Whoo: Orgy fic!
For 14valentines Day 4: Body Image.
Title: Crawling Out from the Inside
Rating: NC-17 (for, uh, porn)
Pairing: John/Rodney, Rodney/Ronon, OT4
Words: ~5400
A/N: Huge thanks for janne_d for making the right noises in the right places.
A/N 2: This is also for bluebrocade who (once upon a time) asked for "Rodney/Ronon, the day John finds out" because she is evil!
Another planet, another kinky sex ritual. The fact that John’s now in a position to think that makes him wonder exactly what sort of karma he built up in a past life.
The Carshal people are friendly; they don’t have anything as exciting as a power source to trade, they don’t even have coffee, but they do have some nice wine and a near-endless supply of a sweet, juicy, non-citrus fruit apparently packed with vitamin C.
It’s become routine now, the priest/priestess/mayor/village idiot says “sex ritual” and John and Rodney begin to strip.
Except.
This time, just as John is unzipping his shirt, Rodney puts his hand over John’s.
“Uh, Colonel,” he says. “Wait.”
John looks up, surprised. He knows Rodney wants this fruit (there was something about scurvy, John hadn’t really been listening) and he usually jumps at the chance for some alien-endorsed sex, as long as it doesn’t involve pain, tentacles or embarrassment.
“Rodney?” he asks and tries to will his erection down.
“Do you, uh. Don’t you. Uh, that is, I think it might be Ronon’s turn.”
John glances to the corner of the tent they’ve been assigned, where the rest of their team stands. Ronon’s arms are folded and under his stoic warrior expression (the one John always tries for and misses) he looks pretty pissed.
“Rodney.” John drops his voice. “We can’t ask Teyla to take one for the team; we agreed, remember?”
Rodney nods once, jerkily; it’s hard to see in the dim sun light coming though the canvas, but John thinks he’s probably blushing. “I didn’t mean that,” he says. “I meant, uh, me. Me and Ronon. This time.” He swallows visibly. “Every time from now on.”
John frowns at him, confused and possibly slightly hurt though he won’t admit to that. Then Rodney’s embarrassment, Ronon’s anger, and John’s exclusion, plus the carefully blank look on Teyla’s face all click together.
“Oh,” he says. It comes out too quiet, shocked, and he clears his throat, annoyed with himself. “Oh,” he says again heartily. “Good. Uh, fine. Cool, yes, that’s cool.”
“Colonel?” Rodney asks tentatively.
“Have fun, Rodney,” John says and walks out of the tent. It’s fine, he tells himself, he doesn’t care; so what if Rodney and Ronon are apparently possibly screwing. As long as they’re happy. But the thought feels so hollow, rattling around in the suddenly empty spaces of his head, that he can’t even convince himself.
John can’t avoid the ceremony, what with it being proof of their reliability and all, so he sits cross legged on the mat beside Teyla, looks at the toes of his boots, and listens to the porn noises of Rodney giving Ronon head. John’s dick is jealous; it knows how good Rodney is at that.
His brain is a seething mass of red and white and black, jealousy, arousal and anger by the end, so he misses the climax (and he really, really wishes he could think of a different word) of the performance, but they get a standing ovation from the kinky aliens, so he guesses it must have been good. He and Rodney used to be pretty popular too, but he doesn’t even try to convince himself that’s where the jealous comes from.
After the ceremony, Rodney and Ronon go back to the tent to clean up.
John gives them ten minutes, then walks into the tent.
They’re kissing.
Ronon has to lean down to reach Rodney, the back of his neck bent and exposed and rich, caramel brown. His hands are tangled in Rodney’s hair, big but not clumsy. And Rodney, Rodney’s eyes are closed and his hands are curled around Ronon’s biceps, he looks content in a way John has never seen. John’s stomach aches.
John thinks he’s been stealthy, but Ronon’s eyes open, focusing on him. He draws back, but slowly, in a series of small kisses, eyes still locked on John’s. “Sheppard,” he says when he and Rodney pull apart.
Rodney makes a small, surprised noise and spins around. His lips are red and shiny.
“Colonel,” he says, his expression guilty. Horny and guilty.
“Sorry,” John says automatically. “We’re about ready to leave. Teyla’s just finishing up negotiations; they’re giving us double what we bargained for, seems they kinda liked your show.”
“I’ll help Teyla load up,” Ronon announces. He squeezes Rodney’s shoulder and leaves.
“Uh,” Rodney says when it’s just the two of them.
John turns away. “Don’t.”
But Rodney grabs his arm and turns him back around. John thinks of those hands on Ronon and shivers.
“I need… I should…” Rodney’s chin comes up. “No,” he says frowning, “I shouldn’t. You and I were never together; we had sex for the gratification of kinky natives, nothing more. I was free to start sleeping with whoever I liked and I’m not sorry.”
His expression is fierce, but there’s still doubt, a little bit of worry, underneath.
John shakes his head; he’s suddenly very tired. “Yeah, Rodney, sure. It’s cool.”
This time, Rodney doesn’t try to stop him leaving.
Back on Atlantis, it’s late. Elizabeth welcomes them home, exclaims over the trade, doesn’t ask too many questions and sends them off to rest.
Lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, John’s not surprised that he can’t sleep. He likes sex, of course he does he’s breathing, but he rarely misses it when it’s not on offer and he almost never seeks it out. He was content - he was happy - with what they were doing. He thought it was their thing, like Kevin Ash the quarterback at high school who used to blow him in the shower after a big win and Peter Dirk at the Academy who’d fuck him after lights-out but only if the guys next door were going to be out all night.
He’d thought this was convenient, a way to get what he wanted without talking about it. Or admitting he wanted it. It hadn’t occurred to him that Rodney might not feel the same way.
Normally, when John can’t sleep, he goes to Rodney’s lab, plays lab monkey for a while and either falls asleep at a desk or lets Rodney poke him into going back to bed.
Now though, even though he knows the chances of Ronon being in the labs are slim to none, he can’t make himself go because he knows now; he knows that wasn’t something they do for the reasons he’d thought they did them.
Instead he goes to Teyla’s room.
“John?” she says, after she’s let him in. “Are you all right?”
He looks at her, standing in the middle of her room, wearing pyjamas and a frown. And he realises with a sick sort of inevitability what he came here for. “Uh,” he says eloquently.
“John?” Teyla steps closer, looking worried. John feels like a heel, like a… like something worse than that. Like the sort of man he never wanted to become. Abruptly, her worried look fades and her eyes widen. Shit.
“Oh.” She’s blushing, very faintly, and he’s never seen her do that before. She clears her throat. “I am sorry John, but that is not appropriate.”
He looks down at the floor, moves to scuff his boots on the carpet and realises he came here barefoot. He’s so very screwed up. “I’m sorry.” He forces himself to look up. “I really am, Teyla. I’ll go.”
