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mm mmm good
Jules: so like one of them calmly trails his foot up the other one's leg while making polite conversation with someone else. and there is massaging of the cock with the foot and stuff. i don't know why but i find that to be an incredible turn on. it's probably just some weird version of a public!sex kink.
Mel: I LOVE THAT
Mel: i remember reading SO many of those fics in buffy
Mel: it was a fandom-wide phenomenon i think
Jules: definitely! and i probably read all of them. and then in sv fandom they kind of picked the secret touching at official gatherings up.
Jules: it was all very hot
Jules: i think john and rodney would be awesome doing it.
Mel: they so would
Mel: damn, why hasn't fandom done that yet!
Mel: it would be so EASY
Mel: so easy for john to just casually lean to one side while they're sitting at a long table on M9X-847 eating with the king and his court, to slip his hand down rodney's thigh and up the inseam of his BDUs, pinky brushing the head of rodney's hardening cock.
Jules: ngh! YES!
Jules: oh my god yes.
Mel: and rodney gasps, almost choking when he inhales some of his rice; ronon pounds him on the back for a minute until rodney manages a strangled, i'm fine, i'm fine, breathless because john still hasn't stopped, his palm pressing hard against the line of rodney's erection, the pads of his fingers twitching in and up, finding the shape of rodney's balls with slow, persistent rubs.
john murmurs, all right there, buddy? out of the corner of his mouth, face blank and innocent, right as his pointer and middle fingers push up hard behind rodney's balls, forcing the seam of his boxers in so that when rodney shifts he's riding along it.
he lets out a soft whimper, covers it with a cough - which turns out to be a mistake, because now teyla's leaning across the table, concerned, placing a small hand on his shoulder and saying something to him that he can't make out past the hot pulse of his own blood in his ears. john's hand does something wicked and physically impossible, sweet, agonizing pressure all along rodney's cock, and he almost whites out, coming so hard his back bows forward and his head nearly connects with the table top.
oh my god, he breathes, hips jerking with aftershocks, and barely registers john's fast explanation to the king sitting at the end of the table, or the way that john gets him up with his shoulder shoved under rodney's arm to help him walk. he doesn't notice anything, really, until john lowers him down onto a soft bed and starts to undo rodney's pants.
so hot, john murmurs, mouth close to the strip of skin above rodney's waistband where his shirt has ridden up; now, he continues once rodney's sticky boxers are out of the way, smiling in a dark way that makes rodney’s heart beat faster, i'm gonna suck you.
So, on that note, drabble time! You all who've been around for a bit know the drill. The rest of you: gimme a few words, a song, a pairing, whatever you want in any fandom I've written in, and I'll give you a ficlet. Go!
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Ummmm. A broken laptop, two pints of beer, and a very crowded tavern offworld.
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(Yes, I am waaaaaay behind...)
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John leans back in his chair, kicking his feet up on the table - his boots are a little muddy, but the whole bar is dirty enough that he doesn't think anyone's going to notice a difference - and slouches down indolently.
"Are you listening to me?" Rodney says. "Because, really, I am so mad at you. Your shower is never going to have hot water again when we get back to Atlantis, and I'm going to have Kavanaugh accidentally dismantle your favorite puddlejumper. He is so very incompetant that he'll forget to label all the parts and we'll never be able to put anything back together again."
"Hey." John catches a passing waitress's attention, smiling with all his teeth. She giggles and cocks her hip to the side flirtatiously. "Could we have two pints, please? Thanks."
When he turns back, Rodney is frowing so hard his nose is scrunched up and red. It's kind of adorable. "Do you ever stop?"
"Stop what?" John asks, feigning innocence.
Rodney seems to make a frustrated noise that sounds garbled and a little bit like furbledee, but John can't be sure, since that might actually have been the man at the table behind them that has just passed out practically on Rodney's shoulder. He lists to the side a bit, and Rodney loses his precarious balance, toppling off the bar stool with a loud yelp.
John leans over the table to look down at the tangled pile of limbs, biting down manfully on his laughter. "Rodney?"
"I hate you," comes Rodney's voice from somewhere in the vicinity of the man's armpit, muffled and petulant.
John puts his head down on the table and laughs until his stomach hurts and he feels like his throat is burning.
(In the background, Rodney gravely intones: "My back is never going to be the same. I have had spinal damage in the past, you know, this could set me back years and years of physical therapy. Are you still laughing? Sheppard? God, this man smells like - ugh, is that Aqua Velva? And beer? I think I'm going to throw up. Colonel! A little help here!")
