Reposting FIC: Promise Kept (SGA)
Title: Promise Kept
Author: morena_donn
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard, First Time
Rating: R
Sequel to Promise
Summary: "...his bed was currently covered in his two favorite things, food and John Sheppard; it would be counterproductive to argue."
as always, thanks to my wonderful beta brindel
As a rule, Rodney hated parties. Horrid things, really. Noisy, crowded and a waste of his valuable time. But he had to admit that whoever had decided to throw tonight's "getting-to-know-you" party for the old and new personnel on Atlantis was a genius: even he was having a great time. Of course, that probably had something to do with the fact that he'd spent most of the evening in John Sheppard's quarters. *Dancing*. Another thing that he usually hated. But tonight...tonight had been fantastic.
All good things must come to an end, however, and this evening was no exception. Three songs later, the disc ended and Rodney reluctantly pulled out of John's arms. "It's late, I'd better...I'm going to go home now," he said quietly.
"Right. I'll, uh, see you tomorrow?" John asked, sounding as if he were actually worried the answer might be "No."
"Of course," Rodney replied, and left before he could do something stupid, like kiss the uncertain look off of John's face. He couldn't blame his friend for being unsettled: even in its current, strictly platonic state, his relationship with John was best he'd ever had, and he didn't want tonight making things weird between them.
For the next few of weeks, they both worked at maintaining the status quo, and Rodney's memories of the interlude after the party took on a dreamlike quality. In fact, if it weren't for his new tendency to go around humming stray bits of '80's hard rock songs, he’d have trouble believing it had happened at all.
And then Rodney's birthday had rolled around and John appeared in his lab holding out a flat, palm-sized square. Rodney felt a thrill of anticipation. He'd been dropping hints about all the video games he'd missed since coming to Atlantis, and how, now that the Daedelus was making regular, if infrequent, runs between galaxies, he had the chance to catch up. It looked like John had been listening.
Wondering greedily what he was going to get, he eagerly ripped open the package and stared in dismay at the yellow jewel case boldly marked "Lemon Tongue" and decorated with a picture of an honest to god *lemon*. Rodney shuddered involuntarily.
"Oh, very funny, Colonel," Rodney said, looking distressed, and John felt a moment's doubt in the memory he'd clung to these past few weeks. But no, he hadn't imagined the comforting warmth of Rodney's arms around his waist, or the gentle slide of lips along his jaw. Maybe it simply hadn't meant as much to the other man?
"Sorry?" John offered tentatively, unconsciously rubbing his thumb along his jaw, where he could still feel the touch of Rodney's lips. "It's their latest studio album, and I thought..."
Rodney tore his gaze from the lemon long enough to glance at the band’s name. 'Honeymoon Suite'. John had given him a tangible reminder of the evening they had both been pretending never occurred. Rodney's eyes lit up, but he continued his harangue on general principles. "So you thought you'd compound the inappropriateness of giving a citrus-based gift to someone with deadly allergies by also committing the social faux pas of giving a gift that's more for you than for the recipient?" He was smiling when he said it, though, and John smiled back.
"Really? That's wrong? I *could* always take it back, give you something else."
Rodney clutched the disc protectively. "No, no, that's okay, I think I'll survive the insult."
John rolled his eyes. "That's good, because actually I *do* have something else to give you."
Rodney looked around, trying unsuccessfully to spot where John had hidden the rest of his present.
"Uh, uh, uh, don’t be greedy." John smiled indulgently and shook a finger at him. "You'll get it when you invite me to your room to listen to some music."
"Like this?" Rodney smirked and held up the CD. "See, I knew it. You *did* get this for yourself," he said triumphantly, but couldn't help but smile. He and John had been avoiding each other's quarters since "the dance" and he'd missed their evenings together. Rodney was tempted to abandon his work and rush to his quarters, *now*, but he didn’t want to appear too eager.
"Yes, yes, well, birthday or no, I'm a very busy man. I'll see you at, say...eight?"
John nodded, trying not to be too disappointed. He'd expected something like this, and really, he could use the delay to set the scene properly. "I'll see you then." John smiled and left the lab, whistling Love Fever as he sauntered off down the hall.
