alizarin_nyc asked for a bit more inhale:

exhale

The cigarette (from a box of stale Camels whose source Rodney had a) refused to divulge and b) ostentatiously crumbled and stuffed in his overfull wastebasket) hadn't seemed to cut Rodney's wind at all, if the urgent, constant moaning proved anything. Face down, Rodney snuffled into his pillow and pushed back hard against John's cock. John did his best not to shove back just as hard and come, clutching at Rodney's hips and going still, screwing his eyes shut, catching his breath and trying to picture everything in the room: the clothing flung at Rodney's computer chair, the framed diplomas on the wall, the random bits of dismantled Ancient tech, the plate on Rodney's desk covered in toast crumbs, a peanut-butter smeared knife set beside it. The sweaty flush of the back of Rodney's neck, the way the muscles in his shoulders and upper arms tensed and flexed as John fucked him, the truly stunning curve of Rodney's ass against John's cupped hand. It was all just so... good.

"If you're having a seizure or something, I'd really appreciate it if you swallowed your tongue after I got off," Rodney said, his voice breathless, muffled by the pillow.

John heard his own low, horsey laugh and he slapped Rodney's ass before shifting his hips, drawing out and slamming back home.

"You're hot, you're amazingly hot, god, I admit it, jesus, harder, but, oh christ, there is no way that I will ever call you 'daddy', so how about, oh shit oh shit--" and John felt Rodney shudder all over, clamping down on John's dick and then going lax, the muscles in his back smoothing out as he panted into the pillowcase and gave a low, crooning sigh.

Rodney's room smelled like new sweat and old socks over the ozone tang of humming electronics, and now it smelled like come, wet and sharp. John leaned over and kissed the ridge of Rodney's spine before spreading Rodney's solid thighs farther apart and changing his angle, every stroke making Rodney give startled little grunts that goaded John on until he broke and shot, balls deep and gasping.

When Rodney shoved him off and rolled over to glare at him, face pink from chafing against the pillow, chest still heaving with exertion and sexual satiety, John laughed again. "Made you say uncle, though," John grinned.

Rodney rolled his eyes.

"Yes, yes, you blew my sex-starved little mind, all right? Also, you're much, much better than a nicotine patch."

"You don't say." John tucked his hands behind his head and flexed his knees before straightening his legs and sighing with every satisfaction.

"Less gloating, more kissing," Rodney sniped, grabbing at John's shoulder.

John obliged him, taking his time.

END