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Always Get Your Way

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It's not as though Rodney goes out looking for a book on gay sex. Honestly. He just sort of stumbles into the gay and lesbian literature section on his way to the periodicals, and since he's here, he decides he might as well have a look around. He doesn't really mean to buy the book either - it's a ridiculous amount of money, money he should be using towards text books or, you know, food – but one of the men looks intriguingly like John, and Rodney can't in good conscience pass up a sex manual that stars his boyfriend. And if, when he gets home, his hand happens to land on his hard dick, well – that's an accident too.

That's his story, and no matter how John eyes him, he's sticking to it.

"The Gay Kama Sutra," John says flatly after he slides the book away from Rodney and across the table. "Rodney, this isn't even in English. What made you think buying this was a good idea?"

Rodney flushes. Maybe buying it wasn't a good idea. He takes the book back from John and clutches it to his chest, avoids looking at John while he tries to muster a haughty tone.

"Well, it never hurts to educate oneself, you know," he answers, a bit snippy. He makes as if to stand, only stops when John's hand shoots out and circles his wrist.

"Hey," John says, "hey, cut it out." He leans in and gives Rodney a gentle kiss. "It just doesn't seem like something we need, is all. You're...satisfied, right?"

Rodney huffs and rubs his free hand on his pant leg. "It has nothing to do with that. I was curious. Curiosity is completely healthy, you know, and - and it should be encouraged in a scientist," he says. "Not that any of my professors seem to understand that. They're constantly berating anyone who doesn't think inside the box, and, really, how are we supposed to make startling new discoveries in science if we're thinking inside -"

John's smirking at him.

"Oh, what?" Rodney snaps. "This is funny to you?"

John just smiles, wide and open, and Rodney feels his throat clog with affection, his rant lost as John presses a kiss to Rodney's hand, the one still being held captive.

"'S hot when you get all sciencey," John says, voice low, eyes twinkling.

Rodney squawks. "Sciencey? Sciencey is not a word. What are they teaching you at that school of yours?"

"Rodney, I'm aiming for sex, here, not a lecture," John reminds him, and, oh, right, Kama Sutra. He looks a little dubious, but more willing than Rodney had originally given him credit for. "Did you have a, uh, favorite?"

Rodney feels his mouth fall open, brain trying to switch tracks from rant #24: how much Harvard sucks to sexsexsex – and not just sex; sex with John, which is infinitely preferable to any other kind of sex.

Reluctantly, he lets go of John's hand and puts the book down on the table, opening up to page sixteen and pushing it towards John, a little nervous. "Um, this one?"

John's quiet for such a long time that Rodney starts to fidget, uncertain; he's about to open his mouth and take it all back when John quietly closes the book over. His eyes are all pupil already, and - Rodney sneaks a glance down - his pants are tighter than they were a moment ago.

"Really?" Rodney says, and then realizes what that means and has to swallow hard. "Oh."

John smirks, tugging Rodney forward until their lips are barely brushing and says, "Yeah, oh," before kissing him, deep and slow.

Rodney paws behind him for the table and then gets up on it, trying at the same time not to let go of John's lips so that he can push John down in front of him and slide off to straddle John's lap in their tiny kitchen chair. John makes a small surprised sound into his mouth but gamely goes with it, cupping Rodney's hips through the thick denim of his jeans.

They stay like that, kissing and rubbing against each other, until Rodney's knees are complaining too loudly for him to ignore. "We should - bed," he mumbles against John's neck, biting at the tendon there absently and listening to John's breath hitch.

"Yeah," John agrees.

Neither of them makes a move to get up until John's shirt is out of the way and Rodney's sneakers have been kicked somewhere towards the fridge. They leave their clothes where they falls on the way to the bed - it's not that far, considering how small their apartment is - and collapse gracelessly back on it with identical whumphs of air.

John rolls them until Rodney is resting between his spread thighs and smiles up at Rodney, cheeks and chest flushed, eyes dark.

"Hi," he says, rubbing the sole of his foot down Rodney's calf.

Rodney shivers and bends down far enough to catch John's bottom lip between his teeth, sucking until John arches up into him with a small groan, John's hard cock leaving a damp trail against Rodney's belly. He pulls away with a smirk, taking in the way John's eyes have lost their focus, his mouth swollen and rosy.

"Hi," he whispers, rubbing a thumb along the length of John's ear.

John makes a soft, kittenish noise and squirms down until his ass is in Rodney's lap, legs splayed around Rodney's waist comfortably. "Lube," he tells Rodney patiently when Rodney doesn't move.

Snapping out of it takes a minute, and then Rodney's fumbling at the squat nightstand that's actually higher than their mattress and finding the small, half-empty bottle of slick. He pauses with his wet fingers a few inches from John's ass. "Uh, do you need to stretch or something first?"

John snorts out a short laugh. "Naw, think I'll be good." He wiggles a bit when Rodney hesitates. "C'mon, Rodney..." he whines and Rodney has to kiss him then, purely just to shut him up, not at all because he finds the way John drawls his name with affection and exasperation cute.

