SGA FIC: Glory Hole Diva
Dec. 2nd, 2007 10:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scribblinlenoreFor organizational purposes, I'm reposting this comment fic here.
Title: Glory Hole Diva
Fandom: SGA
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: NC-17
Summary: For John, one of the pleasures of shore leave is anonymity.
Note: For my impromptu Party Favor Kink Challenge.
"So, Matthews once again managed to screw up the calculations for the shield optimization." Rodney waved a drumstick emphatically. "Those SGC morons. I had to set him straight, naturally."
"I'm sure you broke his will to live," John said absently.
Rodney brightened. "You think?" He snapped his fingers at their waitress as she passed. "Can we get another basket of hot wings?"
John took a sip of his beer and did reconnaissance out of the corner of his eye. There was a table of college girls at nine o'clock, a family with teenagers arguing about curfew across from them. This was what John loved about this place. You'd think the only action was fried food and mugs of draft unless you knew where to look.
"Are you sure you don't want some of this cole slaw?" Rodney asked with his mouth full.
John shook his head. "I'm good. Going to hit the restroom." He stood up and paused for a moment, a signal to anyone in search of John's kind of action.
The bathroom smelled of disinfectant and piss, the familiarity of it strangely arousing. The itchy feeling he'd had ever since he stepped through the event horizon ratcheted up a notch. He'd waited way too long for this.
At the far end of the bathroom, around a corner, were two stalls set apart from the rest. John hesitated just a second before choosing the one on the left. Who was he kidding? He needed to be the one who got used tonight.
He went inside, slid the latch into place, and waited. The hole in the metal wall of the stall was still there, where it had always been, and soon enough John had company. A hard cock, wet at the tip, appeared, and John fell to his knees, closing his eyes. The heat and weight, taste of pre cum on his tongue, and John choked back a moan. There was no doing this on Atlantis, not the way he liked it anyway, no names, no questions, no one to face when it was done. Just cock, pure and simple.
John sucked eagerly, taking the cock into the back of his throat. He shoved a hand into his pants, jerking himself hard. He thought of Rodney sitting in the next room, licking hot sauce off his fingers, completely oblivious. From the other side of the wall came the harsh rasp of breathing, like Rodney after a long hike on one of their away missions, and just for a second, John let himself imagine. Rodney's cock. His mouth.
He came, fingers digging into the battered metal of the stall, and then the cock in his mouth jerked, and he was swallowing down bitter salt.
He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, cleaned up with a wad of toilet paper and waited. The one who got sucked left first, according to glory hole etiquette, but apparently this guy hadn't gotten the memo. John took a breath and opened the latch and hoped the guy had the sense to stay put at least until he was gone.
He washed up at the sink, because Rodney was waiting and John couldn't go back out there smelling like sex. He made a grab for paper towels and was just about to bolt when the other stall door swung open.
And Rodney stepped out.
Rodney, who didn't look the least bit surprised to see John.
"You think I don't know you." It was more a statement of fact than an accusation. "But I do. I know you, John."
John froze there, all the momentum on Rodney's side. Rodney hooked a hand around John's neck, and John fell into him. Rodney opened his mouth, and John held on, hand fisted in Rodney's jacket, and kissed back, tentatively for maybe a second, and then just as desperately as if he hadn't come mere minutes ago.
"Come on." Rodney curled his hand against the small of John's back, propelling him forward.
John had the sudden image of Rodney's bed, in Rodney's apartment, the two of them, naked and flung across the sheets, night turning to morning turning to night again.
His feet stuck to the floor. "I can't--"
Rodney leaned in, his breath against John's cheek. "You can. Trust me. I know."
The clench in John's stomach didn't ease, but he leaned into Rodney anyway, letting Rodney unstick him. He trusted Rodney to be right about twelve million times a day. He supposed he could trust him on this.
Title: Glory Hole Diva
Fandom: SGA
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: NC-17
Summary: For John, one of the pleasures of shore leave is anonymity.
Note: For my impromptu Party Favor Kink Challenge.
"So, Matthews once again managed to screw up the calculations for the shield optimization." Rodney waved a drumstick emphatically. "Those SGC morons. I had to set him straight, naturally."
"I'm sure you broke his will to live," John said absently.
Rodney brightened. "You think?" He snapped his fingers at their waitress as she passed. "Can we get another basket of hot wings?"
John took a sip of his beer and did reconnaissance out of the corner of his eye. There was a table of college girls at nine o'clock, a family with teenagers arguing about curfew across from them. This was what John loved about this place. You'd think the only action was fried food and mugs of draft unless you knew where to look.
"Are you sure you don't want some of this cole slaw?" Rodney asked with his mouth full.
John shook his head. "I'm good. Going to hit the restroom." He stood up and paused for a moment, a signal to anyone in search of John's kind of action.
The bathroom smelled of disinfectant and piss, the familiarity of it strangely arousing. The itchy feeling he'd had ever since he stepped through the event horizon ratcheted up a notch. He'd waited way too long for this.
At the far end of the bathroom, around a corner, were two stalls set apart from the rest. John hesitated just a second before choosing the one on the left. Who was he kidding? He needed to be the one who got used tonight.
He went inside, slid the latch into place, and waited. The hole in the metal wall of the stall was still there, where it had always been, and soon enough John had company. A hard cock, wet at the tip, appeared, and John fell to his knees, closing his eyes. The heat and weight, taste of pre cum on his tongue, and John choked back a moan. There was no doing this on Atlantis, not the way he liked it anyway, no names, no questions, no one to face when it was done. Just cock, pure and simple.
John sucked eagerly, taking the cock into the back of his throat. He shoved a hand into his pants, jerking himself hard. He thought of Rodney sitting in the next room, licking hot sauce off his fingers, completely oblivious. From the other side of the wall came the harsh rasp of breathing, like Rodney after a long hike on one of their away missions, and just for a second, John let himself imagine. Rodney's cock. His mouth.
He came, fingers digging into the battered metal of the stall, and then the cock in his mouth jerked, and he was swallowing down bitter salt.
He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, cleaned up with a wad of toilet paper and waited. The one who got sucked left first, according to glory hole etiquette, but apparently this guy hadn't gotten the memo. John took a breath and opened the latch and hoped the guy had the sense to stay put at least until he was gone.
He washed up at the sink, because Rodney was waiting and John couldn't go back out there smelling like sex. He made a grab for paper towels and was just about to bolt when the other stall door swung open.
And Rodney stepped out.
Rodney, who didn't look the least bit surprised to see John.
"You think I don't know you." It was more a statement of fact than an accusation. "But I do. I know you, John."
John froze there, all the momentum on Rodney's side. Rodney hooked a hand around John's neck, and John fell into him. Rodney opened his mouth, and John held on, hand fisted in Rodney's jacket, and kissed back, tentatively for maybe a second, and then just as desperately as if he hadn't come mere minutes ago.
"Come on." Rodney curled his hand against the small of John's back, propelling him forward.
John had the sudden image of Rodney's bed, in Rodney's apartment, the two of them, naked and flung across the sheets, night turning to morning turning to night again.
His feet stuck to the floor. "I can't--"
Rodney leaned in, his breath against John's cheek. "You can. Trust me. I know."
The clench in John's stomach didn't ease, but he leaned into Rodney anyway, letting Rodney unstick him. He trusted Rodney to be right about twelve million times a day. He supposed he could trust him on this.