Fandom: Pairing: Stargate Atlantis: John Sheppard/Rodney McKay
Concrit: Please. If you spot a typo or a grammar glitch, feel free to tell me in comments.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
Warnings/Squicks: attempted knifeplay, mention of bondage, misuse of an Ancient
Summary: It's not easy trying to develop new kinks...
Notes: A trio of scenes written off three comment_fic prompts. (Prompts inside.)
All That Glitters - telesilla - SGA, John/Rodney, edgeplay
The knife in John's hand completely fills Rodney's field of vision. It's huge and gleaming, highly polished – Ronon's work, he thinks vaguely – and viciously serrated down the spine of the blade, from just below the tip to the phallus-shaped handle.
It's a real knife, nothing like the crude stickers Kolya and his goons carried, once upon a time. And as quickly as the thought surfaces, Rodney chokes that fairytale-horror story memory back before it can see the light of day- dusk- whatever.
The sleek curve of silver-grey reflects back the light of the setting sun into Rodney's blown-out eyes, all salmon pinks and bleeding orange, fiery reds and plum-bruise purples.
The blade shifts slightly with every breath John takes, and Rodney's unblinking gaze shifts with it.
"You know what? This isn't going to work."
Rodney doesn't seem to hear John's words, but when John moves to slide the knife back into its sheath, he whines, reaching out in a swiftly aborted attempt to snatch it back.
"Please… John, I need to…" His words fade out as he follows John's pointed stare down to his own uninterested cock. Small and pink, flaccid, it curls between his thighs like it's trying to hide itself away.
"Hey, it's just one kink, right? It's not like there aren't others we can-"
"That's not the point! I used to… to really enjoy it and then…" Rodney grabs up a pillow and begins to twist and pull at the corners. "Then he showed up, with his stormtroopers and his stupid little pieces of shit pocket knives, and suddenly he's in bed with us and I hate that!"
The pillow sails over John's left shoulder as he bends to place the now sheathed knife into one of his boots.
Rodney glares at him, obviously spoiling for a fight to burn his shame away.
"Oh, what? Did I ruffle the hair? Or are you going to complain about my shitty aim now? I'm not one of your trained monke- OOF! Get off me, you damn hairy ape!"
Rodney doesn't stop squirming or complaining until he's completely pinned and immobilised by John's knees and ankles, elbows, hands and heavier-than-he-looks-dammit bodyweight. He gives each point of contact one final ineffectual tugtwistjerk before subsiding into the mattress with a satisfied huff.
"Okay. I can work with this. Did you bring any rope?"
Flash! - spae, SGA, Rodney/John, "But we only have fourteen hours to save the Earth!" (Bonus so fucking hard for harem-outfitted!John.)
"Go on. Just say it and then I'll-"
"Rodney! Get these damn ropes off me right now, or so help me-"
A distant explosion rattles the leaded glass in the windows and sets the stone floor to trembling. The candles sway erratically as the free-standing candelabras rock on rough-hewn surfaces, their flickering flames throwing strange, amorphous shadows around the room.
"Sounds like Lorne's on his way. If you want, we can wait for him to get here and play rescuing knight, or…"
"Or you can say it, just once, and I'll cut you free."
John glares, but his current circumstances render the expression less effective than he'd hoped. Then Rodney shows his ace in the hole.
"I grabbed your uniform while they weren't looking. It's in my pack."
A muscle in John's jaw twitches as he grinds his teeth, but he nods curtly. Rodney beams with delight.
"I love you, Rodney. But we only have fourteen hours to save the Earth!"
True to his word, Rodney steps forward and makes short work of the thick hemp ropes tying John to the overly ornate, pillow-strewn four-poster bed.
While John picks the now severed knots free at his ankles and wrists, Rodney digs out his uniform, unwrapping it to reveal his thigh-strap holster and handgun tucked away inside. He holds them up with a hopeful smile.
"I couldn't grab your P90 without them noticing, but I got this and your knife."
John just grunts and shrugs his 'sacrificial garments' off, viciously kicking them to one side before scrambling into his pants and shirts, stamping his way into his boots as the combined sounds of gunfire and screaming draw ever closer.
"Um…" Rodney blanches under the full force of John's glare, but he has to at least ask. "Could we… Could we maybe keep the wispy pants, and that gauzy little bolero jacket-y thing? Please? You'd look so hot in some kohl and pale pink lip gloss."
The smack on the head Rodney receives as he bends to retrieve the filmy bits of fluff stings, but he decides to grab them anyway, as he's already down there.
"What? We can always trade them for chocolate from one of your closeted macho types. I can think of at least three who'd wrestle naked in Jell-O to get their hands on something as fancy as these. Have you seen this needlework?"
Shock Treatment - beautybecks, SGA, John/Rodney, shock treatment
"So, um, I… I found this in the last lab we checked out before dinner."
Rodney shoves his hand under John's nose, fingers clenched so tight John can’t see much of anything more than a sliver of bluish green looks-like-plastic-but-holds-a-charge-so-b
"O-kay. And you're acting like you're twelve and you've got a creepy-ass bug in a matchbox, why, exactly?"
The analogy makes John twitch back from Rodney's clenched fist, even though he's absolutely certain that Rodney would never do something so childishly evil as to terrify John with the Pegasus equivalent of a tarantula. Ever. Again.
John shifts his gaze from Rodney's hand to his face, and is absurdly grateful to see that Rodney has completely missed his reflexive bug-avoidance manoeuvre. He's too busy staring at his hand, still hovering in front of John, just about at nose-level.
"So… Whatcha got?"
Rodney lets his hand fall open and John is left staring at a greenish blue ovoid lump, the size and shape of a duck egg, but with a set of fine-ridged indentations arrayed around the broader end.
"I'm pretty sure it's a sex toy."
And, okay, yes, it did look a bit like the plastic vibrating egg Nancy had owned back when they were dating, but Ancient Sex Toy was just not something he expected to have shoved under his nose. Not even by his crazy scientist geek of a secret significant other.
Rodney has John laid out in all naked his glory in a remarkably short amount of time; spewing details as he strips and folds and pets; stealing a tiny little taste of John's left nipple as he goes.
"It was listed in amongst a mess of data on energy research, and the name they gave it translates to Stimulator, or something like that. Anyway, the instructions are simple – bring it in close to naked skin for best effect, then aim the blunt end towards the chosen area and…"
The electrical burn on John's left nipple leaves a tiny silver crescent-moon scar that Rodney always gives a gentle and apologetic kiss, before and after.