Time Stamp 1
Title: A (Making) Love Scene
Rating: NC-17
Words: ~2600
A/N: bluebrocade asked for four weeks after 'Scenes From an Accidental Courtship' which we decided basically meant Rodney's first time bottoming.
A/N 2: janne_d was lovely and betaed this for me, because I apparently can't post *anything* without making someone look at it first.
ETA on 03/11/10 - now available as a podfic here thanks to the excellent reena-jenkins.
The knock at the door surprises John. There are only three types of people who visit him: people coming to tell him the city is on fire/under attack/sinking and who are normally preceded by frantic yelling/explosions/wet feet; Ronon or Teyla both of whom have this weird Pegasus-native hang up about not visiting someone’s home unless invited and he’s pretty certain he hasn’t invited anybody tonight.
John rolls off the bed and crosses to the door. Type three, obviously, is Rodney. But Rodney doesn’t knock.
The door slides open and, huh, apparently Rodney does still know how to knock, who knew?
“Rodney?” John drawls, after a second when Rodney doesn’t say anything.
“Oh.” Rodney’s head snaps up. “Jo- Colonel, hello.” It’s a thing Rodney has; he won’t call John ‘John’ in public, even when public is an empty corridor at 21:00, even though most other people do and no one thinks anything of it. John pretends it annoys him, but really it’s incredibly, humblingly sweet how hard Rodney tries to keep their secret.
“Rodney,” John says again, inclining his head and fighting not to smile. “Want to come in?”
“I, uh.” Rodney glances up and down the corridor then nods quickly. “That might be for the best, yes.”
John waves Rodney in, a tiny frission of doubt sparking when Rodney doesn’t look at him, doesn’t give him that comically lascivious smirk that John’s growing to expect when they’re together.
Rodney crosses to the middle of the room and stops. He looks at the bed, looks up at Johnny Cash, and then looks back at the floor.
John thinks he’s probably said Rodney’s name enough so tries to think of something else to say. “Everything okay?” His voice isn’t quite as casual as he’d like it to be. But Jesus, Rodney’s acting weird and John’s been half expecting this for weeks; if he’s about to tell John this was one huge mistake John’s not sure he’s going to take it very well.
“What?” Rodney finally makes eye contact; his eyes are a little wide. “Yes, uh. Sure. I mean,” he trails off and just looks at John hopelessly.
John swallows. He fights against the part of him that wants to say But this was your idea, you came to me and moves over to Rodney and reaches out, stopping just before his hand makes contact with Rodney’s arm; if this is what he thinks it is, the non-touching part’s going to be hard. “Do you- Are you trying to-?”
Rodney nods frantically. “Yes, yes, I am. Is it, are you okay with it?”
John’s throat is tight. He’s the furthest thing from okay with it, but he’s not going to show it. “Sure,” he breathes.
Rodney’s shoulders come up like a weight’s been lifted and all of a sudden he beams, looking honestly, openly happy. John feels sick. “Excellent,” Rodney says and pulls his shirt over his head.
Huh.
John blinks. He’s missed something here.
Rodney’s hands drop to his fly, but then he glances up at John and his hands still. “John?” he asks.
“What." John clears his throat. "Why are you getting naked?”
Rodney frowns slightly, but his smile doesn’t fade. “You can’t fuck me with my pants on,” he says.
It takes a moment more, but then relief hits John square in the chest and he feels dizzy with it.
Rodney makes a startled noise and reaches out, grabbing John’s arm. “John?” he says squeezing John’s arms. “Are you okay? You went white.”
“I’m great, Rodney,” John says. He can’t keep the smile off his face, and some part of him hates that he’s this invested, but the rest of him is dancing because Rodney’s not breaking up with him.
Rodney is, however frowning at him, like he thinks Pegasus has finally proved too much for John and he’s going to flip. And there’s no way in hell that John’s going to tell him what just happened, what the very first conclusion he jumped to was, except Rodney’s eyes start skimming over him, lips moving for a second like he’s reading the pages of John’s secrets. And then he cuffs him hard on the back of the head.
