John/Rodney Earth AU, pt 14
Sep. 26th, 2006 11:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wesleysgirlPart 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4
Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8
Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12
Part 13
"Oh great, it's snowing like a bitch out there," Rodney says, looking out the kitchen window.
Kayla crows with delight. "Rodney said the B word!"
"Please," Rodney says. "If you're old enough to know what the word is, you're old enough to repeat it when chastising me."
"I am?" Kayla looks at John doubtfully.
"Maybe," John says. "At home. But you don't have to." He doesn't really want his nine year old running around cursing, but on the other hand Rodney sort of has a point. He gets up from the table and goes over to look out the window. To Rodney, he says, "You can always spend the night if it sounds like the roads are gonna be bad."
"Really?" Rodney sounds surprised enough that John turns to look at him.
Sure, Rodney hasn't actually ever spent the night. In fact, the most they've ever done is fool around half-dressed on the couch after 9 pm, because John has this unreasonable fear that Kayla will wake up and walk in on them. But until right then John hasn't realized that it's a thing. "Yeah," John says, because Rodney's still waiting for him to answer.
"If Rodney sleeps over, can we have pancakes in the morning?" Kayla asks hopefully, and John can see that she's already counting on tomorrow being a snow day.
"Okay," John says. "But only if there's no school." Otherwise they won't have time; getting her to the bus stop on time is a challenge enough without adding having to make pancakes to the routine.
"Yay!" Kayla gets up, dumping her Scrabble tiles back into the box. "I don't want to play anymore. I want to see the snow." This means she wants to go out onto the front porch and stick her fingers in the snow.
"It's too early in the year for it to be snowing like this," Rodney's complaining, but he stops and frowns. "Hey!" he calls after Kayla. "You just want to stop because I was winning."
"You always win," John tells him fondly.
"There's no point in playing if you don't try to win," Rodney says.
John grins. "Rodney, it's Scrabble Junior."
"I know," Rodney says, looking a little bit offended. The screen door slams behind Kayla as she goes out onto the porch. "I really think you should make her finish what she starts," he goes on. "Otherwise she'll end up shiftless and unemployed."
"She's nine," John points out. From anyone else, he'd be annoyed to be getting parenting advice that he didn't ask for, but with Rodney you have to be willing to cut a certain amount of slack. "It's normal for kids to have a short attention span." He starts sliding the rest of the tiles into the box, straightening up, but Rodney seems to have other ideas; he comes up behind John and slides both hands up underneath John's shirt, warm fingers sliding over John's bare skin. He gets hard right away. "Rodney." It's half pleasure, half warning.
"I know, I know," Rodney says. He removes his hands, tugs John's shirt down into place again, and gives him a quick hug. "I should probably get going," he says, moving to the window and looking out again. "It looks like it's just going to get worse."
"I thought you were going to stay over." John says it mildly enough, but he's discovered that he wants Rodney to sleep over. They've only woken up together in bed twice, and the first time had been when Rodney was still half-drugged on antihistamines and sulky about the fact that they hadn't had sex the night before.
The second time had been much, much better.
Rodney's looking at him. "I don't know if that's a good idea."
"It is," John says automatically, because there's something about Rodney that makes him like that -- contrary and sure that he's right, which is a heck of a nice change from the first year after Elizabeth died when it felt like he was doing everything wrong. He can see Rodney doesn't buy it, though, so he goes over and gives him a quick kiss. "It is," he says again, persuasive. "I want you to stay over. Okay?"
"Okay." Rodney's big hand caresses John's ass, which feels almost shockingly good through the worn jeans he's wearing.
The screen door opens. "Daddy?"
"Yeah?" John says.
"Can I have a bowl?"
"Yes?"
Kayla groans; John can picture the expression on her face. It's the one that she's too young for by a couple of years at least. "Daddy. Will you get me a bowl? Please?"
