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"Oh, please," Rodney said. "Like that's really any
kind of challenge."
"You're just saying that because you know you
couldn't do it." John sounded smug and self-satisfied. He looked
it, too, lying on his back with his arms folded behind his head,
his mouth faintly reddened from kissing.
"Okay, I don't know what kind of -- it's not
like I talk all the time," Rodney protested.
Predictably, John put on his sarcastic face.
Which didn't actually look any different from his regular face, but
Rodney could tell the difference.
"Besides, wouldn't you want something a little
more...outre?" He'd been expecting something a little...kinkier,
frankly, when he made the offer.
"You were hoping for, what, spanking? Women's
lingerie?"
"Shut up," Rodney said, his face pinking.
"Look! Fine! If it's what you really want -- "
"More than anything in the world," John said,
and his voice was so facetious Rodney had to sock him in the arm.
"Ow!"
"Fuck you," Rodney said quietly, a cloud of
unhappiness settling over him. Try to do something nice, and where
did it get him? Snide insinuations about how he talked too much.
Not exactly a complaint he'd never heard before, but he hadn't
expected it from John.
He pushed himself to sitting and started
hunting for his socks. One of them was at the foot of the bed;
where the hell had the other one gone?
"Hey." Now John sounded concerned.
Rodney stiffened his back, and felt his jaw
tightening to go with it.
"Hey. C'mere." John tugged at his arm, and
feigning more reluctance than he actually felt Rodney went. John
kissed him once, twice, an obvious apology, and Rodney let him. "I
didn't mean to be a dick," John said, mouthing Rodney's neck up
toward his ear. "I like listening to you talk."
"You'd better," Rodney said, finally relaxing
back into the embrace.
"I just think it would be really hot," John
murmured, right in his ear, and Rodney shivered.
"I was -- it was supposed to be something I
could do for you."
"Believe me," John said darkly, "it is." He bit
Rodney's earlobe.
"Well, fine," Rodney said, feeling a little bit
mollified and a little bit like things were spinning out of his
control. "I guess I can let you have your nefarious way with me.
Just this once."
"Shhh," John said, and shimmied his body out
from under Rodney's, turning them so that Rodney was lying on his
back and John was on top. He knelt back on his heels, straddling
Rodney's hips, and the predatory gleam in his eyes made Rodney
suddenly weak in the knees even though he was lying down.
And then he just waited there, looking down at
Rodney.
Rodney opened his mouth to say "Were you
planning on doing something anytime today?" but closed it before
any of the words got out.
Damn. It was possible that not-talking was
going to be trickier than he had anticipated.
The silence stretched longer than he was
comfortable with, and Rodney was on the verge of reaching up to
grab John, just to make something happen, when John
said -- quietly, conversationally -- "You drive me crazy."
Whatever he'd been expecting John to say, it
hadn't been that.
"Not, like, you annoy me to death," John said,
and his smile wasn't visible but it was totally present, "though
you kind of do, sometimes."
Thanks a lot, Rodney thought, trying to project
the words via telepathy. John's smirk suggested he had succeeded.
"I mean, it makes me crazy sometimes, wanting
to touch you."
Rodney swallowed hard, feeling poleaxed. I'm
right here, he thought. Touch all you want.
But John didn't touch him yet, just kept
looking, and Rodney felt the prickle of sweat beginning to arise
beneath the heat of John's regard.
"We'll be in a meeting," John gave a little
shrug, "and I'll remember what your body feels like in my hands."
John's hands, resting lightly on his own thighs, tensed and
released, and Rodney felt himself yearning upward toward them.
Craving them.
"Your...chest," John said diffidently, "your
hips," and Rodney couldn't help it, he was staring at John, knowing
way too much emotion was probably showing on his face but he
couldn't help himself. He sucked at poker, always had. And
apparently he sucked at separating sex from emotion, too, because
listening to John catalogue his body parts was making him
desperately hard and making his heart ache all at the same time.
"Your ass," John said, and was it Rodney's imagination or had his
voice gotten lower?
Rodney couldn't help it: he twitched, he wanted
to reach up for John, even though he wasn't sure John wanted him
to. Maybe John just wanted him to be still and silent. The thought
filled him with an inchoate panic, because he couldn't -- he
wasn't -- passive was terrifying, what if John wanted --
But John responded to Rodney's motion
instantly, like a piece of Ancient technology responding to a
thought. He dropped immediately over Rodney, braced arms holding
him just high enough to initiate a kiss. Rodney's hands came up to
hold John's head at the right angle, and their hips ground
together, and Rodney felt like he might fly apart. And there was
John's tongue in his mouth, John's hard dick poking him in the
thigh, and Rodney felt deliciously...plundered, somehow, which was
not a word he'd ever imagined applying to himself. Life in the
Pegasus galaxy was glorious and strange.
When they broke they were both breathing hard,
and Rodney opened his mouth to say how good this felt, but John put
a finger on his lips. "Ah ah," he cautioned, raising an eyebrow,
and Rodney bit back a moan as he thrust up. He'd almost forgotten
the weirdly dangerous game they were playing, but now that John had
reminded him, his resolve was back in full force. He'd broken
John's ironic distance; it would be easier from here on out, just a
matter of not making noise no matter how good the sex felt.
