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SGA FIC: Persuasion (NC-17)
My apologies for the spam today, guys, but this one needs to go up.
Title: Persuasion
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 850 words
Summary: John's always been good at getting Rodney to do what he wants.
Notes: For my darling![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
schneestern, to make up for her shitty night. Pretty much just porn.
Title: Persuasion
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 850 words
Summary: John's always been good at getting Rodney to do what he wants.
Notes: For my darling
schneestern, to make up for her shitty night. Pretty much just porn.“Look,” Carter says with a heavy sigh, “I know this isn’t what any of us wanted, but it has to be done. We just don’t have the man power right now. And McKay has to be with us on this, or the science department isn’t going to cooperate.”
John presses his lips together, already formulating a plan. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Thank you, John,” Carter says gratefully. “I know you’ll be able to get through to him.”
-
The door hasn’t even fully opened, and John already has Rodney backed against the wall, one knee slipping between Rodney’s thighs and grinding up against his cock. Rodney manages to whisper, “Oh my god,” hands falling to rest on John’s hips like he’s not sure if he wants to push or pull. John doesn’t give him a chance to make a decision, grabbing both of Rodney’s wrists and holding them above his head in one hand, pressing his hips forward until Rodney whines and drops his head back, baring his neck.
“I’m gonna make you come like this,” John promises, a low growl against Rodney’s ear. “And then I’m gonna peel you out of those clothes and lick your ass till you’re hard again. How does that sound?”
Rodney makes an incoherent noise and blushes, squirming in John’s hold. “Christ, John. Wh-what’s gotten into you?”
In response, John slides his fingers past the waistband of Rodney’s pants and finds the wet head of Rodney’s cock. His middle finger slides easily down over the slit to the underside, rubbing hard at the sensitive spot just below the crown.
Rodney jerks, gasps out, “Jesus fuck!” in a shattering, shocked sort of voice that goes straight to John’s dick.
The lax bow of Rodney’s lower lip tastes like copper when John sucks it between his teeth; it’s already bruised and full from how Rodney’s been desperately chewing on it to stay mostly quiet. The door is right next to them, and whatever else the Ancients may have built into Atlantis, sound-proofed walls were not on the list. Something hot settles in John’s belly, flushes through him like a fever, and suddenly all he wants is for Rodney to be loud.
He pulls his fingers away from Rodney’s cock (shivering happily at the throaty whine Rodney can’t quite contain) and slides his hand around to slip back down into Rodney’s boxers, spreading Rodney’s cheeks apart with thumb and ring finger.
“You know what’s next, don’t you?” John murmurs, teasing the rim of Rodney’s hole with the tip of his middle finger, relishing the way goose bumps are breaking out along Rodney’s arms. “Tell me you do.”
“I – John,” Rodney whimpers.
“Tell me,” John urges, pinning Rodney’s hips to the wall with his own, making it so he has no leverage to press back or down against John’s finger.
“I know, okay! Please, will you get on – ”
“Louder,” John says, implacable.
Rodney stares at him for a moment, pink and sweaty, eyes as wide and dark as the ocean outside the windows behind them, and licks his lips deliberately. “Please,” he says, more forcefully, so that his voice carries and bounces back at them in the small room. “Please.”
John pushes his finger in to the knuckle in one smooth, quick thrust, curling it at the last second with practiced ease, and listens to Rodney’s moans rise and rise and break as he comes.
-
“I can’t move my limbs,” Rodney observes dimly, hours later.
He’s sprawled out on the bed indecently, bruises coloring his chest and forming a ring low around his neck where a high shirt will hide them, smeared come on his belly and thighs. If John weren’t already so completely fucked out he can’t feel his toes, the sight alone would have him bending to lick a path from Rodney’s knee up to his mouth. As it is, all he can manage is a grunt when he drops the wash cloth on Rodney’s stomach and flops down on the bed next to him.
Once he’s cleaned himself off, Rodney makes a considering sound and turns on his side to stare at John contemplatively.
“What,” John mumbles after a while.
“Oh, nothing,” Rodney says, waving him off. John counts it down: five, four, three, two… “But, really, what brought that on? Not that I’m complaining, that was possibly the greatest sex we have ever had, and we’ve had some great sex before. You remember that time out on the East Pier with the –”
“Yes, I remember,” John interrupts, before Rodney can really get going. “And this? This was my convincing argument for you giving Sam the go-ahead.”
Rodney pauses, mouth pursed into a ridiculously adorable little moue of concentration. “Well,” he says at length. “It was very convincing.”
John thinks about how both of them are going to be walking extremely funny tomorrow and mentally agrees, rolling over with the last of his strength to give Rodney a slow, persuasive kiss.
-
“I can never figure out how he does it,” Carter mutters when she gets the email.
“Perhaps it is best you do not ask,” Teyla advises serenely.
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