Work Text:
"I only fuck if I'm on top, Sheppard," Larrin says, in a sort of friendly-warning way, just when the clothes are starting to come off.
John slides his hands up under her shirt and smiles. "Not a problem." He loves girl on top. It's easier on his knees than pretty much anything else, plus he gets access to breasts, and what's not cool about that?
Larrin grins, and goes back to kissing him, and John splits his focus between her lips, trying to figure out how the hell her pants fasten - seriously, did she get sewn into them when she got dressed in the morning? - and, peripherally, where all the weapons in the room are. Fool him once.
He's given up on her pants and is working on his instead when she rolls off the bed and gets up, sauntering over toward a chest of drawers against the bulkhead. John's hands pause at his fly while she opens a drawer. If she pulls a gun out, he wants to be ready. But it's not a weapon. It's a tangle of leather straps, and he doesn't figure it out until she shimmies out of her pants and steps into the harness, sliding it up over her bare legs to rest over her hips. It crisscrosses darkly over her skin as she adjusts the fit, soft, supple leather all over except for one shining metal ring dead center.
Oh. She meant on top.
John hesitates while she fastens on a dildo. Probably he should clear up this little misunderstanding, find his shirt, and get the hell out of here. But Larrin is ridiculously hot, and she kisses dirty, and if he's honest with himself she's just as sexy with the fake dick on as she was without.
Larrin grabs a jar of something out of the same drawer and dips her fingers into it as she saunters back to the bed. They come out shiny and slick, and she sighs as she spreads the lube down the length of her cock. She jacks it a couple of times, coating it with the shiny stuff, and John can see that the base presses right up against her clit. Jesus.
What the hell, he figures. You only live once. He shoves his pants and boxers down and off, and spreads his legs.
Larrin smiles wickedly at him as she kneels between his thighs and leans over for a kiss. John pushes his hands into her hair, her curls winding around his fingers, and slides his tongue into her mouth. She tastes good, sweet, and he wonders whether she's going to get off from fucking him or if he'll get a chance to taste her everywhere. He's not sure which would be better - maybe it'll be both.
They kiss for a while like that, Larrin curving down over John, her breasts brushing lightly against his chest, but with their hips as far apart as pre-teens at a Catholic school dance. John is just starting to wonder if actual sex is going to happen when Larrin's hand drifts down over his stomach and she takes hold of his cock, stroking him lightly a few times before she reaches further down.
He's never done this before, but he knows what's coming next. There's a lot of porn on the Atlantis network, and someone (he tries not to guess who, because he really doesn't need that kind of imagery in his head, though if there was a betting pool for it he'd put his money on someone who's name starts with Z and rhymes with "elenka") in the city is really fond of semi-kinky films with women in charge. So he's braced for it when Larrin's finger slides over his asshole, but the way it feels takes him by surprise. It's good. It's really good. And the way his breath hitches - the whiny little moan that rises in his throat - would probably be embarrassing, except he's too turned on to care.
Which is good, because the first inward press of Larrin's fingertip is not anywhere near as nice, and John tenses up hard, holding on to the thought of how good it felt a second ago in order to keep himself from pushing Larrin away.
"Why, John Sheppard!" she says, managing to sound both surprised and smug as she pulls back to look at his face. "Is this your first time?"
John has a weirdly macho urge to say no, of course not, he takes it up the ass constantly, but suppresses it. He tries a smirk and an unnecessarily breathless, "Be gentle with me?" instead, batting his eyelashes.
It's a good answer, apparently. Larrin laughs as she slips him another finger, and it helps him relax. It doesn't exactly feel good, but it doesn't hurt, either - and then Larrin slides her fingers a little deeper, and moves them around like she's trying to find something in there, and all of a sudden it feels amazing.
"Oh fuck," John says.
Larrin laughs again. "In a minute, stud."
John starts to roll his eyes, but loses track of what he's doing as she strokes over his prostate again. He closes them instead, focusing on the sensation. It's not quite enough, and he starts rocking his hips a little bit, chasing it.
Larrin's dick isn't that big, he thinks. Not real long, or all that much thicker than maybe three fingers held together. He can totally take it. "I think now is good," he says fervently. "Really."
Larrin can't be feeling much of anything at this point, but she's obviously enjoying herself anyway. She's a little breathless when she says, "If you insist," and she doesn't exactly waste any time hooking one of his ankles over her shoulder and moving up close. She can pretend she's detached all she wants, but she's definitely into it.
"Oh yeah," John says, and then, "Jesus fucking Christ," because maybe he wasn't quite as ready as he thought he was, but even the stretch feels good at this point. His toes are fucking curling.
Larrin is all out of smart remarks, just biting her lip as she gives it to him, her face and upper chest flushing. John hooks his free leg around and presses his heel into the small of her back, urging her closer and changing the angle, and her mouth falls open as she gasps.
"Harder," he suggests, and she does it, God, and it makes them both moan.
John's fingers are itching to get around his cock, but he holds off. He wants this to last, and not only because Larrin made that stupid fucking comment about shooting too soon and he is determined not to give her cause to repeat it. He clenches his fingers into the sheets, crumpling them up in his fists, and tries to think some unsexy thoughts.
He wonders if Rodney would be even more jealous if he told him exactly what sex with Larrin actually involved, or totally horrified, and the thought that the look on his face either way would be worth it makes him grin. And it also helps him back away from the edge some, until Larrin starts to make sexy little moaning noises with every exhale, and he's sucked right back into the moment.
She's getting off on doing this to him, and it's the only thing that could possibly make it hotter.
Or - wait. He shifts a little, and curls up, and when Larrin takes the hint and leans down just a little more, yes. He can totally get his hands on her breasts.
Girl on top is so cool.