Hamster Wheel 1/4, John/Rodney, humiliation, d/S
anonymous
September 11 2010, 05:22:38 UTC
He never knows how Rodney will do it. The few other people John's trusted with this side of him have always had to have a script. They wanted to draw lines that they wouldn't cross, have safewords, schedule the encounter. Not Rodney. That's part of the appeal, if there can be said to be an appeal to the game Rodney plays with John. Sometimes it isn't a game; sometimes they're in public and Rodney doesn't even know he's doing it to John.
At least, John tells himself Rodney doesn't know. His cock will twitch at just the thought that Rodney is doing it on purpose and then his ears will get hot and he'll excuse himself from whatever meeting or situation they're in, before the cycle really gets going.
Rodney always knows then, of course. The things he says to John afterward shouldn't be so arousing, wouldn't be for anyone who wasn't a hot, fucked-up mess like John. No one should want someone to treat them like Rodney treats John or say the things he says. Of course, that's part of it, the icing on the cake of his arousal-response cycle.
Rodney waits until after the mission this time to zero in on John's embarrassment. He always starts with words.
"You were half hard when Jen was giving you your exam. Of course, you looked ready to hump a hole in the ground back on Brelfla. Everyone saw you waving your ass around too. If that 'High Counselor' had put his hand on your ass instead of your back, you'd have bent over and begged for him to give you a good old Brelfla plowing."
"Not him," John whispers through gritted teeth. It hadn't been the High Counselor, it had been Rodney ordering him around, grabbing his collar and pulling him back once like he was a badly behaved dog, and then apologizing to the High Counselor for John's 'distraction'. He's not too bright, but what can you expect from a soldier? John spent the rest of the mission hard, and, god damn it, distracted, thanks to Rodney.
"Him, her, it," Rodney replies. "You beg for it."
They're in a public corridor, with other people, and there's a possibility that someone just heard Rodney say that. John clenches his fists and lengthens his stride. The things Rodney says come too close to the truth sometimes. Or are the truth, which is frightening and addictive both. He really needs to get back to his quarters, where he can shove his hands down his pants and touch himself without someone seeing.
The thought of someone seeing him do that, of not having enough control to stop himself, has his half-hard cock stiffening into an obvious bulge. If anyone looks, they'll see it. That makes it worse, makes him breathe harder, gets him even harder.
"You've got no control at all, do you?" Rodney asks conversationally as they make the turn to the residential quarters hallway. He grabs John's arm and jerks him, stumbling, past John's door to his. "Someone just looks at you and you pop a boner. Good thing you're not a girl or your pussy'd be wet all the time."
John swallows hard as they enter Rodney's rooms. When Rodney brings him here, it means John will have to get back to his own quarters later. Some day, Rodney's going to shove him out the door, still hard or come-stained, and someone is going to catch him.
The thought should scare him more, but he's already falling into the headspace where the idea just turns him on more.
Re: Hamster Wheel 2/4, John/Rodney, humiliation, d/S
anonymous
September 11 2010, 05:25:21 UTC
"Slut," Rodney says. The scorn in his voice scours John. He's shivering as he stands just inside the closed door, waiting for whatever Rodney comes up with next. His inability to do anything without Rodney's permission is sickening. He could just turn and walk out, but he can't, because this is what he wants, this shameful helplessness. All he can do is wait for Rodney's orders.
Rodney eyes him critically.
"Look at you, Colonel Sheppard, in your mission gear like you're fit to decide anything, do anything except service other men's dicks. Anyone can see through the act. You're just a cocksucker pretending to be in command."
It makes John shake. Rodney never hesitates to hit him where it really hurts, even if the blows are all verbal. He'll rip open every insecurity John has some nights. John will take it too, and thank him for it.
"It's a miracle the marines haven't given you what you really want, bent you over and fucked you stupid." Rodney laughed. "What am I saying? Stupider."
John flinches and groans.
"Of course, you'd like that, wouldn't you? Nothing but a hungry hole at both ends. Always hungry for it, aren't you, cockslut?" The worst part is not knowing if Rodney's disgust is real or not. John's afraid to ever ask. He needs this. He'd keep coming back for more even if Rodney's contempt is real. It might be even more addictive; he might cross the line he's balanced o so precariously for so long and fall into a space with no bottom.
He'd lose everything if he did, including all the other parts of himself that aren't tied in sexual knots.
