Summary: ....is another job. Not necessarily a reward.*
For mcsheplets Challenge 130: Dance -- waltzing in after the deadline (ok, couldn't resist!)
"Fuck Jack O'Neill, anyway," Rodney moaned.
"Well, only if I can be there, too," John drawled. "He has this Silver Fox thing down to an art."
"Daniel would kill us both," Rodney shot back.
"Although... if both of them ask..." John leered.
"John!" Rodney protested. Weakly, John thought.
"Nah," John assured him with a kiss on his shoulder. "I have my hands full with you."
"Better," Rodney sighed. "Oh, oh... right there."
John dug his fingers into the knot in Rodney's lower back.
"I don't know what I was thinking," Rodney moaned. As John found another knot in his back, Rodney groaned in relief.
"You could have said no," John replied. For about the billionth time.
"Next time, stop me," Rodney replied.
"Better not be a next time," John said calmly. "We have work that's not getting done."
"I know, I know," Rodney agreed. "But... well... you were there and didn't stop me, either."
"What part of commanding officer did you forget?" John asked. "Not like I could say no to O'Neill. But I really wasn't there, he asked you, you're a civilian and you could have said no."
"Sorry," Rodney mumbled. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."
"O'Neill took unfair advantage, if it's any consolation," John soothed. A discussion they’ve had before. "If it hadn't been at the party after your Nobel, you'd probably had thought more about it."
John remembered that night as he ran his hands over Rodney's toned body. Declassification of the Stargate program led to a flurry of papers and scientific disclosures which, in turn, led to Rodney and Radek's joint Nobel Prize in Physics being fast-tracked through the system.
Rodney had been high on adrenaline – and maybe too much champagne – when Jack O'Neill had mentioned an opportunity to help put a human face on the Stargate program. A PR opportunity "not to be passed up." Rodney had fallen for it, lock, stock and barrel.
By the time John had understood what Rodney had agreed to, it was too late. The PR hype had already started and backing out wasn't an option.
The good news – well, relatively good news – was that Ronon had been recruited by O’Neill, also. Ronon wasn’t complaining; he was too busy enjoying himself.
"Down to you and Ronon, now," John soothed. "Almost over."
"We have shown them," Rodney was pleased at that fact.
"Ronon's going to be pretty smug if he wins," John predicted.
"I think we can beat him," Rodney gave a small grin.
"I'll vote for you," John promised. "Although I think Teyla's going to vote for Ronon, so it's pretty even."
"Like the two of you can make a difference," Rodney scoffed.
"Hey, every vote counts," John said.
John moved down Rodney's body, massaging sore muscles and peppering pale skin with random kisses.
Laying his hands on Rodney's ass, John asked, "Feeling up to anything?"
"Well, now that you mention it..."
John put more of the massage oil on his hands and dipped into the cleft of Rodney's ass. He let some of the oil drip down, coating the skin. John used his thumbs to separate the pale globes, he leaned in to blow gently over Rodney's hole.
Rodney bucked up.
"Eager, much?" John teased. "Like this? Or do you want to turn over?"
"Comfortable here. Don't stop now," Rodney growled.
"Wouldn't think of it," John murmured. He quickly shimmied out of his clothes and lay skin to skin on Rodney's back, reveling in the ability to touch. He grabbed a pillow and said, "Up."
Rodney raised his ass and John stuffed the pillow under Rodney. John knew Rodney was pretty tired – exhausted, if they were both honest but nothing Rodney hadn’t experienced before, but under a different type of pressure – and they hadn't had too much alone time recently. So, he was as eager as Rodney for this.
John prepped Rodney quickly and then used more of the oil on his cock. He slid in and waited for Rodney to adjust.
"Move!" Rodney ordered, wriggling slightly.
"Bossy," John grinned. He moved in and out, adjusting his angle slightly. He knew he was successful when Rodney was suddenly coming, gripping John hard. It was enough to trigger John's own orgasm.
They collapsed to the bed, panting. John stretched up to kiss Rodney softly.
"Love what this is doing to your body," John said, running a hand down Rodney's side.
"Be glad when it's over, though," Rodney said. "I'm so far behind in my work."
"Two more weeks," John said. "Been this long, we'll manage."
"I'll need a vacation after this," Rodney sighed. "But working in the labs will be a comparative vacation."
“Sit up, so I can clean us up,” John directed. “Glad I put the extra sheets on the bed before we started.”
Rodney rolled up, muzzy from the massage and the sex. He lifted himself up as John tugged the sheet from underneath and then fumbled for the blanket on the bed.
“Wait. Two seconds,” John promised.
Rodney waited patiently while John brought a warm washcloth from the bathroom. He wiped down the worst of the oil and come off of Rodney and Rodney sighed contentedly.
“Okay, now you can crawl into the bed,” John allowed.
Rodney rolled back into the bed and brought up the sheet.
John crawled into the other side of the bed and wrapped himself around Rodney. Rodney’s body had grown lean and firm recently and John missed Rodney’s soft middle.
“You’re getting skinny,” John observed.
“Don’t worry, two weeks back on Atlantis and I’ll be back to my flabby self,” Rodney murmured.
“You were cuddly,” John protested. “And I liked you like that. Although, your stamina has come way up.”
“Let’s keep running from the natives off the agenda,” Rodney said through a yawn. “At least for the time being.”
“Deal,” John agreed. “Good night, Mr. Dancing with the Stars.”
Rodney snorted. “Good night, John-Boy.”
*From Miles Vorkosegan's running mantra: "the reward for a job well done is usually a harder job"