A Big Deal

"Major," Rodney called out. "Hold up—"

John turned and squinted at Rodney, silhouetted against the sunlight. "Rodney?"

Rodney trotted closer, and John could see that he was excited about something, smiling his crooked little I've-got-a-secret smile. Waiting for Rodney to reach him, he wondered what had gotten the man all wound up. A new way to power up the shields? New weapons? Mysterious new Ancient devices? A new coffee-growing trading partner?

He liked when Rodney was excited. He was learning that an excited and enthusiastic Rodney could be very fun. Breathtakingly fun.

Rodney reached him, his momentum carrying him past John. He spun on a heel, turning to face him. "Look what I found. In the stockroom. A whole entire case of it." He waved a tube in front of John's face.

Curiosity piqued, John asked, "A case? A case of what?"

"Lube," Rodney whispered, stepping backward as John approached, staying just out of reach.

It took a moment to register. "Lube?"

"Lube. Lube-ri-cant." Rodney waved the tube again as he backed away. John snatched his wrist, stopping him.

"Oh," he said, reading the label. "Ooooh," he said again. "You mean—?"

"Exactly," Rodney told him, with a stab of his finger. "Want to do me? I mean, really do me?" He said this with a happy little grin as he rocked on the balls of his feet, and John felt a jolt of pure excitement straight down into his cock. "Now?" It was the middle of the afternoon, but already he was imagining the sensation of Rodney's naked skin against his.

"Yes, now," Rodney explained. "I have nothing earth-shattering going on at the moment. Do you?"

"You know, as a matter of fact, no, I don't," John answered, his voice rough because his mouth had gone oddly dry. They were going to do it; they were going to take that step, weren't they? "Let's, uh," he motioned with his hand, "go and—you really want to do this, right?"

He supposed that was a dumb question, especially with the way Rodney looked at him, with that familiar mixture of affection and irritation. But he merely nodded, put a hand on John's shoulder and said, "Yes, John. Yes, I do."

He spoke with a teasing light in his eyes, but John didn't mind. It was a short stroll to the living quarters, striding side by side, shoulders bumping, while Rodney chattered on about god knows what, both of them trying to be oh-so-casual. John was hyperaware of what was in Rodney's pocket, not to mention what was going on in his own pants. Thank goodness for loose pants. Even so, he was sure it was blindingly obvious what they were about to do, that it was written on their faces as they walked past other residents—oh yes, we're going to have sex now, we're going to Rodney's room so I can shove my cock up his ass, isn't that nice? Please hold all my calls, thank you.

Once safely inside, he watched Rodney kick off his shoes while pulling his shirt off over his head, as if trying to get all his clothes off at once. Rodney shoved his pants down, revealing a pale, nicely rounded ass and John's hands instinctively reached for it, two firm handfuls.

"Naked, John. This works a whole lot better if we're naked," Rodney said over his shoulder. "Both of us."

"Nooo," John said with mock astonishment. He gave Rodney's ass a final squeeze. "I hadn't known that."

"Although—" Rodney frowned, sitting on the bed, hard cock bouncing happily as he kicked his ankles free of his trousers, "the idea of just the gun-holster with your thigh strap is terribly appealing, but we can save that for a later date."

"My gun strap?" John blinked halfway through trying to pull his shirt off while staring at Rodney's cock. Rodney wanted him to—okay now, that was weird, definitely weird. "You're kidding, right?"

A smug little grin, hinting of all kinds of strange kinks, and no, Rodney wasn't kidding at all. "Naked," Rodney reminded him.

His gun strap? Whenever he thought he had Rodney figured out, Rodney surprised him with something new. Just like when he had been convinced that Rodney was an arrogant, self-serving bastard, he'd played the hero and selflessly risked his life to save others. And when he had been absolutely certain that Rodney hated his guts, Rodney had cornered him in a deserted corridor and kissed the hell out of him.

But now Rodney was naked—naked and hard and lying back on the bed watching him, and now wasn't the time for pondering all things Rodney, because Rodney was naked and Rodney wanted him. Nothing had changed. He wanted Rodney as much now as he had wanted Rodney from the first moment he had laid eyes on him at the icy Ancient's outpost in Antarctica.

