A Ficlet... The First Time Ever... For the First Challenge (R)
The First Time Ever…
"No, Rodney. I told you I don't want to." John sounded aggravated.
"But… okay. But, just this once. You don't have to-"
God damn it, Rodney, how many ways can I say it - no!" Anger flickered in John's eyes, and Rodney felt John stiffen before he pulled away. Rodney cautiously moved closer, but John rose from the bed.
"You know, I'm really kinda tired," John said coolly. "I'm just gonna go."
He didn't look at Rodney; he just walked out the door, he didn't even say good night. Rodney stared at the closed door, then at the half empty bed. A pang of regret swept through him. He shouldn't have pushed John.
Rodney sighed heavily, took his mini earphones from the bedside drawer and plugged them into his laptop. Lying down on the bed, he fitted them on and music filled his ears. He closed his eyes; he missed John already. Rodney wished now he'd just left it alone. But damn it, it was something Rodney really wanted.
He still didn't understand why John had gotten so upset - all he'd wanted was for John to dance with him.
**************
John arrived at Rodney's quarters just before 21:00 hours. He let himself in as usual.
Rodney had been looking forward to this since their return to Atlantis earlier. The mission that day hadn't been particularly bad, just tedious and longer than they had expected. Rodney thought they had all been happy to get back, especially Ronon, who hadn't had an overabundance of patience with the Alatian town council.
Rodney was at his desk trying to finish a report that was due a week ago. Before this thing with John started, Rodney had been very prompt with his reports, but now he had better ways of occupying his nights. He'd practically turned procrastination into an art form, and John was always eager to supply an excuse.
John stepped up behind Rodney, and a warm shiver ran through him as John's hands caressed his shoulders, fingers kneading his flesh. John's breath played across Rodney's neck just before soft lips nipped at a spot below his ear. Rodney knew that John knew how much that drove him crazy. But, in an effort to finish his damn report, Rodney raised his hand, saying nothing -- the Rodney-signal for I'll pay attention to you as soon as I'm finished.
John's hands disappeared and Rodney heard the unmistakable sound of John flinging himself down on the bed. If John had been looking, he would have seen a smile curl Rodney's lips. He liked it that John seemed so comfortable with him.
The lyrical strains of jazz music floated from the speakers Rodney had connected to his computer.
"The music's nice," John remarked, "really nice."
Rodney smiled again. He had made it a personal mission to expand John's musical appreciation beyond country and surf-punk. Unfortunately, Rodney thought, John's taste in music ran akin to his taste in movies -- too confined and, on occasion, just plain wrong.
"Yeah," Rodney said, "it's Bill Evans, possibly one of the greatest jazz pianists. He had one of the finest trios in jazz."
"Hmm," John murmured. "It's nice."
Rodney finished his report and closed out of the program. He turned to look at John, who was lying across the small bed with his arms behind his head, eyes closed.
"Paul Motian was the drummer and Scott LaFaro -- one of the greatest bassists - probably ever," Rodney said. "LaFaro only worked in the business for six years. He died in an automobile accident in 1961, about ten days after this recording was made, in fact."
"What's this one called?" John wanted to know. When he'd started this little project, Rodney had been amused by John's bemusement over the titles of jazz pieces.
"All of You," Rodney replied as he reclined beside John. He inched his hand up under John's shirt and smiled as John's breath hitched. Rodney's fingers slowly sifted through the ebony silk covering John's chest.
Smiling, John reached for him.
Rodney had been wanting this all day.
John's lips were warm and hungry on his and they pulled Rodney in. John threw a leg over Rodney's hip and drew him down, his hands roaming beneath Rodney's shirt, touching his back. John deepened the kiss and Rodney melted into it; their bodies twined together, moving against each other to the urgent backdrop of the music, and it was so incredibly erotic. John's touch made Rodney feel alive, in ways he hadn't experienced in far too long.
Suddenly, Rodney broke the kiss and drew back. Heavily lidded eyes gazed up at him, and Rodney drank in the image of John's mouth swollen from their kissing, his shirt pulled up over his chest, his hair more ruffled than normal.
"What is it, Rodney?"
For a moment, Rodney almost forgot what he was going to say. There was something he wanted, but he really didn't know how to ask.
"Nothing… it's nothing," Rodney said and he bent back to John's lips.
