"I want to try something," Rodney says.

John is sprawled on the bed, completely naked, his legs invitingly spread, one hand stroking his own cock. Rodney is watching him; John can feel his hungry gaze like a physical caress on his bare skin.

"Sure," he says. He's learned to trust Rodney's brilliance in bed like he does out in the field; learned to trust his body to Rodney's strong, capable hands. "How do you want me?"

Rodney swallows harshly at the words, at John's obvious, willing submission. "Like this," he says, showing him what he wants, pushing and guiding till John's stretched out flat on his back along the length of the bed, his head hanging down over the edge. "Comfortable? Can you stay like this for a bit?" Rodney asks.

"Yeah, I'm fine," John says. It's a weird position, but not really uncomfortable. He wonders what Rodney is planning.

Rodney doesn't keep him guessing for long. He slips off the bed, walking around so he's standing directly in front of John. With his head hanging down like this, he sees Rodney from a weird, upside-down perspective, looming over him. It makes him seem taller, commanding John's whole field of vision with his presence, his hard cock almost directly in front of John's face.

And then Rodney leans forward slightly, and John suddenly gets it, knows what Rodney's going to do before he does it, and when Rodney lines his cock up with John's mouth and pushes in, he opens up wide and takes it, lets Rodney use his mouth any way he wants. Rodney presses on, all the way in; when the head of his cock hits the back of John's throat, he just keeps going.

For a moment, John almost panics, choking a little, helplessly, his hands going up blindly to push him away. Rodney catches them in mid-air, strong fingers lightly encircling John's wrists, pushing them gently down to the mattress, whispering, "Come on, John, you can take it, I know you can. Shh, relax for me. Yeah, that's it. That's it, suck my cock, do it, John, for me…" and suddenly he can do it, his muscles going slack; it's almost ridiculously easy, lying like that, the position keeping his throat straight, perfectly lined up for this.

It suddenly hits him how very vulnerable he is like this, Rodney's hands and cock keeping him pinned down, helpless. Rodney's controlling the rhythm completely, pushing in with slow, inexorable thrusts, giving him plenty of time to breathe in between strokes -- but he lingers a little, at the end of each thrust, just enough to remind John that he is controlling this, that he's only taking it easy on John because that's what he wants to do; cutting of his air supply just long enough to show that he can.

It's a heady rush, soothing and a little frightening all at once, incredibly erotic. Rodney's filling all his senses, the taste and smell of him surrounding John, his hands on John's wrists keeping him grounded. John is panting and moaning, just from this, flying free in that space where only Rodney could ever take him, his cock hard and aching without a single touch.

He's lapping at Rodney's cock, sloppy and eager, trying to caress him with his tongue without messing up the perfect rhythm of his thrusts. Rodney moans, curling up over John, talking with his voice breathy and broken with pleasure: "God, John, so beautiful, your mouth, if you could see yourself -- you love this, don't you, you love sucking my cock…"

He trails off, losing himself completely in the pleasure. This is maybe the best part of it, the thrill of being able to reduce Rodney McKay, PhD three times over, to incoherent whimpers and gasps.

Rodney suddenly releases his wrists and sinks his hands into John's hair instead, gripping him so tightly it almost hurts, holding his head still and just shoving himself in, once, twice, three times, and then he goes completely still, silent except for his harsh, stuttering breaths; his cock pulsing, spilling semen over John's tongue.

John swallows, licking him clean as gently as he can, still moaning -- god, he wants, he needs to touch himself, he's going crazy with it. "Yeah, do it, come on, touch yourself," Rodney orders, still breathless, sinking to his knees so John can half-sit up and lean against his chest -- so John does, gripping himself so hard it almost hurts. The head of his cock is slick with precome, almost dripping with it, and John's hand glides easily over the sensitive skin, setting of showers of sparks behind his closed eyelids. A few strokes and he's coming, pleasure so intense he can almost see it, a wave of white light, rising higher and higher until it crests, crashing through him like lightning.

-###-

He comes back to himself to find himself curled up tightly on his side, Rodney stretched out along his back, one hand idly stroking John's shoulder. He's a little dizzy from all the blood that must have rushed into his head, no that he'd even been aware of it at the time, he'd been so turned on.

"I guess I don't have to ask if you liked it," Rodney says smugly against the back of his neck.

"Mm. Hated it," John replies contentedly, already drifting off.

"Yeah, I could tell," Rodney says, laughing. John can feel the vibration of it all along his back. It's a nice feeling.

They fall asleep like that, curled up together, Rodney's arms wrapped warmly around John.


-end-