Recipient: Pinch hit for cupidsbow
Summary: John, Rodney, and one of those wacky Ancient devices.
Author's Note: Happy holidays, Cathy—I hope you enjoy this!
"I swear to God, I hate those fucking Ancients," John snarled. He stopped and leaned heavily on Rodney, thinking hard about ice, snow, freezing cold showers and the smell of cooked cabbage and dirty litter boxes. The urgent need receded to a dull roar and he started walking again, trying to move in a way that kept his clothes from rubbing against his erection. He'd been fighting off the climax ever since they'd left the lab, but it was only a matter of time, and he could feel himself starting to lose it.
"We're almost there," Rodney said. "Come on, let's—"
"Shit, shit; too late," John gasped, trying to twist away from Rodney as he was bowled over by the longest, strongest orgasm he'd had in years.
He leaned against the wall, panting, trying to pull himself together. He forced himself to glance at Rodney, who—gratifyingly—looked as freaked out as John felt. "Are you sure you don't want me to call Carson?"
"I'm sure!" John snapped.
"All right!" The arm around his waist tightened. "Come on, can you walk?"
John nodded, grimacing at the feel of the soggy mess in his pants. He was still half-hard, the urgent buzzing in his balls barely diminished, and he had a feeling this was a long way from being over.
"I'm guessing it was the Ancient equivalent of Viagra, or maybe a sex toy, I don't know," Rodney babbled as he helped John out of his clothes, throwing jacket and shirt onto the floor, then kneeling to untie John's boots and unbuckle his thigh holster. John tried to help by undoing his pants, but he was dizzy and breathless, and every movement slid the cold, wet material of his boxers over the head of his cock, and how gross was it that it felt good? "…it probably had a milder effect on Ancient physiology. Do you want to take a shower?"
"What?" John asked, trying to parse Rodney's question.
"Shower?" Rodney said slowly.
Gritting his teeth John shook his head.
"Okay, let's get you into bed and I'll get a towel—"
"Just hurry up," John hissed; he was too close.
"Yes, okay…I think…" Rodney reached up for the waistband of his pants, carefully pulling them down, trying to keep the material from dragging against him. Once past his hard-on, Rodney quickly tugged John's pants down to his knees. John instinctively cupped his hands around his cock and balls, then whimpered at the tingle of pleasure that came with the touch.
Rodney glanced up at him, then quickly looked away, his face red. John blinked, only then realizing just how suggestive it was, standing here with his pants down, hard as a rock, while Rodney knelt at his feet, his face right there, and shit, but that was kind of hot. Without thinking he gave himself a squeeze, and then his eyes widened as it caused a bolt of pleasure to shoot up his spine and he was coming again, right in front of Rodney.
His vision grayed out, and when he came back to himself he was listing alarmingly. Rodney had reached up to steady him, though, holding onto John's arms, and he was staring, stunned, at John's loosely cupped hands, sticky with semen. "Sorry," John muttered.
Rodney shook his head. "No, no, it's all right. Here, sit down, before you fall." John gratefully obeyed and Rodney bent his head, pulling off John's boots and socks, then his pants and boxers. "Okay, lie down."
John let himself fall over sideways, sighing in relief as low-grade nausea he hadn't even been aware of receded. He heard Rodney banging around in the bathroom, then the sound of water running.
"Where's your lube?" Rodney asked. John opened his eyes to see Rodney standing over him. He held out a towel and John took it. It was warm and damp and John slowly wiped his sticky hands.
Rodney opened the drawer beside his bed, huffed impatiently and closed it. "Where's your lube?" he asked again.
"Don't have any."
"What? How do you—"
"I use soap, in the shower. Why?" He squinted up at Rodney.
"Because you're going to get…chafed," he said, looking uncomfortable.
"Oh." He looked down, and started wiping at his groin with the towel. "Do you mind?" he said, glancing up at Rodney.
"Oh, right." He took the towel away from John and started gently cleaning him up, while John watched bemused; he'd meant for Rodney to turn around, not take over. But it was nice, he thought, lying back against the pillow and closing his eyes. He was so tired. The towel felt good, almost too good, but Rodney kept it away from his cock and the pleasure wasn't enough to push him to another climax.
Rodney rolled him onto his side and pushed his knee up, then covered him with a soft blanket. "Thanks," John mumbled. It felt good to be clean and warm and he started to doze despite the urgent buzz that vibrated in his groin.
