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oh the power of voodoo
Why do you people even let me near AIM. Seriously. All I do is write completely shameless porn. Isn't it supposed to be for, like...communicating with people? Or something? I don't know.
As per tradition, first five people to leave prompts (for any of my fandoms) get commentfic!
1. continuation of above!
2. buffy au snip - "the witch"
3. tabula rasa episode coda
4. sleepy mcshep schmoop
unamaga: ....ok
unamaga: excuse me while i take a moment to reign myself in
kashmir1: LOL NO
kashmir1: don’t
unamaga: I MEAN JUST IMAGINE HOLDING RODNEY DOWN OKAY
kashmir1: oooo yis
kashmir1: GO OOOOOOOOOOON
unamaga: and rodney's all pink and sweaty and wide-eyed, staring up at you with this open, vulnerable look on his face, and when you slide your hips down - just for better leverage, you understand - you can feel the hard line of him pressing against you, can feel the heat of john's skin against the backs of your thighs
you're still watching rodney's face, so you catch the flicker of his eyes over your shoulder and you know a moment before it happens that john's leaning forward and it doesn't surprise you when you feel his wet lips skimming down the side of your neck. his hips are speeding up, bumping against your thighs and ass with every thrust, and rodney's starting to make noise under you - bitten-off, sweet little sounds that curl in your belly and make every teasing grind of your pussy against the underside of his hard cock slicker, easier.
he's trembling a bit, the flush high on his cheeks darkening to deep red, and you wonder how close he is, if he'll like it if you tighten your fingers until you can feel the shape of the bones in his wrists against the pads. he does, arches, and john's steady rhythm falters for a moment, his reedy gasp buried in the skin of your shoulder.
things move faster after that, an edge of urgency that wasn't there before quickening john's breath, setting his teeth in your neck hard enough to bruise. rodney won't stay still, thrashes against your hold like he wants to reach out and touch and help and fix, but you take the chance of transferring both his wrists to one hand, reaching down with the freed one to guide the head of his cock over your clit, rolling your hips because it feels good, a little bit dirty.
john's holding out like a trooper behind you, still panting roughly like he can't get his breath, but it's working for rodney, and every single press of your thumb against his cock to hold him steady while you rut and get yourself off just like that has him babbling helplessly and calling for john, please please please.
it doesn't take long before you're moaning and letting john hold you up through it, warm forearm around your waist to keep you steady and on the bed. when it's done, you let go of rodney's wrists and bend down to kiss him quiet, all soft, languid licks and bites, and then you climb off and leave john to finish them both off, leaning back against the pillows to watch the way they fill up the space you've left and fit to each other like puzzle pieces.
it's easier for john to slide in deep with the new leverage, and you can see the shift of rodney's features into a dazed sort of wonder right before john starts moving again. it only takes a few deep, hard thrusts before rodney's tumbling over the edge, arms wrapped tight around john's broad, straining shoulders, and john follows just like he always follows rodney, making quiet noises into rodney's open mouth.
kashmir1: LFKSGD GOD. SO HOT
kashmir1: mama like
As per tradition, first five people to leave prompts (for any of my fandoms) get commentfic!
1. continuation of above!
2. buffy au snip - "the witch"
3. tabula rasa episode coda
4. sleepy mcshep schmoop
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Um. More of that? *falls out of chair*
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it's rodney, of course, because there's no universe in which he can be described as 'discrete', but you only catch a few more words - "you can't possibly expect me to allow this, sheppard, I" - before the slick noises of a messy kiss cut him off. a muffled thump nearer to the door; you think it might be safe now, so you open your eyes, and there's rodney pressed back against the wall with john all along his front, not an inch of space between them that you can see.
how they think you can sleep through the racket they're making, you don't know, but it's easy enough to slip over to the other end of the bed and watch them from a different angle, to tip your head to the side and see the light falling through the windows glint off the easy slide of john's tongue when he pushes it past rodney's lips.
it should probably feel like an invasion, like something you aren't supposed to see, but there's something so open about the way they're clinging to each other - so brazen - that you almost think they want to be seen.
when they break apart for air, their hips are still moving, and rodney's fingers are digging into john's hips hard enough you can see the white of his knuckles even as far away as you are. when they come, it's not fireworks or loud moans or even soft declarations - it's just another way to stake claim, another glue to hold them together sticky between their bellies.
