Choose your own porn: Part 2
Um, so the writing bogged down a little after I opened the bottle of wine. *g* But here's part 2. Thanks to everyone for their suggestions!
"Far be it from me to sound like the voice of political correctness, but isn't this, oh I don't know, offensively stereotypical?" Rodney pawed through the pile of clothes and costume jewelry.
John put his hands on his hips. "Do you want that ZPM or not?"
Rodney made a face, the one that meant: Don't be stupid.
"Okay then," John pulled a shirt out of the pile, black gauze with silver threads, open at the neck, not entirely tragic, "so outfits."
Rodney grabbed up the first thing he laid his hands on and flung it at John. "There. Done."
It was chartreuse, either a long shirt or possibly a dress, must definitely hideous.
"We're supposed to look good!" John reminded him.
"You think you can do better?" Rodney crossed his arms across his chest mulishly. "Be my guest."
"Fine. I will."
He sifted through their options, lips pursed, sorting the clothes into three piles: dear God no, not bad, and a definite possibility. After some careful consideration, he chose a deep blue shirt, made of some shiny material, and held it up to Rodney. He tilted his head and studied the effect. "Yep. Hold on to that."
There were three pairs of pants that made the final cut: one fawn-colored, crushed velvet, imminently touchable; another low-slung leather that would show off bare skin whenever Rodney moved; the last was the simplest, sleek black, soft fabric, form-fitting, and ultimately the winner.
"Let's see how this looks on you."
Rodney shrugged out of his jacket, reached for the hem of his shirt. "A little privacy please."
"We're supposed to be holy," John protested, even as he turned around.
"Yes, well," Rodney's voice was muffled as he pulled the shirt over his head. "Let's save the sacredness for when we have an audience." A few more moments of rustling fabric, and he declared, "All right. You can look."
John turned back around, and his breath caught in his throat.
"What?" Rodney said defensively, holding his arms awkwardly in front of his body as if he didn't quite know what to do with them.
John shook his head. "No, no, it's, uh-- good."
The shirt fit snugly across Rodney's chest, emphasizing its broadness. The pants clung glove-like to Rodney's ass, showing off the gorgeous curve in all its glory. Good was quite the understatement.
"I think just--" John undid another button of the shirt, then another.
Rodney stared down at his handiwork dubiously. "Really?"
"Yeah," John said definitively. "And try this."
He fished an amulet out of a box of accessories, silver, inscribed with a single Ancient word, strung on a piece of dark cord. John squinted at the word, but, really, his Ancient wasn't all it could be.
"Please. We could be here all day." Rodney snatched it out of his hand. "It means illumination. Or brilliance. Something like that. Same root as the word for sun."
John smiled. "That works."
He hung it around Rodney's neck, the amulet nestling against Rodney's chest. Every time Rodney shifted position, John caught sight of a pink nipple. He did his best not to stare. "You're, uh, done."
"Oh. Okay. That was easy." Rodney took a breath. "It's your turn then, I guess." He made a move toward the clothes pile.
John strategically intercepted him. "I can handle it, thanks."
"We're supposed to dress each other!" Rodney huffed.
John rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, sometimes you have to cheat."
Rodney elbowed him out of the way. "I'm not hopelessly fashion challenged, you know!"
"Oh yeah?" John waved the chartreuse number at him.
"That was just--" Rodney sputtered. "Anyone can have a false start!"
"Chartreuse," John reiterated. "That's all I'm saying."
"False start!" Rodney insisted. "What part of that do you not understand?"
He grumpily rooted around in the clothes and at last pulled out the leather pants. "These are more you than me. Put them on, will you? I need to figure out what goes with them."
John took the pants and waited for Rodney to look away.
"Oh please." Rodney waved his hand. "It's not like I haven't seen it before."
"You made me turn around!"
"Yes, well, that was different," Rodney said insufferably.
It wasn't worth arguing about, not simply for the principle; John had never been particularly self-conscious. He stripped and pulled on the pants, inching up the skin-tight leather bit by little bit. He zipped and buttoned, and when he glanced up, he caught Rodney staring.
"I, uh--" Rodney stammered. "Here."
He thrust a leather vest at John, black like the pants, but with decorative patterns worked into it.
