TEAM FINE: on the edge, "End of the Game"
Title: End of the Game
Author: ozsaur
Team: Fine
Prompt: on the edge
Pairing(s): McKay/Sheppard
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Word count: 1833
Summary: John is good at self-control.
Author's Notes: Thanks to both dustandroses and trillingstar for cheerleading and encouragement. You guys are the best!
Once you've read the story, please take a moment to vote in the poll below. Ratings go from 1 (low) to 9 (high), so all you need to do is enter a single number in that range into each text entry box. You'll be able to see the prompt in the header above.
More details about the voting procedure can be found here.
**
By the fifth day, John is hyper-sensitive to the point of distraction. He's aware of the slightest variations in temperature as he moves through Atlantis. The corridors are a bit cooler than the labs, but the conference room feels almost chilly.
He's aware of his clothes, the way his shirts pull across his nipples when he moves his arms, the way the fabric bunches behind his knees when he walks, the way his trousers slide down his hips no matter how much he tightens his belt.
By the sixth day, he finds himself touching things: the smooth, cool walls of Atlantis, the knobby delra fruits served at lunch, and his fluffy towels after pulling them out of the cleaner. He sits around his office stroking his bottom lip with his fingertips until it feels almost unbearably hot and tingly. He forces himself to stop when he catches Rodney staring at him during a meeting.
By the ninth day, John feels like a teenager again. He feels like a walking boner waiting to happen, like a nerve, raw and exposed. He has to cancel his workouts with Ronon and Teyla or risk amusing the hell out of them, and embarrassing the hell out of himself. He doesn't think he can bear the physical intensity, or ignore the sexiness of his teammates.
On the tenth day, Rodney waylays him after the morning meeting and whispers in his ear, "Tonight, I make you come."
This thing with Rodney was sort of new, only a few months old, but it didn't take Rodney long to figure out that John liked the build-up, liked being teased, and loved holding back until he was completely overloaded.
One night, Rodney jokingly challenged him, wondering how long John could hold out against Rodney's determined efforts. John immediately accepted. Rodney must have figured that John might last a few hours; he obviously hadn't expected John to last for days. What was a few days when he'd been celibate for weeks, months, even years at a time? During the worst dry spells, he'd rarely bothered to masturbate.
Every night since, they'd made out on John's couch, touching everywhere, and kissing until their lips were sore. When Rodney couldn't take it anymore, John would get him off. The first couple of days, Rodney was okay with it, but after a while, he hadn't been too happy that John wasn't getting off, too.
That's when John tried to explain how good it felt to touch, and be touched, to get excited, to build up to a peak and hang there for hours.
Rodney seemed to get it, until he wrecked John's day by letting him know that he was going to fall off that peak that very night. It was impossible to focus on anything, and he quit trying around lunch. A good, long run, a shower, and a nap was all he was good for until Rodney fetched him for dinner.
They didn't talk much which was kind of a bad thing since it left Rodney watching him intently over their trays. John picked at his food, his stomach tight with anticipation, knowing that the challenge will end tonight, but curious about how Rodney intended to finish it. After busing their trays, they walked briskly out of the mess hall, but nearly broke into a run for Rodney's room once they got out of the transporter.
"You have no idea how much I've been looking forward to this," Rodney says, his hands greedy as he strips John's clothes off. In no time flat, John's on his back on the bed with Rodney between his legs, touching his thighs, belly, and hips like he can't decide where to start.
"Rodney," John says, tugging at Rodney's shirt, "Get your clothes off."
"Stop that!" Rodney bats his hands away, but when John doesn't quit being grabby, Rodney leans down and blows a raspberry on his belly. John laughs and squirms; he's not ticklish at all except for that one particular thing, and Rodney is the only person who's ever discovered it.
John finally decides to let Rodney run the show, and puts his arms above his head. He'll leave them there, at least for now.
Rodney sits back, looking pleased.
John needs this. Not necessarily an orgasm; he's pretty sure he could hold out a lot longer than the ten days Rodney has allowed him. What he needs is everything that goes with the orgasm, the making out on the couch for hours, the kissing, the heat in his skin responding to the heat in Rodney's.
His body feels electrified, every hair standing up, and ready for any sensation. As Rodney begins to stroke John, he realizes he could absorb anything and everything Rodney can give him, and his body would still beg for more.
At first, he feels like a science experiment as Rodney tries one thing, then another, observing John's reactions each time. Rodney tests a patch of skin above John's left knee, brushing the hair with, then against the grain. He licks the area, blows air across it, sensitizing the skin. Combing through the hair, he plants a gentle kiss before moving on. It's oddly exciting, and weird, since he's never really paid attention to that place before. Rodney makes him notice it, and as he moves along, John starts to notice a lot of things.
