Fic. By me. No, really, by me! Snap
Hnh. I seem to have written comment porn over at aesc . Inspired by a spoiler pic from 4.09 Miller's Crossing. Read it there, along with the the porny comment swap that's happening. ETA: check out the awesome icon ailurophile6 made for me! Son of ETA: There are more pictures HERE!
Or, if you want, read it here, non comment-style.
Title: Snap
Rating: Adult (NC-17, Angry Red Wombat, FRMA, etc.)
Word Count: 1521
Pairings: I'll give you one guess.
Spoilers: Sartorial spoiler for 4.09. Casting spoiler if you look at the inspiration pic.
Warning: Don’t take any wooden nickels.
Disclaimer: Please enter standard useless boilerplate disclaimer of all intent to damage here.
Snap
Now I can't stop imagining it...although, who in their right mind wears a snap-front hoodie all fastened up? Strippers and basketball players, that's who.
And Rodney McKay, because it's cold in the lab sometimes late at night and it's better sometimes just to bundle up a bit and get the job done, because he knows when he goes home (John's room, not his own, and isn't that saying something?) John's just going to undress him.
And when he wears the snap-front hoodie (and seriously, who req'd those off the Daedalus?), he knows when he gets there, John can't help but boggle a little and lick his lips and then just go for it.
Those snaps are a stupid challenge that John can't help but rise to and when Rodney walks in his door (their door), John grabs him, smelling midnight and coffee, pushes Rodney against the wall and puts one hand on either side of the placket...and pauses. All at once, snap-snap-snap? Or slowly, snap...snap...snap? It's a decision, because all at once is what he wants (naked is what he wants, and this is the quickest way) but oh, snap...snap...snap… is so much sweeter.
He's got to make the decision quickly, because Rodney's brain always gets there faster and if he doesn't make his move, then Rodney will choose for him, one hand snaking around his back and the other falling to his button and zip and he's done for; Rodney will do what he wants, take what he wants…and while John loves that, loves letting go and Rodney having his way, right now, he wants his own way. So…snap-snap-snap it is.
And he does, he goes for it, and Rodney probably knew all along, but he sees in Rodney's tired eyes the strain of too much coffee and doing things himself because it's easier than telling someone else how. But this, this, is what John knows best. So he pushes Rodney up against the wall a little harder and rips that damn hoodie open, snap-snap-snap all down the front. And he pushes his tongue inside Rodney's mouth and bites his lip and leaves the hoodie tangled around Rodney's wrists. He makes a trail of open-mouthed bite marks down Rodney's neck, starting at that perfect mouthful behind his ear and ending at the painful-but-good spot right on his collarbone.
He's faced with another decision, again, one he's got to make quickly, because if he doesn't, Rodney will untangle himself, pull his wrists free and slide those big hands down the saggy back of John's pants and walk him backwards to the bed, using those broad shoulders to press him down. And John loves to play the fair maiden, he won't deny it, but snap-front-hoodie…so he skips pushing up Rodney's shirt to get at his nipples and goes for his pants instead, slinking to his knees at the same time.
Rodney's arms are still tangled in his sleeves and he thumps his head against the wall as John takes him in. He's hard already, got hard instantly when John fisted his hands in the sweatshirt and ripped it open, snap-snap-snap. He loves to throw his weight around, hold the little Lieutenant Colonel down and fuck him, but sometimes, instead of taking, Rodney needs to be taken. So he doesn't even try to free his hands from his sleeves and instead watches John's shiny lips stretched around his cock.
Before he tells his brain to shut up, Rodney takes a moment to hope John will pull off before too long so he can come with John's dick inside him. And then he stops thinking about it because it's been a long night; parts of his ass are still numb from sitting on those stupid stools they keep in the lab and John is doing that fluttery thing with his tongue and even while he's thrusting his hips, pushing hard into John's willing mouth, Rodney pleads, "John".
