Sunday = Pornday. And I has porn for mah wife.
Title: Burn
Author: mgbutterfly
Pairings: John/Rodney
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: None of the Atlantis galaxy nor any of it's inhabitants belong to me. I am simply playing. Please don't sue.
Beta!Bitches: liath and insaneboingo. You ladies are made of win! Thank you SO FREAKIN' MUCH!
Summary: Rodney squirms against the chair and pulls at the ropes around his wrists and ankles. They're tight enough that they're beginning to chafe his skin.
A/N: This is part three of my birthday presents for my wife, sardonicsmiley. I know it's late, baby, but you know how I am with the fics. I love you!! It is pure PWP, people. There is absolutely no redeeming value to this whatsoever.
Rodney squirms against the chair and pulls at the ropes around his wrists and ankles. They're tight enough that they're beginning to chafe his skin. The muscles of his shoulders are beginning to burn from having his hands tied behind his back for so long. Rodney guesses it's been about ten minutes since his shoes and socks had been pulled off and tossed aside, and his feet are cold. Strangely enough, the rest of Rodney is sweating. His shirt clings to his chest and there are little lines of sweat beading on his forehead. Rodney wrinkles his nose as a rivulet breaks free and trickles down the center of his forehead to get sucked up by the blindfold. And that's another thing: the blindfold. It's been ten minutes and Rodney can't see a damn thing. Thankfully, there's no cotton in his ears.
The cloth gag tied into Rodney's mouth prohibits speech. It also aggravates the hell out of his busted lip. Just when the cut was beginning to heal, and now the gag rubs against the raw flesh. Rodney can feel the blood pooling under the surface. It'll only take one harsh movement to pull the cut open and make the blood break through. Rodney keeps his mouth still.
And besides, every time Rodney moves his mouth, quirks it up into a smile or turns it down into a frown, the ugly yellow-purple bruise under his left eye starts to throb. Those troglodytes on P3X-945 hadn't had any comprehension of Rodney's superior intellect. And so when he tried to explain about the solar flares and they way they were affecting the planet's atmosphere, the natives had interpreted his lecture as an affront to their sun god. Hence the busted lip and bruised cheekbone. Morons.
It's been so quiet in the room that when Rodney hears the clumping creak of boots he startles. Rodney knows the layout of the room and so he knows that the steps are coming from a door-less, window-less corner. Rodney tenses; he straightens his back, begins pulling against the ropes again, even twists a little in his seat. He attempts to say something like, "Okay, very funny. You can untie me now." But it just comes out as muffled, inarticulate noises.
The boots stop directly in front of Rodney and, even though he can't see, he turns his face up as if too watch the person standing there. Rodney can feel the warmth radiating off the man, can smell his sweat and hear his soft breathing. Rodney listens to the rustle of clothing as the person in front of him kneels. There's the sound of laces being untied and pulled through eyelets, a shush-click, shush-click that seems so loud in the otherwise silent room. Rodney hears the slide of socks off feet and the dull impact as the boots are tossed away and then the man is standing again.
He's pulling off his clothes. First is his shirt; Rodney can smell his musk as the fabric is stripped away and tossed past his head. Next are his pants; the metallic click of the zipper is so much louder than the quiet shush of fabric against skin. Then there's silence again. Rodney assumes that either the underwear came off with the pants or that the man had gone commando, because, after the pants are tossed aside, the only thing Rodney hears is breathing.
Rodney's breathing has become more ragged. It's loud in his ears against the silence of the room. Rodney hunches his shoulders forward and lowers his neck in the hopes that the blindfold will finally fall off. No such luck. When Rodney straightens himself once again, the body warmth and comfortingly familiar scent of his "captor" are surrounding him. Rodney tries to speak through the gag once again, tries to say, "John, enough already," but again the words are incoherent.
