FICLET: The No-Tell Motel (SGA) Sheppard/McKay
Brief little ficlet for scribblinlenore's challenge.
Written based on this image:
The No-Tell Motel SGA Sheppard/McKay PG-13
"This place is hideous," Rodney said.
John had to agree. True to its name, the Pink Shell Motel was *pink*. The shag carpet, the velvety wallpaper, the questionably clean bedspread--hell, even the toilet--were all some shade of pink. The combined effect made his eyes water.
It was ... sort of fitting, really.
"Does it matter what it looks like?" John asked as he tugged on the tangled curtain cord, trying to close the damn things. Kind of defeated the whole purpose of coming here in the first place if everyone on the highway could see what was about to happen.
"Yes, it matters," Rodney insisted, waving a hand at the faux-satin bedspread. "I am not losing my gay virginity on that Pepto-Bismol-colored monstrosity."
"Aw, c'mon," John said, sitting down on the bed and toeing off his shoes. "It's part of the theme. Pink triangles and all that. Doesn't it make you feel like one of the tribe?"
"I'm *not* one of the tribe," Rodney said. He pointed an accusing finger at John. "You *made* me one of the tribe. And just for the record, I'm simply giving in so you'll stop mooning around and looking--"
John leaned back on his elbows and lazily scratched his belly, working his T-shirt up a couple inches. Just enough to show a little skin.
Rodney gulped, eyes fixed on John's stomach.
"...looking." Rodney seemed to lose his train of thought. John lifted a questioning eyebrow. Rodney gulped again. "Looking hot. God, you look so hot."
John grinned and let his legs fall open a little.
Rodney tackled him, flattening him on the bed and shoving one hand up John's shirt and one thigh between John's legs, groping and humping and moaning until John rolled them over and went to work on Rodney's fly.
"Give me a few minutes," he said as Rodney lifted his hips and surrendered his pants, "and I'll make you forget what color the sheets are."
Rodney fondled John's bowed head and mumbled, "If I give you an hour, can you make me colorblind?" and John lifted his mouth away long enough to say, "Oh, I bet I can."
End!
Written based on this image:
The No-Tell Motel SGA Sheppard/McKay PG-13
"This place is hideous," Rodney said.
John had to agree. True to its name, the Pink Shell Motel was *pink*. The shag carpet, the velvety wallpaper, the questionably clean bedspread--hell, even the toilet--were all some shade of pink. The combined effect made his eyes water.
It was ... sort of fitting, really.
"Does it matter what it looks like?" John asked as he tugged on the tangled curtain cord, trying to close the damn things. Kind of defeated the whole purpose of coming here in the first place if everyone on the highway could see what was about to happen.
"Yes, it matters," Rodney insisted, waving a hand at the faux-satin bedspread. "I am not losing my gay virginity on that Pepto-Bismol-colored monstrosity."
"Aw, c'mon," John said, sitting down on the bed and toeing off his shoes. "It's part of the theme. Pink triangles and all that. Doesn't it make you feel like one of the tribe?"
"I'm *not* one of the tribe," Rodney said. He pointed an accusing finger at John. "You *made* me one of the tribe. And just for the record, I'm simply giving in so you'll stop mooning around and looking--"
John leaned back on his elbows and lazily scratched his belly, working his T-shirt up a couple inches. Just enough to show a little skin.
Rodney gulped, eyes fixed on John's stomach.
"...looking." Rodney seemed to lose his train of thought. John lifted a questioning eyebrow. Rodney gulped again. "Looking hot. God, you look so hot."
John grinned and let his legs fall open a little.
Rodney tackled him, flattening him on the bed and shoving one hand up John's shirt and one thigh between John's legs, groping and humping and moaning until John rolled them over and went to work on Rodney's fly.
"Give me a few minutes," he said as Rodney lifted his hips and surrendered his pants, "and I'll make you forget what color the sheets are."
Rodney fondled John's bowed head and mumbled, "If I give you an hour, can you make me colorblind?" and John lifted his mouth away long enough to say, "Oh, I bet I can."
End!