Porny promt #2 - Roll in the Hay (John/Rodney/Ronon, NC-17)
Title: Roll in the Hay
Author: Zinnith
Pairing:John/Rodney/Ronon
Wordcount: ~2100
Summary: Including Ronon doesn't mean there's less space for Rodney.
Notes: For psio03kx and her prompt John/Rodney/Ronon, bottomJohn, off-world barn, DP ^^ Also my first threesome fic ever. All those limbs going everywhere! Thank you the_cephalopod for assuring me they were in the right places!
Roll in the Hay
It's possible that they've all had a little too much to drink. Rodney knows for sure that John would never have suggested something like this had he been sober. Not off-world. Not with Ronon. Rodney is also fairly certain that he himself would never have agreed to it if he had been in his right mind, but the jury's still out on that one. After all, this is John. Sloppy, happy, pliant John, stubbly cheeks a little blushed from alcohol. Even now, after all this time, he can't resist John like this. Not when he puts the Lieutenant Colonel persona aside and just lets go. It's something he does only for Rodney, and now just lately for Ronon.
In the beginning, it was incredibly awkward. The first time John voiced the thought ( “I think Ronon is lonely. Maybe we should help him out?”) Rodney was sure that it was over. He knows that he could stand to lose a few pounds, and that his forehead is a lot higher now than it was ten years ago, while Ronon is the model of male perfection. He really couldn't blame John for wanting someone younger and hotter, and it wasn't until John smacked the back of his head and called him an idiot that he began to understand that maybe that wasn't the case.
It took some time for Rodney to grasp, but he's learning. To John, sex and love are two completely different things. Sex is all about pleasure, about feeling good and making his lovers feel good. Sex is easy and uncomplicated. It's something he does for fun, to relax and unwind. It's lust and need, purely about the body. Love, now, is a different story. Love is spending the nights on Rodney's (in John's opinion) nightmare of a mattress just because it's his. Love is getting out of bed at three a.m. to drag Rodney out of the lab. Love is about making sure there's always fresh coffee, about keeping vigil in the infirmary when there are a thousand more important things he should be doing, about playing video golf and racing remote controlled cars. It's talking about things he wouldn't tell anyone but Rodney.
Including Ronon doesn't mean there's less space for Rodney. And for Rodney it means that there's occasionally two unbelivably hot men in his bed instead of one, so he's not complaining.
And he's not complaining now, when John presses him up against the sun warmed wall of the barn and kisses him, hot and wet and dirty, mumbling ”I want you. Want you both.” He's not complaining when Ronon's hands join his underneath John's shirt, making John moan into Rodney's mouth and thrust his rock-hard erection enthusiastically against Rodney's thigh.
“Yes,” Rodney manages in between deep kisses, thinking fleetingly about the harvest celebration going on not far away, and whether or not someone will miss them, but when Ronon peels off John's t-shirt and starts in on his belt buckle, it ceases to matter.
“Might wanna move this inside,” Ronon rumbles, his mouth roaming over John's naked shoulder. Of the three of them Ronon is, surprisingly enough, the most prudish about being seen in public. For John it's something of a thrill, almost to the point where he thinks sucking Rodney off in the utility closet next to the conference room where Sam is in a meeting with Caldwell and Ellis is a good idea. Rodney himself isn't above a little gloating. It's not like anyone would ever have expected him to have a chance with someone like John. But Ronon doesn't like taking the risk of being seen and they both respect that. He can't let his guard down unless they're somewhere private, which makes Rodney think that Ronon's probably had a little more than usual to drink as well.
They stumble inside the barn, shedding clothes as they go. The smell of fresh hay makes Rodney's sinuses curl up and protest and he can't hold back a very unsexy sneeze. It makes John giggle so hard that he falls over into a pile of hay, his erection bobbing a little with every hiccup of mirth.
“Yes, yes, very funny,” Rodney mutters, getting rid of his restraining boxers. “Let's all ridicule the man with the allergies.” Then he closes his eyes as Ronon's fist wraps around his dick, giving him a few long, slow strokes. “Oh, god yes.”
Ronon is standing behind him, naked as the day he was born, his hard cock poking Rodney in the back. Rodney rubs lightly against it, satisfied when it draws a deep growling groan from Ronon's throat.
