fic: Closet (Looking Through You Remix) (SGA, John/Rodney/Ronon/Teyla, NC-17)
Title: Closet (Looking Through You Remix)
Author: helens78
Summary: Ronon and Teyla are beautiful together, and still Rodney doesn't want to be here.
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: John Sheppard/Rodney McKay/Ronon Dex/Teyla Emmagen
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 1871
Disclaimer: SGA and all its characters belong to MGM. No fictional characters were stolen in the writing of this story; they're all right where the creators left them. (They're just here, too.)
Original story: Closet Porn Sex Scene by panisdead
Notes: An argument could be made that I should warn for the following in this story: non-con, or at the very least, coercion. As the author, I don't think either one of those things applies in this situation, but if either one of those things is an extremely sensitive issue for you, please pass this by. This story also contains D/s kink, which is not something I think should go into the warnings section at all, but what the hell, you're already highlighting this bit, so you probably want to know these things! There is also, if you couldn't tell from the headers, het sex in this story. Okay, I think all my bases are covered now.
Thanks to my two lovely beta-readers (kyuuketsukirui and telesilla), who rock enormously. :)
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"--no, I mean it, I don't have time," Rodney said, but it wasn't like John was dragging him. One strong hand on Rodney's shoulder was all it took; this was steering, maybe--pushing, even--but Rodney was putting one foot in front of the other all the same. "I just--not now," Rodney tried, "just give me, like, an hour--"
"Shut up," John said. They were at the room, finally, and he passed a hand over the plate on the wall and shoved Rodney inside.
Rodney's last protest didn't make it out of his throat.
Same bedroom as always--same big bed, same couch and chairs and table, same unassigned quarters that he and Rodney and Ronon and Teyla always used when they needed the soundproofed, camera-free space--but the bed wasn't empty like it usually was when John brought Rodney here.
"You started without us," John said.
"You are late," Teyla murmured from the bed. She was still dressed, partly, in a gauzy thing that barely covered her breasts, covered none of her back, and flowed down her body to cover the tops of her thighs--and Ronon's. Ronon was lying beneath her, arms stretched out above his head, eyes open and looking right past John to Rodney.
Ronon looked back to John, and John smiled at him.
"Sheppard--Colonel--" Rodney began. He was leaning back toward the door, starting to turn around.
"C'mere," John said, and he grabbed Rodney by the arm and pulled him close, spinning him around so they were face-to-face. Rodney's eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly open, and John licked across Rodney's lower lip before kissing him hard.
He slid a hand down Rodney's chest; Rodney jumped when John got to his belt and palmed his dick. Bitch, bitch, bitch, moan, moan, moan, but Rodney was still hard, and he still groaned when John squeezed his dick through his pants.
"Okay," John murmured. "Come over here."
He went over to the couch and shoved the coffee table forward a few feet. Rodney followed, eyes flicking back to Ronon and Teyla every couple of steps. Teyla had started moving again, and she was gorgeous, smiling down at Ronon and alternating between bracing her hands on his chest and sliding them up to lace her hands through his. Rodney's mouth was still hanging slightly open, and he'd stopped talking for the moment. That was a good sign; it was all the sign John needed, really. He grabbed the back of Rodney's jacket and pulled him down to the floor.
It wasn't a graceful move. Rodney's hands caught the coffee table, which probably saved his knees from a rough fall. "Ow! Shit," Rodney said, looking over his shoulder. "Watch it--"
"You watch." John leaned down, putting his face next to Rodney's, close enough he could feel the warmth from Rodney's breath. "You stay right there, on your goddamned knees, and watch."
Rodney swallowed, and John gave his head a rough twist, putting his eyes on Ronon and Teyla again. From there, Rodney went slightly inert, letting John strip his jacket off and toss it aside. When John knelt down behind him and tried to pull Rodney's back against his chest, Rodney turned around halfway. "John--I can't. I can't do--"
"Blah, blah, blah," John whispered. He wasn't subtle or graceful about it this time; he just dropped his hand to Rodney's crotch and squeezed. Hard. Rodney jerked back against him, eyes closing, and John pulled him back further, putting a hand on Rodney's throat and leaning Rodney's head back against John's shoulder. "You're such a fucking liar, McKay."
