Speech

by Kass

Notes:
This began its life as comment!fic in Lenore's journal, based on the notion that for Rodney, the real kink wouldn't be talking dirty -- it would be staying silent.

Many thanks to Lamardeuse for assuring me that this was coherent!!

"Oh, please," Rodney said. "Like that's really any kind of challenge."

"You're just saying that because you know you couldn't do it." John sounded smug and self-satisfied. He looked it, too, lying on his back with his arms folded behind his head, his mouth faintly reddened from kissing.

"Okay, I don't know what kind of -- it's not like I talk all the time," Rodney protested.

Predictably, John put on his sarcastic face. Which didn't actually look any different from his regular face, but Rodney could tell the difference.

"Besides, wouldn't you want something a little more...outre?" He'd been expecting something a little...kinkier, frankly, when he made the offer.

"You were hoping for, what, spanking? Women's lingerie?"

"Shut up," Rodney said, his face pinking. "Look! Fine! If it's what you really want -- "

"More than anything in the world," John said, and his voice was so facetious Rodney had to sock him in the arm. "Ow!"

"Fuck you," Rodney said quietly, a cloud of unhappiness settling over him. Try to do something nice, and where did it get him? Snide insinuations about how he talked too much. Not exactly a complaint he'd never heard before, but he hadn't expected it from John.

He pushed himself to sitting and started hunting for his socks. One of them was at the foot of the bed; where the hell had the other one gone?

"Hey." Now John sounded concerned.

Rodney stiffened his back, and felt his jaw tightening to go with it.

"Hey. C'mere." John tugged at his arm, and feigning more reluctance than he actually felt Rodney went. John kissed him once, twice, an obvious apology, and Rodney let him. "I didn't mean to be a dick," John said, mouthing Rodney's neck up toward his ear. "I like listening to you talk."

"You'd better," Rodney said, finally relaxing back into the embrace.

"I just think it would be really hot," John murmured, right in his ear, and Rodney shivered.

"I was -- it was supposed to be something I could do for you."

"Believe me," John said darkly, "it is." He bit Rodney's earlobe.

"Well, fine," Rodney said, feeling a little bit mollified and a little bit like things were spinning out of his control. "I guess I can let you have your nefarious way with me. Just this once."

"Shhh," John said, and shimmied his body out from under Rodney's, turning them so that Rodney was lying on his back and John was on top. He knelt back on his heels, straddling Rodney's hips, and the predatory gleam in his eyes made Rodney suddenly weak in the knees even though he was lying down.

And then he just waited there, looking down at Rodney.

Rodney opened his mouth to say "Were you planning on doing something anytime today?" but closed it before any of the words got out.

Damn. It was possible that not-talking was going to be trickier than he had anticipated.

The silence stretched longer than he was comfortable with, and Rodney was on the verge of reaching up to grab John, just to make something happen, when John said -- quietly, conversationally -- "You drive me crazy."

Whatever he'd been expecting John to say, it hadn't been that.

"Not, like, you annoy me to death," John said, and his smile wasn't visible but it was totally present, "though you kind of do, sometimes."

Thanks a lot, Rodney thought, trying to project the words via telepathy. John's smirk suggested he had succeeded.

"I mean, it makes me crazy sometimes, wanting to touch you."

Rodney swallowed hard, feeling poleaxed. I'm right here, he thought. Touch all you want.

But John didn't touch him yet, just kept looking, and Rodney felt the prickle of sweat beginning to arise beneath the heat of John's regard.

"We'll be in a meeting," John gave a little shrug, "and I'll remember what your body feels like in my hands." John's hands, resting lightly on his own thighs, tensed and released, and Rodney felt himself yearning upward toward them. Craving them.

"Your...chest," John said diffidently, "your hips," and Rodney couldn't help it, he was staring at John, knowing way too much emotion was probably showing on his face but he couldn't help himself. He sucked at poker, always had. And apparently he sucked at separating sex from emotion, too, because listening to John catalogue his body parts was making him desperately hard and making his heart ache all at the same time. "Your ass," John said, and was it Rodney's imagination or had his voice gotten lower?

Rodney couldn't help it: he twitched, he wanted to reach up for John, even though he wasn't sure John wanted him to. Maybe John just wanted him to be still and silent. The thought filled him with an inchoate panic, because he couldn't -- he wasn't -- passive was terrifying, what if John wanted --

But John responded to Rodney's motion instantly, like a piece of Ancient technology responding to a thought. He dropped immediately over Rodney, braced arms holding him just high enough to initiate a kiss. Rodney's hands came up to hold John's head at the right angle, and their hips ground together, and Rodney felt like he might fly apart. And there was John's tongue in his mouth, John's hard dick poking him in the thigh, and Rodney felt deliciously...plundered, somehow, which was not a word he'd ever imagined applying to himself. Life in the Pegasus galaxy was glorious and strange.

