(dis)connected, part 3
part 2
The kitchen counter was cold against her thighs and ass. Impatience burned through her, muscles clenching on their own. John's eyes were dark now, his hands purpose-driven as they plucked at her clothes, pushed her back to lie on the counter. More cold under her shoulder blades. His hands were are sharp, warm contrast, on her belly, sides, on the waist of her skirt, pulling, pushing.
Rodney stepped up from behind John to stand at his right side, and bent over the counter to press an open-mouthed kiss against her bellybutton, tongue dipping. Sam squirmed, her legs twitching, kicking John as he pushed her skirt up to her waist.
"Ow," John mouthed, rubbing his chest as he stepped back.
Rodney moved up from her belly again, slow, his gaze raking up and down her body, resting on her breasts before sliding lower. And up. He met her eyes and something hot curled in Sam's belly at the need she saw reflected there. His fingers slid under the elastic band of her panties, not waiting for approval from her or John. She sucked in a breath and hesitated for a moment before lifting her hips and allowing him to slide them off. This was sex with co-workers and that that was never a good idea didn't matter anymore, nothing did. This was going exactly where she wanted, where, if she was honest, she had hoped it was going all night. She wanted their hands on her, rough, male, nothing meaningful or deep. She just wanted to be fucked out of her mind, to stop thinking, to forget. Her hands curled around the counter to keep from reaching out, needy.
The swish of a shirt being pulled off jerked her back into the here and now. John's chest was bare, leanly muscled and swirled with dark hair. The light of the lamp behind him made it hard for her to see his face, just his hair, glossy and dark. Rodney's hands on her legs - different from John's, less calloused - opening them so John could step between them. Cool air moved against her damp curls. Beard stubble against her breast, warm suction on her nipple, kisses, licks, bites. A low moan formed in Sam's throat when she saw Rodney bending down and kissing the back of John's neck, just as John bit down on her left nipple. John was still standing, but was bent over her, with Rodney directly behind him, sandwiching John between her and Rodney. Her neck arched, head falling back against the counter with a thunk. Did they have any idea how hot that was?
"Careful now," John slurred as he went lower, kisses moving between her breasts down to her belly and up again to mouth her other breast.
Rodney snorted in amusement and mouthed John's skin. John shivered in response to the Rodney's breath against his nape.
Bastards. She moved her hands into John's hair, pulling strands of it between her fingers, her nails against his scalp, trying to urge him to move faster. She didn't mind foreplay, but this wasn't the time, she wanted him in her now. His breath was hot and moist and uneven against her breasts when she wriggled her hips lower and slung her legs around his waist, moving against him with urgency. The sensation of dry denim felt rough against her exposed clit, the feel of John's fingers digging into her hips to steady her was a shock to the system that made her jerk and her legs slip off his waist.
Their breathing was absurdly loud in the empty kitchen, a clock's monotonous ticking unwelcome as she tried to get her reactions under control. Her thigh muscles were trembling, legs hanging off the counter, touching the fabric of John's jeans. But Rodney's hands were back, lifting and stroking her legs from thigh to ankle, slow and tantalizing. Lifting her left and pressing a kiss to her instep. Resting it on John's shoulder. He repeated the same procedure with her right leg, only this time, he paused to breathe in her skin, nudging his nose against her calf.
Sam was glad that she had taken the extra time to shave earlier, and use that body lotion that Janet had given her for her birthday years back and which she had kept buying ever since. Rodney nuzzled her for a long time, trailing his hands over her skin, mouthing her ankles and her foot, pressing a kiss to the sole, moist lips and small bites to her calf. Sam's toes curled. Rodney smiled at her over John's shoulder - god, John was moving lower and lower, and he wouldn't, surely he wouldn't, too intimate, too close, he wouldn't, but damn, she wanted him to, she always had the best orgasms from a man using his mouth on her - and delivered a small bite to her big toe. She wanted to kiss Rodney but he was too far away, and already busy running his hands from her legs to John's shoulders and over his sides, stroking John's flanks. Steadying John with one hand as he bent down to her, his ass pushing against Rodney's groin. Rodney was teasing John's nipples with the other. She squirmed, trying to see more and her elbows slipped on the smooth counter.
Rodney was watching her, watching John kiss and bite and suckle his way down below her bellybutton to the beginning of her pubic hair, while he was painting sweeping patterns over John's back and sides. Kissing the soles of her feet, touching his tongue to her toes, one by one, humming against them. His gaze alternated between her and John, eyes glazed over, hot. Hot and wanting. Sam shivered, felt herself getting wetter. She'd never thought that mere looks from Rodney would be such a turn on.
Sam knew that John hadn't shaved since the morning, had felt it before, on her breasts and her belly, but when he nudged her thighs farther apart, just enough to grant him better access but without having her legs slip off his shoulders, the feel of his stubble against the sensitive inside of her thigh made her jump and buck against him. John raised his head and smirked at her, dirty and hot. It made her want to punch him. Now, now, damn it, now. She'd wanted a quick fuck, not an elaborate seduction, and god, what would Janet think if she could hear her like this?
John couldn't hear her thoughts, but moved anyway. Slipped a hand under her ass and pulled her toward him so she was perched just on the edge of the counter. Dipped lower. Started blowing air between her legs, over swollen, slick flesh, making her hair stand on end. Raised his head to check her reaction with a feral glint in his eyes before lowering his head again. Started inhaling long and slow, like he was drinking her scent in, smelling her arousal while Rodney massaged the sole of her left foot with a sure, deft hand. The other was still holding John steady.
When John touched his tongue to her clit for the first time, Sam let her head fall back against the counter again, sending the salt shaker rolling off. The high clink of glass against tile told her that it had broken. She turned her head to see the salt spilled over the floor. Spilled salt brought bad luck. She didn't care. Only thought about how she wanted to keep her eyes open, but at the same time wanted to close them and savor the sheer sensation of John's lips teasing her.
She heard Rodney mutter, "At least it wasn't the pepper," and gave a short, desperate laugh at that. John raised his head for a moment to grin at her. His lips were glistening. Later, she thought, later, she wanted to taste herself on his mouth. Mingle his taste with hers and Rodney's. Taste raw, earthy sex and lick it away. The thought sent her body shaking as John ran his tongue over her clit again, adding a hint of teeth.
She bucked against his face, sweat-slick back sliding on the counter, her grasp white-knuckled against the edge, the effort of staying on top taking its toll. Rodney spanned her ankles, keeping her legs from slipping off John's shoulders, holding her still for John to work her.
Craning her head, Sam looked between the valley of her breasts, down her belly, to John's head between her legs. Dark hair framed by her pale thighs, moving up and down as he licked and sucked, that sent her pulse sky-rocketing. Sam panted, hands clenching around the counter edge until her joints hurt, and oh, god, John didn't stop, just kept alternating between tasting and blowing cool air on her and sucking, with the barest hint of teeth...Rodney was still pressed behind him, kissing his way up John's spine. He stopped at the top, looking at her, his gaze naked and wanting. He slid one hand to John's face, stroking for a moment. Then his fingers dipped lower, onto her clit, rubbing while John licked and sucked, trailing his tongue over her, slicking Rodney's finger in the process.
She was out of breath now, tense as a bowstring, the muscles in the her thighs shivering, hips rising and falling. It was almost too much, her thoughts fragmenting, body squirming at the steady build up of sensations that made her skin feel fevered and too tight. John just gripped her tighter, pressing her hips and ass against the counter. He wasn't going to let her have fast release. Neither was Rodney, who was dipping a finger into her, pressing slow and firm against her inner walls. She choked in a moan at the sudden intrusion, arching her back as she tried to sink down on him. She could feel John licking at her entrance, swirling his tongue over her lips and Rodney's finger in her. John's right hand abandoned her hip. She saw him flailing it like a drowning man, before finding Rodney's thigh, clutching and drawing him tighter against his back. Rodney started, eyes closing for a moment, his finger stopping mid-stroke. He opened his eyes again and pressed in closer, pushing John against Sam as he tried to cover every square inch of skin on John's back. Rodney's finger slid deeper into her too, and resumed its movement.
John's head snapped up abruptly and his eyes glazed over. For a moment, his grip on Sam's hips eased. He arched his neck back, mouth slack against her for long seconds. His shoulders, his entire body, started to move then and he gulped in a huge breath, mouthed her blindly, whispering and groaning against her clit. "Ah, yeah, yes." From the sudden change and the sound of skin on skin, she realised that Rodney was jerking John off. Her gaze met Rodney's and she found him staring straight at her.
Sam swallowed a moan, saw what she hadn't noticed before, when Rodney had been looking at her with less of a challenge, less determination in his gaze: he was rubbing off against John. John, who was groaning and whispering unintelligible words against her flesh between licks and kisses, shuddering to the rhythm of Rodney's strokes. The vibrations of his keening moans and the sudden rush of warm breath, the smell and feel of him coming - shaking all over before spasming, arching, panting against her, his fingers digging into her hips hard enough to leave bruises, the harsh cry that escaped against her - merged with the feel of Rodney's finger nudging against her inner walls, hitting the same spot again and again. pushed Sam over the edge into a sharp, short orgasm that sent her body trembling, her thighs clenching around John's head.
She was still shivering through her climax when John slid down and away, boneless, his hands skimming over her thighs and away. Sam wanted to cry out in loss, but Rodney was taking his place, his cock slipping inside in a single, smooth thrust that filled her, sending another shudder of pleasure through her. Rodney made a sound in the back of his throat, choked and frantic. His head dropped forward to her chest, soft hair tickling her breasts.
Fuck, yes. This was what she had wanted. Thick inside her, filling her, hitting all the right places. Or, he would, if he'd move. She slung her legs around Rodney's waist, mirroring her action with John before, nudged her heels against his ass.
His eyes glazed over, and then there was no more hesitation. He began to pound into her, thighs slapping against her ass, making the counter shake. Sam gripped the edge again when her back began sliding over the counter, felt her fingers starting to cramp up and her head move beyond the support of the counter. If she let go now, he'd fuck her all the way across the counter. Wild laughter bubbled up inside her at the thought and only Rodney's relentless strokes - almost, almost, close, but never quite there - kept it at bay.
Yes, was all she could think, yes, yes, more. Harder. She wanted to fuck him hard enough to leave marks, wanted something to keep, something to remind her of this night.
A low sound caught her attention, distracted her from Rodney for a moment. Sam rolled her head to the side and saw John, sprawled on the floor, back propped against cabinet door, one hand in the spilled salt, moving in circles. Watching Rodney. Watching Rodney fuck her. His eyes met hers. A stab of fresh arousal, sharper, more keen-edged, made her realize that it wasn't just John watching them. Now it was her, watching John watch Rodney fuck her. Sam bucked against Rodney, who groaned.
John's hand went to his chest, moving slowly up and down, then he ran his index finger around one tight little nipple. He looked utterly debauched there on the floor, spent cock hanging out of his open pants, chest sheened with sweat, eyes dark and half-closed, mouth swollen and parted. His lips were still glistening. The need to kiss him made her mouth dry.
Rodney pulled her out of her reverie, turning her head back, fingers strong on her jaw. His eyes were dark, bottomless, in the harsh fluorescent-lit kitchen. "Look at me." His voice almost a growl. A jolt went through her body. Was he still jealous? God, he was fucking her, how could he still be - She didn't finish the thought because Rodney was kissing her rough and deep, blowing her mind, demanding her attention. She kissed back just as forcefully, giving him the reassurance he obviously needed. Raised her hips against his, offering more of her, all of her. He slammed back into her, every thrust shoving her hot, sweaty skin across the table a little more.
This time the pepper shaker did get knocked off, rolling somewhere she couldn't see. She heard John chuckle, felt it bubbling up in her as well. It was Rodney's strained, "Damn, damn, god, Sam, I - " and him picking up speed that stopped her.
