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Dress Blues


Title: Dress Blues

Author: chelle

Author's email:

Author's URL:

Fandom: Atlantis

Archive: Ask first

AN: Thank you to The Grrrl and Rachel Sabotini for their valuable criticism, any remaining errors are, of course, my own.

Rodney moaned, losing track of what he wanted to say.

He tried to focus, but his cock was in John's mouth, John's incredibly talented mouth. There was sucking and stroking and Rodney had never known anyone as good at blowjobs, as good at sex, as John was.

Rodney stared, watching as John's mouth moved up and down, his cock appearing and disappearing in a mesmerizing rhythm. John's eyes were closed. It looked, and felt, like he was completely focused on the task at hand. It was hard to argue with someone who was focused on your dick, even when you knew you should.

Reaching out, he patted John's hair, trying to connect. John sucked harder and Rodney lifted his hips. John slipped his arms under Rodney, wrapping them around Rodney's ass and rolled onto his back, taking Rodney with him.

The head of his cock was in John's throat. It was close and tight and there was a squeeze whenever John swallowed.

John was under him. He was on top of John. Rodney tried to wrap his brain around it. He'd never thought about getting a blowjob in this position, but he couldn't think about it now because John was sucking and swallowing and it was so damned good.

Realizing that John was going to need to breathe, Rodney lifted his hips. John put his hands on Rodney's hips and guided them back down.

Rodney groaned, because this… He was fucking John's mouth.

John wanted Rodney to fuck his mouth.

Lifting his hips, Rodney pulled out of John's throat and then moved forward again, as gently as he could. John swallowed around him and Rodney buried his face in the mattress, letting it muffle the groans he couldn't contain.

He thrust again, a small movement that pulled his cock from John's throat and then pushed it back in. John's hands clutched at his ass.

Rodney was going to come. He couldn't hold back, not with John's throat caressing his cock. He tried to warn John. He gasped John's name, and then his hips bucked as the first wave of his orgasm started. John swallowed, the squeeze and pull of John's throat tugging at him, intensifying everything. It went on and on, John tugging and Rodney releasing into him.

Struggling for breath, Rodney pulled his cock from John's mouth and dropped onto his side next to John. "Jesus," he muttered.

John pushed himself up the bed until his head was on the pillow next to Rodney's. John's lips were red and slightly swollen. Rodney touched them with the pads of his fingers.

John didn't say anything. He simply took himself in hand and began to stroke, slow and hard. Rodney's eyes flicked to his cock and then back to John's face. John had that look on his face, the 'please look at me' look. Rodney hated that look, even though he suspected he was the only one who ever saw it.

Keeping his eyes on John's face, he covered John's hand with his own. John's strokes were too rough to be purely pleasure. Letting go of John's hand, Rodney pressed a quick kiss to John's lips. "I'll be right back," he said softly before rising from the bed.

There was a bottle of massage oil in the bathroom and Rodney carried it back with him. John hadn't moved. He was still lying on his back, with his legs slightly apart, and his hand on his cock. He wasn't stroking, and Rodney thought he should have been flattered that John had stopped jerking off when Rodney left. Your lover waiting until you're in the room to touch himself, that should be erotic.

It made Rodney's chest hurt.

Stretching out next to John, he balanced awkwardly on an elbow and a hip while pouring some of the oil into his palm. Then he curled his hand around the base of John's cock.

"Rodney." John somehow managed to sound both turned on and scolding.

Rodney's answer was quiet but firm. "Remove your hand."

John gazed at him, eyes too wide, lips still reddened and full.

"Please," Rodney added.

John slowly removed his hand, and Rodney slid his upward. Warm and firm, John's cock felt good against his palm. He touched John as sensuously as he knew how, trying to say with his hand all of the things he could never say out loud.

Slipping an arm around his shoulders, Rodney pressed his body to John's and rested his forehead against John's temple. "Does it feel good?" he whispered.


"It's supposed to feel good."

"I know." John closed his eyes and Rodney looked down at his hand, at John's cock. He'd never thought of a cock as attractive until he'd seen John's. It looked pretty much like every other cock he'd ever touched or sucked, but there was something about it, something attractive.

He looked away from it. Looked at John's face, at his closed eyes, and the concentration in his face.

"Look at me," Rodney whispered. John opened his eyes and turned his head, his eyes meeting Rodney's. Rodney was tempted to tell him to close them again, but he didn't. What he saw in John's eyes on nights like tonight was as much a part of him as his sarcasm or his love for bad movies and fast planes. Or his attractive cock.

Rodney kissed him. Easy kisses, lips meeting and pulling a hairsbreadth apart before meeting again. He kept touching John, gentle but unstoppable.

After a few kisses, John arched toward him, his hips lifting and his mouth opening. Rodney increased the speed of his strokes, his tongue brushing John's.

John groaned and came, shaking, his cock throbbing in Rodney's hand, his fluid landing on them both. He buried his face in Rodney's neck, and Rodney held him. Rodney wasn't good at keeping quiet, at waiting for someone else to speak, but he was learning.

"Dress blues," John said at last, pulling back a little. "We should have dress blues and flags."

Rodney didn't point out that neither Lewis nor Hayes had had anyone to give the flags to, at least not here in Atlantis. "Yes," he said softly, "we should."