FIC: We're Good, SGA, John/Rodney, NC-17
We're Good
Author:
helens78 &
telesilla
Fandom/Pairing: SGA
Rating: NC-17
Series: You Can Hit Harder Than That
Contains: ( skip) blindfolds, D/s, breathplay
Word Count: ~4000
Disclaimer: The SGA characters do not belong to me. Duh.
Summary: John wants something, and for once he's willing to ask for it.
Notes: This is the third and, in all probability, the final story in this series.
John has been making a point of not thinking about things lately. He hasn't been thinking too hard about what he and Rodney are doing now, even though taking orders from Rodney is turning into second nature in bed. He sure as hell isn't thinking too hard about how much he's enjoyed the times he's gotten to hurt Rodney. And if they're spending even more time together than they used to and he's a little more worried about Rodney when something unexpected happens on a mission... well, you can bet he's not thinking very hard about that, either.
The problem, of course, is that in order to ask for new things, he's got to think about them at least a little. And he's had an itch for something ever since that mission on P3X-119, the one where he ended up locked in a cell with his hands tied behind him and a blindfold on. It wasn't a turn-on at the time--he's not that crazy--but ever since then he's been thinking about what it'd be like if Rodney did that to him. Put him down on the bed and tied him up and blindfolded him.
He's got a thick black strip of fabric in his hands when Rodney comes in, and he doesn't tuck it away like he's done the past few nights. He just looks up at Rodney and tries to think about how he's going to ask.
"Is it possible for people to get stupider literally by the hour?" Rodney says as the door to John's quarters opens. "I'm serious, I'm surrounded by fucking morons; even Radek yelled at someone today. Well, not yelled, he only really yells at me, but he raised his voice and you know he doesn't do that too much. If he wants to be the bad cop, though, he's going to have to wait for a long time because I'm nowhere near done and hey...."
He finally goes silent and looks at John, who usually interrupts him with some kind of sarcastic "and how was your day, John?" remark. "You're awfully quiet? And what's that?"
"What's it look like?" John shoots back, but he realizes as soon as he says it that it might not be as obvious as he thinks it is. "Sorry. It's just... I thought you could... you know." No, he doesn't, dumbass, 'cause you haven't told him yet. "Blindfold me," he says, all in a rush.
"Oh," Rodney says, the urge to babble about his day knocked right out of him. He moved closer to the bed and reached down to take the strip of fabric from John's hands. "Nice. At the risk of being greedy, because I would never be that when it comes to you, can I tie you up too?"
"I was sort of hoping you would," John says. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "It's harder asking for this stuff than it probably oughta be, all things considered. But yeah... I mean, it doesn't have to be right this minute, it can be later, or tomorrow or just... whenever you want to," and God, now he's babbling like Rodney; it must be rubbing off.
Rodney's well aware of the role reversal here, but he manages not to laugh. "John," he says firmly. "Enough, I get it. Get undressed."
"Okay," John says quickly, and now that Rodney's been firm about it, it's a whole lot easier to stay calm and move on to whatever Rodney tells him to do. He sits down on the edge of the bed to get his boots off, but stands when he's barefoot and strips down, tossing his clothes over the edge of his desk chair.
"Get the straps out," Rodney says, stripping off his jacket. They'd used rope for a while before Rodney had managed to get some long suede-like straps, which, if Rodney's careful, don't leave marks on John's wrists.
John nods and pulls them out of the drawer. It's a little strange seeing Rodney still fully clothed while John's walking around his room naked, but not downright weird or anything. Mostly he's just working on that not-thinking thing, trying not to anticipate what it's going to be like when the straps and blindfold are on and he doesn't get a say in what's happening to him anymore.
Well, that's not quite right--he knows Rodney would stop if John really freaked out over something--but John takes what they're doing seriously. Maybe more seriously than Rodney realizes, and John sure as hell isn't going to tell him.
"On the bed now," Rodney says. When John sits down, Rodney takes the straps and the strip of cloth from him. "Blindfold first, I think," he says, tossing the straps onto the bed.
Rodney catches his breath as he looks down at John, who's sitting where Rodney told him to sit, naked and waiting for Rodney to blindfold him. "God," he murmurs, reaching down to cup John's chin in his hand. He rubs his thumb over John's mouth and tires to pretend that this is still just them fooling around and blowing off steam.
John closes his eyes fast. Something about the way Rodney's looking at him makes him feel... not weird, exactly, he's mostly gotten over feeling weird about what he's doing with Rodney, but he's pretty sure if he keeps looking up at Rodney while Rodney's touching him like this, they're going to have a whole lot more than blindfolds to deal with. "Okay?" he whispers.
"Yeah," Rodney says, moving his thumb over John's mouth one more time before he takes up the blindfold. "Good," he murmurs as he ties it around John's head, adjusting it carefully so that the knot is on the side and not the back of John's head. "Can you see anything?"
