This story is rated NC-17 (adults only). It includes explicit male/male sex. If this is what you came for, scroll down. If it isn't, hit the Back button.




















by Resonant

John jumped. "Give me some warning, will you?"

It was like he could feel Rodney rolling his eyes. "All right, fine. I'm going to straighten my legs out now, which may require them to impinge upon your precious personal space for a moment. Are you prepared for the shock?"

"Dunno. Might give me post-traumatic stress." Rodney shifted position beside him, which seemed to take a lot more time than it ought to, and to involve an awful lot of squirming and jingling -- ah. He must be taking the vest off. Well. It was warm in here, naturally, since the blackout would have affected the cooling system as well as the lights. And it was a small storage room. A small storage room with a power-operated door.

John shrugged off his own vest and stuffed it down on the opposite side from Rodney.

Rodney's knee touched his and he jumped again.

"So I'm guessing this would not be the time to tell you the story about the escaped lunatic with a hook for a hand," Rodney said. "You know, if you've got some sort of phobia, we could keep the scanner screen lit."

That would be a stupid waste of battery power that they might need, and he was pretty sure Rodney wouldn't be making the suggestion unless he was confident John would say no. "I don't have a phobia," John said. His voice sounded sulky even to him.

"Sure," Rodney said. "You just jump out of your skin every time I bump you."

Only because I've spent a little too much time thinking about you and me alone in a locked room, and it's only your general cluelessness about human nature that's keeping you from figuring out something you'd probably rather not know. "I don't have a phobia," he said again.


There was a long, uncomfortable silence, during which John had time to calculate how much longer a rolling blackout was likely to last, and then to wonder whether Rodney's blackout algorithm made a distinction between population centers and unpopulated areas like the one they were in, and to conclude that they probably did, and to consider suggesting a boardless chess game and discard the idea because his concentration wasn't up to it, and to give himself a very vivid mental picture of Rodney falling asleep and slumping until his head was on John's shoulder, and to despair for his lost dignity and seriousness of purpose.

And then Rodney's voice came out of the darkness. "Hm," he said again. "I'm going to put my hand on your arm, if I can find it."

"It's right where it always is," John said, and did not say, Why? Rodney's hand came down on his forearm, warm through his shirtsleeve. John shivered.

"Ah," said Rodney. "My second guess. Philia." He shifted around, and the next time he spoke, his voice came from more in front of John. "Hand now."

Why? John didn't ask again. When Rodney's bare hand touched his, the back of his neck went up in goosebumps.

"And your other hand." John could hear his own breathing in the silence. Rodney had to be able to hear it, too. Rodney grasped John's other hand, so now they were sitting opposite each other with both hands clasped. He had no idea what Rodney was doing. One, two, three, four, I declare Thumb War. It crossed his mind that he was not too far from hysteria.

Rodney's fingers tightened minutely. "And now I'm going to kiss you."

"Wh --" It was dark, and the first kiss was off target, but then Rodney corrected, and, god. Rodney was not just involved, he was committed. He was tasting John as though John's mouth were something delicious and reliably citrus-free. John strained forward until their knees touched and panted into Rodney's mouth, almost dizzy in the dark. "Rodney. Why --"

"Ah," Rodney said, in the satisfied tone he took when events bore out one of his theories. "Not a phobia at all, so, yes, I'll play. Now I'm going to kiss you in some other places. Unless you have some objection."

"Wh -- yes. I mean, no, no objection, but --"

Rodney let go of his hands, and for a moment he was disoriented, and then Rodney's mouth brushed over his cheek, his temple, his forehead.

A pause; a nibble of lips on the outer rim of his ear.

A pause; a tongue on the side of his neck.

A pause; John sat trembling in the dark, breathing hard, waiting to find out where the next kiss would fall.

"How did you figure it out?" he said hoarsely.

Rodney's lips stilled on his jaw. "Is that what you want me to talk about, really?"

"No, but --" But he did want Rodney to talk. "No," he said at last, and Rodney's lips moved down to his chin, and up to his mouth for another long kiss.

"What's next?" he said when Rodney raised his mouth.

