John frowns as a hand wavers between his eyes and the computer screen. He shoves it away, but
Rodney sticks his head in the way instead.
"McKay," he growls, "did you need something, or are you just getting in your recommended daily annoyance?"
Rodney snorts, but doesn't pull back. He's got one butt cheek propped on the edge of John's desk, his
leg shoving into John's arm, as he bends forward to hover over the screen. "I hardly think I'm the
annoying one. Aren't you done yet?"
John sighs and rubs his tired eyes. "I wish. I have to get this done before the Daedelus heads out, or
let's just say things will be a lot less pleasant around here for quite a while."
Rodney hmmms. "And people say that I'm a workaholic."
John raises an eyebrow. "People say that?"
Rodney makes his cute little annoyed face, the one that makes John be a little more evil a little
more often than is strictly necessary.
"Very funny. And here I was going to suggest the perfect solution."
John perks up at that. "Solution? Do you have some magic program that figures up supply requirements?
It'd be perfect if it fills out the forms, too."
Rodney rolls his eyes. "No, Colonel. I'm afraid you're actually going to have to do your own work. What
I was going to suggest was a break."
John allows himself a little pout, not enough to really look childish, just a slight protrusion of his
lips. He was really hoping Rodney had a miracle up his sleeve. Plus, "I can't take a break, Rodney. The
Daedalus is leaving at oh-five hundred."
"Oh, I don't think this will take long," Rodney says, and before John can protest further, he's wedging
John's chair backwards with his body and pushing between John's legs.
"Oh," John says as Rodney sinks to his knees. "Maybe just a short break."
Rodney's hands look huge on his buckle, and for some reason that's got John hard as rock just like that.
The sound of his zipper is like a chainsaw buzz in his tiny office.
"The door," he says a bit frantically, but Rodney rolls his eyes again.
"Locked, of course."
Rodney draws John's pants halfway down his hips and leaves them there. Then he works a hand into the tight
space between John's legs, cupping John's balls, playing with him. John tries to get his legs wider, but
he's pretty much trapped between the chair, Rodney, and his own clothing. He whimpers at the too soft touch,
both heightened and muted by the smooth cloth of his boxers.
"Rodney," he begs.
"Right, no time for playing, gotcha," Rodney answers a bit distractedly, then reaches through the opening
in John's boxers and works his cock out. It's nearly torture, but the good kind of torture.
And then oh god, it's not torture anymore as sweet hot wet Rodney oh god mouth surrounds his cock, moving
up and down in a rhythm that's already fast and hard. John squirms on the chair, the inability to move making
the need to come that much more immediate. He watches Rodney bobbing up and down, thinking it's one of the
hottest things he's ever seen--Rodney, between John's legs, in John's office. He runs a hand over Rodney's
soft hair. He has to close his eyes as Rodney wraps a hand, one of his strong, wonderful hands, around the
base of his cock. Rodney sucks a little harder, and it's over. John shoves his hand into his mouth, muffling
his groans as Rodney swallows his load.
He feels totally debauched as Rodney pulls off and carefully tucks him back into his pants, and he probably
shouldn't be getting so much of a thrill out of the fact that this happened here. Rodney chuckles at him.
"Better?"
John nods lazily, unable to stop smiling. "Much. You?"
Rodney pushes John's chair back further and climbs to his feet, making pained faces and rubbing at his
thigh as he does so. "Mmm, tempting," he says, but swats at John's hand as he strokes Rodney's cock
through his pants. "But, as unheard of as it is for me to deny my own needs, this is actually for your own good."
John raises both eyebrows. "Oh, really?"
Rodney nods. "Think of it as incentive. Because I'm going to go back to my quarters, take a nice long,
hot shower, and then I'm going to get into bed. And I'm going to take care of this," he says with a small
thrust of his hips. "If you're quick enough with your work, you can help me out."
John licks his lips at the thought of watching Rodney jack off, of getting there just when he's ready to
come, of capturing his hands and not letting him finish until John has his wicked, wicked way with him.
"Right," he says, swallowing hard. "No problem. I should be done in fifteen, twenty at the most."
Rodney grins. "Perfect."