***************
"Go on, Rodney, it would not do to be late for your date with Colonel Sheppard."
"What!?" Rodney's head came up so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash as he glanced frantically around the lab. Fortunately, it was empty, except for himself and Radek Zelenka. Who clearly needed to be set straight, so to speak.
"It's not...We're not..." he began.
"It is alright, Rodney. I am pleased for you both." Radek said reassuringly. "I will most definitely have to run the conditional probability array tonight," he added.
"What?" Rodney asked again, intrigued. Radek looked embarrassed.
"Is a little something I do when I cannot sleep. I estimate the likelihood of an annoyance-free day by calculating factors such as chance of certain personnel getting laid and the resulting reduction in idioticy or abrasiveness." Radek winced slightly, unsure of Rodney's reaction to being called abrasive, but the other man didn't even notice.
"You know, that actually sounds fascin...wait, you think I'm going to get laid tonight?"
Radek smiled. "Don't you?"
"I, I..." Rodney was still struggling to form a coherent reply when Radek gently shoved him out the door.
***************
Arriving at his quarters a few moments later, Rodney found that John had beaten him there. He'd somehow gained entrance, (Three guesses as to how that happened and the first two don't count, Rodney grumbled to himself), and had made himself right at home, liberally sprinkling the room with candles and spreading a veritable feast out on Rodney’s bed.
Rodney opened his mouth to complain about the invasion, and then snapped it shut. After all, his bed was currently covered in his two favorite things, food and John Sheppard; it would be counterproductive to argue. He crossed to the bed and sat gingerly, trying not to spill any of the myriad of dishes.
"Colonel?"
"Maybe you should call me John." John replied, gesturing at their surroundings.
Rodney looked around the room. John had dimmed the lights and covered every flat surface with candles. True, it gave the room a cozy, even intimate, feel, but really, candles? Did John think that he was some kind of silly, romantic sap?
"John," Rodney repeated, and the name felt both alien and somehow absolutely right in his mouth. He found himself wanting to repeat it again, and again, and possibly scribble it down on paper, surrounded by little hearts...
Apparently, John was right, he *was* a silly, romantic sap.
Unable to meet John's eyes, Rodney turned his attention to the feast on the bed, which included a small plate of homemade brownies. There were definite advantages to regular visits by the Daedalus, not the least of which were the fantastic deserts that the guys in the mess came up with right after a run, when they had fresh ingredients on hand. Rodney couldn't resist. He snatched one up and took a bite. Chocolate exploded on his tongue, moist and chewy, and still slightly warm from the heat-lamps in the mess. Perfect. Someone moaned, and Rodney froze. Was that ridiculous sound of pleasure coming from him?
"I thought you'd like those," John said, and Rodney blushed. That would be a "yes" to the noise, then. John didn't laugh at him, though, just smiled and leaned down, plucking a bottle from a bucket of ice beside the bed. "I think you'll like this even more," he said with a grin.
Rodney just stared. Was that John's bottle of Connais? The Sugen had insisted on including a small ceremonial cask as part of their trade deal. It was apparently a highly prized drink here in the Pegasus galaxy, and with good reason, if the taste they'd had at the signing was anything to go by. It would have been a great insult to refuse, but there had hardly been enough in the cask presented at the ceremony for the whole base, so Weir had divided it among the senior staff.
She'd also passed along a tongue-in-cheek warning about its rumored aphrodisiac qualities, which Rodney had ignored, sharing his small bottle with Radek after a particularly long but successful day in the labs. That had been... so long ago that Rodney couldn't quite remember actually. Apparently John had been saving his for a special occasion.
Rodney got a fluttery feeling in his chest, and added 'besotted' to the growing list of adjectives he'd never expected to apply to himself. It was all John's fault. No one that ridiculously good looking should be so charismatic. Rodney might have been able to resist John's looks *or* his personality, but taken together, he didn't stand a chance.
John handed him a glass of the wine, trailing his fingers across Rodney's hand as he pulled his own away. Rodney shivered, but John seemed unaffected. Maybe Rodney'd better make sure they were on same page before did something unforgivably stupid.