Sam closed her eyes and lost herself in the sensation of rough thrusts and the slick Formica counter under her, the sound of the whole thing creaking steadily in protest at their weight, the smell of sweat and sex and salt filling the room. Her teeth sunk into her lower lip. She was panting, moaning low under her breath, just countering Rodney's thrusts that were verging on desperate. The sounds he made were near-pained, small, breathy, tight moans that broke the thud of their skin slapping against each other. She barely heard John step up on the other side of the counter behind her. Her eyes flew open when he set his hands on her shoulders, though, steadying her, stopping her gradual creep beyond the edge. She looked up at them, Rodney watching John, watching John's mouth still wet from her juices. John watching Rodney fuck her, primal and remorseless. But there was something, something more…
Sam stopped Rodney's thrusts with a sharp flexing of her thighs. Tugged his head down for a short kiss and pushed him up again. She stroked her hand over his waist and flank, as far as she could reach, then up over his chest to his jaw, nudging his head up until he looked at John. Sam reached for Rodney's hand, found it and lifted it. Ran his thumb over his lips, before lifting it to John's mouth. John took the digit in without hesitation, lips sealing around it.
She could feel Rodney's shudder in response run through his entire body.
Rodney and John stared at one another for a long moment until, finally, John released Rodney's thumb and bent forward, his body almost obscuring Sam's view. He stopped just before Rodney's face, searching his eyes. Whispered, "Please," before touching his lips to Rodney's.
Rodney went completely still.
John pulled back, his face blank. His hands on her shoulders were shaking.
Rodney closed his eyes. Ran his tongue over his lips, slow, thoughtful. Sam's head sank back against John's stomach, breath stuttering out in a moan, knees going watery when she realized that Rodney was tasting her, too. Then Rodney opened his eyes again and surged forward, pressing himself along her, catching John's lips in an open-mouthed kiss. He slid deeper inside her in the process and Sam gasped. John's hands moved from her shoulders to Rodney's face, cradling it, pulling him closer just as Rodney's did the same, fingers trailing idly over John's jaw.
The kiss was desperate, forceful and hungry and unmistakably a first one. Sam's inner muscles clenched in response to the need radiating off them.
Rodney was completely focused on John now, kissing and licking and sucking, muttering unintelligible words under his breath, against John's mouth. Sam shifted restlessly, squeezed between them, Rodney's cock in her a blunt pressure now, unmoving. The sound of their wet kisses echoed off the tiles, loud and incongruous in the kitchen. Her skin cooled where she wasn't being touched, and she began to feel left out. Neglected. Then again, looking up at the hungry kisses John and Rodney were trading, she wondered if she shouldn't give them some more time. Hysterical laughter stuck in her throat as she realized the ridiculousness of the situation: Rodney buried deep in her, but completely oblivious to her, utterly focused on John. Her hand migrated over Rodney's side to her own, trailing over her stomach to dip between them and find her clit. A tremor went through Rodney when she started circling middle and index finger over the slick bundle of nerves. Slow, circular motions, light at first, then more, firmer pressure. Pleasure like sun warmed honey spread through her limbs lazy and slow, leaving her craving more.
She started the movement again, undulating her hips, shifting against Rodney, urging him to move. Nothing. Both men were too preoccupied. Kissing as though their lives depended on it.
Sam decided that she'd waited long enough. She lifted her head, sucked Rodney's right nipple into her mouth and bit down, just as she scraped a fingernail over the base of his cock. A jolt arced through Rodney's body and he tore his lips away from John's, lowering his head and groaning. His hands dropped from John's face to her and pulled her hands away, clamping his fingers around her forearms, then sliding up to her biceps, pressing her back down. He started thrusting against, slow, deliberate and deep.
Sam curled up from the waist, struggling against his grip until John bent close over her head, silhouetted against the kitchen light. His lips captured hers, upside down and strange, their tongues meeting. Wet suction against her lips and smooth, even thrusts into her fractured her ability to think. Rodney's hands bit into her upper arms, John's stubbled chin rasped against her forehead, her muscles began to protest…Sam began to feel vaguely claustrophobic and wholly out of control. She bucked and squirmed, trying to get away from the sensations yet trying to get more. John's hands played with her breasts, cupping and massaging, flicking her nipples, then moved up to Rodney's chest, then back, alternating. Sam thrashed her head to the side, away from Johns lips, gasping, still rocking her hips up into Rodney's thrusts, realizing he was looking down at her, not at John, again, licking his lips compulsively. John gasped and stared back at him.
Rodney sped his thrusts into a breathless rhythm, making Sam hook legs around him, her heels digging into his ass. He was working into her with frenetic energy, but it still didn't seem enough. He cursed under his breath, letting go of her arms to scramble onto the counter with her and kneel, pulling her onto his lap, resting her weight on his lap and her shoulders. A different angle now, Rodney's fingers biting into her thighs, and, god, this was even better. Her head was pushing against John's bare belly, one shoulder brushing against his hip, making her aware again that if John hadn't been there, she'd be sliding off. Rodney was trusting John to catch them both.
John was breathing hard. He leaned in, pulling her up to rest against his chest, acutely changing the angle Rodney's cock entered her, making her whimper, holding onto her shoulder with one hand and bracing Rodney with the other, trading kisses between her jaw and neck and Rodney's mouth.
Sam jerked as John's other hand found her breast again, cupping it without finesse, sensation shooting all the way down to her toes. Rodney broke off kissing John when she tensed and looked down at her, blue eyes shadowed by those impossibly long lashes. Wanting to see what he was looking at, Sam craned her neck down. Her breath hitched. John's hand was dark against the pale skin of her breast. His thumb pressed deliberately against her nipple, pulling another high noise from her. The sensation of his rough fondling and the sight of it had her scalp prickling. Rodney caught her eyes and just looked, long, quiet, the only sounds audible their breathing, the wet noises of sex and John's hands on her skin. It shouldn't have turned her on so much, but just Rodney watching her made heat pool low in her belly. She arched her back. Rodney slowed his thrusts momentarily and bent down, his cock shifting against the walls of her vagina, to fit his mouth over her nipple.
She couldn't look away even as pleasure coursed through her and all she wanted was to sink back against John and buck up against them both. But she held still, felt the tension centering in her groin, watched as Rodney trailed the tip of his tongue around her nipple and then over John's knuckles. John groaned as well, his fingers flexing against her breast, kneading. Rodney seemed restless now, his back no doubt protesting and he abandoned her nipple for her mouth. His hips snapped into hers faster, even harder, while his hand slid from her belly down to her pubic line. He detoured for a moment to pull her higher into his lap, then plunged his fingers lower, finding her clit. Looking down between them she could see his now fingers circling, slick and shining with her juices, and his cock moving in and out of her with every thrust. John hook his chin over her shoulder and watched too, eyes heavy lidded, breath gusting uneven and hard next to her ear, hand still working against her breast, the other locked on Rodney's shoulder.
Sam looked back up to meet Rodney's brilliant eyes, staring, just staring, sensations overloading as his fingers circled and circled-
Her body arched, suddenly taut, flushed, all nerve endings wired. A few rough manipulations of her clit - yes - a few hard thrusts that had her back sliding on the counter, hitting John, making John grip her tighter - yes, yes, just a little more - the smell of sweat and aftershave and sex and warm skin - yes, fuck, yes, now. The orgasm flooded through her in shockwaves, tight and coiled in the beginning, then moving from her belly out against her skin, high flight and free-fall, g-force and a super nova, it went on and on, Rodney thrusting into her the whole time, relentless, almost manic, his face a blur in front of her pleasure-drunk eyes. Her arms flailed wild on the counter, scrabbling for something to hold on to. John's hands - couldn't be Rodney's, they were more callused - found hers, lacing his fingers with her own. A moan rose in her throat, raw and primal. All her muscles contracted around Rodney, clenching down hard, making him groan. She was grinding down onto him, because the way he was holding her hips steady now prevented them from lifting. On and on, her body flared with lightning trying to break free. Fresh sweat broke out as the last waves crashed over her.
Sam was left breathing hard, panting to get much needed air back in her lungs. Her muscles still contracted around Rodney even though the buzz was fading, yet for some reason he didn't stop, still hadn't come. It was as though something was missing, as though he was still trying to drive out his demons by fucking her hard. It could be that or nothing at all, but she didn't care anymore, not when the steady, rough friction against her sensitive membranes and the relentless pressure against her clit edged her into another climax only seconds after the first had subsided.
If she'd been holding back before, she no longer tried now. Wrestling her hands free of John, she reached for his head, twisting her neck to the side, tugging him down sharply. She couldn't stop herself from biting at his lips, wanting to draw blood, wanting to leave her mark on him. Everything smelled like salt and pepper, sex and semen and whiskey, and not like blood and dirt or death and this was exactly what she had needed. To come undone, to only feel her body and forget everything else.
Everything except John and Rodney. Rodney, who was panting and sweat soaked, his face almost alarmingly red. Without a change in position, every thrust sent a jolt of near pain through her pelvis, and that actually made it all even better. It didn't matter if it was close to pain, it grounded her in the here and now, and she wanted more. More of Rodney's gasping groans, of John's lips and the all but bruising suction that alternated with the softest of feathery touches from his kiss-swollen lips, of Rodney's hands biting into her hips. Rodney gasped in between thrusts, voice rough and gravelly, almost to himself, "Come on, come on, come on."
She felt John's head snap up, leaving her gasping as he glanced at Rodney and frowned. He looked back at her next, a dark, knowing expression on his face. John leaned close, his hair tickling her face. She had already turned her head to kiss him again, but his lips trailed around to her ear instead, whispering: "Fuck him back, Sam."
Gooseflesh broke out all over her body at the gust of warm air against her ear. Her eyes widened a little, taking in the wide green eyes above her face, the high colour in John's cheeks and the way his breath fanned her cheeks in a staccato rhythm that was just barely out of synch with Rodney's breathing and fucking. Was that what - She didn't think twice, couldn't. Just lifted her right hand to John's mouth, watching him hold her wrist gently and then suck three fingers into his mouth, twisting his tongue around them, wetting them thoroughly. "God, oh, god," Rodney panted as he watched them. The sensation of John's warm, wet and slightly raspy tongue swirling over her knuckles had her face flushing hotter. Her eyelids fluttered for a moment and she found it hard to breathe until John let go of her wrist and she could open her eyes again. Saw her fingers glistening with John's saliva. Saw John nodding.
With her heart pounding in her ears, Sam felt John propping her up all the way until she was pressed against Rodney's chest. The different angle made him slide deeper inside her, and though he had less room to keep up the powerful thrusts from before, his cock was now touching nerve endings that made her bite back a gasp. She wrapped her left arm around his back to hold herself in position and lifted her chin just to look at him. His eyes flickered as they met hers, his gaze desperate, panicked, needing, wanting. Sam pressed a kiss to the center of his chest, then reached behind Rodney, stroking until she found the cleft of his ass.
His thrusts stuttered for a moment, and his hands fumbled for hers, halting on her forearm as though not sure whether to pull her closer or push her away. It gave her the time to overcome the uncertainty and just go with the flow. She circled her index finger over a sparse swirl of hair and soft, puckered skin for a moment, still hesitating, because, damn it, what was she doing here? But Rodney's broken moan stopped those thoughts and Sam lowered her head again to suck his left nipple into her mouth, then pushed a finger inside him.
She only managed to get in to her first joint, but Rodney's entire body jolted, almost violent in response to what she was doing. His hips slammed forward, the hands that had been scrabbling at her arms before fell away to reach behind her, for John.
Sam didn't hear his increasing moans anymore after a while, too surprised by his response and her own boldness. Rodney was hot and smooth inside, amazing her. He was sweat-slick skin and salt on her lips and tongue. His hips stuttered into short, hard strokes. God, he was tight around her finger, tighter than she had ever been around her own fingers, and different. His sweat mingled with hers on her belly. These deep strokes into her from the different angle were making his cock slide against her front wall more, sliding along already oversensitized nerve-endings. That and the way his pelvis was rubbing against her clit repeatedly was making it build inside her again, another orgasm lingering just out of her reach, and she twisted her hand, while fucking him back as good and as hard as she could, wanting to repay some of what he had given her already, wanting to make him make her come again. She sucked on his nipple hard, disrupting his rhythm. Over her head, she heard John kissing Rodney, open-mouthed and messy, his chest warm against her back, hands twined around Rodney's biceps, keeping them all sandwiched together. The urgent moans and grunts from Rodney reverberated against her lips. She felt a similar rumbling from John's chest.