John slipped it on, quirking an eyebrow at Rodney. "That's it?"
Rodney just stood there slack-jawed a moment and then dug around in the jewelry box. "I was thinking--" He pulled out a beaded leather choker and fastened it around John's neck. "Is that okay?"
John darted a look at himself in the mirror. "It works." Then he hesitated. "You know, there's a basket full of makeup here."
Rodney's shoulders went stiff. "I thought we were ignoring that."
John sifted through rouge pots and what looked to be eye shadow. "They're probably expecting it."
Rodney sighed. "All right. Fine." He reached for a kohl pencil. When John opened his mouth to protest, Rodney gave him a hard look. "You're the one who brought it up. The least you can do is go first."
John made a disgruntled noise, but settled himself onto a nearby chair. Rodney bent over him, his throat working nervously. John thought he might actually be sweating. Rodney gripped the eyeliner determinedly and came at John, and then John shouted and clutched at his eye.
"I'm willing to pretend to be gay to get the ZPM, not go blind for it!"
"If you'd only hold still!" Rodney blustered at him.
"If you only knew what you were doing!" John blustered right back.
"That's easy for you to say! You have no idea how hot you--" Rodney pressed his mouth together. "Now don't move."
Rodney's hand was steadier this time, his touch lighter, and soon enough he was done. "There. What do you think?"
John examined himself in the mirror. "Hey, not bad."
Rodney looked strangely gratified. "Okay, well, I guess--"
John slipped out of the chair and pushed Rodney into it. "Turnabout is fair play."
He tilted his head, surveying Rodney's face. "A little mascara." Because you have really nice eyes. John kept that part to himself. He lifted Rodney's chin with his fingers. "Look up."
He made quick work of it, just a light little coating of the lashes, and then Rodney's eyes were bigger and brighter, bluer than ever. Only years of self-discipline kept the wow from slipping out.
"Just--" He opened the lid on a pot of lip gloss, dabbed his finger. Rodney's breath caught and then came warm against John's skin. John used his thumb, skating lightly across Rodney's lips, making them soft pink and shiny. Now John was the one sweating.
Rodney took the lip gloss from him. "You too." And then he had Rodney's finger on his mouth.
By the time Rodney finished, they were both breathing kind of heavily.
"So, uh." John cleared his throat. "I'd say we're ready, huh?"
Rodney nodded, and they headed back out to the throne room. The princess waited there with her guard. At John and Rodney's approach, they rose, came forward, eyeing both of them critically. The guard darted an apologetic look at the princess. She declared at last, her expression hard and unhappy, "Acceptable, I suppose. Now for the tea ceremony."
"What the hell?" John and Rodney said pretty much in unison.
"Oh, didn't I mention that before?" Princess Obilankia said breezily. "It's the second part of the test. Silvan here will instruct you." She nodded to the guard.
Silvan brought out the tea set and started in on the explanation. John tried to pay attention. He really, really did.
After about five minutes, Rodney was scowling at him. "You're not listening at all, are you?"
"Am so!" John insisted defensively.
"Oh, yeah?" Rodney challenged. "What did he say?"
John looked down at the floor and scuffled his toe against the tiles. "Well--"
Rodney sighed in a put upon fashion. "Just stay out of the way."
John tuned out completely as Silvan went on at length. Then Rodney was nodding, and apparently, they were ready to start.
"Follow my lead," Rodney told him, "and don't be clumsy about it."
John narrowed his eyes. Rodney looked stubbornly unapologetic.
They sat down at a small table, and Rodney made the tea, a complicated procedure he performed with quick, deft movements. He took John's hands in his, gently pressing his thumbs into his palms and rubbing in circles. "Ritual massage," he explained. "When I'm done, you're supposed to return the favor."
The rest of the tea ceremony involved assuming intricate poses, leaning close to one another, their arms intertwined in various ways, holding dainty little teacups out to each other, and slurping loudly from them. The whole thing was rather silly, but not particularly difficult for two people who depended on being able to read each other's slightest glance or gesture for their very survival.
When they were finished, Silvan exclaimed, "Forgive me, your majesty, but surely they are--"
Princess Obilankia's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Take them to the temple."
