Compromising Positions | Into the Black | Contact


Notes: Episode tag for Common Ground. Big thanks to Eleanor K. for the beta. You rule.

John paces back and forth, trying to burn off the excess energy thrumming through him. He should be exhausted. But ever since the Wraith gave him back his life, he’s been energized and it’s starting to freak him out a little. He digs under his bed for his runners – maybe a long jog around Atlantis will help. He sits down on his bed and takes off his boots.

The door chimes and John looks at the clock: 2:15 AM – it could only be one person. John sighs. He really doesn’t feel like dealing with Rodney right now, but he also knows that there’s no point in pretending to be asleep – Rodney would have checked his life signs and would know he’s awake, so he thinks ‘open’ at the door.

As usual, Rodney comes bustling into his room without any preliminaries, but for once, his mouth isn’t going a mile a minute in some rant; he is, in fact, eerily quiet and he’s nervously flexing and unflexing his hands. He’s dressed rather haphazardly in a stretched out t-shirt and his BDU pants. His hair is sticking up a bit wildly and his feet are bare, which, more than the silence, alerts John to the fact that there’s something really wrong. Rodney is far too germ-phobic to be wandering down the halls without shoes.

John puts down the sneaker he was about to put on and says, “Rodney?” Rodney paces back and forth, still not saying anything, his face twisting with too many emotions for John to follow.

“Are you okay?” Rodney asks abruptly, stopping and turning to look at John.

Rather than crane his neck up, John stands before answering. “Rodney, you were right there when Carson cleared me. Yes, I’m okay. In fact, I’m slightly better than okay – those grey hairs you’ve given me have all gone away,” John answers, trying to joke the serious look off of Rodney’s face. It doesn’t work. “Rodney, what the hell is wrong with you? It’s the middle of the night and I’d like to go to bed,” John lies.

Rodney looks at his watch. “Oh. Oh, sorry. I hadn’t realized, it’s just…I couldn’t sleep. I killed a mouse. I didn’t mean to, but I did…” Rodney says, the words coming out in one big flow of sounds that John has no trouble following only due to experience.

“Wait a minute,” John says. “You came barging in here because you couldn’t sleep because you killed a MOUSE?” John’s voice rises incredulously.

“You don’t understand!” Rodney exclaims. “I killed a mouse because I thought it was one of the Genii! Because they had you and they were doing horrible things – they were killing you and I didn’t CARE if I killed a person!” Rodney’s voice breaks on the last sentence and he stares at John, his eyes wide and fearful.

“Rodney,” John says and takes a step closer. Rodney’s eyes go even wider and he says in a panicky voice, “I’ve got to go, sorry, sorry.”

As Rodney turns to go, John stops pretending that he doesn’t see the way Rodney looks at him, that he doesn’t see the love and devotion that he’s tried so hard to curtail; decides that after dying and coming back to life in one day, that maybe it’s time to let the walls down and let someone in before it’s too late. And in that moment, John does one of the hardest things he’s ever done – he reaches out and grabs Rodney by the arm, and says softly, “Stay.”

Rodney frowns and looks at John’s hand and then up at John’s face, his eyes searching for something. John strokes the inside of Rodney’s wrist lightly with his fingers. Rodney’s breath hitches, and then he asks, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” John answers, and then he’s pulled so forcefully into a desperate kiss that it unbalances him and they tip backwards onto his bed. They land in a jumbled heap, but neither of them cares as they pull at each other’s clothes. There is no finesse, no seduction; clothing gets tossed over shoulders and dropped over the edges of the bed until they’re both naked and wrapped around each other, still kissing frantically.

John grabs Rodney by the ass and arches against him, rocking his hips frantically. This has been a long time coming and John is in no mood to wait. Rodney plants wet, sucking kisses along his jaw and down his neck. John gasps loudly when Rodney reaches the Iratus bug scar. It’s as though the nerve endings there are hard wired to his dick. Every time Rodney’s tongue glides over that patch of skin, a jolt goes right through him. Rodney attacks that spot like a man on a mission – licking, sucking, a slow, gentle drag of teeth – until John is writhing against him and making sounds that are embarrassingly close to whimpers; but it’s not until Rodney applies light suction combined with an undulating tongue that John comes so hard that everything grays out for a couple of seconds.

When John becomes aware of his surroundings again, Rodney’s murmuring, “Oh, God, oh God, oh God,” into the hollow of his throat as he grinds his erection against the crease of John’s thigh, his cock sliding through the come spattered on John’s skin. John holds Rodney close and after a few more thrusts, Rodney stiffens, whispering, “John,” in a quiet, broken voice against John’s skin. And then he slumps heavily on top of him.

John pets and strokes Rodney while he catches his breath, waiting for him to move. When it becomes apparent that he’s not going to, John pokes Rodney in the side. “You’re kind of heavy.”

“Mmpphh?” Rodney grunts.

“I said, you’re kind of heavy,” John repeats.

“Mmph,” Rodney replies, shifting just far enough off John so that he can breathe. John rolls his eyes and resigns himself to being trapped until morning. It would figure Rodney’s a cuddler who falls asleep right after orgasm. Rodney’s hand slides down his chest and comes to rest exactly where the scar should be; John puts his hand over Rodney’s and lets Rodney’s heavy breathing lull him to sleep.