But it's a humming siren song in his head, all the time, all the same.
There's a wet spot at the front of his fly now, where's he's leaking through the front of his shorts and the heavy fabric. His BDUs are loose and heavy enough that his erection isn't the obscene tent it makes when Rodney makes him wear nothing but a thin pair of track pants, but it's still obvious. He wonders if this will be one of the times Rodney makes him come in his pants. That always makes the walk back to his quarters fraught. His cock jerks and more precome squirts from the slit as he thinks of that. It's almost enough to push him over the edge and he has to grab himself through his pants and squeeze to keep from coming right there.
"All right, I can see you're going have another accident if I don't give you what you want," Rodney tells him. "I'm thinking of putting you in diapers. Or maybe next time we're on Earth, I'll make you go into a sex toy store and buy a cockcage for yourself. Something to lock up your dick, because it's an embarrassment to me and Teyla and Ronon, not to mention the US Air Force."
The memory of the exquisite humiliation of pissing his pants on P4R-900, when they were all tied up for two days, makes John cringe. It doesn't matter that everyone else on the team did too. He knows none of them jerk off over the experience. He presses his hand down on his erection and squirms at the sensation, mixing with the horrible (wonderful) idea of Rodney putting him in a diaper. It's sick to want it, but he knows if Rodney does put him in a diaper, Rodney will be damn sure to engineer a situation that makes John use it. Even the prospect of that shame is unbearably arousing.
"Down on your knees."
John's knees hurt when they hit the floor and the little shot of pain clears his head a little, backing off his orgasm. Thank God he doesn't have a pain kink too or it might go the other way. He knows he's given away how eager he is, of course, but it's not like Rodney isn't aware anyway.
"Come here," Rodney orders. He perches his ass on the edge of his desk and stands with his legs braced wide. There's a promising bulge at his crotch. "All fours."
John crawls over to him, his cock swinging and rubbing inside his shorts, more precome dribbling from it, the weight of his equipment belt pulling the back of his BDUs down enough he feels cool air on the sweaty skin of the small of his back. He comes to stop with his hands still on the floor, only lifting his head, panting from the sensations. He's leaning forward as much as he can on all fours, shaking from his hunger to get closer and get what he needs.
Re: Hamster Wheel 2a/4, John/Rodney, humiliation, d/S
anonymous
September 11 2010, 05:26:10 UTC
"You want my cock, don't you, whore?" Rodney taunts. "Show me. Show me what you're good for."
He shoves his thumb into John's mouth and John closes his eyes and sucks on it desperately. It isn't Rodney's cock, but the way Rodney pushes it in and out of John's mouth is blatantly sexual. It's true, what Rodney's says. John loves to suck things. Thumbs, fingers, nipples, toes, dildos. He loves having his mouth so full he can't talk and can barely breathe. He gets off on being gagged; it's the stretch and the helplessness and the relief of not needing to try to talk about anything. He'll kneel between Rodney's knees and suckle on his cock, hard or soft, for as long as Rodney will let him. He can never get enough.
"Go on, beg for it. Tell me how much you want it. Say please."
John sucks on Rodney's thumb another moment, before reluctantly letting it go. Words are always the worst. Words are actively admitting all the things Rodney says he is. Sometimes, he tries to imagine refusing, leaving rather than abasing himself, but he knows he never will. The aching urgency of his erection is too much and he can't deny his desires. He wants it all the time, a hollow ache to give himself up, to let someone punish him and take care of him. Wants to spend his days and nights on his knees, with everyone seeing and knowing just exactly what he is, nuzzle his nose against Rodney's balls and hide his flaming face there while kneeling in the middle of the gate room. Wants to be Rodney's lightswitch and belong only to him, to curl up at his feet in the lab until Rodney pulls him up and bends him over a counter to fuck him and fill him and hold onto him forever.
Despite himself, the words Rodney wants pour out.
"Please, let me suck you. I'm nothing, I don't matter, I'll make it so good for you, you can fuck my face, choke me, I don't care, I just need it. So much, so much, please, I've got to, please, your cock's so good, it's - " It fills me up, it makes everything else go away, it makes me into a hole, into nothing, no thinking, no worrying, safe, safe and good, a good boy -
Rodney catches his hair and pulls him up by it, until John's mouth is on level with his fly. God, he wants it. He wants it so much his mouth is watering. John's ashamed of wanting cock, ashamed of wanting it so much, and ashamed of being ashamed of all that. It spirals back on itself in his head, it goes straight to his balls and makes them draw up tight and heavy; it flushes his whole body hot, all that want and self-consciousness and need. The more humiliated he is the harder he gets and knowing that he's aroused, that this arouses him, feeds the shame that turns him on. It a vicious circle of reactions.
