melissas_corner: (John/Rodney)
[personal profile] melissas_corner
Title: Laundry Day
Author: [personal profile] logans_girl2001
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: R
Category: Slash
Status: Complete
Archive: My website
Feedback: Yes, please.
Disclaimers: I do not own any of the characters.
Author's Notes: I wanted to challenge myself since I haven't really written anything in over a year and chose filling three stockings for [community profile] fandom_stocking. I got the first two done in December but this third one has been dogging me. I asked for prompts and got two: one from [personal profile] melagan and [personal profile] popkin16. This was written for [personal profile] popkin16's stocking. Hope you enjoy it.
Sequel/Series: None
Summary: It's laundry day in Atlantis.
Warnings: None
Spoilers: All aired episodes are fair game.
Beta: I am currently without a beta and accepting applications. If interested, please let me know.

John's POV:

One of the things I enjoy about living in Atlantis is that I don't have to wash my own laundry if I don't want to. Most times I do it myself, especially after returning from an off-world mission. But this week I so do not want to be hanging around the laundry area making small talk.

At the end of my day, I stop and pick up my freshly laundered clothes and head back to my quarters to put them away and get ready to meet my team for dinner in the mess. Normally the act of putting my clothes where they go is pretty mindless and I don't usually pay too much attention to the task. But for some reason this one pair of socks captures my attention. Mostly because they are most definitely not mine.

I frown down at the socks in my hand as if they have personally offended me while trying to work out how they could have gotten mixed up with my clothes. After a moment or two I shrug and decide to return the socks to their rightful owner now.

Exiting my quarters, I turn in the direction of Rodney's room. It's a route I've walked many times and while I head there tonight I try and not think about just how many times I've done so. And I most definitely do not think worry if anyone has noticed just how much time one or the other of us has spent in each other's quarters. DADT may have been repealed but that doesn't mean that rumors of inappropriate behavior between myself and the head of the sciences can't ruin my career.

At Rodney's room, I swipe my hand over the crystals next to his door, startling when it slides open instead of sounding the chime. I can see Rodney on the other side of his bed and quickly step inside so that the door will slide shut before anyone can see and get the wrong idea.

It's obvious that Rodney has just bathed judging by the towel in his hand (which is currently clutched against his abdomen) and that his hair is darker and kind of spiky from being toweled dry.

It takes him a minute to find his voice and once he does, it's so fucking dry it's a fire hazard. "Oh, sure, Colonel. Just let yourself into my quarters."

"I didn't! I swiped like usual but the door just opened."

"And I'm supposed to believe that Atlantis just so happened to let you into my room without my consent?"

"Yes! Because that's what happened. Seriously, Rodney. I do not know how to force a door open." He huffs in response and shift his weight which unfortunately brings the fact that he's standing naked in his open bathroom door with a mirror right behind him to my notice. It's a battle to not stare at his shapely butt sans pants and it's one that I'm losing. Spectacularly. But ask me if I care. Because I do not. Not even a little bit.

Tossing his socks in the general direction of his desk, I step up on, and then over, his bed so I can back him against the sink and attack his mouth. He squeaks at the first touch of my hands on his face but otherwise doesn't make a sound of protest. That's not to say he responds because he doesn’t do that either. At least not at first. After several agonizingly long seconds, seconds in which I begin to worry that I've just screwed up our friendship, he drops the towel and tries to crawl inside my skin.

And then he's taking control and backing me toward the bed, his fingers fumbling with the buckle on my gun belt. I reluctantly release his face and pull back from the kiss to assist him with getting me just as naked as he is.

"God, you're beautiful," he whispers once I'm standing completely naked before him.

"So are you." I reach out to trace the line of hair leading from his navel to his thickly erect cock, watching as the muscles under his skin jump at my touch.

"Are we really about to do this?"

"Yes. I've thought about this a time or two hundred over the years." And it's true. He's been the star of many a dream since the moment we first met.

"I'd be lying if I said you were the only one. When we first met-" He swallows thickly at the memory of me in the chair. "And then when you did that calculation in your head when we arrived here. Do you have any idea how sexy that makes you?" I can't stop the chuckle that escapes because he sounds so very put out that he finds my brain sexy.

"We don't have to if you don't-" His hand wrapping around my own erection has the words drying up in my throat.

"Don't you even think that. I've wanted this since the moment I first laid eyes on you."

"Good. I've wanted this for a while, too."

He steps closer without releasing his prize. "It's been a while since I've fucked a man."

I can hear the question he refuses to ask. "Me, too." If I had been worried that finding out he's not my first would ruin the mood, I shouldn't have. If anything, I think the knowledge that he can just let go and feel amps up his arousal, judging by the way his nostrils flare and his pupils dilate even more.

"Very good to know."

"I did have a life before the Air Force, Rodney."

"I know!"

"Mmhm." I lower my head and brush my lips against his.

And that's the last thought I have for a very long (and extremely pleasurable) time. When I am once again aware of my surroundings, it's to Rodney poking me in the shoulder and demanding to know why I showed up at his door when we had plans to meet for dinner.

"It's laundry day," I say as if that explains everything. And of course it does, if just to me.

"And?" He sits up to glare down at me.

I shrug. "I had your socks."

"Again, I ask, and?"

"Why do I have them?"

"The people who do the laundry messed up." The 'duh' is so very heavy on the end of that sentence.

"Yes, but, Rodney, why do I have your socks?"


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