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John and Rodney limped to the long tables set outside the inn, satisfied that they'd done all they could to help with the flood relief efforts. After washing at the standpipe, they took a seat and wolfed down bowls of stew with crusty bread that were placed in front of all those who'd been helping out.
"Is it true the ring of the Ancestors is lost?" the inn-keeper asked, placing a mug of ale next to each of them.
"You'll dig it out of the mud eventually, when the waters subside," Rodney said miserably.
"And you'll be stuck here until then?" she asked, her voice turning a little sly.
"Only til our friends send a space-ship to pick us up," John corrected.
"Space ship, eh? You must be men of means. And here's me with just one final room to let."
"Yes, yes, we'll take it." Rodney waved a hand, apparently uninterested in what figure she was extorting from them. He looked up at John "What? Do you want to spend the next month in a barn? The Apollo is still on Earth."
John shrugged, too tired and hurt to say anything at all, and grateful for Rodney's ability to prioritise comfort.
"Just as well Teyla and Ronon aren't here," Rodney said. "Four in a room for a month might be pushing it."
Whereas a month just the two of them sharing? That was gonna be just peachy.
"I've found you some robes," Kyni, the inn-keeper said when she showed them to their room. "The water's hot for a bath, there's a jar of herbs and salts for the water, to disinfect, and salve and bandages. Leave your dirty clothes and boots outside the door in this basket and I'll have them laundered and mended."
She looked at the rips in John's pants and the bloody bandage over the mess beneath.
"Should I get the doctor to you?"
John shook his head.
"S'okay, I have medicine."
He patted his tac vest.
Rodney rolled his eyes.
"Oh the stoic hero strikes again!"
But John felt Rodney's underlying concern. The failure of the temporary dam they helped build had been dramatic; it had done the job of saving lives and buying time, but for a moment there John had thought he and Rodney were going to be casualties of this natural disaster. The injury was minor compared to what could have been, and Rodney had come out weary but miraculously unscathed. All in all, John was taking walking out of this muddy and bloody as a win.
Besides, acts like these were suitable penance for past misdeeds: they'd come back to Pegasus with a renewed commitment to build relationships with the people here. They had to make up for stealing Atlantis away, show their commitment to the galaxy and its inhabitants.
The room wasn't vast, and of course there was only one modest sized bed. John had been subjected to that particular hell enough times with Rodney over the past six years. They left boots at the door, and Rodney immediately made a bee-line for the bathroom.
A short while later, he emerged with two washcloths, passing one to John, and stripping down to a t-shirt and boxers, throwing his pants and jacket into the basket and setting his tac vest aside.
"I've set a bath running for you. Clean yourself up a bit with this before getting in."
John took the cloth, feeling disconcerted by Rodney's care. He shrugged off his tac vest and gave his upper body a cursory wipe-down, putting off the inevitable. Then he unwrapped the field bandage and undid his pants. He'd got them as far as his thighs when he started to feel woozy.
"Oh, for…"
Rodney came over to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, guided him to a wooden chair at the end of the bed and gently lowered him.
"Well, this is a mess," he said, sounding pissy. "Hang on."
He went back to the bathroom, and returned with a bowl of hot water.
"I turned off the bath. Nearly forgot about that. It's nice and full. And I threw in a good dose of salts from the jar. So what I'm going to do now is wet the fabric around the wound to make it easier to pull it away."
He used a clean washcloth to squeeze water over John's mangled pants and then oh so gently began to peel away the torn fabric. John gritted his teeth, as much against the intimacy as from the pain, as slowly Rodney revealed various tears in his flesh down the length of his thigh.
Nothing too deep, though. A bit of stitching wouldn't go amiss, but the bleeding was light, and a good soaking would hopefully loosen the grit and river mud that had gotten everywhere. Rodney carefully pulled out a few nasty splinters and larger pieces of grit from the wound.
"This is a mess. I'm glad I did the field medic training eventually. I'm stitching this after you've bathed it. Make sure you get the worst dirt off before you get in to soak, okay? The salts should help keep the water sterile enough but let's not give it too big a challenge. Besides, I'll be getting in after you and I'd prefer not to get into muddy water."
