Hairy Guys

~1700 words :: Stargate: Atlantis :: John/Rodney :: 2/27/07
Rodney doesn’t like hairy guys, and if this is going to be a…thing, John’s going to have to do something about it.

In hindsight, “I have a present for you” itself should have been a sign. Rodney isn’t really much for presents, and when he gets that look on his face, it never bodes well.

John frowns down at the package and then at Rodney. “The Bodygroom? What the hell is this?”

“I’d think that would be kinda obvious. It’s a razor. One specifically designed for-”

“I can see that. I meant it in a more…” John gestures vaguely, “‘What the hell kind of Valentine’s Day present is this?’ sort of way.”

“What? It’s not like you got me anything.”

“I got you the gift of not buying you a razor.”

“Anyway, I didn’t buy it as a Valentine’s Day gift. The girl just assumed.”

“Yet you waited til today instead of giving it to me when we were on Earth, or on the trip back.” John sits down on the edge of his bed and hmphs as he digs through the shiny red bag. “Why anyone would assume a razor was-” He pulls out a small bottle – shaving cream, it looks like – and scrunches up his face as he reads the label. “Does this say Coochy?”

Rodney frowns, and for a moment John thinks he’s going to say it must be a mistake, that there’s no way he bought something called Coochy Shave Cream for John, but instead he just shrugs and says, “Yeah, I always thought it was spelled with a T.”

“I don’t think it really matters, since in case you hadn’t noticed, I don’t have one,” John says, shoving the razor and the Coochy Cream back at Rodney. “With or without a T.”

“Okay, yeah, so it’s for women,” Rodney says, and hands them right back to John, “but I don’t see why that should stop you. Sensitive skin,” he gestures vaguely at his crotch, “is sensitive skin and the razor says you can use it wet or dry…” He coughs, adjusting himself, and okay, John didn’t expect that reaction. “Anyway, you’ll notice I at least trim, and honestly, you really need to do something about it because…” and his nose crinkles up, “ew.”

“‘Ew’? What do you mean by ‘ew’?”

“I mean ew. It’s not exactly sunshine and flowers down there, you know, and I’m getting sick of finding your damn pubes in my teeth, not to mention the coughing fits when one attempts to take up residence in my throat.”

“I’ve never had any complaints before,” John says, hating the whiny note that creeps into his voice. Whining should be left to Rodney.

But all Rodney does is stand there, arms folded over his chest. “Well, you do now.”

It’s not like John had expected flowers and a candlelit dinner. Hell, it’s not like he’d even remembered today was Valentine’s Day until Rodney handed him the bag. After all, there are no grocery stores filled with hearts and cards and candy on Atlantis to remind you. But still, it’s pretty harsh.

When John doesn’t say anything, Rodney sighs and scratches the back of his head. “Look, I just, I don’t like hairy guys, and if we’re going to, if this is going to be a, a thing, then I want- Is it really that hard to put yourself in my position? And anyway, you haven’t even seen everything in the bag.”

“Oh goody, there’s more.”

“Yes, there’s more, just open it. Jesus.”

At least it can’t be worse, or at least that’s what John tells himself as he fishes around in the bag. “Glittery tissue paper, huh? You really went all-out, didn’t…” and then his fingers close over something cold and metallic, and his dick, not caring that he’s pissed off at Rodney right now, suddenly starts to take notice, “you.”

Eyebrows raised, he holds up the handcuffs, gives them a little shake, and says, “You didn’t get this shit at CVS, did you?”

“No. Well, the razor, yes, but the rest… The girl just wrapped everything up without even asking.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not surprised.” John glances down at the bottle on the bed next to him and smirks at Rodney. “You don’t have a ‘coochy’, either.”

“Yes, yes, very funny. Now are you going to let me tie you up and shave you or not?”

“Am I…” Oh yeah, John’s dick is real interested now. “Yeah,” he breathes, and suddenly Rodney is bent down, hands on John’s thighs, lips on his, rough and demanding, and this is much better than being pissed off.

“Good,” Rodney mutters. “Good, cause I want-”


Rodney grabs the hem of John’s shirt, tugs it up and over John’s head, and John’s struggling to his feet, saying, “I should take a shower,” and fumbling with Rodney’s fly, “you should join me.”

