But what about the storeroom?

So sheafrotherdon posted a FABULOUS ficlet about John’s neck, and Rodney (and assorted other people!) nosing and nuzzling and generally enjoying it, and… I committed fic. Her stories just – I don’t know! *hands* They make me do these things. Um, anyway. Here’s my follow-up to Nadine and Billy Bob Welcome You to M76-343.


“Um, didn’t you want to -” Rodney says after they’ve abandoned their guns and tac vests in the armory and ventured into the hall, teammates gone, no one paying attention. And his hand is on Sheppard’s arm, which is probably not discreet or, or something, so Rodney jerks it away, indicating the storeroom door with a chin-jerk instead. “You said, earlier.”

Sheppard shoots a look at him. Or maybe a Look. “I was kidding.”

“Oh. Oh.” Rodney feels something twist in his stomach, feels his face heat with sudden, horrible embarrassment. “Sorry, I – yes. Well, I’m just going to head to – my room.” He starts to turn away, blind and angry and god

Sheppard catches his arm, leans in for a second. “About the storeroom,” he says. Although there’s a dumbass clearly appended to the statement, Rodney can’t bother himself to respond to that part.

The heat on his cheeks changes instantly, a head-to-toe rush of want and happiness and want that leaves him a little weak-kneed. “Oh, so – would you like to -” Rodney begins, then stops walking. “Um – where are we going?”

“Your room, you said,” Sheppard mutters, not breaking stride, and Rodney hurries to catch up to him.

He can see the back of Sheppard’s neck, though, see that it’s red under its tan, and maybe Sheppard wants this just as much. It’s a novel thought, but after all, he nosed Rodney’s neck first, and that has to count for something. They’re silent all the way down the hall, into the transporter – Rodney really thinks about shoving Sheppard into a corner and snuffling at his neck some more, but the look on Sheppard’s face stops him: closed off the way he gets when he’s nervous, and wow, Rodney wouldn’t have known what that meant with anyone else, but it’s John Sheppard, and Rodney just – does. Knows.

This thought lends a happy bounce to his walk, and he wants to run to his quarters, drag Sheppard into at least a trot. Rodney settles for hurrying, mentally chivvying Sheppard along, although he doesn’t reach out to touch him again. Not yet, Rodney thinks, and oh, wow. Yes, this is good. This will be good. He’s pretty sure of it. He catches his feet trying to jog.

“Okay,” Rodney says, storming through the door to his quarters, turning as soon as Sheppard is through them, right on his heels. “Yes, okay,” Rodney says (again), and gets the door shut quickly, because he really wants to –

– do this: Sheppard’s right up in his space, and oh, there’s his neck again. Rodney grabs Sheppard’s arms, leather jacket stiff and slick under his fingers, and presses his nose to that little spot just under the hinge of Sheppard’s jaw.

“Jesus,” Sheppard says, low, and his hands clutch at Rodney, landing on his waist, sliding down to hold his hips.

“I know,” Rodney says, and licks. Stubble drags under his tongue, and Sheppard – John, to hell with this Sheppard stuff, Rodney’s going to sleep with him, he’s calling him John today – John jumps, head tipping away, which just means more: more neck to nuzzle, lick, kiss open-mouthed and damp and gleeful. “Mmm,” Rodney says. He lets go of John’s arms, fumbles for a second and then, yes, there, that’s what he wanted, too – he slides his hands into the open front of John’s jacket, onto his waist. John’s t-shirt is soft, warm from his skin, which is right there, Rodney thinks, underneath it.

“Ticklish,” John gasps into his ear, squirming, but his hands squeeze Rodney’s hips and then slip around to squeeze his ass.

“We can – we can forgo all the first date stuff, right?” Rodney says, nosing at John’s hair, fastening his teeth carefully onto the delicate rim of John’s weird, pointy ear just for a second. “I mean,” he lets go of John’s ear, rubs over his stomach roughly, up to his chest – he can feel John’s chest hair rustle under the t-shirt, it’s bizarrely hot – “we’ve known each other for four years, and you’re grabbing my ass, so -” Rodney feels a nipple (he thinks, it’s hard to tell what with the t-shirt and the chest hair and all) and pinches it.