He turns to the door but she stops him with a hand on his arm. “It is not that I am not flattered,” she says, and her smile’s so kind he wants to punch himself in the mouth. “But it is not me you want.”
John opens his mouth to protest, because maybe that’s true, but it’s not as if he hasn’t wanted her. But again she cuts him off. “Or, at least I am not the only one.”
He sighs, shakes his head. This isn’t somewhere he can go. “Night, Teyla.”
As he thinks the door shut behind him, he thinks he sees her expression turn thoughtful. But he’s half way down the corridor before it occurs to him to worry about it.
John can’t face going back to his room, so he just ducks in long enough to grab some shoes and goes for a run. Running’s usually great for clearing his head, the rhythmic pounding of his feet on Atlantis’s metal gangways hypnotic enough to knock everything else from his mind. Except running reminds him of Ronon. And Ronon reminds him of things he doesn’t want to think about.
He gives up after twenty minutes, coming to rest on the first out of the way balcony he finds and slumping against the railing, staring into the inky black of the ocean at night and telling himself to get a grip, that this is totally his fault and he should suck it up and stop feeling sorry for himself.
After another five minutes of pity partying, his radio bleeps and Rodney’s voice says, “Colonel?”
John misses telephones; you can ignore them. “Yeah, McKay?”
“Can you come to my quarters; I need to discuss something with you.”
Oh hell no. “Anyone dying?”
A pause then: “Well, no, but…”
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Sheppard out.” He pulls his radio out of his ear and drops it into his pocket. Atlantis will make sure he hears any emergency calls and he really can’t cope with anything else tonight. He feels a little bit like a bastard, and also a lot like a sulky teenager, but he reckons that’s better than seeing Rodney right at this moment; he can’t guarantee what he might do.
He drags himself back to his room and into the shower. He’s been under the spray for ten blissful minutes in which he has finally managed to drown out the voices in his head with the constant pounding of hot water, when he hears his door chime.
John really wants to ignore it, but he can’t, so he wraps a towel around his waist and steps into the main room, thinking the door open as he goes. Ronon’s standing there, arms crossed, looking pissed again.
“McKay’s been calling you,” he says, coming into the room. “Had to stop him waking Lorne to check you were alive.”
It hurts, on some level John’s only just discovering he has and would like to get rid of as soon as possible, that Rodney didn’t come himself. “Shouldn’t you be calling him Rodney?” he asks instead, because as conversations go it’s a much safer one.
Ronon frowns. “Why?”
John fumbles at that. Because you’re fucking doesn’t seem quite right somehow, especially as he and Rodney have had a lot of sex and Rodney’s never once called him John. Which totally doesn’t bug him. At all. “Because…” he says then gives up.
Ronon just lifts an eyebrow, his expression suggests that maybe he’s reconsidering how cool John is and not coming up in John’s favour. He tips his head toward the door. “Come on.”
“Where?” John asks cautiously.
The other eyebrow lifts; John can admit to himself that he’s maybe a little bit intimidated.
“Okay, okay. Can I get dressed first?”
Ronon’s eyes travel slowly down John’s body and John feels himself flush. He wants to cover his chest, to run into the bathroom, to thoroughly embarrass himself by acting like his maiden aunt, but at the same time he feels his cock twitch, his nipples tighten. He’s always known Ronon was hot, any one with eyes knows that, but he never really let himself see how damn sexy he is. Go, Rodney, he thinks wryly.
“Sure,” Ronon says when his eyes finally make it back up to John’s face. He turns his back, giving John privacy to get dressed and John shakes his head to himself; he will never understand this guy.
It turns out Ronon is taking him to Rodney’s quarters, which isn’t that surprising. What is surprising is what he sees when the door opens.
He sees Rodney and he sees Teyla. He sees them both, red faced and breathless, striped down to their underwear and making out on Rodney’s bed; long, soft kisses that are making them both gasp.
John steps back so fast he smacks his head on the door which has closed behind him. “Thanks,” he says to Ronon. “My bad day has officially gotten worse.”
When she notices them, Teyla sits up and smiles. There’s a golden flush about her that he’s only seen in the gym before. “John,” she says. “Welcome.”
Rodney sits up too, but slower. He pulls his knees up in front of himself as if it weren’t still perfectly obvious that he’s hard. He nods his head at John. “Colonel.” Like they’ve met in the mess.
“What’s this?” John asks, even as his heart begins to race.
Teyla rolls gracefully off the bed and comes towards him, hands out and smiling. “We would like you to join us, if you wish.”
John rubs the back of his neck and tries not to stare at her breasts. “How’d you get in on this?”
She smiles. “After your visit earlier, a possible solution occurred to me and when I suggested it to Rodney and Ronon, they were quite keen.” The slightly wicked curve to her smile suggests quite keen might be an understatement.
“Huh,” John says. On the bed, Rodney rolls his eyes, but John ignores him; he never claimed to be eloquent. He jumps when he feels hands on his shoulders, big, wide hands.
“In or out?” Ronon asks, voice low and gravelly in his ear.
This is probably a bad idea. This is probably one of the worst ideas he’s ever had, but he’s being offered something huge here, and he doesn’t want to spend his life wondering what if.
“I-In,” he says and has to clear his throat.
“Good.” Ronon’s hands travel down his back to his waist, sliding under his t-shirt, and pulling it up and off. John shivers in the cold air, then shivers harder when Ronon’s mouth latches onto his neck, alternatively sucking and biting.
John groans, relaxing into the touch. But when he drops his head back against Ronon’s shoulder, Ronon stops. “Hey!” John complains, struggling to keep his balance.
Ronon steps around him and grins, looking very self-satisfied. He grips John’s hair and tilts his head, kissing him fast and hard.
“God,” John groans, when Ronon again steps away just as fast as he started. “You trying to kill me?”
Ronon smirks at him. “That’s plan B,” he says. “Thought we’d try this first.” John is almost certain he’s kidding, but he’s still blinking stupidly when Ronon releases him and goes to the bed, dropping down beside Rodney and giving him a friendly sort of kiss. John doesn’t think he and Rodney could ever do that; they’re surprisingly, dirtily hot together, nothing friendly about it at all.
“John.” Teyla’s voice is soft. He turns and finds her smiling at him from about three feet away. She reaches out to touch his shoulders and he steps into place automatically. Their foreheads touch and she holds him still, maintaining the contact for longer than they normally do. John knows the gesture has deeper meanings than hi, he guesses this must be one of them.
“You guys have a head-bob thing for sex, too?”
She makes that face that suggests she’d be rolling her eyes if she weren’t so polite. “Among my people, the sharing of sexual intimacy is the greatest gift two people can give.”
What about four people? he doesn’t ask, because Teyla’s patience has a three strikes rule.
He clears his throat. “That’s, uh, that’s nice, Teyla.”
“Yes,” she says. “This however is not.” And she takes his hand, does something he has no hope of ever learning and he finds himself on his back on the bed, gasping up at the ceiling.
