Summary: It's just a little too much for John to take.
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Word Count: 1332
A/N: Written for Oxoniensis's Porn Battle VII, posted here for length.
John has had a really long time- almost five years, in fact- to metabolize the fact that Rodney does something to him. Not all the time- it's just that when he starts getting excited and talking rapidly about things that John doesn't understand and flailing his arms, John notices.
In his pants.
Y'know, the bad kind of noticing.
And Rodney fights with the other scientists all the time, so it's not anything John hasn't seen before. Usually, he's fighting with Radek- who's not really John's type- so usually, he's okay.
Except that right now, he's fighting with Daniel Jackson, who, as it turns out, is totally John's type. And they're screaming at each other and waving their hands at each other and talking a mile a minute about wormholes and subspace and math and whatever the fuck- and if John notices any harder, he's going to pop a button.
John realizes that Rodney is snapping his fingers at him. Daniel's giving him a weird look too- dammit, how long has he been standing there staring like an idiot? “What?”
“Lift up that panel,” Rodney orders him, pointing to something just out of everybody else's reach. John does it, swinging it up out of the way and keeping his front firmly facing the wall.
They crowd him so much that he ends up having to turn. And, of course, Rodney cocks his hip out at the wrong time and he has to aim for Daniel- who steps in even closer and starts arguing with Rodney over the state of the wiring.
The noise John makes is totally not a whimper.
Rodney is talking about rerouting power and buffers and Daniel keeps saying that it's going to overload the dilithium crystals- and John is almost certain they're just fucking with him now, but he's too busy trying to figure out what he's going to write in his daily report if he comes all over himself right now. Fostering communication with SG-1? Showing Dr. Jackson Atlantis's gratitude?
They let him loose, finally, and he backs away as quickly as he can. “I'm gonna, um,” he tries to think of something that sounds nothing like pray for a merciful death or go jerk off in that crawlspace next to the transporter, “leave.”
He thinks he's in the clear for about fifteen seconds- but then here come the scientists. They're walking quite quickly, really, and they just sort of scoop John up, each of them grabbing him by an arm.
“You owe me all of the new Battlestar,” Rodney tells Daniel as they manhandle John into the transporter, and what the fuck, is Rodney trading him for television? That ass. At least he could have gotten some Big Bang Theory out of the deal, or better yet, Torchwood- they're already a season behind.
“I thought the bet was fifty bucks,” Daniel says as Rodney activates the transporter.
“Money I have no use for,” he declares after the beam spits them out in one of the unused areas of the southeast pier. “Genre television, on the other hand.”
John realizes quite suddenly that he has absolutely no idea what's going on. He knows what he very much hopes is about to happen, but for all he knows, they're going to teach him to two-step or beat the crap out of him or something.
His fears are somewhat allayed when Rodney palms open a door and drags him inside. It's a residential area- one of the nice ones with a sitting room in front. He figures they're going to steer him into the bedroom, but Rodney leads them around in front of the window instead, and they just sort of drop him forward onto this big ottoman thing.
“Hey,” he says intelligently when Rodney pulls his shirt off over his head, not bothering to unbutton it, and Daniel starts freeing him of his boots.
“Hush,” Rodney tells him, just as Daniel gets his arms around John and starts unbuttoning the fly of his BDUs, and John forgets that he's supposed to argue.
They probably haven't been here for two solid minutes, and already John is completely bareassed, Rodney in front of him zipping down his fly- and John spares a second to think O'Neill never said anything about this before he takes Rodney's cock into his mouth.
“Can I?” Daniel says from behind him, running his hand over his backside, and John can hear the rustling of clothing coming undone.
“Please, be my guest,” Rodney tells him, and John really wants to protest about such cavalier treatment of his ass, but, well, he can't talk with his mouth full, now can he? He can moan, though- it's totally embarrassing that he feels the need to, but it's kind of like all of his pornographic dreams are coming true at once.
“You're such a whore,” Rodney says, patting John's hair affectionately. John's certain it's just to get his goat, but honestly, he kinda feels like one, and it feels, y'know, kinda good. He decides just to go with it, bobbing his head a little and working his tongue against Rodney's shaft.
Daniel is rubbing something wet and slippery into him. It's probably some kind of lubricant from the labs that is probably going to give him cancer somewhere down the line, but Daniel's fingers are stretching him open, and he really, really doesn't care.
“You carry KY in your jacket?” Rodney asks, and John can't decide if he's relieved or concerned.
“I've been going offworld for over a decade,” Daniel huffs. “There are some things you just learn to have.”
“Huh,” he replies, contemplatively. He slaps John lightly on the cheek, and John realizes he's been too distracted to keep sucking. “Pay attention.”
To think that he would possibly be capable of doing so at a time like this is to give him far, far too much credit, especially because now Daniel is knocking his knees wide open and pressing inside of him in one hard thrust. John moans again- still just as embarrassing the second time- and after that his brain is pretty much a lost cause.
He sort of knows what a blow-up doll feels like, because he's really not doing anything but taking it. Rodney fucks his mouth in long, sure strokes, not going deep enough to cut of his air but not fucking around about it either, while Daniel seems to prefer short, hard motions that drive his cock right into John's prostate. His orgasm slams through him in a ridiculously short amount of time- and Rodney and Daniel just keep right on going, like they don't particularly care if John minds or not, which John would probably have a problem with if he knew where his brain was right now.
He's hard again by the time Daniel finishes, cursing in something that is definitely not English and coming inside him- which is fine, because Rodney's there as soon as Daniel's out of the way, shoving himself inside John so deep that John thinks he should be able to taste it.
“C'mon,” he says into John's ear, getting his hand between John and the ottoman and stroking his cock a little roughly. “Come for me,” he tells him, and that's fucking it, as far as John's concerned. He spills helplessly into Rodney's hand; he thinks Rodney probably comes after he does, but there could be a nuclear blast ten feet away and he wouldn't even register it.
“Did we kill him?” he hears Daniel ask after a little while.
“He'll be fine,” Rodney assures him. “Worst case scenario, we can just dump him out the window.”
“Full of DNA evidence?”
“It doesn't matter- we'd be dropping him into the ocean.”
“Hate you guys,” John tells them. They don't hear him, though- they've started arguing again, this time about genetic testing and salt water.
John hugs the ottoman and prays for a quick death.
The crawlspace is too far, and besides, he can't walk anyway.