zinnith | SGA-fic: Help Me Fall (NC-17)

Title: Help Me Fall
Author: Zinnith
Rating: Very much NC-17
Warning: PWP. Bondage and D/s.
Word count: 2442
Disclaimer: Why yes, I have John tied up on my bed right here. What do you mean, 'delusional'?

Notes: For

prehistoric_sea who bought me for

fics4books . She wanted, among other things, sub!John, and 'a couple having mismatched sexual preferences/needs/sex drive and the two of them work it out b/c they care about each other'. I'm sorry you had to wait so long for this! I hope you'll like it.

Many thanks to

the_cephalopod for cleaning this up for me. You're the best! Also, thank you

anyanka_eg for giving me handcuffs for Valentines Day. They were very inspiring ;-)

Summary: Rodney might not be able to give him exactly what he needs, but he's a genius and he'll figure something out.

”Take your clothes off,” Rodney orders, and John feels the breath catch in his throat. Rodney’s tone is gentle, but with an underlying hint of steel that sends shivers of anticipation down John’s spine.

He strips slowly, draws it out, because he needs the time to get to that place in his head where he can just relax and let Rodney take the lead. He’s not quite there yet and he still feels very aware of his own body as he steps out of his boxers and stands naked in front of Rodney. His skin is aching to be touched

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Rodney says, stepping closer. John can feel the heat of his body, the burning intensity of his gaze, like he’s trying to caress John with his eyes. He shudders, self-conscious and a little nervous now, because he had to talk very fast to get Rodney to agree to this and if it were to stop now he doesn’t know what he’d do.

The room is a little chilly, not enough to be uncomfortable, but the air is colder than John’s skin and he can feel tiny little goosebumps forming on the back of his neck. Or maybe it’s just the way he’s been feeling these past few days, tense and twitchy, with chaos twisting and burning inside him. It’s why he sought Rodney out tonight, because John has only ever found one way to make it better and it’s not something he can do for himself.

Instead, he trusts Rodney to fix it, like he trusts Rodney with everything else.

Rodney’s moving behind him and John hears him pulling his shirt off, and then the belt buckle... the sound alone is enough to make him gasp, imagining the belt in Rodney’s hand, himself bent over the bed...

Then Rodney’s big, warm hand is resting at the small of his back and Rodney’s voice is in his ear, “I won’t hurt you, John. I can do the rest, but I can’t do that, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” John hears himself say. “Anything you want.”

Rodney might not be able to give him exactly what he needs, but he’s a genius and he’ll figure something out. The hand on his back moves, slides up to his shoulder and gently pushes him down.

“Get on your knees for me, then. I want your mouth on me.”

John closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before giving in and sinking down onto the floor. Rodney walks around him, his hand never leaving John’s shoulder until he’s standing in front of him, his crotch level with John’s face, and John can’t help but lean forward a little. God, that’s just what he wants. He leans in, mouths at Rodney’s cock through the fabric of his pants, listening to Rodney’s moan as his cock fills and hardens.

“That’s it, John,” breathes Rodney, his voice rough with arousal. “That’s good.” His hands comb through John’s hair and stroke gently against his cheek, but John wants more, wants everything Rodney has to give him, so he opens Rodney’s fly, pulls his pants and now-wet boxers down and watches Rodney’s cock spring forward, hard and red and leaking.

John’s mouth waters, he can already feel the weight of it on his tongue, but he needs to experience it all it first, everything about Rodney, so he buries his face in the dark curls, breathes in in the musk, the rich scent of Rodney’s arousal.

When Rodney starts to get impatient, John pulls away and presses his lips against the weeping head, licking a little and letting his hands fall down to his sides so he won’t be able to control the movements of Rodney’s hips. He doesn’t want to be in control right now, wants Rodney to control him. Rodney must decide the speed and the depth of the thrusts, hold John’s head in place and just fuck his mouth.

John’s cock is rock hard, bobbing between his legs. Finally, Rodney starts to move, sliding into his mouth. John feels how the tension begins to drain out of him, feels how everything else becomes totally insignificant, completely unimportant in the back of his mind, as Rodney’s hands on his face become his whole world.