There's no pattern to what Rodney is doing, or where he's going to go next, as he moves from calf, to armpit, to sternum. The unpredictability blows away the last defenses John might have had.
It's not just touch that's lighting him up. He can't get enough of the salt-musky scent of Rodney's sweat, or the taste of his mouth, or the sounds of his soft murmurs of appreciation as he focuses on one part of John, then shifts to another.
Rodney is rousing one moment, quieting the next. John's body sings with pleasure, soars higher than anything he's ever felt, only to be brought back down again and again. Rodney helps him turn onto his stomach, then starts all over again, starting with hungry kisses at the nape of his neck, then working down his spine, nipping at his shoulder blades, then soothing the hot, little pains with his tongue.
Rodney doesn't leave a single part of John untouched, not even the places he never found particularly erogenous. Suddenly, they are. A lick over John's ankle bone nearly sends him through the roof. Soft bites along his biceps makes him writhe so much that Rodney has to pull the sheet off the bed and toss it to the floor. Fingernails tracing over his hipbones are almost more than he can take.
The only time Rodney touches his cock is when John is about to lose it, and then only to squeeze down hard to prevent an untimely orgasm. Once he's calm enough for whatever the next thing is that Rodney wants to do to him, his cock stands there, hard and neglected.
Rodney has to have been tormenting him for hours when he stops. Just stops. John can't help a whimper of protest.
"John, look at me."
Rodney moved back between his thighs, hands braced on either side of John. His face is flushed, and sweat plasters his hair to his skull. John's surprised to see that he's naked; Rodney had taken his clothes off at some point, and John had missed the show.
"I want you to see this. Are you paying attention?"
John manages a tight nod.
Slowly, eyes steady on John's face, Rodney leans down and takes the tip of John's cock into his mouth. Rodney gets one good lick across the head, and that's it. That's all she wrote. The fat lady sings, and it sounds like the echo of John's scream bouncing off the walls. Every nerve ending is involved, sparking all at once in a full body shout. His back pops as his hips buck up, shoving his cock deeper into Rodney's mouth, sending another blast of sensation through his body. Helplessly, he keeps thrusting in and out of Rodney's mouth, digging his heels into the mattress, losing all control. Rodney doesn't even try to stop him, but simply gives his mouth over to John's pleasure, swallowing down every drop of come.
It takes a while for the aftershocks to stop plucking at his muscles like they're harp strings, leaving him quivering on the bed. When his eyes uncross, he sees Rodney sitting there looking gobsmacked as he gently pets John's thighs.
"Well, it looks like you survived," Rodney says, "I was worried there for a minute."
John's only come-back is a twitch of his eyebrow.
"Oh, don't give me that," Rodney says, crawling up the bed to lie next to John. He pulls and prods until John's curled against Rodney's side, head pillowed on his shoulder. Every muscle in his body aches in a really good way; all the excess energy, tension, stress, and pain has been drained out of him, leaving only quiet contentment.
Rodney holds him close, his palms rubbing soothing circles over John's back and arms. After a while he says, "That was..." Rodney seems at a lost for a moment, "spectacular. I've never seen you let go like that before."
John grumbles and nuzzles Rodney's shoulder. They don't need to analyze what happened, do they? Of course they do. This is Rodney.
"Is that why you wanted to wait for so long? You knew that would happen?"
As much as John wants to nap for the next ten years, Rodney needs an answer. Far from putting him to sleep, sex seems to energize him.
"No, didn't know the sex would nearly kill me. Be a fun way to go, though."
"I nearly stopped. You got kind of wild, there."
John blushes a little, "If you had stopped, I would have killed you."
They're quiet for a while, John nearly dozing off.
"I can see now why you wanted to deny yourself for so long." He hesitated, "Is this something you'll want to do all the time?"
"Hell, no," John says, "I'm not sure I'd survive it."
John's bones have apparently solidified again, so he leans up on his elbow to look into Rodney's face. He needs some kind of reassurance, though John isn't quite sure what to give him.
"I like when we're together. Doing it together..." his voice trails off as he gropes for the right words. "When we make each other come. I don't want to stop doing that."
But he must have said exactly what Rodney needed to hear, because he cups John's cheek in his hand.
"Yes, together. As much as I loved rocking your world, I love it when we rock each other's worlds. The two of us."
They're on the same page. John smiles and kisses the palm of Rodney's hand before snuggling back against his shoulder. Now, maybe they can get some sleep.
Rodney nuzzles the top of John's head. "That doesn't mean we can't do this again. Maybe throw in a few embellishments on the idea." He pauses, thoughtfully. "And maybe add a few extra days. Think you can hold out for twenty?"
John's eyes pop open. Rodney is wide awake, and now John is too. He couldn't get his dick up with a lifting crane, but maybe Rodney... John strokes a finger over Rodney's nipple, eliciting a startled gasp.