"You have snow on your slippers, don't you," John says, but he's already moving to get one of the battered metal bowls -- Kayla used them as drums when she was a toddler, three cheap bowls and two wooden spoons would keep her busy for an hour -- from under the stove. He anticipates her next request and brings a big serving spoon, too.
He and Rodney stand on the porch with Kayla as she scoops up snow, taking it carefully from the topmost layer building up on the railing so that she only gets the clean stuff. It's dark; the sun set almost two hours ago, and the streetlight three houses away casts an eerie but beautiful glow. The falling snow is illuminated, and even though John's feet are bare -- not to mention freezing -- he can't help but feel an almost overwhelming sense of peace.
Kayla eats her bowl of snow with a sprinkle of colored sugar and then goes to bed, after being reminded at least three times to brush her teeth. John goes up to tuck her in. "Pancakes if there's no school?" she says, yawning as John turns on her radio to the soft rock station she likes to listen to as she goes to sleep.
"Yes," John promises, and shuts her door softly on the way out.
Rodney's waiting in the hallway, just at the top of the stairs. John can tell by the look on his face that he's thinking about sex -- which is good, because John spends a lot of time thinking about sex himself, and as far as he's concerned the fact that their sex drives match up so perfectly is one of the best things about being with another guy in general and Rodney in particular.
"Come on," John says. He takes Rodney's hand and leads him into the bedroom, where they've had conversations but never, ever done more, not even kissed, because the bedroom hasn't been a place for JohnandRodney. Until now.
That's all John will let himself think -- more than that is too much -- before he locks the door. Rodney turns him around and kisses him, hot and sweet at the same time, one hand moving down to cup John's cock and fondle him to hardness. John groans. He loves how Rodney touches him, loves the way Rodney kisses, the way Rodney's skin feels against his, loves...
"Is this okay?" Rodney mutters into his neck. "I know we haven't..."
"I'm the one who brought you in here," John tells him. "And hey, look. Who's that taking off your shirt?" He tugs it up over Rodney's head and tosses it to the floor.
"Yes, fine, I get your point." Rodney's impatient now, undressing John, touching his cock. There's something about Rodney's impatience that John likes, and something about it in this particular situation that turns him on. He grapples for Rodney's dick, palming it through his slacks, and Rodney gasps and says his name that way he has, "John," breathless and desperate like John is everything to him, and white hot lust rushes through John, erasing most of the world and leaving just him and Rodney behind.
When he calms down again, just a little bit, they're both naked and lying on the bed. John's underneath -- he loves having Rodney's solid weight on top of him, holding him down -- and Rodney's dick is working along the crease between thigh and groin, damp with sweat and precome. John grabs onto Rodney's ass and grinds up against him, shuddering, aching.
"God, I want to be inside you," Rodney whispers. His breath is hot in John's ear.
They haven't done that yet, and John wonders if that's what he's aching for, the one thing he wants but hasn't been able to define. Rodney shifts his weight and the head of his cock nudges the strip of skin beneath John's balls, and John throws caution to the winds and says, "Yeah. Okay. Do it."
Rodney's eyes widen. "You... do you really want to? Don't say you want to if you don't. We don't have to yet. We don't have to ever, not if you don't want to. I mean, don't get me wrong, I want to. I really, really want to. But we don't -- "
John stops Rodney with a hand over his mouth. "I want to," he says. "Yes, okay? Yes." And Rodney kisses his palm, his fingers, his mouth, his jaw.
"Okay," Rodney says, then looks alarmed. "I don't have any condoms."
"You don't?" John almost laughs, but doesn't let himself because Rodney looks so disappointed. "Well, one of us is prepared, at least. I do; they're in the top drawer of the dresser with the lube." He'd bought them a week ago, with his heart beating too fast and a furtive glance around him like people watching would somehow be able to tell that he was buying them so he could have gay sex.
