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Epicurean Drabbles


Title: Epicurean Drabbles

Author: chelle

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Fandom: Atlantis

Archive: Ask first

Pairing: John/Rodney

Rating: NC 17

Notes: Six interconnected drabbles.


There were a lot of things John never expected to find in Pegasus--the Wraith, bomb-toting Amish, a flying city--but this is the one thing that truly caught him by surprise.

When it came to sex John was always kind of focused on getting to the point. He's not ashamed of it; he's a guy after all. No one ever complained, except for his ex-wife, but only at the end.

Of all the people in the galaxy, in two galaxies, who could have taught him about slow, lazy, we'll-get-there-when-we-get-there sex, he'd never have imagined it would be Rodney McKay.


Rodney started with kisses. The first few times his kisses had been as eager, as desperate, as raw as John's had been. The two of them trying to kiss while working their hands into one another's pants. By the end they weren't so much kissing as breathing into each other's mouths, hard, while they shuddered and came. The fluids smeared between them simply making round two easier.

Then one night Rodney hadn't responded to John's desperation; he'd eased it instead. Eased it with slow kisses, too focused to be lazy, too tender to allow John to ask for anything else.


John discovered Rodney's skin all on his own. Found slow strokes to match Rodney's kisses, a full hand gliding over the smooth skin of Rodney's side, curving over the gentle swell at his waist.

Fingertips teasing along the crease between thigh and torso, dancing over that sensitive spot on the inside of Rodney's left thigh.

The sole of his foot moving up Rodney's calf.

His entire body sliding against Rodney's, pressing close, and then closer still.

Rubbing the back of Rodney's neck with the tip of his nose, resting a leg on Rodney's hips, his palm pressed to Rodney's chest.


That Rodney McKay has an oral fixation wouldn't surprise anyone who has ever seen the man eat, or maybe it would. Rodney eats like he needs to get it all down now. Rodney sucks John's cock like he's got an eternity to spare.

Slow nibbles along the underside, raspy tongue brushing that spot, the one just beneath the head, a big, warm hand cradling his balls, suction that builds and builds and builds, Rodney's blowjobs are like a lecture in sensuality.

He treats John's dick like it's something precious, something worth keeping, worth holding on to.

Worth making love to.


John was never into anal sex. The lube was messy, the positions awkward; he worried about hurting his partner. It was more trouble than it was worth, especially with a vagina nearby.

Rodney doesn't have a vagina. He has a full, sexy ass, with a small, perfectly-shaped hole.

A hole that's soft inside, that John has to work to get into, making it even better, especially when he first slides his finger inside and Rodney's breath catches.

Rodney relaxes around him, draws John in like he's calling him home.

John caresses him, touches him deep inside, lets Rodney surround him.


Usually the first thing John does after sex is roll away. He cuddles long enough to be polite, but he's not big on having someone hold onto him.

Except Rodney doesn't hold on. He doesn't cling; he's just there, warm and relaxed, taking up nearly all the space in John's bed. His arms fit around John in weird places, and John's head fits neatly onto his shoulder, which is even weirder.

Sometimes he talks, which wouldn't surprise those who think Rodney never shuts up, tells John funny stories about his family.

Most times, though, he's quiet.

Most times John talks.