John gets it, he really does, and while he'd love to finish Rodney off right here, suck him long and hard and maybe push a spit-slick finger in his ass, he knows he started this thing with the snap-snap-snap. He rises, pulling up Rodney's t-shirt, finally getting his lips on one of those nipples, stripping him as he clumsily pulls them to the bed.
They get naked; it's not elegant but it's fast, and that's what counts. John does his best to hold Rodney down as he fishes for the lube. It's not much of a struggle - Rodney wants this, is happy to let John keep sucking his dick and get three fingers deep, and only pushes on the back of John's head a little bit.
The snap-front hoodie is gone but not forgotten - John wishes it was still tied up around Rodney's arms because he's being grabby and John wants to call the shots. He pulls up, crawling up Rodney's body, grabbing one wrist and pushing it to the pillow above Rodney's head.
John gives Rodney a look, one he's all too happy to interpret, and leaves his hands above his head, stuck there whether John's tied them or not. He won't move his arms but all the same, he feels freer for it. John snap-snap-snapped him and he's got no choice anymore but to lay there and take it. Be taken.
And that's what John does. Pulls his fingers free, puts Rodney's arms up, slicks his dick. He stops a second, slows his hand, and looks at Rodney McKay splayed out for him. His eyes have gone black and he's got one knee up; for all he's playing the passive part tonight, his chest is still heaving like he's the one been doing all the work. He's never looked more beautiful.
John keeps his eyes on Rodney's, uses one hand to rub his cock up and down the crease of Rodney's ass. Tells him without words, You're mine. Rodney's breath hitches when John stops, pausing with the head of his dick poised right against his hole. John's eyes are dark and intense with possessiveness and Rodney can't look away, can't even close his eyes as John pushes in.
The stretch and burn are sweet, always the same no matter how many times they've done this, and Rodney groans as John fills him up. He wants to grab John, wrap his hands around his sweet ass and make him move, but he doesn't. Leaves his hands where they are and instead makes a little noise in the back of his throat and twitches his hips.
John smiles a little, because Rodney's still Rodney, no matter what they're doing, and he may not actually be grabbing John and pulling him closer, pulling him in, but he might as well be. The smile's replaced by a deep breath when Rodney clenches around him, and John pushes in hard to remind him who's doing what here. Rodney's mouth falls open silently, fists clasping air and John pushes in again, again, again.
John's fucking him good and hard and Rodney fucks him back as best he can without clutching John to him like he needs. He may be petty and arrogant but he can take an order when he wants, and so his hands stay where John put them.
John's on one elbow above him, nose buried in Rodney's neck and his free hand rolling a nipple almost casually. Rodney whines, wanting something, wanting more. John sees it, kneels up, hitching Rodney's hips higher and fucks him impossibly harder. With each thrust, Rodney's being shuffled a little farther up the bed, his fingers stretching out to press against the wall.
"God, John," he moans, eyes finally falling shut, "please." John wasn't a MENSA candidate for nothing, and he grabs Rodney's dick, stripping it roughly and driving into Rodney's heat slow and hard.
"Come on, Rodney…let me see you," he pants. God, it's hot and hard and good and he really needs Rodney to come now so he can let himself go. There's another little whine, a hitch in Rodney's breath and then he is coming, with a wordless groan and his whole body arching and clenching so hard John can hardly hold on.
When he finally falls boneless to the bed, Rodney looks up at him glassy-eyed and just says, "nngh." John takes that for the signal it is, falling to both elbows and driving into Rodney as fast and hard as he can. He comes quickly, lips wrapped around that perfect mouthful of neck again. With a sigh he relaxes, his full weight pressing Rodney to the mattress and he snakes his hands up Rodney's arms to where his fingers are curled into his palms.
These few moments, the "afterglow" if you want to be a girl about it, Rodney loves almost as much as the orgasm itself. His brain's offline for a while and John's a bony sweet-smelling heap above him and the ligament where thigh meets groin is starting to ache and there's no place else he'd rather be. He dozes and briefly thinks maybe he ought to start wearing the snap-front hoodie a little more often.
