Rodney stared down at the pad on his lap, fingers swiping busily left and up and down, peering at schematics on one screen then flicking over to power consumption tables on another.
“No work in bed,” John said, walking out of the bathroom and towelling roughly at his hair. Rodney muttered briefly under his breath but it was purely for form’s sake; he had been the one to instigate the rule after one too many times of listening to John cluck his tongue and hum under his breath as he’d sat propped up against the pillows, looking at rosters, memos and requisition orders.
“Fine,” Rodney sighed, switching off the pad and placing it on the bedside table. He looked up to see John standing naked at his desk, wet towel thrown messily over the back of a chair, doing a last-minute scroll of his emails. The smile that broke over Rodney’s face was gleeful and slightly predatory. Damn, but he so did like the view.
With the curtains closed and the muted light of the lamps shining, John’s body was a portrait of shadow and lines. The muscles of his calves stood out in prominent relief; the lean bulk of his thighs twitched as he lent forward to scroll, the smooth convex curve of his ass dipping into the small of his back as it travelled up his spine. His shoulders and his beautiful arms; fingers tapping on the keyboard as he sent out one last email.
Rodney licked his lips as he stared at the soft shadowed weight of John’s quiescent cock and full balls between the valley of his thighs. Clean, warm, hairy John. Rodney pulled off his t-shirt and boxers, threw them to the floor, turned off his lamp and lay down. “Anything important?” he asked, hoping whatever it was that was keeping John from his grabby hands would be quick.
“Nah, just need to approve a couple of days of time-off for a squad. They want to go to the mainland and do some hiking,” John said as he shut the laptop lid, straightened and yawned, stretched and ambled over to his side of the bed. He popped the lid off a water bottle, drank a few healthy swallows then recapped it. “You still need the light?”
“No,” Rodney said, watching as John turned off his lamp, slipped under the covers and sighed as he stretched out. In the semi-shadows of the room, Rodney could make out John’s profile, his eyelashes fluttering as his eyes fell shut, the point of his nose, his mouth already starting to soften and relax.
John sat up abruptly.
“What? What is it?” Rodney asked, bolting upright too.
John grimaced, rubbed his sternum and let out a loud burp.
“Oh my god,” Rodney huffed as he laid back down. “I thought there was something wrong.”
“Couldn’t get it out lying on my back,” John smirked, head tilting to the side to catch Rodney’s eye.
“And you’re fastidious.”
“Fastidious, really? That sounds like another way of saying fussy.”
“If the fussy fits…” John drawled, laying back down and pulling the covers up to his chest.
“Fussy makes me sound like Felix Unger,” Rodney complained, nose twitching. “A fussy man makes sure his shoes match his belt or complains if he doesn’t get to eat his soup with his special soup spoon or likes everything to be neat and clean and tidy, and hey, that sort of sounds like a gay stereotype, right? Fastidious, fussy, pedantic, precise…these are all sneaky synonyms for gay. You think that’s what I am and that makes me gay!”
“I think the fact that you have your hand on my dick makes you gay, Rodney,” John said.
“Oh,” Rodney replied, beaming cheekily as he cupped the package between John’s legs and gave it a little jiggle. “I was wondering when you’d notice that.”
A grin broke over John’s face but that didn’t stop Rodney from leaning over, licking right over his smile, pressing a wet kiss to one side of his mouth then the other. John’s hand rubbed the back of Rodney’s head, pulling him down further as he stroked his tongue into Rodney’s gasping mouth, making a pleased hum as his hips rocked slowly up and down, pressing himself into Rodney’s large hand.
“Such a nice dick,” Rodney sighed between wet kisses.
“I like that you like it,” John murmured, pulling away only to come right back again, sucking lightly up Rodney’s neck.
“I do, I so do,” Rodney said, biting his lip and thrusting his hard-on into John’s side. “Of course, mine is a perennial favourite, what with having been with it for so long. But yours is - ahh.”
“Mine is?” John breathed directly into Rodney’s ear. Rodney shuddered and captured John’s mouth again, kissing him as deeply and as wetly as he could.
“Yours is amazing and beautiful and hot and feels really, really good,” Rodney whimpered as John rolled onto his side and pulled their bodies together from top to bottom.
“You think it feels good?” John asked and how was Rodney supposed to think now that John had put his hand on Rodney, had put his palm right over Rodney’s dick, had slid his fingers under Rodney’s balls? “How do you want it to make you feel good tonight?”