Rodney gets up and brings the lube and the box of condoms back to the bed. He tears the box in his haste to open it, and his hands are shaking as he slicks his fingers and then pushes one into John, kissing him and whispering, "This is going to be so good, it will, I promise you. All you have to do is relax."
"I think -- I think I can do that," John says, taking a deep breath when Rodney finds his prostate. Even that's good, so good that he can hardly imagine anything better, especially when Rodney leans down and sucks his dick. "Jesus. Rodney."
Another finger. They've done this much before, Rodney's hot mouth on John's cock and two fingers up his ass, with John wondering if he's going to explode. This time's no different; he grabs onto Rodney's shoulder and tries not to thrust into his mouth.
"Rodney. Rodney." He has to keep saying it, like it's the only thing keeping him from going completely crazy. He whimpers when Rodney withdraws, feeling empty. His wet dick is cold and he aches.
"Here, turn around. Like this." Rodney rolls him onto his side. John can hear the sound of the condom wrapper being torn open -- it's been a long time since he used a condom, but it's not the kind of sound you forget -- and then Rodney's pressing against him from behind. He shivers, and Rodney ghosts a hand over his chest, finding his nipples tight and pebbled. "You're cold."
"A little," John says. He's also turned on and kind of scared.
Rodney pulls the blankets up over them, and that helps. He kisses the back of John's neck, his shoulder, and strokes his cock until John moans with need, then nudges his cock into place. The condom feels weird, smooth. "Easy," Rodney says, and for a second John's not sure which one of them he's talking to. "Just relax, okay? I'm not going to hurt you."
John's not cold anymore when Rodney presses into him. Patient doesn't come easy for Rodney, John knows that, but somehow when they're having sex he manages it. When John's body finally relaxes, Rodney pushes in a little bit deeper. There's a lot of lube, so everything's wet; Rodney's cock still feels too big, though, and John has to breathe through it until the urge to tell Rodney no, it's too much, he's not ready, passes. Rodney's hand strokes the front of John's thigh, not touching his cock, which has apparently decided that this is a very bad idea that it's not at all interested in, thank you very much.
"Okay?" Rodney asks, mouthing the back of John's neck.
"I think," John says. To his own ears, he sounds more scared than he is. Maybe. "Give me a minute."
Rodney stays still. "As long as you need. We can stop if you want to." It's a hell of a lot more generous than John thinks he'd be able to be if he was the one waiting to do the fucking.
"No," he says. "No, just..." John forces himself to tense around Rodney's dick a little bit, which takes the edge of discomfort closer to actual pain than he'd thought it would, but when he relaxes again, it's better. He does it again.
"If you keep doing that, this is going to be the most impressive example of premature ejaculation in history," Rodney grates out.
Sympathetic, John rocks his hips a little bit, experimentally, and nothing hurts. The sensation that Rodney's dick is somewhere it doesn't belong fades, replaced by a warm feeling in his own cock and balls. "Come on, then," he says. "Fuck me."
"Oh God," Rodney says, in the smallest voice John's ever heard from him, and thrusts into John slowly, carefully, like he's afraid of breaking him. He shudders, hand tightening on John's thigh. "God, John, you feel so good. You're so..." He pulls back and thrusts again.
John's dick is hard now, but he's too focused on what Rodney's cock is doing in his ass to pay it any attention just then. He lifts his right thigh a little, opening himself up more, and gasps when Rodney pushes into him again, startled at how good it suddenly feels. Rodney's hand moves around to the back of his thigh, then the inside from behind, spreading him even wider, cock stroking over John's prostate on the next thrust. "Yeah," John says, barely aware that he's talking. "God, yeah, Rodney, God, God."
And Rodney's fucking him harder, which seems pretty talented of him considering he can't have a whole lot of leverage in the given the position they're in, and it feels incredible, so much better than John thought it would, Rodney's cock moving inside him. "Yes, yes," Rodney gasps. "John." He lets go of John's thigh and reaches around to take hold of his dick instead, and John has to grab a pillow and hold it to his face to stifle his moans. He can feel it when he's about to come, a gathering together of every nerve ending from the waist down until he gives an impossibly long, low groan and comes in Rodney's hand, shaking all over. He can feel his body tightening around Rodney's cock in rhythmic pulses, and Rodney just keeps moving, but slower, keeps fucking him through it until all the tension leaves John at once.