"Now," Rodney said, and it was thrilling to hear his voice deepening, "I thought I'd get rid of some clothes, if you don't mind."

"Oh, please," John said, with deep and sincere approval for the idea of naked Rodney, and Rodney snorted.

John's stomach contracted as Rodney's fingers grappled for the hem of his shirt -- whoa, he meant John's clothes. "Ticklish?" Rodney said and pushed the shirt up.

"Huh? No." John pulled the shirt the rest of the way off, expecting, but not getting, the touch of Rodney's hands on his bare skin.

"Go ahead and take the rest off," Rodney said.

John shuddered.

There was no sound at all as he took the rest of his clothes off; he could almost have imagined he was alone in here. He slid down to lie on the floor. After a moment of silence, he said, "Now what?"

"You're enjoying the running commentary, aren't you?" Rodney said. John could tell by his voice that he was smirking.

"If you'd touch me, you'd know for sure."

"I'm going to put my hands on you," Rodney said, low and intent. "Do you need me to tell you where?"

"Oh, god."

"Or maybe you're enjoying the element of surprise, too." One of Rodney's hands curled around John's knee and slid slowly upward along the outside of his thigh.

John couldn't tell whether Rodney was trying to make him feel good or just trying to read him with his hands. He didn't detour into any of the obvious places, but just dragged his fingertips slowly upward, over John's hip and side and ribs -- John hastily raised his arms over his head -- into his armpit and back out again, up the underside of his arm and the bend of his elbow, over his wrist and into his palm.

John's hand gripped spasmodically. Rodney interlaced their fingers. It was almost as good as kissing, almost as good as coming. He heard himself gasping.

"Hm," Rodney said in a puzzled voice. "You doing all right?"

"Oh, god, Rodney," John said. "Kiss me."

He could feel the air moving against his bare skin as Rodney lay down beside him, and then Rodney let go of his hand and tilted his face up and kissed him, slow and deep. He grasped Rodney's arms -- god, Rodney still had all his clothes on. He slid closer, feeling the cool, rough fabric all down his body, and made a harsh noise into Rodney's mouth.

"This could be interesting," Rodney said, only a little out of breath. "Is the sensory deprivation the main thing? Or is it the confinement?" He ran his hand idly down John's back, lifted John's leg over his hip, and drew his hand back up John's inner thigh.

John hitched closer, gasping, and his cock rubbed against the rough fabric of Rodney's pants. He wasn't yet far enough gone that the stimulation was worth the discomfort -- almost, but not quite -- and he flinched back, and Rodney's fingers curled around his buttock and very delicately explored all the space from his balls to the base of his spine and back again. "Fuck," he panted.

"Or maybe it's the narration," Rodney said, zeroing in on John's hole, perfect light touch making him groan. "Well, I'm certainly willing to talk, and, no, don't come yet, I haven't even touched you."

"Do it, then," John said thickly. "Hurry."

Rodney's thumb didn't stop moving, around and around and across and around again. "I could make you do it," he said in a musing tone, "but, no, no, that I'd definitely want to be able to see."

The noise that John made then was more of a whine than anything else. "I wonder," Rodney said softly, "if you even know what you're getting off on here."

His other hand -- jesus, John had forgotten he had another hand, he'd been wreaking so much havoc with only one -- went down John's cock, once with fingertips and once in a loose circle, and when it finally closed into a tight grip, John moaned, "Rodney!" and came.

Rodney kissed him down slowly, letting John hold his wrist and push into his loosened grip to keep it going until he couldn't stand it any more, and then John sighed and rolled onto his back, taking Rodney's hand with him. "God, you're good," he mumbled, licking Rodney's wet palm. "Knew you'd be good."

"Oh," Rodney said, sounding surprised, as John sucked on his fingers. "Oh, you, you did?"

"Oh, yeah." Rodney's wrist wasn't wet, but it was good to lick, hot and smooth. "All that attitude had to come from somewhere." John felt calm and frenzied at the same time, in a zone where the sensations of every second came to him whole and perfect. He could feel Rodney's pulse under his tongue.

