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by Resonant

For thefourthvine, who prompts: What's the longest John can go without an orgasm?


Eleven months. Not that he thinks this is healthy or anything. Just, sometimes you see things, and you do things, and -- all that living flesh. It just seems obscene.


On average, when there's no rush but he's not all stirred up about anything in particular? Seven, eight minutes, maybe. That's long enough that it's a pleasure, not just getting it out of his system, but not so long that it's tantric or anything.


Five weeks. That's the time from when he first realizes he's thinking about Rodney and freaks the fuck out to the time when Rodney corners him by the door after the movie's over and the rest of the team have gone to bed, and kisses him. Odd, sidelong, without looking at him, almost absent-minded. A dry, off-center brush of a kiss, a warm, seeking hint of tongue, a hum of pleasure and surprise that makes freaking out irrelevant.


About ninety seconds, in his clothes, right there inside the door. And Rodney can just shut up about it. He'd like to see anybody hold out against the surprise in Rodney's voice.


Seventy minutes and counting.

Not getting any easier. Every time he's almost there, Rodney keeps whispering, "Don't come yet, OK, John? Not yet, OK?"

He says it like he just can't stand to see it end, like it's so good he wants it to last forever. So hot, John. Just a little longer. And then he rocks them together, forward and back, like he's trying to be still but he just can't, so it takes everything John has to hold on for him.

"You have, oh, god, you have no idea. Look at you." Rodney's behind him, but up on one elbow, looking over John's shoulder down the length of his body, making John look, too. His hand pulls John's hip back, dark against John's palest skin, moving John back on him so John can hardly breathe.

"Rodney. Why?" His voice -- he can hear his own voice shaking. It freaks him out a little.

Rodney strokes back his hair, so that the air falls cool where his forehead is wet. "To see you need something."

He actually feels a spike of anger at that. It backs him off the edge a little, pulls him back from his skin into his mind, because, damn it, Rodney should know him better than that. He's not some kind of machine. "I need things," he says tightly.

"No, no, no, you're missing the point," Rodney says, a little out of breath but still Rodney, and he punctuates the sentence with a complicated hand gesture that moves the two of them just enough to get John's attention. "Because I can see you letting me see, all right, do you get this now? Because, because you've probably been hiding this since you were about eleven, but I've got you now --" And, oh, christ, now he's fucking John for real, with sharp well-aimed thrusts just like his words, god, just right -- "and I -- think -- you've -- waited -- long -- enough."











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November 29, 2008