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[ aliens made them do it (except not really) ]|
“I mean.” John laughs, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the cell’s wall. “Really.”
John laughs again and looks at Rodney, letting his knee fall against Rodney’s to get his attention. “I haven’t felt like this since college.”
“I haven’t felt like this since my first year in Siberia,” Rodney says, staring down at John’s knee like it’s a foreign thing. “Drank so much vodka that first lock-down I was seeing things.”
John makes an appreciative sound.
“Not that I’m, ya know, approving of their torturing us, per say, but if the torturing is going to happen anyway,” Rodney says, and traces a line down the inseam of John’s pants to smooth away the wrinkles, only for them to pop back up the instant Rodney’s finger stops. He does it again and then flattens his palm against John’s thigh to hold it smooth.
John’s eyelids flutter slightly as he stares at Rodney, taking a deep breath. “That felt nice.”
“Yes. Everything seems to be feeling nice.”
John swallows and moves his leg closer. “Torture by gas that makes you loopy isn’t the worst way to be tortured I suppose. Though we don’t know they’re going to torture us.”
Rodney’s thumb runs up and down absently on John’s thigh until the material beneath it feels more like cotton than whatever the hell it was actually made of. It feels hot under his thumb, like how when you rub your foot against the carpet until it feels like it’s on fire.
“Mm,” Rodney says, splaying his hand out and studying the way his hands contrast so much from the black of John’s pants. He’s tried to suntan before but it’s never really worked on him, burning in hot red splotches and then peeling away to reveal skin that is the same amount of white it was to begin with. He contemplates buying spray tan, or tanning lotion, but thinks with his luck he’d just wind up looking like George Hamilton.
“I don’t think you’re aware of this.”
“Aware that we’ve been given the vapors by an alien society that’s guarded in such a way that extraction is nearly impossible,” Rodney asks, looking at John. It’s odd the way John’s looking at him, half-hooded eyes and biting his lip like that. Odd, except, they’re drugged, and well. Perhaps that what a drugged John Sheppard looked like. “I’m aware of that.”
“No,” John says, just above a whisper, and Rodney likes the way his voice gets gravelly when he speaks in a low tone. Kinda raspy like he should be wearing a cowboy hat and chewing on a piece of straw. Rodney’s never been a fan of Clint Eastwood movies but he thinks John may be. “Aware that you’re kind of touching my cock.”
Rodney frowns. “What?”
John arches and eyebrow at him and then looks pointedly down at his lap. Rodney follows his gaze to see that his pinky is indeed brushing against the material over what is most likely John’s cock.
“Ah,” he says, and doesn’t move his hand. “No. I wasn’t aware of that.”
John’s grinning when he looks back up at him. “Just thought you might want to know.”
“Does it bother you,” Rodney asks, and flexes his fingers. It’s an involuntary thing, like how you know you shouldn’t laugh at a funeral but inevitably find something funny, or when you’re trying to be quiet and suddenly have to sneeze. His fingers flex and his pinky presses into what is, most definitely, Rodney’s sure of it now, John’s cock, and it’s hard and long and hot and… Rodney does not mind.
“It should,” John says, breath stuttering a little, eyes closing slightly more.
“But it doesn’t?”
John shrugs. “I dunno.”
Rodney strokes his thumb over the inseam of John’s pants again and he’s not sure why but thinks it’s mostly just because he can. “Want me to stop?”
“I really should,” John says, licking his lips and leaning closer. His breath is hot and smells like mints. Rodney can taste the minty flavor if he concentrates hard enough. “Don’t seem to though.”
Rodney presses his pinky into the outline of John’s cock and smiles at the sharp intake of breath that elicits out of John. “We should probably not be doing this.”
“Probably not,” John says, like it’s difficult for him to get the words out, and Rodney thinks it probably is. He’s never been too good at being coherent when someone’s rubbing up against him when he’s hard. “This will probably be really awkward when we’re sober.”
“I’m pretty sure we can take the probably off of that sentence,” Rodney says, and then he turns his hand and cups John through his pants, squeezes just slightly. “You should tell me to stop because I am not caring about awkwardness later at this point.”
“The thing is, I like you,” John says, bracing himself and squeezing his eyes shut as Rodney squeezes him again. “I really, really like you, which makes no sense, because you’re kind of not really a person I would have thought I’d like, and it’s been four years and I still like you even though you’re condescending and arrogant and bad with people and really, really kind of insufferable, but I like you a lot.”
