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a missing scene for shalott's A Beautiful Lifetime Event

by Resonant

What on earth is this? Read the story notes for an explanation.

"You know when we stopped saying Hyp was 36 months and just started saying she was three? I'm starting to do that about how long it's been since I got laid," John sighed.

"Yeah, uh, I had a thought about that," Rodney said.

He sounded nervous. Shit, that wasn't good. What if he'd found somebody? What if his occasional evenings with Annette or Nanette or whoever were turning serious?

When John had been with Kathy, he'd been thinking about changing living space, maybe finding two adjoining apartments, and when it had been him who was going to have the beautiful woman in bed beside him, it had seemed perfectly reasonable. But now that he thought of himself on one side of a wall, and Rodney and Hyp and Anita on the other, he could see that it was insane, it would be perfectly horrible for poor Hyp. Like poor Lynnie Nickson in high school, whose dad had divorced her mom and moved in with the next-door neighbor. And Lynnie had ended up getting pregnant and dropping out, so there you saw where this sort of thing could lead.

If Rodney divorced him, he was definitely demanding alimony, or possibly hazard pay.

Rodney had been watching John freak out, and Rodney's mouth had nearly disappeared. This was never good. "Look," Rodney said tightly, "I'm not saying you're my fantasy, because generally I like my lovers more busty and less hairy, not to mention, you know, female -- but it would really contribute to family stability and mental health if I could have sex with my daughter's other parent instead of with people who aren't members of the family."

For a second John was so relieved that Rodney wasn't throwing him out that by comparison the idea that Rodney wanted to go to bed with him was fine! Sure! Whatever! and by the time he'd caught up enough to have a weird little flutter of unease, Rodney had caught his relief and thrown it right back to him.

"Right, right, I figured you'd see the logic. And, I mean, neither of us is -- interested in men -- so naturally it probably wouldn't be the very best sex we ever had, but I don't know about you, but frankly the sex I've been having with women hasn't exactly been anything to write home about, either, at least since I realized I was married, am I right?"

John frowned at him, not entirely convinced that it quite added up that way. "It's not really the quality of the sex I'm worried about," he said. "It's just -- could we? Could you?"

"That is a concern, yes," Rodney said. "Although to a certain extent the mechanics ought to be really, really familiar to both of us, you know, so it's just a question of whether having another guy present would be a deal-breaker, erectionally speaking. For you, I mean."

"For -- hey, if you can do it, I can definitely do it."

"Sure about that? Because I wouldn't want to put you in an uncomfortable position or anything."

Oh, now with the smug. John whacked him on the back of the head. "Hate to tell you this, but you are not more than I can handle."

"Yeah, we'll see about that." And then Rodney's smirk gave way to a sort of stunned look, and all at once John realized that they had just agreed to. Have sex.

"So," he said, and then went on a little louder to stop his voice from shaking. "Uh, now?"

Rodney swallowed visibly. "Well, uh, Hyp -- and then the morning -- and shower and -- because I was planning to talk to Reta about a sleepover and --"

"Yeah, OK," John said, relieved beyond words. "Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," Rodney said gratefully.

He shaved in the afternoon, with insanely elaborate care, because he didn't want to leave a rash on Rodney's face or -- well, anyway, he was the sort of guy whose five o'clock shadow started coming in before lunchtime, and he tried to be careful, that was all.

Rodney was sitting on the couch, and he leapt to his feet when John came in. His shirt was tucked in, which for Rodney was almost black-tie. He wrung his hands for a second and then dropped them down hastily to his sides, and John would have liked to say something that would calm him down, but he was nervous as hell himself. Even though it was only Rodney.

"Well." Rodney clasped his hands in front of him. His hair had comb tracks in it. It made John's throat hurt.

"You look -- good," John said.

"Yeah?" Rodney smiled down at his hands. "You too."

"Thanks." John smoothed back his hair, but he could feel it springing back into disarray again.

"So," Rodney said. "Do we kiss?"

"Of course we kiss," John said, shocked. "You think I -- you think you're just --" and then he gave up on words and put his hands on Rodney's face and kissed him.

Rodney had shaved, too. His cheeks felt smooth, warmer than John's hands, unbearably fragile. John was gentle, pulling at Rodney's lips with his own, cupping his hands around Rodney's hot face while around them something happened to time, something that made it run faster and slower simultaneously, so that he felt as though he were hurtling forward with thrilling speed, and at the same time he could feel every finger of the hand Rodney had spread over the back of his neck. The small sound that Rodney made into his mouth, surprised and turned on, seemed to spread out over hours.

Rodney liked it.

Oh, thank God.

"So," Rodney said, and, yeah, he liked it, he was pink in the face and breathing fast, and John smiled sappily at him and he smiled sappily back. "You think you can do this?"

"Oh, yeah," John said. "No problem at all." He pushed his hands up into Rodney's soft hair and kissed him again, slow and easy -- saying it inside his head: slow and easy, no grabbing, no pushing -- and then Rodney bit him, hard, on the lower lip and then on the chin and then on the side of the neck. It hurt. He tried to say, "Stop," but only the vowel part of it came out, and Rodney grinned at him and did it again, right below his ear.

