14 Valentines 1: Any Liability (McKay/Sheppard, NC-17)
Title: Any Liability
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~2,100
Warnings: PWP. Bad sex PWP. Do not drink while reading.
Summary: Not to brag, but he'd never fit in there.
Notes: This took me over a year to write, that's how amazing I am at writing porn. Beta-read by the lovely sonadorita and my broet-chan.
14 Valentines Essay: Day 1: Body Image
~~~
They had never done this before.
This, fumbling open a tube of medical lubricant John had swiped from the infirmary and squirting out too much on shaky fingers. This, John kneeling on the bed, weight resting on his hands, looking hot and very naked and strangely vulnerable. They'd been straight for the first thirty-odd years of their lives, or at least the part of them that counted. They both didn't exactly know what they were doing.
It should have been scary. In a way, it was.
For Rodney, what they'd done so far would have been enough. He liked hand jobs, and blow jobs - even giving them, although it had been strange at first to have another man's penis in his mouth and the taste of semen was simply disgusting - and rubbing himself against John until they both got off. But John had stubbornly insisted, in that pouty little way he had, that it wasn't a relationship without sex, and it wasn't sex without... you know.
At which point Rodney had rolled his eyes and asked him how he expected to do it if he couldn't even say it, and John had decided that, well, Rodney should do it then.
So now here he was, about to stick his slick-dripping fingers into John's ass, and they were both so nervous they hadn't gotten past being half-hard at best.
This was a bad plan.
But John wanted it, and for once Rodney wanted to be the generous one who could put his personal issues aside and just take care of his partner's needs, so he squirted a little more lubricant onto his fingers just to be on the safe side, rested the tip of his index finger against John's, well, hole, and then he pushed, and-
"Ow!"
-and then he pulled away so fast he almost catapulted himself off the bed, wiping his fingers on the sheets and saying, "Sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't- did I hurt you, are you bleeding, should I call... wait a second," reaching for his radio on the bedside table, only to have John grab his wrist and hold on.
"If you're calling Beckett to tell him you broke my ass, I'll have to kill you," John told him earnestly, then sighed. "Just… try it again a little more slowly."
"Well, sorry," Rodney huffed, crossing his arms because he had no intention to try it again, hello, "it's not like there are pamphlets lying around to helpfully explain How To Have Your First Time Gay Sex With A Military Man."
"Be gentle with me," John breathed and Rodney gave him a sharp slap on the ass.
"Ow! Again!"
"Shut up, you had it coming."
John sniggered, and Rodney rolled his eyes. "Oh my god, what are you, twelve?"
"Wouldn't that make you a paedophile?"
"You know, I think I left a very important simulation running in the lab, I really should check-"
"Rodney." John got back into his chosen position, slightly wriggling his ass. There was a faintly reddened patch of skin on one cheek, and Rodney swallowed. He'd done that. "You've got a more important experiment right here."
He wriggled his ass again, for emphasis, Rodney presumed. He was fairly sure that it didn't have the desired effect. Glancing down at his flagging erection, he nodded to himself. Suspicion confirmed.
Right. He could do this. Squirting a little more lube on his fingers - "Rodney." - he rested his fingertip lightly on the wrinkled skin of John's… John's hole. Pushing lightly, he pressed the tip past the tightly closed ring of muscles, puckered skin and hair giving way to a weird smoothness. John squirmed, and Rodney stopped.
"Does it hurt?" he asked, fully prepared to end his participation in this particular farce.
"No." John clenched his ass experimentally, muscles squeezing Rodney's fingertip. "Feels weird."
"Define weird."
"Like shitting in the wrong direction."
"Oh, thank you." Rodney pulled a face. "Thank you very much for that lovely image."
"Are you going to keep going or what?"
Rodney heaved a put-upon sigh and complied, pressing his finger a little further in, pulling it back, turning it as he pushed in again to spread the lubricant evenly. John was plenty slick inside so it had to be all about lubricating the, uh, entrance, so to speak, but honestly? Rodney didn't see the appeal to sticking his finger up another man's ass. This wasn't sexy at all.
When his finger was all the way in, Rodney stopped. "Does it hurt now?"
John twisted around so he could glare at Rodney, his sphincter muscles closing around Rodney's finger like a very soft vice. "Rodney, I swear I will tell you if it hurts. Now try it with two."