Ronon looked away from Teyla--how, John didn't know; no way could John have taken his eyes off her if she'd been riding him like that--and gave John a look. John met Ronon's eyes, but he squeezed Rodney's throat a little tighter, tight enough that Rodney's jaw dropped open and he had to work a little harder to draw a breath. Rodney reached back for John's hip, and John raised an eyebrow at Ronon. Ronon nodded and lay down again, and Teyla pressed her hips down against his, making him growl softly. Rodney swallowed and made a soft noise; John eased his grip on Rodney's throat.
"Lean forward," John said, moving with him. "Put your hands on the table." Rodney did, and John unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants. He pushed them down around Rodney's thighs, and Rodney tensed up; John could see his shoulders go rigid under his shirt.
"Stop," Rodney said. "Sheppard--stop, I can't do this, I can't be here, I'm--"
"--staying," John whispered back. He reached up to Rodney's mouth again, put his hand across it. "You're staying, and you're going to be quiet, or I can gag you. You got it?"
Rodney nodded, but John didn't move his hand. He stayed draped across Rodney's back, letting Rodney hold them both up, and he got a hand on Rodney's dick again, jerking him roughly. Rodney whimpered, and John's hand tightened against his jaw.
"Just watch," he whispered. "Watch."
Teyla locked her hands into Ronon's, pinning him down, and Ronon arched his back and rocked his hips up to meet hers. The filmy material of her gown was the only thing keeping this from being outright pornographic; instead, there was something left to the imagination, and John had no doubt Rodney was imagining plenty.
"Good," Teyla breathed. She did something, bore down a little harder with her next undulation, and Ronon groaned. He pushed back against her grip, and despite her leverage, it was clear he could move her if he really wanted to. She eased her weight off his hands and raised an eyebrow at him.
"Shall I let you go?" she murmured, shifting her hips from side to side. Ronon gasped and shook his head, letting his arms fall above his head again, this time crossing his wrists over each other as he clenched his hands into fists. Teyla smiled and pinned his hands with one of hers, and Rodney's dick jumped in John's hand.
"Uh-huh," John whispered, taking his hand off Rodney's jaw; if Rodney wanted to say something now, John wanted to hear it. He bit down gently on Rodney's ear, and Rodney shuddered, but he didn't make a sound. "Yeah. That's it, Rodney. C'mon." He was hard himself, and he pressed his dick against Rodney's ass, letting Rodney feel it. "How fucking beautiful is that?" He waited a few more seconds, but still nothing. "Are you watching?" he asked. Of course Rodney was--he was riveted, and John doubted he'd be able to pull Rodney's eyes off Ronon and Teyla unless he made it a direct order, but still--no words.
Order him to say something. You could make it an order. He pushed the thought away. It could work, yeah, because Rodney was just on the edge of that place where he'd do anything, where John could take anything, but not this time. He bent his head down and bit the side of Rodney's neck, gently, easy, not too sharp. "I wanna fuck you so goddamn hard, Rodney--"
That got a sound out of Rodney; he moaned and shoved back against John's hips.
"Yeah?" John whispered. "Want that? You want to be fucked right now?"
"I--" Rodney panted a few times, then nodded.
Good boy, John thought, but he bit his tongue and rubbed his dick hard against Rodney's ass. "You want to be fucked while you're watching Ronon and Teyla? That's what you want?"
"Yes," Rodney gasped, "yes, I--John--"
"Yes?" Almost, so close, come on, Rodney...
"Yes, yes, yes, please, John, just--don't, don't make me--please, yes, I want--don't--"
Babbling, incoherent, begging--close enough, John decided. He rubbed his palm across the head of Rodney's dick, getting his hand wet with pre-come. Rodney was so close he was leaking, had been for a while, and the change in friction was obviously a relief. Rodney gasped and pushed back against John's dick, and John planted his free hand between Rodney's shoulderblades and shoved him flat on the coffee table.
"That's it," John murmured. "That's it. You're so damn good, Rodney--"
"John, I can't, you don't--oh, God, please, please, now, damn it, I have to--I can't--"
Teyla had her free hand under her gown, now, and she was touching herself, stroking her clit in quick, efficient motions. She closed her eyes, and when she started to cry out, John bent down to Rodney's ear again and hissed out, "Now. Come on. Come. Right now. For me--"
And Rodney did, wordless and gasping, breaking his silence only when John's strokes got too rough, too much for his oversensitive skin to handle. John glanced up to Ronon, who was straining and jerking under Teyla's grip; trying not to move, John knew, and Teyla was grinning at him, still gently rocking back and forth.