There's sunlight trickling in between the thin boards of the wall and the golden stripes fall over John's pale body where he's lying on his back in the hay, slowly running two fingers over the glistening head of his cock. “You look good like that,” he breathes, eyes glazed over with lust.
“Feel like joining us?” Ronon asks, wrapping one long arm around Rodney's chest to play with his nipples.
“I'm fine here, thanks,” John drawls lazily, raising his hips a little to thrust a few times into his own hand. He looks positively decadent, his long, lithe body stretched out on the hay. “Why don't you two come over here instead?”
“Do you have any idea how much hay itches? I have very sensitive skin, you know!” Rodney protests, but Ronon is already walking him towards the hay bale and it's not like he's going to back out on this. They all go down in a tangle of arms and legs and elbows in uncomfortable places.
“Oof,” Ronon mutters. “You've got to get more meat on your bones, Sheppard.”
“You calling me skinny?” John asks, cocking an eyebrow.
“Please, your ribs should be classified as lethal weapons,” Rodney says. Somehow he's the one on his back now, the aforementioned ribs poking him in the side. The hay rustles every time he moves and it's scratchy but still curiously soft, and when John grins and leans over to suck him down, he forgets any discomfort he might have felt before.
Ronon sits back on his heals, watching. There are patches of sun playing over his bronzed muscles and he looks like he's trying to decide where to start. Then he throws his hair back over his shoulder and arranges John so that he's kneeling on all fours, ass in the air and mouth still sliding up and down over Rodney's cock. Rodney can't really see what's going on, but the loud moan vibrating in John's throat a little later tells him that Ronon must be using his tongue to open John up.
John isn't much of a talker, but he's very vocal in bed. Back in Atlantis, they sometimes have to gag him to keep him from making too much noise. It's not necessary here and John deserves this, to be allowed to moan and gasp and cry out his pleasure in that low raspy voice. Every twist of Ronon's tongue translates to John's, and Rodney just lies back and gets lost in it, watching John's shaggy head move up and down on the cock disappearing between his lips.
Eventually, Ronon comes up for breath, lips wet with saliva. “McKay, where's the slick?” he asks.
It's evil, Rodney knows it is, but he can't resist. ”What, I was supposed to bring lube?” he says innocently.
Ronon's face freezes in a hilarious expression of desperation and disbelief and John's mouth pops off Rodney's cock. “Rodney?” he breathes, his voice taking on the same low dangerous tone he has when he interrogates Genii.
It would be funny to keep it up, but Rodney is also very much aware of John's proximity to his private parts so he rolls his eyes. “What do you think I am, stupid? It's in my left vest pocket.”
With an almost audible sigh of relief, Ronon gets up to retrieve the lube. John glares at Rodney and returns to what he was doing, using a little more teeth than necessary.
It shouldn't be so hot, Rodney thinks. He should be worrying about bugs in the hay and about how much he's going to be itching tomorrow. But Pegasus has taught him a thing or two about life. Sometimes you have to just stop worrying about the next impending catastrophe and enjoy the moment. Anything else is a sure way of going crazy.
Ronon is soon back on his knees, using fingers now where his tongue had been a moment ago. John pushes back against him, eager and unashamed, wordlessly begging for more and deeper.
“A little impatient, are we?” Rodney smiles, curling his hand around John's neck.
John glares again and bites him, a sharp little nick of teeth at the soft skin of Rodney's inner thigh. Rodney lets out a little noise that's definitely not a yelp and John smirks, an expression which is soon replaced by dazed pleasure as Ronon slowly pushes into his ass.
John is beautiful, he always is like this. It doesn't matter if it's Rodney or Ronon's cock filling him up, John loves being fucked, loves it so much that he'd spend every second with his legs spread if he could. His face always goes soft and unguarded, his throat emits sounds like nothing Rodney's ever heard before.
