Chances weren’t lining themselves up at Rodney’s door, not that he cared. Then one fell at his feet—literally—and Rodney had no idea what to do with it. He’d tried telling John no, but the words just weren’t letting themselves be said. It didn’t help that whenever John got near, Rodney’s body capitulated with a swift decisiveness not unlike nuclear fission. Most of Rodney’s mind was right alongside; just the tiniest portion tried to argue and it quickly gave up each time, like even that part of him knew it didn’t have a prayer of winning.

So when John showed up in Rodney’s quarters, he put up a fight. Just not much of one.

I don’t even know why you want me, Rodney wanted to say. John’s tongue was on his skin, though. Rodney tried to gather his thoughts, his carefully outlined arguments. They weren’t compatible, they were too high in the chain of command, John liked pretty people, Rodney fell in love too easily.

John was licking him and every nerve in Rodney’s left arm was vibrating, the sensations clamoring through muscle and bone. He had arguments, damn it, reasons why John shouldn’t stop touching him like that.

Rodney wanted John to suck his cock the way he was sucking Rodney’s fingers. Every motion echoed between hand and groin and why had he chosen denim? Even his loose jeans were too constricting. Hell, they were present, which was annoying. John was completely naked.

In Rodney’s bed. Rodney should’ve been the nude one. He was most definitely naked, defenseless against John’s inexplicable libido.

John’s mouth was wet and slick and Rodney knew exactly how it felt sliding around his cock. He remembered every caress, every time John swallowed him down. Rodney recalled with exacting precision the sound of John’s guttural groans scraping along bruised lips as he came, writhing around Rodney.

Then John stopped, releasing Rodney’s hand so that it landed on his groin. Rodney wanted to twist his wrist, take himself in hand and finish himself off, but he didn’t. He couldn’t, because John was looking at him. More accurately, John was looking into him and that made Rodney even harder. This was supposed to be sex. Fucking. A way for John to get off. Rodney knew he was fooling himself trying to find a pattern in the chaos, as though a tessellation would appear out of the white noise of John’s seduction.

But John was looking at him with an unnerving intensity, two fingers fiddling with the fastening on Rodney’s jeans. “Let me,” John murmured, still staring at Rodney, unblinking and serious. Like Rodney would say no. Rodney relaxed down onto the bed, easing down until the strain on his waistband was lessened.

John wasn’t moving. “Please,” He said, like John needed Rodney’s permission to touch. There was a hint of desperation in the single word, of need and submission. Rodney felt a thrill and couldn’t decide if he liked it or not, this version of John who wanted Rodney’s leave to continue. It didn’t seem to matter, though, that Rodney was confused because his cock was harder than before and he was pushing against John’s light touch.

As soon as John started tugging on his jeans, Rodney pulled his legs up, holding himself open at the thighs and John was right there, breath warm around the base of his cock.

But that was it—John wasn’t moving. His head lifted up so Rodney could see the pleading look on his face. God, why wasn’t he doing anything? Rodney wasn’t into begging but fuck, John was five millimeters from the glans of his penis, so close Rodney could almost feel lips and tongue and the ripples of fingerprints pressing into his scrotum.

The only thing John did was rub his face against Rodney’s erection, stubble making the movement acutely erotic. Rodney couldn’t bear to see the expression of open need on John’s face, not that look that said John needed something Rodney didn’t have to give.

Then that word again, “Please,” said so softly Rodney swore he heard it through his skin and not with his ears. Rodney watched John watch him, mind stuttering as it tried to decipher the mystery that rather pointedly wasn’t doing anything between his thighs.

“Come on, please Rodney,” He felt-heard, right along with a new, firm pressure against the backs of his thighs. John was leaning in, closer still, almost where Rodney wanted him. Rodney wanted John to touch him but he had no idea what John wanted. Why he was waiting, why he was asking for something they both should’ve known he could have anytime.

Rodney couldn’t stand the waiting; he let his legs drop to the mattress and was about to shove himself up the bed and away from John when the man finally moved. He went right to the perfect place, nose pushing into Rodney’s balls as he licked right up Rodney’s perineum and fastened on to the tight skin. Rodney couldn’t look away, not when all he could see was John’s slitted eyes and certainly not when he moved up to take Rodney’s cock into his mouth. One long, slow drag up and then the head was in, tongue furrowing into the slit.

He never would get used to the way John looked when he did that, like Rodney’s cock fucking belonged to him. John was the one asking permission, so why did Rodney feel like the one being owned?

Rodney anticipated the fingers that slid into his ass only because he felt John reach for the lube. Watching John service him with his mouth was almost, but not quite, enough to make Rodney not care about how slowly John was working him open. Slow was good, slow meant John knew Rodney wasn’t ready for anything else.

Yet, anyway. If John kept taking those quick little glances at Rodney’s face, right when the head of Rodney’s cock hit the back of his throat, Rodney was going to be ready for just about anything.

When John pulled back, leaving Rodney exposed and chilled from the air swirling around his cock, Rodney almost complained. But John was back, maneuvering himself on top of Rodney. John’s shoulders didn’t feel thin and bony when Rodney’s legs bent over them and his back was just muscle, not spiny bumps and ribs.

Again with the not moving and Rodney was about to scream. Why wasn’t John just taking what he wanted? All the other times, he’d done just that. The first time, against the wall, Rodney held on for the ride while John sucked him dry. He hadn’t had a say in being ridden hard, John straddling him while Rodney was still trying to find his brain after John had sucked it away. Yesterday Rodney hadn’t said a word either, hadn’t asked for that handjob or the kiss that almost made him pass out.

