"Rodney, quit," John said, wiping rich chocolate frosting from his fingers, too full to lick it off.

"What?" Rodney said. He didn't turn from where he was washing a bowl, offset spatula, and the double boiler in the sink. "Don't you like it?"

John crossed the kitchen to slide his arms around Rodney's waist, kissing his slightly sweaty neck. "I like it," he said. "I even love it, but you're making me fat with your totally unnecessary guilt."

"It's not guilt," Rodney said. "I'm just trying...trying to..."

"I get it, Rodney - you love me and you're sorry about Jonas and you want me to forgive you, which I did about ten minutes after you told me." John stopped to take a breath. "So, please Rodney. No. More. Chocolate."

Rodney leaned back against him, taking the towel slung over his shoulder to dry his hands. "How about vanilla? Or caramel?"

John sighed into Rodney's neck. "Rodney, why won't you believe me when I say we're good? It's starting to bother me that you don't."

Rodney spun in his arms, a stricken look on his face. "God, John. I didn't mean it that..."

John gently put his hand over Rodney's mouth. "Stop talking. I love it when you cook for me. I love it when you bake for me. I like it when you go to bed when I do and when you watch terrible movies with me. I like it when you let me be on top." He lifted his hand, kissed Rodney hard on the mouth, and then replaced his hand. "I like it all, but sometimes it's too much of a good thing."

John could feel Rodney's lips moving under his hand, so he pulled it away.

"I...just," Rodney stuttered out.

John pulled him close and kissed his neck, sharp with sweat and dark chocolate and flour. "You don't have to do anything. I want my grumpy, movie-mocking, smack-my-hand-with-a-frosting-spoon, throw-me-over-the-table-and-fuck-me Rodney back."

"But, I..."

The hand went back over Rodney's mouth. "Look," John said. "Knowing I'm going to get rimmed on Tuesday night is great from a hygiene perspective, but I can almost see you going down a checklist." John pulled back, and just as he expected, Rodney looked sheepish. John gave him an exasperated look. "And you better not have just added 'fuck John over table' to the list."

"I wasn't," Rodney protested.

John kissed him, soft and slow. When he pulled back, he leaned his forehead against Rodney's and smiled. "You're still a shitty liar, Rodney."

"I know," Rodney sighed. "I just don't want to lose you."

John rolled his eyes. "Idiot," he said. "You know that's not going to happen." He let a little of his frustration bleed through. "It's really starting to piss me off that you won't believe me."

Rodney stared, then his eyes narrowed to blue slits. He tightened his grip on John's upper arms. "You want to get fucked, huh?" His voice had gone low and commanding.

"Yeah," John said, his heart rate speeding up. "Yeah, I do."

Rodney let go of John's arms and pushed him back one step and then another. "If that's the case," Rodney said. "I think you should get your ass into the bedroom right now."

"On it," John said, turning and walking to the bedroom. He made sure to slink just enough to keep Rodney's eyes on him all the way.

"Drop it," Rodney said as he walked into the room.

John immediately dropped the tube of lube he was holding. That was what he'd been hoping for. He wanted his forceful, greedy, pushy Rodney back.

"How do you want me?" he asked, standing naked by the bed.

"On your knees, I think," Rodney said, then made a negative little noise as John started to go to his hands and knees on the bed. "Floor," he said.

John grinned as he slipped to his knees. His joints cracked, but he made it down.

Rodney stripped, and then grabbed John by the hair, pulling him forward. It made John happy. Not because sucking cock was his favorite thing, but because it wasn't. He smiled as Rodney's dick - hot and heavy - slid over his lips.

"Missed this," Rodney said, pushing his cock into John's mouth, not losing his tight grip on John's hair. "I loved sucking you off, and rimming you until you nearly passed out, but I missed this. I missed holding you in place and fucking your mouth just like this."

John moaned around Rodney's cock, trying to take more in. He grabbed Rodney's hips and sucked as hard as he could, making Rodney curse and moan. After a minute or so, Rodney used his grip on John's hair to pull him off, ignoring John's whine.

Rodney sat on the edge of the bed, and then patted his knee. "Up here," he said.

John hesitated - they'd never done this sort of thing before. He wasn't into pain or head games, and if Rodney wanted to spank him he wasn't sure if he could do it.

Rodney patted his knee again. "Up here. Trust me."

"I do," John said thickly. He hesitated for one more second, and then climbed up.

Rodney guided him into position, draped over Rodney's lap, and John wrapped his hands around Rodney's ankle. He jumped when Rodney's hand delicately touched the small of his back.

"Easy," Rodney said quietly. "I won't do anything you don't want. Spread your legs."

John spread his legs as far as he could, then kissed the outside of Rodney's knee. "I trust you." He shivered when Rodney's left hand rested lightly on the back of his neck and pushed him down a little until John bowed his head further. At the same time, Rodney's right hand slid up between John's legs, fingers wet with lube.

"God," John said faintly and pushed his hips back as much as he could. He said it louder as one finger slid into him. He felt so tight - like he hadn't been fucked in weeks. Oh, yeah, he hadn't been fucked in weeks.

"Two," John said, rubbing the pad of his thumb against the poky bones of Rodney's ankle.

Rodney pulled his finger out. Instead of going right back in, he hesitated and briefly rubbed his hand over John's ass, heedless of the lube. He thumbed the cleft and pressed his fingers into the flesh of John's hip.

"Do you want to?" John asked, swallowing hard.

"Do I want to what?" Rodney dragged his thumb lower.

John's mouth was dry, but he choked the words out. "Do you want me to...don't make me say it, Rodney."

Rodney moved his thumb even lower. "No," he said, rubbing back and forth. "I don't. I know you'd be beautiful, but hitting isn't my thing."

