Fic: Salt (SGA)
This was my entry to sga_santa this year. My recipient was the wonderfully talented florahart, who made it very easy by giving any potential author the widest possible scope to write. Ultimately, she expressed satisfaction with John Sheppard and chocolate being part of the same gift, so I guess I did okay!
Re-posting it here for anyone who may have missed it over there...
Title: Salt
Author: shaddyr
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: NC17
Wordcount: 2900~
Disclaimer: Written for pleasure (theirs and mine) not for profit. If these boys belonged to me, they would be exploring a lot more than the Pegasus galaxy...
Author's Notes: This story brought to your by Himalayan Pink Salt Caramels. Thanks to my beta outsideth3box because she's awesome. Also, she appreciates the aforementioned caramels.
Summary: Some things just need to be taken with a grain of salt.
Normally, Rodney was fastidious about cleanliness. He had reason to be, after all; between allergies, hypoglycaemia, sensitive skin, radiation exposure, and days when it plain felt like the Pegasus galaxy was doing its level best to kill him, all he could do was be zealously proactive about the things that were under his control. Hence, the orthopaedic mattress, spare epi-pens tucked in every team member's vest, unscented hypoallergenic soap, powerbars and MREs stashed around Atlantis in easily accessible places, and his own special brand of homemade sunscreen. Because honestly, how did he know for sure one of the cooks wouldn’t screw up and lace something with citrus? And he certainly wasn't slopping the chemical swill that was in store bought sunblock preparations on his skin! Not to mention that the Athosian soap, though it smelled very pretty, left his skin rough and red, feeling like cracked parchment. No, Rodney was particular, and he didn't make any apologies for it.
There were rare exceptions. Not many, mind you, but the team - the team, through the insanity of life and death moments, heroically throwing themselves in danger's way to protect each other, the intensity of friendship borne from fighting side by side, and living to tell the story - at some point he'd relaxed his standards where team were concerned, because team=family and if there was one thing he'd learned in Pegasus, it was what family meant. Not that he had a hope in hell of stopping Ronon when the behemoth got it in his head that it was time for a hug because they'd all survived yet another close call. While he was still soaked in putrid swamp water with slime dripping from his dreadlocks. And no one in their right mind could say no to physical affection from Teyla no matter what state she was in, though he was extremely grateful the Athosians felt touching foreheads was sufficient to express it.
More specifically, however, a certain loose-limbed, tousle-headed, slow-grinning fly boy with a penchant for numbers, speed and danger (or, what Rodney would call suicidal tendencies disguised as idiotic bravery) had slipped right under his *keep out* lines. The way they escalated their petty contest to see who saved who more often, or fought over whose turn it was to flirt with the pretty princess du jour (or cock blocked each other when the princess went and decided for herself without consulting them)... well. Rodney couldn't really pinpoint when it happened, but one day he realized he had virtually no boundaries where John was concerned. It was probably the same morning that John woke him up by making a concerted effort to suck his brains out through his dick, and right about then Rodney decided that boundaries were really highly overrated where John was concerned anyway.
***
John gave the door control a cursory wave as he walked into McKay's quarters. Normally, he would have just radioed, but his earpiece had suffered an unfortunate sparring-practice related demise (and wow, those things made a loud crunch when they got stepped on). He'd decided, instead, to swing by and ask Rodney to join him for dinner after he showered. He found the other man busily puttering with various containers of ingredients spread out on his little table. There was a pot sitting ready on the Ancient version of a hot plate. One of the City exploration teams had found a huge stash of them in what had appeared to be an appliance storage area, so now anyone who felt like making Mac n' Cheese ("Kraft Dinner!" insisted McKay) or anything else in their quarters had a hot plate to make it on. He stopped beside McKay, his hands grasping the ends of the towel draped around his neck.
"Whatcha makin'?" he asked, watching Rodney grate a small brown block into fine shavings.
"Chocolate sauce," Rodney informed him as he poured what looked like cream into the pot and turned the hot plate on.
John cocked an eyebrow at him. "Why didn't you just buy some when we were on Earth? I know you brought home at least 10 pounds of chocolate. There was no room for a jar of sauce?" he teased.
