Fic: Why John Sheppard hated the Swedes

[anyanka_eg]

Title:  Why John Sheppard hated the Swedes
Rating: NC-17, to be on the safe side 
Pairing: McShep
Spoilers: Absolutely none
Summary: A silly bit of nonsense, with no offense meant to the Swedes. Personally I don't agree with John.


John blamed the Swedes. It was all their fault and he was going to make damn sure they knew just how much he hated them as a nation. He glowered across the table at Dr. Johansson, bringing the full force of his anger to bear on the man until the scientist broke out into a sweat and stammered through his presentation.

Stupid, unrepressed nation.

After all, no other country on Earth would think of selling underpants from their national carrier's in-flight shop. Well, except maybe the Danish. And the Germans. Oh, and the Dutch of course. Stupid Europeans. In-flight purchases were supposed to be alcohol and aftershave, maybe totally useless gadgets if you were really bored and flying US.

And if they did sell boxer briefs, especially ones with a not so subtle double entendre on the front, sensible, normal human beings shouldn't buy them. Not even as a gift for someone who wasn't on the plane. There was no way that the nice middle aged ladies who served you drinks should know what you, or anyone you knew, wore under your pants. It was just wrong.

Especially if the underpants said 'cockpit' in a cheerful font on the front.

He glanced across the table at Rodney and the scientist smiled at him. A little, secret, wicked smile that made John's cock twitch. God, it was so unfair. He'd only put the stupid things on that morning to tease Rodney and yet somehow he was the one who was sat in the meeting, squirming in his seat because he was more than half hard.

He'd felt so sure of himself when he'd slipped on the boxers, even though he wasn't used to the fitted jersey fabric. They were tight and smooth, hugging all the contours he'd always kept hidden before under baggy cotton shorts and they made Rodney's breath catch. That small sound had made him all the more sure that he was going to get his revenge for the stupid gift.

John had run his hand over his stomach and on downwards to cup his cock and balls through the fabric. He didn't think he'd ever done anything so overtly sexy in front of anyone before, at least out of bed anyway. Something about the naked want in Rodney's eyes blasted away the almost overwhelming self-consciousness that had always made him awkward and clumsy at times like these.

“Jesus,” Rodney had breathed, and John shivered at the need in his voice.

“I know you're going to be thinking about me wearing these all day,” John had teased, tightening his grip on his cock and feeling it harden even though Rodney had just fucked him to a screaming orgasm in the shower.

“Oh, I will,” Rodney had agreed eagerly, eyes locked on to the movement of John's hand. “I will.”

John smoothed out the legs of the shorts, taking his time getting them to lie just right across the top of his thighs. He'd stretched and preened under the heavy press of Rodney's gaze. He'd run his hands over his ass, beginning to suspect that Rodney might not be the only one who found the boxers a bit of a turn on.

“You'll be thinking about how tight they are,” John had said, his voice wavering just a little because he wasn't too sure he wouldn't be spending all day thinking about how tight they were.

Of course that tiny sign, that little slip, was enough for Rodney. His eyes snapped up to meet John's and he knew he'd lost control of the conversation. His wonderful plan that he'd spent all night crafting was in ruins with just the one look. Maybe he should have spent more of the night on the plan than on the fabulous welcome home sex.

“Oh, I think you'll be the one feeling just how tight they are,” Rodney had murmured, his voice dropping to the pitch that made John's heart race. Rodney had stood up and crowded into John's space, not touching him, just standing too close for John to be able to think clearly.

“I think you'll be sitting in the meeting today, ignoring every word those cretins from the soft sciences say, and imagining just what I'm going to do to you when we get back here. I think that you're going to be squirming in your seat, remembering all the times I've blown you. All the times I've just pulled your cock out of your shorts and sucked you down. I think you're going to be imagining what it's going to feel like when I ease the elastic down and tuck it behind your balls, how good that'll feel while I suck you.”

“Yes. Please, Rodney, please,” John managed to say, not sure what he was asking for.

“I will John, I will,” Rodney said, finally running his hand over John's ass. “But not right now. The meeting starts in twenty minutes and I don't intend to sit through four hours of speculation about possible uses for pink bananas and berries that taste of Christmas without a cup of coffee.”

With that he'd stepped back, grabbed his jacket off the back of the desk chair and turned towards the door, leaving John standing there, hard as nails, in a pair of ludicrous Scandinavian underpants.

And that was why John hated the Swedes.

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This was inspired by seeing these wonderful pants on the SAS Airlines online shop and then being inspired by the comments about John having them. It was too good an oportunity to miss.