John let his breath out. If Rodney had wanted it he would have tried, but he didn't like the thought of Rodney hitting him, either. "What if I wanted you to?" John asked.

Rodney leaned down and kissed John's back at the same time he pushed his thumb all the way inside. "I'd say no."

The blood was rushing so hard in his ears that John could barely hear Rodney's answer. He should have known, though - he should have known that Rodney would take care of him. He would have felt like a jerk for doubting, but he couldn't feel anything except for Rodney's thick thumb opening him up.

He made a low noise when Rodney took his hand away, which earned him a gentle squeeze on the back of his neck. "Wait," Rodney said, and John could hear him thumbing the lube cap open. John jumped a little when two fingers pushed into him.

"You feel good," Rodney said. "I love the way you feel inside - smooth and slick and so damn tight, no matter how many times I've fucked you over the last five years."

John could only groan at that. Sometimes he had a hard time believing that it had been five years since they'd shared sushi and made out on the couch - five years since they'd first slept together, just sleeping that first night. Five years since Rodney had taken a bagel out of his hand and pushed him over the kitchen table and started this whole thing.

John moaned when Rodney started working a third finger into him, pushing hard, not giving John any time to adjust. "God," John moaned, and Rodney's fingers stopped moving.

"Too much?"

John pushed back. "No. I want as much of you in me as I can take."

In answer, Rodney started moving again until he had three fingers all the way in and John was clutching Rodney's leg as hard as he could. The fingers in him twisted, working him open.

"Four?" Rodney grated out. "You want four?"

John groaned. Rodney had put four fingers in him once, and he could still remember the stretch and burn and feeling like he was going to split open when Rodney had worked nearly the full width of his hand inside.

"I..." John had to clear his throat. "Maybe?"

Rodney chuckled, then let his fingers slide out. "Easy," he said. "Just get up here on the bed."

John crawled out of Rodney's lap and onto the bed, flopping down onto his belly.

"Let's stay with three," he said. "I give you four and you won't be as tight as I want when I fuck you." He moved up the bed to make himself comfortable between John's legs. He pushed John's legs apart and started back in with two fingers.

"You're not afraid of me are you?" Rodney asked.

"No!" John said, turning his face to the side so Rodney could hear him. He wasn't - never had been - afraid of Rodney.

"Are you afraid I'd hurt you?"

"No," John said again, moaning the word out when Rodney's fingers moved in him again.

"But you were afraid, when you, when you thought I was going to...with Jonas."

John tried to get away, but Rodney knew him too well. Rodney knew that John would tell him anything like this. He couldn't hide anything when Rodney was taking him apart from the inside out.

"Yeah," he said. "You know I was. I didn't want it to be over. I don't know how to do this on my own anymore."

"I know," Rodney said. "I know. I'm so sorry I scared you. I know you hate being scared."

"I..." John said, unable to think while teetering on the knife's edge of pleasure that Rodney's fingers were keeping him on.

"You were scared when we got together, weren't you?" Rodney's voice was a low croon.

"I...wasn't sure," John said, and it was true. He'd been so messed up when they'd met, when Rodney had barreled into his life - all strawberries and sugar and chocolate.

Rodney made a humming noise. "I was the first guy you'd had more than a one-night stand with since Mitch."

John froze. "How did you..."

Rodney kept his fingers moving. His voice was soft. "You never talk about him. Adam and Dex sometimes, but not Mitch."

"Yeah," John said faintly. He'd forgotten the golden rule: never underestimate Rodney. "Can we...will you..."

Rodney pulled back, and John had to believe that he knew this was killing him - had to know that John was right at the end of his ability to talk, to lie there and let Rodney drag the words out of him with his voice and his touches.

Rodney eased John over onto his back, and John knew that Rodney was seeing his red face and bright eyes - seeing and hearing his heaving breaths. He didn't even try to hide anything from Rodney, despite the fact that he felt torn apart by Rodney's understanding.

"Please," John said quietly. "Please, Rodney - I need you."

Rodney pulled John up with a hand on the back of his neck, kissed him, then eased him back down. He reached for a pillow and John raised his hips so Rodney could slide it under him.

"Rodney," John said, and he couldn't control the way his voice cracked. He had nothing left; he was hollowed out.

Rodney seemed to get it. He pushed John's legs apart, steadied his cock, and started to slide inside.

John surged up, wrapping his arms and legs around Rodney. "Yeah," he said, pushing up, knowing that Rodney would tether him to the ground. He arched his hips just right, and Rodney found their rhythm - moving slow and deep again and again. John took it, hitching his legs higher and higher until they were braced against Rodney's ribs, opening himself up to whatever Rodney had to give.

After a while, John needed even more, he pushed up, urging Rodney on with his hands against the sweaty skin of back and neck and shoulders. Rodney pushed into him, his rhythm faltering.

John's orgasm surprised him, crashing through him like a wave to the shore. He said Rodney's name over and over as he came. Rodney wasn't far behind, his big hands holding John against him, a solid anchor.

When their breathing slowed, Rodney pulled the pillow out. He stripped off the case and cleaned them both up before throwing pillow and case to the floor. John just drifted - letting himself be moved, letting Rodney's hands guide him.

Once they were turned the right way on the bed, Rodney arranged the covers in his usual fastidious manner before turning the light out. John curled onto his side and felt Rodney curl up behind him, warm and solid.

"We are, you know," John whispered into the dark.

"Are what?" Rodney's voice was blurry with sleep.

John squeezed the hand that cradled his hip. "We're okay," he said.

Rodney turned his hand over and squeezed back. "I know," he said.

John fell asleep wrapped in warmth that had nothing whatsoever to do with the blankets.