“Yes, fuck, ticklish,” John says, twitching and squirming some more, but he jerks his hips into Rodney’s almost accidentally, and hey, if that’s ticklish, then Rodney’s ticklish, too. Really ticklish.

He pinches again, more gently, and sucks a kiss onto the tendon at the side of John’s neck. “Yes, yes,” Rodney says. His hand slides down John’s belly again, onto his waistband, lower. He grips the tight ridge of John’s erection and squeezes. “Here, too?” he asks, feeling daring, feeling laughter tangle with the desire that’s making him sweat, making him rub shamelessly against John’s hip as he massages his hard-on through the heavy fabric of his pants. “Can I – is this okay?”

John makes a sound that’s pretty much all “H”s – “Uh-huh” or “hello, yeah” or whatever, close enough. He’s squeezing Rodney’s ass fairly unmistakably, so Rodney doesn’t feel too worried about getting a coherent “yes” out of him before sliding his hand up and then down again, shoving it into John’s pants and boxers and just going for it.

John’s cock is hot and damp and very, very hard in Rodney’s palm; John hitches a breath and stops gripping Rodney’s backside just long enough to fumble his own button and fly open, pushing his boxers down and giving Rodney a lot more room to work. Rodney pulls back to get a look – hell yes, John Sheppard’s cock, in his hand – but John makes a desperate noise and grabs his head, directing his face back toward John’s neck.

“Oh,” Rodney says, more softly than he means to. John doesn’t seem to mind; he pushes frantically into Rodney’s hand with his hips, holds Rodney’s shoulders with his hands, cranes his head to one side and as good as begs Rodney to finish what he started.

Rodney can take a hint – okay, so maybe sometimes it takes more than a hint, but he gets it, the important stuff, usually, and this is important – and he licks John’s neck, noses at the salty skin, drags his own stubbly chin along John’s rough jaw, sucks and bites at the strong, irresistible line of that one, delicious tendon. That’s the key, Rodney finds: John shivers and chokes out a noise, damp lips parted and breath gusting right into Rodney’s hair as he shoves desperately into Rodney’s hand.

“No wonder you didn’t care if they were vampires,” Rodney says, and then bites down hard, right where John’s neck curves into his shoulder. John grunts and curls over a little, coming into Rodney’s hand in several long, messy spurts. “Fuck,” Rodney tries to say fervently, because it’s hot, but his mouth is still attached to John’s neck, so it’s just a groan, vibrating against the taut muscle of John’s neck, his shoulder.

“Fuck,” John says weakly, a moment later, and Rodney lifts his head, observing with passing satisfaction the ring of rosy tooth-marks where John’s collar is rumpled and pushed aside.

“I already said that,” Rodney says, “can we move on?” He flails for John’s hand, guides it down to his own neglected cock, trapped in his pants.

“We haven’t even kissed,” John says, grinning into Rodney’s hair. Rodney can hear it, knows that self-satisfied smirk like he knows his own reflection. And just as Rodney opens his mouth to tell John that there’ll be plenty of time for that later, how about some reciprocity right now, thanks?, John straightens a little and presses his mouth over Rodney’s, moving his hand in a way that is really very talented, especially for a guy who just came a minute ago and who now has his tongue down Rodney’s throat.

“Neck,” Rodney blurts, when they pull apart to breathe (pant), and John just grins and works Rodney’s cock through his BDUs, bending his head obligingly to suck at Rodney’s throat.

“Mm,” John hums, and Rodney really – seriously. Just – couldn’t agree more. He lets his head fall to one side and holds on tight, eyes fluttering shut as he tries to nod agreement. (Not too hard – he doesn’t want to dislodge John’s mouth.)