Or, if you want, read it here, non comment-style.
Title: Snap
Rating: Adult (NC-17, Angry Red Wombat, FRMA, etc.)
Word Count: 1521
Pairings: I'll give you one guess.
Spoilers: Sartorial spoiler for 4.09. Casting spoiler if you look at the inspiration pic.
Warning: Don’t take any wooden nickels.
Disclaimer: Please enter standard useless boilerplate disclaimer of all intent to damage here.
Snap
Now I can't stop imagining it...although, who in their right mind wears a snap-front hoodie all fastened up? Strippers and basketball players, that's who.
And Rodney McKay, because it's cold in the lab sometimes late at night and it's better sometimes just to bundle up a bit and get the job done, because he knows when he goes home (John's room, not his own, and isn't that saying something?) John's just going to undress him.
And when he wears the snap-front hoodie (and seriously, who req'd those off the Daedalus?), he knows when he gets there, John can't help but boggle a little and lick his lips and then just go for it.
Those snaps are a stupid challenge that John can't help but rise to and when Rodney walks in his door (their door), John grabs him, smelling midnight and coffee, pushes Rodney against the wall and puts one hand on either side of the placket...and pauses. All at once, snap-snap-snap? Or slowly, snap...snap...snap? It's a decision, because all at once is what he wants (naked is what he wants, and this is the quickest way) but oh, snap...snap...snap… is so much sweeter.
He's got to make the decision quickly, because Rodney's brain always gets there faster and if he doesn't make his move, then Rodney will choose for him, one hand snaking around his back and the other falling to his button and zip and he's done for; Rodney will do what he wants, take what he wants…and while John loves that, loves letting go and Rodney having his way, right now, he wants his own way. So…snap-snap-snap it is.
And he does, he goes for it, and Rodney probably knew all along, but he sees in Rodney's tired eyes the strain of too much coffee and doing things himself because it's easier than telling someone else how. But this, this, is what John knows best. So he pushes Rodney up against the wall a little harder and rips that damn hoodie open, snap-snap-snap all down the front. And he pushes his tongue inside Rodney's mouth and bites his lip and leaves the hoodie tangled around Rodney's wrists. He makes a trail of open-mouthed bite marks down Rodney's neck, starting at that perfect mouthful behind his ear and ending at the painful-but-good spot right on his collarbone.
He's faced with another decision, again, one he's got to make quickly, because if he doesn't, Rodney will untangle himself, pull his wrists free and slide those big hands down the saggy back of John's pants and walk him backwards to the bed, using those broad shoulders to press him down. And John loves to play the fair maiden, he won't deny it, but snap-front-hoodie…so he skips pushing up Rodney's shirt to get at his nipples and goes for his pants instead, slinking to his knees at the same time.
Rodney's arms are still tangled in his sleeves and he thumps his head against the wall as John takes him in. He's hard already, got hard instantly when John fisted his hands in the sweatshirt and ripped it open, snap-snap-snap. He loves to throw his weight around, hold the little Lieutenant Colonel down and fuck him, but sometimes, instead of taking, Rodney needs to be taken. So he doesn't even try to free his hands from his sleeves and instead watches John's shiny lips stretched around his cock.
Before he tells his brain to shut up, Rodney takes a moment to hope John will pull off before too long so he can come with John's dick inside him. And then he stops thinking about it because it's been a long night; parts of his ass are still numb from sitting on those stupid stools they keep in the lab and John is doing that fluttery thing with his tongue and even while he's thrusting his hips, pushing hard into John's willing mouth, Rodney pleads, "John".
John gets it, he really does, and while he'd love to finish Rodney off right here, suck him long and hard and maybe push a spit-slick finger in his ass, he knows he started this thing with the snap-snap-snap. He rises, pulling up Rodney's t-shirt, finally getting his lips on one of those nipples, stripping him as he clumsily pulls them to the bed.
