Rodney can't take it anymore, the pressure. It's going to come bursting out of him in a frenzy of words and noise. He won't be able to stop it.
John strokes his side, and brushes his lips across Rodney's cheek. He wants to lift his head, turn, take John's mouth with his but John's weight on his back keeps him from moving, not just grounded but positioned, placed exactly where John wants him, how John wants him.
It's not every fantasy Rodney's ever had. But it feels that way, the hair on John's chest brushing his back, John's breath in his ear, John's cock resting in the space between his cheeks.
John kisses the side of his neck with small brushes of his lips. Then he moves to the side, just enough to slide his hand down Rodney's back. He covers the curve of Rodney's ass with his whole hand, rubbing slowly, making Rodney want to lift his hips. He doesn't move.
Feeling John's fingers trace the edge of his cheek, he has to fight to keep still, to resist the urge to spread himself wider, to offer himself up to that knowing touch. John brushes his opening, sending pleasure shooting along hypersensitive nerves. Another kiss, this time to the place just below his ear. Rodney barely manages to contain his gasp.
"I'm going to touch you now, Rodney. Slick my fingers and slide them inside you. Fuck you."
John is a bastard, an evil bastard, asking Rodney to stay silent while he whispers things like that in Rodney's ear. Rodney talks. It's what he does. He talks when he's working, when he's relaxing, when he's fucking. He talks in his sleep. John has silenced him with nothing more than a request, a simple "please" of all things, and the words are piling up inside him.
When John pulls back, Rodney doesn't protest, doesn't reach back to hold him in place. Instead he draws in a breath and tries to be receptive, to open himself to John, to whatever John wants to do to him.
Fingers on his opening, slick and gentle, tracing the edge, then a small push and he's breached, a single fingertip working its way inside him. He opens his mouth but no sound comes out, and John eases his finger deeper, working it in. John will reach his prostate soon, and Rodney doesn't know if he'll be able to keep it in, what John's touch does to him.
A kiss on his back, slightly to the right of his spine, so tender Rodney closes his eyes against it, but that just means the next kiss is more somehow.
John brushes his prostate and the pleasure radiates outward moving from inside to the surface of his skin. John repeats the caress again and again, and the pleasure keeps building, still moving outward, but not escaping, trapped inside by Rodney's silence.
The finger is withdrawn. A moment later two fingers press into him, opening him for John. He wants to rise onto his knees, offer himself up, but the urge to groan out his pleasure is passing with every push of John's fingers.
Stroking Rodney's back with his free hand, John begins to move his fingers a little faster, fucking Rodney deep and steady, grazing that spot inside him just enough to intensify his arousal but not enough to move him toward release. Rodney holds still, keeps it all inside, takes it, takes John.
John stretches out next to him and presses his lips to Rodney's. It's all lips, John holding back as though he knows anything else would be too much. His kisses match the rhythm of his fingers, his lips touching Rodney's as his fingers move inward. The kiss ending as his fingers pull back.
There's a whimper in Rodney's throat. It's caught there, stuck, locked in place by John's fingers and John's lips. He wants to beg for more, for the hard heat of John's cock pinning him in place, fucking into him, giving and taking, pushing the grunts and groans right out of him.
He stays silent, accepting what John has to give him.
John's lips skate across his cheek to his ear. "I'm going to fuck you," he whispers, low and harsh.
Rodney swallows against the lust that threatens to come spilling out of his throat.
A kiss and John pulls away. With a last caress, John slides his fingers free, leaving Rodney empty and waiting. He hears the lube click open and he can picture John lubing his cock with no effort at all. He's watched it before, watched John get himself wet and slick. Ready.
John stretches out over him, holding himself up with one arm. The head of his cock is against Rodney's hole, thick and hard. The want is almost enough to make Rodney whimper. John is pushing against him, forcing him to stretch around John's cock, to let the head inside. The groan flips over inside him, never making it to his lips.
"Love watching you take me," John says. "The way your ass stretches around my cock."
John never talks like this, but if Rodney keeping quiet is all it takes to get him to start Rodney thinks maybe he'll have to stay silent more often.
He's giving way, letting John in; the stretch is unbelievably good, it feels like John's cock is reaching for his, trying to connect them from the inside. He knows it isn't true, that the direction is all wrong, but it doesn't change the feeling.
Finally, finally, John is all the way in, his balls bumping into Rodney's, a feeling Rodney knows he will never tire of. He has a hand on either side of Rodney's shoulders, holding himself up as he begins rocking his hips. No long gentle thrusts, he's barely moving back before pushing himself directly into Rodney's prostate, increasing the pressure on the cock trapped between Rodney's stomach and the mattress.
He wants more, wants a hand on his cock, covering it, stroking it. He wants thrusts, long, hard thrusts that rock his hips back and forth. He wants to groan out his pleasure, to urge John to fuck him harder, deeper, faster.
But John is holding him in place, keeping him still and silent in this place where all he can do is accept what John gives him, the feel of his breath on Rodney's skin, the music of his soft pants, the rocking of his hips, the thick cock burrowing deeper and deeper into him.
"Rodney," John says, rubbing the back of Rodney's neck with his thumb.
Rodney lets out a breath, deep and desperate.
Resting his weight on Rodney's back, John starts to move faster, to pull back farther.
He's giving it all up for John, everything, just like he always does. John's his and Rodney will do anything, anything at all, if it means he can feel John lose it inside him.
John is going to come soon; Rodney feels it in his movements, in the way John is driving him into the mattress.
John goes still and Rodney feels every pulse, every spurt of John's release. Feels John shudder against his back. Feels John press his face into the side of Rodney's neck.
He's almost there, and it feels like his prostate has expanded, making his entire ass one big collection of nerve endings, but instead of thrusting again John draws back, leaving Rodney open and needing.
"Roll over," John says, his hands sliding down Rodney's back, over his ass to his thighs.
Somehow Rodney manages to turn over with John between his legs. He's still adjusting to being on his back when John fingers push inside him. A heartbeat later his mouth is on Rodney's cock. John's mouth is pulling the pleasure out of him while his fingers push it in. Rodney's just the pathway, the conduit between John's mouth and fingers.
He grabs onto John's head, urging him down. John goes, taking him deep and Rodney lifts his head and shoulders from the bed, curling around the pleasure doubling, tripling, quadrupling inside him as John rubs his fingers around in his own come.
It's that last thought that pushes Rodney over the edge, makes him shoot his release straight down John's throat over and over until his shoulders uncoil and he drops back onto the bed.
"Fuck," Rodney says, staring up at the ceiling.
"Yeah," John mutters, kissing his stomach, sliding his fingers free. "Yeah." He rests his cheek on Rodney's stomach and Rodney slides his fingers through John's hair, petting. He slides his hand up, resting it on Rodney's hip.
"That was really good."
"Used up all your words, didn't you?" Rodney asks.
He can't seem to stop touching, and doesn't bother trying. "Okay."
John lifts his face and smiles up at him, kissing Rodney's stomach again before sliding up until his head is resting on Rodney's chest. Wrapping an arm around John's shoulders, Rodney tries to think of something to say.
By the time he finds the words, John is snoring softly. Patting his shoulder, Rodney smiles to himself and lets the words slip away again.