Am I the only sour cherry on your fruit stand? (zillah975) wrote in sga_santa,
Am I the only sour cherry on your fruit stand?
zillah975
sga_santa

Fic: Get Off (John/Ronon, NC17)

Title: Get Off
Author: zillah975
Recipient: telesilla
Pairing: John/Ronon, with a side of Rodney/Teyla, pre-OT4
Rating: NC17
Word count: ~3,100
Warnings/enticements - highlight to read: Tentacles, fucking machines, and dub-con, oh my.

Notes: This is pure PWP, for sga_santa!madness. Huge thanks to kyuuketsukirui for the quick beta, and huge love to telesilla for all the encouragement she's given me over the years!

Get Off

"All right, just let me know when you've fixed it, okay? Ronon and I are going to see if we can find the source of those weird readings."

John closed the connection and nodded to Ronon, and the two of them moved deeper into the cool depths of the deserted stone building. "McKay and Teyla are still at the Gate. He thinks he'll be able to get it working in a couple hours, but Teyla's going to stay there in case we're not as alone here as we think we are."

"Uh-huh," Ronon said, and John shot him a glance. Ronon was smirking.

"Oh come on, you know McKay, he won't be able to think about anything else until he gets the Gate fixed."

"Not even Teyla?"

John hesitated, then shrugged. It was a valid point. John and Ronon had been at this since that debacle on M32-892, but Rodney and Teyla had only been together a couple of months -- they were still in the touching-every-chance-they-got phase, or at least Rodney was. Teyla was a little more discreet about it, but none of the novelty had worn off yet for them...although when Ronon stepped past him and nudged open a door, and John was treated to another good look at those broad shoulders and narrow hips, the relaxed readiness of his posture, it occurred to him that he wasn't exactly a jaded old fart about his own boyfriend. He wondered if Ronon might be up for a little semi-public nudity in a deserted Ancient city.

"Okay, this is weird. Even for Ancients." Ronon stepped into the room, and John followed.

His eyes widened when he saw what Ronon was looking at. "What the hell...."

They were in a hexagonal chamber with a shallow pit in the middle, and a console that looked like standard issue Ancient tech from about a thousand years before Atlantis. Nothing unusual there. No, the weird part was on the walls.

"They had something like this in one of the pleasure houses on Sateda," Ronon said. "Not so much of it, though -- not a whole room done up like this."

Pornographic murals covered every inch of the walls and ceiling, men and women, couples and groups, and as John's gaze traveled around the room, he saw that not all of it was strictly by-the-book sex. Some of it was actually pretty inventive. His dick shifted and started to stiffen, and he cleared his throat and stepped past Ronon. "If it's a whorehouse then where are the beds?"

"Maybe they took them when they left."

"Anyway, look at the size of this place. This would be, like, the orgy room."

"I don't know, it looks like some of the people in the paintings are prisoners or something."

John glanced over and saw Ronon examining a scene with two women standing over a man on his knees, ropes around his arms and chest. "Mmm. Or something," he murmured, taking the two short steps down to the console. It flared to life when he touched it.

"Something like what?" Ronon asked.

"Hey, I think I found the source of the weird readings." Because no way was John going to explain that now. Just because he couldn't help imagining what it'd be like, how amazing it'd be to have Ronon like that, tied up and waiting for John to do whatever he wanted....

He swallowed again, still staring at the console. This was definitely not the time for that conversation, but he could see it just like in his darkest wishes, the surprise on Ronon's face, anger and hunger both, how he'd fight until he couldn't fight anymore, couldn't do anything but take it. Didn't want to do anything but take it.

There was a metallic slithering sound behind him and Ronon gave a surprised shout, and John drew his weapon as he spun around. "What the--"

Two slender tentacles were coiling around Ronon's wrists, two more at his ankles, and Sheppard lunged towards him as Ronon was hauled off his feet and towards the wall, struggling and cursing. There was a bright note of panic in his voice. "What the hell did you do, Sheppard?"