Rodney obeyed.
"Okay, stop."
Rodney stopped. "What?"
"Try pulling out the other finger first."
Rodney did, adding more lubricant when John wasn't paying attention. Pushing two fingers inside was more difficult, met an increased resistance. Rodney watched in fascination as John's hole stretched to accommodate him. It still wasn't very sexy, but it was kind of cool. He pressed his fingers as far inside as they would go, wriggling them a little just to see if that would get him a reaction. It didn't; John just kept kneeling, head hanging down, chin a little cocked to the side as if to ask, 'and? So?' Rodney frowned, feeling rather insulted - after all, this had been John's idea; the least he could do was participate - and twirling the tips of his fingers out of spite, except John jerked abruptly and let out a surprised gasp. So Rodney did it again, this time actively feeling for the small protrusion he was going to assume was John's prostate, earning himself a breathy little moan.
Okay. That sound? That was sexy.
Brushing over the spot again and again, listening to John's breathing growing heavier, Rodney felt his dick give the first little twitch of interest. John started to push back, just a little at first, like he was getting used to the concept, then harder, building up a rhythm.
"John-"
"Yeah," John breathed, his voice deep and scratchy, "feels good, Rodney, don't stop."
Rodney nodded dazedly. He didn't remember consciously making the decision, but suddenly the tip of his third finger was resting on the stretched, not-so-wrinkled-anymore skin of John's hole, applying just the barest amount of pressure. John sucked in a shaky breath and stilled, letting Rodney twist his finger inside. It had to burn, and John waited until all three fingers were inside and his muscles had lost a little of their resistance before he started moving again. Rodney tried to hit his prostate as often as possible. John obviously liked it, and Rodney himself was rather partial to the sounds he made. His dick was fully erect now, leaking slightly at the tip, and he leaned forward to nip lightly along the bumps of John's spine, tasting salt. He kept turning his fingers in that strange, silky place, and John let out a soft, gasping whimper.
"Come on, Rodney," he panted, "do it now. Come on, just-"
"Yes, yes, quit nagging already." Rodney pulled his fingers out, inspecting them critically. Glistening and slick, yes, but apart from that they looked reasonably clean. He brought them to his nose and sniffed.
"Rodney!"
"What?" he asked defensively, but leaned over to the bedside table to pull a condom wrapper out of the topmost drawer.
"A condom, McKay?"
Holding the wrapper in his sticky, sticky hand, Rodney raised his chin and told him haughtily, "Yes. The merits of safer sex can never be understated."
John looked at him as if he had crossed the supposedly fine line between genius and insanity, one eyebrow slightly raised, "What STD could you possibly give me that a blow job wouldn't?"
"Excuse me? First of all, I don't have any STDs, which you very well know, and second, what if there's an emergency and you end up in the infirmary carrying my DNA in your rectum? I'd rather not have you deported back to Earth, if it's all the same to you." He paused. "Third, no one asked you to swallow."
"And they say romance is dead," John commented dryly, but watched as Rodney unwrapped the condom. Or rather, watched as Rodney completely failed to unwrap the condom. His eyebrow rose higher and higher, until he finally asked, "Got a problem there, McKay?"
"It's-" Rodney tried valiantly to get enough of a hold to open the small black package, but the foil kept slipping through his fingers. "Whoever designed this deserves to be publicly exposed for incompetence!" he complained, frustration turning his movements sharp and jerky as he yanked at one corner, to no avail. Perhaps he could try with his teeth… except then he might accidentally rip the condom, and besides, there were shiny smears of lube all over the foil, from the fingers he'd just used to explore John's rectum, and can we spell unhygienic?
"Come on, give." John wiped the condom wrapper on the sheets, ignoring Rodney's spluttered protests, and got it open on the fourth try. "Here."
He handed the condom to Rodney who rolled it down his dick, strangely disappointed. He'd heard that having one partner apply it to the other was sensual and rewarding. He wanted to be sensually rewarded. Instead, he'd have to shove his penis into an opening that seemed far too small when he eyed it critically.
Not to brag, but he'd never fit in there.
John was starting to make his impatient sighing noises again, though, so Rodney heaved a sigh of his own and nudged the tip of his erection against John's hole.
And pulled away. "Look, I really don't think that is going to fit. Wouldn't you rather I-"
"Rodney." John didn't look at him. "Just do it already."