"You do remember what this is supposed to do, don't you?" Rodney gestured with his glass.
"Oh, yeah," John replied. His calm facade slipped away, and Rodney saw his own need reflected in John's eyes. "I want you Rodney; I have ever since you went after "Superwraith" with a 9 mil you didn’t know how to use."
Rodney winced at the memory. He'd know how to use it, he'd just been so frigging scared he'd forgotten to reload. Not surprising, because really, facing down a Wraith with inferior firepower was an exceedingly stupid, dangerous thing to do. He'd known it would lead to his painful, messy demise, and he'd done it anyway, because John had been in danger, and he couldn't *not* do *something*. Come to think if it, that might be the moment that he'd known without a doubt that his feelings for John went a tad beyond mere friendship.
And jeez, how much time had they wasted? How many times had one or both of them nearly died since then? He couldn't really blame John, since they’d both been skirting the issue, but still.
"That was a long time ago," Rodney said, reproachfully.
John looked contrite." I know. Thing is, I couldn't act because, well..." and he gestured at his jacket, tossed carelessly over a chair, rank insignia clearly visible.
Rodney nodded. "Right, right, we can't just give in to our attraction without considering the consequences. We have our positions to think of and, and ..."
And he was going to *kill* John, because ignoring the attraction would be a hell of a lot harder, now that he knew without a doubt it was mutual. Not to mention the way John was all but posed on the bed, lying on his side behind the food, looking practically edible himself.
"Well, I've come to realize that it's more than just physical attraction between us, and I've decided it’s worth the risk."
"*You've* decided!" Rodney spluttered, indignant. "I think I should have some say here, too," he countered automatically, but he was moving, cupping John's face in his hands and leaning in for a kiss that seemed to go on forever, moving from gentle to desperate and back, before John broke away, breathing hard.
"You're going to spill the food," John warned. "And I went to a lot of trouble."
"You did." Rodney’s eyes went soft. "Well, dessert will just have to wait." he added, cringing at his own sappiness even as he traced his fingers over John's lips.
John shivered at the touch, suddenly wishing he hadn't brought quite so much food. It was going to be a long meal.
******************
Rodney gazed reverently at the array of delicacies before him. John really had gone to a lot of trouble: it looked like he had traded favors with the whole base. In addition to the wine and brownies, there were thick, juicy wedges of the Athosian "pears" Rodney was so fond of, what looked to be a small tin of Royal Osetra caviar from Zelenka's personal stash and several slices of toasted bread to eat it with, even some of Kavanaugh's prized Manchego Reserve cheese. Rodney ate it all, slowly and deliberately, reveling in the rich and varied flavors. When it was all gone, he sighed contentedly and absently brought a hand to his mouth to lick off the last of the pear juice.
John had to swallow several times before he could speak. "And for the Grand Finale..." He smiled widely and reached under the bed, pulling out a small cooler.
"Hey, isn't that one of Carson's medical sample cases?" Rodney asked with a worried frown.
"Yeah, but I got it out of stores. It hasn't been used for anything but this." John opened the lid to reveal a single bright yellow cone of...wait a moment...
"John, is that lemon sherbet?" Rodney asked, voice rising in horror.
"Relax, Rodney. It's made from the, I think they're called "filigranoes" or something, from the planet with the pink trees? Taste a lot like lemons, but really sweet. I had Beckett run some tests, and it turns out they don't have a single compound in common with true citrus. He swears they're safe. You gotta try it." He didn't add "for me" but it was there in his slightly pleading glance.
Rodney wanted to resist. Call him paranoid if you like: tests or no tests, this seemed like an unreasonable risk to take with his health. But John looked so earnest, he couldn't refuse.
"Fine. I just hope you have an epi-pen handy."
"Always," John replied, frowning a little. "Although I really hope I never have to use it." Then his face cleared. "Anyway, I could only scrounge up one cone. Figured we could share. It's more fun that way."
"Fun" wasn't the word Rodney would have chosen for passing the cone back and forth, watching as John caressed the damn thing with his tongue. "Torture" was more like it. In fact, "Keep that up and I'm gonna come in my pants," he warned.
