SGA Fic: Bric-a-brac Childbearing
I was trying to get people to write me stuff with my Spammy Subject Line Smut game, but then there was this prompt: bric-a-brac childbearing. I've spent WAY too much time hanging out with barely_bean to pass that one up. It's too long for the comments, so I'm posting it here. And yes, yes, there is MPreg in here. *g*
John could hear the muttering from the other side of the door--okay, ranting really, but he was trying to think positively--and he briefly considered just turning heel and going. No one would call him a coward for not walking into that, except, well, himself. He sighed and knocked.
The ranting turned to grumbling, and there were footstomps coming his way, and the doors snicked open.
"What?" Rodney demanded, scowling, his hair sticking out in all directions, as if it, too, were highly annoyed.
"I heard-- I thought maybe-- I just came to check--" John shifted his weight uneasily, and there was nowhere to look, because this was Rodney, and John couldn't just stare past him at a point on the wall the way he did with other people. But nowadays when he tried to look Rodney in the eye, his gaze just inevitably drifted lower, and that always felt like a breach of privacy, of the guiltiest sort.
Rodney let out an indignant huff. "Drew the short straw, huh? Well, fine then. You're here. You may as well come in."
John followed him inside, and took a deep breath, and charged bravely forward, "The science team said you-- seemed a little on edge today." More so than usual anyway hung there in silent parentheses.
"Who ratted me out? I want names."
John met his eye at last. "They're just concerned."
Rodney let out his breath heavily, his shoulders slumping. "I'm fine. I'm just--"
John swallowed hard and gave in to the inevitable, his gaze sliding downward, fastening on the swell of Rodney's belly, the way his shirt pulled too tightly across it, emphasizing its perfect roundness. Not for the first time, John cursed the Ancients and their utterly undeveloped design sensibilities. Decorative bric-a-brac looked no different from, well, something that could do that to Rodney, and honestly, what kind of advanced civilization was that?
"What's really wrong, Rodney? I know it's not just--" He waved his hand vaguely in the direction of Rodney's belly.
"You don't want to know."
"I asked, didn't I?"
"I'm serious."
"Rodney."
"Fine!" Rodney threw up his hands. "I'm horny! Impossibly, unbearably, unremittingly horny. Like I've never been horny in my entire life. Because apparently that old wives tale about being insatiable when you're knocked up is, hey, who knew, actually a fact. And I'm-- the word hasn't even been invented yet for how frustrated I am, and there's nothing to do about it, because it's not as if I was getting a lot of action before. And now--" He hung his head. "Well, just look at me."
"Hey, hey." John awkwardly patted his arm. "I'm sure you'll-- There are lots of people who'd-- I can do it." It just came tumbling out. "I mean, if you want."
Rodney pulled away stiffly. "Oh, please. You can't even bring yourself to look at me you're so disgusted. I think sex, even of the strictly charitable variety, is kind of a stretch, don't you?"
John frowned. "It wouldn't be-- I'm not-- It's just-- If I hadn't touched that stupid--"
Rodney's eyes widened. "Oh, for God's sake. That's the problem? You're all guilt-ridden?" He stared at John like he was crazy. "As far as I'm concerned, you're only to blame if it's not yours."
John got a funny feeling in his stomach thinking about, well, the moment of conception, how he and Rodney and Kavanaugh had all reached for the Ancient artifact at the same time, and then it started buzzing, and there was this bright flash of…something. Later, even after Zelenka had extensively searched the Ancient database, the best guess anyone could come up with was that Rodney must have touched the device first and whoever had touched it after him had-- well, contributed the other half of the DNA. They'd have to wait for the baby to be born to know for sure, Carson had told them.
"Hey." John reached for Rodney, hand cupping the back of his head, resting their foreheads together. "Let me-- I want to. Just. Let me."
For once, Rodney didn't argue, raising his arms, letting John strip off his shirt, settling on the edge of the bed, so John could take off his shoes, peel off his pants. Rodney looked down at him, an appeal in his eyes, and John got it, for once, and made quick work of his own clothes. "Lie back, get comfortable," he said, with a smile.
Rodney scrambled up to the head of the bed, as much as he could scramble in his condition anyway, and John stretched out beside him, ran a hand gently in circles over his arm. This could be simply therapeutic, Rodney with a problem, John's hands and mouth the solution, or it could be-- The expression in Rodney's eyes was sharply curious, because he understood the choice John was about to make, and he was waiting, waiting and…hoping, John realized. He tilted Rodney's chin and kissed him. Rodney made a needy little sound, and he tasted good, and then John couldn't stop kissing him.
He moved slowly down Rodney's body, finding his way with lips and fingers. There was a telltale softness, a delicate swelling in his chest which was, okay, kind of offputting, but Rodney bucked up into his touch, so John tentatively licked at a nipple, and Rodney made a little mewling noise, which was seriously hot.
John pulled himself up onto his knees and smoothed his palms over Rodney's belly, stroking the belly button with his thumb, marveling at the way it stuck out now.
"Weird, I know," Rodney said, his mouth quirked up ruefully.
