kathierif_fic (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kathierif_fic) wrote2009-05-27 08:52 pm
kathierif_fic) wrote2009-05-27 08:52 pm
Fic: Words (SGA, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay, FRAO)
Title: Words
Author: Kathie
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: John Sheppard/Rodney McKay
Rating: FRAO
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be and never were.
Word Count: 1,463 words
Summary: John almost gets killed – and Rodney is trying to deal.
Author’s Notes: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
kink_bingo, prompt: humiliation (private).
~*+*~
“You moron.”
John grinned – at least, he tried to grin, but the pain in his split lip from where he’d been banged into a wall quickly stopped him, and he settled for a pain-filled grimace instead.
Rodney immediately stopped moving and ran his hands over the legs wrapped around his waist and over his shoulder. “You’re such an idiot,” he growled quietly, like a miniature cat thinking of itself as a dangerous tiger. “Are you in pain, because you totally deserve that after that utterly idiotic and moronic stunt you pulled there today!”
Toward the end, every syllable was accentuated with a small thrust of Rodney’s hips, making his full and hard dick stab against John’s prostate. He was trying to hold still, but as annoyance overwhelmed him, he quickly forgot.
John didn’t mind. It was the same rhythm Rodney used earlier to tap his index finger against John’s chest, when he had been sure that they all were alive and were going to stay that way, to express that Rodney thought his actions were to be considered especially stupid.
He wouldn’t admit it, but it turned John on more than he’d thought possible before meeting Rodney McKay. He groaned and shifted his hips slightly, to get Rodney to rub against his prostate more firmly without him having to ask directly for it. Talking now wouldn’t do him much good, anyways, he thought when he caught the expression on Rodney’s face. All he would get would be another earful of insults and verbal abuse.
Rodney froze again at the sound coming from John, and his broad hands clamped on John’s thigh to make him stop moving. John groaned again, thoroughly enjoying the sensation of being spread open widely like this, filled by Rodney’s thick cock, even if he would have preferred it if Rodney would start to move again.
“Rodney,” he finally said, in his most exasperated voice. “I’m fine. Now move.”
“No, you’re not,” Rodney spluttered, but he started to shift his hips again, pulling out and thrusting back into the tight grip Jon’s body had on his cock. “You’re just too high to realize how lucky you are to have survived this. What happened, did the two brain cells you have decide that rubbing against each other didn’t create enough of a spark anymore? Did that make you wake up the Dalek? You could have killed yourself! And me too!”
The last few words were accented by another hard thrust inside him, and John let his head fall back against the pillow and his hands reach out to run over Rodney’s chest, pinching one of his nipples lazily.
Rodney was still talking, his voice agitated and almost shrill, his moth never standing still while sweat was beading on his forehead and dropping down on John’s body, where it mingled with John’s sweat before rolling off of him and being absorbed into the sheets underneath him.
It was okay.
John didn’t expect Rodney to stop anytime soon, and if he was completely honest, he had been a bit scared himself when the heavy machine he’d accidentally brushed against with nothing more than the sleeve of his jacket while they were exploring another Ancient outpost had whirred to a rusty life and had classified them as enemies, especially John, who had been chased around by it until it had him pinned face first against the wall.
“You just said it looks like a Dalek,” he interrupted Rodney, adding a well-calculated roll of his hips.
It had taken them almost half an hour to switch off the machine, dubbed Dalek by a squeaky-panicky Rodney; half an hour of shots being taken at them and Rodney frantically working on the control computer. He’d stopped the Dalek just as it had pinned John, its weapons powering up while Ronon was shooting his gun at it despite the close proximity to John.
It had been one of these moments, John thought quietly, where he had thought he saw his entire life flash in front of his eyes. He’d been convinced, almost, that it was the end, until Rodney had, once more, come through and had saved the day.
Or at least he had saved John.
Rodney gave him a glare and shifted his hips slightly, making him penetrate John, if possible, even deeper than before, and John moaned deeply without meaning to.
“Oh, like that wasn’t warning enough,” Rodney griped. “Did your ridiculous hair grow over your ears or what?”
John smirked up at him. “You’re just jealous because yours is falling out,” he replied, his voice catching slightly at the stretch of burn.
“Not surprisingly. I am the one who has to deal with the consequences of your stupidity every day,” Rodney snapped sharply. “It’s a miracle I’m not bald yet!”
Despite his acidy words, his hand, hot, sweaty and competent, closed around John’s leaking erection carefully and stroked it in time with his thrusts, which came shorter and less regularly now as his rhythm faltered slightly. His other hand stayed on John’s leg, holding it in place where it was pressed against his chest, almost bending John in half and making him thankful for the workouts with Teyla.
John squinted up at him. “Might be a good look for you,” he offered.
His words were greeted by another stab at his prostate that made his toes curl appreciatively.
“I’m not listening to a single word you’re saying,” Rodney informed him, his strokes speeding up, “Unless you’re apologizing for being an idiot or offering to give me a backrub.”
John laughed sharply and arched his back. “Then don’t,” he said. “Faster, Rodney.”