He thinks he can smell Rodney and whimpers. "Please, please, let me - "
Re: Hamster Wheel 3/4, John/Rodney, humiliation, d/S
anonymous
September 11 2010, 05:27:20 UTC
Rodney's grip tightens enough John has to roll his eyes up to see him looking down instead of focusing on the bulge of Rodney's cock behind his fly.
"You do anything for it, wouldn't you?"
John nods desperately. "Please?"
"Go ahead and take your cock out, John," Rodney instructs him. He doesn't let go of John's hair, though, so John's unbuckling and opening his pants blind, fumbling in his hurry, afraid that his own touch on his erection is going to set him off. He starts to push his pants down and Rodney tsks at him.
"Don't you listen? Can't even follow a simple instruction. Did I tell you to take off your pants? I said take your cock out."
John feels his face flood with more heat. Hanging his cock out of his pants is somehow worse than being naked. It's wrong and bad; truths drilled into him when he was still a child. His mother told him that. Pants are for covering up his junk and sticking his cock out makes him a dirty, bad boy. Feeling dirty is the point, of course, that's why Rodney's making him do it, so he does as he's told.
He manages it without bringing himself off, though he gasps and tenses his entire body fighting the orgasm off.
Rodney sneers and lets go.
"Suck me off," he says. "And try not to slobber so much this time."
John opens Rodney's pants much more carefully than he did his own. He peels open the fly and pulls them down to Rodney's thighs, then lifts the waistband of Rodney's boxers carefully clear of his dick to pull them down too. Rodney doesn't like it rough.
Rodney's cock is thick and already hard, flushed a deep pink, almost purple. John takes it in gratefully. His eyes slide shut unconsciously and he wraps his arms around Rodney's thighs. It's thick and full and the precome tastes of musk and skin salt. He can never, ever get enough of that taste. This is perfect, this is what he wants all the time, though he can never admit it. Just like this, down on his knees, listening to Rodney call him a faggot and cocksucker and slut and only hearing the 'my' in front of all of them.
He chokes as Rodney shoves his cock all the way down his throat. Rodney doesn't care if John can breathe; all he wants is to use John's mouth. Strings of saliva run down John's chin and he winces because Rodney told him not to slobber and he can't, he's bad, he can't even do that right, and his hips are humping air wildly. It's so hot and good, he gasps when Rodney pulls back and takes him as deep as he can again.
If he could talk he'd be saying yes, yes, yes, over and over. Instead, John moans in almost mindless contentment around Rodney's cock, pressing his tongue up against thick vein underneath, reveling in the stretch of his mouth around it, the ache in his jaw, the heavy weight of it.
"I should video you like this," Rodney is saying. "Pretty mouth wrapped around my cock, so hard for it you're leaking all over my floor. You were born for this and nothing else. Would you like to see what you look like, Colonel? Would you like me to leave the file up on the city server so everyone could see their faggot commander on his knees?"
John is only half aware of the words, but the picture Rodney paints with them makes him cry out around Rodney's cock, hips jerking. No, no, no, he thinks, even when he gets harder in response to his own reaction to the possibility. If his cock was touching anything this second, he'd come like a shot, it's so hot in his head.
He clutches at Rodney in desperation instead, laving the head of his cock with his tongue, taking in just the head, using all the things he's learned Rodney likes, that he loves doing for Rodney, trying to concentrate on just that and get back to that perfect place where nothing else exists except the cock fill his mouth and completing him.
