Catch You Up
Rating: NC-17 for sex, sex, more sex, and some language
Summary: Things don't always go according to plan
Notes: PWP, no spoilers, no beta, not mine
John could do this all night long. Sure, he was tired and it had been one of those days, but this totally made up for it, the easy slide in and out as Rodney's hips rocked against him. They were lying on their sides — well, okay, he was half on top — one leg sprawled across Rodney's, his balls snug against Rodney's ass as he eased in and out. It wasn't that late; there was no looming crisis, no need to hurry, and God, seriously. All night long.
"Mmmmph," Rodney sighed, and shifted closer, turning them a bit more onto their sides, which was good too. John wrapped an arm around Rodney's waist and nuzzled the back of his shoulder. That didn't count as kissing, and anyway, Rodney's shoulders always smelled good. John didn't even know why — why this patch of skin rather than any other? Maybe it was just because it was there. He nuzzled it again, timing it with another slow thrust, and Rodney grunted and shifted his hips again.
It was easy to follow that motion, to press a little deeper as Rodney pushed back onto him, to rock together, little motions, in perfect synchrony. It was the best thing ever, not that he'd actually tell Rodney that, but it was okay to think it, lying here with his face against Rodney's back. It was okay to roll his hips up a little and smile against Rodney's shoulder as Rodney rolled his own hips to match.
John had never had a fuckbuddy like Rodney. Well, he really hadn't had that many fuckbuddies — things with guys had always been quick and furtive, and things with women always seemed to get serious as soon as he kissed them. But he'd never kissed Rodney, so maybe that was the secret. Or maybe not. All he knew was that Rodney seemed to enjoy it, too, and really, it was incredibly convenient. He didn't even have to go looking for Rodney, because Rodney was almost always the one who came to him.
"This was a good idea," John said to Rodney's shoulder. He slid out a little further than he had been and pressed right back in, reveling in the deep, slow heat of it.
"Mmmm," Rodney said. "Well, of course it was. Genius here, remember?"
John tightened his arm around Rodney's waist and eased himself deeper still. He wasn't going to mention the one spectacularly bad idea Rodney had had in bed, or how it turned out. Not when they were moving so perfectly together. Not when it felt so damn good. "I could do this all night."
"Really?" Rodney's hips stilled for a moment, then moved again to meet John's thrust. "All night long?"
"I could last hours," John said, because, God, he totally could. Right now he didn't even care if he ever came. He just wanted this sweet, sweet slide to go on forever.
"Good," Rodney said, and shifted his hips again so that John had to roll back on top of him to keep fucking. It wasn't exactly a hardship, and now he had gravity on his side every time he pushed in. So maybe that was what made Rodney whimper against the pillow, or maybe Rodney was just really close. John pushed in again, and Rodney's ass hitched up.
"Better?" John asked.
"It's good, it's, oh God, seriously, all good here."
"Nggh," John said intelligently, because Rodney was moving now, squeezing him, and that was just . . . that was, God. "Rodney," John said. "Rodney, you can't . . . you gotta . . . oh fuck." And he was coming, bucking into Rodney hard and holding on tight as the treacherous waves of pleasure washed through him.
"What the . . . ?" Rodney twisted under him, unceremoniously dumping him off. John scrabbled for a hold and managed not to fall off the bed. "You said you could last all night!"
John lay there panting, staring down at his traitorous, slowly shrinking cock. The reservoir tip of the condom was amazingly full. "You squeezed me. How the hell did you expect me to last when you were squeezing me?"
Rodney was staring at John's cock, too. "You said hours."
John let his head fall back against the pillow. He felt boneless, and yeah, sure, he owed Rodney here, but the idea of getting up enough energy to give a blowjob was pretty much laughable right now. "You could do me," he heard himself say.
"What?" Rodney was staring at his face now, which was, okay, not really an improvement. John wriggled and managed to find the strength to roll over. "Oh, like that worked out so well the last time."
"McKay," John said, reckless with lassitude, "just do it. It's not like I'm ever going to be more relaxed."
"Right, okay, you do have a point there." Rodney shifted on the bed, and then a hand wormed its way under John's hip, pulling him up. He felt a second hand under him, Jesus, tugging the condom off, and then a tissue wiping him clean. Okay, yeah, he'd kind of forgotten about that.
John slumped back down onto the bed and closed his eyes, letting himself drift. Rodney was doing . . . whatever Rodney was doing, which now appeared to involve an exploratory hand on John's ass, teasing his way into the cleft. John buried his face in his arms and spread his thighs to give Rodney room to work. It wasn't a big deal. It was something guys did all the time. And hell, Rodney seemed to like it. How bad could it be? Well, okay, it could be bad. It had been awful last time, the first time, the only time they'd tried this. The time John had ended up sore for days and Rodney had had to lie to Carson about where he'd gotten the black eye.
Rodney's fingers pushed inside him, careful and slippery, and it wasn't that hard to sort of shift a little and let out what he hoped sounded like a happy little moan. It felt just as weird as the last time, only this time he wasn't really recovered from his post-orgasmic haze, so he just couldn't be bothered to freak out. And he really did owe Rodney.
"You okay?" Rodney asked, which meant maybe the moan hadn't been happy enough. "You really want this?"
"I'm fine," John said. "Just do it."
"Right, right, doing it." John heard the sound of tearing foil and the snap and pop of unrolling latex, and then, crap, the blunt head of Rodney's cock was right there, pushing inside him. John gritted his teeth and pushed back with a grunt, but Rodney was going slow. Rodney was going way too slow, and if he didn't want another black eye, he really ought to get this over with.
