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darkhavens
18 November 2007 @ 06:30 am
Fic: Molten Love, McKay/Sheppard
Author: darkhavens
Title: Molten love
Fandom: Pairing: Stargate Atlantis: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1700
Concrit: darkhavens @ slashverse.com. If you spot a typo, please feel free to tell me in comments.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
Warnings/Squicks: Waxplay, the disrespecting of psych majors.
Summary: It takes Rodney two months to recognise that there's a pattern to what he's seeing.
Notes: Written for mini_wrimo days 15, 16 & 17, and Prompt 72: Kink on my McShep Big Damn Table.



It takes Rodney two months to recognise that there's a pattern to what he's seeing.

They've been two very busy months, leaving them barely enough time for hurried (meeting in five minutes), frantic (you're alive! I'm alive!) or just plain exhausted (we saved the city - again) sex, but he's still offended by his lack of perception.

He wonders if sleeping with john is rotting his brain and, if so, how many brain cells will he allow to sacrifice themselves for the greater good before he has to consider giving up the best sex - the best thing - that's ever happened to him. He thinks there may be a point at which he won't have enough functioning neurons left to stage an intervention to save themselves. He's surprisingly okay with that.

Still - two months!

Two months of finding anomalous, hair-free patches of skin in various places on John's body - a misshapen oval clearing around his navel; a bald, pinkish patch high on his inner thigh; a thin streak along the soft underbelly of his left forearm.

It's only when Rodney puts those hints together with the presence of yet another untouched candle on John's bedside table that he belatedly clues in to one of John's curiously hidden kinks.

Rodney is intrigued, and also horny.

He waits, almost vibrating with impatience, until they both have the entire evening free of prior commitments.

He threatens, bribes and cajoles their respective seconds in command - Radek and Lorne - into handling anything that occurs, upto, but not including, imminent submersion or total annihilation of the city.

Once he has their backs covered, he hunts down the other half of his personal equation and, with a dirty grin, lures him back to John's own room, with its seemingly inexhaustible supply of Athosian candles and a freshly brewed batch of Rodney's homemade lube.

Once they were safely locked inside the room, Rodney didn’t want to waste a second.

"Okay, now strip and lie down on the bed." Even as he gives the order, he's peeling himself out of his own layers of clothing, eager to get on to the main event.

John watches him for a moment, wearing his scrunched up indecisive face, and then shrugs and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

"I'm pretty sure it's my turn to be on top, but hey, I'm not arguing. You're the boss."

Rodney's already naked and unashamedly enjoying John's slower reveal, but John's words make him pause and reassess.

"What? No! Well…" Rodney mentally hopscotches back over five minute handjobs and blowjobs in several out-of-the-way supply closets; one early morning unusually athletic balcony session; two encounters in the infirmary shower room; and three bouts of almost completely clothed penetrative sex followed by pseudo-comas. Eventually he digs his way back to their last 'play date'.

"Oh, well, yes. Yes, it is your turn to… But, this isn't… I mean, it could be, if… if you want, but I…"

John grabs Rodney's hands before they really start to flap, giving them a tug to bring Rodney close enough to bump their knees and thighs together.

"Hey! Calm down. You know I like it when you're bossy in bed."

That earns John a delighted huff and a wicked little grin before Rodney takes his hands back.

"Lie down on your back, put your hands above your head, and try to keep them there." John does as he's told, and Rodney gives another little huff, this one wistful.

"You'd look amazing spread out on a real bed. Hmmm, I bet if I ordered the parts a few at a time and had them labelled as lab supplies, I could build a pretty decent bondage bed right here."

With a shake of his head and a dusting of hands, he visibly derails his inquisitive nature and bookmarks the thought for future consideration. John is still trying to get used to being put first on Rodney's multiple lists of priorities. It gives him a rush.

He's about to do what he usually does when emotion threatens to overwhelm him - take a verbal swipe at Rodney, knowing full well that Rodney can't resist the chance to swipe back. It's what they're good at. Whatever quip he has balanced on the tip of his tongue is swallowed whole when Rodney picks up his fresh Benra candle and from somewhere produces an Athosian lighter.

One simple click ignites the wick and the room quickly fills with the woody scent of Benra bark and Josenberry. The flickering flame beckons to John.

Cradling the candle between his cupped palms, Rodney drops down to take a seat at John's hip, his expression a blend of stubborn determination and his ever-present insatiable curiosity. He begins to roll the thick column between his hands, warming the wax and letting the Josenberry oils seep into his skin. John's eyes don't leave the flame as it wavers slowly back and forth.

