czech immunity to his most effective weapons: the look, his razor-sharp intellect and the edge of his tongue. He leaves with a laptop and some reports under his arm, ignoring the pointed glare that he has to feel right between his pointy little shoulder blades.
Rodney stares at John, standing by the door, looking smug and not at all apologetic.
“Didn’t we agree you wouldn’t come by the lab between 10 and midnight? This is when I get most of my work done - the proper work, not the babysitting and making sure my brain dead lab team doesn’t blow up the city!”
John moves like slow motion, easy and smooth, as though he knows everything else will slow down to match his rhythm. Cocky bastard. He slides up on to the lab table, and lets his legs fall open.
“You could always work on me, Rodney.” Hazel eyes sparkle, and John’s lips twitch mischievously.
“Slut,” Rodney tells him, as a tongue traces the line of his jaw and he thinks the door locked. “You won’t get me a Nobel prize.”
Tomorrow, he’ll need to find a way to keep John out of the lab - maybe his playful ‘well, tie me up if I’m bothering you’ suggestion was a good idea after all.
2. Alcohol and rimming
“Fuck,” John hisses, and Rodney just grins at him.
“Cold?” he teases, and waits until John nods and turns pleading eyes on him before he dips his head and puts his mouth where the dark liquid is pooled in John’s belly button. He sucks, his toes curling at how unsexy that sound is. John...he doesn’t think John’s too bothered, because he’s pushing up against Rodney, moaning and barely hanging on.
Rodney reaches for the bottle again - however the Gelmi ferment this stuff, it’s good, rich and plummy, and tingles warmly as it goes down. He crawls lower, watching John’s eyes widen, waiting for him to call a halt. He sees the warring factions there - go on and don’t you dare, McKay. But he doesn’t say anything, so Rodney licks the tip of his cock, and pours.
He almost drops the bottle when John practically bounces off the bed. He puts it down on the rough table by the bed while he uses his other hand on John’s stomach, keeping him there.
“Easy,” he soothes, and takes John in, going as far down as he can. His mouth is a no man’s land, struggling through a mixture of flavours, John and the fiery velvet of the drink, and he goes after all of it. He licks almost frantically, chasing every last drop he can find.
“You missed a bit,” John pants, and Rodney knows it. Liquid rolls downhill, after all. He nudges John half onto his front, pushing his upper leg forward so he can get there, and slowly, almost luxuriously cleans the last traces of liquor from John’s hole. John loves this and hates it; he always says that Rodney’s tongue has many talents, and it’s almost more than his ass can stand. He likes to last, and rimming just takes him too damn close. That’s why Rodney stops when he does, and pushes John all the way around, moving to settle over him until John’s recovered enough to take him.
3. First time, aliens made them do it, against the wall
Elizabeth knows, Carson knows, and Caldwell...Caldwell has maybe guessed.
Ronon and Teyla were there, and would have been first to find out even if they hadn’t been, and they’re waiting in John’s room.
None of the others quite know what to say, and John sees Rodney shift uneasily out of the corner of his eye, and wants to know. But he can’t exactly ask, and all he can do is think what it felt like...
...Rodney shoving him up against the wall, and reaching down to slip strong hands beneath his thighs and haul his legs up to lock around his waist. A sudden pain, so sharp, Oh God, I can’t, and Rodney kissing him, a distraction so sweet and overwhelming that it camouflages the discomfort and John thinks that Carson should try pouring that into an IV next time he gets an owie.
“I think you should both go and see Kate,” Carson says. “An’ I mean that, John. Rodney. It can only help.”
Elizabeth nods, and her smile says lots of things all at once: I’m sorry it happened, I understand, I’m not judging, yes - you will go and see Kate.
Caldwell looks like he’s swallowed a prickly burr and might need it surgically removed. John could help with that. No IV for him, though.
Rodney leans forward, and maybe no one will notice the way the motion puts him slightly in front of John. John notices, and notices the way Rodney’s hand hesitates before it drops to his own knee, fingers still surreptitiously brushing the fabric of John’s pants.
“We’ll fit it in,” he says, and stands up, so John does too. They don’t say anything as they leave, walking through the Gate room, trying to split the curious stares from the hostile ones.
John wonders what they would all say if they knew that the tribe on PX9-800 didn’t make them do it.
They just made them do it sooner.
4. Puddlejumper, dirty talk
Gaul and Abrams might be nervous, but they’re geeks, and everything around them is new. They keep John in sight, but they don’t walk so close now that there’s a three car collision every time John stops.
“I was flying in a straight line,” Rodney pouts, and John rolls his eyes. How can McKay still be going on about that?
“Well, I guess the infallible Ancient guidance system was all wrong then, McKay. I apologise.”