Then Rodney rolls him onto his stomach and really fucks him, thrusting hard and fast with his hands braced on either side of John. John can feel his sweat on his lower back and ass and then, finally, Rodney stiffens and comes, his cock throbbing inside of John.
Rodney collapses on top of him, panting. "God," he says, full of wonder. "God, John."
"Your elbow's in my ribs," John says, wincing.
"Oh. Sorry." Rodney gets a hand between them and pulls out, which leaves John feeling damp and sore, but at least Rodney's elbow isn't digging into him anymore. When Rodney's done throwing out the condom, he comes back and gets into bed again, snuggling up to John, who has decided he's not going to care about the wet spot, not tonight. "That was quite possibly the best sex I've ever had," Rodney murmurs against his hair.
"Yeah?" John likes the idea of that.
"Now you're supposed to tell me how amazing it was on your end," Rodney prompts.
"It was," John says. Then, because he doesn't want Rodney worrying about it, he shifts and looks into Rodney's eyes. "It was amazing," he says honestly. "I had no idea it was going to be like that. Seriously."
Rodney looks absurdly pleased, but it's a look that John likes on him. "Then we can do it again?"
"Yes." John gets more comfortable, feels a twinge. "Tomorrow, maybe."
Worried, Rodney says, "I didn't hurt you, did I? You should have said something. I didn't want to -- "
This time, John shuts him up by kissing him. "You didn't," he says firmly. "I'm good."
"Just good?" Rodney asks.
"Better than good," John says, closing his eyes and putting an arm around Rodney. He can hear the hiss of the snow against the bedroom window, but he's warm and sated. "Great. I'm great."
TBC
Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8
Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12
Part 13
"Oh great, it's snowing like a bitch out there," Rodney says, looking out the kitchen window.
Kayla crows with delight. "Rodney said the B word!"
"Please," Rodney says. "If you're old enough to know what the word is, you're old enough to repeat it when chastising me."
"I am?" Kayla looks at John doubtfully.
"Maybe," John says. "At home. But you don't have to." He doesn't really want his nine year old running around cursing, but on the other hand Rodney sort of has a point. He gets up from the table and goes over to look out the window. To Rodney, he says, "You can always spend the night if it sounds like the roads are gonna be bad."
"Really?" Rodney sounds surprised enough that John turns to look at him.
Sure, Rodney hasn't actually ever spent the night. In fact, the most they've ever done is fool around half-dressed on the couch after 9 pm, because John has this unreasonable fear that Kayla will wake up and walk in on them. But until right then John hasn't realized that it's a thing. "Yeah," John says, because Rodney's still waiting for him to answer.
"If Rodney sleeps over, can we have pancakes in the morning?" Kayla asks hopefully, and John can see that she's already counting on tomorrow being a snow day.
"Okay," John says. "But only if there's no school." Otherwise they won't have time; getting her to the bus stop on time is a challenge enough without adding having to make pancakes to the routine.
"Yay!" Kayla gets up, dumping her Scrabble tiles back into the box. "I don't want to play anymore. I want to see the snow." This means she wants to go out onto the front porch and stick her fingers in the snow.
"It's too early in the year for it to be snowing like this," Rodney's complaining, but he stops and frowns. "Hey!" he calls after Kayla. "You just want to stop because I was winning."
"You always win," John tells him fondly.
"There's no point in playing if you don't try to win," Rodney says.
John grins. "Rodney, it's Scrabble Junior."
"I know," Rodney says, looking a little bit offended. The screen door slams behind Kayla as she goes out onto the porch. "I really think you should make her finish what she starts," he goes on. "Otherwise she'll end up shiftless and unemployed."
