Colonel Sadist: enjoy some
May. 11th, 2010 12:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabinetzinTitle: The Empty Bowl: A Love Story
Summary: Rodney might be the one who takes the beatings, but John's the one who's getting bruised.
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Word Count: 3505
Rating/Contents: NC-17, D/s AU, angst, caning, and a spoilery warning: (skip) mentions of an unhealthy past relationship
Pairing: John/Rodney
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: I had author's notes here, but they got super long, so, suffice it to say this is another story I almost worried out of existence. Instead I will just thank![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
coffeesuperhero for holding my little hand while I finished this, and leiascully for letting me camp on their couch while I did it.
When Rodney turns to him one morning over breakfast and says, "You're a sadist, right?", John's not really fazed.
"Yeah," he says, shrugging. They've had weirder conversations, though usually not this early in the morning; he really prefers to get some coffee in him before he starts answering questions about his sexual preferences.
"Can you do me a favor?"
"Sure, buddy."
"Come over and top me tonight."
John doesn't spew his coffee all over the table, but only because he chokes on it instead. "What?"
Rodney raises an eyebrow at him. "I thought it was a fairly simple proposition. I don't know if I can say it in smaller words. Most of those were one syllable."
"No, no, I understood," John hastens to say. "I just didn't think I heard you right." In the middle of the mess hall, John doesn't add, because he's actually gotten sort of used to Rodney having no sense of propriety or setting.
Rodney is still looking at him expectantly; he's even stopped drinking his coffee, tapping his mug impatiently while he waits for John's answer. John takes a second to think about it. It's not like he's worked next to Rodney for three years and not noticed him being attractive in the mouthy way that John sometimes likes; he's just put it out of his mind, mostly, for the sake of the team and their friendship- but mostly because he figured Rodney was completely uninterested in him.
He's not even really shocked that his gut reaction to Rodney's proposition seems to be a solid hell yeah.
He leans forward, keeps his voice down, generally tries to make it not completely obvious that they're negotiating in front of everyone. "So, uh, what kind of stuff are you into?"
Rodney chews meditatively on his toast. "Lots of pain, obviously, or I wouldn't have asked."
"Obviously."
Rodney takes a deep breath. "Don't bother trying to humiliate me, you'll only end up making me laugh," he starts, ticking items off on his fingers. "I'm really ticklish, but don't take it as an invitation- definite turn-off. I don't mind if you want to fuck me, but I'd rather during than after. Feel free to restrain me if that's your thing, but it's hotter if I have to hold still without help."
"Mind over matter?"
"Isn't it always?" Rodney replies, sighing and idly stirring his coffee. "You're going to have to really hurt me," he warns.
"Was that supposed to be discouraging?" John says, leaning in closer. "Because it sounded more like a come-on."
Rodney grins. "See? That's why I asked you."
---
John can't say whether it's nerves or just good form, but he's early to Rodney's room that night; he shoulders his overnight bag so that he can knock, feeling incredibly conspicuous standing in the hallway.
It takes a second for the door to open; Rodney looks vaguely confused, still wearing his uniform jacket, but he lets John in. "I was just going to take a shower, then we can get started."
"Sounds good."
"Do you want me to get dressed again afterwards, or?"
"Towel's fine."
"Right," Rodney says, squaring his shoulders. "Back in a minute, then."
It's totally unsurprising that Rodney has his supplies all laid out and ready; they're all tucked neatly into their own slots in a big organizer bag, carefully partitioned and grouped by purpose. It's also not a surprise that he's got way more stuff than John has, but then, John- who once lost his only flogger for six whole months, only to find it at the bottom of his golf bag- thinks maybe everybody has more stuff than he has.
True to his word, Rodney doesn't have much in the way of bondage gear. He has got a really nice singletail, though, which presents some interesting possibilities, but it's been so long since John's even handled one that he'd probably just end up breaking Rodney's lamp or something. In the end, he sticks with the medium-sized cane he brought with him, something versatile and familiar, so he doesn't end up embarrassing either of them.
He hears the shower cut off; he rolls his shoulders and tries to think toppy thoughts, to psych himself up to do whatever it is Rodney needs out of him. Rodney's sort of endearingly disheveled when he comes out of the bathroom, his wet hair sticking up in all directions, a faded blue towel draped around his midsection.