"No," John says, any urge to make wisecracks gone now. He tries to stay still, tries to keep his hands relaxed and at his sides, but he doesn't think he'll be able to keep that up for long. "Is this all right?"
"Oh, God, yeah," Rodney says, his hand tightening on the back of John's neck. Bending down, he brushes his lips lightly across John's mouth. "Give me your wrists," he says, pulling away and reaching for the straps.
John nods and holds his wrists in front of him. It's obviously not the first time he's been blindfolded, but the sensation still feels new. This time he's getting to pay attention to things--the surprise of getting touched or kissed when he can't see it coming; listening for Rodney's breathing. He's not sure what he was hoping for when he brought this up, but so far it seems good.
Glad that John can't see him, Rodney swallows hard before reaching down to wrap one of the straps around John's wrists. He slides one hand up John's arm until he's gripping his bicep tightly. A pause, and then he half pushes, half drags John down onto his back.
"Hands above your head."
John squirms around until he's a little more comfortable on the bed, getting his hands above his head at the same time so Rodney won't claim he's stalling. It's weird; he can smell things a lot better all of a sudden, and it's making him think he should've changed the sheets before suggesting this. That or you're nervous, a sarcastic part of his brain points out, and he tries to settle down and stop thinking.
"Nice," Rodney says, leaning in to brush a fingertip across one of John's nipples. He presses down lightly and then moves over to his jacket, digging in the pocket for the additional straps he'd brought with the intent of tying John spreadeagled. But now, looking at John's lean, runner's legs, and remembering a picture he saw once, he has another idea.
"Bring your leg up," he says, tapping John's right leg. "High, knee up to your chest." He quickly knots the two straps together, glad that they're long enough for what he has in mind, and then ties one end around John's thigh, just above the knee.
"Other leg."
John shifts around as Rodney gets the strap around his other leg, then swallows hard as Rodney uses another piece of leather to connect the two, straps held in place behind his neck. The counterbalance of his own weight is going to keep his legs pinned back and spread apart, and with his arms up above his head, he's entirely exposed and can only imagine how he looks. He'd ask if it's all right, but his tongue feels a little too thick in his mouth to make actual words.
"Holy fuck," Rodney murmurs. "You look...fucking amazing." He leans over and runs one hand along the inside of John's thigh, letting his fingertips lightly brush against John's balls before he pulls back and starts undressing.
It's a good thing Rodney's not one of those guys who makes a point of being totally silent while he gets undressed; right now John can hear him moving around, and it's pretty comforting knowing he's still there. Not that he needs this to be comforting, but... You're thinking again. Jesus. What is it with you?
"Stop that," Rodney says, leaning over the bed to brush his hand across John's forehead. "I'm the one who does the thinking here. Your job is to lie there and let me fuck you." Sliding his fingers up, he grips John's hair and twists just a little. "Really really hard."
If anything's going to make John stop thinking, it's that. "Okay," he says softly, and if he had any way to rub up against Rodney or show him how ready he is, how good he wants to be tonight, he'd do it. But the whole point is that it's up to Rodney, so John licks his lips and waits for orders.
"Oh yeah," Rodney murmurs, tugging John's head back and bending down to kiss him hard. He loves these moments, the times when John can just let go and allow Rodney to take over.
With a final nip at John's lower lip, Rodney pulls back and looks at him. "Next time I blindfold you, I think I'm going to fuck your mouth."
John groans. "Yeah... please, Rodney?" he says. Hell, it sounds good now, let alone next time.
For a moment, Rodney's tempted, but he didn't bother improvising a sling so that he could use John's mouth. "I promise," he says, twisting his fingers in John's hair again.
Reaching for the lube, he moves around to kneel between John's legs. "You look good like this, really fucking hot." It's the only time he can give compliments like this, the only time he thinks John will allow them.
Right now the idea of arguing with Rodney about anything wouldn't even occur to John--which has got to be proof that these nights get to him, nice and deep, like not a whole lot else ever has. John takes another slow breath. "Rodney..." He can feel Rodney's weight on the bed, he just can't see anything. "Rodney... please... I really--" He swallows hard. "Please," he murmurs.
"Tell me," Rodney says, running his hand along John's thigh. "I'll give you what you want, but you have to tell me." And this is another thing he's noticed; outside of this sort of situation, John never asks for anything for himself. Well, if anyone can teach him to be a little selfish, it's me.
You want me to talk now? John thinks. He sucks in another breath. "I--um--just touch me?" he says, even though Rodney's doing that already. "Just, ah... just, I really want you to... touch me or fuck me or... hurt me. Please?"
Leaving his hand on John's thigh, Rodney just stares at him for a moment. He's bitten John and fucked him pretty hard a few times, but not necessarily with the express intention of hurting him. Before he can over-think it, and maybe even try to talk both of them out of it, he reaches down and pinches John's inner thigh, gripping a bit of pale skin and twisting hard.
