An Ordinary Morning

Beneath the blankets, John was a lumpy shape topped with a ridiculously soft tuft of hair peeking out. Amused, Rodney put the coffee mugs on the bedside table, shed his bathrobe, and got back into bed. John promptly rolled over and wound himself around Rodney, still underneath the bedclothes. And, Rodney thought, even more amused, he was still asleep.

Never in his wildest imaginings had Rodney ever suspected John Sheppard was a cuddler. For that matter, never had he suspected himself of any such proclivities, but somehow, John seemed to bring it out in him. Smiling again, he put his hand in John's hair, heard a plaintive, protesting sound that never made it to actual words and John's beard rubbed against his ribs.

"Will you get off," he said, trying not to laugh. "I'm not your security blanket, and I brought you coffee."

There was another wordless sound of complaint and John rolled back over, his ass firmly wedged against Rodney's hip. Huffily, Rodney rather thought, and while it was probably not really accurate to describe John's ass as huffy, his shoulders and lower back certainly were. Rodney could tell from the shape of the blankets. He grinned and ruffled the tuft of hair. "Coffee."

The lump stayed where it was, but the sole of John's foot rubbed against Rodney's calf once or twice before going limp.

Rodney rolled his eyes and slid a hand under the blankets, placed it palm flat against a spot right between John's shoulder blades and waited.

He didn't wait long. John emerged from underneath the blankets, looking cranky, sleepy, and really fairly edible for someone with a scowl, a growth of beard and his hair standing on end. "I was sleeping and your hands are cold," he told Rodney grouchily. "Keep 'em to yourself."

Rodney handed him the mug of coffee. "Of course my hands are cold. It's the middle of January."

John slid back down against the pillows, took the coffee and pulled the bedclothes back around himself. "How can your hands be cold when you're carrying cups of coffee," he groused.

"I'm carrying them by the mug handles," Rodney pointed out and slid his free hand under the blanket again to tweak John's nipple lightly, just because he could.

"Cut it out," John grumbled and tried to bat Rodney's hand away, a maneuver not wholly successful because of the combination of bedclothes and hot coffee. "Rodney, I mean it."

Rodney just grinned, strolled his fingers over to John's navel and stroked the little Buddha belly John was getting.

"Cut it out!" John repeated and snorted, "Dammit, that tickles."

Rodney put his own coffee back on the table, slid down in bed and curved his palm over warm skin. "No tickling," he promised.

"You are a sick bastard," John said, but rolled his eyes. "You're supposed to pretend you haven't noticed that."

"I like it," Rodney said and rubbed his thumb around the rim of John's navel.

 "You're nuts," John said, but much less grouchily. "And why are we up so early anyway, it's Saturday."

"Exactly," Rodney confirmed. "It's Saturday. Why waste it sleeping, when we can be doing other things?" He stroked John's side.

From John's expression, it was pretty clear that he thought Rodney was insane. Ruffled, indignant and utterly baffled--Rodney decided if the man was going to be that damn cute, he was going to pay the price. Rodney began sliding the bedcovers down, exposing elegantly defined shoulders and chest.

"Rodney," John complained. He reached for the edge of the rapidly disappearing blankets, but Rodney tugged them out of reach, all the way down to John's hips. "It's cold, what with it being winter and all--what part of that didn't you...oh."

Gliding his tongue across John's stomach, Rodney paused to dip into John's navel. "Hmmm?"

"If you get a tongueful of lint," John said, his voice growing breathy, "it would serve you right."

Rodney nipped at John's skin, then returned to nuzzling. John's stomach was softer than it once was, a sign of the years that had passed, and for some reason that made Rodney's throat tighten. All those times he had thought they wouldn't make it another day, when he was sure they couldn't possibly survive long enough to achieve something as simple and ordinary as a leisurely morning in bed.

"You can continue on down, you know, further south," John suggested, wiggling his hips and sipping his coffee.

"What's the rush?" Rodney asked, because there was no rush. No alien attacks, no Wraith. No Air Force, either. He rubbed his cheek against the soft skin. "Is there someplace you have to be?" Rodney heard a heavy, mournful sigh. He glanced up and caught John's expression--a dismayed 'but-I'm-horny-now' frown.

"No, but there's someplace you have to be." John reached out and gave Rodney a little push, and then spread his legs wide. "Right there."

The blankets slipped further, exposing slim hips and the dark line of pubic hair. Rodney licked and nuzzled his way down that line. It was amazing how indignant John could look while spreading his legs, and even more amazing that all Rodney had to do was slow down long enough to nuzzle the coarse, dark curls in order to make that lower lip look just a little sulky. That was all right, though; he knew just how easily he could rid of that sulkiness and all it would take would be...he licked and sucked at the warm skin between John's thigh and torso and that got him a satisfying sound from John's throat. A very satisfying sound and so was the faintest taste of salt and sleep on John's skin. "You're right," he agreed, "I do have someplace to be, in fact, I think I'll just move in for the duration." He licked again, this time around the base as John's cock lifted to his fingers.

