Fic: A Kind of Natural Thing (SGA, McKay/Sheppard, NC-17)
Title: A Kind of Natural Thing
Author: tigerlady
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: P for Porny
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and I'm not making any money off of them.
Summary: Rodney's got a predicament. John figures that he should give his best friend a helping hand.
Notes: Again with the clichéfic. First time, toy use, h/c without the hurt. 6000 words.
I owe a bunch of people thank yous for sparking the idea for this as well as for contributing to the broken wrist discussion. So thank you. :) Also, big thanks to chopchica for betaing.
ETA: Damn it. Minor spoiler for The Return Pt 1. /duh
When Rodney leaves with the Daedalus on a simple three-week trip to get the waystation one step closer to completion, he's smug, happy, irritable, altogether Rodney-like. Most importantly, he's healthy and whole.
When he comes back, he's smug, pissy as hell, and has both wrists in casts and several fingers splinted.
John's not happy about that. Especially when he finds out that Rodney was lucky to escape with only that much damage. Everyone else was just plain lucky that Rodney was on board. Otherwise, Earth would be out another ship and a crew of really good people. It was a close thing, with Rodney diving out of the way at the last minute. Thus the fractured radius, ulna, and some other tiny wrist and finger bones that John knows he had to memorize in college long ago.
John doesn't make a big deal about it, though. Just slaps Rodney on the shoulder and says something like "way to take one for the team, McKay," and gets a withering retort in return. Which makes John feel a bit better.
Rodney can't go on any off-world missions until he gets the casts off, of course, and John catches him staring morosely at whiteboards and computer keyboards more than once. John assumes that's why Rodney's been getting extra-cranky lately.
After a particularly frustrating day of meetings filled with Rodney snapping at people for absolutely no reason at all, John decides he should at least try to ease the tension a little. He goes to Rodney's room and tackles the problem head-on.
"Look. We know that you want to work, and that you're frustrated that you can't type and do the things you usually do. But you're still valuable to the expedition, and you'll be back to super-productive super-genius in no time."
Of course, nothing is ever that simple. Rodney gives him a gape-mouthed look before he huffs and crosses his arms, casts cradled in the crooks of his elbows. "Yes, thank you, Colonel. I promise I'll be all sweetness and light now that I know I'm valued."
John, being a smart guy, gets that something else is bugging Rodney. "Okay, so what's up your ass, then? Because people are starting to joke about death threats, and sometimes I'm not sure if they're jokes."
The sour look only deepens. Rodney holds up his hands and waves them jerkily. The fingers that aren't splinted look pale and shriveled sticking out the ends of the cast. Maybe that's only because they contrast so sharply with the bright red of the outer casing. "Can you say sexual frustration, Colonel?"
It takes John a half second to get it. Rodney helps complete the picture by moving his right hand up and down in a very distinctive manner.
"Ahhh," John says, because yeah, that sucks. He's seen Rodney grip stuff just fine, but John wouldn't want to get that rough fiberglass stuff anywhere near his own dick. But... "Can't you just, you know, rub off on the bed or something?"
Rodney looks up at the ceiling. "Oh, you know what, I never thought of that!" Then he plops down on his bed with a tired sigh. "I've tried. Oh, how I've tried. But I can't hold myself up, and if I lie flat I can't get a good thrust going long enough before my back spasms up."
"Uh. That's probably more than I needed to know," John says.
"Well, you asked," Rodney shoots back snidely. He looks miserable, though, so John sighs and plops down beside him.
"Sorry." They sit in awkward silence for half a minute. John gets it; it's one thing to go without sex for an extended period of time. It's altogether different to be unable to take care of yourself.
"There have been studies, you know." Rodney wiggles his fingers in an indistinct manner. "About the link between lack of sexual satisfaction and irritability. So it's not just me. Oh, and there's a link between excess testosterone and decreased mental ability. If I can't jerk off soon, the entire expedition may be endangered."
John snorts. He thinks Rodney's medical knowledge sounds pretty loosey-goosey (possibly bordering on non-existent), but he's not making up the irritability thing. John knows that bite of constant aggression that comes with the frustration, sometimes so subtle John doesn't even notice it's there, sometimes so bad that it makes him want to hit people. Not necessarily a bad thing for a soldier on the front, but these days John needs to keep his marbles under control. Rodney does, too.
"What about a little female companionship? Surely you haven't pissed off every woman here yet." He doesn't bring up Katie Brown--even though he thinks Katie would take Rodney back--because that would be a disaster John wants no hand in making. He doesn't ever want to have to sit through Rodney's practice break-up talks ever again. Or the moping afterwards.
Rodney makes a sad little whimper. "I'm not you, Colonel. Even if I could coax a woman into bed, what would I do? Tell her to sit on my face, and then do whatever she likes as long as she gets me off?"
John tries to ignore the technicolor images that spring to mind with Rodney's words. "Well, I'm sure there are women around who wouldn't be opposed to that. Maybe someone on the Daedalus?"
But Rodney just gives him a really pathetic look, so John drops it. "Yeah, okay."
Rodney sighs. "I'll survive. Just really, really unhappily." He makes a tiny amused noise. "I even tried this, um, aide that I brought back from Earth last time. But I can't hold it. I tried propping it on things, but that just doesn't work."
"Oh." John almost asks about what kind of toy it is, but then he decides that's a conversational road he doesn't want to go down. Instead, he slaps Rodney on the shoulder and stands up. "Well, you're a tough guy when it comes down to it, McKay. Just hang in there."
Rodney whimpers again, and John beats a retreat.
****
John can tell Rodney makes a real effort to be cool and collected after their little talk. Oh, he's still snappy, and his wit is less humorous and more biting, but he hasn't stormed out of any meetings or thrown his pen across the room or any of the other over-the-top things that had happened previously. John can't quite let go of the reason why Rodney's unhappy, however, and he keeps turning the problem over in his head. He keeps evaluating the women around him in terms of whether they might be willing to literally give Rodney a hand. When he finds himself wondering how to approach Novak with a proposition on behalf of his best friend without getting his ass thrown out of the Air Force, he realizes he's probably gone too far. It's not like Rodney has a fatal disease or anything.
Then Elizabeth invites the Talhesians for a diplomatic dinner, insisting that it's an important sign of trust to extend to their new allies. John doesn't think she knew about their traditional formal dress customs or how exotic the after-dinner dancing would be when she made the invitation. Throughout the whole thing, Rodney looks so fucking miserable that John can't even really appreciate the flashes of skin or the displays of incredible athleticism.
Rodney excuses himself early, not even complaining about stupid diplomatic gatherings before he goes. John feels really, really badly for him. And when everything comes down to it, Rodney is John's best friend, the best he's ever had. And well. If he'd die for Rodney without thinking, why should he be stingy about offering a little comfort?
He assures himself it's a good, sane plan a dozen times on the way to Rodney's quarters. He even has a speech about why it's okay, but when Rodney opens the door all he can think to say is, "I'll hold it for you."
Rodney stares at him, blinking a couple times before saying, "what?" like John's speaking Ancient.
"Um," John says, glancing back at the hallway before stepping in and shutting the door. "I know you've got to be hurting by now." He waves at Rodney's crotch, but doesn't look down. "You said you've got a, uh, toy, right? Well, I'll hold it, you do your thing, and then everybody's a lot happier."
"And they say I'm the socially incompetent one," Rodney says, voice cracking a little. "Are you insane?"
