Rodney reached over far enough to touch the top of the box that held the sketch where it rested on the floorboard. Leaning back up, he smiled at John. "Any chance you'd like to come home with me and help hang it?"

"I could do that," John said, licking his lips. When Rodney reached one hand up and cupped John's cheek, he couldn't help leaning into the touch and letting his eyes drift closed.

His eyes snapped open when Rodney quietly said, "Do you want one of the paintings? I'd give you any one you wanted."

John looked at him, wide-eyed. He wasn't quite sure what he was hearing. "Even one of the ones that sold?"

"Yeah," Rodney said. "I'd just buy it back for you."

John's closed his eyes and leaned into Rodney's big warm hand again. He stayed there for a second, then turned his head to kiss the base of Rodney's thumb, letting his lips linger.

He tried to process Rodney's offer, first taking a moment to figure out if he thought it was true. When he turned back to face Rodney, he thought about what kind of painting he'd want from Rodney. "Have you ever considered painting a self-portrait?"

"I already did," Rodney said. "About three years ago."

"Abstract doesn't count. It probably didn't look a thing like you." John dipped his head forward, making Rodney's fingers slide over his ear and into the hair at the nape of his neck. Rodney's hands felt better than anything he could remember. It was nothing like the way Rodney's hands had felt on him in the studio - though that had felt good in its own way.

Rodney traced his thumb over the upper edge of John's ear, smiling when John shuddered. The car slowed and stopped, and John let Rodney pull him forward. The kiss was short and soft, and at the end Rodney sucked gently on John's lower lip.

When the chauffeur opened the door, Rodney reached down for the box, and John playfully tried to wrestle it away from him. "Mine," Rodney said, and John gave up with a smile.

The doorman swept open the door and smiled at Rodney. "Mr. McKay. Sir," he greeted them, and John gave Rodney a sideways glance. Doorman? White-gloved doorman?

Once they got into the elevator, Rodney reached out with his free hand, and John tangled their fingers together. It felt good to be able to touch Rodney - for it to be okay.

"It's hard to believe this is ten blocks from the studio," John said. Where the studio was utilitarian at best, this building was beautiful. It was decorated in soft colors and looked like a luxury hotel.

"Gentrification." Rodney stuck a key into a locking mechanism, and the elevator doors closed.

"Penthouse?" John gave him a sidelong look, remembering: famous.

"Yes," Rodney said, grinning just a little. "I think you're going to like this."

The elevator doors opened into a small foyer, and Rodney walked John through it into a large, plush living room. "You have the whole floor," John said, awed. There was famous, and then there was rich.

Rodney flipped a switch on the wall and drapes pulled smoothly back to reveal a panoramic view of the city spread out below them. John pulled his eyes away from the view with great difficulty - looking out over the city was like flying low and slow across the river. After a moment, John walked around the room, looking at the walls.

There were canvases hung at irregular intervals, but the most unique feature of the room was Rodney's own works, painted directly on the walls. These were paintings that would never be seen by the public - things that he had made only for himself. All of the paintings were abstracts, but John could follow a subtle progression around the room. The first paintings were the hard, sharp lines Rodney was famous for. The squared-off portions of the wall encircled paintings made of angles and lines, occasionally broken by precise, completely symmetrical circles.

Pictures further along the rest of the wall began to move beyond the spare lines of the first ones. These had the same line and angles, but more of them. The painted lines seemed to close in on a focal point; to separate a circle, square, or oval from the rest of the design.

John walked further along and noted the softening of the lines - not by much, but softer all the same. The colors faded from black and red lines on white backgrounds to paintings showing cooler colors, larger abstract elements, slightly more indistinct edges.

John spun slowly in the center of the room until he was facing...something else. There was a huge, conspicuous blank spot over the fireplace, under the main vault of the ceiling and a large skylight.

"That's where our piece goes," Rodney said quietly. He leaned the box holding the sketch against the wall.

"I figured you were keeping it," John said. "I noticed the tag."

Rodney looked at him and smiled. "I could never sell it," he said. "No one else should own that one unless it's you."

"I couldn't..." John started, but Rodney silenced him with a waving hand.

"I know, I know," he said. "Why aren't you over here kissing me?"

John smiled. "I was busy being impressed."

