Sucking It Up
by Nel

Rating: NC-17
Category: Humor, first time
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Spoilers: Nope
Summary: “What do you mean you don't like it? I'm switching teams for you and you're telling me that it's getting me *less* sexual positions?”
Author's Notes: First off, I would like to apologize for the worst pun of the century. Seriously.

Secondly, I'd like to thank Suz for helping me out with phrasing and laughing as much as me, and also thanks to Danvers, who's always up for a quick beta.


“What do you mean you don't like it? I'm switching teams for you and you're telling me that it's getting me *less* sexual positions?” Rodney’s voice rose in outrage.

John glared at him. “So, you’re telling that if I asked you, you’d suck my dick, right now, no hesitation?”

Rodney’s eyes slid down John's bare torso, lingered on the dog tags (it was so weird that he found that a turn-on), down the belly that wasn’t all flat when John was sitting up (ha!) and continued down to the not unsubstantial bulge in his pants. He considered it. Unbuttoning the pants, seeing the tented material underneath, pulling it down to reveal—

Rodney’s dick twitched encouragingly. “Well, yeah. And I’ve only been gay for twenty minutes. What are you, the worst gay in history?”

John’s eyes turned frosty and it occurred to Rodney that this might not be the best approach to get a blowjob. “Yes, Rodney, that’s it. I guess you are a genius.”

“Look,” Rodney placated, zipping up his pants again, “maybe I shouldn’t be one to judge. To be fair, it took me thirty-five years to appreciate the lure of cock.” The corners of John’s mouth twitched and Rodney continued, encouraged. “But, I mean, if you don’t like it, why not just be with women?”

John gave him a look that clearly said “you can’t possibly be that stupid”. Rodney knew, because he had perfected it himself. “There are other things you can do, Rodney. I can’t really say I’ve had any complaints.”

An image flashed before Rodney’s eyes: John, naked, on his hands and knees, head bowed down, Rodney’s hand sliding down his spine… Rodney swallowed and felt his face grow warmer. “Do you, um, you know, like…”

John’s face broke into that slow smile that sent shivers down Rodney’s spine (and to think that it had taken him so many months to realize that it wasn’t malaria…). “As a matter of fact, I do.”

“Um, well,” Rodney said, willing his IQ points to not leave a man behind, damn it, “that’s good.”

John’s smile widened. “Oh, you have no idea.” He squeezed Rodney’s thigh before sliding his hand upwards, all the while leaning towards Rodney. His breath warmed Rodney’s lips and he was just an inch away from tasting John’s mouth again when his IQ points returned all at once.

“But, seriously, why don’t you like it?”

John groaned and Rodney’s thigh felt suddenly cold as John removed his hand. “Jesus, why can’t you have a freak-out like normal people?” He moved back, sliding down on his back, making his torso look even more attractive.

Rodney waved his hand impatiently. “I leave the freak-outs for life and death situations. But really, why?”

John sighed in defeat, one of Rodney’s favorite sounds from him. Well, so far anyway. “I don’t know. The taste, the fact that semen is pretty gross if you get it in your mouth—“

“Spitting!” Rodney said, gleeful for solving the problem so quickly.

“Pre-come,” John countered grimly.

Rodney deflated. “Right.”

“It kind of makes me gag, it’s a pain not being too rough with the teeth,” John was ticking off points on his fingers now and Rodney felt discouraged, “the pubic hair has a habit of getting in the way, my jaw won’t stop aching for hours afterwards…”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Rodney said, a little sad. It wasn’t that he’d had blowjobs lining up before this, but in the twenty-eight minutes since he’d kissed John and unofficially turned gay, he’d kind of gotten his hopes up. “What about in the shower?”

John pursed his lips, considering, and oh god, of course now Rodney couldn’t stop thinking about his mouth. “Well, I guess the taste would be better, but there’s still the other stuff.” He looked closely at Rodney. “Seriously, there are other things you’ll love.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Rodney tried to smile and not stare at John mouth, but it was like a compulsion; now that he knew he couldn’t have it, his eyes kept sliding toward it.

John licked his lips and Rodney let out a wistful little sigh. John started laughing quietly. “Come here,” he murmured, eyes crinkling at the corners. Obediently, Rodney climbed across the bed and John pulled his head down until they were kissing. And now John’s mouth seemed even more amazing than before; warm, soft, hot, tongue teasing Rodney’s.

A thought struck Rodney – he pulled away. “But you like getting them, right?”

John's eyes were a little glazed. “What?”

“Blowjobs. You like getting them, right?”

“Rodney…” John said, forehead crinkling a little.

“Yes, I know,” Rodney said impatiently, “I shouldn’t feel obligated, and I’m not trying to guilt-trip you into it – although, that’s not a bad idea, actually…”

John’s eyebrows rose. “Feeling obligated?”

“Guilt-tripping you. If you could, I bet you’d take responsibility for World War II.”

John frowned. “You have a weird way of getting in my pants.”

“Yes!” Rodney lifted his right arm enough to snap his finger. “Thank you, I was getting a little off track.” With that, he slid down John body and started unbuttoning his pants.

“Rodney, you don’t have to—“

Rodney looked up at John concerned face, forehead still crinkled. “I know. Relax. If I don’t like it, I’ll stop. What’s the worst that could happen?”


