Fic: No Quarter (SGA, John/Rodney, PWP)
Title: No Quarter
Author: xanphibian
Fandom: SGA
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: bondage, kink
Disclaimer: heee. no, I don't own them.
Summary: PWP. Seriously!
Notes: For ladycat777 and chopchica
***
Rodney knows the exact moment he decided to do it. John is sure of this, even though he’s never said a word about it. But then, John figures Rodney knows everything. That he keeps an inventory of every idea that comes across his mind.
John imagines the workings of Rodney’s brain like this:
First, the idea. It flits across Rodney’s mind like an arc of lightning, and Rodney just glances at it, looks for possible merit in it, and then categorizes it as he sees fit. John wonders when it happened, when this Big Idea occurred, and what he was doing at the time. Was it on a mission? Were they just doing their regular song and dance routine? Or was Rodney alone in his room, or his lab, and they suddenly some neurons fired and Rodney just knew?
It doesn’t matter. Rodney thought it, Rodney latched on to it, and John was pulled along for the ride.
He’s not complaining.
Well, okay, at this point he’s complaining, but only because he’s stripped naked and tied up and blindfolded and Rodney is doing so many distracting, amazing things to his body that John doesn’t think he can stand it much longer.
“If you don’t be quiet, I’m going to have to gag you,” Rodney says. His voice is so level and in control, and John thinks he hates him for it.
“I ... can’t,” John confesses, because he can’t possibly stay quiet when Rodney’s hands are moving over him like that, touching him lightly, and he’s straining and trying to get Rodney to touch him more. “I need ...”
“I know what you need,” Rodney says. “And I’m going to give it to you.”
John can’t see, but he can feel Rodney’s weight shift away from him, leaving the bed. “Don’t! Please,” John says, and that’s enough, he’s already said too much, he hates to beg. For all he knows, Rodney will leave him like this for hours, coming back only when he feels like it. Sometimes, that’s exactly what John needs. But not tonight.
“Shh, I’m not leaving,” Rodney says softly, and something soft runs across John’s cheek, some material, and then Rodney is lifting John’s head and wrapping it around. A handkerchief, and it’s dry where it rests in his mouth. Rodney ties it tightly behind his head.
Gagged, blindfolded, trussed up like a prisoner, John is completely at Rodney’s mercy. Which normally is a wonderful thing to be, but today all he wants is to come, hard and fast and dirty, but Rodney isn’t letting him. He’s playing a new game and John isn’t quite sure of the rules.
“There, that’s better. Really, I don’t mind if you beg me, but if you can’t hear me over your own voice, we have a problem.”
Rodney is back, hovering over him, and John can feel his breath on his skin, calm and searing. Rodney moves, and there’s no telling where he’ll touch next, and John can’t get used to it, no matter how he tries to brace himself.
Rodney touches him lightly, trailing his fingertips down John’s leg, and then right there under his knee where John is so sensitive. And then the hand is gone, replaced along his ribs, and a thumb digs into a spot John didn’t know he had. There must be a bundle of nerves there, something, because John almost jerks off the bed. He moans and pleads around the gag, and his cock is so hard he can feel his frantic heartbeat throbbing in it.
“Do you like me touching you like this?” Rodney asks. John knows he doesn’t require a real answer, if he did, he wouldn’t have gagged him. But John’s head is thrashing from side to side, nonono, because every single time Rodney did that, he felt like he was going to die from the pleasure. It was too much, but so far from enough. If only Rodney would wrap a hand around him, jerk him hot and fast and make him come, then everything would be set to rights.
But Rodney just hums a little and doesn’t even seem to notice.
John hates the way his arms are tied up over his head, because it leaves him so vulnerable, and inside he’s praying please, please don’t let him touch me there.
