chelle

Atlantis

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Hearts of Watches

chelle

Title: Hearts of Watches

Author: chelle

Author's email: chelle@chelle.slashcity.org

Author's URL: http://chelle.slashcity.org/

Fandom: Atlantis

Archive: Ask first

AN:The title for this one comes from Earle Birney's poem "There Are Delicacies."

there are delicacies in you
like the hearts of watches
there are wheels that turn
on the tips of rubies
& tiny intricate locks

i need your help
to contrive keys
there is so little time
even for the finest
of watches


Thank you to The Grrrl for reading it through and telling me to post it all ready, and to spikedluv, who asked for rimming.

Knowing John was waiting, Rodney knocked lightly. The door to John's quarters slid open and he stepped inside. John kissed him as soon as the door shut, one hand on the center of Rodney's chest.

There was no containing his groan. They hadn't been together in almost two weeks. It didn't matter that Rodney should be used to the separations by now, after more than a year of sneaking and hiding and lying, of getting together only when it was safe, or they were too desperate for caution. He still missed John, missed this.

Closing his eyes, he savored John's taste and sweet pressure of John's mouth against his.

Then it was gone. Rodney opened his eyes to discover that John had stepped back, just out of reach. He frowned and was about to reach for him when John smiled. It was his seductive smile, the smile that said he was up to something, something Rodney was going to like--a lot.

His eyes on Rodney's face, John lowered the zipper on his shirt. Then he pulled it over his head and dropped it to the floor, revealing dark nipples and darker hair. John's nipples were soft and Rodney itched to touch them, to feel them harden beneath his fingers.

John brushed one hand across his groin, drawing Rodney's attention lower. His nipples might not have been hard, but his cock was. Rodney could see it outlined against John's pants, pressing forward, clearly wanting out. He swallowed and waited, curious what John would do next. There had been a time when he'd have tumbled John to the bed by now, but John had taught him patience. Or maybe they'd discovered it together, like they had so many other things.

Watching Rodney, John unbuttoned his pants with one hand and then slowly unzipped them. Still confined within the cotton of John's boxers, his cock pushed forward. John lowered his pants to the floor and stepped out of them, leaving him in just his boxers. Rodney wanted to step forward, wanted to put one hand on John's ass and press the other to John's cock. He stayed where he was. John lifted the waistband of his boxers away from his skin, stretching it so that the elastic would go over his erection without catching.

The boxers didnít catch, but Rodney's breath did. John was naked. Rodney had seen John naked before, countless times, although if he sat down and thought about it he could probably count. Rodney didn't want to count. He wanted it to be countless. Not that it mattered if he could count or not because a naked John still made his breath catch in his throat.

He expected John to come to him, but he didn't. He turned away. Then he knelt on the floor by the end of the bed and leaned forward, resting his head and shoulders on the bed.

Rodney's breath did more than catch. John was presenting himself, offering himself--to Rodney--and Rodney couldnít imagine anything more erotic. He dropped to his knees behind John, his hands coming up to rest on John's hips.

Rodney was convinced that John could read his mind, could see exactly what it was that would turn Rodney on, even if it was something Rodney himself had never imagined.

He pressed a kiss to the center of John's back and then began to mouth his way downward. John was warm. He was always warm and every time they did this Rodney would feel John's warmth for days afterward.

Sliding his hands from John's hips down along the front of his thighs, Rodney touched John with his entire hand, feeling the curve of muscle and the contrasting sensations of smooth skin and rough hair.

When his mouth reached the place where John's buttocks met, he didn't hesitate, he slipped the tip of his tongue between them. John groaned and Rodney smiled into his skin. John loved it when Rodney rimmed him. Rodney loved it, too.

He drew back a little, thinking about what he wanted to do next. John reached back, cupped his ass in his hands, and pulled his cheeks apart.

Rodney stared. The sight of John holding himself open did crazy things to him, made his heart pound and his chest ache. He ran his own fingers over John's, feeling the fingers themselves, and John's skin in the spaces in between. John didn't speak or move. He simply let Rodney touch him, let Rodney slide his fingers down along the revealed skin.

