"Where's the dog?" John moaned, gingerly unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth and covering his eyes from the brutal, stabbing pain of the tiny shaft of late-afternoon sun that had managed to slip past the heavy curtains.

"What dog?" Rodney said, his voice rusty and low.

"The dog that shit in my mouth." John pressed his fingers against his temple in a vain effort to keep his brain inside.

Rodney bolted for the bathroom.

"Sorry," John said when Rodney came back into the bedroom.

"S'alright," Rodney said. He dropped heavily onto the bed, causing the mattress to lurch.

John bolted for the bathroom.

It took another hour for them to make it out of the bed. By then the sun was mostly down, so the living room was cool and dim. John made his way slowly to the kitchen and came back with a huge glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen. He took three tablets and drank half of the water before handing the glass and bottle to Rodney.

"Six, right?" John said morosely.

Rodney snorted and finished the water. "Five, Colonel Lightweight."

"They were martinis," John protested.

"Pomegranate martinis," Rodney said.

"How's your head, tequila-boy?"

Rodney sighed. "Big. Full of pain. When did we become such cheap dates?"

"Six months after we got to Atlantis, I think. I forgot how much this sucks."

Rodney sighed but didn't move. "Did we have sex last night? We should have had sex last night."

"We didn't. I think." John scrunched up his face. "Why should we have had sex?"

"Three words," Rodney said. "Relaxed gag reflex."

"Point," John said.

"That smells amazing," John said, coming out of the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his hips, scrubbing at his hair with a second one.

Rodney came out of the kitchen with a steaming bowl in his hand. He walked over to John and fed him some noodles.

"God," John moaned. "You're like the Julia Child of ramen."

"Undergraduate food," Rodney said, stuffing a wad of noodles into his mouth. "I pretty much lived on this stuff at Northwestern."

John held his hand out for the fork. When Rodney handed it over, he took another bite of ramen, feeling a noodle fall to stick in his chest hair. He made a different sort of moan when Rodney leaned down and sucked the noodle into his mouth, flicking his tongue against John's skin.

John's skin pebbled and he shivered. He gave a husky laugh when Rodney took the fork from him and dropped it and the bowl of noodles onto the floor. The laugh turned into a soft moan when Rodney's hands came up to settle on John's sides, big and warm.

John didn't know exactly when, but somewhere along the way he'd gotten addicted to the feel of Rodney's hands on him. He couldn't get enough of it. He'd whispered as much to Rodney one night his face hot in the dark, his mouth pressed to the back of Rodney's shoulder. Rodney hadn't said anything, but since then John never went too long without a shoulder nudging his in a meeting or a touch ghosting across his back or arm offworld.

But when they were alone...that's when Rodney really gave him what he needed. Rodney liked to crowd him against a wall or door or into a corner of the bathroom and just touch him. John would stand quietly, his breathing speeding up while Rodney smoothed hot palms over the planes of his hips or the curve of his biceps. John would try to stay still, stay silent, but Rodney wouldn't do anything more until John spoke. Rodney didn't make him beg, didn't tease - all John had to do was whisper Rodney's name or say "yes," and Rodney's hands would come up to his face to pull their mouths together. John always tried to hold out, always tried to make those easy touches last.

John leaned forward and traced the line of Rodney's jaw with the tip of his nose. "Hey," he whispered huskily. "Feelin' better?"

"Mmm," Rodney said, tilting his head a little to one side and sliding one hand around to John's back. "I'm good."

"Yeah," John said softly. "Kiss me?"

"Yeah," Rodney echoed, then kissed him slow and easy.

John opened his mouth to Rodney's tongue and sighed. He was glad to be there - in Rodney's neglected apartment in Colorado Springs, on Earth, but most importantly, there close to Rodney and literally putting himself into Rodney's hands.

Rodney pulled back with a few soft kisses, then reached down to rest his fingers against the towel. "Can I?"

"Uh-huh." John leaned into Rodney, lipping at the top of his shoulder. "You can do anything you want."

"I want to blow you." When Rodney said it in the soft, rough voice that always went straight to his cock, John teased his teeth along the skin under his mouth. He moaned when the towel fell away and Rodney's hands smoothed over his hips and around to his ass. Those hands. God.

"Come to bed," Rodney said, turning John around and pushing him toward the bedroom. "I want to suck you slow."

"Okay." John knew he sounded breathless. Hell, he felt breathless. He let Rodney guide him into the bedroom and onto the bed. John reclined back onto the pillows and watched Rodney strip, his mouth practically watering at the sight of all the pale skin being revealed as the sweat pants and tee shirt were pulled off.

When Rodney finally got onto the bed, he arranged John a little farther up on the pillows, then settled himself to one side. He traced a fingertip up the underside of John's cock, stopping to rub at the sensitive spot just under the head.

"John," he said softly. "Do you want to come in my mouth?"

John had to close his eyes against the sudden rush of arousal that shot through him. "No," he said. "On you."

Rodney made a little humming noise and circled his thumbs against John's hipbones before leaning down using his tongue to trace the same path his finger had taken. John sighed when Rodney's mouth closed over him. Rodney knew everything about him - how he liked to start out slow, to feel Rodney's mouth soft and wet, that he loved to have Rodney's hand spread out on the front of his thigh.

Rodney did as he'd said he wanted to, taking John in slowly, his tongue pressing against the vein, sucking lightly. John placed his fingers gently on Rodney's cheek to feel it flex and hollow with the pressure.

He lost track as Rodney started a languid rhythm, lost for a long time in the heat and slide. He could feel his orgasm building, a banked fire at the base of his spine. "Rodney," he said, rubbing his thumb over Rodney's eyebrow. "Gonna come."

Rodney let John's cock slide out of his mouth and pulled John down to him, turning them on their sides. He wrapped his hand around both of them and stroked with the same easy pace he'd used with his mouth. John came first, sighing into Rodney's mouth. Rodney rolled slightly on top, canting his hips back enough to come on John's cock, the heat on his sensitive dick making him groan.

Rodney rolled back onto his side and spread his hand on John's belly, heedless of the sticky wetness there. "Clean up?" John murmured sleepily, and Rodney obliged him by snagging his shirt off the floor and mopping them up before tossing it away.

John rolled onto his side and Rodney moved in close, his hand cupping John's hip, a perfect fit. John sighed and relaxed, savoring the warmth and the touch.