"You might be surprised how little of my attitude is based on confidence that I can make John Sheppard come," Rodney said breathlessly. "Or was up until now."

John wasn't going to be able to do much lefthanded; he rolled Rodney onto his back and unbuttoned his pants. "Did you think I'd be any good?" he asked.

Rodney took a deep breath as John eased his pants and underwear down. "You wouldn't need to be," he said on a sigh. "I don't need anything complex. I'm not that much of a challenge, really."

John snorted. "Right." He slid down and dropped little kisses on the small bit of skin he'd bared, Rodney's hips and stomach and upper thighs. God, he smelled good.

"Not that -- oh, you're -- oh! Oh, yes, if you want to, that would be --" John went on kissing along the upper boundary of Rodney's pubic hair, using his hand to angle Rodney's cock away so he could follow the line of hair up to his navel and back down again. He mouthed around the base, and Rodney groaned. "Are you going to make me tell you what to do?"

"Do you want to tell me what to do?" John said, running just his lips up Rodney's cock and down again. "Be just like every day."

"With the one minor difference of my cock being in your mouth, and, oh, please. Oh. John. Please."

It was so good to hear Rodney say his name. So good to hear him beg. John licked again, and then took the head in his mouth.

"Oh, oh, yes, that," Rodney said in a wondering tone. His consonants were starting to lose their crispness. John wondered what it would take to deprive him of words altogether. He went down a little more -- there were benefits to having a big mouth -- and felt Rodney's thigh muscles clench and release under his hands, and lifted off again. "You can move, you know," he said, and took him back in.

Rodney took him up on it, planting his heels on the floor and pushing up, and John hastily put a hand around Rodney's cock to spare his throat. With his other hand, he hefted Rodney's balls, tumbled them in his palm, pressed up behind them. "Mm?"

"Yes," Rodney whispered.

He moved his fingers back, circling -- Rodney had done this to him, so that probably meant he liked it. "Mm?"

"Yes, yes, yes," Rodney said, and his hips went in a circle, over and over, and when John finally added a little suction, he let out a low groan and pulsed into John's mouth.

"Oh my god. Oh my god," he panted as John gentled his mouth. "Oh my god. I don't believe you did that." The hand he stroked over John's head was not quite steady. "You really did just do that? I didn't just imagine you doing that?"

"Mhm. Do it again if you want," John said, and pushed a fingertip just inside him.

He heard Rodney's head hit the floor. "God! Stop, stop, you're going to make me want things we don't have supplies for."

John dropped his forehead against Rodney's belly and shuddered. "You have a very high opinion of my recovery time," he said thickly, because, god.

"Or possibly of my own patience," Rodney said. "I can wait for hours if you keep doing that."

Instead, John crawled back up and wrapped his arms around Rodney. Rodney made a surprised noise. "Forgot you were naked."

"I didn't." The floor was cold, but who gave a shit, really? "You smell good."

"I suppose I should have known you'd be a snuggler. Goes with the puppy dog eyes." Rodney held him very tightly. It was as if his voice were speaking one language and his body were speaking a different one. John wished he could see his face, but he relaxed into Rodney's body, and Rodney stroked a hand through his hair and said, "At least you won't look any more ungroomed coming out of here than you did coming in."

"I'll smooth you out as soon as I can see you," John said.

"That'd be good, yes." Rodney sounded pleased. "So I'm thinking I probably shouldn't have done that. You're going to be ruined for normal sex now, aren't you? Start you off with sensory deprivation and next thing you know I'm having to do all kinds of arcane things just to keep your attention."

John nuzzled against the side of Rodney's neck, just because he could. "Yeah, bring out the electrodes," he said. "Gets dark every night, remember?"

"There is that." When John tried to lift his head, Rodney cupped a hand over the back of his hair and eased him back down. "I'm hoping the regular stuff in a bed isn't entirely without appeal for you, because I'd really like to see your face when you come next time."

"Jesus," John said as that went straight to his balls without pausing in his brain. "You can't just say stuff like that."

"Oh, that's right," Rodney said, and there was a smile in his voice. "You need warning."


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May 3, 2005