SGA Porn: The Sun Has Sisters (John/Rodney)

[scribblinlenore]

Title: The Sun Has Sisters
Fandom: SGA
Pairing: There's an orgy, and then there's John/Rodney
Rating: NC-17
Summary: One of those missions where they forget that they really shouldn't accept wine from strange women.

Notes: I'm playing this game where I write stories based on the subject lines of spam I get. It's really amusing me! *g*

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The Sun has sisters. This is the last wholly formed thought John remembers. "The Sun" is the leader of the all-female planet they're visiting, and "sisters" is how she greets the other women who suddenly appear, milling around John and Rodney, just the two of them on this mission, Teyla and Ronon off trading for the Pegasus equivalent of wheat. The sisters take their packs and offer cups of wine. It goes down sweetly, and everything gets fuzzy. John has the distant sensation of being carried along on a floral wave, and then they're in another room, darker, with the earthy scent of incense in the air, the walls hung with silk, an enormous bed covered in pillows.

A woman with long dark hair presses a kiss to John's mouth, the fragrant cloud of her hair brushing his face. Another takes his hand, places it on the laces of her bodice. Instinct takes over, and then there is the soft swell of flesh against his fingers. The dark-haired woman kisses him again, more hungrily. He doesn't stop her, doesn't want to, just flicks a gaze around searching for Rodney. He's across the room, looking dazed and happy as a sister with curling blonde hair undoes his belt. John cups a breast in his hand, skims the nipple with his thumb. The dark-haired woman plucks at the fastenings of her gown, and it falls away. She sinks to her knees.

When John surfaces again, he is on the bed, the Sun laid out beneath him, her amber hair shining in the soft light, her hands playing over her breasts. John is naked, between her thighs, hips working. He stutters to a stop. He has no idea how he got here.

"Where?" He darts a wild glance around and finds Rodney, bent over a pretty blonde, a different one than before. He has his cock in his hand, guiding it into her cunt. John's body jerks, driving forward into the Sun's heat. He squeezes his eyes shut and comes so hard it makes him dizzy, his pulse percussive in his ears, lights flashing in his head.

The Sun shines a smile up at him, and someone presses a cup to his lips, and all he knows is how much he aches.

One woman blurs into the next, fragmented paradise, every need met without asking. Kisses fluttered over his face. A cup offered when he's thirsty. A woman's tight, slick pussy surrounding his cock when he wants to come. Rodney seems equally lost, although John can't honestly keep track of him. Just a few, stray images catch in his mind, Rodney's big, capable hand splayed across a woman's hip, Rodney's pale ass pumping between a woman's outflung legs.

The next time John comes to his senses, he's stretched out on the bed beside Rodney. The Sun and her sisters are kneeling in a circle around them, hair falling messily in their eyes, lips swollen from kisses, thighs smeared with come, his or Rodney's, or both.

"We ask for your warrior's benediction that we may be fruitful," the Sun says in her lilting voice.

John has no idea what she means, but Rodney is starting to stir next to him. He smells like pussy and come, heat and sweat, and John's cock still aches. Rodney catches his gaze and shifts awkwardly, but his body gives him away, and John reaches for him. He licks a kiss across his mouth, and that's like throwing gas on a fire. In a rush they're on each other, at each other, fingers pressing into muscle, tongues sliding over skin, cocks nudging against thigh, against belly.

"Like this." Rodney sounds slurred, but his hands are sure, guiding John around so his mouth is right over Rodney's cock.

John lets out a sigh, perfect. He wraps a hand around Rodney's erection and starts to lap at the head. He feels Rodney's hair tickle his thighs, and then there's the wet, sweet shock of a tongue on his balls, and that's even more perfect. They suck each other eagerly, working in strangely effortless tandem. When Rodney dips a finger into his cleft, it feels so searing and good that John returns the favor, and Rodney moans around his cock. The vibration rockets through him, an acute flash of ecstasy, and John is coming down Rodney's throat. Then he's swallowing and swallowing as Rodney goes off in his mouth.

He has just enough strength left to scoot back around and collapse beside Rodney, one arm flopped over his waist.

"Our progeny will surely be blessed," the Sun murmurs softly. "Thank you."

John drools onto the pillow. Rodney is already asleep. John can feel the heavy puff of breath on his shoulder. He's never been so content in his life.



In the morning, he wakes because his mouth is dry. He licks at his lips, trying to wet them. He does his best to ignore the filmed over taste of wine and…God. Rodney's come. This jolts him upright, and then a sharp pain lances him between the eyes, mother of all hangovers. He grabs his head and moans.

Too loudly apparently, because Rodney startles awake, his body jerking. Then he's rubbing at his temples and cursing. "God. Don't tell me we got roofied again."

"Looks that way."

John manages to sound matter-of-fact, even though his knee is still pressed between Rodney's thighs, his cock nestled happily against Rodney's ass, showing signs of life, although realistically after last night he shouldn't be able to get it up again for another, oh, few years.

Rodney goes still, noticing the close clench of their bodies, and the glance he levels at John is speculative, open to possibilities. John runs a hand over Rodney's side, and suddenly he's breathing too heavily again, and his cock really, really likes Rodney's ass. He wants to kiss Rodney's neck, his sturdy, broad back, wants it so bad, but roofied, he has to remind himself. It's possible they're still not in their right minds.

He slides out of bed. Thankfully, their clothes are neatly piled on the floor. He pulls on his pants, and there's the rustling sound of Rodney doing the same. He finds their packs and guns, and turns to Rodney, who looks like a poster boy for the morning after, his T-shirt askew, hair standing out wildly. John runs a hand over it, his way of saying, We're okay. We're fine. Rodney has a message of his own, two quick, sharp kisses to John's mouth. We are going to have sex again, just as soon as we get back home.

John rests a hand on Rodney's neck, and that feels more real than anything has since they stepped out of the gate. They find their way back through the palace, silent and still, no sign of the women anywhere. John pushes open the heavy, ornamental front door, and the sun flashes brilliantly in his eyes, overwhelming him for a moment, making him stagger backward, bumping Rodney. He wonders idly if that's some kind of sign, and then it doesn't seem quite so unlikely. He tells Rodney, "Let's get the hell out of here."



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