John watches Rodney's ass as he leaves the room, and then spins back to work. What does it matter if they're
a little short on a few things next month, anyway? As long as it's not chocolate, coffee, or toilet paper,
they'll manage just fine.
Despite his best intentions, it's twenty-five minutes by the time John finishes what he absolutely has to
finish. It doesn't help that the low buzz of arousal is making him edgy the entire time, thoughts of what
Rodney's getting up to on his own trying to distract him from his work. Thank goodness he's already come,
or he'd have given in two minutes after Rodney left.
Thankfully it's well into the night shift as he hurries to Rodney's quarters. He only runs into one Marine
patrol as he passes by the control room, and a quick nod gets him by without any delay.
It's dark, nearly pitch black in Rodney's quarters, and John stops short, wondering if he misheard somehow,
or, God forbid, Rodney gave up on him.
"Lock it," Rodney says, his voice husky, and John swallows hard as he turns to do just that. Oh yeah.
No mistake.
Rodney brings the lights up to a pale glow, but it's more than enough for John to get a good look. Rodney's
naked on the bed, blankets kicked to the foot, one leg drawn up to display his hard, hard cock. It's shiny
all over--he's obviously gotten out the lube. John takes slow steps toward the bed, unbuckling his pants with
clumsy hands, mesmerized by the sight of Rodney's hand slowly gliding over his cock and down to his balls.
Somehow John figures out how to get the rest of his clothes off, though the shoes are a near thing. He's a
foot away from climbing onto the bed, from getting his hands and body and mouth on all of that, when Rodney
lets go of his cock and snaps his fingers imperiously.
"No, no, I don't think so. You're late."
John stops, frowning. "Barely. I worked as fast as I could, Rodney."
"Be that as it may, I nearly hurt something drawing it out this long. You can sit and wait while I
finish," Rodney says, waving at the chair by his bed.
John thinks about drawing the game out, but he's been waiting long enough. He pulls Rodney's chair closer
to the bed so that he's got a great view of the proceedings, then slouches down on it, propping one foot
up on the bed so Rodney has his own special vista.
"Very nice," Rodney says, "but don't think you're going to distract me."
And then he begins to put on a show. One hand sets to work on his nipples, pinching and pulling, and Rodney
lets out a quiet gasp. John knows that sound--it means Rodney's almost had enough of foreplay, is almost ready
to kick it into high gear. John plays with his own balls as he watches Rodney lick his lips and start
stroking his cock harder.
Rodney's not quite ready to get to the main show, though, because he stops to work the head, his fingers
rubbing over and around before he makes a circle of his thumb and index, tightens them around the head as
his hips make short little thrusts. John's mouth is dry, and he licks his lips desperately, wanting to taste
so bad. Rodney goes back to the long strokes, speeding up, and John thinks this is it, that Rodney's going to
finish himself off, but then Rodney just stops.
John thinks that's the signal to join the game, but before he can get his foot down and climb onto the bed,
Rodney's found the lube. He's got two fingers of his left hand pressed together, coated in lube, and he's
reaching around, reaching between his legs, and Christ.
"Oh, yeah," Rodney groans, and John can't quite see it, but he sees the muscles in Rodney's forearm tense
and relax, his thigh muscles bunch as he holds his leg out of the way, his cock bob and twitch as Rodney
fucks himself. It's too much. Fuck the game.
Better, yet, fuck Rodney.
John climbs onto the bed, maneuvering so that he's head to foot with Rodney. His own cock is throbbing, he's
so hard, but he holds his hips away, wanting to concentrate on Rodney.
"John," Rodney gasps, holding his cock toward John's mouth, and how can he resist that? He takes Rodney in
as far as he can, briefly thinking that the edible lube was the best thing he got out of the trip to Earth,
before he slides back up again. He can tell Rodney's still moving his fingers, so he tries to set the same
pace. Rodney grabs the back of his neck, broad, hot palm nearly engulfing, burning against John's skin. John
speeds up, and then Rodney comes, thick waves of hot fluid that John swallows as fast as he can. Rodney's
whimpering and moaning, his hand clenching around John's neck, and John keeps sucking and licking until
Rodney goes completely limp everywhere.
"Oh, fuck," Rodney says, sounding completely wasted.
John twists around on the bed, grinning goofily. "Yes, please?"