"I… I didn't notice at first." Rodney shrugs away his assumed failing, bobbling the candle slightly and making the flame dance, before setting it back into slow, rolling motion. "You're very good at misdirection and distraction, but you had to know I’d figure it out eventually."

John's limbs, loose and languid just seconds ago, begin to tense up, his wrists torquing under the thinly veiled pressure.

"What I don't understand is why you tried to hide it. As kinks go, wax play isn't exactly in the big leagues. We did freakier stuff out on that balcony last week."

As John watches, Rodney tickles the flame, deep in thought.

"How could you possibly think…?" The candle jiggles as Rodney snaps his fingers and points accusingly at John.

"You dated a psych major!"

The expression of stunned disbelief on John's face has Rodney rolling his eyes.

"Oh, for… You mentioned something about it when you were picking apart the choices I was making while leading my people to victory in the game. All that Freudian quackery was quite amusing coming from someone who dressed his people like the cast of a gay bikers' gangbang."

John shifts on the bed, half-embarrassed and half-frustrated.

"Rodney…"

"Oh, she really did a job on you. What happened? Did she walk in on you pouring wax on your balls and freak out?"

John's entire body twitches at the accuracy of Rodney's guess, and he wonders, not for the first time, when he's going to get used to being subjected to the full power of Rodney's analytical brain. Rodney grins when he sees he's on target.

"I bet she came out with all sorts of idiotic notions about self-harm and self-destructive tendencies. I just can't figure out why you took it so damn seriously that you're still hiding this kink nearly twenty years later."

Rodney rolls the candle one more time and then sets it down on the bedside table before clambering onto the bed and throwing one leg over John's thighs to straddle him.

"I'll figure it out eventually, one way or another, but right now I have more important business to attend to. If you've been doing this in secret all this time, you're in for a treat. This is so much more fun with a friend."

The terror that comes from knowing that Rodney hasn't finished poking John's psyche is immediately over-ridden by sheer anticipation. Rodney has hold of the candle once again and is sporting a devilish grin.

"Close your eyes, John."

Obediently, John does as he is told. He also knots his fists in the sheets on either side of his head to stop him reaching out the way he knows he'll want to. His dick thickens and lifts, like it's begging to be first to feel the kiss of molten wax.

"Christ," whispers Rodney reverently. "You're so damn responsive." Catching his bottom lip between his teeth he tilts the candle. Three small drops fall with pinpoint precision onto John's left nipple, and Rodney uses his weight to hold John down when he tries to buck into the sensation.

"That's it. Just like that." Another trickle falls directly into the cup of John's navel, and he hisses in delight, his belly muscles trembling with restrained pleasure.

With a touch of the misdirection he's picked up off his willing victim, Rodney carefully inches backward to leave John's cock and thighs completely exposed before reaching out to pour a thin stream of wax along the curve of John's right collarbone.

John's response is everything Rodney could have hoped for - the impossibly taut tendons of his arched neck, and the sheer tensile strength evident in his fully flexed biceps and triceps, his delts and pecs, the cleanly exposed lines of his ribs. The bitten off 'Jesus, fuck, Rodney!' is an added bonus.

He waits, watching until John relaxes into the pleasure, the thrill of not knowing when or where or even if more wax is going to fall. And then he waits some more.

Thirty seconds, a minute, two - and finally John is starting to shift uncertainly between Rodney's thighs, but Rodney still doesn't act until he sees John preparing to speak.

This time his target is the already slick crown of John's cock, and he hits it with devastating accuracy. Not just one drop or two but a veritable cascade, all the liquid wax left within the candle's natural cup.

It hits and spatters, throwing pinprick points of heat in all directions, along his cock, across his balls, a few landing on his partially denuded inner thighs. One small drop finds its way to the tiny sensitive opening at the tip of John's cock and that's all it takes.

With a broken gasp John comes, his back a tightly strung bow, his hips jerking so hard he almost unseats Rodney from his perch across his lower thighs.

When he finally collapses back onto the bed it takes him quite a while to pry his eyelids open. When he does, he's greeted by Rodney's smug, sated grin. He drops his gaze to Rodney's equally come-smeared belly and the hand busily wiping itself off on his sheets.

"So-" John pauses to force some air back into his lungs. "How was it for you?"



mini_nanowrimo running total: 7642 words, in 17 days

 
 
feeling: tiredtired
 
aubergineautumn on November 18th, 2007 07:45 pm (UTC)
What I found most amusing is the implication that dating a psych major will screw you up :) Made me laugh- SO true! Kids of psychiatrists are SO messed up.