"I didn't do anything! What did you do? You push a button or something?" He couldn't dig his fingers underneath the slick metal, couldn't get a grip to pry them off. He drew his knife. "Hold still," he said, and Ronon tried to, but the blade slid off without so much as a scratch and the coil wrapped tighter. It was smooth as liquid; he couldn't find anything to cut against, no seam or scale to slip the blade into. A fifth tentacle slid from the wall with a delicate hiss and snaked around Ronon's throat; a sixth started slithering inside his shirt.

Ronon jerked against them. "Get it off, Sheppard."

John turned and sprinted back to the console.

The thing was as incomprehensible as any other piece of Ancient tech this old, though, just colored lights that he didn't know how to read, and the pounding in his veins wasn't helping. He could hear Ronon still struggling behind him, and that soft metallic sound that was simultaneously horrifying and weirdly sensual, and nothing he was doing was making a damn bit of difference.

"I'll get McKay."

"No!"

"I don't know how to work this thing, Ronon," John said, turning, but the rest was choked off.

"Just, do what you do, like flying the damned Jumper or something -- just turn it off!"

"I tried!" John shook his head, staring. His heart was hammering, and his own dick had stiffened so fast it made him lightheaded.

Ronon's shirt was off. The dark metal gleamed like pewter against his skin, writhing around his belly as his chest heaved. His gun belt was lying on the floor, and the tentacles were stiff as steel bars now, pinning his arms behind his back and keeping his legs spread, immobilizing him a few feet from the wall. He was still trying to struggle while the other two tentacles nimbly unlaced his leather pants, and John could see a faint redness where the one had been wrapped around his neck.

But John's panic was starting to fade, because the tentacles didn't seem to be trying to hurt him. They were just...holding him there. And okay, maybe also stripping him down and touching him kind of inappropriately, but it was just a machine doing what it had been programmed to do. Apparently by some very kinky Ancients.

"Okay," John said, taking a step forward, "that's really kind of insanely hot."

Ronon shot him a murderous glare, but he really didn't look like he was in any danger, just trapped and pissed off and on his way to being naked. "Sheppard, I'm serious. Get these things off!"

"I'm serious too -- I think they're trying to get you off. I think they like you, buddy."

Ronon's leathers started slipping down and one of the tentacles stroked his belly, leaving a glistening trail on his skin, which was both really disturbing and kind of hot. He jerked against them and the leather slipped another inch, then another, and the tentacle dipped lower, then darted inside.

Ronon's mouth fell open, his throat working as the outline of the tentacle moved beneath the leather, sliding along the shaft his lengthening cock. "John," he said, thick-voiced, "I mean it," and John's dick throbbed.

"Want me to call McKay after all?"

"If you do, you'd better hope I don't get loose."

John smirked. "Not ready for a hot bondage foursome?"

"Yeah, keep making jokes." Ronon strained against the tentacles, to no avail. "These things kill me and my ghost will come back and kick your ass."

"Ronon, it's an orgy room, they're not going to kill you. They might fuck you 'til you can't walk, but they're not going to kill you. Look, you know how this stuff works -- the Ancients made this kind of thing for a purpose, and usually once it's done whatever it's supposed to do, it turns off." He walked over to Ronon. "And I think we've got a pretty good idea what this thing's supposed to do."

"Sheppard...." Ronon eyed him warily. "Don't."

John offered him his most innocent look -- which was, admittedly, not that convincing. "Don't what?"

"Don't do what I think you're going to do."

"What, you want to just stay tied up here the rest of your life?" John shook his head. "Nope. I need you on Atlantis. But maybe we can vacation here next summer." He sank to his knees in front of Ronon and worked his leathers the rest of the way down while Ronon threatened him in languages John didn't need to understand. Ronon's thick cock was dark and stiff, slick at the crown, and well worth the beating he'd probably take the next time he was crazy enough to spar with the guy. The tentacle had coiled around it like a snake, and the gleaming metal shimmered as it moved, stroking and pulling Ronon's erection.

"Christ," he murmured. "Do you have any idea how fucking hot you are like this?"