"She's nine," John points out. From anyone else, he'd be annoyed to be getting parenting advice that he didn't ask for, but with Rodney you have to be willing to cut a certain amount of slack. "It's normal for kids to have a short attention span." He starts sliding the rest of the tiles into the box, straightening up, but Rodney seems to have other ideas; he comes up behind John and slides both hands up underneath John's shirt, warm fingers sliding over John's bare skin. He gets hard right away. "Rodney." It's half pleasure, half warning.
"I know, I know," Rodney says. He removes his hands, tugs John's shirt down into place again, and gives him a quick hug. "I should probably get going," he says, moving to the window and looking out again. "It looks like it's just going to get worse."
"I thought you were going to stay over." John says it mildly enough, but he's discovered that he wants Rodney to sleep over. They've only woken up together in bed twice, and the first time had been when Rodney was still half-drugged on antihistamines and sulky about the fact that they hadn't had sex the night before.
The second time had been much, much better.
Rodney's looking at him. "I don't know if that's a good idea."
"It is," John says automatically, because there's something about Rodney that makes him like that -- contrary and sure that he's right, which is a heck of a nice change from the first year after Elizabeth died when it felt like he was doing everything wrong. He can see Rodney doesn't buy it, though, so he goes over and gives him a quick kiss. "It is," he says again, persuasive. "I want you to stay over. Okay?"
"Okay." Rodney's big hand caresses John's ass, which feels almost shockingly good through the worn jeans he's wearing.
The screen door opens. "Daddy?"
"Yeah?" John says.
"Can I have a bowl?"
"Yes?"
Kayla groans; John can picture the expression on her face. It's the one that she's too young for by a couple of years at least. "Daddy. Will you get me a bowl? Please?"
"You have snow on your slippers, don't you," John says, but he's already moving to get one of the battered metal bowls -- Kayla used them as drums when she was a toddler, three cheap bowls and two wooden spoons would keep her busy for an hour -- from under the stove. He anticipates her next request and brings a big serving spoon, too.
He and Rodney stand on the porch with Kayla as she scoops up snow, taking it carefully from the topmost layer building up on the railing so that she only gets the clean stuff. It's dark; the sun set almost two hours ago, and the streetlight three houses away casts an eerie but beautiful glow. The falling snow is illuminated, and even though John's feet are bare -- not to mention freezing -- he can't help but feel an almost overwhelming sense of peace.
Kayla eats her bowl of snow with a sprinkle of colored sugar and then goes to bed, after being reminded at least three times to brush her teeth. John goes up to tuck her in. "Pancakes if there's no school?" she says, yawning as John turns on her radio to the soft rock station she likes to listen to as she goes to sleep.
"Yes," John promises, and shuts her door softly on the way out.
Rodney's waiting in the hallway, just at the top of the stairs. John can tell by the look on his face that he's thinking about sex -- which is good, because John spends a lot of time thinking about sex himself, and as far as he's concerned the fact that their sex drives match up so perfectly is one of the best things about being with another guy in general and Rodney in particular.
"Come on," John says. He takes Rodney's hand and leads him into the bedroom, where they've had conversations but never, ever done more, not even kissed, because the bedroom hasn't been a place for JohnandRodney. Until now.
That's all John will let himself think -- more than that is too much -- before he locks the door. Rodney turns him around and kisses him, hot and sweet at the same time, one hand moving down to cup John's cock and fondle him to hardness. John groans. He loves how Rodney touches him, loves the way Rodney kisses, the way Rodney's skin feels against his, loves...
"Is this okay?" Rodney mutters into his neck. "I know we haven't..."
"I'm the one who brought you in here," John tells him. "And hey, look. Who's that taking off your shirt?" He tugs it up over Rodney's head and tosses it to the floor.