"Strip and get on your knees," John barks, before Rodney can open his mouth.
Rodney doesn't waste a second in complying; he tosses the towel onto his desk chair and folds gracefully to the floor.
"You want it bad, don't you?"
Rodney blows out a long breath and says, "Yes, sir."
"What's your safeword?"
"Retrograde, sir."
John grimaces. "Knock it off with the 'sir'. Call me John. Nothing else."
"Yes, John," he says, and the way he says it, the master hidden behind it, sends a thrill up John's spine.
Even so, John feels oddly lost. He got plenty of stuff lined up to do to Rodney, but all of it's predicated on Rodney being as bossy as he usually is, fighting John at every turn; it's never actually occurred to him that Rodney might not immediately start smarting off and disobeying.
He takes a moment to just look at Rodney, walking around him slowly, trying to get his bearings. Years of running from half of the galaxy has taken its toll on him; he's got his fair share of scars. They've been good to him, too, slimming him down and bulking him up in the right places. Rodney shivers slightly under John's scrutiny, but he doesn't seem to mind too much, if his thick, hard cock is any sort of an indication.
He presents Rodney with the cane; Rodney kisses it without hesitation. John takes a second to wonder what the fuck he's even doing, playing this hard with Rodney their first- maybe only- time, something that wasn't even in the realm of possibility this time yesterday, but he takes a breath and rolls with it. "Hands and knees on the bed," he orders, and Rodney doesn't hesitate. "You sure you don't want to be tied down?"
He shakes his head. "No, John."
"Hang on to the headboard if you need to," he offers, but Rodney doesn't take him up on it, getting into position, his palms flat on the mattress.
John starts out light, little taps to get Rodney acclimated, stuttering across his skin to warm it up. Rodney gets settled, wriggling a little as he gets accustomed to John.
"Breathe," John says softly, and that's all the warning Rodney gets before John brings the cane down harder on his ass, letting it settle before he drags it away. Rodney jumps, but he doesn't so much as gasp, and yeah, maybe John can work with this after all. He'd known Rodney would be a challenge one way or the other.
"Let me hear it," John tells him, hitting him again, right where his ass and thighs meet, but still Rodney doesn't make a noise. "I'm going to hear you scream, so you might as well give it up."
He keeps hitting Rodney over and over again, laying down a line of welts across his ass and thighs. He keeps on going until Rodney's sweating and moaning, until he hits the point where Rodney really does scream, loud and scandalized and so satisfied that John's almost afraid he's already come.
"Six more," he says, putting the cane down and pulling his shirt off. "God, you're-" He shakes his head, not able to put words to the end of that thought. He gives Rodney six of the best, drawing it out, making each one count as much as he can, and Rodney takes every one of them, panting and yelling.
He tosses the cane away, admiring his handiwork, feeling sated in that indescribable way that he does at times like these. He grips Rodney's ass with one hand, and Rodney gasps. He pulls back and slaps him, hard, right over his welts, and Rodney screams again- and that's it, John's got to have him.
He doesn't even bother to take his pants off, just grabs the bottle off the bedside table and gets up behind Rodney, unzipping and pushing his pants and boxers down around his thighs. His fingers tremble as he opens the lube, spilling too much of it onto his fingers in his haste. He's more hasty than he probably should be in getting Rodney ready, but every inch of his body is saying now now now.
Rodney groans when he finally pushes all the way in; he doesn't hesitate, setting a demanding pace, taking his pleasure from Rodney's body. Every single slap of his thighs against Rodney's must make the pain bloom over and over again, and it just makes John want to fuck him harder, to hear more of the delicious sounds he keeps making.
He wants to make it last, to make Rodney really take it, but he's so worked up that he hasn't got a prayer. "Come on, Rodney," John says, and Rodney goes off like he's just been waiting for his cue, slumping against the bed. John barely pulls out in time, but it's totally worth it to watch his come splash out over Rodney's welts, marking him as John's, clear as day.
John pulls away gingerly, reluctantly, pulling his pants back up and tucking himself away. He can't seem to stop himself from petting Rodney, grounding him, light but hopefully reassuring. Rodney's completely spent, stretching and yawning like a cat, no doubt floating on a cloud of endorphins.
