Summary: He's a little kinky, and John's a little kinky.
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Word Count: 1279
Rating/Contents: PG-13, ageplay, incest roleplay, D/s, brief violence, fluff (when's the last time you read all those warnings together)
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: For the free square on my kink_bingo card. This story started out with me IMing arymabeth, saying "OMG wouldn't it be funny if there was an ageplay story called-" and ended up kind of being my baby, appropriately enough. Extended author's notes/commentary are available here.
They've got a pretty good thing going, him and John. He's a little kinky, and John's a little kinky; so John has a collar and Rodney has a pair of leather boots that, frankly, even people with no fetishes at all would pay to worship, and they get along just fine, really.
So the first time the word "Daddy" comes out of John's mouth-
Actually, the first time it happens, Rodney responds with, "Yeah, I'm your daddy, you slut," because he's fucking John at the time, and John could've called him Marilyn Monroe and Rodney probably would have rolled with it.
But the second time it happens is after a hard, exhausting, multi-day mission off-world; it's been particularly rough on John and Ronon, who's been working in the sun for the last five days, helping the villagers rebuild a flooded town. Back on Atlantis, John and Rodney finally have some time alone, and they're putting it to good use, rolling around in Rodney's bed and making out like teenagers.
Rodney pushes him down and spends a long time just kissing his stomach, as it pleases him to do. John's just laying there enjoying himself, his arm thrown across his face, one hand in Rodney's hair; and when he whispers, "Please, Daddy," both of them freeze up.
Rodney says, "Uh," because once is permissible sex-related weirdness, and twice is, y'know, a thing.
John says, "Oh, fuck," sitting up against the wall, backing away from Rodney.
They look at each other.
"Um, so," Rodney says, "this is, uh-"
"God, I don't want to talk about this," John says, putting his head in his hands. "I don't ever want to talk about this."
Rodney wants to reach out to him, tell him it's okay; Rodney doesn't know what to say, because this is maybe a bridge that he can't cross, not right now, not without some serious thought. "Uh, I'm pretty much sure there's never going to be a good time to talk about this," he tells John, "so we might as well talk about it now, if we're going to."
John shrugs, looking uncomfortable. "It's just- y'know-"
"I really don't, John," he says.
"It's a-" He takes a breath, like he's steeling himself. "It's a comfort thing. I dunno, it just feels good." He swallows. "Safe."
"Oh," Rodney replies, because he doesn't have anything else to say, because it doesn't seem safe to him, not at all.
"This is weird," John says. "I should just go."
"Wait, wait," Rodney responds, putting his hands on John's arms as he tries to make a break for it. "Stay. Please? It'll be okay. I'll give you a blowjob. Everybody likes blowjobs."
John looks conflicted. "Rodney-"
"Just lay back and let me," he says, arranging John, who seems considerably less bent on fleeing than he was a minute ago.
They don't talk about it again, but that doesn't mean Rodney stops thinking about it, considering the angles, trying to wrap his mind around it. He figures his freak out over the whole thing must be pretty standard, all things considered, because everything he worries about seems perfectly logical. What does it say about John? What does it say about him, if he goes along with it? Who is he even supposed to be? Surely John doesn't want him to be Rodney's father, unless he wants to be bored into submission and then guilt tripped for punishment. And John's father- well, that's not even something that bears thinking about.
So they're stuck like that, at an impasse that Rodney isn't even really sure John knows they're at. And what happens is, well, M1K-992 happens.
It's like the evil mirror version of M7G-677- world full of kids, no adults, but this one is considerably more Lord of the Flies than it is Lost Boys. They don't ask questions or invite them in or seem to be impressed that they're all old; they just attack, coming out of nowhere with bows and arrows and these enormous, terrifying knives.
And before they can get away, John ends up putting a bullet right through one of them. Rodney watches the kid fall; he's only twelve, maybe, but that didn't stop him from trying to slice Teyla's stomach open. John looks like he's going to throw up; the kids scatter, but they're already making noises like they're going to regroup. Teyla grabs John's hand and rushes both of them back towards the gate. The arrows are already starting to fly again as Rodney and Ronon catch up.
They come in hot to the gateroom, and it really doesn't get any better from there. Rodney's screaming at Elizabeth, and Elizabeth's screaming at him, and Teyla is talking over both of them in a very firm voice, and Ronon is looking murderously at the DHD like he's going to jump over there and dial it at any moment.
John doesn't say anything at all.
While they're fighting, he walks over to the laptop sitting on the DHD, calmly locks out the planet, and leaves without saying a word.
And honestly, afterwards, Rodney doesn't go looking for John because he doesn't expect to find him. John likes to hide, and Atlantis likes to help him; and if that's what he wants to do, then it's not Rodney's place to stop him.
Except that, when he finally tears himself away from the clusterfuck in the gateroom and goes back to his quarters, John's in Rodney's bed, underneath the covers, curled up like a question mark. His hair is damp, like he's been in the shower, and he's already wearing his collar, one hand clutching at its silver ring. He looks so small, so tense, so tired, so innocent.
Rodney's chest hurts when he thinks about how long it's been since John's been innocent.
He strips to his boxers, throws on a clean t-shirt, and crawls into bed behind John. "It's okay," he says quietly, his lips very close to John's ear. "Let Daddy take care of you."
John draws in a sharp breath, and everything goes very still for a moment. Rodney knows John's waiting for him to say the wrong thing, to back out, to make it a joke- or maybe he's waiting for himself to do the same thing- but it still stings, even if Rodney can't blame him. But then he rolls over and just clings to Rodney, balling his hands into Rodney's shirt and tucking his head underneath Rodney's chin.
"Hurts," he says, in a tiny, distant, broken voice.
Maybe he ought to be worried about John's behavior and what it says, but right now, he's too overcome with compassion and love to even think about it. If this is what it takes to get that darkness out of John's eyes, to dispel that tired sadness that hangs over him like a cloud, then Rodney'll do it, no questions asked.
"I'll make it better," he tells him, even though he knows he really can't; because here, in this moment, it's what John needs to hear.
"Promise?" John says, shakily.
"Yes, John," Rodney says, running a hand through John's hair. "I promise you it'll be okay." He pulls John closer. "Now, I think it's bedtime for you."
John looks up at him, his eyes wide and so trusting. "Can I have a good night kiss?"
He drops kisses all over John's reassuringly stubbly cheeks, surprising a laugh out of John; it sounds beautiful.
John tugs at his shirt. "Want a real kiss."
"Picky, picky," Rodney huffs, but he bends down and presses his lips to John's anyway.
So he's a little kinky, and John's a little kinky.
But that's okay.
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