sabinelagrande | Fic: Just Might Get It

Title: Just Might Get It
Summary: It was John's idea.
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Word Count: 2692
Rating/Contents: NC-17, with a whole heap of content notes and potential triggers/squicks. Please click here to read the warnings, and please proceed with caution.
Pairing: OMC/OFC, John/Rodney
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: So, yeah. You know how I usually say "I apologize for nothing"? That might not apply to this story.

It sounded like such a good idea at the time.

It wasn't that they'd gotten bored of each other- far from it, actually- but that didn't mean it wasn't time to get a little more experimental. Bondage was a flop and using a feather got Rodney kicked in the face; it was John's bright idea to up the ante a little.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," he said, grinning.

Rodney gave him a concerned look. "I don't know if it's a good idea. I mean, what if-"

John shut him up with a kiss. "We've gotten along pretty well so far, right?"

"If you say so," Rodney said uneasily; John almost called it off then, but what was the worst that could happen?

So here he is, holding a flash drive with Rodney's favorite porn on it, the one that he says never fails, the one that's totally bulletproof. Rodney definitely hadn't wanted to give it up, tried for several minutes to talk him out of it, but John slots it into his laptop anyway.

It starts off with a pretty blond girl with great tits sitting on a couch, slowly stripping for the camera as some guy leers at her, stroking his dick through his pants. Nothing too interesting or telling; John went with straight porn too, because he can't afford to have anything else just laying around on his hard drive. There's some talking, the usual BS that comes along with this type of stuff, and John's glad when it cuts away.

Except that now the girl is kneeling, naked, her hands clasped behind her back, and the word WHORE is written across her forehead in thick black lettering.

John has a sinking feeling that his DP porn is going to be really, really mundane by comparison.

The guy from before- or some other guy, John can't see his face- steps into the shot. He doesn't hesitate, grabbing her by the hair and pulling her onto his dick. For a minute or two, all she's doing is sucking him down, really deep but slowly, teasingly, showily. He's guiding her head and moaning and swearing, telling her how good she looks on her knees, how she's a whore for liking it.

John relaxes back in his chair and thinks about taking his dick out; his hand is moving down his body, his cock starting to get hard. If this is what the whole video is like, then there's no problem. Maybe he'll fuck her up the ass or something, pull her hair and call her a slut; John wouldn't mind if Rodney wanted to do that to him at all.

And then the guy leans down and spits into her face.

John's smirk turns into a frown immediately. Suddenly it isn't slow like that anymore, not just messing around. He pulls his dick out and slaps her in the face with it; when she tries to avoid it, he just grabs her by the head and tilts her face back towards him again.

She opens her mouth, and he just shoves inside of it; she's not sucking him, just holding her mouth open so he can fuck her face. The choking noises it makes are obscene, so loud, and tears start to leak from the corners of her eyes.

He pulls out and wipes the head of his cock against her cheek, smearing the little bit of lipstick that she's still wearing. He leans in and puts a hand around her throat, holding her in place while he fucks her; she doesn't look scared or surprised, but she does look like she hates it.

When he pulls away from her again, there's spit all over her face, running down her lips and chin. He's talking to her now, asking her something, something meaningless and cruel about how she's going to take it, how she's a filthy slut. She takes a second to answer, so he slaps her right in the face. He hits her again and again, and now she's actively crying, the tears streaming down her face and making her mascara run everywhere.

He laughs while he pushes his cock between her lips again, doing it harder this time, and she's choking and moaning at the same time. He slaps her until she looks up at him, her eyes bright and blue against the heavy black eyeliner ringing them.

He comes on her face, naturally, moaning about how much of whore she is for taking it. He walks away, and there she is, sitting there looking directly into the camera, looking absolutely ruined.

The video stops.

John's hands are clammy and there's a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He checks the time; it's only been five minutes, but it seemed like forever. He feels like he's learned more about Rodney in five minutes than it took months of sleeping with him to learn, and he's not sure he ever wanted to know any of it.