Rodney huffed in disdain as he carefully mixed the finely shaved chocolate into the pot of warming cream. "Seriously, John! Have you ever read the ingredient list for the store bought stuff? It's CRAP!" he declared as he meticulously stirred the contents, making sure the chocolate was melting evenly. "Full of preservatives and Carnauba wax - Nestle's chocolate would be better! No, I'm making my own. Callebaut and Valrhona in just the right balance. It'll be perfect."
John spied a bag of what looked like wrapped candies on the desk and leaned in closer to investigate. Unless he missed his guess - "Rodney, are these caramels?" he asked, reaching out for the bag. A wooden spoon connected squarely with the back of his hand, leaving a moist chocolate splotch behind.
"Ow!" he yelped, jerking his hand back, turning to glare at Rodney, and receiving a haughty look in return.
"Paws off, Colonel Sticky fingers. I'm melting those down next."
****
Rodney typically preferred that John bathe after working out or running . "Yes, yes, you're very sexy all covered in sweat and looking manly, but seriously, Colonel! You're covered in SWEAT and you smell bad! Go! Shower!" And because John really was an asshole sometimes, he'd sidle right up behind Rodney, wrap his arms around his waist and hook his chin over his shoulder, completely ignoring the squawk of indignation from the other man. He'd nuzzle in close and murmuring how he was all hot and bothered right now, which, of course, would make Rodney squirm and struggle to get away (but really, he never fought very hard) and complain that now *he* was going to need a shower as well. John would just slide inquisitive hands under his clothing, eliciting gasps and moans as he toyed with Rodney's nipples and cock, trailing open mouth kisses up the side of Rodney's neck before rubbing has face in his hair. They were usually a dishevelled mess shortly thereafter, which almost invariably led to Rodney dragging him into the shower, which John seemed to count as a win.
When they had the time - no emergencies demanding attention, no Wraith hiveships on the horizon - Rodney would draw those moments out, carefully washing John's body from head to toe. He took every opportunity to caress and tease, nipping at an earlobe before washing John's hair, or following a water droplet skating down the hollow of his neck, only to retrace the same path with a soapy cloth, washing away the musky salt flavour that Rodney had come to identify as uniquely John.
Rodney always had enjoyed the finer things in life. He would happily eat MREs, Hershy's kisses and drink the sludge the SGC called coffee, but he like to splurge when he could. Back on earth, he'd made it a point to go out for a gourmet dinner now and then, to sample truly fine wines, to drink only high-end coffee and indulge in superior chocolate. The last time they'd been back, like everyone else, he'd stocked up on the things that were his essential pleasures. He'd been checking out Purdy's online store, looking at Himalayan Pink Salt Caramels when he'd had a flash back to the memory of lingering under a warm shower with the taste of John on his lips. He'd made his last few online purchases with a very specific goal in mind.
****
"You wanna get dinner soon? I'm going to go grab a shower and -"
"No."
John gave Rodney a funny look. "Did you eat already?"
"No. I mean, yes I want to get dinner, but no, don't grab a shower just yet."
John's eyebrows shot up. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with Rodney? Because this is where he would say, 'by all means, Colonel, go and scrub the sweat and stink from your body before I'm seen with you in public'."
Rodney didn't answer, just gave him a slow, wicked smile, and John felt a sudden tingle down his body. That was the smile Rodney got just before things got interesting. Like there was a really cool new piece of Ancient tech that John was going to love, or he was about to solve an equation he'd been pounding away at for weeks. Or he had a smoking hot plan that was likely to leave both of them completely wrecked and thoroughly sated. John was a betting man, and he'd put everything he had on the third option.
He watched in silence as Rodney placed several dozen unwrapped caramels in another small pot with more cream and stirred it slowly.
"This should be made with only sugar, butter and heavy whipping cream," he remarked casually as he stirred. "But these hot plates don't get nearly hot enough to cook it to the soft crack stage, so the cheater method will do. These are, after all, premier quality caramels." Rodney reached out and picked up one of the still wrapped candies, then tossed it over to Sheppard who caught it easily.
