There Has to Be Duct Tape

"You were thinking about sex," Rodney says, like it's some kind of revelation.

"When?" John asks, trying to sound indifferent, but it isn't easy when Rodney has uttered the magic word.

"When we were taping up the camera on Ascension world. MALP on a stick, remember?" Rodney is supposed to be working. He's sitting at his desk and he has his laptop open in front of him. John knows that if he points that out, Rodney will simply claim to be multi-tasking.

"I was not," John says. Unfortunately for him, he doesn't lie as well as he thinks he does, of which being with Rodney has made him all too well aware.

"Yes, you were."

"I think I know what I was thinking and I wasn't thinking about sex."

"Prove it."

"Prove it?" John says, "How am I supposed to prove it?"

Rodney crosses his arms. "Tell me what you were thinking about."

Taking a deep breath, John tries to think of something, anything. If he isn't careful they could end up back in the 'you had sex with an ascended woman, again' place. In retrospect, John had to admit that arguing she had been almost ascended and had waited for him her whole life hadn't been one of his better moves. Rodney had forgiven him, but it had required nightly blowjobs for so long that John's jaw still hasn't fully recovered.

"I knew I was right," Rodney says triumphantly.

"Fine, you were right. I was thinking about sex," John admits, because after careful consideration he's realized that admitting to thinking about sex with Rodney might actually lead to sex that doesn't involve Rodney's dick in his mouth. Not that he dislikes sucking Rodney off, but after three weeks he's ready for a little variety.

Although he hadn't realized you could give a blowjob in some of those positions.

"With tape."

"With you," John counters. "The tape had a mostly peripheral role."

Rodney rises from his chair and starts stalking toward the bed, making John frown. Rodney never used to stalk. It makes John wonder exactly how much time Rodney has been spending with Ronon.

Opening the drawer in the stand next to his bed, Rodney pulls out a roll of duct tape. Tossing it into the air, he asks. "What was the roll's role?"

John reminds himself that he likes geek humor and looks Rodney in the eye. "It was covering your mouth."

"So you fantasize about making me quiet."

Actually John fantasizes about making Rodney make so much noise that he has no choice but to cover Rodney's mouth. He doesn't admit that. Instead, he says, "Sometimes," trying once again for nonchalance.

"That's all you imagined?"

"It's not like I had a lot of time. We were working."

Rodney tosses the tape again. "Right."

"Fine, I thought about taping your wrists together."

Rodney grins. "Then that's what we'll do."

Tossing his book off the side of the bed, John sits up straight. "You'll let me tape up your wrists."

"I'm the one with the tape," Rodney points out and John swallows… hard.

"The tape will leave marks," John says.

"You wear a wristband and a huge watch."

Rodney has a point. John tries again. "I have a physical tomorrow. Beckett will notice."

"He already knows."

"What?" John exclaims.

"Where do you think I've been getting the lube?" Rodney asks, annoyingly calm.

"I thought you were making it."

"Why would I make lube?"

"You make sunscreen."

Rodney actually seems to consider that for a moment. Then he pulls a long piece of tape out from the roll. "Hold out your wrists."

John knows he can refuse, and part of him wants to. Another part, the part that freaks out the other part, takes control and John holds out his wrists.

"You might want to take your watch off," Rodney says and John removes his watch and armband, laying them on the stand. Being without them makes him feel naked. "And your shirt."

John pulls his shirt over his head and drops it on the floor.

Rodney frowns. "Actually, you should just take everything off. It'll be easier."

"Translation: you're too lazy to undress me," John says, but he's already removing his belt. If John wiggles a little more than necessary while pushing his pants over his hips, Rodney doesn't comment, but then John didn't think he would.

Naked, he sits on the edge of the bed with his wrists crossed in front of him. His cock is already beginning to harden and John glares at it. Rodney doesn't say a word, but then he doesn't need to, his smile says it all.

Rodney is surprisingly adept at taping John's wrists and John is about to comment when Rodney says, "I've always been good at cobbing things together."

Rodney's good at a lot of things, but that's an opinion John isn't about to share.

"All snug?" Rodney asks and John nods. "Good, now lay down."

Lifting his legs and feet onto the bed, John shifts onto his back.

"Can you lift your arms over your head?" Rodney asks.

Frowning, John complies.

"That's good," Rodney says, his eyes moving up and down John's body. "That's very good."

John decides Rodney is kinkier than he ever suspected, although the blowjob positions gave him a clue. "Are you just going to look?"

Stroking his cock through his pants, Rodney says, "Maybe."

"In that case, wake me when you're done." John closes his eyes and begins to count. He gets to twelve before the bed dips. When he opens his eyes, Rodney is straddling his hips.

With a tilt of his head, Rodney says, "I can't decide what I should do with you. Should I blow you, or fuck you, or," his fingers glide across John's ribs, "tickle you?"