Sam stilled her hand when she met a hard nub of nerves, curiously running her finger over it. Rodney suddenly was shaking all over, losing all rhythm. Just a few more movements of the finger were all it took and he was coming, finally, hips snapping into her, once, twice - almost there, almost, almost, come on, McKay, one more thrust, only one more - grunting into John's mouth, pulsing inside her. As much as she was glad that Rodney had finally found release himself, she couldn't help the frustration prickling through her body over the denied climax. When John ended the kiss, Rodney withdrew from her and slumped down across the counter next to her, leaving her feeling hollow and only too aware of the wetness trickling out of her and the fact that they'd been too stupid drunk and desperate to use a condom.
Sam closed her eyes. Thank God everyone woman at the SGC was given a Norplant before she went on offworld missions. The underlying implication had always made her uncomfortable, but right now, she was glad. She wasn't going to get pregnant from this.
Next to her, Rodney was panting. She could hear John peppering small kisses over Rodney's face and squeezed her eyes shut tighter as she became aware of her rapidly cooling skin. She had wanted this. She'd wanted to be a body, wanted sex she could forget in the morning, just something to make her feel better, and she'd got it. This was the sort of sexual encounter people fantasized about. Then why was she feeling this pang of loss? Because one night stands were a fool's game. And going to bed with your co-workers was always a mistake. Her body was still taut and tense from the denied orgasm and she felt something heavy and cold settle on her chest. Even with the mind blowing orgasms she'd had, she felt worse than she had earlier in the day. Damn it.
Sam blinked her suddenly moist eyes open when Rodney's hand touched her thigh - heavy and shaking with exhaustion. His thumb moved over her skin in small circles, no doubt trying to build a connection, but all it did was make the hunger inside her burn higher. She turned her head to the side and found him looking at her with tired, sated eyes. A smile, more honest than she had ever seen on him, lifted the corners of his mouth. He moved his hand, skating it down the side of her thigh to her hand. Grasped it and lifted it to his face. Stroked her wrist, then kissed every fingertip with more gentleness than she had ever thought him capable of. It stirred something in her, lifted part of the ice from her chest.
Above them, Sam heard John move. His hand moved into her line of vision to caress Rodney's face and trailed over her fingers as well. He gently slid her completely back onto the counter's support before releasing her shoulders, then bending and kissing her on the lips, sweet and tender, a message in the unhurried brush of lips on lips that she couldn't decipher.
When he let go of her, he looked at Rodney again, who closed his eyes momentarily. Had that been a nod? Sam couldn't tell.
John moved away from behind her, making her aware of the cooler air coming from the living room. He walked around the counter, limping slightly, and set both hands on her legs, stroking gently up and down her shins before lifting and bending them so her feet were flat on the counter.
Sam's heartbeat tripped, slowed, then beat a quickening staccato against her ribcage. She looked down to where John was standing between her legs, where he was pushing her knees apart and rubbing his cheek against the side of her knee, sending shivers through her. Again?
She managed to say hoarsely, "Isn't this where we started?"
John kissed her inner thigh tenderly. His gaze met hers. "Too much?" he asked.
Sam shivered and shook her head.
John's lips trailed up her thigh, those lush lips pink and kiss swollen against her pale skin. Strong hands were holding her knees up and spread wide when her legs started to shake. Her stomach fluttered. Her hand clenched to a fist in Rodney's grasp and her back almost bowed when John lowered his head against her and his tongue touched her again. She halted her involuntary movements, wanting to see what he was doing just as she was feeling it. A gasp was lodged in her throat, the air so thick and humid in the kitchen and full of the scent of sex it was difficult to breathe.
Rodney let go of her wrist and moved closer to her again, pulling her near so that her head was pillowed against his chest. She could hear his heart beating, as fast and hard as her own. His hand migrated to her side, circling her bellybutton and stroking over the fluttering muscles in her belly. From time to time, his hand detoured down to stroke John's dark hair. It made John moan against her, licking her more intently.
Sam felt the heat rising into her cheeks. John's eyes closed, dark lashes fanning his cheeks, his tongue dipping against her, licking up every trace of hers and Rodney's mingled fluids, single-minded and intent, taking his time. His tongue was relentless, greedy, thorough, but all the roughness from before was gone.
She knew what he was getting out of this. It wasn't only for her, this was just as much for John, even Rodney, as much as it was for her. John, who was spreading her legs wider at the knee, until the strained muscles ached, settling closer before looking up at her, their eyes meeting. He let his right hand drift up her thigh, making her thoughts derail and her eyelids flutter as he worked three fingers into her, filling her again. She gasped and shifted her hips to accommodate him.
Rodney's hand moved from her belly to her right breast, cupping it and running his thumb over the nipple. He had his face pressed against her hair and was murmuring quiet affirmations that were lost in the sound of her heart beating in her ears.
John's breath was hot against her as he sucked at her clit, gentle, careful, tongueing it, biting a little, not enough to hurt, just to sting, to ratchet the sensation to another level, while he worked his fingers inside her.
Sam began to writhe against him, to moan. But John was patient and slow, didn't stop, not when the slick, hot, jolting sensations of his tongue and fingers were becoming too much, not when she started to shake and flush, breaking out into fresh sweat, not when her hips began moving and she was squirming hard. He never let up. He worked into her, unhurried and painfully gentle, giving her more than she thought she could take when all she wanted to do was come, when she was so close, so damn close.
She started cursing him, echoing Rodney, "Come on, fuck, come on, come on."
Rodney's breath hitched, his hand cupping her breast more firmly, thumb and index finger pinching her nipple. The sensation raced through her and centered in her belly, started a chain reaction of synapses firing all at the same time: John's tongue and John's fingers and John's moan and Rodney's hands and Rodney's lips pressed against her sweaty temple, whispering in a rough, awed voice, "You're beautiful together." She flew apart. Her neck arched on Rodney's chest, her back bowed, hips lifting from the counter so that John had to press her back down with his free hand. He never stopped, not once, licked and sucked and bit her through an orgasm that went on and on, nova-bright, fierce gold and endless relief, sending her head spinning, her mind fragmenting and her hands flailing. Rodney caught them and stroked them, soothing and warm, until she slowly came down from the high, until John stopped moving his fingers and gave her a last, tender lick.
Sam closed her eyes again, panting, spent, aftershocks still shivering along her skin even as John moved away from her. Rodney's hand closed around hers, laced their fingers, careful and gentle and she squeezed back, trying to find the power to smile. Instead, she rolled her head to the side and pressed her lips against his chest. She opened her eyes in time to see John rise, one hand braced on the counter as though his legs weren't willing to hold him up.
Then he leaned over her, kissing his way up her still quivering torso until he reached Sam's mouth. He kissed her lips so sweetly it hurt. "Thank you," he murmured into her mouth, "thank you."
Rodney bent down to kiss her temple. His arms were warm around her.
Sam felt the urge to laugh out loud. They were thanking her? After what John had done, she felt the need to thank him … but she also realised that this hasn't just been about her coming again and male pride. It had been both their way of showing her that she hadn't just been a conduit, that this had meant something and that both had wanted her. Not with words, no, but Sam knew enough about not finding the right words at the right time, and she knew enough about men.
Hungers muted and tension worked out, she kissed John back, slow and tender. "Anytime," she murmured against his lips, making him grin.
"But not any time soon," Rodney huffed against her hair, breath stirring the sweat-matted strands. "Or I'll be an invalid before the end of the week."
Sam grinned and ran her thumb over the back of Rodney's hand. "What a headline that would make: Brilliant scientist hospitalized by vigorous sex."
Rodney groaned. John chuckled.
"Bed," Rodney said. "I am about to slip into a coma, my back is killing me and I don't want to fall off the damn counter in the middle of the night." He lifted his head a little, squinting at John. "You do have a bed, right?"
"No, Rodney. Of course not."
Sam still chuckled over their antics when John helped her off the counter. He had to steady her when her watery legs threatened to buckle and do the same to Rodney.
"Watch the glass," John warned Rodney and guided Sam away.
"Sorry about that," Rodney said. "Next time let's do this somewhere with fewer breakables."
"Whatever you say, Rodney." Sam felt the silent laughter that ran through John where he was pressed next to her side, arm around her waist to lift her over the shattered bits of glass and into the living room.
"That's right, leave me on my own," Rodney grumbled, "it's not like I have shoes on either." But he followed them out and into the tiny hall leading to the apartment's bathroom and bedroom.
"It's a good thing no one can see us," Sam remarked, grinning as they hobbled trough the bedroom door.
Rodney just grunted. He stripped of the rest of his clothes, then pulled the duvet off the - to Sam's surprise - queen-sized bed and dropped on the mattress. He lay there for a while, panting, and Sam and John watched him in amusement.
"Are you waiting for better weather?" Rodney asked and opened one eye. "Get in bed. The shower can wait until tomorrow."
John shrugged, pushed off his jeans, and crawled into the bed next to Rodney while Sam slipped off to the bathroom. There was no need to wake up with a raging case of honeymoon cystitis tomorrow morning. She'd have a hell of a time explaining that to Dr. Lam.
She looked into the mirror as she washed her hands and listened to the loud gurgle of the toilet flushing. Looked and saw bruises beginning to form, felt her legs weak and herself sore and grinned at her mirror image like a lunatic. She regretted nothing.
When she came back to the bedroom, Rodney had pulled John close, spooning around him, the duvet forgotten at the foot of the bed, their bodies touching from toe to shoulder. Sam shook her head and smiled at them, slid into the free space next to John and pulled the duvet up over the three of them. John's arms went around her, pulling her snug against him so that he spooned around her, his face nuzzling into the space between her neck and shoulder.
Rodney reached his hand around, over John and rested it on her waist, fingers heavy and warm.
They all smelled of sex and sweat and warm skin and it was the best damn thing Sam had smelled in ages. She wriggled back against John, felt his soft cock against her ass and smiled into the dreary room.
Rodney's fingers on her waist stopped moving in mid-stroke and the change in breathing made it clear that he had fallen asleep.
Sam reached for the nightstand and switched off the light. John kissed the back of her neck and that was the last she remembered before she fell asleep herself.
***
Rodney woke up to the sound of a shower running. There was a warm weight numbing his arm and hair tickled his nose. Hair that smelled distinctly of John. Rodney breathed deep.
He blinked his eyes open slowly, squinting at the bare, too white walls. Boxes were covering the floor, not one wardrobe in sight. John hadn’t unpacked any of the trinkets he’d had in his room on Atlantis. Something twisted in Rodney’s chest and he gathered John closer, pressing him tight against his chest. John murmured and tensed in protest for a second but then relaxed against Rodney with a sigh.
Sam was nowhere to be seen, but the steady, off-key humming coming from the shower gave her away. Rodney smiled into John’s hair. Good to know that Sam had some flaws. He hadn’t found any last night, and if he was honest with himself, he was still slightly shocked that she had finger-fucked him. No one was ever going to believe that. Not that he would ever tell. There was preening and then there was idiocy, and while he had always skirted mania, he’d never been stupid.
The shower stopped just when John turned and whispered a kiss against Rodney’s chest. “You snore.”
Oh, perfect. Leave it to John Sheppard to be a sweet-talker. “Good morning to you, too.”
“Well, you do.”
“And you talk in your sleep.” The cheap shot was too easy. And, oh, god, he had missed this, just the banter, missed it so much it hurt having it back now. All of last night’s tension was gone. They still weren’t back in Atlantis, but Rodney had John back. It was all that mattered now.
John winced, then his eyes narrowed. He licked his lower lip, showing off a bite mark there that made Rodney's mouth go dry. “No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Do.”
“Don’t.”
“Do.”
"Good morning,” a laughing female voice interrupted them. Rodney blinked at Sam, his mouth slightly open. He had thought she’d looked good last night, with the skirt and the boots and then later, naked? This was almost better - wet blond hair darker and in a complete disarray around her flushed cheeks, a blinding smile on her face, and … she was dressed in one of John’s black shirts. It barely covered her upper thigh, hugged all the right places.
“Looks good on you,” John commented.
Sam looked down on herself, then back up with a sparkle in her eyes. “Don’t go proprietary on me now.” She stepped up and pressed a toothpaste-flavoured kiss on both Rodney’s and John’s lips.
John chuckled, a warm movement against Rodney’s naked body.
