It was a miracle that they'd found John fully clothed and upright that time he'd gotten stuck in that time dilation field, because by his reckoning he'd been there six months.
John and Rodney had been stranded and alone on an alien planet for not four hours before John pinned Rodney against a tree, kissed him thoroughly, sank to his knees (taking Rodney's pants with him), and blown Rodney's - mind.
In the three days that followed, they'd traded blowjobs in every conceivable place - against a tree, on the ground, on the riverbank - and in every possible configuration - one at a time, sixty-nine, hungrily taking turns in something part contest, part war, part desperation - and when they weren't putting their mouths on each other, they were putting their hands on each other. By the end of the first day - after Rodney had protested how messy his clothes were getting - they'd paused to eat, drink, bathe in the river, and launder their clothes.
And then they'd just...not put their clothes back on.
Between Rodney's super-powered sunblock (which also doubled as lube and which John was certainly not making fun of now) and the little lean-to John finagled out of some sticks and both of their space blankets, they managed to avoid sunburn in unfortunate places, if not the occasional bout of friction burn.
For all that they'd blown each other, stroked each other, rubbed off on each other, there was one place they hadn't gone, and Rodney really, really wanted to try, but he wasn't sure how to ask.
He didn't have to.
One moment he was on his back, head pillowed on his arms, eyes closed, enjoying the sensation of John's mouth on him, the next John was pulling off of him with a filthy slurp and pop, and then -
Rodney's eyes flew open. John was straddling his hips, grasping Rodney's cock, easing Rodney into his body.
"John, what -?"
"Easy, it's been a while," John muttered. "Let me take this at my own pace, okay?"
Rodney nodded frantically, did his best to keep still, his heart racing, because this was what he'd wanted, not just fucking but John, and then John sank down fully and Rodney's world went white behind his eyes.
John started to move.
His thighs flexed beneath Rodney's hands, and he couldn't resist - he reached out, curled his hand around John's cock, stroked it in counterpoint to his own thrusts, and John threw his head back, lips parted in a moan. Rodney slid his other hand up John's torso, swiped his thumb over a nipple, and the rhythm of John's hips stuttered, so Rodney did it again, and again, and then John batted his hands aside, leaned in and fused his mouth with Rodney's, tongue flickering.
The change in angle made both of them moan, and John started to thrust harder, faster, rubbing his cock against Rodney's belly, and Rodney could feel the flutter of John's muscles, was getting closer, closer. Rodney fumbled a hand between them, stroked John's cock fast and tight, and John buried his face in Rodney's throat, came with a cry.
Rodney tumbled after him, blind and insensate but for the warm heat spreading between them and John's breath on his skin.
John's radio crackled.
"Colonel Sheppard, what's your twenty?"
Rodney's eyes flew open. Major Lorne. He sounded urgent.
"Colonel Sheppard, we heard screams. Are you and Dr. McKay injured? Can you answer me?"
John, who was draped over Rodney, warm and pliant and perfect, groaned and reached for his radio. "I read you, Major. Rodney and I are - in suboptimal physical condition, but we're mobile. We got a little - muddy. Give us thirty to clean up. We'll rendezvous with you at the gate."
"Are you sure, sir? We brought Dr. Keller -"
"I'm sure, Major."
"Yes, sir. We'll stay at the gate."
John set his radio aside.
"Muddy?" Rodney asked.
"Dirty," John conceded. "But in the best way." After a couple of deep breaths, he sat up, pulled off of Rodney. "C'mon, clean up. Back at Atlantis, we can try everything on a real bed."
Fill
True fact: when John got bored, he got horny.
It was a miracle that they'd found John fully clothed and upright that time he'd gotten stuck in that time dilation field, because by his reckoning he'd been there six months.
John and Rodney had been stranded and alone on an alien planet for not four hours before John pinned Rodney against a tree, kissed him thoroughly, sank to his knees (taking Rodney's pants with him), and blown Rodney's - mind.
In the three days that followed, they'd traded blowjobs in every conceivable place - against a tree, on the ground, on the riverbank - and in every possible configuration - one at a time, sixty-nine, hungrily taking turns in something part contest, part war, part desperation - and when they weren't putting their mouths on each other, they were putting their hands on each other. By the end of the first day - after Rodney had protested how messy his clothes were getting - they'd paused to eat, drink, bathe in the river, and launder their clothes.
And then they'd just...not put their clothes back on.
Between Rodney's super-powered sunblock (which also doubled as lube and which John was certainly not making fun of now) and the little lean-to John finagled out of some sticks and both of their space blankets, they managed to avoid sunburn in unfortunate places, if not the occasional bout of friction burn.
For all that they'd blown each other, stroked each other, rubbed off on each other, there was one place they hadn't gone, and Rodney really, really wanted to try, but he wasn't sure how to ask.
He didn't have to.
One moment he was on his back, head pillowed on his arms, eyes closed, enjoying the sensation of John's mouth on him, the next John was pulling off of him with a filthy slurp and pop, and then -
Rodney's eyes flew open. John was straddling his hips, grasping Rodney's cock, easing Rodney into his body.
"John, what -?"
"Easy, it's been a while," John muttered. "Let me take this at my own pace, okay?"
Rodney nodded frantically, did his best to keep still, his heart racing, because this was what he'd wanted, not just fucking but John, and then John sank down fully and Rodney's world went white behind his eyes.
John started to move.
His thighs flexed beneath Rodney's hands, and he couldn't resist - he reached out, curled his hand around John's cock, stroked it in counterpoint to his own thrusts, and John threw his head back, lips parted in a moan. Rodney slid his other hand up John's torso, swiped his thumb over a nipple, and the rhythm of John's hips stuttered, so Rodney did it again, and again, and then John batted his hands aside, leaned in and fused his mouth with Rodney's, tongue flickering.
The change in angle made both of them moan, and John started to thrust harder, faster, rubbing his cock against Rodney's belly, and Rodney could feel the flutter of John's muscles, was getting closer, closer. Rodney fumbled a hand between them, stroked John's cock fast and tight, and John buried his face in Rodney's throat, came with a cry.
Rodney tumbled after him, blind and insensate but for the warm heat spreading between them and John's breath on his skin.
John's radio crackled.
"Colonel Sheppard, what's your twenty?"
Rodney's eyes flew open. Major Lorne. He sounded urgent.
"Colonel Sheppard, we heard screams. Are you and Dr. McKay injured? Can you answer me?"
John, who was draped over Rodney, warm and pliant and perfect, groaned and reached for his radio. "I read you, Major. Rodney and I are - in suboptimal physical condition, but we're mobile. We got a little - muddy. Give us thirty to clean up. We'll rendezvous with you at the gate."
"Are you sure, sir? We brought Dr. Keller -"
"I'm sure, Major."
"Yes, sir. We'll stay at the gate."
John set his radio aside.
"Muddy?" Rodney asked.
"Dirty," John conceded. "But in the best way." After a couple of deep breaths, he sat up, pulled off of Rodney. "C'mon, clean up. Back at Atlantis, we can try everything on a real bed."