Fic - Endearments (nc-17)
title: Endearments
author: melagan
characters:John/Rodney
rating: nc-17
words: 996
beta credit to mischief5
Endearments
"Sugar."
Rodney's head snapped up from the meal in front of him. "What?"
"I said," John answered, "Sugar. You're Canadian; don't your people do that maple sugaring thing? Some of that syrup would taste really good on these pancakes."
Rodney narrowed his eyes. John's 'sugar' hadn't come out sounding like a question. It had sounded, well, soft. Tender. Not at all like John's idea of a typical breakfast conversation. Maybe both he and John had been working too hard because Rodney was sure he must have heard it wrong.
Deciding that's what must have happened, Rodney made a mental note to have Keller check his ears. He then gave John a detailed account of exactly why all Canadians could not be lumped together in a blatant stereotypical conglomerate and, yes, as it happened, he did have an uncle that did sugaring for a living and, seriously, why weren't the botanists on top of finding a suitable substitute? It couldn't be that hard to find an almost Maple tree.
~~~~
"Honey."
Rodney smacked the back of his head against the console as he crawled out from under it. "What did you just say?"
"I said," John drawled, his easy lean against the display panel distracting Rodney from any hope of work. "Honey. Dr. Parrish and Major Lorne have found a colony of bees and tracked them to their hive. I thought you'd like first dibs on the sticky buns the cooks are planning for dessert."
"Oh. I, um. That sounds great. Thanks."
"Well, then, I'll just stop by the kitchen on my way to Woolsey's office and tell them to save us some."
Rodney watched John walk away. He was going to pretend that he didn't feel a warm flush creeping up on the back of his neck, or that he'd been staring at John with his mouth open. Keller was obviously wrong when she said there was nothing wrong with the way he was hearing things. How else could he explain how John’s ‘honey’ had sounded so intimate?
~~~~
"Sweetheart."
Oh, that was just too much. Rodney turned around, finger already raised to make a point to John about his improper use of his -- his, low, sultry voice that completely distracted Rodney with its implied promise that was never going to come to bear and, oh fuck.
John stood there holding out a handful of SweetTarts, offering them to Rodney, just as pleased as any kid on a playground.
"I got them from one of the marines."
"Um, thank you but no. I'm pretty sure those things have citrus in them."
"Really? Well, that's a shame. Guess I'll just have to eat them for you. I can't have you accusing me of not protecting a member of my team." John picked up a candy, sucking first on it and then on his fingers. One by one.
Rodney watched the small rolls of color turn John's tongue a deeper pink. His chest gave a little stutter. God damn it, the oxygen in here was too thin. Radek must have been tweaking the environmental controls again. Rodney’s ears got a little warm as he realized he said that last part out loud. Fuck.
"Tell you what, buddy, I'll stop by the lab and have Dr. Zelenka check on that for you."
Just as John turned to leave, he pulled a Milky Way out of his pocket and tossed it to Rodney. "Guess I filled up on SweetTarts. Maybe you can use it."
~~~~
"Darling."
"Oh, no, you don't. You do not get to..." Rodney's voice trailed off as John's eye caught his. All the righteous bluster drained out of him when John did that thing John did -- the shy smile and head duck thing. Rodney was helpless against it and was left standing with his hands flailing uselessly in the air.
"Aw, Rodney, you know the Farlings. Those aliens General O'Neill said no one has ever seen. I just wondered if they moved to Pegasus. What do you think?"
"Furlings. They are called..." Rodney took a deep breath, "Furlings. And no, I don't have any idea where they might be." Rodney thought he maintained a respectable calm considering he had somehow managed to move within three inches of John and had his fists curled into John's button down shirt.
"Yeah?"
"You?"
"Oh yeah. Definitely. You know, you're a little slow for a genius."
"Well, excuse me. Maybe I'm just not attuned to the relationship requirements for..." Rodney stopped. "I don't think I can do casual, John. Not with you."
"You don't have to, Rodney. God, no. I don't want casual with you. I... I couldn't."
Rodney growled.
~~~~
John groaned. Coherency was severely overrated. At least it was when you were Lt. Colonel John Sheppard having your dick sucked by Dr. Rodney McKay. Rodney did that thing with his tongue again and John grabbed the base of his cock, squeezing it hard, before he shot his load way too soon.
“God, Rodney.” Mouth gone dry, John fumbled for words then just gave up. How the hell could he explain what it did to him, seeing Rodney like this, on his knees, with his hot mouth sucking John in, his hands cupping John’s ass, holding him, no -- pulling him in, while Rodney worked his throat around John’s cock?
John watched as Rodney’s eyelashes fluttered shut. He looked completely lost in the moment, completely lost in John’s taste and scent. Rodney’s mouth was wet and swollen red and, god, John had to pull out now. Pull out of that intense, slick, heat before he spilled his orgasm down Rodney’s throat, because John couldn’t bear the thought of this being over.
Rodney looked up at him in a daze of lust and want.
“John?”
“Yeah, it’s good. Better than good, Rodney. I …” John ran his thumb over Rodney’s lower lip with a tenderness he hadn’t known he possessed. Then he said the only endearment that counted.