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Any chance for more Slayer!Rodney? Pretty please? With a Twinkie on the side?
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When Rodney starts singing Macho Man during lunch as he gobbles down his second sloppy joe, Ronon and Teyla start to worry.
"Rodney, are you feeling yourself today?" Teyla asks cautiously.
Managing somehow to continue eating, humming, and tapping his fingers along to his own beat, Rodney gets out a garbled, entirely sincere, "I'm swell!"
"This is not normal," Ronon tells Teyla.
They manage to appease Rodney with baked goods, and sneak off to find Dr. Weir in the library. The three of them confer, give John a call on his new cell phone (which Rodney had insisted upon with incredible persistence: "What if I need you to pick up coffee on the way home? Or, oh, oh, what if I am nearly dead and no one knows how to contact you? Yes, yes, that's what I thought. I like the blue one with the big buttons, there in the middle.") to make sure it really isn't just an insanely determined afterglow, and then confer some more.
"Ronon," Elizabeth says, adjusting her sweater anxiously for the fifth time since she's sat down, "please, if you would."
Ronon nods and disappears out the library doors. A few minutes later, he returns with Rodney slumped unhappily over his shoulder. Teyla comments that at least some of his manic energy has worn off, and Ronon confesses that he actually knocked Rodney out with blunt force.
"He doesn't look well," Elizabeth muses worriedly, ignoring the last with the ease of practice. "He's sweating. Have you checked his temperature?"
John appears out of the stacks fifteen minutes later in an oversized black hoodie, wearing dark shades, gloves, and a neck gator up around his mouth. Even so, his forehead's a little pink with sunburn. He nudges Rodney a few times to wake him up, dodging a grumpy swing like he's done it a hundred times before.
"Hey, buddy," he says.
"You look like a mutant. Take those off," Rodney orders imperiously, and the other three breathe a sigh of relief. But then Rodney adds, "Also, you're kind of spinning. Why are you doing that? Stop it."
"Oh my," Elizabeth murmurs, "this is worse than I thought."
"What could be doing this to him, Dr. Weir?" Teyla asks. "I am not sure I have ever seen such an illness." They look towards Rodney again, brows furrowed with concern, and watch him reach up to twist John's hair into an uneven peak as he hums YMCA. They turn back to each other. "There must be something we can do," Teyla says forcefully.
-
They find the witch by accident.
Ronon stumbles over her murmuring chants to herself and stealing bits of Laura’s hair from a brush, and then accidentally punches her in the stomach. He deposits her on one of the library tables like a sack of very unlucky potatoes. For a few minutes, they all stare at her contemplatively.
“Anyone know where she lives?” John asks.
-
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“She – she has always worried so much about my science fair project, and when she saw that mine was going to be a volcano,” Miko blubbers unhappily, “she said I was w-wasting my youth, my brilliance, and took my body.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” Ronon says.
-
“I didn’t really sing Macho Man, did I?” Rodney asks fearfully. “I – of course I don’t even know the lyrics to the song, so I couldn’t have possibly sung it. You must have misheard. You were – you were overcome with worry for me and didn’t recognize the tune.”
Teyla looks as though she’s very bravely stifling a smile. “I am sorry, Rodney, but it would have been hard to mishear you. You were very…enthused, I believe is the word.”
Ronon snorts.
“Aw, Rodney,” John pouts mockingly, slinging an arm over Rodney’s shoulders and pulling him close, “you never sing for me. Don’t you love me?”
“No,” Rodney says firmly, although he doesn’t shrug John’s arm off. “No, I do not love you, because I hate you all. I was the magical equivalent of drugged out of my mind!” He crosses his arms over his chest. “You can’t possibly hold this against me. It wasn’t really me.”
John shifts through his hoodie pockets and comes up with his Rodney-approved cell phone. “You wanna bet?” he says, and presses a button.
“It’s fun to stay at the YMCA, it’s fun to stay at the YYYMMMCAAA-AAY –“
Rodney lunges at John with murder in his eyes, but John’s already passed the phone off to Teyla, who very calmly climbs to her feet and makes a run for the library doors.