John's not touching Rodney, not even to untie the ropes, but Rodney can feel him inches away. It's maddening. Rodney is wound so tight that he's fairly certain that the first touch will snap him in two like an old rubber band. He's hot, his wrists and ankles are sore, his shoulders burn from their awkward position and despite it all, Rodney is achingly hard. He squirms some more and actually whines through the gag, although, he'll never admit that.
The heat of John's finger sliding down Rodney's cheek makes Rodney suck in a breath and widen his eyes behind the blindfold. It's a brief second of palliation and then the touch is gone. Rodney finds himself straining to find the touch again. He moans against the gag and tries to force the blindfold off by scrunching his forehead up and then relaxing it. A long moment later, John runs another finger down Rodney's cheek and then lower, to his throat. Rodney sighs and tries to lean into the touch, but then it's gone. Rodney hears John walk around him, startles just a bit when John runs his hand along his shoulder, relaxes as John smooths his hand over Rodney's chest. John slides his hands up under Rodney's shirt, up his sides then back down to rest on the waistband of Rodney's pants.
John drags his fingers just under the waistband, his nails catching on the edge of Rodney's boxers, flitting over the hair beneath Rodney's navel. The touch is so soft it tickles, making Rodney's muscles tense and flutter. John's fingers quickly undo the button of Rodney's pants, slip the zipper down, and then they're gone once again. Rodney hears John pad lightly to stand behind the chair he's bound to.
Rodney's had quite enough of this. He starts to berate John, his words muffled by the gag, but their meaning surely getting through, even to John. Rodney pulls at the ropes and tries to twist his head to focus his annoyance at John. John places his palms flat on either side of Rodney's face and turns his head back to face forward, leans over from behind Rodney and growls in his ear, "Shut up, Rodney. Be still."
The sound of his name and the deep cadence of John's voice make Rodney's skin pucker in tiny goosebumps, a shiver running down his spine. John, still standing behind Rodney, threads his arms through Rodney's, pulling his nails up Rodney's belly and chest, bunching Rodney's shirt up as he goes. John drags the backs of his nails back down Rodney's torso and slips his hands into Rodney's boxers. When John wraps a hand around Rodney's cock and starts long, slow strokes, Rodney moans. He throws his head back and is met with John's warm, wet lips on his throat. John sucks a bruise into the tender flesh just below and behind Rodney's ear, all the while working his hand on Rodney's cock. Rodney bucks his hips trying to gain some leverage. John's other hand presses against Rodney's stomach, holding Rodney in place. Rodney feels a coil tighten in his belly and his body tenses, shoulders straining, calf muscles tightening against the legs of the chair. When John sinks his teeth into Rodney's shoulder the sensation is too much. Rodney comes with a whimper behind the gag, warmth spilling over John's hand.
John moves, pulls his hands and mouth away from Rodney, and the loss of warmth is too much for Rodney to ignore. He twists trying to follow John, makes a little noise that comes out too close to a whimper for Rodney to be comfortable with. A moment later, Rodney feels John tugging the blindfold off. The room isn't bright, but the lack of any light at all has made Rodney's eyes sensitive and he tries to blink away the blur of fresh sight. John is standing in front of him now, completely naked, smug smile on his face, left hand dangling the black blindfold from one finger, right hand held out and coated in Rodney's come. Rodney watches as the smile turns to a smirk and John licks a line of spunk off one of his fingers. Rodney's not as young as he used to be, but the sight sends blood rushing to his cock, and just like that, Rodney is half hard.
John uses the blindfold to wipe the rest of the come off his hand. Rodney tries to speak again, but the glare John gives him could start a fucking fire. Rodney quiets himself, goes back to watching John wipe his hand clean. When he's done, John tosses the blindfold aside and kneels in front of Rodney. He runs his hands up Rodney's legs, pulls Rodney's cock through the opening in his boxers, runs his hands up over Rodney's thighs and rests them there. John leans forward and licks a wet line up the underside of Rodney's cock, no longer just half-hard. John runs his hands back down Rodney's legs and pulls Rodney's cock into his mouth. The heat of it, the wet movement of John's mouth sliding up and down Rodney's cock, the feel of John's fingers blindly untying the ropes at Rodney's ankles, makes Rodney dizzy with need.