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I'm going to have Kavanaugh accidentally dismantle your favorite puddlejumper.
Bwahahahaha! Babe, I love you. :D
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!!!
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"Hey," Rodney says softly, coming around to sit on the bench next to John.
His cheeks are ruddy, lips visibly chapped and bitten, the flaps of his ridiculous orange and red knitted hat are skewed like he put it on fast and didn't stop to look in the mirror before he left. The sight is so familiar it makes John's stomach twist and he has no choice but to lean in and steal a furtive kiss. Rodney ducks his head like he's embarassed, and his shoulders go up around his ears, but he doesn't pull away when John loops an arm around his neck and tugs him in, just settles in against John's chest and looks out over the university quad, where students are bustling to their next classes in twos and threes.
"Think it'll snow?" Rodney murmurs, hushed and tentative. John glances over, and Rodney's eyes are so bright and blue the rest of the world seems dull by comparison. "Not - not that snow would exactly...I mean, the T would probably run off schedule and strand people in Chinatown - which I've heard is not very safe at night anymore, mind you, and - "
John chuckles and presses his cold mouth to Rodney's temple, breathing in his fresh autumn scent. "Let's make cookies tonight."
He listens to Rodney puff out a breath, feels the moment Rodney's muscles relax. "Yeah," he agrees, "that. That sounds good."
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How did you know I envisioned them on a CAMPUS? (although where else would Rodney drag John in Boston! Hee!)
THIS WAS PERFECTION! Now. They should go make piles of leaves and John should convince Rodney to jump in them. :D
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The first one to see him is a small Asian girl in a gray pea coat and a loud, lime green scarf. She covers her mouth with one hand, eyes wide, when John puts a finger to his lips.
"- and, Johnson, if you ever, ever touch something under the chemical hood without my permission again, an F will be the least of your worries," Rodney fumes. "Surely you're a junior and you should know better by now. Not that any of my collegues are competent enough to train you properly, of course, but that is neither here nor there. Did I or did I not tell you that I was working with mercur - John!"
John cackles, delighting in Rodney's indignant squeal of protest, and carries him bodily over to the mound of leaves.
"What are you - no. No no nonono, John, don't you dare, I am going to kill you!" Rodney yells, trying to squirm around in John's arms and punch him in the gut; his knee connects with John's side, but it's too late because John's already tipping them over. They go down with a whumph, dead leaves crackling under their weight, and - wow, totally not as cushy as John expected.
"Ungh," Rodney says.
"Mrph," John agrees.
"No sex. Ever again," Rodney adds.
"Yeah right," John snorts. "You love my ass."
Rodney's sullen silence speaks for itself.
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Mel. Stop being so fantabulous. My heart can't take it!
*flaps*
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And is JOHN A PROFESSOR IN THAT LITTLE DITTY UP THERE?
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GLASSES TOO YES? AND AND RODNEY REALIZES HE HAS A KINK FOR HIS GLASSES AND THEN THEY FUCK WHILE JOHN WEARS THEM.
this got a bit out of hand
The second time, John is a little suspicious, but he happily lets Rodney distract him with a slow, hot blowjob. He'll never get tired of seeing Rodney down on his knees, or of the way Rodney's eyes glaze over like he loves John's cock in his mouth, like he needs it.
The third time, though - the third time, John notices.
"Just. Fuck, just leave them on," Rodney slurs. He bites at John's lower lip, scrapes his teeth across it until it's raw and sensitive and every brush of Rodney's tongue goes straight to John's cock. It's not enough to distract him, though, because now he has it in his head, and Rodney may be the Chemistry professor, but John's undergraduate degree was in engineering, and he knows how the scientific method works.
1. Form a hypothesis.
2. Perform an experiment and collect data.
3. Analyze data.
4. Form conclusions that serve as a starting point for new hypothesis.
Well, John already has his hypothesis (Rodney gets off on John in glasses), so now he needs to perform an experiment. Easy enough. He pushes Rodney back against the wall firmly until Rodney gets the point and stops struggling, and then slides to his knees, taking Rodney's loosened pants with him.
"Turn on the lights," he says. "I want you to see."
Rodney makes a strangled, desperate noise and gropes along the wall until he finds the light switch. As soon as the fluorescents flicker on, John leans in and nuzzles the line of Rodney's cock through his boxers, making sure the cold metal edge of his glasses brushes against Rodney's skin. Just as he expected, Rodney inhales sharply and curls his fingers into fists.
"Oh my god, John," Rodney whimpers. "You - fuck, you have no idea what you look like."