“Come here,” Rodney hears himself say, pulling John's head back down again. John doesn't hesitate, swallows Rodney down again. Deep enough that Rodney would choke if he tried it, but John doesn't. He starts humming softly around Rodney's cock, letting Ronon's slow thrusts control the rhythm. His eyes are half closed, dark and drunk on both pleasure and wine. Just the sight of him alone would be enough to make Rodney come. And then there's Ronon, kneeling on the floor, his back ramrod straight while his head is bowed, hair falling like curtains around his face as he fucks John with determined concentration, as if it takes every inch of control he has not to come. Rodney can't blame him. He knows what it's like to be inside John, how hot and tight he is, how he just opens up and takes you.
John is beginning to make those soft hitching breaths that means he's close. Rodney wants to see him lose it so he looks up at Ronon and meets his eyes. “Touch him,” he says, knowing that even though Ronon usually ignores him in the field, he always follows Rodney's lead in bed. Rodney knows John's body better than anyone, knows how to read the signs. “Make him come.”
Ronon's hand, which has been resting on John's hips up until now, snakes down to his cock, jerking him in time with the slow deep thrusts into his ass. John is moaning almost continuously now. The vibrations make Rodney want to just let his eyes roll back and empty himself down John's throat, but he wants to see this, wants to see John come.
It doesn't take long. The rhythm of John's mouth becomes more and more irregular, until he pulls off so that only the head of Rodney's cock is resting on his tongue. His eyes are glazed over, lost in pleasure, and then he shudders and his eyelids flutters closed as his entire body first tenses and then relaxes in climax. Ronon is not far behind, his hips stuttering once, twice before he finds his own release. Rodney watches, can't take his eyes off them until the last tremor of orgasm has died out, until Ronon collapses over John's back and John opens his eyes again. He looks wrecked, completely fucked out, with dark eyes and swollen lips, and he only has to suck once before Rodney comes himself, comes so hard that his back arches off the floor and he lets out an unwilling cry while John swallows every drop he has to give and then licks him clean.
The next morning, Rodney wakes up with a rash that's going to be hard to explain to Keller, a mild hang-over, and a warm John moulded up against the length of his body. He glances at his watch to find that it's still early. John and Ronon are both asleep, Ronon's face pressed against John's neck and his arm thrown over John's waist.
A piece of straw tickles Rodney's nose and he has to sneeze again. It doesn't wake his lovers, and he watches them for a little longer before he snuggles down next to John again and goes back to sleep. He's a very lucky man.
- fin -
Author: Zinnith
Pairing:John/Rodney/Ronon
Wordcount: ~2100
Summary: Including Ronon doesn't mean there's less space for Rodney.
Notes: For psio03kx and her prompt John/Rodney/Ronon, bottomJohn, off-world barn, DP ^^ Also my first threesome fic ever. All those limbs going everywhere! Thank you the_cephalopod for assuring me they were in the right places!
Roll in the Hay
It's possible that they've all had a little too much to drink. Rodney knows for sure that John would never have suggested something like this had he been sober. Not off-world. Not with Ronon. Rodney is also fairly certain that he himself would never have agreed to it if he had been in his right mind, but the jury's still out on that one. After all, this is John. Sloppy, happy, pliant John, stubbly cheeks a little blushed from alcohol. Even now, after all this time, he can't resist John like this. Not when he puts the Lieutenant Colonel persona aside and just lets go. It's something he does only for Rodney, and now just lately for Ronon.
In the beginning, it was incredibly awkward. The first time John voiced the thought ( “I think Ronon is lonely. Maybe we should help him out?”) Rodney was sure that it was over. He knows that he could stand to lose a few pounds, and that his forehead is a lot higher now than it was ten years ago, while Ronon is the model of male perfection. He really couldn't blame John for wanting someone younger and hotter, and it wasn't until John smacked the back of his head and called him an idiot that he began to understand that maybe that wasn't the case.
It took some time for Rodney to grasp, but he's learning. To John, sex and love are two completely different things. Sex is all about pleasure, about feeling good and making his lovers feel good. Sex is easy and uncomplicated. It's something he does for fun, to relax and unwind. It's lust and need, purely about the body. Love, now, is a different story. Love is spending the nights on Rodney's (in John's opinion) nightmare of a mattress just because it's his. Love is getting out of bed at three a.m. to drag Rodney out of the lab. Love is about making sure there's always fresh coffee, about keeping vigil in the infirmary when there are a thousand more important things he should be doing, about playing video golf and racing remote controlled cars. It's talking about things he wouldn't tell anyone but Rodney.