"Rodney," John complained and pulled his feet up, let his knees fall apart, still clutching his coffee cup. It made Rodney's cock throb, seeing John so exposed, but John, John had always astonished him in bed, from the very start. It was as if John, having made the decision, having chosen Rodney, wanted to experience everything, preferably all at once and as often as possible. He stroked a fingertip behind John's balls, traced the shape and weight of them with his tongue and John watched him, gaze smouldering, shivering as Rodney's tongue touched him. "Quit teasing," John added, but didn't move.

"I'm not teasing," Rodney murmured and licked and sucked at the same spot at the top of John's other thigh. "I'm enjoying."

John sighed, and shifted down a little. "In that case, enjoy away." Husky voice, that voice like sin and sex, and a promise that John would let Rodney do damn near anything to him.

Beautiful like this, unshaven and sleep rumpled and about halfway seriously indignant, and Rodney followed the seam between John's leg and body down between his legs, stroked his tongue over the smooth skin behind John's balls, and John made this incredible sound in his throat and drew one knee up.

"John," he said hoarsely and rose up over him. He plucked the coffee cup from John's unresisting hands, placing it on the table before kissing his mouth. John pulled him down against his warm, naked body, his legs hooking over Rodney's to hold him there, and one arm going around Rodney's neck.

Slow, lingering kisses, and morning breath be damned, Rodney loved the taste of John's mouth any time of the day or night. He loved the push of John's hard cock against his hip, loved the feel of John's skin against his. John clung to him as they kissed, with a hint of desperation that was always there, as if they were still living in constant fear but Rodney supposed he was holding onto John in the same way.

Rodney pulled back. John cupped his face, lips parted, eyes dark and intense. Then John slipped his other hand between them, reaching down and wrapping his fingers around Rodney's cock. And smiled. A slow, suggestive smile that took Rodney's breath away.

"Okay, yeah, okay, we can do that," Rodney said, turning his head to kiss John's palm. "But the coffee is going to get cold."

"That's why we have a microwave."

Somehow, Rodney knew he'd be the one trotting down to the kitchen again, barefoot and shivering in his bathrobe while John lay sprawled and sated in the nice warm bed.

It was a small price to pay.

Rodney rolled off John, and found the lube, tucked away in the bedside table drawer. "Turn over," he said.

John had raised his knees expectantly, and frowned at Rodney's request. "Huh?" he said, clearly still sleepy and horny enough that a change in plans did not compute.

"Turn over, ass up, because I want to admire that ass of yours, okay?" Rodney clarified.

John's eyebrows rose in a way that said Rodney had the best ideas ever, and he rolled over so quickly that Rodney had to grin. It really was a fabulous idea, because John's ass was amazing, slim and pale and shapely, and his back, long and graceful. John shivered when he pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades, and then Rodney licked his way down John's spine. John stretched beneath him, with a long slow exhalation of breath that turned into a moan when Rodney's tongue slid between his cheeks.

"Rodney," he said, "Oh, god, yes--you know I love that." He shifted, rubbing his cock against the mattress.

Rodney licked again, his tongue gliding over the delicate, sensitive area, loving the noises John made but his own cock ached. Another time maybe he'd lick until John was begging and breathless. Right now he needed to be inside of John, god yes, he just wanted to slide inside of John and stay there forever. One last push of his tongue, and then he eased a slick finger inside of John. Then another, moving into the warm, smooth space without any resistance--John was relaxed and open and willing, and so god damn hot. Rodney kissed the small of John's back as he stroked inside again.

John pushed into that, making that lovely sound in his throat again. "Oh, Jesus, Rodney."

Rodney nuzzled, withdrew his fingers, added a little more lube and stroked inside again, just because John moaned so nicely, and moved so sweetly, and Christ, he was torturing himself. "Just going to move in," he said hoarsely and John moaned again when he pulled his fingers out. "God, John." His hand shook when he slicked himself up, but then he kissed one of the dimples just above John's ass and took hold of his hips. "Up, please." Huskily.

John shifted, rose to his knees and Rodney ran his palms over John's cheeks, held them open and guided himself into the heated clench of flesh.

"God, yes." John groaned and rested his forehead on the bed. "Just like that."