And oh, that was just a little too intimate for John, but Rodney was as ever oblivious to these crossed lines, comfortable with their one-bed quarters, their semi-clad state, their shared bath.
John hobbled to the bathroom, pleased to find a cosy, stone-built space with a sunken bath and flickering gas lamps. He peeled himself out of the last of his clothes and sank gratefully into the hot water. It stung the torn flesh of his leg, and he felt dizzy again, but he didn't need to do anything but let himself sink against the nicely curved side of the bath and let his body soak off the stress of the day.
So they were stranded. So his leg was gonna be a mess of scarring, and maybe there'd be some physio needed. Nobody died. Any landing you walked away from…
Still, he felt kinda crappy. Kinda light-headed, lead-bodied, heart-thuddy, gut-sick. Ugh.
"John?"
A gentle touch to his face roused him.
"Must've dozed off," he mumbled. "Sorry."
"Dozed off or passed out?" those blue eyes narrowed in concern.
"I'm fine, McKay," John evaded.
"Oh, well colour me reassured, not like you ever say that when you're half dead."
John just grunted at him non-committally.
"How's the leg feeling?"
Rodney peered at John's thigh through the too-clear water.
"Hey! Naked here!" that at least roused John a little from his stupor.
"I'm not perving on you, Colonel, I've seen it all before enough times, and while yes, terribly impressive, horses would be envious and all that, I am actually concerned about your injuries right now."
John felt his cheeks heat, thankful for the dim gas lighting.
"It'll be okay," he ground out.
"Okay, Come on, we need to get you to bed, you're not looking so great."
"A little privacy, then?"
"No, sorry Colonel, you're a fall risk and I'm not leaving you alone. Here."
Rodney got a sturdy hold on John's bicep and carefully helped him up to sit on the edge of the bath, draping him in a huge, soft, towel. John felt dizzy again, nauseous and suddenly pathetically grateful for Rodney's sure, comforting touch.
John pulled the towel over his head and ineffectually dried himself. He felt like someone poured lead through his veins. Making it to standing felt beyond him.
Rodney helped him up onto a wooden stool and pushed back the towel to look at John's leg. John had to admit, it was a bit of a mess, and that one gaping split was gonna need stitches. But he'd had worse, it didn't make sense that he felt so rough.
Rodney fetched the medical kit and knelt at John's feet. Even in his miserable state, John felt a shot of arousal as Rodney put his hands on John's naked thigh, the towel carefully covering up his gently stirring cock. Rodney carefully swabbed the wounds with disinfectant, teasing out the last bits of foreign matter. John gritted his teeth, thankful for the sting and the throb distracting him from the more unbearable ache caused by Rodney's touch.
"I'm going to have to stitch this one, aren't I?" Rodney said apprehensively when he was done.
"I can do it," John countered.
Rodney looked up at him, his blue eyes set with a withering look.
"We've both had the same field medic training, Colonel. And I have the advantage of the better angle and the not being injured. So don't be ridiculous."
"Rodney…"
"Look, I know you have this whole untouchable solitary man thing going on, Sheppard, but you're injured and you need to get over yourself."
So Rodney carefully pressed John's torn flesh closed and made a row of perfectly neat stitches with painstaking care, and John surreptitiously swiped moisture from the corners of his eyes. Soon enough, Rodney was dressing the wound, and helping John to bed. The robes they'd been given were too thick for nightwear, so there was nothing for it but to slip naked between the sheets.
Rodney pulled the soft, deep covers up over him, and John had the weirdest feeling he was about to be forehead-kissed, only of course that didn't happen because Rodney was his work colleague and friend.
"Um, I'm going to have my bath. Try to sleep," Rodney said, looking (finally!) a little awkward about the whole naked bed sharing situation.
John focussed on the simple agony of his torn flesh and let all other thoughts drift away as he sank down into the comfort of sleep.
