The Midnight Rider (sabinelagrande) wrote,
The Midnight Rider
sabinelagrande

Everybody loves AU!

Title: All I Wanna Do Is
Summary: No matter what else changes, they're still a team.
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Word Count: 2839
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, AU
Pairing: Ronon/John, Rodney/Teyla, Rodney/John/Ronon, Rodney/John/Teyla/Ronon
A/N: Written for Oxoniensis's Porn Battle VII. A billion apologies to M.I.A.; a billion props to Kajikia, whose The Best Things In Life Are Free was a definite inspiration. And by that, I mean I probably ripped her off. Her story has a happy ending, though, so maybe you would like to read it instead?



and take your money

Teyla gets them in.

She and her people must know every cleaning lady, every wage slave, every rent-a-cop on the planet, and they know how people talk. They always seem to know who's just gotten fired from which faceless corporation for daring to get knocked up or speak out- and most of them are happy as hell to trade security codes, combinations, and maps for commiseration.

Rodney gets them through.

Even the best social engineering isn't going to open a foot-thick door of reinforced steel. His brand of engineering, however, is quite effective. He's good with the fiddly work, too- faking documents, hacking security systems, covering their tracks. A little squeamish, maybe, but the best in the business regardless.

John gets them gone.

He can fucking fly, but that's not why he's on the team. He's everything that most drivers aren't- he's clean cut and polite, very pretty but not too terribly cocky about it. That means he's never once fucked up a getaway by being an asshole to some meter maid who's only trying to do her job.

Ronon shoots things.

Pretty simple, really.

Then they just run the money through Dr. Keller's clinic, and Mr. Woolsey makes sure it gets lost in a sea of insurance paperwork so vast that no one will ever even know to look for it there.

And every so often he leaves a stack of non-sequential small bills in a hollowed out rock in the garden of a house that Teyla's uncle's barber owns- on paper, anyway.

John and Ronon are perfectly calm as John turns his key in the lock on the front door, the picture of suburban normalcy, nothing to arouse the suspicion of the neighborhood- except maybe for the fact that Ronon's hand is on John's ass.

“What took you so long?” Rodney says mildly, eating a cookie and not looking up from his book.

“Thought we might have been made,” John replies, a little breathless, and Rodney looks at him in horror. “False alarm. We're clear.”

“I'm about to make somebody,” Ronon rumbles into John's ear.

Rodney pulls a face at them. “Can you two please have your weird gay adrenaline sex somewhere else? I'm trying to read.”

“Can do,” John replies, dragging Ronon away by the wrist.

The door to John's bedroom is barely shut before Ronon just drops him, pinning him against the floor. John's been in cautious mode for the past three days, wound up as tightly as he can be, and it's not until he feels Ronon's hands on his hips that the exhilaration actually hits him.

“We just robbed a bank,” he tells Ronon, panting, his whole body tingling with it.

Ronon just grins at him, pawing off bits of their clothing with practiced speed.

He reaches up and grabs some lotion from John's dresser, slicking them up and fucking John briefly with two of his long, thick fingers before throwing John's legs over his shoulders and driving in. His cock is enormous, just like the rest of him, and John still feels like it's going to split him apart. It just feels so good though- he's so fucking high, his heart is going to beat out right out of his chest.

Ten million dollars, John thinks as Ronon's big hand wraps around him, tugging once, twice- and he comes, clenching hard around Ronon's cock. Ronon grunts, giving one more good hard thrust inside of him before he rolls off onto the floor.

They lay like that for John doesn't know how long- he's feeling too blissed out to care. Ronon slaps him lightly in the chest to get his attention.

“Let's go get some cookies before McKay eats them all,” he says.

“Good plan,” John replies, wondering if he can find his pants before Rodney finishes off the last of the chocolate chip.


like UPS trucks

John and Ronon are fifty-seven minutes late.

Rodney drums his fingers against the table. They're not supposed to be late at all. Late is very bad. Late is “they're going to lift the jail up and put us under it” bad. Rodney's so nervous that he's started baking- which is truly one of his weirder habits, but it's cheaper to buy flour and sugar than it is to see a shrink.

When the first batch of cookies is cooling and Rodney's wondering if he can still make cinnamon rolls, Teyla stops him. She sits him down and makes him a cup of the strong, spicy tea she always has on hand, producing her flask from her hip pocket and tipping something into it. Rodney expects it to burn when he drinks it, but it's smooth instead, warming up his whole body as it goes down.

This is much a part of Teyla's job as anything else, making sure Rodney stays steady. He knows they think of him as a security risk, that he's in the best position to sell them out if he gets spooked. They don't know that they're completely wrong about that.

