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Title: Relentless

Author: chelle

Author's email:

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Fandom: Atlantis

Archive: Ask first

AN: Thank you to Rachel Sabotini, kagey, the SO, and the Grrrl, all of who provided much needed criticism. This story would be far less without their honesty, and I thank them.

The first time Rodney gave him a blow job they were in Rodney's bed. Having hit his limit of sarcastic jabs about Chaya, John had gone to Rodney's quarters to resolve the whole thing once and for all. He'd admit that he had been wrong not to be more suspicious of Chaya, and Rodney would agree to let it go. It had seemed like such a rational plan when he'd thought of it, but somehow rational had given way to not so rational yelling and yelling had given way to even less rational kissing.

Kissing Rodney was an experience. Like flying an F-15 was an experience, or riding the rollercoaster at Six Flags was an experience, exhilaration with just enough fear to create that hollow feeling in your gut.

Kissing Rodney somehow became kissing Rodney while lying in Rodney's bed. They were pressed together, with Rodney's leg slung over his hip and Rodney's broad, warm hand sliding up and down his back. Part of John's mind pointed out that this was a bad idea, that they were colleagues and Rodney was a man, and doing this with another man was a sure way to end what was left of his career. Another part of his mind argued back that none of that mattered because the chances of them seeing Earth again got slimmer every day.

John ignored them both in favor of tasting Rodney, pressing against him, and just feeling him. Rodney was warm, and John hadn't been warm in a long time.

Needing more of Rodney's warmth, he pushed at Rodney's shirt until Rodney took it off. First, he touched. Curly hair, and smooth skin, and tiny nipples, and the hollow feeling got stronger. Then he pulled off his shirt and pressed his chest to Rodney's. Rodney groaned a little, kissed his neck, and John wondered if Rodney was feeling the same way he was. If Rodney was amazed and a little afraid, suddenly wanting things he hadn't even known he could have.

He fumbled when he tried to open Rodney's pants, but Rodney took care of the button for him. Then John lowered the zipper and reached inside. Rodney's dick was even warmer than the rest of him. Warm, and smooth, and solid. Real in a way that nothing had been since he'd sat in the damn chair.

John was still exploring, still learning the feel of Rodney's cock, when Rodney pulled away. He settled between John's legs and leaned forward and suddenly John was in a steep dive, pulling massive Gs and riding that fine line between control and free fall. It was a struggle to keep his hips still and all John could do was stare because that was Rodney's mouth on his cock, sucking and stroking and licking. That was Rodney making those happy, passionate sounds.

Then his brain dissolved around his dick, leaving John gasping and shaken and reaching for Rodney.

Rodney pressed against him, leaning over him and into him, and John shifted, searching for Rodney's mouth. He groaned when he found it. Rodney tasted like sex and him. He wanted to taste like Rodney and sex. But Rodney was kissing him harder and moving his hips; John could feel Rodney's cock rubbing against his skin.

Suddenly, Rodney pulled his mouth from John's and buried his face in John's neck. He was coming. John could feel it, could feel warm fluid landing on his skin as Rodney shuddered in his arms. John held him and pressed his lips to Rodney's shoulder.

They stayed like that for a long time, surrounded by silence and one another.

John had just decided that he needed to say something when Rodney's radio went off.

One brief kiss and Rodney left to deal with the crisis of the moment, something involving power fluctuations in the west tower. John lay in his bed, thinking about how the second ride on a rollercoaster was usually better than the first.


The second time Rodney blew him was twelve hours later, in Rodney's shower. John had gone to Rodney's quarters, hoping to find him awake following his post-crisis nap. When his knock went unanswered, John let himself in. Hearing the shower running, he stripped, almost tripping in his eagerness to get naked.

"Presumptuous, aren't you?" Rodney asked when John climbed into the shower.

"Yes," John answered, leaning in to kiss the smile from his lips. Wet, naked kissing was just as good as dry, naked kissing, and John was pretty sure that this time he'd get to taste Rodney. But Rodney was slippery and he slipped down onto his knees before John could stop him. John reached out, his hands landing on Rodney's shoulders. He firmly instructed his hands to ease Rodney back up, and he instructed his mouth to explain to Rodney that he wanted to do Rodney this time. His dick must have countermanded those instructions, because his hands stroked Rodney's wet skin, and the only sounds his open mouth made were gasps.

