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sga_flashfic2006-09-25 09:26 pm
tzi.livejournal.com) wrote in sga_flashfic2006-09-25 09:26 pm
Entry tags:
Do I Know You From a Frat Mixer, or Another Galaxy? by Kat Reitz & tzigane (Bad Sex challenge)
Title: Do I Know You From a Frat Mixer, or Another Galaxy?
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tzi & zaganthi
Pairing: John/Rodney
Warnings: Underage drinking, underage sex. SGA Minus nineteen years or so with some age adjustment.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: No one there knew he was fourteen, which was the best part. Someone had guessed he was eighteen, and he'd let them think that he was that old, old enough to have probably been drinking the booze in his parents' cupboards.
Spoilers: If you don't know Rodney's a genius by now, where have you been?
Length: 4,739 words. -ish
Rodney had never been to a party.
Well, not exactly. That wasn't exactly true. He'd gone to exactly one birthday party when he was eight. Jeff Szalinski's mother had made all of the refreshments herself, by hand.
There had been lemon in the birthday cake.
Not just lemon juice, either. There had been fat little sections of fruit secreted in it; slivers of rind, and the allergic reaction had been... Spectacular. His mother had never allowed him to go to another party after that. It was too much trouble for her.
This was different, though. Everyone thought he was older, and it wasn't a cake party, no. It was a 'mixer', which had made Rodney think about lemons, but the closest he got to that particular tang was booze.
There was a hell of a lot of booze. Mostly, it seemed to be beer. There were bottles in stainless steel tubs lined with garbage bags and filled with ice. There were a couple of kegs, and a guy with a tube and a funnel had made one hell of a mess over in that back corner. There were bottles of hard liquor lined up over on one table, and a guy playing bartender that seemed to know what he was doing. Rodney wasn't brave enough to wander over there -- he'd seen some limes, and he was pretty sure there had been margaritas involved.
That didn't mean he wasn't way too tipsy for a fourteen-year-old Canadian genius, though.
No one there knew he was fourteen, which was the best part. Someone had guessed he was eighteen, and he'd let them think that he was that old, old enough to have probably been drinking the booze in his parents' cupboards.
And he had. He had, but those were usually sips of beer, not carrying on into his second all by himself. Definitely not eyeballing his third, the bottle tucked between his legs and warming a little while the crowd passed around him, most of them not paying a lot of attention to him. Rodney was tall for his age, and pretty weedy, all tumbled dark blond hair and eyebrows. It probably wasn't an attractive package for local sorority queens or anything, considering some of the guys he'd seen walk past.
They were all bulked out and hot-looking, but at least he wasn't a walking advertisement to the world that he was just fourteen. They thought he was near enough to legal, and that was good for Rodney. He mostly wanted to see what was so great about parties, anyway. Rodney took another sip of his beer, and decided to wander a little further into the fray. After all, what use was there in killing off brain cells if he didn't see what was going on while he was at it?
He grabbed his third beer from between his legs and left the empty second behind as he stood, making his way through groups of people, heading towards the kitchen. There had been a lot of noise from there earlier (and oh, God, was he glad he lived in the Northwestern dorms and that he wasn't going to have to clean up this disaster), so that promised to be a pretty interesting place.
Maybe they were playing a game or something out there. He took tiny casual sips as he walked, craned his head to see what there was other than people trying to dance with each other. Maybe if he was lucky, there would be naked Jell-O wrestling.
As it turned out, there wasn't anything much. Definitely nothing worth writing home about, just some guy with seriously short hair leaning a little too close to another blond guy and offering him another beer.
Huh.
Apparently he'd missed the fun already, but that looked like a sort of fun. Two guys. It wasn't that he'd never thought about that before, it was that he, well, he wasn't sure what to do if he ever had someone offer him a beer like that. But he was fairly sure he'd like to find out.
That was one good thing about college. Yeah, he was fourteen, and yeah, some of the people in his classes knew, but... That guy didn't. He'd never seen either of them before at all, actually, and okay, he was too shy to interrupt, but that didn't mean he couldn't rummage for something to eat that didn't have any citrus in it.
He popped the fridge open, and it looked that that had been done for a while, but -- hey, there were chips. Rodney liked chips, and chips, Cheetos and things, were citrus free on the whole. Chips, or trying to say hi to some guy he'd never met. One of those ideas was going to be less of a challenge than the others.
There was rustling behind him, and the kitchen door swung open and shut, and that was kind of a relief, or maybe a disappointment. Rodney wasn't entirely sure which as he fiddled with the bags, dragging out some of the Cheetos.
"Hey."
Rodney startled a little, and his big handful slid back into the bag, leaving him with a cheesy smear on his fingers. "Hey, hi. I uh, didn't interrupt anything, did I?" He was babbling, god, he was babbling, was that how things went?
"Nothing that wasn't interrupted half a dozen times already." The guy grinned at him, and wow. That just... that practically lit up the whole kitchen, stole Rodney's breath, and he was going to have a complete crisis of sexual identity when this was over, yes, yes, he was. One long-fingered hand reached out and snagged Rodney's beer, bringing it to a mouth that made Rodney almost salivate. "Besides. It was probably a bad idea. You know. Party. Kitchen. I'm John."
"I'm Rodney." Every time he told someone that it was like trying on a brand new pair of shoes that fit better than anything he'd ever had before. And at college, no one corrected him and said what his name really was, like his obnoxious little sister. "The next time you have a bad idea, you could take it somewhere that's more quiet than the kitchen..."
"Yeah?" The shine of those eyes really got to him, made Rodney's mouth go dry. He lifted his bottle and took another firm slug. "You maybe know someplace a little more quiet, then, Rodney?"
