moonlettuce

Still at work. Stop. Send ~~porn~~ help. Stop.

From:

temaris.livejournal.com

I tried to post comment porn, only the phone kept ringing, and then the comment limit got exceeded, so I'm going to give you comment going-to-be-porn, in two parts.

From:

moonlettuce.livejournal.com

Porn, yay!

From:

temaris.livejournal.com

This was how it was supposed to be. John shifted a little closer and sighed. He was so tired. Rodney's conferences seemed to go on forever, and it didn't help that half the time he was bored out of his mind. Though the running, derisive commentary that Rodney underscored every panel and lecture with had lightened the boredom factor considerably. That was as nothing to the Q and A afterwards, where Rodney happily shredded the work of years into little bitty pieces, chewed it up, swallowed it whole, and spat out the remnants, little gruesome clumps of their former selves.

But now, Rodney was asleep, dreaming the sleep of a man who has had more fun in the last forty eight hours than he has in months. He's slumped in a corner of the couch, the laptop churning colors over his face as the screensaver carries on. It's not going to slip, Rodney's got a death grip on it, and for a moment he contemplates just going to bed and leaving Rodney to it. If he didn't think it was cute John suspects he would be kind of peeved.

He'd kind of hoped for something a little more personal out of a trip to Earth. Instead they'd ricocheted from lab to university to conference, Rodney in terrifying form as he left a wake of shell shocked and fuming scientists behind him.

Slowing down would have been nice.

Getting laid would have been nice.

He laughed softly at himself, and shook his head. I knew what he was before I got into this, he reminded himself.

He perched on the arm of the couch and carefully worked the laptop out of Rodney's grasp. He muttered, and an eye slitted open, but John said quietly, "Just me," and Rodney relaxed again.

He'd half been hoping that Rodney would wake up, but if he was really that tired then experience told him that he was infinitely better off letting him sleep. He shut the computer down and paused by the bed, then stripped swiftly and turned the light out.

Experience was over-rated. "Come on, bed," he murmured, and flicked at Rodney's ear. Rodney muttered, one hand lifting vaguely. John grinned and scraped his fingernails down Rodney's stubble. "You're going to hurt your neck sleeping like that."

"If I can sleep at all it'll be a miracle." Rodney grouched, but he shifted a little, sitting up straighter. "Wha'ss time?"

"Late." It wasn't all that late. They'd gotten used to the twenty seven hour day, and to working every hour that those days offered, just to keep a little way ahead. Eleven at night was nothing.

"Hmm." Rodney pushed himself up and staggered a little. John grinned into the dark, "I can see that expression on your face," Rodney muttered, but John's grin just widened.

From:

temaris.livejournal.com

John crawled into bed and watched as Rodney, a dim bulk in the darkness, wrestled with shirt and t-shirt rather than taking them off one by one, then winced as Rodney sat down hard on the bed, rocking him. "Just checking gravity's still running at Earth-normal, McKay?" he asked mildly.

Rodney just sniffed, and ducked down to pull off his boots. John snickered.

"Oh, shut up, Colonel. I'd like to see you do any better after being woken out of the best sleep in a month."

"Best in a month, huh?" John smiled, tucking his cheek deeper into the soft pillows. "So that guy snoring last night, that wasn't you?"

Rodney actually growled, "I don't snore," he said with chill dignity, and spoiled it all by adding, "And it *better* not be anyone else."

He sat stiffly for a long moment, until John ran a finger down his back. He felt Rodney shiver under his touch, and leaned over to brush his lips into that dip just at the base of Rodney's spine.He looped his arms loosely around Rodney's waist, his hands in his lap, and rubbed his chin against Rodney's hip.

"Ow," but it was only a mild sort of protest and John rubbed again, then turned his face just far enough to nip gently on the soft, smooth skin. "Okay, enough scratching, what are you, a cat?" Rodney paused, "That would explain a lot, actually. Maybe there's something to--"

"Carry on with that sentence and you'll never find out what I have planned for this evening, "John said lazily and Rodney paused. His hand cupped the back of John's head, and then they were moving, Rodney pulling him up, John pulling him in, until they were curled half on their sides, John half on his back, Rodney leaning over him, one hand on the side of John's jaw. Rodney's face came nearer, and just before their lips touched he closed his eyes. Rodney's other hand gripped at his ass cheek, tugged as he pushed his thigh between John's legs, then ran his hand slowly down John's leg, dragging it up higher to rest over his hips.

