neevebrody (neevebrody) wrote in mcsheplets,

Challenge Fic: Journeys End... (NC-17)

Written for Challenge #1- First and #9 - The Other Side of the Deadline
Title: Journeys End...
Rating: NC-17
Words: 5,780 - Definitely not a fic-let
Legal: So not mine
Summary:  When he found himself outside Rodney's quarters instead of his own, he tried to tell himself it was only to check on him.  But he knew better.

AN:  This was originally written as a companion piece - a "missing scene" from my fic, Pas de Deux.  It's a first time fic and I've written it to be read as a stand alone, so you don't have to read Pas de Deux first, although there may be a few references in the fic that are singular to that original story.  The time frame is between "Irresponsible" and "Sunday," but there are no spoilers.   The title comes from Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, "journeys end in lovers meeting" - because the Bard is always a good bet and I suck at titles - but something like that does happen here.

**ETA:  I think I should add in here that this is like a big PWP - there's a little Sheppard introspection and some smattering of a real plot, in that the story follows a clear line, but just so we're sure... there's nothing very deep here, except maybe a few feelings.

Many thanks to my betas:  girly_curl_3 who probably definitely deserves combat pay, and the wonderful [info]velocitygrass who was invaluable in the final reworking of this thing and if not for her encouragement, this probably would never have been posted.  ::hugs you both::

He vaguely recalled regaining consciousness in the jumper bay - just as the medical team had loaded him up for transport to the infirmary, and shit, he'd fainted in front of McKay.  He was never going to live that down.  It had been a rough, what, almost twenty-four hours?  Jesus, it seemed as if they'd left Atlantis weeks ago to look for Rodney instead of mere hours. 

He'd also managed to convince Carson to let him sleep in his own quarters.  It took all the tact and diplomacy he'd gleaned from Elizabeth over the years, plus a smattering of that Sheppard charm to do it, but he was now on his way to a transporter - heavy, half-laced boots echoing in the empty corridor.

Carson had been wary at first, but as none of John's wounds were life threatening, he'd finally relented.  Still, the cuts to his pectoral muscle and his abdomen needed time to heal.  He had not been happy when Carson told him he was to limit his activities for a few days, and that he wouldn't be returned to active duty right away. 

He had accepted his fate, however reluctantly, and all he wanted to do was to get into his own bed and sleep.  Well, maybe not all- 

When he found himself outside Rodney’s quarters instead of his own, he tried to tell himself it was only to check on him.  But he knew better.  How could he ignore the kiss, ignore the dream or anything else that had passed between them in the last several hours?  The answer was simple - he couldn't.  He'd tried, he really had and yet there he was.

When Rodney opened his door, he seemed surprised to see John.  Carson let you go?” he asked, moving aside to let John in.

“Yeah, I kinda talked him into it,” John replied.  Dressed in scrubs, the edges of a bandage peeked out from the vee in front and his left arm was in a sling.  He could have been nine years old again. 

“Looks like he should have kept you,” Rodney said.

“Nah, I’m okay.  What about you - you all right?”

“Oh, fine, fine.  I was, uh, just working on my report,” Rodney jerked his thumb over his shoulder.  “May as well get it over with," he said, nodding.

Color began to bloom on Rodney's cheeks and John noticed his eyes darting around, the way they did when Rodney felt closed in.  The sound of their breathing was almost deafening. 

"Look, about what--" 

"Rodney, I--" they both said at once, causing Rodney to avoid looking in his direction altogether.

"Rodney, I just froze," John began.

“Well, that’s perfectly understandable,” Rodney replied, “I mean it’s not every day you have to kill an arch--"

John took a step closer.  “No, I meant with you, last night.”  Had it just been last night - it felt like ages ago.

Rodney did look at him then, his mouth forming a quiet, "Oh."

"I just wanted to say-well, if you ever wanted to try again, I think I could promise a different reaction."  He shrugged.  "If you wanted to."  And dear god, now he felt nine years old.  His own voice sounded foreign to him; he'd wanted to be all cool about this, about wanting Rodney to kiss him again, hoping Rodney would want to kiss him again. 

“Really?”  Rodney asked, and this time he didn't look away.

John nodded.  Rodney reached out to touch the edge of his bandaged shoulder, then traced his fingers down to the wrist poking out of the sling.  His eyebrows rose slightly as he looked up.