“Yours.”
author: melagan
characters:John/Rodney
rating: nc-17
words: 996
beta credit to mischief5
Endearments
"Sugar."
Rodney's head snapped up from the meal in front of him. "What?"
"I said," John answered, "Sugar. You're Canadian; don't your people do that maple sugaring thing? Some of that syrup would taste really good on these pancakes."
Rodney narrowed his eyes. John's 'sugar' hadn't come out sounding like a question. It had sounded, well, soft. Tender. Not at all like John's idea of a typical breakfast conversation. Maybe both he and John had been working too hard because Rodney was sure he must have heard it wrong.
Deciding that's what must have happened, Rodney made a mental note to have Keller check his ears. He then gave John a detailed account of exactly why all Canadians could not be lumped together in a blatant stereotypical conglomerate and, yes, as it happened, he did have an uncle that did sugaring for a living and, seriously, why weren't the botanists on top of finding a suitable substitute? It couldn't be that hard to find an almost Maple tree.
~~~~
"Honey."
Rodney smacked the back of his head against the console as he crawled out from under it. "What did you just say?"
"I said," John drawled, his easy lean against the display panel distracting Rodney from any hope of work. "Honey. Dr. Parrish and Major Lorne have found a colony of bees and tracked them to their hive. I thought you'd like first dibs on the sticky buns the cooks are planning for dessert."
"Oh. I, um. That sounds great. Thanks."
"Well, then, I'll just stop by the kitchen on my way to Woolsey's office and tell them to save us some."
Rodney watched John walk away. He was going to pretend that he didn't feel a warm flush creeping up on the back of his neck, or that he'd been staring at John with his mouth open. Keller was obviously wrong when she said there was nothing wrong with the way he was hearing things. How else could he explain how John’s ‘honey’ had sounded so intimate?
~~~~
"Sweetheart."
Oh, that was just too much. Rodney turned around, finger already raised to make a point to John about his improper use of his -- his, low, sultry voice that completely distracted Rodney with its implied promise that was never going to come to bear and, oh fuck.
John stood there holding out a handful of SweetTarts, offering them to Rodney, just as pleased as any kid on a playground.
"I got them from one of the marines."
"Um, thank you but no. I'm pretty sure those things have citrus in them."
"Really? Well, that's a shame. Guess I'll just have to eat them for you. I can't have you accusing me of not protecting a member of my team." John picked up a candy, sucking first on it and then on his fingers. One by one.
Rodney watched the small rolls of color turn John's tongue a deeper pink. His chest gave a little stutter. God damn it, the oxygen in here was too thin. Radek must have been tweaking the environmental controls again. Rodney’s ears got a little warm as he realized he said that last part out loud. Fuck.
"Tell you what, buddy, I'll stop by the lab and have Dr. Zelenka check on that for you."
Just as John turned to leave, he pulled a Milky Way out of his pocket and tossed it to Rodney. "Guess I filled up on SweetTarts. Maybe you can use it."
~~~~
"Darling."
"Oh, no, you don't. You do not get to..." Rodney's voice trailed off as John's eye caught his. All the righteous bluster drained out of him when John did that thing John did -- the shy smile and head duck thing. Rodney was helpless against it and was left standing with his hands flailing uselessly in the air.
"Aw, Rodney, you know the Farlings. Those aliens General O'Neill said no one has ever seen. I just wondered if they moved to Pegasus. What do you think?"
"Furlings. They are called..." Rodney took a deep breath, "Furlings. And no, I don't have any idea where they might be." Rodney thought he maintained a respectable calm considering he had somehow managed to move within three inches of John and had his fists curled into John's button down shirt.
"Yeah?"
"You?"
"Oh yeah. Definitely. You know, you're a little slow for a genius."
"Well, excuse me. Maybe I'm just not attuned to the relationship requirements for..." Rodney stopped. "I don't think I can do casual, John. Not with you."
"You don't have to, Rodney. God, no. I don't want casual with you. I... I couldn't."
Rodney growled.
~~~~
John groaned. Coherency was severely overrated. At least it was when you were Lt. Colonel John Sheppard having your dick sucked by Dr. Rodney McKay. Rodney did that thing with his tongue again and John grabbed the base of his cock, squeezing it hard, before he shot his load way too soon.
“God, Rodney.” Mouth gone dry, John fumbled for words then just gave up. How the hell could he explain what it did to him, seeing Rodney like this, on his knees, with his hot mouth sucking John in, his hands cupping John’s ass, holding him, no -- pulling him in, while Rodney worked his throat around John’s cock?
John watched as Rodney’s eyelashes fluttered shut. He looked completely lost in the moment, completely lost in John’s taste and scent. Rodney’s mouth was wet and swollen red and, god, John had to pull out now. Pull out of that intense, slick, heat before he spilled his orgasm down Rodney’s throat, because John couldn’t bear the thought of this being over.
Rodney looked up at him in a daze of lust and want.
“John?”
“Yeah, it’s good. Better than good, Rodney. I …” John ran his thumb over Rodney’s lower lip with a tenderness he hadn’t known he possessed. Then he said the only endearment that counted.
“Yours.”