John stripped off his clothes. Oh yeah, he was going to fuck Rodney; he was going to shove his cock right up inside of Rodney's body. He was going to own Rodney, and it was going to be good, so god damn good.

He hoped.

He let Rodney pull him down onto the bed, warm body, arms encircling him. "Hello, Major," Rodney said, voice low and rich.

"Hi." A welcoming kiss, slow and sweet, warm skin against his and a thigh sliding in between his legs. It was all good, like soaring effortlessly in a 'jumper, silent and still while the world rushed past beneath him.

Rodney made a happy sound and pulled John closer, his hand gliding slowly over John's ass, then wrapping around his cock. That was an even bigger rush, that Rodney would touch him like that. And what they were going to do next, what Rodney was going to permit him to do—

"Rodney," John whispered against his cheek, "you do know I don't know what I'm doing, right?"

Rodney raised his head. "It's not complicated. You'll see. My ass, your dick, a little lube—believe me, it'll work."

John nodded, unconvinced. "Of course it will work," he said, "I know that. It's just that—I may not be—"

"You're nervous, aren't you?" Rodney said with a smug expression.

"No, I'm not," John denied. "I'm fine. I just hate feeling all inexperienced."

"Nervous," Rodney sang out. "Nervous, nervous, nervous."

John sank his teeth into Rodney's shoulder.

"Oh," Rodney breathed. It wasn't an ow-stop-that-it-hurts "oh," but a shivery, do-that-again-and-I'm-going-to-come "oh."

"You liked that," John accused, surprised and disturbingly turned on and thank you, he didn't need to know that about himself. He licked the reddened skin.

"Yes, I did. I liked it a lot. What, like you don't have any kinks?" Rodney mouthed John's neck, his stiff cock poking John's stomach.

"Sure I do."

"You want to do it in the jumper, don't you?"

Was he that transparent? "Maybe," he hedged.

Rodney smiled triumphantly. "Hah, I knew it." He squeezed John's cock. "The minute you sit in that pilot's seat you get hard. And I've seen you fondling those controls. Kinky, John, very kinky."

"I do not." He didn't do that, did he? Even though the jumper was cool. Very cool. And with Rodney constantly standing behind him, breathing down his neck, being so damn sarcastic—it was a wet dream come true. "You shouldn't be staring at my crotch all the time."

He found the lube, uncapped it, and touched a drop of it to his finger. Slippery, very slippery, he thought, rubbing it between his fingers. They were going to do it. Sex. Intercourse. Making love. Fucking. Whatever. He really wasn't sure what it was they did together. It wasn't all romantic and sweet like being with a girl, because this was Rodney, for heaven's sake. Rodney definitely wasn't warm and fuzzy, although sometimes, when John woke to nuzzling and that happy grin first thing in the morning, he wasn't quite so sure.

"I only stare at your crotch when I can't stare at your ass," Rodney was saying. "Give me that." He took the tube from John's hand. "Fingers."

John held his hand out and Rodney smeared the liquid over his first two fingers. "Kind of cold, isn't it?"

"It will warm up, believe me." Rodney rolled onto his back.

John reached over, feeling oddly hesitant, even though hell, he'd done this with Rodney in the shower, jerking him off while pushing a soapy finger up his ass. This felt different, it was leading somewhere else. It wasn't going to be just his fingers this time—which evidently wasn't a big deal to Rodney, even though it was to John. But could he could play it like it wasn't, really, he could.

He touched the small, round opening, and Rodney breathed in sharply. Cold, John thought, his fingers were too cold, but Rodney looked happy and relaxed, eyes half-closed, so John pushed in, one finger sliding into the hot, tight little space.

His dick would never, ever fit in there.

"John, really, I'm not going to break," Rodney told him.

"I know, I know, I'm just—" He pushed his finger in further, and Rodney moved, his ass pushing against John's hand.

"See, not breaking," Rodney breathed. With a small moan stretched his arms out over his head. "It's just a little tight. Been a while, you know?"

"How much of a while?" Rodney's body was pushing John's finger out, so he pushed it back in, then added a second finger, working it past the tight ring of muscle. See, no big deal.