Rodney distantly feels the ropes fall away from his ankles, John's mouth still working on his dick. John's hands slide back up Rodney's legs and he wraps his fingers around the waistband of both pants and boxers and tugs. With a loud pop, John's mouth comes off Rodney's cock and Rodney moans at the loss. Rodney lifts up off the chair and John pull his pants down his legs and off, tossing them aside. John stands and walks around to the back of the chair again. He runs his hands down Rodney's arms, coming to rest at the ropes binding Rodney's wrists. Rodney fights to keep still as John unties the ropes, and once they fall away, Rodney twists his wrists and begins to bring his hands up to remove the gag.
John's hands stop him, grab Rodney's arms and hold them in place. John leans in and says, "No. I take it off when I want it off. Now, get up."
Rodney's not about to argue, not when John's voice sounds so thick with prurience. Rodney stands up and John forcefully pushes him over to the bed. John shoves Rodney down face first onto the bed and lowers himself over Rodney. Rodney reaches back as best he can and tries to pull John closer, so aroused, so completely fucked that the feel of the sheets against his cock might just be enough to get Rodney off again.
John grabs Rodney's hands and pins them above Rodney's head. He leans down against Rodney's back, starts biting stinging marks into the skin there, and Rodney has never wanted to be fucked so badly in all his life. John slides his hands down Rodney's arms, kneads Rodney's shoulders for a moment before reaching up and slowly untying the knot of the gag. John leans down and whispers, "I want you to be quiet, Rodney. Do you understand?" And Rodney nods so gently he's not sure John sees it.
John removes the gag. Rodney works his tense jaw, opens and closes his mouth and swallows a few times to moisten his dry throat. Rodney's lips are dry and the movements crack the cut open, a blossom of blood trickling through, and John licks it away, a throaty moan escaping his lips. John's breath is warm against Rodney's skin. Rodney can feel the grin against his neck as John's hands slide down Rodney's sides and up over his ass. John lays a kiss against Rodney's shoulder and then moves from the bed. The lack of warmth, the lack of John pulls a ridiculously pitiful noise from Rodney's lips. He looks back over his shoulder to see John rummaging through his pants on the floor, looking up at Rodney with a grin on his face.
When John finds what he's looking for, he plods back over to the bed and lays the cold tube of lube on the small of Rodney's back. The chill tenses Rodney's muscles, and John places his hands on Rodney's waist, leaning over him to kneel between Rodney's legs. John lowers himself over Rodney again and his cock slides into the soft space between Rodney's ass and the mattress. Rodney grinds back against John and John groans into his ear. Rodney grins. He's already gotten off once, but John's been hard the whole time, Rodney's sure, and John won't last long once things really get rolling. Rodney lifts his hips off the mattress and presses his ass against John and John growls Rodney's name.
John sits up, kneels between Rodney's legs again, and uncaps the lube. Rodney hears the slick squelch of the lube as John squirts it into his hand and coats his fingers and dick. Rodney tenses in anticipation, holds his breath as John tosses the tube onto the floor and runs his newly freed hand down Rodney's back. Without any warning, John slides one slick finger into Rodney and Rodney sucks in a breath. John smooths his hand on the small of Rodney's back and Rodney pushes back against John's finger. John moans, a noise that goes straight to Rodney's cock, and move his finger more forcefully inside of Rodney.
When John slips the finger free, Rodney's ready for what comes next. John slides two fingers in and Rodney relaxes, moves with John's slow, easy movements. Rodney feels John's thighs tense between his own and John's voice is low and dangerous when he says, "Fuck, Rodney. So hot. So fucking hot all spread out. My fingers fucking your ass. Fuck."