 '''s just a little cut."  John tried to pass it off casually, but when Rodney continued to eye him, he added, "It's nothing, Carson said it'd be fine.  The sling's just to keep my arm stabilized."

"Does it hurt?" Rodney asked, taking a step closer.

John scrunched up his face and shrugged again.  He wasn't about to tell Rodney it hurt like hell, wasn't about to give Rodney any reason to send him to his quarters, not when Rodney was standing so close to him he wasn't. 

"Carson said I was lucky."  John shifted his feet.  "And this-"  Rodney looked stricken as John pulled up his shirt and peeled back a gauze pad to reveal a swollen, pinkish wound, interlaced with stiff black sutures, slashed across the pale skin beneath his ribs.

"Yeah, and he also said if you hadn't flown the jumper back to get us, I woulda been in pretty bad shape, so-"  He paused, focusing on something over Rodney's shoulder.  "Thanks."

"You're welcome, Colonel."

John sighed, silently lamenting Rodney's use of his rank, it had sounded so nice the day before when he'd called him John.     



"Weren't you about to do something?" John wanted to know, his voice low.

"Oh.  Well-" his brows knit together, "do you think we should, I mean-" he pointed to the sling.

"That's my arm, not my lips," John pointed out, and his heart thudded against his chest in anticipation as Rodney pulled him close.

He shuddered at the warmth of Rodney's body and the electricity in his kiss.  It wasn't like before, it wasn't hopeful or seeking permission, it was certain and probing and this, this made his head spin: the way Rodney's lips pulled at his, the way Rodney's stubble pricked against his face, the way Rodney's tongue teased his lips before taking his entire mouth again, all stirring something deep inside of John - something forgotten for a long time.

He finally had to break away to catch his breath.

"Damn, Rodney." 

"Something wrong?" Rodney asked, he sounded a little breathless himself.

"No."  John exhaled, "but don’t you think it'd be more comfortable if we-"  He cut his eyes in the direction of Rodney's bed.

"Right."  Rodney nodded and hurriedly removed his laptop from the small bed, sweeping the papers and journals unceremoniously to the floor, then turned to look over his shoulder before sitting.  John took a deep breath and sat down beside him.

Jesus, he felt like a teenager on a date.  But Rodney wasn't like any date he'd ever had, and he knew he wasn't supposed to be excited by broad shoulders, squared hips, stubble and those piercing blue eyes, but this was Rodney and he was excited, dammit, he was.   

Leaning in, he pressed forward and groaned as the soft, exploring kiss became a desperate, hungry kiss made of open mouths and swirling tongues.  He sighed at the brush of fingers as Rodney's hand swept up to tangle in his hair and felt himself burn under Rodney's touch.  Rodney's lips were so giving, so eager, and he could have kissed him all night.  When he lost his balance and fell backwards, Rodney followed him down.

John winced at the contact and Rodney drew back immediately.  "Oh my god, you're bleeding."

A small patch of red bloomed beneath his shirt.  "Must have-must have pulled a stitch," he said, and as he sat up, he shook his head as if trying to clear it.

"What is it, what's wrong?" Rodney gasped.

"Nothing, probably just that stuff Beckett gave me for pa- uh, to help me sleep."

Rodney took his face in his hands and looked into his eyes.  Warmth began to swell through John; he thought Rodney was going to kiss him again, but instead--

"You idiot," Rodney was pulling John to his feet.  "You were supposed to go straight to your quarters, weren't you?  Carson would have my head, and yours too, if he knew you were here.  Come on, let's get you back to the infirmary.  I'll just tell him I stopped by to check on you or something, he'll-"

John sat back down, pulling Rodney with him.  "You're the idiot," he retorted, not in a malicious way, but low and sweet and Rodney answered him with a questioning look.

"How long have you wanted this?"  He blinked.  Rodney was out of focus and John had to grab his arm to steady himself.

"Come on," Rodney said pulling him up, "we need to get you back to-"

"No, Rodney, just take me to my quarters, 'm all right."  John was trying his best to make the room stop spinning, only it wasn't.  Jesus, how humiliating was this?  He willed himself to stay conscious, if he went down again, Rodney would hold it over his head forever.  Rodney managed to get them both out the door and half way down the corridor before John felt his knees buckle.