He practically jumped when he realized there was a hand at his waist, fingers trailing firmly up his side, felt through the material of his t-shirt. He wasn't going to have to question his sexuality after that, because his penis had a pretty good idea that it liked John's wandering fingers.
"The dorms are pretty quiet," Rodney offered, and he didn't know what to do with his hands. Was he supposed to touch John back?
"You wanna maybe take a walk?" That easy, tilted grin made his breath catch, and oh, yeah. His penis seriously liked those wandering fingers, and especially liked the way that hand stroked downward, tugging at him just a little.
"Yeah." Yeah, and his voice didn't crack at all, which was a miracle. "Yeah, let's. It's uh, a nice night out..." He knew he should have watched more romantic movies when his sister wanted to see them. Then he'd know what to do!
The way John shifted closer to him edged Rodney nearer the door, and wow. Okay. If he had gotten caught at this, why had no one kicked his ass again? Because they so would have. Therefore, he was obviously courting danger.
Danger, Rodney thought, felt pretty good.
"You're right. It is. C'mon, let's snag a couple more drinks before we go," John offered, and grabbed his wrist to pull Rodney after him.
"Why not enjoy the free booze," Rodney agreed, and he let himself be pulled but he also walked a little faster so it was less obvious that John was pulling him and that maybe, maybe Rodney was actually in the lead. Maybe it would look like that.
Then again, maybe it would look like some deranged lunatic was tugging him along, taking him somewhere to do terrible, awful, wonderful things to him, and yeah. That sounded... really incredibly good, actually.
He wet his lips, and followed.
Rodney thought his room was pretty cool.
Except when it wasn't, and he wasn't going to turn on the lights because, oh god, because John was kissing him like Rodney hadn't ever been kissed before, and he didn't need to see Rodney's He-Man sheets and pillow cases and blankets and the books and pieces of circuit and figures on the shelves, no. Definitely not, not when he was being backed into the room, edged around dark objects. Oh, that felt really incredibly good, right up until they tumbled over something and he landed on his back with a giant crack of sound that could be his spine, or his Skeletor. Either one.
"Ow. Shit. Sorry," John mumbled, one hand rubbing apologetically along Rodney's arm. Rodney felt the world spinning more than it should have.
"S'okay. Kinda cluttered in here," Rodney mumbled against John's lips, slurred, but John tasted so good. Like watery beer and heat and saliva. Saliva wasn't something that Rodney had ever thought he'd be okay with swapping, but John kissed like wow. It was completely good enough to ignore the fact that he was going to have a giant purple bruise in the morning.
So like wow.
"Oh, God, you're hot," John panted, rocking hard against him. It was plenty of pressure, just the way Rodney thought he liked things. It felt at least as good as rubbing off on his sheets, pushing, pushing, pushing, ow!
Ow, Jesus fuck and god, his mother would slap him if he actually said it aloud but Rodney was flat on the mattress and John was kneeling on his crotch. "Ow, move, move, crushing my nuts isn't hot, oh oh god..."
"Oh, christ, fuck..." Well, at least she would have been slapping more than one of them. "I'm so... I really, shit. I'll make it up to you." Yeah, well, he didn't know if there was any way to make up for that. Rodney stretched his legs out, breathing hard like his nuts needed space and air to stop aching like they'd been turned inside out. But at least John was moving, and Rodney started to squirm to get out of his shirt, to get John out of his shirt.
"Sorry," John said again, and yeah, Skeletor was broken under his back, but wow. Oh, John's hands were inside his t-shirt, thumbs rubbing at his nipples in a way that just made his balls ache worse, lots worse, because there was pleasure coming from that, zinging straight down to his dick, and just thinking about it made Rodney's face heat up.
He liked that. Guys weren't supposed to have nipples that made their dicks zing were they? Except his was, and wow, that made up for the crushed and rubbed too hard balls, because getting naked with John was amazing. Rodney wanted to play with his chest, too, wanted to explore, because John was muscled and beautiful. He was the kind of gorgeous that geeks like Rodney didn't get, not even like this, not even to kiss and make out, and Rodney was determined to take advantage of that in every possible way imaginable.
"Yeah. Yeah, you like that, right?" Fingers pinched, and Rodney squeaked, because that was very, very good. "You like that? C'mon, let's get... yeah, the rest of... unh. Like...."
"Naked?" Rodney gasped hopefully, and he squirmed underneath John because getting their pants and shoes and socks and belts and oh, fuck, Rodney had GI-Joe underwear on and that was going to have to go quickly and quietly in the dark, yes.
Definitely.
"Yeah." John's mouth was on his, and that was some kind of heaven, Rodney was pretty sure, right up until John yelped loudly as his hand brushed down against Rodney's pocket.
Shit.
He had forgotten he had that pen in his pocket, just in case he got a sudden brilliant idea.
"Sorry! Sorry, it's just a pen, it's..." Rodney's hands slipped off of John's sides, down to his own waist, because he suddenly had to shimmy out of pants and underwear as fast as he could, so he didn't have to undergo another embarrassment like that.
"It was digging a hole in my hip," John complained as Rodney kicked off his pants, a faint whine edging his voice until Rodney managed to pull his hand closer, so that it closed around one bare hip. "Oh." That sound was full of interest, and it got John moving again. One last thrust of his ankle ought to get rid of his pants, but instead, it landed against John's leg somewhere. "Ow!"
"Sorry, trying to, just, you know. Clothes." He shouldn't have drunk so much. He should have known he was going to get laid and not screwed up his sometimes admittedly bad coordination. It was just... well, he really hadn't thought he'd get laid. He hadn't thought anybody would figure him for more than his age, and definitely not anybody as hot as John.
"Yeah, um, let's... Okay. Okay, yeah, there we go." Rodney's pants were off, at least, that was something, and John was tugging at his t-shirt and, yeah, finally, finally off, thank God, because those thumbs were back on his nipples. That, oh, that was... he was never, ever forgetting how that felt. No way.