Pleasure and desire and heat and Rodney pushed forward, all the way in and John made a sound again, pushed back. It was almost too much, too soon, and Rodney closed his eyes, curved his fingers over John's hips and leaned forward, rubbing his cheek on John's skin. Had he ever really believed they would have this luxury until, because the Air Force had proven to be a collective of fools, they actually had it? He didn’t think either of them had believed it, and yet here they were. He kissed the small of John’s back again. "Oh, yeah, I'm going to stay here for the duration."

John moaned again and raised his head. Rodney pulled at him and then sat back, easing John with him, palm cupped over John's cock as John moaned again and sank into his lap. Sweet and hard and he curled his fingers around John, gripped firmly with lube-slick fingers and John pushed up into it and back down again.

Rodney pressed his mouth to John's neck, sucked at the spot just below his ear, groaning against warm skin as John shifted again, let his head fall back on Rodney's shoulder. Oh, yes, Saturday morning, early or not and even if he knew it was impossible, the idea of staying just like this for, oh, forever was awfully damned appealing. Failing that, maybe the weekend?

Rodney would have laughed to himself except, except he couldn't not move against John’s weight, couldn't not touch John, and he raised his other hand from John's hip to his chest, stroked John's nipple between thumb and forefinger to get another one of those wordless, brain-melting sounds.

"Lots of time," John gasped and rolled his hips, "All day."

"Oh--oh no, wait, not if you keep doing that," Rodney said, his voice rising in pitch. "Hold still." He could feel the vibration of John's low chuckle as the smug son-of-a-bitch kept on moving, clenching his muscles and writhing in Rodney's lap, intent on driving him insane. Rodney let go of John's cock and wrapped his arms around John's waist, holding him firmly in place with John's warm back pressed against his chest. "Hold. Still," Rodney ground out between clenched teeth.

"No, no, Rodney." John panted suddenly sounding much less smug as he took Rodney's hand and pulled it back down to his cock. "Please, don't stop--"

Okay, maybe they were both going to go insane, but god, what a way to go. Rodney relented, wrapping his fingers around John's cock. John tried to push up into it, only Rodney held him down with the other arm, regaining some small measure of control. "All day," he insisted, kissing the side of John's neck.

"Mmm, yeah. That's good, your hand right there, keep doing that." John relaxed, settling his weight onto Rodney's lap, driving Rodney's cock in deeper. "Oooh, even better."

Rodney smiled against John's skin. He loved the wonder in John's voice, and sure, maybe John did make him feel like a sex god, but it was more than that--it was knowing that he could do this for John, make him openly joyful and breathless, and right now, that was the only thing that mattered. He stroked John's cock, slow and easy, letting it slide though his cupped hand as he squeezed. John trembled all around him, his body gripping Rodney's cock, producing all sorts of wonderful sensations. John sighed again, and Rodney knew that right now his eyes would be closed, and maybe a small smile played on his lips.

"This good for you?" John whispered. He reached behind, hands touching Rodney's hips.

"What do you think?" Rodney nipped his shoulder. "I've got my dick buried inside your body."

"Uh--" John took a breath.

Rodney stroked again, starting at the base of John's cock and pulling up gradually. "More specifically, I've got my arms around you, you're in my lap, we're in bed together, and it's Saturday morning and we don't have to be anywhere other than here." He reached the head of John's cock and rubbed his palm flat over it.

John made a pitiful noise, his hips jerking and dear God, that felt amazing. Rodney groaned against his throat. "Will you hold still?"

"Are you nuts?" John shuddered and amplified sensation all over again. "Oh, fuck, Rodney, that’s good, do that again, please." His fingers closed over Rodney’s.

And people thought Rodney was impatient. "Our coffee hasn’t even had time to get cold," he muttered and stroked down, squeezing the base of John’s cock firmly.

"Bastard," John gasped and sank down again, muscles tightening. "That was, oh, fuck, I can’t stand it." He let go of Rodney’s hips and leaned forward, getting ready to brace his hands on either Rodney’s knees or the bed, and that just wouldn’t do.

Laughing a little *and* growling, Rodney held on, and it was probably the most intense pleasure he’d had ever experienced in a damned wrestling match, and he won it by pulling his hips back. That really wasn’t his idea of a win, nor, apparently, was it John’s. John whined, "Rooooodney," in this betrayed, just short of upset tone, and he said, "Wait, wait," and rolled John over on his back, got John’s legs up and slid home again before John had time to do more than whine his name again.

"Oh, better," John panted and reached for him, folding those long legs up enough to pull Rodney down for a messy, hot and hungry kiss that somehow ended up in another improbably successful shift in position that nearly tipped Rodney over the edge and ended up with him flat on *his* back while John screwed himself down on Rodney’s cock again.

"Yes," John groaned, "Just, yeah, all day, like that."

Rodney groaned and took hold of John’s hips again, hoping to at least slow things down. "The coffee’s not even going to get cold if you keep doing that."

