ahhhh, sappppp

[unamaga]

Dear Jules,

Right now, you are probably out celebrating your own awesomeness in the awesome city of Vienna. Just in case you maybe-kinda get online before the day's through, I wanna wish you a big, sappy Happy Birthday!

We still haven't quite figured out how you found me or why we started talking, but I can quite honestly say you've made my life better just by being around. You're the one of the sweetest, most honestly caring friends I've ever had - no matter what's got me down, you can always make me giggle like a loony toon with a few well-placed words or by sending me a candy manthong.

Not many people can keep up with me and my insane perversions, but you definitely can - and usually you encourage me to entirely new, perverted heights! There's nothing you're not willing to try at least once, you're open-minded and willing to listen to whatever I say about...pretty much anything, from political rants to philosophical views to nonsensical babblings at five in the morning. And on top of listening? You're always willing to contribute. Even if you don't exactly know what I'm talking about or you don't agree with me 100%, there isn't anything I can't talk to you about.

All of this is really woefully inadequate in describing how much you mean to me, and I suspect you know that, even though I've missed a few of my daily I Love Yous lately. You're just...you're the snail to my snake, and I adore you.

Love,
Mel


Title: Pretty Pretty Bunch
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: R
Wordcount: 570
Notes: So, it's not exactly the epic work of art I wanted to write you, Jules, but it's sex pollen! And I swear, that John/Rodney/Atlantis fic is totally going to happen one day; I love you that much. Quick beta by miss immoralilly. ♥

“You shouldn’t touch that, Colonel,” McKay says. “It could be poisonous or carnivorous and, really, given what the Pegasus Galaxy has come up with thus far, it wouldn’t be at all surprising if it turned around and ate your head, which wouldn’t bode well for the expedition. Also Landry would laugh, and if there’s one man in the universe I don’t want to hear laugh, it’s him. He must sound like a polar bear – ”

John reaches out anyway, feeling oddly drawn. “Aw, come on, Rodney. Where’s your sense of adventure?” He regrets it the instant his finger touches the stem and a puff of yellow powder catches he and Rodney right in the face.

-

They tumble down into the high grass laughing, their clumsy fingers skating over buttons and zippers, slipping under fabric and pushing it up, away, when the task is too difficult. Rodney’s wide mouth finds the edge of John’s dog tags, presses sloppy kisses up the side of John’s neck; his teeth scrape over the sharp point of John’s ear and John laughs again, breathless, the air too thick and heavy, clinging to the inside of his throat like cola syrup.

“John,” Rodney murmurs, and it sounds weird – right – slurred with weighty affection and sunlight against the flushed curve of his cheek. “I want – ”

Their hips slot together lazily and it’s good even with layers of clothing in the way. Rodney’s hard against John’s belly, and he makes a sweet, choked off noise when John puts both hands on his ass and arches up, grinding their hips together.

John’s thighs ache with strain, but Rodney’s eyes are bluer than the sky and his lip is red where John bit him – it’s worth it.

“Come on.” The pace picks up – slowly at first, and then they’re panting into each other’s mouths and John’s managed to get their boxers off, thrown to the side. He tightens his hold on Rodney’s bare hips and pulls Rodney down against him until everything’s sliding, perfect heat and all he can smell is the sweat beading on Rodney’s skin. “Rodney, I – oh.”

John tilts his head back and watches the alien grass sway in the breeze, dizzy and wanting, Rodney’s strong fingers wrapping around his cock. The crook of his shoulder itches, but then Rodney’s teeth are there and he’s coming with a low whine, his hand tight around the back of Rodney’s neck.

He hears, “God, you’re so,” and, “John,” and forces his heavy eyes open to watch Rodney’s face as he comes. It’s strangely beautiful, seeing those familiar features, ruddy with arousal instead of anger, softened by John’s own mouth and fingers.

“Wow. Cool,” he says softly when Rodney’s through trembling and slumped against his chest.

A puff of amusement against his neck, and then Rodney’s laughing outright, bright and unguarded. “You’re insane,” he manages between girlish giggles, “absolutely insane. I can’t believe we just – and you – ‘cool’? That’s all you have to say about this? Oh my god, do you think it was that flower thing? I told you not to touch it, you maniac, you were bargaining with our lives.”

John folds his arm behind his head and stares up at the sky, patting Rodney’s shoulder absently, wondering where his pants have gotten to. Maybe he’ll freak out later. He’ll see if he has time between his sparring session with Teyla and dinner.