McKay/Sheppard pornlet for your Tuesday evening
So, between all the comment porn and general silliness, you practically have to give a fic's pedigree anymore. This was inspired by a pic in one of mmmchelle's icons, which we then discussed over here in advent_atlantis. bluestarmuse made another lovely icon, which I'm hoping she'll share with y'all.
I believe the original pic is from reedfem's collection.
Oh, and no spoilers of any kind. Because really, this has no redeeming value plot whatsoever.
Coming awake was a slow process for once: the growing, aching need for caffeine, the pressing annoyance of his bladder, the satisfaction of increasing cognizance as his thoughts left behind the bizarre world of dreams, all pushing him to wake. The warmth of a solid body along his side, soft skin next to his, a muscled thigh snug against his ready erection; those were an even stronger call.
Oh yeah, this was the way to wake up. Rodney smiled before he even opened his eyes-he was really, really looking forward to a morning where they didn't have to race off to a briefing, when he didn't have to get to the lab before a bunch of incompetents blew something up because he wasn't there to look over their shoulders. After the idiotic emergency last night, Elizabeth had ordered everyone to take the morning off. Before, he would have ignored her and snuck into his lab to enjoy working in peace.
Before.
Now, he simply propped his head on his hand and stared at John, who for once hadn't woken before Rodney. John was face down, never mind how many times Rodney had told him the position was bad for his neck, his head turned away, mouth slightly open, dark lashes curving over his cheek. Dark hair curling against the back of his neck, the lean, muscled length of his back, the pert rise of his ass covered by the white briefs. Rodney grinned. John hated briefs, but that's what the SGC had resupplied them with. Rodney loved the way they clung to John's ass, showing off his round cheeks that were usually hidden by his bulky clothes. John would roll his eyes and strip whenever he caught Rodney checking him out, which wasn't a bad compromise, really, but last night they'd both been too tired to bother with getting completely undressed. So now, he had a perfect view.
Except Rodney had never been content with watching when he could be doing.
He had to lean forward, breathe in the scent of John's skin, and then he couldn't help but nip at John's shoulder. Just a little, a small, mouthing touch that let him taste salt. John didn't stir. Rodney stroked his hand over John's lats, not so soft it would tickle, and then cupped his cloth-covered ass.
John's legs parted ever so slightly. The big faker. Rodney just barely kept from snickering, anticipation holding his amusement in check. He squeezed, enjoying the feel of soft knit over flesh. He let go and moved on, down, sliding his hand between John's legs-which obligingly parted farther-and brushed his fingers over the swell of John's balls. He felt the hitch of John's breath in the sudden rush of his rib cage. Rodney played a little, stroking with one finger, moving back up to press against the sweet spot, then let his hand drift across the top of John's thigh.
John whimpered. Rodney slid his elbow back so he could get closer, pushing his cock against John as he bit John's shoulder. John squirmed against the bed. Slowly, Rodney ran his hand down John's spine, then he turned his hand and slipped under the waistband of John's briefs. He caught the elastic against his wrist and forced them down as he slid his fingers between John's cheeks. John shifted, bringing both arms up under his head, and Rodney slipped the first finger in once he settled. John's eyelashes fluttered.
Rodney pressed in farther. The position was awkward, but he couldn't beat the view. John's ass was framed by the stretched cloth and Rodney's hand. He ground his cock into John as he pushed another finger in. John was panting now, his hips starting to move, small undulations. He tried to press his fingers forward, and apparently he got it right because John cried out and started thrusting against the bed.
He worked his fingers a little, sliding and pushing, but mostly he let John do the work as he watched. John was whimpering, pushing himself up on his hands so he could push back with his hips. It was amazing. Rodney scooted down the bed a little more so he could get a better angle.
"Rodney," John panted.
He looked back down at his hand, practically disappearing into John's ass as John thrust and moaned. He wiggled his fingers, and that was it. John threw his head back and grunted, his arms locked and back arched, muscles clenching around Rodney's fingers as he came.
