Title: Skin On Skin
Fandom: Pairing: Stargate Atlantis: McKay/Sheppard
Concrit: Please. If you spot a typo, feel free to tell me in comments.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
Summary: Rodney introduces John to his fantasy shower.
Notes: Written for my kink_bingo card prompt #10: Barebacking, for slashtheimage prompt #003 (see thumbnail at end of fic), and mini_wrimo day 7.
Skin On Skin
They hit the hotel a little after dusk, almost five hours since they'd finally been released from the SGC. They'd rented a car and driven away, no direction, no plan just… away.
The room is fussier than John would have preferred: all dark wood panelling, heavy oak furniture, faded burgundy velvet and brocade by the acre, but it's Rodney's choice and Rodney's dime and he reckons the room comes with the best bathroom he's ever found in a hotel, so here they are.
Bags are tossed haphazardly onto the slightly warped loveseat at the foot of the bed, while Rodney's baby, his second favorite laptop, is reverently settled on the desk beside the floor to ceiling drapes that hide the mountain view.
Rodney is shedding clothes as he crosses the room, one hand coming up in a complicated wave that somehow manages to convey to John that he needs to get naked too.
By the time John has dug out their wash kits, stripped and crossed the room to stand in the bathroom doorway, speechless, Rodney has already made himself at home in the shower…room? John hesitates to call it a cubicle; it's easily large enough for them both to lie down in without crowding each other. Not that crowding Rodney seems like such a bad idea.
He's standing, feet a shoulder-width apart, his hands braced against the back wall so his ass juts back towards the door, towards John. The water is pouring from three huge sunflower showerheads, pounding down onto Rodney's broad, naked shoulders; racing in thick, twisting rivulets down his back, around and between his buttocks; tracing sinuous, serpentine paths down the backs of his thighs and calves.
And just like that, John is so hard it hurts.
"Jesus, Rodney, this is…"
"The best shower ever? Didn't I tell you?"
John just smiles ruefully and shakes his head, dumps their wash kits onto the shelf above the twin basins, cracks open the shower door and slips inside. His hands migrate to Rodney's hips like they're coming home, and John moves in tight, thigh to thigh, belly to that sweet curve at the base of Rodney's spine.
Rodney pushes back as far as he can without breaking his stance and rolls his head to loosen up the muscles in his neck.
"I used to dream of getting fucked in this shower, but every time I came back here I ended up alone. Last time, I even got as far as going downstairs to ask the concierge if he could recommend a decent pickup joint, or maybe an escort service."
John's grip tightens at the thought of Rodney bringing a stranger back for sex, and through gritted teeth manages to ask, "What did he say?"
Rodney begins rocking his hips, slick flesh dragging tantalisingly across John's cock where it's caught between his stomach and the snug valley of Rodney's ass.
"What? Oh! I, um, didn't actually get up the nerve to ask. The guy who booked me in must have gone off shift and there was a woman behind the desk who looked like she'd beat me to death with my own arm if I asked for anything more incriminating than extra towels." He groans, and the sound echoes off the tiles. "Christ, Sheppard, fuck me already!"
John presses a hot, wet kiss between Rodney's shoulder blades and takes a tiny step back.
"I'll just grab the stuff, and-"
John blinks. He knows that Rodney knows water is no substitute for lube, and he also knows Rodney is nowhere near loose enough to fuck dry. He tried again.
"Look, I brought our kits in with us. I can-"
"I said there was no need, John. I'm ready. I… I brought one of those little sachets in with me and… and got myself ready while you were out there folding your socks or whatever it was that took you so damn long."
John whimpers. "You couldn't wait?"
Rodney sighs and shoots a glare over his left shoulder.
"I was going to put on a show. You were supposed to walk in on me with my fingers up my ass, lose control and fuck me senseless. Right now, we should be recovering from post-coital bliss, but you took forever getting in here and my back started to cramp and-"
The laughter burst out of John before he could stop it, and he had to grab Rodney's hips again to prevent him straightening up and turning round.
"I'm sorry I missed it. Maybe you'll give me an action replay, later?" He reached around and palmed Rodney's erection, giving it a couple of the rough tugs he knew always worked as a distraction.
"Yeah! Yeah, okay, just… Please, John!"
"Okay, yes, I… Damn. I gotta grab a-"
"No. You don't, not if you don't want to. I- I thought maybe we could… without anything between us. I just… Every time I thought of this - us, here - it was just us. No condom. Skin on skin. You… Your come, inside me. If… If you want to, that is, I mean, you certainly don't-"
"Rodney." His voice cuts off Rodney's babble, but it's the nudge of his cock between Rodney's buttocks that loosens the tense knot between his shoulders. "I'd… You… Really? Yeah. O-okay? Yes. Christ, yes."
John slid a couple of fingers in, just to reassure himself that Rodney was indeed properly slicked, muscles relaxed enough to take him like this. Then he lined up and pushed in slowly, shuddering at the sensation of hot, tight muscle and flesh right there.
Three strokes in and Rodney is babbling nonsense sounds, head hanging low, chin almost bouncing on his chest. John picks up the pace, knowing he can't hold back his orgasm, not this time, not when it feels this good.
Rodney's thighs are trembling, knees and elbows locked fast against imminent collapse. He's gasping with every thrust, on the verge of completion without John even laying a hand on his dick.
John shifts his grip on Rodney's hip, sliding his hand further round to lay flat against Rodney's belly as his other hand drops to complete a tug-twist-stroke combo that sends Rodney into orgasmic convulsions that in turn carry John over the edge.
"That… was so much better than any dumb fantasies, or… or call girls."
"Gee, thanks, Rodney."
(click image to view larger and complete)
Image by angelique at deviantART.
Mini-nanowrimo word count: 4621