John's not sure if he's blushing, but he wants to drop through the floor as all of his rationalizations dry up like mud in the desert sun. He rubs the back of his neck. "Probably. But hey, that's never stopped me before." He tries a smile, and Rodney 'huhs' back at him. "Look, I just thought you might appreciate the offer. It's not like I'd be touching you, not really. And I won't look, so don't be all prim and proper about it."
Rodney flushes then, fast and all over his face and neck. "Um. You're really serious about this?"
"Well, I was," John says crankily, wondering how to erase this conversation from existence. "But I'm not exactly getting the response I was looking for, so I'll just be going now. Pretend this was all a dream or something, kay?"
"Wait!" Rodney yelps, even though John hasn't actually moved. "I'm sorry, you just really surprised me, okay? I would be very, very grateful. Please. Pretty please."
Rodney's exaggerating the begging, but there's true desperation under his words. Satisfied pleasure curls through John, and he remembers why he made the stupid offer in the first place. It's really nice to have the ability to make somebody else happy, especially with something so simple.
"Hey, I'm still here," he reassures Rodney. "So, you want to do this later, or--"
"Right now would be good," Rodney leaps in, the desperation clearer than before.
"Right." Then John realizes he's actually going to do this crazy thing, and part of his brain starts freaking out like nobody's business. But he's not going to back out now, not when Rodney's looking at him like he's the best thing, ever. "Uh, how do you want to do this?"
Rodney grins. He waves towards his bedside table. "Top drawer. There's lube beside it."
John opens the drawer, and sure enough, inside there's a small black box sitting open, the contents draped across it like Rodney'd been too disgusted to even try to put it away properly. The toy is a rubbery-looking tube, one open end wider than the other. John realizes the wide end is supposed to look like a mouth. It's a bit--no, it's a lot--garish. He picks it up, gingerly at first, then more firmly as he tells himself to get over the tittering-virgin attitude. He grabs the bottle of lube with the other hand, then turns back to Rodney.
"Okay, great." Rodney's taken his shirt off, and John is transfixed by the sight of his hard nipples under his chest hair for a few seconds. "You need to put the lube in it. Don't worry about using too much."
"Okay." John opens the lube and sets about doing just that. The tube is actually pretty tight, and it occurs to John that if Rodney's not hard, there's no way he'll get into the thing. Which means that Rodney will have to get hard first. John starts to think about ways to accomplish that, wondering what would be acceptable. He glances over to Rodney, who's fumbling his pants off pretty quickly for the amount of difficulty involved in the process.
John glances away fast. Apparently, getting Rodney hard isn't on today's list of problems.
"Do you, uh," Rodney starts, and John wonders what could possibly be coming next. "Do you think you could take off your shoes? I know it's weird, but then I wouldn't feel so underdressed." He says that last with a little laugh, but he's red all over.
"Hey, no problem." John sets the toy on Rodney's table, hoping the lube doesn't get all over everything, and then takes off his shoes. And then his socks. Because hey, he feels like he owes Rodney a little naked skin, and it feels good to let his toes breathe.
Once that's done, it seems there's nothing else to prepare. Rodney's sitting on the bed, a corner of sheet over his lap. The sheet doesn't do a lot to disguise what's beneath.
"I thought if you sat beside me and reach across?" Rodney makes it sound like a question, but he looks down at the spot on the mattress like it's an order. That's okay, because it's in line with what John had been thinking.
He settles in beside and slightly behind Rodney, pulling his left leg up so he can get closer. Right away he can tell it's going to be uncomfortable, though. John's going to have to reach around Rodney's injured arm, and Rodney's shoulder is going to be jabbing him in the chest.
"I think it'll be better if I sit behind you," he decides, and does just that. He situates himself so that Rodney between his legs. All he has to do is tuck his arm under Rodney's and they're good to go.
"Rodney," he says when he's ready to go. "You're going to have to move the sheet."
"Oh, right." Rodney moves the sheet. John tries not to look over Rodney's shoulder, but he's going to have to look in order to get Rodney in. Rodney's definitely perky, hard and red and glistening wet at the tip. John takes a deep breath at the same time Rodney does, then moves his hand forward and settles the fake mouth over the head. Over the head of Rodney's very erect dick.
"Oh, thank god," Rodney immediately moans. He bucks a little, and John gets the picture. He guides the toy further down Rodney's cock, until Rodney's most of the way in. Until John has most of Rodney's cock in his hand.
The sensation's muted by a thick layer of rubbery stuff, but he can definitely feel Rodney's slide back and forth, and the heat of him is starting to bleed through to John's hand. Or maybe that's his imagination, because John feels hot all over. He's pressed tightly to Rodney's naked back, soaking up the warmth that Rodney's putting out.
"Ah, you could move your hand now," Rodney says, and John realizes he's just been sitting there uselessly.
"Sorry," he says. He starts using a slow stroke with a firm, but not too tight, grip. Pretty much what he likes on himself. That seems to work just fine for Rodney, because he's panting and gasping, rocking his hips back and forth against the motion of John's hand. John starts moving faster, building the tension. One stroke is a little too enthusiastic, and the head of Rodney's cock pops out the top of the sleeve. John pulls the sleeve back up, making sure Rodney gets a good ride out of this.
John finds the rhythm again, and then looks away. Like he was supposed to be doing all along. He can't get the image out of his head of Rodney's cockhead, plumply round and shining with lube, surrounded by garish pink and John's own hand. Like the very definition of sex.
Not-looking, though, means that John's face is close to Rodney's back. John can smell him, overheated skin, not quite to the point of sweating, combined with a very masculine deodorant. Something sporty and spicy.
John realizes his idea was even stupider than he first thought.
Rodney's near arm flails above John's thigh, like he's wanting to grab onto something but has just enough presence of mind to remember he can't. He throws his head back. His eyes are closed, eyelashes long against his cheeks, and his breath is ragged in his throat. He swallows hard twice, and then his eyes fly open, staring towards the ceiling as he cries out wordlessly.
Hot come splashes across the back of John's hand and wrist.
John slows down, letting Rodney ride the sensation all the way out before he stops completely. Rodney slumps. Then he nods once, and John pulls the pink thing off of Rodney's softening dick. He untangles himself from Rodney and heads to the bathroom without a word, rinsing out the toy and washing his hands at the same time. When John gets back to the bedroom, Rodney's tucked under the blankets, nearly to his chin. The skin that's showing is flushed a fine pink.
"Thank you," Rodney says sincerely.
John grins at him. He almost says 'anytime, McKay,' but stops himself just in time. "Hey, no problem. So, you feeling better now?"
"You have no idea." Rodney lights up with his grin. "And let me tell you, it's a much better painkiller than what Carson's giving me. Tylenol, can you imagine?"
John frowns. He'd been thinking that all that crankiness had been from Rodney's sexual frustration, but if Rodney was actually in pain, too...well. He's just surprised that Rodney hasn't been more of a pain in the ass.
Rodney frowns back at him. "Ah, we're okay now, aren't we?"
"Totally cool," John tells him. "I should let you get some sleep. Night."
"Night," Rodney calls as John slips out the door.
John nearly breaks something speeding back to his own quarters. He absolutely does not sniff his hand before he jerks off; there's nothing left to smell, anyway. The memory of the scent lingers deep, however, mixed with hot skin and Speedstick. He buries his face in his pillow, losing himself in the sensory fantasy, and comes more quickly than he has in a very long time.
*****
Rodney's mood really does improve. John finds himself watching Rodney closely, wondering when the magic sex bullet is going to wear off. One session of masturbation isn't enough to last forever, and John really doubts it will last until the casts come off.
John really hopes it doesn't last until the cast comes off.
