John/Rodney; rated G
Rodney doesn’t know why he wants it. There isn't any reason to. He knows John intimately, knows where to kiss and where to touch, knows every erogenous zone, every ticklish spot. He's done things with John he'd never even known were possible.
But he can't stop himself from wanting this one thing.
It's ridiculous. Silly. Rodney knows he only wants it because he can't have it.
It's not as if he's ever wanted it with anyone else.
But they're alone, scouting for lifesigns on a deserted planet, walking through the edges of a forest, light playing in amongst the trees, a surprisingly warm breeze making everything rustle.
John is holding onto his P-90 with only one hand, and Rodney steps sideways, closer, lets the back of his hand brush the back of John's. When John doesn’t say anything, he gets bolder, slips his hand between John's side and hand.
John doesn't say a word, doesn't even look at Rodney, but his hand closes around Rodney's.
Rodney doesn't let go, not even when John's palm gets sweaty and his starts to itch.