Totally Not Like Video Golf
Totally Not Like Video Golf
John/Rodney, NC-17, 1400~ words, no spoilers.
Bounteous thanks to catwalksalone for the speedy beta!






"You have a farmer's tan," Rodney blurted, shuffling his feet. "Look, your forearms are all brown, but…" Rodney's hand fluttered in the space between them. "T-shirt and wrist band."

"You always have your jacket on now," John countered. "You didn't used to."

"Mm-hmm," Rodney said, running fingers into the dip at the base of John's throat and then up to brush against the grain of his stubble.

John focused again on the bare skin in front of him; they were really doing this. He made his fingers glide slowly down the sides of Rodney's neck, stroking over his shoulders, harder this time, down to his arms. Rodney had great arms. There was no reason for him to, except for how often he was called on to fix something heavy…which, yeah. No reason.

Rodney's hands were soft on his neck, feather-light on the Iratus bug scar, strong as a massage therapist on his trapezius, and then, apparently completely distracted by John's chest hair.

And Rodney's chest, his nipples, which used to make John snicker like a kid, until they were covered under jackets and he started missing them. Started fantasizing. And here, now, paradoxically less prominent bare than when poking out under a uniform shirt. John scraped his calloused fingertips across them. Stiff under his thumbs. Stiffer still with attention.

John flashed for a moment on an image of himself fucking, Rodney about to come, and John squeezing Rodney's nipples in time with this thrusts, Rodney jerking himself, and—

"John—"

He was back in the room, his fingers squeezing Rodney's nipples in real time and Rodney breathless, raking his fingers down John's belly to his belt.

John let go. "Sorry. Guess I got carried away there."

Rodney grabbed one of John's hands and covered his cock with it, totally breaking the rules. But under the cotton fabric of Rodney's pants, John felt how hot and needful Rodney was, how ready. They'd never done the whole naked exploratory thing before. Up 'til now, they'd had three frantic and hurried orgasms apiece, one blowjob and, offworld, two furtive assays to jerk each other off in convenient groves of trees.

"I thought we were going to go slow with this?" He abandoned Rodney's pants and stroked up Rodney's belly, digging his fingers in to caress the muscle under the layer of surface padding. Rodney quaked under his touch, so John did it again, and again, changing directions.

Rodney's hands had come to rest on John's hips; now his forehead fell to John's shoulder, which John thought was breaking the rules, too.

And maybe he was okay with that. With a deep breath, he skated his hands in opposite directions, encircling Rodney—not quite chest to chest—and rubbing hard down his back.

The moan in John's ear was nearly ecstatic, and was followed close on by a wet, hyperreal bite to his neck that made his dick twitch painfully in his pants. A hand grasped John's waistband, so he was caught cock to cock with Rodney; the other dipped into John's navel, teasing the edges and playing with the trail of hair leading down.

"Yeah, it's time to be naked," he said, unable to stop the shuddering.

Laughing in playful vengeance, Rodney gave John's navel a last quiver-inducing tweak and unfastened the top button of John's pants.

Apparently the game had gone up a level. John was cool with that: he grabbed a double-handful of Rodney's ass and ground cock against cock until Rodney raised an arm in desperate protest and stepped away.

"Oh god, wait. Just, give me a minute." He huffed a few fast breaths and shut his eyes. Then John heard him chanting, "George Bush, Ronald Reagan, Jimmy Carter, Gerald Ford, Lyndon B. Johnson…Richard Nixon…okay." Rodney sighed.

John stared. "You use US presidents to back off?"

Rodney's chin started to come up defensively. "It works."

"Not very Canadian of you," John said with a leer.

"Yes, well." Rodney took in John's expression and seemed to remember the game they were playing. "Reciting Canadian Prime Ministers would remind me of a certain very hot Civics teacher I once had, and therefore does nothing for the problem…as it were."

John snorted a laugh and reached for Rodney's pants.

Rodney hummed to himself. "He looked a lot like you, now that I think about it."

"Yeah?" John left Rodney's waistband behind, running his hands back up for another, rougher, go at Rodney's nipples.

The noise Rodney made was most definitely a squawk.

"Oh my god, you giant tease! You win! Fine! You win. Just get your damned pants off right now!"

"You're damned right I win," John said as Rodney flung himself onto the edge of John's bed and attacked his shoes and socks. John followed suit. "Naked?" he said a moment later, pants sliding down his thighs.

Rodney looked up and saw the head of John's cock peeking out from the waistband of his boxer shorts and started laughing again. Reaching out, Rodney tugged them down for him. "Hey!" John said as they fell to the floor, but he was laughing, too. He left his clothes in a pile and sprawled out on the bed, watching Rodney arrange his earpiece and PDA on top of his pants.

Then, a moment later, a very naked, very focused Rodney was climbing up John's body, cock rock hard and eyes wide. "Look at you," Rodney said.

John ducked his chin and stared down the space between them. "Back atcha," he answered.

Rodney dipped his head to look, too, and then shivered. John cupped Rodney's cheek. "Too much?" he asked softly.

Rodney's eyes flew open. "No. Well, okay, not really, just—oh!" Rodney moaned again as his dick twitched and caught against John's skin. The moisture there made their skin stutter hard against each other. "John," Rodney breathed.

Then John was clutching Rodney's head and they were kissing hard, almost fiercely. John found the curve of Rodney's ass and pulled him down, matching the upward thrust of his own hips. His cock was nestled in the soft skin stretching from Rodney's hip to belly, soft, slick, hot skin against skin—and god, Rodney's mouth was—and next time, or the time after that, they'd—

Rodney broke the kiss. "John, oh god, I wish I were inside you." And John's whole body bucked as he came, spattering both their cocks and chests. Above him, Rodney tipped over the edge, too, and collapsed in a heap in John's arms. They lay like that for a while, until John couldn't breathe so well and managed to heave Rodney over, waking him in the process. A handful of tissues took care of the mess, and a blissed-out half-doze drew them in.

After a while, Rodney murmured, "So I take it you wouldn’t be completely averse to that?"

It took John a moment to figure out what Rodney meant. He shifted over, moving so he could lip softly at the skin below Rodney's ear. "Not averse, no," he said in a low voice. Then he traced slowly down Rodney's flank to his ass. "What about you?"

Rodney moved against John's side, shaking out his spine like he was realigning himself to cope with this new data. "Yeah," Rodney said at last. "I think I could go with that. That is to say, I wouldn’t be averse to it or anything. I've even found that it can be really quite enjoyable sometimes. Done right, I mean; and, uh, with the right person." Rodney looked down their bodies to John's softened cock. "Although," he continued, "you are rather, um, well-endowed in the length department? And that might hold a certain intimidation factor as far as being on the receiving end, but at the same time—" Rodney swallowed. "—you might say that, uh, therein lies a certain appeal."

John swallowed back a laugh. "Cool."

"Yes, well…I hope so." Rodney said. "Want to go back to sleep now?"

Hopeful blue eyes were gazing into his, and something thrummed deep in John's chest. He knew all along it was going to be complicated, but now he didn't care. He kissed Rodney slowly, warm and certain. "Yeah, I can go with that, too."