Very belated birthday porn
This is really late, but I wrote mmmchelle birthday porn. :D
Happy belated birthday, Chelle! I hope things have slowed down a bit for you, but with the holidays fast approaching, I doubt it. Still, take a few minutes and enjoy. *g*
Many thanks to catspaw_sgjd for the lightning fast beta!
John walked down the hall, not really quickly, because that would attract attention, but with intent. He'd been thinking about this all day. Things were relatively quiet, so for once there was actually a chance that he'd get to spend some time with Rodney. Naked time. Not just a quick blowjob or handjob, but real sex, the kind that took longer than five or ten minutes. Hell, they might even manage to get all their clothes off this time. They'd only been doing this for a few weeks, and he was looking forward to more. He willed his cock to stay soft, but it was having none of it, filling in anticipation the closer John got to Rodney's door. John stopped, waved his hand over the crystals and waited. And waited. Rodney was in there. He knew it. He waved his hand again.
Nothing.
John frowned and waved his hand again, this time not stopping at one, but over and over, making the chime sound continuously. He was on the verge of calling and having the security on the door overridden, icy fear trickling down his back, when Rodney's door finally slid open to reveal him standing there, boiling over with irritation. "What?" Rodney practically shouted.
John felt a rush of relief. He looked at Rodney and raised an eyebrow.
Rodney huffed a sigh and scrubbed his hand through his hair, making it stick up in tufts. "Look, can you come back later?" he said stiffly. "I'm working on a deadline here."
John felt his stomach fall, a little disappointed at the distinct lack of enthusiasm. Plus, there wasn't anything pressing that he knew about, and the thought that maybe there was something going on that he wasn't aware of sat wrong. This wasn't going how John hoped. He decided that he probably should know about any unmet deadlines, so shouldered his way in, feeling the annoyance roll off Rodney as he pushed past. "What's the deadline?" he asked, feeling mildly annoyed himself. He was just concerned about being left out of the loop. That's all it was. He wasn't sulking or anything.
"Please," Rodney said, an air of desperation around him. "John, please. I'm working on a joint project with someone at the SGC and I promised I'd have my part done and in the next data stream. I promised. That means I've got less than a half hour left." He looked at John, eyes pleading. "It's not that I'm not happy to see you, but now really isn't a good time."
"What's the project?"
"It's a long range communications system."
"Like, long range enough that we can send transmissions through subspace to the SGC like they do on Star Trek?"
The air around Rodney crackled with annoyance and desperation. "Yes, just like Star Trek. Look, I'll explain it all later. Right now I've got to get this done."
John was about ready to leave-- was already shifting his weight to walk out and let Rodney finish, but something wasn't right here. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and his eyes narrowed with suspicion. Rodney was way too adamant about getting this report in on time. There was only one person Rodney wanted to impress that much. "Who are you working with?"
Rodney wouldn't meet his eyes. "Another scientist at the SGC."
"Who, Rodney."
"Sam."
John felt a twinge of something he refused to acknowledge as jealousy. Although, dammit, this was getting to be too much. First Rodney names a goddamned whale, or fish, or whatever after her, then they're working on a secret project together? He stepped further into the room.
Rodney stood stock still for a moment, like he hoped John would take the hint and leave, then sighed and stepped away from the door, letting it swoosh shut.
John assumed a casual stance and checked his watch. "The transmission is scheduled for twenty minutes from now, and it'll take you what, another ten to finish?"
"Ten before you showed up," Rodney snapped. "Fifteen minutes now."
"You'd better get started then," John said, moving further into the room, ignoring Rodney's gaping mouth. "I'll wait."
"Listen. You've . . . "
John cut him off. "Arguing will only waste time. Get working." Okay, maybe he was being unreasonable, but he didn't want Rodney sitting here thinking about Sam. He wanted Rodney to be thinking about him.
Rodney opened his mouth to argue some more, then stopped and glared. "Fine," he said shortly, "Sit. And don't make a sound. If you talk I'm calling security."