Rodney’s face swims into focus above him.
“Hey,” John says.
“Hi.” Rodney doesn’t even try to keep the grin off his face. Bastard. “I think this is going to be even better than I thought.”
John opens his mouth to snap something back, but then Ronon crawls over him and there are hands on the waistband of his pants, unbuttoning and pulling them down. One hand on the small of his back urging his hips up and then he’s naked, still spread-eagled and surrounded by his semi-dressed team.
“Guys?” he says, wondering what’s allowed.
They ignore him.
“What is this?” John asks; it’s getting harder to concentrate on speaking. “Some kind of… pity orgy?”
Rodney snorts. “Yes, Colonel. A pity orgy. Because they’re so common.”
John wants to argue, wants to get some answers, but Rodney lifts his hand. John tenses, excepting a hand over his mouth and not sure if he could put up with that, but either Rodney reads him or he knows him, and it’s only a thumb that brushes over his lips.
“Shush, Colonel,” Rodney tells him, catching John’s hands and pressing them down on the bed above his head. John writhes automatically, but Rodney’s fingers on his wrists convince him that moving is maybe a little overrated. “Let them play.”
John looks down the length of his body, just in time to see Ronon lean forward over his crotch, a gleam in his eyes that can only be described as wicked and then John’s eyes are rolling back and he sees nothing at all for a second as Ronon’s mouth - wide, wet, hot - stretches around the head of his cock. Lips tight, Ronon looks up at him, expression hot and teasing.
God but, John wants to reach down and pet his hair, wants to run his fingers over Ronon’s hollowed cheeks where John can see the twin bulges of his cock pressed against them. John needs to touch during sex, only gets to touch during sex, and he pulls hard against Rodney hands, hearing himself make embarrassing sounding whines when Rodney holds him firm.
Then: “John.” Teyla’s voice, soft in his ear. “John relax. It is all right. We can do this all night if you wish.”
It’s a nice idea, but Ronon does something with his tongue and the lip of John’s dick and John worries he’s not going to last all minute let alone all night. “Oh, God,” he grunts out.
He hovers on the brink of coming, but he needs something more, something to touch and hold on to. He wrenches one hand from Rodney’s grip and reaches out, sighing when he finds the first touch of skin. It’s Teyla’s arm and she smiles at him, kisses his neck, moving down to lick his nipples when he swears. It’s nice, it’s really nice, but he needs... he reaches out again, frustrated when Teyla catches his hand, then grateful when she guides it to Rodney’s shoulder for him. Relieved, John pulls Rodney down into a kiss.
At the first touch of Rodney’s tongue, John’s hips arch and his mind goes numb as he comes with all three of their mouths on him, and Ronon, fuck that’s hot, Ronon swallows it all down.
When John feels alive again, Rodney is peering down at him looking incredibly smug. “Yep,” he says, “I get that whenever I want it.”
John wants to tell him that smug is not sexy, but in Rodney’s case that would be a lie. So he just smiles instead, feeling good and dopey and Rodney rolls his eyes.
Ronon’s moving back up the bed; he looks like a huge, naked lion, skin slick with sweat, hair falling into his face, cock hard and smoothly curved against his flat belly. John isn’t sure when he got naked, but he definitely approves. Now, if only Rodney and Teyla will do the same.
As if she’s read his mind (and since the thing with the Wraith he doesn’t talk about John has never been totally certain that she can’t), Teyla pushes herself up from where she was curled at John’s side. But instead of getting commendably naked, she reaches for John, urging him to move towards her. Confused, he looks back at Rodney and Ronon and, oh.
They’re on their knees, facing each other, and Rodney is hurriedly shedding his clothes. Ronon’s hands are running all over him, trying to help, showing the same sort of careful possessiveness that John had seen when he’d caught them kissing in the kinky sex tent.
John follows Teyla across the bed (and when did Rodney get such a huge bed anyway? John’s is only just wide enough to roll over in) and lets her push him down onto his side, facing Ronon and Rodney, who are both naked now, stretched out with Rodney on top, kissing like they’ve lost themselves in each others’ mouths.
Teyla lowers herself down to the bed beside John, positioning so he can spoon up behind her. The skin on her back is soft and smooth and a little sweaty where it presses against his chest. He leans over her shoulder and sees her eyes are locked on Rodney and Ronon, her dark pink lips caught between her teeth as she watches them kiss. She’s so sensual, John should have guessed she’d be into this, but he never had.
He runs his tongue around the shell of her ear, thrilled and weirdly satisfied when she gasps. Telya’s always so restrained, so self controlled, he’s amazed all over again to be a part of this.
“John,” she says through her teeth, hips swaying gently, pushing her ass into his lap.
“Want something?” he teases.
In response, she hooks an arm behind her back, inadvertently or maybe not pulling sharply on a few strands of his chest hair, and flicks her bra open. It’s instinctive for John to reach up under the loosened cotton and cup his hand over her closest breast. She sighs and tips her head back. Encouraged, he rubs his thumb along the length of her breast, from armpit to nipple, pinching and twisting lightly, then harder when she moans, before repeating the action.
She’s all manner of hot and okay, yes, John can admit in the privacy of his own head that he prefers guys, has always preferred guys, but he’s wanted to touch Teyla’s breasts pretty much since the first time he met her and for that he’s willing to explore the lower Kinsey numbers. He nuzzles against her throat and bites gently against her pulse point. He’s glad she’s here, that she’s part of it. He understands that this all started for him, he’s incredibly humbled by that, but he doesn’t think he could have gone through with it if it had just been him and Rodney and Ronon. That really would have felt too much like a pity fuck. This feels like Team.
In front of them on the bed, Ronon and Rodney have been busy while John was distracted by the wonders of Teyla’s breasts. Lube has been gotten from somewhere; it’s lying uncapped and sticky up by the pillows and lust hits John in the guts as he watches three of Rodney’s fingers disappear into Ronon. He’d been wrong before, seeing this is what’s humbling. He’d never thought to see Ronon like this, laid open and vulnerable, he hadn’t known he was trusted that much.
Ronon’s legs are long and muscular, John’s known that for a long time. He hadn’t known they’d be covered in soft-looking dark hairs or traversed with scars. Rodney puts his hands on Ronon’s knees and Ronon parts his legs further willingly, and there’s something else John hadn’t known, would never have guessed. Ronon’s inner thighs are smooth, a long expanse of paler, unmarred skin, and Rodney’s hands are pale and possessive as he skims his palms up and down.
“Ready?” Rodney asks and John recognises that voice, it’s Rodney’s oh God, oh God, I’m going to die right now if I don’t get to fuck you voice.
Ronon grunts and Rodney obviously knows that to be a yes because then he’s pushing inside Ronon, one long slide until his balls and belly are bracketed by Ronon’s hips, Ronon’s long, long legs tight around his waist.
