Summary: The door opens, and John forgets how to breathe.
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Word Count: 2000
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, bondage, consent issues, double penetration, verbal humiliation
Pairing: McKay/John/Lorne (shame on all of you who wanted to hand John over to the 1976 Dallas Cowboys)
A/N: Sequel to One Foot on the Platform. For silverraven11 (as per this post), who wanted double penetration with Sheppard in the middle; the humiliation is, uh, pretty much for me. Let me just say, in advance, that this may just be the down right filthiest thing I've ever written. And is there anything more embarrassing than writing dirty talk? I posit that there is not.
"Well, would you look at that?" Evan says from somewhere behind him, his voice mild and unimpressed, like there isn't anything strange at all about walking in to find John naked and tied up.
"He's just asking for it, isn't he?" Rodney says. "Lock the door," he adds; John relaxes, however infinitesimally, because at least they've got him now.
"Oh, definitely," Evan agrees, and John hears footsteps coming towards him, past him. He forces himself to look up; Evan is standing in front of him in jeans and a tight t-shirt, grinning at John like the cat who got the canary. "What should we do with him?"
Rodney comes into John's view, regarding him with a contemplative frown, his arms crossed over his chest; he'd look very serious if it weren't for the erection tenting his slacks. "This may be the only time you ever hear me say this, but I really am spoiled for choice."
"I could fist him," Evan offers, still in that same voice that sounds more like they're discussing the laundry than sex.
Rodney snorts. "He'd like that too much." John knows he would, kind of hates thinking about how hard he's come with Evan's broad hand all the way inside of him. "I mean, I'd just fuck his face, but-"
"Nah, he looks too good in the gag," Evan responds.
"You know, it's kind of funny, actually," Rodney says, even though John really don't see anything amusing about it at all. "All this stuff-" he waves his hand vaguely- "all it does it make the outside match the inside, doesn't it?"
Evan grins. "Think you've got a point there, doc."
"Good thing we already knew he was a slut, or I might not be able to control myself," Rodney says mildly. He snaps suddenly, like he's got an idea. "No, wait, I've got it- let's fuck him."
Even looks at him skeptically. "Seems like an awful lot of fuss just for that."
"No, no, we're going to fuck him." John gasps around the gag, going ramrod-straight in his chair. "See, even the slut gets it. Why don't you?"
"No, believe me, I follow you," Evan replies. John shuts his eyes, not listening as they walk away from him again, talking in low voices about what they're going to do to him. The footsteps return, stopping beside him.
"Look at me," Rodney orders, and John doesn't- he can't. "John," he says, low and hard, and John's eyes snap open. "Last chance. Either I let you go now-" he catches John's chin as he starts to shake his head, tilting it up so that he has to look Rodney in the eyes- "or we're not going to stop, no matter what you do." And they both know that's total bullshit, that if he starts really freaking out neither Evan nor Rodney would waste a second before stopping- but that doesn't mean that John doesn't need to hear it.
"Are you okay?" And no, what John's feeling right now does not fall under anybody's definition of the word "okay"; but he feels like if he doesn't see this all the way through, he'll just- he'll- he doesn't even know what, like maybe he'll implode or explode or maybe just cease to exist.
He nods fervently.
"Get his hands free," Rodney tells Evan, over John's head. "If he fights, make him regret it," he adds ominously, though John isn't even sure he could right now. There's a little snick behind him, the sound of a knife opening, and it sends a shiver through him. The blade is cool and smooth against his wrists, though, as Evan slices through the rope, and John doesn't struggle. "Can you carry him to the bed?"
"Sure thing," Evan answers. Sometimes John forgets that Evan's built like a brick shithouse; he levers John up into a fireman's carry like he doesn't weigh anything at all, walking him over and dropping him on his back onto the mattress.
John can't seem to get his knees to unbend, not without making one or both of the bars press into him in some uncomfortable way. He can just feel how the position puts him on display, now that there's no chair underneath him to hide his ass with. He knows that he's just laid out for them to see, can feel their hungry eyes all over him.
Evan whistles appreciatively.
"Don't encourage him," Rodney chides.
Evan snorts at that, stripping out of his clothing and sitting on the bed behind John. He pulls him up until John's almost in his lap, holding him close so that he can bite and suck at John's shoulder, down where it won't show under his uniform.
While he's distracted, Rodney uncuffs John's ankles and tosses the bar away, rubbing at his feet a little to make sure they haven't lost circulation. He gets between John's legs- John thinks for a moment that Rodney's going to free him entirely, and he wants to protest- but he just slips a finger under the thigh cuffs, making sure they aren't hurting him unduly.
Satisfied, Rodney pushes him back towards Evan, who reaches around him and grabs the spreader, pulling it against his chest so that he's bent double between them, completely at Rodney's mercy- not that he hasn't been since before they even walked into the room.