John pulls himself away somehow, slipping into the bathroom for a clean rag and a glass of water for Rodney. He's barely gone any time at all; when he comes back, Rodney's still on his stomach on the bed, but now he's typing on his laptop with one hand and eating crackers with the other. He's got his feet kicked up like a teenager, and John can just see where his come is drying all over Rodney's red, bruised ass. And it might just be because he's secretly kind of sappy, but John wants nothing more than to cuddle up next to him and just dote on him for a while.
And then Rodney looks up at him and says, "Oh, you're still here?" John just stands there gaping at him like an idiot, until Rodney helpfully adds, "You can go now."
And John's so confused and disappointed that he does. He leaves his bag and all his gear in Rodney's room- he barely even remembers to grab his t-shirt. But it doesn't really matter, because at this rate, he won't be using any of it again for a while.
Except that not a week later, he's got Rodney handcuffed at his feet and he's fucking Rodney's mouth and he's still wondering what the fuck is going on here.
It goes like that for a while, longer than John thinks he should let it, with Rodney running hot and cold and generally confusing the shit out of John. He can't help himself, though. Rodney's like an empty bowl; he takes everything that John has to give him, and he does it without complaint or fuss. John's always considered himself a pretty chill person, but Rodney's fucking Zen in comparison. It's a little terrifying- John's really afraid that he'd have to be actively breaking fingers before Rodney would safeword, which actually really sucks- but it's also intoxicating. Getting one little moan out of Rodney is more satisfying than half an hour of theatrical screaming from somebody else, and every single time just makes John want more, more, more.
Since Rodney so amazing in bed, it takes John longer than it should to admit that he's a really bad sub. He's real good at taking all the pain John can dish out, but he won't take anything else- not John's affection or his attention or his care. He sucks pretty bad at giving, too. John knows he hasn't got any kind of real claim over Rodney, not for longer than it takes to beat him and force him to come- and he's not expecting to have Rodney kneeling at his feet during staff meetings or anything- but goddammit, he can't be expected to keep on like this without some concession, some attempt on Rodney's part to pretend like this affects him at all.
One time, John thinks, one night when they've just finished and Rodney's trying to get rid of him again. Rodney's got a little bit of blood on his lip from where John's slap split it, and John's dick twitches when he thinks about licking it off.
"I don't have to go," John offers.
"It's fine," Rodney insists. "I have a lot of work to do."
"I don't mind."
He snorts. "Trust me, Sheppard, you've already gone above and beyond the call of duty."
John steps closer. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
Rodney scrubs a hand through his hair. "Can we not do this right now?"
"Fine," John responds, teeth clenched, even though they both know it really isn't. Just one fucking time.
It's bad how it finally happens. John, Ronon, and Teyla have just come off a rough mission; Rodney stayed behind, which was just as well, because it turned into a firefight in the first fifteen minutes. All John really wants to do is have a long soak and a sandwich, but he's not even out of the locker room before McKay finds him.
"I was thinking, if you wanted to come over later." He bounces a little on his toes like he always does when he's excited, leaving the sentence to hang between them.
John heaves his bag into his locker. "I'm really tired."
"Please? I'll make it good."
John pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to stop his headache. "I'm not your fucking pitching machine, McKay."
Rodney flinches back. "Well, pardon the hell out of me for thinking I could count on my top-"
"Don't you dare call me that just to get what you want," John hisses, getting right up in his face. "You don't have any intention at all of actually submitting to me, so stop fucking pretending."
"I don't even know what you're-"
John cuts him off. "If I offered you a collar right now, would you take it?"
Rodney looks startled. "What?"
"It's a yes-no question, Rodney. We've been at this for three months. Ball's in your court."
Rodney looks away.
"Yeah," John says, slamming the door of his locker. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Stop wasting my time and leave me alone."
But of course Rodney doesn't, because he wouldn't really be Rodney if he did. Rodney does what he always does when they get into an uncomfortable situation; the next night, John can hear him outside hotwiring John's door long before he actually makes it in- and no matter how much John thinks close, close, close, he always does.
"Don't throw me out yet," Rodney says, when the door finally opens, holding up his hands. "Just don't talk, for a second." John crosses his arms over his chest and settles back against his headboard, waiting; he doesn't owe Rodney a goddamn thing, least of all any more of his time, but he's curious. Rodney takes a deep breath. "My first top put me in the hospital."
John's eyes go wide with shock. "Jesus Christ, McKay-"
"Shut up," Rodney snaps. "I'm trying to explain something, here. If I wanted sympathy I'd just pout at you."