“Which is your way of saying you don’t want to ruin the friendship?”
“I really don’t, but I even more don’t want you to stop,” John says in a rush, and then, “God, that feels good, do it again.”
Rodney rubs his palm against John’s BDU’s and lets John’s low, hoarse moan wash over him. He feels it like a physical presence, like a blanket of white hot lust being draped over him, and he wants to tuck into it and curl up under it and never, ever leave.
“Why are you doing this, I’m not your type.”
Rodney laughs and watches John’s adam’s apple bob as he swallows heavily. “What makes you say that?”
“Uh,” John laughs, opening his eyes to look at him. “Hello? No boobs, no blonde hair, not Sam Carter at all, in the slightest.”
Rodney shrugs and lifts his fingers to work on John’s zipper, slipping his hand inside after he pops the button as well and loves the way John’s eyes go wide and his mouth works open wordlessly as he wraps his hand around John himself.
“Not exclusive to that type, Colonel,” Rodney says, and his voice has gone low and gravelly now, and he wonders if John feels at all the same way about that as he does about John’s. “Might have preferences, but I knew the moment I met you I’d want you. You’re just begging to be debauched.” Rodney grins. “What I didn’t expect was to respect you. Liking you was never going to be a problem.”
John smirks. “So not a Carter thing, a Military thing.”
“A repressed thing,” Rodney says, taking it so, so, so slow as he studies the feel, the weight, the heat of John’s cock in his fist. “The way you play like you’re so laid back when in fact you’re actually pretty tightly wound in that head of yours, you hold yourself back from everyone all of the time even though you pretend to be everyone’s best friend.”
“Defense mechanism. The less someone knows about you the less power they hold over you,” John says, and then he opens his eyes and looks at Rodney. “I think this isn’t just a loopy drug, I think it’s a truth serum drug.”
Rodney nods. “I would have never in a million years admitted I’ve wanted you for over five years were it not, John.”
John grins. “I like it when you call me John. You hardly ever do.”
“What about you,” Rodney says, rubbing his thumb across the tip to make John’s fists clench and his jaws clench and make him make that sound again in the back of his throat. It’s Rodney’s new favorite sound. “What’s your type?”
Rodney lets out a disgusted grunt. “Kirk.”
John laughs and pulls Rodney closer until their foreheads are touching. “I’m starting think my type is you.”
Rodney licks his lips and wonders if the drug is strong enough to make John let him kiss him. A friendly handjob can be passed off a whole hell of a lot easier as drugged up side effect than a kiss can. “What makes you say that?”
John’s breath is coming ins stutters and gasps and Rodney’s so hard he thinks he’s going to go crazy if he doesn’t get John’s hand on him soon. “Because every time I see a pretty girl I think I might want to fuck you distract me and I let you.”
“Huh,” Rodney says, thinking about it. “That’s actually true.”
“Truth serum,” John says, and he yanks one more time until Rodney has to slam his hand against the wall behind John’s head so he won’t go tumbling into his lap. “Want the truth I’ve been sitting on in denial for a year and then some?”
Rodney licks his lips. “What’s that?”
John kisses him, and he’d been expecting it and yet not, hoped for it and yet never believed it would actually happen, not even drugged up and in a jail cell on some godforsaken Fort Knox type planet that they’re probably never going to get out of.
It’s hot and wet and sloppy and so good Rodney’s head spins from it. Well, from it, and the drug, but mostly from the kiss. John’s tongue against his is a dream come true that he’d never really allowed himself to have, his hands in Rodney’s hair as Rodney’s hand slows and then stops on John’s cock because he can only concentrate on one thing right now and John’s mouth is it.
It’s just as well because John crawls on top of him and unbuttons and unzips Rodney’s pants and then holds both of their cocks together because boxers are no obstacle in the face of drug induced wish fulfillment, and they’re both panting and moaning and Rodney’s hands find John’s ass and he pulls him closer and closer still until John’s hand can’t move but it’s just as good this way because the fact that it’s John is enough motivation for Rodney.
“Stop,” John hisses against Rodney’s ear when he breaks away from the kiss, “stop fucking around with women like Katie and Jennifer and driving me fucking crazy, like I’m losing my mind, and I tried to ignore it with Katie because Katie was all wrong for you and it was easy with her, because she was, Rodney, she was all wrong for you.”
