Disclaimer: What do I look like? A Money tree?
Raiting: R (though it's all kind of vague and mostly implied, except for a few spots).
Beta: None
Genre: PWP (Plot, what plot?), possible 'Aliens Made Them Do It'. Slash, Hurt/Comfort, mild angst.
Notes: This was written as a response to September's Callenge of Bondage - Handcuffs over at kinkofthemonth on LJ. The title doesn't really fit with the story, but it was the best I could come up with on such short notice. This has no been beta-read because the damn thing was due September 30, and I'd only just finished writing it late, late on the 29th. Also, this was supposed to be a threesome, but moved down to a twosome, and almost became a solo act - but I had to wonder, how do you get off when your cuffed and have no one to play with? So a twosome it remained.


Ritual Offerings

It was a little odd now that Rodney thought about it. Sheppard had agreed so readily to the ritual without getting the full details about it. But he had agreed just as readily as Sheppard had. Not for the same reasons, but because he'd seen the almost desperate gleam in the other man's eyes. Sheppard didn't need a stranger, not really, what he needed was a friend who would scratch an itch willingly without judgement.

Rodney still didn't really know what had driven him to agree to the terms of the ritual. But he found himself stripped naked and liberally covered in a honey scented oil that left his skin slick. They had brought him to this little room and then used soft leather handcuffs to secure him to the bed. A little thrill had gone through him when those cuffs had been secured around his wrists.

The leather cuffs were actually wide leather bracelets with D rings. They were tied to braided leather strips that were secured to the posts of the head board. Rodney gave an experimental tug and felt only a slight give in his bindings. The leather was soft enough that it didn't chaff his wrists, but secure enough that he knew it would take some serious work and Ronon-like muscular effort to get free.

Rodney wasn't given anymore time to test his restraints because the door to his little room opened. Lifting his head, Rodney watched as Sheppard stepped through, closing the door carefully behind him. He was just as naked as Rodney was, covered in the same honey scented oil. But Rodney noticed that it gave Sheppard's skin a deeper golden tone. There was something hesitant in the way Sheppard almost clung to the door when it was shut.

Rodney was not nearly as oblivious as most people thought he was. He saw the hesitation, saw the uncertain light in the other man's eyes. And Rodney wondered if agreeing to the ritual and a complete stranger for a partner had been the point. Because Sheppard was not acting like he was desperate for sex, but more like he didn't know what to do with someone he knew.

A stranger, Rodney realized, would have been someone Sheppard could have just let go with. He wouldn't have had to worry about image and secrets and acting a certain part. Rodney for a partner meant that Sheppard would have to be careful and maintain a certain set of behaviours. Btu the point of having offered himself up as Sheppard's partner was still the same – Teyla would have done it if Rodney hadn't offered first, and Ronon would have put off mourning for his lost mate if that what it had come down to. After the things that Sheppard had been through he needed to know that they were there for him. No matter what he needed, they were there.

Some unspoken question filtered across Sheppard's face. And whatever he saw for an answer in Rodney's expression seemed to satisfy him, because he moved away from the door and over to the bed.

His first touch was tentive and gentle. Fingers skimming up Rodney's spread arm, moving easily against the oil slick flesh. When Rodney didn't jerk away or make a sound of protest Sheppard's touches grew steadily bolder. He was testing Rodney's limits, the scientist had decided. And Rodney wasn't going to give Sheppard a reason to stop or back away. Hands skimmed over Rodney's body, touching him everywhere and nowhere all at once. A light play of nails down his sides, the strong press of fingers up his chest, a tickling sweep of a touch over the inside of one thigh.

It left Rodney gasping and arching, straining against the handcuffs. His body was growing thick with anticipation because the only part of Rodney that Sheppard hadn't touched was his cock, heavy and full, waving for attention. Rodney had begun to mutter words he wasn't completely aware of until Sheppard said, "John." Rodney only blinked up at him, trying to focus on him.

"I think, considering what we're about to do, you should be calling me by my first name," Sheppard told him.

And Rodney realized been muttering Sheppard's name, well not his name, but his last name, and it seemed to matter to him that Rodney call him by his first name. So Rodney tried it out when Sheppard's – John's – nails scrapped lightly over his nipple. His body arched off the bed and into the touch. When Rodney breathed out his name, John stretched over him for the bowl of honey scented oil that had been left for them and knelt between Rodney's legs.