"Is that what you want? You want me to hurt you and then fuck you?"
"Ah, God, fuck," John says, jerking under Rodney's hand. "Yes. Fuck, yeah, c'mon, Rodney... please!"
Well, this is unexpected. Rodney pinches John again and then again, appreciating the way that John's pale skin marks up so easily.
"You'll have bruises," he says, hoping he sounds matter of fact about it. "I'll be able to push on them tomorrow and you'll feel it."
John trusts Rodney not to push this too far--Rodney knows he's got to be able to do his job, no matter how good those pinches feel while he's getting them--so he lets himself just lie back and take it. "Jesus," he groans. He can't see any of it coming, and somehow that just makes everything feel sharper, clearer.
Although he suddenly wants to see marks all over John's legs, Rodney's careful to keep to John's left leg. Well away from the other side and his thigh holster, although damn knowing he had a bruise under there would be.... It would be too much and Rodney's spent enough time lately worrying about going too far with John.
When he finally stops, he sits there for a moment, one hand resting lightly on John's leg. "Unless you tell me otherwise, I think spit will do for lube."
"Yeah, yeah, fine, c'mon, fuck me," John says quickly, squirming. He can't really spread his legs any more than they are already, but he wants to do something to let Rodney know how ready he is. "Please!"
Pausing to slap John's ass sharply, Rodney leans forward. "Open your mouth," he demands, pushing two of his fingers in hard when John obeys. "Get them wet."
John does just that, sucking hard, licking all the way up Rodney's fingers. Rodney's good with his hands, something that shouldn't surprise John as often as it does, and right now sucking Rodney's fingers is almost as hot as blowing him would be... though that might have something to do with the fact that John knows he's about to get fucked. C'mon, c'mon, I'm ready...
"You're so damn oral," Rodney murmurs, thinking that he could almost come from this alone. When he finally pulls his fingers out of John's mouth, they're wet enough that he can just push them into John's ass without too much resistance.
"Oh fuck," John gasps, tightening up hard around Rodney's fingers. It's not like he didn't know where that was going, not like he couldn't guess what was about to happen, but the blindfold and the bondage means everything's still a surprise, and damn, is that hot.
"Feels good," he pants, trying to rock against Rodney's hand. It doesn't work very well, so he licks his lips and tries to calm down. "Real good." Don't get pushy.
"Yeah?" Rodney grins. "You want more?" C'mon John, ask for it. Beg for it. Make this about what you want.
"Yeah, I want more," John gasps. Getting more specific seems like the only option he's got now, so he struggles to figure out the right words, finally coming up with, "Want... your cock, c'mon, please fuck me, Rodney, I fucking need it, please!"
"Good," Rodney says with a grin, because this is kind of the ultimate in positive reinforcement. Pulling his fingers out, he shifts forward and pushes into John hard. "Is that what you wanted?"
"Oh Jesus fuck," John groans. His hands struggle against the bindings, and he squirms for a few seconds as his body adjusts to having Rodney's cock inside him. "Jesus," he pants again. "Please, Rodney, just fucking move already, fuck me, hard!"
"Oh yeah...." Rodney stares down at John for just a second, wanting to memorize this moment in case John decides that it's too much and he never wants to do something like this again. God, he thinks as he pulls back and then slams into John hard. I hope like hell he wants it again.
It is too much--no, it's almost too much, so much sensation that it's crowding out all of John's thoughts and words and the insecurities he won't let himself admit to having. Right now he's not going to call himself crazy and he's not going to second-guess himself for wanting this so much--or for needing it to be Rodney, nobody else, on him and in him this way. His hands tighten into fists and then loosen up again; he's so turned on his head's spinning, so hard his cock's leaving a smear of precome against his stomach as Rodney fucks him. He groans and tries to shove up against Rodney; right now it doesn't matter if he doesn't know what he's doing, if it's obvious to Rodney he doesn't know what he's doing, so long as he can just get more.
John's obvious need is like a shot of pure adrenaline and Rodney feels helpless against his own urge to answer that need and fuck into John as hard as he can. He wonders if John knows that; if, maybe later, he can explain to John that this undoes him almost as much as it undoes John. It's disturbing in a way; one of the reasons Rodney likes tying people up is that it leaves him firmly in control, and this? This is as far from being in control as he wants to get with John tied and helpless beneath him.
John's not just "people," Rodney thinks, as he grips John's thighs right below the straps and fucks him harder. Anything with him is not going to be normal.
He's not sure why he's okay with that, but really? He is.
John bites down on his lower lip, choking off a groan. This is too good--way, way too good--and he just knows if Rodney keeps going at him like that, he's going to come and he won't be able to stop himself. And far be it for John to back away from an orgasm--but right now he just doesn't want this to stop. Even with the blindfold on, John can feel that he's got every ounce of Rodney's attention. It means everything, somehow, and there's no way in hell he's going to think about that when he could be concentrating on getting fucked.