Rodney snorts at him. “No one thinks you’re funny, Major. Except maybe you?” He strides around a small bump in the sand, glaring at it like it might be some cunning trap for genius Canadian astrophysicists. John wonders how he’ll react when he finds out they need to climb that dune up ahead.
“Look, McKay - you weren’t doing too bad. You just need the right motivation.” He glances back at Gaul and Abrams, ready to reel them in if they’ve wondered too far. They’re close, but not too close, and that’s fine.
“If you’re going to bribe me with powerbars, I don’t think Elizabeth would approve of such a frivolous use of our resources. Why? Do you have any toffee ones left?”
John sighs, and catches the shoulder of Rodney’s tac vest, stopping his mouth and his feet. Gaul and Abrams are catching up so he needs to make this fast.
“When we get back, you and I are taking the jumper to the mainland and we are going to teach you to fly. Properly. In a straight line. You’ll land, and take off. You’ll practise climbs, and emergency manoeuvres. And every time you do it right, McKay, I am going to do something for you.”
“There are only two things you can do for me, Major. One of them is to arrest Kavanagh for the abuse of science and my patience. The other is to stop tugging on me like that, you’re going to pull me over.”
John doesn’t let go. He leans in a little closer, so that his breathe tickles Rodney’s ear, and he doesn’t miss the tiny involuntary shiver.
“I am going to get out of my uniform, Rodney. And while you’re flying - because a good pilot has to focus on more than just the controls - I am going to kneel between your legs and suck you off. Do you think you’ll be able to concentrate while I do that, McKay? While you’re coming in my mouth?”
Rodney’s face drains but only for a moment. A deep red tinge works its way up from his neck, reaching all the way to his hairline, like he’s developed a sudden allergy. John grins.
“And if you get it all right, Rodney, I’ll let you fuck me in the rear cabin. On the bench. Or maybe even over the console, once we land. You can play with me, Rodney - but you’re going to have to earn it.”
He lets Rodney go, and pushes his sunglasses back up on his nose. Gaul and Abram stumble up, whinging about sand in their shoes and other places they don’t want to think about. John raises an eyebrow at Rodney - they’re your geeks - and walks on as Rodney snarls at them that things could always be worse and if they were, then sand between their toes would be the least of their worries.
Here's your birthday pressie, hope you like! NC17 for lots of porny goodness!
1. SluttyBottom!John and lab table
Radek’s too used to him now, years of working together giving the little Czech immunity to his most effective weapons: the look, his razor-sharp intellect and the edge of his tongue. He leaves with a laptop and some reports under his arm, ignoring the pointed glare that he has to feel right between his pointy little shoulder blades.
Rodney stares at John, standing by the door, looking smug and not at all apologetic.
“Didn’t we agree you wouldn’t come by the lab between 10 and midnight? This is when I get most of my work done - the proper work, not the babysitting and making sure my brain dead lab team doesn’t blow up the city!”
John moves like slow motion, easy and smooth, as though he knows everything else will slow down to match his rhythm. Cocky bastard. He slides up on to the lab table, and lets his legs fall open.
“You could always work on me, Rodney.” Hazel eyes sparkle, and John’s lips twitch mischievously.
“Slut,” Rodney tells him, as a tongue traces the line of his jaw and he thinks the door locked. “You won’t get me a Nobel prize.”
Tomorrow, he’ll need to find a way to keep John out of the lab - maybe his playful ‘well, tie me up if I’m bothering you’ suggestion was a good idea after all.
2. Alcohol and rimming
“Fuck,” John hisses, and Rodney just grins at him.
“Cold?” he teases, and waits until John nods and turns pleading eyes on him before he dips his head and puts his mouth where the dark liquid is pooled in John’s belly button. He sucks, his toes curling at how unsexy that sound is. John...he doesn’t think John’s too bothered, because he’s pushing up against Rodney, moaning and barely hanging on.
Rodney reaches for the bottle again - however the Gelmi ferment this stuff, it’s good, rich and plummy, and tingles warmly as it goes down. He crawls lower, watching John’s eyes widen, waiting for him to call a halt. He sees the warring factions there - go on and don’t you dare, McKay. But he doesn’t say anything, so Rodney licks the tip of his cock, and pours.
He almost drops the bottle when John practically bounces off the bed. He puts it down on the rough table by the bed while he uses his other hand on John’s stomach, keeping him there.
“Easy,” he soothes, and takes John in, going as far down as he can. His mouth is a no man’s land, struggling through a mixture of flavours, John and the fiery velvet of the drink, and he goes after all of it. He licks almost frantically, chasing every last drop he can find.