He looked another question at Rodney as he liberally coated on finger in the sweet scented oil. When that finger slipped between them and made a teasing circle about his ass, Rodney offered a whimper as an answer and that finger pressed into his body.

Rodney closed his eyes only briefly, enjoying how his body stretched like it hadn't been stretched in a while. He missed the moment when John's head dipped forward and his mouth closed over his throbbing erection, but he didn't miss the feel of it. Crying out, Rodney lifted his own head to watch, hands tugging uselessly at his restraints. He wanted to touch, to card his fingers through John's hair while John's tongue did wicked, possibly illegal things. But he was forbidden to touch because of the damn leather cuffs holding his arms out from his body – keeping his hands out of the action.

Rodney wrapped his hands around the leather strips binding him to the headboard to have something to hold on to. If he couldn't touch, Rodney was a headboard rider. And when a second finger joined the first, scissoring, and John's nose touched him – his throat tight and constricting around the head of Rodney's cock – he was thankful for something to hold on to.

He wasn't sure what he had expected. Sex was definitely happening, but it was the how that Rodney had only guessed at. He'd assumed John would top, filling the void his fingers had left, and fucking Rodney clear into next week. If not that, he'd at least expected some frontage. He was more than a little surprised when John straddled his hips and slicking up Rodney's cock, because Rodney hadn't known what John's other hand had been busy doing while the pilot had hummed around a mouthful of cock.

Rodney could only watch and stare while John impaled himself on his dick. Because if Rodney had thought John oozed sex while fully clothed and offering nothing but a smile, he was struck by wonder at the sight of John during sex. He knew exactly what he wanted and was going for it. Rodney was glad that he'd offered himself to participate in the ritual now, because no one else aside from his own team would have understood what was happening. This wasn't about sex or getting laid, or just getting some. This was about John needing to feel alive. After the hell he'd gone through, Rodney was more than willing to help in that matter.

When Rodney jerked at his bindings, needing to touch. John stopped moving completely and opened his eyes to look down at Rodney. The look told Rodney that John would untie him if he asked, but if he asked to be untied everything would stop. This wasn't about Rodney's needs, this was about John's. It was what Rodney had agreed to when he'd agreed to participate in the ritual. Rodney wrapped his hands around the leather strips again, digging his heels into the bed and thrust up into John. John's eyes rolled back and he gasped softly.

John wrapped his hands around Rodney's hips and set up a harsh pace. His hips rolled and lifted and sank and generally drove Rodney out of his mind. Because watching John ride was… fuck. Rodney groaned under him, swallowing down his orgasm. It hurt to do but the slight grateful smile tugging at John's lips made it worth the effort.

John was nearly silent above him. His eyes closed, the only sounds he made were small gasps that were nearly inaudible above the sound of flesh on flesh. But for all his silence, John was responsive. His fingers tightened around Rodney's hips when he did something that he enjoyed, his body nearly curling around the pleasure. His back arched with every roll of his hips, muscles tightening every time he lifted himself off Rodney, chewing at his bottom lips every time he sank back down.

Rodney bit back his orgasm, body quivering under John, screaming for release. "John," Rodney warned. John leaned back and began to fuck himself harder, nails digging in and parting skin, while his body shook for the pleasure. Rodney watched as John came, wet spurts hitting his stomach, with a little whimpered moan. And then he was nearly screaming his own climax, long denied.

When John collapsed on top of him, Rodney was still relearning how to breathe. "You can untie me now," he panted out, and felt John's hands fumble for the leather strips holding Rodney to the bed.

When he was free Rodney wrapped his arms around the man lying limply above him, inhaling deeply. "So what exactly were we supposed to do for this ritual?" Rodney asked.

John stirred against him just enough to squirm onto his side next to Rodney and nuzzle in against him. "Make an offering of seed to the goddess," John responded. "I asked the priest just before I came into the room. We don't have to make a public offering. Just as long as one of us got off, it would be good enough."

"Thank god," Rodney breathed. "I don't want to think about how we would have tried to collect a suitable offering to be made in public."