"You may," she panted, and Ronon did: he arched and shuddered and let her force his hips down to the bed so he could barely move. By the end of it, he lay under her looking boneless and limp and smiling ear-to-ear.
John looked down at Rodney again, and he couldn't get his pants down fast enough. He jerked himself off, palm still slick and sticky with Rodney's come, and he kept his hand in the center of Rodney's back, fist clenching around a handful of his t-shirt. Rodney was panting heavily, coming down from all of this fast--too fast--but John didn't need long, and he bit down hard on his lower lip as his dick swelled in his hand, come streaking across Rodney's lower back. Rodney jerked under him, but John held him down until the last drops were gone, shaken off onto the curve of Rodney's ass.
He groaned as he got up off his knees and collapsed on the couch. Teyla had snuggled down onto Ronon's chest, and he was holding her; they both looked content as hell. John rubbed a hand over his face and took a few slow breaths before sitting up, awkwardly fastening his pants back up, and reaching out for Rodney. "Hey--"
Rodney pushed himself off the coffee table and yanked his boxers and pants back over his hips. "I'm fine," he snapped. "Just--fine. I have work." His t-shirt was already getting dark and damp at the hem; he shoved it into his pants and buckled his belt.
"Rodney--" John got to his feet, none too steadily, and put a hand on Rodney's arm. Rodney jerked away, and he turned halfway around to meet John's eyes. There was a brief moment of contact, where John almost said the hell with it and grabbed Rodney; then Rodney looked away again, and John exhaled, rocking back on his heels.
"I said I was busy," Rodney mumbled. "I said. When I got here. I--I have to go."
"You always have to go," John shot back. "You don't need to go, you can--"
Rodney pushed back into John's space, jabbing a finger at the center of John's chest. "Don't tell me what I need, John," he hissed. John flinched; Rodney took a step back. "I just--someday you're going to get that I don't work that way." He shook his head, grabbed his jacket, and pulled it on as he left.
Author: helens78
Summary: Ronon and Teyla are beautiful together, and still Rodney doesn't want to be here.
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: John Sheppard/Rodney McKay/Ronon Dex/Teyla Emmagen
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 1871
Disclaimer: SGA and all its characters belong to MGM. No fictional characters were stolen in the writing of this story; they're all right where the creators left them. (They're just here, too.)
Original story: Closet Porn Sex Scene by panisdead
Notes: An argument could be made that I should warn for the following in this story: non-con, or at the very least, coercion. As the author, I don't think either one of those things applies in this situation, but if either one of those things is an extremely sensitive issue for you, please pass this by. This story also contains D/s kink, which is not something I think should go into the warnings section at all, but what the hell, you're already highlighting this bit, so you probably want to know these things! There is also, if you couldn't tell from the headers, het sex in this story. Okay, I think all my bases are covered now.
Thanks to my two lovely beta-readers (kyuuketsukirui and telesilla), who rock enormously. :)
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"--no, I mean it, I don't have time," Rodney said, but it wasn't like John was dragging him. One strong hand on Rodney's shoulder was all it took; this was steering, maybe--pushing, even--but Rodney was putting one foot in front of the other all the same. "I just--not now," Rodney tried, "just give me, like, an hour--"
"Shut up," John said. They were at the room, finally, and he passed a hand over the plate on the wall and shoved Rodney inside.
Rodney's last protest didn't make it out of his throat.
Same bedroom as always--same big bed, same couch and chairs and table, same unassigned quarters that he and Rodney and Ronon and Teyla always used when they needed the soundproofed, camera-free space--but the bed wasn't empty like it usually was when John brought Rodney here.
"You started without us," John said.
"You are late," Teyla murmured from the bed. She was still dressed, partly, in a gauzy thing that barely covered her breasts, covered none of her back, and flowed down her body to cover the tops of her thighs--and Ronon's. Ronon was lying beneath her, arms stretched out above his head, eyes open and looking right past John to Rodney.
Ronon looked back to John, and John smiled at him.