Never. He squirmed under John, and petted over his back, before he leaned up to kiss him. John kissed good. He knew that. If everything else went wrong, he kissed really well, in a way that combined with the light pinch of his nipples to make Rodney's dick throb-throb-throb with his heartbeat.
"Oh, yeah. That's..." John rubbed against him in a way that made a whine sneak up from Rodney's throat, and he turned his head, feeling shy that the sound had come from him. "I love that. That's hot."
Hot. His whine was hot? Rodney glanced at John, just quickly, and then canted his hips up a little. There were still fingers on his nipples, just enough pressure to make his dick twitch harder against John's thigh.
That felt good. That felt really good, and John was rocking against him, all hot, slick penis, and ow. Ow, that was, that was a very uncomfortable position. His knee wasn't supposed to bend in that position. "Open up for me," John murmured, and that was almost enough to convince him to put up with the way his body had twisted.
Almost.
"Oh, oof, hold on, I just need to..." Stretch and move, and not have his knee twisting that way, because they didn't go side to side that way. Rodney jerked his leg to the side, and then John's hips were pressed right against his, and it felt so good. So good, so perfect, and he couldn't hold back that whine again as they lined up and rubbed, rubbed in the best way possible.
"Fuck, yeah," John moaned, and there were hands on his ass, on his ass and clutching, kneading in a way that made Rodney's knees sprawl open wide. That was... really incredibly oh God so good. So good. So... "Yeah."
He could just let his legs fall apart, welcoming John. He wanted John's dick against his and his hands on his ass and more kissing, and the thing with the nipples, and--
Sex was fantastic. Sex was the best thing ever, and oh, hey, wait. Wait, wait, wait, fingers didn't go there, he went to the bathroom there, and Rodney whined because -- ow, that didn't feel so good.
"I love it when you sound like that," John moaned, and pushed down against him so that he felt a little good and a little hurt and oh, this was so bad.
But his dick liked it, and his ass didn't, and he was pretty sure they should at least be agreeing with each other. "John, Jo~ohn, it, I don't think that your fingers and my ass are compatible..."
"Will be," John murmured against his skin, kissing him quiet, or at least trying to. Rodney couldn't stop the whining, or the squirming, which at least got John's finger to slide out, and that was... Well, that was better. Mmm. Back to good things.
Back to cocks and rubbing and more kissing. He scooted back a little further onto the bed, hands clinging to John's shoulders. "Better, yeah, I like this part of it..."
"You'll like the next part, too." John was breathless, and he was moving, shifting, and ow. Ow, ow, shit, oh, ow, that was, that was...
"You're on my hand!"
"Sorry," John apologized, coming back with his jeans in his hand. "Sorry, sorry."
"Jesus, how do you turn around and kick my hand?" Rodney had to cradle it against his chest, eyes closed tight. Sex was good, drunk sex was bad? Or disastrous. One or the other. He wasn't sure.
"Um. Dunno." Didn't know at all, obviously, but he was pulling stuff out of his pocket and tossing his jeans on the floor again. "Turn over, would you?"
"Turn over?" But he started to; he started to flop over onto his stomach, dick stuck between his belly and the mattress. A piece of Skeletor dug into his navel, and he grunted, brushing bits and pieces out from between his skin and the sheet.
"Yeah. I think you're gonna like this." John's mouth was on the back of his neck, and oh. Rodney had never known that he was so sensitive back there, had no idea that lips could make him gasp just from the touch.
But they did, and he really liked that. Kissing right there, it made him feel loose and limp in all the best ways, made him want to sprawl forwards on the mattress like a pool of water. It was easy, and it felt good, and John was kissing across his shoulders even though his hands were kneading Rodney's ass again, and maybe... Okay, maybe he'd let him touch him there. It wasn't like he wanted to say no, exactly. Well, he did. He just didn't know how, and he'd asked John back to his room, so he was kind of obligated. Right?
Right. He'd started it and he was going to end it, and he'd let the guy think that, well, he was eighteen and he knew what he was doing. Simple as that. "Now that feels good," Rodney sighed, and he did shift forwards, just enough to press his face against his bedding. The fingers kneading his ass fell right in time with the throbbing of his dick, and then there was something kind of slick there, and Rodney glanced back because... really. What the hell.
John's tongue was caught between his lips, expression a little dazed in the orange-yellow of the outside security light as he shifted, knelt up between Rodney's knees. "You'll like this," he promised, and that finger went right back in where it had been before.
Except it was slick, gooey, and Rodney twisted to see what it was but couldn't, really. It was John kneeling behind him pushing a finger up his ass. "Use a lot of that." A lot, a lot, because there was no way, absolutely no way, that dry business was going to work. That had hurt, and... oh. Oh, that was, um. Warm? Warm. Warm and heating up a little more the longer John did that, and okay, okay, he maybe didn't like that much. Oh. "That's..."
"Yeah," John murmured, and leaned to kiss the back of his neck. "God, you're tight. Relax for me, okay?"
"Can't. I can't relax..." He had a finger up his ass, and it was warm and his dick was leaking and he was supposed to relax? John was hot, but stupid.
"Then push out. Kinda like... you know." YOU know? Oh, no, that didn't sound like a good idea at all, and it was getting hotter. Rodney squirmed and gave a whimper despite himself. "Aw, geeze, yeah. Yeah, that's...."
So he pushed out, just a little, scared to, because John's finger was there and he wasn't sure he wanted more than John's finger there. That was enough, plenty, particularly with the slow burn. It seemed to help with the pressure some, and that made him whine again, and maybe, maybe if he just kept rubbing his penis against the sheets, because that still felt good, that felt all right, maybe...
