TEAM ROMANCE: Devil’s Advocate, "Advoctus Diaboli"
Title: Advoctus Diaboli
Author: beadattitude ( interview)
Team: Romance
Prompt: Devil’s Advocate
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: For Most Audiences
Warnings: None
Summary: Rodney regularly believes six impossible things before breakfast, except when it comes to his love life.
Once you've read the story, please take a moment to vote in the poll below. Ratings go from 1 (low) to 9 (high), so all you need to do is enter a single number in that range into each text entry box. You'll be able to see the Prompt and Team (Genre) information in the header above.
More details about the voting procedure can be found here.
Advoctus Diaboli
Devil’s advocate
NOUN:
One who argues against a cause or position, not as a committed opponent but simply for the sake of argument or to determine the validity of the cause or position.
2. Roman Catholic Church An official appointed to present arguments against a proposed canonization or beatification.
ETYMOLOGY:
Translation of Medieval Latin advoctus diabol, one arguing for the devil's plea against canonizing a saint : Latin advoctus, advocate + Late Latin diabol, genitive of diabolus, devil.
E. Cobham Brewer. Dictionary of Phrase and Fable. 1898
One night while they were playing chess, Rodney looked up to find Sheppard staring at him, and there was something in his gaze that made Rodney’s heart beat faster, and the blood rise to his cheeks.
He decided it was psychological warfare, and didn’t look at the Colonel again until he’d won.
If Sheppard seemed a little subdued when he left, well, it was because he was a bad loser.
~~~
Sheppard came to collect him for at least one meal a day. The pattern was irregular, so it took him a few days to realize it (Rodney was a very busy man) but it was true; Sheppard was making sure they shared a table at some point during the day.
It wasn’t that much different than what they normally did, but Sheppard seemed so glad to see him these days. It was weird.
“What is up with you?” Rodney blurted one day as they walked to lunch.
“Gonna have to be more specific, Rodney.”
“You. Um. It’s just that. We’re having meals together a lot.”
“Yes, Rodney, we’re eating meals in the common mess hall together. Frequently.”
Rodney made an irritated noise. “You know what I mean.”
“Really don’t.”
“You. You’re. You’re happy about it.”
“Eating is fun?”
“Sheppard.”
“McKay. Are you telling me that the fact I enjoy having meals with you is freaking you out?”
“It sounded a lot less crazy when I thought it.”
Sheppard raised his eyebrows at him.
“Oh shut up.”
“I promise to be miserable today if it’ll make you happy. Hey, you can talk about stuff I don’t understand. That’ll make it easy for both of us.”
“Weirdo. You understand more than you let on. It’ll be too much work,” Rodney huffed.
“See? You’re feeling better already.”
“I hate you.”
“That’s the spirit.” Sheppard slapped him on the back as they walked into the mess.
~~~
That was another thing; Sheppard seemed to have finally gotten over his “no-touching” phobia, or maybe he was using Rodney to de-sensitize himself, because it seemed like his hands - his completely appropriate hands - were touching him, a lot. A hand to the small of the back, a slap on the shoulder, a touch on the arm; they were adding up, and it was confusing because Rodney really, really liked it and he had a feeling he shouldn’t.
Mostly, he couldn’t help but lean into the touch and it felt like he was taking advantage somehow. It had been a long time since someone touched him with intent.
~~~
Rodney didn’t realize how often they stood very close together, but they did, and it would be rude to shy away now. He didn’t want to hurt Sheppard’s feelings, particularly since the man normally kept a large buffer zone around himself with anyone but close friends and teammates.
The proximity was starting to affect him, though. Sheppard smelled very good, and sometimes their arms or hands brushed, and well, it had been a long time. Rodney did the best he could to tamp down his reactions because the looks and the touches and the proximity couldn’t possibly mean what he was starting to think it meant.
~~~
“Rodney,” Kate Heightmeyer said patiently, her blue eyes calm and serious. “What would you like to do?
“I don’t know,” Rodney snapped, waving his hands. “That’s why I come to you for the mental mumbo-jumbo. I’m conflicted! I’m confused! I might even be concussed!”
“You are not concussed,” Kate replied with a hint of exasperation. “I’ve seen the medical reports and the mission reports.”
“I certainly feel as if I’ve been struck upon the head.”
“That’s very common.”
“I mean we’ve known each other for three, almost four years now, and I never had any indication, except for maybe lately? I don’t know. I thought I was imagining things.”