Poll Choose your own porn: Part 3
I'm going to bed now. Whatever is ahead when I wake up in the morning is the winner. Happy New Year everyone!
"Far be it from me to sound like the voice of political correctness, but isn't this, oh I don't know, offensively stereotypical?" Rodney pawed through the pile of clothes and costume jewelry.
John put his hands on his hips. "Do you want that ZPM or not?"
Rodney made a face, the one that meant: Don't be stupid.
"Okay then," John pulled a shirt out of the pile, black gauze with silver threads, open at the neck, not entirely tragic, "so outfits."
Rodney grabbed up the first thing he laid his hands on and flung it at John. "There. Done."
It was chartreuse, either a long shirt or possibly a dress, must definitely hideous.
"We're supposed to look good!" John reminded him.
"You think you can do better?" Rodney crossed his arms across his chest mulishly. "Be my guest."
"Fine. I will."
He sifted through their options, lips pursed, sorting the clothes into three piles: dear God no, not bad, and a definite possibility. After some careful consideration, he chose a deep blue shirt, made of some shiny material, and held it up to Rodney. He tilted his head and studied the effect. "Yep. Hold on to that."
There were three pairs of pants that made the final cut: one fawn-colored, crushed velvet, imminently touchable; another low-slung leather that would show off bare skin whenever Rodney moved; the last was the simplest, sleek black, soft fabric, form-fitting, and ultimately the winner.
"Let's see how this looks on you."
Rodney shrugged out of his jacket, reached for the hem of his shirt. "A little privacy please."
"We're supposed to be holy," John protested, even as he turned around.
"Yes, well," Rodney's voice was muffled as he pulled the shirt over his head. "Let's save the sacredness for when we have an audience." A few more moments of rustling fabric, and he declared, "All right. You can look."
John turned back around, and his breath caught in his throat.
"What?" Rodney said defensively, holding his arms awkwardly in front of his body as if he didn't quite know what to do with them.
John shook his head. "No, no, it's, uh-- good."
The shirt fit snugly across Rodney's chest, emphasizing its broadness. The pants clung glove-like to Rodney's ass, showing off the gorgeous curve in all its glory. Good was quite the understatement.
"I think just--" John undid another button of the shirt, then another.
Rodney stared down at his handiwork dubiously. "Really?"
"Yeah," John said definitively. "And try this."
He fished an amulet out of a box of accessories, silver, inscribed with a single Ancient word, strung on a piece of dark cord. John squinted at the word, but, really, his Ancient wasn't all it could be.
"Please. We could be here all day." Rodney snatched it out of his hand. "It means illumination. Or brilliance. Something like that. Same root as the word for sun."
John smiled. "That works."
He hung it around Rodney's neck, the amulet nestling against Rodney's chest. Every time Rodney shifted position, John caught sight of a pink nipple. He did his best not to stare. "You're, uh, done."
"Oh. Okay. That was easy." Rodney took a breath. "It's your turn then, I guess." He made a move toward the clothes pile.
John strategically intercepted him. "I can handle it, thanks."
"We're supposed to dress each other!" Rodney huffed.
John rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, sometimes you have to cheat."
Rodney elbowed him out of the way. "I'm not hopelessly fashion challenged, you know!"
"Oh yeah?" John waved the chartreuse number at him.
"That was just--" Rodney sputtered. "Anyone can have a false start!"
"Chartreuse," John reiterated. "That's all I'm saying."
"False start!" Rodney insisted. "What part of that do you not understand?"
He grumpily rooted around in the clothes and at last pulled out the leather pants. "These are more you than me. Put them on, will you? I need to figure out what goes with them."
John took the pants and waited for Rodney to look away.
"Oh please." Rodney waved his hand. "It's not like I haven't seen it before."
"You made me turn around!"
"Yes, well, that was different," Rodney said insufferably.
It wasn't worth arguing about, not simply for the principle; John had never been particularly self-conscious. He stripped and pulled on the pants, inching up the skin-tight leather bit by little bit. He zipped and buttoned, and when he glanced up, he caught Rodney staring.
"I, uh--" Rodney stammered. "Here."
He thrust a leather vest at John, black like the pants, but with decorative patterns worked into it.
John slipped it on, quirking an eyebrow at Rodney. "That's it?"