Rodney moans, bucks his hips into the sheets when John scissors his fingers inside him, spreading him open, making Rodney ready. Rodney looks back over his shoulder and the sight of John, eyes half lidded, fingers sliding in and out of Rodney's ass, is almost enough to make Rodney come. When John looks up and catches Rodney watching him, he drives his fingers deeper into Rodney hitting that perfect spot. Rodney's eyes flutter shut and his mouth hangs open in a silent cry of pleasure.
John slips his fingers free and Rodney's eyes open to watch John line himself up. John rests the head of his cock against Rodney's opening and Rodney tries to thrust back. John holds Rodney's hips still and lowers himself so that Rodney doesn't have to strain his neck to see him anymore. Rodney wants to see the look on John's face as John slides his cock into his ass. Rodney really, really wants to watch John's face. But when John starts the slow movement into him, Rodney has to close his eyes. John rumbles, a sound Rodney feels more than hears with John pressed against his back like this, and thrusts into Rodney.
After the initial slide, nothing is gentle. John starts to move with a violent desperation that has Rodney reaching behind himself to grasp at John's waist. John's thrusts are fast and deep and the movement translates to the mattress underneath Rodney. Rodney braces one hand on the wall above his bed and holds on to John with his other as best he can. He meets John, thrust for thrust, Rodney's climax building beneath him until he's sure he can't take it any longer.
The last straw is when John slows down slightly, one hand on Rodney's shoulder, the other resting just above Rodney's hip, and lowers his lips to Rodney's ear and says his name. Rodney's whole body tightens, a desperate sound caught in his throat, and he pumps into the sheets as John goes still inside him.
Rodney feels like a puddle of jelly, all of his muscles refusing to work, as John starts to move again. His movements are slower now, deeper, shorter drives that pull sounds out of Rodney regardless of how hard he tries to stay quiet. Rodney can feel John get harder inside him and knows that John is only a moment away from his own orgasm.
Rodney sighs, content, and grabs John's hand, says, "John. Come on, John. Yeah. Just like that," as John's hips stutter against Rodney's ass. When John comes, Rodney feels John's whole body relax against his back. John breathes out a warm breath against Rodney's neck and fills Rodney with wet heat.
John goes still, kisses Rodney's neck and stays draped over Rodney even when Rodney begins to squirm beneath him. Rodney appreciates the warmth, he appreciates the intimacy, but John is heavy. Rodney moves his shoulders and John lifts his head, "What? Be still, Rodney. I'm trying to sleep." Rodney can feel the jovial prod in John's voice.
Rodney sighs loudly and move a little more forcefully, "I think it's great that you find I'm such a comfortable bed, but you, on the other hand, are bony and pointy and really not a very good blanket at all. Get. Off."
John laughs and the feel of it makes Rodney smile. John slide out and off of Rodney, and for a brief moment, Rodney wishes he hadn't asked John to move. Then John is curling himself against Rodney's side and pulling the blanket up over the both of them. Rodney turns his head to face John and is met with a grin. John's voice is thick with a sated tiredness when he says, "Don't be an ass, Rodney."
Rodney rolls his eyes and says, "You like it when I'm an ass." Rodney shifts onto his side to stay facing John.
John pulls Rodney close, fits their bodies together, moves his hips in a suggestive circle, "I like your ass. Ass."
Rodney laughs and John guffaws next to him. The combined movements making the bed creak and rock slightly. Rodney says, "Shut up. Go to sleep," and turns over, presses his back against John's chest.
John throws an arm over Rodney and kisses his shoulder, says, "Whatever you say, Rodney. As long as you keep that big mouth of yours quiet."
Rodney starts to protest, but John is warm against his back and he's more relaxed than he's been in he can't remember how long and he decides that he'll just close his eyes for a minute. He'll just close his eyes for a minute and then tell John that he's the ass, laying out all the myriad and sundry reasons why. But that plan falls through as Rodney drifts into sleep, John wrapped around him, breathing soft against his skin.