John peeled off the cellophane and popped the caramel in his mouth. It was smooth and creamy, not the cloying, too-sweet flavour and gritty texture of cheaper candy. He brought his attention back to Rodney to see the other man had two small bowls out, and was spooning caramel sauce into one and chocolate sauce into the other.
"So," he spoke, his throat suddenly dry. He cleared it and tried again. "What now?"
Rodney placed the small bowls side by side on the hot plate, then carried the whole thing over to the bed. He placed the hotplate on the small night table before turning back to John.
"Now you strip."
John could feel his face warm up, a rush of heat down his chest and shoulders. This wasn't usually how Rodney talked to him. He was usually the instigator in the bedroom, but it was undeniably hot and he complied.
Rodney settled on his knees at the head of the bed, the gestured for John to sit nestled between his thighs, his legs stretched out in front of him. The smell of rich chocolate and melted caramel permeated the air all around them, and John shivered as his naked skin settled back against Rodney's BDUs.
"You should be naked, too," he complained, but Rodney just laughed, before leaning over to snag the pot of chocolate. John sees him pick up a fine brush - he hadn't noticed it on the nightstand before - and cranes his head around trying to watch what Rodney is doing.
"John." Rodney's voice is firm. "Turn around before you sprain something."
"I just-"
"Shut up now. And hold still. Please?"
It's the last, the slight emphasis on the word please, the just barely there plaintive request that makes him give in. If it was just Rodney being Rodney, he would have made a smart ass remark. Because being bossy is Rodney's default setting, and ignoring Rodney's default setting is pretty much John's default setting. But though the words are pushy, he can hear the promise in Rodney's voice, knows that he's excited about something and he really, really wants to share it with John, and it'll be good if he'll just relax and play along. John has learned over the years and Rodney really does have some of the very best ideas, and he's still buzzing a little from the promise in Rodney's smile. So. Shutting up and holding still it is.
The brush is as soft as any of Lorne's fine sable brushes. Rodney carefully dips it in the homemade body paint, and then touches it to John's skin. He starts at the back of John's neck, painting a thin line along the nape before allowing the brush to meander across the trapezius. He studies the results for a moment, then leans and follows the trail with his tongue, licking the skin clean. John shudders; the liquid warmth followed by that curious tongue and finally the cool puff off air as Rodney blows on the now damp skin is almost too much. He hears Rodney laugh, and realizes he said that last bit out loud.
"Oh, John, we've only just begun!"
This time, Rodney starts behind his ear. The sensation is different, thicker, stickier, and John realizes Rodney swapped out the chocolate for the caramel. The brush trails down the side of his neck, dipping into the hollow, then swirling around to trace the length of the clavicle.
**
Rodney's tongue traced the shell of John's ear before flicking in behind it to lap up the caramel. But the sweet sauce was stickier than the chocolate paint, and required more work to remove. Rodney didn't hold back, licking and sucking at the sticky mess he'd created, using broad strokes of his tongue alternated with open mouthed, sucking kisses. He started in again along John's clavicle, nibbling and sucking at his skin to get every. last. bit. of residue. The saltiness of John's post-workout skin mingled with the sweetness of the caramel in his mouth as John shuddered and moaned. The combination of taste and sound made him rock hard, and he ground his erection against John's back.
"Oh god... " John barely managed to be coherent. "Rodney... oh, fuck ... no... visible marks, oh Jesus!"
Rodney laughed, low and dirty in his throat, biting down a little harder on the tendon just under the skin, watching the skin pink up, but careful, ever so careful because he's not about to cost John his career.
But he's not going to stop. He can't, not with a delectable feast laid out before him. He sets the pot of caramel and paintbrush aside, then slides his hands down over John's shoulders to settle on his forearms.
"You taste so good, John," he remarked, voice deceptively casual, though feeling anything but. "Did you know that fine Chocolatiers put salt on caramels to bring out the flavour?" He leaned in to lick again, sucking the skin at the junction of neck and shoulder into his mouth, nipping at it, his hands twining through John's fingers, hold him still as he squirmed under the sensations.
He lifted his mouth away, dropping a kiss to soothe the bite. "Salts from all over the world. Hawaiian, Mediterranean, South American. Pink, red and black. Smoky, earthy - I've tried a lot of different kinds. But you, John, you taste better than any of them."
