On Being A Leader

by The Grrrl

Title: On Being A Leader

Author: The Grrrl

Author's email: thegrrrl2002@gmail.com

Author's URL: http://thegrrrl2002.slashcity.org/

Archive: Ask first.

Fandom: Stargate Atlantis

Pairing: Sheppard/McKay

Summary: John knows an idle Rodney is a Rodney who is thinking too hard.

John sits in the thick grass, running his hands through the seed heads. It's nearly a foot high, warm from the sun and smells like a lazy summer day.

Beside him, Rodney paces, grass swishing around his ankles. "It will be another three hours before the Daedalus gets here. At least." Rodney squints up at the sun. His forehead gleams with sweat and unlike John, he hasn't taken off his tac vest. "Maybe four."

"Relax, Rodney. It'll be here soon enough." John lies back, enjoying the sensation of the grass tickling his skin.

"Right." With a resigned sigh, Rodney stops pacing. After a moment he sits beside John. "Relaxing."

John closes his eyes and stretches his arms above his head. His shirt rides up but the sun is warm on his belly so he doesn't bother to tug it back down.

Another sigh. "I mean, it's not like there's anything else I can do."

"Nope." John opens one eye.

Rodney is staring out over the rolling fields. "There's just...grass." Rodney sounds worried as he reaches down and plucks a stalk.

"Yup." John closes his eye again.

"Probably not much of anything else, right?"

"Rodney, we're perfectly safe. Accept it."

The grass rustles as Rodney shifts. John knows an idle Rodney is a Rodney who is thinking too hard. Who is imagining of every possible thing that could go wrong. But Rodney is surprisingly silent and soon John drifts off into a doze, only to rouse when something lightly touches his belly.

Then touches it again.

John opens his eyes. It's either a big horrible bug or---

Rodney. With a stalk of grass in his hand, dragging it over John's belly.

"Oh, you're awake?" Rodney's eyes are wide and innocent.

Another touch and John's muscles quiver. "Yeah," John grinds out.

This time Rodney drags it down to John's side, near his exposed hip.

John thinks that maybe he needs to start wearing a belt with his pants. He had no idea they rode so low, but he's starting to get an idea that they do, especially with Rodney tickling his hipbone with that damn blade of grass. "Rodney," he starts.

"Yes?" Rodney answers brightly.

Still another touch of the grass on his skin. John's getting hard and that's just wrong. They're sort of on duty and he's pretty sure that belly-touching, even with a blade of grass between them, isn't appropriate on-duty behavior. Especially when the touch makes him shudder and breath in sharply.

"Stop it." John's voice is unconvincing, even to his own ears.

"You told me to relax." Rodney tosses the blade of grass aside. "Which, I might add, is not exactly my forté."

"Then go back to pacing." John pointedly closes his eyes again

When the next touch comes he recognizes right away--Rodney's lips on his skin, just below his navel. "Rodney," he sighs, fingers curling in the grass now, hips shifting restlessly.

"I'm relaxing," Rodney murmurs against his skin. A press of his lips, a touch of his tongue, and then Rodney uses his teeth, gentle but it's enough to make John gasp.

"This is not what I--" John's breath hitches as Rodney licks his hipbone. "This isn't," he tries again, but now Rodney is unfastening his pants.

"Oh, hello." Rodney welcomes John's cock warmly, pulling it free from John's boxers and cradling it in his hands. John is too easy, he knows it but he can't help himself, he never can when to comes to Rodney. He opens his eyes to find Rodney gilded by the sun, hair glowing golden in the light and an indulgent smile on his lips. "Do you want to tell me to stop one more time?"

Unable to find the words, John merely nods as Rodney rubs his thumb along his cock.

"Consider me told." A flash of dimple, and then Rodney takes John's cock into his mouth.

It's for Rodney's own good, John tells himself. To keep Rodney from getting all worked up over over forced inactivity, to keep him from fretting over a DHD that can't be fixed.

John moans against the head of Rodney's mouth, arches his back, pulling up fistfuls of grass. When he spreads his legs Rodney climbs between them, then slides his mouth back down again, taking his time, moving way too slow. John worries that Rodney is going make this is going to last the whole three hours and no way is he going to survive that. "Rodney, please."

Rodney pulls back and licks the crease of John's thigh, then moves to scrape his teeth along John's belly. "The shirt," he scolds. "Always riding up."

John laughs, reaches for Rodney's shoulders with grass-stained hands and pushes him back down. "Come on."

Rodney will not to be hurried. He rubs his nose in John's pubic hair, pronounces John 'kind of stinky', nibbles on John's thigh, kisses the palm of John's hand and by time he gets back to John's cock, John is panting and squirming but Rodney's mouth is the best thing he's ever felt, slick and hot and focused. When Rodney finally lets him come, John is left dazed and boneless with sweat dripping down his face, arms splayed in the grass once again.

"Now that's what I call relaxing." Rodney nuzzles John's cheek, and John turns to find his lips for a slow, sweet kiss.

"Mmmph." John drapes an arm over Rodney's shoulders and pulls him close.

It's all he can manage. Until he catches his breath. And then? Grass stains. All over Rodney's pale pretty skin.

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