John woke to grey pre-dawn light pouring in through the skylights above the bed. His body had stiffened up and his thigh throbbed and stung and stabbed a nasty little symphony through his nervous system. His bladder was adding to the medley, and he slowly eased his body upright, using the convenient chamber pot that had been left for the purpose, trying to ignore the quiet body on the bed next to him.
But when John eased back under the thick covers, glad to retreat from the chill morning air, he realised Rodney really was on the bed, not in it, and that he was shivering. The stupid bastard had kept his robe on, pulled the other robe over him, and tried to sleep like that, on top of the bed.
"Rodney?" he said softly.
"Go back to sleep," Rodney said grumpily.
"Not til you stop being a prude and get under the covers, McKay. I'm not going to molest you."
There was a soft laugh.
"Yeah, in my dreams."
A silence so profound John could feel the weight of it settled around them.
"Um, can we just pretend I didn't say that?"
No the fuck we can't! John's brain protested, but his mouth said, "sure, buddy, not sure I caught it anyways, 'm half asleep here."
"Oh, um, well good. Okay then."
"Just get under the covers and warm up, okay? And ditch the robe, nobody can sleep in that thing."
Rodney sat up on the bed and shucked the robe. John couldn't help but let his eyes linger on that broad back, alarmed to see the dark red of bruising all down one side.
"Rodney, you're injured."
"Oh, well, um, a bit knocked about, yes, but I'll be okay."
"You should let me check you over."
"Tomorrow, Colonel," Rodney said, yawning.
"Just get in here and turn your back to me," John said, his gut roiling with fearful fury.
Rodney never played down mild injuries. And that bruising was too near his kidneys for John's liking. Rodney wriggled under the covers and John looked at the bruised area, trying to ignore the pretty curve of Rodney's naked ass with its tragic arrow scar.
"I'm gonna feel around for anything we should be worried about, okay?" John said.
He carefully felt around the bruised area, pressing into Rodney's flesh, making him whimper from the pain of it and feeling like a bastard. But there were no sharp cries, no signs of lurking ruptures or internal bleeding.
"Did you check your piss for blood?"
"It was fine. I hadn't thought about that, but it was fine."
Rodney sounded breathless and miserable.
"I'm sorry, Rodney. But just don't hide injuries, okay?"
"I was focussed on the mess your leg was in, forgive me if a bit of bruising didn't seem worth mentioning."
"Since when, McKay?"
"Since once again I got a ringside seat at what I was sure was going to be your tragic and gruesome death, okay? My brain doesn't seem to have room for anything else since that."
"C'mon, McKay, s'hardly a first."
"Well, it doesn't get easier, okay?" Rodney's voice was tight, a little hight pitched. "In fact it's getting to be more than I can cope with."
There was a trace of a restrained sob in Rodney's voice and it tore at something in John's heart. If he hadn't been so naked he might have given in to the urge to glomp on Rodney and hold him tight. Instead, he squeezed Rodney's bicep in as brotherly a way as possible.
"I'm sorry, Rodney."
"Yes, well, this time it actually was mostly shitty luck rather than your usual suicidal tendencies. Although typical stupid heroism was a given."
"Rodney. You were standing right next to me when it all went to hell."
"Well, you know by now, I'll follow you anywhere, right?"
Rodney turned, then, and looked John right in the eyes, his look more naked even than his skin.
John suddenly realised he could just reach for Rodney. Maybe he always could have. The realisation left him stunned.
He thought about kissing those lips. About putting Rodney's quick, clever hands on him. There were no more excuses. DADT was gone, Jennifer had stayed on Earth, they'd both outed themselves as bi at that harvest festival on Caslimur.
And he was certain now if he kissed Rodney, Rodney would kiss him back.
He ached to do it. Just lean forward, press their lips together, be guided by the myriad longings of his body.
"Go back to sleep, McKay," he said, carefully rolling over.
His thigh hurt like a sonofabitch. He felt old.
Rodney gave a put-upon sigh, but said nothing.
John woke to an empty bed. Rodney was up, wrapped up in the long, cumbersome robe and a pair of woolly slippers, coming in through the door bearing a tray of food.