"Oh for- come on Sheppard, stay with me here, we don't have much further to go.  Could you please try and not pass out before I can get you in bed?"

John snorted.  "You trying to get me in the sack, McKay?"

"Why yes, as a matter of fact that's exactly what I'm trying to- oh, thank god," Rodney addressed a Marine who had just rounded a corner, "- a little help here?"


John opened his eyes.  The mattress felt good and soft (which was unusual in itself) and so did his head.  He watched Rodney throw his legs over onto the bed, pull off his boots and tuck his feet under the covers.  Then Rodney was tugging at his shirt, and even through the drug-induced haze, John felt a shiver run through him.  He reached down and grasped the waistband of his scrub pants, trying to push them down.

"No, no, no," Rodney said slapping John's hand away, "I'm just checking these stitches-" and John just caught the edges of a smile through the feigned sternness in his voice.  "--seems okay now, anyway it's not bleeding anymore," Rodney told him.  "I think it's safe to leave you here." 

As Rodney drew the covers up over him, John clumsily tried to pull him down, "Don't I get a goodnight kiss?" he asked dreamily.  Seconds later, he felt the dry brush of Rodney's lips over his, briefly.

It was the last thing he remembered before everything went all swimmy and dark.


"Colonel, we've been through this.  I cannot release you until that cut has healed.  The slightest thing could re-open the wound," Carson said pointing at John's stomach.  "And from the look of these," he said, holding up the scrubs John had returned, "it doesn’t look like you're bein' too careful."

John's appearance in the infirmary the next day hadn't surprised Carson, nor was John surprised to find Carson just as unrelenting.  He was given a conciliatory smile, the equivalent of a pat on the head, and sent on his way.

After leaving the infirmary, John checked in with Elizabeth, helped with inventory in the armory, and stopped by the Control Room to get the latest from Chuck.  His team was out on a gate-scouting mission… without him. 

He was bored, incredibly bored, mind numbingly bored, thinking about going down to the labs to talk to Zelenka bored, so--.

There was only one thing left to do.


He propped himself up on his pillow and opened War and Peace, frowning at how many fewer pages lay to the left of the spine than the right.  Once upon a time, he'd thought there'd be plenty of time for reading, but that was before he'd been introduced to the Wraith.  He smoothed his hand across the page, fully intending to settle down and put a dent in his reading, maybe even get past page 100.

But his concentration was short-lived.  His eyes grew heavy as he kept reading the same couple of sentences over and over, finding it much more interesting to study the walls, or ponder the soft rays of the Lantean sun that fell casually across his calves, his thighs, the face of his book, and his chest.  The room's air circulator hummed, barely audible, and he closed his eyes as the cool gusts of air floating across his body mixed with the warmth from the sun.


A sense of falling and a loud noise jarred him, and he clutched the side of the bed as he struggled towards consciousness.  John opened his eyes and blinked, looking around for the source of the sound.  War and Peace lay closed on the floor.  He peered at it as if it had found its way to the floor of its own accord and disturbed his sleep on purpose.

He could have reached for it, could have gotten up to look for something else, something that might hold his interest, but he couldn’t seem to find the energy.  Instead, he fluffed his pillow and stretched out.

He thought about his team - out on a mission with Lorne.  After the speech he'd given him, he had no doubt Lorne understood his responsibility - get there, complete the mission and get back safely.  He'd also made it clear that this time, he was holding Lorne personally responsible for Rodney. 

John burrowed deeper into his pillow and let his mind wander.  It settled on Rodney.  He'd taken a very big chance in making the first move, but in light of John's own mixed signals, had he made that move because he'd wanted to, or because he thought it was what John wanted?  John knew that confusion full well, he'd been there before, unsure and uncertain but going ahead anyway.

Had John truly never seen it coming? 

He snorted.  Who was he kidding?  He had suppressed his feelings for Rodney for months, just as he'd suppressed his desires in general for years.  He'd had to.

Flying was the only thing in the world he ever wanted to do.  If that meant he had to pretend, to play a part for other people, so be it.  It was just something else he could compartmentalize, push back, until it didn't bother him anymore.   The thrill of pulling g's and the unadulterated freedom he breathed through every pore when he was in the air had always seemed a pretty good trade off he thought.