There was a rattle behind him, and John's fingers pulled out, but the heat lingered unpleasantly. What had he been using, anyway? It felt like... like when his mom used to rub VapORub on his nose when it was raw from blowing and sniffles. That kind of sting except in his ass, and that was really just not kosher. No way.
He humped against the mattress again, a few quick rubs, twisting his head and shoulders to see what John had that rattled, that he'd put on his fingers. The heat made him squirm, made him have to rub against his sheets because it ached and stung, left him restless. "What're you doing?"
"Condom. 'Cause, you know...."
Yeah. Rodney knew, and his eyes widened. He hadn't even thought about diseases or AIDS or... or anything like that, and all of a sudden there was a guy putting a condom on behind him and planning to....
Fuck him. He was going to fuck him, and that was why the slick burning stuff and the fingers in his ass, and oh god. Oh god. He wanted to panic, but it was a little late for that, wasn't it? He had his ass in the air, tingling, and his dick was just leaking against the mattress. He was hard, so he wanted it.
He did want it. Right?
"Okay," John said, and then he was scooting forward on his knees, pulling Rodney up by his hipbones, and that was going to leave bruises. Seriously, bruises, and one of those Skeletor pieces slid under a knee at the same moment he felt something (John's dick, his brain supplied) start brushing between his cheeks.
"Hold on, hold on, just..." Rodney twitched his leg backwards enough to get his knee off the piece, because that hurt, it hurt to kneel on a toy and to have his hips grabbed like that, and jesus, fuck, John was just pushing in, making him stretch out and there was no way he could take that, no way at all.
John was making him, though, and it hurt, hurt, hurt, and he couldn't help the way his eyes teared up or the way he whined or the way he tried to pull forward and get away. It didn't help, because when he slid forward, John just slid with him, and then he was flat against the mattress, and John's dick was... Oh. Oh oh oh no, bad, no, ow, ow, ow.
It was hot, burning and stinging and stretching him out in a way that he was pretty sure wasn't supposed to be done. It wasn't supposed to be done, not when it was his ass, John's dick in his ass and burning. "Oh, ow, fuck fuck!"
"Hey, shh. Shh, shh." Shh, like that was going to help! It hurt like hell, and shushing him was definitely not the way to make that any better. "Relax. If you just relax, it'll... God, that's good," John groaned.
"Shhshhing is not helping," Rodney growled, stretching and pressing harder against the mattress so he could maybe get away, get it out, but he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure he could do that, could push away, get out from under, and the prickle of his eyes was getting away from him. A hand was stroking along his hip, and then John was moving, and Rodney was so, so not ready for that. Not ready, not drunk enough, nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.
John groaned, leaning in to mouth the back of his neck. "God, fuck, yes."
At least one of them seemed to like it. John liked it, so there had to be something about being on the other end of it. Rodney couldn't do anything but whine, and his dick was going soft, aching in a bad way. He could feel his mouth starting to tremble, and there was no way not to cry because, oh, it was hurting, and his chest hitched, shoulders shifting, and...
"Hey. Hey, hey. Don't cry. I can't stand it if you cry." John sounded even drunker than before, and that couldn't be good, no, no, no.
"It hurts! It's burning." The motion, the working in and out and in and out and John's lips between his shoulders, that felt better, but his ass was on fire.
"Um." Um was not the right answer. Not, not, not. "Sorry, sorry, Jesus, I was, I used the Carmex in my pocket...." And Carmex, that had menthol, camphor, phenol. None of those were things that Rodney ever, ever, ever wanted near his ass. "Sorry, I just..." That obviously didn't mean John was going to stop, because his hips stuttered a thrust against Rodney's ass.
Stuttered and thrust, and Rodney moaned, because that almost would have felt good, he decided, if someone hadn't smeared Carmex in his ass. Almost good wasn't good enough, wasn't enough to make him enjoy it. Maybe it would just all be done soon.
"Can I?" John was panting in his ear, sweaty forehead pressed against Rodney's ear, and he was never, ever doing this again.
Ever.
"Yeah." He didn't even know what John was asking, didn't care, as long as it ended and he could just, maybe they could go back to hands and mouths? And Rodney needed to clean, get the Carmex off. Who used Carmex for lube? And that was, it was so petroleum based, and that wasn't good, wasn't good at all with condoms, because condoms were latex, and.... When John started moving again, steady and hard, Rodney tried desperately to close his eyes and think about, about the chemical properties of those two things. Anything, anything but what was going on, and then....
It was over. Fast, flurried movements that were probably going to bruise him, and then John was pushing at him and it hurt, and it was over.
John stopped moving, and where he'd been hoping he was less drunk before, and maybe had better coordination, now Rodney wished he was drunker, so drunk that he'd never remember it. Maybe, if he was lucky, he'd just wake up and forget. Maybe...
"Hey. Get off me," he hissed, because he wanted to try and get that stuff out of him. It hurt, and he sniffled. "...John?"
Great. Even better. Either the guy was dead on top of him, or passed out, and that creeped Rodney out enough to make him squirm loose. He had to really squirm, though, and there was a dick in his ass, and that hurt enough to make him decide that maybe he just wanted to stay where he was, except either John was dead or John was, well, it didn't matter. It didn't matter. Rodney didn't want unconscious dick in his ass.
Grunting, he pushed himself along, the bits and pieces of his Skeletor still scattered in the bed scratching hard at his hip. He let that be the excuse for the way he sniffled, the way his breath hitched. It hurt, right? Having his toy bite at his skin. It hurt, and it had nothing at all to do with doing something so very very stupid as all this.
It was just sex. Just, just bad sex, and he was okay, he'd slip into the bathroom and clean up and go to bed and in the morning he probably wouldn't even have a hangover.