“I hate to do this, but we should be back at the SGC in two hours.”
“God, tell me you’re joking. I’m not fit to work. You have broken me. Both of you.” Rodney groaned and pulled the duvet over his face, almost choking John, who struggled away from him.
John pulled the duvet back and smiled sleepily at Rodney. His hair was sticking out everywhere at once, making him look even dorkier. “Feeling your age?”
Rodney just rolled back a little and gave John a neat kick out of bed.
He showered quickly, followed by John, while Sam dropped back down on the bed. Rodney couldn’t help but bend down and kiss her knee when he came back, blessedly clean and refreshed.
Sam opened her eyes and smiled at him and Rodney realized that this was the stuff of hundreds of fantasies come alive - only better now, with Sam in John’s shirt and John, who had finished showering as well, sneaking up behind him to press a kiss against the top of Rodney’s spine.
Sam’s growling stomach broke the silence and she laughed, blushing a little. “Breakfast?”
“God, please,” Rodney agreed and helped her up.
They padded out of the bedroom one after another, sleep-slow and with aching muscles, all smelling of John’s shower gel. When they reached the kitchen, Sam stopped short so that he almost ran into her.
"Wow," she said.
"Uhm," John agreed.
Sam crossed her arms in front of her. John’s shirt stretched over her breasts. "I hope you don't cook, John."
"Oh my God, that's so unhygienic," Rodney stated, feeling his voice rise. "Just add a little blood and we'd have a fantastic crime scene."
They all stood next to each other, surveying the kitchen with some kind of awe. The pepper shaker was on the floor, open, but still intact, contents spilled black all over the gray linoleum. The doors under the counter were sprung open and smeared with suspicious stains. The top of the counter bore handprints, fingerprints and even ass prints, more dried stains and a small dusting of pepper which Rodney was incredibly glad hadn't ended up anywhere near sensitive body parts. He leaned to the side a bit and found the salt shaker broken on the floor, the salt sparkling in the morning light. The glass shards were sprinkled all across the floor, and there was a dark red stain - He wheeled around, staring at John. "Did you cut yourself, you idiot?"
John shrugged, rubbed the back of his neck and then his face. His stubble scritched against his palm. "Just a scratch."
"Let me see."
"What? Come on, Rodney."
He snapped his fingers. "Let me see." He took John by the shoulder, steered him out of the kitchen to the living room and sat him on the recliner, reaching for his foot.
"Rodney!"
"Have you seen this floor, and the carpets here? I will not have you die of blood poisoning when I only just - " He stopped, biting off the last words. It was too soon, guaranteed to send John running.
But John just looked at him with an odd, tender look on his face, and lifted his foot so Rodney could grasp and inspect it. A minor cut, already beginning to heal. Rodney breathed a sigh of relief, but didn't let go of John's narrow, long-toed foot. "I'm not going to die of blood poisoning." John curled his toes against the palm of Rodney's hand.
"Coffee?" Sam brought the blessed distraction.
John's foot in his hand shuddered when he snorted. "We destroyed almost everything on the counter, but I think the coffee machine is still intact."
"Coffee!" Rodney let go of John's foot with a small caress and rose. "Sam, you're brilliant."
"Why, thank you." Her smile was radiant this morning, different than last night. She still looked tired and overworked, but something had returned to her eyes that had been missing before. "And since I'm brilliant, you can make the coffee now."
"Hey!"
“Stop complaining. You’re the one who always tells me that everyone but you makes weak coffee.”
Rodney huffed and rolled his eyes. “You had to remember that.”
He padded into the kitchen barefoot, wary of the shards of glass still lying on the floor. Glowered at John. For someone who had wanted to clean and tidy right in the middle of sex last night, he was damn slow at removing a health risk. Speaking of cleaning … Rodney winced when he saw dried semen on the cabinet door and counter top. That counter would just never get clean again. Good thing he didn’t live here.
When he reached the coffee maker, he stopped short, stifled a guffaw, then started to laugh, louder than he had in ages.
“What?” Sam and John echoed from the living room, both standing in front of the window that John had opened.
Rodney didn’t answer. Couldn’t, for the laughter shaking his body. He just picked up the item lying on top of the coffee maker and lifted it with two fingers so that Sam and John could see.
Sam’s lace-topped panties.
John managed a straight face for about a second, then he joined Rodney, giving that wonderfully dirty laugh that always made Rodney cringe because it was so dorkish yet so utterly infective.
Sam walked up to him, snatched the panties from his fingers and shook her head. “These would make for interesting flavor,” she said, matter-of-factly, before padding back into the living room, and that went straight to Rodney’s groin. But no way. No way on Earth or in Pegasus was he up for any more sex this morning. He swallowed down the remaining trickles of laughter and busied himself making some of the blackest coffee Sam and John would ever see.
His stomach grumbled and he rubbed his bare belly. “Hey, I remember someone saying something about breakfast? Seeing as I'm providing you both with coffee?”
John’s turn to roll his eyes. It was comforting to see this again. “You're making it and probably drinking it all, Rodney. Not providing it.”
But he slipped into the kitchen unit next to Rodney, brushing his hands along the small of Rodney’s bare back as he passed. Warmth spread out from where John’s hand had been.
The rich scent of brewing coffee began to envelop them while John bent down to rummage in an empty sounding cabinet. It gave Rodney a nice view of the boxers stretching over John’s ass and the expanse of smooth skin over his back. No, damn it. He was in no shape for this. Breakfast. All he wanted was breakfast.
He watched John sweep up the shards of glass and the spilled salt and pepper, then stretch and go to another cabinet to take out a box of cereal and a blue bowl. The only thing in the fridge was a carton of UHT-milk. Thank god. At least it wouldn’t have curdled while John was offworld. Rodney had had his doubts, because the only other food item he'd spotted in the kitchen was a loaf of white bread -- with a fuzzy green covering.
John moved back into the living room and set the cereal box, the milk and the bowl on the floor. Sam closed the window with a shiver and seated herself gracefully. A glimpse of lace showed Rodney that she had put on the panties again. He really didn’t know if he’d have survived breakfast otherwise.
His gaze came to rest on the meager breakfast laid out before them and he frowned. He turned and looked into the kitchen, then back to the living room. No more bowls to be seen. And there was only one mug next to the coffee maker.
"One bowl?" Rodney said in horror. He picked up the coffee pot and the mug and walked into the living room.
John shrugged, then took the pot and mug from Rodney’s hands. "What do I need more for?"
Rodney glared at him, arms folded over his chest. "Excuse me? What about me?"
"And me?" Sam interjected, looking helplessly amused by them. She wasn’t taking him seriously at all, was she? Damn woman.
John's lifted shoulders mimed how helpless he was to change things. "We shared a bottle last night, why not a bowl this morning?"
“There is an essential difference between the small surface of a bottle and the much bigger surface of a bowl --“
“We both had our tongues down your throat last night, Rodney,” Sam said, dry as dust. “Buck up.”
“Do you at least have sugar?”
John shook his head and crouched down, tailor fashion, next to Sam.
“Another spoon, maybe?”
Another shake of John’s head. His mouth was curved into a smile, the one that almost always crept onto his face when Rodney ranted about something. Rodney'd noticed. It was one of the ways he had first realized John actually liked him, rather than tolerated him.
Rodney flailed his hands in exasperation before sitting down on the musty carpet himself. "What are you doing, camping here?"
The vibration of a passing truck made the house tremble in the silence that followed. John's face gave him away: yes. This was exactly why everything here was so spartan. John had no intentions of staying.
Rodney swallowed hard, needing to reach out and touch, but fearing it might not be welcome yet.
Sam broke the silence by reached for the pot and pouring the first mug of coffee. She pushed it at John, smiling sympathetically.
They ate breakfast in quiet, sharing the bowl and spoon and mug, and Rodney surprised himself with how little it bothered him despite what he’d said earlier. He busied himself with watching John and Sam, both looking so much better than they had last night. There were bruises forming on Sam’s thigh and arms where the shirt rode up far enough to let him see and Rodney winced. Sam caught it and just shrugged, running her finger over the bruises in something close to a caress.
The sound of trucks going past became more frequent, indicating that rush hour was close and that they didn’t have much more time. Sunlight broke through the curtains, still weak and without warmth. It sparked off Sam’s hair though, while leaving John and Rodney in the shadows. Rodney hated the damn apartment, but he hated the thought of going back to the Mountain, doing more inane work he didn’t want to be doing, hated pretending nothing had ever happened last night even more. And there was Nevada, they'd ship him back to Area 51 and his lab as soon as they could.
Sam and John carried the breakfast remainders back into the kitchen, making Rodney shake his head over their military need for cleanliness and order.
“Come on, McKay,” Sam called after she’d walked back in the bedroom. “Time.”
Time. Wasn’t on their sides, no matter what the Stones said.
Rodney pushed up from the floor with a groan, then stopped and frowned. Sam’s skirt and blouse were still on the floor in front of the counter. Not that it wouldn’t be a fond fantasy, but she couldn’t possibly go back to the Mountain in nothing but her underwear and John's shirt.
“Coming?” John asked. “You can borrow a shirt.”
Rodney walked into the bedroom and stopped again, leaning against the door to appreciate the view.
Sam was struggling to put on her bra under John's shirt, which hung around her neck. She had fantastic biceps, Rodney reflected, and gorgeous skin. He hadn't taken the time to really appreciate either the night before. A pair of John’s jeans waited on the bed and Rodney watched with a smile how Sam slipped into them, buttoned up, wriggled a little and pulled the belt tight to keep them from falling off her hips. It was one of the cutest things he had ever seen on her, better even than the damn pink jacket from his hallucination. She caught his look, plucked the shirt back over her hips and opened her arms, presenting herself. “Well?”
Rodney put both thumbs up, grinning at her.
“You’ll need to drop me off at my apartment, though. I can’t go back to the Mountain like this.”
“I kinda like it,” John remarked, raspy and slow, having arrived silently and now standing next to Rodney. His skin was warm, and he didn’t shy away from the body contact.
“Of course you do.” Sam rolled her eyes, but ruined it by smiling. “Now, get going, you two.”
John sighed, but moved. He stepped over to one of the boxes on the floor, rummaged through it and threw a shirt at Rodney. “Here.”
Rodney took a step closer, caught it. Unfolded it and stopped breathing for a moment.
His shirt. That was his shirt. The one he’d thought he’d lost in the laundry room on Atlantis.
He stood there in the middle of the room, clad in nothing but boxers and stared first at the shirt, then at John. “You…. I….”
“Must have been a mix up in the laundry room.” John shrugged, but it was too casual, too studied.
Rodney swallowed down on the feeling of utter elation crawling up his throat, trying to break free in a whoop. He nodded. “Yeah, must have.” But he couldn’t help the grin spreading over his face, so broad it almost hurt. Damn John Sheppard for making him go mushy over a shirt.
He caught Sam watching them, raised his eyebrows at her, unable to stop grinning. She shook her head, smiling at him and then John, fond.
Rodney shrugged and smiled back.
***
They stepped back out in the living room five minutes later.
Sam pulled on her boots under John’s jeans, then straightened.
“Ready?” she asked.
“No,” Rodney replied. “But that doesn’t count, does it?” Turning to John, he said: “I’m flying back to Area 51 tomorrow.”
Sam watched John’s face fall before he stepped to the door to fiddle with the keys and couldn’t help feeling a pang of regret herself.
“But, hey, Carson called. Something about dinner with Elizabeth next week…” He trailed off, voice caught between hopeful toward John and apologetic toward her.
The turned key made the lock click. John didn’t turn around, his face thrown in shadows. “Sounds nice.” His voice was too laconic to not be deliberate. Sam still heard the thread of anticipation running beneath it, the relief at the prospect of seeing Rodney again soon. John was making an effort to sound casual to not hurt her and Sam wanted to thwap him over the head. It wasn't necessary; that didn’t hurt. Not when she had finally realized how tightly these people were twined around each other, how little Landry or anyone at the SGC understood them.
She put her hand on John’s at the doorknob, pulled it away, nudged him to face her. Kissed him, then Rodney. Opened the door and stepped into the bright light of a new day.