"I'd like to see you try."
"I'll have you know I've got a pout that'll drop a dom at fifty paces," Rodney huffs. "Now shut your mouth and let me tell you this story."
"Go ahead."
"He didn't do it on purpose," Rodney clarifies. "He was a really nice person, and he wasn't trying to hurt me-" Rodney holds up a hand. "Okay, yes, he was trying to hurt me, but he was trying to hurt me in the good way. We were just stupid kids, and we were playing way harder than we were actually ready for. I was having the time of my life, right up until I passed out.
"My parents forbade me to see him, and I was so messed up about it that I actually listened, for once. And-" He screws his eyes shut. "And it was bad, okay? I didn't realize how screwed up everything was until I was clear of him. I'd been skipping school for this person, John, and I hardly even remember doing it. I just remember following him around and feeling-" he waves a hand- "happy. I suddenly had all these friends- his friends- who had never known me as anything but this perfect little sub, and they acted like there was something wrong with me when I wasn't anymore." He lets out a long breath. "That's what happened. And I know you're thinking about saying something about how it wasn't my fault and I shouldn't blame myself for it, but spare me, okay? Just because it's not my fault doesn't mean I could stop it from happening again."
John swallows, mulling it over. "There are a lot of people who'd consider that a feature, not a bug."
"And that's why I don't sleep with a lot of people," Rodney says. "I don't want to be a risk, okay? I don't want to go away again, John. I mean, I'm pretty sure you're one of those freaks who finds my personality inexplicably charming, but I'm afraid most people would see it as an improvement."
John gets up from the bed, walking towards him. "You still haven't said how I figure in to all of this."
"Yes, well," Rodney says, looking kind of apologetic. "I kind of hadn't planned that far. I figured it could go down one of two ways: either you'd be totally turned off and go screaming from the room, or you'd be totally turned on and I'd go screaming from the room."
John's right up in his space, now. "What about the one where I insist there's no way you're getting away from me now that I know what you need?"
"I was hoping for that one, actually," Rodney admits. "You've got that whole leave no one behind thing going on and everything."
"Wear my collar," John says, impulsively. Rodney starts to protest, but John presses a hand lightly to his lips. "Try it, okay? Just let me see if I can help you handle this."
"Are you sure you want to?" Rodney asks, looking uncharacteristically hesitant. "It's going to be a lot of messy work, and I can't guarantee you a reward. Also, if you screw it up, no one will ever find your body, and I genuinely mean that."
John decides he can ignore that last part. "You don't have to worry about giving me an incentive," he points out. "I don't just top people for my health, McKay."
Rodney holds up a finger. "Actually, you kind of do. Studies show that attached dominants live up to five years longer-"
John catches his hands. "Rodney."
"Anyway," he says softly, looking at John's lips.
"Anyway," John echoes, just to fill the space before he leans forward and kisses Rodney, pulling him as close as he can.
--
It's a smooth mission to an uninhabited world- the very best kind, in John's book. Ronon's found all sorts of medicinal plants for the botanists to take a look at, and Teyla's already planning the settlement possibilities of the large, empty clearings right around the gate. John, John really hasn't done much except for work on his tan, but it's a nice break from being shot at.
It would be a great mission, except that Rodney's been kind of off all day, enough that Ronon keeps giving John significant looks, the kind that say you collared it, you deal with it.
They're wrapping up and heading back to the gate; Teyla and Ronon are scouting up ahead, losing John and Rodney on the flimsiest of pretexts. Rodney doesn't even seem to notice they're gone; he looks spaced out, like he's just sort of following without caring where he's going.
"Getting anything?" John asks, even though Rodney isn't really looking at his tablet. "Rodney," John calls, but Rodney isn't with him. "McKay." John reaches over and slaps him in the back of the head. "Hey, asshole."
Rodney blinks. "What do you want?"
John stops walking. "Are you tracking, or am I just talking to myself here?"
"Yes, I'm tracking," he replies, sighing huffily. "You know I hate it when you call it that, right? I feel like we should be wandering in the woods."
John looks around. "Rodney, we are wandering in the woods."
"Huh," Rodney says. "Then maybe I'm tracking and tracking."
John rolls his eyes. "Smartass."
"You like it," Rodney replies, bumping John with his shoulder.