"Sheppard--Colonel--" Rodney began. He was leaning back toward the door, starting to turn around.
"C'mere," John said, and he grabbed Rodney by the arm and pulled him close, spinning him around so they were face-to-face. Rodney's eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly open, and John licked across Rodney's lower lip before kissing him hard.
He slid a hand down Rodney's chest; Rodney jumped when John got to his belt and palmed his dick. Bitch, bitch, bitch, moan, moan, moan, but Rodney was still hard, and he still groaned when John squeezed his dick through his pants.
"Okay," John murmured. "Come over here."
He went over to the couch and shoved the coffee table forward a few feet. Rodney followed, eyes flicking back to Ronon and Teyla every couple of steps. Teyla had started moving again, and she was gorgeous, smiling down at Ronon and alternating between bracing her hands on his chest and sliding them up to lace her hands through his. Rodney's mouth was still hanging slightly open, and he'd stopped talking for the moment. That was a good sign; it was all the sign John needed, really. He grabbed the back of Rodney's jacket and pulled him down to the floor.
It wasn't a graceful move. Rodney's hands caught the coffee table, which probably saved his knees from a rough fall. "Ow! Shit," Rodney said, looking over his shoulder. "Watch it--"
"You watch." John leaned down, putting his face next to Rodney's, close enough he could feel the warmth from Rodney's breath. "You stay right there, on your goddamned knees, and watch."
Rodney swallowed, and John gave his head a rough twist, putting his eyes on Ronon and Teyla again. From there, Rodney went slightly inert, letting John strip his jacket off and toss it aside. When John knelt down behind him and tried to pull Rodney's back against his chest, Rodney turned around halfway. "John--I can't. I can't do--"
"Blah, blah, blah," John whispered. He wasn't subtle or graceful about it this time; he just dropped his hand to Rodney's crotch and squeezed. Hard. Rodney jerked back against him, eyes closing, and John pulled him back further, putting a hand on Rodney's throat and leaning Rodney's head back against John's shoulder. "You're such a fucking liar, McKay."
Ronon looked away from Teyla--how, John didn't know; no way could John have taken his eyes off her if she'd been riding him like that--and gave John a look. John met Ronon's eyes, but he squeezed Rodney's throat a little tighter, tight enough that Rodney's jaw dropped open and he had to work a little harder to draw a breath. Rodney reached back for John's hip, and John raised an eyebrow at Ronon. Ronon nodded and lay down again, and Teyla pressed her hips down against his, making him growl softly. Rodney swallowed and made a soft noise; John eased his grip on Rodney's throat.
"Lean forward," John said, moving with him. "Put your hands on the table." Rodney did, and John unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants. He pushed them down around Rodney's thighs, and Rodney tensed up; John could see his shoulders go rigid under his shirt.
"Stop," Rodney said. "Sheppard--stop, I can't do this, I can't be here, I'm--"
"--staying," John whispered back. He reached up to Rodney's mouth again, put his hand across it. "You're staying, and you're going to be quiet, or I can gag you. You got it?"
Rodney nodded, but John didn't move his hand. He stayed draped across Rodney's back, letting Rodney hold them both up, and he got a hand on Rodney's dick again, jerking him roughly. Rodney whimpered, and John's hand tightened against his jaw.
"Just watch," he whispered. "Watch."
Teyla locked her hands into Ronon's, pinning him down, and Ronon arched his back and rocked his hips up to meet hers. The filmy material of her gown was the only thing keeping this from being outright pornographic; instead, there was something left to the imagination, and John had no doubt Rodney was imagining plenty.
"Good," Teyla breathed. She did something, bore down a little harder with her next undulation, and Ronon groaned. He pushed back against her grip, and despite her leverage, it was clear he could move her if he really wanted to. She eased her weight off his hands and raised an eyebrow at him.
"Shall I let you go?" she murmured, shifting her hips from side to side. Ronon gasped and shook his head, letting his arms fall above his head again, this time crossing his wrists over each other as he clenched his hands into fists. Teyla smiled and pinned his hands with one of hers, and Rodney's dick jumped in John's hand.
