franticsga - Isolating Variables.

Isolating Variables.

: franticsga; November 12th, 2008

kashmir1 was having a sucky sicky day (as am I; stomach flu FTW), so I finished off a scene I cut from a recent story. Here she be:

Title: Isolating Variables
Author: franticsga
Warnings: NC-17. Fairly tame D/s issues.
Description: He'd had a bad day; being a quivering mess would really help.

He should have known that McKay would notice, eventually. There was no way you could have sex with someone that smart and not have each and every one of your kinks discovered. He had sort of just relied on the fact that his were really weird, hoping Rodney had never heard of them. Because…well, if it hadn’t been for the internet, he probably wouldn’t even have heard of them, and they were his own damn kinks.

It all started with a blowjob, a really good one if the preliminaries were any indication. He was getting impatient, though- always did. Rodney took his sweet-ass time when he was going down, and John would try not to move, try not to moan, try not to beg, but he always did. Sometimes Rodney was patient, sometimes he would laugh at him, and sometimes he would glare at him and hold his hips down, tell him to be quiet, and tease him so mercilessly John would end up a quivering mess.

Tonight he seemed in a glaring mood, which boded well for John's peace of mind. He'd had a bad day; being a quivering mess would really help. And oh, Rodney was going in the right direction. He was gently scraping his nails along the underside of John's balls, squeezing them and tugging every so often until John's breath started to hitch. Once in a while he'd slide one of his fingers back until one was tracing, light as a feather, around his entrance. It took fifteen minutes of all that combined with slow, hard suction before he caved. His hands were fisted in the shoulders of Rodney's t-shirt, pulling and pushing in frustration. "Rodney, mmm, come on," he whined, wanting Rodney's fingers inside him, wanting Rodney to turn him over. Eventually he'd come like this, sweet and sharp and trembling, and then Rodney would turn him over and fuck him like he wanted to be fucked. Or maybe he'd use his tongue. Oh, God, he thought, his face burning with embarrassment over the last time Rodney had used his tongue. He'd actually whimpered.

The embarrassment seemed to ratchet everything up a little bit; he squirmed and his hips stuttered up before he could help himself, moaning desperately. Rodney made an annoyed sound and pulled his lips off the head of John's dick, and John gasped, "No," in dismay. There was always a certain point during this type of play where he'd break completely, and then he was putty in Rodney's hands. They weren't there yet, and he wanted to be there, wanted Rodney to make him be there. Instead, Rodney glared even harder. "John, cut it out," he said sharply. "Jesus, what do I have to do, punish you to get you to behave?"

It happened before he could stop it, before he could think. Maybe if he hadn't already been so turned on, his control wouldn't have slipped. As it was, he gasped again- not dismay this time, and he knew Rodney knew that- and his cock jerked. Hard. He closed his eyes and prayed Rodney hadn't noticed, or if he had, that he wouldn't connect the dots. It was a futile prayer. When had he ever known Rodney not to connect the dots? But when he opened his eyes again Rodney was only staring at him narrowly, his lips twisted in contemplation.

"Hmm," he said, and suddenly his hand was under John's ass, and he was nudging him over onto his belly. He could hear the slick sticky sounds of Rodney rubbing lube between his hands, then, yes, fingers in his ass, getting him there like yesterday. He was grinding against the bed and then Rodney was pushing him down into it, sliding his cock inside, kissing John's shoulder blades- right, then left, like he always did- and then. Between this and the jolt of surprise at Rodney saying- that- he was in that zone, where he thought nothing, wanted nothing, controlled nothing. There was nothing in his world except Rodney's hands tight on his wrists, holding him against the bed, the sliding scrape of Rodney’s stubble along his neck, and the berry-sweet sting of bites on his shoulder.

He always loved getting fucked, even if it was too slow, way too slow, Rodney's thick cock sliding in, out, with a rhythm that was a turn-on in itself. When he was bored in meetings he would sometimes zone out and rub his thumb along the seam of his pants to that rhythm, imagining the looks on everybody's faces if Rodney got up, yanked John to his feet, pulled his pants down and fucked him right there against the table with his entire staff watching.

"Rodney," he gasped, breathlessly aware that his voice was shaking so hard he sounded like he was sobbing. "Rodney, make me come."

Rodney said nothing, didn't speed up, didn't even grip John's wrists harder.

He struggled a little, because he liked it, trying to gain enough traction to shove himself back against Rodney's cock.

"Rodney," he gasped again, voice breaking. "Do it, Jesus—"

Suddenly Rodney shifted, leaning to the side slightly and freeing John's right hand. John realized what he was going to do just as Rodney murmured, "You don't get to tell me what to do, John. Are you in charge?"

John curled his fingers into the pillowcase, tearing at the fabric. It was like Rodney had gone inside his head and was reading off a list of his triggers, the words that he secretly said to himself when he wanted to come hard and nobody was around.

He shook his head, unable to make himself say it, and then Rodney's hand came down hard on his ass. It stung brightly and his breath jerked out of him.

"Are you, John?"

He shook his head again, his cock throbbing against the bed in a way he knew well.

There went Rodney's hand again, right against the same spot, painful and certain. Rodney slid in hard and fast a couple of times, then stilled his hips. His voice was soft, not angry, a little amused. "You don't get to decide what to do, because you're not the boss here. I'll make you come when I feel like it, and in the meantime you'd better stop struggling because it's no use."

There was one more ringing slap on his ass, and then Rodney was pinning his wrists against the bed again, digging his heels in and making John just take it.

"One more time. Are you in charge?" Rodney whispered against his earlobe, tugging on it a little with his teeth.

He was so close, his mindless, ragged cries bouncing off the wall.

"Are you? You had better answer…"

It skittered down his spine, his balls drawing up tight and his breath stuttering.

"…or I'll take you over my knee and spank you in front of everybody, in front of Ronon, right in front of Lorne, I don't care."

His orgasm hit him finally, so hard he helplessly pushed back against Rodney's weight, still unable to budge him. His eyes rolled back in his head as the word finally burst out of him, "No."

"No what?" Rodney was nothing if not persistent.

"No," he panted, "no, no, I'm not in charge, it's you, I'm not in control."

He knew he was babbling as the sheets grew wet under him, but figured Rodney wouldn’t notice since he was busy coming too.

*

Later, in the shower, Rodney hummed. "This opens up an entire new world of fun."

John could feel himself blushing the same hot shade as his ass. "Um," he muttered, shampooing his already-clean hair to avoid talking.

"Don't worry, we don't have to talk about it," Rodney said, grinning. "I'm just saying. I'm glad that you seem to be such a bottomless well of kinks."

He cleared his throat but couldn't respond. When they were in bed, in the dark, Rodney rubbed his hand soothingly over John's ass. The rubbing faltered after a little while, but John wasn't fooled into thinking Rodney was asleep. He whispered, "Thank you."

"Anytime," Rodney replied, and John knew he meant it.

Tags: fic, sga

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kashmir1

2008-11-13 04:25 am (UTC)

I just love this SO MUCH I don't think it can be textually rendered. <3 Thank you.