But Rodney does. He puts both of his hands up, one on each of John’s wrists, and slowly, lightly, torturously slides his fingertips down John’s arms. It’s coming, John feels it, and his whole body tenses up. It’s downright painful, that’s all John can think when Rodney lets his fingers brush against John’s armpits. But he moves on, and John exhales with relief.
Rodney chuckles. “I don’t think so,” he says, and John’s so busy being relieved that he forgets that Rodney is one sadistic bastard. And then Rodney touches him again, right there, only this time deeper and without any kind of mercy whatsoever.
John screams around his gag.
Then the hands are gone, and John sags against the ropes, panting as best he can around the handkerchief.
“I wish you could see yourself,” Rodney says conversationally. John wishes he could break the bonds and strangle him. The voice does nothing to calm him at all, but it’s the only thing he has to hold on to, now that Rodney’s not touching him anymore. That infuriating, teasing voice is the only thing left to ground him. “You’re all flushed and squirming, sweat breaking out all over your body ...”
John feels a tongue skirting along his hipbone and he thinks he may, be able to come if Rodney just keeps doing that, just a little more ...
And then the sensation is gone and he has the impression Rodney knows exactly how he feels, and that he’s laughing at him.
Never again, John wants to say. You’re never getting anywhere near me again. But that’s such a complete lie; even when Rodney is at his most sadistic, John can’t get enough. It’s frustrating as hell, absolute torture, but he can’t imagine being with anyone else. Rodney always, always knows what he needs. Even John denies it with every breath of his being.
There’s a long, slow exhale of heat over the base of his cock, then, and John can picture it in his mind even though he can’t see it: Rodney bending over and breathing over him, his mouth so fucking close, but when John tries to thrust up and feel that mouth on him, he’s left doing nothing but humping empty space. Which would be completely humiliating if he cared about anything other than coming at this point.
“You’re so impatient, Colonel,” Rodney says. “I’ve barely even started.” His voice is low and knowing, and John gives up and collapses back against the bed with a sob.
John curses and begs, but every word comes out as a muffled groan.
“What do you want? I can touch you some more.” Rodney touches John’s balls, a blunt fingernail scraping lightly over the sensitive skin there. John thrashes more, wanting to break free and find some, any release, but Rodney keeps talking. “Or I could use my mouth ...”
Hot lips just barely touch the head of John’s cock, a chaste kiss that takes him further, further, but never far enough. John whimpers, and he’s sure there are tears leaking down past the blackness of the blindfold.
“You like it when I do that?” Rodney asks.
Fuck you, John says, but it comes out more like, “ffftuuu.”
Rodney wraps his hand around John’s cock, and John thinks, yes, yes, finally, harder, more, but Rodney strokes him so, so slowly, and too lightly, just the calloused skin of his palm and pads of his fingers rubbing against him. John thrashes again and thrusts up, wanting the friction, wanting anything, but Rodney moves with him and doesn’t give him any more than what he’s already doing. Just slow, agonizingly slow touches that have John ready to agree to anything Rodney wants if he’d relent and let him come.
John’s never been this close before for so long. He’s never imagined pleasure being so intense that it’s like fiery pain wracking his body. He’s been tortured before, he’s been shot, he’s been put through what he thought was the most intense, extreme circumstances another human being could come up with. But this is like nothing he’s ever experienced. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to keep going. He’s sure he’ll die of it.
“Shh, calm down, it’s okay. I’m here. I promise it’ll be okay,” Rodney says, leaning up over him, body to body, and kissing his forehead like he’s a child. “Just let go and let me take care of you.”
Let go. John surrenders, tries to tell his body to relax, but it’s so damned hard to do because every muscle aches, every nerve seems to be on fire, and his mind is screaming so loudly he can barely stay focused.
“Stay with me,” Rodney orders, and leans back down to take John’s cock into his mouth. He doesn’t suck, it’s more like one long, wet kiss with his tongue moving over John’s overly sensitized flesh.
