Get You Back
by lamardeuse
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written in honour of thegrrrl's birthday. Spoilers for “Trio”. A little over 1700 words.
John was a little too occupied with crunching the last bit of his sucker, so he didn't react quickly enough when the hand reached out of the supply closet, latched onto his vest and dragged him inside.
Or maybe it was just that he knew who it was.
“Christ,” Rodney breathed. The door had barely slid shut behind them when he hauled John close, then shoved him back against the shelves, as if he couldn't make up his mind what he wanted to do with him. “You are – I can't even – ”
John smiled as he chewed. “Something on your mind, Rodney?”
“You – bastard,” Rodney snarled, though the fact that he licked a broad stripe up John's neck in the next second kind of diluted the insult, “I can't believe you did that.”
“Did what?”
“You know what!” Rodney exploded. “With the – the licking and the sucking – it was pornographic! Did you realize that you gave me a hard-on in the middle of a meeting? In front of Carter, of all people.”
John grinned, knowing Rodney couldn't see. That was pretty much why he'd done it.
Rodney raised his head from John's neck and glared at him. “That's why you did it, isn't it? My God, it's the fruit basket all over again. You're as jealous as a fifteen-year-old girl with her first boyfriend. What the hell is the matter with you?”
John ducked his head and shrugged. Jesus, apparently he was a fifteen-year-old girl.
Rodney sighed. “How anyone as beautiful as you could have an insecurity complex is beyond me.”
“M'not insecure,” John complained. “Just wanted to – mess you up a little.” So okay, that was close enough to the truth.
“Yes, well, congratulations, you succeeded in that noble goal,” Rodney snapped.
“Yeah?” John hooked his arms around Rodney's neck and closed the distance between them. Rodney's body was always warm, like a furnace, but right now it felt like it could melt steel.
Rodney was still trying to look put out, but it was getting tougher for him to keep it up. His hands touched down on John's hips, flew away again, then alighted again and held on. “Yes. I've been messed up for some time now, thanks to you. Happy?”
John felt something inside him twist, but it was a good kind of twisting, the kind that left you in a different shape than you were before. “Yeah, actually,” he admitted, smiling because he couldn't seem to stop. “I am.” Leaning in slowly, he brushed his lips against Rodney's until Rodney made a small noise deep in his throat and opened to him. After that it was a mess all over the place, as they attacked Velcro and buckles and zippers, still kissing as much as they could.
This time, Rodney was the one with his back to the shelves as John went down on his knees, opening Rodney's pants just enough to get at his cock. Rodney sighed and stroked John's hair and breathed, “Oh God, John, yes, please, it's all I've been able to think about,” and John moaned and scraped his teeth against the head of Rodney's dick right before he swallowed him down.
Rodney groaned and his knees shook, but he stayed upright while John sucked and licked hungrily. Being with Rodney made him greedy, like a little kid in a candy store where everything was free for the asking. He felt like he'd spent his whole life either not getting enough or not giving enough or both. Now John had someone who demanded everything and gave him more than he'd ever thought to ask for, and it was overwhelming and scary and shockingly good. Rodney was a feast after a lifetime of slow, measured starvation, and John was really starting to enjoy being a glutton.
Rodney made the grunting noise John had come to think of as his ten-second warning, but this time he chose not to pull back, and when Rodney clutched at the shelves behind him, fingernails scrabbling against the metal, John concentrated on taking everything that Rodney had in him to give.
“Oh, God,” Rodney panted, sinking to the floor as soon as John released him, “that was – you're – ” and John kissed him into silence, because he needed a few seconds to stop feeling fifteen, to stop feeling raw and vulnerable, like every small thing mattered more than life itself and every big thing would never happen this way again. Maybe it was just that Rodney had the power to bring out the hidden drama queen in him, but whatever the reason, everything felt way too close to the surface right at the moment.
“John,” Rodney murmured, when John finally let him talk, “oh, crap, what time is it?”
That wasn't exactly what John had been expecting to hear, but he pulled back enough to let Rodney check his watch. “Dammit, I'm late. I was supposed to be at the gate five minutes ago.” He grabbed John's face and kissed him once, twice, three times, hard and fast. “Look, okay, no, I can make it quick – give me two minutes – ”
“No,” John said, stilling Rodney's hands as they reached for the button on his pants, “we can pick up where we left off when you come back. I want to – take it slow.”