Rodney wasn’t begging, not for anything. There wasn’t any asking in fucking, just taking. Rodney knew what he was doing and he thought he knew about John as well. Now John was asking, and it made no sense. “Wait,” He snapped when it looked like John might have decided to finally push into him.

John’s eyes locked onto Rodney’s face.

“What do you want?” Rodney inquired, calm as if he’d been asking Dr. Weir to pass the salt. Rodney wanted to know what the hell John was doing, changing the rules. Rodney liked rules, liked to set them himself and then not let them be changed for anything.

John was trying to shift the earth on its axis, and Rodney was having none of it.

“I—I want inside, Rodney,” John panted, as though the words cost him dearly.

A self-evident answer, one that told Rodney nothing about what John wanted. He knew what John’s cock wanted; it was too hard, too close to being in Rodney’s ass, to want anything else. Rodney wanted to know what the fuck John wanted.

“Do you?” Rodney pressed, not letting John look away.

John’s expression flashed bright and sharp as a knife. “Yes, please Rodney let me inside. I wanna fuck you, please just...please,” He begged, words blurring together as his hands, clasping Rodney’s thighs, shook. It still wasn’t what Rodney wanted to know, but at least John was honest in the answer he gave.

The fidgeting told Rodney that John was ready to go, tired of holding back...but the way his face looked, so hopeful and open like Rodney was doing exactly what John wanted.

Rodney didn’t know what he was doing, though, other than to force John to do something. “Slow,” Rodney said, because he was tired of waiting but he didn’t feel like making himself go through the pain of a fast entry. John’s cock was pretty and hard and Rodney wanted to enjoy ever millimeter of it.

The gratitude in John’s voice was almost inaudible, his breeching of Rodney’s body only slightly more severe. Sheer perversity made Rodney speak, however. “Slower,” He demanded as the head of John’s cock slid into him. John shook with effort, his arms straining to hold Rodney’s legs up.

But John’s face was what Rodney was watching, not the union of their bodies. “I can’t,” John cried brokenly. Rodney clamped down on John’s cock, loving the flinch and groan the movement elicited. John was begging him, Rodney McKay.

Then it hit him. John was begging him, and John had started it. John wanted to beg—to beg Rodney. Hell, John was making it so Rodney forced him to plead every step of the way. The sheer insanity of it made Rodney either furious or orgasmic—the feelings were inextricably intertwined--so he took a second to get a hold on his emotions.

“Can’t you?” Rodney asked meanly, still constricting himself around John’s erection. It wasn’t really submission if John was making Rodney order him around. Yeah, Rodney knew that submissives were the ones in control and wasn’t it just like John to skip right over all the rigmarole and get straight to the heart of the matter?

Again with Rodney losing step two and ending up at step three before he’d gotten step one figured out.

John jerked forward and Rodney stopped trying to figure out why John was demanding that Rodney make him beg. He couldn’t think because John was inside him all the way and it hurt, but it hurt like it should have, the shock of penetration making Rodney recall how it felt to have John’s mouth on him. This was just as good, just as dangerous and naked.

More of the pleading, the apologizing that Rodney couldn’t stand to hear when he was hard and full and wishing John would move his cock and not his tongue. “Sorry, too fast, god Rodney I—

Enough of that, Rodney scrambled to think; he yanked John down by the neck and mashed their lips together. Slow was done for; John’s tongue twisted around his, lips skating dangerously close to teeth, cock pushing against Rodney’s prostate over and over. John was rough and fast, moving in a way Rodney hadn’t thought he’d want that night. Or any night; Rodney usually liked it slow. This was better than slow; it was raw, animalistic pounding; Rodney could scream and shout into John’s waiting mouth without either of them thinking he was depraved.

Harder still as John found purchase on the bed, driving into Rodney with frightening intensity. Rodney hadn’t ever been taken like this, like John couldn’t hold himself back. It wasn’t anything Rodney knew how to understand, how to parse out and shove into a neat little box in his brain, so instead he went with it, moving with John as they strained together.

John took his cock in one hand, the new sensation so overpowering Rodney tear his mouth away from John’s so he could try to breathe. He wasn’t built to handle this kind of pleasure, the kind that threw itself at him like a juggernaut. There wasn’t any escape, not with John’s cock pinning him down and John’s hand dragging him back up.

“Please, Rodney. Come, come for me, please,” John muttered, voice cracking on every word. Rodney’s eyes widened and rolled back as John’s pleaded demand was answered by his own body. Sex wasn’t supposed to make you fly, that was just a stupid cliché people with no imagination used to describe orgasms.

Rodney was flying, though, spun into nothingness as his body cracked and shattered, tightening around John and emptying itself into a waiting hand. The intensity of it would’ve been frightening if John wasn’t taking care of him, holding him close and protected. Being lost in pleasure wasn’t so frightening when John was there.

One hard thrust, not quite too much but just on the edge and John was falling. Rodney held on as they twisted sideways and John kissed him again, insinuating himself within Rodney’s limbs. It was cool enough in the room that Rodney enjoyed the warmth, even with the heat of sex clinging to them.

Rodney kept his hold on John, not yet willing to let John relinquish control, not ready to climb back inside his mind and be in charge of himself again.