If it wasn't already evident from the way John shook under Rodney's continued sensual assault, his cock would have given it away. John was hard and red, his hips jerking helplessly, seeking some source of stimulation. John was trying to wriggle his hands free, but Rodney wouldn't let go, using the weight of his body to keep John's hands pinned to the bed. He returned to the reddened spot he'd left on John's shoulder and bit down, eliciting a groan and a full body shudder.
"Oh fuck - Rodney!" John's voice had taken on an edge of desperation. "Let me, oh OH!" he panted, writhing as Rodney's tongue traced intricate patterns across the already sensitized skin of his shoulders and upper back, randomly scattering sharps bites as counterpoint. "Please! Ahh! Touch me you fucker, or let me, oh fuck, RODNEY!"
Rodney chuckled, then moved his mouth up right behind John's ear. "Don't touch," was all he said before slipping out from behind John and pushing him to lie flat on his back. John fisted his hands in the sheets, clearly struggling against the impulse to reach for his cock, choosing instead to do as Rodney had asked.
"You're going to like this," Rodney promised as he reached one hand over to dip a finger in the caramel. He brought it to the head of John's cock and smeared it around, trailing circles of the sticky sweetness around and around his shaft, causing John to buck up against the sensation, pulling a deep, broken sounding moan from him. With no further warning, Rodney wrapped one hand around the base of John's cock and took him as deeply into his mouth as possible.
Flavour burst against his tongue. There was the familiar, musky salty flavour of John's skin under the caramel, only now with the added bitter salt of come. After all the teasing and build up, it took only a few moments of stimulation, a few hard swallows and John was arching off the bed, spurting down Rodney's throat. He kept suckling gently until he felt John's hands on his head pushing him away, heard him mumbling, "Oh god, too much, Jesus Rodney, killing me!" Rodney pulled back to place a kiss on John's inner thigh before worming his way up the bed to lay down face to face.
John gave him a hazy smile, rolling toward him, snuggling in, seeking his lips for a kiss.
"You have the best ideas," John murmured into his mouth.
Rodney smiled and kissed him again. He IS a genius after all, and he's plenty smart enough to know when an exception needs to be made - and sometimes, he knows you have to take things with a grain of salt.
Re-posting it here for anyone who may have missed it over there...
Title: Salt
Author: shaddyr
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: NC17
Wordcount: 2900~
Disclaimer: Written for pleasure (theirs and mine) not for profit. If these boys belonged to me, they would be exploring a lot more than the Pegasus galaxy...
Author's Notes: This story brought to your by Himalayan Pink Salt Caramels. Thanks to my beta outsideth3box because she's awesome. Also, she appreciates the aforementioned caramels.
Summary: Some things just need to be taken with a grain of salt.
Normally, Rodney was fastidious about cleanliness. He had reason to be, after all; between allergies, hypoglycaemia, sensitive skin, radiation exposure, and days when it plain felt like the Pegasus galaxy was doing its level best to kill him, all he could do was be zealously proactive about the things that were under his control. Hence, the orthopaedic mattress, spare epi-pens tucked in every team member's vest, unscented hypoallergenic soap, powerbars and MREs stashed around Atlantis in easily accessible places, and his own special brand of homemade sunscreen. Because honestly, how did he know for sure one of the cooks wouldn’t screw up and lace something with citrus? And he certainly wasn't slopping the chemical swill that was in store bought sunblock preparations on his skin! Not to mention that the Athosian soap, though it smelled very pretty, left his skin rough and red, feeling like cracked parchment. No, Rodney was particular, and he didn't make any apologies for it.
There were rare exceptions. Not many, mind you, but the team - the team, through the insanity of life and death moments, heroically throwing themselves in danger's way to protect each other, the intensity of friendship borne from fighting side by side, and living to tell the story - at some point he'd relaxed his standards where team were concerned, because team=family and if there was one thing he'd learned in Pegasus, it was what family meant. Not that he had a hope in hell of stopping Ronon when the behemoth got it in his head that it was time for a hug because they'd all survived yet another close call. While he was still soaked in putrid swamp water with slime dripping from his dreadlocks. And no one in their right mind could say no to physical affection from Teyla no matter what state she was in, though he was extremely grateful the Athosians felt touching foreheads was sufficient to express it.