"Yeah?" John asked brightly. "Is this better?" he added in mock innocence, abandoning broad strokes to swirl his tongue repeatedly around the dripping tip of the sherbet. Rodney couldn't help but imagine that tongue put to better use, applied to a rapidly growing part of his anatomy.
"Jo-ohn." Rodney groaned. "It's only fair to warn you, I crash hard after I come."
John sobered. "In that case, enough foreplay," he said seriously, shoving the cone at Rodney. "Here, you finish it."
And it was John's turn to groan as Rodney opened wide and drew all of the remaining sherbet into his mouth in one smooth move. John's dick twitched at the thought of being enveloped in that crooked mouth, although the effect was somewhat spoiled when Rodney pulled the empty cone away and waved his other hand in front of his face, grimacing.
"Too cold?" John asked sympathetically.
Rodney nodded frantically.
"Maybe I can help." And John leaned in, covering Rodney's lips with his and sliding his warm tongue into Rodney's frozen mouth.
The combination of hot and cold, sweet and tangy was the most sensual thing Rodney had ever experienced. Rodney dropped the empty cone because he really was in danger of coming in his pants if he didn't get them open, now. John must have felt the same way, for he was fumbling just as urgently with his own zipper.
And then they were crashing together, tumbling to the bed and sending dishes flying. Rodney didn't think he heard anything break, but he also really didn’t care because he was laying full length on the bed, kissing John and feeling the glorious slide of skin on sensative skin as their erections pressed together.
Months of anticipation meant it was over far too soon, and Rodney quickly fell asleep, as promised. John shoved him into a slightly more comfortable position and lay back contentedly, idly stroking his back. The evening had been a resounding success, despite the wreckage on Rodney’s floor - and fact that John *still* hadn’t gotten to listen to his... Rodney's... *their* new CD.
Yeah, theirs sounded good. He just hoped Rodney felt the same. He'd promised himself they'd have "the talk" about where the relationship was going before they got physical, but Rodney had looked so damn irresistible, eating with near-orgasmic pleasure, and then he had gone and made that crack about coming in his pants, and John had gotten kind of distracted.
Then afterwords, Rodney had fallen asleep almost immediately. And while he did look adorable in his boneless sprawl, open-mouthed and drooling gently on John's chest, he was also *heavy*. John winced slightly as the arm trapped beneath him lost all feeling. Reluctantly, John tried to ease himself out from underneath Rodney without waking him, but he was only partially successful.
Rodney didn't come fully awake, but he did stir. "Don' go," he mumbled without opening his eyes.
"Wasn't planning on it." John answered.
"'S good." Rodney reached out blindly, trying to pull John back down. John grabbed his questing hand and pressed a kiss into the palm, just because he could. A few moments pleasant wriggling, and they had settled back in, John on his back, Rodney on one side, an arm and a leg slung possessively across John's body, face buried in the crook of John's neck.
John wrapped one arm loosely around Rodney's waist, and brought his other hand up to gently trace the shell of Rodney's ear. Rodney shivered. "Tickles." he mumbled and shrugged his shoulder, trying to make John stop.
"Sorry." John moved his hand from Rodney's ear to his back, sighing contentedly. Rodney was in his arms again, and he had never felt more at peace. "Rodney, I..." he stopped, almost frightened by what he wanted to say. And if *he* was scared, who knew how Rodney would react? Then Rodney nuzzled his neck, mumbling something unintelligible and John couldn't hold back. What the heck, playing it safe was over-rated anyway.
"I love you." he said, and *that* was a big deal. John had said the words before, even *thought* he had meant them, but he'd never felt like this, and he'd never said them first.
Rodney roused just enough to look at him. "Well, duh." he said and John had just enough time to feel crushed, before Rodney seemed to realize that that wasn't an appropriate response. "I mumble mumble, too." he continued, pressing a sleepy kiss to John's jaw, and John had to laugh at Rodney's response to his declaration.
'Thank you for pointing out the obvious and by the way I love you, too'. It was just so...so *Rodney*. John felt a fresh wave of affection. Tightening his grip, he breathed a kiss into Rodney's hair and joined him in slumber.
