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Feb. 4th, 2009 06:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beachlassDrabble for beadattitude
SGA - rated Mature
Not mine, in any way whatsover
John is under the covers, smooth cotton sheets, heavy woven blankets, Rodney's hypoallergenic comforter, flannel pyjama bottoms, Rodney's worn Berkeley tshirt and he's still cold.
Rodney has been in the lab for 3 days straight. John's been locked out since the morning, when he threatened Carson if he gave Rodney any more uppers.
Yes, they need to figure out the power problem, but it's not like the city is sinking, or the essential systems have stopped, but Rodney is taking the power fluctuations as a personal failure, and not coming out of the labs until he figures it out.
John misses him. Misses the smell of him, the sweaty nape of his neck in the morning, the muttering of physics formulae in his sleep, the greedy press of his fingers against John's skin. John misses being pressed into the mattress, longs to be pushed down and spread open and held close and fucked until he's past begging and gasping helplessly against the sheets, cheeks flushed, eyes closed, lips swollen and parted.
Instead, he pulls the covers up a little over his ears, and shifts unhappily over into the space that should be filled with Rodney's solid weight. Eventually he falls asleep.
There's grey light filtering in the windows when he wakes. Rodney has ricocheted off the desk and is cursing under his breath, strung out and agitated. Some of the cursing is in Czech.
When Rodney collapses into bed, he smells like the soap in the decontam showers and adrenaline and is unsteadily trembling. John wraps strong arms around him, buries his face into Rodney's shoulder and pulls him close. He doesn't ask if it's fixed. It either is, and Rodney's done and home, or it's fucked beyond repair, and Rodney has hit a wall.
John murmurs sleepy contentment into Rodney's neck, sweeps a possesive hand down Rodney's chest and into his boxers. The trembling increases to outright shaking, until John wraps his hand around Rodney's cock and starts to jack him. Rodney groans and thrusts and turns and bites at John's mouth.
"Mmm, yeah, fuck" John says against Rodney's mouth, and gets another bite. "Cranky, workaholic bastard, come on me" and Rodney does, with a groan, stiffening, arching, shuddering. Then he rolls, presses against John and is asleep.
The pale morning light shows the lines on his face, sweat on his upper lip. And John, John is warm for the first time in days, and closes his eyes.
SGA - rated Mature
Not mine, in any way whatsover
John is under the covers, smooth cotton sheets, heavy woven blankets, Rodney's hypoallergenic comforter, flannel pyjama bottoms, Rodney's worn Berkeley tshirt and he's still cold.
Rodney has been in the lab for 3 days straight. John's been locked out since the morning, when he threatened Carson if he gave Rodney any more uppers.
Yes, they need to figure out the power problem, but it's not like the city is sinking, or the essential systems have stopped, but Rodney is taking the power fluctuations as a personal failure, and not coming out of the labs until he figures it out.
John misses him. Misses the smell of him, the sweaty nape of his neck in the morning, the muttering of physics formulae in his sleep, the greedy press of his fingers against John's skin. John misses being pressed into the mattress, longs to be pushed down and spread open and held close and fucked until he's past begging and gasping helplessly against the sheets, cheeks flushed, eyes closed, lips swollen and parted.
Instead, he pulls the covers up a little over his ears, and shifts unhappily over into the space that should be filled with Rodney's solid weight. Eventually he falls asleep.
There's grey light filtering in the windows when he wakes. Rodney has ricocheted off the desk and is cursing under his breath, strung out and agitated. Some of the cursing is in Czech.
When Rodney collapses into bed, he smells like the soap in the decontam showers and adrenaline and is unsteadily trembling. John wraps strong arms around him, buries his face into Rodney's shoulder and pulls him close. He doesn't ask if it's fixed. It either is, and Rodney's done and home, or it's fucked beyond repair, and Rodney has hit a wall.
John murmurs sleepy contentment into Rodney's neck, sweeps a possesive hand down Rodney's chest and into his boxers. The trembling increases to outright shaking, until John wraps his hand around Rodney's cock and starts to jack him. Rodney groans and thrusts and turns and bites at John's mouth.
"Mmm, yeah, fuck" John says against Rodney's mouth, and gets another bite. "Cranky, workaholic bastard, come on me" and Rodney does, with a groan, stiffening, arching, shuddering. Then he rolls, presses against John and is asleep.
The pale morning light shows the lines on his face, sweat on his upper lip. And John, John is warm for the first time in days, and closes his eyes.
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Date: 2009-02-05 01:24 am (UTC)