Twenty days, huh? Piece of cake.
**
Poll
Author: ozsaur
Team: Fine
Prompt: on the edge
Pairing(s): McKay/Sheppard
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Word count: 1833
Summary: John is good at self-control.
Author's Notes: Thanks to both dustandroses and trillingstar for cheerleading and encouragement. You guys are the best!
Once you've read the story, please take a moment to vote in the poll below. Ratings go from 1 (low) to 9 (high), so all you need to do is enter a single number in that range into each text entry box. You'll be able to see the prompt in the header above.
More details about the voting procedure can be found here.
**
By the fifth day, John is hyper-sensitive to the point of distraction. He's aware of the slightest variations in temperature as he moves through Atlantis. The corridors are a bit cooler than the labs, but the conference room feels almost chilly.
He's aware of his clothes, the way his shirts pull across his nipples when he moves his arms, the way the fabric bunches behind his knees when he walks, the way his trousers slide down his hips no matter how much he tightens his belt.
By the sixth day, he finds himself touching things: the smooth, cool walls of Atlantis, the knobby delra fruits served at lunch, and his fluffy towels after pulling them out of the cleaner. He sits around his office stroking his bottom lip with his fingertips until it feels almost unbearably hot and tingly. He forces himself to stop when he catches Rodney staring at him during a meeting.
By the ninth day, John feels like a teenager again. He feels like a walking boner waiting to happen, like a nerve, raw and exposed. He has to cancel his workouts with Ronon and Teyla or risk amusing the hell out of them, and embarrassing the hell out of himself. He doesn't think he can bear the physical intensity, or ignore the sexiness of his teammates.
On the tenth day, Rodney waylays him after the morning meeting and whispers in his ear, "Tonight, I make you come."
This thing with Rodney was sort of new, only a few months old, but it didn't take Rodney long to figure out that John liked the build-up, liked being teased, and loved holding back until he was completely overloaded.
One night, Rodney jokingly challenged him, wondering how long John could hold out against Rodney's determined efforts. John immediately accepted. Rodney must have figured that John might last a few hours; he obviously hadn't expected John to last for days. What was a few days when he'd been celibate for weeks, months, even years at a time? During the worst dry spells, he'd rarely bothered to masturbate.
Every night since, they'd made out on John's couch, touching everywhere, and kissing until their lips were sore. When Rodney couldn't take it anymore, John would get him off. The first couple of days, Rodney was okay with it, but after a while, he hadn't been too happy that John wasn't getting off, too.
That's when John tried to explain how good it felt to touch, and be touched, to get excited, to build up to a peak and hang there for hours.
Rodney seemed to get it, until he wrecked John's day by letting him know that he was going to fall off that peak that very night. It was impossible to focus on anything, and he quit trying around lunch. A good, long run, a shower, and a nap was all he was good for until Rodney fetched him for dinner.
They didn't talk much which was kind of a bad thing since it left Rodney watching him intently over their trays. John picked at his food, his stomach tight with anticipation, knowing that the challenge will end tonight, but curious about how Rodney intended to finish it. After busing their trays, they walked briskly out of the mess hall, but nearly broke into a run for Rodney's room once they got out of the transporter.
"You have no idea how much I've been looking forward to this," Rodney says, his hands greedy as he strips John's clothes off. In no time flat, John's on his back on the bed with Rodney between his legs, touching his thighs, belly, and hips like he can't decide where to start.
"Rodney," John says, tugging at Rodney's shirt, "Get your clothes off."
"Stop that!" Rodney bats his hands away, but when John doesn't quit being grabby, Rodney leans down and blows a raspberry on his belly. John laughs and squirms; he's not ticklish at all except for that one particular thing, and Rodney is the only person who's ever discovered it.
John finally decides to let Rodney run the show, and puts his arms above his head. He'll leave them there, at least for now.
Rodney sits back, looking pleased.
John needs this. Not necessarily an orgasm; he's pretty sure he could hold out a lot longer than the ten days Rodney has allowed him. What he needs is everything that goes with the orgasm, the making out on the couch for hours, the kissing, the heat in his skin responding to the heat in Rodney's.
His body feels electrified, every hair standing up, and ready for any sensation. As Rodney begins to stroke John, he realizes he could absorb anything and everything Rodney can give him, and his body would still beg for more.
At first, he feels like a science experiment as Rodney tries one thing, then another, observing John's reactions each time. Rodney tests a patch of skin above John's left knee, brushing the hair with, then against the grain. He licks the area, blows air across it, sensitizing the skin. Combing through the hair, he plants a gentle kiss before moving on. It's oddly exciting, and weird, since he's never really paid attention to that place before. Rodney makes him notice it, and as he moves along, John starts to notice a lot of things.
There's no pattern to what Rodney is doing, or where he's going to go next, as he moves from calf, to armpit, to sternum. The unpredictability blows away the last defenses John might have had.