"Don't hold back," Rodney says, keeping his voice as steady as he can. "I want to hear you tonight." And oh God, just the thought of John making noise while he's tied and helpless is enough to make Rodney groan. "C'mon John, he adds, slowing down. "You don't get what you want until I hear you."
"Nnnhh," John growls out, "fuck--son of a--don't stop, don't stop--" He licks his lips and tries, again, to rock up and get what he's trying to ask for, but goddamnit, he's pinned, and it's not up to him.
"You can wiggle all you want," Rodney grits out as he goes still, buried deep inside John. "But it won't do you any good. C'mon, John, tell me. Beg for it."
"Rodney," John groans--fuck, that's not groaning, it's whining; even John can hear it. "Rodney, please," he pants, hands flexing, back arching. "Okay--okay, come on, please, just--Rodney..." He takes another deep breath in, and it's easier somehow. "Please," he whispers. "Please."
"God," Rodney mutters. "Fuck...." John's gorgeous like this, desperate and pleading and utterly Rodney's. Leaning forward, he rests his hand lightly on John's throat. They've never done anything like this, never even come close, and Rodney's not even sure if he's laying claim or thinking of cutting off John's air. As much as he likes to think he's in charge, what happens next is up to John.
John swallows hard. It's not like these are things he's never heard of, the bondage and the blindfold that was his idea in the first place and now that hand resting on his throat, but Jesus, he'd never expected everything to add up the way it does and turn him into somebody who just wants to beg and turn himself over to whatever Rodney wants out of him. "I--" He licks his lips again and nods, just the slightest bit. "Rodney... please..."
Suddenly it's easy; John wants it and it becomes simple. Rodney presses down carefully and goes back to fucking John. "You can come," he says, fighting to get each word out, "when I lift my hand again." He presses down harder, keeping the pressure even, and rests his weight on his other hand as he begins to fuck John hard.
It shouldn't be hard, waiting for air like that. John's had training, and a lot of it; he knows how to ration out his breath, how to keep himself from drowning. This is different, and not just because he's getting fucked. It does feel like drowning--but it feels like Rodney's his lifeline. And maybe he's crazy to feel this way, but he feels safe.
It's complicated, fucking John and keeping track of how long he's had his hand on John's neck, but Rodney's not a genius for nothing and he's bound and determined to make this as good for John as he can. The moment his mental countdown hits the right number, he lifts his hand, moving it to the bed next to John's head, gives a hard thrust and says, "now, John. Now."
And it's only when John gets the order that he realizes how long he's been holding back. He sucks in a deep breath and lets himself do it, lets himself tense up hard around Rodney's cock as his own cock jerks, leaving hot, sticky smears across his stomach.
The physical sensation is fantastic, but, as usual, it's the rest of it that really gets Rodney off--knowing that John came on command, that John is, in some way, his. "Mine," he gasps, without meaning to. Three more hard shoves into John and then he says it again, "mine!" just before he comes so hard his vision goes blurry around the edges.
John wouldn't have thought that anything could cut through the lust-induced fog he's been in all this time, but hearing Rodney say mine does it. It's been coming for a while, he knows, and he might never have said it first, but that doesn't stop him from wanting to grab Rodney and hold him hard enough he can't go anywhere.
He grunts softly as he struggles with all the straps; now they're inconvenient. "Hey," he whispers. "Can you--when you can move, I mean." He chuckles. "No hurry."
Kneeling up between John's legs, Rodney leans forward and undoes the knot behind John's neck. Once he's dealt with that, it's easy enough to undo John's wrists. "Better?" he asks as he settles down next to John and pulls him close. He wonders if they're going to deal with his earlier words in their usual way--by not talking about it.
"Yeah," John murmurs. He untangles an arm from Rodney just long enough to push the blindfold up off his face, then rolls half-on-top of Rodney and presses his face against the side of Rodney's neck. Rodney smells amazing--he's one of those guys who just smells good when he sweats, or maybe John's just biased. Fuck it. He's not going anywhere unless Rodney kicks him out of bed.
As much as Rodney thinks not talking about it the way to go, this really is too big. He's hurt John for the first time and there's also the breathplay and the whole "mine" thing and....
"You okay with all this?" he asks, tightening his arms around John. Please, please say yes, because I don't want to go back to casual fucking and supply room blow jobs.
Hearing it makes John ache, just a little bit. He wants to say how could you think I wouldn't be?, and he wants to kick the crap out of anybody who's made Rodney feel that way before.
But instead he just pushes up, gets a little distance so he can look at Rodney and Rodney can look at him.
"I'm okay with it," he says. "I really am."
"Oh, good," Rodney says. And while he's hardly given to tender gestures or anything like that, he can't help reaching out and resting his hand lightly on John's throat.
John takes a breath under Rodney's hand and nods. "We're good."