Re: Hamster Wheel 3/4, John/Rodney, humiliation, d/S
anonymous
September 11 2010, 05:28:38 UTC
He wants it to last forever, as long as possible, but the Rodney never lets him have his way on that unless they're both on the bed. He feels Rodney's cock stiffen further and his mind goes white and empty as he sucks harder. Rodney's hands are holding both sides of his jaw now, almost tender, and there's nothing, nothing, just hot thickness sliding in and out, in and out, John's hips rocking with it, his cock jerking with each stroke into his mouth -
Rodney comes down John's throat then pulls away to paint his face with the last long spurts. Come splashes his nose and cheeks, hits his chin and into his open mouth, landing on his tongue. He'll taste it later, won't brush his teeth just so he can run his tongue around his mouth and chase the lingering flavor when he's lying in his bed, and he'll wake up hard to the stale memory of it, grinding himself into his narrow monk's bed, until he bites his pillow and stains the sheets.
John comes with Rodney, hard spurts that shake him boneless, mind white with release, and curls over and braces himself on his hands as the last strings of his come spatter the floor between his knees.
He stays there, feeling like he's floating, until Rodney speaks.
"You made a mess all over my floor. Clean it up."
John tries to pull his head together enough to follow those orders, but Rodney's got a rolled up physic's journal in his hand and it smacks his ass as he starts to straighten up.
"All fours, Colonel. Only dogs make messes on the floor. You'll stay on your knees until you clean it up." Rodney pauses and John shivers helplessly, waiting, knowing something more is coming, because Rodney's is an imaginative bastard. "Clean it up like a dog. Use your tongue."
John almost breaks with that, because it's the damned floor, but he whines instead and ducks down, knowing how the position lifts his ass into the air and helplessly responding all over again. He licks his own come up, every drop, while Rodney watches him, and he's lost in it, nosing over the floor as if he were a dog, looking for more, when Rodney starts laughing.
"Jesus, Sheppard, you really love come, don't you?"
John freezes and realizes to his horror he really is half hard again.
"I tell you what," Rodney goes on. "I'm taking a shower, but I'm out of clean underwear. Go through my laundry hamper and find me the cleanest pair. Use your nose. See if you can do it without coming all over yourself and I'll fuck you afterward."
John scrambles his way over to the hamper, cock swinging in the air, already squirming inside with the fear he'll disgrace himself just from sniffing Rodney's boxers, imagining what Rodney will say.
Re: Hamster Wheel 3/4, John/Rodney, humiliation, d/S
anonymous
September 13 2010, 07:09:11 UTC
Rodney won't, but he knows that the idea he could and would is a helpless turn on for John. He can't reassure him without breaking the illusion. He can't be kind. For all of that, he doesn't hurt John or endanger him. Almost everything is happening in John's head, really.
If I look at it from another angle, it's sort of sad for Rodney, because he can never have a relationship with John, just John's kink.
Re: Hamster Wheel 3/4, John/Rodney, humiliation, d/S
anonymous
September 13 2010, 07:15:28 UTC
thingswithwings wrote this great meta for kink_bingo on DW: The Riches of Embarrassment. I was thinking about it the entire time I was writing this, thinking about how to make the humiliation aspect hot. But this went way dark because of John's damage.
Re: Hamster Wheel 3/4, John/Rodney, humiliation, d/S
anonymous
September 13 2010, 14:10:53 UTC
I was pleased, which doesn't necessarily mean you shouldn't invest in psychiatric care (or that I shouldn't).
No, but seriously, this was insanely hot, and now that I'm not on my phone and can say more.... Loved that you touched on the vicious circle aspect of humiliation, and that it was actual humiliation. I think an arrangement like this could be potentially dangerous IRL, but as a fantasy? Yeah, hot.
I'll second whoever else said that a Rodney POV would be awesome here - either as a sequel or as an alternative for this one. I kept thinking whether Rodney plays it out for Sheppard or whether he gets something out of it, too, and if so, what. (If he gets off on the power, or if he gets off on being humiliated himself - he is after all a consenting party here, or if he gets off on *John* being humiliated, etc)
At least, John tells himself Rodney doesn't know. His cock will twitch at just the thought that Rodney is doing it on purpose and then his ears will get hot and he'll excuse himself from whatever meeting or situation they're in, before the cycle really gets going.
Rodney always knows then, of course. The things he says to John afterward shouldn't be so arousing, wouldn't be for anyone who wasn't a hot, fucked-up mess like John. No one should want someone to treat them like Rodney treats John or say the things he says. Of course, that's part of it, the icing on the cake of his arousal-response cycle.
Rodney waits until after the mission this time to zero in on John's embarrassment. He always starts with words.