The floor is hard. John’s knees are aching, his jaw is already beginning to get sore and he’ll have one hell of a crick in his neck tomorrow, but it doesn’t matter. Rodney makes everything better. John closes his eyes, concentrating on Rodney’s taste, wants more of it, wants it all over him.

Rodney is beginning to make the sounds that means he’s getting close, those short, sharp breaths. He moves back then, lets his cock slip out of John’s mouth. John chases after it, wants it back.

“Not yet,” Rodney says. His voice is a little strained, and John wonders how much self-control it took for him to pull off. “We have plenty of time and I want to be inside you when I come.”

John moans, can almost feel it already. Rodney’s weight, heavy and warm between his legs, hips moving, sliding in and out of him. He wants that right now, wants the warm rush of Rodney’s come inside him, dripping out of him, running down his legs.

Rodney smiles. “You like the thought of that, don’t you? I certainly do.” His leans down, fingers grazing John’s jaw, and kisses him. Slow and deep, his tongue invading John’s mouth, and John just opens up and lets it happen. They’re both breathless when Rodney pulls away. “On the bed now, I think,” he says, straightening up again. “On your back. Hands over your head.”

John gets up on shaky legs, moves over to the bed under Rodney’s watchful eye. The bed smells familiar, scented with Rodney-sweat and coffee, and John feels himself gradually begin to relax for real. He lies down, following Rodney’s directions, and grips the edge of the bed so hard his knuckles turn white. He wonders if it’ll be enough.

It’s like Rodney’s reading his mind, because he asks, “Do you need to be restrained, John? Want me to tie you up so you can’t move?”

John swallows. “Anything you want,” he repeats, hoping hard that Rodney will catch on.

Rodney studies him for a long moment, and then smiles again. “Yes,” he says. “Yes, I think so. Stay there, just like that. Don’t move.”

Then he’s gone and John strains his neck to try and see where he went. He doesn’t dare lift his head; Rodney told him to stay still, but he can hear rustling noises. When Rodney comes back to the bed he’s holding a couple of ties, one dark blue and one garish red with flowers. John holds back the urge to giggle at the thought of Rodney wearing that tie, and Rodney gives him a glare. “Yes, yes. Very funny. I don’t really think you’re in a position to mock my fashion sense at the moment.”

The red tie with the flowers goes around John’s wrists and the bedframe, tying his hands together and securing them above his head. He has to fight the instinct to struggle against the bonds. Rodney finishes and meticulously checks the knots, tugging at them to make sure they’re tight enough. “Still think it’s funny?” he asks with that lopsided smile of his, the one that never fails to turn John on like crazy.

John shakes his head. No, not so funny now. Rather, it’s exhilarating and a little scary, like he’s made of air and Rodney has to tie him down just to keep him from flying away.

“Good,” Rodney says and kisses him. “I’m going to blindfold you now. Maybe that’ll keep you from thinking so much.”

John gasps at the feeling of the blue silk tie against his face. Rodney makes sure it’s tight over his eyes so he can’t peek. The only proof that Rodney’s still there is the sound of his breathing. “Too tight?” he asks, and when John shakes his head, he continues. “You know, I think I’m beginning to like this. You look beautiful. All spread out for me to play with.”

Fingers on his face, sliding over his jaw, his cheek. “Open your mouth, John.”

John obeys and Rodney’s fingers slip inside. He sucks on them, like he did on Rodney’s cock earlier, wraps his tongue around them and moans. “Good,” Rodney breathes. “Just like that, get them wet for me.” His other hand skims over John’s ribs, finds his nipple and twists. The sensation makes John moan again, a sharp shock of not-quite-pain. He can feel Rodney’s smile against his neck, as Rodney presses light kisses against his throath and lips, he shivers a little at the hint of teeth over the pulse point beneath his jaw.

It’s so good, like his skin has been starved for touch, and because he can’t see, he can’t anticipate what Rodney’s going to do next. He can just lie there and take it, breathing through his nose because his mouth is full of Rodney’s fingers. Rodney is slowly kissing his way down John’s body, licking his collarbones, sucking at his nipples until it feels like they have a direct connection to John’s cock, touching him everywhere, until John is certain he can’t take anymore. It’s just too much, all this sensation, this perfect sense of intimacy, the only thing that is important is that Rodney keeps touching him.

Then the fingers are gone from his mouth and John cries out in inarticular protest. Rodney’s hands slide down to his thighs, gently prising them apart to expose his hole.