“I am so so sorry,” John said for the fifty-ninth time in five minutes.

Rodney held the bag of frozen peas against his eye. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I always figured that ‘putting someone’s eye out’ was an expression.”

“I’m really really sorry, Rodney,” and he sounded so miserable that Rodney looked over at him (with his good eye – and who knew there was such recoil in a dick?). He looked miserable too, still shirtless with his pants open. He’d tucked himself away at some point when Rodney wasn’t looking and he wasn’t aroused any more.

This was probably the worst first time Rodney had had since he’d tried it out with April Bingham in the backseat of her dad’s Volvo. He started laughing. John looked at him like he’d gone nuts.

“It’s just,” Rodney said, shaking with mirth, “it’s just that this is as bad as my first straight time.”

John stared at him for a moment before his mouth reluctantly turned upwards and they were both laughing. John calmed down quickly – probably because he didn’t have the April disaster to compare and contrast with – and carefully tugged at the hand holding the peas. He looked critically at Rodney’s eye. “It’s a little red, but it doesn’t look bad.”

“It doesn’t feel too bad,” Rodney said and John shot him a startled look. “What?” Rodney said, frowning.

John shook his head hastily. “Nothing. So, uh…” His mouth turned down again. “I guess you want to call it a night?”

Rodney’s eyes widened. “What, now you’re not putting out at all?”

John let out a startled laugh then leaned forward, pressing his lips to Rodney’s, still laughing.

“That’s better,” Rodney muttered against his lips, dropping the pea bag somewhere beside the bed.

“Whatever you want,” John said, voice rasping, dragging his mouth along Rodney’s jaw to his pulse point. “Let me make it up to you.”

Now *that* was more like it.


“Oh, god,” Rodney said faintly.

“Are you okay?” John's voice was concerned and wasn’t that a blow to his manliness? Here he was, dick up John Sheppard’s ass, John on his hands and knees in front of him, and it was…intense. Almost too intense. So much for riding the stud.

“Just, give me a minute,” he grated out, trying not to move and do something really embarrassing, like come before they’d gotten to the good part. It was just so very very tight, and hot, and he’d never really considered this part of being with a guy. Maybe because he never really considered being with a guy at all.

Holding the rest of his body still, John placed his left hand on top of Rodney's, which was braced next to John's head to take the majority of his weight. His palm was damp and warm as he squeezed Rodney’s hand and the gesture was so unexpectedly romantic that Rodney couldn’t help but smile and relax slightly. He pulled back a little, gritting his teeth – the feeling of John’s tightness around him was still overwhelming – and pushed inside again smoothly, hearing John draw in a shaky breath. “What about you? You okay?”

“I’m good, I’m fine,” John said, sounding a little drunk. “Been a while. Keep going.”

Rodney took a deep breath. He could do this. John wasn’t April Bingham, April Bingham was eighteen years ago, Rodney had more experience now, he could last longer. He started a slow rhythm, pushing in, holding, drawing out, in, hold, out…

When he managed a minute, he started pushing harder and faster.

“Fuck,” John gasped out and clenched around him.

Rodney froze and screwed his eyes shut.

“Don’t stop!” John hissed.

“Then don’t do that,” Rodney hissed back frantically, panting.

John groaned. “God, Rodney, now isn’t the time to be a tease.”

“Then shut up and let me work,” Rodney snapped and suddenly John was shaking underneath him, distracting things happening around Rodney’s dick. “Are you *laughing*?”

“Shut up and let you *work*?”

Rodney’s eyes narrowed and he drew back before quickly thrusting in again. John’s laugh turned into a moan. Rodney drew back just a fraction, slammed in, over and over again, pounding into John and making the bed creak rhythmically.

“God, yes,” John sounded drunk again and Rodney felt smug and superior for at least ten seconds before his dick caught up with his brain, realized that it was in heaven and he started coming with an embarrassingly loud yell.

He panted against John’s neck as John pushed back desperately against Rodney’s still half-hard cock, begging, “Please, Rodney, oh god, please.”

“Sorry,” Rodney said, dizzy, because it wasn’t polite coming before the girl. Then he remembered that John wasn’t a girl, held his hips still so that John could shove back and fumbled after John’s dick.

It felt huge and scorching hot, but he didn’t really have time to do anything before John whimpered and wetness started pulsing onto Rodney’s hand. Rodney pumped it a few times for good measures, shivering a little at the desperate moans John let out. He was shaking, head bowed down and Rodney just *fucked* a guy. No. He’d fucked John.

He realized a fraction of a second too late that he’d stopped leaning on his arm when John’s arms gave out and he landed on John’s back. Pulling the hand that was trapped between John’s body and the mattress free, he decided to stand by his earlier words and leave the freaking out for life and death situations. He patted John’s shoulder fondly, leaving stickiness behind. “I take it back. You’re not the worst gay in history.”

John let out a content noise before stretching, making Rodney’s cock slip out. “You’re not so bad yourself.” He turned his head and smiled that smile that meant that Rodney didn’t have malaria. “I still don’t like sucking cock.”

“I’m sure we’ll find some way around that,” Rodney said before kissing that smile, thinking that a relationship was built on compromise, after all.


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