Fic: Five Porny Ways: John/Rodney (SGA NC-17)
Title: So Long, aka Five Porny Ways the Team Said Goodbye: John/Rodney
Author: tigerlady
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Through Return Pt. 1.
Summary: Uh, the title really says it all. *g* This is the fourth part in a five ways thing, but it absolutely stands on its own. John and Rodney say goodbye to Atlantis.
So he finally finds Rodney on one of the more remote balconies. Not a half-a-day's jog remote, but out-of-the-way and seldom-trespassed remote. He's surprised that Rodney's not fussing over one more bit of Atlantis technology, trying to figure out how to take home as much knowledge as they can. He really hopes that Helia and her crew don't do a strip search before they leave; he has a feeling Rodney's going to tuck bits and pieces in every pocket he can think of. It's the sort of thing John should be vigilant about preventing, but at this point he really doesn't care.
He should have remembered that in the military, the only 'home' is the good old USA.
"Oh, hi," Rodney says absently, glancing back at John before he returns to staring at the brilliance of Atlantis at night. Even when they had their own ZPM, Atlantis hadn't shone like it does now. John doesn't know whether it's something the Ancients did or whether it's the mere fact of their presence. "It's really something, isn't it?"
John joins Rodney, standing so their shoulders press together. He shrugs. "Pretty enough. Doesn't have all that much on Manhattan at night, though."
Rodney snorts. "Yes, they're so comparable. Flying alien city that's controlled by the mind, versus skyscrapers and traffic jams."
John nods. "Yeah, you're right. I think Central Park gives New York the edge."
Rodney finally turns toward him, half-smiling. "Did you want something, Colonel, or did you come here just to interrupt my quiet time?"
"Oh, I want something, all right." John forces a smirk as a list of all the things he wants tries to swamp his thoughts. He shoves aside the impossibles and focuses on what he does have. "What do you say we say goodbye to Atlantis in style?"
"What, do you have a bottle of champagne in your pocket? I thought you were just happy to see me."
John settles his hips against Rodney's, letting the state of his happiness speak for itself. "No, no champagne." He rubs his cheek against Rodney's, enjoying their stubble rasping together and the way the warmth of Rodney's skin cuts through the night-chill of the air. Rodney smells good, like Rodney and coffee and the sea. John moves closer to Rodney's ear, barely brushing the lobe with his lips before he lowers his voice to a dirty whisper. "But we can christen the city all on our own, don't you think?"
"You have the worst lines." Rodney pulls back just enough so that their eyes can meet. His eyebrows rise at what he sees in John's. "You're not serious." John nods. "Seriously?"
John sighs. "Look. I have had a really shitty day and a half, Rodney, and I don't think yours has been much better. I want to do one fun thing before we leave Atlantis forever."
"It won't be forever. Helia said--"
"Rodney." John lets everything into his eyes. Even if the Ancients do let them come back, John can't imagine how fortune would align to get him back in the commander's seat. The Air Force has just the opportunity they were looking for, thanks to Helia's edict. Oh, he won't get booted. But nothing this good is ever going to come his way again. He knows it.
The soft spot under Rodney's chin works back and forth for a second, and then his Adam's apple slides jerkily. "Okay," he says hoarsely. "Okay."
Kissing Rodney has never not been good. Even their first kiss was good, if a little awkward. They've kissed because they were horny. They've kissed because they were happy. They've kissed because of missions that went so badly they were both shaky for days afterwards. They've said so many things with their kisses that they've never said out loud, and right now Rodney's saying a hundred confused things. I want you and don't you dare leave me too, you bastard and tell me you're going to fix this are coming in loud and clear. John pulls away from Rodney's mouth and starts biting at his neck, because he knows his lips are shouting nothing but I can't, I can't, I can't.
Rodney whines high in his throat. John shoves his hands under Rodney's T-shirt, letting his nails drag against skin as reaches higher. Trying to feel as much as he can. Rodney reciprocates by going straight for John's belt. John moves his hips back, trying to give Rodney the room to work as quickly as he can.
Then Rodney's hands still, and John makes a whine of his own.
"Wait," Rodney says, breathy like he's just run a mile. "Wait. What if they're watching us?"
John rolls his eyes and starts unbuckling Rodney. "Who? Everybody's busy packing."
Rodney's hands land on John's. "Not our people. Them." He jerks his head and flicks his eyes up to the left in a way that John supposes to be a subtle signal towards the all-seeing powers of the Ancients.
John pauses for a second, a little creeped out, before he realizes A) he's catching Rodney's paranoia, and B) he really doesn't give a flying fuck. Down Rodney's zipper goes.
"John!" Rodney whisper-screeches.
John's laugh tastes bitter. "What are they going to do, McKay? Throw us out of the city?"
"Oh." John can see the thought work it's way through Rodney's brain. Rodney's hands are still but no longer restraining as he first ponders the question. Then he cocks his head to the side, contemplating the consequences. A smug smile finally settles onto his face when everything locks into place. "Oh, yes. Excellent point."
And then it's on.
