Fic: you tacky thing
Title: you tacky thing
Summary: John's wearing his red camisole tonight.
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Word Count: 1048
Rating/Contents: NC-17, crossdressing, D/s
Pairing: John/Rodney
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: This is for
telesilla, who won me at
help_japan and wanted some sexy crossdressing Colonel Sadist action. How could I refuse?
Rodney walks into John's room, and he knows instantly that he's in for it.
John's wearing his red camisole tonight, the super tight one that lives in the bottom of the closet and only comes out when he's feeling particularly slutty. His skirt is electric blue and criminally short, matching his painstakingly applied eyeshadow. John's already hard underneath it, the fabric stretched out over his cock.
"Strip," John says, his voice husky and raw, and Rodney can't even think of doing anything but obeying. He fumbles with his clothing, just like always, and today it's enough for John to stride over and slap his hands away, taking over and yanking Rodney's clothes off haphazardly. Rodney feels off-balance, naked and out of control while John's poised and ready and dangerous; his breath is coming faster, his dick growing harder by the second.
John reaches back and grabs Rodney by the ass, his hands rough and proprietary, hauling him in so that he's close enough that his cock rubs up against the soft fabric of John's skirt. John leans down and just takes his mouth, biting at his lips. Rodney tilts his face up and just gives in to it; it's too early, his brain is yelling, too early in the game to be making any concessions, so early that it reveals exactly how desperate and needy he really is. But John just keeps on kissing him, his hands everywhere, and somewhere in the middle of it Rodney forgets why he's supposed to be fighting.
Suddenly John's hand is around his throat; he's not squeezing but he could be, and that's hotter than it has any right to be. "I want you on the bed," John says tightly, like he can barely talk for being so turned on. He doesn't turn Rodney loose, and Rodney doesn't realize he's missed a cue until John slaps him across the face.
"Yes, ma'am," Rodney stammers, and John's eyes narrow in satisfaction. He gives Rodney one more biting kiss before pushing him away, hard enough that Rodney almost ends up on the floor. Rodney scrambles for the bed; he's seen John get damn toppy, but never like this, never so far so fast. Rodney's totally thrown, already desperate to please and craving more, deeper in that perfect headspace than he even intended.
And he's going to buy John a whole fucking store worth of skirts if it means he gets treated like this.
He climbs up onto the bed, sitting back and looking at John, waiting for his next move; his legs are sprawled wide and he doesn't even care, just hopes it's what John wants, because all Rodney wants is to get John in him as soon as possible. John just stares at him, his eyes dark with lust, reaching down to stroke himself through the skirt. It's not a tease or a show, because John's not like that; he's just a little too far gone to care about anything but the feel of the soft material underneath his hands, the aching in his dick.
"Get the lube," John tells him, crawling onto the bed, his skirt riding up around his waist; he looks like a cheap whore, and Rodney can't stop staring. John snatches the bottle out of his hand, pouring it over his fingers; he's wearing lacy black panties, and he doesn't even bother to take them off, just pulls them out of the way so he can slick up his cock.
"Tell me how much you want it," John breathes, licking his bottom lip hungrily, but before Rodney can even speak, he adds, "You know what? Never mind. I don't give a fuck." He grabs Rodney by the thighs, pulling him up until his ass is all but in John's lap. Rodney jumps when he pushes two barely slick fingers into him. "I'm going to fuck this ass whether you like it or not."
"Yes, ma'am," Rodney says again, his voice coming high and choked off.
"That's right," John says, sliding his fingers out and shoving his cock in; Rodney can't help pushing back, taking him in faster, deeper. John growls in satisfaction, grabbing the backs of Rodney's thighs to spread them farther apart, his fingers in deep enough to leave bruises. "You like that," he growls, slamming into him hard; it isn't a question, but Rodney nods fervently anyway.
His skirt is all the way up around his waist and his eyeliner is starting to run, but John looks beautiful, wrecked, beautifully wrecked- it's all twisted up in Rodney's head. He's swearing under his breath as he drives into Rodney, his movements harsh and erratic; and Rodney feels like he could go off any moment but he doesn't want to, wants to be good for John, wants to draw this out as long as he can.
He's losing it, though, losing his grip, wondering why he's holding back; John grabs his dick, jerking him roughly, and says, "Give it up for me, slut," and Rodney comes all over himself. John makes a deep noise of satisfaction, fucking him even harder, his grip even tighter on Rodney's legs, until finally he slams home and comes, panting hard and biting out Rodney's name.
They stay like that for- Rodney doesn't even know how long- John with his head bent, dripping sweat onto Rodney's chest, Rodney lying there in dazed satisfaction. It's Rodney who breaks the spell, his back starting to protest; he nudges John, who takes a second to even get it, to pull gingerly away from him. He flops ungracefully down onto the bed beside Rodney, halfway on top of him. Rodney's hand comes up automatically to stroke his back, lingering on the space between his camisole and his skirt, his fingers playing over John's tanned skin. John sighs and relaxes against him, kissing the side of his face.
Rodney just lays there and wonders idly where he can get heels in John's size.