John jerks back and grabs Rodney’s wrist when he goes for round two. “Ow, Rodney, fuck,” he says, rubbing the back of his head and putting on his most wounded expression. It didn’t hurt much at all, Rodney doesn’t hurt him and John should have remembered that.
“You’re an idiot,” Rodney snaps, hands gentle and desperate on John’s shoulders as he reels him in, kisses him hard and fast over and over. “I’d never,” he says between kisses. “I can’t believe you thought I’d,” and “Don’t you know how much I-?”
And John says “sorry” and “yes” and “God” and “Rodney”. He doesn’t say nothing’s ever mattered this much or I’ve never been this scared of losing anything before but Rodney knows him terrifyingly well and can probably read it on his tongue.
They kiss for a long time, standing in the middle of the room, Rodney half naked and John dressed, Rodney gasping every time the material of John’s t-shirt rubs against his nipples (which is as often as John can make it).
When John’s feeling balanced and sane again plus maybe a little foolish, he draws back, kisses Rodney’s shoulder and says, “Now what’s this about me fucking you?”
Rodney’s blush spreads high across his cheeks and over his nose. “I wasn’t sure if it was something you did,” he says, “Or something you’d like to do. I mean, I know you like it when I.” He makes a gesture that in context obviously means fuck you but could just as easily mean use an ice cream scoop in your ass. “But I wasn’t sure if you, uh, you know.”
One day, John thinks, they’re going to have to work out a way to communicate using actual words. Of course, that will probably also be the day they turn into girls so he doesn’t put it at the top of his to-do list; the idea of not wanting sex with himself is a little off-putting.
“I do,” he says, “I really do.” The idea of unlimited access to Rodney’s ass is very, very… the opposite of off-putting.
“Oh.” Rodney’s smile is strangely shy. “Good.” He takes a step back and waves his hand over the bed. “How do you want me?”
The sheer number of options that flood into John’s head at that question leaves him temporarily speechless. Then he forces his dick to behave, reminds it that this is Rodney’s first time and says, “Are you sure?” His voice is rough and desperately horny, but he gives himself points for asking.
Rodney looks at him for a long second. Then he nods. “Oh yeah,” he breathes.
Lying naked with Rodney in bed is no longer a novelty; they’ve done it every night they’ve been able to for the last month. It’s not a novelty but it’s still thrilling, still makes John’s heart beat wildly, still makes him hot and horny and grateful.
Rodney’s not the first guy John’s introduced to the joys of gay sex, but he’s the first for twenty years. He’s a good pupil and learns fast which doesn’t surprise John at all, but just how eager Rodney is to learn, to learn with John is surprising and thrilling and unspeakably hot. He learned handjobs easily and is quickly mastering blowjobs but it’s having Rodney fuck him that John enjoys the most. Every time he slides inside John, Rodney makes this tiny, almost inaudible oh of surprise, his mouth shaped into a perfect circle. John’s fantasised about how Rodney might react to being fucked, but he never really thought it would happen.
“Are you sure,” he says again, one hand wrapped loosely around Rodney’s cock, other hand rolling his balls and skimming light fingers over Rodney’s perineum.
Instead of answering, Rodney makes a frustrated noise and shoves the lube bottle into John’s hand. “Should I roll over?” he asks.
John thinks it through rapidly, he likes to fuck face to face but he also (dimly) remembers what it’s like to do this for the first time. “Yeah,” he says, and untangles them long enough for Rodney to turn over onto his stomach, leaning some weight on his elbows.
Rodney has a beautiful ass. Hell, Rodney has a great body all over, wide and thick and strong and exactly what John likes, but his ass is something extra special. John ducks his head and kisses the dimpled skin connecting Rodney’s ass and thigh. Rodney jumps a little, his back going tense and John backs off. He kneels up and straddles Rodney’s thighs, rubbing the small of his back slowly until the tension bleeds away and Rodney’s lying face down in the pillow making contented little noises.