But then, there was always a way to get what you wanted, and especially if what you wanted was forbidden.  He'd had a few trysts back in basic and the first couple of years of his service, but nothing that pulled at him with such a deep level of attraction.  Not until now.  Not until Rodney.  Apparently, he hadn't pushed that desire back far enough. 

While he lay there contemplating whether or not Rodney knew what he was doing, John recalled the events on M3X-290, how Rodney's voice had been heavy with suggestion that night, the way Rodney had leaned in close to him, and the paralyzing sensation of his kiss, and his own actions - how he'd stared at Rodney's mouth as he'd wiped away the blood, wondering if his lips were as soft as they'd looked, and how badly he'd wanted to find out.

He closed his eyes and pushed the heel of his hand against his stiffening cock.  He pictured Rodney's face from the night before, flushed with arousal, lips swollen from kissing him.

John worked quickly to wriggle his pants down over his hips, just far enough to shove his hand in beneath his boxers, enough room to work the sticky pre-come over the head of his dick – and god he needed that; he needed to come.

Had Rodney jerked off after leaving him last night?  He felt a surge in his groin as his mind conjured an image of Rodney lying on his own bed, pants around his knees, those big, strong hands cupping his balls, working his cock, long strokes, twisting up over the head, and when John mimicked those movements, it suddenly became Rodney's hand stroking him, Rodney's thumb circling that spot.  Squeezing his eyes shut tighter, it was Rodney in the blackness, leaning over him, coaxing him, telling him how good he felt and how he wanted to make him come, and John dug his heels into the mattress as the sharpness and suddenness of his orgasm rocked him.  As his hips continued to jerk, he thought he could still hear the voice, coaxing, but it was only his own, groaning out Rodney's name. 


Usually, when they played chess, it was in the mess hall, so John was surprised when Rodney showed up at his quarters later that night with his chessboard.  They talked about the mission and John listened patiently as Rodney complained that Lorne had stuck to him like glue and that he didn't seem to have a very good sense of humor. 

John mentioned how bored he'd been all day, but underneath it all, he was like a kid trying to hold in a secret.  He debated with himself the benefits of telling Rodney that he'd masturbated earlier - thinking about him.

All other thoughts were lost to him as he stared at Rodney - chewing his lip as he deciding on a move, or at his hand while it flitted over the board or caressed a captured piece, and he literally squirmed in his seat when Rodney rested one of the pieces against his lips or even between his teeth while contemplating.

"It's your move," Rodney said in a mildly irritated tone.  He looked up and met John's eyes.  "You're not even paying attention."

John cast his eyes back to the board, his hand hovering over one piece then another.  He felt Rodney staring at him, and just as he spied a move Rodney obviously hadn't anticipated, his Knight to d5, Rodney tipped over his king and reached for his hand, curling his fingers into John's palm.  Heat spread through him instantly like millions of tiny dominos toppled by Rodney's touch.

Before he had time to think, he was flat on his back, the solidness of Rodney's body all around him, Rodney's tongue in his mouth, his erection pressed against John's thigh, and, god, that was so hot - Rodney hard for him.  John palmed his crotch and gave it a quick squeeze before plunging his hand down inside Rodney's pants.  His cock was thick and hard, and Rodney groaned as John thumbed the head.  Jesus, it was all happening so fast, Rodney was panting in his ear, fucking his hand, and John couldn't help himself, he tightened his grip and tugged Rodney's cock in earnest, turning his head to search that wonderfully warm mouth with his tongue. 

Seconds later John felt the warm surge between his fingers and let Rodney push into his hand until he collapsed, all of his weight against him.  


"Hmmm?" Rodney hummed.  "Oh, sorry."  He raised himself up to free John's hand and fell back down beside him, absently stroking John's stomach, inching his hand up under his shirt, and John's skin vibrated everywhere Rodney touched.

Wiping his hand on the bed covers, he reached for Rodney again and kissed him.  It started out to be a tender kiss, an afterglow kind of kiss, but he could smell sex and sweat and Rodney, and the kiss quickly skated out of control as Rodney's hands skimmed over his chest, brushing a nipple before turning downward, across his belly, lightly grazing the healing wound, and further down to rest on his aching cock.  John moaned and arched into him at the touch.