Ronon's cock twitched and the tentacle retreated, slithering away like it was making room for him. John moved close to lick the shaft, the faint taste of metal lingering there. Ronon groaned, and John took just the head in his mouth, the smell and the taste making his head swim, then sucked him deeper, heavy and intoxicating. He could feel Ronon still pulling against the tentacles, the muscles flexing in his thighs, but he didn't stop and Ronon didn't ask him to.

It didn't take long, either, maybe because neither of them was trying to drag it out, but when Ronon's hips bucked and he came down John's throat with a shout, John almost shot his own load. He was smirking when he pulled back, and seeing Ronon panting and sweaty above him didn't do much to convince him that these tentacle things were a bad idea.

They were not, however, releasing Ronon.

John frowned. "Okay," he said to the room. "You can let go now."

One slick tentacle began questing around Ronon's thighs, and then snaking higher, and John's eyes widened when it slipped into the cleft behind Ronon's balls.

"John," Ronon said, panic at the edges of his voice, "John, what-- you said-- Oh! Oh...."

The tentacle seemed to be swelling now, disappearing inside Ronon's body, and Ronon was starting to make those sounds, little needy whimpers like when John was just starting to push inside, teasing him with it. "No, really," John said, standing up and hurrying back to the console. "That is not okay! Bad room! Bad!"

Behind him Ronon's breathing was growing labored, and John's panic was creeping back in past the ache of arousal.

"John -- shit, come on," Ronon said, and John turned and spread his arms helplessly.

"I can call McKay, that's -- I don't know what else to do!"

Ronon huffed a laugh and shook his head. "Get -- get over here."

"You think it wants you to go again?"

"No, I-- oh, oh fuck," Ronon gasped, his cock starting to lift, and okay, John wasn't going to let that go unanswered. No machine was going to fuck his boyfriend while he just stood around watching.

"Good thing you're young," he muttered, dropping to his knees again. "We could be here all damned day."

Although as he took Ronon in, he had to admit that actually sounded kind of fun.

He hoped the machine hadn't heard that.

Ronon's cock was salty-slick and swelling in his mouth, and when John reached back to play with his balls, oh god, that tentacle was right there, sliding into him and into him, thicker than before and smooth as a snake, and going so deep. He could feel the pull when it withdrew, and when it pushed into him again Ronon's hips bucked forward, almost choking him. John fumbled his own BDUs open and took his cock out, started stroking and squeezing himself as the machine fucked Ronon into John's mouth.

He could feel Ronon's climax gathering in the way his body tensed, his balls drawing tight, could hear it in the way his breathing changed, and the way his whines turned to desperate, rough-voiced gasps.

"John, John, you need to-- you need-- oh, oh fuck, stop, stop," but no way was John stopping, not when Ronon was this close.

Ronon let out a harsh cry, his hips jerking and his cock pulsing against John's tongue, and John swallowed around him, still as hard as one of those damned tentacles himself, but surely twice would be enough.

He pulled back and looked up. Ronon was gleaming with sweat, open-mouthed, and still held tight. The sixth tentacle had slithered out of him and was hovering there, curved like a question mark. "Not me," he gasped. "You."

"Me?" John frowned.

Somewhere Ronon found the breath to laugh, even if he was glaring a little. "You've gotta come, too. Or maybe it's just you, maybe it was never me, but anyway."

John blinked up at him. "Oh.... Oh! Right. Uh."

"I tried to tell you. You're so damned single-minded sometimes."

"Yeah, well," John grumbled, and got to his feet. "I didn't hear you begging me to stop."

"I'm not stupid, Sheppard."

John wrapped his hand around his dick and started to stroke himself off, but the tentacles were on the move again, manhandling -- or, well, machine-handling Ronon down to his knees. Ronon didn't even bother fighting them this time, he just looked up at John and licked his lips.

"Oh...Jesus yes." He met Ronon's eyes. "You... you want it?"

He meant it to sound like a question, sincerely, but from the heat that flashed in Ronon's eyes, he wasn't sure it had come out that way.

"Yeah," Ronon answered. "Fuck, yeah. I want it."