"No," he says, grinning and pecking him on the cheek. "I love it."
Summary: Rodney might be the one who takes the beatings, but John's the one who's getting bruised.
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Word Count: 3505
Rating/Contents: NC-17, D/s AU, angst, caning, and a spoilery warning: (skip) mentions of an unhealthy past relationship
Pairing: John/Rodney
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: I had author's notes here, but they got super long, so, suffice it to say this is another story I almost worried out of existence. Instead I will just thank
coffeesuperhero for holding my little hand while I finished this, and leiascully for letting me camp on their couch while I did it.When Rodney turns to him one morning over breakfast and says, "You're a sadist, right?", John's not really fazed.
"Yeah," he says, shrugging. They've had weirder conversations, though usually not this early in the morning; he really prefers to get some coffee in him before he starts answering questions about his sexual preferences.
"Can you do me a favor?"
"Sure, buddy."
"Come over and top me tonight."
John doesn't spew his coffee all over the table, but only because he chokes on it instead. "What?"
Rodney raises an eyebrow at him. "I thought it was a fairly simple proposition. I don't know if I can say it in smaller words. Most of those were one syllable."
"No, no, I understood," John hastens to say. "I just didn't think I heard you right." In the middle of the mess hall, John doesn't add, because he's actually gotten sort of used to Rodney having no sense of propriety or setting.
Rodney is still looking at him expectantly; he's even stopped drinking his coffee, tapping his mug impatiently while he waits for John's answer. John takes a second to think about it. It's not like he's worked next to Rodney for three years and not noticed him being attractive in the mouthy way that John sometimes likes; he's just put it out of his mind, mostly, for the sake of the team and their friendship- but mostly because he figured Rodney was completely uninterested in him.
He's not even really shocked that his gut reaction to Rodney's proposition seems to be a solid hell yeah.
He leans forward, keeps his voice down, generally tries to make it not completely obvious that they're negotiating in front of everyone. "So, uh, what kind of stuff are you into?"
Rodney chews meditatively on his toast. "Lots of pain, obviously, or I wouldn't have asked."
"Obviously."
Rodney takes a deep breath. "Don't bother trying to humiliate me, you'll only end up making me laugh," he starts, ticking items off on his fingers. "I'm really ticklish, but don't take it as an invitation- definite turn-off. I don't mind if you want to fuck me, but I'd rather during than after. Feel free to restrain me if that's your thing, but it's hotter if I have to hold still without help."
"Mind over matter?"
"Isn't it always?" Rodney replies, sighing and idly stirring his coffee. "You're going to have to really hurt me," he warns.
"Was that supposed to be discouraging?" John says, leaning in closer. "Because it sounded more like a come-on."
Rodney grins. "See? That's why I asked you."
---
John can't say whether it's nerves or just good form, but he's early to Rodney's room that night; he shoulders his overnight bag so that he can knock, feeling incredibly conspicuous standing in the hallway.
It takes a second for the door to open; Rodney looks vaguely confused, still wearing his uniform jacket, but he lets John in. "I was just going to take a shower, then we can get started."
"Sounds good."
"Do you want me to get dressed again afterwards, or?"
"Towel's fine."
"Right," Rodney says, squaring his shoulders. "Back in a minute, then."
It's totally unsurprising that Rodney has his supplies all laid out and ready; they're all tucked neatly into their own slots in a big organizer bag, carefully partitioned and grouped by purpose. It's also not a surprise that he's got way more stuff than John has, but then, John- who once lost his only flogger for six whole months, only to find it at the bottom of his golf bag- thinks maybe everybody has more stuff than he has.
True to his word, Rodney doesn't have much in the way of bondage gear. He has got a really nice singletail, though, which presents some interesting possibilities, but it's been so long since John's even handled one that he'd probably just end up breaking Rodney's lamp or something. In the end, he sticks with the medium-sized cane he brought with him, something versatile and familiar, so he doesn't end up embarrassing either of them.
He hears the shower cut off; he rolls his shoulders and tries to think toppy thoughts, to psych himself up to do whatever it is Rodney needs out of him. Rodney's sort of endearingly disheveled when he comes out of the bathroom, his wet hair sticking up in all directions, a faded blue towel draped around his midsection.
"Strip and get on your knees," John barks, before Rodney can open his mouth.