This time it was John who pulled back. "You want something, Rodney, I can tell," John said softly as he stroked the side of Rodney's face. "Just tell me."
"I…" Rodney hesitated, "I want you to dance with me." Rodney knew right away he'd made a mistake.
John's eyes widened. "Dance with you? Here? Now?" John asked.
"No, John. I thought we might go to the gateroom and dance there," Rodney snarked. "Of course here." Rodney's voice softened, "Dance with me?"
A cloud fell over John's face. Rodney couldn’t read John's expression, but there was nothing ambiguous about his answer.
"No."
"No?" Rodney said. "Oh, come on - you said yourself you liked the music."
"No, Rodney, not right now," John whined, trying to pull Rodney back to him.
"It's okay, no one will see you. It's just me, I won't-"
"No, Rodney. I told you I don't want to." John sounded aggravated.
"But… okay. But, just this once. You don't have to-"
God damn it, Rodney, how many ways can I say it - no!"
***************
Rodney lay there listening - the music was so damn good.
Rodney thought of dancing with John - thought of holding him, the warmth and weight of John's body against his, John's arms wound around him, their bodies moving together. Rodney's cock began to fill and he reached down to touch himself, absently pushing up into his own hand. But it was no good, he wanted John.
Rodney clasped both hands behind his head and crossed his legs at the ankles; his thoughts and the beautiful music would have to be enough. He just lay there - listening.
***************
A hand on his thigh startled him. Rodney's eyes shot open as he reached to pull the earphones from his ears. He must have dropped off, he thought. He felt disoriented, but a quick glance at the clock beside the bed, told him it had only been ten or fifteen minutes since John walked out.
"Sheppard, what is it? Something wrong?" Rodney asked as he scrambled to stand up.
John raised his hands. "No, nothing's wrong. Everything's fine," John said, shifting his eyes to the floor. "Actually, Rodney, I came back to say I'm sorry," and his eyes finally met Rodney's.
Rodney squinted at him.
"It's just that, well, I don't dance," John said, shuffling his feet.
"Hey, that's okay," Rodney said, "you were worried about that? I don’t care. I just wanted to-- dance."
"You don't understand, Rodney. I don't dance, I can't dance."
"Well, I'm no Fred Astaire. I can't dance either - not really," Rodney's voice was hopeful. "I mean my parents sent me to dance class when I was like eight years old -- that's about the size of it. It doesn't matter. We could just-"
John sighed and shook his head. "You still don't get it. I can't dance, Rodney. I don't know how."
"You've… never danced?" Rodney asked, trying not to make it sound like a criticism.
John just shook his head again and lowered his eyes.
Rodney reached out and took John's hands.
"It's all right, really," Rodney said, smiling at him. "All I wanted… can I show you? Would you let me show you?"
John nodded.
Rodney pulled the earphones from the computer, once again filling the air with strains of Bill Evans. Leading John to the middle of the room, Rodney tried showing him a few basic steps and stressed the importance of not looking at his feet all the time. John was wooden and stiff in Rodney's arms, clearly uncomfortable, and after stepping on Rodney's toes for the third time, Rodney was afraid John would give up and walk out again.
Rodney had to think fast.
As the lovely Gloria's Step gave way to the slow and sensuous Jade Visions, Rodney slipped his arms around John's waist, his hands finding the small of John's back. Rodney pulled John close and began to slowly sway as the music led him, and finally, finally John started to mimic Rodney's every move.
Rodney nuzzled against John's neck and felt him relax a little. He kissed his way to John's ear and nibbled on the lobe, sucking it in between his teeth.
"See?" Rodney whispered, "nothing to it." He felt John shudder in his arms and then John seemed to melt against him.
They circled the small space to the rhythm of the music. Their bodies pressed together, unconsciously rolling their hips against one another. John turned his head, finding Rodney's mouth with his own.
They kissed, languid and luxuriant, in concert with the sultry sounds of the piano and the deep thrum of the bass. Rodney's hands rose to tangle in John's hair, and John's hands swept over Rodney's back and pulled him closer.
This was just what Rodney had wanted: to hold John, to dance with him, just this once. Even if they never did it again, Rodney was happy.
John pulled back and looked at Rodney. "We're dancing aren't we?"
"Mmm," Rodney nodded. "Not bad, huh?