“Mrpph,” John manages to get out, but he’s trying to say, More, please, you bastard, please, and Rodney finally seems to give him what he wants. He takes John’s cock deep into his mouth and sucks while his fingers play with the tiny bundle of nerves behind John’s balls. John whimpers and thrusts up into Rodney’s mouth, and he’s so close, just one or two more thrusts like that and he’ll ...
“Not yet,” Rodney says calmly, and pulls back again.
John’s way past higher cognitive functions now, and all he can do is pull wildly against the restraints holding him, and they bite into his skin even though they’re padded so they won’t.
Rodney puts a hand on his chest, stroking, like he’s soothing a wild animal, and he murmurs things John doesn’t understand. But slowly, slowly, John calms.
And then Rodney does it all over again.
This time he starts with John’s nipples, which had never been sensitive before, but Rodney makes them sensitive by rubbing and twisting and worrying them between his teeth. It makes them sore and John’s sure they’re reddened and probably swollen, but then he can feel ever single light touch on them, and every single nerve he has in his body seems to go electric. John starts to think maybe, just maybe, he can come just from that, but Rodney always seems to read him, and never lets it happen.
Rodney shifts and gets up again, and this time John can hear the soft snick of the lube opening and closing. His cock jerks and his body tenses, and he thinks, Yes, fuck me, fuck me.
John’s legs are already spread apart and bound just like that, so that Rodney can have easy access whenever he wants. He almost cries out in relief when Rodney tells him to lift up and puts a pillow beneath his hips. Finally, finally.
A thick, slick finger plays over John’s hole, teasing, rubbing, but not hard enough, not enough to push through. John curses and bites down on the now-wet cloth in his mouth.
“God, you’re hot,” Rodney murmurs, and John wishes he could see him, wishes he could look into Rodney’s eyes as he does that. He knows they’d be dark and ruthless, the pupils dilated so that they’d appear almost completely black. “Do you think my finger would be enough?” Rodney asks, and then pushes in so slowly John wants to scream. Instead, he nods his head frantically, wanting Rodney to fuck him senseless with just those slick, talented fingers.
But Rodney only gives a little, and then takes away. Slowly. Excruciatingly. In, pause, out, pause, slowslowslow.
John flexes his thigh muscles, tries to find some kind of purchase with his feet, want to fuck himself on those fingers, but Rodney’s bound him in such a way that it’s impossible. He can barely move at all, and certainly not down and in the right angle to do what he needs to do.
Rodney pulls out and then runs his fingers over John’s cock again, and it hurts because John needs to come so, so badly. The gag muffles his cries, his sobs, his pleas, but he knows Rodney gets it. Understands exactly what he’s doing to him.
And Rodney just keeps doing it, playing with John like he’s some kind of toy he wants to break and glue together and break all over again.
But then, without any warning, when John thinks he’s going to be held right there on the precipice for eternity, he feels the head of Rodney’s cock right there, pushing in without any more preparation. Rodney goes fast this time, almost too fast, and John feels like he’s being stretched further than he ever has before. There’s a deep, hot burn when Rodney pushes in to the hilt, but there’s no time to recover become accustomed to it at all, because Rodney is fucking him hard, brutally almost, and one of Rodney’s hands moves up to rip the blindfold and gag away.
John squints against the sudden light, but as soon as he can focus, all he sees is Rodney above him, fucking him hard, his eyes black fire burning into his own. And it’s so intense that John lets out a cry that he doesn’t even recognize as human, and then he’s coming so hard, that all he sees is bursts of stars.
He’ so out of it after he comes that he doesn’t even notice when Rodney does. All he knows is that when he opens his eyes next, he’s no longer restrained, and Rodney is holding him close and kissing away the wetness lingering on John’s cheeks and eyelids.
“I hate you,” John manages to murmur.
Rodney grins at him, fondly, and gives him a long, sloppy, amazing kiss that has John clutching at him like he’s the only port in this very, very strange storm.