More specifically, however, a certain loose-limbed, tousle-headed, slow-grinning fly boy with a penchant for numbers, speed and danger (or, what Rodney would call suicidal tendencies disguised as idiotic bravery) had slipped right under his *keep out* lines. The way they escalated their petty contest to see who saved who more often, or fought over whose turn it was to flirt with the pretty princess du jour (or cock blocked each other when the princess went and decided for herself without consulting them)... well. Rodney couldn't really pinpoint when it happened, but one day he realized he had virtually no boundaries where John was concerned. It was probably the same morning that John woke him up by making a concerted effort to suck his brains out through his dick, and right about then Rodney decided that boundaries were really highly overrated where John was concerned anyway.
***
John gave the door control a cursory wave as he walked into McKay's quarters. Normally, he would have just radioed, but his earpiece had suffered an unfortunate sparring-practice related demise (and wow, those things made a loud crunch when they got stepped on). He'd decided, instead, to swing by and ask Rodney to join him for dinner after he showered. He found the other man busily puttering with various containers of ingredients spread out on his little table. There was a pot sitting ready on the Ancient version of a hot plate. One of the City exploration teams had found a huge stash of them in what had appeared to be an appliance storage area, so now anyone who felt like making Mac n' Cheese ("Kraft Dinner!" insisted McKay) or anything else in their quarters had a hot plate to make it on. He stopped beside McKay, his hands grasping the ends of the towel draped around his neck.
"Whatcha makin'?" he asked, watching Rodney grate a small brown block into fine shavings.
"Chocolate sauce," Rodney informed him as he poured what looked like cream into the pot and turned the hot plate on.
John cocked an eyebrow at him. "Why didn't you just buy some when we were on Earth? I know you brought home at least 10 pounds of chocolate. There was no room for a jar of sauce?" he teased.
Rodney huffed in disdain as he carefully mixed the finely shaved chocolate into the pot of warming cream. "Seriously, John! Have you ever read the ingredient list for the store bought stuff? It's CRAP!" he declared as he meticulously stirred the contents, making sure the chocolate was melting evenly. "Full of preservatives and Carnauba wax - Nestle's chocolate would be better! No, I'm making my own. Callebaut and Valrhona in just the right balance. It'll be perfect."
John spied a bag of what looked like wrapped candies on the desk and leaned in closer to investigate. Unless he missed his guess - "Rodney, are these caramels?" he asked, reaching out for the bag. A wooden spoon connected squarely with the back of his hand, leaving a moist chocolate splotch behind.
"Ow!" he yelped, jerking his hand back, turning to glare at Rodney, and receiving a haughty look in return.
"Paws off, Colonel Sticky fingers. I'm melting those down next."
****
Rodney typically preferred that John bathe after working out or running . "Yes, yes, you're very sexy all covered in sweat and looking manly, but seriously, Colonel! You're covered in SWEAT and you smell bad! Go! Shower!" And because John really was an asshole sometimes, he'd sidle right up behind Rodney, wrap his arms around his waist and hook his chin over his shoulder, completely ignoring the squawk of indignation from the other man. He'd nuzzle in close and murmuring how he was all hot and bothered right now, which, of course, would make Rodney squirm and struggle to get away (but really, he never fought very hard) and complain that now *he* was going to need a shower as well. John would just slide inquisitive hands under his clothing, eliciting gasps and moans as he toyed with Rodney's nipples and cock, trailing open mouth kisses up the side of Rodney's neck before rubbing has face in his hair. They were usually a dishevelled mess shortly thereafter, which almost invariably led to Rodney dragging him into the shower, which John seemed to count as a win.
When they had the time - no emergencies demanding attention, no Wraith hiveships on the horizon - Rodney would draw those moments out, carefully washing John's body from head to toe. He took every opportunity to caress and tease, nipping at an earlobe before washing John's hair, or following a water droplet skating down the hollow of his neck, only to retrace the same path with a soapy cloth, washing away the musky salt flavour that Rodney had come to identify as uniquely John.