“Rodney,” John says, speaking softly so as not to break the mood.
“Nrgh,” Rodney says, or that’s what it sounds like anyway.
“Still sure?”
Rodney groans and lifts his head, turning to glare at John over his shoulder. “Would you like me to sign something?” he demands. “Would that convince you?”
John grins at him. “Just checking,” he says. He kisses Rodney’s ass again, sucking wetly low on one cheek until Rodney sighs and drops his head back down.
John had already been planning to keep this slow, to slick Rodney up nice and carefully, but then he gets an even better idea. “Rodney,” he says, nudging one of Rodney’s leg with his shoulder, “Spread ‘em.”
Rodney makes a sound like a begrudging laugh in the back of his throat and complies.
John can’t help that the first touch of his tongue to Rodney’s ass is a little tentative; he’s done this before but not for far too long and before he was only being polite, returning a favour done for him, now he just wants to touch Rodney everywhere and every way he can.
Rodney swears and gasps and one of his hands comes flapping back behind himself, reaching for John. John catches the hand and entwines their fingers, giving him a squeeze. Feeling suddenly much more sure, he turns his attention back to what he was doing, lapping at Rodney’s hole, alternating wet and loose licks with deeper, more purposeful thrusts, using a finger and arrowed tongue to work his way inside.
Rodney doesn’t tense up much for the first finger, too lost in what John’s doing probably, but the second finger makes him shift suddenly and away, before forcing himself to relax.
“Shh,” John says, rubbing strong lines over Rodney’s ass and thighs with his free hand. “Shh, I won’t hurt you.”
Rodney shifts again, spreading his legs and resettling onto the bed. “I know,” he says over his shoulder, “I know.”
The second finger goes in easier this time and Rodney starts to shift back against John’s hand, getting restless, but John slicks up his hand again and keeps going until he has three fingers in Rodney’s ass, the pad of one working rhythmically over Rodney’s prostate and Rodney is puffing and groaning and just this side of desperate.
“Okay,” John says, partly to himself, partly to Rodney. “And now for the really good part.”
He coaxes Rodney up onto his elbows and knees, rolling on a condom while Rodney’s busy getting settled. John crawls back between Rodney’s spread thighs and has to stop for a moment, swallow, and resist pinching himself. John spent years fantasising about this, and he can’t quite believe it’s real.
Then Rodney looks back at him, frowning a question and John gets back with the program. His dick’s so hard it’s throbbing in time to his heart but his hands are shaking and it takes two tries, lining them up, and even though he knows this, knows it works, his cock still looks impossibly big against Rodney’s opening.
But John pushes forward, Rodney presses back and John slides inside, one long, smooth glide, not stilling until Rodney hisses in a way that might not mean good.
“Okay?” John pants.
“Yes,” Rodney says through gritted teeth, “Yes, just give me a minute, just-” His voice breaks off when John shifts up slightly and he moans instead, the tension around John’s cock easing enough for him to slide forward, until he’s all the way inside Rodney. Feeling his knees go shaky, he drapes himself over Rodney’s back and they hang there for a minute, both gasping and slick with sudden sweat.
“Okay,” Rodney says, the words pushed out between gasps for air. “Okay, now would be a good time for you to move.”
So John does.
When they have sex, Rodney treats it like he’s taking an evening class in Advanced Gay Sex. He catalogues and questions and repeats and repeats until he has everything perfected; it’s much, much hotter than John would ever have guessed. This though, now, Rodney looks totally undone, not even trying to see what’s happening, not asking John what and why and how, just moaning and cursing and whispering filthy, filthy promises under his breath.
John gets a hand around his waist and pulls him up, onto his knees, back pressed to John’s chest and bites at the back of his neck. Rodney squirms against him, pushing back as John pushes forward. “Please, John,” he says, “Fuck, please.”