“A lot,” John says. And leans up to kiss him again.
END
Author: xanphibian
Fandom: SGA
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: bondage, kink
Disclaimer: heee. no, I don't own them.
Summary: PWP. Seriously!
Notes: For ladycat777 and chopchica
***
Rodney knows the exact moment he decided to do it. John is sure of this, even though he’s never said a word about it. But then, John figures Rodney knows everything. That he keeps an inventory of every idea that comes across his mind.
John imagines the workings of Rodney’s brain like this:
First, the idea. It flits across Rodney’s mind like an arc of lightning, and Rodney just glances at it, looks for possible merit in it, and then categorizes it as he sees fit. John wonders when it happened, when this Big Idea occurred, and what he was doing at the time. Was it on a mission? Were they just doing their regular song and dance routine? Or was Rodney alone in his room, or his lab, and they suddenly some neurons fired and Rodney just knew?
It doesn’t matter. Rodney thought it, Rodney latched on to it, and John was pulled along for the ride.
He’s not complaining.
Well, okay, at this point he’s complaining, but only because he’s stripped naked and tied up and blindfolded and Rodney is doing so many distracting, amazing things to his body that John doesn’t think he can stand it much longer.
“If you don’t be quiet, I’m going to have to gag you,” Rodney says. His voice is so level and in control, and John thinks he hates him for it.
“I ... can’t,” John confesses, because he can’t possibly stay quiet when Rodney’s hands are moving over him like that, touching him lightly, and he’s straining and trying to get Rodney to touch him more. “I need ...”
“I know what you need,” Rodney says. “And I’m going to give it to you.”
John can’t see, but he can feel Rodney’s weight shift away from him, leaving the bed. “Don’t! Please,” John says, and that’s enough, he’s already said too much, he hates to beg. For all he knows, Rodney will leave him like this for hours, coming back only when he feels like it. Sometimes, that’s exactly what John needs. But not tonight.
“Shh, I’m not leaving,” Rodney says softly, and something soft runs across John’s cheek, some material, and then Rodney is lifting John’s head and wrapping it around. A handkerchief, and it’s dry where it rests in his mouth. Rodney ties it tightly behind his head.
Gagged, blindfolded, trussed up like a prisoner, John is completely at Rodney’s mercy. Which normally is a wonderful thing to be, but today all he wants is to come, hard and fast and dirty, but Rodney isn’t letting him. He’s playing a new game and John isn’t quite sure of the rules.
“There, that’s better. Really, I don’t mind if you beg me, but if you can’t hear me over your own voice, we have a problem.”
Rodney is back, hovering over him, and John can feel his breath on his skin, calm and searing. Rodney moves, and there’s no telling where he’ll touch next, and John can’t get used to it, no matter how he tries to brace himself.
Rodney touches him lightly, trailing his fingertips down John’s leg, and then right there under his knee where John is so sensitive. And then the hand is gone, replaced along his ribs, and a thumb digs into a spot John didn’t know he had. There must be a bundle of nerves there, something, because John almost jerks off the bed. He moans and pleads around the gag, and his cock is so hard he can feel his frantic heartbeat throbbing in it.
“Do you like me touching you like this?” Rodney asks. John knows he doesn’t require a real answer, if he did, he wouldn’t have gagged him. But John’s head is thrashing from side to side, nonono, because every single time Rodney did that, he felt like he was going to die from the pleasure. It was too much, but so far from enough. If only Rodney would wrap a hand around him, jerk him hot and fast and make him come, then everything would be set to rights.
But Rodney just hums a little and doesn’t even seem to notice.
John hates the way his arms are tied up over his head, because it leaves him so vulnerable, and inside he’s praying please, please don’t let him touch me there.
But Rodney does. He puts both of his hands up, one on each of John’s wrists, and slowly, lightly, torturously slides his fingertips down John’s arms. It’s coming, John feels it, and his whole body tenses up. It’s downright painful, that’s all John can think when Rodney lets his fingers brush against John’s armpits. But he moves on, and John exhales with relief.