“Katie was sweet,” Rodney says, and he’s not sure why he’s arguing, except this is John and arguing is what they do. “I liked Katie.”
“Fuck Katie, and fuck Jennifer,” John growls, pulling away slightly and Rodney panics but it’s just so he can savagely grip their two cocks together and pump and pump to the point that Rodney can’t even string two words together. “And fuck this fucking planet with their fucking drug that makes me say things I haven’t even said to myself!”
Rodney quirks a smirk up at him. “You talk to yourself a lot there, do you?”
John glares at him and it just makes Rodney’s orgasm that much closer to happening. “You know what I mean.”
Rodney kisses him again to get him to shut up and also to get him to keep going, his fingers digging into John’s ass because John stiffens and goes faster when he does that, so he does it more, and John goes faster and faster and Rodney bucks up and up and then John comes, and comes, and then Rodney comes and comes too, and they’re a wet mess of potential disaster sitting on top of each other in a dingy dirty jail cell facing their impending doom.
“It really does make me go crazy,” John says twenty minutes later, having rolled off of Rodney and pulled his pants back up, buttoning and zipping them and then sitting next to Rodney. Their knees bump together. “Having to watch you with them.”
Rodney’s zipped himself back up but hadn’t bother with the button, and he was feeling tired and happy and more than just a little freaked out. “Think the drug’s wearing off.”
John nods. “Me too. Must just be an hour thing.”
Rodney looks at him. “And yet you’re still admitting that it makes you crazy to see me with Katie and Jennifer?”
John looks at him and looks like he’s going to say no. Instead he lets out a breath and nods. “Yeah. Guess I am.”
“Oh,” Rodney says, wiping absently at the mess that’s left on his belly, wishing he had a towel or something to use rather than his shirt. “Well.”
“Did you really mean…”
Rodney nods, because it doesn’t matter which John is asking, the answer is yes. “Did you…”
John nods, looking at him with contemplative eyes. “This is going to be an issue, I think.”
“We knew that before we did it.”
John nods again. “But now I’m sober, and I still want to.”
Rodney’s eyebrows raise. “Now?”
John laughs, slumping back into the wall and laying his head against it. “Not 20 anymore, McKay, need recovery time.”
John peeks at him. “Yeah. Later.”
“This does raise some issues,” Rodney says, chewing on his lip. “I was fully expecting this to be a one off that resulted in you being awkward and angry at me until we argued about something else and then got past it.”
“No,” John says, and then stands. “Because the cell door is open and I knew it was to begin with.”
“What,” Rodney squawked, jerking his head to look at the cell door. “You did what?”
“If it’s any consolation, it’s really not my fault for taking advantage of the perceived situation,” John says, shrugging. “Drugged.”
Rodney looked at him. “Are you serious?”
John nodded. “When they brought us here I heard them telling Teyla and Ronon they were gonna let us sleep it off.”
“They…” Rodney points at the door. “They drugged us and locked us up!”
“No,” John says, shaking his head. “You touched the Do Not Touch button and got you and me gassed. We were never in any danger.”
Rodney’s mouth fell open. “And you knew this?!”
John holds up his hand, squeezing his thumb and index fingers together. “I was maybe a little less high than you.”
“You,” Rodney yells, pointing at him. “You took advantage of me!”
John rolls his eyes. “Hey, you’re the one who started feeling me up, okay?” He points at Rodney. “And. And you’re the one who said you wanted to debauch me for four years.”
“Five,” Rodney corrects. “But!”
“And so I let you. You’re complaining why?”
Rodney opens his mouth. “I don’t know!”
“Okay,” John says, shrugging again. “Then. Don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad, I’m just…” Rodney flails his hands. “You worked some kind of jedi mind trickery on me and made me--”
John smirked. “Your hand on my thigh? Your doing. And I really was high too, McKay. I didn’t plan on it, I planned on sleeping it off, but then you put your hand there and… ya know, did things, with your pinky…”
Rodney eyes him. “It really drove you crazy to watch me with Katie?”
“Even moreso with Jennifer.” John met his eyes. “You really wanted me from the moment you met me?”
Rodney grins. “On and off.” John grins back. “Moreso on than off.”
John sighs. “This is gonna get really complicated isn’t it?”
“Probably.” Rodney brushes the dirt off of his ass. “Wanna call it a one off and uncomplicate things?”
John looks at him.
“Not even a little.”