Rodney always had enjoyed the finer things in life. He would happily eat MREs, Hershy's kisses and drink the sludge the SGC called coffee, but he like to splurge when he could. Back on earth, he'd made it a point to go out for a gourmet dinner now and then, to sample truly fine wines, to drink only high-end coffee and indulge in superior chocolate. The last time they'd been back, like everyone else, he'd stocked up on the things that were his essential pleasures. He'd been checking out Purdy's online store, looking at Himalayan Pink Salt Caramels when he'd had a flash back to the memory of lingering under a warm shower with the taste of John on his lips. He'd made his last few online purchases with a very specific goal in mind.
****
"You wanna get dinner soon? I'm going to go grab a shower and -"
"No."
John gave Rodney a funny look. "Did you eat already?"
"No. I mean, yes I want to get dinner, but no, don't grab a shower just yet."
John's eyebrows shot up. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with Rodney? Because this is where he would say, 'by all means, Colonel, go and scrub the sweat and stink from your body before I'm seen with you in public'."
Rodney didn't answer, just gave him a slow, wicked smile, and John felt a sudden tingle down his body. That was the smile Rodney got just before things got interesting. Like there was a really cool new piece of Ancient tech that John was going to love, or he was about to solve an equation he'd been pounding away at for weeks. Or he had a smoking hot plan that was likely to leave both of them completely wrecked and thoroughly sated. John was a betting man, and he'd put everything he had on the third option.
He watched in silence as Rodney placed several dozen unwrapped caramels in another small pot with more cream and stirred it slowly.
"This should be made with only sugar, butter and heavy whipping cream," he remarked casually as he stirred. "But these hot plates don't get nearly hot enough to cook it to the soft crack stage, so the cheater method will do. These are, after all, premier quality caramels." Rodney reached out and picked up one of the still wrapped candies, then tossed it over to Sheppard who caught it easily.
John peeled off the cellophane and popped the caramel in his mouth. It was smooth and creamy, not the cloying, too-sweet flavour and gritty texture of cheaper candy. He brought his attention back to Rodney to see the other man had two small bowls out, and was spooning caramel sauce into one and chocolate sauce into the other.
"So," he spoke, his throat suddenly dry. He cleared it and tried again. "What now?"
Rodney placed the small bowls side by side on the hot plate, then carried the whole thing over to the bed. He placed the hotplate on the small night table before turning back to John.
"Now you strip."
John could feel his face warm up, a rush of heat down his chest and shoulders. This wasn't usually how Rodney talked to him. He was usually the instigator in the bedroom, but it was undeniably hot and he complied.
Rodney settled on his knees at the head of the bed, the gestured for John to sit nestled between his thighs, his legs stretched out in front of him. The smell of rich chocolate and melted caramel permeated the air all around them, and John shivered as his naked skin settled back against Rodney's BDUs.
"You should be naked, too," he complained, but Rodney just laughed, before leaning over to snag the pot of chocolate. John sees him pick up a fine brush - he hadn't noticed it on the nightstand before - and cranes his head around trying to watch what Rodney is doing.
"John." Rodney's voice is firm. "Turn around before you sprain something."
"I just-"
"Shut up now. And hold still. Please?"
It's the last, the slight emphasis on the word please, the just barely there plaintive request that makes him give in. If it was just Rodney being Rodney, he would have made a smart ass remark. Because being bossy is Rodney's default setting, and ignoring Rodney's default setting is pretty much John's default setting. But though the words are pushy, he can hear the promise in Rodney's voice, knows that he's excited about something and he really, really wants to share it with John, and it'll be good if he'll just relax and play along. John has learned over the years and Rodney really does have some of the very best ideas, and he's still buzzing a little from the promise in Rodney's smile. So. Shutting up and holding still it is.
The brush is as soft as any of Lorne's fine sable brushes. Rodney carefully dips it in the homemade body paint, and then touches it to John's skin. He starts at the back of John's neck, painting a thin line along the nape before allowing the brush to meander across the trapezius. He studies the results for a moment, then leans and follows the trail with his tongue, licking the skin clean. John shudders; the liquid warmth followed by that curious tongue and finally the cool puff off air as Rodney blows on the now damp skin is almost too much. He hears Rodney laugh, and realizes he said that last bit out loud.