"You were half hard when Jen was giving you your exam. Of course, you looked ready to hump a hole in the ground back on Brelfla. Everyone saw you waving your ass around too. If that 'High Counselor' had put his hand on your ass instead of your back, you'd have bent over and begged for him to give you a good old Brelfla plowing."
"Not him," John whispers through gritted teeth. It hadn't been the High Counselor, it had been Rodney ordering him around, grabbing his collar and pulling him back once like he was a badly behaved dog, and then apologizing to the High Counselor for John's 'distraction'. He's not too bright, but what can you expect from a soldier? John spent the rest of the mission hard, and, god damn it, distracted, thanks to Rodney.
"Him, her, it," Rodney replies. "You beg for it."
They're in a public corridor, with other people, and there's a possibility that someone just heard Rodney say that. John clenches his fists and lengthens his stride. The things Rodney says come too close to the truth sometimes. Or are the truth, which is frightening and addictive both. He really needs to get back to his quarters, where he can shove his hands down his pants and touch himself without someone seeing.
The thought of someone seeing him do that, of not having enough control to stop himself, has his half-hard cock stiffening into an obvious bulge. If anyone looks, they'll see it. That makes it worse, makes him breathe harder, gets him even harder.
"You've got no control at all, do you?" Rodney asks conversationally as they make the turn to the residential quarters hallway. He grabs John's arm and jerks him, stumbling, past John's door to his. "Someone just looks at you and you pop a boner. Good thing you're not a girl or your pussy'd be wet all the time."
John swallows hard as they enter Rodney's rooms. When Rodney brings him here, it means John will have to get back to his own quarters later. Some day, Rodney's going to shove him out the door, still hard or come-stained, and someone is going to catch him.
The thought should scare him more, but he's already falling into the headspace where the idea just turns him on more.
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Rodney eyes him critically.
"Look at you, Colonel Sheppard, in your mission gear like you're fit to decide anything, do anything except service other men's dicks. Anyone can see through the act. You're just a cocksucker pretending to be in command."
It makes John shake. Rodney never hesitates to hit him where it really hurts, even if the blows are all verbal. He'll rip open every insecurity John has some nights. John will take it too, and thank him for it.
"It's a miracle the marines haven't given you what you really want, bent you over and fucked you stupid." Rodney laughed. "What am I saying? Stupider."
John flinches and groans.
"Of course, you'd like that, wouldn't you? Nothing but a hungry hole at both ends. Always hungry for it, aren't you, cockslut?" The worst part is not knowing if Rodney's disgust is real or not. John's afraid to ever ask. He needs this. He'd keep coming back for more even if Rodney's contempt is real. It might be even more addictive; he might cross the line he's balanced o so precariously for so long and fall into a space with no bottom.
He'd lose everything if he did, including all the other parts of himself that aren't tied in sexual knots.
But it's a humming siren song in his head, all the time, all the same.
There's a wet spot at the front of his fly now, where's he's leaking through the front of his shorts and the heavy fabric. His BDUs are loose and heavy enough that his erection isn't the obscene tent it makes when Rodney makes him wear nothing but a thin pair of track pants, but it's still obvious. He wonders if this will be one of the times Rodney makes him come in his pants. That always makes the walk back to his quarters fraught. His cock jerks and more precome squirts from the slit as he thinks of that. It's almost enough to push him over the edge and he has to grab himself through his pants and squeeze to keep from coming right there.
"All right, I can see you're going have another accident if I don't give you what you want," Rodney tells him. "I'm thinking of putting you in diapers. Or maybe next time we're on Earth, I'll make you go into a sex toy store and buy a cockcage for yourself. Something to lock up your dick, because it's an embarrassment to me and Teyla and Ronon, not to mention the US Air Force."
The memory of the exquisite humiliation of pissing his pants on P4R-900, when they were all tied up for two days, makes John cringe. It doesn't matter that everyone else on the team did too. He knows none of them jerk off over the experience. He presses his hand down on his erection and squirms at the sensation, mixing with the horrible (wonderful) idea of Rodney putting him in a diaper. It's sick to want it, but he knows if Rodney does put him in a diaper, Rodney will be damn sure to engineer a situation that makes John use it. Even the prospect of that shame is unbearably arousing.
"Down on your knees."
John's knees hurt when they hit the floor and the little shot of pain clears his head a little, backing off his orgasm. Thank God he doesn't have a pain kink too or it might go the other way. He knows he's given away how eager he is, of course, but it's not like Rodney isn't aware anyway.
