"Prompt," sequel to "Proxy"
Title: Prompt
Author: Sihaya Black
Rating: PG-13
Sequel to Proxy
Many, many thanks (as always) go to lamardeuse, chickwriter and kassrachel for their excellent comments and suggestions for improving the story. Gracias, chicas!
Prompt
John checked his watch as he jogged down the corridor. Just enough time . . .
His footsteps echoing in the hush, John turned into the lab, which was dark save for the beam of light illuminating Rodney. Hunched over his computer, Rodney didn’t look up, but his fingers stilled on the keyboard.
“Can it wait until morning?” he called, his voice flat.
“Nope.”
“Oh. It’s you, Colonel.” Rodney’s eyes never left the screen, but he sighed, his shoulders slumping further.
“Yep.”
Rodney raised his head, scowling, and John grinned.
“So, what won’t wait?” Rodney pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes for a moment. Then he lifted a cup, peered into it, and thumped it back down on the table. “If it’s going to take a while, I’ll need more coffee.”
John shook his head. “Time for bed. We’re going off-world tomorrow, and you need your rest.”
“But--”
“It’ll wait ’til we get back, McKay.” John rubbed his jaw, dragged his fingers over his mouth, and clapped Rodney on the shoulder.
Twelve.
“Twelve.” Rodney looked grimly satisfied, as if he’d just proved an impossible theorem.
“What?” John’s heart stuttered.
“I said,” said Rodney, pushing away from the table, “‘twelve.’”
John swallowed, licked his bottom lip. Took a step back. Wished his heart would stop marching double-time through his chest. Wished he didn’t know how damned intelligent Rodney was. “Twelve what?”
The corner of Rodney’s mouth drooped, and his gaze dropped to the floor. “Twelve times you’ve touched me today.”
John tried to laugh. Hoped he didn’t look as busted as he felt. “You’re counting the times I’ve touched you?”
“Yes.” Rodney shrugged one shoulder. “Every day for the past three weeks you touch me twelve times. Every time you touch your mouth first. Three hundred and fifty two times.”
John opened his mouth. Closed it. Joined Rodney in studying the pattern on the floor.
Rodney made a little noise, a word swallowed stillborn, and turned back to his computer.
“And if I do?” John said quickly.
“How many total?”
John didn’t have to stop and think. “Three thousand, one hundred and forty four.”
“That long.” Rodney’s brows drew together. “Why?”
“Because.” John looked at him helplessly. “Because I want . . .” He didn’t have the words; he never had the words. Huffing out a breath, he shook his head, took another step back. “Forget it.”
“Colonel.” Rodney met John’s gaze. “John. I do, too.”
~*~
John pulled away and grinned. So his lips were raw from beard burn; he didn’t care. “Six.”
“Seven.” Rodney’s returning smile was definitely smug.
“Nope. Six.”
Rodney shook his head, cupped his hand around the back of John’s neck. “Count them again.”
John narrowed his eyes. “One and two: before we got here. Three: at the door . . .” He chuckled. “Damn, McKay. You’re right.”
“I know.” Rodney tugged him down into another kiss, and John went willingly.
~*~
John rolled over and stretched, trying to stifle his groan.
“Mmm?” Rodney stirred, sleepily glancing over his shoulder.
“Nothing.” Well-used muscles thrummed pleasurably. “Go back to sleep. I set the alarm.”
Rodney shifted closer, his warm, still slightly sweaty back pressing against John.
John rested his cheek against the nape of Rodney’s neck. Even though he didn’t have to hide it from Rodney anymore, he waited until Rodney’s breathing deepened and he fell back asleep. Then he pressed his lips lightly against Rodney’s shoulder.
One.
Author: Sihaya Black
Rating: PG-13
Sequel to Proxy
Many, many thanks (as always) go to lamardeuse, chickwriter and kassrachel for their excellent comments and suggestions for improving the story. Gracias, chicas!
Prompt
John checked his watch as he jogged down the corridor. Just enough time . . .
His footsteps echoing in the hush, John turned into the lab, which was dark save for the beam of light illuminating Rodney. Hunched over his computer, Rodney didn’t look up, but his fingers stilled on the keyboard.
“Can it wait until morning?” he called, his voice flat.
“Nope.”
“Oh. It’s you, Colonel.” Rodney’s eyes never left the screen, but he sighed, his shoulders slumping further.
“Yep.”
Rodney raised his head, scowling, and John grinned.
“So, what won’t wait?” Rodney pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes for a moment. Then he lifted a cup, peered into it, and thumped it back down on the table. “If it’s going to take a while, I’ll need more coffee.”
John shook his head. “Time for bed. We’re going off-world tomorrow, and you need your rest.”
“But--”
“It’ll wait ’til we get back, McKay.” John rubbed his jaw, dragged his fingers over his mouth, and clapped Rodney on the shoulder.
Twelve.
“Twelve.” Rodney looked grimly satisfied, as if he’d just proved an impossible theorem.
“What?” John’s heart stuttered.
“I said,” said Rodney, pushing away from the table, “‘twelve.’”
John swallowed, licked his bottom lip. Took a step back. Wished his heart would stop marching double-time through his chest. Wished he didn’t know how damned intelligent Rodney was. “Twelve what?”
The corner of Rodney’s mouth drooped, and his gaze dropped to the floor. “Twelve times you’ve touched me today.”
John tried to laugh. Hoped he didn’t look as busted as he felt. “You’re counting the times I’ve touched you?”
“Yes.” Rodney shrugged one shoulder. “Every day for the past three weeks you touch me twelve times. Every time you touch your mouth first. Three hundred and fifty two times.”
John opened his mouth. Closed it. Joined Rodney in studying the pattern on the floor.
Rodney made a little noise, a word swallowed stillborn, and turned back to his computer.
“And if I do?” John said quickly.
“How many total?”
John didn’t have to stop and think. “Three thousand, one hundred and forty four.”
“That long.” Rodney’s brows drew together. “Why?”
“Because.” John looked at him helplessly. “Because I want . . .” He didn’t have the words; he never had the words. Huffing out a breath, he shook his head, took another step back. “Forget it.”
“Colonel.” Rodney met John’s gaze. “John. I do, too.”
~*~
John pulled away and grinned. So his lips were raw from beard burn; he didn’t care. “Six.”
“Seven.” Rodney’s returning smile was definitely smug.
“Nope. Six.”
Rodney shook his head, cupped his hand around the back of John’s neck. “Count them again.”
John narrowed his eyes. “One and two: before we got here. Three: at the door . . .” He chuckled. “Damn, McKay. You’re right.”
“I know.” Rodney tugged him down into another kiss, and John went willingly.
~*~
John rolled over and stretched, trying to stifle his groan.
“Mmm?” Rodney stirred, sleepily glancing over his shoulder.
“Nothing.” Well-used muscles thrummed pleasurably. “Go back to sleep. I set the alarm.”
Rodney shifted closer, his warm, still slightly sweaty back pressing against John.
John rested his cheek against the nape of Rodney’s neck. Even though he didn’t have to hide it from Rodney anymore, he waited until Rodney’s breathing deepened and he fell back asleep. Then he pressed his lips lightly against Rodney’s shoulder.
One.