End
And here's the entire story in one file, for those unwilling to read on LJ: (dis)connected
The kitchen counter was cold against her thighs and ass. Impatience burned through her, muscles clenching on their own. John's eyes were dark now, his hands purpose-driven as they plucked at her clothes, pushed her back to lie on the counter. More cold under her shoulder blades. His hands were are sharp, warm contrast, on her belly, sides, on the waist of her skirt, pulling, pushing.
Rodney stepped up from behind John to stand at his right side, and bent over the counter to press an open-mouthed kiss against her bellybutton, tongue dipping. Sam squirmed, her legs twitching, kicking John as he pushed her skirt up to her waist.
"Ow," John mouthed, rubbing his chest as he stepped back.
Rodney moved up from her belly again, slow, his gaze raking up and down her body, resting on her breasts before sliding lower. And up. He met her eyes and something hot curled in Sam's belly at the need she saw reflected there. His fingers slid under the elastic band of her panties, not waiting for approval from her or John. She sucked in a breath and hesitated for a moment before lifting her hips and allowing him to slide them off. This was sex with co-workers and that that was never a good idea didn't matter anymore, nothing did. This was going exactly where she wanted, where, if she was honest, she had hoped it was going all night. She wanted their hands on her, rough, male, nothing meaningful or deep. She just wanted to be fucked out of her mind, to stop thinking, to forget. Her hands curled around the counter to keep from reaching out, needy.
The swish of a shirt being pulled off jerked her back into the here and now. John's chest was bare, leanly muscled and swirled with dark hair. The light of the lamp behind him made it hard for her to see his face, just his hair, glossy and dark. Rodney's hands on her legs - different from John's, less calloused - opening them so John could step between them. Cool air moved against her damp curls. Beard stubble against her breast, warm suction on her nipple, kisses, licks, bites. A low moan formed in Sam's throat when she saw Rodney bending down and kissing the back of John's neck, just as John bit down on her left nipple. John was still standing, but was bent over her, with Rodney directly behind him, sandwiching John between her and Rodney. Her neck arched, head falling back against the counter with a thunk. Did they have any idea how hot that was?
"Careful now," John slurred as he went lower, kisses moving between her breasts down to her belly and up again to mouth her other breast.
Rodney snorted in amusement and mouthed John's skin. John shivered in response to the Rodney's breath against his nape.
Bastards. She moved her hands into John's hair, pulling strands of it between her fingers, her nails against his scalp, trying to urge him to move faster. She didn't mind foreplay, but this wasn't the time, she wanted him in her now. His breath was hot and moist and uneven against her breasts when she wriggled her hips lower and slung her legs around his waist, moving against him with urgency. The sensation of dry denim felt rough against her exposed clit, the feel of John's fingers digging into her hips to steady her was a shock to the system that made her jerk and her legs slip off his waist.
Their breathing was absurdly loud in the empty kitchen, a clock's monotonous ticking unwelcome as she tried to get her reactions under control. Her thigh muscles were trembling, legs hanging off the counter, touching the fabric of John's jeans. But Rodney's hands were back, lifting and stroking her legs from thigh to ankle, slow and tantalizing. Lifting her left and pressing a kiss to her instep. Resting it on John's shoulder. He repeated the same procedure with her right leg, only this time, he paused to breathe in her skin, nudging his nose against her calf.
Sam was glad that she had taken the extra time to shave earlier, and use that body lotion that Janet had given her for her birthday years back and which she had kept buying ever since. Rodney nuzzled her for a long time, trailing his hands over her skin, mouthing her ankles and her foot, pressing a kiss to the sole, moist lips and small bites to her calf. Sam's toes curled. Rodney smiled at her over John's shoulder - god, John was moving lower and lower, and he wouldn't, surely he wouldn't, too intimate, too close, he wouldn't, but damn, she wanted him to, she always had the best orgasms from a man using his mouth on her - and delivered a small bite to her big toe. She wanted to kiss Rodney but he was too far away, and already busy running his hands from her legs to John's shoulders and over his sides, stroking John's flanks. Steadying John with one hand as he bent down to her, his ass pushing against Rodney's groin. Rodney was teasing John's nipples with the other. She squirmed, trying to see more and her elbows slipped on the smooth counter.
Rodney was watching her, watching John kiss and bite and suckle his way down below her bellybutton to the beginning of her pubic hair, while he was painting sweeping patterns over John's back and sides. Kissing the soles of her feet, touching his tongue to her toes, one by one, humming against them. His gaze alternated between her and John, eyes glazed over, hot. Hot and wanting. Sam shivered, felt herself getting wetter. She'd never thought that mere looks from Rodney would be such a turn on.
Sam knew that John hadn't shaved since the morning, had felt it before, on her breasts and her belly, but when he nudged her thighs farther apart, just enough to grant him better access but without having her legs slip off his shoulders, the feel of his stubble against the sensitive inside of her thigh made her jump and buck against him. John raised his head and smirked at her, dirty and hot. It made her want to punch him. Now, now, damn it, now. She'd wanted a quick fuck, not an elaborate seduction, and god, what would Janet think if she could hear her like this?
John couldn't hear her thoughts, but moved anyway. Slipped a hand under her ass and pulled her toward him so she was perched just on the edge of the counter. Dipped lower. Started blowing air between her legs, over swollen, slick flesh, making her hair stand on end. Raised his head to check her reaction with a feral glint in his eyes before lowering his head again. Started inhaling long and slow, like he was drinking her scent in, smelling her arousal while Rodney massaged the sole of her left foot with a sure, deft hand. The other was still holding John steady.
When John touched his tongue to her clit for the first time, Sam let her head fall back against the counter again, sending the salt shaker rolling off. The high clink of glass against tile told her that it had broken. She turned her head to see the salt spilled over the floor. Spilled salt brought bad luck. She didn't care. Only thought about how she wanted to keep her eyes open, but at the same time wanted to close them and savor the sheer sensation of John's lips teasing her.
She heard Rodney mutter, "At least it wasn't the pepper," and gave a short, desperate laugh at that. John raised his head for a moment to grin at her. His lips were glistening. Later, she thought, later, she wanted to taste herself on his mouth. Mingle his taste with hers and Rodney's. Taste raw, earthy sex and lick it away. The thought sent her body shaking as John ran his tongue over her clit again, adding a hint of teeth.
She bucked against his face, sweat-slick back sliding on the counter, her grasp white-knuckled against the edge, the effort of staying on top taking its toll. Rodney spanned her ankles, keeping her legs from slipping off John's shoulders, holding her still for John to work her.
Craning her head, Sam looked between the valley of her breasts, down her belly, to John's head between her legs. Dark hair framed by her pale thighs, moving up and down as he licked and sucked, that sent her pulse sky-rocketing. Sam panted, hands clenching around the counter edge until her joints hurt, and oh, god, John didn't stop, just kept alternating between tasting and blowing cool air on her and sucking, with the barest hint of teeth...Rodney was still pressed behind him, kissing his way up John's spine. He stopped at the top, looking at her, his gaze naked and wanting. He slid one hand to John's face, stroking for a moment. Then his fingers dipped lower, onto her clit, rubbing while John licked and sucked, trailing his tongue over her, slicking Rodney's finger in the process.
She was out of breath now, tense as a bowstring, the muscles in the her thighs shivering, hips rising and falling. It was almost too much, her thoughts fragmenting, body squirming at the steady build up of sensations that made her skin feel fevered and too tight. John just gripped her tighter, pressing her hips and ass against the counter. He wasn't going to let her have fast release. Neither was Rodney, who was dipping a finger into her, pressing slow and firm against her inner walls. She choked in a moan at the sudden intrusion, arching her back as she tried to sink down on him. She could feel John licking at her entrance, swirling his tongue over her lips and Rodney's finger in her. John's right hand abandoned her hip. She saw him flailing it like a drowning man, before finding Rodney's thigh, clutching and drawing him tighter against his back. Rodney started, eyes closing for a moment, his finger stopping mid-stroke. He opened his eyes again and pressed in closer, pushing John against Sam as he tried to cover every square inch of skin on John's back. Rodney's finger slid deeper into her too, and resumed its movement.
John's head snapped up abruptly and his eyes glazed over. For a moment, his grip on Sam's hips eased. He arched his neck back, mouth slack against her for long seconds. His shoulders, his entire body, started to move then and he gulped in a huge breath, mouthed her blindly, whispering and groaning against her clit. "Ah, yeah, yes." From the sudden change and the sound of skin on skin, she realised that Rodney was jerking John off. Her gaze met Rodney's and she found him staring straight at her.
Sam swallowed a moan, saw what she hadn't noticed before, when Rodney had been looking at her with less of a challenge, less determination in his gaze: he was rubbing off against John. John, who was groaning and whispering unintelligible words against her flesh between licks and kisses, shuddering to the rhythm of Rodney's strokes. The vibrations of his keening moans and the sudden rush of warm breath, the smell and feel of him coming - shaking all over before spasming, arching, panting against her, his fingers digging into her hips hard enough to leave bruises, the harsh cry that escaped against her - merged with the feel of Rodney's finger nudging against her inner walls, hitting the same spot again and again. pushed Sam over the edge into a sharp, short orgasm that sent her body trembling, her thighs clenching around John's head.
She was still shivering through her climax when John slid down and away, boneless, his hands skimming over her thighs and away. Sam wanted to cry out in loss, but Rodney was taking his place, his cock slipping inside in a single, smooth thrust that filled her, sending another shudder of pleasure through her. Rodney made a sound in the back of his throat, choked and frantic. His head dropped forward to her chest, soft hair tickling her breasts.
Fuck, yes. This was what she had wanted. Thick inside her, filling her, hitting all the right places. Or, he would, if he'd move. She slung her legs around Rodney's waist, mirroring her action with John before, nudged her heels against his ass.
His eyes glazed over, and then there was no more hesitation. He began to pound into her, thighs slapping against her ass, making the counter shake. Sam gripped the edge again when her back began sliding over the counter, felt her fingers starting to cramp up and her head move beyond the support of the counter. If she let go now, he'd fuck her all the way across the counter. Wild laughter bubbled up inside her at the thought and only Rodney's relentless strokes - almost, almost, close, but never quite there - kept it at bay.
Yes, was all she could think, yes, yes, more. Harder. She wanted to fuck him hard enough to leave marks, wanted something to keep, something to remind her of this night.
A low sound caught her attention, distracted her from Rodney for a moment. Sam rolled her head to the side and saw John, sprawled on the floor, back propped against cabinet door, one hand in the spilled salt, moving in circles. Watching Rodney. Watching Rodney fuck her. His eyes met hers. A stab of fresh arousal, sharper, more keen-edged, made her realize that it wasn't just John watching them. Now it was her, watching John watch Rodney fuck her. Sam bucked against Rodney, who groaned.
John's hand went to his chest, moving slowly up and down, then he ran his index finger around one tight little nipple. He looked utterly debauched there on the floor, spent cock hanging out of his open pants, chest sheened with sweat, eyes dark and half-closed, mouth swollen and parted. His lips were still glistening. The need to kiss him made her mouth dry.
Rodney pulled her out of her reverie, turning her head back, fingers strong on her jaw. His eyes were dark, bottomless, in the harsh fluorescent-lit kitchen. "Look at me." His voice almost a growl. A jolt went through her body. Was he still jealous? God, he was fucking her, how could he still be - She didn't finish the thought because Rodney was kissing her rough and deep, blowing her mind, demanding her attention. She kissed back just as forcefully, giving him the reassurance he obviously needed. Raised her hips against his, offering more of her, all of her. He slammed back into her, every thrust shoving her hot, sweaty skin across the table a little more.
This time the pepper shaker did get knocked off, rolling somewhere she couldn't see. She heard John chuckle, felt it bubbling up in her as well. It was Rodney's strained, "Damn, damn, god, Sam, I - " and him picking up speed that stopped her.