“Hey, I said not listening. Are you deaf?” Rodney replied, but he still sped up once more, touching John just the way he wanted and needed at this point.
His balls pulled up and tightened at the change of pace, and John gasped and clenched his muscles tightly around Rodney.
Rodney’s mouth, slanted downwards in an unhappy, frowny way, grew slack at the sudden and somewhat added pressure around his dick. It was enough to make him come deep in John’s ass, a little, almost desperate whimper falling from his lips.
“Yes, that’s it,” John murmured encouragingly. “Just, let it out.”
“Idiot,” Rodney said, his voice sounding almost fond. “What am I going to do to make you understand, huh?”
He picked up his caresses again. “I’m smarter than you’ll ever be, you ape,” he murmured, tugging at the hair growing on John’s leg. “If I say don’t touch, you’re not supposed to touch it.”
Rodney had been scared at least as much as John had, John knew, and this knowledge made him reach up and wrap a hand around Rodney’s neck, pulling him down and into a kiss.
It wasn’t the most comfortable position to be in – in fact, it was downright uncomfortable, and Rodney talked right through the kiss, but John couldn’t fight the warm feeling spreading through his stomach that had nothing to do with the lust curling its tendons through him; nothing and everything.
Rodney’s insults and verbal abuse were just an expression of how much he cared for John, he knew. He didn’t get off on the constant flow of humiliating words coming from Rodney’s mouth; humiliations that sometimes, when Rodney lost control of his sharp and painfully quick brain and tongue, could get downright mean and nasty, but he understood that they were a sign of Rodney genuinely caring for him. He secretly suspected that Rodney did, in fact, get off on telling John ways in which he was smarter than him, but John hadn’t found a way to confirm that yet, mostly because Rodney’s way of dealing with stress generally included some form of verbal abuse, and John wasn’t always his target.
“Come on,” he panted. “Faster…Meredith.”
Rodney’s glare could have powered the Chair, but he, for once, followed orders, speeding up his movements once more, until John came, muscles locked and hands gripping the blanket underneath him, but without making a single sound.
“Your unhealthy obsession with high speed is going to give me tendonitis,” Rodney muttered while shaking out his hands and letting John’s leg slip off his shoulder. “And who is going to save your ass and the rest of the galaxy then?”
John laughed weakly when Rodney crashed onto the bed next to him. It was a tight fit, and Rodney also wiped his hand on John’s favorite t-shirt, but at least the flow of words slowed and finally stopped with one last insult.
John didn’t want to say anything to set him off again, so he just reached out and squeezed Rodney’s hand; and when Rodney squeezed back after a moment, he knew that they were going to be just fine.
~End.
Author: Kathie
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: John Sheppard/Rodney McKay
Rating: FRAO
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be and never were.
Word Count: 1,463 words
Summary: John almost gets killed – and Rodney is trying to deal.
Author’s Notes: For
kink_bingo, prompt: humiliation (private).~*+*~
“You moron.”
John grinned – at least, he tried to grin, but the pain in his split lip from where he’d been banged into a wall quickly stopped him, and he settled for a pain-filled grimace instead.
Rodney immediately stopped moving and ran his hands over the legs wrapped around his waist and over his shoulder. “You’re such an idiot,” he growled quietly, like a miniature cat thinking of itself as a dangerous tiger. “Are you in pain, because you totally deserve that after that utterly idiotic and moronic stunt you pulled there today!”
Toward the end, every syllable was accentuated with a small thrust of Rodney’s hips, making his full and hard dick stab against John’s prostate. He was trying to hold still, but as annoyance overwhelmed him, he quickly forgot.
John didn’t mind. It was the same rhythm Rodney used earlier to tap his index finger against John’s chest, when he had been sure that they all were alive and were going to stay that way, to express that Rodney thought his actions were to be considered especially stupid.
He wouldn’t admit it, but it turned John on more than he’d thought possible before meeting Rodney McKay. He groaned and shifted his hips slightly, to get Rodney to rub against his prostate more firmly without him having to ask directly for it. Talking now wouldn’t do him much good, anyways, he thought when he caught the expression on Rodney’s face. All he would get would be another earful of insults and verbal abuse.
Rodney froze again at the sound coming from John, and his broad hands clamped on John’s thigh to make him stop moving. John groaned again, thoroughly enjoying the sensation of being spread open widely like this, filled by Rodney’s thick cock, even if he would have preferred it if Rodney would start to move again.
“Rodney,” he finally said, in his most exasperated voice. “I’m fine. Now move.”
“No, you’re not,” Rodney spluttered, but he started to shift his hips again, pulling out and thrusting back into the tight grip Jon’s body had on his cock. “You’re just too high to realize how lucky you are to have survived this. What happened, did the two brain cells you have decide that rubbing against each other didn’t create enough of a spark anymore? Did that make you wake up the Dalek? You could have killed yourself! And me too!”
The last few words were accented by another hard thrust inside him, and John let his head fall back against the pillow and his hands reach out to run over Rodney’s chest, pinching one of his nipples lazily.