Rodney's eyes sparked at that, and he grinned wickedly. “You're damned lucky I'm too old to get it up again so quickly, because then I'd be greeting Sam Carter with hard-on number two of the day, and you'd really be in trouble.” He kissed John one last time, promised, “Later,” in a voice that made John shiver, then palmed the door control.
When John got the call, it was a full half hour before Carter, Rodney and Keller were even due to check in. He hadn't had the chance to lose himself in the routine of assembling a team and mounting a rescue, and so when the three of them hobbled through the gate bruised and battered, John sucked in a breath and felt his lungs actually shudder with the effort to take in enough air. His heart slammed itself against his ribcage and his gut had been scooped out and replaced with molten lead and God, how could you fall apart while you were still standing on your own two goddamned feet?
He followed them to the infirmary, a few paces behind Rodney, who was a couple of steps behind Keller and the gurney now carrying Carter.
“Rodney,” John said, when Rodney didn't turn around, “Rodney!”
Rodney stopped in his tracks, then turned. His eyes looked like two pissholes in dirty snow, and his hands were cupped protectively in front of him, palms facing inward. “Yes?” he demanded, chin lifting.
John stopped a few feet in front of him, halted by that gaze as surely as by a force field. “Report,” he said.
“We fell in a hole,” Rodney said tartly, “and then the hole fell into a bigger hole.”
“Injuries?”
Rodney's fingers twitched. “Minor to everyone but Carter.”
John took another step forward, and before he could stop himself he reached out and snatched Rodney's hand. Rodney hissed in pain, and John let him go abruptly; his fingertips came away bright with Rodney's blood.
“Jesus Christ, Rodney,” he breathed.
“I can't – ” Rodney bit his lip, closed his eyes briefly, started again “– I have to get to the infirmary.”
“Right, yeah, of course,” John babbled, taking a step back. “You can give me the details – later.” He winced, then turned away.
“John.” He turned back to see Rodney gazing at him. His voice softer this time, he said, “I'll – be in touch.”
“Okay,” John said, nodding. Rodney smiled faintly, then headed off in the direction of the infirmary.
John careened around his office for a while, sent a couple of e-mails, then got a summons from Carter, who filled him in on everything he needed to know – right down to Rodney's heroic actions – before she slid into a well-earned sleep. When he finally decided to call it a day, he was so wound up he figured he might be able to get some sleep sometime around next Tuesday.
He lay in bed staring at the darkened ceiling for at least an hour before Rodney let himself in. John turned his head but didn't sit up; Rodney perched on the edge of his bed and reached up to stroke John's hair.
“Watch out, you'll hurt yourself,” John warned, shying away from his touch.
“My fingertips are fine,” Rodney countered. “It's my palms that look like hamburger.”
John muttered an oath, then grabbed Rodney by the wrist and kissed his fingertips, one by one.
“That's, um,” Rodney said roughly, “that's kind of what you looked like you were about to do in the hall back there, which I thought might not be so good for your career, so I – ”
“Yeah, okay, yeah,” John said between kisses, because it was true, he'd been this close to pulling Rodney into his arms and never letting go, and right, they couldn't do that. He'd never forgotten that with anybody before, and he was starting to think it could become a habit with Rodney. He should be panicking at the prospect of losing control like that, of putting everything he'd worked for in jeopardy.
On the other hand, John was starting to think that everything was right here in front of him, alive and real and maybe, just maybe, his.
“I'm sorry, I'm not really up for – ” Rodney waved his free hand.
“You can owe me one,” John said, “now get in here.”
Rodney's eyes widened. “Oh, you want me to – ”
“Yeah,” John said. “I'll set the alarm early, okay?”
“Okay,” Rodney said, almost shyly. He stood, then gingerly gripped the hem of his t-shirt between thumb and forefinger and started to pull up.
John was on his feet like a shot. “Don't,” he commanded, reaching for Rodney's shirt and lifting it, skimming his palms over the smooth skin of Rodney's sides as he did. Rodney raised his arms without being prompted, and soon, John had him stripped down to his boxers. Rodney swayed against him, and John wrapped his arms around him, pressing his lips to Rodney's shoulder.
“I've got you,” he promised, “I've got you.”
End
March 2008
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