Title: Syllogism
Author: rebecca
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: NC-17
Summary: John just hadn't expected this, even though he really should have.
Warnings: light BDSM
Notes: So first there was Data Set. And then there was Truth Table. And now we have this. My PWPs are growing...help me?

John had no idea when the "other" nights had started becoming more frequent than the "normal" nights. Nor was he entirely certain if there was even any delineation between "other" and "normal" anymore. It probably didn't matter; it was what they both wanted, but...John rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and told himself to stop thinking and get on with his day.

He dropped by Rodney's lab later in the day, because that was normal, that was what he did, and Rodney glared at him irritably and talked about various things John barely understood, but that was normal too. And then Zelenka left and it was just them, and Rodney looked up at him and murmured "My quarters, nine-thirty, okay?"

John wondered if it was a question when the answer wasn't in doubt. He nodded and didn't try to say anything; Rodney gave him a soft, almost-hidden smile and John fled before he could do something completely ridiculous, like fall to his knees.

He got in some flying practice with one of the Marines, worked out, met with Elizabeth and had a meeting about emergency drills. He didn't see Rodney at dinner, which was odd, but he tried not to think about it. Rodney was probably just working and would get something later. Well, John hoped, at any rate. Rodney with low blood sugar was even more bitchy than Rodney normally, and John didn't want to contemplate the idea of spending the night with Rodney when he hadn't eaten.

Dinner ended and he went to his room to relax and shower and read for a bit before it was time to head down the hall and around the corner to Rodney's quarters. The door slid open when he stopped in front of it and he walked inside, the door closing softly behind him. Rodney was stretched on the bed, looking at something on his laptop. He turned and looked at John with that same soft smile as earlier, shutting his laptop and putting it aside.

John stood there, by the door, unsure what to do. Rodney had this way of keeping him off-balance, especially when they were alone together. It left John grasping for whatever he could hold on to in order to try and maintain his footing. And that...was Rodney.

When the hell Rodney had become so good at reading him, hell, at playing him, John had no idea.

Rodney sat up, leaning back a little on his hands. "Come here," he said.

John walked over to him and sat down on the bed next to him; Rodney curled a hand around the back of John's neck and pulled him into a slow, easy kiss, nipping John's lower lip when he pulled away. "A few nights ago, you told me some things you wanted," Rodney murmured, stroking John's hair.

God. John shuddered just remembering it. Tell me, Rodney had said. Talk to me, John.

Rodney hadn't said anything about it for the past few days, even though they'd been together every night. John had almost convinced himself it had been a dream, a fantasy. That maybe he hadn't let Rodney undress him while spilling everything he felt, everything he wanted.

"We can't go through everything you wanted," Rodney said, tugging John's T-shirt off. "Much as I'd love to fuck you on a mission, we just can't. The pier...we'll think about that, though. I like that one." He bent his head, nipping John's collarbone, licking John's throat. His hands were unfastening John's pants, easing them down. "Strip," he said, leaning back.

Strip. Right. John exhaled and pulled off his clothes and his boots, letting them fall to the floor. He was already hard, his balls heavy; when he sat back down on the bed again, he let his legs sprawl apart. From Rodney's pleased smile, he appreciated the view. "Nice," he said, leaning over to kiss John again. "Lie down on your back."

John nodded and moved to lie down, relaxing against the mattress. Rodney bent and kissed him, longer and deeper, his hand running over John's chest. "Arms over your head," he said. "And close your eyes."

He stretched out, closing his eyes, and a moment later the bed shifted and something soft covered his eyes. "Lift your head," Rodney said, and John did, and he felt the soft thing--blindfold, he realized, slip behind his head and then Rodney laid John's head back down against the mattress. Whatever Rodney had covered his eyes with was soft, but fastened securely; it didn't move, or shift, and when John opened his eyes he saw nothing.

He shuddered a little at that thought, that Rodney could do anything to him and John wouldn't be able to see it, wouldn't be able to do anything but react. "Oh God," he whispered, swallowing. "Rodney--"

"If it's too much, tell me, and I'll take it off," Rodney said softly. "But I don't think it's too much, John. Do you know how your cock jumped when I fastened this? You're hard as steel for me."

"N-no. It's not too much." John licked his lips. "I just--I didn't think--"

"That's exactly it, John." Rodney kissed him gently. "Don't think. Turn your brain off."

"You're telling me not to think?" John tried not to laugh, but the irony was just too perfect.

"Yes," Rodney said, and there was no irony in his voice. "I am. And I'm telling you how to move, and what to do, and that's what you want, John, isn't it? To just let go? To let me have you?"

"God." John closed his eyes behind the blindfold. "Yes," he said helplessly, something inside him breaking open, something flooding through him, making him shiver and his breath catch as he leaned up for another kiss, a hungry kiss, Rodney's mouth hard on his and Rodney's tongue demanding in his mouth.

And somewhere in this Rodney ran his hands down John's arms to his wrists and squeezed and John moaned into the kiss, his whole body going limp and his wrists flexing and his cock so hard it ached.

