Jul. 31st, 2008
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Rodney says, "Yeah, apparently they found me on a beach," and, "Lorne came around a lot, but I didn't know who he was," and, "Do you have any idea how hard you were to find? It was ridiculous," and, "Oh my God, this is where you've been living? It's a mess! Are you actually eating food or just drinking rum all day long?"
All John manages is, "Rodney," pushing him up against the wall, catching his fluttering hands and kissing him slow and deep. Rodney tastes like salt and coffee, hesitates for just a second before kissing John back, before letting John lick into his mouth, his fingers curling around John's biceps and pulling closer.
Not that there's anywhere closer for John to get. He groans, body pressed tight up against Rodney. Rodney, who is solid and alive and right here and for just a half second John thinks, again, that this might be some cruel dream, promising him what he can't have while he's awake, but then Rodney is tilting his head back and gasping, "John, John, I couldn't find you anywhere, I—"
And John says, "I know, I know, I'm sorry," and nips at the bared line of Rodney's throat, feeling the beat of Rodney's pulse against his lips, the warmth of Rodney's skin, the scent of Rodney's sunscreen filling up John's lungs. John groans, "Don't you ever die on me again, Rodney, I mean it."
Rodney laughs, something breathless up to the ceiling, and then he's pulling John up with a handful of John's too-long hair and they're kissing again and John just melts into it. Wrestling Rodney's shirt off is too much work, so John just pulls on it until it rips and jerks the tattered remains off of Rodney's shoulders, warm and strong and whole.
Rodney nips at John's bottom lip, frowning down at what's left of his shirt and grumping, "Nice, I only have two shirts, you know. Well. One shirt now and—"
"I'll buy you more. I'll buy you everything. Anything you want. You'll be my kept man," John isn't real sure what he's saying, promises that might keep Rodney from leaving him again, anything that pops into his head. He kisses across Rodney's shoulders, all the places he used to know, that he's been dreaming about, trying to drown with liquor and sunshine.
Rodney is stroking John's hair, gasping up to the ceiling when John traces the tip of his tongue around one nipple, hands on Rodney's ribs, feeling him breathe, in and out and alive. Rodney groans, "John, John, John," and John sinks to his knees and pulls Rodney down, wrapping his arms around Rodney and burying his face against Rodney's neck and clinging to him.
John's fingers fumble over Rodney's zipper, but he manages, and it's worth it for the breathy moan Rodney makes when John grips his cock. It's hard and familiar and John presses his forehead against Rodney's, skin sliding slick together as he gasps and pants and manages to yank his own pants open.
Their legs are all tangled together, and Rodney has an arm around John's shoulders, holding him close, like they're in a cocoon away from the rest of the world. John likes that, shifting closer, mouthing kisses across Rodney's cheeks, lips sliding against each other, swallowing a groan when he grips their cocks together, lined up and hot and slick and fuck.
Rodney wails, "Oh, god," against John's mouth and John nods, shaky, stroking them fast and tight because he needs, needs, needs, things that he doesn't even know or understand. Rodney's fingers are gripping hard at John's shoulder, and Rodney's skin against his is burning hot.
And right before he comes, Rodney jerks, meeting John's gaze, blue eyes sharp and clear when he breathes, "I came back for you," and John shouts and kisses him hard and is never, ever, going to let Rodney go again. Fuck anyone that tries to take him.
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