"Oh, um, a while while, I suppose. I don't know," Rodney mumbled. He sighed blissfully. "Too long. Jeeze, that's good."

"Really?" John asked, pressing a kiss against the slope of Rodney's back. Rodney's ass was round and ridiculously appealing, and the sight of his fingers disappearing down in between was hot, very hot. Whenever he pushed in really deep and felt around, Rodney whimpered and shifted his hips, so he seemed to be something right. All the while, Rodney rubbed his cock against the sheets. He was enjoying it. John knew Rodney liked having his ass played with, something he had always shied away from, and Rodney never pushed him about it. But the way Rodney moaned—clearly, there was something to it. He crawled over to kneel between Rodney's legs, reaching underneath and finding Rodney 's cock. It was incredibly hard, and Rodney trembled at his touch, rising up on to his knees. John's fingers were getting a little numb—tight muscles, small space, fuck, he could imagine how that was going to feel when he was inside.

"Okay, do it," Rodney groaned. "I'm ready now. Definitely ready. Been ready for months."

"All right, all right," John said, sliding his fingers out. "Like this, right? You want to do it just like this?" His cock twitched, and oh yeah, his cock definitely wanted to do it just like this.

"Uh huh. This is easiest. This works for me. Just use a lot of lube, okay? No such thing as too much lube. Believe me."

Lube? John patted the blankets in search of the white tube, because that was Rodney's ass right before him, Rodney on his knees and elbows, rump in the air, waiting for John to fuck him, and John couldn't find the lube anywhere, and he really didn't want to screw this up. Or fuck it up. He wanted to fuck Rodney, not things. Not fuck things up.

Screw it. He wasn't sure his brain was ever going to work properly again.

Hah. Lube. Right beside Rodney's knee.

John grabbed it, squeezed some into his palm, rubbed it over his cock, lots of it, oh god, cold, cold, cold, but he welcomed it, because it eased the throbbing in his gut. He shuffled closer to Rodney's ass, that smooth, pale ass, little golden-brown hairs curling all around, and he wondered if he should say something romantic, something sweet, because he was crazy about Rodney, just crazy, and Rodney was going to let him do this, and did Rodney know how crazy he was about him? He might even be in love with Rodney, wasn't that the kicker—he had to come halfway across the universe to fall in love with a brilliant, sarcastic, and very male physicist.

"John, is something confusing you back there? Do I have to call Beckett in for a basic physiology lecture? I'm sure he has some charts." Rodney's voice was muffled as his head slumped down into the pillow. "Just fuck me already, okay?"

"Just—just hold your horses." John grabbed Rodney's hip with a hand that definitely was not trembling and pushed his cock against the cleft of Rodney's ass, guiding it with his other hand, seeking and finding—oh god, there it was, and now a little push. Then he pushed some more, and suddenly all was hot and snug around the head of his cock, but it wasn't going anywhere, and he didn't know if he should push harder. Then Rodney relaxed and he slid in further, Rodney was pushing back against him, and all that noise, it was Rodney moaning and oh shit he was going to come.

"Rodney—Rodney—oh damn," he gasped, bending over Rodney's body, resting his head against his back. He slid in so deep his balls were brushing against Rodney's ass. Rodney was so utterly warm and soft on the inside, and damn it, John wasn't going to come, not yet, he could hold on, he could do it, he wasn't some god damn teenager anymore, and he had every intention of showing Rodney one hell of a good time.

He wrapped an arm around Rodney's waist, and Rodney put a hand over his, fingers clutching. "Oh, that's good," Rodney said. "Thank you, thank you, that's very good."

John loved the tone of his voice, the low, throaty, desperate quality. John reached lower, finding Rodney's cock, and when he touched it, Rodney shook all over. He kissed Rodney's back, licked the sweat from his skin. Yeah, he was fucking Rodney, he was doing it—moving his hips slow and easy, eliciting soft gasps of delight from Rodney every time he pushed in.