Including Ronon doesn't mean there's less space for Rodney. And for Rodney it means that there's occasionally two unbelivably hot men in his bed instead of one, so he's not complaining.
And he's not complaining now, when John presses him up against the sun warmed wall of the barn and kisses him, hot and wet and dirty, mumbling ”I want you. Want you both.” He's not complaining when Ronon's hands join his underneath John's shirt, making John moan into Rodney's mouth and thrust his rock-hard erection enthusiastically against Rodney's thigh.
“Yes,” Rodney manages in between deep kisses, thinking fleetingly about the harvest celebration going on not far away, and whether or not someone will miss them, but when Ronon peels off John's t-shirt and starts in on his belt buckle, it ceases to matter.
“Might wanna move this inside,” Ronon rumbles, his mouth roaming over John's naked shoulder. Of the three of them Ronon is, surprisingly enough, the most prudish about being seen in public. For John it's something of a thrill, almost to the point where he thinks sucking Rodney off in the utility closet next to the conference room where Sam is in a meeting with Caldwell and Ellis is a good idea. Rodney himself isn't above a little gloating. It's not like anyone would ever have expected him to have a chance with someone like John. But Ronon doesn't like taking the risk of being seen and they both respect that. He can't let his guard down unless they're somewhere private, which makes Rodney think that Ronon's probably had a little more than usual to drink as well.
They stumble inside the barn, shedding clothes as they go. The smell of fresh hay makes Rodney's sinuses curl up and protest and he can't hold back a very unsexy sneeze. It makes John giggle so hard that he falls over into a pile of hay, his erection bobbing a little with every hiccup of mirth.
“Yes, yes, very funny,” Rodney mutters, getting rid of his restraining boxers. “Let's all ridicule the man with the allergies.” Then he closes his eyes as Ronon's fist wraps around his dick, giving him a few long, slow strokes. “Oh, god yes.”
Ronon is standing behind him, naked as the day he was born, his hard cock poking Rodney in the back. Rodney rubs lightly against it, satisfied when it draws a deep growling groan from Ronon's throat.
There's sunlight trickling in between the thin boards of the wall and the golden stripes fall over John's pale body where he's lying on his back in the hay, slowly running two fingers over the glistening head of his cock. “You look good like that,” he breathes, eyes glazed over with lust.
“Feel like joining us?” Ronon asks, wrapping one long arm around Rodney's chest to play with his nipples.
“I'm fine here, thanks,” John drawls lazily, raising his hips a little to thrust a few times into his own hand. He looks positively decadent, his long, lithe body stretched out on the hay. “Why don't you two come over here instead?”
“Do you have any idea how much hay itches? I have very sensitive skin, you know!” Rodney protests, but Ronon is already walking him towards the hay bale and it's not like he's going to back out on this. They all go down in a tangle of arms and legs and elbows in uncomfortable places.
“Oof,” Ronon mutters. “You've got to get more meat on your bones, Sheppard.”
“You calling me skinny?” John asks, cocking an eyebrow.
“Please, your ribs should be classified as lethal weapons,” Rodney says. Somehow he's the one on his back now, the aforementioned ribs poking him in the side. The hay rustles every time he moves and it's scratchy but still curiously soft, and when John grins and leans over to suck him down, he forgets any discomfort he might have felt before.
Ronon sits back on his heals, watching. There are patches of sun playing over his bronzed muscles and he looks like he's trying to decide where to start. Then he throws his hair back over his shoulder and arranges John so that he's kneeling on all fours, ass in the air and mouth still sliding up and down over Rodney's cock. Rodney can't really see what's going on, but the loud moan vibrating in John's throat a little later tells him that Ronon must be using his tongue to open John up.
John isn't much of a talker, but he's very vocal in bed. Back in Atlantis, they sometimes have to gag him to keep him from making too much noise. It's not necessary here and John deserves this, to be allowed to moan and gasp and cry out his pleasure in that low raspy voice. Every twist of Ronon's tongue translates to John's, and Rodney just lies back and gets lost in it, watching John's shaggy head move up and down on the cock disappearing between his lips.
Eventually, Ronon comes up for breath, lips wet with saliva. “McKay, where's the slick?” he asks.