When they broke they were both breathing hard, and Rodney opened his mouth to say how good this felt, but John put a finger on his lips. "Ah ah," he cautioned, raising an eyebrow, and Rodney bit back a moan as he thrust up. He'd almost forgotten the weirdly dangerous game they were playing, but now that John had reminded him, his resolve was back in full force. He'd broken John's ironic distance; it would be easier from here on out, just a matter of not making noise no matter how good the sex felt.

John tugged at his shirt, yanking it halfway up his body, far enough to expose his nipples, and then bent; Rodney braced himself for a bite, but it didn't come. Instead John was dropping little closed-mouthed kisses down his chest to his belly.

Not the part of his body he was proudest of, Rodney could admit that, and if this were an ordinary night he would already have made some caustic remark to that effect, defusing the situation by showing he knew where his strengths lay and his belly wasn't one of them. But this time he couldn't; he had to just lie there and take it, let John feather kisses across his stomach with a tenderness that made Rodney's eyes sting.

And then John moved and lightning-quick licked Rodney's left nipple, his tongue startling and warm and oh God Rodney bucked up, but John knew how to use his own weight to hold a guy down. Rodney's dick throbbed.

"I think about the things I want to do to you," John said, picking up the thread of their conversation from where he'd dropped it. Only it wasn't a conversation, because Rodney was (hard, aching, desperate) keeping quiet. John reached down and unzipped Rodney's trousers, pushed at his waistband, and Rodney lifted his hips and hastily helped John shove his pants down his hips. John seemed to have some kind of plan, and Rodney was not about to get in the way.

John bent and nuzzled at the base of his cock and his balls. Rodney swallowed a whimper.

"I think a lot about doing this," John said, way more nonchalantly than was reasonable, and took Rodney into his mouth.

Rodney inhaled hard. In the silence of John's room the sounds of John's mouth and the sounds of his own breathing were almost obscene. John's mouth was too hot to be believed, and he alternated light suction with licking and then sucking hard, keeping Rodney off-balance. This whole thing made Rodney feel dizzy and out-of-kilter, like he couldn't be sure of the room's gravity.

There was an audible pop as John pulled back, exposing Rodney's tender cock to the open air. With what little part of his brain was still functional, Rodney wondered how to make sure his body language read as pleading, to match the chant of "fuck, John, please" in his mind.

John's hands took over, rubbing and caressing, and Rodney shuddered. John was amazing, filthy, diabolical, way too good at this, somehow able to reach right past Rodney's defenses. It was a good thing he was keeping his mouth pressed shut; the names that wanted to escape now were furious and tender and way too revealing.

"Sometims I think about things we haven't even tried yet," John said, and now his voice was gritty and incredibly sexy. I would beg, Rodney thought, incoherent with want. I would beg you right now, if you let me. "Turning you over -- " and his hands left Rodney's body and Rodney wanted to scream wait, no, where are you going, you weren't done yet, but then John reached over him to retrieve the lube from his bedside and Rodney squeezed his eyes shut and started reciting gate addresses in his head to keep from coming right that instant.

"--and putting my mouth on you," and Rodney heard the snap of the cap coming open, the squirt of the bottle, and then John's hands returned to his erection cold and slick and sliding. Not moaning out loud was possibly the most difficult thing Rodney had ever done in his life.

"I don't even know if you like that," John said, and Rodney's eyes flew open in indignation, because what kind of idiot didn't like getting rimmed? and oh, God, John was grinning, he looked as happy as Rodney had ever seen him, the bastard was enjoying this. "Given the way you're moving," he said, and that pull-and-stroke made Rodney's eyes want to roll back in his head, "I'm guessing you like it."

You're killing me, Rodney thought. I'm going to die of orgasm. I'm not even sure I mind.

"I wonder if I could make you come that way," John mused aloud as one slick thumb stroked back and brushed across his asshole, and that was it -- Rodney was coming harder than he could ever remember doing in his life, and he couldn't hold back his agonized groan of delight.

"Oh God," John said, thickly, and Rodney was dimly conscious of him reaching down and shoving one slick hand down his own pants and clutching himself as his body jerked above Rodney's, spasming.

John collapsed on top of him, breathing hard, and Rodney's arms came up and around him, and for a minute they just lay there.

"We need a shower," John said, eventually, laughing a little.

"Whose fault is that," Rodney said, though there was no rancor in it at all. He'd come so hard he'd knocked his sarcasm offline, he thought, and stifled a giggle.

"C'mon," John said, working his way to his feet and pulling Rodney with him toward the shower.

While they waited for the water to heat up, Rodney kissed him again. He tried to make the kiss say everything he couldn't quite figure out how to find words for. How did you know and oh God that was good and I think I might be in love with you.

"That was even more fun than I expected," John said as they stepped under the spray.

"Me too," Rodney admitted. God: who'd known John had so much to say?

"That was hot, right?"

"Yes! Okay, I admit it, you were right, already."

John soaped up his own chest, then moved his sudsy hands to Rodney's, which felt amazing. "Next time," John murmured in his ear, "we get a blindfold."

It was physically impossible to get hard again this soon, but Rodney shivered anyway. "Next time," he said, as firmly as he could manage, "it's your turn."

The End