He tries to pull it back, replay in his mind all the times that he's blown Rodney, looking for warning signs, but he can't find them. Rodney grabs at the back of his head sometimes, but everybody does that; he's gotten carried away from time to time, but he's always complied when John stopped him, pushing at him to keep him from cutting off John's air.

Apparently he's been holding back this entire time, and John doesn't know what to think about that.

The next time they're alone together, the room is tense; John wonders how there's even enough room for both of them and the elephant.

"So, uh," John says. "I guess you watched what I gave you."

"I don't see any reason not to try it," Rodney says quickly. "The anatomy needs to be adjusted a little, for obvious reasons, and I think we're both too jealous to involve another person, but dildos aren't that hard to come by." He makes a face. "So to speak."

"Good," John says, but he's a little distracted by what they're not saying to even be excited about it.

"So," Rodney says, trying to sound casual. "I guess we should talk about mine, then."

"I guess we should," John says, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I should have given you something else," Rodney says apologetically, "but I'm not a very good liar."

"Rodney, I-" He sighs; better to rip the bandage off now. "I can't do that."

"I thought you might say that," Rodney says, and he somehow looks completely crestfallen and totally unsurprised at the same time. "Oh, well, you know, it's not a big deal," he says, trying for flippant and missing the mark by miles. "It's just porn, you know." He looks down. "What I mean is, it wouldn't have to be- you don't have to do that for me, not if it makes you uncomfortable at all, but you could, ah, be a little rougher?" he says, cringing. "If you wanted? I mean, it's just a thought, if it's a turnoff, then forget I even-"

"Wait, wait, wait," John says, trying to pull this back together and flip it around. "You- you want me to do that to you?"

"Forget I said anything," Rodney mumbles, his face going red.

"Don't be like that," John tells him, catching him when he tries to turn away. "You just-" He licks his lips. "I don't get asked to do stuff like this every day."

"I know it's sick," he says miserably. "You don't have to pretend it isn't."

"That's not what I meant," John says, even though they both know it is. "We'll just- let me see what I can do, okay?"

Rodney sighs, sounding defeated. "You don't have to," he says, and John doesn't even know if he can try.

--

It's months later before John finally gets up the nerve, and another three weeks before Rodney finally believes him.

There isn't anything written on Rodney's forehead, for obvious reasons, but COCKSUCKER fits neatly across his chest. John knows it's going to come off, has tested it with the makeup remover about a dozen times, but it still makes him feel a little panicky, makes his hands shake as he writes it on.

Not that this whole thing isn't making him panic.

The door is locked, the door can't be any more locked, they're far from the core of the city. They're the precautions they really should be taking already, instead of just tumbling into Rodney's bed whenever they feel like it; but this would be worse if they were caught, this would be so much worse, despite the fact that they aren't breaking any more regulations than usual.

John strips slowly, tossing his clothes away without looking. He's focused on Rodney instead, the tension in his muscles as he waits for John to do something. He's been there kind of a long time already, waiting for John to get his shit together; he's wiggling his toes, anxious but silent.

John can't say anything, sexy or degrading or otherwise; if he talked he'd fuck it up, and he wants so badly not to fuck it up. Rodney's never trusted anyone with this before, and if John fucks it up, he'll never do it again; something is really depressing about that thought.

Rodney's hair isn't long enough for him to get a grip on it; he's worried about the way he has to dig his fingernails into his scalp to keep a hold on him, but really, he should be worried about a dozen more things before that.

Rodney isn't anything like the girl in the video; when John pushes his dick into his mouth, he sucks desperately, totally focused, his eyes shut tight. John guides him, and Rodney doesn't try to stop him, going just where John wants, doing it just how he likes. It's good, but John can't relax at all, not when he knows what's coming next. He wishes, not for the first time, that he could get Rodney off with just this, something familiar and safe.

But he's the idiot who threw safe right out the window.

