Jump Over The Candlestick, by Moonloon (McKay/Sheppard)

[maryavatar.livejournal.com]

I finished this with three minutes to spare. I think I gave myself carpal tunnel syndrome trying to type at 90wpm though. Ow. Beta by rivier.

Jump Over The Candlestick

John knows they don't have time for this, but he's going to do it anyway. They have to be in a debriefing in less than half an hour, but some things are more important than good timekeeping.

Things like kissing Rodney.

Annoying, frustrating, fascinating Rodney. Lucky to be alive Rodney. Apple granola-bar flavoured Rodney. Warm, sensual, horny Rodney.

"Take your clothes off," John says, not taking his lips off Rodney's. "Take them off now." Rodney pulls back a little and opens his mouth, as if to argue. "Shut up, Rodney. Don't talk, don't think, just..." John lunges forward and kisses Rodney again, then slides his hands up under his shirt. "Please."

John doesn't know if it was the kiss or the 'please' that worked, but something did, because Rodney slips out of his arms and peels out of his clothes much faster and with more grace than John was expecting. He feels oddly clumsy in comparison, as he swears at his bootlaces, and tries not to trip over his pants on the way to the bed.

Rodney has an amazing cock, John thinks, wrapping his hand around it. Not that he has all that much experience of handling cocks that aren't his own. A few men here and there. Anonymous sex in the back of dark bars where no one knows he's military, and no one cares about anything other than getting off. John decided a long time ago that was the only safe way to play with the boys.

This thing with Rodney isn't safe. Or anonymous. And John is fairly sure there's more to it than just getting off. Rodney doesn't kiss like it's just foreplay, he kisses like he wants to crawl inside and stay there.

"Suck... I want to suck you," Rodney murmurs, and John almost comes just from the words. It doesn't surprise him: Rodney does seem to be orally fixated. Watching him eat has almost become porn in John's head.

Sixty-nine, sixty-nine, such a great number. It works surprisingly well, despite them never having done this before. It's not perfect: there's the inevitable gag reflex when Rodney's hips get creative, and there's a moment when John can feel just a little too much of Rodney's teeth, but he's got a good angle, and Rodney's sucking him hard enough to turn his spine to butter.

John doesn't want to come first, but Rodney apparently knows a few tricks John hasn't come across before. He'd be yelling in surprise if Rodney's cock wasn't sliding down his throat. Instead he just groans long and loud, and that sets Rodney off too.

There's no time for afterglow. They've got five minutes to get cleaned up, dressed, and to Weir's office. Which means they're going to be late, because there's no way he's going to report on their latest near-death experience with the taste of Rodney's come in his mouth. John wishes they could lie here and kiss until all they could taste was spit and sweat, but maybe it's a good thing that they have to get up and get dressed. It already feels too dangerous. John knows it's a bad idea to be nailing an ass you're supposed to be covering. That's why there are fraternisation rules.

But when Rodney hauls himself off the bed and heads for the bathroom, all John wants to do is to tell him to stay.

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