Finally John relaxed, slumping forward into his pillow, and Rodney pulled his hand free. His right arm was practically asleep and his cock was very, very impatient. John rolled over, his face reddened on one side from the pillow, and smiled a very dirty smile.
Rodney really, really loved mornings off.
I believe the original pic is from reedfem's collection.
Oh, and no spoilers of any kind. Because really, this has no redeeming value plot whatsoever.
Coming awake was a slow process for once: the growing, aching need for caffeine, the pressing annoyance of his bladder, the satisfaction of increasing cognizance as his thoughts left behind the bizarre world of dreams, all pushing him to wake. The warmth of a solid body along his side, soft skin next to his, a muscled thigh snug against his ready erection; those were an even stronger call.
Oh yeah, this was the way to wake up. Rodney smiled before he even opened his eyes-he was really, really looking forward to a morning where they didn't have to race off to a briefing, when he didn't have to get to the lab before a bunch of incompetents blew something up because he wasn't there to look over their shoulders. After the idiotic emergency last night, Elizabeth had ordered everyone to take the morning off. Before, he would have ignored her and snuck into his lab to enjoy working in peace.
Before.
Now, he simply propped his head on his hand and stared at John, who for once hadn't woken before Rodney. John was face down, never mind how many times Rodney had told him the position was bad for his neck, his head turned away, mouth slightly open, dark lashes curving over his cheek. Dark hair curling against the back of his neck, the lean, muscled length of his back, the pert rise of his ass covered by the white briefs. Rodney grinned. John hated briefs, but that's what the SGC had resupplied them with. Rodney loved the way they clung to John's ass, showing off his round cheeks that were usually hidden by his bulky clothes. John would roll his eyes and strip whenever he caught Rodney checking him out, which wasn't a bad compromise, really, but last night they'd both been too tired to bother with getting completely undressed. So now, he had a perfect view.
Except Rodney had never been content with watching when he could be doing.
He had to lean forward, breathe in the scent of John's skin, and then he couldn't help but nip at John's shoulder. Just a little, a small, mouthing touch that let him taste salt. John didn't stir. Rodney stroked his hand over John's lats, not so soft it would tickle, and then cupped his cloth-covered ass.
John's legs parted ever so slightly. The big faker. Rodney just barely kept from snickering, anticipation holding his amusement in check. He squeezed, enjoying the feel of soft knit over flesh. He let go and moved on, down, sliding his hand between John's legs-which obligingly parted farther-and brushed his fingers over the swell of John's balls. He felt the hitch of John's breath in the sudden rush of his rib cage. Rodney played a little, stroking with one finger, moving back up to press against the sweet spot, then let his hand drift across the top of John's thigh.
John whimpered. Rodney slid his elbow back so he could get closer, pushing his cock against John as he bit John's shoulder. John squirmed against the bed. Slowly, Rodney ran his hand down John's spine, then he turned his hand and slipped under the waistband of John's briefs. He caught the elastic against his wrist and forced them down as he slid his fingers between John's cheeks. John shifted, bringing both arms up under his head, and Rodney slipped the first finger in once he settled. John's eyelashes fluttered.
Rodney pressed in farther. The position was awkward, but he couldn't beat the view. John's ass was framed by the stretched cloth and Rodney's hand. He ground his cock into John as he pushed another finger in. John was panting now, his hips starting to move, small undulations. He tried to press his fingers forward, and apparently he got it right because John cried out and started thrusting against the bed.
He worked his fingers a little, sliding and pushing, but mostly he let John do the work as he watched. John was whimpering, pushing himself up on his hands so he could push back with his hips. It was amazing. Rodney scooted down the bed a little more so he could get a better angle.
"Rodney," John panted.
He looked back down at his hand, practically disappearing into John's ass as John thrust and moaned. He wiggled his fingers, and that was it. John threw his head back and grunted, his arms locked and back arched, muscles clenching around Rodney's fingers as he came.
Finally John relaxed, slumping forward into his pillow, and Rodney pulled his hand free. His right arm was practically asleep and his cock was very, very impatient. John rolled over, his face reddened on one side from the pillow, and smiled a very dirty smile.
Rodney really, really loved mornings off.