He waits almost two whole days before he decides to make a casual inquiry. "So, how are...things," he asks at dinner while it's just the two of them at the table.
"The usual," Rodney says, intent on his food. His mouth is set in a frustrated line as he tries to scoop up his dinner, holding a spoon with his less than nimble fingers. John wonders why he even bothered with the peas. "Radek's on this kick about converting the jumper cloak into a permanent shield. I keep telling him that it won't work without a ZPM, but it takes me so long to get the math down, he's already off on a new tangent by the time I prove him wrong. I can't wait for these things to come off."
"Yeah," John leaps in. "That's kind of what I meant. You're not feeling...cranky?"
Rodney's peas go flying. "Oh." He looks up at John, the tip of his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. It reminds John of the pink tip of his cock. "Oh, um. I'm managing. You don't have to, ah, worry."
"I'm not worried." John breaks away from Rodney's eyes, looking over Rodney's shoulder to see what's going on in the rest of the cafeteria. "I just thought I'd check in. Make sure your testosterone levels aren't interfering with the safety of the city."
"Well, now that you mention it," Rodney says, and John doesn't want to be in this conversation any longer than he has to be.
"I can come by at twenty-hundred," he offers quickly. "If that would help you concentrate better."
Rodney's silent a little too long for John's comfort level. John swings his legs out from under the bench, preparing to make a hasty retreat.
"Ah, how about nineteen-hundred?" Rodney asks. John looks at him finally, only to find Rodney avoiding his gaze now. "I'm, well. That would work better."
"No problem." John grabs his tray and stands up. "See you then."
Rodney mumbles something. John's too busy repeating idiot idiot idiot in his head to hear him.
Nineteen-hundred isn't that far away, but it feels like forever. Like the last few hours before his first leave had. John notices his chest getting tight several times. He has to remind himself to actually breathe. He also has to remind himself that this isn't a date, that he's not about to have sex. He's just helping a friend. That's all.
John arrives at Rodney's door one minute early. Rodney's voice invites him in, so John swipes at the controls. He finds Rodney already in bed, naked except for the sheet. John shuts the door as quickly as he can.
"Hi," Rodney says, sounding a little strangled. "I thought it would be best if I was ready..."
John nods. "Makes sense." He sits down on the edge of the bed so he can take his shoes and socks off. The sleeve and the lube are already on top of Rodney's nightstand, so John goes right to work lubing the thing up.
"Would it be easier for you lying down?" Rodney asks. "That way I can do more of the work."
"Okay," John says, easy-peasy. "I get some of your pillow, though."
"Use the extra," Rodney says as he rolls away from John, onto his side.
John climbs onto the bed behind him, carefully juggling the sleeve so it doesn't drip lube all over everything. He doesn't bother with a pillow. He props his head on his hand and reaches across Rodney's waist with the tube. He can't see as much this way, which is probably a good thing when it comes down to it, but it makes him fumble more getting the sleeve on. Rodney gasps when John's thumb slips across the head of Rodney's cock. John bites his lip and concentrates really hard on accomplishing the task at hand.
"God, that's good," Rodney says when he's fully encased.
John closes his eyes. He wants to press up close behind Rodney, wants to bury his face against Rodney's neck, but he resists. The only thing he does is move his hand. Slowly. Gently. Teasingly.
"More," Rodney groans.
John smiles. "More what? Do you want it faster?" He speeds his hand a little, still only guiding the sleeve over Rodney's dick without adding any pressure. Rodney pants, but he doesn't say anything else. John slows back down. "Or do you want it harder?" He grabs on firmly, enough that he can really feel Rodney's cock moving against him.
That gets Rodney moving. John watches Rodney's back muscles undulate. The sheet has slipped lower, low enough that John can see most of Rodney's ass. He tries to tell himself he's not taking a liberty, but the thought rings hollow. He closes his eyes again and concentrates on making Rodney feel good.
"You're awfully quiet, McKay. Maybe I should do both." John keeps his grip steady and speeds up.
"John," Rodney gasps. John jerks, stopping himself two inches away from grinding his cock against Rodney's ass. "Yes, like that," Rodney adds, like John wouldn't have been able to tell by the way Rodney's grunting and thrusting. "Please."
"Okay," John says, reassuring him. "Yeah, I got you."
Rodney smells so fucking good, and the hand John's resting on is starting to protest, so John lets himself drop forward enough that he can prop himself against Rodney's shoulder. They're not touching that much. Rodney grunts more loudly. John speeds up another notch.
"You're so--" John catches himself, changes words before Rodney can possibly notice, "close. I know it, McKay."
"God, yes," Rodney says, nodding his head so the fluff of his hair brushes against John's face. "Close. God, John."
John closes his eyes again, thinking about nothing but pumping his hand up and down. Rodney makes a little uh-uh-uh and then he stops moving completely. John can feel the throbbing of Rodney's cock through the sleeve. There's no come on his hand this time, but John can still smell it. All the way in the back of his throat.
Rodney bats at John's arm, nearly bruising him with the cast. John slows, then stops, then pulls the toy off.
"Oh, wow. That was--" Rodney cuts himself off. "Thank you again."
John snorts. Rodney's hair flutters away from John's face, which means John is way too close. He sits up, taking the messy toy with him. "I'll just clean up," he tells Rodney, scooting off the bed before Rodney can roll over and see the way John's pants are tenting.
"Great. Thanks. I'll just pass out," Rodney calls lazily. He sounds exactly like he's had a really fantastic fuck. John cleans the sleeve out and hopes Rodney falls asleep fast, because John's hard-on isn't going away any time soon.
He escapes without incident. When he gets back to his room, he starts to jerk off fast and hard, but then he slows down, letting himself remember all the details. Like the way that Rodney's hair smelled different from the back of his neck. How the muscles in Rodney's shoulder slid against John's chest.
The way Rodney said his name.
John comes quietly. He wipes himself up and settles in for a restless night. He's fucked, he knows that, but there's a good chance he has a little more time to enjoy their crazy arrangement. If he remembers correctly, the casts aren't supposed to come off for another week. Rodney won't last a full week, not when he doesn't need to.
John falls asleep faster than he thought he would, fantasizing about all the things he doesn't dare do.
****
But no, Rodney's casts come off the next day. John gets a bitter taste in his mouth, something foul he can't wash down. He thinks about want, and the way he kinda used Rodney. Used Rodney's predicament to get closer. Used it to take something John never realized he wanted.
By lunch, he's finally reminded himself that no, Rodney is sincerely grateful for the whole thing. And that Rodney would go off on a tirade if he ever found out John was freaking out on his behalf. The relief is sweet, but the bitterness doesn't fade.
Ridiculous as it sounds, John's mesmerized by Rodney. All during their meal, Rodney has been waving his hands around, snapping his fingers (without much oomph, but he manages to do it), shoveling in food like his own appetite mated with Ronon's. He's grinning and talking a mile a minute, even more frenetic than he usually is.
John wants that--wants Rodney--so very badly.
Somehow, he gets through the rest of the day without letting his bitterness taint anyone else. But by the time he gets back to his quarters at the end of the day, he's ready to give into the mopiness. He settles on his bed with War and Peace. Russian literature is the perfect match for his mood.
John's just finished reviewing the chapters he's already read and is getting ready to start on the new one, when his door chimes. He really wants to tell whoever it is to go away, but he can't. Even if he feels fourteen tonight, he's not. He doesn't have to be warm and welcoming, however.
"What?" he shouts, hoping whoever it is will get the picture if it's less than an emergency.
"Can I come in, Colonel?" Rodney shouts back.