Rodney groaned and bucked forward. John’s other hand slid down his arm, ghosted over the curve of his bicep, stroked firmly along his waist then tucked behind Rodney’s thigh, nudging it up and forward, resting Rodney’s knee on his hip, leaving Rodney open and exposed to the slightest touch, the barest tease of John’s fingers over his ass and down his crack.
This was good, this was good, this was so good - the rough scratch of John’s chest hair across his nipples, the smell of their sweat rising in the air as the covers were kicked down to the bottom of the bed, the taste of mint and water and John as he groaned into Rodney’s mouth, hips moving forcefully and steadily, pushing his dick into Rodney’s firm grip.
Rodney shivered as John clutched one of his ass cheeks, squeezing and kneading it, pulling him more open, more exposed to the slight chill of the room. “I can’t decide,” Rodney moaned. “I want your cock in my hand and in my mouth and in my ass.”
John swirled his tongue into Rodney’s mouth, nipped at his bottom lip, dove back in again to suck Rodney’s tongue. “You’ve got the first way covered,” he said wetly.
And Rodney did so he took full advantage. He rippled his fingers up John’s cock and rubbed his thumb across the head, tightened his grip and stroked firmly while John swore and twisted and pushed into it.
“That’s it, Rodney. Yeah. Fuck.”
The wet sounds of sex filled the room; the hot gasps, the slick slide of skin as pre-come trickled down both their cocks, the sounds their mouths made as their kissing became more desperate.
Rodney had forgotten about John’s hand being on his ass until it wasn’t there anymore. With a quick movement John pulled away from the kiss, stuck two fingers into his own mouth and slurped around them. His eyes were bright as he stared at Rodney, cheeks hollowing as he sucked, bobbing on them a little to get them wet all the way down.
Rodney stared, transfixed, biting his lip as he thought about how good John’s mouth always felt on his dick, how he went down on him with such pleasure - pleasure in the act itself and pleasure in watching Rodney’s pleasure. John pulled the fingers from his mouth with a pop and slide them down Rodney’s lower back all the way to his balls. He pulled them back up again, circling Rodney’s hole wetly, teasing the rim and pressing lightly.
“You like that too?” John said, his voice deep, as Rodney began to pant with anticipation. “Yeah, you like it when I touch you there, don’t you.”
Rodney pushed his ass back and his head forward, capturing John’s mouth with a fierce kiss. John let him for the briefest amount of time then pulled back, gentled him, nudged across Rodney’s cheek with his nose and bit along Rodney’s jaw.
“Shhh,” he said, sweetly. The tip of his tongue circled Rodney’s mouth, dipping in slowly, mimicking the movement of his fingers at Rodney’s hole.
“Oh my god,” Rodney said, sensation bouncing from mouth to ass and back again, the feel of John’s tongue licking and flicking over Rodney’s softly unfurled mouth, the feel of John’s fingertips circling the rim of Rodney’s hole, the synchronicity of tandem motion that made it feel like John was licking right over his hole, right over it, rimming him with dedicated attention, kissing him sweetly and deeply, licking into his body and making him open and ready.
“Fuck me,” Rodney whined, crazy for it. “Put your dick in me.”
“I will,” John groaned, rubbing hard against Rodney’s hole. “I’m gonna fuck you, McKay. Gonna fuck that sweet ass of yours.”
John twisted away and ripped open the bedside table drawer, rummaging around until he triumphantly pulled out a tube of lube. He twisted again, tugging at Rodney’s shoulders. “Ride me. Get on my cock.”
Rodney scrambled to his knees, pushed at John’s chest until he was flat on the bed and went to throw a leg over.
“Wait, wait,” John exclaimed, hand shaking as he stroked down Rodney’s side.
“What? For the love of god, what? Your dick, my ass - it’s a match made in heaven. Shut up and let me fuck you.”
“Two ways,” John said, panting. He licked his lips and wrapped a hand around his own cock, lifting it straight up and giving it a few tight strokes near the head. “Get me wet.”
Rodney dove forward with the precision of an adder and sucked John’s cock down before John had even had the chance to move his hand so Rodney grabbed it and flung it out of the way. It didn’t need to be there - it was in the way of Rodney getting to that gorgeous, gorgeous cock. He swallowed and sucked, moaning at the feel of John in his mouth, the sharp taste of pre-come coating his tongue as saliva leaked from the side of his mouth and dripped down onto John’s balls.
He began to keen - he couldn’t get enough of it in him, couldn’t shove the whole hard length of it down his throat. John was whining too, squirming on the sheets, fingers clutching into Rodney’s flank as he lay there and took it.