"I am security," John answered easily, fighting to keep from grinning at Rodney's annoyed face. Maybe this could be fun. "I promise," John said. "I won't say a word." He mimicked turning a key to his lips and tossing it over his shoulder. Rodney scowled and stood for a split second, torn with indecision. He finally pointed imperiously toward the chair in the corner, waited until John sat, then stomped back to his desk, sat down, and started typing furiously.
John stretched his legs, slouched down, and watched. It was hot, watching him. Emotions flitted across Rodney's face as he worked. His body moved like it did when he was trying to explain something complex. His focus was entirely on his project and deadline.
John had been hoping to be the object of some of that focus.
John watched Rodney's fingers fly over the keys and remembered his hands from other times-- deftly replacing crystals, rewiring a console, saving them all.
That was the thing. Rodney's hands were always fascinating, but when he was under pressure, they moved like they were a work of art, the movements of a master.
John's cock started to fill again. He wanted those hands on him, those fingers in him. He shifted a little. All he had to do was wait another half hour or so, and hopefully he'd get what he wanted.
Even though Rodney was focused on Sam right now.
He frowned.
A thought flitted across his mind. Rodney worked best under pressure, right? And he was focused on Sam right now, and that wasn't right at all. Maybe there was a way they could both get what they wanted, right this minute.
Okay, yeah, he'd promised Rodney he wouldn't talk, but he knew how to be quiet. It was kind of an asshole thing to do, but there would be another data stream next week and if Rodney didn't get his work in until then it wouldn't make that much of a difference in the long run. Plus, he wasn't exactly thrilled at the thought of instantaneous communication with SGC. Sure, it would be nice sometimes, but he had a feeling it would mostly be a pain in the ass.
With slow deliberation he reached for his belt and unbuckled it, all the while watching Rodney through hooded eyes. No reaction so far, but since he wasn't making any noise, that was to be expected.
One thing John was sure of. Rodney would be feeling the crunch any minute now.
He silently unbuttoned the fly of his pants and stuck his hand inside his boxers, his cock just a hair’s breadth from being fully hard. He brushed his middle finger in slow, tantalizing circles around the slit, the lightest touch, bringing himself all the way up.
There was still no reaction from Rodney who was adding in a graph.
John smiled.
He had a little moisture on his finger now, so moved it down further to circle underneath the ridge, biting his lip to keep silent when he stroked over the bundle of nerves on the underside.
It was time to up the stakes a little.
John lifted his ass off the chair and pushed his pants and boxers down below his knees.
Rodney stopped typing and turned to look at him. "What are you . . . ?" He stopped, gaping when he saw John, exposed and hard. "I don't believe you!"
John pursed his lips tightly, his way of saying that he wasn't talking, tapped his watch, and wiggled his fingers making typing motions, then pointed to the monitor.
Rodney's face flushed red. "You . . . I'm going to kill you," he said evenly, glaring, then turned back to his computer.
John almost laughed out loud. Rodney was working again, but his attention was clearly focused on John. He was typing as quickly as before, but his posture was leaning more toward John, his chair still slightly cocked in John's direction, his head tilted the slightest bit to catch the smallest sounds coming from the chair.
Not to mention his growing erection, clearly visible from where John was sitting.
John leaned back, let his knees fall open, and reached down to tug on his balls, enjoying the zing of pleasure that shot through him. He ghosted a finger up his length, following the vein, and used his other to hand to push his shirt up, rubbing his thumb over his nipple. He curled his right hand around his shaft and squeezed, stifling a gasp at the shock of pleasure, a little surprised at how turned on he was. He'd have to be careful or he'd finish way too soon. He moved his hand from his chest down to his balls, grasping and tugging them away from his body while his other hand stroked up. He let out an experimental gasp, and smirked when Rodney flinched.
Oh yeah, he definitely had Rodney's attention now.
"I'm not paying any attention to you," Rodney said, going for lofty but ruining it because his voice sounded gravelly and low.
John snorted in answer.
"You can try, but you aren't distracting me from this."
John tugged up his length.
"I can't believe you! I'm over here working and you're . . . "
John stroked down hard.
"I would never do this to you. Never."
John pushed his cock through his fist.