“They’ve got EV-ER-EE thing for a MAN TO ENJOY –“
When Teyla goes down, one hundred and fifty plus pounds of desperate Slayer knocking her to the floor, Ronon sweeps by and takes the phone, and the chase is on again. Thankfully, the halls are deserted this far after dark, so no one hears Rodney McKay’s screech of denial when Ronon climbs the stairwell like a very limber monkey and gets away.
“I can hang out with alllll my booyysss – that’s you John! – YYYYMMCAAA, it’s fun to stay at the YMCA-AY –“
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*dies* Excellent and awesome. And hysterical. <33333333
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(Rodney as the Slayer is still my Favourite Thing. And wasn't there a buffy ep called Tabula Rasa too?)
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Have you seen tonight's episode? Maybe some post-ep John/Rodney? I DON'T KNOW!
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"Where's McKay?" John asks, sudden, sharp fear chasing away any lingering drowsiness in his system. He tries to sit up, getting his elbows under him and pushing up with difficulty; neither Teyla nor Ronon attempt to help him, which he appreciates.
"He is fine," Teyla is quick to reassure, smiling.
He slumps back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling in mute relief for a moment. "Okay," he says when he's recovered, "then where is he?"
She throws an uncertain look Ronon's way and purses her lips together. The two of them engage in one of their silent conversations - the kind that he's usually grateful for, but which now pisses him off enough that he actually growls and reaches for the call button. "He was here earlier," Teyla says, careful and swift, not meeting his eyes, "but once Dr. Keller said that you would make a full recovery..."
"He's with Katie Brown," Ronon interjects gruffly.
John doesn't notice he's wringing the fabric of his blanket around his fingers until he hears a soft tearing sound and looks down to find he's made a hole by the seam. He and Rodney have talked about this - at length, despite the fact that John hates talking - but nothing John has ever said or done has seemed to make Rodney take the fact that John doesn't like it any more seriously.
"Fine, that's fine," John says, and tries not to sound bitter. He's pretty sure he doesn't succeed, but it's only Teyla and Ronon, and they've already seen him at his worst. What's a little jealousy between friends?
-
That night, once he's been released, John puts his hand on the wall in his quarters and tells Atlantis not to let Rodney in.
She brushes against his consciousness like a worried mother, all warmth and are you sure, but when Rodney shows up two hours later, the doors won't open even after he's fiddled with the control crystals.
-
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“What is this about?” Rodney spits furiously, muscling his way into the transporter next to John and slamming his hand down on the console, locking it up before John can touch a destination.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” John says airily.
Rodney sneers, “Oh really? So you’re telling me you haven’t been avoiding me like the plague and locking me out of your room for the past two days? Really? I would be so relieved to know I was just losing my mind and all of those things weren’t actually happening, because I could have sworn that we were mature adults, and all that?” He waves his arms wildly between them, red faced. “Really seems very twelve years old to me.”
“Fine,” John says, smiling tensely, “you’re losing your mind. Happy?”
“No,” Rodney says. He steps closer, reaching out to touch John’s arm. When John jerks away and steps back against the wall to avoid another touch, his eyes cloud over with new hurt. “What happened? What did I do?”
John shoots a glance at the transporter console, but it’s still locked up tight, and he can’t reach past Rodney to undo it without touching him again – something he’s not willing to risk. So he crosses his arms over his chest defensively instead and affects his most insolent slouch.
“I’m pretty sure I don’t have to explain it to you.”
Rodney looks at him for a minute, the corner of his mouth tipped down sadly. Then, he dips his head and stares at his wringing hands, body language suddenly changing from confrontational to nervous. “Katie’s never been involved in anything before, okay? She…she stays in Atlantis most of the time, or goes to planets that have already been cleared,” he mumbles quietly. “And us? We’ve nearly – well, you more than me, and you should really work on that because it’s not good for my heart, and –”
“McKay,” John warns.
“Right, yes.” Rodney’s shoulders rise around his ears protectively. “We get shot at and punched and taken captive and – everything the Pegasus Galaxy can throw at us, really – nearly every week. It’s what we do. But Katie only sees the lab, John, and – she was scared, okay? I just wanted to help.”