"You said that." John moved again, stared down at Rodney with half-closed eyes and that sexy, dopy look he got when he was so turned on he couldn’t think. John moved again and Rodney groaned. "Didn’t you?"

"Your IQ drops sharply when the blood goes south, doesn’t it," Rodney said and that didn’t work either, John was used to his ways, he didn’t even get an aggrieved look, he got another lewdly messy kiss and he wasn’t just going to come, he was going to stroke out if John kept moving like that. Gripping John's hips hard enough to bruise slowed him down a little, but then he couldn’t touch John’s cock and he really wanted to do that, he wanted John to plant his hands on either side of his head and just work himself on Rodney’s cock, and what the hell, they could always do it again later. He took hold of John’s cock with one hand and cupped his balls with the other and John did put his hands down, kissed him long and lush and rocked down hard.

Fuck. Not going to last another minute, not with John riding him like that. He wanted to get John off, but he couldn't find a rhythm--John was moving too erratically, grinding down on him, then lifting and coming down in short, hard strokes while panting into Rodney's mouth. John's balls tightened in his hand, and oh yeah, John was going to come. John was the hottest thing he had ever pushed his dick into and nothing had ever felt so good. John's heat surrounding him, John's hard, heavy cock pushing into his hand, strong thighs gripping his hips, a bristly cheek pressed against his--oh, fuck fuck--not yet--

Rodney came, his pleasure spiking sharp and sweet. He thought he might shake apart from the intensity, from the sheer intensity of John, who swallowed up his moans with a wet, lewd kiss, who then sat back while Rodney was still twitchy and trembling and began jerking himself off.

Rodney could only stare in dazed delight as John brought himself off. It was killing him, all that movement on his overly sensitized cock, setting off tortuous little aftershocks but Christ, it was worth it because John was putting on one hell of a show, pulling at his cock with both hands, mouth open, lips drawn back in a grimace, god, he was beautiful. When John let loose a desperate cry and closed his eyes, it was thrilling, because yeah, almost there, Rodney could feel it in the tension of John's body, in the way his back arched and strained. More noise and then with a jerk of his hips John came all over Rodney's chest, messy and noisy and more beautiful than he had any right to be.

Rodney knew he was grinning like an idiot but he couldn't help himself.

After it was all over John sat, breathing heavily, staring down at Rodney in a slightly bewildered manner, as if he wasn't quite sure how Rodney had gotten underneath him. "What?" he asked, cock dripping between his fingers.

Rodney shook his head, closed his fingers around John’s and touched John’s cock. "You," he said and John shivered, too sensitive, didn’t quite frown.

"Hey, you started it," John said and wiped his other hand on Rodney’s chest. "I was sleeping."

"Did that sound like a complaint?" Rodney leaned up and John leaned down and oh, yeah, a slow, lazy kiss. "Believe me, it wasn’t."

"No?" John sounded dazed and pleased, no more frown. "Even better. Don’t move."

"Oh, that’s going to work," Rodney groaned, fresh sensation, and Jesus, but kissed him again anyway. "Do you have any idea at all, no, of course you don’t, if you did, you’d be insufferable."

John nipped his lower lip. "What?" Still a little bewildered.

"Nothing," Rodney murmured and cupped the back of John’s neck, licked his way into a long and lush kiss. "Jesus, John, you’re just…amazing." Of course, if John kept moving like that, he might amaze John.

John’s forehead rested against his and John squirmed. "*That* was just amazing. You need to wake me up early on Saturday more often."

"Yes, yes, I do," Rodney agreed and sighed regretfully as he felt himself slip free of John’s body. "And maybe Sunday, too."

John raised up and looked at himself and at Rodney. "Tell me you brought a towel?" he said hopefully.

Rodney grinned. "I brought coffee."

"That doesn't help." John rolled his eyes, but his expression was affectionate. He crawled off Rodney, then, eyes lighting up, reached over the side of the bed to the floor.

"John, don't--I just washed that," Rodney complained, as John wiped his hands on the bathrobe. John smiled and used the sleeve to gently wipe Rodney's chest and stomach clean. Rodney found himself smiling back up at him. It wasn't like he was about to jump about of bed and find a towel, anyway. He didn't feel like moving. He wasn't sure he could move.

As a matter of fact, his eyelids felt downright heavy as John pulled up the covers and settled in next to him, propping himself up with a pillow. "What do you know," John said, "The coffee is still warm enough. Want yours?"

Boneless and content, Rodney curled around John, tucking his face into John's hip. "Mmmph," Rodney said, then kissed warm, sweaty skin.

"Okay, maybe later." John touched Rodney's head, ruffling his hair. "After you cook me breakfast, then."

Rodney snorted with laughter.

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