“No way!” Rodney shoves him back towards the bathroom. “I told you I’m never taking a shower with you again and I meant it. It’s too small and you always push me up against the wall, and really, you’d think the Ancients would have come up the idea of heated tiles or something.”

“Yeah, yeah, heard it before.”

It’s probably the quickest shower John’s ever taken, just a quick scrub of his pits and crotch and a soapy finger up his ass and he’s out again, not quite fully-rinsed, but the towel’ll take care of that.

Rodney’s stripped down to his shorts, sitting on the bed with the damn razor in hand, and John pauses halfway there. “You really don’t like this?” he says, glancing down at his bush. It sets off his hard-on nicely, he thinks. And besides, who the hell fucks guys if they don’t like a little body hair? “Not even shower-fresh?”

“I’d like to feel like I wasn’t gearing up for a face-first hike through the Great Bear Rainforest when I go for your cock.”

“It’s not that bad!”

“It is. Come here and let me fix it,” Rodney says, and John goes, because, well, handcuffs, and the fact that his dick’s not getting any less hard and it’s pretty obvious this is the only chance he’s got at getting anything other than his hand tonight.

“You’re not gonna cut it all off, are you?”

“Who am I, Lorena Bobbit?”

Rolling his eyes, John snaps his towel at Rodney and then drops it on the bed. “You know what I meant.”

It’s too bad there’s no headboard to hook the handcuffs to, but he just holds his hands above his head as he stretches out and Rodney drops the key on the nightstand and snaps the cuffs shut with a smirk. John lifts his hips so Rodney can get the towel underneath and it feels like he’s fucking the air. God, he wants to fuck something, and Rodney’s just taking his own sweet time as if he didn’t have a stiffie to rival John’s tenting his briefs.

Rodney’s slow with the razor, the hand on John’s dick clinical as he pulls it out of the way, and somehow that’s hotter than anything and John has to clench his teeth and his fists and his whole damn body to keep from thrusting up into it. No thrusting while the razor’s on; he doesn’t need Rodney’s muttered “Sheppard” to know that.

His nuts are tricky to do. That seems as good a reason as any not to shave them at all, but Rodney’s not deterred, the bastard. He smacks John hard on the thigh, but it’s not his fault they keep drawing up.

“Turn over,” Rodney says, forever later when John thinks he’s finally done, and when John’s on his knees with his ass in the air, Rodney starts shaving John’s crack. It’s kind of humiliating, especially the way Rodney’s nattering on about how maybe he should have gotten John a waxing kit. He slaps one asscheek, then squeezes and says, “I’ll do these later.” John’s face feels hot, but his dick is dripping.

And then there’s silence. No more Rodney, no more razor. Rodney leans in and blows, brushes the stray hairs away, and then he licks. He grips John’s asscheeks and presses his face into John’s crack and makes happy little sounds as he works his tongue in.

John wants to say, “I thought you said you don’t like rimming,” but all that comes out is a strangled moan, and John’s pretty sure the shaving was worth it for this. His arm jerks in the cuffs, trying to get down to his dick, and soon enough he’s begging for “Just a reach-around, man, gimme a fucking hand here.”

He gets Rodney’s tongue spearing into his ass and Rodney’s nails digging into his skin, but no hand, not even an acknowledgement, and all the while Rodney’s making the most un-Rodney-like sounds John’s ever heard. He loses track of the time; he’s been begging for hours, it feels like, when Rodney’s hand is finally there, jacking him off slow and steady, so his orgasm almost creeps up on him, leaving him wobbly and breathless and a little light-headed.

His ass is still spasming when Rodney pulls away, and John groans, so ready to be fucked, it’s not even funny. He’s waiting, sure there’ll be a dick in his ass any minute now, but then he hears it. The slap of flesh, balls bouncing against thighs, the way Rodney’s breathing hard through his nose. It’s not til the grunt and the splash of warm jizz over his ass that it sinks in.

He lets his knees slide out from under him, collapses on the bed with a frustrated growl, not caring about the towelfull of pubes that’ll stick to his dick. Rodney stretches out half on top of him, no room on the stupid narrow bed for them to both lie down comfortably.

“God, that was fantastic,” Rodney sighs.

“You owe me a fuck,” John say sullenly.


“Never mind, just get me out of these cuffs, will you?” John yawns. “If I fall asleep and they cut off my circulation, you’re buying me new hands.”