-end-
crossposted from http://telesilla.dreamwidth.org/238738.html |
comments | you can comment at my DW using OpenID
Author:
helens78 &
telesilla
Fandom/Pairing: SGA
Rating: NC-17
Series: You Can Hit Harder Than That
Contains: ( skip) blindfolds, D/s, breathplay
Word Count: ~4000
Disclaimer: The SGA characters do not belong to me. Duh.
Summary: John wants something, and for once he's willing to ask for it.
Notes: This is the third and, in all probability, the final story in this series.
John has been making a point of not thinking about things lately. He hasn't been thinking too hard about what he and Rodney are doing now, even though taking orders from Rodney is turning into second nature in bed. He sure as hell isn't thinking too hard about how much he's enjoyed the times he's gotten to hurt Rodney. And if they're spending even more time together than they used to and he's a little more worried about Rodney when something unexpected happens on a mission... well, you can bet he's not thinking very hard about that, either.
The problem, of course, is that in order to ask for new things, he's got to think about them at least a little. And he's had an itch for something ever since that mission on P3X-119, the one where he ended up locked in a cell with his hands tied behind him and a blindfold on. It wasn't a turn-on at the time--he's not that crazy--but ever since then he's been thinking about what it'd be like if Rodney did that to him. Put him down on the bed and tied him up and blindfolded him.
He's got a thick black strip of fabric in his hands when Rodney comes in, and he doesn't tuck it away like he's done the past few nights. He just looks up at Rodney and tries to think about how he's going to ask.
"Is it possible for people to get stupider literally by the hour?" Rodney says as the door to John's quarters opens. "I'm serious, I'm surrounded by fucking morons; even Radek yelled at someone today. Well, not yelled, he only really yells at me, but he raised his voice and you know he doesn't do that too much. If he wants to be the bad cop, though, he's going to have to wait for a long time because I'm nowhere near done and hey...."
He finally goes silent and looks at John, who usually interrupts him with some kind of sarcastic "and how was your day, John?" remark. "You're awfully quiet? And what's that?"
"What's it look like?" John shoots back, but he realizes as soon as he says it that it might not be as obvious as he thinks it is. "Sorry. It's just... I thought you could... you know." No, he doesn't, dumbass, 'cause you haven't told him yet. "Blindfold me," he says, all in a rush.
"Oh," Rodney says, the urge to babble about his day knocked right out of him. He moved closer to the bed and reached down to take the strip of fabric from John's hands. "Nice. At the risk of being greedy, because I would never be that when it comes to you, can I tie you up too?"
"I was sort of hoping you would," John says. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "It's harder asking for this stuff than it probably oughta be, all things considered. But yeah... I mean, it doesn't have to be right this minute, it can be later, or tomorrow or just... whenever you want to," and God, now he's babbling like Rodney; it must be rubbing off.
Rodney's well aware of the role reversal here, but he manages not to laugh. "John," he says firmly. "Enough, I get it. Get undressed."
"Okay," John says quickly, and now that Rodney's been firm about it, it's a whole lot easier to stay calm and move on to whatever Rodney tells him to do. He sits down on the edge of the bed to get his boots off, but stands when he's barefoot and strips down, tossing his clothes over the edge of his desk chair.
"Get the straps out," Rodney says, stripping off his jacket. They'd used rope for a while before Rodney had managed to get some long suede-like straps, which, if Rodney's careful, don't leave marks on John's wrists.
John nods and pulls them out of the drawer. It's a little strange seeing Rodney still fully clothed while John's walking around his room naked, but not downright weird or anything. Mostly he's just working on that not-thinking thing, trying not to anticipate what it's going to be like when the straps and blindfold are on and he doesn't get a say in what's happening to him anymore.
Well, that's not quite right--he knows Rodney would stop if John really freaked out over something--but John takes what they're doing seriously. Maybe more seriously than Rodney realizes, and John sure as hell isn't going to tell him.
"On the bed now," Rodney says. When John sits down, Rodney takes the straps and the strip of cloth from him. "Blindfold first, I think," he says, tossing the straps onto the bed.
Rodney catches his breath as he looks down at John, who's sitting where Rodney told him to sit, naked and waiting for Rodney to blindfold him. "God," he murmurs, reaching down to cup John's chin in his hand. He rubs his thumb over John's mouth and tires to pretend that this is still just them fooling around and blowing off steam.
John closes his eyes fast. Something about the way Rodney's looking at him makes him feel... not weird, exactly, he's mostly gotten over feeling weird about what he's doing with Rodney, but he's pretty sure if he keeps looking up at Rodney while Rodney's touching him like this, they're going to have a whole lot more than blindfolds to deal with. "Okay?" he whispers.
"Yeah," Rodney says, moving his thumb over John's mouth one more time before he takes up the blindfold. "Good," he murmurs as he ties it around John's head, adjusting it carefully so that the knot is on the side and not the back of John's head. "Can you see anything?"