“Spread your legs,” Rodney orders and John does so, spreading as wide as he can and panting when Rodney runs his wet fingers down the crack of his ass, circling his entrance, rubbing against it. The sounds coming out of John’s mouth are nowhere near words, just mindless, helpless groans.

“Gorgeous,” Rodney says, letting one blunt finger slip inside. “Should’ve done this ages ago – tied you up and watched you squirm like this. I’m going to stretch you now, work you open until you’re loose enough to take my cock.”

John tries to cant his hips to give Rodney better access, but a large hand on his abdomen keeps him firmly in place. “None of that. I want to take my time, and there’s nothing you can do about it, is there? I’m going to go slow, drive you crazy with it.”

Rodney keeps his promise. One finger in John’s ass feels like torture. It’s too little, not nearly deep enough, and he’s certain that Rodney keeps missing his prostate on purpose. He tries to come up with the proper words to tell Rodney to just hurry up and get to it, but they won’t come; they’re buried somewhere deep down inside him, together with his responsibilities and his need for control. Then, finally, there’s the sound of a tube opening. The one finger slides out and is replaced by two, cool and slick with lube now, and John almost sobs at the slight burn when they go in, the feeling of being stretched for Rodney.

It’s not nearly enough and too much at the same time. Too much pleasure, like his brain is overloading, and still he needs more, needs all of Rodney inside him. His harsh breathing echoes off the walls, the blood is pounding in his ears. Rodney adds a third finger and kneels between his legs, lifting his hips up, and John wants to scream. He can’t wait any longer, has to have it now, or he’ll break apart, come undone around Rodney’s fingers.

“Not yet,” he hears Rodney saying, dimly, somewhere far away. “You get it when I say so, not before.”

And suddenly he’s filled with calm. It’s okay. Rodney’s got him, Rodney will take care of everything, and John just has to lie back and let it happen, let Rodney make the decisions. It’s like his whole body relaxes at once, like all the tension drains out of him and he melts into the mattress. He’s panting in time with Rodney’s thrusts, mouth open, head thrown back, and he can hear how Rodney’s breathing a little faster, like he’s having a hard time staying in control, but it doesn’t matter, because Rodney’s got him.

John thinks there might be tears running down his cheeks. He’s not sure.

Rodney’s fingers slide out of his ass, and the emptiness makes him ache. He’s soon filled by the thick head of Rodney’s cock, slowly pushing inside. One long, smooth glide, and Rodney’s balls are pressed up against John’s ass. God, it’s so good. Like a revelation – this is how it’s supposed to be. John tied up on his back, Rodney moving inside him, hitting his prostate with every thrust. Bringing him higher and higher, taking him to the edge and then keeping him there for what feels like forever. His legs around Rodney’s waist, Rodney’s mouth pressed against his neck, Rodney’s voice in his ear whispering, “That’s it John, come now, give it up for me, I want to feel it.”

It’s and order John must obey, arching his back and coming, coming with a scream and, oh god, Rodney hadn’t even touched his dick...

* * *

He must’ve lost some time. When John comes back to himself, Rodney has untied his hands. The blindfold is still there and John is grateful for it. He feels frail, vulnerable, and he’s not up to meeting Rodney’s eyes quite yet.

He moves a little, feeling the burn in his ass and, oh yeah, that’s Rodney’s come trickling out of him. It’s uncomfortable, but also strangely hot.

“Are you back with me now?” Rodney asks from somewhere nearby. His hand is resting on John’s stomach, heavy and warm.

John searches for words, but can only come up with, “Ngh.”

“Okay,” Rodney says, and John can hear his smile. “I’ll take that as a yes.” A little pause, and the mattress shifts as Rodney moves closer. “How are you feeling? Was it... was that what you needed?”

“Mmm,” John manages, using the last of his energy to roll over so his face is pressed against Rodney’s chest. “P’rfect. Thank you.”

Rodney’s hand comes to rest on his head, combing through his hair. John thinks maybe he should say something more, reassure Rodney that he’s feeling fine, better than fine, but his limbs are limp and heavy and he seems to have lost his words again. It seems like a good time for a nap, so John sighs and falls asleep listening to Rodney’s heartbeat.

-fin-