"Only you could get us stuck in an intergalactic treehouse, Major." Rodney says, stomping around the wooden structure.

John looks out the door into the unrelieved darkness. The light from the small lantern inside doesn't penetrate at all. "Guess we're here until morning. Find anything useful?"

Rodney paces the small room. "Some type of oil lantern on a hook, lit. Mattress-thing of undetermined origin; two windows and one door; evidence of trees outside; wooden construction. That's it."

"Well," John says, moving to the center of the room.

Rodney makes a grumbling noise and pulls out his scanner. "I find no evidence of whatever transported us in here, and the Loincloth People of MX5whateverthehell didn't really seem that technologically advanced, so my considered opinion is that we're spending the night in the treehouse. I sure hope Mom brings us s'mores later."

"I never had one of these as a kid," John says. "You?"

"Nah," Rodney says. "Didn't see the point."

"Yeah," John lowers his pack to the floor and pulls out his sleeping bag. "I didn't have many friends either."

"Spare me the psychoanalysis." Rodney starts emptying his own pack.

"That was attempted bonding, not psychoanalysis." John sits down to pull off his boots.

"Whatever," Rodney says. "Let's skip that, too."

"What do you want to do instead?" John lines his boots up neatly against the wall and watches while Rodney flings his boots, vest and jacket into the corner.

"Come here and I'll show you." Rodney spreads his sleeping bag out on the mattress and flops backward onto it.

John peels off his own vest and crawls onto the mattress and onto Rodney. "This is a pretty big mattress-thing," he observes.

Rodney slides his hands up John's shirt, skimming up the smooth skin of his back before pushing the tee shirt up and over his head. "Yeah, roomy."

John leans down and lets his dogtags brush lightly against Rodney's neck, hissing when Rodney's hands move around to his chest and find his nipples.

"Big bed; soft, romantic lighting - what more could you ask for?" Rodney leans up to bury his nose in the thick hair at the center of John's chest.

"Sex?" John gasps.

"Okay." Rodney grins happily, licking spirals up John's sternum. He starts working on John's belt with one hand.

They manage to get out of their clothes - John finally has to stand up to get his pants off - and Rodney draws him back down on top, pushing John's knees apart to straddle his hips.

"Like this, okay?" he says, fingers digging in to John's thighs. "You look good up there."

John's smile is hot and slow, but he arches his back a little more than necessary. "Tell me you have lube, Rodney."

"You know I do." Rodney's prepared for almost any eventuality; it's one of his better traits.

He wraps his hands around John's hips and pulls him forward, and John clues in, reaching down to guide the head of his cock to Rodney's mouth. Rodney takes it in as smooth as any porn star, lifting his head to the perfect angle. He grabs John's ass and pulls, and John thrusts shallowly, his eyes locked on Rodney's mouth, ablaze with heat and lust.

Rodney closes his eyes and lets it happen, lets his mind go off to the cocksucking place, the place where nothing else matters except the motion of John above him and John inside him and the mindless slick slide. When John pulls back, he makes a small, disappointed sound.

"Want you to fuck me," John says, leaning over to find the lube in Rodney's pack. The motion brings his belly close enough for Rodney to lick and bite, and he digs his fingers into John's ass to hold him there, feeling the wet head of John's cock sliding against his jaw.

"Please," John begs, and Rodney has to give in, he can't help it. He lets John ease back over him with the lube in his hand, which he takes so that he can slick his fingers. He urges John up onto his knees and reaches between his legs to tease and rub and press, making John arch and moan.

Rodney works his fingers inside and prepares John quickly - neither of them can wait much longer. When John is pushing himself back onto three fingers and Rodney's pretty sure he's about to drop dead from anticipation, John pulls off, guiding the fingers that were inside him down to slick Rodney's cock.

John gets into position, with the tip of Rodney's cock just touching the open entrance to his body, and he waits.

"John." Rodney's voice is low and harsh. John waits.

"John!"

John waits.

Rodney's hand snaps up and around the back of John's neck and he pulls. John slams his hips down as Rodney's come up and Rodney once again thanks fate, the stars, assorted deities and every law of physics that he's the one that gets to fuck this man who can read him like a book and take him higher than he ever thought he'd get to go.

John's a curve of muscle astride him - sweat-sheened and motion-blurred - and Rodney would climb all the way inside him if he could. He can't, so he settles for fucking upward has hard as he can, feeling his hipbones slam against John's bony ass with every thrust, and he's never wanted anyone - never loved anyone - the way he wants (loves) John.

"Won't...last," Rodney grunts out, still shoving himself upward with all the power in his body, knowing that he's way ahead of the curve.

"Don't stop." John's moving and moaning and he looks like the best kind of porn in the soft lamplight. His eyes open, and Rodney can see everything there - everything - and it makes him come so hard he thinks he's quit breathing.

When he gathers his wits, John's braced above him, his hand flying along his cock. Rodney wants to help, but he can't feel his extremities, so he just watches breathlessly as John brings himself off with ruthless efficiency. John coming is even more beautiful than John fucking, and Rodney doesn't know whether to look at his cock or his face, so he goes back and forth until John collapses down onto his sticky chest, gasping.

They catch their breath for a bit, and then Rodney rolls them to their sides so he can reach into his pack for tissues. He cleans them both up gently, then drags the other sleeping bag on top of them. John is boneless and fucked-out, letting Rodney arrange him however he likes, which winds up being draped half-on half-off Rodney's chest.

"Is it always going to be like that?" Rodney asks, marveling at the sheer hotness of sex with John.

"God, I hope so," John says, rubbing his nose along Rodney's jaw.

The bed is roomy, but they sleep curled together anyway.