Sam closed her eyes and lost herself in the sensation of rough thrusts and the slick Formica counter under her, the sound of the whole thing creaking steadily in protest at their weight, the smell of sweat and sex and salt filling the room. Her teeth sunk into her lower lip. She was panting, moaning low under her breath, just countering Rodney's thrusts that were verging on desperate. The sounds he made were near-pained, small, breathy, tight moans that broke the thud of their skin slapping against each other. She barely heard John step up on the other side of the counter behind her. Her eyes flew open when he set his hands on her shoulders, though, steadying her, stopping her gradual creep beyond the edge. She looked up at them, Rodney watching John, watching John's mouth still wet from her juices. John watching Rodney fuck her, primal and remorseless. But there was something, something more…
Sam stopped Rodney's thrusts with a sharp flexing of her thighs. Tugged his head down for a short kiss and pushed him up again. She stroked her hand over his waist and flank, as far as she could reach, then up over his chest to his jaw, nudging his head up until he looked at John. Sam reached for Rodney's hand, found it and lifted it. Ran his thumb over his lips, before lifting it to John's mouth. John took the digit in without hesitation, lips sealing around it.
She could feel Rodney's shudder in response run through his entire body.
Rodney and John stared at one another for a long moment until, finally, John released Rodney's thumb and bent forward, his body almost obscuring Sam's view. He stopped just before Rodney's face, searching his eyes. Whispered, "Please," before touching his lips to Rodney's.
Rodney went completely still.
John pulled back, his face blank. His hands on her shoulders were shaking.
Rodney closed his eyes. Ran his tongue over his lips, slow, thoughtful. Sam's head sank back against John's stomach, breath stuttering out in a moan, knees going watery when she realized that Rodney was tasting her, too. Then Rodney opened his eyes again and surged forward, pressing himself along her, catching John's lips in an open-mouthed kiss. He slid deeper inside her in the process and Sam gasped. John's hands moved from her shoulders to Rodney's face, cradling it, pulling him closer just as Rodney's did the same, fingers trailing idly over John's jaw.
The kiss was desperate, forceful and hungry and unmistakably a first one. Sam's inner muscles clenched in response to the need radiating off them.
Rodney was completely focused on John now, kissing and licking and sucking, muttering unintelligible words under his breath, against John's mouth. Sam shifted restlessly, squeezed between them, Rodney's cock in her a blunt pressure now, unmoving. The sound of their wet kisses echoed off the tiles, loud and incongruous in the kitchen. Her skin cooled where she wasn't being touched, and she began to feel left out. Neglected. Then again, looking up at the hungry kisses John and Rodney were trading, she wondered if she shouldn't give them some more time. Hysterical laughter stuck in her throat as she realized the ridiculousness of the situation: Rodney buried deep in her, but completely oblivious to her, utterly focused on John. Her hand migrated over Rodney's side to her own, trailing over her stomach to dip between them and find her clit. A tremor went through Rodney when she started circling middle and index finger over the slick bundle of nerves. Slow, circular motions, light at first, then more, firmer pressure. Pleasure like sun warmed honey spread through her limbs lazy and slow, leaving her craving more.
She started the movement again, undulating her hips, shifting against Rodney, urging him to move. Nothing. Both men were too preoccupied. Kissing as though their lives depended on it.
Sam decided that she'd waited long enough. She lifted her head, sucked Rodney's right nipple into her mouth and bit down, just as she scraped a fingernail over the base of his cock. A jolt arced through Rodney's body and he tore his lips away from John's, lowering his head and groaning. His hands dropped from John's face to her and pulled her hands away, clamping his fingers around her forearms, then sliding up to her biceps, pressing her back down. He started thrusting against, slow, deliberate and deep.
Sam curled up from the waist, struggling against his grip until John bent close over her head, silhouetted against the kitchen light. His lips captured hers, upside down and strange, their tongues meeting. Wet suction against her lips and smooth, even thrusts into her fractured her ability to think. Rodney's hands bit into her upper arms, John's stubbled chin rasped against her forehead, her muscles began to protest…Sam began to feel vaguely claustrophobic and wholly out of control. She bucked and squirmed, trying to get away from the sensations yet trying to get more. John's hands played with her breasts, cupping and massaging, flicking her nipples, then moved up to Rodney's chest, then back, alternating. Sam thrashed her head to the side, away from Johns lips, gasping, still rocking her hips up into Rodney's thrusts, realizing he was looking down at her, not at John, again, licking his lips compulsively. John gasped and stared back at him.
Rodney sped his thrusts into a breathless rhythm, making Sam hook legs around him, her heels digging into his ass. He was working into her with frenetic energy, but it still didn't seem enough. He cursed under his breath, letting go of her arms to scramble onto the counter with her and kneel, pulling her onto his lap, resting her weight on his lap and her shoulders. A different angle now, Rodney's fingers biting into her thighs, and, god, this was even better. Her head was pushing against John's bare belly, one shoulder brushing against his hip, making her aware again that if John hadn't been there, she'd be sliding off. Rodney was trusting John to catch them both.
John was breathing hard. He leaned in, pulling her up to rest against his chest, acutely changing the angle Rodney's cock entered her, making her whimper, holding onto her shoulder with one hand and bracing Rodney with the other, trading kisses between her jaw and neck and Rodney's mouth.
Sam jerked as John's other hand found her breast again, cupping it without finesse, sensation shooting all the way down to her toes. Rodney broke off kissing John when she tensed and looked down at her, blue eyes shadowed by those impossibly long lashes. Wanting to see what he was looking at, Sam craned her neck down. Her breath hitched. John's hand was dark against the pale skin of her breast. His thumb pressed deliberately against her nipple, pulling another high noise from her. The sensation of his rough fondling and the sight of it had her scalp prickling. Rodney caught her eyes and just looked, long, quiet, the only sounds audible their breathing, the wet noises of sex and John's hands on her skin. It shouldn't have turned her on so much, but just Rodney watching her made heat pool low in her belly. She arched her back. Rodney slowed his thrusts momentarily and bent down, his cock shifting against the walls of her vagina, to fit his mouth over her nipple.
She couldn't look away even as pleasure coursed through her and all she wanted was to sink back against John and buck up against them both. But she held still, felt the tension centering in her groin, watched as Rodney trailed the tip of his tongue around her nipple and then over John's knuckles. John groaned as well, his fingers flexing against her breast, kneading. Rodney seemed restless now, his back no doubt protesting and he abandoned her nipple for her mouth. His hips snapped into hers faster, even harder, while his hand slid from her belly down to her pubic line. He detoured for a moment to pull her higher into his lap, then plunged his fingers lower, finding her clit. Looking down between them she could see his now fingers circling, slick and shining with her juices, and his cock moving in and out of her with every thrust. John hook his chin over her shoulder and watched too, eyes heavy lidded, breath gusting uneven and hard next to her ear, hand still working against her breast, the other locked on Rodney's shoulder.
Sam looked back up to meet Rodney's brilliant eyes, staring, just staring, sensations overloading as his fingers circled and circled-
Her body arched, suddenly taut, flushed, all nerve endings wired. A few rough manipulations of her clit - yes - a few hard thrusts that had her back sliding on the counter, hitting John, making John grip her tighter - yes, yes, just a little more - the smell of sweat and aftershave and sex and warm skin - yes, fuck, yes, now. The orgasm flooded through her in shockwaves, tight and coiled in the beginning, then moving from her belly out against her skin, high flight and free-fall, g-force and a super nova, it went on and on, Rodney thrusting into her the whole time, relentless, almost manic, his face a blur in front of her pleasure-drunk eyes. Her arms flailed wild on the counter, scrabbling for something to hold on to. John's hands - couldn't be Rodney's, they were more callused - found hers, lacing his fingers with her own. A moan rose in her throat, raw and primal. All her muscles contracted around Rodney, clenching down hard, making him groan. She was grinding down onto him, because the way he was holding her hips steady now prevented them from lifting. On and on, her body flared with lightning trying to break free. Fresh sweat broke out as the last waves crashed over her.
Sam was left breathing hard, panting to get much needed air back in her lungs. Her muscles still contracted around Rodney even though the buzz was fading, yet for some reason he didn't stop, still hadn't come. It was as though something was missing, as though he was still trying to drive out his demons by fucking her hard. It could be that or nothing at all, but she didn't care anymore, not when the steady, rough friction against her sensitive membranes and the relentless pressure against her clit edged her into another climax only seconds after the first had subsided.
If she'd been holding back before, she no longer tried now. Wrestling her hands free of John, she reached for his head, twisting her neck to the side, tugging him down sharply. She couldn't stop herself from biting at his lips, wanting to draw blood, wanting to leave her mark on him. Everything smelled like salt and pepper, sex and semen and whiskey, and not like blood and dirt or death and this was exactly what she had needed. To come undone, to only feel her body and forget everything else.
Everything except John and Rodney. Rodney, who was panting and sweat soaked, his face almost alarmingly red. Without a change in position, every thrust sent a jolt of near pain through her pelvis, and that actually made it all even better. It didn't matter if it was close to pain, it grounded her in the here and now, and she wanted more. More of Rodney's gasping groans, of John's lips and the all but bruising suction that alternated with the softest of feathery touches from his kiss-swollen lips, of Rodney's hands biting into her hips. Rodney gasped in between thrusts, voice rough and gravelly, almost to himself, "Come on, come on, come on."
She felt John's head snap up, leaving her gasping as he glanced at Rodney and frowned. He looked back at her next, a dark, knowing expression on his face. John leaned close, his hair tickling her face. She had already turned her head to kiss him again, but his lips trailed around to her ear instead, whispering: "Fuck him back, Sam."
Gooseflesh broke out all over her body at the gust of warm air against her ear. Her eyes widened a little, taking in the wide green eyes above her face, the high colour in John's cheeks and the way his breath fanned her cheeks in a staccato rhythm that was just barely out of synch with Rodney's breathing and fucking. Was that what - She didn't think twice, couldn't. Just lifted her right hand to John's mouth, watching him hold her wrist gently and then suck three fingers into his mouth, twisting his tongue around them, wetting them thoroughly. "God, oh, god," Rodney panted as he watched them. The sensation of John's warm, wet and slightly raspy tongue swirling over her knuckles had her face flushing hotter. Her eyelids fluttered for a moment and she found it hard to breathe until John let go of her wrist and she could open her eyes again. Saw her fingers glistening with John's saliva. Saw John nodding.
With her heart pounding in her ears, Sam felt John propping her up all the way until she was pressed against Rodney's chest. The different angle made him slide deeper inside her, and though he had less room to keep up the powerful thrusts from before, his cock was now touching nerve endings that made her bite back a gasp. She wrapped her left arm around his back to hold herself in position and lifted her chin just to look at him. His eyes flickered as they met hers, his gaze desperate, panicked, needing, wanting. Sam pressed a kiss to the center of his chest, then reached behind Rodney, stroking until she found the cleft of his ass.
His thrusts stuttered for a moment, and his hands fumbled for hers, halting on her forearm as though not sure whether to pull her closer or push her away. It gave her the time to overcome the uncertainty and just go with the flow. She circled her index finger over a sparse swirl of hair and soft, puckered skin for a moment, still hesitating, because, damn it, what was she doing here? But Rodney's broken moan stopped those thoughts and Sam lowered her head again to suck his left nipple into her mouth, then pushed a finger inside him.
She only managed to get in to her first joint, but Rodney's entire body jolted, almost violent in response to what she was doing. His hips slammed forward, the hands that had been scrabbling at her arms before fell away to reach behind her, for John.
Sam didn't hear his increasing moans anymore after a while, too surprised by his response and her own boldness. Rodney was hot and smooth inside, amazing her. He was sweat-slick skin and salt on her lips and tongue. His hips stuttered into short, hard strokes. God, he was tight around her finger, tighter than she had ever been around her own fingers, and different. His sweat mingled with hers on her belly. These deep strokes into her from the different angle were making his cock slide against her front wall more, sliding along already oversensitized nerve-endings. That and the way his pelvis was rubbing against her clit repeatedly was making it build inside her again, another orgasm lingering just out of her reach, and she twisted her hand, while fucking him back as good and as hard as she could, wanting to repay some of what he had given her already, wanting to make him make her come again. She sucked on his nipple hard, disrupting his rhythm. Over her head, she heard John kissing Rodney, open-mouthed and messy, his chest warm against her back, hands twined around Rodney's biceps, keeping them all sandwiched together. The urgent moans and grunts from Rodney reverberated against her lips. She felt a similar rumbling from John's chest.