Pleased, John takes the waistband of Rodney's boxers with his teeth and tugs them down - a trick that he learned specifically because he knew it would turn Rodney into a gibbering mess. Now's definitely no exception.
John waits until Rodney's hips stop twitching some, and then dips his head down, swallowing around Rodney's cock until his nose is pressed to Rodney's belly and he can push forward deliberately with his knees until his glasses bump skin again. The reaction is instantaneous: Rodney lets out a tortured sound and his fingers tangle in John's hair, tugging so hard John winces, and pulling him away from Rodney's cock.
Not about to be deterred, John wraps both of his hands around Rodney and starts to stroke hard and fast, tilting his head back against Rodney's palm to look up at his face. He looks absolutely wrecked in a way that John doesn't get to see often - flushed and trembling, eyes so dark and wide they're almost unrecognizable.
"Come," John demands, and Rodney does, gasping a curse and dropping his head back against the wall with a thump.
When Rodney's got himself mostly back under control again, John sits back on his haunches. He grins wickedly, meeting Rodney's eyes through his smudged lenses, and reaches up to smear a thumb through the mess.
Rodney makes a low, helpless sound and hauls John up by his armpits, all but throwing him towards the bedroom. "I am going to fuck you so hard you can't sit down," he growls.
John happily lets himself be manhandled, tossing his glasses off somewhere between the living room and the hallway. He thinks he has sufficient data to form a sound conclusion.
Re: this got a bit out of hand
This "Turn on the lights," he says. "I want you to see." and this "Come," John demands, and Rodney does, gasping a curse and dropping his head back against the wall with a thump.
SO HOT OMG!
Re: this got a bit out of hand
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and 2) you know rodneys going to pay him back for that stunt. (probably in the boardroom in a meeting with elizabeth all concerned and john no idea how to leave (please? )you can totally write whatever you want as long as its mcshep but if you need a prompt...)
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Rodney spends the time thinking uncharitable thoughts about how even ruffled feathers have more organization about them than John Sheppard's hair. And, naturally, plotting his revenge.
He gets his chance during that week's senior staff meeting. Sheppard, who is smarter than most people give him credit for, has been carefully staying away from Rodney in public places since their return, but by the time he arrives, all of the other seats but the one next to Rodney are already filled, and he's forced to park it or stand in the doorway like an awkward little boy at his first seventh grade dance for the entire briefing.
Rodney lulls him into a false sense of security, talking with his hands out in full view of the entire table for the first fifteen minutes. He watches Sheppard gradually relax out of the corner of his eye, watches the instinctive way Sheppard sighs and slumps in his seat, legs falling wide open under the table so their knees bump companionably together. However, once Rodney's done speaking and Teyla steps in with her own report, he slides his left hand under the table and across Sheppard's lap so fast Sheppard doesn't seem to realize what's going on until Rodney's hand is inside his pants.
Sheppard goes gratifyingly rigid in his seat, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. He looks almost like he might be a little afraid, but Rodney knows better - he can feel Sheppard's cock already pushing into the palm of his hand, slick and hot at the tip.
Everyone can see his shoulder and at least one or two of them would quickly figure out what was going on if it started moving rhythmically, so Rodney carefully does not wrap his hand around Sheppard and stroke up hard how he wants to. Instead, he tries to remember what Sheppard had done to him at the feast and copies it the best he can: pressing his fingers up behind Sheppard's balls without the layer of fabric between their skin, rubbing the heel of his palm against the underside just below the head.
Sheppard's breath catches audibly in his throat, flushing from his ears down his neck. He's chewing on his lower lip in a focused way that makes Rodney smirk and reach for a pen with his free hand.
Having fun, Colonel? he writes on the yellow legal pad between them.
Sheppard glares hard at the message, but his fingers are clenched so tightly around the edge of the table it doesn't look like he can get them to grab the pen, let alone try to write with it. He opens his mouth, no doubt to tell Elizabeth that something important has just come up, meeting adjourned - Rodney gleefully scrapes his thumbnail down the vein on the underside and watches Sheppard's lip turn pressure-white as warmth spills over his fingers.
"Oh god," Sheppard gasps out loud.
The entire meeting pauses and turns to look at him.
"I...just remembered. I left my ancient toaster on," Sheppard says lamely. He doesn't wait for an answer or a dismissal, leaping to his feet and shooting out the door.
Rodney wipes his hand off on Sheppard's vacated seat cushion, feeling vindicated.
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i just read ALL OF THAT and I am SO HAPPY and omg you are my favorite person EVER>
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A prompt? Umm...
John, Rodney, wedding ring :P