“You can understand why Colonel Sheppard wouldn’t exactly be forthcoming about this. At least the primary reason.”
Rodney gave her a flat look, “Yes, ‘Doctor,’ having spent most of my professional life working for the American military, and despite his own self-destructive habits, I understand why the Colonel would keep his sexual preferences private.”
“Rodney.”
“It’s just too good to be true!” Rodney blurted.
Kate raised her eyebrows and held her ground. Rodney fidgeted, turned a few of the deeper shades of red and avoided her eyes.
“Okay, okay,” he said, blowing out a long breath. “I’m not just worried about our working relationship.”
“You are attracted to Colonel Sheppard.”
“Have you seen him? Worked with him? Been hiding your head under a rock for the last three years? Gorgeous, one of the most improbable leaders I’ve ever met because he looks like he’s not even interested, but he so, so is, funnier and smarter than he lets on, not entirely a disaster at chess, gets my jokes, likes hanging out with me and did I mention the smoking hotness? And, he’s a hero and has saved my life and the lives of this entire mission I don’t know how many times. How did I land in this cliché?”
Dr. Heightmeyer just looked at him.
Rodney glared at her, sucked his teeth and looked at his hands. “Yeah, well,” he replied, dejected. “Little crush?”
Kate clicked her pen and tilted her head.
Rodney scrubbed at his face, frustrated.
“Why is it too good to be true?” Kate asked softly.
He just looked at her, feeling tormented. “Because it is.”
“Rodney.”
He tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling. “I know; that’s not a good enough reason.”
Leaning forward, Kate watched Rodney and waited.
Still staring at the ceiling, he confessed. “It’s too good to be true because I want this.”
“Next week,” Kate said in a low, kind voice, “I want you to stop saying that to yourself. Turn off your internal devil’s advocate. Stop second-guessing yourself and Colonel Sheppard and just…find out. ”
Rodney’s head popped up, and he looked at her in horror. “You actually, honestly, think I can do that?”
Kate smiled. “’Course I do. You’re a genius.”
He snorted. “And of course we’ve run out of time now that I need help figuring out how to switch off my brain.
“Same time next week?” she asked sweetly.
~~~
Sheppard stepped out of his quarters, not watching exactly where he was going as he rolled up his sleeves. Rodney noticed, with a pang, how tired he looked. Rescuing Rodney this time had taken a little more effort than usual, and it showed in John’s face.
“Hey, John,” Rodney said briskly, before he was run over.
John stopped in his tracks and grinned, which changed his whole face and even the way he stood. Rodney half-expected the lights around them in the hallway to light up as well. “Hey, Rodney.”
“You hungry? I think I smell banana-nut muffins.”
John shoved his hands in his pockets and bounced twice. “I could eat.”
~~~
Two nights later, they played chess, and Rodney stared at John every chance he got. By the time Rodney lost his first game, he was catching John staring back. His face felt like it was on fire, and the tips of John’s ears were bright red and his cheeks were flushed.
It was a really good look on him.
Rodney lost every game that night. He didn’t care. He wasn’t even very sure what they talked about. All he knew was that they were both glaze-eyed and staring a lot.
It felt great.
~~~
The first time he put his hand on the small of John’s back, John ducked his head briefly, but not before Rodney caught a little smile.
After that it was hard not to touch him.
~~~
One afternoon they were standing, alone, in Rodney’s lab, tinkering with an Ancient artifact and Rodney reached across John to pick up a pair of pliers. He wasn’t even really thinking how far into John’s space he’d gone, but there was a little gasp, and John leaned away, but kept his balance on his stool by putting his hand on Rodney’s back.
“Sorry,” Rodney said, a little embarrassed. “Didn’t mean to nearly shove you off your chair.”
John ran his hand up Rodney back to the nape of his neck and shook him a little. “Can’t get rid of me that easily,” he replied, his eyes sparkling.
“Good to know.”
~~~
Of course the day Rodney decided to maybe, possibly say, something, he dumped half a cup of coffee on himself.
Rodney was just putting on a fresh shirt when someone was at his door. Irritated at the interruption - he was working on a casual way to say hi, I noticed you looking, and I noticed you noticing me looking, and seriously, could we please just kiss now, because that would be really, really great, because you smell so good and I like that thing you do when you smile at me, and you’re the best friend I’ve ever had, but still? I’d like to lick every inch of your body - and he needed the time to get it right and not, sound like, well, him - he opened the door and there John was, in smoking hot person.