"Just hold on a second. Seriously, hold it right . . . Christ," Rodney muttered. John pushed back harder, ignoring the stretch and burn, and was rewarded with the cool pressure of Rodney's balls against his ass. "Oh, God," Rodney whimpered.
John took a long breath. This wasn't ever going to be something he enjoyed, but Rodney obviously did, and right now that was enough. He flexed his ass muscles experimentally, and Rodney groaned.
"Oh wow, oh wow, you are so . . . can I move? Because I really, really need to move."
"Yeah," John said, and it came out weirdly breathless. "Go for it."
Rodney pulled out and sank back into him with a sigh of pleasure. God, Rodney was even noisier when he was the one doing the fucking. At least the burn was starting to fade. John tried to remember what Rodney had done that had made it so perfect. Moved with him, yeah, that was it. And made all those maddening, amazing little sounds.
John rolled his hips a bit as Rodney pulled out, then lifted to meet him as he pushed back in. He could do this. Really, it was fine. It was . . . oh, fuck. A bolt of something — pain or pleasure, he wasn't sure which — shot through him. Crap, that had to be . . . but he'd just come, and he wasn't going to . . . shit, that was too much. Way too much. Hell, that was what had made him clock Rodney in the head, the last time.
John grunted and lifted his hips, trying to change the angle, but Rodney just hit it harder on the next stroke and John let out a little whimper. It felt like there was a wire running straight from his ass to his spent cock, and every time Rodney stroked in, it sent a current jangling through him. It was too much and too weird and he didn't even know if felt awful or good, he just knew that he couldn't do this.
Even for Rodney.
John braced his arms against the mattress. It would be easy enough to shove Rodney off, and he might even manage to do it without giving Rodney a shiner. But . . . oh, God. Rodney was letting out soft little moans with every thrust now, and that was . . . Jesus. Rodney needed this. Rodney really needed this. John fisted his hands in the pillow and held on.
The electric sensation was almost continuous now, bolt after bolt of it taking him apart. John moaned and rocked his hips, and then he was rubbing against the mattress as spike after spike of pleasure — God, yes, definitely pleasure, now — shot through him.
Fuck. He was hard. Impossible as it was, he was leaking on the sheets, and if Rodney kept this up even a few more minutes . . .
"John," Rodney groaned, and thrust in hard, his breath hot on John's shoulder, his cock pulsing deep inside. John whimpered and squeezed, and he could feel Rodney's heartbeat pounding through them both, Rodney's lips and teeth sucking at the back of his neck.
"Oh my God," Rodney said. "That was just . . . I mean, I never thought you could, you would . . ."
"Rodney," John grumbled, and Rodney pulled out and rolled off. John twitched, dragging his aching cock against the sheets, but he felt empty now, bereft.
Rodney's hand closed warm on his shoulder. "Are you okay? Did I . . . oh, God, I hurt you, didn't I?"
Rodney's hand was tugging on his shoulder, pushing him up onto his side, and John didn't want to go, but he didn't want to fight it, either. He rolled over, gasping a little as cool air hit his overheated cock.
"Oh," Rodney said stupidly. "Oh, wow. But you . . . you just . . . I thought you were faking it."
"I was." John closed his eyes, willing his face not to heat up. "I just . . ."
"Wasn't so bad after all, huh?" That was insufferably smug, but John couldn't find the energy to put Rodney in his place. He just bit his lip, his hips twitching involuntarily. "Oh," Rodney said, "right." And then Rodney leaned down and his mouth closed, wet and tight, around John's cock.
"Rodney," John managed, "you don't have to. I already . . . and you hate the taste of latex."
"Mrfff," Rodney said, and sucked hard, and that was good, so good, but John needed . . . yes, that. Fingers in his ass, two or three of them, working in and out and hitting the perfect spot, the one that turned John's whole body into a single live wire.
"Oh God, oh God." He'd never . . . but Rodney . . . and then Rodney gave him one good long suck and curled those fingers inside him and that was it, John was coming, coming so hard he jerked up off the bed, so hard there was nothing in the world but Rodney, inside him and around him and everywhere, a universe of Rodney, full of stars and comets and swirling galaxies of light.
"Hey, watch it. You're going to give me another black eye."
"McKay," John said, "get the hell up here." And he didn't even know what he wanted until he was doing it, burying his face in Rodney's neck and nuzzling, licking, nipping. But even that wasn't enough. He tasted the skin of Rodney's jaw, right by his ear, then Rodney's cheek, then, God, lips — yes, that was it, that was what he needed, Rodney's mouth against his, bitter and salty and perfect.
For the longest time there was nothing but lips and teeth and tongues. John wasn't thinking, wasn't going to think, because damn it, he needed this, and anyway, Rodney didn't seem to be complaining.
When Rodney finally pulled back, his lips were shiny and swollen. "I can't believe you faked it for me."
John was pretty sure he'd never seen that expression on Rodney's face, halfway between dazed and astonished. "I can't believe you blew me when I tasted like a Trojan."
"It was worth it," Rodney said fervently. "Totally, completely worth it."
"Yeah," John said, and it was shockingly easy to say. "Yeah, it was." He lifted his head and kissed Rodney again, like it was something they did, like it was something they'd always done. "Stay?" he heard himself ask.
For a moment he thought Rodney was going to say no and he felt something strange squeeze tight inside his chest, but then Rodney just snuggled closer and muttered, "God, yes."
And later, when their feet were tangled at the foot of the bed and John's forehead was pressed to the sweet spot on the back of Rodney's shoulder — not just convenient, never just convenient — all he could think was, yeah.
He could do this all night long.