Fic: Definition of Unsubtly (SGA, John/Rodney NC-17) 1/1

[shetiger]

Title: Definition of Unsubtly
Author: tigerlady
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: Porn (aka, Michelle figures out how to use the canonical lube)
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and I'm not making any money off of them.

Summary: John and Rodney get stranded on a planet together. Rodney's cranky, pissed, and sore--until John offers him a backrub.

Notes: This is highly self-indulgent clichéfic. Kagey gets credit for indirectly inspiring the title. First time, 4000 words. Hope you guys enjoy.



On the third day they were marooned on PX3-695, one Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard offered one Doctor Rodney McKay a backrub.

It went down like this.

PX3-695 had been listed in the Ancient database as uninhabited, yet habitable, with little other information. Neither Teyla nor Ronon recognized the gate address (although with Ronon's track record, that meant very little), so it went on the list of potential gates to-be-harvested. Despite his misgivings about what terrors 'habitable yet uninhabited' might be disguising, the MALP had shown a landscape blandly similar to most worlds they'd visited so far. There was no sign of natives, not even any ruins, and everything else they could check came back A-OK.

So John and Rodney had climbed into a jumper and set out on their thirty-fifth gate reconnaissance mission. The planet, while lush and full of animal life, turned out to be just as human-free as the Ancients had declared. Rodney had just added to the tally of 'gates to snatch' when they hit a little snag.

Rodney fully admitted he had a tendency to get ahead of himself every now and then. He attempted to compensate by anticipating every probable outcome well ahead of time, despite the label of paranoia that this brought down on his head. And while the failure of the gate to dial with a fully functioning DHD at hand was within the realm of probable, if it came down to it, he would have filed that prediction in the 'probably paranoia' folder.

(Much like watching a stargate fall into a pool of molten lava or getting shot in the ass by an arrow. He considered the fact that he might need to reevaluate his parameters for making such judgments.)

John had gone, "uh, Rodney," and Rodney had said, "yes, yes, I know," while simultaneously panicking and redialing. After the fourth unsuccessful attempt, John had landed the jumper next to the planetary DHD, got out, and dialed home himself.

Rodney was morbidly satisfied that John was just as unsuccessful as he had been. Or he was until "oh my God, we're fucked," completely took over his brain.

"It's going to be fine," John placated, as unruffled as always. "Elizabeth will dial in tomorrow, find out the problem, and then the Daedalus will come pick us up.

"The Daedealus is three weeks out!"

"Which is better than no rescue at all, right?"

"Assuming that the Wraith or Ori don't blow them up on their way here," he'd pointed out.

John had conceded that there was a slight possibility that could happen, and given Rodney's recent reevaluation of probability, Rodney was determined to make sure they weren't stuck here for the rest of their lives. Besides, even if the Daedalus showed up in pristine condition, he still didn't relish living like a caveman for the next month.

Which was why he was spending all of their daylight hours schlepping between the jumper, the planetary DHD, and the gate itself, painfully contorting his body beneath consoles in an attempt to fix the problem-whatever it was. Rodney still had no clue. Obviously, the gate worked for incoming wormholes. Outgoing wormholes were a completely different story. So far none of his hypotheses had panned out, and to put it very simply, Rodney was getting cranky.

Not only was he missing the comforts of home (which, granted, he'd gone without for longer periods, but it was the principle of the thing), but his low back was killing him. After three days wracking his brain and his back, he didn't think he was out of line stating those simple, if miserable, facts. Especially since John had spent the entire time like he was on vacation. This evening he'd come back from his jaunt and, like a proud cat with a mouse, shown Rodney a string of smelly, slimy fish.

But apparently John didn't agree with Rodney's assessment, because:

"Jesus fucking Christ, Rodney! If I give you a massage, will you quit bitching about it?"

Rodney gaped. John wasn't even looking at him now, intent on doing something to the fish. His hands were sure and deft, handling the slippery fish and very sharp knife easily, and Rodney almost melted right there at the thought of those hands on his body.

"Um, probably not," he confessed stupidly, already hating himself. "But I'll try really, really hard, I promise."

John looked up at him, grinning. "You're insane, you know that?"

