(Untitled)
The light is out directly above my head. This is making me feel distant and sleepy, because darkness means sleep, and I'm lost in this fuzzy, floating half-sleep like predawn light that isn't light but isn't dark and your body can't figure it out any more than your eyes can
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"I want to try something," Rodney says.
John is sprawled on the bed, completely naked, his legs invitingly spread, one hand stroking his own cock. Rodney is watching him; John can feel his hungry gaze like a physical caress on his bare skin.
"Sure," he says. He's learned to trust Rodney's brilliance in bed like he does out in the field; learned to trust his body to Rodney's strong, capable hands. "How do you want me?"
Rodney swallows harshly at the words, at John's obvious, willing submission. "Like this," he says, showing him what he wants, pushing and guiding till John's stretched out flat on his back along the length of the bed, his head hanging down over the edge. "Comfortable? Can you stay like this for a bit?" Rodney asks.
"Yeah, I'm fine," John says. It's a weird position, but not really uncomfortable. He wonders what Rodney is planning.
Rodney doesn't keep him guessing for long. He slips off the bed, walking around so he's standing directly in front of John. With his head hanging down like this, he sees Rodney from a weird, upside-down perspective, looming over him. It makes him seem taller, commanding John's whole field of vision with his presence, his hard cock almost directly in front of John's face.
And then Rodney leans forward slightly, and John suddenly gets it, knows what Rodney's going to do before he does it, and when Rodney lines his cock up with John's mouth and pushes in, he opens up wide and takes it, lets Rodney use his mouth any way he wants. Rodney presses on, all the way in; when the head of his cock hits the back of John's throat, he just keeps going.
For a moment, John almost panics, choking a little, helplessly, his hands going up blindly to push him away. Rodney catches them in mid-air, strong fingers lightly encircling John's wrists, pushing them gently down to the mattress, whispering, "Come on, John, you can take it, I know you can. Shh, relax for me. Yeah, that's it. That's it, suck my cock, do it, John, for me…" and suddenly he can do it, his muscles going slack; it's almost ridiculously easy, lying like that, the position keeping his throat straight, perfectly lined up for this.
It suddenly hits him how very vulnerable he is like this, Rodney's hands and cock keeping him pinned down, helpless. Rodney's controlling the rhythm completely, pushing in with slow, inexorable thrusts, giving him plenty of time to breathe in between strokes -- but he lingers a little, at the end of each thrust, just enough to remind John that he is controlling this, that he's only taking it easy on John because that's what he wants to do; cutting of his air supply just long enough to show that he can.
It's a heady rush, soothing and a little frightening all at once, incredibly erotic. Rodney's filling all his senses, the taste and smell of him surrounding John, his hands on John's wrists keeping him grounded. John is panting and moaning, just from this, flying free in that space where only Rodney could ever take him, his cock hard and aching without a single touch.
He's lapping at Rodney's cock, sloppy and eager, trying to caress him with his tongue without messing up the perfect rhythm of his thrusts. Rodney moans, curling up over John, talking with his voice breathy and broken with pleasure: "God, John, so beautiful, your mouth, if you could see yourself -- you love this, don't you, you love sucking my cock…"
He trails off, losing himself completely in the pleasure. This is maybe the best part of it, the thrill of being able to reduce Rodney McKay, PhD three times over, to incoherent whimpers and gasps.
(tbc)
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*loves you forever*
God, John just taking it, letting Rodney control it *whimpers*
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