Rodney draws back slowly and thrusts forward, picking up a steady rhythm, not too slow but slower that John normally likes. Their gasps are mirrored by Teyla, and that’s when John realises two things: one, he’s hard again, very hard and two, Teyla’s hand is in her panties, moving in a way that sends blood to John’s cock and his face simultaneously.
He reaches down, feeling the soft scratch of her pubic hair against his palm and overwhelmed again by the intimacy of this, of everything to do with sex with girls, and covers her hand with his own. “How about you let me take over?” he asks, aiming for casual and missing.
“Yes.” Her voice is tight and needy. “Yes, that would be appreciated.”
He slips his fingers into her, taking on the same rhythm as Rodney and Ronon, and he can’t help it when his hips pick up the same slow and easy roll. He doesn’t know how much of a commitment Teyla is willing to make to this, would rather cut out his eyes than ask, and he’s fine with this anyway; the crease of her ass and the space between her thighs makes a perfect place, warm, sweat-slick, tight, for him to thrust into.
John feels the flutters of Teyla’s orgasm around his fingers before he hears her moan softly, deep in her throat. It’s as if she’s lit a fuse; as her tremors start to ease, Rodney lets out a gasping sob and goes still inside Ronon. It’s all too much for John and he grabs Teyla’s hip, thrusts between her thighs once, twice and comes hard on the third in-stroke.
He doesn’t get to wallow in his afterglow as long as he’d like because Rodney suddenly lands beside them hard enough to make the bed bounce and flings a hand over his face, complaining about insanely hot ape men trying to kill him with their insanely hot asses. It’s not Rodney’s best insult ever but he’s red faced and gasping for breath, still shaking with aftershocks so John doesn’t call him on it.
On the other side of Rodney, Ronon’s grinning at Rodney’s tirade, but it’s a pained sort of grin and when John looks down he sees that he’s still hard, so hard it must fucking hurt, but when John reaches across to help, Teyla stops him. “Wait,” she says and John obediently drops his hand. Things have gone pretty damn great tonight letting other people take the lead.
Teyla’s pupils are blown as she moves to Ronon, climbing over Rodney who obligingly rolls out of the way, and climbing on Ronon’s thighs to straddle his lap. She takes Ronon’s cock in her hand and shifts up onto her knees.
“Uh, Teyla?” John starts, but she just smiles at him.
“It is fine, John. Dr Beckett has ensured that I cannot become pregnant.” And yeah, John had known that, had suffered through one incredibly embarrassing conversation with Cadman about coils, but it’s a distinctly unsexy thought so he pushes it away and just nods.
He’s totally distracted a second later anyway when Ronon’s cock disappears inside Teyla.
“Oh, my God,” Rodney says, from where he’s only just now dragging his eyes open. He pushes himself up on his elbows, eyes locked on Teyla and Ronon in rapt attention. Then he swings around to look at John. “Are you seeing this?” he demands, voice hoarse. His eyes are so huge, and delighted and blue that John has to make himself move despite how wrung out he is, and presses a kiss to Rodney’s slightly parted lips. Rodney sighs into his mouth and kisses him back, soft and almost sweet, and maybe John had been wrong, maybe they could have friendly kisses too.
They kiss for a minute or two, but then Rodney takes his mouth away. His gaze goes back to Ronon and Teyla and then drifts back to John. His conflict is clearly written on his face and John has to fight hard not to laugh. “Hang on,” he says. He shifts them around so Rodney’s back is against the wall and John kneels between his legs. This way, Rodney should be able to kiss him and still watch the live alien porn show going on in his bedroom. And John, well John gets to kiss Rodney. “There,” he says, and licks his way into Rodney’s mouth again.
“This is hot,” Rodney breathes in his ear a couple of kisses later, eyes huge and stunned as he looks over John’s shoulder; John can’t blame him, he’s only listening and he doesn’t think he’s ever been part of anything this hot. “I knew it would be good, but… this looks so… you’re all so gorgeous.”
Without looking up from where he’s sucking on Rodney’s neck, John reaches for him, catches him by the first available body part. It turns out to be Rodney’s ear and he squawks as John pulls his head around. John kisses him, not to shut him up, because Rodney has always turned him on by talking, but because he’s spent the whole day thinking he’d never get to kiss Rodney again and he’d had no idea how much that would suck before it had seemed like reality and now he has to do it as much as possible.
In the background he can hear Teyla’s quiet moans and Ronon’s one long guttural groan as they come.
*
“John,” Rodney whispers when the others have fallen asleep. John’s almost gone too, so he presses his face into whatever part of whoever he’s lying on (he thinks it’s Ronon’s neck, but really, they’re so tangled, it could be anyone) and grunts.
“John.” Rodney pulls on his shoulder until John rolls over. Rodney’s chest is just as comfy and has the advantage of being identifiable so John burrows in. “A succession of alien sex rituals really never warned me how clingy you become after sex,” Rodney grumps, but he starts running his hands through John’s hair, which feels really nice. He’s silent for a minute and then: “We never meant to hurt you,” he says, “Ronon and I, we didn’t plan it.”
“I know,” John says, not lifting his head. Another silence, but he’s less sleepy all of a sudden and he has to ask, “What happens now?”
Thank God, Rodney doesn’t pretend to misunderstand, just says, “Ronon and I talked. Well, I talked, he grunted and then he blew me, which I took to mean yes. He really likes you, more than I suspected, and I… I think you know how I feel about you.” A pinch, somewhere near his hip. “You’d better anyway. And, well, we agreed that you’re welcome. Anytime you want.”
John lifts his head and Rodney smiles softly. There are too many things that John wants to say but everything clogs in his throat. “And Teyla?” he asks instead. Which isn’t really what he means to say, except for the fact that it is. Sort of.
Rodney just gives him a look and John has to laugh, because yeah no one would kick Teyla out of bed for making crumbs.
Unexpectedly, though, Rodney’s expression goes serious. He strokes his hand up John’s back and presses his fingers into John’s shoulder. “You do want this, right? This is something you want? I appreciate that when I get an idea in my head, I tend to get a little carried away.”
John can’t help arching his back a little against the touch. Rodney’s right, he’s always been touch-hungry after sex. “No, Rodney, this is, this is really cool.”
He expects Rodney to laugh at him because even he can see what a crappy understatement that was, but Rodney just looks at him, waiting for something John doesn’t know how to say. This isn’t anything he’s ever wanted before, not even something he’s ever thought about because it just never occurred to him that it might be possible. But it was good, it was hot, and more than that it felt right in some indefinable way. Eventually, he settles on, “Thank you.”
He doesn’t know why, but it seems to be the right thing to say because Rodney smiles and it’s infectious so John does too. Then he lets Rodney press him back down, pillows his head on Rodney’s shoulder and falls asleep, three people’s deep, regular breaths in his ear.