"Not clinically," he defended absently, still dazed by John's offer. "Will you really do it? The backrub? Because it's killing me, right here-"

"Yes, I heard you the first thirty times." John shrugged. "Why not? It's not like I've got anything else to do. And maybe you'll actually get somewhere if you're not twitching about cramps every five seconds."

"Thank you," he said, completely heartfelt. "Maybe I can return the favor sometime."

John tossed the freshly-fileted fish into the skillet. "Sounds good."

"Great." Rodney headed back to the jumper, already envisioning John working out his tight spots. A stray thought brought him up short. "You'll, ah, wash your hands first, right?" Because you stink, he was going to say, but thought better of it. "It's not very hygienic."

John flicked his hands in Rodney's direction. Rodney stepped back, wary of the droplets of goo that scattered in his direction. "Yes, Rodney. I'll wash before and after dinner. With soap."

Rodney narrowed his eyes and retreated back to the jumper, intending to get in a few more minutes of work.

The fish turned out to be pretty good. Rodney hardly tasted it after the first bite, however. He shoveled it down, deep in thought as he watched John pick at his own plate. John could be such a dainty eater, taking tiny nibbles of his food like he was afraid it would bite back. Right now he was flaking his filet into small chunks, then scooping it up with the metal spork-thing and sucking it into his mouth, wet tongue flicking out afterwards to clean his lips.

Rodney was startled when his own spork clanked against his empty plate.

"Done already?"

"It was good." Rodney would have crossed his arms, but he had his hands full. "Anyway, I've been working hard all day."

"I'm glad you liked it," John said mildly. "And hey, now you have some time to digest before you lay down on a full stomach and I start pushing on you."

Rodney swallowed hard. "Good point." He hadn't really thought much about logistics; he'd had a vague vision of sitting backwards on one of the chairs while John gave him a perfunctory rub. Laying down was completely different. Much more...intimate. Rodney wiped his sweaty hands on his pants and pointed at the open hatch. "I'll just go get things ready."

John nodded, still focused on his dinner. Rodney sanitized his hands and then headed back into the jumper.

Where he stared, wondering just what he was supposed to do.

They'd been camping out in the rear compartment at night on top of sleeping bags. The benches were nicely padded, but they were so narrow there was no hope of actually sleeping on them. Rodney briefly considered lying on a bench anyway for the massage, but it would be really hard for John to reach both sides of his back equally. Which meant the floor.

He got out the bedding and piled John's sleeping bag on top of his own; after all, Rodney was going to be the only one lying down. He should be as comfortable as possible, or all of John's efforts would be wasted.

Rodney tucked his small camping pillow at the head of the pile, and then he was done. Maybe he should go ahead and lie down. Except he didn't know how long John would be--he still had to clean up the camp--and Rodney didn't want to be there so long that he started to cramp up before John got started.

Wiping his sweating palms again, Rodney sat down hard on the starboard bench. He was being ridiculous. It was only an innocent massage. John was simply going to help feel better. Lend a friend a helping hand.

That line of thought was not helping at all. Shoes. He could take off his shoes. Except John hadn't returned yet. A bear might have attacked him in the woods, and Rodney couldn't exactly go running to help him out if he was barefoot.

Steeling himself for the worst, Rodney set out to look for John--and practically ran into him.

John sidestepped him easily and set the stack of clean dishes in the locker. "You ready?"

"For? Oh, right, the backrub," he said disingenuously. Like he hadn't been dwelling on that very thing since John had said the magic word. "Yes, sure. If you are."

John raised an eyebrow. "You might as well take off your shoes. Get comfortable."

Rodney shucked them as fast as he could, then flopped face first on the sleeping bags. He heard a double thump behind him--presumably John taking off his own boots--and then there John was, kneeling beside Rodney's waist. Resting his palms on Rodney's shoulders.

Rodney could barely breathe.

"Geez, you're tight." John gave his shoulders a quick squeeze. "Try to relax. I won't break you."

Rodney took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Good," John crooned. Then he put some effort into his squeeze, kneading Rodney's upper trap.

Rodney sighed, prepared to enjoy this to the fullest. Except. "Ow!"

John pulled his hands back. "Problem?"

"My shirt. It's digging into my skin whenever you rub. I'll be raw before you're halfway through." John moved away. Rodney sat up, panicked. "That's not bitching! I just have very sensitive skin!"

"Uh-huh." John smirked at him. "So take it off, genius. It's about time to turn in, anyway."