Keeping him on an even keel may be for the good of the team, but how she chooses to do so is entirely selfish.

“Do not worry,” she tells him, passing her hands through his short hair, letting her fingernails trail lightly along his scalp. “You can never count on them to be on time.” Rodney has an awful weakness for having his head scratched; he turns his face towards her, resting his cheek against her stomach. He's still freaking out, more than a little, but he's starting to consider possibly calming down at some point in the future, which is an improvement.

She has the presence of mind to put his half-empty teacup on the counter before putting herself between him and the table, leaning back and giving him a look. Rodney has a learned response to that look- it's fucking Pavlovian how he reacts, cock hardening, mouth watering.

He puts his hands on her calves, where the hem of her skirt brushes against her skin. He skims his fingers up her toned legs, hiking her clothing up in the process, until the whole thing is rucked up around her waist.

She has to have known that this is how things were going to go down, because she's wearing those panties John bought for her last time they were in Vegas, the ones from Agent Provocateur that tie on the sides- never had Rodney seen more money spent on less clothing, and it had been totally worth every last penny.

He runs his fingers over the soft, sheer material, tracing down to where it disappears between her legs. He can see her quite clearly through the fabric, feel how it's already damp and clinging. He bites his lip, because if he doesn't, he's very likely to do something horrifically unmanly like whimper just looking at her.

Rodney tugs the bows open with his teeth- it's silly and ostentatious, but it makes Teyla laugh- and Teyla spreads her legs, letting the wispy garment flutter to the floor.

Teyla has really got his number, because Rodney loves doing this. He decided a long time ago that any straight man who doesn't want to- who can pretend to like pussy but not jump at the chance to have his face in it- has got to be criminally insane.

He doesn't do anything fancy or complicated like trying to spell the alphabet- it doesn't really work, just tires his tongue out way before he's through. He just licks her, steady and hot, broad passes of his tongue that are just rough enough. She tastes so good, Rodney thinks he'll just never get enough of her.

He switches it up now and again, flickering over her clit or delving inside her, until she's pushing his face closer, her hips working. He pulls back a little- gives her three fingers, just how she likes, sliding in and up and back, keeping them in rhythm as he latches his mouth over her, sucking- Rodney's always been good at multitasking. And just like that, she comes, and Rodney will never get over that, how she clenches around his fingers. He keeps up with her, taking her through it, drawing it out. Sated, she cups his face in one hand, tracing her thumb over his jaw and smiling lazily down at him.

It occurs to him that his pants are painfully tight, but she's already sinking to her knees.

Rodney doesn't mind if John and Ronon take their time getting back.


swagger like us

It's the exact opposite of every other job, so it sort of makes sense that Rodney's taking the lead.

“Who do I have to blow to get some help around here?” Rodney says, very loudly, interrupting the girls behind the desk. This is Vegas, though, where everybody's an asshole, so he's honestly gonna need to step it up a little.

“How can I help you?” the clerk says, giving them a forced smile.

“That's better,” he snaps, taking off his sunglasses. “Two rooms. Adjoining. Two nights. And don't give me any of that 'they're reserved' crap, I already talked to Cowen about it.”

John figures she'd be expecting Rodney to try dropping names, but definitely not that one- Teyla's intel again. She straightens up a little, gets serious. “What name, sir?”

“Danny Bernoulli,” he says, cracking his gum and grinning.

“And how will you be paying?”

Rodney reaches into his jacket and throws a roll of bills onto the counter. The clerk's eyes get wide, but she takes the money without hesitation.

There's some business behind the desk, with keys and papers and whatever. Rodney looks perfectly bored, rolling his eyes and sighing. He hooks a possessive arm around John's hips, yanking him closer and looking around, daring all of Clark County to start something. He paws at John shamelessly, like he wants everyone in the lobby to know who's in charge.

John turns his whole body towards Rodney, his hand on Rodney's waist, letting Rodney pull him in until John's all but wrapped around him. He leans his face right up close to Rodney's ear, whispering. The way Rodney leers at him, nobody in a ten mile radius could possibly concentrate hard enough to realize that he's actually talking into Rodney's Bluetooth, feeding information to the second team.

The clerk passes over a paper folder- two keys for one room, one for the other. “Is there anything at all we can get you?”

Rodney gives John a Why is that girl still talking? look before tearing his gaze away. “Any citrus in the soaps, lotion, conditioner, the fucking drapes, anything?”

She frowns in confusion. “There's a lemon ginger cleanser-”

Here we go, John thinks. He gives the clerk a he's an asshole but he buys me nice things shrug as Rodney lays into her. Poor kid. She really doesn't make enough to put up with this.

