Fifth square!
Title: that devil that you don't know
Summary: It's an accident for Rodney, but it's perfect for John.
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Word Count: 2111
Rating/Contents: NC-17, verbal humiliation, facial, temporarily de-aged Rodney
Pairing: John/Rodney
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: For the humiliation (verbal) square on my
kink_bingo card. Title lifted from Jon Cleary and the Absolute Monster Gentlemen (best band name: y/mfy?).
John really didn't know how he felt about their latest misadventure. He'd found a lot of bizarre ancient shit, but this, this was messing with his mind.
Let's get one thing straight: John had no complaints at all about Rodney's looks as they normally stood. Sure, he wasn't conventionally handsome, but John kinda got off on him anyway, his crooked smile and his surprisingly strong arms and his nice ass.
But now? Jesus Christ, Rodney looked amazing. John had this weird hope that nobody else noticed, but he couldn't possibly imagine how anyone couldn't. Rodney wasn't just handsome, he was sexy. His face was thinner, but his lips hadn't changed, making them look pouty and soft. All of him was thinner, come to that; he looked smaller, slender, instead of broad and stocky. His hair was the biggest thing, though, replaced by shining blond waves that curled up at the ends.
It kind of broke John's brain.
John knew, in the back of his mind, that he was supposed to feel bad about perving on Rodney while he looked like that, but he just really didn't. It wasn't as if Rodney were someone else. John had personally watched the Ancient device zap Rodney back to high school; and even if he hadn't, Rodney sounded and acted exactly the same as he always did- except maybe a little more pissed off.
And anyway, if you couldn't perv on your own husband, who could you perv on?
He did feel sort of bad that he was way more focused on planning nasty things to do to Rodney than on getting him changed back, but he was way better at the former than the latter. Maybe Rodney would let him top tonight; that idea had definite appeal, Rodney all young and pliant and poured out over their bed like water. Or maybe he'd want to tie John up and use all that youthful stamina on him- either way, John was more than up for it.
Feeling guilty, he readjusted his pants for the hundredth time and slunk down to Rodney's lab to see if he could do anything helpful. Once he got there, though, the place was pure chaos. Rodney was standing in the middle of it all, on top of a chair, actually pulling at his blonde curls. "No, no, no! Goddammit, listen to me, you poorly trained apes! If you reroute the power-" and whatever he said after that was totally lost on John.
Dr. Kusanagi was standing on the edge of the fray, looking vaguely terrified of the entire proceedings.
"How long has it been like this?" he asked.
She jumped. "Colonel Sheppard!" she responded, putting a hand to her chest. "I did not see you there."
"Sorry," John said, giving her a winning smile.
She pushed a stray bit of hair behind her ear, looking bashful. "Doctor McKay has been shouting for quite some time," she told him. "I am afraid they passed my area of expertise two hours ago."
John sighed. "Should I go in and break it up?"
"Doctor Evans attempted to do so some time ago," Miko informed him. "She has not been seen again."
Rodney finally noticed him standing there, shooting him a look that could only be described as smoldering. He didn't stop talking, but suddenly John couldn't hear anything, too locked up by Rodney's eyes. He swallowed hard, instantly realizing exactly how this was going to go down.
"Gotta go," he said, his eyes still fixed on Rodney's. "Thanks, doc," he told her, ignoring her enthusiastic farewell.
--
Rodney was earlier than usual coming back from the labs; he caught John by surprise, in the middle of trying to figure out if Count Zero went under C or after Neuromancer.
"Oh," Rodney said disdainfully. "It's you."
"Yeah it's me," John replied, playing into it, helping Rodney out of his jacket, bending down to kiss the back of his neck. "Who else would it be?"
Rodney just snorted in response, stalking off to the bathroom and coming back with a glass of water. John just waited, doing his best to look hopeful.
Rodney cocked an eyebrow at him. "You want something?" He flicked his eyes up and down John's body. "Nevermind. Same thing as usual."
John shrugged noncommittally. "Only if you wanted."
He took a long drink, just looking at John, letting him twist in the wind.
"I thought maybe I could, y'know, maybe be on top tonight," John said, giving Rodney the opening. "Just for a change."
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Oh great. It made me young and you stupid."
