snippet: pants / no pants
John/Rodney
PG-13 (references to pantlessness)
~450 words
pants / no pants
The Colonel’s thighs were kind of hairy. And that, right there, went to the top of the list of sentences he’d never thought he’d think before the Pegasus Galaxy.
“Rodney?” Sheppard said, and Rodney blinked at the skirt, the short, short skirt, one last time, and then dragged his eyes back up to Sheppard’s face.
“Sorry, yes, right,” he said. “Ceremony. We should.” His eyes drifted, horrified, back to the skirt again. It had pleats. “What - was the ceremony again?”
*
The ceremony was mostly chanting, Sheppard and four other guys, droning out verse and response, and then everyone drinking from a ceremonial cup. It didn’t really explain the skirts.
Sheppard didn’t seem too bothered by it though, his hand resting carelessly on the bare skin of his thigh, rubbing easily over his knee as he murmured questions about the Esthar technology in Rodney’s ear, leaned over him to talk to Teyla.
Rodney’s answers might have been a bit terse, but he did okay, despite how dry his mouth had gotten. The wine tasted like syrup, cloying sweet and very strong, a slow burn down Rodney’s throat that did nothing at all for the thirst.
*
“And yeah, there was a ritual,” Sheppard finished, leaning back in his chair and looking blandly pleased with himself. There was a little white chaff on the knee of his pants, from the storage barn. “Some chanting, some bowing, some drinking, pretty routine.”
“Really,” Elizabeth said, suspicious and a little amused. Sheppard gave her an exaggeratedly innocent look, and she shook her head and smiled, shut the file, thank god. Rodney really needed a long cold drink and maybe half an hour with his head under a pillow. “Okay. Good work.”
*
“McKay,” Sheppard said in his ear, three hours later, looming suddenly behind his chair, and he jumped and glared. “You coming to dinner?”
“I should finish,” he said, waving to the screen, and then Sheppard drew two slow fingers down the nape of his neck, right from the base of his skull to the sensitive skin just under his collar.
“Oh!” Rodney said, and then “uh,” inhaling sharply, as Sheppard’s fingers just stayed there, rubbing back and forth over the topmost knob of Rodney’s spine, a maddeningly gentle scratch of calluses. Sheppard was just watching him, head tilted. “So." He swallowed. "I, uh, I was pretty obvious with the staring today?”
“Pretty obvious,” Sheppard agreed, eyes crinkling, his other hand curling over Rodney’s shoulder, warm through the thin cloth. He leaned in very slowly, pausing a breath away from Rodney’s mouth, and Rodney, hands clutching suddenly at Sheppard’s T-shirt, felt his face get hot at the thought of how he must look, his mouth reaching for the kiss with Sheppard’s eyes right there, watching. Sheppard licked his lips and then, very delicately, just brushed his mouth over Rodney’s, traced his lower lip with his tongue; and Rodney, hearing himself make a naked, greedy sound in response, flushed all over, opened his mouth.
PG-13 (references to pantlessness)
~450 words
pants / no pants
The Colonel’s thighs were kind of hairy. And that, right there, went to the top of the list of sentences he’d never thought he’d think before the Pegasus Galaxy.
“Rodney?” Sheppard said, and Rodney blinked at the skirt, the short, short skirt, one last time, and then dragged his eyes back up to Sheppard’s face.
“Sorry, yes, right,” he said. “Ceremony. We should.” His eyes drifted, horrified, back to the skirt again. It had pleats. “What - was the ceremony again?”
*
The ceremony was mostly chanting, Sheppard and four other guys, droning out verse and response, and then everyone drinking from a ceremonial cup. It didn’t really explain the skirts.
Sheppard didn’t seem too bothered by it though, his hand resting carelessly on the bare skin of his thigh, rubbing easily over his knee as he murmured questions about the Esthar technology in Rodney’s ear, leaned over him to talk to Teyla.
Rodney’s answers might have been a bit terse, but he did okay, despite how dry his mouth had gotten. The wine tasted like syrup, cloying sweet and very strong, a slow burn down Rodney’s throat that did nothing at all for the thirst.
*
“And yeah, there was a ritual,” Sheppard finished, leaning back in his chair and looking blandly pleased with himself. There was a little white chaff on the knee of his pants, from the storage barn. “Some chanting, some bowing, some drinking, pretty routine.”
“Really,” Elizabeth said, suspicious and a little amused. Sheppard gave her an exaggeratedly innocent look, and she shook her head and smiled, shut the file, thank god. Rodney really needed a long cold drink and maybe half an hour with his head under a pillow. “Okay. Good work.”
*
“McKay,” Sheppard said in his ear, three hours later, looming suddenly behind his chair, and he jumped and glared. “You coming to dinner?”
“I should finish,” he said, waving to the screen, and then Sheppard drew two slow fingers down the nape of his neck, right from the base of his skull to the sensitive skin just under his collar.
“Oh!” Rodney said, and then “uh,” inhaling sharply, as Sheppard’s fingers just stayed there, rubbing back and forth over the topmost knob of Rodney’s spine, a maddeningly gentle scratch of calluses. Sheppard was just watching him, head tilted. “So." He swallowed. "I, uh, I was pretty obvious with the staring today?”
“Pretty obvious,” Sheppard agreed, eyes crinkling, his other hand curling over Rodney’s shoulder, warm through the thin cloth. He leaned in very slowly, pausing a breath away from Rodney’s mouth, and Rodney, hands clutching suddenly at Sheppard’s T-shirt, felt his face get hot at the thought of how he must look, his mouth reaching for the kiss with Sheppard’s eyes right there, watching. Sheppard licked his lips and then, very delicately, just brushed his mouth over Rodney’s, traced his lower lip with his tongue; and Rodney, hearing himself make a naked, greedy sound in response, flushed all over, opened his mouth.