The look Rodney gave him managed to combine sarcasm and sweetness. "I think I can impress you more with my kissing."

John tilted his head to one side. "That one in the car was a good start."

"Are you playing hard to get?" Rodney asked. "Because you are very far away from me right now. Don't tell me I have to chase you."

John moved across the room, untying his bowtie as he walked. When he got to Rodney, he stopped. "Am I too far away now?" He felt a little breathless and a lot bold. It made his heart beat faster and his face warm.

Rodney reached out and undid the top stud of John's shirt, then worked his way down, untucking the tails when he got to John's belt. John felt his jacket slowly slipping down his arms and Rodney threw it over the back of a chair, following the jacket with John's tie. He took John's wrist into his hands, and John's breath caught at the simple sexiness of the move. Rodney's nimble fingers removed the cufflinks. He repeated it on the other side; going so slowly John wanted to pull back and do it himself, just to break the tension that was ratcheting up.

By the time Rodney was finished, John's chest was heaving, and his face was flushed.

"You're beautiful," Rodney said.

"You've already seen me naked for three weeks, Rodney." John was panting, and Rodney wasn't doing much better.

"Not the same," Rodney said. "Back then I didn't get to touch you, no matter how much I wanted to. It almost killed me."

"I wanted..." John's voice broke a little when Rodney's fingers traced from his belt upward, ruffling his chest hair. "I wanted you to. So much." It was true. He'd gotten through some of their sessions by pure will alone and made his way home as fast as he could, barely able to wait until he was on his bed to jerk off to the mental picture of Rodney in his paint-stained clothes, frowning at John in concentration.

"Will you come to the bedroom with me? I promise to touch you a lot in there." Rodney's voice was soft, but it was starting to get a little rough.

John nodded, and Rodney smiled at him. John felt relieved; he hadn't realized how worried he'd been that Rodney wasn't as serious about this as he was. This time Rodney took John's hand, leading him to the bedroom.

"Not what I expected," John said, looking around at the light grey walls and dark blue curtains, comforter and armchair, the deeper grey accents.

Rodney put John's cufflinks on the dresser and took off his own. He untied his tie and put it there, too. He looked around the room. "Were you thinking 'swingin' bachelor pad?' Maybe a round bed and a mirror on the ceiling?"

"No," John said. "But I was expecting something a little flashier."

"Hmmmm, not so much." Rodney pressed a few switches on the wall and the overhead light dimmed and the bedside lamps came on with a soft glow.

"This is the biggest bed I've ever seen, though." John reached down and pressed a hand onto the mattress. "This is going to spoil me - I'll never want to go home."

John heard Rodney's breath hitch a tiny bit at that. John knew how he felt- this was moving pretty fast, but it looked like both of them wanted it that way.

Rodney gave him a slow smile. "Come over here," he said, and John walked toward him. His shirt was hanging open, and John knew that the sides of it were framing his chest like they had in the sketch. As soon as John got close enough, Rodney reached out and grabbed the sides of the shirt, reeling him in for a kiss. John opened his mouth easily under Rodney's, and John let him slide his tongue inside, flickering and tasting. When Rodney pushed his hands under John's shirt to touch the skin of his back, he remembered the tightening of those same muscles when he'd explained to Rodney how he'd come to be a model.

Rodney immediately pulled back, but he did it gently. "You okay?"

John looked away, his breath still coming fast and erratic. He had to take a deep breath before he could speak. "I don't know how to do this," he whispered.

"Sure you do," Rodney said lightly. "You're the one who told me about your cocksucking skills."

"I know how to do that - blowjobs, handjobs - but you're the first guy I've ever kissed." John leaned his forehead on Rodney's shoulder, feeling very out of his element and kind of scared - a feeling he rarely entertained anymore.

"I don't get it," Rodney said, rubbing his hand between John's shoulder blades gently.

John took a deep breath and let it out. "I was in the military for fourteen years, Rodney. The only times I had sex with guys was in backrooms or bathrooms - just quick stuff, just to get off." It was true - there had never been the time or inclination for anything more intimate. He was embarrassed to admit it - Rodney thought he was some kind of sex god, and it was far from the truth.