Rodney kept talking, staccato comments emphasizing the way he was stabbing the keys. John slowed things down, not wanting to come before Rodney was next to him, touching him. He ran his hand up his inner thighs. He caressed the crease where thigh met trunk. He tugged the skin on his balls, pinched his nipples, all the while keeping his eyes on Rodney, watching him flush with every little noise, seeing a light sweat break out on his skin, taking in the firm set of his jaws, how his eyes were focused on the computer, how he tried to ignore John and failed completely.
It was getting harder and harder to not talk, not answer Rodney, not get up out of the chair, go over, and push Rodney to the floor, or the bed, or just pull him up, shove him against the wall, and fuck him until he was truly babbling. All this playing was bringing John close, his balls aching and heavy, the urge to finish getting stronger. He curled his fingers over the crown, letting the pads brush under the ridge, and twisted his hand, letting out a genuine gasp at how good it felt, pleasure coiling like a spring deep in his belly.
Rodney stiffened up and paused, then resolutely continued, typing faster now, reacting to the pressure.
John's breathing was speeding up, getting faster the closer he got, and so was Rodney's, matching his, like they were working together at this. Rodney was still pushing through, and John could see how hard he was trying to mask his growing arousal, but one thing Rodney wasn't good at was hiding his reactions and now was no different. John could see him practically vibrating in the chair, could feel the need rolling off him.
John took a deep, steadying breath and closed his fingers around his cock, stroking down hard, his other hand pulling his balls away from his body while the thumb pressed in at the base of his cock, putting indirect pressure on his prostate. He pulled up with intent, twisting his wrist at the top and pushed in deeper with his thumb. His balls were drawing up, tightening close to his body. He tugged them down and slowed down his strokes. Not yet. "Rodney," he breathed. "Hurry."
"No talking!" Rodney shouted, and swallowed hard.
It almost enough to pushed John over the edge. He kept up the slow stroking, fighting the urge to go faster, harder, and watched, willing Rodney to finish his damned report.
Finally, Rodney lifted his hand above his head, hit the enter key with a flourish, and swiveled his chair around. He gave John a predatory glare. "You're going to pay for this," he growled.
That was it. That's all it took. John stroked down hard one more time and was coming, eyes squeezed shut, muscles clenched up, come splattering his belly. He heard Rodney move then felt something-- Rodney's tongue, soft and wet licking his stomach, lapping up his come, and his balls spasmed, trying to come more. "Fuck," he gasped, hand still firmly curled around his cock, the rest of him limp and wrung out.
Rodney kissed his stomach, his thigh, the sensitive head of his cock, making his body twitch.
"You are such a jerk," Rodney murmured, lips still pressed against John's skin.
"You work best under pressure," John panted.
Rodney snorted a laugh. "So you were just trying to help me," he stated.
"I always try to help my teammates reach their goals."
"Right," Rodney said, rolling his eyes. "This was all about you being a good team leader."
"It was!"
"Uh huh." Rodney leaned in thoughtfully to kiss his balls, then dragged his tongue up the line between them. He looked up, catching John's eyes, a dawning gleam in his own. "You sure there wasn't another reason?"
"Like what?" John asked, still befuddled from his orgasm. He didn't want to talk. All he wanted to do was get Rodney's dick in his mouth and make him come.
"You were about ready to leave until I said I was working with Sam."
John couldn't meet Rodney's eyes. Dammit. He reached for Rodney's crotch. "I don't know what you're talking about. C'mon. A good team leader always completes a job."
Rodney looked at him appraisingly. John could see the wheels turning. He seemed to reach a decision and said, "Hm, yes, well. You got your chance to play, now I get mine." He kissed the base of John's sleepy cock.
John huffed a laugh, eternally grateful that Rodney was going to let this one drop. "What did you have in mind?"
Rodney didn't answer. He simply bent down and started undoing John's bootlaces. John watched him with lazy eyes for a moment, then leaned forward enough to pull his shirt off over his head before leaning back again. Rodney finished with the laces, tugged off John's boots and socks, then his pants, leaving everything where it fell. He stood up, turned around, and walked toward the bed, shedding his own clothes on the way. Once his was naked he fluffed up his pillows and sat down, back against the wall, tugged lazily at his cock, and looked at John expectantly. "You coming?"