“I was just coming to look for you,” Rodney blurted.
“Yeah?” John bounced, which Rodney thought - with great determination - was not charming in a completely dorky way.
“Um, yeah,” Rodney said distractedly, watching the way John’s eyes crinkled when he smiled. He shook himself and looked around, trying to remember what he was doing, and realized he was still buttoning up his shirt. “I, uh, there was a coffee thing,” He gestured at his shirt. “Was there something?”
“Oh,” John replied, “yeah. Lunch?”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Rodney said quietly, smiling, as he buttoned his cuffs. The left one was giving him some trouble, as if the buttonhole was too small. “Oh for pity’s sake!” he huffed, flapping his arm irritably.
John walked over, gently grabbed Rodney’s wrist and examined the problem. “Ah, this happened with one of my shirts,” he said thoughtfully, and fished out a Swiss Army knife from his pocket.
Rodney stayed quiet, his heart thundering in his chest. The only sign that John might be as nervous as Rodney was the beat beat beat of his pulse in the hollow of his throat. He wanted to lean forward and taste that little patch of skin, but he couldn’t move, waiting to see what Sheppard would do. His plans had flown out the window.
It felt kind of weird, standing here, not making some smart remark about John’s unexpected domesticity, which really wasn’t all that unexpected, because he looked after his team. But he usually gave them more grief about it to make up for his father-henish tendencies. Rodney couldn’t think of a single mocking thing to say, because John was standing close enough that he could feel the heat coming from John’s body and smell his aftershave.
All he could do was stand there and wonder if the extra, delicious-smelling effort was for him, and try not too think, this is too good to be true.
Pulling a tiny pair of scissors out of his knife, John clipped a couple of threads, pocketed the knife, and buttoned Rodney’s cuff. “There,” he said, presenting Rodney’s wrist to him. “Fixed.”
Rodney was distracted the shadows cast by John’s eyelashes on his cheek, so it took a second to reply. “Thanks,” he croaked.
John looked at him, and Rodney’s breath caught in his throat. “So,” he ventured, “lunch.”
“Lunch sounds good.” John’s voice had dropped into something low and gravelly.
Wanting to sway a half-step forward and do somethingto John - lick him, kiss him, bury his nose in his neck - Rodney took hold of his willpower. “Okay,” he said slowly, “it’s a date.”
John’s eyes lit up. “Good.”
“Good.”
“We should get going then. To the mess.”
“Yeah.”
“So, ah, this is really happening.” Rodney said, wincing internally as his voice cracked.
“Yeah, I think it is.” John slid his hand into Rodney’s and squeezed gently.
“You think?” Rodney said playfully.
“Well, you have to kind of…agree,” John pointed out and stared at Rodney’s mouth.
“I think I was the one who mentioned that…”
“Rodney?”
“Mmm?”
“Shut up,” John said, and kissed him.
He started slowly, leaning in with a smile to brush his lips across Rodney’s, and when he was sure of his welcome, he took a half-step closer, cradled one side of Rodney’s blushing face in his hand and kissed the corner of his mouth.
Rodney groaned, because John was just killing him, and then groaned again because John pounced, then slowly started taking him apart.
It wasn’t so much the hand on his face, or how soft John’s mouth was - though his mouth was just as lush as it looked - but more how John kissed him, with a devastating, earnest joy that made Rodney lightheaded.
The kiss ended naturally, with gradually diminishing nibbles and licks and soft, almost chaste kisses. John leaned his forehead against Rodney’s, his hand warm and solid on the back of his neck, and let out a long, relieved sigh.
“Wow,” John said shakily.
“Yeah.”
“So, uh, lunch?”
“Um,” Rodney said uncertainly.
John kissed his forehead. “I don’t want to stop touching you right now,” he confessed.
“Oh god,” Rodney replied, feeling weak in the knees, and wrapped both arms around him for support.
“Yes? I don’t have to?” John said eagerly, dusting kisses over Rodney’s face.
“Mmm-mm,” Rodney mumbled, as John started nibbling on his neck. “No stopping.”
“God, Rodney,” John murmured, “This feels almost too good to be true.”
“No way,” Rodney said firmly, reeling John in to taste his mouth again. “It’s much better.”