John’s quiet for a long time. So long that Rodney starts to fidget and almost dejectedly raises his hand to enable the transporter again.
“If you’re ever not there when I wake up again,” John mutters, and leans in to wrap his arms around Rodney’s tense shoulders. He feels the explosive sigh of relief Rodney lets out against his neck, the too-tight way Rodney squeezes him when they manage a proper hug, and it’s settling in a way that even having his memory back wasn’t.
Rodney murmurs, “I promise,” and that’s the end of that.
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I felt so bad for John in the infirmary scene - "Where's McKay," indeed.
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But: please oh please can you write me a first-time set after Tabula Rasa? 'Cuase I really reallllyyyy want one. ::puppy eyes::
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Oh, this made me all achy and smushy inside. *sniff* This is exactly what I'd been hoping for after watching that episode. Oh, silly boys. &hearts
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Need cheering up. Assholes living above me have awakened me with drunken antics, stealing furniture from common room, loud movies, etc. Is 4 AM. Want sleep. (This paragraph imagined as being in Radek's voice. Czech mumbling optional.)
um, sadly no porn. but schmoop! there is schmoop.
The Atlantis alarm blares in the background, a steady, shrill hum that has his head pounding unhappily, and he can hear the tinny sounds of panic through his headset where it rests on the nightstand. It's the fourth time that night he's been woken up by some ridiculous, life-threatening emergency, and even watching John stumble gracelessly around in the dark as he looks for his shoes isn't making it any less terrible.
"Tell you what," John says, voice rough with recent sleep. He finds the first shoe with a soft aha! and tugs it on, working at the laces as he keeps talking. "If we both come out of this alive and uninjured, I'll let you do anything you want to me. How's that sound?"
Rodney thinks about it, and then groans and climbs out of bed to find his own shoes.
-
Two hours later, crisis averted, they stumble back into Rodney's room and start shucking their clothes off, the both of them so tired Rodney barely manages to smear a kiss over John's mouth and John can't do anything more than lamely paw at Rodney's chest before they're dropping off to sleep.
-
"Okay, so that offer? It still stands, right?" Rodney asks when he wakes up. John curses and rolls over, burying his face in his pillow, still mostly dead to the world. Rodney pokes him in the side. "Wake up," he says impatiently. "I want to have sex."
"Goddammit, McKay, go back to sleep," John pleads. "I'll blow you later if you just give me a few more hours."
Rodney can't really argue with that, because - blowjob! but he's too wide awake now to drift off again. Compromising, he wraps himself around John's body, fitting to the soft dips and dents that make John himself, and running a hand up underneath John's t-shirt to settle his hand over John's heart, feel it beat steadily under his greedy fingers.
"Mmmmmm, Rah'ny," John slurs, sounding pleasure-drunk and sweet.
Smiling into the nape of John's neck, Rodney murmurs, "Yeah, s'me," and closes his eyes.
Re: um, sadly no porn. but schmoop! there is schmoop.
Also have you seen Tabula Rasa yet?
Re: um, sadly no porn. but schmoop! there is schmoop.
2: this was cutness side-kicking to adorable. :D Lovely!
Re: um, sadly no porn. but schmoop! there is schmoop.
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Uhm. Uhm. You still owe me that end of the fic where Joe turns up drunk on David's doorstep. I believe you stopped JUST before the rimming! (Don't think I forgot!!!)
Also, I am starting to have a hard time catching up with all the fictastic ridiculous awesomeness you produce every time I go to bed. Seriously!
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I would just like to say that subject line makes me go "Power of voodoo?" "Who do?" "You do!" "Do what?" "Remind me of the babe!"
Oh, Labyrinth.
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Again, Im really sorry to bother you but its been eating away at my brain for about 2 weeks now.
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Hope that's what you were looking for!
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*goes off to read*
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But mrowr on the continuation of the threesome porn. :D
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Maybe... John and Rodney watching 'Young Frankenstein' together? :)
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I hope you don't mind if I friend you, because the thought of missing out on more porn like this would just be sad.
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