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/312582.html.
comments over there.
Summary: John's wearing his red camisole tonight.
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Word Count: 1048
Rating/Contents: NC-17, crossdressing, D/s
Pairing: John/Rodney
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: This is for
telesilla, who won me at
help_japan and wanted some sexy crossdressing Colonel Sadist action. How could I refuse?
Rodney walks into John's room, and he knows instantly that he's in for it.
John's wearing his red camisole tonight, the super tight one that lives in the bottom of the closet and only comes out when he's feeling particularly slutty. His skirt is electric blue and criminally short, matching his painstakingly applied eyeshadow. John's already hard underneath it, the fabric stretched out over his cock.
"Strip," John says, his voice husky and raw, and Rodney can't even think of doing anything but obeying. He fumbles with his clothing, just like always, and today it's enough for John to stride over and slap his hands away, taking over and yanking Rodney's clothes off haphazardly. Rodney feels off-balance, naked and out of control while John's poised and ready and dangerous; his breath is coming faster, his dick growing harder by the second.
John reaches back and grabs Rodney by the ass, his hands rough and proprietary, hauling him in so that he's close enough that his cock rubs up against the soft fabric of John's skirt. John leans down and just takes his mouth, biting at his lips. Rodney tilts his face up and just gives in to it; it's too early, his brain is yelling, too early in the game to be making any concessions, so early that it reveals exactly how desperate and needy he really is. But John just keeps on kissing him, his hands everywhere, and somewhere in the middle of it Rodney forgets why he's supposed to be fighting.
Suddenly John's hand is around his throat; he's not squeezing but he could be, and that's hotter than it has any right to be. "I want you on the bed," John says tightly, like he can barely talk for being so turned on. He doesn't turn Rodney loose, and Rodney doesn't realize he's missed a cue until John slaps him across the face.
"Yes, ma'am," Rodney stammers, and John's eyes narrow in satisfaction. He gives Rodney one more biting kiss before pushing him away, hard enough that Rodney almost ends up on the floor. Rodney scrambles for the bed; he's seen John get damn toppy, but never like this, never so far so fast. Rodney's totally thrown, already desperate to please and craving more, deeper in that perfect headspace than he even intended.
And he's going to buy John a whole fucking store worth of skirts if it means he gets treated like this.
He climbs up onto the bed, sitting back and looking at John, waiting for his next move; his legs are sprawled wide and he doesn't even care, just hopes it's what John wants, because all Rodney wants is to get John in him as soon as possible. John just stares at him, his eyes dark with lust, reaching down to stroke himself through the skirt. It's not a tease or a show, because John's not like that; he's just a little too far gone to care about anything but the feel of the soft material underneath his hands, the aching in his dick.
"Get the lube," John tells him, crawling onto the bed, his skirt riding up around his waist; he looks like a cheap whore, and Rodney can't stop staring. John snatches the bottle out of his hand, pouring it over his fingers; he's wearing lacy black panties, and he doesn't even bother to take them off, just pulls them out of the way so he can slick up his cock.
"Tell me how much you want it," John breathes, licking his bottom lip hungrily, but before Rodney can even speak, he adds, "You know what? Never mind. I don't give a fuck." He grabs Rodney by the thighs, pulling him up until his ass is all but in John's lap. Rodney jumps when he pushes two barely slick fingers into him. "I'm going to fuck this ass whether you like it or not."
"Yes, ma'am," Rodney says again, his voice coming high and choked off.
"That's right," John says, sliding his fingers out and shoving his cock in; Rodney can't help pushing back, taking him in faster, deeper. John growls in satisfaction, grabbing the backs of Rodney's thighs to spread them farther apart, his fingers in deep enough to leave bruises. "You like that," he growls, slamming into him hard; it isn't a question, but Rodney nods fervently anyway.
His skirt is all the way up around his waist and his eyeliner is starting to run, but John looks beautiful, wrecked, beautifully wrecked- it's all twisted up in Rodney's head. He's swearing under his breath as he drives into Rodney, his movements harsh and erratic; and Rodney feels like he could go off any moment but he doesn't want to, wants to be good for John, wants to draw this out as long as he can.
He's losing it, though, losing his grip, wondering why he's holding back; John grabs his dick, jerking him roughly, and says, "Give it up for me, slut," and Rodney comes all over himself. John makes a deep noise of satisfaction, fucking him even harder, his grip even tighter on Rodney's legs, until finally he slams home and comes, panting hard and biting out Rodney's name.
They stay like that for- Rodney doesn't even know how long- John with his head bent, dripping sweat onto Rodney's chest, Rodney lying there in dazed satisfaction. It's Rodney who breaks the spell, his back starting to protest; he nudges John, who takes a second to even get it, to pull gingerly away from him. He flops ungracefully down onto the bed beside Rodney, halfway on top of him. Rodney's hand comes up automatically to stroke his back, lingering on the space between his camisole and his skirt, his fingers playing over John's tanned skin. John sighs and relaxes against him, kissing the side of his face.
Rodney just lays there and wonders idly where he can get heels in John's size.
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/312582.html.
comments over there.