John drops his book on the floor in his haste to get to his door. He opens it, then slouches nonchalantly against the frame, trying to look a hell of a lot cooler than he really is. "Something you needed, McKay?"
"Ah." Rodney looks tentative, which is a strange look on him. "Can we talk?"
John doesn't like the sound of that, but he steps back and lets Rodney in despite his trepidation. He shuts the door behind Rodney, prepared for the worst.
"I don't think there's any good way to say this. Not that I usually worry about social niceties, anyway." Rodney looks at him like he expects John to understand. The only things John can imagine are all really nasty, so he simply raises his eyebrow, not willing to make it easy. "So, ah. My hands are still incredibly weak. And I overdid it today, and now they ache..."
Rodney lifts a small plastic bag, one with a faded blue label and so many wrinkles in it John wonders how it's still holding together. It's not hard to figure out what's inside, not after that little speech. John reaches for it slowly, wondering how much torture he can put himself through. He desperately wants to touch Rodney again, but he wants it to be for real.
He can't resist the opportunity, though, so he opens the bag. The lube sits at the bottom, just like he thought. The lube--and nothing else.
John tosses the bag carelessly towards his bed. Rodney opens his mouth, which is perfect timing. John pulls Rodney forward and kisses him with every bit of the sexual frustration that's been building for four days. That's been building since he met Rodney. He expected some resistence, definitely some surprise, but Rodney turns to putty in his arms, kissing him back fervently.
"Oh, thank god," Rodney murmurs at some point when their mouths separate for long enough. "Thank god."
John strips Rodney's shirt off and goes straight back to kissing him. He runs his hands all over Rodney's chest, playing with his chest hair and tugging at his nipples, then smooths his palms over the muscles in Rodney's back. John knows he's lost all of his cool points, but he just doesn't care.
Rodney, in the meantime, has managed to undo John's belt and fly and is busy pushing John's pants down as far as he can. John thinks that's a pretty good idea, and he stops petting Rodney long enough to return the favor.
They strip and stumble their way over to John's bed, winding up mostly naked by the time they get there. They both have a pants/shoe problem that's more frustrating than funny, but resolving it lets John cool down some. He actually wants to feel Rodney touch him before he goes off.
They lie down together. Facing each other. Rodney trails a finger down the center of John's chest and on down to his belly. John's stomach flutters, and Rodney smiles.
"I can't believe you did that for me," Rodney says. He reaches back up and tweaks John's nipple. "I mean really, what were you thinking?"
"It seemed like a good idea at the time," John protests, but not very strongly. His nipple is very fond of Rodney's fingers.
Rodney laughs. "I owe you. I'd give you a hand job, but." He waves his hand in John's face. "I can barely move them right now."
"Hey, I completely understand," John says graciously, but before he can even finish the sentence Rodney is wiggling away, moving towards John's feet. He licks at John's belly, and then-- "Holy fuck!"
Rodney laughs again, but this time it's around John's cock. That's a level of sensation John wasn't prepared for at all. He jerks, grabbing at Rodney's shoulders. Rodney pats his hip, and then it's all good. Rodney's all good.
"Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah." He wants to say Rodney's name, but that's way too many syllables at the moment. His eyelids start to flutter shut, but he opens them, looks down so he can watch Rodney's head bobbing up and down on John's cock. Fucking John with his mouth.
"Fuck, yeah," he says, and then he can't say anything more. His muscles lock down and he whines in the back of his throat as Rodney sucks the orgasm out of him. It's good, it's fantastic, it's better than anything John got around to imagining.
John spaces out. His entire body is as weak as Rodney's hands are. He blinks hazily as Rodney's face appears in front of his eyes.
"So you are in there." Rodney looks more smug than John has ever seen him, which is a pretty amazing feat. "Don't fall asleep yet. I don't owe you that much."
John takes a deep breath. Rodney's cock is hot and wet against John's thigh. John really wants to touch it, to feel it without that nasty fake stuff in the way. At the moment, however, he's pretty content just to lie around.
"You could fuck me," he offers, gloating inside when the smug smile drops off of Rodney's face.
Rodney licks his lips three times. "Actually, I can't," he says, holding up his hands again. "Not that I'm going to let you forget that offer in the future."
John sighs and heaves himself upwards. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. You want me to do all the work."
"Oh, like I was just killing time down there," Rodney snaps back.
John smiles and shoves Rodney over flat on his back. He sneaks a quick kiss.
"So, what's it going to be? Hand job?" John reaches down and finally gets his hand on Rodney's cock. He's distracted for a few seconds by the feel of it. The palm of his hand actually tingles from rubbing it across the head. He strokes down the length, regaining his train of thought. "Or blow job?" He leans closer, looking right into Rodney's eyes. "Or I could ride you."
Rodney opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. John thinks maybe he's stolen all of Rodney's smug, because he knows his own grin is taunting and self-satisfied. He really is tempted to ride Rodney, but he thinks he'll save that for later. Right now, he wants to get to know Rodney better.
Never letting go of Rodney's cock, John moves downwards. He rubs his face against Rodney's belly and then blows on it. Rodney bats at John's head. By the way his stomach wobbles, John thinks he must be holding in giggles.
John thinks about pushing it. See if he can actually get Rodney to burst out into girlish giggles. But right now John's much more interested in getting him off. He licks along the happy trail and then wanders over to the edge of Rodney's groin. Rodney's squirms and sighs. John likes that. Wants more. He gets comfortable between Rodney's thighs. Leans forward and guides Rodney's cock into his mouth.
Rodney tastes like he smells. Like sex. Like everything John's been craving.
"John," Rodney moans. His name sounds as good in Rodney's mouth as it did last night. John wants to hear it again.
He pulls off, sucking hard. "Come on, Rodney. Talk to me."
Rodney lifts his head. "What?" He sounds hazy and confused.
John grins and starts playing with Rodney's fuzzy balls. "Talk to me. You're usually so good at it. Tell me what you want." He doesn't usually tease this much in bed, but Rodney brings it out in him. John feels relaxed and giddy, and he wants to have fun.
"Oh, uh." Rodney licks his lips. John lazily strokes the spot under Rodney's balls, drifting back towards his asshole a couple times. "That. That's good."
"Good." John rewards Rodney by rubbing a little harder. "What else? This?" He lips at Rodney's cock, flicking his tongue out to taste.
"Yes, yes, that's great. Everything's good. Just more, please more." Rodney touches John's head, pushes gently, and that combined with Rodney's voice has got John half-hard again. He goes back down on Rodney, taking as much as he can. He's done teasing. Rodney gives John what he wanted, panted breaths and deep groans mixed in with a chant of half-formed words.
Part of him still can't believe he's doing this, sucking and slurping up and down on Rodney as fast as he can. John knows he's taking a big risk: career-wise, team-wise, heart-wise; but something burst open within him when Rodney handed him that sack earlier. John doesn't like to put labels on things, but that something is something that's going to make the worried part of his brain shut the hell up.
"John!" Rodney shoves up, once, and then all of his muscles lock in the instant before he comes in John's mouth. John swallows it all, then eases up slowly the way he's figured out Rodney likes.
"Okay, for future reference?" Rodney puffs as John flops down beside him. "I wanted every bit of that."
John chuckles. "Good to know."
They settle in together, Rodney spooned behind John's back. John threads his fingers through Rodney's and lifts Rodney's hand to his lips. He presses a soft kiss to the center of Rodney's palm. Rodney nuzzles closer to John's neck and sighs contentedly.
John's really glad he decided to give Rodney a hand.