What felt like seconds later he snapped awake, his cock in his fist, and two, three, four rough strokes and he was coming again, shuddering as a pathetic little dribble of come oozed over his hand.
And then he repeated the whole process again. And again. And again. And he was really starting to see what Rodney'd meant about chafing. And where was Rodney, anyway? Surely he hadn't just got John settled and gone on about his business…had he? John racked his brain, trying to remember the last thing Rodney had said, but it was all confused gibberish. He could already feel the urge beginning to build again. He felt around for his radio, and, as if on cue, the door hissed open and Rodney came in.
"Where've you been?" John demanded irritably. "I could be dying here. And I'm thirsty."
"I told you I was going to find some lube." Rodney shook his head as he went into the bathroom. John heard the tap running, then Rodney was back, handing him a glass of water.
"I had to go all the way down to the mess," he continued. "Olive oil." He pulled a small bottle out of his jacket with a triumphant flourish.
"The mess? What, you didn't have lube in your quarters?"
"Don't need it, I wasn’t circumcised," Rodney said smugly.
"What?" John said, taking another drink and wondering what the hell that had to do with anything.
"Okay, sometimes I do use it," Rodney admitted, "but I'm almost out; it wouldn’t have been enough." He hesitated, looking nervous and twitchy.
"What?" John said suspiciously, lowering the glass.
"Uhm, well, I was thinking I could, you know, uhm…" He finally stopped hemming and hawing and blurted out, "Have you ever fooled around with another guy?"
"Have you ever fooled around with another guy?" Rodney repeated, as if John hadn't heard him perfectly well the first time.
"Haven't you ever heard of don't ask, don't tell? This would be the 'don't ask' part?"
"Oh please, I'm not asking if you're gay, I'm asking if you've ever fooled around with another guy."
"And that's not asking if I'm gay, how?"
"You don't have to be gay to fool around with other guys; it's very common among boys and men who have girlfriends and get married and consider themselves completely heterosexual. It's just friends, sometimes family, usually boys of a similar age anyway. Curiosity, experimentation, and so forth." Rodney nervously waved his hands. "Granted it's usually when they're young, mainly during the teenage years, but some continue even when they get older. Anyway, I thought maybe I could…help you out. If you don't have any objections to, uhm, fooling around with another guy. A friend. You know."
"Jeez, Rodney, take a breath," John paused, feeling like he was about to jump out of an airplane, then said, "Okay."
"Okay?" Rodney stared at him for a second. "Okay! Yes, right then." He nodded briskly, and started taking off his clothes. John raised an eyebrow at the green paisley boxers, then glanced away as they joined the pile of clothes on the floor. "I uh, once read about this boy who went to stay summers with his cousin," Rodney said. "They had to share a bedroom with one bed." Stark naked, he climbed into the tiny bed with John—said tiny bed being yet another reason why the Ancients sucked—and got himself arranged.
"So, the cousin was a couple years older," Rodney continued, and proceeded to babble on about showers and swimming and jerking off, background noise to John's mental debate over what to do next: He wanted to touch himself. He didn't want to do it in front of Rodney. He wanted Rodney to touch him. He didn't want to ask.
He rolled over onto his back, carefully holding the blanket away from his cock. "Where's the oil?" he blurted.
Rodney stuttered to a stop, staring wide-eyed at John. "Uh, right here. I'll just…" he leaned up over John, then slowly reached under the blanket with his cupped palm. John gasped as cool, wet oil dribbled over his cock, smoothed on with a light, careful touch.
"Yeah," John gasped. "Yeah, like that."
He came embarrassingly fast, but Rodney didn't seem to mind; he just held his hand on John's hip in such a way that the blanket didn't touch him and launched into another 'guys fooling around with other guys' story. John lay there, breathing hard, letting Rodney's voice wash over him and trying to ignore the persistent tingle that was starting to make him despise the very idea of sex.
"Wait a minute," John said. "Did you say 'practice kissing'?"
"Some boys can be a little insecure," Rodney said defensively. "When they finally get a chance to kiss a girl they want to know what they're doing, so, you know…friends sometimes practice kissing each other first."
"Well then, maybe you should be a friend and practice kissing me," John said, feeling reckless, "since I'm not really keen on having sex with someone I've never even kissed."
There was a long moment of silence, long enough for John to wonder if he'd made a mistake, then Rodney's hands were cupping his face, and he was being given the best kind of slow, wet, lazy kisses.