In the morning, maybe they could get back to the kissing and stuff, and that was, that would be better. Maybe John would wake up sober, and smile, and it would be okay. Maybe.
By the time he woke up at noon on Saturday morning, John was gone.
If you'd like, go on to Firing Squad.
Authors:
tzi & zaganthiPairing: John/Rodney
Warnings: Underage drinking, underage sex. SGA Minus nineteen years or so with some age adjustment.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: No one there knew he was fourteen, which was the best part. Someone had guessed he was eighteen, and he'd let them think that he was that old, old enough to have probably been drinking the booze in his parents' cupboards.
Spoilers: If you don't know Rodney's a genius by now, where have you been?
Length: 4,739 words. -ish
Rodney had never been to a party.
Well, not exactly. That wasn't exactly true. He'd gone to exactly one birthday party when he was eight. Jeff Szalinski's mother had made all of the refreshments herself, by hand.
There had been lemon in the birthday cake.
Not just lemon juice, either. There had been fat little sections of fruit secreted in it; slivers of rind, and the allergic reaction had been... Spectacular. His mother had never allowed him to go to another party after that. It was too much trouble for her.
This was different, though. Everyone thought he was older, and it wasn't a cake party, no. It was a 'mixer', which had made Rodney think about lemons, but the closest he got to that particular tang was booze.
There was a hell of a lot of booze. Mostly, it seemed to be beer. There were bottles in stainless steel tubs lined with garbage bags and filled with ice. There were a couple of kegs, and a guy with a tube and a funnel had made one hell of a mess over in that back corner. There were bottles of hard liquor lined up over on one table, and a guy playing bartender that seemed to know what he was doing. Rodney wasn't brave enough to wander over there -- he'd seen some limes, and he was pretty sure there had been margaritas involved.
That didn't mean he wasn't way too tipsy for a fourteen-year-old Canadian genius, though.
No one there knew he was fourteen, which was the best part. Someone had guessed he was eighteen, and he'd let them think that he was that old, old enough to have probably been drinking the booze in his parents' cupboards.
And he had. He had, but those were usually sips of beer, not carrying on into his second all by himself. Definitely not eyeballing his third, the bottle tucked between his legs and warming a little while the crowd passed around him, most of them not paying a lot of attention to him. Rodney was tall for his age, and pretty weedy, all tumbled dark blond hair and eyebrows. It probably wasn't an attractive package for local sorority queens or anything, considering some of the guys he'd seen walk past.
They were all bulked out and hot-looking, but at least he wasn't a walking advertisement to the world that he was just fourteen. They thought he was near enough to legal, and that was good for Rodney. He mostly wanted to see what was so great about parties, anyway. Rodney took another sip of his beer, and decided to wander a little further into the fray. After all, what use was there in killing off brain cells if he didn't see what was going on while he was at it?
He grabbed his third beer from between his legs and left the empty second behind as he stood, making his way through groups of people, heading towards the kitchen. There had been a lot of noise from there earlier (and oh, God, was he glad he lived in the Northwestern dorms and that he wasn't going to have to clean up this disaster), so that promised to be a pretty interesting place.
Maybe they were playing a game or something out there. He took tiny casual sips as he walked, craned his head to see what there was other than people trying to dance with each other. Maybe if he was lucky, there would be naked Jell-O wrestling.
As it turned out, there wasn't anything much. Definitely nothing worth writing home about, just some guy with seriously short hair leaning a little too close to another blond guy and offering him another beer.
Huh.
Apparently he'd missed the fun already, but that looked like a sort of fun. Two guys. It wasn't that he'd never thought about that before, it was that he, well, he wasn't sure what to do if he ever had someone offer him a beer like that. But he was fairly sure he'd like to find out.
That was one good thing about college. Yeah, he was fourteen, and yeah, some of the people in his classes knew, but... That guy didn't. He'd never seen either of them before at all, actually, and okay, he was too shy to interrupt, but that didn't mean he couldn't rummage for something to eat that didn't have any citrus in it.
He popped the fridge open, and it looked that that had been done for a while, but -- hey, there were chips. Rodney liked chips, and chips, Cheetos and things, were citrus free on the whole. Chips, or trying to say hi to some guy he'd never met. One of those ideas was going to be less of a challenge than the others.
There was rustling behind him, and the kitchen door swung open and shut, and that was kind of a relief, or maybe a disappointment. Rodney wasn't entirely sure which as he fiddled with the bags, dragging out some of the Cheetos.
"Hey."
Rodney startled a little, and his big handful slid back into the bag, leaving him with a cheesy smear on his fingers. "Hey, hi. I uh, didn't interrupt anything, did I?" He was babbling, god, he was babbling, was that how things went?
"Nothing that wasn't interrupted half a dozen times already." The guy grinned at him, and wow. That just... that practically lit up the whole kitchen, stole Rodney's breath, and he was going to have a complete crisis of sexual identity when this was over, yes, yes, he was. One long-fingered hand reached out and snagged Rodney's beer, bringing it to a mouth that made Rodney almost salivate. "Besides. It was probably a bad idea. You know. Party. Kitchen. I'm John."
"I'm Rodney." Every time he told someone that it was like trying on a brand new pair of shoes that fit better than anything he'd ever had before. And at college, no one corrected him and said what his name really was, like his obnoxious little sister. "The next time you have a bad idea, you could take it somewhere that's more quiet than the kitchen..."
"Yeah?" The shine of those eyes really got to him, made Rodney's mouth go dry. He lifted his bottle and took another firm slug. "You maybe know someplace a little more quiet, then, Rodney?"
He practically jumped when he realized there was a hand at his waist, fingers trailing firmly up his side, felt through the material of his t-shirt. He wasn't going to have to question his sexuality after that, because his penis had a pretty good idea that it liked John's wandering fingers.