Author: mgbutterfly
Pairings: John/Rodney
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: None of the Atlantis galaxy nor any of it's inhabitants belong to me. I am simply playing. Please don't sue.
Beta!Bitches: liath and insaneboingo. You ladies are made of win! Thank you SO FREAKIN' MUCH!
Summary: Rodney squirms against the chair and pulls at the ropes around his wrists and ankles. They're tight enough that they're beginning to chafe his skin.
A/N: This is part three of my birthday presents for my wife, sardonicsmiley. I know it's late, baby, but you know how I am with the fics. I love you!! It is pure PWP, people. There is absolutely no redeeming value to this whatsoever.
Rodney squirms against the chair and pulls at the ropes around his wrists and ankles. They're tight enough that they're beginning to chafe his skin. The muscles of his shoulders are beginning to burn from having his hands tied behind his back for so long. Rodney guesses it's been about ten minutes since his shoes and socks had been pulled off and tossed aside, and his feet are cold. Strangely enough, the rest of Rodney is sweating. His shirt clings to his chest and there are little lines of sweat beading on his forehead. Rodney wrinkles his nose as a rivulet breaks free and trickles down the center of his forehead to get sucked up by the blindfold. And that's another thing: the blindfold. It's been ten minutes and Rodney can't see a damn thing. Thankfully, there's no cotton in his ears.
The cloth gag tied into Rodney's mouth prohibits speech. It also aggravates the hell out of his busted lip. Just when the cut was beginning to heal, and now the gag rubs against the raw flesh. Rodney can feel the blood pooling under the surface. It'll only take one harsh movement to pull the cut open and make the blood break through. Rodney keeps his mouth still.
And besides, every time Rodney moves his mouth, quirks it up into a smile or turns it down into a frown, the ugly yellow-purple bruise under his left eye starts to throb. Those troglodytes on P3X-945 hadn't had any comprehension of Rodney's superior intellect. And so when he tried to explain about the solar flares and they way they were affecting the planet's atmosphere, the natives had interpreted his lecture as an affront to their sun god. Hence the busted lip and bruised cheekbone. Morons.
It's been so quiet in the room that when Rodney hears the clumping creak of boots he startles. Rodney knows the layout of the room and so he knows that the steps are coming from a door-less, window-less corner. Rodney tenses; he straightens his back, begins pulling against the ropes again, even twists a little in his seat. He attempts to say something like, "Okay, very funny. You can untie me now." But it just comes out as muffled, inarticulate noises.
The boots stop directly in front of Rodney and, even though he can't see, he turns his face up as if too watch the person standing there. Rodney can feel the warmth radiating off the man, can smell his sweat and hear his soft breathing. Rodney listens to the rustle of clothing as the person in front of him kneels. There's the sound of laces being untied and pulled through eyelets, a shush-click, shush-click that seems so loud in the otherwise silent room. Rodney hears the slide of socks off feet and the dull impact as the boots are tossed away and then the man is standing again.
He's pulling off his clothes. First is his shirt; Rodney can smell his musk as the fabric is stripped away and tossed past his head. Next are his pants; the metallic click of the zipper is so much louder than the quiet shush of fabric against skin. Then there's silence again. Rodney assumes that either the underwear came off with the pants or that the man had gone commando, because, after the pants are tossed aside, the only thing Rodney hears is breathing.
Rodney's breathing has become more ragged. It's loud in his ears against the silence of the room. Rodney hunches his shoulders forward and lowers his neck in the hopes that the blindfold will finally fall off. No such luck. When Rodney straightens himself once again, the body warmth and comfortingly familiar scent of his "captor" are surrounding him. Rodney tries to speak through the gag once again, tries to say, "John, enough already," but again the words are incoherent.