“Holy fuck, Rodney,” John yelled as Rodney gave a particularly long suck at the end of a relentless twist. He dimly heard the snap of a tube opening then felt John’s cool long fingers slid wetly into him, slide straight into his greedy hole and up inside him as smoothly as a hot knife through butter.
“Such a fine ass,” John slurred, his free hand coming down gently on the back of Rodney’s head, carding through the hair on the back of Rodney’s neck. “You’ve got such a great ass, Rodney. I’m going to eat it next time. Gonna eat out your fine ass.”
Rodney keened again, sucking harder, sloppily, pushing back while John wildly fucked his ass with his clever, clever fingers. He let it go on for a few more strokes then pulled away, gasping over John’s hot cock.
“That’s it, I can’t take it anymore,” Rodney babbled. “That’s enough, I’m fine, fuck me already.”
“Okay, okay,” John said, swallowing roughly. “I’m good - just let me - “ He squeezed a dollop of lube into the palm of his hand, gave his dick one good long stroke from balls to tip, wiped the excess off on the bedsheet then gripped Rodney by the hip and pulled him around.
Rodney lurched to his knees, shuffled forward and threw a leg over John’s thigh, landing solidly on top of the thick muscles. He raised up and titled his hips. “Come on, come on,” he said, trying to angle himself down onto John’s cock.
John had his dick in his hand and slid the head of it up Rodney’s crack until it caught and pressed against his hole.
“That’s it, that’s it, there we go,” John said, bottom lip becoming trapped by his teeth, nostrils flaring as Rodney pushed back until the head popped inside, lowering himself down in fits and starts until he was sitting in the cup of John’s pelvis, moaning at the feel of the hot length of John’s cock nestled inside him, twitching minutely as John’s hips pushed up sharply.
He seated himself more comfortably and rolled his hips forward, just so he could feel the press and pull against his insides. “That’s good, that’s so good.”
John had his head tilted all the way back and his eyes closed. His hands squeezed Rodney’s hips. “Three ways,” he said, satisfied.
“Yeah,” Rodney said, starting to move now, lifting and lowering, feeling his thigh muscles warm up with the sweet back and forth.
“Yeah,” John said drunkenly. “Yeah, Rodney, that’s it - fuck me. Fuck me with that sweet ass of yours.”
Rodney knew the best way to get the leverage he wanted in this position and, if it happened to drive John crazy with lust at the same time, that was a happy coincidence. He pushed back and down, trapping John’s hips under the weight of his body then surged forward, forearms resting on either side of John’s head as he attacked his mouth, kissing him sloppily, twining his fingers into John’s hair, angling his head so he could kiss him deeply, relentlessly rocking back and forth so his cock rubbed against John’s hairy abs. The push in and out was glorious, the hard length of John’s cock rubbing directly over his prostate sending shivers down his spine and sparks flying behind his closed eyelids. He could feel himself start to tighten up; he wasn’t going to come yet but he was getting close.
John ripped his head to the side and gasped, running urgent hands up and down Rodney’s back, along the sparse hairs on Rodney’s thighs, around to caress the rounded curves of Rodney’s ass. “Please, baby,” John said, eager, desperate. “Let me fuck you. You feel so good. Please.”
And if John was starting to lose it then Rodney was not far behind. He didn’t know why John talking like that did things to him but it did. John - who interchangeably called him McKay or Rodney in meetings, who called him ‘asshole’ or ‘dickwad’ when they were racing cars or playing computer golf, who called him ‘Doctor’ with that supercilious eyebrow lift when he was trying to get Rodney’s blood up - called him ‘baby’ in the bedroom, called him that without pretence or guile, said it and meant it.
John, who still grimaced whenever anything remotely like a strong feeling being displayed by another person happened to pass by, called Rodney his baby and meant it wholeheartedly, meant it deep in his gut and from the bottom of his heart. And it was absolutely crazy, positively nuts, insane even, because Rodney McKay was a grown man and he wasn’t anybody’s baby and if he was, it shouldn’t feel so good but goddamn it, it did feel good and he was, he was John’s baby and fuck it all to hell, he liked it, he wanted it, he wanted to be his -
“Baby, please,” John said, cradling the back of Rodney’s head and pulling him down, pressing kisses against the side of his face.
“You are fucking me,” Rodney said, forehead falling forward to rest against John’s temple. He licked the sweat along John’s sideburn. “You’re fucking me so good.”
“C’mon, Rodney, please. Move, baby. Move that ass of yours. Fuck me with your ass.”
“Yeah,” Rodney said, breathless. “Yeah, I can do that.”