He began to undo John's pants, when--

"Rodney?  We need you in the lab right away."

Rodney pulled back and looked at him.  "It's Zelenka," he panted.

"Yeah, I heard."  John sighed.

"Maybe if I pretend I can't hear him-"


"No," John said, "it must be important."  He nodded as if to say it was okay.

Rodney groped for his earpiece.  "McKay here.  Radek, unless we are in imminent danger of… yes…  and Powell and, um, whats-his-name…  oh all right, I'll be right--"  John cocked an eyebrow and patted Rodney's sodden crotch.  He looked down and rolled his eyes.  "Just, just give me five minutes." 


John watched the wavy reflections from the water dance along the ceiling.  Rodney told him it was nothing, that he wouldn't be long, but that had been almost two hours ago.  Fluctuations in the ZPM power output were important, but he knew it could take time to trace the source.

It was late.  He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, trying to ignore the pang of uncertainty that knotted his stomach.  He wondered at the timing of the interruption and, raking his fingers through his hair, he wondered if it was the right thing to do - to continue this thing with Rodney- whatever this was.

When fifteen more minutes had ticked by in silence, he headed for the bathroom to get ready for bed.


From his general demeanor with others, John would never have figured Rodney for the cuddly type, and he damn sure didn't consider himself to be "cuddly," but once the touching had begun, it was something he found he needed, something he missed when he was alone.

Figuratively, John thought they had used each other as a refuge since the very beginning, at least he had.  He'd always gravitated towards Rodney - Rodney who was so unlike the others.  He and Rodney were just so… easy.  But this, this was altogether different, and John was well aware of the possible consequences of their becoming involved, aware of the risks for both of them.

Oddly, knowing all that hadn't diminished his desire at all, but just because it was what he wanted, didn't mean that Rodney realized the full implications, that he understood how it would have to be.

But here they were, right back where they'd started a few nights ago, in Rodney's quarters, except now they were both crowded onto the small bed, watching a movie on the laptop.  Since John's arm was still in the sling, he sat leaning into Rodney, his head not quite resting on Rodney's shoulder, but his mind wasn't on the movie.

He was thinking if Rodney had ever been with a man before.  He didn't think so, at least he'd never acted like it.  In fact, it had always seemed that Rodney pushed himself not to appear weak or incapable around John, like he was always trying to impress him.  John looked over at him.  If Rodney only knew, all he ever had to do was just be Rodney.   John realized that as much as he wanted this thing between them, and even though he might  come to regret it… he knew he had to give Rodney an out, one last chance to walk away while he could.

"Rodney," John said softly.  "We don't have to do this.  If you don’t want to, I'll understand."

"You don't want to finish the movie?" Rodney asked absently, then turned to John.

"No, Rodney.  This," indicating the two of them.  He saw the change in Rodney's face instantly.  The corners of his mouth drooped slightly, and something like hurt clouded his eyes just long enough for John to have seen it and identified it.  Rodney pulled himself up, his eyes began to dart back and forth from the bed to the door, the walls; everywhere but back into John's eyes.

"Oh.  No, no, you're right," Rodney said, "I see.  I'll just--" and he made to get up from the bed, but John grabbed him and held fast, arching a brow at him.

"Rodney, I don't want you to do this just because you think I want it.  Hell, you started this and now I'm trying to convince you."

The corner of Rodney's mouth quirked up.  "I'm not, I mean- you really want this?"  John read the look in Rodney's eyes as hopeful.

"Yes," he said softly.  "You?"

Rodney nodded and eased John back, taking his mouth in a kiss that promised John there would be no more thoughts of turning back, of not doing this.  And it was wonderful, but the kissing, the days of anticipation, the near misses and Rodney's hands roaming over his body were just-- and god, John wasn't sure how much more of this slow smolder he could stand.

"I want to touch you," John said as he broke the kiss, and there was urgency in his voice even he didn't recognize.

Rodney looked surprised, but nodded as John pushed his shirt up.  His hand trembled a little as he sifted through the fine, dark hair that grew in a triangle over Rodney's nipples to the hollow of his neck, such a contrast against his pale skin.  Rodney sighed and leaned into his touch. 

He heard Rodney's breath stutter as his fingertips brushed across a nipple.  They were small and John's touch had made them hard.  Fascinated, he fingered the left nipple, and then the right.  Rodney moaned, exhaling the breath he'd obviously been holding.