The End
****
(The toy. Not work safe. *g*)
Author: tigerlady
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: P for Porny
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and I'm not making any money off of them.
Summary: Rodney's got a predicament. John figures that he should give his best friend a helping hand.
Notes: Again with the clichéfic. First time, toy use, h/c without the hurt. 6000 words.
I owe a bunch of people thank yous for sparking the idea for this as well as for contributing to the broken wrist discussion. So thank you. :) Also, big thanks to chopchica for betaing.
ETA: Damn it. Minor spoiler for The Return Pt 1. /duh
When Rodney leaves with the Daedalus on a simple three-week trip to get the waystation one step closer to completion, he's smug, happy, irritable, altogether Rodney-like. Most importantly, he's healthy and whole.
When he comes back, he's smug, pissy as hell, and has both wrists in casts and several fingers splinted.
John's not happy about that. Especially when he finds out that Rodney was lucky to escape with only that much damage. Everyone else was just plain lucky that Rodney was on board. Otherwise, Earth would be out another ship and a crew of really good people. It was a close thing, with Rodney diving out of the way at the last minute. Thus the fractured radius, ulna, and some other tiny wrist and finger bones that John knows he had to memorize in college long ago.
John doesn't make a big deal about it, though. Just slaps Rodney on the shoulder and says something like "way to take one for the team, McKay," and gets a withering retort in return. Which makes John feel a bit better.
Rodney can't go on any off-world missions until he gets the casts off, of course, and John catches him staring morosely at whiteboards and computer keyboards more than once. John assumes that's why Rodney's been getting extra-cranky lately.
After a particularly frustrating day of meetings filled with Rodney snapping at people for absolutely no reason at all, John decides he should at least try to ease the tension a little. He goes to Rodney's room and tackles the problem head-on.
"Look. We know that you want to work, and that you're frustrated that you can't type and do the things you usually do. But you're still valuable to the expedition, and you'll be back to super-productive super-genius in no time."
Of course, nothing is ever that simple. Rodney gives him a gape-mouthed look before he huffs and crosses his arms, casts cradled in the crooks of his elbows. "Yes, thank you, Colonel. I promise I'll be all sweetness and light now that I know I'm valued."
John, being a smart guy, gets that something else is bugging Rodney. "Okay, so what's up your ass, then? Because people are starting to joke about death threats, and sometimes I'm not sure if they're jokes."
The sour look only deepens. Rodney holds up his hands and waves them jerkily. The fingers that aren't splinted look pale and shriveled sticking out the ends of the cast. Maybe that's only because they contrast so sharply with the bright red of the outer casing. "Can you say sexual frustration, Colonel?"
It takes John a half second to get it. Rodney helps complete the picture by moving his right hand up and down in a very distinctive manner.
"Ahhh," John says, because yeah, that sucks. He's seen Rodney grip stuff just fine, but John wouldn't want to get that rough fiberglass stuff anywhere near his own dick. But... "Can't you just, you know, rub off on the bed or something?"
Rodney looks up at the ceiling. "Oh, you know what, I never thought of that!" Then he plops down on his bed with a tired sigh. "I've tried. Oh, how I've tried. But I can't hold myself up, and if I lie flat I can't get a good thrust going long enough before my back spasms up."
"Uh. That's probably more than I needed to know," John says.
"Well, you asked," Rodney shoots back snidely. He looks miserable, though, so John sighs and plops down beside him.
"Sorry." They sit in awkward silence for half a minute. John gets it; it's one thing to go without sex for an extended period of time. It's altogether different to be unable to take care of yourself.
"There have been studies, you know." Rodney wiggles his fingers in an indistinct manner. "About the link between lack of sexual satisfaction and irritability. So it's not just me. Oh, and there's a link between excess testosterone and decreased mental ability. If I can't jerk off soon, the entire expedition may be endangered."
John snorts. He thinks Rodney's medical knowledge sounds pretty loosey-goosey (possibly bordering on non-existent), but he's not making up the irritability thing. John knows that bite of constant aggression that comes with the frustration, sometimes so subtle John doesn't even notice it's there, sometimes so bad that it makes him want to hit people. Not necessarily a bad thing for a soldier on the front, but these days John needs to keep his marbles under control. Rodney does, too.
"What about a little female companionship? Surely you haven't pissed off every woman here yet." He doesn't bring up Katie Brown--even though he thinks Katie would take Rodney back--because that would be a disaster John wants no hand in making. He doesn't ever want to have to sit through Rodney's practice break-up talks ever again. Or the moping afterwards.
Rodney makes a sad little whimper. "I'm not you, Colonel. Even if I could coax a woman into bed, what would I do? Tell her to sit on my face, and then do whatever she likes as long as she gets me off?"
John tries to ignore the technicolor images that spring to mind with Rodney's words. "Well, I'm sure there are women around who wouldn't be opposed to that. Maybe someone on the Daedalus?"
But Rodney just gives him a really pathetic look, so John drops it. "Yeah, okay."
Rodney sighs. "I'll survive. Just really, really unhappily." He makes a tiny amused noise. "I even tried this, um, aide that I brought back from Earth last time. But I can't hold it. I tried propping it on things, but that just doesn't work."
"Oh." John almost asks about what kind of toy it is, but then he decides that's a conversational road he doesn't want to go down. Instead, he slaps Rodney on the shoulder and stands up. "Well, you're a tough guy when it comes down to it, McKay. Just hang in there."
Rodney whimpers again, and John beats a retreat.
****
John can tell Rodney makes a real effort to be cool and collected after their little talk. Oh, he's still snappy, and his wit is less humorous and more biting, but he hasn't stormed out of any meetings or thrown his pen across the room or any of the other over-the-top things that had happened previously. John can't quite let go of the reason why Rodney's unhappy, however, and he keeps turning the problem over in his head. He keeps evaluating the women around him in terms of whether they might be willing to literally give Rodney a hand. When he finds himself wondering how to approach Novak with a proposition on behalf of his best friend without getting his ass thrown out of the Air Force, he realizes he's probably gone too far. It's not like Rodney has a fatal disease or anything.
Then Elizabeth invites the Talhesians for a diplomatic dinner, insisting that it's an important sign of trust to extend to their new allies. John doesn't think she knew about their traditional formal dress customs or how exotic the after-dinner dancing would be when she made the invitation. Throughout the whole thing, Rodney looks so fucking miserable that John can't even really appreciate the flashes of skin or the displays of incredible athleticism.
Rodney excuses himself early, not even complaining about stupid diplomatic gatherings before he goes. John feels really, really badly for him. And when everything comes down to it, Rodney is John's best friend, the best he's ever had. And well. If he'd die for Rodney without thinking, why should he be stingy about offering a little comfort?
He assures himself it's a good, sane plan a dozen times on the way to Rodney's quarters. He even has a speech about why it's okay, but when Rodney opens the door all he can think to say is, "I'll hold it for you."
Rodney stares at him, blinking a couple times before saying, "what?" like John's speaking Ancient.
"Um," John says, glancing back at the hallway before stepping in and shutting the door. "I know you've got to be hurting by now." He waves at Rodney's crotch, but doesn't look down. "You said you've got a, uh, toy, right? Well, I'll hold it, you do your thing, and then everybody's a lot happier."
"And they say I'm the socially incompetent one," Rodney says, voice cracking a little. "Are you insane?"
John's not sure if he's blushing, but he wants to drop through the floor as all of his rationalizations dry up like mud in the desert sun. He rubs the back of his neck. "Probably. But hey, that's never stopped me before." He tries a smile, and Rodney 'huhs' back at him. "Look, I just thought you might appreciate the offer. It's not like I'd be touching you, not really. And I won't look, so don't be all prim and proper about it."
