Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing/character: John Sheppard/Rodney McKay
Prompt: "You're not drunk if you can lie on the floor without holding on." - Dean Martin
Kink: Drunken sex
Notes: Written for rounds_of_kink. Go and check out the prompt tables - prompts are open for claiming until their specific posting day is over.
To properly seal the trade agreement made with the people of Yurisi, the team members were each expected to drink one small cup of 'affa', apparently the local equivalent of mead.
Teyla graciously accepted the offering on behalf of them all, quietly assuring John, and especially Rodney, that it was perfectly safe, certainly no more potent than the Earth wine she had tasted at the last Atlantis annual celebration of continued survival.
(After interminable hours of poking and prodding, scanning and measuring, testing and sampling of bodily fluids, Carson informs them that Pegasus natives metabolise alcohol more efficiently, are genetically less likely to get drunk and act like idiots and, by the way, also brew some really potent hooch. They do not thank him for this.
But that comes later.)
Thankfully, the Yurisi were highly amused by the spectacle of two of their newest trade partners indulging in a tickle fight on the ground behind the low, padded bench that runs the length of the feasting table.
It had started innocently enough, with Rodney poking John in the ribs a few minutes after the ceremonial cups had been emptied, just as the feast begun.
"Hey, psst, Colonel, do you feel funny? I feel funny. I think that stuff was drugged, or- or- or poisoned, maybe. I definitely feel… not normal."
John gave an inelegant snort as he turned to stare.
"Normal? Rodney, since when have you ever been normal? Since when have you ever wanted to be normal? You're the most not-normalest person I've ever met, and I've met some really not normal people."
Rodney's expression rippled as he tried to decide if he was being humored, made fun of, complimented or insulted. He was still working on it when John dug his own fingers into Rodney's ribs to get his attention, innocently holding out a warm, flaky pastry in the time-honored tradition of distracting him with food.
"Try it, it's good. It's got cream and nuts in it."
Several seconds went by while Rodney suspiciously examined the little parcel, and then the tanned hand that cradled it, wobbling slightly under his gaze.
"C'mon, Rodney, try it; you like nuts."
Rodney leaned closer and carefully took the proffered morsel, fingertips brushing John's palm as he did so. They both twitched, momentarily electrified by the contact, and then Rodney dropped the pastry into his mouth and bit down.
"Oh my… Oh God! Mmmm!"
By the time Rodney finally swallowed, John had shifted position twice to try and hide the obvious bulge in his lap. He'd also tugged the platter of pastry parcels closer and had another waiting ready in his palm.
Untold nutty mouthfuls later, Rodney slumped sideways into John with a replete sigh.
"You have the best nuts, Colonel."
John's eyebrows scaled new heights, but Rodney was supremely unaware of the sexual connotations of the words he'd just said. He was too busy examining them from a different angle.
"Nut, Colonel. You're a nut. Colonel Kernel. Get it? K-E-R--"
Each letter was punctuated by a poke at John's belly, each one falling lower than the last until Rodney's finger found its way into John's cotton-covered navel. And that was when John lost it.
They went down behind the bench in a tangle of legs and flying cushions, both of them laughing and gasping and wrestling for purchase, straining to reach sensitive, ticklish areas.
It was Ronon who stepped in to separate them, carefully peeling them apart like two halves of a ripe fig before giving them both a shake to get their attention. While he was doing that, Teyla swiftly arranged for a room where they could recover their senses, away from the highly amused eyes of the Yurisi. Her offers to pay were laughingly rebuffed by the village leader who claimed the entertainment had been well worth the use of the room.
The door clicked shut behind them and suddenly they were alone.
"Um…" Rodney tugged at the hem of his shirt, trying to disguise his erection and only managing to draw John's attention to it.
"Oh, wow! Cool!"
Rodney blinked and said, "What?" but John was already skinning out of his shirt and fumbling with the fastening of his thigh holster, and Rodney didn't claim to be a genius for nothing. "Oh, okay. Huh."
His shirt was off and his pants were halfway down his thighs when an amazingly naked John tackled Rodney from the side, following him down onto the thankfully soft but well-built bed in the corner.
John's knee, however, was not that soft, and he had to spend a couple of minutes apologising to Rodney between open-mouthed kisses up and down his neck and across his broad shoulders before Rodney stopped muttering about the bruise it was going to leave on his thigh.
"I can make it up to you, if you let me," John whispered, very carefully easing his knee back between Rodney's thighs, wriggling and squirming into position as he pressed them deeper into the mattress.
The moment John's hip came into solid contact with Rodney's cock, Rodney whimpered, shuddered once and came, muttering apologies into John's neck as his fingers petted John's hair and the dip at the base of his spine.
John might have been either impressed or appalled by Rodney's hair trigger, but that shudder had provided much needed contact with his cock, and he was too busy humping and grinding to do much more than groan, "Oh, yeah, Rodney, just like… yeah!"
They passed out where they lay, hot, sated and sticky, and most likely would have spent the morning embarrassed, awkward and silent, if not for John's unthinking reaction on waking which was to panic - just a little! - and roll immediately off Rodney.
The twin yelps and frantic clutching of various folically abused body parts destroyed the potential for embarrassed silence quickly enough, and Rodney's, "Next time we have to remember to clean up before we… Oh! Um, I mean… Not that I'm assuming anything, of course, but-" and John's answering good-natured laughter managed to do away with the awkwardness.
The slow, good-morning kiss that followed helped a little too, though they both agreed that the next kiss could wait until toothpaste and mouthwash had been liberally applied.
When they greeted their hosts in the town square, Rodney wasn't certain if the pink tint peeking out from beneath John's shirt collar was embarrassment or beard burn, but he knew he liked it.