"Oh good, you're awake. I got us some breakfast."
Rodney came and sat on the bed, placing the tray next to John. There was tea that smelled a lot like the stuff Teyla favoured, and bread, cheese, fruit and nut paste.
John sat up gingerly, feeling vulnerable.
"Clothes?"
"Sorry, it all went in the basket. I, um, should've kept back some things to hand wash."
"Can't be helped."
"You should stay in bed anyway, rest that leg."
"Maybe I will, just for a bit."
He let the bedding fall to his lap, feeling acutely aware of his bare chest, as if Rodney hadn't seen it a hundred times or more. Rodney, though, chattered easily, as if the tension of the previous night had been purely imaginary.
For John, it was lingering, itching under his skin. He couldn't fool himself any more, couldn't pretend it hadn't been him all along stopping this from happening.
He just wasn't sure exactly why.
Rodney wolfed down his share of the food with his usual gusto, and John found his eyes lingering unbidden on Rodney's mouth as it devoured chunks of juicy red fruit, bread slathered with paste.
When he was done, Rodney sucked his fingers into his mouth, one at a time, making oblivious little humming noises, and John very nearly went to pieces.
"I should check your dressing," Rodney said, when he'd cleared away the tray.
He came around to John's side of the bed.
"Everything's fine, McKay," John deflected, because he was half hard and that was gonna be tricky to hide.
"Oh. Well, could you just take a look at my back in the light, just to make sure…"
"Of course," John said.
With that, Rodney turned around and shrugged off his robe, dropping it down til it hung from his elbows and skimmed the lower portion of his ass, giving John a truly beautiful view of the best ass in two galaxies.
He forced his eyes higher and his breathing back to normal as he examined the developing bruises up Rodney's side. His fingers traced their path of the night before, pressing in to make sure nothing sinister was lurking, although he kinda knew it was late by now to be doing such checks. Rodney was moving stiffly, and wincing a lot, but he was going to be fine.
John, on the other hand, had gone from semi to hard and was struggling to move his hands away from Rodney's skin.
And really, why ruin a six year streak of self-denial? What on earth had gotten into him?
"Okay, McKay, you're good," John finally announced, resisting the urge to give a friendly slap to that fabulous rump.
"Oh, well, thank you," Rodney said, pulling the robe back up around himself.
John watched how his shoulders flexed, noticing how much more well-built Rodney was now. He wondered how those muscles would feel holding him down, pushing him up against the wall…
"Sheppard, are you okay?"
"Yeah, Rodney, I'm fine," John said, feeling his skin heat, "I guess I'm just a bit out of it."
"You really are. I think maybe you should get some more sleep."
"Sure, that's a good idea."
John woke to find once again he was naked in bed with an equally unclothed Rodney. The bed was maybe four feet wide, not even a double, and his good thigh was pressed against Rodney's, who was face down, drooling on the pillow, fast asleep.
He even sleeps ridiculously, John thought, wondering why that made something warm and fluttery expand in his chest and threaten to break free. Rodney looked so vulnerable, his shoulders bare to the room, the covers cutting across those delicious biceps. John wanted to fit his palm in the space between his shoulder-blades and just lay it there, warm and safe.
Rodney stirred, opening his eyes before John remembered to look away. He found himself pinned by two inquisitive blue searchlights, ever seeking answers.
John was somehow forgetting how to hide those answers, even though he'd been doing so all these years.
"Sorry," Rodney said, not sounding it at all, "I got hit by tiredness so hard, and this bed is so cosy…"
Barely perceptibly, Rodney's thigh pressed closer against John's. John wanted to pull away, but somehow he found himself pressing back.
Maybe he could reach out. Maybe this was possible now.
But Rodney seemed to collect himself, and slid out of the bed, reaching for the robe and standing to slip it on, giving John a beautiful eyeful as he did it.
"Oh…" Rodney reached into one of the robe's deep pockets. "I found a tsilsi set. Thought we could play a game at some point…"
John woke the next morning to find his traitorous body had shaped itself along Rodney's, his hand resting right at the base of Rodney's spine, just where the swell of his ass cheeks began.