They get naked; it's not elegant but it's fast, and that's what counts. John does his best to hold Rodney down as he fishes for the lube. It's not much of a struggle - Rodney wants this, is happy to let John keep sucking his dick and get three fingers deep, and only pushes on the back of John's head a little bit.
The snap-front hoodie is gone but not forgotten - John wishes it was still tied up around Rodney's arms because he's being grabby and John wants to call the shots. He pulls up, crawling up Rodney's body, grabbing one wrist and pushing it to the pillow above Rodney's head.
John gives Rodney a look, one he's all too happy to interpret, and leaves his hands above his head, stuck there whether John's tied them or not. He won't move his arms but all the same, he feels freer for it. John snap-snap-snapped him and he's got no choice anymore but to lay there and take it. Be taken.
And that's what John does. Pulls his fingers free, puts Rodney's arms up, slicks his dick. He stops a second, slows his hand, and looks at Rodney McKay splayed out for him. His eyes have gone black and he's got one knee up; for all he's playing the passive part tonight, his chest is still heaving like he's the one been doing all the work. He's never looked more beautiful.
John keeps his eyes on Rodney's, uses one hand to rub his cock up and down the crease of Rodney's ass. Tells him without words, You're mine. Rodney's breath hitches when John stops, pausing with the head of his dick poised right against his hole. John's eyes are dark and intense with possessiveness and Rodney can't look away, can't even close his eyes as John pushes in.
The stretch and burn are sweet, always the same no matter how many times they've done this, and Rodney groans as John fills him up. He wants to grab John, wrap his hands around his sweet ass and make him move, but he doesn't. Leaves his hands where they are and instead makes a little noise in the back of his throat and twitches his hips.
John smiles a little, because Rodney's still Rodney, no matter what they're doing, and he may not actually be grabbing John and pulling him closer, pulling him in, but he might as well be. The smile's replaced by a deep breath when Rodney clenches around him, and John pushes in hard to remind him who's doing what here. Rodney's mouth falls open silently, fists clasping air and John pushes in again, again, again.
John's fucking him good and hard and Rodney fucks him back as best he can without clutching John to him like he needs. He may be petty and arrogant but he can take an order when he wants, and so his hands stay where John put them.
John's on one elbow above him, nose buried in Rodney's neck and his free hand rolling a nipple almost casually. Rodney whines, wanting something, wanting more. John sees it, kneels up, hitching Rodney's hips higher and fucks him impossibly harder. With each thrust, Rodney's being shuffled a little farther up the bed, his fingers stretching out to press against the wall.
"God, John," he moans, eyes finally falling shut, "please." John wasn't a MENSA candidate for nothing, and he grabs Rodney's dick, stripping it roughly and driving into Rodney's heat slow and hard.
"Come on, Rodney…let me see you," he pants. God, it's hot and hard and good and he really needs Rodney to come now so he can let himself go. There's another little whine, a hitch in Rodney's breath and then he is coming, with a wordless groan and his whole body arching and clenching so hard John can hardly hold on.
When he finally falls boneless to the bed, Rodney looks up at him glassy-eyed and just says, "nngh." John takes that for the signal it is, falling to both elbows and driving into Rodney as fast and hard as he can. He comes quickly, lips wrapped around that perfect mouthful of neck again. With a sigh he relaxes, his full weight pressing Rodney to the mattress and he snakes his hands up Rodney's arms to where his fingers are curled into his palms.
These few moments, the "afterglow" if you want to be a girl about it, Rodney loves almost as much as the orgasm itself. His brain's offline for a while and John's a bony sweet-smelling heap above him and the ligament where thigh meets groin is starting to ache and there's no place else he'd rather be. He dozes and briefly thinks maybe he ought to start wearing the snap-front hoodie a little more often.