**
THIS POLL IS NOW CLOSED. ANY FURTHER VOTES WILL NOT BE COUNTED.Poll Vote for this story
Author: beadattitude ( interview)
Team: Romance
Prompt: Devil’s Advocate
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: For Most Audiences
Warnings: None
Summary: Rodney regularly believes six impossible things before breakfast, except when it comes to his love life.
Once you've read the story, please take a moment to vote in the poll below. Ratings go from 1 (low) to 9 (high), so all you need to do is enter a single number in that range into each text entry box. You'll be able to see the Prompt and Team (Genre) information in the header above.
More details about the voting procedure can be found here.
Advoctus Diaboli
Devil’s advocate
NOUN:
One who argues against a cause or position, not as a committed opponent but simply for the sake of argument or to determine the validity of the cause or position.
2. Roman Catholic Church An official appointed to present arguments against a proposed canonization or beatification.
ETYMOLOGY:
Translation of Medieval Latin advoctus diabol, one arguing for the devil's plea against canonizing a saint : Latin advoctus, advocate + Late Latin diabol, genitive of diabolus, devil.
E. Cobham Brewer. Dictionary of Phrase and Fable. 1898
One night while they were playing chess, Rodney looked up to find Sheppard staring at him, and there was something in his gaze that made Rodney’s heart beat faster, and the blood rise to his cheeks.
He decided it was psychological warfare, and didn’t look at the Colonel again until he’d won.
If Sheppard seemed a little subdued when he left, well, it was because he was a bad loser.
~~~
Sheppard came to collect him for at least one meal a day. The pattern was irregular, so it took him a few days to realize it (Rodney was a very busy man) but it was true; Sheppard was making sure they shared a table at some point during the day.
It wasn’t that much different than what they normally did, but Sheppard seemed so glad to see him these days. It was weird.
“What is up with you?” Rodney blurted one day as they walked to lunch.
“Gonna have to be more specific, Rodney.”
“You. Um. It’s just that. We’re having meals together a lot.”
“Yes, Rodney, we’re eating meals in the common mess hall together. Frequently.”
Rodney made an irritated noise. “You know what I mean.”
“Really don’t.”
“You. You’re. You’re happy about it.”
“Eating is fun?”
“Sheppard.”
“McKay. Are you telling me that the fact I enjoy having meals with you is freaking you out?”
“It sounded a lot less crazy when I thought it.”
Sheppard raised his eyebrows at him.
“Oh shut up.”
“I promise to be miserable today if it’ll make you happy. Hey, you can talk about stuff I don’t understand. That’ll make it easy for both of us.”
“Weirdo. You understand more than you let on. It’ll be too much work,” Rodney huffed.
“See? You’re feeling better already.”
“I hate you.”
“That’s the spirit.” Sheppard slapped him on the back as they walked into the mess.
~~~
That was another thing; Sheppard seemed to have finally gotten over his “no-touching” phobia, or maybe he was using Rodney to de-sensitize himself, because it seemed like his hands - his completely appropriate hands - were touching him, a lot. A hand to the small of the back, a slap on the shoulder, a touch on the arm; they were adding up, and it was confusing because Rodney really, really liked it and he had a feeling he shouldn’t.
Mostly, he couldn’t help but lean into the touch and it felt like he was taking advantage somehow. It had been a long time since someone touched him with intent.
~~~
Rodney didn’t realize how often they stood very close together, but they did, and it would be rude to shy away now. He didn’t want to hurt Sheppard’s feelings, particularly since the man normally kept a large buffer zone around himself with anyone but close friends and teammates.
The proximity was starting to affect him, though. Sheppard smelled very good, and sometimes their arms or hands brushed, and well, it had been a long time. Rodney did the best he could to tamp down his reactions because the looks and the touches and the proximity couldn’t possibly mean what he was starting to think it meant.
~~~
“Rodney,” Kate Heightmeyer said patiently, her blue eyes calm and serious. “What would you like to do?
“I don’t know,” Rodney snapped, waving his hands. “That’s why I come to you for the mental mumbo-jumbo. I’m conflicted! I’m confused! I might even be concussed!”
“You are not concussed,” Kate replied with a hint of exasperation. “I’ve seen the medical reports and the mission reports.”
“I certainly feel as if I’ve been struck upon the head.”
“That’s very common.”
“I mean we’ve known each other for three, almost four years now, and I never had any indication, except for maybe lately? I don’t know. I thought I was imagining things.”