John kissed the soft curve of Rodney's side. "Beautiful." It surprised him how true that was.
Not that it wasn't a little disconcerting as well, the lushness of Rodney's pregnant belly, and his hard cock pushing out just beneath it, but then, in the Pegasus Galaxy, a little disconcerting was pretty much the equivalent of perfectly ordinary anywhere else. He kept a hand on Rodney's belly, and licked at his cock, and Rodney moaned, and John could feel the baby shifting, moving, alive. John closed his eyes and sucked and thought how weird it was that this was what it took for him to feel completely happy.
Rodney's noises got louder and more demanding and finally downright urgent, and John figured that was Rodney's way of letting him know he was about to come. He stroked his thumb behind Rodney's balls, and Rodney muttered a desperate "God!" and went off in John's mouth. It was a little challenging, the whole swallowing thing, but not nearly as challenging as, say, being six months pregnant, so he really felt quite magnanimous about it. Afterwards, he rested his head against Rodney's belly, and listened for something that might sound baby-like, and if anyone had ever told him how goofily that would make him grin, he never would have believed it.
Rodney carded his fingers through John's hair and was content to just lie there for a while, but eventually he grew restless. "Come up here. I want to repay the favor."
"Mmmm," John murmured, too lazy and content to move, even if he hadn't gotten off yet
Rodney pulled at his hair, much less gently.
John sat up. "Ow!"
"I want to touch you. And I don't want to move. Because, hello, pregnant. So get up here."
John rolled his eyes and slid up the bed and kissed Rodney soundly. "I thought pregnancy was supposed to make you serene."
Rodney pulled a face, as if the mere notion of such a thing was beneath his dignity, and he reached for John's cock. John arched his back sharply and moaned and pushed into Rodney's hot, perfect palm.
"I'm pretty sure all pregnancy is going to do for me is make me slutty," Rodney said matter-of-factly as he rubbed his thumb around the head of John's cock.
John squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fingers in the bedspread. He so wasn't complaining.
"Come on, come on," Rodney urged him, and John bucked his hips, and was shaking by the time he spilled over Rodney's fist.
He laid his head down on the pillow, still panting, and Rodney was watching, smiling, his eyes warm and bright. Happy, even.
John kissed him and ran a hand idly down his back. "I want it to be mine." It came out like a confession, like something he was a little scared to hope for.
Rodney squirmed closer and plunked his head down on John's chest, commandeering him as a pillow. "Trust me. Everyone wants it to be yours, because if Kavanaugh knocked me up, I really can't be held responsible for my actions."
His tone was light, but John could feel his pleased smiled.
John pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Of course, I still think the Ancients were the freakiest, most design-challenged group of people the universe has ever known."
Rodney yawned and murmured sleepily, "Don't get me started."
John could hear the muttering from the other side of the door--okay, ranting really, but he was trying to think positively--and he briefly considered just turning heel and going. No one would call him a coward for not walking into that, except, well, himself. He sighed and knocked.
The ranting turned to grumbling, and there were footstomps coming his way, and the doors snicked open.
"What?" Rodney demanded, scowling, his hair sticking out in all directions, as if it, too, were highly annoyed.
"I heard-- I thought maybe-- I just came to check--" John shifted his weight uneasily, and there was nowhere to look, because this was Rodney, and John couldn't just stare past him at a point on the wall the way he did with other people. But nowadays when he tried to look Rodney in the eye, his gaze just inevitably drifted lower, and that always felt like a breach of privacy, of the guiltiest sort.
Rodney let out an indignant huff. "Drew the short straw, huh? Well, fine then. You're here. You may as well come in."
John followed him inside, and took a deep breath, and charged bravely forward, "The science team said you-- seemed a little on edge today." More so than usual anyway hung there in silent parentheses.
"Who ratted me out? I want names."
John met his eye at last. "They're just concerned."
Rodney let out his breath heavily, his shoulders slumping. "I'm fine. I'm just--"
John swallowed hard and gave in to the inevitable, his gaze sliding downward, fastening on the swell of Rodney's belly, the way his shirt pulled too tightly across it, emphasizing its perfect roundness. Not for the first time, John cursed the Ancients and their utterly undeveloped design sensibilities. Decorative bric-a-brac looked no different from, well, something that could do that to Rodney, and honestly, what kind of advanced civilization was that?
"What's really wrong, Rodney? I know it's not just--" He waved his hand vaguely in the direction of Rodney's belly.
"You don't want to know."
"I asked, didn't I?"
"I'm serious."
"Rodney."
"Fine!" Rodney threw up his hands. "I'm horny! Impossibly, unbearably, unremittingly horny. Like I've never been horny in my entire life. Because apparently that old wives tale about being insatiable when you're knocked up is, hey, who knew, actually a fact. And I'm-- the word hasn't even been invented yet for how frustrated I am, and there's nothing to do about it, because it's not as if I was getting a lot of action before. And now--" He hung his head. "Well, just look at me."
"Hey, hey." John awkwardly patted his arm. "I'm sure you'll-- There are lots of people who'd-- I can do it." It just came tumbling out. "I mean, if you want."