//End
Notes: Title from Polyamorous by Breaking Benjamin
Title: Crawling Out from the Inside
Rating: NC-17 (for, uh, porn)
Pairing: John/Rodney, Rodney/Ronon, OT4
Words: ~5400
A/N: Huge thanks for janne_d for making the right noises in the right places.
A/N 2: This is also for bluebrocade who (once upon a time) asked for "Rodney/Ronon, the day John finds out" because she is evil!
Another planet, another kinky sex ritual. The fact that John’s now in a position to think that makes him wonder exactly what sort of karma he built up in a past life.
The Carshal people are friendly; they don’t have anything as exciting as a power source to trade, they don’t even have coffee, but they do have some nice wine and a near-endless supply of a sweet, juicy, non-citrus fruit apparently packed with vitamin C.
It’s become routine now, the priest/priestess/mayor/village idiot says “sex ritual” and John and Rodney begin to strip.
Except.
This time, just as John is unzipping his shirt, Rodney puts his hand over John’s.
“Uh, Colonel,” he says. “Wait.”
John looks up, surprised. He knows Rodney wants this fruit (there was something about scurvy, John hadn’t really been listening) and he usually jumps at the chance for some alien-endorsed sex, as long as it doesn’t involve pain, tentacles or embarrassment.
“Rodney?” he asks and tries to will his erection down.
“Do you, uh. Don’t you. Uh, that is, I think it might be Ronon’s turn.”
John glances to the corner of the tent they’ve been assigned, where the rest of their team stands. Ronon’s arms are folded and under his stoic warrior expression (the one John always tries for and misses) he looks pretty pissed.
“Rodney.” John drops his voice. “We can’t ask Teyla to take one for the team; we agreed, remember?”
Rodney nods once, jerkily; it’s hard to see in the dim sun light coming though the canvas, but John thinks he’s probably blushing. “I didn’t mean that,” he says. “I meant, uh, me. Me and Ronon. This time.” He swallows visibly. “Every time from now on.”
John frowns at him, confused and possibly slightly hurt though he won’t admit to that. Then Rodney’s embarrassment, Ronon’s anger, and John’s exclusion, plus the carefully blank look on Teyla’s face all click together.
“Oh,” he says. It comes out too quiet, shocked, and he clears his throat, annoyed with himself. “Oh,” he says again heartily. “Good. Uh, fine. Cool, yes, that’s cool.”
“Colonel?” Rodney asks tentatively.
“Have fun, Rodney,” John says and walks out of the tent. It’s fine, he tells himself, he doesn’t care; so what if Rodney and Ronon are apparently possibly screwing. As long as they’re happy. But the thought feels so hollow, rattling around in the suddenly empty spaces of his head, that he can’t even convince himself.
John can’t avoid the ceremony, what with it being proof of their reliability and all, so he sits cross legged on the mat beside Teyla, looks at the toes of his boots, and listens to the porn noises of Rodney giving Ronon head. John’s dick is jealous; it knows how good Rodney is at that.
His brain is a seething mass of red and white and black, jealousy, arousal and anger by the end, so he misses the climax (and he really, really wishes he could think of a different word) of the performance, but they get a standing ovation from the kinky aliens, so he guesses it must have been good. He and Rodney used to be pretty popular too, but he doesn’t even try to convince himself that’s where the jealous comes from.
After the ceremony, Rodney and Ronon go back to the tent to clean up.
John gives them ten minutes, then walks into the tent.
They’re kissing.
Ronon has to lean down to reach Rodney, the back of his neck bent and exposed and rich, caramel brown. His hands are tangled in Rodney’s hair, big but not clumsy. And Rodney, Rodney’s eyes are closed and his hands are curled around Ronon’s biceps, he looks content in a way John has never seen. John’s stomach aches.
John thinks he’s been stealthy, but Ronon’s eyes open, focusing on him. He draws back, but slowly, in a series of small kisses, eyes still locked on John’s. “Sheppard,” he says when he and Rodney pull apart.
Rodney makes a small, surprised noise and spins around. His lips are red and shiny.
“Colonel,” he says, his expression guilty. Horny and guilty.
“Sorry,” John says automatically. “We’re about ready to leave. Teyla’s just finishing up negotiations; they’re giving us double what we bargained for, seems they kinda liked your show.”
“I’ll help Teyla load up,” Ronon announces. He squeezes Rodney’s shoulder and leaves.
“Uh,” Rodney says when it’s just the two of them.
John turns away. “Don’t.”
But Rodney grabs his arm and turns him back around. John thinks of those hands on Ronon and shivers.
“I need… I should…” Rodney’s chin comes up. “No,” he says frowning, “I shouldn’t. You and I were never together; we had sex for the gratification of kinky natives, nothing more. I was free to start sleeping with whoever I liked and I’m not sorry.”
His expression is fierce, but there’s still doubt, a little bit of worry, underneath.
John shakes his head; he’s suddenly very tired. “Yeah, Rodney, sure. It’s cool.”
This time, Rodney doesn’t try to stop him leaving.
Back on Atlantis, it’s late. Elizabeth welcomes them home, exclaims over the trade, doesn’t ask too many questions and sends them off to rest.
Lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, John’s not surprised that he can’t sleep. He likes sex, of course he does he’s breathing, but he rarely misses it when it’s not on offer and he almost never seeks it out. He was content - he was happy - with what they were doing. He thought it was their thing, like Kevin Ash the quarterback at high school who used to blow him in the shower after a big win and Peter Dirk at the Academy who’d fuck him after lights-out but only if the guys next door were going to be out all night.
He’d thought this was convenient, a way to get what he wanted without talking about it. Or admitting he wanted it. It hadn’t occurred to him that Rodney might not feel the same way.
Normally, when John can’t sleep, he goes to Rodney’s lab, plays lab monkey for a while and either falls asleep at a desk or lets Rodney poke him into going back to bed.
Now though, even though he knows the chances of Ronon being in the labs are slim to none, he can’t make himself go because he knows now; he knows that wasn’t something they do for the reasons he’d thought they did them.
Instead he goes to Teyla’s room.
“John?” she says, after she’s let him in. “Are you all right?”
He looks at her, standing in the middle of her room, wearing pyjamas and a frown. And he realises with a sick sort of inevitability what he came here for. “Uh,” he says eloquently.
“John?” Teyla steps closer, looking worried. John feels like a heel, like a… like something worse than that. Like the sort of man he never wanted to become. Abruptly, her worried look fades and her eyes widen. Shit.
“Oh.” She’s blushing, very faintly, and he’s never seen her do that before. She clears her throat. “I am sorry John, but that is not appropriate.”
He looks down at the floor, moves to scuff his boots on the carpet and realises he came here barefoot. He’s so very screwed up. “I’m sorry.” He forces himself to look up. “I really am, Teyla. I’ll go.”
