The sun was barely dipping into the horizon, but the very depths of the canyon
were deep in shadow, their secrets hidden for the day. The rays were still high
enough to catch the strata below the rim, thin lines and wide stripes winding
away as far as John could see, gleaming golden and fiery red, a burnished orange
between the two.
He took a deep breath, the air cool and dry, and turned his back on the magnificent
view. Resting his elbows on the balcony railing, John watched with growing amusement
as Rodney popped in and out of his line of sight. He seemed to be pacing between the
two bedrooms of the suite, hands gesturing as he muttered to himself. On the next pass
through the living area, Rodney was lugging John's duffel bag. He toted his laptop across
on the return trip.
On his fifth appearance, Rodney stopped abruptly in front of the couch. He slowly
turned in a circle, clearly scanning for something. John moved forward, leaning with
his forearm against the doorframe as he tried to figure out what Rodney was up to.
"Lose something, McKay?"
Rodney held up a silencing finger, a triumphant grin sliding up his face as he locked
onto his target. "Yes! I knew you had to be here," he crowed. He crouched down in
front of something along the wall at John's side.
Curiosity got the better of him. John poked his head into the room in time to see
Rodney emerge with a package of peanuts, a Milky Way, and a beer.
"The honor bar? You're going apeshit over the honor bar?"
Rodney shrugged and ripped open the peanuts. "I know, it's crazy. I can't believe
anybody'd pay these kind of prices."
Eyebrows climbing, John stepped into the room so he could point out the obvious.
"You're paying those kind of prices right now, Rodney."
Rodney grinned and upended the rest of the tiny bag into his mouth. He crunched a
couple times, then slid the rest to the side of his mouth, like some demented chipmunk.
"I know," he mumbled. "Isn't great?"
John snorted, but he understood. Tossing money around wasn't extravagance. Dumb little
things like bags of M&M's whenever you wanted them and being able to get your favorite
kind of deodorant, those were the real luxuries.
Of course, he could think of things he'd much rather binge on than peanuts.
"So," John asked smoothly, reaching out to take the beer out of Rodney's hands when he
couldn't seem how to figure out how to open it while still hanging onto his food, "you have
any other plans for the evening? Maybe go all out and raid the cashews?"
"Maybe later, smart ass." Rodney tossed the empty foil in the general direction the
wastebasket, then pulled his open beer out of John's hand. He took a long swallow that
ended with a happy sigh and a loud smack. "As a matter of fact, since this is a vacation,
I plan on vacationing. No plans here."
"Sounds great. So, do you," John's straight face was history as he let loose in an
off-key croon, "feel like making love."
"Oh, my god!" Rodney tossed his hands up, eyes rolling in clear exasperation. "You've been
holding that in for two hundred miles, haven't you?"
"More like two-fifty," John agreed, still grinning. "Did it work?"
"I'm going to check my email." John felt perversely proud of himself as Rodney pushed past,
heading towards the bedroom that he must have designated as the computer center. Rodney's
cheeks were pink again, just like earlier in the afternoon when the song had come on the radio.
"But baby," John sang, "when I think about you, I think about–"
Rodney turned back, holding up a warning finger. "Don't even think about it."
John shut his mouth, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he mimed a zipper. Rodney
narrowed his eyes, then moved on to the computer room.
"Don't mind me," John called. "I'll just get started on my own."
Rodney stopped, glancing over his shoulder with wide eyes. "You wouldn't."
John smiled back. "You're right. I wouldn't. Go on, check your email."
Rodney looked suspicious, but John just kept smiling, trying for the 'amusing yet
innocent' look. He might have even batted his eyelashes. Rodney finally nodded.
"I won't be long," he promised.
"Better not be," John said, and for some reason that made Rodney smile at him so sweetly
that John almost tackled Rodney right there. But then Rodney ducked through the door,
settling into the chair in front of his laptop.
As soon as Rodney's hand hit the mouse, John raced to the other bedroom and started
stripping. He didn't even bother to fold anything, simply dropping it all in a messy
pile on top of his shoes. A quick fumble through Rodney's bag turned up the lube, and
after a moment's thought he grabbed one of the towels from the bathroom.
The sky was gloriously pink now, but John paid it little mind as he spread the towel
on the corner of the L-shaped couch, more intent on putting on a display of his own. He
parked his butt so he was facing the room Rodney was in, set the lube down next to him,
and propped one foot up on the cushion, the other on the floor.
John had been thinking about this all day. Through the years he'd heard plenty of horror
stories about relationships gone wrong because of bad vacations, but so far the trip had
been nothing like that. They'd joked and argued about stupid stuff, gotten philosophical,
traded stories about their childhoods. And in the quiet times, John had thought about what
they'd do when they got to the hotel.
He'd thought about Rodney doing this for him, running his fingers down his sides, over his
hard pink nipples till he shivered while John watched--but John knew he'd never be able to
just watch. They'd tried it before, but John couldn't keep his hands off, not when Rodney's
eyes fluttered shut and he licked his lips until they were shiny, not when Rodney started
thrusting into his own hand.
But surprising Rodney with a little show, that was doable. He ran his hand over his chest,
scratching through his chest hair, relaxing into the idea. John was counting on the fact
that Rodney couldn't actually work on anything while they were outside the SGC. Otherwise
he really might be putting on a one man show.