John smiled and stood up, a little wobbly still, and stepped close. Rodney was going to fuck him, and he was okay with that. More than okay. He kneeled on the bed and turned away from Rodney, got down on his hands and knees, and presented his ass.
"Oh, I like that," Rodney said, sounding way too smug, and John had to groan in his head, because maybe Rodney had figured it out, and if he had, he'd be insufferable. He sighed and looked back over his shoulder. "You gonna look, or actually do something?"
"I'm definitely going to do something," Rodney said, leaning forward. He kissed each of John's cheeks, then ran a finger down the crease, lightly grazing over John's hole. His warm, broad hands spread John open and he kissed the puckered ring once, then murmured, "But not that, not now. I've got something else in mind." He curled his arms around John's waist and leaned back, pulling, until they ended up with John nestled between his thighs, back to chest, Rodney leaning against his pillows again.
"Like I said," Rodney whispered in John's ear. "Now it's my chance to play." His hands started roaming over John's body, feeling textures of muscle and skin-- touching the insides of John's elbows, tracing the curve of his pecs, his ribs, touching John in a way they'd never had time for before.
It was more than John had bargained for. He didn't do this kind of thing. Especially not with men. Men were about hard, pounding lust. Men were about straining and pushing and jockeying for dominance. Men were uncomplicated and primal.
John ghosted his hands up Rodney's thighs, then behind his back, reaching for Rodney's erect cock, the one he could feel pushing into the small of his back.
"No," Rodney said softly, nuzzling against John's temple and moving John's hands away.
"Rodney," John said, warning. This was-- well, it wasn't fucking.
"Let me," Rodney said. "Please, let me. I've always wanted to-- and we never have time, and please, just let me."
"I don't do this," John said gruffly. "This isn't what I'm here for." His heart was pounding like crazy in his chest, his lungs fighting for air. This was somehow getting too . . . something.
Rodney's hands stilled, one resting on John's chest, over his heart, the other on his stomach, fingers spread, and goddamned if John couldn't feel his own muscles fluttering underneath that touch. "You were jealous," Rodney murmured in his ear. "You were jealous of Sam, and the only reason people get jealous is if they're afraid of losing something important to them."
"I wasn't jealous," John said, and started to sit up, get away.
"I think you were." Rodney hooked his heels over John's shins and pressed his hands against John's chest and belly, holding him in place. He took one of John's earlobes in his teeth and bit down gently.
John shivered, and god-damn if his cock didn't twitch and start to fill again. Rodney moved his hand from John's chest down to his thigh, then ran it up until he could rub his thumb over the crease. "Do you really want to leave?" Rodney asked, low and husky.
A part of John did. He'd been a fool to think Rodney would be able to keep this easy-- there wasn't anything casual about him. Rodney was all passion and fire and energy, pretty much everything right out there in the open. John wasn't like that, with anyone, a part of him always guarded.
But a part wanted to stay.
He and Rodney had been friends, truly friends, for long enough that John had found himself actually being himself with him. That in itself was . . . unique. They had a connection that was already there. This, maybe this thing they had was something he didn't want to run away from. The thing was, with Rodney there would be no half measures, there never were. He swallowed hard, his mind racing. He had two choices, do this, really do this, or get up, put his clothes on, and go back to being alone.
Rodney waited, thumb still caressing near John's groin. John could feel the tension in Rodney's body, the tautness of his muscles telling their own story. Rodney knew exactly what he was asking of John.
Yes, he'd been jealous of Sam, afraid he was losing what they had, and it seemed that Rodney was afraid of losing it too. He leaned back, back into Rodney's warmth, decision made. But he was still tense-- this was uncharted territory for him.
Rodney breathed out in a puff, like he'd been holding his breath. John could feel him smiling against his neck. Rodney wrapped his arms around John and pulled him closer, shifted a bit to settle him more firmly between his thighs, and started touching again. "I'm glad you're staying," Rodney whispered, stroking up John's thigh.
"I'm . . . I don't know how to do this," John confessed gruffly, feeling defensive and guarded, a lifetime of shielding himself coming to the front.