He turns to the door but she stops him with a hand on his arm. “It is not that I am not flattered,” she says, and her smile’s so kind he wants to punch himself in the mouth. “But it is not me you want.”
John opens his mouth to protest, because maybe that’s true, but it’s not as if he hasn’t wanted her. But again she cuts him off. “Or, at least I am not the only one.”
He sighs, shakes his head. This isn’t somewhere he can go. “Night, Teyla.”
As he thinks the door shut behind him, he thinks he sees her expression turn thoughtful. But he’s half way down the corridor before it occurs to him to worry about it.
John can’t face going back to his room, so he just ducks in long enough to grab some shoes and goes for a run. Running’s usually great for clearing his head, the rhythmic pounding of his feet on Atlantis’s metal gangways hypnotic enough to knock everything else from his mind. Except running reminds him of Ronon. And Ronon reminds him of things he doesn’t want to think about.
He gives up after twenty minutes, coming to rest on the first out of the way balcony he finds and slumping against the railing, staring into the inky black of the ocean at night and telling himself to get a grip, that this is totally his fault and he should suck it up and stop feeling sorry for himself.
After another five minutes of pity partying, his radio bleeps and Rodney’s voice says, “Colonel?”
John misses telephones; you can ignore them. “Yeah, McKay?”
“Can you come to my quarters; I need to discuss something with you.”
Oh hell no. “Anyone dying?”
A pause then: “Well, no, but…”
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Sheppard out.” He pulls his radio out of his ear and drops it into his pocket. Atlantis will make sure he hears any emergency calls and he really can’t cope with anything else tonight. He feels a little bit like a bastard, and also a lot like a sulky teenager, but he reckons that’s better than seeing Rodney right at this moment; he can’t guarantee what he might do.
He drags himself back to his room and into the shower. He’s been under the spray for ten blissful minutes in which he has finally managed to drown out the voices in his head with the constant pounding of hot water, when he hears his door chime.
John really wants to ignore it, but he can’t, so he wraps a towel around his waist and steps into the main room, thinking the door open as he goes. Ronon’s standing there, arms crossed, looking pissed again.
“McKay’s been calling you,” he says, coming into the room. “Had to stop him waking Lorne to check you were alive.”
It hurts, on some level John’s only just discovering he has and would like to get rid of as soon as possible, that Rodney didn’t come himself. “Shouldn’t you be calling him Rodney?” he asks instead, because as conversations go it’s a much safer one.
Ronon frowns. “Why?”
John fumbles at that. Because you’re fucking doesn’t seem quite right somehow, especially as he and Rodney have had a lot of sex and Rodney’s never once called him John. Which totally doesn’t bug him. At all. “Because…” he says then gives up.
Ronon just lifts an eyebrow, his expression suggests that maybe he’s reconsidering how cool John is and not coming up in John’s favour. He tips his head toward the door. “Come on.”
“Where?” John asks cautiously.
The other eyebrow lifts; John can admit to himself that he’s maybe a little bit intimidated.
“Okay, okay. Can I get dressed first?”
Ronon’s eyes travel slowly down John’s body and John feels himself flush. He wants to cover his chest, to run into the bathroom, to thoroughly embarrass himself by acting like his maiden aunt, but at the same time he feels his cock twitch, his nipples tighten. He’s always known Ronon was hot, any one with eyes knows that, but he never really let himself see how damn sexy he is. Go, Rodney, he thinks wryly.
“Sure,” Ronon says when his eyes finally make it back up to John’s face. He turns his back, giving John privacy to get dressed and John shakes his head to himself; he will never understand this guy.
It turns out Ronon is taking him to Rodney’s quarters, which isn’t that surprising. What is surprising is what he sees when the door opens.
He sees Rodney and he sees Teyla. He sees them both, red faced and breathless, striped down to their underwear and making out on Rodney’s bed; long, soft kisses that are making them both gasp.
John steps back so fast he smacks his head on the door which has closed behind him. “Thanks,” he says to Ronon. “My bad day has officially gotten worse.”
When she notices them, Teyla sits up and smiles. There’s a golden flush about her that he’s only seen in the gym before. “John,” she says. “Welcome.”
Rodney sits up too, but slower. He pulls his knees up in front of himself as if it weren’t still perfectly obvious that he’s hard. He nods his head at John. “Colonel.” Like they’ve met in the mess.
“What’s this?” John asks, even as his heart begins to race.
Teyla rolls gracefully off the bed and comes towards him, hands out and smiling. “We would like you to join us, if you wish.”
John rubs the back of his neck and tries not to stare at her breasts. “How’d you get in on this?”
She smiles. “After your visit earlier, a possible solution occurred to me and when I suggested it to Rodney and Ronon, they were quite keen.” The slightly wicked curve to her smile suggests quite keen might be an understatement.
“Huh,” John says. On the bed, Rodney rolls his eyes, but John ignores him; he never claimed to be eloquent. He jumps when he feels hands on his shoulders, big, wide hands.
“In or out?” Ronon asks, voice low and gravelly in his ear.
This is probably a bad idea. This is probably one of the worst ideas he’s ever had, but he’s being offered something huge here, and he doesn’t want to spend his life wondering what if.
“I-In,” he says and has to clear his throat.
“Good.” Ronon’s hands travel down his back to his waist, sliding under his t-shirt, and pulling it up and off. John shivers in the cold air, then shivers harder when Ronon’s mouth latches onto his neck, alternatively sucking and biting.
John groans, relaxing into the touch. But when he drops his head back against Ronon’s shoulder, Ronon stops. “Hey!” John complains, struggling to keep his balance.
Ronon steps around him and grins, looking very self-satisfied. He grips John’s hair and tilts his head, kissing him fast and hard.
“God,” John groans, when Ronon again steps away just as fast as he started. “You trying to kill me?”
Ronon smirks at him. “That’s plan B,” he says. “Thought we’d try this first.” John is almost certain he’s kidding, but he’s still blinking stupidly when Ronon releases him and goes to the bed, dropping down beside Rodney and giving him a friendly sort of kiss. John doesn’t think he and Rodney could ever do that; they’re surprisingly, dirtily hot together, nothing friendly about it at all.
“John.” Teyla’s voice is soft. He turns and finds her smiling at him from about three feet away. She reaches out to touch his shoulders and he steps into place automatically. Their foreheads touch and she holds him still, maintaining the contact for longer than they normally do. John knows the gesture has deeper meanings than hi, he guesses this must be one of them.
“You guys have a head-bob thing for sex, too?”
She makes that face that suggests she’d be rolling her eyes if she weren’t so polite. “Among my people, the sharing of sexual intimacy is the greatest gift two people can give.”
What about four people? he doesn’t ask, because Teyla’s patience has a three strikes rule.
He clears his throat. “That’s, uh, that’s nice, Teyla.”
“Yes,” she says. “This however is not.” And she takes his hand, does something he has no hope of ever learning and he finds himself on his back on the bed, gasping up at the ceiling.