John held his gaze steadily, like it was no big deal that he'd just suggested touching Rodney's naked back. Rodney turned away and stripped off his shirt, and then, before he could think better of it, his pants. He laid back down on the makeshift bed, feeling very naked in only his boxers, even though that was how he'd slept the previous two nights.

John was taking his own sweet time getting back to business. While he rustled around doing whatever, Rodney plumped his pillow and stuffed it under his chin, before he changed his mind and moved it under his forehead.

Rodney gasped as John's hands touched his bare skin, the sensation as sharp as an electric shock.

"You okay, there?"

"You startled me," Rodney covered.

"Sorry," John said quietly. He started kneading in earnest, and Rodney couldn't stop his moan of pleasure. "I take it that's a good sign?"

"Perfect," Rodney groaned. Then he whimpered as John hit a particularly tight spot beside his shoulder blade.

"I'm afraid I left the massage oil in my other puddle jumper," John quipped.

Rodney laughed half-heartedly. He really didn't need to be thinking about John's hands slick with oil, gliding down his back. Gliding lower. Biting his lip, Rodney shut his eyes and concentrated on appreciating what he was getting.

John shifted. Rodney's eyes flew open as he registered hairy skin against his side. Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned his head.

Sure enough, John was naked except for his boxers, too.

"You're as hard as a rock," John said, and Rodney had a split-second of panic before he realized John was referring to his muscles. "Hang on, I need better leverage."

And then, oh God, John straddled his thighs. Hot skin, strong muscles. Locked around Rodney like they had no better place to be. John was leaning forward as he stroked up and down Rodney's back-which meant that John's groin was somewhere right above Rodney's ass.

Rodney whimpered again.

John kept working, thumbs slowly slipping along the grain of the muscle, digging in on the worst spots. It hurt, but it was working. Turning his muscles into jello. Rodney wasn't going to complain, not if John might stop touching him if he did.

"Just a sec." John lifted his left knee away from Rodney's outer thigh-and then set it down between Rodney's thighs, nudging them apart gently. Rodney swore he felt the brush of John's cloth-covered balls against the back of his knee before John rose up again.

"Now for the really stiff spot," John said and went to work on Rodney's low back.

Rodney kind of whited out. His spine cracked a couple of times as John kneaded and stretched and rolled and pushed on the iron bars pretending to be muscles. He came back to himself when John slowed, suddenly aware that he'd been grunting and groaning like a farm animal in heat for quite a while.

"Better?" John asked quietly.

"Oh, God yes," he mumbled into his pillow. He turned his head, preparing himself for the end of the utter bliss, but John didn't get up. Instead, he scooted back and started working on Rodney's hamstrings.

"You should stretch more. That would solve a lot of your problems." John slid his hands up and down the back of Rodney's thighs, barely pressing at all. Rodney could still feel the pull in the muscles. "Well, the physical ones, anyway."

"Oh, ha, ha." Rodney squirmed, trying to ignore the too good sensations as John's hands slid outwards. John started working the tight band on the outside of his thigh, fingers digging in, and then Rodney was squirming for a different reason. It wasn't quite pain, and it wasn't quite a tickle, but whatever the sensation was, it wasn't comfortable. He grit his teeth, determined to stick it out, but a grunt escaped anyway.

John moved his hands. "Yeah, I know. Those suck."

Rodney was so busy panting out his agreement and relief that it took him a good thirty seconds to realize John's hands were resting on his thighs, thumbs under the hem of Rodney's boxers.

"It wasn't that bad," Rodney said, hoping to encourage John to not stop.

John laughed. "Who are you, and what have you done with Rodney McKay?" But he slid his hands downward, to the inside of Rodney's thighs. There was no pain at all this time, no tickling, only pure bliss as John gently rubbed the tender muscles.

Rodney wished it hurt. Because John was inching higher and higher, making little circles with this thumbs that had nothing to do with relaxation. Before Rodney could stop himself, he was parting his thighs. Just a twitch, just a little bit more than they were before, but John had to have noticed. John didn't stop, though. He kept moving upwards until his hands breached the cloth boundary. His hands slowed, then came to a rest with his thumbs just under the crease of Rodney's ass cheeks.

Rodney panted into his pillow, thinking. John couldn't possibly be doing what Rodney hoped he was doing.