John watches as Rodney steps back and hurriedly ditches his clothing, grabbing the lube from the bathroom before he settles back in between John's legs again. Rodney doesn't bother to be gentle, shoves his three thick fingers into John, no prelude. If John hadn't been stretched and slick already, he'd probably have hauled off and slapped him, scene or no; but as it stands he just pushes back on them, desperate to get this thing started.
"So greedy," Rodney murmurs, pulling out and adding more lube before giving him all four fingers, fucking him in short, hard movements until John is panting and humping the air.
"Ready?" Rodney asks, not looking at John; Evan must agree, because they start moving. John doesn't know how they get situated- there's a lot of push-me-pull-you for a minute, in which he's really not an active participant. Evan's still pressed up against him from behind, and he lifts John up bodily, getting him into position while Rodney's hands work underneath him, grabbing his ass and spreading him out, holding him still.
Evan starts to lower him, and John realizes very suddenly that they're just going for it, that he's not getting any more warm up. He very nearly panics when he feels both of them pressing against him; but then Rodney is stroking him as he sinks down, and John can't even think at all. It hurts so much, like he's being pulled two directions at the same time- and when Evan lets him slide down further, he really is. He feels so full that he feels like he might just burst.
And John can't get enough.
"Take it all," Rodney grunts as he starts moving, sliding against Evan and deeper into John, catching John's legs and shoving them up so that he's bent up between them again. Then Evan gets into it too, his rhythm a counterpoint to Rodney's, and oh, fuck, John is just gone after that, writhing and moaning into the gag, just giving up and letting them take him, use him, fill him up. They just bat him back and forth, ignoring the way his cock leaks and slaps against his stomach as they fuck him; and everything that John is narrows down to taking them inside him, being mindless and perfected, just a hole that gets filled.
Evan comes first, giving one last hard drive that makes John groan. He figures Rodney will hold on, keep going, maybe pull out and come on him- but apparently that does it for him, if the way he shouts and bites at the back of John's thigh is any indication.
John whimpers in protest when they both slide out of him, leaving him open and empty. He'd be begging, if he could talk; he looks at Rodney and tries to plead with his eyes. Rodney looks at Evan, who disentangles himself from them, and John hears him get up and walk to the bathroom. John knows what's coming, then, because this is the part that still weirds Evan out a little. It seems strange to John, that he gets how much Rodney wants to say all these awful things, but he can't grasp how much John needs to hear them.
Rodney puts a pillow behind his back, leaning him up a little. "Fuck yourself," Rodney orders. "Two fingers."
It hurts- his ass is pretty much on fire- but they slide in easily. "How does it feel, slut?" Rodney asks. "All loose and wet and stretched out like it's supposed to be? Can you feel our come dripping out of you?" Rodney's voice is low and harsh and brutal, and John just can't stop listening.
"I should get a plug," he tells him, "so you can walk around with both of us inside you, so you don't forget whose fuck toy you are." Something about that makes John moan, makes him move his fingers a little faster.
"Too bad you wore me out, or I'd come on your face. You'd love that, wouldn't you? I'd march you right down the hallway while it dried, so everybody could see what a whore you are." He slips his hand down between John's legs, running his fingers through the mess on his inner thighs. He wipes them on John's cheek, laughing when John squirms away from him. "You act like you hate this so much," he says, "but you just love being my slut, don't you? You wish I could just tie you up and leave you in my bed, open and ready for me whenever I wanted you."
He puts his hand against John's cock, pressing a little but not nearly hard enough to accomplish anything; John jerks his hips involuntarily, wanting more. "Just like that, bitch," Rodney tells him. "Rub off on me. Show me how much you want it." John shakes his head. "Do it," he orders gruffly. "Do it or you don't come at all."
John squeezes his eyes shut and rocks against Rodney's hand, still moving his fingers frantically in and out of his own ass. "You filthy little whore," Rodney says, getting right up in his ear. "You're nothing but a hole for me to fuck, aren't you? You're made for this." And God, all John really wants is for that to be true, wants to forget absolutely everything else and stay like this for as long as he can.
"Come for me, slut," he says sharply, and John does, helpless and shaking against Rodney's hand.
He isn't even there, not really, when Rodney unlocks the thigh cuffs and gets John out of the spreader. Rodney lays down behind him, unbuckling the gag and easing it out of John's mouth; his fingers are soothing on the sides of his face, easing some of the ache out of his muscles. He only sort of registers it when Evan comes back and rolls him onto his stomach, cleaning him up with a warm washrag and checking to make sure he hasn't been damaged. When he's done, Rodney rolls John towards him again, holding him from behind and making a contented kind of snuffling noise into John's hair.
Evan produces Rodney's comforter from somewhere, draping it over both of them before climbing in, running his hands over John's side as John's arms come around and cling to him.
"Thank you," John whispers, much later, his lips pressed to Evan's temple; Rodney holds him tighter.