Rodney turned his head and kissed John's temple. "So, no kissing, no touching, no fingers, no sixty-nine, no rimming, no fucking?" John felt the heat of his rising blush, sure that it was crawling to his hairline.

"No, not with guys - and some of it not at all," John said quietly.

"Good," Rodney said.

John snapped his head up to look at him, his eyebrows coming together in a frown. Was Rodney making fun of him? He pulled back slightly.

Rodney reached up and cupped John's face in his hands. "It's good because you get to do all that stuff for the first time with me," he said. "Uh...if you want to."

Relieved and kind of touched by Rodney's possessiveness, John leaned forward and kissed Rodney again, exactly the way he had in the doorway of the studio - soft and sweet with that little suck on his bottom lip as he pulled away.

"I think you've got the kissing part down," Rodney said.

"I used to kiss girls," John said. "In high school - at the Academy. Back when I didn't have any other opportunities."

Rodney gave him a grin. "I'm going to show you so many interesting things, John. This'll be fun." He took John's hand and pressed it to the front of his pants, right over his rock-hard cock. "That's what just thinking about it does to me."

John squeezed gently and pushed forward, rocking his own erection against Rodney's hip.

Rodney moaned, and reached down to push the shirt down John's arms. This time, he let his hands wander down John's back. John felt himself tense just a little and made himself relax.

"That's it," Rodney said. He let his hands fall further down to skate lightly over John's hips and ass. Again, John pressed into the contact, and made a small noise when Rodney's hands came around to rest on his belt buckle. John kicked his shoes off and ran a hand down the back of Rodney's head.

Rodney carefully unbuckled John's belt and unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers. Rodney went to his knees to pull them down and off, carefully taking John's boxers and socks along with them, and John had to put his hands on Rodney's shoulders to steady himself at the sight of Rodney's face so close to his cock.

When he had John fully naked, Rodney wrapped a hand around the base of John's cock and squeezed. John couldn't keep his moan behind his teeth. With a soft kiss to John's hip, Rodney let go and stood up.

"I'm very dressed," he said, his hands on John's hips, thumbs stroking the hollows.

John's brought his hands up to Rodney's collar, hesitant. Rodney stayed still as the first stud slipped through the buttonhole. At Rodney's encouraging smile, John picked up speed, getting Rodney's shirt open and untucked before pushing it down his arms. Rodney shrugged out of it and raised his hands to rest on John's hips and stroke.

John's fingers shook as they touched his belt buckle. He'd never undressed another man. Rodney put his own hands over John's and pressed gently. "We don't have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable," Rodney said.

John shook Rodney's hands off and unbuckled and unzipped him with more confidence. Rodney's soft noises and hard swallows made him feel free and wild, and he wanted Rodney naked. He wanted to feel Rodney's whole body against him. John eased Rodney's pants and boxers over his hips, and Rodney bent to push them down and pull his socks off. On the way back up, he licked a line up the underside of John's cock. The touch was electrifying, and John couldn't help the quick jump. He threw his head back when Rodney licked up his belly and chest and neck to his mouth.

Rodney returned his hands to John's hips, but his fingers dug in a little more. John could tell that Rodney was trying to let him set the pace. He jumped a little when John cupped his face and kissed him harder. John had to smile at the gasp when his hands lifted Rodney's chin so that he had access to his throat and neck, and started up a slow assault of kisses and gentle bites.

"Oh, fuck," Rodney moaned. "John."

"You taste good," John said, keeping his face pressed to Rodney's neck. He didn't know if it was okay to talk - to say things like that to another guy.

Rodney seemed to read his mind, pushing him gently back so they could look at each other. John could feel how flushed his face was.

John sighed when Rodney's fingers traced along his jaw. "You can do or say anything you want," Rodney said. "There's no wrong way to do this, I promise."

"Show me," John said. "Show me what you like."

"Hmmmm..." Rodney said. "I think we should get on the bed and you should let me touch you."

"I can do that," John said, moving toward the bed and pulling Rodney along by his hand.

Rodney took over, pushing John down onto the bed and arranging him just so, a small frown of concentration on his face.

"Just like that first day at the studio," John murmured, remembering Rodney's focus that day, the way he'd felt when Rodney moved him into the perfect place before hurrying to the easel.