John winds an arm around his shoulders and moans deeply when Rodney circles his hole with a wet finger, taunting, not giving John nearly enough.

"Come on," John says again, more forcefully, and yanks at Rodney's neck to bring him close enough for a biting, hot kiss. Rodney is content to let him take the lead for a minute, opening his mouth wide for John's tongue, sighing when John's teeth scrape his upper lip just how he likes. As soon as John thumps back on the bed, panting harshly, though, it's Rodney's show again.

"Fine," he says, and is slightly dismayed to find he sounds just a wrecked as John looks. He tries again. "Fine, just. Pull your legs up. Yeah, like that."

John does as asked, pulling his legs up and back, and Rodney situates himself again before slowly sinking one finger inside of John, slow, slow. John's eyes flutter shut at the pressure, head tilting to the side, biting his lip as he grunts and pushes back.

"Stop that," Rodney says, putting a firm hand at the back of John's knee and holding him down with it.

It's bad enough John's gorgeous; his potential hair trigger doesn't need to be tested by the sight of John writhing on his finger. He's not a masochist.

Once John's stilled and staring up at Rodney with wide, glassy eyes, Rodney works a second finger in next to the first, twisting his wrist once they're both in to push them deeper. John moans at that, a flush starting to creep down over his neck to his chest. Rodney starts to slowly work his finger in and out, hitting John's prostate every third stroke, making him shiver and paw weakly at Rodney's arm.

Once Rodney is satisfied that John's stretched enough, he pulls his fingers out, ignoring the way John frowns and whimpers a little at the loss, focusing only on slicking his cock up.

He looks at John then, who's watching him through slitted eyes, and says, "Ready?"

John stretches his arms above his head and gives Rodney an obscene grin that's somehow only hotter for the shade of need Rodney can see behind it. "Fuck me," John purrs. "Do it hard, Rodney."

Rodney quickly grabs at the base of his cock and closes his eyes. "Jesus. You - you can't just say stuff like that."

John just chuckles his dirty old man chuckle and spreads his legs wider while Rodney lines up.

He eases in slowly, bracing himself on the bed with his hands near John's shoulders, folding John nearly in half as he eases further and further inside of him. John's quiet suddenly, biting his lip and clenching his eyes shut and once Rodney's bottomed out, he pauses, leans down to brush his lips against the skin of John's cheek.

"Y'okay?" he asks, voice thick.

John nods, but there's a crease between his eyebrows and he's shifting in place like he's trying to get comfortable. "Just feels weird. Not used to this angle."

Rodney can, strangely enough, relate. Looking down at John like this, with John's legs all but hooked behind his head, is very, very interesting. He breathes out slowly, trying to keep himself still until John is ready.

John nods after a moment, but Rodney needs verbal reassurance so he asks, "Okay?"

John opens up his eyes and says, "Yeah," sounding out of breath and a little off. Rodney starts to wonder if this was such a great idea as he shifts to try and get more leverage, and John grunts, hands squeezing into fists.

Rodney stops, afraid he's hurt him, and John glares, hisses out, "God, don't stop, Rodney. Do that again...please."

"Oh," Rodney says, and then gets it: "oh." He rises up on the balls of his feet again even though the angle is kind of precarious, and uses John's body and his hands planted on either side of John's head to help balance himself. John's face is screwed up in a way that Rodney could almost mistake for pain if he couldn't also see John's steadily leaking cock painting wet trails down his own chest. "Like this?"

John nods quickly and bites at his bottom lip hard enough it turns white. And now that Rodney's been scared back from his impending orgasm by the thought of hurting John, he can take a moment to tease, rolling his hips as fluidly as he can manage in this position and watching John's ears turn red.

John's mouth falls open a little further at each hitching thrust. He's unable to move, pinned in place by his position and Rodney's weight on top of him and, wow, Rodney thinks; that should not be so hot.

After a few minutes of teasing, just as Rodney's about to hit his limit and go for it hard, John opens his eyes to look at Rodney, managing, "Fuck me, damnit. Fuck me, Rodney, god!"

"Impatient bastard," Rodney huffs, but he's sweating and riding the edge of his control anyway, so he gives it to John like he wants to - hard and deep as he can go in this position, hitting that spot every few strokes - and John fists his hands in the bed sheets, begs, "Oh god, oh - Jesus, harder," so loud Rodney knows the upstairs neighbors can hear every word.

Instead of deterring him, it just spurs him on, his hips snapping a bit harder with each thrust. John's practically non-verbal now, reduced to grunts and occasional whimpers that shoot straight to Rodney's cock where it's buried in John's ass.

Rodney watches John slowly lose it underneath him and starts to wonder; he can tell John's close and in this position, at this angle... it just might...

"John," he husks out, pausing until those glittering eyes are focused, albeit a little hazily, on his face. "John...want you to come just like this, just from my cock."

"Oh, Jesus."