"No," John says, any urge to make wisecracks gone now. He tries to stay still, tries to keep his hands relaxed and at his sides, but he doesn't think he'll be able to keep that up for long. "Is this all right?"
"Oh, God, yeah," Rodney says, his hand tightening on the back of John's neck. Bending down, he brushes his lips lightly across John's mouth. "Give me your wrists," he says, pulling away and reaching for the straps.
John nods and holds his wrists in front of him. It's obviously not the first time he's been blindfolded, but the sensation still feels new. This time he's getting to pay attention to things--the surprise of getting touched or kissed when he can't see it coming; listening for Rodney's breathing. He's not sure what he was hoping for when he brought this up, but so far it seems good.
Glad that John can't see him, Rodney swallows hard before reaching down to wrap one of the straps around John's wrists. He slides one hand up John's arm until he's gripping his bicep tightly. A pause, and then he half pushes, half drags John down onto his back.
"Hands above your head."
John squirms around until he's a little more comfortable on the bed, getting his hands above his head at the same time so Rodney won't claim he's stalling. It's weird; he can smell things a lot better all of a sudden, and it's making him think he should've changed the sheets before suggesting this. That or you're nervous, a sarcastic part of his brain points out, and he tries to settle down and stop thinking.
"Nice," Rodney says, leaning in to brush a fingertip across one of John's nipples. He presses down lightly and then moves over to his jacket, digging in the pocket for the additional straps he'd brought with the intent of tying John spreadeagled. But now, looking at John's lean, runner's legs, and remembering a picture he saw once, he has another idea.
"Bring your leg up," he says, tapping John's right leg. "High, knee up to your chest." He quickly knots the two straps together, glad that they're long enough for what he has in mind, and then ties one end around John's thigh, just above the knee.
"Other leg."
John shifts around as Rodney gets the strap around his other leg, then swallows hard as Rodney uses another piece of leather to connect the two, straps held in place behind his neck. The counterbalance of his own weight is going to keep his legs pinned back and spread apart, and with his arms up above his head, he's entirely exposed and can only imagine how he looks. He'd ask if it's all right, but his tongue feels a little too thick in his mouth to make actual words.
"Holy fuck," Rodney murmurs. "You look...fucking amazing." He leans over and runs one hand along the inside of John's thigh, letting his fingertips lightly brush against John's balls before he pulls back and starts undressing.
It's a good thing Rodney's not one of those guys who makes a point of being totally silent while he gets undressed; right now John can hear him moving around, and it's pretty comforting knowing he's still there. Not that he needs this to be comforting, but... You're thinking again. Jesus. What is it with you?
"Stop that," Rodney says, leaning over the bed to brush his hand across John's forehead. "I'm the one who does the thinking here. Your job is to lie there and let me fuck you." Sliding his fingers up, he grips John's hair and twists just a little. "Really really hard."
If anything's going to make John stop thinking, it's that. "Okay," he says softly, and if he had any way to rub up against Rodney or show him how ready he is, how good he wants to be tonight, he'd do it. But the whole point is that it's up to Rodney, so John licks his lips and waits for orders.
"Oh yeah," Rodney murmurs, tugging John's head back and bending down to kiss him hard. He loves these moments, the times when John can just let go and allow Rodney to take over.
With a final nip at John's lower lip, Rodney pulls back and looks at him. "Next time I blindfold you, I think I'm going to fuck your mouth."
John groans. "Yeah... please, Rodney?" he says. Hell, it sounds good now, let alone next time.
For a moment, Rodney's tempted, but he didn't bother improvising a sling so that he could use John's mouth. "I promise," he says, twisting his fingers in John's hair again.
Reaching for the lube, he moves around to kneel between John's legs. "You look good like this, really fucking hot." It's the only time he can give compliments like this, the only time he thinks John will allow them.
Right now the idea of arguing with Rodney about anything wouldn't even occur to John--which has got to be proof that these nights get to him, nice and deep, like not a whole lot else ever has. John takes another slow breath. "Rodney..." He can feel Rodney's weight on the bed, he just can't see anything. "Rodney... please... I really--" He swallows hard. "Please," he murmurs.
"Tell me," Rodney says, running his hand along John's thigh. "I'll give you what you want, but you have to tell me." And this is another thing he's noticed; outside of this sort of situation, John never asks for anything for himself. Well, if anyone can teach him to be a little selfish, it's me.
You want me to talk now? John thinks. He sucks in another breath. "I--um--just touch me?" he says, even though Rodney's doing that already. "Just, ah... just, I really want you to... touch me or fuck me or... hurt me. Please?"
Leaving his hand on John's thigh, Rodney just stares at him for a moment. He's bitten John and fucked him pretty hard a few times, but not necessarily with the express intention of hurting him. Before he can over-think it, and maybe even try to talk both of them out of it, he reaches down and pinches John's inner thigh, gripping a bit of pale skin and twisting hard.