Rodney was still talking, his voice agitated and almost shrill, his moth never standing still while sweat was beading on his forehead and dropping down on John’s body, where it mingled with John’s sweat before rolling off of him and being absorbed into the sheets underneath him.
It was okay.
John didn’t expect Rodney to stop anytime soon, and if he was completely honest, he had been a bit scared himself when the heavy machine he’d accidentally brushed against with nothing more than the sleeve of his jacket while they were exploring another Ancient outpost had whirred to a rusty life and had classified them as enemies, especially John, who had been chased around by it until it had him pinned face first against the wall.
“You just said it looks like a Dalek,” he interrupted Rodney, adding a well-calculated roll of his hips.
It had taken them almost half an hour to switch off the machine, dubbed Dalek by a squeaky-panicky Rodney; half an hour of shots being taken at them and Rodney frantically working on the control computer. He’d stopped the Dalek just as it had pinned John, its weapons powering up while Ronon was shooting his gun at it despite the close proximity to John.
It had been one of these moments, John thought quietly, where he had thought he saw his entire life flash in front of his eyes. He’d been convinced, almost, that it was the end, until Rodney had, once more, come through and had saved the day.
Or at least he had saved John.
Rodney gave him a glare and shifted his hips slightly, making him penetrate John, if possible, even deeper than before, and John moaned deeply without meaning to.
“Oh, like that wasn’t warning enough,” Rodney griped. “Did your ridiculous hair grow over your ears or what?”
John smirked up at him. “You’re just jealous because yours is falling out,” he replied, his voice catching slightly at the stretch of burn.
“Not surprisingly. I am the one who has to deal with the consequences of your stupidity every day,” Rodney snapped sharply. “It’s a miracle I’m not bald yet!”
Despite his acidy words, his hand, hot, sweaty and competent, closed around John’s leaking erection carefully and stroked it in time with his thrusts, which came shorter and less regularly now as his rhythm faltered slightly. His other hand stayed on John’s leg, holding it in place where it was pressed against his chest, almost bending John in half and making him thankful for the workouts with Teyla.
John squinted up at him. “Might be a good look for you,” he offered.
His words were greeted by another stab at his prostate that made his toes curl appreciatively.
“I’m not listening to a single word you’re saying,” Rodney informed him, his strokes speeding up, “Unless you’re apologizing for being an idiot or offering to give me a backrub.”
John laughed sharply and arched his back. “Then don’t,” he said. “Faster, Rodney.”
“Hey, I said not listening. Are you deaf?” Rodney replied, but he still sped up once more, touching John just the way he wanted and needed at this point.
His balls pulled up and tightened at the change of pace, and John gasped and clenched his muscles tightly around Rodney.
Rodney’s mouth, slanted downwards in an unhappy, frowny way, grew slack at the sudden and somewhat added pressure around his dick. It was enough to make him come deep in John’s ass, a little, almost desperate whimper falling from his lips.
“Yes, that’s it,” John murmured encouragingly. “Just, let it out.”
“Idiot,” Rodney said, his voice sounding almost fond. “What am I going to do to make you understand, huh?”
He picked up his caresses again. “I’m smarter than you’ll ever be, you ape,” he murmured, tugging at the hair growing on John’s leg. “If I say don’t touch, you’re not supposed to touch it.”
Rodney had been scared at least as much as John had, John knew, and this knowledge made him reach up and wrap a hand around Rodney’s neck, pulling him down and into a kiss.
It wasn’t the most comfortable position to be in – in fact, it was downright uncomfortable, and Rodney talked right through the kiss, but John couldn’t fight the warm feeling spreading through his stomach that had nothing to do with the lust curling its tendons through him; nothing and everything.
Rodney’s insults and verbal abuse were just an expression of how much he cared for John, he knew. He didn’t get off on the constant flow of humiliating words coming from Rodney’s mouth; humiliations that sometimes, when Rodney lost control of his sharp and painfully quick brain and tongue, could get downright mean and nasty, but he understood that they were a sign of Rodney genuinely caring for him. He secretly suspected that Rodney did, in fact, get off on telling John ways in which he was smarter than him, but John hadn’t found a way to confirm that yet, mostly because Rodney’s way of dealing with stress generally included some form of verbal abuse, and John wasn’t always his target.
“Come on,” he panted. “Faster…Meredith.”
Rodney’s glare could have powered the Chair, but he, for once, followed orders, speeding up his movements once more, until John came, muscles locked and hands gripping the blanket underneath him, but without making a single sound.
“Your unhealthy obsession with high speed is going to give me tendonitis,” Rodney muttered while shaking out his hands and letting John’s leg slip off his shoulder. “And who is going to save your ass and the rest of the galaxy then?”
John laughed weakly when Rodney crashed onto the bed next to him. It was a tight fit, and Rodney also wiped his hand on John’s favorite t-shirt, but at least the flow of words slowed and finally stopped with one last insult.
John didn’t want to say anything to set him off again, so he just reached out and squeezed Rodney’s hand; and when Rodney squeezed back after a moment, he knew that they were going to be just fine.
~End.