John tries to squirm away as Rodney's fingers dig into his sides making him laugh. "Rodney!" he protests and Rodney stops.

"I love doing that to you," Rodney says. John knows that what he means is that he loves being the one who knows John is ticklish.

"Personally, I'd prefer choice one or two."

"Would you?"

John nods. "I would." Lifting his leg, he rubs Rodney's shoulder with his ankle. "I think you would too."

Placing a hand on either side of John's outstretched arms, Rodney leans down. "You may be right."

"I'm definitely right," John answers in his most seductive tone.

Rodney looks more amused than aroused, but he kisses John and John decides he doesn't care. He missed this, missed kissing Rodney. Six months of meditating and dodging flirtatious, almost ascended women--okay, one almost ascended woman-- and it was only a couple of hours for Rodney. John thinks it was profoundly unfair. But the way Rodney is kissing him, John is inclined to forgive and forget, especially when Rodney starts touching him, sliding his hand over John's chest and teasing the sides of John's neck with his fingers.

"Tell me what you were going to do to me," Rodney whispers.

"I didn't have time to get that far."

"You did later, though, didn’t you?" Rodney asks, and John doesn't know how to tell him that fantasizing about Rodney had simply hurt too much.

"I might have."

Rodney nips gently on his earlobe. "What did you imagine?"

Fortunately, John is good at thinking on his feet, or in this case his back. "I imagined you, naked, with your arms taped together and your mouth covered, looking up at me with those big, blue eyes."

"Now, see, I don’t get the covered mouth thing. How can we kiss if you tape my mouth shut?"

John is smart enough not to mention that he isn't anywhere near as into kissing as Rodney is. "We kissed before I taped you up, a lot. In fact, we kissed so much that your cock is already leaking."

Rodney frowns. "I'm not much of a leaker. That's more you."

"It's a fantasy."

"Okay, okay. Go on."

"I kneel between your legs and lick the fluid from the head."

"What do I do?"

"You let me lick you."

"It's not like I could stop you, with my wrists taped together and my mouth taped shut," Rodney says.

"You know what? I think you should just tape my mouth shut."

"But then I won't be able to kiss you," Rodney answers. His fingers glide over John's sides. "Now talk."

"I get out the lube and suck you a little while getting you ready. Then I fuck you. We both come really hard. The end."

"That's it?" Rodney asks.

John nods. "That's it."

"It's not very creative," Rodney says and John is certain that his lower lip is protruding a little.

"We can't all be geniuses."

"Well, no, but still…" Rodney frowns. "You're usually such an imaginative thinker."

"Duct tape is kind of predictable. As kinks go, it's pretty mild."

Rodney's frown deepens. "You don't fantasize about urine or anything, do you?"

"No," John says, and he isn't lying because Rodney didn't exactly specify what that 'or anything' covered.

"Good." Rodney's expression turned thoughtful. "Now I'm not sure what to do with you."

"What's wrong with fucking me?"

"Kind of predictable, don't you think?"

John sighs. He's tempted to point out that Rodney's a scientist. He likes being able to predict things, but he doesn't think it'll help so he stays silent until Rodney begins crawling backwards. "What are you doing?" Johns asks, lifting his head.

"Being creative," Rodney says, kneeling at the foot of the bed. Then he licks a stripe up the bottom of John's foot.

John jerks his foot away. "What the hell?"

Rodney seizes John's other foot in his hands. "I'm being creative."

"A clown wig and a silk camisole is creative. Foot licking is just weird."

Blinking at him, Rodney says slowly, "Did you just say a clown wig and a silk camisole?"

John shrugs, which isn't easy to do with your arms over your head.

"A clown wig," Rodney says again.

"It was just an example."

"Uh-huh. Just so we're clear, I will never wear lingerie for you."

"It was just an example," John says again, hoping that repetition will make Rodney believe it.

"Unless…" Rodney snaps his fingers and then points at John. "You were the one in the camisole."

"It would clash with my chest hair."

"You could wax."

John isn't sure which is more disturbing the light in Rodney's eyes, the one he gets when he's picturing happy things, or the part of John's mind that is suggesting that a black camisole might work. Shaking his head, John says, "Could we just have sex now? Plain, old ordinary sex, in which you fuck me and I come so hard I see stars. I'd really like that."

"But you have really cute toes." To prove his point Rodney takes the smallest one between his thumb and forefinger and wiggles it back and forth.

"Rodney," John says sharply, and Rodney releases his foot.

Standing, he begins to pull off his clothes. "Fine, I'll fuck you. But just for the record, I am so not going to enjoy it."

"Just get the lube."

After stripping off the rest of his clothes, Rodney gets the lube.

Several minutes later, he's happily pumping away, one hand rubbing John's bound wrists. "John," he groans, and John considers pointing out that he said he wasn't going to enjoy it, but talking might distract him from the image in his mind.

He hadn't realized it would be so hard to find a color that would work with both clown hair and Rodney's skin tone.