"Yes, fine, I get your point." Rodney's impatient now, undressing John, touching his cock. There's something about Rodney's impatience that John likes, and something about it in this particular situation that turns him on. He grapples for Rodney's dick, palming it through his slacks, and Rodney gasps and says his name that way he has, "John," breathless and desperate like John is everything to him, and white hot lust rushes through John, erasing most of the world and leaving just him and Rodney behind.
When he calms down again, just a little bit, they're both naked and lying on the bed. John's underneath -- he loves having Rodney's solid weight on top of him, holding him down -- and Rodney's dick is working along the crease between thigh and groin, damp with sweat and precome. John grabs onto Rodney's ass and grinds up against him, shuddering, aching.
"God, I want to be inside you," Rodney whispers. His breath is hot in John's ear.
They haven't done that yet, and John wonders if that's what he's aching for, the one thing he wants but hasn't been able to define. Rodney shifts his weight and the head of his cock nudges the strip of skin beneath John's balls, and John throws caution to the winds and says, "Yeah. Okay. Do it."
Rodney's eyes widen. "You... do you really want to? Don't say you want to if you don't. We don't have to yet. We don't have to ever, not if you don't want to. I mean, don't get me wrong, I want to. I really, really want to. But we don't -- "
John stops Rodney with a hand over his mouth. "I want to," he says. "Yes, okay? Yes." And Rodney kisses his palm, his fingers, his mouth, his jaw.
"Okay," Rodney says, then looks alarmed. "I don't have any condoms."
"You don't?" John almost laughs, but doesn't let himself because Rodney looks so disappointed. "Well, one of us is prepared, at least. I do; they're in the top drawer of the dresser with the lube." He'd bought them a week ago, with his heart beating too fast and a furtive glance around him like people watching would somehow be able to tell that he was buying them so he could have gay sex.
Rodney gets up and brings the lube and the box of condoms back to the bed. He tears the box in his haste to open it, and his hands are shaking as he slicks his fingers and then pushes one into John, kissing him and whispering, "This is going to be so good, it will, I promise you. All you have to do is relax."
"I think -- I think I can do that," John says, taking a deep breath when Rodney finds his prostate. Even that's good, so good that he can hardly imagine anything better, especially when Rodney leans down and sucks his dick. "Jesus. Rodney."
Another finger. They've done this much before, Rodney's hot mouth on John's cock and two fingers up his ass, with John wondering if he's going to explode. This time's no different; he grabs onto Rodney's shoulder and tries not to thrust into his mouth.
"Rodney. Rodney." He has to keep saying it, like it's the only thing keeping him from going completely crazy. He whimpers when Rodney withdraws, feeling empty. His wet dick is cold and he aches.
"Here, turn around. Like this." Rodney rolls him onto his side. John can hear the sound of the condom wrapper being torn open -- it's been a long time since he used a condom, but it's not the kind of sound you forget -- and then Rodney's pressing against him from behind. He shivers, and Rodney ghosts a hand over his chest, finding his nipples tight and pebbled. "You're cold."
"A little," John says. He's also turned on and kind of scared.
Rodney pulls the blankets up over them, and that helps. He kisses the back of John's neck, his shoulder, and strokes his cock until John moans with need, then nudges his cock into place. The condom feels weird, smooth. "Easy," Rodney says, and for a second John's not sure which one of them he's talking to. "Just relax, okay? I'm not going to hurt you."
John's not cold anymore when Rodney presses into him. Patient doesn't come easy for Rodney, John knows that, but somehow when they're having sex he manages it. When John's body finally relaxes, Rodney pushes in a little bit deeper. There's a lot of lube, so everything's wet; Rodney's cock still feels too big, though, and John has to breathe through it until the urge to tell Rodney no, it's too much, he's not ready, passes. Rodney's hand strokes the front of John's thigh, not touching his cock, which has apparently decided that this is a very bad idea that it's not at all interested in, thank you very much.
"Okay?" Rodney asks, mouthing the back of John's neck.