He slips her a fifty as they leave, giving her a wink while Rodney's back is turned.

When they get to the room, Rodney locks himself in the bathroom and hyperventilates.

“Second team is clear,” Ronon says. “We're good.” John sighs in relief- their part of the job is done. If the Czech fucks it up now, it's on his head. “Is he gonna stay in there all night?” he asks.

John rolls his eyes, knocking on the bathroom door. “You did good,” John assures him.

“I can't believe you assholes made me do that!” Rodney's voice says. “That was the most miserable-”

“You're a bad liar,” Ronon says, and there is a conspiciuous silence from behind the door.

John looks at Ronon. It's probably a bad idea, but John feels hyped up and jangly, partly from their success and partly because Rodney's been feeling him up for the last half hour.

Ronon grins at him and starts picking the lock.

For a straight guy, Rodney sure seems to be awfully happy to put his dick up John's ass. Ronon seems to freak him out a little- like he's too big or too much of a guy or something- but that just means that, oh darn, John's gonna have to be between them. What a hardship.

He thinks Ronon's going to fuck his mouth, but he surprises him, snatching the lube out of Rodney's hands, smearing it onto John's fingers, and fuck, that is an even better plan. It takes some getting adjusted- there are too many knees- but then Rodney's really giving it to him, every snap of his hips slamming him into Ronon, who thrusts back for everything he's worth, and it feels like they're just batting him back and forth, working together to drive him out of his mind.

It's just a shame Teyla's not here, John thinks. If the three of them are this good together, imagine what they could do with the whole team.


some I let go

This has been where things have been headed for a really long time.

Ronon pulls Teyla towards him, shifting so that she's facing away as she rides him. She's so gorgeous like that, her breasts shaking every time Ronon slides in and out of her, that all Rodney wants to do is watch her, watch them.

It's even better when John twists to the side and leans toward her, sucking her nipple into his mouth and tracing his fingers down to where she and Ronon are joined. Rodney takes a moment to wonder how in the world he ended up even knowing three people who were so ridiculously, perfectly attractive, not to mention, well, fucking and stealing things with them.

Not as good, Rodney thinks, licking a wide stripe up John's cock. It just doesn't taste or feel right- but then John is making all sorts of interesting little noises into Teyla's breasts, like Rodney is driving him out of his mind, and that Rodney can really, really get behind.

John protests when he pulls away, but forgives him when he comes back with slick fingers, working John open as he sucks, brushing his fingers against what he hopes is John's prostate. He keeps it up, licking and teasing, until John is flat out moaning, and Rodney decides it's high time he got in on this.

He pushes at John's legs until he gets the picture, moving around to face Teyla and Ronon full on, splaying his knees wide in invitation. Rodney doesn't need to be told twice, sliding home inside him, watching John's hands clutch at Ronon's legs as Rodney fucks him. John catches his hand when Rodney trails it across his stomach, lacing their fingers together and pulling him forward to place it on Teyla's hip.

Ronon comes first, bucking into Teyla so hard that even Rodney can feel it. When he slips out of her, John pushes them back so that he can bend down and get his mouth onto Teyla. Rodney just knows he can taste Ronon inside of her; he doesn't know why that thought is so incredibly hot, but he can't hold himself back any longer, reaching around and pumping John's cock as he slams into him. As soon as he feels John start to tighten around him, that's it, and he comes buried all the way inside him.

As they are lying together, sweaty and wrecked and sated, the phone rings.

There is only one person who knows the number.

He lets his hand meander through Teyla's hair as he listens to Mr. Woolsey tell him that it's over- that they're not burned but they're going to be, that they won't make it through their next job, that it's not worth the risk anymore.

A large part of Rodney wants to disagree.

Halling comes for Teyla that night, his beat up old truck not even rattling to a stop before Teyla swings up into it. Rodney knows that her people will just resorb her, hiding her so deep no one will ever find her. He only ever sees her once after the end, and she brushes her hand against his as they pass on the street.

Ronon just gives him a wink and leaves without a word. Rodney has never known much about him, except that he was on the run before- and Rodney supposes he always will be.

Surprisingly enough, John manages to go straight. Rodney gets an email from him every now and again; John- though he's he's not calling himself that anymore, it's Joe something- has a pretty good gig as a stunt driver. Rodney finds himself watching a lot more movies with car chases in them.

After he torches the safe house, Rodney goes back to the university, three fresh articles and a manuscript for his next book in hand.

No one ever finds out what he really did on sabbatical.
Tags: challenges, fic, het, porn, sga, slash, threesome = very yes
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