Title: Data Set
Summary: This was going to be one of the other nights.
Warnings: mild D/s
Notes: I needed porn. That's about it.
He knew from the moment the door closed behind Rodney that it was going to be one of those nights. Not the ones where they took their time with each other, where it was deep kisses and long caresses and Rodney's cock buried deep inside his body, fucking him, taking him, every thrust into his body stealing more of his breath and his sanity, until he managed something that might have been Rodney's name and came with Rodney's mouth on his and Rodney surrounding him.
No. This was going to be one of the other nights. The ones which started with a simple word and became so much more, something John had never even known he'd wanted until he couldn't stop thinking about them.
Rodney stopped just inside the door, looking at John with an expression so intent, so focused, that John felt like one of Rodney's science gadgets. John tried to say something, but Rodney shook his head sharply. "Don't talk," he said. "Don't say a word."
Right. John nodded and took a deep breath and tried to ignore the coil of something in his gut, something icy hot and tight and God, but he had no idea how Rodney did this to him.
John wondered sometimes how a man as verbose and articulate as Rodney could condense so much into so little. Any other night, Rodney would be talking and babbling all through sex, his voice and his body as expressive as John had ever seen him. But these nights--it was like he compressed everything, his gestures, his words, all pared down to the absolute minimum necessary. And John had no idea which was the real side of him, or if it was both, or whether the real Rodney was someone entirely else.
He sank to his knees, right where he was in the middle of his quarters, hands at his sides, looking at Rodney, waiting. For what, he had no idea. This was Rodney's show; John just held on for dear life and prayed he'd survive.
His quarters weren't large, and it only took Rodney three measured steps to stand in front of him, forcing John to tilt his head back and look up, into Rodney's unreadable face.
Rodney ran his hand through John's hair, fingers scratching lightly at John's scalp. John's eyes half-closed involuntarily and he pushed into the touch, shivering when Rodney's fingers ran down the back of his neck. He'd never been able to explain how good it felt to just be touched, to just have someone's hands on him.
It was one of those things Rodney knew, without ever having asked.
Rodney's hand curled around the back of John's neck, thumb stroking his throat. He pressed in, gently, and John gasped. Rodney smiled a little and let go, tracing a finger over John's lips. "Cause and effect, John," Rodney murmured. "A simple if-then equation. If me, then you. What I do, how you respond." He ran his fingers through John's hair again, almost absently, before stepping back. "An interesting set of data," he said, almost lazily. "I touch your hair, you relax. I touch your throat, you tense up. What happens if I don't touch you at all?"
John swallowed the protest that wanted to escape. He wanted--needed--Rodney's hands on him, warm and solid, capable of turning him to jello or making him feel like a live wire or both. If Rodney wasn't going to touch him, if--John closed his eyes and breathed and reminded himself that Rodney would give him what he needed.
Okay. He could do that. John pulled off his T-shirt and got rid of his socks and his pants and his briefs, settling back on his knees when he was done. He knew better than to stand if Rodney hadn't told him to. His cock, already mostly hard, twitched a little at the feel of the air.
Rodney nodded, and then he sat down on John's bed, leaning back a little on his hands. "You have no idea how fucking amazing you are," he said, his voice quiet and even and Christ, but John wanted to bury his head in Rodney's crotch and suck him down deep, suck him until Rodney started babbling and grabbed his head and came.
He didn't move. Rodney wouldn't punish him if he did--they didn't really do that--but the night would probably be over, and that was the last thing John wanted.
"Sometimes I look at you in the jumper and think about fucking you over the console," Rodney continued, still quiet, almost like he was discussing the specifics of some technical thing, only that was wrong, because Rodney was never this quiet and meditative.
Except for these nights.
"Or over that conference table. That'd be fun, I think. Right in front of Elizabeth and Carson. She'd get off on it, although I don't know about Carson. But you? You'd love it, wouldn't you? You'd take it and beg me for more and you wouldn't care that they were staring. You'd know they all wanted to be you, getting fucked like that. Or maybe me, so they could have a turn at your ass." Rodney smiled. "But no one else gets your ass, do they, John?"
Wordlessly, mouth dry, cock aching, he shook his head.
"Some fantasies are meant to be left unfulfilled," Rodney said, shrugging. "I have others, of course. I'd love to suck you off in my lab, late one night when you come to yell at me for staying up again. You tend to shut up when my mouth is on your dick, after all. Or I could jerk you off on a mission, fast and dirty, up against a tree, my hand in your mouth to keep you quiet so Ford and Teyla wouldn't hear us over your headset. You do like to make noise." Rodney grinned, shifting a little. His legs were spread as he leaned back and John could see the bulge in his pants.
Not half as much as he liked having Rodney's hands on him, but Rodney wasn't moving and John...couldn't.
"I have to admit, you surprised me," Rodney admitted. "I thought you were straight, until the first time you kissed me. That was a nice surprise. And then I thought you were either vanilla, or not interested in bottoming. Military, officer, all that." Rodney waved a hand. "But then I got you into bed--or you got me, it doesn't really matter--and I found out otherwise." Rodney grinned. "Which worked out nicely for me, because I'm not really a fan of bottoming. I've done it, of course, but it's not my preferred form of sex."
That was not a surprise. From the first time they'd had sex, Rodney had made it abundantly clear that he liked being in charge. And to John's surprise, he'd liked that too.
"I could do so much to you," Rodney said softly. "So much with you. You don't even know what you want, I think, and your body gives it away so easily. It's all data, John, all evidence, and there's no one better than me at interpreting data."
John swallowed, hard. Rodney's arrogance was legendary, but at the same time...was it arrogance if he was right?
"Touch yourself." Rodney sat up straight. "Jerk yourself off."
He couldn't quite hold back the whimper. Rodney wasn't going to touch him at all? John bit his lip and reached down for his cock, working himself hard, fast, his wrist flipping and his arm moving and his breath coming faster and shallower in his throat.
It didn't take long--it was forever--before he came all over his hand and his stomach, panting for breath, unable to look at Rodney's face.
"Come here," Rodney said, and his voice wasn't cool or composed, it was husky and raspy and as soon as John crawled onto the bed Rodney pulled him down into a hard kiss, grabbing John's hands and pushing them down to his groin. John got the idea, fumbling with Rodney's pants, pulling out his cock and beginning to stroke it, one hand wrapped around Rodney's cock and one hand reaching around, one finger pressing at Rodney's hole, teasing him, and Rodney kept kissing him and his hands were all over John's face, his arms, his chest, and John pushed his finger just a little into Rodney's ass and Rodney bit John's lip and came, gasping.
They stayed tangled like that for a minute or two before Rodney rolled away. John watched him with a sudden flare of anxiety, wondering if Rodney was about to leave. But Rodney only pulled off his clothes and tossed them aside before rolling back onto his side and pulling John against him, holding him, his hands running up and down John's back, his flank, his arms, everywhere Rodney could reach. "You have no idea how hard it was not to touch you," Rodney murmured against John's hair.
"I was about ready to kill you," John told him, kissing Rodney's collarbone. "Don't do that to me again?"
Rodney squeezed John's ass. "Maybe next time I'll make you talk instead."
"Not what I meant," John grumbled.
"If you wanted to decide what happens, you'd have been the one sitting on the bed and I'd have rug burns on my knees." Rodney patted his ass fondly. "You can't argue with the facts, John."
Kissing Rodney wasn't really a response, but at least it shut him up.