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Title: Looking

Author: chelle

Author's email:

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Fandom: Atlantis

Archive: Ask first

Pairing: John/Rodney

Rating: R

Summary: John and Rodney three days after they've moved in together. Written for the Casa McShep community.

The door swooshed open and they stepped inside. Rodney smiled. It had only been three days and the place was still new, if three rooms in a 10,000-year-old city could be considered new. There were unpacked boxes stacked in the corners, and John was wrong about the couch. It needed to be angled more toward the windows. Why have an ocean view if you can't enjoy it?

John went into the bathroom, and Rodney walked around the couch, trying to decide on the best angle.

He was just about to push on the end closest to the windows when John asked, "I don't have hair growing in my ears, do I?" He was standing in front of the bathroom door with his hands on his hips.

"Why would you think you have hair in your ears?"

John grimaced. "My father. His ears got kind of hairy in later years. It wasn't pretty. The way you've been staring at me for the last two days, I figured something had to be wrong."

"Oh," Rodney said, looking down at the floor. It was the same blue-gray as all the other floors in Atlantis. "I couldn't before, and now I can, but I'll stop."

"You couldn't look at me before?"

"Not with your stupid military rules, no, not really," Rodney said, waving a hand in John's direction.

"So you've been making up for lost time?"

"Something like that," Rodney grumped. John was sounding entirely too pleased with himself.

"Are you saying you like looking at me?"

"Oh, for... Yes. Yes, I like looking at you. Given that I agreed to live with you, that shouldn't come as too much of a surprise."

John was smiling now, and he took a step toward Rodney, a decidedly predatory slink in his hips.

Rodney swallowed.

Stopping about a foot away with the couch between them, John reached for the top button on his shirt.

Rodney felt his cock start to harden, which was stupid because John had a t-shirt on under his shirt, and it wasn't as if Rodney hadn't seen him naked a hundred times.

John undid the second button, and the third, exposing more of the damned t-shirt. Did he have to be so slow about it?

Tugging the shirt free of his pants, John undid the last couple of buttons, and shrugged the shirt off, letting it fall to the floor. The t-shirt was better than the work shirt, because the t-shirt was tight in interesting places. Plus, it came off a lot more easily. All John would have to do was pull it over his head.

John went down on one knee and untied a boot. Then he switched sides and untied the other boot. Rodney had seen strippers undress faster.

Standing, John toed off his boots, before lifting one foot and then the other to tug off his socks, an act which shouldn't have been sexy. Socks were not sexy in the slightest, and Rodney didn't have any interest in feet, unlike Pushkin. Why Russians were obsessed with a poet with a foot fetish, Rodney had never been able to figure out. But John was smiling, a naughty smile. A naughty smile Rodney had never seen before. John's naughty smile had a lot of variations. There was the playful naughty smile, and the intense naughty smile, and the--

John was looking straight at him. It was all wrong that John looking at him could derail his thoughts like that. John pulled his shirt up over his head, exposing hair and muscles and skin. Rodney wanted to touch, but he stayed exactly where he was, watching as John lifted his leg and began undoing his thigh holster.

His cock hadn't been at the best angle for getting hard, and Rodney reached down to adjust himself while John was distracted. Draping his holster and sidearm over the back of the couch, John gave him a look that was entirely too self-satisfied, which meant he'd probably seen. But what did John expect? He was undressing in the middle of their living room while giving Rodney smoldering looks. He was lucky Rodney hadn't jumped over the couch, grabbed him and kissed him senseless. Okay, so he'd probably walk around the couch, but the rest still applied.

Wearing nothing but his pants and belt, John slid a hand across his stomach.

Rodney sucked in a breath, held it as John removed his belt. Then John undid the top button on his pants. Judging from the bulge Rodney wasn't the only one who was turned on.

John opened the next button with his thumb and forefinger in a maneuver that had to be using his cock for leverage. Trying to figure out the move was the only reason Rodney's eyes were glued to John's fingers. He didn't figure it out, even though he watched closely as John undid the rest of the buttons.

Pushing his pants down, John stepped free of them and stood in nothing but a pair of light blue boxers, the sun setting in the windows behind him. Rodney wanted to go to him, wanted to touch, but John's gaze met his, rooting him in place.

John pressed a palm to the erection tenting his boxers, and Rodney couldn't take the quiet any longer. "Please," he whispered, unsure what he was asking for. John must've known, though, because he pushed his boxers to the ground.

Now there was just John, every beautiful bit of him, the light from the sunset turning his skin an even deeper gold.

John's hands were at his sides. Rodney wanted to just stand there and look, memorize every detail; he wanted to jerk off looking at John; he wanted to drop to his knees and swallow John down, give himself over to John's pleasure.

Rodney started toward him, managing to only bump one knee into the corner of the couch as he passed. When he was standing directly in front of John, mere inches separating them, John said, "Do you want to look some more?" It was an offer.

"Yes," Rodney said, because looking at John was something he'd never grow tired of. How could he when he saw something new every time? "Yes."

Resting one hand on John's hip, Rodney slid the other from John's elbow up to his shoulder and leaned in for a kiss.

Rodney parted his lips and John groaned.

Giving in, Rodney pulled John to him, pressing their bodies together as John deepened the kiss. But that was okay, because even with his eyes closed Rodney could still look.