"Is that what you want? You want me to hurt you and then fuck you?"
"Ah, God, fuck," John says, jerking under Rodney's hand. "Yes. Fuck, yeah, c'mon, Rodney... please!"
Well, this is unexpected. Rodney pinches John again and then again, appreciating the way that John's pale skin marks up so easily.
"You'll have bruises," he says, hoping he sounds matter of fact about it. "I'll be able to push on them tomorrow and you'll feel it."
John trusts Rodney not to push this too far--Rodney knows he's got to be able to do his job, no matter how good those pinches feel while he's getting them--so he lets himself just lie back and take it. "Jesus," he groans. He can't see any of it coming, and somehow that just makes everything feel sharper, clearer.
Although he suddenly wants to see marks all over John's legs, Rodney's careful to keep to John's left leg. Well away from the other side and his thigh holster, although damn knowing he had a bruise under there would be.... It would be too much and Rodney's spent enough time lately worrying about going too far with John.
When he finally stops, he sits there for a moment, one hand resting lightly on John's leg. "Unless you tell me otherwise, I think spit will do for lube."
"Yeah, yeah, fine, c'mon, fuck me," John says quickly, squirming. He can't really spread his legs any more than they are already, but he wants to do something to let Rodney know how ready he is. "Please!"
Pausing to slap John's ass sharply, Rodney leans forward. "Open your mouth," he demands, pushing two of his fingers in hard when John obeys. "Get them wet."
John does just that, sucking hard, licking all the way up Rodney's fingers. Rodney's good with his hands, something that shouldn't surprise John as often as it does, and right now sucking Rodney's fingers is almost as hot as blowing him would be... though that might have something to do with the fact that John knows he's about to get fucked. C'mon, c'mon, I'm ready...
"You're so damn oral," Rodney murmurs, thinking that he could almost come from this alone. When he finally pulls his fingers out of John's mouth, they're wet enough that he can just push them into John's ass without too much resistance.
"Oh fuck," John gasps, tightening up hard around Rodney's fingers. It's not like he didn't know where that was going, not like he couldn't guess what was about to happen, but the blindfold and the bondage means everything's still a surprise, and damn, is that hot.
"Feels good," he pants, trying to rock against Rodney's hand. It doesn't work very well, so he licks his lips and tries to calm down. "Real good." Don't get pushy.
"Yeah?" Rodney grins. "You want more?" C'mon John, ask for it. Beg for it. Make this about what you want.
"Yeah, I want more," John gasps. Getting more specific seems like the only option he's got now, so he struggles to figure out the right words, finally coming up with, "Want... your cock, c'mon, please fuck me, Rodney, I fucking need it, please!"
"Good," Rodney says with a grin, because this is kind of the ultimate in positive reinforcement. Pulling his fingers out, he shifts forward and pushes into John hard. "Is that what you wanted?"
"Oh Jesus fuck," John groans. His hands struggle against the bindings, and he squirms for a few seconds as his body adjusts to having Rodney's cock inside him. "Jesus," he pants again. "Please, Rodney, just fucking move already, fuck me, hard!"
"Oh yeah...." Rodney stares down at John for just a second, wanting to memorize this moment in case John decides that it's too much and he never wants to do something like this again. God, he thinks as he pulls back and then slams into John hard. I hope like hell he wants it again.
It is too much--no, it's almost too much, so much sensation that it's crowding out all of John's thoughts and words and the insecurities he won't let himself admit to having. Right now he's not going to call himself crazy and he's not going to second-guess himself for wanting this so much--or for needing it to be Rodney, nobody else, on him and in him this way. His hands tighten into fists and then loosen up again; he's so turned on his head's spinning, so hard his cock's leaving a smear of precome against his stomach as Rodney fucks him. He groans and tries to shove up against Rodney; right now it doesn't matter if he doesn't know what he's doing, if it's obvious to Rodney he doesn't know what he's doing, so long as he can just get more.
John's obvious need is like a shot of pure adrenaline and Rodney feels helpless against his own urge to answer that need and fuck into John as hard as he can. He wonders if John knows that; if, maybe later, he can explain to John that this undoes him almost as much as it undoes John. It's disturbing in a way; one of the reasons Rodney likes tying people up is that it leaves him firmly in control, and this? This is as far from being in control as he wants to get with John tied and helpless beneath him.
John's not just "people," Rodney thinks, as he grips John's thighs right below the straps and fucks him harder. Anything with him is not going to be normal.
He's not sure why he's okay with that, but really? He is.
John bites down on his lower lip, choking off a groan. This is too good--way, way too good--and he just knows if Rodney keeps going at him like that, he's going to come and he won't be able to stop himself. And far be it for John to back away from an orgasm--but right now he just doesn't want this to stop. Even with the blindfold on, John can feel that he's got every ounce of Rodney's attention. It means everything, somehow, and there's no way in hell he's going to think about that when he could be concentrating on getting fucked.