Licking his oh-so-dry lips, he twitched his legs a tiny bit further apart.

John stroked his thumbs back and forth.

Rodney pushed back into him.

John squeezed his thighs, then pulled his hands back. Rodney would have freaked out, but he could feel John moving forward, stretching out over him. John planted his hands on either side of Rodney's shoulders, then leaned down so his face was inches away from Rodney's.

"Rodney." John's voices was tight. Rusty. "Tell me we're on the same page here."

"Oh, God yes," he groaned. His cock reminded him that he'd been ignoring it far too long. "Actually, I think I'm several chapters ahead of you."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," John whispered, his breath hot in Rodney's ear. He lowered his body, hot, hot chest resting against Rodney's back--and holy cow. John was hard, very hard. John's hard cock was resting against the cleft of Rodney's ass.

Rodney bucked up, unable to hold himself in any longer. John was the one who groaned this time. He ground down into Rodney, and then they were off, rutting and rubbing against each other for a few wild, uncontrolled seconds.

"Wait, wait," John said. He drew back and flopped down beside Rodney. Rodney turned towards him in time to meet John's mouth halfway. John's lips were as full as Rodney'd imagined, and John knew how to use them.

They kissed for a long time. Every time they pulled apart they dove right back again, caught in each other's magnetic field. Rodney had no idea that kissing John would be like this, with John noisy and focused and hungry. Like he couldn't get enough of Rodney. His hands were still moving all over Rodney. And Rodney didn't have to be passive anymore. He could return the favor, pulling John close, stroking his chest and back and everything he could reach. Sloping pecs, hard little nipples, silky hair pulling his hand downward as sure as gravity.

"Oh, fuck," John said when Rodney finally got his hand on John's cock. Rodney stroked him through his boxers a couple of times, but that wasn't enough. He shoved his hand under the waistband, clumsily stroking before John struggled out of his boxers. "You, too," he said, tugging at Rodney's waistband.

"This is," Rodney said when they were finally naked together. "I mean, wow."

John grinned. "I know." He reached between Rodney's legs, rolling Rodney's balls between gentle fingers. "I've wanted to fuck you for forever."

Rodney grabbed John's hand, still playing lazily, and unsubtly guided it past his balls. "Yes, now."

John's grin faded. Rodney could see his Adam's apple bob as he stared down at his hand, at Rodney's eager cock and spread legs. "We can't. I wasn't exactly planning this, Rodney."

Rodney thumped his head back on his pillow. "You were doing so good up to now."

John slithered closer. "Hey, we can still have fun." He slid his finger between Rodney's cheeks in demonstration.

"The med kit!" John froze at Rodney's outburst, looking at him like he was insane. Rodney smiled. Insane with lust, maybe. "We can use the lubricant from--" He cut himself off as he remembered exactly why he knew there was lubricant in the med kit. John definitely didn't need to be reminded about the bug incident. Not now. "I'll just, ah, get it."

John raised an amused eyebrow at him as Rodney struggled to his feet and lurched the few feet to the kit. He dug out the tube of goo, gave it a quick once over to make sure it wasn't going to kill him, and snatched one of the 'just in case' condoms the medical department seemed to think they needed on hand.

"Here, come on, do it," Rodney said as he shoved the stuff in John's hands. He was pretty sure John would have made fun of him, but John seemed just as desperate as he was, cock practically levitating it was so hard and ready.

"How do you want to--"

Rodney eased back onto the sleeping bags face down. "Just like you were doing, only finish it this time, for God's sake."

John didn't dawdle. He quickly knelt between Rodney's thighs, his hands once again lightly kneading Rodney's inner thighs. "Is this what you wanted, McKay?" He ran his hands higher, pushing Rodney's legs further apart. Rodney shivered and thrust against the sleeping bag. "Oh, yeah. I wanted to do this so bad."

Rodney whimpered as John slid higher, cupping his balls, reaching forward into the snug space underneath him to cradle his cock. "John," he murmured, rolling his hips, working his cock in John's hand.

"Fuck, Rodney." John started fingering Rodney with his other hand, rubbing across his hole before barely dipping in, driving him crazy with want.