"I know."
And somehow that made it better.
Happy belated birthday, Chelle! I hope things have slowed down a bit for you, but with the holidays fast approaching, I doubt it. Still, take a few minutes and enjoy. *g*
Many thanks to catspaw_sgjd for the lightning fast beta!
John walked down the hall, not really quickly, because that would attract attention, but with intent. He'd been thinking about this all day. Things were relatively quiet, so for once there was actually a chance that he'd get to spend some time with Rodney. Naked time. Not just a quick blowjob or handjob, but real sex, the kind that took longer than five or ten minutes. Hell, they might even manage to get all their clothes off this time. They'd only been doing this for a few weeks, and he was looking forward to more. He willed his cock to stay soft, but it was having none of it, filling in anticipation the closer John got to Rodney's door. John stopped, waved his hand over the crystals and waited. And waited. Rodney was in there. He knew it. He waved his hand again.
Nothing.
John frowned and waved his hand again, this time not stopping at one, but over and over, making the chime sound continuously. He was on the verge of calling and having the security on the door overridden, icy fear trickling down his back, when Rodney's door finally slid open to reveal him standing there, boiling over with irritation. "What?" Rodney practically shouted.
John felt a rush of relief. He looked at Rodney and raised an eyebrow.
Rodney huffed a sigh and scrubbed his hand through his hair, making it stick up in tufts. "Look, can you come back later?" he said stiffly. "I'm working on a deadline here."
John felt his stomach fall, a little disappointed at the distinct lack of enthusiasm. Plus, there wasn't anything pressing that he knew about, and the thought that maybe there was something going on that he wasn't aware of sat wrong. This wasn't going how John hoped. He decided that he probably should know about any unmet deadlines, so shouldered his way in, feeling the annoyance roll off Rodney as he pushed past. "What's the deadline?" he asked, feeling mildly annoyed himself. He was just concerned about being left out of the loop. That's all it was. He wasn't sulking or anything.
"Please," Rodney said, an air of desperation around him. "John, please. I'm working on a joint project with someone at the SGC and I promised I'd have my part done and in the next data stream. I promised. That means I've got less than a half hour left." He looked at John, eyes pleading. "It's not that I'm not happy to see you, but now really isn't a good time."
"What's the project?"
"It's a long range communications system."
"Like, long range enough that we can send transmissions through subspace to the SGC like they do on Star Trek?"
The air around Rodney crackled with annoyance and desperation. "Yes, just like Star Trek. Look, I'll explain it all later. Right now I've got to get this done."
John was about ready to leave-- was already shifting his weight to walk out and let Rodney finish, but something wasn't right here. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and his eyes narrowed with suspicion. Rodney was way too adamant about getting this report in on time. There was only one person Rodney wanted to impress that much. "Who are you working with?"
Rodney wouldn't meet his eyes. "Another scientist at the SGC."
"Who, Rodney."
"Sam."
John felt a twinge of something he refused to acknowledge as jealousy. Although, dammit, this was getting to be too much. First Rodney names a goddamned whale, or fish, or whatever after her, then they're working on a secret project together? He stepped further into the room.
Rodney stood stock still for a moment, like he hoped John would take the hint and leave, then sighed and stepped away from the door, letting it swoosh shut.
John assumed a casual stance and checked his watch. "The transmission is scheduled for twenty minutes from now, and it'll take you what, another ten to finish?"
"Ten before you showed up," Rodney snapped. "Fifteen minutes now."
"You'd better get started then," John said, moving further into the room, ignoring Rodney's gaping mouth. "I'll wait."
"Listen. You've . . . "
John cut him off. "Arguing will only waste time. Get working." Okay, maybe he was being unreasonable, but he didn't want Rodney sitting here thinking about Sam. He wanted Rodney to be thinking about him.
Rodney opened his mouth to argue some more, then stopped and glared. "Fine," he said shortly, "Sit. And don't make a sound. If you talk I'm calling security."