Then Rodney shifted in the bed, and John felt something hard poking his hip; Rodney was hard. John reached down to touch it. He'd never touched any cock but his own and it felt…weird. Different. Nice.
He gave it an experimental tug, surprised at the sensation of loose skin sliding over the hard shaft. "Okay, I'm starting to see what you mean about not needing lube," he said. "Does that feel good?"
"Oh, yes." Rodney's voice was small and breathy, and John grinned and kissed him again, slowly jacking Rodney's cock. His grip was wrong and the angle awkward, but Rodney didn't seem to care if his whimpers and moans were anything to go by. John was getting into it, a little surprised at how much it was turning him on, then Rodney gasped, "God, John!" and clutched John's hand with his own and came all over him, and fuck but that was hot.
He leaned forward and kissed Rodney again, hard, and a little desperate.
After a while Rodney pulled away. "Do you need to come again?" he asked, still a little breathless.
John scowled. "It hurts."
"How about if I…" Rodney wriggled down under the blanket. John held his breath; then sighed as Rodney's warm, wet mouth closed around the head of his cock. It still hurt a little, but it was good, too and pleasure overrode pain as another climax built. His balls grew tight as Rodney licked and sucked the head the head of his cock and lightly, gently squeezed the base. Then he used his other hand to cup and squeeze John's balls and John exploded.
Rodney climbed back up the bed, and pulled John into his arms. It was…nice, he thought sleepily, resting his head on Rodney's shoulder. Cuddly. His eyes sprang open. It was cuddly because they were cuddling. John took a deep breath and closed his eyes again; there would be plenty of time for freaking out later.
"The interval between seems to be getting longer," Rodney said.
"Not long enough." John sighed. "You were right, we should have called Carson. He could, I don't know, sedate me or something."
"Look, you know how it'll go. First we have to tell him what happened, and then he'll have to do an exam, and of course he'll get Elizabeth involved, because he apparently can't wipe his ass without filling her in on it."
John huffed a laugh. "You're just pissed he told her about the hives."
"My point," Rodney said, "is that it would be ages before he got around to giving you anything, and that's only once he decides what the best thing to give you would be, and if he thinks you need to be given anything at all. How much would it suck to officially get him involved and God and everybody finds out, only to have him tell you to be patient and let it wear off?"
"You could explain to him first, tell him he needs to be discreet."
"Oh yes, like he's going to listen to my explanation if he thinks there's a medical emergency. If I call him at this time of night he'll be at the door with a gurney and six minions before I can explain jack shit."
And as much as John wanted to argue, he was afraid Rodney was right, and the whole reason he'd made Rodney bring him here instead of the infirmary anyway was to keep everybody and their fucking brother from finding out about it. The only thing more embarrassing than doing this with Rodney would be doing it with Carson and his medical team for an audience. At least Rodney was helping him.
Or he had been. The heavy, tight feeling in his balls wasn't going away, and even the thought of Rodney's mouth was filling him with dread.
"Look," Rodney said. "I've got an idea. Do you trust me?"
"What kind of stupid question is that?"
"It's just… Uhm. Okay, get up on your knees…" John turned over and Rodney tugged at his hips, arranging him so that his ass was in the air, legs spread open enough that nothing but air touched his sore cock. "Now what did we do with the oil?"
"It's by the pillow." John's head snapped up. "Why? You're not planning to—"
"Just relax," Rodney said nervously. He rubbed John's back. "It's okay, just relax."
He heard Rodney fumbling with the bottle, then Rodney was muttering again, variations on 'relax', and the soothing hand was on his back, and slippery fingers pushed behind his balls, then up the crack of his ass, circling around his hole, then back down and up, tracing the same line, teasing, tantalizing. It felt good—surprisingly good—but it wasn't quite enough to get him off.
"Is that all right?" Rodney asked.
"It's not enough."
"Right, I was afraid of that. Just…just relax."
"Fuck, Rodney, I'm as relaxed as I'm going to get here!"
"Okay, just calm down. Hold on…" Rodney rubbed his fingers around John's hole again, and John bit his lip, bracing for pain. "Okay, uhm, just—"
"If you tell me to cough, I’m going to hit you," John said.
"Ha ha. Okay, I'm—"
"Just do it, Rodney!"