Rodney pulled away stiffly. "Oh, please. You can't even bring yourself to look at me you're so disgusted. I think sex, even of the strictly charitable variety, is kind of a stretch, don't you?"
John frowned. "It wouldn't be-- I'm not-- It's just-- If I hadn't touched that stupid--"
Rodney's eyes widened. "Oh, for God's sake. That's the problem? You're all guilt-ridden?" He stared at John like he was crazy. "As far as I'm concerned, you're only to blame if it's not yours."
John got a funny feeling in his stomach thinking about, well, the moment of conception, how he and Rodney and Kavanaugh had all reached for the Ancient artifact at the same time, and then it started buzzing, and there was this bright flash of…something. Later, even after Zelenka had extensively searched the Ancient database, the best guess anyone could come up with was that Rodney must have touched the device first and whoever had touched it after him had-- well, contributed the other half of the DNA. They'd have to wait for the baby to be born to know for sure, Carson had told them.
"Hey." John reached for Rodney, hand cupping the back of his head, resting their foreheads together. "Let me-- I want to. Just. Let me."
For once, Rodney didn't argue, raising his arms, letting John strip off his shirt, settling on the edge of the bed, so John could take off his shoes, peel off his pants. Rodney looked down at him, an appeal in his eyes, and John got it, for once, and made quick work of his own clothes. "Lie back, get comfortable," he said, with a smile.
Rodney scrambled up to the head of the bed, as much as he could scramble in his condition anyway, and John stretched out beside him, ran a hand gently in circles over his arm. This could be simply therapeutic, Rodney with a problem, John's hands and mouth the solution, or it could be-- The expression in Rodney's eyes was sharply curious, because he understood the choice John was about to make, and he was waiting, waiting and…hoping, John realized. He tilted Rodney's chin and kissed him. Rodney made a needy little sound, and he tasted good, and then John couldn't stop kissing him.
He moved slowly down Rodney's body, finding his way with lips and fingers. There was a telltale softness, a delicate swelling in his chest which was, okay, kind of offputting, but Rodney bucked up into his touch, so John tentatively licked at a nipple, and Rodney made a little mewling noise, which was seriously hot.
John pulled himself up onto his knees and smoothed his palms over Rodney's belly, stroking the belly button with his thumb, marveling at the way it stuck out now.
"Weird, I know," Rodney said, his mouth quirked up ruefully.
John kissed the soft curve of Rodney's side. "Beautiful." It surprised him how true that was.
Not that it wasn't a little disconcerting as well, the lushness of Rodney's pregnant belly, and his hard cock pushing out just beneath it, but then, in the Pegasus Galaxy, a little disconcerting was pretty much the equivalent of perfectly ordinary anywhere else. He kept a hand on Rodney's belly, and licked at his cock, and Rodney moaned, and John could feel the baby shifting, moving, alive. John closed his eyes and sucked and thought how weird it was that this was what it took for him to feel completely happy.
Rodney's noises got louder and more demanding and finally downright urgent, and John figured that was Rodney's way of letting him know he was about to come. He stroked his thumb behind Rodney's balls, and Rodney muttered a desperate "God!" and went off in John's mouth. It was a little challenging, the whole swallowing thing, but not nearly as challenging as, say, being six months pregnant, so he really felt quite magnanimous about it. Afterwards, he rested his head against Rodney's belly, and listened for something that might sound baby-like, and if anyone had ever told him how goofily that would make him grin, he never would have believed it.
Rodney carded his fingers through John's hair and was content to just lie there for a while, but eventually he grew restless. "Come up here. I want to repay the favor."
"Mmmm," John murmured, too lazy and content to move, even if he hadn't gotten off yet
Rodney pulled at his hair, much less gently.
John sat up. "Ow!"
"I want to touch you. And I don't want to move. Because, hello, pregnant. So get up here."
John rolled his eyes and slid up the bed and kissed Rodney soundly. "I thought pregnancy was supposed to make you serene."
Rodney pulled a face, as if the mere notion of such a thing was beneath his dignity, and he reached for John's cock. John arched his back sharply and moaned and pushed into Rodney's hot, perfect palm.
"I'm pretty sure all pregnancy is going to do for me is make me slutty," Rodney said matter-of-factly as he rubbed his thumb around the head of John's cock.
John squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fingers in the bedspread. He so wasn't complaining.
"Come on, come on," Rodney urged him, and John bucked his hips, and was shaking by the time he spilled over Rodney's fist.
He laid his head down on the pillow, still panting, and Rodney was watching, smiling, his eyes warm and bright. Happy, even.
John kissed him and ran a hand idly down his back. "I want it to be mine." It came out like a confession, like something he was a little scared to hope for.
Rodney squirmed closer and plunked his head down on John's chest, commandeering him as a pillow. "Trust me. Everyone wants it to be yours, because if Kavanaugh knocked me up, I really can't be held responsible for my actions."
His tone was light, but John could feel his pleased smiled.
John pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Of course, I still think the Ancients were the freakiest, most design-challenged group of people the universe has ever known."
Rodney yawned and murmured sleepily, "Don't get me started."