Before he could get control of his hands, he was grabbing after all, hauling Rodney's body closer, close as he could get it.

Rodney sighed happily against his neck and pressed himself still closer, and they both ground their hips forward -- beautifully timed, like a dance -- and everything came to a sudden stop.

Oh, god, that was -- He was -- John had made him --

"Christ, John." Rodney's eyes were shut, and he was past breathing fast and all the way into panting. "Oh, christ, that's --" and he shoved John back against the wall, hard, god, he was strong and his hands were huge and John licked his jaw against the grain and groaned and said, "Next time you're not shaving," and Rodney dropped his forehead on John's shoulder and said, "Oh."

It hit John that they could do it right now, right here against the wall, no waiting. He could make Rodney come, right here, right now.

And then he could wait half an hour and do it again, naked.

Things got a little fuzzy after that. Rodney's shirt was tucked very securely into his pants, so that after only a little tugging it began to seem reasonable to John to suck his nipples through it instead. Nothing smelled like laundry detergent any more -- the Ancient machines cleaned clothes with sound waves or something -- and Rodney's shirt smelled like Rodney Rodney Rodney.

John fell to his knees, biting through cloth all the way down, but Rodney immediately hauled him back up.

"No?" John said against his mouth. "I want to."

Rodney went "nnn" through his teeth in a desperate tone. "Too much, oh, too late," and he pushed John painfully against the wall and grunted into the side of his face -- coming, god, he was coming -- shit, he was coming and John couldn't see it or taste it or feel it, really, except in the wild pounding of his heart against John's chest and the broken way he was whispering John's name.

"Next time," John whispered fiercely, and grunted as Rodney grabbed his cock and started pumping, right through his pants, painful and perfect, "next -- oh, fuck, next time, Rodney, you have to let me -- god --"

They didn't quite get to it the next time. There was all that hot skin to rub up against, and being able to get on top of Rodney and watch his eyes widen, and the way Rodney's hands felt grabbing his ass and pulling him down against him, harder, harder. And there was the unexpected charge of having Rodney in his bed, where John had been lying last night and wondering what it would be like and whether he'd be able to be as good to Rodney as he wanted to be, as good as Rodney deserved -- well, things got out of hand again.

The third time was slower, calmer. John wanted it like crazy, still, but he couldn't get hard for it right away, so he was able to spend long minutes actually looking at Rodney, his long, pale body, the almost mathematically beautiful curve of his thighs. His eyes were soft; some tension was gone now that had been so habitual that John had never noticed it at all.

Rodney sighed when John kissed him in strange places, kissed his eyes and the upturned tip of his nose and the spot right over his heart. That put John in a good spot close to one of Rodney's nipples, and he poked it with his tongue to make it stand up, and then plucked it with his lips, and then sucked it a little, wet and soft-tongued. Rodney sighed again, but it wasn't the same sigh, and so John decided it was time.

Rodney was ticklish all around his middle, but John was feeling too relaxed to make much use of that. Rodney's cock was half-hard, not standing up yet but lengthening, and when John licked down it, it went hard so fast that John actually let out a startled laugh. He felt Rodney's hand smoothing down his hair, and looked up to see Rodney looking down at him, head awkwardly bent to look over his own body, with a pleading expression. "You don't have to, you don't, if you don't want to," he whispered, "but, oh, John, please, please --"

And because it hurt to hear Rodney beg, and because he wanted to anyway, he bent his head again and took the tip of Rodney's cock in his mouth.

It was a sweet round shape to run his tongue over, smoother than normal skin and faintly salty. John supported his head on one hand and used the other to touch all around, combing his fingers through the hair, stroking gently over his balls, sliding his thumb down the line where Rodney's thigh met his body. There was tension in Rodney's thigh muscles, but he stayed very still.

After a minute, something soft touched his arm, and he opened his eyes to see Rodney shoving the pillow at him.

"Thanks," he said, folding it under his head.

"Don't mention it," Rodney said breathlessly, and then John took Rodney's cock back in his mouth and heard Rodney's head go thump on the bare mattress.

We're going to have to have two pillows in here, John thought, and then, We're going to have to get a bigger bed, and he smiled around his mouthful and heard Rodney whimper.

The sun was coming up when John staggered back from the kitchen with two glasses and a pitcher of water. "Oh, thank God," Rodney said hoarsely, and spilled half the first glass all over himself as he gulped it down. He was red-eyed and disheveled, his hair on end and his lips very swollen, and he did have beard burn after all, on his face and neck and all over the insides of both thighs. John thought he'd never seen anybody look so good.

John sat down against the headboard, and Rodney immediately slid an arm around his waist while John poured his own glass of water.

"So," John said carefully. "That's worth pursuing, I'd say."

Rodney nodded. "Not a complete waste of time, no."


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Read shalott's "A Beautiful Lifetime Event"

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May 30, 2005