Author: morena_donn
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard, First Time
Rating: R
Sequel to Promise
Summary: "...his bed was currently covered in his two favorite things, food and John Sheppard; it would be counterproductive to argue."
as always, thanks to my wonderful beta brindel
As a rule, Rodney hated parties. Horrid things, really. Noisy, crowded and a waste of his valuable time. But he had to admit that whoever had decided to throw tonight's "getting-to-know-you" party for the old and new personnel on Atlantis was a genius: even he was having a great time. Of course, that probably had something to do with the fact that he'd spent most of the evening in John Sheppard's quarters. *Dancing*. Another thing that he usually hated. But tonight...tonight had been fantastic.
All good things must come to an end, however, and this evening was no exception. Three songs later, the disc ended and Rodney reluctantly pulled out of John's arms. "It's late, I'd better...I'm going to go home now," he said quietly.
"Right. I'll, uh, see you tomorrow?" John asked, sounding as if he were actually worried the answer might be "No."
"Of course," Rodney replied, and left before he could do something stupid, like kiss the uncertain look off of John's face. He couldn't blame his friend for being unsettled: even in its current, strictly platonic state, his relationship with John was best he'd ever had, and he didn't want tonight making things weird between them.
For the next few of weeks, they both worked at maintaining the status quo, and Rodney's memories of the interlude after the party took on a dreamlike quality. In fact, if it weren't for his new tendency to go around humming stray bits of '80's hard rock songs, he’d have trouble believing it had happened at all.
And then Rodney's birthday had rolled around and John appeared in his lab holding out a flat, palm-sized square. Rodney felt a thrill of anticipation. He'd been dropping hints about all the video games he'd missed since coming to Atlantis, and how, now that the Daedelus was making regular, if infrequent, runs between galaxies, he had the chance to catch up. It looked like John had been listening.
Wondering greedily what he was going to get, he eagerly ripped open the package and stared in dismay at the yellow jewel case boldly marked "Lemon Tongue" and decorated with a picture of an honest to god *lemon*. Rodney shuddered involuntarily.
"Oh, very funny, Colonel," Rodney said, looking distressed, and John felt a moment's doubt in the memory he'd clung to these past few weeks. But no, he hadn't imagined the comforting warmth of Rodney's arms around his waist, or the gentle slide of lips along his jaw. Maybe it simply hadn't meant as much to the other man?
"Sorry?" John offered tentatively, unconsciously rubbing his thumb along his jaw, where he could still feel the touch of Rodney's lips. "It's their latest studio album, and I thought..."
Rodney tore his gaze from the lemon long enough to glance at the band’s name. 'Honeymoon Suite'. John had given him a tangible reminder of the evening they had both been pretending never occurred. Rodney's eyes lit up, but he continued his harangue on general principles. "So you thought you'd compound the inappropriateness of giving a citrus-based gift to someone with deadly allergies by also committing the social faux pas of giving a gift that's more for you than for the recipient?" He was smiling when he said it, though, and John smiled back.
"Really? That's wrong? I *could* always take it back, give you something else."
Rodney clutched the disc protectively. "No, no, that's okay, I think I'll survive the insult."
John rolled his eyes. "That's good, because actually I *do* have something else to give you."
Rodney looked around, trying unsuccessfully to spot where John had hidden the rest of his present.
"Uh, uh, uh, don’t be greedy." John smiled indulgently and shook a finger at him. "You'll get it when you invite me to your room to listen to some music."
"Like this?" Rodney smirked and held up the CD. "See, I knew it. You *did* get this for yourself," he said triumphantly, but couldn't help but smile. He and John had been avoiding each other's quarters since "the dance" and he'd missed their evenings together. Rodney was tempted to abandon his work and rush to his quarters, *now*, but he didn’t want to appear too eager.
"Yes, yes, well, birthday or no, I'm a very busy man. I'll see you at, say...eight?"
John nodded, trying not to be too disappointed. He'd expected something like this, and really, he could use the delay to set the scene properly. "I'll see you then." John smiled and left the lab, whistling Love Fever as he sauntered off down the hall.