Rodney’s face swims into focus above him.
“Hey,” John says.
“Hi.” Rodney doesn’t even try to keep the grin off his face. Bastard. “I think this is going to be even better than I thought.”
John opens his mouth to snap something back, but then Ronon crawls over him and there are hands on the waistband of his pants, unbuttoning and pulling them down. One hand on the small of his back urging his hips up and then he’s naked, still spread-eagled and surrounded by his semi-dressed team.
“Guys?” he says, wondering what’s allowed.
They ignore him.
“What is this?” John asks; it’s getting harder to concentrate on speaking. “Some kind of… pity orgy?”
Rodney snorts. “Yes, Colonel. A pity orgy. Because they’re so common.”
John wants to argue, wants to get some answers, but Rodney lifts his hand. John tenses, excepting a hand over his mouth and not sure if he could put up with that, but either Rodney reads him or he knows him, and it’s only a thumb that brushes over his lips.
“Shush, Colonel,” Rodney tells him, catching John’s hands and pressing them down on the bed above his head. John writhes automatically, but Rodney’s fingers on his wrists convince him that moving is maybe a little overrated. “Let them play.”
John looks down the length of his body, just in time to see Ronon lean forward over his crotch, a gleam in his eyes that can only be described as wicked and then John’s eyes are rolling back and he sees nothing at all for a second as Ronon’s mouth - wide, wet, hot - stretches around the head of his cock. Lips tight, Ronon looks up at him, expression hot and teasing.
God but, John wants to reach down and pet his hair, wants to run his fingers over Ronon’s hollowed cheeks where John can see the twin bulges of his cock pressed against them. John needs to touch during sex, only gets to touch during sex, and he pulls hard against Rodney hands, hearing himself make embarrassing sounding whines when Rodney holds him firm.
Then: “John.” Teyla’s voice, soft in his ear. “John relax. It is all right. We can do this all night if you wish.”
It’s a nice idea, but Ronon does something with his tongue and the lip of John’s dick and John worries he’s not going to last all minute let alone all night. “Oh, God,” he grunts out.
He hovers on the brink of coming, but he needs something more, something to touch and hold on to. He wrenches one hand from Rodney’s grip and reaches out, sighing when he finds the first touch of skin. It’s Teyla’s arm and she smiles at him, kisses his neck, moving down to lick his nipples when he swears. It’s nice, it’s really nice, but he needs... he reaches out again, frustrated when Teyla catches his hand, then grateful when she guides it to Rodney’s shoulder for him. Relieved, John pulls Rodney down into a kiss.
At the first touch of Rodney’s tongue, John’s hips arch and his mind goes numb as he comes with all three of their mouths on him, and Ronon, fuck that’s hot, Ronon swallows it all down.
When John feels alive again, Rodney is peering down at him looking incredibly smug. “Yep,” he says, “I get that whenever I want it.”
John wants to tell him that smug is not sexy, but in Rodney’s case that would be a lie. So he just smiles instead, feeling good and dopey and Rodney rolls his eyes.
Ronon’s moving back up the bed; he looks like a huge, naked lion, skin slick with sweat, hair falling into his face, cock hard and smoothly curved against his flat belly. John isn’t sure when he got naked, but he definitely approves. Now, if only Rodney and Teyla will do the same.
As if she’s read his mind (and since the thing with the Wraith he doesn’t talk about John has never been totally certain that she can’t), Teyla pushes herself up from where she was curled at John’s side. But instead of getting commendably naked, she reaches for John, urging him to move towards her. Confused, he looks back at Rodney and Ronon and, oh.
They’re on their knees, facing each other, and Rodney is hurriedly shedding his clothes. Ronon’s hands are running all over him, trying to help, showing the same sort of careful possessiveness that John had seen when he’d caught them kissing in the kinky sex tent.
John follows Teyla across the bed (and when did Rodney get such a huge bed anyway? John’s is only just wide enough to roll over in) and lets her push him down onto his side, facing Ronon and Rodney, who are both naked now, stretched out with Rodney on top, kissing like they’ve lost themselves in each others’ mouths.
Teyla lowers herself down to the bed beside John, positioning so he can spoon up behind her. The skin on her back is soft and smooth and a little sweaty where it presses against his chest. He leans over her shoulder and sees her eyes are locked on Rodney and Ronon, her dark pink lips caught between her teeth as she watches them kiss. She’s so sensual, John should have guessed she’d be into this, but he never had.
He runs his tongue around the shell of her ear, thrilled and weirdly satisfied when she gasps. Telya’s always so restrained, so self controlled, he’s amazed all over again to be a part of this.
“John,” she says through her teeth, hips swaying gently, pushing her ass into his lap.
“Want something?” he teases.
In response, she hooks an arm behind her back, inadvertently or maybe not pulling sharply on a few strands of his chest hair, and flicks her bra open. It’s instinctive for John to reach up under the loosened cotton and cup his hand over her closest breast. She sighs and tips her head back. Encouraged, he rubs his thumb along the length of her breast, from armpit to nipple, pinching and twisting lightly, then harder when she moans, before repeating the action.
She’s all manner of hot and okay, yes, John can admit in the privacy of his own head that he prefers guys, has always preferred guys, but he’s wanted to touch Teyla’s breasts pretty much since the first time he met her and for that he’s willing to explore the lower Kinsey numbers. He nuzzles against her throat and bites gently against her pulse point. He’s glad she’s here, that she’s part of it. He understands that this all started for him, he’s incredibly humbled by that, but he doesn’t think he could have gone through with it if it had just been him and Rodney and Ronon. That really would have felt too much like a pity fuck. This feels like Team.
In front of them on the bed, Ronon and Rodney have been busy while John was distracted by the wonders of Teyla’s breasts. Lube has been gotten from somewhere; it’s lying uncapped and sticky up by the pillows and lust hits John in the guts as he watches three of Rodney’s fingers disappear into Ronon. He’d been wrong before, seeing this is what’s humbling. He’d never thought to see Ronon like this, laid open and vulnerable, he hadn’t known he was trusted that much.
Ronon’s legs are long and muscular, John’s known that for a long time. He hadn’t known they’d be covered in soft-looking dark hairs or traversed with scars. Rodney puts his hands on Ronon’s knees and Ronon parts his legs further willingly, and there’s something else John hadn’t known, would never have guessed. Ronon’s inner thighs are smooth, a long expanse of paler, unmarred skin, and Rodney’s hands are pale and possessive as he skims his palms up and down.
“Ready?” Rodney asks and John recognises that voice, it’s Rodney’s oh God, oh God, I’m going to die right now if I don’t get to fuck you voice.
Ronon grunts and Rodney obviously knows that to be a yes because then he’s pushing inside Ronon, one long slide until his balls and belly are bracketed by Ronon’s hips, Ronon’s long, long legs tight around his waist.