They manage to get their pants undone and pushed down to their thighs. Rodney grabs at John's ass; John grabs at Rodney's. John shifts around, burrowing his cock under the hem of Rodney's shirt, seeking out as much hot, soft skin as he can get. Rodney attacks John's neck, pressing his teeth hard into muscle, not quite biting down. Just enough pressure to send chills up his spine and sparks straight to his balls. John considers warning Rodney that he actually does have to step back into the SGC tomorrow and face one, if not two, generals, but then Rodney hits the spot almost under his ear and John realizes he doesn't give a fuck if he shows up with hickeys and beard-burn.
"Turn around," Rodney says into his ear.
"Lube's in my right pocket," John tells him before turning around and bracing his arms on top of the railing. Rodney had picked one of the fancier balconies for his midnight moping; instead of the solid half-wall that protects most of Atlantis' overlooks, this one has a fancy balustrade, with gaps in between the rails. The constant breeze slips through the openings and tickles across his cock.
Rodney slips a lube-coated finger across his opening, and John presses back into it. Rodney doesn't push in, however, just plays around before withdrawing again.
"You lost back there?"
"Hardly." Rodney slides his hand between John's legs-a lube-filled hand. He slicks John's thighs and under his balls, and John starts to get the picture. "You did want to christen the city, right?"
John starts to laugh as Rodney aligns himself between John's legs. He straightens, still chuckling, closing his thighs as tightly as he can around Rodney's cock.
"That tickles," Rodney says, his breath huffing against John's neck like he's stuck between laughing and groaning. Then he gets a good grip on John's cock with his slick hand, and John stops laughing.
It's a bit uncoordinated at first. They haven't done it quite like this before, and Rodney can't figure out whether to thrust or to work John's cock. John solves the problem by taking over. He jacks himself to the rhythm of Rodney's thrusts, slow at the beginning, taking the time to feel each other. Taking the time to look out over their city, together.
John's not sure which one of them gives in first, but it's like lighting a spark that flares up over both of them. Rodney shoves him up closer against the balustrade, and John manages to get things lined up just right.
"Fuck," he says, and then he's laughing through his orgasm, watching as he shoots over Atlantis. Rodney slows down, fingers tight on John's hip bones, waiting him out.
"Don't you dare get it on my pants," John warns once he's got his breath back.
"Lift your balls," Rodney grunts, and then he's off again. John lifts, but the angle's all wrong. He can't see anything, not with his own junk in the way. Rodney stiffens and mutters something against John's back, and then John sees three long spurts hit the rail in front of him.
"Close enough," Rodney says, and then they're chuckling again as they put themselves back together.
"Yeah," John says, pulling Rodney in for a quick, sloppy kiss. "Yeah, it is."
Author: tigerlady
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Through Return Pt. 1.
Summary: Uh, the title really says it all. *g* This is the fourth part in a five ways thing, but it absolutely stands on its own. John and Rodney say goodbye to Atlantis.
So he finally finds Rodney on one of the more remote balconies. Not a half-a-day's jog remote, but out-of-the-way and seldom-trespassed remote. He's surprised that Rodney's not fussing over one more bit of Atlantis technology, trying to figure out how to take home as much knowledge as they can. He really hopes that Helia and her crew don't do a strip search before they leave; he has a feeling Rodney's going to tuck bits and pieces in every pocket he can think of. It's the sort of thing John should be vigilant about preventing, but at this point he really doesn't care.
He should have remembered that in the military, the only 'home' is the good old USA.
"Oh, hi," Rodney says absently, glancing back at John before he returns to staring at the brilliance of Atlantis at night. Even when they had their own ZPM, Atlantis hadn't shone like it does now. John doesn't know whether it's something the Ancients did or whether it's the mere fact of their presence. "It's really something, isn't it?"
John joins Rodney, standing so their shoulders press together. He shrugs. "Pretty enough. Doesn't have all that much on Manhattan at night, though."
Rodney snorts. "Yes, they're so comparable. Flying alien city that's controlled by the mind, versus skyscrapers and traffic jams."
John nods. "Yeah, you're right. I think Central Park gives New York the edge."
Rodney finally turns toward him, half-smiling. "Did you want something, Colonel, or did you come here just to interrupt my quiet time?"
"Oh, I want something, all right." John forces a smirk as a list of all the things he wants tries to swamp his thoughts. He shoves aside the impossibles and focuses on what he does have. "What do you say we say goodbye to Atlantis in style?"
"What, do you have a bottle of champagne in your pocket? I thought you were just happy to see me."
John settles his hips against Rodney's, letting the state of his happiness speak for itself. "No, no champagne." He rubs his cheek against Rodney's, enjoying their stubble rasping together and the way the warmth of Rodney's skin cuts through the night-chill of the air. Rodney smells good, like Rodney and coffee and the sea. John moves closer to Rodney's ear, barely brushing the lobe with his lips before he lowers his voice to a dirty whisper. "But we can christen the city all on our own, don't you think?"
"You have the worst lines." Rodney pulls back just enough so that their eyes can meet. His eyebrows rise at what he sees in John's. "You're not serious." John nods. "Seriously?"