Rodney just stood there slack-jawed a moment and then dug around in the jewelry box. "I was thinking--" He pulled out a beaded leather choker and fastened it around John's neck. "Is that okay?"
John darted a look at himself in the mirror. "It works." Then he hesitated. "You know, there's a basket full of makeup here."
Rodney's shoulders went stiff. "I thought we were ignoring that."
John sifted through rouge pots and what looked to be eye shadow. "They're probably expecting it."
Rodney sighed. "All right. Fine." He reached for a kohl pencil. When John opened his mouth to protest, Rodney gave him a hard look. "You're the one who brought it up. The least you can do is go first."
John made a disgruntled noise, but settled himself onto a nearby chair. Rodney bent over him, his throat working nervously. John thought he might actually be sweating. Rodney gripped the eyeliner determinedly and came at John, and then John shouted and clutched at his eye.
"I'm willing to pretend to be gay to get the ZPM, not go blind for it!"
"If you'd only hold still!" Rodney blustered at him.
"If you only knew what you were doing!" John blustered right back.
"That's easy for you to say! You have no idea how hot you--" Rodney pressed his mouth together. "Now don't move."
Rodney's hand was steadier this time, his touch lighter, and soon enough he was done. "There. What do you think?"
John examined himself in the mirror. "Hey, not bad."
Rodney looked strangely gratified. "Okay, well, I guess--"
John slipped out of the chair and pushed Rodney into it. "Turnabout is fair play."
He tilted his head, surveying Rodney's face. "A little mascara." Because you have really nice eyes. John kept that part to himself. He lifted Rodney's chin with his fingers. "Look up."
He made quick work of it, just a light little coating of the lashes, and then Rodney's eyes were bigger and brighter, bluer than ever. Only years of self-discipline kept the wow from slipping out.
"Just--" He opened the lid on a pot of lip gloss, dabbed his finger. Rodney's breath caught and then came warm against John's skin. John used his thumb, skating lightly across Rodney's lips, making them soft pink and shiny. Now John was the one sweating.
Rodney took the lip gloss from him. "You too." And then he had Rodney's finger on his mouth.
By the time Rodney finished, they were both breathing kind of heavily.
"So, uh." John cleared his throat. "I'd say we're ready, huh?"
Rodney nodded, and they headed back out to the throne room. The princess waited there with her guard. At John and Rodney's approach, they rose, came forward, eyeing both of them critically. The guard darted an apologetic look at the princess. She declared at last, her expression hard and unhappy, "Acceptable, I suppose. Now for the tea ceremony."
"What the hell?" John and Rodney said pretty much in unison.
"Oh, didn't I mention that before?" Princess Obilankia said breezily. "It's the second part of the test. Silvan here will instruct you." She nodded to the guard.
Silvan brought out the tea set and started in on the explanation. John tried to pay attention. He really, really did.
After about five minutes, Rodney was scowling at him. "You're not listening at all, are you?"
"Am so!" John insisted defensively.
"Oh, yeah?" Rodney challenged. "What did he say?"
John looked down at the floor and scuffled his toe against the tiles. "Well--"
Rodney sighed in a put upon fashion. "Just stay out of the way."
John tuned out completely as Silvan went on at length. Then Rodney was nodding, and apparently, they were ready to start.
"Follow my lead," Rodney told him, "and don't be clumsy about it."
John narrowed his eyes. Rodney looked stubbornly unapologetic.
They sat down at a small table, and Rodney made the tea, a complicated procedure he performed with quick, deft movements. He took John's hands in his, gently pressing his thumbs into his palms and rubbing in circles. "Ritual massage," he explained. "When I'm done, you're supposed to return the favor."
The rest of the tea ceremony involved assuming intricate poses, leaning close to one another, their arms intertwined in various ways, holding dainty little teacups out to each other, and slurping loudly from them. The whole thing was rather silly, but not particularly difficult for two people who depended on being able to read each other's slightest glance or gesture for their very survival.
When they were finished, Silvan exclaimed, "Forgive me, your majesty, but surely they are--"
Princess Obilankia's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Take them to the temple."
Poll Choose your own porn: Part 3
I'm going to bed now. Whatever is ahead when I wake up in the morning is the winner. Happy New Year everyone!