"I just thought-"
"Stop talking," Rodney said calmly, taking another sip from his glass. "Stop thinking, while you're at it. God knows I don't keep you around for your intellect." He picked up one of the pillows from the bed and tossed it onto the floor. "Now kneel before I change my mind and throw you out."
It was up to him, John knew, to safeword or not; Rodney'd be disappointed, but it wouldn't be the first or last time one of them needed to. Tonight, though? Tonight there wasn't a chance in hell, not when John was already hard and practically squirming in anticipation.
John knelt.
"Take off your shirt," Rodney instructed. "When you're done, put your hands behind your back, and for Christ's sake, don't say anything."
John did as he was told, waiting patiently for Rodney's next move.
Rodney finished off his water, setting his glass down on the nightstand. He rolled his neck this way and that, letting out a satisfied groan as it cracked loudly. He sighed, looking down at John with an evil-looking smirk on his face, all the more sinister juxtaposed with his halfway angelic features.
"You actually think you could top me, you little bitch?" Rodney started. "You couldn't top a fucking cupcake, and you know it, you slut." He walked out of John's line of sight, circling him slowly; John knew better than to look, keeping his eyes straight ahead, his back straight, his hands clasped. "I think you need to remember where your place is. Your place is at my goddamned feet, whore.
"I don't know where you get off pretending like you could top anybody, John," he spat. "You're nothing but a bottom slut, aren't you? I mean, for Christ's sake, you're on your knees for a teenage boy." Rodney laughed. "That just makes you hotter, doesn't it? You've been wanting this since high school, haven't you? You've always known you were a slut. I bet you went home every night and jerked off thinking about somebody like me forcing you to your knees and shoving his cock down your throat." Rodney raised his hands theatrically. "Well, here I am, John, and you're not getting away."
John was already panting, straining forward involuntarily. He couldn't keep his eyes off the bulge in Rodney's pants; he licked his lips, thinking about Rodney fucking his mouth.
Rodney caught him at it, of course. "Is that what you want?" He fisted his hand in the back of John's hair, dragging him forward and pressing his face to his erection; John mouthed blindly at the fabric, wanting more. "You wanna be my good little cocksucker?" Rodney shoved his head away, almost hard enough to make him fall. "Too fucking bad, slut. You're not even good enough to suck my dick, you know that? You're not good for anything except as a hole for me to fuck."
He started pacing again, looking at John from every direction, leaving him nowhere to hide. "I ought to leave the fucking door open and let anybody come in here and have you," Rodney told him. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? You don't care where it comes from, so long as there's a fat cock to fill up your ass."
John shifted uncomfortably. It was right on his tongue to call yellow, to stop Rodney from going someplace that John really didn't want to go, from crossing that line between feeling degraded and feeling unwanted.
Rodney put a finger under John's chin, tipping it up so John was forced to look at him. "You're too good for that, though, aren't you?" He snorted. "I've got you so fucking whipped you wouldn't even know what to do if I let you."
John relaxed.
"My own personal whore," Rodney said, with something akin to affection in his voice. "I own that fucking ass, John, and don't you ever forget it.
"Wish we had a plug," he mused, unzipping his pants and getting his cock out, stroking it loosely. "I'd fuck you every single morning, hard and fast like you know you want it. Then I'd take the plug- it'd have to be a huge one, to satisfy a slut like you- and I'd push it inside of you, inch by inch, til your hungry ass swallowed the whole thing. And I'd make you walk around like that all day, every day, filled up with my come, so everybody would know whose bitch you are."
John bit his lip with the effort of not talking, not begging Rodney to fuck him. His hips kept working without him, humping the air in his desperation for something, anything.
"I know what you need," Rodney said, working his hand faster. He pushed one foot in between John's legs, the toe of his shoe sliding up under John's pillow. John was too far gone to even hesitate; he leaned forward and pressed his cock up against Rodney's leg, moaning in relief, working his hips to get more of that perfect friction.
"Don't you fucking dare come," Rodney warned him, his breathing ragged and loud. "I swear to god I'll beat your ass raw if you do. Oh god, I should do it anyway, so you can't sit down for a fucking week, so every time you do you think of me."
John couldn't stop staring up at him, lost in the way Rodney made him feel, like the only thing he was made to do was worship at Rodney's feet. Rodney certainly looked like some depraved god, young and lithe, his hair glowing in the soft, diffuse lighting of the room, his hand moving faster and faster on his cock.