“You can understand why Colonel Sheppard wouldn’t exactly be forthcoming about this. At least the primary reason.”
Rodney gave her a flat look, “Yes, ‘Doctor,’ having spent most of my professional life working for the American military, and despite his own self-destructive habits, I understand why the Colonel would keep his sexual preferences private.”
“Rodney.”
“It’s just too good to be true!” Rodney blurted.
Kate raised her eyebrows and held her ground. Rodney fidgeted, turned a few of the deeper shades of red and avoided her eyes.
“Okay, okay,” he said, blowing out a long breath. “I’m not just worried about our working relationship.”
“You are attracted to Colonel Sheppard.”
“Have you seen him? Worked with him? Been hiding your head under a rock for the last three years? Gorgeous, one of the most improbable leaders I’ve ever met because he looks like he’s not even interested, but he so, so is, funnier and smarter than he lets on, not entirely a disaster at chess, gets my jokes, likes hanging out with me and did I mention the smoking hotness? And, he’s a hero and has saved my life and the lives of this entire mission I don’t know how many times. How did I land in this cliché?”
Dr. Heightmeyer just looked at him.
Rodney glared at her, sucked his teeth and looked at his hands. “Yeah, well,” he replied, dejected. “Little crush?”
Kate clicked her pen and tilted her head.
Rodney scrubbed at his face, frustrated.
“Why is it too good to be true?” Kate asked softly.
He just looked at her, feeling tormented. “Because it is.”
“Rodney.”
He tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling. “I know; that’s not a good enough reason.”
Leaning forward, Kate watched Rodney and waited.
Still staring at the ceiling, he confessed. “It’s too good to be true because I want this.”
“Next week,” Kate said in a low, kind voice, “I want you to stop saying that to yourself. Turn off your internal devil’s advocate. Stop second-guessing yourself and Colonel Sheppard and just…find out. ”
Rodney’s head popped up, and he looked at her in horror. “You actually, honestly, think I can do that?”
Kate smiled. “’Course I do. You’re a genius.”
He snorted. “And of course we’ve run out of time now that I need help figuring out how to switch off my brain.
“Same time next week?” she asked sweetly.
~~~
Sheppard stepped out of his quarters, not watching exactly where he was going as he rolled up his sleeves. Rodney noticed, with a pang, how tired he looked. Rescuing Rodney this time had taken a little more effort than usual, and it showed in John’s face.
“Hey, John,” Rodney said briskly, before he was run over.
John stopped in his tracks and grinned, which changed his whole face and even the way he stood. Rodney half-expected the lights around them in the hallway to light up as well. “Hey, Rodney.”
“You hungry? I think I smell banana-nut muffins.”
John shoved his hands in his pockets and bounced twice. “I could eat.”
~~~
Two nights later, they played chess, and Rodney stared at John every chance he got. By the time Rodney lost his first game, he was catching John staring back. His face felt like it was on fire, and the tips of John’s ears were bright red and his cheeks were flushed.
It was a really good look on him.
Rodney lost every game that night. He didn’t care. He wasn’t even very sure what they talked about. All he knew was that they were both glaze-eyed and staring a lot.
It felt great.
~~~
The first time he put his hand on the small of John’s back, John ducked his head briefly, but not before Rodney caught a little smile.
After that it was hard not to touch him.
~~~
One afternoon they were standing, alone, in Rodney’s lab, tinkering with an Ancient artifact and Rodney reached across John to pick up a pair of pliers. He wasn’t even really thinking how far into John’s space he’d gone, but there was a little gasp, and John leaned away, but kept his balance on his stool by putting his hand on Rodney’s back.
“Sorry,” Rodney said, a little embarrassed. “Didn’t mean to nearly shove you off your chair.”
John ran his hand up Rodney back to the nape of his neck and shook him a little. “Can’t get rid of me that easily,” he replied, his eyes sparkling.
“Good to know.”
~~~
Of course the day Rodney decided to maybe, possibly say, something, he dumped half a cup of coffee on himself.
Rodney was just putting on a fresh shirt when someone was at his door. Irritated at the interruption - he was working on a casual way to say hi, I noticed you looking, and I noticed you noticing me looking, and seriously, could we please just kiss now, because that would be really, really great, because you smell so good and I like that thing you do when you smile at me, and you’re the best friend I’ve ever had, but still? I’d like to lick every inch of your body - and he needed the time to get it right and not, sound like, well, him - he opened the door and there John was, in smoking hot person.