"I am security," John answered easily, fighting to keep from grinning at Rodney's annoyed face. Maybe this could be fun. "I promise," John said. "I won't say a word." He mimicked turning a key to his lips and tossing it over his shoulder. Rodney scowled and stood for a split second, torn with indecision. He finally pointed imperiously toward the chair in the corner, waited until John sat, then stomped back to his desk, sat down, and started typing furiously.
John stretched his legs, slouched down, and watched. It was hot, watching him. Emotions flitted across Rodney's face as he worked. His body moved like it did when he was trying to explain something complex. His focus was entirely on his project and deadline.
John had been hoping to be the object of some of that focus.
John watched Rodney's fingers fly over the keys and remembered his hands from other times-- deftly replacing crystals, rewiring a console, saving them all.
That was the thing. Rodney's hands were always fascinating, but when he was under pressure, they moved like they were a work of art, the movements of a master.
John's cock started to fill again. He wanted those hands on him, those fingers in him. He shifted a little. All he had to do was wait another half hour or so, and hopefully he'd get what he wanted.
Even though Rodney was focused on Sam right now.
He frowned.
A thought flitted across his mind. Rodney worked best under pressure, right? And he was focused on Sam right now, and that wasn't right at all. Maybe there was a way they could both get what they wanted, right this minute.
Okay, yeah, he'd promised Rodney he wouldn't talk, but he knew how to be quiet. It was kind of an asshole thing to do, but there would be another data stream next week and if Rodney didn't get his work in until then it wouldn't make that much of a difference in the long run. Plus, he wasn't exactly thrilled at the thought of instantaneous communication with SGC. Sure, it would be nice sometimes, but he had a feeling it would mostly be a pain in the ass.
With slow deliberation he reached for his belt and unbuckled it, all the while watching Rodney through hooded eyes. No reaction so far, but since he wasn't making any noise, that was to be expected.
One thing John was sure of. Rodney would be feeling the crunch any minute now.
He silently unbuttoned the fly of his pants and stuck his hand inside his boxers, his cock just a hair’s breadth from being fully hard. He brushed his middle finger in slow, tantalizing circles around the slit, the lightest touch, bringing himself all the way up.
There was still no reaction from Rodney who was adding in a graph.
John smiled.
He had a little moisture on his finger now, so moved it down further to circle underneath the ridge, biting his lip to keep silent when he stroked over the bundle of nerves on the underside.
It was time to up the stakes a little.
John lifted his ass off the chair and pushed his pants and boxers down below his knees.
Rodney stopped typing and turned to look at him. "What are you . . . ?" He stopped, gaping when he saw John, exposed and hard. "I don't believe you!"
John pursed his lips tightly, his way of saying that he wasn't talking, tapped his watch, and wiggled his fingers making typing motions, then pointed to the monitor.
Rodney's face flushed red. "You . . . I'm going to kill you," he said evenly, glaring, then turned back to his computer.
John almost laughed out loud. Rodney was working again, but his attention was clearly focused on John. He was typing as quickly as before, but his posture was leaning more toward John, his chair still slightly cocked in John's direction, his head tilted the slightest bit to catch the smallest sounds coming from the chair.
Not to mention his growing erection, clearly visible from where John was sitting.
John leaned back, let his knees fall open, and reached down to tug on his balls, enjoying the zing of pleasure that shot through him. He ghosted a finger up his length, following the vein, and used his other to hand to push his shirt up, rubbing his thumb over his nipple. He curled his right hand around his shaft and squeezed, stifling a gasp at the shock of pleasure, a little surprised at how turned on he was. He'd have to be careful or he'd finish way too soon. He moved his hand from his chest down to his balls, grasping and tugging them away from his body while his other hand stroked up. He let out an experimental gasp, and smirked when Rodney flinched.
Oh yeah, he definitely had Rodney's attention now.
"I'm not paying any attention to you," Rodney said, going for lofty but ruining it because his voice sounded gravelly and low.
John snorted in answer.
"You can try, but you aren't distracting me from this."
John tugged up his length.
"I can't believe you! I'm over here working and you're . . . "
John stroked down hard.
"I would never do this to you. Never."
John pushed his cock through his fist.
