Bringing Sexy Back (as only the Ancients can)
{ NC-17 | John/Rodney }
| podfic available |
written for yin_again’s Porn It Forward Challenge and based on her prompt
*
The first time it happened, John had no idea what was going on.
P3X-M97 had been a totally unremarkable and completely boring planet - that is until the natives showed them rooms upon rooms filled with Ancient tech they had no idea how to operate. Rodney had bounced from one gadget to another, scanning them and making sounds of delight before thrusting them into John’s hands to see what they might do. The natives looked uncertain, Ronon looked bored, and Rodney looked pleased as punch.
Eventually (read: when Ronon got stir-crazy and the natives began to finger their knives), John sent Ronon and Teyla back to Atlantis to ask Elizabeth to trade grain from the mainland and some medicines in exchange for more time with the Ancient tech. Rodney hummed tunelessly to himself, occasionally cooing at something (“Aren’t you a good little machine, helping me win that bet with Simpson! Yes? Yes you are!”) or grumping at it (“Why would they leave something lying around that’s so clearly broken?”), while John followed a few steps behind, keeping an eye on Rodney’s hands and the natives guarding the door.
“What do you think this is, Colonel?” Rodney asked, shoving a square-ish device into John’s chest. He clumsily grabbed it and turned it around. It was rectangular and grey and had all sorts of dials and knobs on it…
“A toaster?” John replied.
Rodney rolled his eyes. “Try turning it on.”
John thought on at it, and nothing happened. He pressed a button and Rodney twitched; he flipped a toggle and Rodney glanced sharply at him. John cocked his head, turned a dial, and watched in fascination as colour bloomed across Rodney’s face and the device was snatched from his hands.
“What did you do!” Rodney demanded, clutching the box to his chest.
John raised his eyebrows. “I turned it on,” he replied, and the entendre wasn’t lost on either of them.
Rodney’s face twisted in embarrassment and his mouth opened (no doubt preparing for verbal evisceration), but just then Teyla and Ronon arrived with Elizabeth’s offer and their conversation ended abruptly.
John pretended not to notice that Rodney included the box in the negotiations.
–
The second time it happened, it was an accident.
John was hovering in the main lab while the science team catalogued the devices Rodney (but mostly Teyla) had negotiated for. He watched as, one by one, the items were handed from scientist to scientist, notes were taken, and they were packed away in foam cases for later study.
“Okay, that’s the last of them,” Rodney said, handing off a bowl-shaped device distractedly.
Radek frowned and peered into Rodney’s pack. “No, there is one more.”
Before Rodney had a chance to react, the toaster/box was out of the pack and in Radek’s hands, and he was passing it over to Simpson when Rodney leapt out of his seat.
“No, no! That one’s dangerous!”
The moment Rodney touched the box, John felt it - a sharp and sudden stab of desire, right through his gut, and John had to grab the nearest wall to steady himself. While Rodney babbled in the background, phantom hands touched his body, caressed him, the same way Rodney’s hands fidgeted around the box.
Jesus, John thought, is this what I did to him?
He watched Rodney’s mouth tug down, saw him brush his fingers against a dial, and theretheretheregodyes -
John made a ragged noise in the back of his throat and the entire room turned to him. He met Rodney’s eyes across the room; they were wide, knowing, and a little smug.
“Colonel?” Radek said. “You look unwell. Perhaps you should -”
“Yes! Yes, I’ll just…” John jerked a thumb over his shoulder, and with one last glance that showed Rodney tucking the box back into his pack, he stumbled out the door.
–
The third time it happened, John was ready.
Well, more or less. He’d been pacing in his room for a good half hour, completely freaking out about the implications of Rodney and arousal and controlled by a box, but he wasn’t exactly surprised when Rodney burst into his room, pack in hand.
“You know, I’m pretty sure I locked that,” John scolded half-heartedly.
“Whatever,” was Rodney’s reply. He tore the pack off the box and tossed it aside, then hovered his hands over the controls.
“Wait, Rodney, I don’t think this is a good ide-”
Too late. Rodney slowly turned a dial and watched avidly as John’s entire body came to life. He could feel tingling on his scalp and the pads of his feet and everywhere in between. Rodney’s fingers moved something else and John staggered against the desk as all his blood rushed south and into his rapidly hardening cock.
“Fuck,” he muttered sluggishly.
“That’s pretty much the idea,” Rodney quipped. “Now strip.”
If John were in control of all his faculties, he would have balked at this and thrown Rodney out of his room - after all, John had never been good at taking orders. Instead, he was all too happy to tear his shirt over his head (it was scratching his nipples) and shimmy his pants off his hips (which his cock very much appreciated).