John flushes a deeper shade of pink, his eyes slamming shut like he can't bear to see Rodney above him, fucking into him hard and deep. The normally spiky tips of his hair are wilted and dark with sweat, bangs slicked to his forehead sideways from when he'd rubbed his cheek against the bed sheets; his mouth is pursed into a moue that should look ridiculous but somehow only makes Rodney want to suck at his lower lip until he keens.

And it's that image that has Rodney pressing down harder on John, working his cock in at that perfect angle again and again until John's eyelashes are wet and he's begging, "I - I can't, please, just - please, god, Rodney, touch me," in a hoarse, broken whisper that Rodney can barely even hear.

He tries to hold out, because, damnit, he should be able to do this for John, but he's panting himself by now and the sight of John losing it is undoing him by degrees; he's not going to last much longer, he knows, so he tries to balance on one hand and stroke John's glistening cock with the other. He slips and misses, losing some of his leverage, both he and John groaning when his cock slides deeper with the sudden change of position.

"Gonna – John, you're gonna have to – I can't," he manages to get out through clenched teeth. John's so goddamn tight inside, and Rodney can feel every one of John's heaving breaths in his dick, can feel it when John shifts his upper body around to get a hand between his thighs.

And despite the fact that Rodney would have loved to watch John's cock spurt untouched, the sight of John wrapping his own, big hand around his dick and jerking off while Rodney fucks him is so goddamn hot Rodney's pulled helplessly over the edge. He thrusts erratically through it, not even aware enough to see if John's coming with him, turned inside out by pleasure that's too intense, too immediate. He just barely keeps himself from crushing John at the last minute, locking his elbows to hold himself up even though his bones feel rubbery and his muscles are still quivering through aftershocks.

"Fuck," he says, "fuck, John, that was -" and he looks down, ready to share a kiss or a look with John, and sees John's face turned to the side. "Did you -?"

He doesn't wait for an answer, giving up his precarious balance to glance down at John's cock, which is angry and red and still hard, curved so the shiny tip touches John's belly. For a minute, Rodney feels like the worst boyfriend in the world, and then he remembers that he has fingers and an extremely agile tongue. He sits back, supporting John's back with his knees to keep his ass high, and spreads John's cheeks apart with his thumbs to look at him.

"God, yes... Rodney, please," John grits out and Rodney smiles against John's skin before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the crease where John's thigh met his torso. John's watching him, trying to help support his own weight with his arms, eyes wide and dark, mouth open as he pants.

Rodney skims one hand across the warm skin of John's back, reassuring John when he shivers.

"Shh, I got you," Rodney murmurs.

He kisses the back of John's thigh one last time, and then spreads John open again and leans in, licking gently around the puffy, red rim of John's hole and sliding his tongue inside. It probably shouldn't be hot, but, god – that's his come, salty and bitter in John's ass, and fuck if they don't taste good together.

John whimpers – whimpers – and Rodney feels his own cock twitch feebly. He hums as he starts to fuck John with his tongue, his arms wrapping around John's waist and hauling him closer when John's hips start to move. Rodney makes a soft, encouraging noise, his tongue chasing after the remnants of his own taste inside of John; John only gets louder, and, god, that's enough; that's more than enough to have Rodney crowding closer to John, trying to get deeper, his mouth voracious in his quest for more: more of John, more of his own come, more of them.

John makes a growling, animalistic noise Rodney's never heard before, and suddenly his fingers are in his hair, all that's holding John up Rodney's knee wedged against his back and Rodney's hands on his ass. John's shaking, his nails almost painful on Rodney's scalp as he comes and comes and fucking comes until Rodney's tongue is going numb and there's nothing else he can do but hold John up through the last shocks of it.

Eventually, John goes still and pliant, lets Rodney carefully stretch his legs out and settle him down on the bed.

Fuck, he's a mess.

Rodney swallows hard at the sight that greets him: John, eyes closed, arms flung over his head, covered from navel to chin in his own come, completely and utterly wrecked. There's even a spot of it on his mouth, and, as Rodney watches, John's tongue sweeps over his lower lip and catches it.

"Oh, wow," Rodney says, and collapses beside John, one hand idly slicking through the mess on John's belly as John smiles sweetly, his head turning towards Rodney.

"Mmm, R'ney," he mumbles, voice slurred.

Charmed, Rodney grins and leans in to kiss John's jaw. He might have just eaten his own come out of John's ass, but he knows better than to kiss John afterwards. "Hey," he says instead, and nuzzles at the ticklish spot behind John's ear until John bats him away with pleasure clumsy hands, squirming half-heartedly and grumbling, "Stoooop."

Rodney takes pity because he's put John through enough today already, resting his cheek on John's sweaty shoulder and listening to his heart beat. They're quiet for a minute – Rodney so he can listen, and John, presumably, because he knows that sometimes Rodney needs to hear. And then John's chest expands as he takes a breath, and Rodney lifts his head so John can speak.

"That," he admits slowly after a minute, "was a pretty good book."