It takes a bit of balancing to get a hand to Rodney’s cock without letting them topple forwards, but John manages it, surrendering some of his control, jerking Rodney off fast and hard while Rodney thrusts back against him, over and over until he’s fucking them both to orgasm.
Afterwards, Rodney collapses into a boneless sprawl and doesn’t do more than mumble when John coaxes him under the blanket. John’s just starting to worry that maybe he’s killed him, when Rodney sits up.
“Oh my God,” he says and flops back down.
John rolls onto his side and leans over Rodney, peering down at him. “You okay?”
Rodney stares at him for a long time, his eyes are huge and blue and soft, John feels himself falling into them, not realising he’s moving until their lips brush.
“That was incredible,” Rodney says against John’s mouth. “I assumed that it would be good, I never thought you were a masochist, but I had no idea.” He wraps his arms around John’s shoulders and crushes him close while he kisses him.
John smiles into Rodney’s mouth as he kisses back, manoeuvring them onto their sides and stroking his fingers through Rodney’s hair.
When Rodney pulls back, he takes one look at John and rolls his eyes. “Oh really,” he says, “There’s no need to look that smug.”
John widens his eyes innocently. “Smug?” he asks, “Me?” And the thing is that he isn’t, not really, he’s just really fucking happy.
Rodney shakes his head slightly, but he’s smiling and his fingers keep stroking over John’s temple even as he closes his eyes and snuggles into the pillow.
John reaches over and tugs the blankets up higher around them, Atlantis likes him but even she can’t quite manage warm on winter mornings in a city surrounded by ocean. It’s probably an unnecessary risk letting Rodney spend the night, but it’s the only risk they really take so they let themselves do it pretty often. Besides, they’re both early risers, and in a city of two hundred people, it’s not hard to sneak from one room to the other at 06:00. John checks that his watch alarm is set then thinks the lights off and lies down.
Just before he drifts off to sleep, John cracks his eyes open one more time, taking in Rodney’s face, sleep-soft and sex-flushed and five inches from his own, and yeah, okay, maybe John does feel a little a bit smug.
/End
Rating: NC-17
Words: ~2600
A/N: bluebrocade asked for four weeks after 'Scenes From an Accidental Courtship' which we decided basically meant Rodney's first time bottoming.
A/N 2: janne_d was lovely and betaed this for me, because I apparently can't post *anything* without making someone look at it first.
ETA on 03/11/10 - now available as a podfic here thanks to the excellent reena-jenkins.
The knock at the door surprises John. There are only three types of people who visit him: people coming to tell him the city is on fire/under attack/sinking and who are normally preceded by frantic yelling/explosions/wet feet; Ronon or Teyla both of whom have this weird Pegasus-native hang up about not visiting someone’s home unless invited and he’s pretty certain he hasn’t invited anybody tonight.
John rolls off the bed and crosses to the door. Type three, obviously, is Rodney. But Rodney doesn’t knock.
The door slides open and, huh, apparently Rodney does still know how to knock, who knew?
“Rodney?” John drawls, after a second when Rodney doesn’t say anything.
“Oh.” Rodney’s head snaps up. “Jo- Colonel, hello.” It’s a thing Rodney has; he won’t call John ‘John’ in public, even when public is an empty corridor at 21:00, even though most other people do and no one thinks anything of it. John pretends it annoys him, but really it’s incredibly, humblingly sweet how hard Rodney tries to keep their secret.
“Rodney,” John says again, inclining his head and fighting not to smile. “Want to come in?”
“I, uh.” Rodney glances up and down the corridor then nods quickly. “That might be for the best, yes.”
John waves Rodney in, a tiny frission of doubt sparking when Rodney doesn’t look at him, doesn’t give him that comically lascivious smirk that John’s growing to expect when they’re together.
Rodney crosses to the middle of the room and stops. He looks at the bed, looks up at Johnny Cash, and then looks back at the floor.