Rodney flushes then, fast and all over his face and neck. "Um. You're really serious about this?"
"Well, I was," John says crankily, wondering how to erase this conversation from existence. "But I'm not exactly getting the response I was looking for, so I'll just be going now. Pretend this was all a dream or something, kay?"
"Wait!" Rodney yelps, even though John hasn't actually moved. "I'm sorry, you just really surprised me, okay? I would be very, very grateful. Please. Pretty please."
Rodney's exaggerating the begging, but there's true desperation under his words. Satisfied pleasure curls through John, and he remembers why he made the stupid offer in the first place. It's really nice to have the ability to make somebody else happy, especially with something so simple.
"Hey, I'm still here," he reassures Rodney. "So, you want to do this later, or--"
"Right now would be good," Rodney leaps in, the desperation clearer than before.
"Right." Then John realizes he's actually going to do this crazy thing, and part of his brain starts freaking out like nobody's business. But he's not going to back out now, not when Rodney's looking at him like he's the best thing, ever. "Uh, how do you want to do this?"
Rodney grins. He waves towards his bedside table. "Top drawer. There's lube beside it."
John opens the drawer, and sure enough, inside there's a small black box sitting open, the contents draped across it like Rodney'd been too disgusted to even try to put it away properly. The toy is a rubbery-looking tube, one open end wider than the other. John realizes the wide end is supposed to look like a mouth. It's a bit--no, it's a lot--garish. He picks it up, gingerly at first, then more firmly as he tells himself to get over the tittering-virgin attitude. He grabs the bottle of lube with the other hand, then turns back to Rodney.
"Okay, great." Rodney's taken his shirt off, and John is transfixed by the sight of his hard nipples under his chest hair for a few seconds. "You need to put the lube in it. Don't worry about using too much."
"Okay." John opens the lube and sets about doing just that. The tube is actually pretty tight, and it occurs to John that if Rodney's not hard, there's no way he'll get into the thing. Which means that Rodney will have to get hard first. John starts to think about ways to accomplish that, wondering what would be acceptable. He glances over to Rodney, who's fumbling his pants off pretty quickly for the amount of difficulty involved in the process.
John glances away fast. Apparently, getting Rodney hard isn't on today's list of problems.
"Do you, uh," Rodney starts, and John wonders what could possibly be coming next. "Do you think you could take off your shoes? I know it's weird, but then I wouldn't feel so underdressed." He says that last with a little laugh, but he's red all over.
"Hey, no problem." John sets the toy on Rodney's table, hoping the lube doesn't get all over everything, and then takes off his shoes. And then his socks. Because hey, he feels like he owes Rodney a little naked skin, and it feels good to let his toes breathe.
Once that's done, it seems there's nothing else to prepare. Rodney's sitting on the bed, a corner of sheet over his lap. The sheet doesn't do a lot to disguise what's beneath.
"I thought if you sat beside me and reach across?" Rodney makes it sound like a question, but he looks down at the spot on the mattress like it's an order. That's okay, because it's in line with what John had been thinking.
He settles in beside and slightly behind Rodney, pulling his left leg up so he can get closer. Right away he can tell it's going to be uncomfortable, though. John's going to have to reach around Rodney's injured arm, and Rodney's shoulder is going to be jabbing him in the chest.
"I think it'll be better if I sit behind you," he decides, and does just that. He situates himself so that Rodney between his legs. All he has to do is tuck his arm under Rodney's and they're good to go.
"Rodney," he says when he's ready to go. "You're going to have to move the sheet."
"Oh, right." Rodney moves the sheet. John tries not to look over Rodney's shoulder, but he's going to have to look in order to get Rodney in. Rodney's definitely perky, hard and red and glistening wet at the tip. John takes a deep breath at the same time Rodney does, then moves his hand forward and settles the fake mouth over the head. Over the head of Rodney's very erect dick.
"Oh, thank god," Rodney immediately moans. He bucks a little, and John gets the picture. He guides the toy further down Rodney's cock, until Rodney's most of the way in. Until John has most of Rodney's cock in his hand.
The sensation's muted by a thick layer of rubbery stuff, but he can definitely feel Rodney's slide back and forth, and the heat of him is starting to bleed through to John's hand. Or maybe that's his imagination, because John feels hot all over. He's pressed tightly to Rodney's naked back, soaking up the warmth that Rodney's putting out.
"Ah, you could move your hand now," Rodney says, and John realizes he's just been sitting there uselessly.
"Sorry," he says. He starts using a slow stroke with a firm, but not too tight, grip. Pretty much what he likes on himself. That seems to work just fine for Rodney, because he's panting and gasping, rocking his hips back and forth against the motion of John's hand. John starts moving faster, building the tension. One stroke is a little too enthusiastic, and the head of Rodney's cock pops out the top of the sleeve. John pulls the sleeve back up, making sure Rodney gets a good ride out of this.
John finds the rhythm again, and then looks away. Like he was supposed to be doing all along. He can't get the image out of his head of Rodney's cockhead, plumply round and shining with lube, surrounded by garish pink and John's own hand. Like the very definition of sex.
Not-looking, though, means that John's face is close to Rodney's back. John can smell him, overheated skin, not quite to the point of sweating, combined with a very masculine deodorant. Something sporty and spicy.
John realizes his idea was even stupider than he first thought.
Rodney's near arm flails above John's thigh, like he's wanting to grab onto something but has just enough presence of mind to remember he can't. He throws his head back. His eyes are closed, eyelashes long against his cheeks, and his breath is ragged in his throat. He swallows hard twice, and then his eyes fly open, staring towards the ceiling as he cries out wordlessly.
Hot come splashes across the back of John's hand and wrist.
John slows down, letting Rodney ride the sensation all the way out before he stops completely. Rodney slumps. Then he nods once, and John pulls the pink thing off of Rodney's softening dick. He untangles himself from Rodney and heads to the bathroom without a word, rinsing out the toy and washing his hands at the same time. When John gets back to the bedroom, Rodney's tucked under the blankets, nearly to his chin. The skin that's showing is flushed a fine pink.
"Thank you," Rodney says sincerely.
John grins at him. He almost says 'anytime, McKay,' but stops himself just in time. "Hey, no problem. So, you feeling better now?"
"You have no idea." Rodney lights up with his grin. "And let me tell you, it's a much better painkiller than what Carson's giving me. Tylenol, can you imagine?"
John frowns. He'd been thinking that all that crankiness had been from Rodney's sexual frustration, but if Rodney was actually in pain, too...well. He's just surprised that Rodney hasn't been more of a pain in the ass.
Rodney frowns back at him. "Ah, we're okay now, aren't we?"
"Totally cool," John tells him. "I should let you get some sleep. Night."
"Night," Rodney calls as John slips out the door.
John nearly breaks something speeding back to his own quarters. He absolutely does not sniff his hand before he jerks off; there's nothing left to smell, anyway. The memory of the scent lingers deep, however, mixed with hot skin and Speedstick. He buries his face in his pillow, losing himself in the sensory fantasy, and comes more quickly than he has in a very long time.
*****
Rodney's mood really does improve. John finds himself watching Rodney closely, wondering when the magic sex bullet is going to wear off. One session of masturbation isn't enough to last forever, and John really doubts it will last until the casts come off.
John really hopes it doesn't last until the cast comes off.
He waits almost two whole days before he decides to make a casual inquiry. "So, how are...things," he asks at dinner while it's just the two of them at the table.