"I think," John says. To his own ears, he sounds more scared than he is. Maybe. "Give me a minute."
Rodney stays still. "As long as you need. We can stop if you want to." It's a hell of a lot more generous than John thinks he'd be able to be if he was the one waiting to do the fucking.
"No," he says. "No, just..." John forces himself to tense around Rodney's dick a little bit, which takes the edge of discomfort closer to actual pain than he'd thought it would, but when he relaxes again, it's better. He does it again.
"If you keep doing that, this is going to be the most impressive example of premature ejaculation in history," Rodney grates out.
Sympathetic, John rocks his hips a little bit, experimentally, and nothing hurts. The sensation that Rodney's dick is somewhere it doesn't belong fades, replaced by a warm feeling in his own cock and balls. "Come on, then," he says. "Fuck me."
"Oh God," Rodney says, in the smallest voice John's ever heard from him, and thrusts into John slowly, carefully, like he's afraid of breaking him. He shudders, hand tightening on John's thigh. "God, John, you feel so good. You're so..." He pulls back and thrusts again.
John's dick is hard now, but he's too focused on what Rodney's cock is doing in his ass to pay it any attention just then. He lifts his right thigh a little, opening himself up more, and gasps when Rodney pushes into him again, startled at how good it suddenly feels. Rodney's hand moves around to the back of his thigh, then the inside from behind, spreading him even wider, cock stroking over John's prostate on the next thrust. "Yeah," John says, barely aware that he's talking. "God, yeah, Rodney, God, God."
And Rodney's fucking him harder, which seems pretty talented of him considering he can't have a whole lot of leverage in the given the position they're in, and it feels incredible, so much better than John thought it would, Rodney's cock moving inside him. "Yes, yes," Rodney gasps. "John." He lets go of John's thigh and reaches around to take hold of his dick instead, and John has to grab a pillow and hold it to his face to stifle his moans. He can feel it when he's about to come, a gathering together of every nerve ending from the waist down until he gives an impossibly long, low groan and comes in Rodney's hand, shaking all over. He can feel his body tightening around Rodney's cock in rhythmic pulses, and Rodney just keeps moving, but slower, keeps fucking him through it until all the tension leaves John at once.
Then Rodney rolls him onto his stomach and really fucks him, thrusting hard and fast with his hands braced on either side of John. John can feel his sweat on his lower back and ass and then, finally, Rodney stiffens and comes, his cock throbbing inside of John.
Rodney collapses on top of him, panting. "God," he says, full of wonder. "God, John."
"Your elbow's in my ribs," John says, wincing.
"Oh. Sorry." Rodney gets a hand between them and pulls out, which leaves John feeling damp and sore, but at least Rodney's elbow isn't digging into him anymore. When Rodney's done throwing out the condom, he comes back and gets into bed again, snuggling up to John, who has decided he's not going to care about the wet spot, not tonight. "That was quite possibly the best sex I've ever had," Rodney murmurs against his hair.
"Yeah?" John likes the idea of that.
"Now you're supposed to tell me how amazing it was on your end," Rodney prompts.
"It was," John says. Then, because he doesn't want Rodney worrying about it, he shifts and looks into Rodney's eyes. "It was amazing," he says honestly. "I had no idea it was going to be like that. Seriously."
Rodney looks absurdly pleased, but it's a look that John likes on him. "Then we can do it again?"
"Yes." John gets more comfortable, feels a twinge. "Tomorrow, maybe."
Worried, Rodney says, "I didn't hurt you, did I? You should have said something. I didn't want to -- "
This time, John shuts him up by kissing him. "You didn't," he says firmly. "I'm good."
"Just good?" Rodney asks.
"Better than good," John says, closing his eyes and putting an arm around Rodney. He can hear the hiss of the snow against the bedroom window, but he's warm and sated. "Great. I'm great."
TBC
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Date: 2006-09-26 07:05 pm (UTC)