He took his foot away suddenly; John cried out, swaying on his knees. "Shut your eyes," Rodney gritted out, and John did it, opening his mouth for good measure, presenting for Rodney. "God, look at you- you're such a good slut," he panted out. "Filthy fucking whore- oh fuck- you dirty bitch-" Rodney's words devolved into inarticulate gasps as he came all over John, striping his face and his neck and his chest, marking him everywhere. He had to put one hand on John's shoulder to hold himself up, sighing heavily.
"Hold still," Rodney said, still panting; he gently wiped the mess out of John's eyes with his thumb, before pressing it in between John's lips. John sucked greedily, laving Rodney with his tongue, making sure to get every single drop.
Rodney took his hand away and pulled John back up to his feet, hugging him and kissing him sweetly. "You have no idea how much I needed that."
John smiled. "Likewise."
"It's been awful today," he complained, pressing his face into John's shoulder. "Those fucking morons-"
"Shh," John said, holding him closer. He liked the way Rodney fit against him like this, small enough that John could wrap him up in his arms.
"Ew," Rodney said as he pulled away, looking at the come that had ended up all over his shirt. He stripped out of it quickly; ignoring John's protests, he cleaned John up with it, scrubbing off the worst of it before tossing the shirt away. "Did you want to fuck me?" he asked, his hands going for John's belt buckle. "Because that sounds really good right now, actually. Here, you just lay down and I'll ride you."
"You seem way less worried than you should be," John pointed out, letting Rodney maneuver him to the bed.
"Why?" Rodney asked, looking puzzled. "Oh! You mean-" he waved a hand, indicating his body. "I guess you haven't heard- we found it in the database. It's some kind of ceremonial thing. We ought to have just enough time for a night of wild, dubiously moral sex before I change back."
"And if it doesn't work?"
"Then I am going to be one pissed off teenager in the morning," he sighed, tugging John's pants off. "Now, are we fucking, or are we talking?"
John leaned up and pecked him on the cheek. "You pick."
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/236483.html.
comments over there.
Summary: It's an accident for Rodney, but it's perfect for John.
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Word Count: 2111
Rating/Contents: NC-17, verbal humiliation, facial, temporarily de-aged Rodney
Pairing: John/Rodney
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: For the humiliation (verbal) square on my
kink_bingo card. Title lifted from Jon Cleary and the Absolute Monster Gentlemen (best band name: y/mfy?).
John really didn't know how he felt about their latest misadventure. He'd found a lot of bizarre ancient shit, but this, this was messing with his mind.
Let's get one thing straight: John had no complaints at all about Rodney's looks as they normally stood. Sure, he wasn't conventionally handsome, but John kinda got off on him anyway, his crooked smile and his surprisingly strong arms and his nice ass.
But now? Jesus Christ, Rodney looked amazing. John had this weird hope that nobody else noticed, but he couldn't possibly imagine how anyone couldn't. Rodney wasn't just handsome, he was sexy. His face was thinner, but his lips hadn't changed, making them look pouty and soft. All of him was thinner, come to that; he looked smaller, slender, instead of broad and stocky. His hair was the biggest thing, though, replaced by shining blond waves that curled up at the ends.
It kind of broke John's brain.
John knew, in the back of his mind, that he was supposed to feel bad about perving on Rodney while he looked like that, but he just really didn't. It wasn't as if Rodney were someone else. John had personally watched the Ancient device zap Rodney back to high school; and even if he hadn't, Rodney sounded and acted exactly the same as he always did- except maybe a little more pissed off.
And anyway, if you couldn't perv on your own husband, who could you perv on?
He did feel sort of bad that he was way more focused on planning nasty things to do to Rodney than on getting him changed back, but he was way better at the former than the latter. Maybe Rodney would let him top tonight; that idea had definite appeal, Rodney all young and pliant and poured out over their bed like water. Or maybe he'd want to tie John up and use all that youthful stamina on him- either way, John was more than up for it.