He flicked his thumb over his right nipple, jumping with surprise at how good it felt.
Anticipation definitely added spice. John did it again, his cock jerking with the sensation,
and wondered how long he could do this before he gave up and went after Rodney.
Leaning back, he licked his finger and went to work on his left nipple. He almost never
played with his own nipples--it seemed kind of extraneous, really. And maybe a little
girly. But he played with Rodney's nipples--a lot. John pinched his own, getting more
into it as he thought about the way Rodney liked it: little flicks and pinches at first, then
once he got going, sucking and a little bit of teeth until he was groaning and shoving
his cock against anything he could.
John pulled his hands away and licked his lips, mouth dry from shallow breaths. Rodney
was still typing away in the other room, muttering something indistinguishable. John
cupped his balls, wondering how long he could draw this out. Even the warm, comfortable
arousal of holding himself was amping him up. Giving in, he stroked his cock once, slowly,
then reached for the lube.
One finger at first, just teasing, then sliding in smooth and easy, in and out and in
again, pleasure arcing under and through his balls, on into his cock. He spread his legs
wider, shifting his hips to the side, trying to get a better angle. His own fingers felt
good, but Rodney's were better–and not such a test of his flexibility. A groan slipped
out as he added a second finger, and John opened his eyes, taking a moment to cool off.
Rodney was standing right in front of him, flushed and rapt.
"You said you weren't--" Rodney cut himself off, licking his lips before he starting
over. "What do you think you're doing?"
Lolling his head against the backrest, John let a slow, dirty grin cross his face. "The
macarena." He thrust into the air a couple times in demonstration. "You want to help me
out here?"
John thought Rodney really did try to look him in the eye, but his eyes kept slipping
back to John's hands on the goods. "Ah, in a minute."
"Suit yourself." Performing for Rodney had been the plan all along, anyway. John kept
his fingers where they were and started stroking his cock. It was good. Really good. Not
just the grip of his own hand, but the satisfaction of a plan coming together, the jolt
from the shocked lust on Rodney's face, still more anticipation of what was to come--it
all added it up to a powerful zing. Soon John was panting, nearly out of control as he
got closer and closer.
Rodney never looked away, but his eyes did roam up and down, meeting John's gaze as he
started unbuttoning his shirt. John swallowed hard, thrust up into his hand twice, and
then let go out of necessity. "Rodney--"
"Give a me second." Rodney sounded as desperate as John was. He shucked off his jeans,
barely wobbling as he stood on one leg, and tossed them to the side. John sat up to meet
Rodney as he clambered onto the couch, touching everything he could get a hold of as Rodney
did the same, their mouths crashing together with deep, hungry kisses.
"Fuck me," John growled right in Rodney's ear. "Now."
Somehow, between the two of them, they found the bottle of lube. Rodney slopped a bunch
onto his hand, reached between them, and then his slick cock pressed against John. Pushed in.
"So hot," Rodney whispered against John's neck. They were pressed closely together,
hardly any room to move–John still had one foot on the floor for leverage--but they managed.
Rodney had his hands under John's shoulders, gripping hard as he thrust, pulling them even
closer together. John's cock was completely on board with that. He thought about trying to
work his hand between them, give himself just a little bit more, but then Rodney arched,
angling perfectly.
"Fuck yeah," he said, shoving back hard. Rodney did it again, and again, and John lost
it. He grabbed Rodney's hips, holding him close as John shoved his cock against Rodney's
stomach and came hard.
"Jesus," Rodney gasped, and then he was off again, thrusting wildly through the last
shudders of John's orgasm, almost too much for John to take. But then he grunted, his
fingers curling hard into John's shoulders, and came.
Muscles limp, John let himself drift, not falling asleep but far from awake. Rodney
was a dead weight on top of him, but for the moment, he didn't mind.
"Wow," Rodney said, sounding groggy.
"Mmm, yeah." John pulled his leg onto the couch as it started to cramp, shifting
Rodney closer to the back. He couldn't move much more than that without one of them
falling off. "That was fast."
"Well, I had to catch up." Rodney sounded a bit defensive, so John bit his shoulder.
"Ow."
"Fast, and good," John said, "exactly what I was going for."
"Oh, right." Rodney rubbed his cheek against John's, their stubble rasping together.
"You couldn't have gone for it in the bed?"
John chuckled, and somehow they managed to get off the couch without hurting anything.
He was really glad he'd had the foresight to bring the towel. He wiped up, but didn't
bother with anything more than that before they both climbed into the big bed. They'd be
getting messy again later.
"You're humming that song."
"Um." John felt a little warmth creep up his own face. "It's stuck in my head."
"Great. You're going to torture me the entire trip, aren't you?"
John rolled into Rodney, running his hand through the hair on Rodney's belly. "You
know you love it," he teased.
"You're insane." Rodney laughed and got his arm around John's shoulders. They laid
quietly for a few minutes, surrounded by the smell of hotel and relaxation.
"That's how I think of it, you know," John confessed quietly.
Rodney didn't take long to figure it out. "You're insane," he repeated, but softly, like
his throat had closed up.
The feeling of Rodney's lips ghosting across John's forehead followed him into sleep.