"Yeah, not so bad," John whispered before kissing Rodney again.
~fin~
"No, Rodney. I told you I don't want to." John sounded aggravated.
"But… okay. But, just this once. You don't have to-"
God damn it, Rodney, how many ways can I say it - no!" Anger flickered in John's eyes, and Rodney felt John stiffen before he pulled away. Rodney cautiously moved closer, but John rose from the bed.
"You know, I'm really kinda tired," John said coolly. "I'm just gonna go."
He didn't look at Rodney; he just walked out the door, he didn't even say good night. Rodney stared at the closed door, then at the half empty bed. A pang of regret swept through him. He shouldn't have pushed John.
Rodney sighed heavily, took his mini earphones from the bedside drawer and plugged them into his laptop. Lying down on the bed, he fitted them on and music filled his ears. He closed his eyes; he missed John already. Rodney wished now he'd just left it alone. But damn it, it was something Rodney really wanted.
He still didn't understand why John had gotten so upset - all he'd wanted was for John to dance with him.
**************
John arrived at Rodney's quarters just before 21:00 hours. He let himself in as usual.
Rodney had been looking forward to this since their return to Atlantis earlier. The mission that day hadn't been particularly bad, just tedious and longer than they had expected. Rodney thought they had all been happy to get back, especially Ronon, who hadn't had an overabundance of patience with the Alatian town council.
Rodney was at his desk trying to finish a report that was due a week ago. Before this thing with John started, Rodney had been very prompt with his reports, but now he had better ways of occupying his nights. He'd practically turned procrastination into an art form, and John was always eager to supply an excuse.
John stepped up behind Rodney, and a warm shiver ran through him as John's hands caressed his shoulders, fingers kneading his flesh. John's breath played across Rodney's neck just before soft lips nipped at a spot below his ear. Rodney knew that John knew how much that drove him crazy. But, in an effort to finish his damn report, Rodney raised his hand, saying nothing -- the Rodney-signal for I'll pay attention to you as soon as I'm finished.
John's hands disappeared and Rodney heard the unmistakable sound of John flinging himself down on the bed. If John had been looking, he would have seen a smile curl Rodney's lips. He liked it that John seemed so comfortable with him.
The lyrical strains of jazz music floated from the speakers Rodney had connected to his computer.
"The music's nice," John remarked, "really nice."
Rodney smiled again. He had made it a personal mission to expand John's musical appreciation beyond country and surf-punk. Unfortunately, Rodney thought, John's taste in music ran akin to his taste in movies -- too confined and, on occasion, just plain wrong.
"Yeah," Rodney said, "it's Bill Evans, possibly one of the greatest jazz pianists. He had one of the finest trios in jazz."
"Hmm," John murmured. "It's nice."
Rodney finished his report and closed out of the program. He turned to look at John, who was lying across the small bed with his arms behind his head, eyes closed.
"Paul Motian was the drummer and Scott LaFaro -- one of the greatest bassists - probably ever," Rodney said. "LaFaro only worked in the business for six years. He died in an automobile accident in 1961, about ten days after this recording was made, in fact."
"What's this one called?" John wanted to know. When he'd started this little project, Rodney had been amused by John's bemusement over the titles of jazz pieces.
"All of You," Rodney replied as he reclined beside John. He inched his hand up under John's shirt and smiled as John's breath hitched. Rodney's fingers slowly sifted through the ebony silk covering John's chest.
Smiling, John reached for him.
Rodney had been wanting this all day.
John's lips were warm and hungry on his and they pulled Rodney in. John threw a leg over Rodney's hip and drew him down, his hands roaming beneath Rodney's shirt, touching his back. John deepened the kiss and Rodney melted into it; their bodies twined together, moving against each other to the urgent backdrop of the music, and it was so incredibly erotic. John's touch made Rodney feel alive, in ways he hadn't experienced in far too long.
Suddenly, Rodney broke the kiss and drew back. Heavily lidded eyes gazed up at him, and Rodney drank in the image of John's mouth swollen from their kissing, his shirt pulled up over his chest, his hair more ruffled than normal.
"What is it, Rodney?"
For a moment, Rodney almost forgot what he was going to say. There was something he wanted, but he really didn't know how to ask.
"Nothing… it's nothing," Rodney said and he bent back to John's lips.