It's evil, Rodney knows it is, but he can't resist. ”What, I was supposed to bring lube?” he says innocently.
Ronon's face freezes in a hilarious expression of desperation and disbelief and John's mouth pops off Rodney's cock. “Rodney?” he breathes, his voice taking on the same low dangerous tone he has when he interrogates Genii.
It would be funny to keep it up, but Rodney is also very much aware of John's proximity to his private parts so he rolls his eyes. “What do you think I am, stupid? It's in my left vest pocket.”
With an almost audible sigh of relief, Ronon gets up to retrieve the lube. John glares at Rodney and returns to what he was doing, using a little more teeth than necessary.
It shouldn't be so hot, Rodney thinks. He should be worrying about bugs in the hay and about how much he's going to be itching tomorrow. But Pegasus has taught him a thing or two about life. Sometimes you have to just stop worrying about the next impending catastrophe and enjoy the moment. Anything else is a sure way of going crazy.
Ronon is soon back on his knees, using fingers now where his tongue had been a moment ago. John pushes back against him, eager and unashamed, wordlessly begging for more and deeper.
“A little impatient, are we?” Rodney smiles, curling his hand around John's neck.
John glares again and bites him, a sharp little nick of teeth at the soft skin of Rodney's inner thigh. Rodney lets out a little noise that's definitely not a yelp and John smirks, an expression which is soon replaced by dazed pleasure as Ronon slowly pushes into his ass.
John is beautiful, he always is like this. It doesn't matter if it's Rodney or Ronon's cock filling him up, John loves being fucked, loves it so much that he'd spend every second with his legs spread if he could. His face always goes soft and unguarded, his throat emits sounds like nothing Rodney's ever heard before.
“Come here,” Rodney hears himself say, pulling John's head back down again. John doesn't hesitate, swallows Rodney down again. Deep enough that Rodney would choke if he tried it, but John doesn't. He starts humming softly around Rodney's cock, letting Ronon's slow thrusts control the rhythm. His eyes are half closed, dark and drunk on both pleasure and wine. Just the sight of him alone would be enough to make Rodney come. And then there's Ronon, kneeling on the floor, his back ramrod straight while his head is bowed, hair falling like curtains around his face as he fucks John with determined concentration, as if it takes every inch of control he has not to come. Rodney can't blame him. He knows what it's like to be inside John, how hot and tight he is, how he just opens up and takes you.
John is beginning to make those soft hitching breaths that means he's close. Rodney wants to see him lose it so he looks up at Ronon and meets his eyes. “Touch him,” he says, knowing that even though Ronon usually ignores him in the field, he always follows Rodney's lead in bed. Rodney knows John's body better than anyone, knows how to read the signs. “Make him come.”
Ronon's hand, which has been resting on John's hips up until now, snakes down to his cock, jerking him in time with the slow deep thrusts into his ass. John is moaning almost continuously now. The vibrations make Rodney want to just let his eyes roll back and empty himself down John's throat, but he wants to see this, wants to see John come.
It doesn't take long. The rhythm of John's mouth becomes more and more irregular, until he pulls off so that only the head of Rodney's cock is resting on his tongue. His eyes are glazed over, lost in pleasure, and then he shudders and his eyelids flutters closed as his entire body first tenses and then relaxes in climax. Ronon is not far behind, his hips stuttering once, twice before he finds his own release. Rodney watches, can't take his eyes off them until the last tremor of orgasm has died out, until Ronon collapses over John's back and John opens his eyes again. He looks wrecked, completely fucked out, with dark eyes and swollen lips, and he only has to suck once before Rodney comes himself, comes so hard that his back arches off the floor and he lets out an unwilling cry while John swallows every drop he has to give and then licks him clean.
The next morning, Rodney wakes up with a rash that's going to be hard to explain to Keller, a mild hang-over, and a warm John moulded up against the length of his body. He glances at his watch to find that it's still early. John and Ronon are both asleep, Ronon's face pressed against John's neck and his arm thrown over John's waist.
A piece of straw tickles Rodney's nose and he has to sneeze again. It doesn't wake his lovers, and he watches them for a little longer before he snuggles down next to John again and goes back to sleep. He's a very lucky man.
- fin -