Rodney doesn't waste a second in complying; he tosses the towel onto his desk chair and folds gracefully to the floor.
"You want it bad, don't you?"
Rodney blows out a long breath and says, "Yes, sir."
"What's your safeword?"
"Retrograde, sir."
John grimaces. "Knock it off with the 'sir'. Call me John. Nothing else."
"Yes, John," he says, and the way he says it, the master hidden behind it, sends a thrill up John's spine.
Even so, John feels oddly lost. He got plenty of stuff lined up to do to Rodney, but all of it's predicated on Rodney being as bossy as he usually is, fighting John at every turn; it's never actually occurred to him that Rodney might not immediately start smarting off and disobeying.
He takes a moment to just look at Rodney, walking around him slowly, trying to get his bearings. Years of running from half of the galaxy has taken its toll on him; he's got his fair share of scars. They've been good to him, too, slimming him down and bulking him up in the right places. Rodney shivers slightly under John's scrutiny, but he doesn't seem to mind too much, if his thick, hard cock is any sort of an indication.
He presents Rodney with the cane; Rodney kisses it without hesitation. John takes a second to wonder what the fuck he's even doing, playing this hard with Rodney their first- maybe only- time, something that wasn't even in the realm of possibility this time yesterday, but he takes a breath and rolls with it. "Hands and knees on the bed," he orders, and Rodney doesn't hesitate. "You sure you don't want to be tied down?"
He shakes his head. "No, John."
"Hang on to the headboard if you need to," he offers, but Rodney doesn't take him up on it, getting into position, his palms flat on the mattress.
John starts out light, little taps to get Rodney acclimated, stuttering across his skin to warm it up. Rodney gets settled, wriggling a little as he gets accustomed to John.
"Breathe," John says softly, and that's all the warning Rodney gets before John brings the cane down harder on his ass, letting it settle before he drags it away. Rodney jumps, but he doesn't so much as gasp, and yeah, maybe John can work with this after all. He'd known Rodney would be a challenge one way or the other.
"Let me hear it," John tells him, hitting him again, right where his ass and thighs meet, but still Rodney doesn't make a noise. "I'm going to hear you scream, so you might as well give it up."
He keeps hitting Rodney over and over again, laying down a line of welts across his ass and thighs. He keeps on going until Rodney's sweating and moaning, until he hits the point where Rodney really does scream, loud and scandalized and so satisfied that John's almost afraid he's already come.
"Six more," he says, putting the cane down and pulling his shirt off. "God, you're-" He shakes his head, not able to put words to the end of that thought. He gives Rodney six of the best, drawing it out, making each one count as much as he can, and Rodney takes every one of them, panting and yelling.
He tosses the cane away, admiring his handiwork, feeling sated in that indescribable way that he does at times like these. He grips Rodney's ass with one hand, and Rodney gasps. He pulls back and slaps him, hard, right over his welts, and Rodney screams again- and that's it, John's got to have him.
He doesn't even bother to take his pants off, just grabs the bottle off the bedside table and gets up behind Rodney, unzipping and pushing his pants and boxers down around his thighs. His fingers tremble as he opens the lube, spilling too much of it onto his fingers in his haste. He's more hasty than he probably should be in getting Rodney ready, but every inch of his body is saying now now now.
Rodney groans when he finally pushes all the way in; he doesn't hesitate, setting a demanding pace, taking his pleasure from Rodney's body. Every single slap of his thighs against Rodney's must make the pain bloom over and over again, and it just makes John want to fuck him harder, to hear more of the delicious sounds he keeps making.
He wants to make it last, to make Rodney really take it, but he's so worked up that he hasn't got a prayer. "Come on, Rodney," John says, and Rodney goes off like he's just been waiting for his cue, slumping against the bed. John barely pulls out in time, but it's totally worth it to watch his come splash out over Rodney's welts, marking him as John's, clear as day.
John pulls away gingerly, reluctantly, pulling his pants back up and tucking himself away. He can't seem to stop himself from petting Rodney, grounding him, light but hopefully reassuring. Rodney's completely spent, stretching and yawning like a cat, no doubt floating on a cloud of endorphins.
