Title//Playing Peek-a-boo With the Stars It was just another night out on the town, wine, women, and dancing. Well, a night on the town as in camped out between the river and the village, wine if that god-awful fermented fruit juice counted, the women were ok but they smelled kinda funky, and they danced. The women danced, John smirked and Rodney growled when any of them came too close. Rodney decided he’d had enough when the village matron announced the ritualistic slap-n-tickle was about to commence, and promptly shed her neck-to-ankle tunic, displaying very flat breasts and very round hips. John decided that was one of Rodney’s better decisions and quickly followed. Ford had been set to watch, Teyla had been sent to bed, and now John waited for Rodney to settle his cranky ass down and go to sleep. He figured if he pretended to go to sleep, then Rodney wouldn’t have any excuses for staying awake and bitching, so slow even breaths and absolutely no twitching in the brand spankin’ new sleeping bags that felt just like old mosquito netting. Rodney settled down, making those happy little humming noises in the back of his throat, and John could hear bones popping as he did his final stretching thing. Then Rodney made a different sound, a new happy little humming noise that sounded more like a purr than a hum. John did not look. No way, nuh uh, no how. There was a rustle of fabric, and John realized he hadn’t heard Rodney zip up his sleeping bag. And now he was hearing Rodney shove the sleeping bag off. He. Was. Not. Going. To. Look. Rodney sighed, and shifted again, and John could hear the soft whisper of skin stroking skin. He peeked. Rodney had one arm thrown over his eyes, fingers curled tight against his palm and clenching. John peeked further south. Rodney had his hand wrapped around his dick, making long, torturously slow strokes from the base of his shaft to the head. Flick of his thumb, quick twist of his palm then back down again. Oh. My. God. Rodney was jacking off, right here, right now, right next to him! As if the Wraith weren’t enough, now he had to put up with this? John felt fingers slide inside his boxers, almost yelping before realizing it was his own damn traitorous hand, and it was following Rodney’s motions like they were somehow connected. So it was stroke and flick and slide and shift and John chewed the inside of his lip bloody to keep from making any kind of noise when Rodney moved that one top hand to play with his own nipples. Rodney just looked so damn decadent, legs all splayed out and toes curling, hand still moving in that lazy pattern. Then he moved, pulling one leg up and blocking John’s view. “Dammit McKay, move your leg!” Where he got the brain cells to whisper, he’d never know, but the moment the words were out John really really wanted to shoot himself. Rodney didn’t move his leg, in fact he quit moving altogether, cracking one eye open and whispering back, “Oh fuck.” John later figured that whatever had possessed his hand in the first place had also possessed his mouth. “I don’t have anything for that.” And Rodney, bless his genius heart, got it. He did slide that leg back down, giving John back his unobstructed view, but he pulled the other leg up and shifted so he was facing John. John’s only excuse for missing what happened next? His attention being completely monopolized by that happy hand wrapped around that happy cock. Because when he blinked, Rodney had his arm tucked behind his back and one obviously spit-slicked finger working itself right between the cheeks of his ass. Rodney was making those yummy purring noises again, eyes trained on John’s face and both hands moving in tandem. Fingers push in, hand slide up, hips tilt and thigh muscles clench and Rodney wasn’t the only one making noises now. John didn’t know what he was saying, only that whatever it was, it was working. Rodney would remember every word until the day he died. Or until he could get John to repeat them under better circumstances, whichever came first. “Oh, fuck yeah, Rodney. Do it like that, yeah, just like that. Fuck yourself for me, let me see you, I can’t wait to see you come, harder Rodney, c’mon, do it harder. Do you like it Rodney? Fuck, me, let me, please oh fuck let me do that ok? Yeah? Ok?” Then John had his fingers in Rodney’s mouth and Rodney was sucking on them and all John could think about was getting those lips wrapped around his dick and making it all spit-wet and slick and sliding down his throat and staying there forever and fuck Elizabeth and fuck regs and fuck all of them and then Rodney was letting go of his fingers and smiling. And that Jiminy Cricket voice in the back of his head let him know that he’d said that all out loud. “Touch me.” Oh yeah, that’s what he was over here to do. Rodney actually growled when John slid his finger in next to the two already up his ass. John discovered he really liked the sound, almost as much as those happy little humming purring noises. That’s when John discovered the flaw in his oh-so-brilliant plan. They were both lying on their respective jerk-off arms. He would have cried then, except Rodney, bless his genius heart again, rolled over on top of John. There were elbows and knees in every awkward place, and John was pretty sure that right hip would never be the same, then Rodney was straddling him with one hand bracing himself against the ground and the other hand wrapped around both their dicks, and John had one hand on Rodney’s hip and the other wrapped around his thigh and Rodney was thrusting forward and pulling back and John bit his own arm to keep from crying out. ~*~ “So, about last night.” John did a quick look around, making sure Ford was still doing perimeter check and Teyla was at the river, “Yeah?” “I’m not really good at the whole relationship thing,” Rodney stirred his flash-frozen eggs, “I’d like to do that again, but I’m not going to go all ‘Basic Instinct’ on you.” John opened his mouth, closed it, and checked Rodney for a pulse and a fever before finding his voice. “Excuse me?” “The way I see it, Major, neither one of us really needs the distraction of trying to make a relationship work. Between the military regulations, archaic as they are, and the Wraith—“ John figured the best way to shut McKay up at this point, and subsequently knock some sense into his addled genius brain, was to body slam him to the ground and play Hunt the Happy with his tonsils. Rodney didn’t seem to have too many problems with John’s plan, once he got over the shock of the landing, and gave as good as he got. Which is how Teyla and Ford found them. Later, under the cover of team night back on Atlantis, Ford demanded
that Rodney make an honest man out of John. Teyla announced that John
would make a lovely bride. |
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