I blame this on all the cold.
Dec. 7th, 2010 03:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabinetzinTitle: always crashing in the same car
Summary: It's M30-2KX this time.
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Word Count: 785
Rating/Contents: NC-17, angst
Pairing: John/Rodney
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: I'm not even sure what this is; I just had to get it out of my head before I got back to work. Would that I could write essays this quickly.
It's M30-2KX this time. The wind is so high that it's snowing sideways, the powdery white flakes creeping in under the tent flap, creating a little indoor snow drift that's slowly eradicating their boot prints.
It's too cold to sleep alone, just like it always is, even though they've got sleeping bags that are rated to whatever and below. Rodney doesn't doubt that the sleeping bags can handle it; he just doesn't know that he can.
It starts like always. John is never grabby, never the type to accidentally roll over and spoon you in his sleep; so when he slips his arms around Rodney's waist, pulling him close, close enough that his face is pressed up against Rodney's thinning hair, Rodney can already see it coming from a mile away.
They always pretend, him and John, like it isn't really happening. They always wait until far too late, like this time it's maybe not really going to happen, like they don't know what's going on. But they're creeping towards each other, pushing each other to the edge. Rodney cants his hips back, wiggling like he's just trying to get comfortable; John's hand, resting on Rodney's stomach, moves farther and farther down, flirting with Rodney's waistband.
It's always Rodney who breaks first; it's Rodney who doesn't know how to play the game. He gives up and drags John's hand down, settling it on his cock, which has been hard for longer than either of them will ever admit. John acts like he's just been waiting for the chance, stroking him through the fabric of his pants, his hips driving into Rodney's, pressing his dick against Rodney's ass.
It's predictable, from there, even more predictable than what came before. They thrust and gasp and grind and come, and neither of them ever, ever says a word.
"I'm not going to do this again," Rodney says, minutes later, breaking the stillness of the night, breaking the cycle they've been stuck in for so long.
Behind him, John doesn't react, other than to get very very quiet, so quiet that Rodney's not even entirely sure he's still breathing.
"I don't know what you mean by that," John says, after a long pause.
"You know what we're doing here," Rodney tells him. "And I'm stopping it, right now."
"You didn't seem to complain before," John replies, high and snippy like he gets when he's- god forbid- about to have an emotion.
Rodney rolls over, so they're close, close enough to kiss, if that was the kind of thing they did with each other. John shies away from him, as far away as he can get, the cold air seeping into the gap between their bodies. "I'm not going to do this again," Rodney repeats.
John sighs, heavily, like he's just realized there's no way he's getting out of this conversation. "You don't have to give me a reason," John says, even though Rodney knows he wants one, even though Rodney knows he can't sleep without giving one.
"Because you don't really want me," Rodney says, quietly, quietly enough that it's almost lost in the noise from outside, the sound of the wind battering the tent.
John looks at him, wide eyed, like he's shocked, and Rodney knows that's it, they're done, he might as well unzip his sleeping bag and go lay down in the snow.
It takes Rodney a minute to realize that John is moving towards him, incrementally, glacier-like. Rodney's so confused that he doesn't move, just waits there, a wild animal caught in a human's gaze.
John leans in oh so slowly and very gently, very carefully presses dry lips to Rodney's. Rodney's so shocked that he forgets to shut his eyes, so he can see the intent, focused look on John's face for just a moment before he gets it, putting his hands on the sides of John's face so that he can't get away, kissing him again and again and again.
They break apart, gasping for air like teenagers. "Does this-" John starts, but then he bites his lip, like he's perilously close to having shared something, expressed a doubt.
"I don't know," Rodney says, running his hands down John's side, gentling him.
"Sleep on it?" John offers.
"Yeah," Rodney says, sliding his arms around John's waist, pulling him into an embrace. "Yeah."
Summary: It's M30-2KX this time.
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Word Count: 785
Rating/Contents: NC-17, angst
Pairing: John/Rodney
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: I'm not even sure what this is; I just had to get it out of my head before I got back to work. Would that I could write essays this quickly.