"Come on, damn it," he babbled, shoving his ass backwards, getting a little more penetration before John backed off entirely. He heard John open the lube, and then oh, fuck yes, he pushed a slick finger in, sliding in deep and easy. Two was no problem, either; Rodney was really relaxed. And really, really turned on. "Come on, John. Fuck me."

"You're going to kill me, you know that?" John groaned but kept finger-fucking Rodney slowly and carefully, like he had all the time in the world. "Spontaneous combustion. You can write a paper on it."

"You? What about--" Rodney stopped, panting harshly as John started in on his prostate. Not firmly enough or long enough to really get good, but enough to completely derail his words. John might have been doing it by accident, but Rodney knew how evil he could be. At least it was the good kind of evil. Not that made any sense, really, but. "Oh, fucking hell, please."

John pulled his fingers out. He cursed quietly, and then Rodney could hear the package ripping open. Rodney lifted his hips, anticipating the angle John would need. John gripped Rodney's hip in one hand, and then he was doing it, pushing in, stretching him wide.

"So good," John panted, even though he was barely in. Rodney felt himself opening up, and he pushed back, loving the way John felt, the way he groaned and murmured unintelligible things. A little bit more, and then John was in completely, easily. John lowered his whole body until he was resting against Rodney's back. He laid his hands on top of Rodney's, twining their fingers together. "Okay like this?"

"Yes," he hissed, and thrust his ass up against John's weight. It was incredibly intimate like this, more so than he'd ever dreamed for a first time. John's face was so close to his, John's entire body snug against Rodney's own. John rolled his hips once, twice, and then really started thrusting.

It was good, really, really good, John's cock hitting him right where he needed it. Rodney's cock was pretty happy as well, sliding in a furrow of the slick bedding with every counterthrust. He gripped John's hands tightly, and John held on just as hard, using their combined strength to really give it to Rodney.

"Oh, yeah." John rubbed his face against Rodney's shoulder blade, then bit down. Rodney shuddered and ground his dick into the bedding, so very close. John made some kind of growling noise and then all but plowed Rodney into the jumper floor and oh, wow, that really did it for him.

Rodney came hard, every muscle clenching, straining against John's body as he made a mess of the sleeping bag under him. John was still moving, sliding inside with short little thrusts that were going to melt Rodney's brain and send it leaking out his cock. Then John let loose with a chest-deep groan that reverberated through Rodney's skin. Rodney swore he could feel each pulse of John's cock as he came.

They stayed locked together, muscles tense, for another few seconds, and then Rodney's body gave out. Every muscle relaxed like a wet noodle. John slumped on top of him, not much less noodle-like. Only sweatier and a lot heavier. Rodney was perfectly happy with that-for all of a minute.

"Move, I can't breathe," he said, trying to roll over. "And my ass is going to cramp up."

"Yes, your worship," John muttered, but he didn't even bother to sound sarcastic. It might have had something to do with the fact that he still had his dick in Rodney's ass. He pulled out carefully, then moved off to dispose of the condom.

Rodney rolled over, taking deep breaths of un-pillow scented air. He got distracted from breathing, though, when John walked back towards him. Completely naked. It was a really, really good look for John.

John settled in beside Rodney. "So, good?"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Please. Am I a genius?"

John grinned that utterly delightful, sinfully tempting smile of his. Rodney did what he'd always wanted to do and reached out to touch the smile lines in John's cheeks, then guided John down for a kiss.

"Okay, so best backrub ever," Rodney said when they broke apart. "That was a very, very good idea."

"Glad I could help you out," John said, still smiling. "Not my smoothest seduction ever, but hey, whatever works."

"Wait, you were trying to seduce me?"

"It wasn't obvious?"

Rodney opened his mouth to declare that no, it was no such thing, but decided he didn't really want to look completely oblivious. "I was giving you the benefit of the doubt."

"Uh-huh." John bent his head and nipped at Rodney's shoulder. "Whatever. At least we have a way to keep us entertained while we wait to be rescued."

Just like that, the lightbulb went on. "Of course! It's got to be something in the ground itself that's interfering with the signal. If we do an actual old-fashioned wiring job..." He trailed off, watching John watch him.

"Rodney." John kissed him. Slowly, carefully, tenderly. "I'm glad you figured it out, but it can wait a day or two, right?"

Rodney licked his lips, then smiled. "What old-fashioned wiring job?"

John laughed. "See? I knew you were a genius."