"The dorms are pretty quiet," Rodney offered, and he didn't know what to do with his hands. Was he supposed to touch John back?
"You wanna maybe take a walk?" That easy, tilted grin made his breath catch, and oh, yeah. His penis seriously liked those wandering fingers, and especially liked the way that hand stroked downward, tugging at him just a little.
"Yeah." Yeah, and his voice didn't crack at all, which was a miracle. "Yeah, let's. It's uh, a nice night out..." He knew he should have watched more romantic movies when his sister wanted to see them. Then he'd know what to do!
The way John shifted closer to him edged Rodney nearer the door, and wow. Okay. If he had gotten caught at this, why had no one kicked his ass again? Because they so would have. Therefore, he was obviously courting danger.
Danger, Rodney thought, felt pretty good.
"You're right. It is. C'mon, let's snag a couple more drinks before we go," John offered, and grabbed his wrist to pull Rodney after him.
"Why not enjoy the free booze," Rodney agreed, and he let himself be pulled but he also walked a little faster so it was less obvious that John was pulling him and that maybe, maybe Rodney was actually in the lead. Maybe it would look like that.
Then again, maybe it would look like some deranged lunatic was tugging him along, taking him somewhere to do terrible, awful, wonderful things to him, and yeah. That sounded... really incredibly good, actually.
He wet his lips, and followed.
Rodney thought his room was pretty cool.
Except when it wasn't, and he wasn't going to turn on the lights because, oh god, because John was kissing him like Rodney hadn't ever been kissed before, and he didn't need to see Rodney's He-Man sheets and pillow cases and blankets and the books and pieces of circuit and figures on the shelves, no. Definitely not, not when he was being backed into the room, edged around dark objects. Oh, that felt really incredibly good, right up until they tumbled over something and he landed on his back with a giant crack of sound that could be his spine, or his Skeletor. Either one.
"Ow. Shit. Sorry," John mumbled, one hand rubbing apologetically along Rodney's arm. Rodney felt the world spinning more than it should have.
"S'okay. Kinda cluttered in here," Rodney mumbled against John's lips, slurred, but John tasted so good. Like watery beer and heat and saliva. Saliva wasn't something that Rodney had ever thought he'd be okay with swapping, but John kissed like wow. It was completely good enough to ignore the fact that he was going to have a giant purple bruise in the morning.
So like wow.
"Oh, God, you're hot," John panted, rocking hard against him. It was plenty of pressure, just the way Rodney thought he liked things. It felt at least as good as rubbing off on his sheets, pushing, pushing, pushing, ow!
Ow, Jesus fuck and god, his mother would slap him if he actually said it aloud but Rodney was flat on the mattress and John was kneeling on his crotch. "Ow, move, move, crushing my nuts isn't hot, oh oh god..."
"Oh, christ, fuck..." Well, at least she would have been slapping more than one of them. "I'm so... I really, shit. I'll make it up to you." Yeah, well, he didn't know if there was any way to make up for that. Rodney stretched his legs out, breathing hard like his nuts needed space and air to stop aching like they'd been turned inside out. But at least John was moving, and Rodney started to squirm to get out of his shirt, to get John out of his shirt.
"Sorry," John said again, and yeah, Skeletor was broken under his back, but wow. Oh, John's hands were inside his t-shirt, thumbs rubbing at his nipples in a way that just made his balls ache worse, lots worse, because there was pleasure coming from that, zinging straight down to his dick, and just thinking about it made Rodney's face heat up.
He liked that. Guys weren't supposed to have nipples that made their dicks zing were they? Except his was, and wow, that made up for the crushed and rubbed too hard balls, because getting naked with John was amazing. Rodney wanted to play with his chest, too, wanted to explore, because John was muscled and beautiful. He was the kind of gorgeous that geeks like Rodney didn't get, not even like this, not even to kiss and make out, and Rodney was determined to take advantage of that in every possible way imaginable.
"Yeah. Yeah, you like that, right?" Fingers pinched, and Rodney squeaked, because that was very, very good. "You like that? C'mon, let's get... yeah, the rest of... unh. Like...."
"Naked?" Rodney gasped hopefully, and he squirmed underneath John because getting their pants and shoes and socks and belts and oh, fuck, Rodney had GI-Joe underwear on and that was going to have to go quickly and quietly in the dark, yes.
Definitely.
"Yeah." John's mouth was on his, and that was some kind of heaven, Rodney was pretty sure, right up until John yelped loudly as his hand brushed down against Rodney's pocket.
Shit.
He had forgotten he had that pen in his pocket, just in case he got a sudden brilliant idea.
"Sorry! Sorry, it's just a pen, it's..." Rodney's hands slipped off of John's sides, down to his own waist, because he suddenly had to shimmy out of pants and underwear as fast as he could, so he didn't have to undergo another embarrassment like that.
"It was digging a hole in my hip," John complained as Rodney kicked off his pants, a faint whine edging his voice until Rodney managed to pull his hand closer, so that it closed around one bare hip. "Oh." That sound was full of interest, and it got John moving again. One last thrust of his ankle ought to get rid of his pants, but instead, it landed against John's leg somewhere. "Ow!"
"Sorry, trying to, just, you know. Clothes." He shouldn't have drunk so much. He should have known he was going to get laid and not screwed up his sometimes admittedly bad coordination. It was just... well, he really hadn't thought he'd get laid. He hadn't thought anybody would figure him for more than his age, and definitely not anybody as hot as John.
"Yeah, um, let's... Okay. Okay, yeah, there we go." Rodney's pants were off, at least, that was something, and John was tugging at his t-shirt and, yeah, finally, finally off, thank God, because those thumbs were back on his nipples. That, oh, that was... he was never, ever forgetting how that felt. No way.