"I wanted you then," Rodney said, pressing kisses to John's neck and forehead, to the tender spot on his bicep before sitting next to him on the bed. "I wanted to pull you into the studio and push you against the wall and suck your cock. I wanted you to come in my mouth."

John couldn't help shuddering. Just the picture of himself pressed against the rough wall of the studio with Rodney on his knees made him flush with heat, feeling it all over. "I wanted you," he stuttered out. "The day I told you and you just..."

"What?" Rodney said. "When I just..." He rubbed his hand over the flat of John's belly, fingers trailing through the hair.

"When you just listened. When you made it seem okay."

"It is okay," Rodney said. "You're okay. I don't care what the fucking military or your moron father told you. They have no idea what you are."

John's chest tightened at Rodney's fierce words, but the last of them finally penetrated the languid haze that enveloped him and he opened his eyes.

"You're perfect," Rodney said fervently. "Canvas and paint and paper can't even come close to the real thing."

John pulled Rodney down next to him so they were face to face. "What was it like?" he said. "Painting me?"

Rodney propped himself on one elbow and looked down. John could see the same light in his eyes that he got when he was working, when the charcoal was flying across the paper. "It was like not quite being able to touch you."

"Frustrating?" John placed his hand lightly on Rodney's hip, stroking.

"Yeah." Rodney huffed out a laugh. "I don't think I've ever been hard for seven whole weeks in my life. I called Guinness; I'm getting in the book under 'blue balls, worst case of'."

John moved his hand lower, just brushing the tips of his fingers along Rodney's cock. "I can fix that," he said.

Rodney put his hand over John's, stilling the movement. "Not yet," he said. "I'm still telling you what painting you was like."

John nodded and pulled his hand away. "Okay, keep telling me."

"Like this," Rodney said, and traced two of his fingers across the top of John's shoulder. "Every time I drew or painted this line, I pretended that I was touching you like this."

The soft touch made John's skin twitch. He drew in a deep breath.

Rodney's hand moved slowly to the center of his chest to ruffle through his chest hair. "I spent a lot of time on this; on getting it right."

"Did you?" John had to swallow before he could speak again. "Did you get it right?"

"Duh. Of course I did. I'm a genius, remember?" Rodney smiled teasingly. "It took a while, though."

John reached out and took Rodney's hand, drawing it down to his cock, the skin tight and hot. "And this?" he said.

"Mmmmmm," Rodney said, twining their fingers together to wrap around John's cock. "Just the once," he said. "In the study."

"I...I..." John said, fucking up into their joined hands. "I noticed you cropped the painting."

"Yeah," Rodney said, leaning in to nip at John's shoulder. "I didn't want to show anybody. This is just for me." Rodney paused, and John heard him swallow hard. "Just me, right?" he said, sounding unsure for the first time.

John wrapped his free hand around the back of Rodney's neck. "Just you." John reeled Rodney in and kissed him. The kiss acted as a catalyst, making them both speed up, the teasing touches left in the wake of stronger, harder, more.

Rodney sped their hands on John's cock, but John pulled them away. "No," he said. "Not that way. Something new - something I've never done before."

Rodney pulled his hand back and laid it on John's hip to push him over onto his back.

"Are you gonna fuck me?" John asked, and watched as Rodney squeezed his eyes shut and panted sharply.

"No," Rodney said, not opening his eyes. "I wouldn't be able to...hold back enough to make it good for you."

"Okay," John said, and he'd been sort of hoping that the answer would be no. While he was sure that he'd do anything with Rodney, he would be better off taking small steps.

Rodney rolled over and reached into the bed table drawer before rolling back with a tube of lubricant in his hand. "Come on," he said, wriggling his way between John's legs. "Spread 'em."

"You're the last of the romantics, McKay," John said, but he did as he was told. He moaned when Rodney leaned in and bit and sucked the skin between hip and thigh. If Rodney was trying to distract him, it worked. By the time John was coherent again, a slick thumb was tracing behind his balls and Rodney's finger was pushing gently against his hole.

"Oh, god!" John tried to curl his body up, but Rodney held him down with his free hand. John settled for rocking his hips slowly, not knowing if he wanted to get away or get closer to Rodney's gentle fingers.