"Those aren't pillows, Colonel," Rodney's muffled voice said, sounding sleepy and amused.
John sniggered at the movie reference, and Rodney joined him, and before long they were shaking with laughter. Planes Trains and Automobiles was part of their shared teenage culture, even if in retrospect that scene had been homophobic. In contrast to the scene, Rodney didn't seem at all uncomfortable here.
Somehow, John's hand had only retreated into the small of Rodney's back, and it felt right, natural that it could linger on Rodney's sleep-warm skin. Rodney turned his face to John's, eyes shining with amusement, and something else a little more heated.
John found he couldn't breathe. He'd utterly failed to avert whatever the hell this was, and his fingers were moving, just by tiny increments along Rodney's skin, taking care to avoid the bruising, and his tongue was wetting his lips in anticipation.
John was hungry. Needy. And he couldn't batten it down any longer. Wasn't really sure why he'd ever needed to.
He was pretty sure he was about to kiss Rodney McKay. He was even more certain Rodney wanted him to.
And then there was a knock at the door, and Rodney rolled his eyes.
"Coming!" he called out, slipping out of the bed and unabashedly giving John yet another eyeful.
John drank him in as he slipped back into the robe and padded to the door.
"I have your clean and mended clothes," Kyni said, handing Rodney a basket. "And some breakfast." She turned and fetched in a tray and put it on the bedside table.
"Oh… thank you," Rodney said, sounding a little crestfallen.
"Is there some issue?"
"Gosh, no, this is, this is great, really… great. It will be so good to have our clothes back. Truly. Thank you."
Kyni left, and Rodney shut the door, turning to face John with blazing cheeks.
"Um, I…"
There was no more reason for the intimacy of the last two nights to continue. John should pull himself back together, put some clothes on and forget any of this ever happened.
He slid out of the bed, reaching for his own robe as slowly as Rodney had. Noting the way Rodney's eyes were on him, the way he froze, his look intense, curious.
John stepped up close to Rodney, taking the basket carefully out of his hands and putting it aside.
"What if I wasn't ready for you to get dressed?" he asked, his heart thudding.
Rodney reached for John's hand and squeezed it, and John very nearly unraveled on the spot.
"I'm in no rush," Rodney said, stepping closer to John and looking into his eyes.
His pupils had dilated, making the blue as intense as John had ever seen it.
"Rodney, I…"
John wanted to explain how hard this was, why he hadn't… he was so fucking scared. But he couldn't make words, so instead he did the bravest thing he'd done in a very long time—he reached a hand up to Rodney's cheek, stroked a slightly shaky thumb towards his mouth, leaned closer in, hoping for an answer.
Rodney's eyes went wider, and then he met John's lips halfway, soft at first, and then as needy as John's own, six years of holding back suddenly unspooling into the heat of his mouth on John's.
"God, Rodney," John said, when he finally pulled back.
He tipped his head onto Rodney's shoulder. It was too much. He wanted to tear Rodney out of his robe. He wanted to run for the door.
Rodney rested a hand on the back of his neck.
"We're gonna have some breakfast, okay? We have a whole month here together to figure this out."
"We should probably talk," John said.
Rodney shrugged.
"If you want," he said
"Well, you know me."
"Yeah," Rodney said, sliding his fingers into John's hair and scritching until John melted. "I do."
John pressed kisses into Rodney's neck, and then returned to his mouth. Rodney kissed him back slowly, and John thought he might break apart from the sweetness of it. He felt a little light-headed, unable to catch a breath, and it was so fucking stupid after facing down wraith and replicators to be afraid of this.
I'm the one thing you are afraid of. The words of his doppelganger echoed in his brain.
It wasn't him and Rodney that scared him, it was him fucking up.
Rodney pulled back and gave him a questioning look.
"Isn't it supposed to be me that overthinks things? I can hear you worrying," Rodney said.
"What if this is a bad idea?" John said.
"Because?"