"You like that?" John asked.


"Help me up."


"Help me sit up, Rodney."

Rodney slid his hand underneath John's shoulder and lifted as he pushed himself up.  He leaned forward and licked across one of the hardened little nubs.  Rodney gasped.

When John closed his mouth over the nipple, sucking it in, Rodney moaned out loud and took the back of John's neck, guiding him from one side of his chest to the other as John alternated between nipples, first flicking them with the tip of his tongue, then sucking them, rolling them between his teeth, the sound of Rodney's heavy breathing and soft whimpers urging him on.

"You're wearing too many clothes, Rodney," John said breathlessly, trying to push Rodney's shirt over his head with one hand.  Rodney tugged it off and dropped it to the floor, then stood to unfasten his pants.  "Let me," John said, reaching for him.

He had no idea what he'd expected.  Was it possible Rodney McKay looked better out of his clothes than in them?  Clothes seemed to shrink him, but naked, Rodney looked every inch his nearly 6-foot frame.  His broad shoulders, solid torso, strong hips, all perfectly balanced over muscular legs.

John's gaze traveled up over Rodney's body to rest inside those blue eyes a moment before he buried his nose in the wiry-soft, dark brown curls, running his hands along Rodney's thighs and back to cup his ass.  God, Rodney smelled good, like spice and something earthy and his cock was just inches from John's face.  It was straight and thicker than his own with a perfectly shaped head, and he had to fight the urge to take him into his mouth right away; he didn't want to seem too eager, so he reached for it instead.

It was warm and heavy in his hand as he stroked along the length of it.  Long, slow strokes, and he smiled when Rodney's hips jerked forward, pushing into his hand.

"God, John," Rodney breathed as he grabbed John's shoulders.  The sound his name, breathless like that, sent a shiver down his spine, and that was really all it took.

Fuck it, he thought, nothing wrong with being eager.  He flicked his tongue over the head of Rodney's dick, tasting the sweet drops of fluid his touch had produced.  But tasting wasn't going to be enough – oh no, not nearly enough and Rodney's moans filled his ears as he swallowed him down in one swift motion.  He could feel Rodney's pulse against his lips as he worked mouth and hand up and down over the silky shaft.

"Jesus.  You're- you're gonna have to stop," Rodney's voice was hoarse, throaty and he grabbed John's hand and stilled it.  "Gonna, gonna make me come."

"Yeah, that's kinda what I had in mind," John said grinning up at him.

Rodney shook his head.  "Too soon."  He sat down beside John and leaned over to nuzzle him.  "I've waited this long, I can wait a little longer," he whispered, and then added, "Anyway, one of us is still overdressed."

Rodney pushed him back and tugged his tee shirt up over his chest as far as he could, mindful of the sling.  John toed off his boots and waited for whatever Rodney had in store for him.  His breath caught at the sensation of Rodney's tongue on his bare skin as goosebumps followed it from his navel up to the hollow of his chest.  John's hard-on strained against his pants, begging to be touched as Rodney's hand swept across his thigh and hip, inching up across his stomach to finger John's nipples.  Tense muscles curled his toes as Rodney's tongue raked over one nipple then the other.  Oh, god yes, so good, and he found himself arching up to meet his mouth. 

Rodney moved up to kiss him, and it was wet and dirty, with yearning, and tongues and teeth, and biting… searching… mapping...  John whimpered softly into Rodney's mouth and clawed his back as Rodney snaked his hand down inside his pants to circle his cock, and sweet Christ, he thought he might come from Rodney's touch alone. 

John tore his mouth away, "Jesus, Rodney," he gasped as he fumbled with the button on his pants and jerked the zipper down.  Rodney pulled his hand back and smiled at him.

"In a hurry?" he asked.

"Fuck.  Help me get these off, now," John said tugging at the fabric.

Rodney knelt in front of him and pulled the pants down over his feet before tossing them away casually.  He peeled off John's socks slowly, one at a time, teasing him.

John's whole body was on fire, skin burning with a desire he scarcely recognized and he was certain he might spontaneously combust if Rodney didn't hurry the hell up and touch him again.  Supporting himself on his elbow, he looked down at the erection tenting his boxers, then looked at Rodney and grinned, but Rodney didn’t grin back. 