Never. He squirmed under John, and petted over his back, before he leaned up to kiss him. John kissed good. He knew that. If everything else went wrong, he kissed really well, in a way that combined with the light pinch of his nipples to make Rodney's dick throb-throb-throb with his heartbeat.
"Oh, yeah. That's..." John rubbed against him in a way that made a whine sneak up from Rodney's throat, and he turned his head, feeling shy that the sound had come from him. "I love that. That's hot."
Hot. His whine was hot? Rodney glanced at John, just quickly, and then canted his hips up a little. There were still fingers on his nipples, just enough pressure to make his dick twitch harder against John's thigh.
That felt good. That felt really good, and John was rocking against him, all hot, slick penis, and ow. Ow, that was, that was a very uncomfortable position. His knee wasn't supposed to bend in that position. "Open up for me," John murmured, and that was almost enough to convince him to put up with the way his body had twisted.
Almost.
"Oh, oof, hold on, I just need to..." Stretch and move, and not have his knee twisting that way, because they didn't go side to side that way. Rodney jerked his leg to the side, and then John's hips were pressed right against his, and it felt so good. So good, so perfect, and he couldn't hold back that whine again as they lined up and rubbed, rubbed in the best way possible.
"Fuck, yeah," John moaned, and there were hands on his ass, on his ass and clutching, kneading in a way that made Rodney's knees sprawl open wide. That was... really incredibly oh God so good. So good. So... "Yeah."
He could just let his legs fall apart, welcoming John. He wanted John's dick against his and his hands on his ass and more kissing, and the thing with the nipples, and--
Sex was fantastic. Sex was the best thing ever, and oh, hey, wait. Wait, wait, wait, fingers didn't go there, he went to the bathroom there, and Rodney whined because -- ow, that didn't feel so good.
"I love it when you sound like that," John moaned, and pushed down against him so that he felt a little good and a little hurt and oh, this was so bad.
But his dick liked it, and his ass didn't, and he was pretty sure they should at least be agreeing with each other. "John, Jo~ohn, it, I don't think that your fingers and my ass are compatible..."
"Will be," John murmured against his skin, kissing him quiet, or at least trying to. Rodney couldn't stop the whining, or the squirming, which at least got John's finger to slide out, and that was... Well, that was better. Mmm. Back to good things.
Back to cocks and rubbing and more kissing. He scooted back a little further onto the bed, hands clinging to John's shoulders. "Better, yeah, I like this part of it..."
"You'll like the next part, too." John was breathless, and he was moving, shifting, and ow. Ow, ow, shit, oh, ow, that was, that was...
"You're on my hand!"
"Sorry," John apologized, coming back with his jeans in his hand. "Sorry, sorry."
"Jesus, how do you turn around and kick my hand?" Rodney had to cradle it against his chest, eyes closed tight. Sex was good, drunk sex was bad? Or disastrous. One or the other. He wasn't sure.
"Um. Dunno." Didn't know at all, obviously, but he was pulling stuff out of his pocket and tossing his jeans on the floor again. "Turn over, would you?"
"Turn over?" But he started to; he started to flop over onto his stomach, dick stuck between his belly and the mattress. A piece of Skeletor dug into his navel, and he grunted, brushing bits and pieces out from between his skin and the sheet.
"Yeah. I think you're gonna like this." John's mouth was on the back of his neck, and oh. Rodney had never known that he was so sensitive back there, had no idea that lips could make him gasp just from the touch.
But they did, and he really liked that. Kissing right there, it made him feel loose and limp in all the best ways, made him want to sprawl forwards on the mattress like a pool of water. It was easy, and it felt good, and John was kissing across his shoulders even though his hands were kneading Rodney's ass again, and maybe... Okay, maybe he'd let him touch him there. It wasn't like he wanted to say no, exactly. Well, he did. He just didn't know how, and he'd asked John back to his room, so he was kind of obligated. Right?
Right. He'd started it and he was going to end it, and he'd let the guy think that, well, he was eighteen and he knew what he was doing. Simple as that. "Now that feels good," Rodney sighed, and he did shift forwards, just enough to press his face against his bedding. The fingers kneading his ass fell right in time with the throbbing of his dick, and then there was something kind of slick there, and Rodney glanced back because... really. What the hell.
John's tongue was caught between his lips, expression a little dazed in the orange-yellow of the outside security light as he shifted, knelt up between Rodney's knees. "You'll like this," he promised, and that finger went right back in where it had been before.
Except it was slick, gooey, and Rodney twisted to see what it was but couldn't, really. It was John kneeling behind him pushing a finger up his ass. "Use a lot of that." A lot, a lot, because there was no way, absolutely no way, that dry business was going to work. That had hurt, and... oh. Oh, that was, um. Warm? Warm. Warm and heating up a little more the longer John did that, and okay, okay, he maybe didn't like that much. Oh. "That's..."
"Yeah," John murmured, and leaned to kiss the back of his neck. "God, you're tight. Relax for me, okay?"
"Can't. I can't relax..." He had a finger up his ass, and it was warm and his dick was leaking and he was supposed to relax? John was hot, but stupid.
"Then push out. Kinda like... you know." YOU know? Oh, no, that didn't sound like a good idea at all, and it was getting hotter. Rodney squirmed and gave a whimper despite himself. "Aw, geeze, yeah. Yeah, that's...."
So he pushed out, just a little, scared to, because John's finger was there and he wasn't sure he wanted more than John's finger there. That was enough, plenty, particularly with the slow burn. It seemed to help with the pressure some, and that made him whine again, and maybe, maybe if he just kept rubbing his penis against the sheets, because that still felt good, that felt all right, maybe...
There was a rattle behind him, and John's fingers pulled out, but the heat lingered unpleasantly. What had he been using, anyway? It felt like... like when his mom used to rub VapORub on his nose when it was raw from blowing and sniffles. That kind of sting except in his ass, and that was really just not kosher. No way.