"The usual," Rodney says, intent on his food. His mouth is set in a frustrated line as he tries to scoop up his dinner, holding a spoon with his less than nimble fingers. John wonders why he even bothered with the peas. "Radek's on this kick about converting the jumper cloak into a permanent shield. I keep telling him that it won't work without a ZPM, but it takes me so long to get the math down, he's already off on a new tangent by the time I prove him wrong. I can't wait for these things to come off."
"Yeah," John leaps in. "That's kind of what I meant. You're not feeling...cranky?"
Rodney's peas go flying. "Oh." He looks up at John, the tip of his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. It reminds John of the pink tip of his cock. "Oh, um. I'm managing. You don't have to, ah, worry."
"I'm not worried." John breaks away from Rodney's eyes, looking over Rodney's shoulder to see what's going on in the rest of the cafeteria. "I just thought I'd check in. Make sure your testosterone levels aren't interfering with the safety of the city."
"Well, now that you mention it," Rodney says, and John doesn't want to be in this conversation any longer than he has to be.
"I can come by at twenty-hundred," he offers quickly. "If that would help you concentrate better."
Rodney's silent a little too long for John's comfort level. John swings his legs out from under the bench, preparing to make a hasty retreat.
"Ah, how about nineteen-hundred?" Rodney asks. John looks at him finally, only to find Rodney avoiding his gaze now. "I'm, well. That would work better."
"No problem." John grabs his tray and stands up. "See you then."
Rodney mumbles something. John's too busy repeating idiot idiot idiot in his head to hear him.
Nineteen-hundred isn't that far away, but it feels like forever. Like the last few hours before his first leave had. John notices his chest getting tight several times. He has to remind himself to actually breathe. He also has to remind himself that this isn't a date, that he's not about to have sex. He's just helping a friend. That's all.
John arrives at Rodney's door one minute early. Rodney's voice invites him in, so John swipes at the controls. He finds Rodney already in bed, naked except for the sheet. John shuts the door as quickly as he can.
"Hi," Rodney says, sounding a little strangled. "I thought it would be best if I was ready..."
John nods. "Makes sense." He sits down on the edge of the bed so he can take his shoes and socks off. The sleeve and the lube are already on top of Rodney's nightstand, so John goes right to work lubing the thing up.
"Would it be easier for you lying down?" Rodney asks. "That way I can do more of the work."
"Okay," John says, easy-peasy. "I get some of your pillow, though."
"Use the extra," Rodney says as he rolls away from John, onto his side.
John climbs onto the bed behind him, carefully juggling the sleeve so it doesn't drip lube all over everything. He doesn't bother with a pillow. He props his head on his hand and reaches across Rodney's waist with the tube. He can't see as much this way, which is probably a good thing when it comes down to it, but it makes him fumble more getting the sleeve on. Rodney gasps when John's thumb slips across the head of Rodney's cock. John bites his lip and concentrates really hard on accomplishing the task at hand.
"God, that's good," Rodney says when he's fully encased.
John closes his eyes. He wants to press up close behind Rodney, wants to bury his face against Rodney's neck, but he resists. The only thing he does is move his hand. Slowly. Gently. Teasingly.
"More," Rodney groans.
John smiles. "More what? Do you want it faster?" He speeds his hand a little, still only guiding the sleeve over Rodney's dick without adding any pressure. Rodney pants, but he doesn't say anything else. John slows back down. "Or do you want it harder?" He grabs on firmly, enough that he can really feel Rodney's cock moving against him.
That gets Rodney moving. John watches Rodney's back muscles undulate. The sheet has slipped lower, low enough that John can see most of Rodney's ass. He tries to tell himself he's not taking a liberty, but the thought rings hollow. He closes his eyes again and concentrates on making Rodney feel good.
"You're awfully quiet, McKay. Maybe I should do both." John keeps his grip steady and speeds up.
"John," Rodney gasps. John jerks, stopping himself two inches away from grinding his cock against Rodney's ass. "Yes, like that," Rodney adds, like John wouldn't have been able to tell by the way Rodney's grunting and thrusting. "Please."
"Okay," John says, reassuring him. "Yeah, I got you."
Rodney smells so fucking good, and the hand John's resting on is starting to protest, so John lets himself drop forward enough that he can prop himself against Rodney's shoulder. They're not touching that much. Rodney grunts more loudly. John speeds up another notch.
"You're so--" John catches himself, changes words before Rodney can possibly notice, "close. I know it, McKay."
"God, yes," Rodney says, nodding his head so the fluff of his hair brushes against John's face. "Close. God, John."
John closes his eyes again, thinking about nothing but pumping his hand up and down. Rodney makes a little uh-uh-uh and then he stops moving completely. John can feel the throbbing of Rodney's cock through the sleeve. There's no come on his hand this time, but John can still smell it. All the way in the back of his throat.
Rodney bats at John's arm, nearly bruising him with the cast. John slows, then stops, then pulls the toy off.
"Oh, wow. That was--" Rodney cuts himself off. "Thank you again."
John snorts. Rodney's hair flutters away from John's face, which means John is way too close. He sits up, taking the messy toy with him. "I'll just clean up," he tells Rodney, scooting off the bed before Rodney can roll over and see the way John's pants are tenting.
"Great. Thanks. I'll just pass out," Rodney calls lazily. He sounds exactly like he's had a really fantastic fuck. John cleans the sleeve out and hopes Rodney falls asleep fast, because John's hard-on isn't going away any time soon.
He escapes without incident. When he gets back to his room, he starts to jerk off fast and hard, but then he slows down, letting himself remember all the details. Like the way that Rodney's hair smelled different from the back of his neck. How the muscles in Rodney's shoulder slid against John's chest.
The way Rodney said his name.
John comes quietly. He wipes himself up and settles in for a restless night. He's fucked, he knows that, but there's a good chance he has a little more time to enjoy their crazy arrangement. If he remembers correctly, the casts aren't supposed to come off for another week. Rodney won't last a full week, not when he doesn't need to.
John falls asleep faster than he thought he would, fantasizing about all the things he doesn't dare do.
****
But no, Rodney's casts come off the next day. John gets a bitter taste in his mouth, something foul he can't wash down. He thinks about want, and the way he kinda used Rodney. Used Rodney's predicament to get closer. Used it to take something John never realized he wanted.
By lunch, he's finally reminded himself that no, Rodney is sincerely grateful for the whole thing. And that Rodney would go off on a tirade if he ever found out John was freaking out on his behalf. The relief is sweet, but the bitterness doesn't fade.
Ridiculous as it sounds, John's mesmerized by Rodney. All during their meal, Rodney has been waving his hands around, snapping his fingers (without much oomph, but he manages to do it), shoveling in food like his own appetite mated with Ronon's. He's grinning and talking a mile a minute, even more frenetic than he usually is.
John wants that--wants Rodney--so very badly.
Somehow, he gets through the rest of the day without letting his bitterness taint anyone else. But by the time he gets back to his quarters at the end of the day, he's ready to give into the mopiness. He settles on his bed with War and Peace. Russian literature is the perfect match for his mood.
John's just finished reviewing the chapters he's already read and is getting ready to start on the new one, when his door chimes. He really wants to tell whoever it is to go away, but he can't. Even if he feels fourteen tonight, he's not. He doesn't have to be warm and welcoming, however.
"What?" he shouts, hoping whoever it is will get the picture if it's less than an emergency.
"Can I come in, Colonel?" Rodney shouts back.