Feeling guilty, he readjusted his pants for the hundredth time and slunk down to Rodney's lab to see if he could do anything helpful. Once he got there, though, the place was pure chaos. Rodney was standing in the middle of it all, on top of a chair, actually pulling at his blonde curls. "No, no, no! Goddammit, listen to me, you poorly trained apes! If you reroute the power-" and whatever he said after that was totally lost on John.
Dr. Kusanagi was standing on the edge of the fray, looking vaguely terrified of the entire proceedings.
"How long has it been like this?" he asked.
She jumped. "Colonel Sheppard!" she responded, putting a hand to her chest. "I did not see you there."
"Sorry," John said, giving her a winning smile.
She pushed a stray bit of hair behind her ear, looking bashful. "Doctor McKay has been shouting for quite some time," she told him. "I am afraid they passed my area of expertise two hours ago."
John sighed. "Should I go in and break it up?"
"Doctor Evans attempted to do so some time ago," Miko informed him. "She has not been seen again."
Rodney finally noticed him standing there, shooting him a look that could only be described as smoldering. He didn't stop talking, but suddenly John couldn't hear anything, too locked up by Rodney's eyes. He swallowed hard, instantly realizing exactly how this was going to go down.
"Gotta go," he said, his eyes still fixed on Rodney's. "Thanks, doc," he told her, ignoring her enthusiastic farewell.
--
Rodney was earlier than usual coming back from the labs; he caught John by surprise, in the middle of trying to figure out if Count Zero went under C or after Neuromancer.
"Oh," Rodney said disdainfully. "It's you."
"Yeah it's me," John replied, playing into it, helping Rodney out of his jacket, bending down to kiss the back of his neck. "Who else would it be?"
Rodney just snorted in response, stalking off to the bathroom and coming back with a glass of water. John just waited, doing his best to look hopeful.
Rodney cocked an eyebrow at him. "You want something?" He flicked his eyes up and down John's body. "Nevermind. Same thing as usual."
John shrugged noncommittally. "Only if you wanted."
He took a long drink, just looking at John, letting him twist in the wind.
"I thought maybe I could, y'know, maybe be on top tonight," John said, giving Rodney the opening. "Just for a change."
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Oh great. It made me young and you stupid."
"I just thought-"
"Stop talking," Rodney said calmly, taking another sip from his glass. "Stop thinking, while you're at it. God knows I don't keep you around for your intellect." He picked up one of the pillows from the bed and tossed it onto the floor. "Now kneel before I change my mind and throw you out."
It was up to him, John knew, to safeword or not; Rodney'd be disappointed, but it wouldn't be the first or last time one of them needed to. Tonight, though? Tonight there wasn't a chance in hell, not when John was already hard and practically squirming in anticipation.
John knelt.
"Take off your shirt," Rodney instructed. "When you're done, put your hands behind your back, and for Christ's sake, don't say anything."
John did as he was told, waiting patiently for Rodney's next move.
Rodney finished off his water, setting his glass down on the nightstand. He rolled his neck this way and that, letting out a satisfied groan as it cracked loudly. He sighed, looking down at John with an evil-looking smirk on his face, all the more sinister juxtaposed with his halfway angelic features.
"You actually think you could top me, you little bitch?" Rodney started. "You couldn't top a fucking cupcake, and you know it, you slut." He walked out of John's line of sight, circling him slowly; John knew better than to look, keeping his eyes straight ahead, his back straight, his hands clasped. "I think you need to remember where your place is. Your place is at my goddamned feet, whore.
"I don't know where you get off pretending like you could top anybody, John," he spat. "You're nothing but a bottom slut, aren't you? I mean, for Christ's sake, you're on your knees for a teenage boy." Rodney laughed. "That just makes you hotter, doesn't it? You've been wanting this since high school, haven't you? You've always known you were a slut. I bet you went home every night and jerked off thinking about somebody like me forcing you to your knees and shoving his cock down your throat." Rodney raised his hands theatrically. "Well, here I am, John, and you're not getting away."
John was already panting, straining forward involuntarily. He couldn't keep his eyes off the bulge in Rodney's pants; he licked his lips, thinking about Rodney fucking his mouth.
Rodney caught him at it, of course. "Is that what you want?" He fisted his hand in the back of John's hair, dragging him forward and pressing his face to his erection; John mouthed blindly at the fabric, wanting more. "You wanna be my good little cocksucker?" Rodney shoved his head away, almost hard enough to make him fall. "Too fucking bad, slut. You're not even good enough to suck my dick, you know that? You're not good for anything except as a hole for me to fuck."