John thinks he’s probably said Rodney’s name enough so tries to think of something else to say. “Everything okay?” His voice isn’t quite as casual as he’d like it to be. But Jesus, Rodney’s acting weird and John’s been half expecting this for weeks; if he’s about to tell John this was one huge mistake John’s not sure he’s going to take it very well.
“What?” Rodney finally makes eye contact; his eyes are a little wide. “Yes, uh. Sure. I mean,” he trails off and just looks at John hopelessly.
John swallows. He fights against the part of him that wants to say But this was your idea, you came to me and moves over to Rodney and reaches out, stopping just before his hand makes contact with Rodney’s arm; if this is what he thinks it is, the non-touching part’s going to be hard. “Do you- Are you trying to-?”
Rodney nods frantically. “Yes, yes, I am. Is it, are you okay with it?”
John’s throat is tight. He’s the furthest thing from okay with it, but he’s not going to show it. “Sure,” he breathes.
Rodney’s shoulders come up like a weight’s been lifted and all of a sudden he beams, looking honestly, openly happy. John feels sick. “Excellent,” Rodney says and pulls his shirt over his head.
Huh.
John blinks. He’s missed something here.
Rodney’s hands drop to his fly, but then he glances up at John and his hands still. “John?” he asks.
“What." John clears his throat. "Why are you getting naked?”
Rodney frowns slightly, but his smile doesn’t fade. “You can’t fuck me with my pants on,” he says.
It takes a moment more, but then relief hits John square in the chest and he feels dizzy with it.
Rodney makes a startled noise and reaches out, grabbing John’s arm. “John?” he says squeezing John’s arms. “Are you okay? You went white.”
“I’m great, Rodney,” John says. He can’t keep the smile off his face, and some part of him hates that he’s this invested, but the rest of him is dancing because Rodney’s not breaking up with him.
Rodney is, however frowning at him, like he thinks Pegasus has finally proved too much for John and he’s going to flip. And there’s no way in hell that John’s going to tell him what just happened, what the very first conclusion he jumped to was, except Rodney’s eyes start skimming over him, lips moving for a second like he’s reading the pages of John’s secrets. And then he cuffs him hard on the back of the head.
John jerks back and grabs Rodney’s wrist when he goes for round two. “Ow, Rodney, fuck,” he says, rubbing the back of his head and putting on his most wounded expression. It didn’t hurt much at all, Rodney doesn’t hurt him and John should have remembered that.
“You’re an idiot,” Rodney snaps, hands gentle and desperate on John’s shoulders as he reels him in, kisses him hard and fast over and over. “I’d never,” he says between kisses. “I can’t believe you thought I’d,” and “Don’t you know how much I-?”
And John says “sorry” and “yes” and “God” and “Rodney”. He doesn’t say nothing’s ever mattered this much or I’ve never been this scared of losing anything before but Rodney knows him terrifyingly well and can probably read it on his tongue.
They kiss for a long time, standing in the middle of the room, Rodney half naked and John dressed, Rodney gasping every time the material of John’s t-shirt rubs against his nipples (which is as often as John can make it).
When John’s feeling balanced and sane again plus maybe a little foolish, he draws back, kisses Rodney’s shoulder and says, “Now what’s this about me fucking you?”
Rodney’s blush spreads high across his cheeks and over his nose. “I wasn’t sure if it was something you did,” he says, “Or something you’d like to do. I mean, I know you like it when I.” He makes a gesture that in context obviously means fuck you but could just as easily mean use an ice cream scoop in your ass. “But I wasn’t sure if you, uh, you know.”
One day, John thinks, they’re going to have to work out a way to communicate using actual words. Of course, that will probably also be the day they turn into girls so he doesn’t put it at the top of his to-do list; the idea of not wanting sex with himself is a little off-putting.
“I do,” he says, “I really do.” The idea of unlimited access to Rodney’s ass is very, very… the opposite of off-putting.
“Oh.” Rodney’s smile is strangely shy. “Good.” He takes a step back and waves his hand over the bed. “How do you want me?”