John drops his book on the floor in his haste to get to his door. He opens it, then slouches nonchalantly against the frame, trying to look a hell of a lot cooler than he really is. "Something you needed, McKay?"
"Ah." Rodney looks tentative, which is a strange look on him. "Can we talk?"
John doesn't like the sound of that, but he steps back and lets Rodney in despite his trepidation. He shuts the door behind Rodney, prepared for the worst.
"I don't think there's any good way to say this. Not that I usually worry about social niceties, anyway." Rodney looks at him like he expects John to understand. The only things John can imagine are all really nasty, so he simply raises his eyebrow, not willing to make it easy. "So, ah. My hands are still incredibly weak. And I overdid it today, and now they ache..."
Rodney lifts a small plastic bag, one with a faded blue label and so many wrinkles in it John wonders how it's still holding together. It's not hard to figure out what's inside, not after that little speech. John reaches for it slowly, wondering how much torture he can put himself through. He desperately wants to touch Rodney again, but he wants it to be for real.
He can't resist the opportunity, though, so he opens the bag. The lube sits at the bottom, just like he thought. The lube--and nothing else.
John tosses the bag carelessly towards his bed. Rodney opens his mouth, which is perfect timing. John pulls Rodney forward and kisses him with every bit of the sexual frustration that's been building for four days. That's been building since he met Rodney. He expected some resistence, definitely some surprise, but Rodney turns to putty in his arms, kissing him back fervently.
"Oh, thank god," Rodney murmurs at some point when their mouths separate for long enough. "Thank god."
John strips Rodney's shirt off and goes straight back to kissing him. He runs his hands all over Rodney's chest, playing with his chest hair and tugging at his nipples, then smooths his palms over the muscles in Rodney's back. John knows he's lost all of his cool points, but he just doesn't care.
Rodney, in the meantime, has managed to undo John's belt and fly and is busy pushing John's pants down as far as he can. John thinks that's a pretty good idea, and he stops petting Rodney long enough to return the favor.
They strip and stumble their way over to John's bed, winding up mostly naked by the time they get there. They both have a pants/shoe problem that's more frustrating than funny, but resolving it lets John cool down some. He actually wants to feel Rodney touch him before he goes off.
They lie down together. Facing each other. Rodney trails a finger down the center of John's chest and on down to his belly. John's stomach flutters, and Rodney smiles.
"I can't believe you did that for me," Rodney says. He reaches back up and tweaks John's nipple. "I mean really, what were you thinking?"
"It seemed like a good idea at the time," John protests, but not very strongly. His nipple is very fond of Rodney's fingers.
Rodney laughs. "I owe you. I'd give you a hand job, but." He waves his hand in John's face. "I can barely move them right now."
"Hey, I completely understand," John says graciously, but before he can even finish the sentence Rodney is wiggling away, moving towards John's feet. He licks at John's belly, and then-- "Holy fuck!"
Rodney laughs again, but this time it's around John's cock. That's a level of sensation John wasn't prepared for at all. He jerks, grabbing at Rodney's shoulders. Rodney pats his hip, and then it's all good. Rodney's all good.
"Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah." He wants to say Rodney's name, but that's way too many syllables at the moment. His eyelids start to flutter shut, but he opens them, looks down so he can watch Rodney's head bobbing up and down on John's cock. Fucking John with his mouth.
"Fuck, yeah," he says, and then he can't say anything more. His muscles lock down and he whines in the back of his throat as Rodney sucks the orgasm out of him. It's good, it's fantastic, it's better than anything John got around to imagining.
John spaces out. His entire body is as weak as Rodney's hands are. He blinks hazily as Rodney's face appears in front of his eyes.
"So you are in there." Rodney looks more smug than John has ever seen him, which is a pretty amazing feat. "Don't fall asleep yet. I don't owe you that much."
John takes a deep breath. Rodney's cock is hot and wet against John's thigh. John really wants to touch it, to feel it without that nasty fake stuff in the way. At the moment, however, he's pretty content just to lie around.
"You could fuck me," he offers, gloating inside when the smug smile drops off of Rodney's face.
Rodney licks his lips three times. "Actually, I can't," he says, holding up his hands again. "Not that I'm going to let you forget that offer in the future."
John sighs and heaves himself upwards. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. You want me to do all the work."
"Oh, like I was just killing time down there," Rodney snaps back.
John smiles and shoves Rodney over flat on his back. He sneaks a quick kiss.
"So, what's it going to be? Hand job?" John reaches down and finally gets his hand on Rodney's cock. He's distracted for a few seconds by the feel of it. The palm of his hand actually tingles from rubbing it across the head. He strokes down the length, regaining his train of thought. "Or blow job?" He leans closer, looking right into Rodney's eyes. "Or I could ride you."
Rodney opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. John thinks maybe he's stolen all of Rodney's smug, because he knows his own grin is taunting and self-satisfied. He really is tempted to ride Rodney, but he thinks he'll save that for later. Right now, he wants to get to know Rodney better.
Never letting go of Rodney's cock, John moves downwards. He rubs his face against Rodney's belly and then blows on it. Rodney bats at John's head. By the way his stomach wobbles, John thinks he must be holding in giggles.
John thinks about pushing it. See if he can actually get Rodney to burst out into girlish giggles. But right now John's much more interested in getting him off. He licks along the happy trail and then wanders over to the edge of Rodney's groin. Rodney's squirms and sighs. John likes that. Wants more. He gets comfortable between Rodney's thighs. Leans forward and guides Rodney's cock into his mouth.
Rodney tastes like he smells. Like sex. Like everything John's been craving.
"John," Rodney moans. His name sounds as good in Rodney's mouth as it did last night. John wants to hear it again.
He pulls off, sucking hard. "Come on, Rodney. Talk to me."
Rodney lifts his head. "What?" He sounds hazy and confused.
John grins and starts playing with Rodney's fuzzy balls. "Talk to me. You're usually so good at it. Tell me what you want." He doesn't usually tease this much in bed, but Rodney brings it out in him. John feels relaxed and giddy, and he wants to have fun.
"Oh, uh." Rodney licks his lips. John lazily strokes the spot under Rodney's balls, drifting back towards his asshole a couple times. "That. That's good."
"Good." John rewards Rodney by rubbing a little harder. "What else? This?" He lips at Rodney's cock, flicking his tongue out to taste.
"Yes, yes, that's great. Everything's good. Just more, please more." Rodney touches John's head, pushes gently, and that combined with Rodney's voice has got John half-hard again. He goes back down on Rodney, taking as much as he can. He's done teasing. Rodney gives John what he wanted, panted breaths and deep groans mixed in with a chant of half-formed words.
Part of him still can't believe he's doing this, sucking and slurping up and down on Rodney as fast as he can. John knows he's taking a big risk: career-wise, team-wise, heart-wise; but something burst open within him when Rodney handed him that sack earlier. John doesn't like to put labels on things, but that something is something that's going to make the worried part of his brain shut the hell up.
"John!" Rodney shoves up, once, and then all of his muscles lock in the instant before he comes in John's mouth. John swallows it all, then eases up slowly the way he's figured out Rodney likes.
"Okay, for future reference?" Rodney puffs as John flops down beside him. "I wanted every bit of that."
John chuckles. "Good to know."
They settle in together, Rodney spooned behind John's back. John threads his fingers through Rodney's and lifts Rodney's hand to his lips. He presses a soft kiss to the center of Rodney's palm. Rodney nuzzles closer to John's neck and sighs contentedly.
John's really glad he decided to give Rodney a hand.
The End
****
(The toy. Not work safe. *g*)