“I was just coming to look for you,” Rodney blurted.
“Yeah?” John bounced, which Rodney thought - with great determination - was not charming in a completely dorky way.
“Um, yeah,” Rodney said distractedly, watching the way John’s eyes crinkled when he smiled. He shook himself and looked around, trying to remember what he was doing, and realized he was still buttoning up his shirt. “I, uh, there was a coffee thing,” He gestured at his shirt. “Was there something?”
“Oh,” John replied, “yeah. Lunch?”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Rodney said quietly, smiling, as he buttoned his cuffs. The left one was giving him some trouble, as if the buttonhole was too small. “Oh for pity’s sake!” he huffed, flapping his arm irritably.
John walked over, gently grabbed Rodney’s wrist and examined the problem. “Ah, this happened with one of my shirts,” he said thoughtfully, and fished out a Swiss Army knife from his pocket.
Rodney stayed quiet, his heart thundering in his chest. The only sign that John might be as nervous as Rodney was the beat beat beat of his pulse in the hollow of his throat. He wanted to lean forward and taste that little patch of skin, but he couldn’t move, waiting to see what Sheppard would do. His plans had flown out the window.
It felt kind of weird, standing here, not making some smart remark about John’s unexpected domesticity, which really wasn’t all that unexpected, because he looked after his team. But he usually gave them more grief about it to make up for his father-henish tendencies. Rodney couldn’t think of a single mocking thing to say, because John was standing close enough that he could feel the heat coming from John’s body and smell his aftershave.
All he could do was stand there and wonder if the extra, delicious-smelling effort was for him, and try not too think, this is too good to be true.
Pulling a tiny pair of scissors out of his knife, John clipped a couple of threads, pocketed the knife, and buttoned Rodney’s cuff. “There,” he said, presenting Rodney’s wrist to him. “Fixed.”
Rodney was distracted the shadows cast by John’s eyelashes on his cheek, so it took a second to reply. “Thanks,” he croaked.
John looked at him, and Rodney’s breath caught in his throat. “So,” he ventured, “lunch.”
“Lunch sounds good.” John’s voice had dropped into something low and gravelly.
Wanting to sway a half-step forward and do somethingto John - lick him, kiss him, bury his nose in his neck - Rodney took hold of his willpower. “Okay,” he said slowly, “it’s a date.”
John’s eyes lit up. “Good.”
“Good.”
“We should get going then. To the mess.”
“Yeah.”
“So, ah, this is really happening.” Rodney said, wincing internally as his voice cracked.
“Yeah, I think it is.” John slid his hand into Rodney’s and squeezed gently.
“You think?” Rodney said playfully.
“Well, you have to kind of…agree,” John pointed out and stared at Rodney’s mouth.
“I think I was the one who mentioned that…”
“Rodney?”
“Mmm?”
“Shut up,” John said, and kissed him.
He started slowly, leaning in with a smile to brush his lips across Rodney’s, and when he was sure of his welcome, he took a half-step closer, cradled one side of Rodney’s blushing face in his hand and kissed the corner of his mouth.
Rodney groaned, because John was just killing him, and then groaned again because John pounced, then slowly started taking him apart.
It wasn’t so much the hand on his face, or how soft John’s mouth was - though his mouth was just as lush as it looked - but more how John kissed him, with a devastating, earnest joy that made Rodney lightheaded.
The kiss ended naturally, with gradually diminishing nibbles and licks and soft, almost chaste kisses. John leaned his forehead against Rodney’s, his hand warm and solid on the back of his neck, and let out a long, relieved sigh.
“Wow,” John said shakily.
“Yeah.”
“So, uh, lunch?”
“Um,” Rodney said uncertainly.
John kissed his forehead. “I don’t want to stop touching you right now,” he confessed.
“Oh god,” Rodney replied, feeling weak in the knees, and wrapped both arms around him for support.
“Yes? I don’t have to?” John said eagerly, dusting kisses over Rodney’s face.
“Mmm-mm,” Rodney mumbled, as John started nibbling on his neck. “No stopping.”
“God, Rodney,” John murmured, “This feels almost too good to be true.”
“No way,” Rodney said firmly, reeling John in to taste his mouth again. “It’s much better.”
**
THIS POLL IS NOW CLOSED. ANY FURTHER VOTES WILL NOT BE COUNTED.Poll Vote for this story