John's not touching Rodney, not even to untie the ropes, but Rodney can feel him inches away. It's maddening. Rodney is wound so tight that he's fairly certain that the first touch will snap him in two like an old rubber band. He's hot, his wrists and ankles are sore, his shoulders burn from their awkward position and despite it all, Rodney is achingly hard. He squirms some more and actually whines through the gag, although, he'll never admit that.
The heat of John's finger sliding down Rodney's cheek makes Rodney suck in a breath and widen his eyes behind the blindfold. It's a brief second of palliation and then the touch is gone. Rodney finds himself straining to find the touch again. He moans against the gag and tries to force the blindfold off by scrunching his forehead up and then relaxing it. A long moment later, John runs another finger down Rodney's cheek and then lower, to his throat. Rodney sighs and tries to lean into the touch, but then it's gone. Rodney hears John walk around him, startles just a bit when John runs his hand along his shoulder, relaxes as John smooths his hand over Rodney's chest. John slides his hands up under Rodney's shirt, up his sides then back down to rest on the waistband of Rodney's pants.
John drags his fingers just under the waistband, his nails catching on the edge of Rodney's boxers, flitting over the hair beneath Rodney's navel. The touch is so soft it tickles, making Rodney's muscles tense and flutter. John's fingers quickly undo the button of Rodney's pants, slip the zipper down, and then they're gone once again. Rodney hears John pad lightly to stand behind the chair he's bound to.
Rodney's had quite enough of this. He starts to berate John, his words muffled by the gag, but their meaning surely getting through, even to John. Rodney pulls at the ropes and tries to twist his head to focus his annoyance at John. John places his palms flat on either side of Rodney's face and turns his head back to face forward, leans over from behind Rodney and growls in his ear, "Shut up, Rodney. Be still."
The sound of his name and the deep cadence of John's voice make Rodney's skin pucker in tiny goosebumps, a shiver running down his spine. John, still standing behind Rodney, threads his arms through Rodney's, pulling his nails up Rodney's belly and chest, bunching Rodney's shirt up as he goes. John drags the backs of his nails back down Rodney's torso and slips his hands into Rodney's boxers. When John wraps a hand around Rodney's cock and starts long, slow strokes, Rodney moans. He throws his head back and is met with John's warm, wet lips on his throat. John sucks a bruise into the tender flesh just below and behind Rodney's ear, all the while working his hand on Rodney's cock. Rodney bucks his hips trying to gain some leverage. John's other hand presses against Rodney's stomach, holding Rodney in place. Rodney feels a coil tighten in his belly and his body tenses, shoulders straining, calf muscles tightening against the legs of the chair. When John sinks his teeth into Rodney's shoulder the sensation is too much. Rodney comes with a whimper behind the gag, warmth spilling over John's hand.
John moves, pulls his hands and mouth away from Rodney, and the loss of warmth is too much for Rodney to ignore. He twists trying to follow John, makes a little noise that comes out too close to a whimper for Rodney to be comfortable with. A moment later, Rodney feels John tugging the blindfold off. The room isn't bright, but the lack of any light at all has made Rodney's eyes sensitive and he tries to blink away the blur of fresh sight. John is standing in front of him now, completely naked, smug smile on his face, left hand dangling the black blindfold from one finger, right hand held out and coated in Rodney's come. Rodney watches as the smile turns to a smirk and John licks a line of spunk off one of his fingers. Rodney's not as young as he used to be, but the sight sends blood rushing to his cock, and just like that, Rodney is half hard.
John uses the blindfold to wipe the rest of the come off his hand. Rodney tries to speak again, but the glare John gives him could start a fucking fire. Rodney quiets himself, goes back to watching John wipe his hand clean. When he's done, John tosses the blindfold aside and kneels in front of Rodney. He runs his hands up Rodney's legs, pulls Rodney's cock through the opening in his boxers, runs his hands up over Rodney's thighs and rests them there. John leans forward and licks a wet line up the underside of Rodney's cock, no longer just half-hard. John runs his hands back down Rodney's legs and pulls Rodney's cock into his mouth. The heat of it, the wet movement of John's mouth sliding up and down Rodney's cock, the feel of John's fingers blindly untying the ropes at Rodney's ankles, makes Rodney dizzy with need.
