Summary: It's really not the leather.
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Word Count: 885
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, fluff, established relationship
Pairing: Team Shep OT4, John/Rodney
A/N: For the leather/latex/rubber square on my kink_bingo card. Oh, SGA, where the fourway is the ship of fluffy love.
It's really not the leather.
As cheesy as it sounds (okay, well, maybe it would sound cheesier if he wasn't dating three people), John's greatest sexual fantasy is what he already has. He doesn't go in for props or dirty talk or games, not with Ronon and Rodney and Teyla. He doesn't want or need them to do anything other than be themselves- that's what he's honestly into.
So if John gets off on the times when Ronon is incredibly greedy and demanding- like it's been ages since he's been touched and he can't count on having it again- that's because before them, it really had been years. And if Rodney is only ever one good rant away from giving John a massive thing for humiliation, that's because Rodney really has absolutely no idea how to deal with people. And if Teyla-
John doesn't even know how to finish that sentence. Everything Teyla does is hot. If she took up scuba diving, John would be jerking off to pictures of people in wet suits by the end of the day.
And furthermore, for months and months of their relationship, he didn't even notice that their closets looked like a fetish bar's coat check. It just didn't even occur to him, because it's absolutely unremarkable in context. Teyla and Ronon wear leather because Teyla and Ronon have always worn leather, and Teyla and Ronon are hot wearing leather because Teyla and Ronon are hot all the time.
And then Rodney orders a leather jacket, and everything goes to hell.
Honestly? He looks like a tool in it. He's forty-two damn years old for Christ's sake, which is just way past the cool-in-leather cut-off (okay, yeah, John may still wear his bomber jacket now and again, but that's because they'd throw him out of the Air Force if he didn't). He also totally misses the point of wearing leather as protective gear (which is definitely what he wrote on the requisition form), considering how he freaks out the first time it gets a scratch. Nothing about it suits him, but he's totally convinced that it makes him look really, really good.
And that's what makes it stand out. There's nothing normal or run-of-the-mill about it- it's weird and flashy like it could never be on Ronon or Teyla. And suddenly John realizes that all of his favorite parts of all of his favorite people are always covered in leather. It doesn't take a rocket scientist (not that he couldn't scare one up if he needed to) to make the jump between liking what's underneath it and liking the leather itself.
And since Rodney started it, it makes sense that he's the one to find out.
It's totally an accident, and the timing pretty much sucks. Teyla and Ronon aren't home, having gone off on a trading mission on behalf of the Athosians. The science team is on the brink of repairing a machine that tells the future or prints free money or is responsible for them not dying or something, so John ends up reading a book and going to bed early, alone (which is sort of novel, but mostly just chilly).
At ass o'clock in the morning, Rodney finally comes in and collapses into bed fully clothed, not even bothering to take his shoes off.
"Hey," John protests vaguely, as he takes a boot to the shin.
"Don't even start," he snaps, grabbing John's arm and pulling it around himself, so that John has to press in close behind him (not that John has any complaints about being the big spoon). John ends up with his face pressed right up against Rodney's neck, the collar of his jacket brushing against John's lips when one of them shifts. And, fuck, he can't not lean down and breathe it in, leather and Rodney all mixed up together, exotic and familiar and warm. His hips give a little jerk against Rodney's ass, trying to get a little friction against his incipient hard-on (even though he really would rather not hear Rodney's bitching about being denied sleep so that John can get off).
Possibly he moans a little.
"Are you sniffing my jacket?" Rodney says, sounding faintly scandalized. "You kinky bastard."
"Am not," John replies, not even sure why he's denying it.
"I always knew you had some deep dark secret, Mister Vanilla," he says smugly, cozying back against John. "You just wait until Teyla and Ronon get back. We're gonna-" he breaks off to yawn- "do all kinds of stuff to you. Naked stuff. With leather," he clarifies, his words going indistinct as he drifts off.
John wants to protest, but Rodney's already sacked out, and he's halfway there himself. Probably Rodney won't even remember their conversation in the morning. And if he does, well, he can probably convince Rodney that he definitely wouldn't get off on Rodney fucking him while still wearing that god-awful jacket, his arms wrapped around John's body, leather sleeves cool against his skin. Especially not if Teyla were in front of him, her leather skirt hiked up so that John could lick at her while Ronon moves slowly in and out, leather pants pooled around his knees.
But hey, if that's what they want to do to him? John's got no complaints at all.