It's not just touch that's lighting him up. He can't get enough of the salt-musky scent of Rodney's sweat, or the taste of his mouth, or the sounds of his soft murmurs of appreciation as he focuses on one part of John, then shifts to another.
Rodney is rousing one moment, quieting the next. John's body sings with pleasure, soars higher than anything he's ever felt, only to be brought back down again and again. Rodney helps him turn onto his stomach, then starts all over again, starting with hungry kisses at the nape of his neck, then working down his spine, nipping at his shoulder blades, then soothing the hot, little pains with his tongue.
Rodney doesn't leave a single part of John untouched, not even the places he never found particularly erogenous. Suddenly, they are. A lick over John's ankle bone nearly sends him through the roof. Soft bites along his biceps makes him writhe so much that Rodney has to pull the sheet off the bed and toss it to the floor. Fingernails tracing over his hipbones are almost more than he can take.
The only time Rodney touches his cock is when John is about to lose it, and then only to squeeze down hard to prevent an untimely orgasm. Once he's calm enough for whatever the next thing is that Rodney wants to do to him, his cock stands there, hard and neglected.
Rodney has to have been tormenting him for hours when he stops. Just stops. John can't help a whimper of protest.
"John, look at me."
Rodney moved back between his thighs, hands braced on either side of John. His face is flushed, and sweat plasters his hair to his skull. John's surprised to see that he's naked; Rodney had taken his clothes off at some point, and John had missed the show.
"I want you to see this. Are you paying attention?"
John manages a tight nod.
Slowly, eyes steady on John's face, Rodney leans down and takes the tip of John's cock into his mouth. Rodney gets one good lick across the head, and that's it. That's all she wrote. The fat lady sings, and it sounds like the echo of John's scream bouncing off the walls. Every nerve ending is involved, sparking all at once in a full body shout. His back pops as his hips buck up, shoving his cock deeper into Rodney's mouth, sending another blast of sensation through his body. Helplessly, he keeps thrusting in and out of Rodney's mouth, digging his heels into the mattress, losing all control. Rodney doesn't even try to stop him, but simply gives his mouth over to John's pleasure, swallowing down every drop of come.
It takes a while for the aftershocks to stop plucking at his muscles like they're harp strings, leaving him quivering on the bed. When his eyes uncross, he sees Rodney sitting there looking gobsmacked as he gently pets John's thighs.
"Well, it looks like you survived," Rodney says, "I was worried there for a minute."
John's only come-back is a twitch of his eyebrow.
"Oh, don't give me that," Rodney says, crawling up the bed to lie next to John. He pulls and prods until John's curled against Rodney's side, head pillowed on his shoulder. Every muscle in his body aches in a really good way; all the excess energy, tension, stress, and pain has been drained out of him, leaving only quiet contentment.
Rodney holds him close, his palms rubbing soothing circles over John's back and arms. After a while he says, "That was..." Rodney seems at a lost for a moment, "spectacular. I've never seen you let go like that before."
John grumbles and nuzzles Rodney's shoulder. They don't need to analyze what happened, do they? Of course they do. This is Rodney.
"Is that why you wanted to wait for so long? You knew that would happen?"
As much as John wants to nap for the next ten years, Rodney needs an answer. Far from putting him to sleep, sex seems to energize him.
"No, didn't know the sex would nearly kill me. Be a fun way to go, though."
"I nearly stopped. You got kind of wild, there."
John blushes a little, "If you had stopped, I would have killed you."
They're quiet for a while, John nearly dozing off.
"I can see now why you wanted to deny yourself for so long." He hesitated, "Is this something you'll want to do all the time?"
"Hell, no," John says, "I'm not sure I'd survive it."
John's bones have apparently solidified again, so he leans up on his elbow to look into Rodney's face. He needs some kind of reassurance, though John isn't quite sure what to give him.
"I like when we're together. Doing it together..." his voice trails off as he gropes for the right words. "When we make each other come. I don't want to stop doing that."
But he must have said exactly what Rodney needed to hear, because he cups John's cheek in his hand.
"Yes, together. As much as I loved rocking your world, I love it when we rock each other's worlds. The two of us."
They're on the same page. John smiles and kisses the palm of Rodney's hand before snuggling back against his shoulder. Now, maybe they can get some sleep.
Rodney nuzzles the top of John's head. "That doesn't mean we can't do this again. Maybe throw in a few embellishments on the idea." He pauses, thoughtfully. "And maybe add a few extra days. Think you can hold out for twenty?"
John's eyes pop open. Rodney is wide awake, and now John is too. He couldn't get his dick up with a lifting crane, but maybe Rodney... John strokes a finger over Rodney's nipple, eliciting a startled gasp.
Twenty days, huh? Piece of cake.
**
Poll