Sam stilled her hand when she met a hard nub of nerves, curiously running her finger over it. Rodney suddenly was shaking all over, losing all rhythm. Just a few more movements of the finger were all it took and he was coming, finally, hips snapping into her, once, twice - almost there, almost, almost, come on, McKay, one more thrust, only one more - grunting into John's mouth, pulsing inside her. As much as she was glad that Rodney had finally found release himself, she couldn't help the frustration prickling through her body over the denied climax. When John ended the kiss, Rodney withdrew from her and slumped down across the counter next to her, leaving her feeling hollow and only too aware of the wetness trickling out of her and the fact that they'd been too stupid drunk and desperate to use a condom.
Sam closed her eyes. Thank God everyone woman at the SGC was given a Norplant before she went on offworld missions. The underlying implication had always made her uncomfortable, but right now, she was glad. She wasn't going to get pregnant from this.
Next to her, Rodney was panting. She could hear John peppering small kisses over Rodney's face and squeezed her eyes shut tighter as she became aware of her rapidly cooling skin. She had wanted this. She'd wanted to be a body, wanted sex she could forget in the morning, just something to make her feel better, and she'd got it. This was the sort of sexual encounter people fantasized about. Then why was she feeling this pang of loss? Because one night stands were a fool's game. And going to bed with your co-workers was always a mistake. Her body was still taut and tense from the denied orgasm and she felt something heavy and cold settle on her chest. Even with the mind blowing orgasms she'd had, she felt worse than she had earlier in the day. Damn it.
Sam blinked her suddenly moist eyes open when Rodney's hand touched her thigh - heavy and shaking with exhaustion. His thumb moved over her skin in small circles, no doubt trying to build a connection, but all it did was make the hunger inside her burn higher. She turned her head to the side and found him looking at her with tired, sated eyes. A smile, more honest than she had ever seen on him, lifted the corners of his mouth. He moved his hand, skating it down the side of her thigh to her hand. Grasped it and lifted it to his face. Stroked her wrist, then kissed every fingertip with more gentleness than she had ever thought him capable of. It stirred something in her, lifted part of the ice from her chest.
Above them, Sam heard John move. His hand moved into her line of vision to caress Rodney's face and trailed over her fingers as well. He gently slid her completely back onto the counter's support before releasing her shoulders, then bending and kissing her on the lips, sweet and tender, a message in the unhurried brush of lips on lips that she couldn't decipher.
When he let go of her, he looked at Rodney again, who closed his eyes momentarily. Had that been a nod? Sam couldn't tell.
John moved away from behind her, making her aware of the cooler air coming from the living room. He walked around the counter, limping slightly, and set both hands on her legs, stroking gently up and down her shins before lifting and bending them so her feet were flat on the counter.
Sam's heartbeat tripped, slowed, then beat a quickening staccato against her ribcage. She looked down to where John was standing between her legs, where he was pushing her knees apart and rubbing his cheek against the side of her knee, sending shivers through her. Again?
She managed to say hoarsely, "Isn't this where we started?"
John kissed her inner thigh tenderly. His gaze met hers. "Too much?" he asked.
Sam shivered and shook her head.
John's lips trailed up her thigh, those lush lips pink and kiss swollen against her pale skin. Strong hands were holding her knees up and spread wide when her legs started to shake. Her stomach fluttered. Her hand clenched to a fist in Rodney's grasp and her back almost bowed when John lowered his head against her and his tongue touched her again. She halted her involuntary movements, wanting to see what he was doing just as she was feeling it. A gasp was lodged in her throat, the air so thick and humid in the kitchen and full of the scent of sex it was difficult to breathe.
Rodney let go of her wrist and moved closer to her again, pulling her near so that her head was pillowed against his chest. She could hear his heart beating, as fast and hard as her own. His hand migrated to her side, circling her bellybutton and stroking over the fluttering muscles in her belly. From time to time, his hand detoured down to stroke John's dark hair. It made John moan against her, licking her more intently.
Sam felt the heat rising into her cheeks. John's eyes closed, dark lashes fanning his cheeks, his tongue dipping against her, licking up every trace of hers and Rodney's mingled fluids, single-minded and intent, taking his time. His tongue was relentless, greedy, thorough, but all the roughness from before was gone.
She knew what he was getting out of this. It wasn't only for her, this was just as much for John, even Rodney, as much as it was for her. John, who was spreading her legs wider at the knee, until the strained muscles ached, settling closer before looking up at her, their eyes meeting. He let his right hand drift up her thigh, making her thoughts derail and her eyelids flutter as he worked three fingers into her, filling her again. She gasped and shifted her hips to accommodate him.
Rodney's hand moved from her belly to her right breast, cupping it and running his thumb over the nipple. He had his face pressed against her hair and was murmuring quiet affirmations that were lost in the sound of her heart beating in her ears.
John's breath was hot against her as he sucked at her clit, gentle, careful, tongueing it, biting a little, not enough to hurt, just to sting, to ratchet the sensation to another level, while he worked his fingers inside her.
Sam began to writhe against him, to moan. But John was patient and slow, didn't stop, not when the slick, hot, jolting sensations of his tongue and fingers were becoming too much, not when she started to shake and flush, breaking out into fresh sweat, not when her hips began moving and she was squirming hard. He never let up. He worked into her, unhurried and painfully gentle, giving her more than she thought she could take when all she wanted to do was come, when she was so close, so damn close.
She started cursing him, echoing Rodney, "Come on, fuck, come on, come on."
Rodney's breath hitched, his hand cupping her breast more firmly, thumb and index finger pinching her nipple. The sensation raced through her and centered in her belly, started a chain reaction of synapses firing all at the same time: John's tongue and John's fingers and John's moan and Rodney's hands and Rodney's lips pressed against her sweaty temple, whispering in a rough, awed voice, "You're beautiful together." She flew apart. Her neck arched on Rodney's chest, her back bowed, hips lifting from the counter so that John had to press her back down with his free hand. He never stopped, not once, licked and sucked and bit her through an orgasm that went on and on, nova-bright, fierce gold and endless relief, sending her head spinning, her mind fragmenting and her hands flailing. Rodney caught them and stroked them, soothing and warm, until she slowly came down from the high, until John stopped moving his fingers and gave her a last, tender lick.
Sam closed her eyes again, panting, spent, aftershocks still shivering along her skin even as John moved away from her. Rodney's hand closed around hers, laced their fingers, careful and gentle and she squeezed back, trying to find the power to smile. Instead, she rolled her head to the side and pressed her lips against his chest. She opened her eyes in time to see John rise, one hand braced on the counter as though his legs weren't willing to hold him up.
Then he leaned over her, kissing his way up her still quivering torso until he reached Sam's mouth. He kissed her lips so sweetly it hurt. "Thank you," he murmured into her mouth, "thank you."
Rodney bent down to kiss her temple. His arms were warm around her.
Sam felt the urge to laugh out loud. They were thanking her? After what John had done, she felt the need to thank him … but she also realised that this hasn't just been about her coming again and male pride. It had been both their way of showing her that she hadn't just been a conduit, that this had meant something and that both had wanted her. Not with words, no, but Sam knew enough about not finding the right words at the right time, and she knew enough about men.
Hungers muted and tension worked out, she kissed John back, slow and tender. "Anytime," she murmured against his lips, making him grin.
"But not any time soon," Rodney huffed against her hair, breath stirring the sweat-matted strands. "Or I'll be an invalid before the end of the week."
Sam grinned and ran her thumb over the back of Rodney's hand. "What a headline that would make: Brilliant scientist hospitalized by vigorous sex."
Rodney groaned. John chuckled.
"Bed," Rodney said. "I am about to slip into a coma, my back is killing me and I don't want to fall off the damn counter in the middle of the night." He lifted his head a little, squinting at John. "You do have a bed, right?"
"No, Rodney. Of course not."
Sam still chuckled over their antics when John helped her off the counter. He had to steady her when her watery legs threatened to buckle and do the same to Rodney.
"Watch the glass," John warned Rodney and guided Sam away.
"Sorry about that," Rodney said. "Next time let's do this somewhere with fewer breakables."
"Whatever you say, Rodney." Sam felt the silent laughter that ran through John where he was pressed next to her side, arm around her waist to lift her over the shattered bits of glass and into the living room.
"That's right, leave me on my own," Rodney grumbled, "it's not like I have shoes on either." But he followed them out and into the tiny hall leading to the apartment's bathroom and bedroom.
"It's a good thing no one can see us," Sam remarked, grinning as they hobbled trough the bedroom door.
Rodney just grunted. He stripped of the rest of his clothes, then pulled the duvet off the - to Sam's surprise - queen-sized bed and dropped on the mattress. He lay there for a while, panting, and Sam and John watched him in amusement.
"Are you waiting for better weather?" Rodney asked and opened one eye. "Get in bed. The shower can wait until tomorrow."
John shrugged, pushed off his jeans, and crawled into the bed next to Rodney while Sam slipped off to the bathroom. There was no need to wake up with a raging case of honeymoon cystitis tomorrow morning. She'd have a hell of a time explaining that to Dr. Lam.
She looked into the mirror as she washed her hands and listened to the loud gurgle of the toilet flushing. Looked and saw bruises beginning to form, felt her legs weak and herself sore and grinned at her mirror image like a lunatic. She regretted nothing.
When she came back to the bedroom, Rodney had pulled John close, spooning around him, the duvet forgotten at the foot of the bed, their bodies touching from toe to shoulder. Sam shook her head and smiled at them, slid into the free space next to John and pulled the duvet up over the three of them. John's arms went around her, pulling her snug against him so that he spooned around her, his face nuzzling into the space between her neck and shoulder.
Rodney reached his hand around, over John and rested it on her waist, fingers heavy and warm.
They all smelled of sex and sweat and warm skin and it was the best damn thing Sam had smelled in ages. She wriggled back against John, felt his soft cock against her ass and smiled into the dreary room.
Rodney's fingers on her waist stopped moving in mid-stroke and the change in breathing made it clear that he had fallen asleep.
Sam reached for the nightstand and switched off the light. John kissed the back of her neck and that was the last she remembered before she fell asleep herself.
***
Rodney woke up to the sound of a shower running. There was a warm weight numbing his arm and hair tickled his nose. Hair that smelled distinctly of John. Rodney breathed deep.
He blinked his eyes open slowly, squinting at the bare, too white walls. Boxes were covering the floor, not one wardrobe in sight. John hadn’t unpacked any of the trinkets he’d had in his room on Atlantis. Something twisted in Rodney’s chest and he gathered John closer, pressing him tight against his chest. John murmured and tensed in protest for a second but then relaxed against Rodney with a sigh.
Sam was nowhere to be seen, but the steady, off-key humming coming from the shower gave her away. Rodney smiled into John’s hair. Good to know that Sam had some flaws. He hadn’t found any last night, and if he was honest with himself, he was still slightly shocked that she had finger-fucked him. No one was ever going to believe that. Not that he would ever tell. There was preening and then there was idiocy, and while he had always skirted mania, he’d never been stupid.
The shower stopped just when John turned and whispered a kiss against Rodney’s chest. “You snore.”
Oh, perfect. Leave it to John Sheppard to be a sweet-talker. “Good morning to you, too.”
“Well, you do.”
“And you talk in your sleep.” The cheap shot was too easy. And, oh, god, he had missed this, just the banter, missed it so much it hurt having it back now. All of last night’s tension was gone. They still weren’t back in Atlantis, but Rodney had John back. It was all that mattered now.
John winced, then his eyes narrowed. He licked his lower lip, showing off a bite mark there that made Rodney's mouth go dry. “No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Do.”
“Don’t.”
“Do.”
"Good morning,” a laughing female voice interrupted them. Rodney blinked at Sam, his mouth slightly open. He had thought she’d looked good last night, with the skirt and the boots and then later, naked? This was almost better - wet blond hair darker and in a complete disarray around her flushed cheeks, a blinding smile on her face, and … she was dressed in one of John’s black shirts. It barely covered her upper thigh, hugged all the right places.
“Looks good on you,” John commented.
Sam looked down on herself, then back up with a sparkle in her eyes. “Don’t go proprietary on me now.” She stepped up and pressed a toothpaste-flavoured kiss on both Rodney’s and John’s lips.
John chuckled, a warm movement against Rodney’s naked body.