John pulls himself away somehow, slipping into the bathroom for a clean rag and a glass of water for Rodney. He's barely gone any time at all; when he comes back, Rodney's still on his stomach on the bed, but now he's typing on his laptop with one hand and eating crackers with the other. He's got his feet kicked up like a teenager, and John can just see where his come is drying all over Rodney's red, bruised ass. And it might just be because he's secretly kind of sappy, but John wants nothing more than to cuddle up next to him and just dote on him for a while.
And then Rodney looks up at him and says, "Oh, you're still here?" John just stands there gaping at him like an idiot, until Rodney helpfully adds, "You can go now."
And John's so confused and disappointed that he does. He leaves his bag and all his gear in Rodney's room- he barely even remembers to grab his t-shirt. But it doesn't really matter, because at this rate, he won't be using any of it again for a while.
Except that not a week later, he's got Rodney handcuffed at his feet and he's fucking Rodney's mouth and he's still wondering what the fuck is going on here.
It goes like that for a while, longer than John thinks he should let it, with Rodney running hot and cold and generally confusing the shit out of John. He can't help himself, though. Rodney's like an empty bowl; he takes everything that John has to give him, and he does it without complaint or fuss. John's always considered himself a pretty chill person, but Rodney's fucking Zen in comparison. It's a little terrifying- John's really afraid that he'd have to be actively breaking fingers before Rodney would safeword, which actually really sucks- but it's also intoxicating. Getting one little moan out of Rodney is more satisfying than half an hour of theatrical screaming from somebody else, and every single time just makes John want more, more, more.
Since Rodney so amazing in bed, it takes John longer than it should to admit that he's a really bad sub. He's real good at taking all the pain John can dish out, but he won't take anything else- not John's affection or his attention or his care. He sucks pretty bad at giving, too. John knows he hasn't got any kind of real claim over Rodney, not for longer than it takes to beat him and force him to come- and he's not expecting to have Rodney kneeling at his feet during staff meetings or anything- but goddammit, he can't be expected to keep on like this without some concession, some attempt on Rodney's part to pretend like this affects him at all.
One time, John thinks, one night when they've just finished and Rodney's trying to get rid of him again. Rodney's got a little bit of blood on his lip from where John's slap split it, and John's dick twitches when he thinks about licking it off.
"I don't have to go," John offers.
"It's fine," Rodney insists. "I have a lot of work to do."
"I don't mind."
He snorts. "Trust me, Sheppard, you've already gone above and beyond the call of duty."
John steps closer. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
Rodney scrubs a hand through his hair. "Can we not do this right now?"
"Fine," John responds, teeth clenched, even though they both know it really isn't. Just one fucking time.
It's bad how it finally happens. John, Ronon, and Teyla have just come off a rough mission; Rodney stayed behind, which was just as well, because it turned into a firefight in the first fifteen minutes. All John really wants to do is have a long soak and a sandwich, but he's not even out of the locker room before McKay finds him.
"I was thinking, if you wanted to come over later." He bounces a little on his toes like he always does when he's excited, leaving the sentence to hang between them.
John heaves his bag into his locker. "I'm really tired."
"Please? I'll make it good."
John pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to stop his headache. "I'm not your fucking pitching machine, McKay."
Rodney flinches back. "Well, pardon the hell out of me for thinking I could count on my top-"
"Don't you dare call me that just to get what you want," John hisses, getting right up in his face. "You don't have any intention at all of actually submitting to me, so stop fucking pretending."
"I don't even know what you're-"
John cuts him off. "If I offered you a collar right now, would you take it?"
Rodney looks startled. "What?"
"It's a yes-no question, Rodney. We've been at this for three months. Ball's in your court."
Rodney looks away.
"Yeah," John says, slamming the door of his locker. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Stop wasting my time and leave me alone."
But of course Rodney doesn't, because he wouldn't really be Rodney if he did. Rodney does what he always does when they get into an uncomfortable situation; the next night, John can hear him outside hotwiring John's door long before he actually makes it in- and no matter how much John thinks close, close, close, he always does.
"Don't throw me out yet," Rodney says, when the door finally opens, holding up his hands. "Just don't talk, for a second." John crosses his arms over his chest and settles back against his headboard, waiting; he doesn't owe Rodney a goddamn thing, least of all any more of his time, but he's curious. Rodney takes a deep breath. "My first top put me in the hospital."
John's eyes go wide with shock. "Jesus Christ, McKay-"
"Shut up," Rodney snaps. "I'm trying to explain something, here. If I wanted sympathy I'd just pout at you."