He pushed off and back, rose up on his knees then slid back down. He did it again, and again, grunting with the effort of getting John’s dick right up inside him. John’s hands tightened on the wings of his hips, guiding him up and down, hips still as Rodney rode him solidly.
John’s eyes flashed in the near darkness, his mouth twisting with a feral grin. He was gone, panting huge puffs of air as his hands slid back to squeeze Rodney’s ass tightly. “That’s it, move that ass. Fuck me with that fat ass of yours. Yeah, fuck me, baby. I wanna come in your ass, Rodney. Let me come inside you, baby. Let me in that fat ass.”
And if John calling him ‘baby’ made Rodney crazy, John calling Rodney’s ass fat blew the top of his fucking head off. Holy shit, there was something so very, very wrong about it - his ass wasn’t fat, it was shapely and round and firm. And Rodney could very clearly hear the difference between ‘fat’ and ‘phat’ and he’s watched enough MTV back in the day to know that the latter could be taken as a compliment, but there was no way in hell John meant it like that.
John wasn’t trying to be ’80’s retro cool nor was he trying to insult Rodney’s body. He said fat ass and he meant fat ass. He meant it like a glass of warm buttered brandy, like the crispy skin on a piece of home cooked chicken, like the harsh inhale of an expensive cigar and the deep muscle burn after a good long run. Like the recoil of a shotgun right into the sweet spot of your shoulder and the long slow suck of a thick cock. He meant it like Rodney’s fat ass was the plumpest, sweetest, hottest, most welcoming place in the universe and he wanted to be in it, to revel in it, to crawl up inside it and never ever leave.
“Yeah,” Rodney whined, eyes rolling into the back of his head. He paused on the upstroke and wrapped his hands around John’s wrists. “Fuck my fat ass.”
John growled and pulled his legs back, gaining leverage. His feet flattened on the bed and he thrust up, pounding into Rodney’s ass; hard, deep, relentless fucking, fast and wild, moving his hands so one grabbed onto Rodney’s shoulder and held him in place while the other wrapped around Rodney’s leaking cock.
“Oh,” Rodney moaned, locked in place, eyes screwed tight, feeling his balls bounce with the ferocity of John’s fucking, feeling his ass starting to clench around John’s cock. ‘Yeah. Yeah. Please. Yes."
“I’m close,” John said, hips rolling, snapping, hitting Rodney’s sweet spot every single time. “Please. Please, baby. Wait. I’m nearly - “
“Yes. Fuck. Oh, fuck, please, fuck me - “
“Yeah, that’s it. That’s it. Rodney. Fuck. Fuck. Rodney - “
A strangled noise broke out of Rodney’s throat - “John!” - and that was it, lights out. Rodney came and came and came, could feel hot spurts of it flying out of his cock and landing on John’s stomach and chest, could hear John’s gasps as he too climaxed, a last final “Fuck!” exclaimed as he shot deep up inside Rodney’s ass.
Rodney shivered and moaned and lost the plot for a little while. When he came to, he was crashed out on his front, half on the mattress, nose pressed tightly into John’s sweaty armpit, the feeling of John’s come dripping out of his ass and down his inner thigh. He sort of garbled something and John gave an equally unintelligible response back.
The next time he shivered was because he was starting to feel cold. John’s fingers stroked gently across his shoulder blades and he gave John’s armpit a kiss. He sighed and pushed off, collapsing to the side and sharing John’s pillow. John shifted and they moved into each other’s arms.
Rodney relaxed with his eyes closed while John laid a series of kisses across his cheeks and down his nose. His hand lifted and stroked Rodney’s hair back from his forehead. That was another weird John thing that Rodney couldn’t understand but loved dearly. John touched every part of Rodney, even the parts that Rodney didn’t particularly like or find interesting. There was no difference in the way John caressed Rodney’s ass or throat or arms, his thighs or stomach or receding hairline. Every part of Rodney’s body had felt John’s touch and had been soothed by it. Which was a Rodney thing, he guessed. He wanted John to have every part of him.
“C’mon,” John grunted. “Get under the covers.”
“Comfortable. Messy. Sleepy.”
“Yeah, me too. And if anybody’s messy, it’s me,” John said, running fingers through Rodney’s come that had painted his body. “Get me the towel, will you?”
Rodney lifted his head and grinned, giving John a deep, artless kiss. “Fastidious, aren’t we?”
“Nah,” John said, smiling back, running his thumb along Rodney’s cheekbone and pressing a quick, affectionate kiss to his lips. “Just fussy.”