John sat on the bed to untangle his boots and socks from his pants, and Rodney knelt beside him, hands itching nervously across the controls and sending strange signals across John’s skin. When John was finally naked, he leaned back on his elbows and nudged at Rodney with his feet.
“Now what?” he asked.
Rodney licked his lips and contemplated John’s body. It was the kind of contemplation usually reserved for shiny Ancient tech, coffee, the good beer, and Samantha Carter, and John was both flattered and turned on by it. Although the latter might have been the box talking, it was hard to say.
“Now I experiment,” Rodney replied. “Tell me what this does.”
He felt air across his skin, warm but dry, and the hairs on his arms and legs and on the back of his neck stood on end.
“That tickles,” John said, but Rodney had already noticed the gooseflesh and was moving on to the next control.
Light touches on his thighs and up his sides, firmer and more frequent as Rodney fiddled.
“Hands,” John gasped out, head dropping back instinctually to give the phantom touches better access to his neck and chest. Rodney huffed out a breath and John glanced up to see the hunger on his face.
“You look so hot like that,” Rodney told him. “Splayed out. Wanton.”
Rodney touched something else on the box. Wet heat licked his nipples and John collapsed back on the bed with a moan. The sensation moved down, down his chest and down his stomach and -
John’s hips jerked as his cock was engulfed in a phantom mouth. The hands were still groping him and the air was still brushing his skin, too, and he didn’t think he could be blamed for the ragged breaths he heaved in and out, in and out.
“Rodney, please, it’s too much. Turn something off.”
His only response was a sharp pain to his hip bone. John cried out and looked down at his body, at the welt that should be blossoming but wasn’t.
“What is it?” Rodney asked, breathlessly. “What does that one do?”
John didn’t answer. Rodney turned it higher.
“Fuck!” John yelled as pain stabbed him on his collarbone, his inner thigh, his shoulder blade.
“Stop,” he begged, “bites. They’re - I don’t -”
“Your cock likes them,” Rodney replied. John tried to glare at him, really he did, but his leaking dick (that traitor!) had given him away, so what was the point in pretending? Rodney turned it higher, causing bites on his ass, his wrist, and finally, finally, in that tender spot where neck meets shoulder.
Sweat broke out across John’s body and he squirmed helplessly on the bed, the points of pain sharp enough to burn and distract but dull enough to be tolerable.
“How many more,” he gasped.
“Just one.”
But the last was enough to undo him. Pressure behind his balls, against his anus, and then inside him, moving deeper, until it found his prostate, and then it pressed harder and harder and harder.
His hips twisted up off the bed in shock and humped the air uselessly. John keened from somewhere deep in his throat and he fisted the sheets, trying to gain some sort of purchase against the desperate, writhing motions of his body.
He barely registered Rodney moving on the bed, the removal of clothes and the firm instruction to the box to “Stay on, don’t even think about turning yourself off!” and then there were hands, real hands, stroking up his body and forcing him back down on the bed, a heavy body settling on top of him, and a mouth claiming that spot on his neck for its own.
“Rodney,” John moaned. It was all his brain would process.
“Here, right here, move against me, just - yes, there, like that - oh, god -”
John let go of the sheets long enough to grab two handfuls of Rodney’s generous ass and pull him down harder, grind their cocks against each other. He wound their legs together, turning their desperate, jerky motions into fluid movement. With every thrust Rodney groaned and nipped a little harder at John’s skin.
“Please,” John begged, and though he never said what for, Rodney seemed to know.
He put one hand under his ass, pulling their groins tighter together, the other in his hair, turning his head to the side at the perfect angle for Rodney to fuck John’s mouth with his tongue. John whimpered, gasped air through his nose, and came, jerking endlessly against Rodney.
Rodney pulled away from John’s mouth, away from his body, and reached between them to stroke himself off, using John’s own come to ease the way.
John thought off at the box and the sensations stopped. He licked his dry lips and kneaded Rodney’s ass, pulled the cheeks apart, and fingered the crease. Rodney blinked and came with a grunt, shooting across John’s chest and collapsing there when he couldn’t hold himself up any more.
They lay together, idly stroking skin and tonguing away sweat until Rodney got too heavy, then John rolled him off and Rodney sprawled out next to him on the bed, dazed and sated. John ran a hand through his sweaty hair and chuckled.
“We’re still on duty, aren’t we?” he asked ruefully.
Rodney made a noise of agreement but seemed disinclined to move. John turned on his side and propped his head against his hand.
“We should shower and get back to work,” John continued.
“Yes,” Rodney agreed, but only stretched and resettled himself. John smiled and placed a tentative hand on Rodney’s chest.
“Next time we do this, I get to use the box, okay?”
Rodney grinned and turned bright blue eyes on him.
“How does tonight sound?”