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First Night Home

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"Oh my god, that was exhausting," Rodney moaned, falling back on the bed. The larger bed, which actually made a much better target and was easier to fall back on, not that Rodney was going to mention that fact. Mr. High-Handed didn't need to be rewarded.

Taking off his watch and wristbands, laying them on the dresser, John said, "We need to get a better routine established."

"They're so squirmy. And exhausting. And they're just going to get bigger and get worse," Rodney lamented.

"They're our kids."

"I know that. And I'm sure that they're going to be brilliant, productive adults, but right now they're squirmy and exhausting. And soon they'll be bigger and crawling and babbling and even more exhausting," Rodney said, somewhat crossly, because he really was tired and his abdomen still ached from where Carson had cut him open, which meant his back ached too, and while the kids were adorable, as of course they'd have to be, coming from him and John, they were also small and fragile, making handling them intimidating and nerve-wracking.

Barefooted already, John sat on the bottom of the bed and began unlacing one of Rodney's shoes. Rodney propped himself on his elbows, stared down at John's bent head, and wiggled his foot away from John's hands. "Don’t."

John sat back and his lips tightened, like he wanted to argue, but he nodded and stood up, finishing his own undressing, down to the t-shirt and boxers he normally wore to bed, while Rodney rolled stiffly off the bed and took care of his own clothes. They took turns in the bathroom before crawling into bed, and John thought the lights down. Rodney lay on his back, finding it the most comfortable position, and his breath skipped a little as he waited to see what John would do. But John didn't show any displeasure at not being allowed to take care of Rodney, curling up to him as he had for the last few weeks, his head on the pillow next to Rodney's, so close that Rodney could hear his breathing. One of John's hands rested on Rodney's chest, the other curled up between them.

Rodney stroked John's side, soft cotton of his t-shirt and boxers covering warm skin and hard muscles. John shifted a little, his breathing a gentle sighing, and Rodney felt the faint brush of John's cock on his hip. He reached down, felt the heaviness of it, the way it leaped at his touch, and wiggled his hand into the slit of John's boxers, taking it in his hand.

"Rodney," John said, his tone somewhere between need and rejection.

"Let me. Let me, John. I want to."

"But you're not – " John's hand on top of Rodney's dick finished the sentence for him.

"I'm aware of that. My stomach muscles ache and my back aches and I'm exhausted from caring for children I never expected to have, and I want to do this for you." He gave John's dick a nice squeezing stroke from base to tip. "Let me."

There was a noise that he thought might have been John's head nodding on the pillow, and the brush of lips on his cheek, and then John's legs squirmed closer to his, the top one lying on Rodney's, his foot curling around Rodney's ankle.

Rodney thought the lights up to a gentle level, wanting to see John's face, needing to know he was doing this right. The sight was more than he expected, John's head resting on the pillow, his hair mussed and sticking up in every direction, his lips open and soft, his eyes filled with a longing he couldn't disguise and wasn't trying to hide any more.

Rodney didn't generally do favors for other people, figuring it was a waste of his valuable time and not usually appreciated enough anyway. He'd saved the lives of everyone on Atlantis several times and believed that was sufficient for karmic balance, if such a thing even existed. So it was much more satisfying and gratifying than he had ever expected to stroke John, to take care of his lover's needs without receiving anything in return. John was so beautiful to watch, the way his mouth dropped open and his panting increased, how his chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing, the unconscious flexing of his fingers resting on Rodney's chest. It was even better to feel him, his hips thrusting against Rodney's body, his hairy legs rocking on and against Rodney's legs.

Best of all was his cock in Rodney's hand, firming up and getting bigger, moisture leaking from the tip that Rodney spread up and down the shaft, making his hand glide easily over John's taut skin. He stroked delicately at first, trying to determine the speed and pressure John preferred, but John seemed to like it all, and Rodney found himself squeezing firmly and stroking fast, his hand moving rapidly as John's hips jerked madly. John's groan was loud as his orgasm shook his entire body, his come covering Rodney's hand, and then his groan cut off as he pressed a desperate kiss on Rodney's lips before falling back to the bed, his chest heaving.

Using a corner of the sheet, Rodney wiped his hand off and then tucked John's cock back into his boxers. The heat generated by John's orgasm had warmed the sheets, and Rodney felt comfortable and relaxed as he waited for John's response.

"You've never done that for anyone else, have you?" John finally asked when he could talk.

"You know I haven't." Rodney might have been tempted to hit John, if the tone of his question hadn't sounded so sleepily pleased rather than smug. Still… "You are seriously primeval, you know that?"

"Mmmm," was the only answer as John's eyelashes drifted shut and his breathing leveled off, his face relaxed and peaceful. Dimming the lights, Rodney followed him into sleep.

~ the end ~