"I'd like to see you try."
"I'll have you know I've got a pout that'll drop a dom at fifty paces," Rodney huffs. "Now shut your mouth and let me tell you this story."
"Go ahead."
"He didn't do it on purpose," Rodney clarifies. "He was a really nice person, and he wasn't trying to hurt me-" Rodney holds up a hand. "Okay, yes, he was trying to hurt me, but he was trying to hurt me in the good way. We were just stupid kids, and we were playing way harder than we were actually ready for. I was having the time of my life, right up until I passed out.
"My parents forbade me to see him, and I was so messed up about it that I actually listened, for once. And-" He screws his eyes shut. "And it was bad, okay? I didn't realize how screwed up everything was until I was clear of him. I'd been skipping school for this person, John, and I hardly even remember doing it. I just remember following him around and feeling-" he waves a hand- "happy. I suddenly had all these friends- his friends- who had never known me as anything but this perfect little sub, and they acted like there was something wrong with me when I wasn't anymore." He lets out a long breath. "That's what happened. And I know you're thinking about saying something about how it wasn't my fault and I shouldn't blame myself for it, but spare me, okay? Just because it's not my fault doesn't mean I could stop it from happening again."
John swallows, mulling it over. "There are a lot of people who'd consider that a feature, not a bug."
"And that's why I don't sleep with a lot of people," Rodney says. "I don't want to be a risk, okay? I don't want to go away again, John. I mean, I'm pretty sure you're one of those freaks who finds my personality inexplicably charming, but I'm afraid most people would see it as an improvement."
John gets up from the bed, walking towards him. "You still haven't said how I figure in to all of this."
"Yes, well," Rodney says, looking kind of apologetic. "I kind of hadn't planned that far. I figured it could go down one of two ways: either you'd be totally turned off and go screaming from the room, or you'd be totally turned on and I'd go screaming from the room."
John's right up in his space, now. "What about the one where I insist there's no way you're getting away from me now that I know what you need?"
"I was hoping for that one, actually," Rodney admits. "You've got that whole leave no one behind thing going on and everything."
"Wear my collar," John says, impulsively. Rodney starts to protest, but John presses a hand lightly to his lips. "Try it, okay? Just let me see if I can help you handle this."
"Are you sure you want to?" Rodney asks, looking uncharacteristically hesitant. "It's going to be a lot of messy work, and I can't guarantee you a reward. Also, if you screw it up, no one will ever find your body, and I genuinely mean that."
John decides he can ignore that last part. "You don't have to worry about giving me an incentive," he points out. "I don't just top people for my health, McKay."
Rodney holds up a finger. "Actually, you kind of do. Studies show that attached dominants live up to five years longer-"
John catches his hands. "Rodney."
"Anyway," he says softly, looking at John's lips.
"Anyway," John echoes, just to fill the space before he leans forward and kisses Rodney, pulling him as close as he can.
--
It's a smooth mission to an uninhabited world- the very best kind, in John's book. Ronon's found all sorts of medicinal plants for the botanists to take a look at, and Teyla's already planning the settlement possibilities of the large, empty clearings right around the gate. John, John really hasn't done much except for work on his tan, but it's a nice break from being shot at.
It would be a great mission, except that Rodney's been kind of off all day, enough that Ronon keeps giving John significant looks, the kind that say you collared it, you deal with it.
They're wrapping up and heading back to the gate; Teyla and Ronon are scouting up ahead, losing John and Rodney on the flimsiest of pretexts. Rodney doesn't even seem to notice they're gone; he looks spaced out, like he's just sort of following without caring where he's going.
"Getting anything?" John asks, even though Rodney isn't really looking at his tablet. "Rodney," John calls, but Rodney isn't with him. "McKay." John reaches over and slaps him in the back of the head. "Hey, asshole."
Rodney blinks. "What do you want?"
John stops walking. "Are you tracking, or am I just talking to myself here?"
"Yes, I'm tracking," he replies, sighing huffily. "You know I hate it when you call it that, right? I feel like we should be wandering in the woods."
John looks around. "Rodney, we are wandering in the woods."
"Huh," Rodney says. "Then maybe I'm tracking and tracking."
John rolls his eyes. "Smartass."
"You like it," Rodney replies, bumping John with his shoulder.
"No," he says, grinning and pecking him on the cheek. "I love it."