Rodney chuckles. “I don’t think so,” he says, and John’s so busy being relieved that he forgets that Rodney is one sadistic bastard. And then Rodney touches him again, right there, only this time deeper and without any kind of mercy whatsoever.
John screams around his gag.
Then the hands are gone, and John sags against the ropes, panting as best he can around the handkerchief.
“I wish you could see yourself,” Rodney says conversationally. John wishes he could break the bonds and strangle him. The voice does nothing to calm him at all, but it’s the only thing he has to hold on to, now that Rodney’s not touching him anymore. That infuriating, teasing voice is the only thing left to ground him. “You’re all flushed and squirming, sweat breaking out all over your body ...”
John feels a tongue skirting along his hipbone and he thinks he may, be able to come if Rodney just keeps doing that, just a little more ...
And then the sensation is gone and he has the impression Rodney knows exactly how he feels, and that he’s laughing at him.
Never again, John wants to say. You’re never getting anywhere near me again. But that’s such a complete lie; even when Rodney is at his most sadistic, John can’t get enough. It’s frustrating as hell, absolute torture, but he can’t imagine being with anyone else. Rodney always, always knows what he needs. Even John denies it with every breath of his being.
There’s a long, slow exhale of heat over the base of his cock, then, and John can picture it in his mind even though he can’t see it: Rodney bending over and breathing over him, his mouth so fucking close, but when John tries to thrust up and feel that mouth on him, he’s left doing nothing but humping empty space. Which would be completely humiliating if he cared about anything other than coming at this point.
“You’re so impatient, Colonel,” Rodney says. “I’ve barely even started.” His voice is low and knowing, and John gives up and collapses back against the bed with a sob.
John curses and begs, but every word comes out as a muffled groan.
“What do you want? I can touch you some more.” Rodney touches John’s balls, a blunt fingernail scraping lightly over the sensitive skin there. John thrashes more, wanting to break free and find some, any release, but Rodney keeps talking. “Or I could use my mouth ...”
Hot lips just barely touch the head of John’s cock, a chaste kiss that takes him further, further, but never far enough. John whimpers, and he’s sure there are tears leaking down past the blackness of the blindfold.
“You like it when I do that?” Rodney asks.
Fuck you, John says, but it comes out more like, “ffftuuu.”
Rodney wraps his hand around John’s cock, and John thinks, yes, yes, finally, harder, more, but Rodney strokes him so, so slowly, and too lightly, just the calloused skin of his palm and pads of his fingers rubbing against him. John thrashes again and thrusts up, wanting the friction, wanting anything, but Rodney moves with him and doesn’t give him any more than what he’s already doing. Just slow, agonizingly slow touches that have John ready to agree to anything Rodney wants if he’d relent and let him come.
John’s never been this close before for so long. He’s never imagined pleasure being so intense that it’s like fiery pain wracking his body. He’s been tortured before, he’s been shot, he’s been put through what he thought was the most intense, extreme circumstances another human being could come up with. But this is like nothing he’s ever experienced. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to keep going. He’s sure he’ll die of it.
“Shh, calm down, it’s okay. I’m here. I promise it’ll be okay,” Rodney says, leaning up over him, body to body, and kissing his forehead like he’s a child. “Just let go and let me take care of you.”
Let go. John surrenders, tries to tell his body to relax, but it’s so damned hard to do because every muscle aches, every nerve seems to be on fire, and his mind is screaming so loudly he can barely stay focused.
“Stay with me,” Rodney orders, and leans back down to take John’s cock into his mouth. He doesn’t suck, it’s more like one long, wet kiss with his tongue moving over John’s overly sensitized flesh.