This time it was John who pulled back. "You want something, Rodney, I can tell," John said softly as he stroked the side of Rodney's face. "Just tell me."
"I…" Rodney hesitated, "I want you to dance with me." Rodney knew right away he'd made a mistake.
John's eyes widened. "Dance with you? Here? Now?" John asked.
"No, John. I thought we might go to the gateroom and dance there," Rodney snarked. "Of course here." Rodney's voice softened, "Dance with me?"
A cloud fell over John's face. Rodney couldn’t read John's expression, but there was nothing ambiguous about his answer.
"No."
"No?" Rodney said. "Oh, come on - you said yourself you liked the music."
"No, Rodney, not right now," John whined, trying to pull Rodney back to him.
"It's okay, no one will see you. It's just me, I won't-"
"No, Rodney. I told you I don't want to." John sounded aggravated.
"But… okay. But, just this once. You don't have to-"
God damn it, Rodney, how many ways can I say it - no!"
***************
Rodney lay there listening - the music was so damn good.
Rodney thought of dancing with John - thought of holding him, the warmth and weight of John's body against his, John's arms wound around him, their bodies moving together. Rodney's cock began to fill and he reached down to touch himself, absently pushing up into his own hand. But it was no good, he wanted John.
Rodney clasped both hands behind his head and crossed his legs at the ankles; his thoughts and the beautiful music would have to be enough. He just lay there - listening.
***************
A hand on his thigh startled him. Rodney's eyes shot open as he reached to pull the earphones from his ears. He must have dropped off, he thought. He felt disoriented, but a quick glance at the clock beside the bed, told him it had only been ten or fifteen minutes since John walked out.
"Sheppard, what is it? Something wrong?" Rodney asked as he scrambled to stand up.
John raised his hands. "No, nothing's wrong. Everything's fine," John said, shifting his eyes to the floor. "Actually, Rodney, I came back to say I'm sorry," and his eyes finally met Rodney's.
Rodney squinted at him.
"It's just that, well, I don't dance," John said, shuffling his feet.
"Hey, that's okay," Rodney said, "you were worried about that? I don’t care. I just wanted to-- dance."
"You don't understand, Rodney. I don't dance, I can't dance."
"Well, I'm no Fred Astaire. I can't dance either - not really," Rodney's voice was hopeful. "I mean my parents sent me to dance class when I was like eight years old -- that's about the size of it. It doesn't matter. We could just-"
John sighed and shook his head. "You still don't get it. I can't dance, Rodney. I don't know how."
"You've… never danced?" Rodney asked, trying not to make it sound like a criticism.
John just shook his head again and lowered his eyes.
Rodney reached out and took John's hands.
"It's all right, really," Rodney said, smiling at him. "All I wanted… can I show you? Would you let me show you?"
John nodded.
Rodney pulled the earphones from the computer, once again filling the air with strains of Bill Evans. Leading John to the middle of the room, Rodney tried showing him a few basic steps and stressed the importance of not looking at his feet all the time. John was wooden and stiff in Rodney's arms, clearly uncomfortable, and after stepping on Rodney's toes for the third time, Rodney was afraid John would give up and walk out again.
Rodney had to think fast.
As the lovely Gloria's Step gave way to the slow and sensuous Jade Visions, Rodney slipped his arms around John's waist, his hands finding the small of John's back. Rodney pulled John close and began to slowly sway as the music led him, and finally, finally John started to mimic Rodney's every move.
Rodney nuzzled against John's neck and felt him relax a little. He kissed his way to John's ear and nibbled on the lobe, sucking it in between his teeth.
"See?" Rodney whispered, "nothing to it." He felt John shudder in his arms and then John seemed to melt against him.
They circled the small space to the rhythm of the music. Their bodies pressed together, unconsciously rolling their hips against one another. John turned his head, finding Rodney's mouth with his own.
They kissed, languid and luxuriant, in concert with the sultry sounds of the piano and the deep thrum of the bass. Rodney's hands rose to tangle in John's hair, and John's hands swept over Rodney's back and pulled him closer.
This was just what Rodney had wanted: to hold John, to dance with him, just this once. Even if they never did it again, Rodney was happy.
John pulled back and looked at Rodney. "We're dancing aren't we?"
"Mmm," Rodney nodded. "Not bad, huh?
"Yeah, not so bad," John whispered before kissing Rodney again.
~fin~