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Colonel John Sheppard, military head of the top-secret expedition to the ancient and highly advanced city of Atlantis in another galaxy, fidgeted in his conference room chair and thought about pissing himself.
In a roomful of people.
…On purpose.
He swallowed hard, rubbing a sweaty palm over his thigh, and glanced across the table at Ronon. The big Satedan was watching him squirm with the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. He, of course, knew exactly what John was fidgeting about, because he was the bastard who’d pinned John to a wall that morning, started teasing him through his pants, and growled Wanna play a game today? with one of those devious, heated grins of his.
Licking his lips, John shifted again, acutely aware he’d been sporting half a stiffy on and off ever since Ronon had explained that— just like on that planet months ago, when it had happened by accident— John was going to wet himself in public. Enough to feel it; not enough to show.
And not by accident at all.
John, of course, had said yes… and now here he was, trying to sit still and control his breathing despite the flares of nervous, aroused excitement tightening his groin as the boring meeting dragged on and he got closer and closer to actually doing it.
He was wearing the thicker black BDUs like he had been at that stupid ceremony ages ago, and he’d managed to surreptitiously adjust himself under the table so that his half-hard dick was resting up against his thigh. He hadn’t gone to the bathroom since getting up in the morning, so he really did have to piss. And his part in the meeting was long over, so no one was paying attention to him, either.
All he had to do now was…
Let go.
Rubbing a finger over his mouth in ‘thought’, staring unseeing down at his tablet screen, John let himself slip just a little into that relaxed state Ronon could always coax him into. Something loosened slightly in his middle… a familiar, tingling warmth crept downwards; and…
John covered the sudden hitch in his breath by clearing his throat, struggling to control the flush rising in his face as a brief trickle of heat seeped into his boxers at the tip of his cock. His body cut it off again on him almost immediately, an electric shiver rippling through him from the thrill of it; from the anticipation and the vague shock that he was actually doing it.
Ronon’s eyes were boring into him, that steady gaze helping John drift back down into the very edges of that loose, floaty feeling. The conversation around him became a distant, faint roar in his ears, that insistent tickle of heat behind his cock welled up again, and—
Another slow trickle of piss escaped, and this time he actually managed to keep it from stopping. The warmth spread further, gradually soaking through his boxers before running in tiny, thin rivulets down the inside of his thigh and the underside of his thickened shaft.
Still pissing, wetting himself as slowly as he could manage, John shifted in his chair and carefully, unobtrusively rubbed his thumb over the tip of his cock under the conference room table to reposition a little, nudging his aim over the top of his leg so he wouldn’t inadvertently wind up getting the chair itself wet under him. A new warm, damp spot bloomed in the thick black fabric of his BDUs a moment later, the wet patch growing, spreading gradually through his pantleg over his thigh.
John couldn’t quite make himself stop stroking his cockhead with the pad of his thumb, cock stiffening further and his ears feeling like they were about to literally burst into flame. He couldn’t look at Ronon anymore, not trusting his own reaction if he did— but he knew Ronon would be watching; could practically feel the weight of that intense gaze pinning him to his chair while he pissed his pants with no one else in the room any the wiser.
He did finally make himself stop going, already slightly worried he’d overdone it; a little carried away by how good it felt. That little tendril of worry didn’t stop him from basking in the perfectly wrong thrill of what he’d done for the remainder of the meeting, though, and he was still mostly hard by the time it finally adjourned. It didn’t help that he still really had to fucking piss. Even more than he’d had to at the start, before he’d let go as much as he’d dared— and then maybe a little bit more— right there.
The usual bustle and chatter picked up as everyone stood and gathered their things— and John froze up for a moment, suddenly convinced he was going to get cornered into a conversation, and people would inevitably notice, and—
“Sheppard,” Ronon grunted, heading towards him around the big table. “Need to talk to you about something.”