Rodney kept talking, staccato comments emphasizing the way he was stabbing the keys. John slowed things down, not wanting to come before Rodney was next to him, touching him. He ran his hand up his inner thighs. He caressed the crease where thigh met trunk. He tugged the skin on his balls, pinched his nipples, all the while keeping his eyes on Rodney, watching him flush with every little noise, seeing a light sweat break out on his skin, taking in the firm set of his jaws, how his eyes were focused on the computer, how he tried to ignore John and failed completely.
It was getting harder and harder to not talk, not answer Rodney, not get up out of the chair, go over, and push Rodney to the floor, or the bed, or just pull him up, shove him against the wall, and fuck him until he was truly babbling. All this playing was bringing John close, his balls aching and heavy, the urge to finish getting stronger. He curled his fingers over the crown, letting the pads brush under the ridge, and twisted his hand, letting out a genuine gasp at how good it felt, pleasure coiling like a spring deep in his belly.
Rodney stiffened up and paused, then resolutely continued, typing faster now, reacting to the pressure.
John's breathing was speeding up, getting faster the closer he got, and so was Rodney's, matching his, like they were working together at this. Rodney was still pushing through, and John could see how hard he was trying to mask his growing arousal, but one thing Rodney wasn't good at was hiding his reactions and now was no different. John could see him practically vibrating in the chair, could feel the need rolling off him.
John took a deep, steadying breath and closed his fingers around his cock, stroking down hard, his other hand pulling his balls away from his body while the thumb pressed in at the base of his cock, putting indirect pressure on his prostate. He pulled up with intent, twisting his wrist at the top and pushed in deeper with his thumb. His balls were drawing up, tightening close to his body. He tugged them down and slowed down his strokes. Not yet. "Rodney," he breathed. "Hurry."
"No talking!" Rodney shouted, and swallowed hard.
It almost enough to pushed John over the edge. He kept up the slow stroking, fighting the urge to go faster, harder, and watched, willing Rodney to finish his damned report.
Finally, Rodney lifted his hand above his head, hit the enter key with a flourish, and swiveled his chair around. He gave John a predatory glare. "You're going to pay for this," he growled.
That was it. That's all it took. John stroked down hard one more time and was coming, eyes squeezed shut, muscles clenched up, come splattering his belly. He heard Rodney move then felt something-- Rodney's tongue, soft and wet licking his stomach, lapping up his come, and his balls spasmed, trying to come more. "Fuck," he gasped, hand still firmly curled around his cock, the rest of him limp and wrung out.
Rodney kissed his stomach, his thigh, the sensitive head of his cock, making his body twitch.
"You are such a jerk," Rodney murmured, lips still pressed against John's skin.
"You work best under pressure," John panted.
Rodney snorted a laugh. "So you were just trying to help me," he stated.
"I always try to help my teammates reach their goals."
"Right," Rodney said, rolling his eyes. "This was all about you being a good team leader."
"It was!"
"Uh huh." Rodney leaned in thoughtfully to kiss his balls, then dragged his tongue up the line between them. He looked up, catching John's eyes, a dawning gleam in his own. "You sure there wasn't another reason?"
"Like what?" John asked, still befuddled from his orgasm. He didn't want to talk. All he wanted to do was get Rodney's dick in his mouth and make him come.
"You were about ready to leave until I said I was working with Sam."
John couldn't meet Rodney's eyes. Dammit. He reached for Rodney's crotch. "I don't know what you're talking about. C'mon. A good team leader always completes a job."
Rodney looked at him appraisingly. John could see the wheels turning. He seemed to reach a decision and said, "Hm, yes, well. You got your chance to play, now I get mine." He kissed the base of John's sleepy cock.
John huffed a laugh, eternally grateful that Rodney was going to let this one drop. "What did you have in mind?"
Rodney didn't answer. He simply bent down and started undoing John's bootlaces. John watched him with lazy eyes for a moment, then leaned forward enough to pull his shirt off over his head before leaning back again. Rodney finished with the laces, tugged off John's boots and socks, then his pants, leaving everything where it fell. He stood up, turned around, and walked toward the bed, shedding his own clothes on the way. Once his was naked he fluffed up his pillows and sat down, back against the wall, tugged lazily at his cock, and looked at John expectantly. "You coming?"