"Yes, right." Rodney slowly pushed his fingers in. "Is that—"
"Yes," John gasped. It hurt a little, more burn than pain, but it felt good, too, the pressure and fullness easing the irritating tingle of need. Then Rodney moved his hand, slowly sliding his fingers out and in, and John whimpered at the shock of pleasure it caused.
Rodney stopped. "What's wrong?"
"Don't stop," John whined.
"You made a noise!"
"I made a noise because it felt good!"
"Oh." Rodney started again, moving his fingers slowly in and out, and John thought if this was how it felt to be fucked, he could sort of see why a guy might be into it.
It was weird feeling a climax build without anything touching his cock, but it was coming, closer and faster with every thrust of Rodney's fingers. "Oh God," he moaned, shaking as the wave overtook him.
Head on his arms he dozed a little, waking only for Rodney to wring a couple more orgasms from him, almost more painful than pleasurable, until finally he came awake to find himself without a desperate need to come. His back was hurting, his entire bottom half was freezing—possibly because all the blankets had been pushed up around his shoulders—and the fingering that had felt so unbelievably good before was now just weird and uncomfortable. But still…he looked down between his legs, thinking he'd never been so grateful for an utterly limp dick.
Rodney was leaning against his hip and thigh, arm draped over John's back, dreamily watching his fingers moving in and out of John's ass.
"Rodney," he croaked.
Rodney's head jerked up. "I'm awake!"
"Sure you are. Get up here." Rodney slowly pulled his fingers out of John's ass and wiped his hand on the towel. "Come on," John urged, pulling at Rodney's elbow until he moved up to lie beside John. John arranged the blanket and scooted himself as close to Rodney's warm bulk as possible and drifted back to sleep.
When he woke up again it was late in the morning and Rodney was gone.
John called in sick, telling a mother hen-ish Carson he felt like he was coming down with a cold, then slept like the dead until the next morning.
Rodney submitted his report on the device, with a customary courtesy copy to John, written as if John hadn't even been in the room.
Things were a little awkward between the two of them at first, but John found himself forgetting that he was supposed to be feeling uncomfortable, and when he did remember, it seemed kind of stupid to get all uptight about it when he'd been perfectly fine just a few minutes before, so things quickly settled back into business as usual.
John felt like things were finally back to normal once he was no longer wincing any time anything touched his cock. He was even back to enjoying the morning shower routine, though the parade of women who used to inhabit his fantasies had been pretty much completely replaced by Rodney. Rodney's sweet, dirty kisses. Rodney kneeling in the shower, sucking John off. Rodney behind him on the bed, fucking him with cock instead of fingers. That was definitely not normal.
But John had always thought normal was a little overrated.
John made his move after dinner in the mess, when the team had been given a few days off and Teyla and Ronon were off visiting the Athosian settlement.
"So, all those stories you told me…"
Rodney looked up, eyes wide. "Yeah?" he asked cautiously.
"How much of that did you make up?"
"Oh, well, uh…some of it was stuff I read on the internet..."
"You were reading about gay sex on the internet?"
"No! And how many times do I have to tell you—"
"Yeah, yeah, just because a guy fools around with other guys doesn't make him gay. You said that. About six hundred times."
"Yes, well, maybe if you listened to me..."
"Oh, I listened," John said. He leaned closer. "So, did any of that stuff happen to you?"
"Yes, Rodney, you. Were any of those stories about you?"
Rodney looked shifty. "Maybe?"
"Uh huh. So you'd be one of those guys who keep doing it when they get older?"
"Well, I suppose in theory—"
"Theory?" John raised an eyebrow. "Funny, it didn't feel like a theory."
Rodney quickly looked around to be sure they weren't overheard. "That was the first time I'd done anything like that in years," he hissed. He sat back and crossed his arms, glaring at John. "And I thought we weren't talking about it."
"Oh, we weren't?" John said innocently. "I don't remember deciding that."
Rodney rolled his eyes. "So what?"
"So nothing," John said, leaning close and lowering his voice. "I was just thinking I may need some practice kissing. Don't want to forget how, look stupid next time I get a chance to kiss a girl. You wanna be a friend? Help a guy out?"
Rodney's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"
"As a heart attack." John gave him a lazy smile.
Rodney jumped up and walked away from the table, then stopped and turned when he realized John wasn't right behind him. "Why are you just sitting there, come on!" he said, snapping his fingers irritably.
Half the heads in the room turned, giving John sympathetic, amused looks, and he grinned at them all as he followed Rodney out of the room.
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