"Come here," Rodney orders. He perches his ass on the edge of his desk and stands with his legs braced wide. There's a promising bulge at his crotch. "All fours."
John crawls over to him, his cock swinging and rubbing inside his shorts, more precome dribbling from it, the weight of his equipment belt pulling the back of his BDUs down enough he feels cool air on the sweaty skin of the small of his back. He comes to stop with his hands still on the floor, only lifting his head, panting from the sensations. He's leaning forward as much as he can on all fours, shaking from his hunger to get closer and get what he needs.
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He shoves his thumb into John's mouth and John closes his eyes and sucks on it desperately. It isn't Rodney's cock, but the way Rodney pushes it in and out of John's mouth is blatantly sexual. It's true, what Rodney's says. John loves to suck things. Thumbs, fingers, nipples, toes, dildos. He loves having his mouth so full he can't talk and can barely breathe. He gets off on being gagged; it's the stretch and the helplessness and the relief of not needing to try to talk about anything. He'll kneel between Rodney's knees and suckle on his cock, hard or soft, for as long as Rodney will let him. He can never get enough.
"Go on, beg for it. Tell me how much you want it. Say please."
John sucks on Rodney's thumb another moment, before reluctantly letting it go. Words are always the worst. Words are actively admitting all the things Rodney says he is. Sometimes, he tries to imagine refusing, leaving rather than abasing himself, but he knows he never will. The aching urgency of his erection is too much and he can't deny his desires. He wants it all the time, a hollow ache to give himself up, to let someone punish him and take care of him. Wants to spend his days and nights on his knees, with everyone seeing and knowing just exactly what he is, nuzzle his nose against Rodney's balls and hide his flaming face there while kneeling in the middle of the gate room. Wants to be Rodney's lightswitch and belong only to him, to curl up at his feet in the lab until Rodney pulls him up and bends him over a counter to fuck him and fill him and hold onto him forever.
Despite himself, the words Rodney wants pour out.
"Please, let me suck you. I'm nothing, I don't matter, I'll make it so good for you, you can fuck my face, choke me, I don't care, I just need it. So much, so much, please, I've got to, please, your cock's so good, it's - " It fills me up, it makes everything else go away, it makes me into a hole, into nothing, no thinking, no worrying, safe, safe and good, a good boy -
Rodney catches his hair and pulls him up by it, until John's mouth is on level with his fly. God, he wants it. He wants it so much his mouth is watering. John's ashamed of wanting cock, ashamed of wanting it so much, and ashamed of being ashamed of all that. It spirals back on itself in his head, it goes straight to his balls and makes them draw up tight and heavy; it flushes his whole body hot, all that want and self-consciousness and need. The more humiliated he is the harder he gets and knowing that he's aroused, that this arouses him, feeds the shame that turns him on. It a vicious circle of reactions.
He thinks he can smell Rodney and whimpers. "Please, please, let me - "
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"You do anything for it, wouldn't you?"
John nods desperately. "Please?"
"Go ahead and take your cock out, John," Rodney instructs him. He doesn't let go of John's hair, though, so John's unbuckling and opening his pants blind, fumbling in his hurry, afraid that his own touch on his erection is going to set him off. He starts to push his pants down and Rodney tsks at him.
"Don't you listen? Can't even follow a simple instruction. Did I tell you to take off your pants? I said take your cock out."
John feels his face flood with more heat. Hanging his cock out of his pants is somehow worse than being naked. It's wrong and bad; truths drilled into him when he was still a child. His mother told him that. Pants are for covering up his junk and sticking his cock out makes him a dirty, bad boy. Feeling dirty is the point, of course, that's why Rodney's making him do it, so he does as he's told.
He manages it without bringing himself off, though he gasps and tenses his entire body fighting the orgasm off.
Rodney sneers and lets go.
"Suck me off," he says. "And try not to slobber so much this time."
John opens Rodney's pants much more carefully than he did his own. He peels open the fly and pulls them down to Rodney's thighs, then lifts the waistband of Rodney's boxers carefully clear of his dick to pull them down too. Rodney doesn't like it rough.