The sheer number of options that flood into John’s head at that question leaves him temporarily speechless. Then he forces his dick to behave, reminds it that this is Rodney’s first time and says, “Are you sure?” His voice is rough and desperately horny, but he gives himself points for asking.
Rodney looks at him for a long second. Then he nods. “Oh yeah,” he breathes.
Lying naked with Rodney in bed is no longer a novelty; they’ve done it every night they’ve been able to for the last month. It’s not a novelty but it’s still thrilling, still makes John’s heart beat wildly, still makes him hot and horny and grateful.
Rodney’s not the first guy John’s introduced to the joys of gay sex, but he’s the first for twenty years. He’s a good pupil and learns fast which doesn’t surprise John at all, but just how eager Rodney is to learn, to learn with John is surprising and thrilling and unspeakably hot. He learned handjobs easily and is quickly mastering blowjobs but it’s having Rodney fuck him that John enjoys the most. Every time he slides inside John, Rodney makes this tiny, almost inaudible oh of surprise, his mouth shaped into a perfect circle. John’s fantasised about how Rodney might react to being fucked, but he never really thought it would happen.
“Are you sure,” he says again, one hand wrapped loosely around Rodney’s cock, other hand rolling his balls and skimming light fingers over Rodney’s perineum.
Instead of answering, Rodney makes a frustrated noise and shoves the lube bottle into John’s hand. “Should I roll over?” he asks.
John thinks it through rapidly, he likes to fuck face to face but he also (dimly) remembers what it’s like to do this for the first time. “Yeah,” he says, and untangles them long enough for Rodney to turn over onto his stomach, leaning some weight on his elbows.
Rodney has a beautiful ass. Hell, Rodney has a great body all over, wide and thick and strong and exactly what John likes, but his ass is something extra special. John ducks his head and kisses the dimpled skin connecting Rodney’s ass and thigh. Rodney jumps a little, his back going tense and John backs off. He kneels up and straddles Rodney’s thighs, rubbing the small of his back slowly until the tension bleeds away and Rodney’s lying face down in the pillow making contented little noises.
“Rodney,” John says, speaking softly so as not to break the mood.
“Nrgh,” Rodney says, or that’s what it sounds like anyway.
“Still sure?”
Rodney groans and lifts his head, turning to glare at John over his shoulder. “Would you like me to sign something?” he demands. “Would that convince you?”
John grins at him. “Just checking,” he says. He kisses Rodney’s ass again, sucking wetly low on one cheek until Rodney sighs and drops his head back down.
John had already been planning to keep this slow, to slick Rodney up nice and carefully, but then he gets an even better idea. “Rodney,” he says, nudging one of Rodney’s leg with his shoulder, “Spread ‘em.”
Rodney makes a sound like a begrudging laugh in the back of his throat and complies.
John can’t help that the first touch of his tongue to Rodney’s ass is a little tentative; he’s done this before but not for far too long and before he was only being polite, returning a favour done for him, now he just wants to touch Rodney everywhere and every way he can.
Rodney swears and gasps and one of his hands comes flapping back behind himself, reaching for John. John catches the hand and entwines their fingers, giving him a squeeze. Feeling suddenly much more sure, he turns his attention back to what he was doing, lapping at Rodney’s hole, alternating wet and loose licks with deeper, more purposeful thrusts, using a finger and arrowed tongue to work his way inside.
Rodney doesn’t tense up much for the first finger, too lost in what John’s doing probably, but the second finger makes him shift suddenly and away, before forcing himself to relax.
“Shh,” John says, rubbing strong lines over Rodney’s ass and thighs with his free hand. “Shh, I won’t hurt you.”
Rodney shifts again, spreading his legs and resettling onto the bed. “I know,” he says over his shoulder, “I know.”
The second finger goes in easier this time and Rodney starts to shift back against John’s hand, getting restless, but John slicks up his hand again and keeps going until he has three fingers in Rodney’s ass, the pad of one working rhythmically over Rodney’s prostate and Rodney is puffing and groaning and just this side of desperate.