"Because it's me."
"And me?"
John shook his head vehemently.
"No, Rodney, I… I trust you. You know I do. It's me that's the fuck-up when it comes to…"
"You know what? Shut up. I'm not gonna listen to you running down the man I… care about. A lot. This isn't about your past, or anything else, John, it's about us. You and me. About how we're meant to be doing this. About how we've been meant to be doing this since forever and you were too stubborn to let it happen. I don't care if we're both the biggest fuck-ups in the galaxy, and maybe we are. We fit together. I can't keep stamping down these feelings, it's bad for my blood pressure."
And oh, he'd seen that look on Rodney's face before, the bravado hiding his own fears. And that's when it hit John that he simply had to not fuck this up, because hurting Rodney wasn't something he was prepared to do and they were already in this.
"C'mere," John said.
He reached for Rodney, who kissed John again, determined and bossy, his tongue taking ownership of John's mouth and John had no argument against it. He'd longed for this too many years.
"Gonna prove to you we make sense," Rodney finally said, slowing down the kisses, mapping out his mouth with lips and tongue, patient and thorough.
"I don't want you to feel like you have to prove something to me Rodney," John said, when they finally came up for air. "I'm… I'm scared, but I'm not backing out. I'm all in."
Rodney's body relaxed perceptibly, and he broke into a beautiful smile.
"Well, good. Because me too. All in. It would be stupid of us after six years to half-ass this."
"Right."
John gulped, because the implications were sinking in fast. All-in meant committed, meant…
Jesus fucking Christ, he hadn't just kissed Rodney, he may as well have agreed to marry him. No wonder he'd been scared. No wonder he'd waited six years to be sure of this, because him and Rodney coming apart? That would end more than just him.
No wonder he'd waited six years to be sure of this.
Oh.
He was sure, wasn't he? Sure as a person could be about anything.
"Thing is, you're my person. My go-to guy," he tried to explain.
"I love you too," Rodney said, and then looked suddenly worried. "I mean…"
"Yeah," John said, "that."
He kissed Rodney again, his chest all weird and achy and his throat tight. This longing had been so enduring, so omnipresent he'd gotten used to the pain of it. Having Rodney was almost too much. He'd make himself say the words. Soon. But right now he could barely speak for the overwhelm of it.
"What if we had breakfast in bed?" Rodney said eventually.
John grinned.
"Yeah, I'd like that."
He took a bathroom break and then shyly shucked his robe and got under the covers, letting himself appreciate another glimpse of Rodney's gorgeous body when he joined him. John's wounded thigh was already giving him less trouble, and he was too full of mushy feelings anyway to care about a little pain. He turned towards Rodney, propped up on his elbow.
Rodney buttered a piece of dense, nutty bread, and offered it to John, who took it in his mouth, savouring the rich flavours, and the brush of Rodney's slick fingertips on his lips. Rodney ate his own piece, and then fed John a piece of fruit, its flavour bright and tart and juicy on John's tongue. This went on until John was more hungry for Rodney than for food, his cock stirring against the covers, his skin sensitised.
"You don't know how much I want you right now," Rodney said, his look intense.
"Fuck, Rodney," John ground out, closing the distance between their mouths.
"Is that a yes?" Rodney asked, when they came up for air.
"Please."
He knew he sounded needy for it, and he couldn't bring himself to care.
Rodney's lips moved to John's neck, nipping and mouthing with maddening slowness, and John turned onto his back, surrendering to his attention. His hand came up and caressed John's chest, and John felt his body push up into the strokes, cat-like.
"Do you know how long I've wanted you? How long you've had that 'don't touch' sign up for?" Rodney said, as he kissed his way lower, sucking at John's right nipple as his fingers played with the left until they hardened for him.
John wanted to protest that Rodney was the one off being all hetero with Katie and Jennifer, but deep down he knew he'd never given Rodney the smallest opening until now. And Rodney had just been living his life.
So instead, he just made soft noises of appreciation.