John sighs. "Look. I have had a really shitty day and a half, Rodney, and I don't think yours has been much better. I want to do one fun thing before we leave Atlantis forever."
"It won't be forever. Helia said--"
"Rodney." John lets everything into his eyes. Even if the Ancients do let them come back, John can't imagine how fortune would align to get him back in the commander's seat. The Air Force has just the opportunity they were looking for, thanks to Helia's edict. Oh, he won't get booted. But nothing this good is ever going to come his way again. He knows it.
The soft spot under Rodney's chin works back and forth for a second, and then his Adam's apple slides jerkily. "Okay," he says hoarsely. "Okay."
Kissing Rodney has never not been good. Even their first kiss was good, if a little awkward. They've kissed because they were horny. They've kissed because they were happy. They've kissed because of missions that went so badly they were both shaky for days afterwards. They've said so many things with their kisses that they've never said out loud, and right now Rodney's saying a hundred confused things. I want you and don't you dare leave me too, you bastard and tell me you're going to fix this are coming in loud and clear. John pulls away from Rodney's mouth and starts biting at his neck, because he knows his lips are shouting nothing but I can't, I can't, I can't.
Rodney whines high in his throat. John shoves his hands under Rodney's T-shirt, letting his nails drag against skin as reaches higher. Trying to feel as much as he can. Rodney reciprocates by going straight for John's belt. John moves his hips back, trying to give Rodney the room to work as quickly as he can.
Then Rodney's hands still, and John makes a whine of his own.
"Wait," Rodney says, breathy like he's just run a mile. "Wait. What if they're watching us?"
John rolls his eyes and starts unbuckling Rodney. "Who? Everybody's busy packing."
Rodney's hands land on John's. "Not our people. Them." He jerks his head and flicks his eyes up to the left in a way that John supposes to be a subtle signal towards the all-seeing powers of the Ancients.
John pauses for a second, a little creeped out, before he realizes A) he's catching Rodney's paranoia, and B) he really doesn't give a flying fuck. Down Rodney's zipper goes.
"John!" Rodney whisper-screeches.
John's laugh tastes bitter. "What are they going to do, McKay? Throw us out of the city?"
"Oh." John can see the thought work it's way through Rodney's brain. Rodney's hands are still but no longer restraining as he first ponders the question. Then he cocks his head to the side, contemplating the consequences. A smug smile finally settles onto his face when everything locks into place. "Oh, yes. Excellent point."
And then it's on.
They manage to get their pants undone and pushed down to their thighs. Rodney grabs at John's ass; John grabs at Rodney's. John shifts around, burrowing his cock under the hem of Rodney's shirt, seeking out as much hot, soft skin as he can get. Rodney attacks John's neck, pressing his teeth hard into muscle, not quite biting down. Just enough pressure to send chills up his spine and sparks straight to his balls. John considers warning Rodney that he actually does have to step back into the SGC tomorrow and face one, if not two, generals, but then Rodney hits the spot almost under his ear and John realizes he doesn't give a fuck if he shows up with hickeys and beard-burn.
"Turn around," Rodney says into his ear.
"Lube's in my right pocket," John tells him before turning around and bracing his arms on top of the railing. Rodney had picked one of the fancier balconies for his midnight moping; instead of the solid half-wall that protects most of Atlantis' overlooks, this one has a fancy balustrade, with gaps in between the rails. The constant breeze slips through the openings and tickles across his cock.
Rodney slips a lube-coated finger across his opening, and John presses back into it. Rodney doesn't push in, however, just plays around before withdrawing again.
"You lost back there?"
"Hardly." Rodney slides his hand between John's legs-a lube-filled hand. He slicks John's thighs and under his balls, and John starts to get the picture. "You did want to christen the city, right?"
John starts to laugh as Rodney aligns himself between John's legs. He straightens, still chuckling, closing his thighs as tightly as he can around Rodney's cock.
"That tickles," Rodney says, his breath huffing against John's neck like he's stuck between laughing and groaning. Then he gets a good grip on John's cock with his slick hand, and John stops laughing.
It's a bit uncoordinated at first. They haven't done it quite like this before, and Rodney can't figure out whether to thrust or to work John's cock. John solves the problem by taking over. He jacks himself to the rhythm of Rodney's thrusts, slow at the beginning, taking the time to feel each other. Taking the time to look out over their city, together.
John's not sure which one of them gives in first, but it's like lighting a spark that flares up over both of them. Rodney shoves him up closer against the balustrade, and John manages to get things lined up just right.
"Fuck," he says, and then he's laughing through his orgasm, watching as he shoots over Atlantis. Rodney slows down, fingers tight on John's hip bones, waiting him out.
"Don't you dare get it on my pants," John warns once he's got his breath back.
"Lift your balls," Rodney grunts, and then he's off again. John lifts, but the angle's all wrong. He can't see anything, not with his own junk in the way. Rodney stiffens and mutters something against John's back, and then John sees three long spurts hit the rail in front of him.
"Close enough," Rodney says, and then they're chuckling again as they put themselves back together.
"Yeah," John says, pulling Rodney in for a quick, sloppy kiss. "Yeah, it is."