John smiled and stood up, a little wobbly still, and stepped close. Rodney was going to fuck him, and he was okay with that. More than okay. He kneeled on the bed and turned away from Rodney, got down on his hands and knees, and presented his ass.
"Oh, I like that," Rodney said, sounding way too smug, and John had to groan in his head, because maybe Rodney had figured it out, and if he had, he'd be insufferable. He sighed and looked back over his shoulder. "You gonna look, or actually do something?"
"I'm definitely going to do something," Rodney said, leaning forward. He kissed each of John's cheeks, then ran a finger down the crease, lightly grazing over John's hole. His warm, broad hands spread John open and he kissed the puckered ring once, then murmured, "But not that, not now. I've got something else in mind." He curled his arms around John's waist and leaned back, pulling, until they ended up with John nestled between his thighs, back to chest, Rodney leaning against his pillows again.
"Like I said," Rodney whispered in John's ear. "Now it's my chance to play." His hands started roaming over John's body, feeling textures of muscle and skin-- touching the insides of John's elbows, tracing the curve of his pecs, his ribs, touching John in a way they'd never had time for before.
It was more than John had bargained for. He didn't do this kind of thing. Especially not with men. Men were about hard, pounding lust. Men were about straining and pushing and jockeying for dominance. Men were uncomplicated and primal.
John ghosted his hands up Rodney's thighs, then behind his back, reaching for Rodney's erect cock, the one he could feel pushing into the small of his back.
"No," Rodney said softly, nuzzling against John's temple and moving John's hands away.
"Rodney," John said, warning. This was-- well, it wasn't fucking.
"Let me," Rodney said. "Please, let me. I've always wanted to-- and we never have time, and please, just let me."
"I don't do this," John said gruffly. "This isn't what I'm here for." His heart was pounding like crazy in his chest, his lungs fighting for air. This was somehow getting too . . . something.
Rodney's hands stilled, one resting on John's chest, over his heart, the other on his stomach, fingers spread, and goddamned if John couldn't feel his own muscles fluttering underneath that touch. "You were jealous," Rodney murmured in his ear. "You were jealous of Sam, and the only reason people get jealous is if they're afraid of losing something important to them."
"I wasn't jealous," John said, and started to sit up, get away.
"I think you were." Rodney hooked his heels over John's shins and pressed his hands against John's chest and belly, holding him in place. He took one of John's earlobes in his teeth and bit down gently.
John shivered, and god-damn if his cock didn't twitch and start to fill again. Rodney moved his hand from John's chest down to his thigh, then ran it up until he could rub his thumb over the crease. "Do you really want to leave?" Rodney asked, low and husky.
A part of John did. He'd been a fool to think Rodney would be able to keep this easy-- there wasn't anything casual about him. Rodney was all passion and fire and energy, pretty much everything right out there in the open. John wasn't like that, with anyone, a part of him always guarded.
But a part wanted to stay.
He and Rodney had been friends, truly friends, for long enough that John had found himself actually being himself with him. That in itself was . . . unique. They had a connection that was already there. This, maybe this thing they had was something he didn't want to run away from. The thing was, with Rodney there would be no half measures, there never were. He swallowed hard, his mind racing. He had two choices, do this, really do this, or get up, put his clothes on, and go back to being alone.
Rodney waited, thumb still caressing near John's groin. John could feel the tension in Rodney's body, the tautness of his muscles telling their own story. Rodney knew exactly what he was asking of John.
Yes, he'd been jealous of Sam, afraid he was losing what they had, and it seemed that Rodney was afraid of losing it too. He leaned back, back into Rodney's warmth, decision made. But he was still tense-- this was uncharted territory for him.
Rodney breathed out in a puff, like he'd been holding his breath. John could feel him smiling against his neck. Rodney wrapped his arms around John and pulled him closer, shifted a bit to settle him more firmly between his thighs, and started touching again. "I'm glad you're staying," Rodney whispered, stroking up John's thigh.
"I'm . . . I don't know how to do this," John confessed gruffly, feeling defensive and guarded, a lifetime of shielding himself coming to the front.
"I know."
And somehow that made it better.