More confident now, John leaned back, pushing Rodney's legs further apart, tucking his knees right up against Rodney's, digging his toes in and really working it, pumping his hips, thrusting hard into the slippery heat. Oh yeah. He was good. Damn good. Rodney was moaning for him, he was going to make Rodney beg, make him come so hard he wouldn't be able to talk for minutes. Fingers digging into Rodney's hips, fitting nicely over the hipbones—oh fuck—

—pulled too far out—

"Son of a bitch, sorry Rodney—" An inarticulate cry from beneath him as John fumbled with his cock. He couldn't believe it had slipped out like that—smooth, real smooth. It was all that lube. He needed to get inside Rodney again, right now, damn it.

Rodney pulled his legs up and rolled over, glaring up at him. "For god's sake, John, just pretend it's your P90, okay? You've got better aim with that." He slung his legs over John's shoulders, grabbed a pillow from overhead and tucked it under his ass. "Waiting," Rodney sang out, face and chest flushed red, skin moist with sweat. He cupped his balls, drawing them up and out of the way.

"Oh," John said, startled at the change in position. This worked, too. There was his target, right there. In a second he was sinking back into that heat, into Rodney's willing body, his willing, moaning body, the body that squirmed around his dick. Supporting a leg with one hand, he leaned over and propped himself up with the other. Cool, this was very cool. He could really thrust this way, and he could watch Rodney jerk himself off too. John felt the heat building up, curling around his spine, balls tightening up. Seeing Rodney, so exposed, expression intent—he was beautiful, Rodney was amazing to watch, and nobody else got to see this side of Rodney, this was all for him, and him only.

Rodney reached out, hand grasping John shoulder, eyes barely open as he cupped John's face. John turned his head and mouthed his palm, full of sweat and salt. He was going to come, so Rodney had better come, and soon, because he'd be damned if he came before Rodney did.

A low, ragged cry, and Rodney—oh god, Rodney came, muscles gripping John's cock, come running through his fingers and onto his chest. John didn't know it would be like this, didn't know he'd feel Rodney's orgasm from the inside, and that made his cock happy, all too happy, and whoa, there it was, he was coming too, all bright lights and good times and incredible feeling.

"Oh, Rodney," he moaned, slowly collapsing down onto Rodney's body. "Oh, wow." His cock slipped out—no, was pushed out—by Rodney's still-twitching muscles. His body was limp, his body was never going to work again, and he did it, he had fucked Rodney, clumsily, but at least Rodney had come. "Okay, was that the worst sex you've ever had?" he asked with a huff of laughter, face down on Rodney's chest.

"Oh yes, John," Rodney breathed. "Don't ever make me come that hard again. A truly nightmarish experience." He kissed the top of John's head, then wrapped his arms around John's body. "You idiot, you."

John kissed Rodney's throat, then licked his jaw. Sweaty. Sweaty and good and maybe he was an idiot. But he was lying on top of Rodney in a slick of come and Rodney's arms were around him, so maybe being an idiot in Rodney's eyes wasn't such a bad thing. He listened to Rodney's steady breathing, and after a while he kissed Rodney's chest and said, "This is kind of a big thing for me."

"Mmmwhuh?"

John pushed himself up on his elbows, and Rodney blinked at him, befuddled, sleepy, and, god help him, cute. "This. Us doing this. I think it's a big deal," John explained, more tentatively than he wanted.

"What, and you think I let anyone with a dick fuck me?" Fully awake now, and Rodney spoke sharply, eyes on John's shoulder.

"So you're saying I'm special?"

"I'm saying that this might be a big deal for me, too."

"Oh." John grinned. "So I am special." Of course he was. Rodney loved him. He knew it.

"What I'm saying is that even though you are really annoying, we've somehow developed an insanely impractical relationship defined by touching and sex and spending the night—" Rodney paused, grimacing. "Yes, you might say being 'special' is a component, considering the level of intimacy."

"Huh?" Rodney was babbling nonsense, but John was pretty sure it was the sweetest thing he'd ever heard Rodney say, and he couldn't stop grinning.

Rodney looked him in the eye. "Will you please just kiss me already?" he pleaded.

John shook his head. "No, I think you should keep telling me how wonderful I—mmmph—"

Okay, they could kiss instead.