John nearly melted from relief even as his dick twitched eagerly in his more-than-damp boxers, and a few minutes later found them safely away from the others and heading towards Ronon’s quarters at a brisk pace.
A few minutes after that and they were in Ronon’s bathroom, the main door to the hallway locked behind them.
“I can’t believe you talked me into that,” John groaned as Ronon’s arms wrapped around him from behind. He actually felt a little shaky, lightheaded and more than a little euphoric from the rush.
Ronon growled a laugh, face buried in John’s neck and his mouth hot and wet on John’s skin.
“You seem to have liked it alright,” he said, one hand dropping to squeeze John’s still-hard cock through his dampened pants. “Fuck,” Ronon added fervently, hips rolling to rut against John’s ass from behind while his fingers explored the extent of the not-inconsiderable wet patch. “You really went for it, huh.”
“…And you seem to like it alright,” John answered, pushing his hips back to grind himself against the stiff heat he could feel easily through both their clothes.
“Still gotta go?” Ronon asked, low and husky, and John was nodding before the third word was out.
“Pretty bad, yeah.”
Ronon groaned, hand tightening on John’s cock and his hips twitching in a jerky thrust that nearly sent John toppling forward before he caught himself, bracing on the bathroom wall with both hands.
“Let me feel it,” Ronon growled, still mouthing at John’s neck, burrowing under the collar of his shirt to bite and lick and suck.
Still braced against the wall, Ronon’s breath coming hot and humid over his skin and Ronon’s big hand cupping his dick through his pants, John closed his eyes, blew out a shaky breath… and relaxed.
This time, he didn’t have to try and control it; probably couldn’t have even if he had tried. Piss flooded his boxers under Ronon’s hand, hot and wet, almost immediately pouring down the insides of his pantlegs as well. Ronon groaned behind him again, squeezing his pissing cock through his pants. Panting, John kept going, rutting slowly into Ronon’s palm while he finally emptied himself, listening to Ronon’s harsh breathing warm by his ear; the hissing and splashing of his own piss spraying hard into his BDUs and cascading down to the hard floor of the bathroom.
He still wasn’t done yet when Ronon let go long enough to unfasten and yank John’s pants down his ass; immediately shoving his own clothes out of the way as well. John shuddered, moaning, as the hard heat of Ronon’s cock rubbed over his skin— his own trapped cock was still leaking into his tented boxers in fits and spurts— and a moment later, Ronon pushed just barely inside him with a grunt.
John shuddered, one hand dropping to squeeze himself through the warm, wet fabric of his underwear while Ronon started pumping himself hard and fast, only the head of his cock up John’s ass. Every tug, every quick stroke of his shaft, was transferred to John’s sensitive rim, stretched tight around Ronon’s stiff cock.
It took almost no time at all before Ronon was coming inside him with a strangled, gasped grunt, one hand tightening on John’s hip and the other still jerkily pumping up and down his own shaft. John wasn’t far behind, back arching as he jacked himself off quick and dirty while Ronon fingered him in the slippery-hot mess of come that started leaking back out of him almost immediately; dripping down his balls and smearing along the crease at the top of his thighs.
His climax hit hard and fast, and John could hardly breathe for panting and moaning, sagging forward against the wall while he spasmed and shuddered and clenched around Ronon’s come-slick fingers.
Ronon chuckled, low and pleased, finally easing off as John twitched and panted and released the clutching grip he’d had on himself through his boxers with a shaky groan. He’d been so caught up in things that he hadn’t even quite gotten around to pulling himself out, and his boxers and thighs were now a completely filthy, soaking wet mess, literally dripping with piss and come.
His BDUs were really not any better. Thank fuck he’d started stashing a spare change of clothes in Ronon’s room.
…The boots were gonna be a bit of a problem, though.
Oh well, John thought vaguely, turned around with a dopey grin plastered on his face, and happily let Ronon keep him pinned to the bathroom wall for the next little while.
…