***************
"Go on, Rodney, it would not do to be late for your date with Colonel Sheppard."
"What!?" Rodney's head came up so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash as he glanced frantically around the lab. Fortunately, it was empty, except for himself and Radek Zelenka. Who clearly needed to be set straight, so to speak.
"It's not...We're not..." he began.
"It is alright, Rodney. I am pleased for you both." Radek said reassuringly. "I will most definitely have to run the conditional probability array tonight," he added.
"What?" Rodney asked again, intrigued. Radek looked embarrassed.
"Is a little something I do when I cannot sleep. I estimate the likelihood of an annoyance-free day by calculating factors such as chance of certain personnel getting laid and the resulting reduction in idioticy or abrasiveness." Radek winced slightly, unsure of Rodney's reaction to being called abrasive, but the other man didn't even notice.
"You know, that actually sounds fascin...wait, you think I'm going to get laid tonight?"
Radek smiled. "Don't you?"
"I, I..." Rodney was still struggling to form a coherent reply when Radek gently shoved him out the door.
***************
Arriving at his quarters a few moments later, Rodney found that John had beaten him there. He'd somehow gained entrance, (Three guesses as to how that happened and the first two don't count, Rodney grumbled to himself), and had made himself right at home, liberally sprinkling the room with candles and spreading a veritable feast out on Rodney’s bed.
Rodney opened his mouth to complain about the invasion, and then snapped it shut. After all, his bed was currently covered in his two favorite things, food and John Sheppard; it would be counterproductive to argue. He crossed to the bed and sat gingerly, trying not to spill any of the myriad of dishes.
"Colonel?"
"Maybe you should call me John." John replied, gesturing at their surroundings.
Rodney looked around the room. John had dimmed the lights and covered every flat surface with candles. True, it gave the room a cozy, even intimate, feel, but really, candles? Did John think that he was some kind of silly, romantic sap?
"John," Rodney repeated, and the name felt both alien and somehow absolutely right in his mouth. He found himself wanting to repeat it again, and again, and possibly scribble it down on paper, surrounded by little hearts...
Apparently, John was right, he *was* a silly, romantic sap.
Unable to meet John's eyes, Rodney turned his attention to the feast on the bed, which included a small plate of homemade brownies. There were definite advantages to regular visits by the Daedalus, not the least of which were the fantastic deserts that the guys in the mess came up with right after a run, when they had fresh ingredients on hand. Rodney couldn't resist. He snatched one up and took a bite. Chocolate exploded on his tongue, moist and chewy, and still slightly warm from the heat-lamps in the mess. Perfect. Someone moaned, and Rodney froze. Was that ridiculous sound of pleasure coming from him?
"I thought you'd like those," John said, and Rodney blushed. That would be a "yes" to the noise, then. John didn't laugh at him, though, just smiled and leaned down, plucking a bottle from a bucket of ice beside the bed. "I think you'll like this even more," he said with a grin.
Rodney just stared. Was that John's bottle of Connais? The Sugen had insisted on including a small ceremonial cask as part of their trade deal. It was apparently a highly prized drink here in the Pegasus galaxy, and with good reason, if the taste they'd had at the signing was anything to go by. It would have been a great insult to refuse, but there had hardly been enough in the cask presented at the ceremony for the whole base, so Weir had divided it among the senior staff.
She'd also passed along a tongue-in-cheek warning about its rumored aphrodisiac qualities, which Rodney had ignored, sharing his small bottle with Radek after a particularly long but successful day in the labs. That had been... so long ago that Rodney couldn't quite remember actually. Apparently John had been saving his for a special occasion.
Rodney got a fluttery feeling in his chest, and added 'besotted' to the growing list of adjectives he'd never expected to apply to himself. It was all John's fault. No one that ridiculously good looking should be so charismatic. Rodney might have been able to resist John's looks *or* his personality, but taken together, he didn't stand a chance.
John handed him a glass of the wine, trailing his fingers across Rodney's hand as he pulled his own away. Rodney shivered, but John seemed unaffected. Maybe Rodney'd better make sure they were on same page before did something unforgivably stupid.
