Summary: Sometimes you end up in unexpected places
Notes: Thanks muchly to mmmchelle and wickedwords for the look-see and comments. Ya'll helped alot!
This was originally written for the sga_flashfic community's "dangling challenge". Ha.
It was a really nice happy place John had created, high up on a balcony in the east sector: a little beach in the Azores, all hot sun, cool breeze and the sound of the waves rolling on the small, rocky beach. He could hear the water, feel the heat of the sun on his nearly naked body and the tickle of air as the breeze blew over him. He was there, and oh yeah, it was time for things to get a lot more visceral in really interesting ways.
His hands froze mid-zipper as voices suddenly echoed up from below him.
“Go back if you must...I’m not moving off this balcony for at least ten minutes. It must be at least thirty-five degrees inside this building—-that’s ninety-five degrees for you Yanks—with no circulation. I need fresh air.”
He couldn’t immediately identify the female’s voice, but the English accent was annoyingly familiar.
“I’ll give you ten minutes, but only ten. I’m not ending up with the hind end of whatever they’ve got for dinner again because you lab rats can’t take a little sweat.”
Son of a.... Any interest John had in visceral pleasure on the beach in the Azores was deflating rapidly. He knew that second voice: Corporal Agostina Biagio, the Italian stallina from the Bronx, currently assigned to babysit disaster-prone geeks out poking around the city.
A laugh from the unknown interloper escalated into loud, girly giggling. John winced. He knew that giggle: Doctor Jane Baker, Biagio’s usual, if odd partner in crime when off-duty.
“What? What?” Biagio sounded annoyed.
“Ouch! You don’t have to kick me.” Baker sounded huffy.
Oh yes she does, John thought. Anybody who makes a sound like that should be kicked on principle.
“That was a love tap, Baker. Share the amusement or else.”
“It’s simply...hind end, and sweat.”
John stretched and prepared to get up from the lounge chair he’d pushed out onto the high balcony. His little hideout was a bust; time to pack it in.
“So...they figure prominently in a little fantasy of mine.”
John paused, then sat back. On the other hand, he could stay awhile longer.
He heard something scrape--a chair, probably--and a squeak as someone settled into it.
“I’m not sure you’d be interested. It involves Rodney McKay, rope and...and a few other things.”
There was a brief pause.
“McKay? You gotta be shittin’ me,” Biagio said.
His eyebrows rising, John silently agreed.
“I see you’ve never noticed that my annoying department head has the juiciest, roundest bum one could possibly wish to see naked, with the sweetest cheeks in Atlantis.”
That was one image John had never imagined, but suddenly it was blazing inside his eyelids in brilliant, detailed technicolor, dimples and all. John stared at it, dry-mouthed and speechless.
Yeah, that was still John’s reaction, but....
“Biagio, think. His never-ending mouth, his caustic remarks, his brass and balls and holier-than-thou brain.... What do you think he’s crying out for with his endlessly annoying behavior?”
Silence strung out for a beat.
Rope, she’d said.
Something curled low and tight in John’s gut and the breath seemed oddly stuck in his chest.
Biagio gave a low, pleased chuckle. “Baker, I take back every wimpy remark I’ve ever made about you. Go on.”
“Picture McKay naked, bent spread-eagled over his lab table, bum up, tied ankle and wrist.”
“Yeah, okay, nice. I can see this...I can hear him, too. You forgot the black leather gag.” Biagio seemed to be getting into the spirit of the thing.
“Brilliant! Gagged. That’s excellent.”
John blinked and tried to find some spit to swallow with, but it appeared to have dried up like the Sahara desert.
“So what’s your educational implement of choice?”
“I want to feel his lovely bum quiver under my naked hands first, and watch his pearly white skin turn red.”
“Lab-rat white skin…I bet it turns red as a cherry in a heartbeat.”
“Mmm, yes.” A sigh. “He struggles. Fruitlessly, of course.”
“He’s still noisy, but it’s all muffled and helpless-sounding.”
“It sounds like my little idea has found some of your buttons.”
“Oh yeah, although I’d expose him to a few other, uh, educational scenarios.”
“Yeah, well, see...I came back from the middle east with a new hobby. I like to watch. Guys. You know, together.”
“Oh...oh. Hobby? That’s...ah, yes. Yes, I see. Very well...what would you suggest?”
“If we’re going to discipline the doctor for all his rudeness and generally annoying nature, I think someone with real authority should be involved.”
Forget breathing. John felt everything in his body seize up and lock with dreadful anticipation. Dreadful, quivering anticipation.
“Yeah, I think I’d like to see Major Sheppard really give it to McKay.”
Oh God--John leaned forward and bit his lip at the sudden pain as every red blood cell in his body raced to squeeze down into his groin. The words and images kept coming through the haze.
“Give it to him in exactly what manner?”
He could hear Biagio’s wicked grin like he was looking at her. “Any way we want. Maybe a little corporal punishment to start, just to warm things up, you know?”
“Mmm. A sore, red bum is a definite must.”
“Exactly. And then, to teach a little humility--not to mention I find the idea totally hot--I think the Major needs to explore what other things Doctor McKay can use his mouth for other than talking.”
“Biagio!” A little laugh. “That’s, that’s....”
That was the final straw, that’s what it was. John was afraid to move, or put pressure of any kind on his dick. It was so hard, he knew it had permanent creases from the seams of his briefs. All he had to do was breathe real deep and he’d probably come.
“That’s hot, Baker, believe me. But that would only be the warm up.” A scrape and a squeal, then, “Get up, time for dinner.”
“Now wait, we can’t leave it there...what happens after this warm up?”
“Come on, Doctor Baker, what do you think comes after a nice, juicy suck? With that red butt all warmed up and waiting—”
The voices cut off abruptly as they left the lower balcony.
Gasping out a held breath, John stood up and fumbled with his pants. A desperate whimper escaped from between his clenched teeth as he reached in and pulled his cock out and away from his currently dry pants, wanting to keep them that way, gasping as the edges of his fly scraped against his skin. He grabbed the open fly, yanking it back from his cock, letting it dangle in the breeze, red and swollen and untouched.
Don’t come don’t come—don’t think of it—
But he couldn’t suppress the images: Rodney, splayed over his lab table, naked, pale skin sliding over bone and muscles as he pulled against the bindings, lightly furred ass cheeks flushed dark red and clenching rhythmically—-oh god-—the surprised O of his mouth, opening wider to let John’s cock slide past his wet lips, the shell-shocked look being gradually replaced by concentration, a tongue, Rodney’s tongue connecting with the head of his cock, Rodney’s tongue swirling around it, swirling, Rodney—-
It boiled up from the base of his spine, roiling deep in his gut, and John grabbed at his cock blindly, stripping it base to head in one motion. Orgasm ripped through him and he cried out, helpless as his spunk shot out in graceful arcs over the balcony. Two more spasms jetted out more, striping the balcony in creamy white trails. He shuddered, mouth open, face to the sun and eyes squeezed closed, riding the high to its gradual resting point, then he sagged back down into the lounge chair, his head flopping back weakly.
He was lying on the beach in the Azores. The sun was hot in the sky, the breeze cool across his naked skin, and he’d just had the orgasm of the decade. It was the best place on earth.
John wondered if Rodney had ever been there.