Rodney pressed his lips together and pushed. And moaned as the head of his dick slipped into John, into heat and softness and tight muscles closing around him. His fingers dug into the skin of John's hips but he barely even noticed, too caught up in that incredible feeling. "Okay, yes, this might not have been such a- Oh!" His hips stuttered, pushed him a little further in, and god, why hadn't they done this sooner? It was a proven fact that regular sex led to improved health and calorie loss, and true, it had been proven by biologists, but that didn't seem to matter so much right now.
"John, this is-" But John's entire posture was tense, his fingers clutching the sheets and, "Oh god, I am hurting you!"
"Doesn't matter," John replied through clenched teeth. "Keep going."
"What? Of course it matters! And, all right, that's it. Not everyone is a bottom and you obviously aren't, and, and, and I'm going to pull out now."
"No. Keep going."
"No!"
"McKay."
Rodney wasn't listening anymore. John had twisted around as far as he could to glare at him, muscles shifting as he moved, sphincter clenching hard around the tip of Rodney's penis, and Rodney was gone. With a shocked groan, he came, hips stuttering as all his baser instincts commanded him to seek more of that stimulation, to drive himself deeper into that tight, slick place. John jerked back from the sudden pain and lost his balance, taking Rodney with him as he collapsed on the mattress. Their perch hadn't been the most secure one to start with, and Rodney yelped and tried to keep them on the bed, but to no avail. Together they went down in a tumble of limbs and sheets, with the air forced out of Rodney's lungs as he hit the floor and John landed on top of him.
Blinking dazedly, Rodney stared at the ceiling, his head ringing from its impact on the hard floor. John pushed himself up and turned around, his body pushing out Rodney's softening penis like… well, like shitting in the right direction, and Rodney closed his eyes and groaned at the stupid, stupid metaphor. Above him, John started to laugh.
"Wow," he managed, "that was really bad," and kept on guffawing so hard his sides had to hurt.
Rodney tried to glare at him, but his lips twitched despite his best efforts. "We will never do that again. Ever."
"God, no," John wheezed, "not ever," and Rodney pulled him down and whacked his head before he kissed him, pretending he didn't know perfectly well that John would ask again before the week was over.
~~~
End.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~2,100
Warnings: PWP. Bad sex PWP. Do not drink while reading.
Summary: Not to brag, but he'd never fit in there.
Notes: This took me over a year to write, that's how amazing I am at writing porn. Beta-read by the lovely sonadorita and my broet-chan.
14 Valentines Essay: Day 1: Body Image
~~~
They had never done this before.
This, fumbling open a tube of medical lubricant John had swiped from the infirmary and squirting out too much on shaky fingers. This, John kneeling on the bed, weight resting on his hands, looking hot and very naked and strangely vulnerable. They'd been straight for the first thirty-odd years of their lives, or at least the part of them that counted. They both didn't exactly know what they were doing.
It should have been scary. In a way, it was.
For Rodney, what they'd done so far would have been enough. He liked hand jobs, and blow jobs - even giving them, although it had been strange at first to have another man's penis in his mouth and the taste of semen was simply disgusting - and rubbing himself against John until they both got off. But John had stubbornly insisted, in that pouty little way he had, that it wasn't a relationship without sex, and it wasn't sex without... you know.
At which point Rodney had rolled his eyes and asked him how he expected to do it if he couldn't even say it, and John had decided that, well, Rodney should do it then.
So now here he was, about to stick his slick-dripping fingers into John's ass, and they were both so nervous they hadn't gotten past being half-hard at best.
This was a bad plan.
But John wanted it, and for once Rodney wanted to be the generous one who could put his personal issues aside and just take care of his partner's needs, so he squirted a little more lubricant onto his fingers just to be on the safe side, rested the tip of his index finger against John's, well, hole, and then he pushed, and-
"Ow!"
-and then he pulled away so fast he almost catapulted himself off the bed, wiping his fingers on the sheets and saying, "Sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't- did I hurt you, are you bleeding, should I call... wait a second," reaching for his radio on the bedside table, only to have John grab his wrist and hold on.
"If you're calling Beckett to tell him you broke my ass, I'll have to kill you," John told him earnestly, then sighed. "Just… try it again a little more slowly."
