McShepcest, absolute filth: Double-teamed
Sheppard and Sheppard proving beyond a doubt that clone-fucking is really not just masturbation. ...Rodney's probably never been so happy to be wrong about something before in his life.
Rodney was dead.
He had to be. He’d died, and he’d gone to heaven. Because even though he didn’t believe in that nonsense, it had to be the only possible explanation for how he’d wound up back in his room pinned between two John Sheppards.
And both of them every bit as handsy as Rodney had always thought he— they— John would be.
Rodney groaned, the half-whimper muffled into one Sheppard’s mouth while the other reached around from behind to undo Rodney’s fly, breath hot and mouth wet on Rodney’s neck. He had no idea anymore which one was which. They were both just as hard as Rodney was, clothed stiff heat rubbing against him front and back with matching, lazy rolls of their hips, hands stripping Rodney’s shirt off over his head while another pair pushed his pants and underwear down and warm fingers wrapped around his freed cock in a firm grip.
“You good, McKay?” John asked in front of him, absentmindedly licking kiss-swollen lips while meeting Rodney’s gaze with a heated, searching look.
Rodney breathed a shaky laugh. “Are you kidding me? I could die happy, and you know how I normally feel about dying- nng—”