The tip of one finger started pushing in, and John froze. He could barely breathe - Rodney was going to put his fingers in him - inside him. He started panting so hard he thought he was going to hyperventilate. The fingertip pulled away, and Rodney rested his head on John's hip.

"I'm sorry," Rodney said against his hip. "Too much too soon. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay." John took a deep breath and relaxed his whole body. "Will you try it again?"

Rodney paused, then nodded against John's hip before easing himself down between John's legs again. John heard him put more lube on his hand, then felt slick fingers touching him; slowly and gently rubbing him everywhere except where it counted. Rodney kept repeating the motions. It was maddening, and John found himself squirming, trying to get Rodney's finger into position by accident.

And then he did it, he moved exactly the right way to get Rodney's finger sliding across his hole. "Yeah," he said breathlessly. "Please."

He half-expected Rodney to have some sort of remark for that, but he didn't. He stayed quiet and eased his finger over and over the perfect spot. On one pass, he pressed the pad of his finger against John. John could feel the sensation of his ass opening up just a little, and it was so weird and so good at the same time.

"Do it, Rodney. Slow."

Rodney pressed his lips to the inside of John's thigh and pushed in, just the tiniest bit. John let himself relax, and Rodney's finger slipped in just a little bit more. It felt right to push down against it, and John let out a surprised moan when Rodney breached him all the way.

"Are you okay?" Rodney looked up John's body, his eyes looking worried. "That was a little fast."

"'s okay," John slurred. "Now move."

Rodney's eyes went wide, but he didn't question the order. He tilted his head down, and John wondered if Rodney was looking at the place they were joined; if he was watching his finger slide in and out of John's ass. Just the thought of it made him shake.

"God, you feel good," Rodney said, speeding his rhythm just a little. "You're so tight."

John would have made some remark about what Rodney was expecting, but he couldn't speak when Rodney's finger twisted inside him and his whole body lit up with pleasure. He made some sort of incoherent noise that made Rodney laugh against the skin of his hip.

"Good, huh?" Rodney said, and John was willing to forgive the smugness in light of the fact that Rodney had just made him feel...made him feel...like that. He made a small sound when Rodney's finger left him.

"Hang on," Rodney said. "Give me a second. You want two?"

"Jesus," John moaned. "You put in two and I'll come."

"That's the point."

John felt the tips of Rodney's two wet fingers circling, and he pulled his knees up, completely unable to care what he looked like.

"Soon," Rodney said, and pushed forward just a little with two fingers. John pushed down, making them slide forward. All it took was a twist of Rodney's fingers and John was coming - his head back, his fingers clenched against the backs of his thighs and Rodney's name on his lips.

He barely felt Rodney's fingers slip away; he didn't feel anything for a few minutes except for the blood pounding in his head and his own harsh breathing. When he came back to himself, he realized that Rodney was looking up at him with an awed expression.

"That was beautiful," Rodney said, his breathing shallow. "If I could paint you like that, I'd make..."

"Another million dollars?" John quipped, letting his legs fall limply onto the bed. "Come 'ere," he said. "Want to make you come."

"It won't take long."

Rodney crawled up John's body. John wiped one hand through the come on his belly and wrapped his fingers around Rodney's cock. He wanted to go slowly, but Rodney pushed himself into John's fist as hard as he could before coming with a drawn-out moan and a bite to John's shoulder.

John felt Rodney's arms shaking with the strain of holding himself up, so he pushed them over onto their sides.

Rodney lifted his head and grinned. "That was..."

John frowned. "If you say 'picture perfect', I'm killing you."

Rodney smirked. "How about saying you're a work of..."

"I will kill you twice." John smiled tiredly, then pressed his lips to Rodney's neck. "How about 'sticky'? Can you live with 'sticky'?"

Rodney kissed the top of John's head. "Well," he said. "For a little while at least."

"A little to the right."

John moved a little to the right.

"Uh, lift it up."

John lifted it up.

"A little more to the right."

John rolled his eyes, but he moved to the right again.

"Hmmmm. That's perf...wait! A little more to the left.

John leaned the sketch against the wall and jumped onto the bed. He dug his fingers into Rodney's ribs. "Hang it your damn self, Rodney."

Rodney curled into a ball and weakly tried to fight John off. "I was just...using it as an...excuse...to look at...your ass, anyway."