zinnith | SGA-fic: As Advertised (NC-17)

Okay, so the Advertising Slogan Generator has officially eaten my life. Also,

the_cephalopod wrote fantastic comment porn here and totally made my day... evening...night... whatever. (Sorry for distracting you from the fleece, hon...)

Then I had to write my own slogan!porn and it sort of turned into some kind of fic. (Unbeta'd, ~2500 words)

Aaahh, Rodney!

Generated by the Advertising Slogan Generator, for all your slogan needs. Get more Rodney slogans.

It begins, not surprisingly, after the disastrous mission to M72-XP9. None of them are seriously injured, but they are all a bit shaken up after the close call. When John closes his eyes he can still see the knife against Teyla’s jugular, can still see Rodney’s pale sweaty face and feel the bonds cut into his wrists as he struggles to get free.

Keller puts a band-aid on the little nick on Teyla’s throat. She bandages John and Ronon’s wrists and gets Rodney something to eat. Then she pronounces them all good to go and they trickle out of the infirmary slowly, not quite ready to let the rest of the team out of sight yet. So they go to the mess hall for some coffee and talk for a while, about football and movies and absolutely not about xenophobic locals with no sense of humour.

Rodney is uncharacteristically quiet, but he keeps giving John these really intense looks, until John wonders if there’s something wrong with his hair or something. They stay until the mess hall staff begins to clean up and close down. Teyla and Ronon say goodnight and go to their rooms and John heads for his own. Rodney follows him without a word. John waits for an explanation, but there is none. Rodney just walks beside him with clenched teeth and a tight expression on his face. There’s clearly something going on inside that big brain of his, but John can’t for his life figure out what.

When they reach his quarters, John stops in the doorway and asks, “Was there anything you wanted, McKay?”

Then Rodney’s hands are on his arms, pushing him inside. The door glides shut and before John knows what happened, he finds himself pressed up against a wall. Rodney’s red face is only inches from his own, snarling in anger, “Do you have a deathwish or are you just that stupid? You really were going to do it, weren’t you? You’d let them sacrifice you so they’d let the rest of us go?”

Well, that was clearly a no-brainer, but John knows from experience that it’s a weak spot for Rodney so he says,“Rodney, I...”

“Shut up,” Rodney says, his mouth really close to John’s now. “Just... shut up...” John looks down, for a moment mesmerised by Rodney’s lips, and then Rodney’s kissing him hard, shoving his tongue into John’s mouth like his life depends on it.

It’s not what John expected, but it’s good, hot and wet and dirty, so he complies and opens up to let Rodney in. His arms somehow end up around Rodney’s neck, and when he feels Rodney’s erection against his thigh, John’s not really surprised to find himself hard as well.

The kiss goes on forever, until they have to break apart, panting for air. Then Rodney’s hands are on John’s belt, on his fly, and then around John’s cock, large and warm and sure. John arches into the touch, feels Rodney’s calluses against his sensitive skin and groans, “Aaahh, Rodney...”

Rodney responds by kissing him again while jerking his cock hard and fast. He’s making all kinds of hot noises and John can’t help himself, he clings to Rodney and fucks his fist until he comes all over Rodney’s fingers.

He’s completely limp afterwards, can only just manage to stay on his feet. Rodney desperately humps his leg and then comes in his pants with a shudder before he collapses against John. “Don’t do that again,” Rodney whispers weakly against his neck. “I can’t take it, John. Just... don’t.”

John breathes against his hair and thinks about how much he wants to give that promise. But he can’t. This is what he can give Rodney. It’ll just have to be enough.

Any Time, Any Place, John.

Generated by the Advertising Slogan Generator, for all your slogan needs. Get more John slogans.

If Rodney had known it would be like this, he would’ve jumped John ages ago. Shoving him against a wall and jerking him off in a fit of anger wasn’t something he’d planned, it just sort of happened. Afterwards, he half expects John to punch him in the face. Instead, they collapse into bed together and sleeps, and Rodney wakes up with John’s mouth stretched around his cock.

He has no complaints. He has even less complaints when John lets him reciprocate in the shower a little later. Or about the deep filthy kiss while Rodney prepares to sneak out of John’s room in the late morning.

What Rodney doesn’t expect is that John keeps jumping him. No place is safe. John comes to the labs late at night, kneels between Rodney’s legs and suck him off, slow and sweet and mindblowingly good. He schedules it so the two of them takes the newly repaired jumper 3 for a test ride together and then does things to Rodney in the pilot’s seat that would make the Ancients spin in their graves. He shoves Rodney into utility closets before missions and Rodney steps through the gate with his own come drying in his boxers. He’s had more sex in the last two weeks than... well, ever.