"You do remember what this is supposed to do, don't you?" Rodney gestured with his glass.
"Oh, yeah," John replied. His calm facade slipped away, and Rodney saw his own need reflected in John's eyes. "I want you Rodney; I have ever since you went after "Superwraith" with a 9 mil you didn’t know how to use."
Rodney winced at the memory. He'd know how to use it, he'd just been so frigging scared he'd forgotten to reload. Not surprising, because really, facing down a Wraith with inferior firepower was an exceedingly stupid, dangerous thing to do. He'd known it would lead to his painful, messy demise, and he'd done it anyway, because John had been in danger, and he couldn't *not* do *something*. Come to think if it, that might be the moment that he'd known without a doubt that his feelings for John went a tad beyond mere friendship.
And jeez, how much time had they wasted? How many times had one or both of them nearly died since then? He couldn't really blame John, since they’d both been skirting the issue, but still.
"That was a long time ago," Rodney said, reproachfully.
John looked contrite." I know. Thing is, I couldn't act because, well..." and he gestured at his jacket, tossed carelessly over a chair, rank insignia clearly visible.
Rodney nodded. "Right, right, we can't just give in to our attraction without considering the consequences. We have our positions to think of and, and ..."
And he was going to *kill* John, because ignoring the attraction would be a hell of a lot harder, now that he knew without a doubt it was mutual. Not to mention the way John was all but posed on the bed, lying on his side behind the food, looking practically edible himself.
"Well, I've come to realize that it's more than just physical attraction between us, and I've decided it’s worth the risk."
"*You've* decided!" Rodney spluttered, indignant. "I think I should have some say here, too," he countered automatically, but he was moving, cupping John's face in his hands and leaning in for a kiss that seemed to go on forever, moving from gentle to desperate and back, before John broke away, breathing hard.
"You're going to spill the food," John warned. "And I went to a lot of trouble."
"You did." Rodney’s eyes went soft. "Well, dessert will just have to wait." he added, cringing at his own sappiness even as he traced his fingers over John's lips.
John shivered at the touch, suddenly wishing he hadn't brought quite so much food. It was going to be a long meal.
******************
Rodney gazed reverently at the array of delicacies before him. John really had gone to a lot of trouble: it looked like he had traded favors with the whole base. In addition to the wine and brownies, there were thick, juicy wedges of the Athosian "pears" Rodney was so fond of, what looked to be a small tin of Royal Osetra caviar from Zelenka's personal stash and several slices of toasted bread to eat it with, even some of Kavanaugh's prized Manchego Reserve cheese. Rodney ate it all, slowly and deliberately, reveling in the rich and varied flavors. When it was all gone, he sighed contentedly and absently brought a hand to his mouth to lick off the last of the pear juice.
John had to swallow several times before he could speak. "And for the Grand Finale..." He smiled widely and reached under the bed, pulling out a small cooler.
"Hey, isn't that one of Carson's medical sample cases?" Rodney asked with a worried frown.
"Yeah, but I got it out of stores. It hasn't been used for anything but this." John opened the lid to reveal a single bright yellow cone of...wait a moment...
"John, is that lemon sherbet?" Rodney asked, voice rising in horror.
"Relax, Rodney. It's made from the, I think they're called "filigranoes" or something, from the planet with the pink trees? Taste a lot like lemons, but really sweet. I had Beckett run some tests, and it turns out they don't have a single compound in common with true citrus. He swears they're safe. You gotta try it." He didn't add "for me" but it was there in his slightly pleading glance.
Rodney wanted to resist. Call him paranoid if you like: tests or no tests, this seemed like an unreasonable risk to take with his health. But John looked so earnest, he couldn't refuse.
"Fine. I just hope you have an epi-pen handy."
"Always," John replied, frowning a little. "Although I really hope I never have to use it." Then his face cleared. "Anyway, I could only scrounge up one cone. Figured we could share. It's more fun that way."
"Fun" wasn't the word Rodney would have chosen for passing the cone back and forth, watching as John caressed the damn thing with his tongue. "Torture" was more like it. In fact, "Keep that up and I'm gonna come in my pants," he warned.