Rodney distantly feels the ropes fall away from his ankles, John's mouth still working on his dick. John's hands slide back up Rodney's legs and he wraps his fingers around the waistband of both pants and boxers and tugs. With a loud pop, John's mouth comes off Rodney's cock and Rodney moans at the loss. Rodney lifts up off the chair and John pull his pants down his legs and off, tossing them aside. John stands and walks around to the back of the chair again. He runs his hands down Rodney's arms, coming to rest at the ropes binding Rodney's wrists. Rodney fights to keep still as John unties the ropes, and once they fall away, Rodney twists his wrists and begins to bring his hands up to remove the gag.
John's hands stop him, grab Rodney's arms and hold them in place. John leans in and says, "No. I take it off when I want it off. Now, get up."
Rodney's not about to argue, not when John's voice sounds so thick with prurience. Rodney stands up and John forcefully pushes him over to the bed. John shoves Rodney down face first onto the bed and lowers himself over Rodney. Rodney reaches back as best he can and tries to pull John closer, so aroused, so completely fucked that the feel of the sheets against his cock might just be enough to get Rodney off again.
John grabs Rodney's hands and pins them above Rodney's head. He leans down against Rodney's back, starts biting stinging marks into the skin there, and Rodney has never wanted to be fucked so badly in all his life. John slides his hands down Rodney's arms, kneads Rodney's shoulders for a moment before reaching up and slowly untying the knot of the gag. John leans down and whispers, "I want you to be quiet, Rodney. Do you understand?" And Rodney nods so gently he's not sure John sees it.
John removes the gag. Rodney works his tense jaw, opens and closes his mouth and swallows a few times to moisten his dry throat. Rodney's lips are dry and the movements crack the cut open, a blossom of blood trickling through, and John licks it away, a throaty moan escaping his lips. John's breath is warm against Rodney's skin. Rodney can feel the grin against his neck as John's hands slide down Rodney's sides and up over his ass. John lays a kiss against Rodney's shoulder and then moves from the bed. The lack of warmth, the lack of John pulls a ridiculously pitiful noise from Rodney's lips. He looks back over his shoulder to see John rummaging through his pants on the floor, looking up at Rodney with a grin on his face.
When John finds what he's looking for, he plods back over to the bed and lays the cold tube of lube on the small of Rodney's back. The chill tenses Rodney's muscles, and John places his hands on Rodney's waist, leaning over him to kneel between Rodney's legs. John lowers himself over Rodney again and his cock slides into the soft space between Rodney's ass and the mattress. Rodney grinds back against John and John groans into his ear. Rodney grins. He's already gotten off once, but John's been hard the whole time, Rodney's sure, and John won't last long once things really get rolling. Rodney lifts his hips off the mattress and presses his ass against John and John growls Rodney's name.
John sits up, kneels between Rodney's legs again, and uncaps the lube. Rodney hears the slick squelch of the lube as John squirts it into his hand and coats his fingers and dick. Rodney tenses in anticipation, holds his breath as John tosses the tube onto the floor and runs his newly freed hand down Rodney's back. Without any warning, John slides one slick finger into Rodney and Rodney sucks in a breath. John smooths his hand on the small of Rodney's back and Rodney pushes back against John's finger. John moans, a noise that goes straight to Rodney's cock, and move his finger more forcefully inside of Rodney.
When John slips the finger free, Rodney's ready for what comes next. John slides two fingers in and Rodney relaxes, moves with John's slow, easy movements. Rodney feels John's thighs tense between his own and John's voice is low and dangerous when he says, "Fuck, Rodney. So hot. So fucking hot all spread out. My fingers fucking your ass. Fuck."