It’s completely crazy, like Rodney has opened a floodgate and let out John Sheppard the sex fiend. He has created a monster and he can’t bring himself to regret it.

Some nights, John lets Rodney fuck him. Lies on his back in bed and spreads his legs, gives himself up completely. Slowly sliding into John’s ass is possibly the best feeling in the world, better than John’s mouth or his fingers, better than John’s harsh breath in his ear. Being surrounded by that slick heat, stroking John’s prostate with the head of his cock, making John come without a hand on him, it feels like the most precious gift he’s ever been given.

But Rodney can’t shake the feeling that that’s just what it is. He’s been given the gift of John’s body because that’s all John is prepared to give. And Rodney can’t help it, but he wants more than that.

Top Breeders Recommend John.

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So, Rodney is pissed and John has no idea why. He can’t remember anything he possibly could’ve done to make Rodney throw a hissy fit in the ‘gate room in front of Lorne, Chuck and Colonel Carter and then storm off in a huff. John still stands gaping, trying to figure out why Rodney is so mad.

“Did you have any trouble, Colonel?” Carter asks. She sounds a little concerned and a lot tired, like she’s wondering what kind of mess she’s going to have to fix this time.

“Not really,” John answers, because they honestly didn’t. It was a simple trade mission. Teyla handled the negotiations, John smiled a lot, Rodney kept his mouth mostly shut and Ronon didn’t scare too many people. It was a nice planet with nice people and nice food that Rodney wasn’t allergic to. Okay, so the village elder’s daughter was a little clingy, but she was like seventeen and already betrothed to some strapping young warrior so John didn’t think much about it.

Carter doesn’t look convinced, but she lets it go. John, Teyla and Ronon go to the infirmary for their post-mission check up, and then John goes off in search for Rodney. He doesn’t know what he did wrong, and he doesn’t know how to fix it, but he wants to at least try.

They haven’t had any bad missions since M72-XP9. John hasn’t taken any unnecessary risks. (Well, there was that time with the ceremonial bull riding, but he only got some bruises and the villagers wouldn’t have let him get really hurt.) He doesn’t think he’s done anything stupid off-world, at least nothing that would make Rodney see red. The past few weeks’ missions have been easy and simple, some meet-and-greets and one planet where they were invited to the Pegasus equivalent of a Thanksgiving feast.

There’s no answer when John knocks on Rodney’s door, but the LSD he snagged from the ‘gate room shows a life sign inside. He knocks again. “Rodney, I know you’re there. Let me in.”

He waits a couple of minutes and is just about to ask the city to open the door for him when it slides open and Rodney stands there, still in his mission gear, looking unbelievably tired.

John tries for a smile. “Hey buddy. You okay?”

Rodney just give him a long hard look before his shoulders slump and he steps aside. “I’m fine,” he says. “Come in.”

John enters. He’s actually feeling a little nervous for no good reason at all. Whatever crawled up Rodney’s ass earlier seems to have crawled out again, and now he just looks exhausted and a little sad. Maybe coming down with a cold or something, which should account for his pissy mood.

“So, Colonel,” Rodney walks over to the bed and sits down heavily. John tenses. Colonel. That’s not good. Rodney has called him ‘John’ in private ever since M72-XP9. “I suppose I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have... what I did in the ‘gate room. To my defense I can only say that I’ve had a very very bad day.”

Now, that doesn’t make sense. It’s been a good day in every way John can think of. “Bad how?” he asks, puzzled.

Rodney glares at him. “Just... bad, okay? I don’t want to talk about it.”

John really doesn’t want to talk about it either, but it feels like he should, like there’s something here that needs to be fixed. “No, I want to know,” he says. “How could this have been a bad day? We got the trade agreement, there was food, the natives didn’t hunt us with spears and arrows. That sounds like a pretty good day to me.”

There’s a deep sigh from Rodney and then he turns away, mumbling something.

“What?” John asks.

“Space bimbos!” Rodney says, a little louder. “They’re just crawling over you wherever we go, and seriously, it’s beginning to get old.”

“What?” John says again, and then, as he’s beginning to catch up, “Are you talking about Helna? She’s just a kid, Rodney! You can’t possibly be jealous of a seventeen year old kid!”