Rodney kissed his way further down. Taking care of John's injured leg, he arranged himself beside John on the bed, reaching for John's cock and giving it an almost affectionate stroke. John may have whimpered, just a little.
"Pretty," he said.
And then he leaned in and took John into his mouth, and John couldn't help but let out a throaty moan. Rodney was focused, attentive, thorough, careful, like this really mattered to him, like he had all the time in the world to make John feel good. John melted into the bed and let the pleasure wash away the pain and the doubts.
Him and Rodney. This was how it was meant to be. His heart pounded as Rodney skillfully drove his pleasure higher, his fingers stroking up behind John's balls as his mouth took John apart. Rodney stroked at John's entrance, blunt fingers applying just enough pressure for John to picture him pressing inside and that was it, he was coming, sudden and hard, with a strangled cry, and Rodney was making humming noises, drinking him down like he was the best meal.
Rodney slid carefully up his body, and gave John a slow kiss, the taste of himself still there in Rodney's mouth.
"God, John," he said.
He was looking at John the way he looked at ZPMs, at his own scientific breakthroughs.
John's eyes slid across to the breakfast tray and the small pot of butter. Rodney's eyes followed, curious.
"Don't suppose you have condoms in your tac vest?"
Rodney blushed.
"You know I do. They come in handy for a lot of technical things, like waterproofing small pieces of equipment."
"McKay," John said patiently, "do you wanna fuck me?"
Because suddenly John couldn't wait any longer, he needed to be that close to Rodney, needed Rodney inside him.
"I can't imagine anything I want more right now," Rodney answered, his look deliciously greedy.
Rodney arranged him on his side, with his good leg pulled up protectively over his bad one.
"This okay for you? I need you to tell me if it hurts."
Rodney was gonna be a give me data kind of lover and John was not a talker, but he was pretty sure he could give Rodney non-verbal feedback. As Rodney ran his hands over John's back, John gave a reassuring mmmmmm.
Rodney reached for the butter and got his fingers slicked up, sliding them over John's entrance teasingly, igniting all the nerve endings there. When Rodney slid a finger inside him, he let out an involuntary moan. It had been way too long since he'd been fucked, and nobody had ever touched him with this much care and attention. He felt desperate, needy for it, but Rodney was maddeningly slow, massaging him open with focused care. When he slid a second finger in, he found John's prostate, and John was soon hard again, breathing in little gasps, longing for Rodney's cock.
"Please, Rodney," he said eventually.
"Oh wow. Yes, hold on."
Rodney scrambled for a cloth to wipe his buttery hands and got the condom on hastily. Then he came up behind John, leaning round to give him a slow, intense kiss, before lining himself up and starting to press in. John's body just opened up for him like Rodney belonged there, taking him all the way, deep inside him, Rodney pressed close, arms wrapped around John's body, and they began to move against each other, a delicious, intense, struggle to merge their bodies.
Rodney was everywhere—in him, around him, hands running over his skin, fingers pinching at his nipples, and John was almost sobbing from the overwhelming pleasure. Rodney was making appreciative little hums and moans and groans, so into him, and John knew neither of them were gonna last, his cock hard and leaking once again, aching for release.
Rodney's hand went up to stroke John's hair, caress his face, and John turned and caught Rodney's fingers in his mouth, sucking on three digits, hard and deep and greedy.
Rodney gave a cry and his hips began to stutter. John thrust his body back onto Rodney's cock, moaning around the fingers in his mouth, as his own pleasure began to spiral. Their bodies heaved against each other as they shuddered through their mutual climax, Rodney's fingers pushing into John's mouth, his cock thrusting deeper into his body, taking up residence in a way John had needed, wanted for far too long.
He loved this man so much. Maybe one day he'd even tell him so with actual words. Meanwhile, there were plenty of other ways to show him.
Eventually they pulled apart enough to deal with the condom and return to some more exploratory kissing.
"You, me and this bed, for a whole month," John said into his neck some time later.
"Almost like a honeymoon," Rodney said, and then he froze, tensing for John's reaction.
John lifted his head and gave him a soppy grin.
"Yeah, I like that," he said.