John tugged at his shirt, yanking it halfway up
his body, far enough to expose his nipples, and then bent; Rodney
braced himself for a bite, but it didn't come. Instead John was
dropping little closed-mouthed kisses down his chest to his belly.
Not the part of his body he was proudest of,
Rodney could admit that, and if this were an ordinary night he
would already have made some caustic remark to that effect,
defusing the situation by showing he knew where his strengths lay
and his belly wasn't one of them. But this time he couldn't; he had
to just lie there and take it, let John feather kisses across his
stomach with a tenderness that made Rodney's eyes sting.
And then John moved and lightning-quick licked
Rodney's left nipple, his tongue startling and warm and oh
God Rodney bucked up, but John knew how to use his own weight
to hold a guy down. Rodney's dick throbbed.
"I think about the things I want to do to you,"
John said, picking up the thread of their conversation from where
he'd dropped it. Only it wasn't a conversation, because Rodney was
(hard, aching, desperate) keeping quiet. John reached down and
unzipped Rodney's trousers, pushed at his waistband, and Rodney
lifted his hips and hastily helped John shove his pants down his
hips. John seemed to have some kind of plan, and Rodney was not
about to get in the way.
John bent and nuzzled at the base of his cock
and his balls. Rodney swallowed a whimper.
"I think a lot about doing this," John said,
way more nonchalantly than was reasonable, and took Rodney into his
mouth.
Rodney inhaled hard. In the silence of John's
room the sounds of John's mouth and the sounds of his own breathing
were almost obscene. John's mouth was too hot to be believed, and
he alternated light suction with licking and then sucking hard,
keeping Rodney off-balance. This whole thing made Rodney feel dizzy
and out-of-kilter, like he couldn't be sure of the room's gravity.
There was an audible pop as John pulled back,
exposing Rodney's tender cock to the open air. With what little
part of his brain was still functional, Rodney wondered how to make
sure his body language read as pleading, to match the chant of
"fuck, John, please" in his mind.
John's hands took over, rubbing and caressing,
and Rodney shuddered. John was amazing, filthy, diabolical, way too
good at this, somehow able to reach right past Rodney's defenses.
It was a good thing he was keeping his mouth pressed shut; the
names that wanted to escape now were furious and tender and way too
revealing.
"Sometims I think about things we haven't even
tried yet," John said, and now his voice was gritty and incredibly
sexy. I would beg, Rodney thought, incoherent with want. I would
beg you right now, if you let me. "Turning you over -- " and his
hands left Rodney's body and Rodney wanted to scream wait, no,
where are you going, you weren't done yet, but then John reached
over him to retrieve the lube from his bedside and Rodney squeezed
his eyes shut and started reciting gate addresses in his head to
keep from coming right that instant.
"--and putting my mouth on you," and Rodney
heard the snap of the cap coming open, the squirt of the bottle,
and then John's hands returned to his erection cold and slick and
sliding. Not moaning out loud was possibly the most difficult thing
Rodney had ever done in his life.
"I don't even know if you like that," John
said, and Rodney's eyes flew open in indignation, because what kind
of idiot didn't like getting rimmed? and oh, God, John was
grinning, he looked as happy as Rodney had ever seen him, the
bastard was enjoying this. "Given the way you're moving,"
he said, and that pull-and-stroke made Rodney's eyes want to roll
back in his head, "I'm guessing you like it."
You're killing me, Rodney thought. I'm going to
die of orgasm. I'm not even sure I mind.
"I wonder if I could make you come that way,"
John mused aloud as one slick thumb stroked back and brushed across
his asshole, and that was it -- Rodney was coming harder than he
could ever remember doing in his life, and he couldn't hold back
his agonized groan of delight.
"Oh God," John said, thickly, and Rodney was
dimly conscious of him reaching down and shoving one slick hand
down his own pants and clutching himself as his body jerked above
Rodney's, spasming.
John collapsed on top of him, breathing hard,
and Rodney's arms came up and around him, and for a minute they
just lay there.
"We need a shower," John said, eventually,
laughing a little.
"Whose fault is that," Rodney said, though
there was no rancor in it at all. He'd come so hard he'd knocked
his sarcasm offline, he thought, and stifled a giggle.
"C'mon," John said, working his way to his feet
and pulling Rodney with him toward the shower.
While they waited for the water to heat up,
Rodney kissed him again. He tried to make the kiss say everything
he couldn't quite figure out how to find words for. How did you
know and oh God that was good and I think I might
be in love with you.
"That was even more fun than I expected," John
said as they stepped under the spray.
"Me too," Rodney admitted. God: who'd known
John had so much to say?
"That was hot, right?"
"Yes! Okay, I admit it, you were right,
already."
John soaped up his own chest, then moved his
sudsy hands to Rodney's, which felt amazing. "Next time," John
murmured in his ear, "we get a blindfold."
It was physically impossible to get hard again
this soon, but Rodney shivered anyway. "Next time," he said, as
firmly as he could manage, "it's your turn."