Rodney stands up, fuming. “Well, it’s not just her, is it? Before that, there were those twins on MP5-427, not to mention that space-gypsy woman who kidnapped you because of your genes, and... and... it’s like someone put up big posters all over the galaxy. ‘John Sheppard, prize stud, willing and available.’” He sinks down again, like he’s run out of fuel. “It doesn’t matter. I just... I think maybe we should stop this. What we’ve been doing.”

It feels like the bottom just fell out of John’s world. It doesn’t make any sense. Rodney has to understand that all those girls doesn’t mean anyting, right? It’s not them he’s been having sex with for the past month. It’s Rodney’s bed he comes to, night after night, even though he shouldn’t, because he honestly doesn’t know how to do this without Rodney anymore.

“Why?” he blurts out before he can stop himself.

Rodney gives him a very tired look. “Because... It’s not enough. I want... I want more than you can give. And it’s all right,” he adds quickly. “It’s not your fault, it’s all me. I appreciate what you’ve been doing for me, Colonel. But it has to stop now. I’m demanding too much from you and you shouldn’t have to... It’s like... when you really really want a cup of coffee and someone lets you smell his. It just makes you crave it even more even though you know you can’t have it. It’s better this way, Colonel. We’ll just go back to how it was before and... that’s it.”

John doesn’t know what to say. His thoughts are spinning fast enough to make him dizzy. He opens and closes his fists, clenches them hard enough that his nails cut into his palms. “No,” he says.

Now it’s Rodney’s turn to look bewildered. “What?”

“No,” John repeats. “I don’t want to go back. I want to... I want this. With you.”

Rodney’s face goes blank. “You want this.”

“Yes.” John kneels in front of him, puts his hands on Rodney’s thighs. “All those girls, they don’t mean a thing to me, okay? You do.”

“I do.”

“Yes, genius, you do.” John reaches up to cup Rodney’s face in his hand. There’s just a hint of moisture in his eyes. “The only one I’m willing and available for is you.”

Rodney’s hands are shaking so John grasps them and leans forward to kiss him. Not the way they usually kiss, the kind of kiss that leads to hot and dirty sex against upright surfaces. John tries to make this kiss into everything he doesn’t know how to say. I want you. I need you. I love you. And after a little while, Rodney starts to respond, caresses John’s tongue with his own, and then they’re both on the bed kissing and touching everywhere. It’s slow, unhurried, and John takes his time to get Rodney undressed, gently strips him down to bare skin.

Rodney looks at John like he’s something beautiful. His large hands are warm, his touch so full of affection that John’s suddenly scared to death of losing this, of losing Rodney. He can’t promise everything, but every single thing he’s capable of giving belongs to Rodney.

Rodney Wanted.

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John’s hair is tickling Rodney’s nose. He gently moves it aside, presses a kiss against John’s forehead and dozes. The sun is trickling in through the window, reflecting off the water outside to bathe the room in golden light.

He’s got John in his arms, sweaty and sticky. Proof that last night was not just something his imagination conjured up. John is still here, heavy and warm, snoring softly and drooling a little on Rodney’s chest.

It feels good, reminds him of the kisses John planted there last night. Of hours of lovemaking instead of fast frenzied fucking.

He’s going to have to change the sheets. The thought makes him smile.

Rodney floats for a little while, content in the feeling of John’s skin against his. When he next wakes up, there are a pair of hazel eyes studying him.

“Good morning,” John says, smiling, and then leans in to kiss him. It should be gross with morning breath and all, but it’s not. It’s nice and slow, like they’ve got all the time in the world.

Which they don’t, regretfully.

“Debriefing in an hour,” John mumbles against Rodney’s mouth. “You want to grab some breakfast?”

“Mhhmm,” Rodney answers. It’s about as intelligible he can manage at the moment. Breakfast is overrated anyway. Unless there’s coffee of course. He tells John that much.

John smiles down at him. “I think we can mangage coffee,” he says. “You’ll even get your own cup, how about that?”

It’s great. It’s more than he’s ever hoped for. They didn’t talk much last night, but John still got his point across. Some parts of him belongs to the United States Air Force. Some parts belongs to Atlantis and the team. The rest, the important parts, are Rodney’s.

He can live with that.

-fin-

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From:

ailurophile6.livejournal.com

the slogan thing is addictive isn't it? I did about a dozen today, lol, including this one:

All Mcshep, All The Time.

Generated by the Advertising Slogan Generator (http://thesurrealist.co.uk/slogan), for all your slogan needs. Get more McShep slogans (http://thesurrealist.co.uk/slogan?word=McShep).

Absolutely love how you used yours in the story, great idea!

Thanks! :D

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SGA-fic: As Advertised (NC-17)

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