John cupped the back of Ronon's head and Ronon opened his mouth, and John swallowed a groan and pushed inside, began fucking the wet heat of Ronon's mouth like Ronon had fucked his. Ronon opened up and took it, cheeks hollowing when he sucked, but the tentacles apparently didn't think that was good enough -- or John didn't, he didn't even know anymore. One of them slithered around Ronon's waist and curled up under his cock and balls, lifting them, beginning to stroke again. Ronon jerked against the ones that held him, his curses muffled by John's dick in his mouth, and then the sixth one began probing his fucked-open hole. Ronon's eyes widened.

John tried to make himself tell it to stop, but lust curled tight in his belly and he couldn't -- he didn't want to. He wanted it this way, wanted to fuck his lover's mouth while that thing fucked into him, and ohgod, it was doing it, swelling and pushing into Ronon, and John couldn't tell if Ronon was squirming to get away or if he just couldn't help it. John was pretty sure Ronon couldn't get hard again, but his dick was twitching like it would if it could, his hips rising, and Ronon was groaning deep in his throat, the hum of it vibrating through John's dick and making it throb. He started shoving into Ronon's mouth, hitting the back of his throat and then pushing in, and Ronon took it, just opened up for him, his fingers clenching and spreading, his thighs shaking.

When teeth scraped over John's cock he let out a strangled shout and came, pumping his hips as his cock pulsed his release into Ronon's mouth.

At last he pulled back. Ronon was still on his knees, but the tentacles were gone. The only sign they'd ever been there were the red marks around Ronon's wrists.

"Hey," John said, and dropped to his knees again. "Hey."

Ronon looked at him. The haze of lust was lifting and leaving behind it a cold weight of fear. Ronon cleared his throat.

"You, um." John ducked his head. "You okay?"

There was a pause, and then Ronon snorted and pulled John into an awkward kiss. Their mouths met off-center, teeth clashing, but they righted themselves and it softened, their tongues slipping together, silky, tasting of their sweat and sex. Ronon tipped their foreheads together when they parted. "Yeah, I'm okay. You okay?"

John nodded. "I'm good."

Ronon grinned. "Yeah. You know, if you wanted to tie me up, all you had to do was ask."

John laughed, and the fear melted away. "Come on, let's get cleaned up."

They were just finishing dressing when they heard footsteps in the hall and Teyla and Rodney calling for them.

"We're in here," John called back.

Rodney hurried into the room with Teyla following. They both looked flushed. "We kept trying to call you on the comm, but nobody answered."

"Really?" John frowned and tried to activate his, but nothing happened. "Huh."

"Something must be interfering." Rodney got out his handheld and started fiddling with it.

Teyla looked around the room, and raised an eyebrow. "What an interesting chamber."

Ronon scrubbed the back of his neck, watching her as she moved to look at one of the paintings more closely.

"Oh! Oh hey," Rodney said, "I think I found where those weird readings are coming from." He hurried over to the console, and it flared to life again.

"McKay, I don't think you should mess with that."

"Teyla," Ronon was saying, reaching for her, "don't -- don't stand there, it's not--"

"I wonder what it does." Rodney was looking from the console to the murals and back again, and fiddling with the handheld. "It must be some kind of...I don't know, like, an orgy room or something."

There was a slick metallic sound and Ronon lunged for Teyla, but it was Rodney who squeaked, and when they looked over, six slick tentacles had emerged from the wall near the console and were wrapping around him at wrists and ankles, and slithering inside his clothes.

"Rodney!" Teyla pulled out of Ronon's grip and rushed towards him.

John looked at Ronon, and Ronon just shook his head.

John sighed.

"Guys!" Rodney said. "Hey! A little help here!"

"John, Ronon!" Teyla snapped, trying to pry the tentacles loose. "Help me!"

Rodney pulled against the tentacles, but his face was red and there was a definite tenting going on in his pants. John tried not to grin. "Okay," he said, and started towards them. "Here's the deal...."
Tags: genre: slash, pairing: dex/sheppard
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