John's eyes widened as Rodney leaned over and mouthed his hard cock through the thin cotton, inching his way from base to tip.  He lapped at the head with his tongue, wetting it before taking it into his mouth.  The wet material and the heat from Rodney's mouth felt incredible, and dear god, John didn't think he'd ever been this hard in his life.

"Rodney, please," John heard himself whimper.  "You're driving me crazy."  

John watched him as Rodney hooked his fingers underneath the waistband and drew the boxers down slowly over John's hips. 

His heart slammed a rhythm that echoed in his ears as Rodney reached for him, as he watched Rodney's hand slide up and down his cock.  His own hand that had sufficed until now, seemed hollow in comparison, and just as he was getting used to his touch, Rodney let go and John barked out his frustration. 

"Lie back," Rodney murmured as he bent his head forward to John's crotch.

Screw that.  "No, I want to watch you," John said and he hitched himself up on his elbow again, which was really starting to hurt, but he didn't care - Rodney McKay was going to give him a blowjob and, by god, he was going to watch.

That swimmy-headed feeling hit John as Rodney engulfed him, moving up and down over him, creating wave after wave of pleasure.  John drew up a fistful of blanket as he watched his cock disappear into Rodney's mouth.  Rodney gently palmed his balls, fingering the space between them, and when his finger probed further to massage the perineum, so dangerously close to his ass, John knew he couldn't last much longer.

"Fuck," he gasped, and shivered as Rodney moaned around his cock, quickening his pace, hand stroking now along with his mouth.

John collapsed back onto the bed, his one good hand scrabbling for purchase at something, anything to hold onto – because he was going to come in about two seconds.

His balls tightened.  The wet slide of Rodney's mouth pulled at him and fuck, fuck, fuck it had been so long, so damn long and he couldn't hold on any more, Rodney's mouth and hand worked together to strip him, to flay him, to lay him bare and he could do nothing but let go, his hips arching off the bed, pushing up into Rodney's mouth, squeezing his eyes shut so tight there was nothing but white space, coming and coming hard, emptying himself, Rodney's name, or pieces of it, falling from his lips over and over and over.

When John could open his eyes again, Rodney was there between his legs, stroking his thighs.  Naked desire flashed in Rodney's eyes as he moved slowly, helping John to lie back on the bed, carefully positioning his welcome weight over him. 

John slid his hand over Rodney's ass, the arc of the soft cheek fit perfectly, and Rodney groaned as he slid his hard cock back and forth against John's softening one, back and forth through the wetness of saliva mixed with the bit of come Rodney hadn't been able to swallow.  John's legs encircled Rodney's waist and pulled him down.

He felt Rodney's lips at his ear.

"Was it all right?" Rodney wanted to know, his voice tight as he rocked against him.

"Fuck yeah," John gasped, surprised by how good the slide of their bodies felt.  "I wanna do you." 

Rodney shook his head, "Can't, too close- I'll never-"

John kissed him again, their lips barely touching.  "Then come for me," John purred into his mouth as he reached down between their bodies and curled his hand around Rodney's dick, working it as Rodney thrust harder against him.

Rodney threw his head back as his hips began to stutter.  The breathless little noises and strangled cries were almost enough to get John hard again.  He watched Rodney squeeze his eyes shut tight, teeth worrying his bottom lip and then the warm gush of come escaped between his fingers to stripe his stomach, and the sound of his name was so sweet. 


Rodney returned from the bathroom with a warm cloth and, taking John's hand, he wiped it off before wiping his crotch, stomach and chest.  John regarded Rodney in amazement, nobody had ever done that before.  After wiping himself off, Rodney tossed the cloth to the floor and settled down beside him.

"So, how long did Carson say you had to wear this thing?" Rodney asked fingering the sling.

He shrugged.  "Just 'til he's sure the cut's healed, I guess."

"Well," Rodney said, snuggling closer him, "I guess we'll just have to make do until then, but it'll be a lot more fun when you can use both hands."

John closed his eyes.  He couldn't seem to get rid of the silly grin plastered across his face.  "Yeah Rodney, it sure will."


Tags: author: neevebrody, challenge: 01 - first, challenge: 09 - the other side 1, genre: first time, rating: nc-17

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