"Yeah?" John asked brightly. "Is this better?" he added in mock innocence, abandoning broad strokes to swirl his tongue repeatedly around the dripping tip of the sherbet. Rodney couldn't help but imagine that tongue put to better use, applied to a rapidly growing part of his anatomy.
"Jo-ohn." Rodney groaned. "It's only fair to warn you, I crash hard after I come."
John sobered. "In that case, enough foreplay," he said seriously, shoving the cone at Rodney. "Here, you finish it."
And it was John's turn to groan as Rodney opened wide and drew all of the remaining sherbet into his mouth in one smooth move. John's dick twitched at the thought of being enveloped in that crooked mouth, although the effect was somewhat spoiled when Rodney pulled the empty cone away and waved his other hand in front of his face, grimacing.
"Too cold?" John asked sympathetically.
Rodney nodded frantically.
"Maybe I can help." And John leaned in, covering Rodney's lips with his and sliding his warm tongue into Rodney's frozen mouth.
The combination of hot and cold, sweet and tangy was the most sensual thing Rodney had ever experienced. Rodney dropped the empty cone because he really was in danger of coming in his pants if he didn't get them open, now. John must have felt the same way, for he was fumbling just as urgently with his own zipper.
And then they were crashing together, tumbling to the bed and sending dishes flying. Rodney didn't think he heard anything break, but he also really didn’t care because he was laying full length on the bed, kissing John and feeling the glorious slide of skin on sensative skin as their erections pressed together.
Months of anticipation meant it was over far too soon, and Rodney quickly fell asleep, as promised. John shoved him into a slightly more comfortable position and lay back contentedly, idly stroking his back. The evening had been a resounding success, despite the wreckage on Rodney’s floor - and fact that John *still* hadn’t gotten to listen to his... Rodney's... *their* new CD.
Yeah, theirs sounded good. He just hoped Rodney felt the same. He'd promised himself they'd have "the talk" about where the relationship was going before they got physical, but Rodney had looked so damn irresistible, eating with near-orgasmic pleasure, and then he had gone and made that crack about coming in his pants, and John had gotten kind of distracted.
Then afterwords, Rodney had fallen asleep almost immediately. And while he did look adorable in his boneless sprawl, open-mouthed and drooling gently on John's chest, he was also *heavy*. John winced slightly as the arm trapped beneath him lost all feeling. Reluctantly, John tried to ease himself out from underneath Rodney without waking him, but he was only partially successful.
Rodney didn't come fully awake, but he did stir. "Don' go," he mumbled without opening his eyes.
"Wasn't planning on it." John answered.
"'S good." Rodney reached out blindly, trying to pull John back down. John grabbed his questing hand and pressed a kiss into the palm, just because he could. A few moments pleasant wriggling, and they had settled back in, John on his back, Rodney on one side, an arm and a leg slung possessively across John's body, face buried in the crook of John's neck.
John wrapped one arm loosely around Rodney's waist, and brought his other hand up to gently trace the shell of Rodney's ear. Rodney shivered. "Tickles." he mumbled and shrugged his shoulder, trying to make John stop.
"Sorry." John moved his hand from Rodney's ear to his back, sighing contentedly. Rodney was in his arms again, and he had never felt more at peace. "Rodney, I..." he stopped, almost frightened by what he wanted to say. And if *he* was scared, who knew how Rodney would react? Then Rodney nuzzled his neck, mumbling something unintelligible and John couldn't hold back. What the heck, playing it safe was over-rated anyway.
"I love you." he said, and *that* was a big deal. John had said the words before, even *thought* he had meant them, but he'd never felt like this, and he'd never said them first.
Rodney roused just enough to look at him. "Well, duh." he said and John had just enough time to feel crushed, before Rodney seemed to realize that that wasn't an appropriate response. "I mumble mumble, too." he continued, pressing a sleepy kiss to John's jaw, and John had to laugh at Rodney's response to his declaration.
'Thank you for pointing out the obvious and by the way I love you, too'. It was just so...so *Rodney*. John felt a fresh wave of affection. Tightening his grip, he breathed a kiss into Rodney's hair and joined him in slumber.