Rodney was still kissing him, or John was kissing Rodney, either way, it didn't really matter; just the touch of his fingers dragging backwards through the rough hair on his legs, his crotch, his chest, a little edgy, was enough to keep him shifting restlessly against Rodney. The weight of Rodney's body was almost -- but not quite -- enough to pin him in place, definite, here, warm and strong and knowing, holding him open, letting him fly.

He shuddered, wrapping his arms tightly around Rodney. They stopped kissing for a mutual second, and John could just see the way he was studying him, tenderly, fiercely, like he was the most exciting thing he'd ever found and at the same time the most familiar thing he knew, comfortable and fitted exactly to him.

"Hey," he whispered, and Rodney smiled at him. He nudged up with his hips a little, and Rodney laughed.

"Impatient."

"Bored."

"Bored?" Rodney leaned back a little and John's grin widened.

"Yeah. Bored."

(oops, three parts)

From:

temaris.livejournal.com

Rodney ran his hand down John, taking in the line of his neck, over his back and finishing by cupping his ass. He slid his palm under John's thigh and tugged, lifting his leg up over Rodney's waist, then reached between his ass cheeks, then hesitated. "Can I?"

John yawned, "I don't know, *can* you?"

A finger dug into him, rubbing firmly over his asshole, and he jerked forwards, closer into Rodney. "I thought you said you were sleeping."

"I thought you said you were bored. If you can't keep up, I'll just have to move... more slowly." Rodney's voice had roughened, almost quiet, which was even more of a turn on in some ways than the rhythmic press of his thumb over John's hole. He was sure it was going to go in any second now, and a jolt twitched right through him to his dick. Rodney felt it and made one of those odd, smug little sounds that weren't quite laughs. He was moving more slowly too, the bastard, his hips arching forwards, pacing his hand behind John.

John tucked his arm into the sweaty space between them and carefully gathered their dicks together, still kissing, kissing, lips touching and parting, exploring, drifting in asymmetrical ellipses around the fixed points of each other's lips, as though unable to escape from each other's touch.

The air was cool on John's back, but he barely noticed it, loving the heat and weight of Rodney's body, the dark space between them closed up and almost gone, almost close enough.

"Look at me," he murmured, and Rodney's eyes opened a little, heavy and dark. "Look at me," he said again.

"Right here, John," he said softly. "I always see you. Even when you're not there."

Rodney's thumb pushed in, John's ass opening reluctantly. He pressed in a little way, and John made a small, approving noise.

"I should--"

"Don't have to." Rodney paused, and wriggled his thumb gently, then pushed.

"Move," John told him after long seconds. He arched a little, pushed back, pushed down and Rodney grunted. In his hand, Rodney's cock jumped, and John laughed. "You want me so bad."

"And that's news, why, exactly?"

John just laughed under his breath, then gasped as a finger pushed in beside the thumb, careful and easy.

"You've been playing without me," Rodney murmured, and finger and thumb twisted slowly inside him.

"Just a little. I was kind of bored this evening."

Rodney pulled finger and thumb out and shifted lower, fitting himself to the bowl of John's hips, thick cockhead nudging at his slick anus. "I'll have to remember to get you get bored more often." He shoved forwards a little, and for a moment John thought he'd slide straight in, but just before, *just* before, he backed off, easing the pressure, then thrust gently at his hole again, over and over.

"Christ, fuck me already," he whispered roughly, and gripped at Rodney's hips as he pressed gently in, and thrust them together. Rodney's cock was hard going up him, hard and so good; wrapped around Rodney, Rodney everywhere, one hand sliding up and down John's leg where it lay over Rodney's, broad hand stroking almost to his ankle then dragging back up until he was holding the back of John's head, fingers tangled in his hair, still kissing and thrusting, long sweet drags of in and out that left him hollowed out and filled up.

Nothing outside the cling of skin on skin, the rough scent of sweat and the brush of stubbled face, the weight and heat and closeness. So heavy in him, on him, spiralling them down, tighter and smaller and closer until there was nowhere left beyond the limits of their bodies, their hands delineating the edges of the universe. It corkscrewed tighter, wrenched deeper, and left them huddled, gasping for air, unwilling to so much as move to reach for blankets to keep the cold from their backs.