“Mrpph,” John manages to get out, but he’s trying to say, More, please, you bastard, please, and Rodney finally seems to give him what he wants. He takes John’s cock deep into his mouth and sucks while his fingers play with the tiny bundle of nerves behind John’s balls. John whimpers and thrusts up into Rodney’s mouth, and he’s so close, just one or two more thrusts like that and he’ll ...
“Not yet,” Rodney says calmly, and pulls back again.
John’s way past higher cognitive functions now, and all he can do is pull wildly against the restraints holding him, and they bite into his skin even though they’re padded so they won’t.
Rodney puts a hand on his chest, stroking, like he’s soothing a wild animal, and he murmurs things John doesn’t understand. But slowly, slowly, John calms.
And then Rodney does it all over again.
This time he starts with John’s nipples, which had never been sensitive before, but Rodney makes them sensitive by rubbing and twisting and worrying them between his teeth. It makes them sore and John’s sure they’re reddened and probably swollen, but then he can feel ever single light touch on them, and every single nerve he has in his body seems to go electric. John starts to think maybe, just maybe, he can come just from that, but Rodney always seems to read him, and never lets it happen.
Rodney shifts and gets up again, and this time John can hear the soft snick of the lube opening and closing. His cock jerks and his body tenses, and he thinks, Yes, fuck me, fuck me.
John’s legs are already spread apart and bound just like that, so that Rodney can have easy access whenever he wants. He almost cries out in relief when Rodney tells him to lift up and puts a pillow beneath his hips. Finally, finally.
A thick, slick finger plays over John’s hole, teasing, rubbing, but not hard enough, not enough to push through. John curses and bites down on the now-wet cloth in his mouth.
“God, you’re hot,” Rodney murmurs, and John wishes he could see him, wishes he could look into Rodney’s eyes as he does that. He knows they’d be dark and ruthless, the pupils dilated so that they’d appear almost completely black. “Do you think my finger would be enough?” Rodney asks, and then pushes in so slowly John wants to scream. Instead, he nods his head frantically, wanting Rodney to fuck him senseless with just those slick, talented fingers.
But Rodney only gives a little, and then takes away. Slowly. Excruciatingly. In, pause, out, pause, slowslowslow.
John flexes his thigh muscles, tries to find some kind of purchase with his feet, want to fuck himself on those fingers, but Rodney’s bound him in such a way that it’s impossible. He can barely move at all, and certainly not down and in the right angle to do what he needs to do.
Rodney pulls out and then runs his fingers over John’s cock again, and it hurts because John needs to come so, so badly. The gag muffles his cries, his sobs, his pleas, but he knows Rodney gets it. Understands exactly what he’s doing to him.
And Rodney just keeps doing it, playing with John like he’s some kind of toy he wants to break and glue together and break all over again.
But then, without any warning, when John thinks he’s going to be held right there on the precipice for eternity, he feels the head of Rodney’s cock right there, pushing in without any more preparation. Rodney goes fast this time, almost too fast, and John feels like he’s being stretched further than he ever has before. There’s a deep, hot burn when Rodney pushes in to the hilt, but there’s no time to recover become accustomed to it at all, because Rodney is fucking him hard, brutally almost, and one of Rodney’s hands moves up to rip the blindfold and gag away.
John squints against the sudden light, but as soon as he can focus, all he sees is Rodney above him, fucking him hard, his eyes black fire burning into his own. And it’s so intense that John lets out a cry that he doesn’t even recognize as human, and then he’s coming so hard, that all he sees is bursts of stars.
He’ so out of it after he comes that he doesn’t even notice when Rodney does. All he knows is that when he opens his eyes next, he’s no longer restrained, and Rodney is holding him close and kissing away the wetness lingering on John’s cheeks and eyelids.
“I hate you,” John manages to murmur.
Rodney grins at him, fondly, and gives him a long, sloppy, amazing kiss that has John clutching at him like he’s the only port in this very, very strange storm.
“A lot,” John says. And leans up to kiss him again.
END