John pushes Rodney's head away roughly; he's painfully aware that now it's put up or shut up. Rodney lets his mouth drop open, and before John can think about it and psych himself out, he shoves in, as far as he can. Rodney's clearly not ready; he forgets to keep his hands behind his back, clutching hard at John's thighs, looking up at John with terror in his eyes. John instantly regrets it, wishes he could take it back, hates himself for having done it.

He pulls away immediately; it's ridiculous that slapping Rodney's face with his cock is the best backup plan, but he does it, anything to keep a handle on the situation. It isn't his role to care about how Rodney feels or to consider what he wants; maybe if he can just keep doing that he can keep this on track, make it good for Rodney.

He pushes his cock back into Rodney's mouth, pressing in hard but trying not to choke him. Rodney's more ready for it this time; he puts his hands behind his back again, letting John do it. He does it slowly at first, pushing in and out, but Rodney doesn't seem to like it much until John speeds it up, using him, his grip tight on the back of Rodney's head.

Rodney's making those noises, the ones that scare John, his mouth loose and sloppy around John's cock. John relaxes a little; he'd been so afraid he'd lose his erection, that this would be the part where he had to end it. He still doesn't like it, wants Rodney to stop, but he just keeps moving, focusing on how Rodney moans when John pulls back to give him a breather.

There are words in his throat, ones he won't say, because he doesn't really know if they're for Rodney or for him, because he doesn't know if he could even get them out. Rodney does look like a whore like this; he looks cheap and dirty and John likes it way more than he thought he would. It worries him, what this says about him, what a bastard it makes him for doing this, and John hadn't known how that would feel- because it feels kind of good, in a really fucked up way.

When John pushes into him again, Rodney reaches down; his cock is hard and leaking, and he jerks himself fast. John could stop him, probably; it'd probably be better if he made Rodney wait, but John just can't. He has to know that Rodney's still into this, that he's getting off, not just getting through it.

He can shove in deeper now, now that Rodney's figured it out, but he pulls out just to keep Rodney on his toes, pulling his hand back so he can hit Rodney in the face. Unsure of what the fuck he thinks he's doing, he hesitates before he does it, long enough that Rodney has time to flinch away, but John hits him anyway, the slap sounding so loud even through all the noise they're making. John does it again, and that's when Rodney starts crying, the tears rolling down his face even as he's taking John back into his mouth, letting John use him again.

John feels powerful and sick; he hates how good it feels, how good it looks on Rodney's face. Next time, he's going to make Rodney wear eyeliner just so he can watch it run down his face, proof of what John's doing to him.

He sucks in a breath, his stomach tightening when he realizes that he's already planning for the next time.

Rodney is whimpering, his hand moving faster on his dick, and John's not sure how much more he can take. He takes his cock into his hand, jacking himself roughly, almost there but not quite. Rodney tilts his face up, his mouth dropping open; he looks like a fucking disaster, and John can't get enough of it.

He tightens his hand and comes, shooting all over Rodney's face and into his mouth. He bites his lip so he can't say anything wrong, but he could probably say anything he wanted and Rodney wouldn't notice, the way he's busy coming all over himself.

John can't even move for a moment; they're just looking at each other, and John has no idea what to do. Rodney looks away from him, and he looks totally embarrassed, like he's maybe humiliated in the bad way. John doesn't know what to do but lean down and kiss him, grounding them both. He sits down in front of him, reaching for the blanket that's waiting by the wall and wrapping it around Rodney's shoulders. He uses a corner of it to wipe the mess off of Rodney's face, gentle and slow.

Once Rodney's cleaned up, John kisses him again, wrapping his arms around him tight. Later they're going to need to talk about it, about how it went wrong and right, about if they can even deal with it.

But there are no words now.

Notes: This story contains graphic depictions of male-on-female humiliation pornography, as well as male-on-male humiliation. In no particular order, this includes face fucking, facials, face slapping, spitting, writing on the body, crying, and choking (both kinds).

This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/351510.html.

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