"Oh, John, we've only just begun!"
This time, Rodney starts behind his ear. The sensation is different, thicker, stickier, and John realizes Rodney swapped out the chocolate for the caramel. The brush trails down the side of his neck, dipping into the hollow, then swirling around to trace the length of the clavicle.
**
Rodney's tongue traced the shell of John's ear before flicking in behind it to lap up the caramel. But the sweet sauce was stickier than the chocolate paint, and required more work to remove. Rodney didn't hold back, licking and sucking at the sticky mess he'd created, using broad strokes of his tongue alternated with open mouthed, sucking kisses. He started in again along John's clavicle, nibbling and sucking at his skin to get every. last. bit. of residue. The saltiness of John's post-workout skin mingled with the sweetness of the caramel in his mouth as John shuddered and moaned. The combination of taste and sound made him rock hard, and he ground his erection against John's back.
"Oh god... " John barely managed to be coherent. "Rodney... oh, fuck ... no... visible marks, oh Jesus!"
Rodney laughed, low and dirty in his throat, biting down a little harder on the tendon just under the skin, watching the skin pink up, but careful, ever so careful because he's not about to cost John his career.
But he's not going to stop. He can't, not with a delectable feast laid out before him. He sets the pot of caramel and paintbrush aside, then slides his hands down over John's shoulders to settle on his forearms.
"You taste so good, John," he remarked, voice deceptively casual, though feeling anything but. "Did you know that fine Chocolatiers put salt on caramels to bring out the flavour?" He leaned in to lick again, sucking the skin at the junction of neck and shoulder into his mouth, nipping at it, his hands twining through John's fingers, hold him still as he squirmed under the sensations.
He lifted his mouth away, dropping a kiss to soothe the bite. "Salts from all over the world. Hawaiian, Mediterranean, South American. Pink, red and black. Smoky, earthy - I've tried a lot of different kinds. But you, John, you taste better than any of them."
If it wasn't already evident from the way John shook under Rodney's continued sensual assault, his cock would have given it away. John was hard and red, his hips jerking helplessly, seeking some source of stimulation. John was trying to wriggle his hands free, but Rodney wouldn't let go, using the weight of his body to keep John's hands pinned to the bed. He returned to the reddened spot he'd left on John's shoulder and bit down, eliciting a groan and a full body shudder.
"Oh fuck - Rodney!" John's voice had taken on an edge of desperation. "Let me, oh OH!" he panted, writhing as Rodney's tongue traced intricate patterns across the already sensitized skin of his shoulders and upper back, randomly scattering sharps bites as counterpoint. "Please! Ahh! Touch me you fucker, or let me, oh fuck, RODNEY!"
Rodney chuckled, then moved his mouth up right behind John's ear. "Don't touch," was all he said before slipping out from behind John and pushing him to lie flat on his back. John fisted his hands in the sheets, clearly struggling against the impulse to reach for his cock, choosing instead to do as Rodney had asked.
"You're going to like this," Rodney promised as he reached one hand over to dip a finger in the caramel. He brought it to the head of John's cock and smeared it around, trailing circles of the sticky sweetness around and around his shaft, causing John to buck up against the sensation, pulling a deep, broken sounding moan from him. With no further warning, Rodney wrapped one hand around the base of John's cock and took him as deeply into his mouth as possible.
Flavour burst against his tongue. There was the familiar, musky salty flavour of John's skin under the caramel, only now with the added bitter salt of come. After all the teasing and build up, it took only a few moments of stimulation, a few hard swallows and John was arching off the bed, spurting down Rodney's throat. He kept suckling gently until he felt John's hands on his head pushing him away, heard him mumbling, "Oh god, too much, Jesus Rodney, killing me!" Rodney pulled back to place a kiss on John's inner thigh before worming his way up the bed to lay down face to face.
John gave him a hazy smile, rolling toward him, snuggling in, seeking his lips for a kiss.
"You have the best ideas," John murmured into his mouth.
Rodney smiled and kissed him again. He IS a genius after all, and he's plenty smart enough to know when an exception needs to be made - and sometimes, he knows you have to take things with a grain of salt.