"Uh-huh," John whispered, taking his hand off Rodney's jaw; if Rodney wanted to say something now, John wanted to hear it. He bit down gently on Rodney's ear, and Rodney shuddered, but he didn't make a sound. "Yeah. That's it, Rodney. C'mon." He was hard himself, and he pressed his dick against Rodney's ass, letting Rodney feel it. "How fucking beautiful is that?" He waited a few more seconds, but still nothing. "Are you watching?" he asked. Of course Rodney was--he was riveted, and John doubted he'd be able to pull Rodney's eyes off Ronon and Teyla unless he made it a direct order, but still--no words.
Order him to say something. You could make it an order. He pushed the thought away. It could work, yeah, because Rodney was just on the edge of that place where he'd do anything, where John could take anything, but not this time. He bent his head down and bit the side of Rodney's neck, gently, easy, not too sharp. "I wanna fuck you so goddamn hard, Rodney--"
That got a sound out of Rodney; he moaned and shoved back against John's hips.
"Yeah?" John whispered. "Want that? You want to be fucked right now?"
"I--" Rodney panted a few times, then nodded.
Good boy, John thought, but he bit his tongue and rubbed his dick hard against Rodney's ass. "You want to be fucked while you're watching Ronon and Teyla? That's what you want?"
"Yes," Rodney gasped, "yes, I--John--"
"Yes?" Almost, so close, come on, Rodney...
"Yes, yes, yes, please, John, just--don't, don't make me--please, yes, I want--don't--"
Babbling, incoherent, begging--close enough, John decided. He rubbed his palm across the head of Rodney's dick, getting his hand wet with pre-come. Rodney was so close he was leaking, had been for a while, and the change in friction was obviously a relief. Rodney gasped and pushed back against John's dick, and John planted his free hand between Rodney's shoulderblades and shoved him flat on the coffee table.
"That's it," John murmured. "That's it. You're so damn good, Rodney--"
"John, I can't, you don't--oh, God, please, please, now, damn it, I have to--I can't--"
Teyla had her free hand under her gown, now, and she was touching herself, stroking her clit in quick, efficient motions. She closed her eyes, and when she started to cry out, John bent down to Rodney's ear again and hissed out, "Now. Come on. Come. Right now. For me--"
And Rodney did, wordless and gasping, breaking his silence only when John's strokes got too rough, too much for his oversensitive skin to handle. John glanced up to Ronon, who was straining and jerking under Teyla's grip; trying not to move, John knew, and Teyla was grinning at him, still gently rocking back and forth.
"You may," she panted, and Ronon did: he arched and shuddered and let her force his hips down to the bed so he could barely move. By the end of it, he lay under her looking boneless and limp and smiling ear-to-ear.
John looked down at Rodney again, and he couldn't get his pants down fast enough. He jerked himself off, palm still slick and sticky with Rodney's come, and he kept his hand in the center of Rodney's back, fist clenching around a handful of his t-shirt. Rodney was panting heavily, coming down from all of this fast--too fast--but John didn't need long, and he bit down hard on his lower lip as his dick swelled in his hand, come streaking across Rodney's lower back. Rodney jerked under him, but John held him down until the last drops were gone, shaken off onto the curve of Rodney's ass.
He groaned as he got up off his knees and collapsed on the couch. Teyla had snuggled down onto Ronon's chest, and he was holding her; they both looked content as hell. John rubbed a hand over his face and took a few slow breaths before sitting up, awkwardly fastening his pants back up, and reaching out for Rodney. "Hey--"
Rodney pushed himself off the coffee table and yanked his boxers and pants back over his hips. "I'm fine," he snapped. "Just--fine. I have work." His t-shirt was already getting dark and damp at the hem; he shoved it into his pants and buckled his belt.
"Rodney--" John got to his feet, none too steadily, and put a hand on Rodney's arm. Rodney jerked away, and he turned halfway around to meet John's eyes. There was a brief moment of contact, where John almost said the hell with it and grabbed Rodney; then Rodney looked away again, and John exhaled, rocking back on his heels.
"I said I was busy," Rodney mumbled. "I said. When I got here. I--I have to go."
"You always have to go," John shot back. "You don't need to go, you can--"
Rodney pushed back into John's space, jabbing a finger at the center of John's chest. "Don't tell me what I need, John," he hissed. John flinched; Rodney took a step back. "I just--someday you're going to get that I don't work that way." He shook his head, grabbed his jacket, and pulled it on as he left.