Withdrawing his fingers, Rodney touched his tongue to John's opening and John made a soft, desperate sound. Rodney touched him again and again, tiny, teasing touches. Then John muttered, "Rodney," sounding turned on, and needy, and a little annoyed. Rodney pushed his tongue just inside and then withdrew it, circled John's entrance with the tip, and pushed it in again. Pushing a little further, he heard John moan.

Wanting more of John's moans, he pushed further, and then further still. He pushed until his face was buried in John's ass.

John's smell, John's taste, the feel of John's skin beneath his tongue--John filled his senses, filled him, and Rodney tried to push deeper, before finally pulling back, just a little.

Then he pushed forward again and he was fucking John. He kept the rhythm as even and as steady as he could, wanting to give John as much pleasure as possible. He must have been succeeding because John was whimpering and making those low, desperate sounds that Rodney loved.

His own cock was painfully hard and Rodney fumbled his pants open with one hand, the other still clutching John's thigh. He didnít waste time trying to push his pants down, he simply pulled his cock through the slit in his boxers, freeing it. He was tempted to keep touching himself, but he curled his hand back around John's thigh instead. Making John feel good was what mattered.

John was starting to rock back and forth, tiny motions, just enough to increase the speed of Rodney's movements. Rodney was just getting into the new rhythm when John stopped moving. "Lube," he said quietly, his voice rough. "On your right."

It took Rodney a moment to process what John had said. Lube. On his right. He reached out blindly, his hand closing around the tube after just a little fumbling. He wasn't surprised that John had planned ahead. John was good at planning.

It took only a minute for him to coat his cock, and then he rose up on his knees. John's entrance was shiny, wet from Rodney's caresses. He positioned his cock against it and pushed, sliding into John in one slow, glorious stroke. John was warm inside, warm and close and smooth. Rodney couldn't get enough of being inside him. He let himself savor the feeling for a moment, before caressing John's back with one hand and curling the other around John's cock, giving it a couple of friendly strokes.

When Rodney began to pull back, John let go of his ass and clutched at the blankets.

He let himself sink back into John. Then he let himself do it again and again, the pleasure intensifying with every stroke.

John moved with him, rocking on his knees, and for a few minutes Rodney held still, let John slide back and forth on his cock, watching as John took him in, his bare ass against Rodney's pants, and then let him go.

When he couldn't keep from moving any longer, he put his hands on John's hips, stilling him. Then he pulled back until the head of his cock was against John's prostate, and fucked him with short strokes, rubbing John's prostate with his cock.

"Rodney. Oh, fuck. Rodney."

Rodney would do just about anything to make John sound like that, like nothing mattered but Rodney and the pleasure Rodney was giving him.

John reached for his cock, but Rodney intercepted him, putting John's hand back on the bed before closing his own hand around John's cock. John's cock was slender, like John. It filled his hand, warmed him with its heat.

Gradually deepening his strokes, he let the pleasure take over, let it guide the motions of his hips and his hand.

John's muscles contracted around him and John's cock jerked in his hand. John was about to come and Rodney pushed deep, pushed all of the way into him. He couldnít get enough of John coming, of John's pleasure, of the abrupt shove of his hips and the clench of his ass, of his quiet, almost choked moans and the twitching of his cock. He wanted to be under John, with John's cock in his mouth, swallowing and sucking. He wanted to blow him and fuck him at the same time, wanted to make John pass out from the sheer intensity of it.

Overwhelmed by his own desire, Rodney came, pushing into John over and over with small, uncoordinated movements, every muscle in his body contracting, forcing fluid out of him and into John, until the only thing left inside him was John's warmth.

Collapsing onto John's back, he kissed John once before resting his cheek against John's skin.

"Rodney."

Belatedly remembering that having a dick in your ass after you'd come could get uncomfortable, he eased his cock from John's body.

"You could have taken your jacket off," John said, looking over his shoulder at Rodney and giving him a soft, satiated smile. Rodney still remembered what it had felt like the first time he had discovered John could smile like that.