"Well, sorry," Rodney huffed, crossing his arms because he had no intention to try it again, hello, "it's not like there are pamphlets lying around to helpfully explain How To Have Your First Time Gay Sex With A Military Man."
"Be gentle with me," John breathed and Rodney gave him a sharp slap on the ass.
"Ow! Again!"
"Shut up, you had it coming."
John sniggered, and Rodney rolled his eyes. "Oh my god, what are you, twelve?"
"Wouldn't that make you a paedophile?"
"You know, I think I left a very important simulation running in the lab, I really should check-"
"Rodney." John got back into his chosen position, slightly wriggling his ass. There was a faintly reddened patch of skin on one cheek, and Rodney swallowed. He'd done that. "You've got a more important experiment right here."
He wriggled his ass again, for emphasis, Rodney presumed. He was fairly sure that it didn't have the desired effect. Glancing down at his flagging erection, he nodded to himself. Suspicion confirmed.
Right. He could do this. Squirting a little more lube on his fingers - "Rodney." - he rested his fingertip lightly on the wrinkled skin of John's… John's hole. Pushing lightly, he pressed the tip past the tightly closed ring of muscles, puckered skin and hair giving way to a weird smoothness. John squirmed, and Rodney stopped.
"Does it hurt?" he asked, fully prepared to end his participation in this particular farce.
"No." John clenched his ass experimentally, muscles squeezing Rodney's fingertip. "Feels weird."
"Define weird."
"Like shitting in the wrong direction."
"Oh, thank you." Rodney pulled a face. "Thank you very much for that lovely image."
"Are you going to keep going or what?"
Rodney heaved a put-upon sigh and complied, pressing his finger a little further in, pulling it back, turning it as he pushed in again to spread the lubricant evenly. John was plenty slick inside so it had to be all about lubricating the, uh, entrance, so to speak, but honestly? Rodney didn't see the appeal to sticking his finger up another man's ass. This wasn't sexy at all.
When his finger was all the way in, Rodney stopped. "Does it hurt now?"
John twisted around so he could glare at Rodney, his sphincter muscles closing around Rodney's finger like a very soft vice. "Rodney, I swear I will tell you if it hurts. Now try it with two."
Rodney obeyed.
"Okay, stop."
Rodney stopped. "What?"
"Try pulling out the other finger first."
Rodney did, adding more lubricant when John wasn't paying attention. Pushing two fingers inside was more difficult, met an increased resistance. Rodney watched in fascination as John's hole stretched to accommodate him. It still wasn't very sexy, but it was kind of cool. He pressed his fingers as far inside as they would go, wriggling them a little just to see if that would get him a reaction. It didn't; John just kept kneeling, head hanging down, chin a little cocked to the side as if to ask, 'and? So?' Rodney frowned, feeling rather insulted - after all, this had been John's idea; the least he could do was participate - and twirling the tips of his fingers out of spite, except John jerked abruptly and let out a surprised gasp. So Rodney did it again, this time actively feeling for the small protrusion he was going to assume was John's prostate, earning himself a breathy little moan.
Okay. That sound? That was sexy.
Brushing over the spot again and again, listening to John's breathing growing heavier, Rodney felt his dick give the first little twitch of interest. John started to push back, just a little at first, like he was getting used to the concept, then harder, building up a rhythm.
"John-"
"Yeah," John breathed, his voice deep and scratchy, "feels good, Rodney, don't stop."
Rodney nodded dazedly. He didn't remember consciously making the decision, but suddenly the tip of his third finger was resting on the stretched, not-so-wrinkled-anymore skin of John's hole, applying just the barest amount of pressure. John sucked in a shaky breath and stilled, letting Rodney twist his finger inside. It had to burn, and John waited until all three fingers were inside and his muscles had lost a little of their resistance before he started moving again. Rodney tried to hit his prostate as often as possible. John obviously liked it, and Rodney himself was rather partial to the sounds he made. His dick was fully erect now, leaking slightly at the tip, and he leaned forward to nip lightly along the bumps of John's spine, tasting salt. He kept turning his fingers in that strange, silky place, and John let out a soft, gasping whimper.
"Come on, Rodney," he panted, "do it now. Come on, just-"
"Yes, yes, quit nagging already." Rodney pulled his fingers out, inspecting them critically. Glistening and slick, yes, but apart from that they looked reasonably clean. He brought them to his nose and sniffed.
"Rodney!"