"Don't hold back," Rodney says, keeping his voice as steady as he can. "I want to hear you tonight." And oh God, just the thought of John making noise while he's tied and helpless is enough to make Rodney groan. "C'mon John, he adds, slowing down. "You don't get what you want until I hear you."
"Nnnhh," John growls out, "fuck--son of a--don't stop, don't stop--" He licks his lips and tries, again, to rock up and get what he's trying to ask for, but goddamnit, he's pinned, and it's not up to him.
"You can wiggle all you want," Rodney grits out as he goes still, buried deep inside John. "But it won't do you any good. C'mon, John, tell me. Beg for it."
"Rodney," John groans--fuck, that's not groaning, it's whining; even John can hear it. "Rodney, please," he pants, hands flexing, back arching. "Okay--okay, come on, please, just--Rodney..." He takes another deep breath in, and it's easier somehow. "Please," he whispers. "Please."
"God," Rodney mutters. "Fuck...." John's gorgeous like this, desperate and pleading and utterly Rodney's. Leaning forward, he rests his hand lightly on John's throat. They've never done anything like this, never even come close, and Rodney's not even sure if he's laying claim or thinking of cutting off John's air. As much as he likes to think he's in charge, what happens next is up to John.
John swallows hard. It's not like these are things he's never heard of, the bondage and the blindfold that was his idea in the first place and now that hand resting on his throat, but Jesus, he'd never expected everything to add up the way it does and turn him into somebody who just wants to beg and turn himself over to whatever Rodney wants out of him. "I--" He licks his lips again and nods, just the slightest bit. "Rodney... please..."
Suddenly it's easy; John wants it and it becomes simple. Rodney presses down carefully and goes back to fucking John. "You can come," he says, fighting to get each word out, "when I lift my hand again." He presses down harder, keeping the pressure even, and rests his weight on his other hand as he begins to fuck John hard.
It shouldn't be hard, waiting for air like that. John's had training, and a lot of it; he knows how to ration out his breath, how to keep himself from drowning. This is different, and not just because he's getting fucked. It does feel like drowning--but it feels like Rodney's his lifeline. And maybe he's crazy to feel this way, but he feels safe.
It's complicated, fucking John and keeping track of how long he's had his hand on John's neck, but Rodney's not a genius for nothing and he's bound and determined to make this as good for John as he can. The moment his mental countdown hits the right number, he lifts his hand, moving it to the bed next to John's head, gives a hard thrust and says, "now, John. Now."
And it's only when John gets the order that he realizes how long he's been holding back. He sucks in a deep breath and lets himself do it, lets himself tense up hard around Rodney's cock as his own cock jerks, leaving hot, sticky smears across his stomach.
The physical sensation is fantastic, but, as usual, it's the rest of it that really gets Rodney off--knowing that John came on command, that John is, in some way, his. "Mine," he gasps, without meaning to. Three more hard shoves into John and then he says it again, "mine!" just before he comes so hard his vision goes blurry around the edges.
John wouldn't have thought that anything could cut through the lust-induced fog he's been in all this time, but hearing Rodney say mine does it. It's been coming for a while, he knows, and he might never have said it first, but that doesn't stop him from wanting to grab Rodney and hold him hard enough he can't go anywhere.
He grunts softly as he struggles with all the straps; now they're inconvenient. "Hey," he whispers. "Can you--when you can move, I mean." He chuckles. "No hurry."
Kneeling up between John's legs, Rodney leans forward and undoes the knot behind John's neck. Once he's dealt with that, it's easy enough to undo John's wrists. "Better?" he asks as he settles down next to John and pulls him close. He wonders if they're going to deal with his earlier words in their usual way--by not talking about it.
"Yeah," John murmurs. He untangles an arm from Rodney just long enough to push the blindfold up off his face, then rolls half-on-top of Rodney and presses his face against the side of Rodney's neck. Rodney smells amazing--he's one of those guys who just smells good when he sweats, or maybe John's just biased. Fuck it. He's not going anywhere unless Rodney kicks him out of bed.
As much as Rodney thinks not talking about it the way to go, this really is too big. He's hurt John for the first time and there's also the breathplay and the whole "mine" thing and....
"You okay with all this?" he asks, tightening his arms around John. Please, please say yes, because I don't want to go back to casual fucking and supply room blow jobs.
Hearing it makes John ache, just a little bit. He wants to say how could you think I wouldn't be?, and he wants to kick the crap out of anybody who's made Rodney feel that way before.
But instead he just pushes up, gets a little distance so he can look at Rodney and Rodney can look at him.
"I'm okay with it," he says. "I really am."
"Oh, good," Rodney says. And while he's hardly given to tender gestures or anything like that, he can't help reaching out and resting his hand lightly on John's throat.
John takes a breath under Rodney's hand and nods. "We're good."
-end-
crossposted from http://telesilla.dreamwidth.org/238738.html |
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