Rodney draws back slowly and thrusts forward, picking up a steady rhythm, not too slow but slower that John normally likes. Their gasps are mirrored by Teyla, and that’s when John realises two things: one, he’s hard again, very hard and two, Teyla’s hand is in her panties, moving in a way that sends blood to John’s cock and his face simultaneously.
He reaches down, feeling the soft scratch of her pubic hair against his palm and overwhelmed again by the intimacy of this, of everything to do with sex with girls, and covers her hand with his own. “How about you let me take over?” he asks, aiming for casual and missing.
“Yes.” Her voice is tight and needy. “Yes, that would be appreciated.”
He slips his fingers into her, taking on the same rhythm as Rodney and Ronon, and he can’t help it when his hips pick up the same slow and easy roll. He doesn’t know how much of a commitment Teyla is willing to make to this, would rather cut out his eyes than ask, and he’s fine with this anyway; the crease of her ass and the space between her thighs makes a perfect place, warm, sweat-slick, tight, for him to thrust into.
John feels the flutters of Teyla’s orgasm around his fingers before he hears her moan softly, deep in her throat. It’s as if she’s lit a fuse; as her tremors start to ease, Rodney lets out a gasping sob and goes still inside Ronon. It’s all too much for John and he grabs Teyla’s hip, thrusts between her thighs once, twice and comes hard on the third in-stroke.
He doesn’t get to wallow in his afterglow as long as he’d like because Rodney suddenly lands beside them hard enough to make the bed bounce and flings a hand over his face, complaining about insanely hot ape men trying to kill him with their insanely hot asses. It’s not Rodney’s best insult ever but he’s red faced and gasping for breath, still shaking with aftershocks so John doesn’t call him on it.
On the other side of Rodney, Ronon’s grinning at Rodney’s tirade, but it’s a pained sort of grin and when John looks down he sees that he’s still hard, so hard it must fucking hurt, but when John reaches across to help, Teyla stops him. “Wait,” she says and John obediently drops his hand. Things have gone pretty damn great tonight letting other people take the lead.
Teyla’s pupils are blown as she moves to Ronon, climbing over Rodney who obligingly rolls out of the way, and climbing on Ronon’s thighs to straddle his lap. She takes Ronon’s cock in her hand and shifts up onto her knees.
“Uh, Teyla?” John starts, but she just smiles at him.
“It is fine, John. Dr Beckett has ensured that I cannot become pregnant.” And yeah, John had known that, had suffered through one incredibly embarrassing conversation with Cadman about coils, but it’s a distinctly unsexy thought so he pushes it away and just nods.
He’s totally distracted a second later anyway when Ronon’s cock disappears inside Teyla.
“Oh, my God,” Rodney says, from where he’s only just now dragging his eyes open. He pushes himself up on his elbows, eyes locked on Teyla and Ronon in rapt attention. Then he swings around to look at John. “Are you seeing this?” he demands, voice hoarse. His eyes are so huge, and delighted and blue that John has to make himself move despite how wrung out he is, and presses a kiss to Rodney’s slightly parted lips. Rodney sighs into his mouth and kisses him back, soft and almost sweet, and maybe John had been wrong, maybe they could have friendly kisses too.
They kiss for a minute or two, but then Rodney takes his mouth away. His gaze goes back to Ronon and Teyla and then drifts back to John. His conflict is clearly written on his face and John has to fight hard not to laugh. “Hang on,” he says. He shifts them around so Rodney’s back is against the wall and John kneels between his legs. This way, Rodney should be able to kiss him and still watch the live alien porn show going on in his bedroom. And John, well John gets to kiss Rodney. “There,” he says, and licks his way into Rodney’s mouth again.
“This is hot,” Rodney breathes in his ear a couple of kisses later, eyes huge and stunned as he looks over John’s shoulder; John can’t blame him, he’s only listening and he doesn’t think he’s ever been part of anything this hot. “I knew it would be good, but… this looks so… you’re all so gorgeous.”
Without looking up from where he’s sucking on Rodney’s neck, John reaches for him, catches him by the first available body part. It turns out to be Rodney’s ear and he squawks as John pulls his head around. John kisses him, not to shut him up, because Rodney has always turned him on by talking, but because he’s spent the whole day thinking he’d never get to kiss Rodney again and he’d had no idea how much that would suck before it had seemed like reality and now he has to do it as much as possible.
In the background he can hear Teyla’s quiet moans and Ronon’s one long guttural groan as they come.
*
“John,” Rodney whispers when the others have fallen asleep. John’s almost gone too, so he presses his face into whatever part of whoever he’s lying on (he thinks it’s Ronon’s neck, but really, they’re so tangled, it could be anyone) and grunts.
“John.” Rodney pulls on his shoulder until John rolls over. Rodney’s chest is just as comfy and has the advantage of being identifiable so John burrows in. “A succession of alien sex rituals really never warned me how clingy you become after sex,” Rodney grumps, but he starts running his hands through John’s hair, which feels really nice. He’s silent for a minute and then: “We never meant to hurt you,” he says, “Ronon and I, we didn’t plan it.”
“I know,” John says, not lifting his head. Another silence, but he’s less sleepy all of a sudden and he has to ask, “What happens now?”
Thank God, Rodney doesn’t pretend to misunderstand, just says, “Ronon and I talked. Well, I talked, he grunted and then he blew me, which I took to mean yes. He really likes you, more than I suspected, and I… I think you know how I feel about you.” A pinch, somewhere near his hip. “You’d better anyway. And, well, we agreed that you’re welcome. Anytime you want.”
John lifts his head and Rodney smiles softly. There are too many things that John wants to say but everything clogs in his throat. “And Teyla?” he asks instead. Which isn’t really what he means to say, except for the fact that it is. Sort of.
Rodney just gives him a look and John has to laugh, because yeah no one would kick Teyla out of bed for making crumbs.
Unexpectedly, though, Rodney’s expression goes serious. He strokes his hand up John’s back and presses his fingers into John’s shoulder. “You do want this, right? This is something you want? I appreciate that when I get an idea in my head, I tend to get a little carried away.”
John can’t help arching his back a little against the touch. Rodney’s right, he’s always been touch-hungry after sex. “No, Rodney, this is, this is really cool.”
He expects Rodney to laugh at him because even he can see what a crappy understatement that was, but Rodney just looks at him, waiting for something John doesn’t know how to say. This isn’t anything he’s ever wanted before, not even something he’s ever thought about because it just never occurred to him that it might be possible. But it was good, it was hot, and more than that it felt right in some indefinable way. Eventually, he settles on, “Thank you.”
He doesn’t know why, but it seems to be the right thing to say because Rodney smiles and it’s infectious so John does too. Then he lets Rodney press him back down, pillows his head on Rodney’s shoulder and falls asleep, three people’s deep, regular breaths in his ear.
//End
Notes: Title from Polyamorous by Breaking Benjamin