“I hate to do this, but we should be back at the SGC in two hours.”
“God, tell me you’re joking. I’m not fit to work. You have broken me. Both of you.” Rodney groaned and pulled the duvet over his face, almost choking John, who struggled away from him.
John pulled the duvet back and smiled sleepily at Rodney. His hair was sticking out everywhere at once, making him look even dorkier. “Feeling your age?”
Rodney just rolled back a little and gave John a neat kick out of bed.
He showered quickly, followed by John, while Sam dropped back down on the bed. Rodney couldn’t help but bend down and kiss her knee when he came back, blessedly clean and refreshed.
Sam opened her eyes and smiled at him and Rodney realized that this was the stuff of hundreds of fantasies come alive - only better now, with Sam in John’s shirt and John, who had finished showering as well, sneaking up behind him to press a kiss against the top of Rodney’s spine.
Sam’s growling stomach broke the silence and she laughed, blushing a little. “Breakfast?”
“God, please,” Rodney agreed and helped her up.
They padded out of the bedroom one after another, sleep-slow and with aching muscles, all smelling of John’s shower gel. When they reached the kitchen, Sam stopped short so that he almost ran into her.
"Wow," she said.
"Uhm," John agreed.
Sam crossed her arms in front of her. John’s shirt stretched over her breasts. "I hope you don't cook, John."
"Oh my God, that's so unhygienic," Rodney stated, feeling his voice rise. "Just add a little blood and we'd have a fantastic crime scene."
They all stood next to each other, surveying the kitchen with some kind of awe. The pepper shaker was on the floor, open, but still intact, contents spilled black all over the gray linoleum. The doors under the counter were sprung open and smeared with suspicious stains. The top of the counter bore handprints, fingerprints and even ass prints, more dried stains and a small dusting of pepper which Rodney was incredibly glad hadn't ended up anywhere near sensitive body parts. He leaned to the side a bit and found the salt shaker broken on the floor, the salt sparkling in the morning light. The glass shards were sprinkled all across the floor, and there was a dark red stain - He wheeled around, staring at John. "Did you cut yourself, you idiot?"
John shrugged, rubbed the back of his neck and then his face. His stubble scritched against his palm. "Just a scratch."
"Let me see."
"What? Come on, Rodney."
He snapped his fingers. "Let me see." He took John by the shoulder, steered him out of the kitchen to the living room and sat him on the recliner, reaching for his foot.
"Rodney!"
"Have you seen this floor, and the carpets here? I will not have you die of blood poisoning when I only just - " He stopped, biting off the last words. It was too soon, guaranteed to send John running.
But John just looked at him with an odd, tender look on his face, and lifted his foot so Rodney could grasp and inspect it. A minor cut, already beginning to heal. Rodney breathed a sigh of relief, but didn't let go of John's narrow, long-toed foot. "I'm not going to die of blood poisoning." John curled his toes against the palm of Rodney's hand.
"Coffee?" Sam brought the blessed distraction.
John's foot in his hand shuddered when he snorted. "We destroyed almost everything on the counter, but I think the coffee machine is still intact."
"Coffee!" Rodney let go of John's foot with a small caress and rose. "Sam, you're brilliant."
"Why, thank you." Her smile was radiant this morning, different than last night. She still looked tired and overworked, but something had returned to her eyes that had been missing before. "And since I'm brilliant, you can make the coffee now."
"Hey!"
“Stop complaining. You’re the one who always tells me that everyone but you makes weak coffee.”
Rodney huffed and rolled his eyes. “You had to remember that.”
He padded into the kitchen barefoot, wary of the shards of glass still lying on the floor. Glowered at John. For someone who had wanted to clean and tidy right in the middle of sex last night, he was damn slow at removing a health risk. Speaking of cleaning … Rodney winced when he saw dried semen on the cabinet door and counter top. That counter would just never get clean again. Good thing he didn’t live here.
When he reached the coffee maker, he stopped short, stifled a guffaw, then started to laugh, louder than he had in ages.
“What?” Sam and John echoed from the living room, both standing in front of the window that John had opened.
Rodney didn’t answer. Couldn’t, for the laughter shaking his body. He just picked up the item lying on top of the coffee maker and lifted it with two fingers so that Sam and John could see.
Sam’s lace-topped panties.
John managed a straight face for about a second, then he joined Rodney, giving that wonderfully dirty laugh that always made Rodney cringe because it was so dorkish yet so utterly infective.
Sam walked up to him, snatched the panties from his fingers and shook her head. “These would make for interesting flavor,” she said, matter-of-factly, before padding back into the living room, and that went straight to Rodney’s groin. But no way. No way on Earth or in Pegasus was he up for any more sex this morning. He swallowed down the remaining trickles of laughter and busied himself making some of the blackest coffee Sam and John would ever see.
His stomach grumbled and he rubbed his bare belly. “Hey, I remember someone saying something about breakfast? Seeing as I'm providing you both with coffee?”
John’s turn to roll his eyes. It was comforting to see this again. “You're making it and probably drinking it all, Rodney. Not providing it.”
But he slipped into the kitchen unit next to Rodney, brushing his hands along the small of Rodney’s bare back as he passed. Warmth spread out from where John’s hand had been.
The rich scent of brewing coffee began to envelop them while John bent down to rummage in an empty sounding cabinet. It gave Rodney a nice view of the boxers stretching over John’s ass and the expanse of smooth skin over his back. No, damn it. He was in no shape for this. Breakfast. All he wanted was breakfast.
He watched John sweep up the shards of glass and the spilled salt and pepper, then stretch and go to another cabinet to take out a box of cereal and a blue bowl. The only thing in the fridge was a carton of UHT-milk. Thank god. At least it wouldn’t have curdled while John was offworld. Rodney had had his doubts, because the only other food item he'd spotted in the kitchen was a loaf of white bread -- with a fuzzy green covering.
John moved back into the living room and set the cereal box, the milk and the bowl on the floor. Sam closed the window with a shiver and seated herself gracefully. A glimpse of lace showed Rodney that she had put on the panties again. He really didn’t know if he’d have survived breakfast otherwise.
His gaze came to rest on the meager breakfast laid out before them and he frowned. He turned and looked into the kitchen, then back to the living room. No more bowls to be seen. And there was only one mug next to the coffee maker.
"One bowl?" Rodney said in horror. He picked up the coffee pot and the mug and walked into the living room.
John shrugged, then took the pot and mug from Rodney’s hands. "What do I need more for?"
Rodney glared at him, arms folded over his chest. "Excuse me? What about me?"
"And me?" Sam interjected, looking helplessly amused by them. She wasn’t taking him seriously at all, was she? Damn woman.
John's lifted shoulders mimed how helpless he was to change things. "We shared a bottle last night, why not a bowl this morning?"
“There is an essential difference between the small surface of a bottle and the much bigger surface of a bowl --“
“We both had our tongues down your throat last night, Rodney,” Sam said, dry as dust. “Buck up.”
“Do you at least have sugar?”
John shook his head and crouched down, tailor fashion, next to Sam.
“Another spoon, maybe?”
Another shake of John’s head. His mouth was curved into a smile, the one that almost always crept onto his face when Rodney ranted about something. Rodney'd noticed. It was one of the ways he had first realized John actually liked him, rather than tolerated him.
Rodney flailed his hands in exasperation before sitting down on the musty carpet himself. "What are you doing, camping here?"
The vibration of a passing truck made the house tremble in the silence that followed. John's face gave him away: yes. This was exactly why everything here was so spartan. John had no intentions of staying.
Rodney swallowed hard, needing to reach out and touch, but fearing it might not be welcome yet.
Sam broke the silence by reached for the pot and pouring the first mug of coffee. She pushed it at John, smiling sympathetically.
They ate breakfast in quiet, sharing the bowl and spoon and mug, and Rodney surprised himself with how little it bothered him despite what he’d said earlier. He busied himself with watching John and Sam, both looking so much better than they had last night. There were bruises forming on Sam’s thigh and arms where the shirt rode up far enough to let him see and Rodney winced. Sam caught it and just shrugged, running her finger over the bruises in something close to a caress.
The sound of trucks going past became more frequent, indicating that rush hour was close and that they didn’t have much more time. Sunlight broke through the curtains, still weak and without warmth. It sparked off Sam’s hair though, while leaving John and Rodney in the shadows. Rodney hated the damn apartment, but he hated the thought of going back to the Mountain, doing more inane work he didn’t want to be doing, hated pretending nothing had ever happened last night even more. And there was Nevada, they'd ship him back to Area 51 and his lab as soon as they could.
Sam and John carried the breakfast remainders back into the kitchen, making Rodney shake his head over their military need for cleanliness and order.
“Come on, McKay,” Sam called after she’d walked back in the bedroom. “Time.”
Time. Wasn’t on their sides, no matter what the Stones said.
Rodney pushed up from the floor with a groan, then stopped and frowned. Sam’s skirt and blouse were still on the floor in front of the counter. Not that it wouldn’t be a fond fantasy, but she couldn’t possibly go back to the Mountain in nothing but her underwear and John's shirt.
“Coming?” John asked. “You can borrow a shirt.”
Rodney walked into the bedroom and stopped again, leaning against the door to appreciate the view.
Sam was struggling to put on her bra under John's shirt, which hung around her neck. She had fantastic biceps, Rodney reflected, and gorgeous skin. He hadn't taken the time to really appreciate either the night before. A pair of John’s jeans waited on the bed and Rodney watched with a smile how Sam slipped into them, buttoned up, wriggled a little and pulled the belt tight to keep them from falling off her hips. It was one of the cutest things he had ever seen on her, better even than the damn pink jacket from his hallucination. She caught his look, plucked the shirt back over her hips and opened her arms, presenting herself. “Well?”
Rodney put both thumbs up, grinning at her.
“You’ll need to drop me off at my apartment, though. I can’t go back to the Mountain like this.”
“I kinda like it,” John remarked, raspy and slow, having arrived silently and now standing next to Rodney. His skin was warm, and he didn’t shy away from the body contact.
“Of course you do.” Sam rolled her eyes, but ruined it by smiling. “Now, get going, you two.”
John sighed, but moved. He stepped over to one of the boxes on the floor, rummaged through it and threw a shirt at Rodney. “Here.”
Rodney took a step closer, caught it. Unfolded it and stopped breathing for a moment.
His shirt. That was his shirt. The one he’d thought he’d lost in the laundry room on Atlantis.
He stood there in the middle of the room, clad in nothing but boxers and stared first at the shirt, then at John. “You…. I….”
“Must have been a mix up in the laundry room.” John shrugged, but it was too casual, too studied.
Rodney swallowed down on the feeling of utter elation crawling up his throat, trying to break free in a whoop. He nodded. “Yeah, must have.” But he couldn’t help the grin spreading over his face, so broad it almost hurt. Damn John Sheppard for making him go mushy over a shirt.
He caught Sam watching them, raised his eyebrows at her, unable to stop grinning. She shook her head, smiling at him and then John, fond.
Rodney shrugged and smiled back.
***
They stepped back out in the living room five minutes later.
Sam pulled on her boots under John’s jeans, then straightened.
“Ready?” she asked.
“No,” Rodney replied. “But that doesn’t count, does it?” Turning to John, he said: “I’m flying back to Area 51 tomorrow.”
Sam watched John’s face fall before he stepped to the door to fiddle with the keys and couldn’t help feeling a pang of regret herself.
“But, hey, Carson called. Something about dinner with Elizabeth next week…” He trailed off, voice caught between hopeful toward John and apologetic toward her.
The turned key made the lock click. John didn’t turn around, his face thrown in shadows. “Sounds nice.” His voice was too laconic to not be deliberate. Sam still heard the thread of anticipation running beneath it, the relief at the prospect of seeing Rodney again soon. John was making an effort to sound casual to not hurt her and Sam wanted to thwap him over the head. It wasn't necessary; that didn’t hurt. Not when she had finally realized how tightly these people were twined around each other, how little Landry or anyone at the SGC understood them.
She put her hand on John’s at the doorknob, pulled it away, nudged him to face her. Kissed him, then Rodney. Opened the door and stepped into the bright light of a new day.
End
And here's the entire story in one file, for those unwilling to read on LJ: (dis)connected