He humped against the mattress again, a few quick rubs, twisting his head and shoulders to see what John had that rattled, that he'd put on his fingers. The heat made him squirm, made him have to rub against his sheets because it ached and stung, left him restless. "What're you doing?"
"Condom. 'Cause, you know...."
Yeah. Rodney knew, and his eyes widened. He hadn't even thought about diseases or AIDS or... or anything like that, and all of a sudden there was a guy putting a condom on behind him and planning to....
Fuck him. He was going to fuck him, and that was why the slick burning stuff and the fingers in his ass, and oh god. Oh god. He wanted to panic, but it was a little late for that, wasn't it? He had his ass in the air, tingling, and his dick was just leaking against the mattress. He was hard, so he wanted it.
He did want it. Right?
"Okay," John said, and then he was scooting forward on his knees, pulling Rodney up by his hipbones, and that was going to leave bruises. Seriously, bruises, and one of those Skeletor pieces slid under a knee at the same moment he felt something (John's dick, his brain supplied) start brushing between his cheeks.
"Hold on, hold on, just..." Rodney twitched his leg backwards enough to get his knee off the piece, because that hurt, it hurt to kneel on a toy and to have his hips grabbed like that, and jesus, fuck, John was just pushing in, making him stretch out and there was no way he could take that, no way at all.
John was making him, though, and it hurt, hurt, hurt, and he couldn't help the way his eyes teared up or the way he whined or the way he tried to pull forward and get away. It didn't help, because when he slid forward, John just slid with him, and then he was flat against the mattress, and John's dick was... Oh. Oh oh oh no, bad, no, ow, ow, ow.
It was hot, burning and stinging and stretching him out in a way that he was pretty sure wasn't supposed to be done. It wasn't supposed to be done, not when it was his ass, John's dick in his ass and burning. "Oh, ow, fuck fuck!"
"Hey, shh. Shh, shh." Shh, like that was going to help! It hurt like hell, and shushing him was definitely not the way to make that any better. "Relax. If you just relax, it'll... God, that's good," John groaned.
"Shhshhing is not helping," Rodney growled, stretching and pressing harder against the mattress so he could maybe get away, get it out, but he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure he could do that, could push away, get out from under, and the prickle of his eyes was getting away from him. A hand was stroking along his hip, and then John was moving, and Rodney was so, so not ready for that. Not ready, not drunk enough, nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.
John groaned, leaning in to mouth the back of his neck. "God, fuck, yes."
At least one of them seemed to like it. John liked it, so there had to be something about being on the other end of it. Rodney couldn't do anything but whine, and his dick was going soft, aching in a bad way. He could feel his mouth starting to tremble, and there was no way not to cry because, oh, it was hurting, and his chest hitched, shoulders shifting, and...
"Hey. Hey, hey. Don't cry. I can't stand it if you cry." John sounded even drunker than before, and that couldn't be good, no, no, no.
"It hurts! It's burning." The motion, the working in and out and in and out and John's lips between his shoulders, that felt better, but his ass was on fire.
"Um." Um was not the right answer. Not, not, not. "Sorry, sorry, Jesus, I was, I used the Carmex in my pocket...." And Carmex, that had menthol, camphor, phenol. None of those were things that Rodney ever, ever, ever wanted near his ass. "Sorry, I just..." That obviously didn't mean John was going to stop, because his hips stuttered a thrust against Rodney's ass.
Stuttered and thrust, and Rodney moaned, because that almost would have felt good, he decided, if someone hadn't smeared Carmex in his ass. Almost good wasn't good enough, wasn't enough to make him enjoy it. Maybe it would just all be done soon.
"Can I?" John was panting in his ear, sweaty forehead pressed against Rodney's ear, and he was never, ever doing this again.
Ever.
"Yeah." He didn't even know what John was asking, didn't care, as long as it ended and he could just, maybe they could go back to hands and mouths? And Rodney needed to clean, get the Carmex off. Who used Carmex for lube? And that was, it was so petroleum based, and that wasn't good, wasn't good at all with condoms, because condoms were latex, and.... When John started moving again, steady and hard, Rodney tried desperately to close his eyes and think about, about the chemical properties of those two things. Anything, anything but what was going on, and then....
It was over. Fast, flurried movements that were probably going to bruise him, and then John was pushing at him and it hurt, and it was over.
John stopped moving, and where he'd been hoping he was less drunk before, and maybe had better coordination, now Rodney wished he was drunker, so drunk that he'd never remember it. Maybe, if he was lucky, he'd just wake up and forget. Maybe...
"Hey. Get off me," he hissed, because he wanted to try and get that stuff out of him. It hurt, and he sniffled. "...John?"
Great. Even better. Either the guy was dead on top of him, or passed out, and that creeped Rodney out enough to make him squirm loose. He had to really squirm, though, and there was a dick in his ass, and that hurt enough to make him decide that maybe he just wanted to stay where he was, except either John was dead or John was, well, it didn't matter. It didn't matter. Rodney didn't want unconscious dick in his ass.
Grunting, he pushed himself along, the bits and pieces of his Skeletor still scattered in the bed scratching hard at his hip. He let that be the excuse for the way he sniffled, the way his breath hitched. It hurt, right? Having his toy bite at his skin. It hurt, and it had nothing at all to do with doing something so very very stupid as all this.
It was just sex. Just, just bad sex, and he was okay, he'd slip into the bathroom and clean up and go to bed and in the morning he probably wouldn't even have a hangover.
In the morning, maybe they could get back to the kissing and stuff, and that was, that would be better. Maybe John would wake up sober, and smile, and it would be okay. Maybe.
By the time he woke up at noon on Saturday morning, John was gone.
If you'd like, go on to Firing Squad.
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