“Okay,” John says, partly to himself, partly to Rodney. “And now for the really good part.”
He coaxes Rodney up onto his elbows and knees, rolling on a condom while Rodney’s busy getting settled. John crawls back between Rodney’s spread thighs and has to stop for a moment, swallow, and resist pinching himself. John spent years fantasising about this, and he can’t quite believe it’s real.
Then Rodney looks back at him, frowning a question and John gets back with the program. His dick’s so hard it’s throbbing in time to his heart but his hands are shaking and it takes two tries, lining them up, and even though he knows this, knows it works, his cock still looks impossibly big against Rodney’s opening.
But John pushes forward, Rodney presses back and John slides inside, one long, smooth glide, not stilling until Rodney hisses in a way that might not mean good.
“Okay?” John pants.
“Yes,” Rodney says through gritted teeth, “Yes, just give me a minute, just-” His voice breaks off when John shifts up slightly and he moans instead, the tension around John’s cock easing enough for him to slide forward, until he’s all the way inside Rodney. Feeling his knees go shaky, he drapes himself over Rodney’s back and they hang there for a minute, both gasping and slick with sudden sweat.
“Okay,” Rodney says, the words pushed out between gasps for air. “Okay, now would be a good time for you to move.”
So John does.
When they have sex, Rodney treats it like he’s taking an evening class in Advanced Gay Sex. He catalogues and questions and repeats and repeats until he has everything perfected; it’s much, much hotter than John would ever have guessed. This though, now, Rodney looks totally undone, not even trying to see what’s happening, not asking John what and why and how, just moaning and cursing and whispering filthy, filthy promises under his breath.
John gets a hand around his waist and pulls him up, onto his knees, back pressed to John’s chest and bites at the back of his neck. Rodney squirms against him, pushing back as John pushes forward. “Please, John,” he says, “Fuck, please.”
It takes a bit of balancing to get a hand to Rodney’s cock without letting them topple forwards, but John manages it, surrendering some of his control, jerking Rodney off fast and hard while Rodney thrusts back against him, over and over until he’s fucking them both to orgasm.
Afterwards, Rodney collapses into a boneless sprawl and doesn’t do more than mumble when John coaxes him under the blanket. John’s just starting to worry that maybe he’s killed him, when Rodney sits up.
“Oh my God,” he says and flops back down.
John rolls onto his side and leans over Rodney, peering down at him. “You okay?”
Rodney stares at him for a long time, his eyes are huge and blue and soft, John feels himself falling into them, not realising he’s moving until their lips brush.
“That was incredible,” Rodney says against John’s mouth. “I assumed that it would be good, I never thought you were a masochist, but I had no idea.” He wraps his arms around John’s shoulders and crushes him close while he kisses him.
John smiles into Rodney’s mouth as he kisses back, manoeuvring them onto their sides and stroking his fingers through Rodney’s hair.
When Rodney pulls back, he takes one look at John and rolls his eyes. “Oh really,” he says, “There’s no need to look that smug.”
John widens his eyes innocently. “Smug?” he asks, “Me?” And the thing is that he isn’t, not really, he’s just really fucking happy.
Rodney shakes his head slightly, but he’s smiling and his fingers keep stroking over John’s temple even as he closes his eyes and snuggles into the pillow.
John reaches over and tugs the blankets up higher around them, Atlantis likes him but even she can’t quite manage warm on winter mornings in a city surrounded by ocean. It’s probably an unnecessary risk letting Rodney spend the night, but it’s the only risk they really take so they let themselves do it pretty often. Besides, they’re both early risers, and in a city of two hundred people, it’s not hard to sneak from one room to the other at 06:00. John checks that his watch alarm is set then thinks the lights off and lies down.
Just before he drifts off to sleep, John cracks his eyes open one more time, taking in Rodney’s face, sleep-soft and sex-flushed and five inches from his own, and yeah, okay, maybe John does feel a little a bit smug.
/End