It's M30-2KX this time. The wind is so high that it's snowing sideways, the powdery white flakes creeping in under the tent flap, creating a little indoor snow drift that's slowly eradicating their boot prints.
It's too cold to sleep alone, just like it always is, even though they've got sleeping bags that are rated to whatever and below. Rodney doesn't doubt that the sleeping bags can handle it; he just doesn't know that he can.
It starts like always. John is never grabby, never the type to accidentally roll over and spoon you in his sleep; so when he slips his arms around Rodney's waist, pulling him close, close enough that his face is pressed up against Rodney's thinning hair, Rodney can already see it coming from a mile away.
They always pretend, him and John, like it isn't really happening. They always wait until far too late, like this time it's maybe not really going to happen, like they don't know what's going on. But they're creeping towards each other, pushing each other to the edge. Rodney cants his hips back, wiggling like he's just trying to get comfortable; John's hand, resting on Rodney's stomach, moves farther and farther down, flirting with Rodney's waistband.
It's always Rodney who breaks first; it's Rodney who doesn't know how to play the game. He gives up and drags John's hand down, settling it on his cock, which has been hard for longer than either of them will ever admit. John acts like he's just been waiting for the chance, stroking him through the fabric of his pants, his hips driving into Rodney's, pressing his dick against Rodney's ass.
It's predictable, from there, even more predictable than what came before. They thrust and gasp and grind and come, and neither of them ever, ever says a word.
"I'm not going to do this again," Rodney says, minutes later, breaking the stillness of the night, breaking the cycle they've been stuck in for so long.
Behind him, John doesn't react, other than to get very very quiet, so quiet that Rodney's not even entirely sure he's still breathing.
"I don't know what you mean by that," John says, after a long pause.
"You know what we're doing here," Rodney tells him. "And I'm stopping it, right now."
"You didn't seem to complain before," John replies, high and snippy like he gets when he's- god forbid- about to have an emotion.
Rodney rolls over, so they're close, close enough to kiss, if that was the kind of thing they did with each other. John shies away from him, as far away as he can get, the cold air seeping into the gap between their bodies. "I'm not going to do this again," Rodney repeats.
John sighs, heavily, like he's just realized there's no way he's getting out of this conversation. "You don't have to give me a reason," John says, even though Rodney knows he wants one, even though Rodney knows he can't sleep without giving one.
"Because you don't really want me," Rodney says, quietly, quietly enough that it's almost lost in the noise from outside, the sound of the wind battering the tent.
John looks at him, wide eyed, like he's shocked, and Rodney knows that's it, they're done, he might as well unzip his sleeping bag and go lay down in the snow.
It takes Rodney a minute to realize that John is moving towards him, incrementally, glacier-like. Rodney's so confused that he doesn't move, just waits there, a wild animal caught in a human's gaze.
John leans in oh so slowly and very gently, very carefully presses dry lips to Rodney's. Rodney's so shocked that he forgets to shut his eyes, so he can see the intent, focused look on John's face for just a moment before he gets it, putting his hands on the sides of John's face so that he can't get away, kissing him again and again and again.
They break apart, gasping for air like teenagers. "Does this-" John starts, but then he bites his lip, like he's perilously close to having shared something, expressed a doubt.
"I don't know," Rodney says, running his hands down John's side, gentling him.
"Sleep on it?" John offers.
"Yeah," Rodney says, sliding his arms around John's waist, pulling him into an embrace. "Yeah."
(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-07 10:24 pm (UTC)high and snippy like he gets when he's- god forbid- about to have an emotion.
Why, it's almost as though you're talking about John Sheppard!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-07 11:35 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-08 12:14 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-08 12:23 am (UTC)I love this kind of progression in fic, where they go from something deniable to actually showing their feelings. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-08 01:13 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-08 03:23 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-08 07:30 pm (UTC)*wraps a warm blanket around John and Rodney and the fic*