“You missed a bit,” John pants, and Rodney knows it. Liquid rolls downhill, after all. He nudges John half onto his front, pushing his upper leg forward so he can get there, and slowly, almost luxuriously cleans the last traces of liquor from John’s hole. John loves this and hates it; he always says that Rodney’s tongue has many talents, and it’s almost more than his ass can stand. He likes to last, and rimming just takes him too damn close. That’s why Rodney stops when he does, and pushes John all the way around, moving to settle over him until John’s recovered enough to take him.
3. First time, aliens made them do it, against the wall
Elizabeth knows, Carson knows, and Caldwell...Caldwell has maybe guessed.
Ronon and Teyla were there, and would have been first to find out even if they hadn’t been, and they’re waiting in John’s room.
None of the others quite know what to say, and John sees Rodney shift uneasily out of the corner of his eye, and wants to know. But he can’t exactly ask, and all he can do is think what it felt like...
...Rodney shoving him up against the wall, and reaching down to slip strong hands beneath his thighs and haul his legs up to lock around his waist. A sudden pain, so sharp, Oh God, I can’t, and Rodney kissing him, a distraction so sweet and overwhelming that it camouflages the discomfort and John thinks that Carson should try pouring that into an IV next time he gets an owie.
“I think you should both go and see Kate,” Carson says. “An’ I mean that, John. Rodney. It can only help.”
Elizabeth nods, and her smile says lots of things all at once: I’m sorry it happened, I understand, I’m not judging, yes - you will go and see Kate.
Caldwell looks like he’s swallowed a prickly burr and might need it surgically removed. John could help with that. No IV for him, though.
Rodney leans forward, and maybe no one will notice the way the motion puts him slightly in front of John. John notices, and notices the way Rodney’s hand hesitates before it drops to his own knee, fingers still surreptitiously brushing the fabric of John’s pants.
“We’ll fit it in,” he says, and stands up, so John does too. They don’t say anything as they leave, walking through the Gate room, trying to split the curious stares from the hostile ones.
John wonders what they would all say if they knew that the tribe on PX9-800 didn’t make them do it.
They just made them do it sooner.
4. Puddlejumper, dirty talk
Gaul and Abrams might be nervous, but they’re geeks, and everything around them is new. They keep John in sight, but they don’t walk so close now that there’s a three car collision every time John stops.
“I was flying in a straight line,” Rodney pouts, and John rolls his eyes. How can McKay still be going on about that?
“Well, I guess the infallible Ancient guidance system was all wrong then, McKay. I apologise.”
Rodney snorts at him. “No one thinks you’re funny, Major. Except maybe you?” He strides around a small bump in the sand, glaring at it like it might be some cunning trap for genius Canadian astrophysicists. John wonders how he’ll react when he finds out they need to climb that dune up ahead.
“Look, McKay - you weren’t doing too bad. You just need the right motivation.” He glances back at Gaul and Abrams, ready to reel them in if they’ve wondered too far. They’re close, but not too close, and that’s fine.
“If you’re going to bribe me with powerbars, I don’t think Elizabeth would approve of such a frivolous use of our resources. Why? Do you have any toffee ones left?”
John sighs, and catches the shoulder of Rodney’s tac vest, stopping his mouth and his feet. Gaul and Abrams are catching up so he needs to make this fast.
“When we get back, you and I are taking the jumper to the mainland and we are going to teach you to fly. Properly. In a straight line. You’ll land, and take off. You’ll practise climbs, and emergency manoeuvres. And every time you do it right, McKay, I am going to do something for you.”
“There are only two things you can do for me, Major. One of them is to arrest Kavanagh for the abuse of science and my patience. The other is to stop tugging on me like that, you’re going to pull me over.”
John doesn’t let go. He leans in a little closer, so that his breathe tickles Rodney’s ear, and he doesn’t miss the tiny involuntary shiver.
“I am going to get out of my uniform, Rodney. And while you’re flying - because a good pilot has to focus on more than just the controls - I am going to kneel between your legs and suck you off. Do you think you’ll be able to concentrate while I do that, McKay? While you’re coming in my mouth?”
Rodney’s face drains but only for a moment. A deep red tinge works its way up from his neck, reaching all the way to his hairline, like he’s developed a sudden allergy. John grins.
“And if you get it all right, Rodney, I’ll let you fuck me in the rear cabin. On the bench. Or maybe even over the console, once we land. You can play with me, Rodney - but you’re going to have to earn it.”
He lets Rodney go, and pushes his sunglasses back up on his nose. Gaul and Abram stumble up, whinging about sand in their shoes and other places they don’t want to think about. John raises an eyebrow at Rodney - they’re your geeks - and walks on as Rodney snarls at them that things could always be worse and if they were, then sand between their toes would be the least of their worries.