"Christ, John," Rodney said, and there was something raw in his voice John didn't understand. "Christ, how did you...how did I not..." He kissed John again, desperately. "I need you to trust me," he said unevenly. "I promise, John, I won't hurt you, I won't do anything you don't want, but I need you to trust me."

God, how could he not, how--"Yes," John breathed hoarsely. "I--" He swallowed, trying to talk. "I trust you," he whispered.

A moment later, he felt something wrap around one wrist, then the other, closing snugly. It was soft, whatever it was, and when he tried to pull against it, to pull away, he found that he couldn't. Whatever Rodney had, whatever he'd fastened around John's wrists--it was comfortable, but snug, and there was enough give to let him struggle. Not enough to let him move or get free. Chills ran through him as he realized that he was blindfolded, naked, and tied to Rodney's bed somehow. For all intents and purposes, he was helpless, and Rodney...

"Oh God," John managed, pulling against the bonds involuntarily. "God, Rodney, what did you--what--" He twisted, breathing hard, but the restraints held, and a cold trickle of fear began worming its way into his stomach. "Rodney, no, I--"

"Shh," Rodney whispered, resting his hands on John's arms, under the cuffs. "Shh--relax, John, relax, it's all right, it's okay. Trust me. Trust me, okay? Relax. I won't hurt you, I promise. Just let it go, John. Just relax and let it all go. I know it can be a little frightening. You're not used to this, and if you truly want me to let you out, I will. But relax for a moment, John. Just relax and lie back and let it go. This is me, John. I won't hurt you. I promised you I wouldn't do anything you didn't want, remember? Just relax and let yourself feel what it's like, okay? All you have to do is feel, John. That's all I want you to do."

Rodney's voice was soothing, almost compelling, and John found the fear draining out of him, replaced with warmth and reassurance, the knowledge that Rodney wouldn't push him too far, wouldn't do something he didn't want.

John just hadn't expected this, even though he really should have.

Rodney didn't move, his hands on John's arms, and John took a deep breath, then another, and thought about saying no for all of ten seconds. "Okay," he managed, convincing his body to lie back against the bed. "Okay."

"You're sure?" Rodney asked quietly.

"I trust you," John licked his lips.

"If you feel uncomfortable, if you want me to stop, I will." Rodney's hands left his arms, one stroking down the side of John's face. "Tell me, and I'll stop."

John nodded. "Okay."

Rodney ran his hand down over John's chest, down his leg, fingers trailing over John's foot. "I want you to talk to me," he said, both hands sliding up John's calves, his thighs, pushing John's legs further apart. "Tell me how this feels. Focus, John. Tell me what I'm doing to you."

John groaned, squirming against the bonds, against Rodney's hands on his hips. "I can't," he said, almost pleading. "Rodney, I--"

"Shh," Rodney murmured, kissing him gently. "Feel, John. Feel what I'm doing to you. Do you like this? Do you like my hands on you like this?" He ran his thumbs up the center of John's ribcage and over his collarbone, back down over his nipples, teasing them gently. "How does this feel?"

"When did you turn into Heightmeyer?" John said breathlessly.

Rodney pinched one of his nipples in warning. "Talk to me," he said evenly, "or I'll stop." His hands kept moving, stroking over John's skin, caressing and petting. "And you don't want me to stop, do you, John?"

"No," John managed, swallowing. "No, don't stop..."

"Then talk to me, John." Rodney's voice was suddenly closer, in his ear, Rodney's breath warm against his skin, his tongue flicking out to lick John's earlobe. "This isn't so difficult, is it? It's just the two of us. You don't even have to look at me. All you have to do is tell me what you feel."

His hands slid down John's body, fingers tracing patterns on John's stomach. John shivered; with his sight gone and unable to move, everything felt more intense, more real. "It--you--it's--" John took a breath and exhaled deeply, trying to focus. Rodney was stroking one finger over his stomach, a slow spiral around his navel, and it felt so good, just that simple touch, that he groaned. "Everything...it's more," he managed. "It's...it's all so much...you're barely touching me and it feels like you're all over me, you're everywhere..."

Rodney slid over him, skin to skin, licking one deliberate line up John's chest and over his throat. His cock rubbed against John's and John tried to arch into it, to get more contact, but between the restraints around his wrists and Rodney's weight on him, he couldn't move an inch. "Don't," Rodney said, scraping his teeth over John's throat. "Don't move, don't try to act. Just let yourself feel." He kissed John's jaw, tongue licking behind his ear. "How does this feel, John?"

"Good," he managed, breathless. "It--" John licked his lips, trying to find words.

"What does it feel like to be like this, John?" Rodney's weight left him, his hands stroking over John's arms and his chest, fingertips running over his face. "Blindfolded, bound, knowing that I can do anything I want to you? That all you can do is submit?" He kissed John briefly, tongue dragging over John's lower lip. "What does that feel like?"

"Oh God," John whispered. He realized he was pulling at the bonds, twisting, but the more he struggled the more they held and God, he'd never wanted anything so much in his life as he wanted this. "Rodney--" It was a moan, desperate and needy, and Rodney kissed him, hard and deep, his hands on either side of John's face, holding him.