Rodney's cock is thick and already hard, flushed a deep pink, almost purple. John takes it in gratefully. His eyes slide shut unconsciously and he wraps his arms around Rodney's thighs. It's thick and full and the precome tastes of musk and skin salt. He can never, ever get enough of that taste. This is perfect, this is what he wants all the time, though he can never admit it. Just like this, down on his knees, listening to Rodney call him a faggot and cocksucker and slut and only hearing the 'my' in front of all of them.
He chokes as Rodney shoves his cock all the way down his throat. Rodney doesn't care if John can breathe; all he wants is to use John's mouth. Strings of saliva run down John's chin and he winces because Rodney told him not to slobber and he can't, he's bad, he can't even do that right, and his hips are humping air wildly. It's so hot and good, he gasps when Rodney pulls back and takes him as deep as he can again.
If he could talk he'd be saying yes, yes, yes, over and over. Instead, John moans in almost mindless contentment around Rodney's cock, pressing his tongue up against thick vein underneath, reveling in the stretch of his mouth around it, the ache in his jaw, the heavy weight of it.
"I should video you like this," Rodney is saying. "Pretty mouth wrapped around my cock, so hard for it you're leaking all over my floor. You were born for this and nothing else. Would you like to see what you look like, Colonel? Would you like me to leave the file up on the city server so everyone could see their faggot commander on his knees?"
John is only half aware of the words, but the picture Rodney paints with them makes him cry out around Rodney's cock, hips jerking. No, no, no, he thinks, even when he gets harder in response to his own reaction to the possibility. If his cock was touching anything this second, he'd come like a shot, it's so hot in his head.
He clutches at Rodney in desperation instead, laving the head of his cock with his tongue, taking in just the head, using all the things he's learned Rodney likes, that he loves doing for Rodney, trying to concentrate on just that and get back to that perfect place where nothing else exists except the cock fill his mouth and completing him.
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Rodney comes down John's throat then pulls away to paint his face with the last long spurts. Come splashes his nose and cheeks, hits his chin and into his open mouth, landing on his tongue. He'll taste it later, won't brush his teeth just so he can run his tongue around his mouth and chase the lingering flavor when he's lying in his bed, and he'll wake up hard to the stale memory of it, grinding himself into his narrow monk's bed, until he bites his pillow and stains the sheets.
John comes with Rodney, hard spurts that shake him boneless, mind white with release, and curls over and braces himself on his hands as the last strings of his come spatter the floor between his knees.
He stays there, feeling like he's floating, until Rodney speaks.
"You made a mess all over my floor. Clean it up."
John tries to pull his head together enough to follow those orders, but Rodney's got a rolled up physic's journal in his hand and it smacks his ass as he starts to straighten up.
"All fours, Colonel. Only dogs make messes on the floor. You'll stay on your knees until you clean it up." Rodney pauses and John shivers helplessly, waiting, knowing something more is coming, because Rodney's is an imaginative bastard. "Clean it up like a dog. Use your tongue."
John almost breaks with that, because it's the damned floor, but he whines instead and ducks down, knowing how the position lifts his ass into the air and helplessly responding all over again. He licks his own come up, every drop, while Rodney watches him, and he's lost in it, nosing over the floor as if he were a dog, looking for more, when Rodney starts laughing.
"Jesus, Sheppard, you really love come, don't you?"
John freezes and realizes to his horror he really is half hard again.
"I tell you what," Rodney goes on. "I'm taking a shower, but I'm out of clean underwear. Go through my laundry hamper and find me the cleanest pair. Use your nose. See if you can do it without coming all over yourself and I'll fuck you afterward."
John scrambles his way over to the hamper, cock swinging in the air, already squirming inside with the fear he'll disgrace himself just from sniffing Rodney's boxers, imagining what Rodney will say.
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If I look at it from another angle, it's sort of sad for Rodney, because he can never have a relationship with John, just John's kink.
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No, but seriously, this was insanely hot, and now that I'm not on my phone and can say more.... Loved that you touched on the vicious circle aspect of humiliation, and that it was actual humiliation. I think an arrangement like this could be potentially dangerous IRL, but as a fantasy? Yeah, hot.
I'll second whoever else said that a Rodney POV would be awesome here - either as a sequel or as an alternative for this one. I kept thinking whether Rodney plays it out for Sheppard or whether he gets something out of it, too, and if so, what. (If he gets off on the power, or if he gets off on being humiliated himself - he is after all a consenting party here, or if he gets off on *John* being humiliated, etc)
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