He stared at Rodney this time too, unable to look away, because that was Rodney whose lips were around his cock, Rodney whose mouth he was moving in and out of, Rodney who was making his knees buckle. John liked Rodney. He'd liked Rodney from the moment they met. His dick had decided that it adored Rodney.

The rest of him was pretty sure that his dick was right.

Rodney looked up at him, sharp blue eyes fixing on his, and John came.


The first time John blew Rodney was less than an hour later. John had dragged Rodney from the shower and into his bed. Then he'd pushed Rodney's hands to the mattress and told him to keep them there.

Rodney did as he was told, and John touched him everywhere he could think of, carding his fingers through the hair on Rodney's chest and running his palm along the curve of a bicep, the weight of a thigh.

Then he started exploring with his mouth, tasting the skin along Rodney's collarbone, sucking playfully on his earlobe, outlining a nipple with his tongue.

When he couldn't make himself wait any longer, he knelt between Rodney's legs and stroked Rodney's cock with his hand. After just a couple of strokes, he rubbed the head with his lips. Then he licked the slit, lightly and quickly.

Rodney gasped his name, and John took him, sliding his mouth down, drawing Rodney in. Rodney tasted a little like nutmeg, which made no sense, but then John wasn't sure anything about this made sense. He just knew that he needed to do this, needed to feel this, exhilaration and fear and desire so strong it made his cock ache. He needed to be warm, and Rodney was the person he needed to be warm with.

Rodney moved, sliding his hands through John's hair. One of his hands settled on the back of John's head, and he brushed his fingertips back and forth over the edge of John's neck, just below his hair.

Ignoring the ache in his jaw and cheeks, John sucked and stroked, not willing to stop until Rodney came.

When it happened he swallowed. He swallowed and swallowed and swallowed, tasting Rodney and sex, fear and exhilaration, warmth and comfort.


The last time John gave Rodney a blow job was roughly 18 hours ago. They were waiting for Elizabeth to come back from the Genii, and John had gone looking for Rodney. He'd found him in his quarters, showering.

Rodney's lips met his as soon as he stepped into the shower. John kissed him long and deep before dropping to his knees. Rodney was only half hard. John wrapped his lips around Rodney's cock and gave it a long, light suck, feeling Rodney stiffen against his tongue and lips. He loved doing this, making Rodney hard, feeling Rodney get hard.

John wanted to tease him, to play with his cock, to take him to the edge and then back him down before bringing him to the edge again. He wanted to do it over and over.

But there wasn't any time. There was never any time. He felt greedy and wanton, sucking on Rodney's cock like it was the center of the damn universe, stroking himself at the same time, because he wanted to come with Rodney.

Rodney gasped and panted, caressing John's face with his hands, his fingers brushing lightly across the back of John's neck just like they had the first time.

When Rodney came, his hips pushing forward, John did too. He didn't get that hollow feeling in his gut this time. This time it ached. John rested his forehead on Rodney's hip and closed his eyes, trying to push aside the ache and the rawness in his throat. Rodney's fingers still stroked his neck.

Rodney's radio went off and Rodney stepped from the shower, picking it up from the counter and talking into it while John washed his own semen from his skin. "Elizabeth's back," Rodney said when John stepped from the shower, handing him a towel.

John nodded and started to dry himself off. Then he tossed the towel aside and pulled Rodney to him, burying his face in Rodney's neck. Rodney held on too, his body exuding its usual warmth, but this time John still felt cold when he let go.


John tilted the jumper to the side, taking one last look at Atlantis. It was a topsy-turvy view, but it wasn't vertigo creating the sick feeling his gut. Leveling out, he headed for his target.

He should have said it. Three little words, saying them wouldn't have taken that much time. But if he had, then Rodney would have said it back, and John couldn't make that kind of promise.

Now the words echoed in his mind. Rodney, don't die.