"You didn't give me a chance to," Rodney pointed out.

John didn't deny it. Instead, he crawled onto the bed and pulled back the blankets, settling under them. Rodney rose to his feet and removed his jacket, letting it fall to the floor.

"You should walk around with your dick hanging out of your pants all the time," John said. His voice had its usual post-sex mellowness.

Rodney glanced at his dick, shining with lube and come and still semi-hard, before pulling his shirt off. "I could," he replied as the shirt joined the jacket, "but then you'd never get anything done."

"Briefings would be a lot more fun."

Rodney couldn't argue with that. He maneuvered his pants and boxers to the floor only to discover that he still had his boots on. Perching on the edge of the bed, he finally managed to get naked. Then he crawled in beside John who immediately pressed against him.

Holding John Sheppard was something Rodney was never going to take for granted, no matter how many times he did it. Closing his eyes, he buried his face in the space between John's neck and shoulder, breathing him in. John smelled good and felt better, solid and strong. He was strong enough for Rodney to lean on, and trusting enough to lean back. John's trust was another thing Rodney would never take for granted.

"That was incredible," Rodney whispered, squeezing John tightly for a moment.

John chuckled. "Glad you liked it."

Rodney drew back just far enough so that he could see John's face. "How long have you wanted to do that?"

"Not long, about a week or so."

"So it's a new fantasy." Rodney slid his hand along John's side.

"Relatively."

"Did you jerk off thinking about it?"

John shook his head. "I was thinking about you and sex, and yet I didn't get hard."

"Maybe you should see Carson, have him make sure everything is in working order."

"Maybe," John agreed with a lazy smile, and Rodney kissed him just because he could.

"I do have one criticism of this particular fantasy."

"Oh?"

"Not enough kissing."

"I knew you were going to say that." John kissed him, a sweet, lazy, satiated kiss. Then he followed it up with another, and another.

Rodney's desire began to return, not that it had ever really left, and he brushed his fingertips across John's nipples. They hardened at his touch.

Rodney turned onto his back from his side, a move that required a fair bit of maneuvering in Atlantis's narrow beds. The one thing Rodney truly wanted was a real bed, one that was wide enough for them to each have a side. He wanted to sleep in that bed, with John, all night, every night.

John teased a nipple with his mouth, driving thoughts of everything but this moment from Rodney's mind.

Then it was just teasing laughter, and knowing touches, and the incredible sweetness of John's lips against his.

***

"I should go." Rodney should go even though his legs had grown numb from having John's weight sprawled across them.

"I know." John lifted his head from Rodney's chest and waited for Rodney to kiss him before moving to the side, freeing Rodney.

At first, Rodney had thought that leaving would get easier. Sometimes he wasn't very bright. He forced himself to get up, to leave John's bed and go into the bathroom, where he wiped their combined fluids from his skin, erasing the evidence. There were times when it was hard to remember that that was all he was erasing.

John was sitting up in the bed when Rodney returned, the blanket covering his lap. There was grey in his hair now, and Rodney preferred not to think about how thin his own hair was getting.

Aware of John watching him, he dressed as efficiently as he could. John rose from the bed when he finished and pressed his hand to the center of Rodney's chest again, leaning down to give Rodney a brief kiss. "We can meet in your quarters next time."

"Being left isn't any easier than leaving."

"Yeah, but you don't have to get dressed."

Rodney kissed him again because he couldn't think of anything to say.

"The military will have to come out of the dark ages eventually," John said.

Rodney had his doubts, but that it wouldn't always be like this was the lie they told one another, in various forms, every time. It had stopped making things easier months ago, but they continued to tell it anyway.

Wrapping his arms around John, Rodney held him tightly for a moment and then kissed him again, because John was beautiful and because he deserved to be kissed. Someday Rodney was going to tell him that. Someday he was going to open his mouth and his heart was going to come pouring out before he could stop it.

But not today.

One last kiss and he turned away, John's door sliding obediently open in front of him.