He started pacing again, looking at John from every direction, leaving him nowhere to hide. "I ought to leave the fucking door open and let anybody come in here and have you," Rodney told him. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? You don't care where it comes from, so long as there's a fat cock to fill up your ass."
John shifted uncomfortably. It was right on his tongue to call yellow, to stop Rodney from going someplace that John really didn't want to go, from crossing that line between feeling degraded and feeling unwanted.
Rodney put a finger under John's chin, tipping it up so John was forced to look at him. "You're too good for that, though, aren't you?" He snorted. "I've got you so fucking whipped you wouldn't even know what to do if I let you."
John relaxed.
"My own personal whore," Rodney said, with something akin to affection in his voice. "I own that fucking ass, John, and don't you ever forget it.
"Wish we had a plug," he mused, unzipping his pants and getting his cock out, stroking it loosely. "I'd fuck you every single morning, hard and fast like you know you want it. Then I'd take the plug- it'd have to be a huge one, to satisfy a slut like you- and I'd push it inside of you, inch by inch, til your hungry ass swallowed the whole thing. And I'd make you walk around like that all day, every day, filled up with my come, so everybody would know whose bitch you are."
John bit his lip with the effort of not talking, not begging Rodney to fuck him. His hips kept working without him, humping the air in his desperation for something, anything.
"I know what you need," Rodney said, working his hand faster. He pushed one foot in between John's legs, the toe of his shoe sliding up under John's pillow. John was too far gone to even hesitate; he leaned forward and pressed his cock up against Rodney's leg, moaning in relief, working his hips to get more of that perfect friction.
"Don't you fucking dare come," Rodney warned him, his breathing ragged and loud. "I swear to god I'll beat your ass raw if you do. Oh god, I should do it anyway, so you can't sit down for a fucking week, so every time you do you think of me."
John couldn't stop staring up at him, lost in the way Rodney made him feel, like the only thing he was made to do was worship at Rodney's feet. Rodney certainly looked like some depraved god, young and lithe, his hair glowing in the soft, diffuse lighting of the room, his hand moving faster and faster on his cock.
He took his foot away suddenly; John cried out, swaying on his knees. "Shut your eyes," Rodney gritted out, and John did it, opening his mouth for good measure, presenting for Rodney. "God, look at you- you're such a good slut," he panted out. "Filthy fucking whore- oh fuck- you dirty bitch-" Rodney's words devolved into inarticulate gasps as he came all over John, striping his face and his neck and his chest, marking him everywhere. He had to put one hand on John's shoulder to hold himself up, sighing heavily.
"Hold still," Rodney said, still panting; he gently wiped the mess out of John's eyes with his thumb, before pressing it in between John's lips. John sucked greedily, laving Rodney with his tongue, making sure to get every single drop.
Rodney took his hand away and pulled John back up to his feet, hugging him and kissing him sweetly. "You have no idea how much I needed that."
John smiled. "Likewise."
"It's been awful today," he complained, pressing his face into John's shoulder. "Those fucking morons-"
"Shh," John said, holding him closer. He liked the way Rodney fit against him like this, small enough that John could wrap him up in his arms.
"Ew," Rodney said as he pulled away, looking at the come that had ended up all over his shirt. He stripped out of it quickly; ignoring John's protests, he cleaned John up with it, scrubbing off the worst of it before tossing the shirt away. "Did you want to fuck me?" he asked, his hands going for John's belt buckle. "Because that sounds really good right now, actually. Here, you just lay down and I'll ride you."
"You seem way less worried than you should be," John pointed out, letting Rodney maneuver him to the bed.
"Why?" Rodney asked, looking puzzled. "Oh! You mean-" he waved a hand, indicating his body. "I guess you haven't heard- we found it in the database. It's some kind of ceremonial thing. We ought to have just enough time for a night of wild, dubiously moral sex before I change back."
"And if it doesn't work?"
"Then I am going to be one pissed off teenager in the morning," he sighed, tugging John's pants off. "Now, are we fucking, or are we talking?"
John leaned up and pecked him on the cheek. "You pick."
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/236483.html.
comments over there.