"What?" he asked defensively, but leaned over to the bedside table to pull a condom wrapper out of the topmost drawer.
"A condom, McKay?"
Holding the wrapper in his sticky, sticky hand, Rodney raised his chin and told him haughtily, "Yes. The merits of safer sex can never be understated."
John looked at him as if he had crossed the supposedly fine line between genius and insanity, one eyebrow slightly raised, "What STD could you possibly give me that a blow job wouldn't?"
"Excuse me? First of all, I don't have any STDs, which you very well know, and second, what if there's an emergency and you end up in the infirmary carrying my DNA in your rectum? I'd rather not have you deported back to Earth, if it's all the same to you." He paused. "Third, no one asked you to swallow."
"And they say romance is dead," John commented dryly, but watched as Rodney unwrapped the condom. Or rather, watched as Rodney completely failed to unwrap the condom. His eyebrow rose higher and higher, until he finally asked, "Got a problem there, McKay?"
"It's-" Rodney tried valiantly to get enough of a hold to open the small black package, but the foil kept slipping through his fingers. "Whoever designed this deserves to be publicly exposed for incompetence!" he complained, frustration turning his movements sharp and jerky as he yanked at one corner, to no avail. Perhaps he could try with his teeth… except then he might accidentally rip the condom, and besides, there were shiny smears of lube all over the foil, from the fingers he'd just used to explore John's rectum, and can we spell unhygienic?
"Come on, give." John wiped the condom wrapper on the sheets, ignoring Rodney's spluttered protests, and got it open on the fourth try. "Here."
He handed the condom to Rodney who rolled it down his dick, strangely disappointed. He'd heard that having one partner apply it to the other was sensual and rewarding. He wanted to be sensually rewarded. Instead, he'd have to shove his penis into an opening that seemed far too small when he eyed it critically.
Not to brag, but he'd never fit in there.
John was starting to make his impatient sighing noises again, though, so Rodney heaved a sigh of his own and nudged the tip of his erection against John's hole.
And pulled away. "Look, I really don't think that is going to fit. Wouldn't you rather I-"
"Rodney." John didn't look at him. "Just do it already."
Rodney pressed his lips together and pushed. And moaned as the head of his dick slipped into John, into heat and softness and tight muscles closing around him. His fingers dug into the skin of John's hips but he barely even noticed, too caught up in that incredible feeling. "Okay, yes, this might not have been such a- Oh!" His hips stuttered, pushed him a little further in, and god, why hadn't they done this sooner? It was a proven fact that regular sex led to improved health and calorie loss, and true, it had been proven by biologists, but that didn't seem to matter so much right now.
"John, this is-" But John's entire posture was tense, his fingers clutching the sheets and, "Oh god, I am hurting you!"
"Doesn't matter," John replied through clenched teeth. "Keep going."
"What? Of course it matters! And, all right, that's it. Not everyone is a bottom and you obviously aren't, and, and, and I'm going to pull out now."
"No. Keep going."
"No!"
"McKay."
Rodney wasn't listening anymore. John had twisted around as far as he could to glare at him, muscles shifting as he moved, sphincter clenching hard around the tip of Rodney's penis, and Rodney was gone. With a shocked groan, he came, hips stuttering as all his baser instincts commanded him to seek more of that stimulation, to drive himself deeper into that tight, slick place. John jerked back from the sudden pain and lost his balance, taking Rodney with him as he collapsed on the mattress. Their perch hadn't been the most secure one to start with, and Rodney yelped and tried to keep them on the bed, but to no avail. Together they went down in a tumble of limbs and sheets, with the air forced out of Rodney's lungs as he hit the floor and John landed on top of him.
Blinking dazedly, Rodney stared at the ceiling, his head ringing from its impact on the hard floor. John pushed himself up and turned around, his body pushing out Rodney's softening penis like… well, like shitting in the right direction, and Rodney closed his eyes and groaned at the stupid, stupid metaphor. Above him, John started to laugh.
"Wow," he managed, "that was really bad," and kept on guffawing so hard his sides had to hurt.
Rodney tried to glare at him, but his lips twitched despite his best efforts. "We will never do that again. Ever."
"God, no," John wheezed, "not ever," and Rodney pulled him down and whacked his head before he kissed him, pretending he didn't know perfectly well that John would ask again before the week was over.
~~~
End.