Rodney moans, bucks his hips into the sheets when John scissors his fingers inside him, spreading him open, making Rodney ready. Rodney looks back over his shoulder and the sight of John, eyes half lidded, fingers sliding in and out of Rodney's ass, is almost enough to make Rodney come. When John looks up and catches Rodney watching him, he drives his fingers deeper into Rodney hitting that perfect spot. Rodney's eyes flutter shut and his mouth hangs open in a silent cry of pleasure.
John slips his fingers free and Rodney's eyes open to watch John line himself up. John rests the head of his cock against Rodney's opening and Rodney tries to thrust back. John holds Rodney's hips still and lowers himself so that Rodney doesn't have to strain his neck to see him anymore. Rodney wants to see the look on John's face as John slides his cock into his ass. Rodney really, really wants to watch John's face. But when John starts the slow movement into him, Rodney has to close his eyes. John rumbles, a sound Rodney feels more than hears with John pressed against his back like this, and thrusts into Rodney.
After the initial slide, nothing is gentle. John starts to move with a violent desperation that has Rodney reaching behind himself to grasp at John's waist. John's thrusts are fast and deep and the movement translates to the mattress underneath Rodney. Rodney braces one hand on the wall above his bed and holds on to John with his other as best he can. He meets John, thrust for thrust, Rodney's climax building beneath him until he's sure he can't take it any longer.
The last straw is when John slows down slightly, one hand on Rodney's shoulder, the other resting just above Rodney's hip, and lowers his lips to Rodney's ear and says his name. Rodney's whole body tightens, a desperate sound caught in his throat, and he pumps into the sheets as John goes still inside him.
Rodney feels like a puddle of jelly, all of his muscles refusing to work, as John starts to move again. His movements are slower now, deeper, shorter drives that pull sounds out of Rodney regardless of how hard he tries to stay quiet. Rodney can feel John get harder inside him and knows that John is only a moment away from his own orgasm.
Rodney sighs, content, and grabs John's hand, says, "John. Come on, John. Yeah. Just like that," as John's hips stutter against Rodney's ass. When John comes, Rodney feels John's whole body relax against his back. John breathes out a warm breath against Rodney's neck and fills Rodney with wet heat.
John goes still, kisses Rodney's neck and stays draped over Rodney even when Rodney begins to squirm beneath him. Rodney appreciates the warmth, he appreciates the intimacy, but John is heavy. Rodney moves his shoulders and John lifts his head, "What? Be still, Rodney. I'm trying to sleep." Rodney can feel the jovial prod in John's voice.
Rodney sighs loudly and move a little more forcefully, "I think it's great that you find I'm such a comfortable bed, but you, on the other hand, are bony and pointy and really not a very good blanket at all. Get. Off."
John laughs and the feel of it makes Rodney smile. John slide out and off of Rodney, and for a brief moment, Rodney wishes he hadn't asked John to move. Then John is curling himself against Rodney's side and pulling the blanket up over the both of them. Rodney turns his head to face John and is met with a grin. John's voice is thick with a sated tiredness when he says, "Don't be an ass, Rodney."
Rodney rolls his eyes and says, "You like it when I'm an ass." Rodney shifts onto his side to stay facing John.
John pulls Rodney close, fits their bodies together, moves his hips in a suggestive circle, "I like your ass. Ass."
Rodney laughs and John guffaws next to him. The combined movements making the bed creak and rock slightly. Rodney says, "Shut up. Go to sleep," and turns over, presses his back against John's chest.
John throws an arm over Rodney and kisses his shoulder, says, "Whatever you say, Rodney. As long as you keep that big mouth of yours quiet."
Rodney starts to protest, but John is warm against his back and he's more relaxed than he's been in he can't remember how long and he decides that he'll just close his eyes for a minute. He'll just close his eyes for a minute and then tell John that he's the ass, laying out all the myriad and sundry reasons why. But that plan falls through as Rodney drifts into sleep, John wrapped around him, breathing soft against his skin.