"What do you want, John?" Rodney asked huskily, biting John's lower lip. "What do you need? Tell me."

"I--" John shook his head. He couldn't think, couldn't find words for anything. "Rodney--"

"Tell me," Rodney demanded. "Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you. Tell me what you want, John."

John almost sobbed. "Fuck me," he gasped.

Rodney kissed him again, his hands closing over John's forearms, holding tight. "Yes," he hissed. "Yes."

Abruptly, he was gone, and John tensed, trying to listen, to sense, but all he heard were vague sounds, rustlings, and then Rodney was back on the bed, between his legs, one hand braced next to John's head as he leaned down to kiss John gently before his finger teased John's hole, coaxing it to loosen. "Let me in," Rodney murmured, kissing John again and again, lazily, his tongue mimicking his finger. "Come on, John. Let me in."

John swallowed, focusing on relaxing, keeping his body loose and pliant. "That's it," Rodney said, his finger pushing deeper into John's body, twisting, stretching him open. "Just like that, John." Two fingers now, and John shuddered and breathed and relaxed, wanting this, wanting Rodney inside him so desperately he almost whimpered.

"Good," Rodney said, kissing him, two fingers still inside him. "Are you ready for me, John?"

John managed a nod.

"Good," Rodney said again, and then his fingers pulled out of John and John heard the sound of lube being applied and then Rodney pushed John's legs up and back and slid into him, slowly, easily.

John moaned, head tossing against the pillow, wrists pulling at the bonds. "Rodney--God, Rodney, fuck me--"

"Like this?" Rodney pulled out of him and pushed back in, slowly, gently. "Is this what you want, John? Tell me."

"Hard," John whispered. "Fuck me hard."

Rodney slammed into him, hard enough to shove him back against the pillow, fast enough to steal his breath. He didn't ask again and John couldn't have answered if he did; all he could do was hold on for dear life as Rodney fucked him, used him, so good and so hard he was seeing stars behind his eyelids. He heard Rodney panting, grunting, heard the slap of skin on skin, and wished fervently he could see Rodney's face. But all he could do was imagine it and gasp for breath and feel himself pulling at the bonds as he tried to move with Rodney, tried to get more.

Rodney gasped and moaned and John felt him come, body trembling. "Rodney," he breathed.

He didn't get an answer, but Rodney pulled out of him in a rush that left him gasping and slid down, his hands on John's hips as he swallowed John's cock. John moaned, hips bucking up into Rodney's grip, arms beginning to ache from the way he kept fighting the restraints. "God--Rodney, I need to, I need--I'm--I--oh God, Rodney--"

He came so hard he saw white, blood roaring in his ears, leaving him dazed. He was vaguely aware of Rodney cleaning him off with someone's spare T-shirt, was conscious enough to bring his arms down when Rodney released them, but all he managed to do was roll over into Rodney's warm, solid arms, head resting against Rodney's shoulder.

"Shh," Rodney whispered, stroking his back. "Take it easy, John. Just take it easy. When you're ready, I'll take off the blindfold."

John nodded, surprisingly content to leave it on for the moment, with Rodney's arms around him and Rodney's body against his. "What did you use?" he asked, nodding in the general vicinity of the head of the bed.

"There's a fabric the Athosians make out of a plant. They use it for their clothes. It's soft, it's got the tensile strength of silk, and it doesn't chafe. I managed to acquire some." Rodney kissed John's temple.

"Oh. Okay." John decided not to ask how and when Rodney had gone about this business of acquiring fabric, nor did he really want to know when Rodney had gotten the idea.

"I'd have loved to get leather cuffs, but some things you just can't find in another galaxy." Rodney laughed a little. "If we ever get back to Earth..."

John shivered, one hand reaching up to push at the blindfold. Rodney eased it off and John blinked, adjusting his eyes to the dim light. "Wow," he said finally, shaking his head. "Just...yeah."

"How are your arms? You were pulling at those pretty hard. I was a little worried." Rodney shifted away from him. "Roll over, I'll rub them out. Come on."

John didn't think he could move, but he rolled over, groaning in relief when Rodney's hands dug into his shoulders. "Next time, I'll either give you less slack or not keep you that way so long. You fight, which is fine, don't get me wrong, but it puts a lot of strain on your arms like that."

"Next time?" John managed, the only thought he captured.

"Well, surely you didn't think this was a once-off, did you? I mean, John, your body's begging for it. Has been. Do you really want to stop now?" Rodney sounded surprised.

"I..I hadn't thought about it." John blinked. "I guess not."

Rodney snorted. "This is why you should let me do the thinking, John. I'm better at it."

John rolled his eyes. "Have this discussion with me when you haven't fucked me through the mattress and we'll see about that," he said, yawning.

"John, even I know a tactical advantage when I see one." Rodney kissed the back of his neck, hands running down his arms. "Let's get some sleep, all right?"

Sleep sounded like the best idea Rodney had had in the last five seconds. John crawled under the covers and stretched out against Rodney. Sleep, for once, came easily.
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