Disclaimer: Time may have passed, but ownership of Stargate Atlantis has not; still MGM.
Warning: This story includes less-than-vague references to some adult themes and should be read by those of the appropriate age or parental permission level. (Gotta love qualifiers...)
Rated: M, hence the warning.
A/N: I should probably let you know I have no plans on continuing this as I think it serves its function perfectly fine as is. But otherwise, enjoy?
Coarse Reassurances
His fingers were coarse but I let him continue his tentative exploration. For if I was truthful, I needed this just as much as he did.
His thumb brushed my cheek and his other fingers slid to my jaw line, pausing long enough to reassure themselves the feeling of the touch was real. Then it really hit me.
If he hadn't come when he did to save me from my cold prison, this touch wouldn't have been possible. I had come to grips that I wouldn't have told him my true feelings before leaving him forever but never put thought to the future we would have lost, years of moments thrown to the wind as easily as if they were dust. The most intimate touch shared between the two of us would have stayed at the back of his soft yet bristly neck.
I'm not content letting him reassure himself alone anymore. He shows his surprise when I lean the few inches between us and press my lips against his. There's no place for it but I let out a single, small laugh. I rarely get a chance to surprise him anymore.
His mouth twitches into a smile and then settles back into place against mine. Because yes, that's where it belongs without a doubt. Everything had its place: his lips on mine, my arms around his shoulders and neck, and his hands carving a path up my back. And when he pulled back, his eyes would burn their passion into mine. Just like that. Damn. Predictable as this man sometimes was, the outcome was never diminished.
Something burst inside me and I found I had to say something. Anything at all. "Rodney." Oh, that came out different than normal. I clear my throat and try again but it's still there. "Rodney, kiss me again." The words leave my tongue and I want to widen my eyes. Is that what happens when I stop formulating sentences ahead of time?
The small smile returns, morphing into a smirk before he follows the surprise request. And as he does, I actually moan my approval. Though kissing is certainly a worn action to me by this time, no other had sent such a resounding feeling of desire coursing through not just the nerves and muscles acting on my lips but my vocal cords as well. Not even my background in neurology hinted toward how only he could create this feeling and sound in me.
The pressure on my lips increases and I know to stop questioning it and just embrace it. And I'd like to – boy would I like to – but I can't because his hands couldn't seem to get their fill simply roaming my back. The first touch of his warm fingers edging onto my skin under the rather thick sweater sent my mind whirling to all the possibilities of explaining why it felt so good.
Only one idea stuck.
I took to the idea, then charged forward with the new knowledge, ready to return the favor. I allow my hands to slide down his arms and give the muscles there a willful squeeze to portray my change in action. For once, he seemingly understands as his hands clasp around my denim-clad thighs to lift me against him before setting me on a table or a desk or counter, whatever this is in whatever room we're in. It doesn't surprise me I can't remember, and even less, that I don't care to look. What does surprise me is the renewed angle of his kisses. He set up the stage for me perfectly and I show him my thanks by beginning.
Now a little taller than him, I dip my tongue down to taste his lips and feel a shiver scurry down my back when he darts out to touch my tongue with his. If that was his permission, I'd take it. It was easy to follow his bottom lip inward to taste the difference but I had to tighten my hold on his arms just to stop from swooning. He made it easier on me and met me there, drawing me in to taste everything with leisure and then following me back in my quick, teasing retreat.
The last tongue that had found its way into my mouth was unwelcome and had earned its owner a few fair pushes at the chest. Any good night kiss with me was always predictable: leave the man wanting more without a hint of offering it. But this guy had taken more and had all evening with his borderline inappropriate touches.
The tongue that slipped into my mouth this time had me moaning before he finished his first taste of my bottom lip as I had done to him. I see now why he helped me along earlier, only my response isn't quite as smooth. My hands reach up to slide through his hair as my tongue battles his. Simple touches aren't acceptable anymore.
When he pulls back and stumbles on voicing my name, I ignore him, reaching for his mouth again. He obliges for a moment then repeats the attempt. "Jennifer." His voice is steadier and I feel the desire to kiss his throat to feel the vibrations until he finishes saying whatever it is he decided he had to say right this second.
I'm beyond words so I mumble questioningly before finally acting on a bit of impulse and begin kissing his chin. The stubble there delighted me for some reason, all the more so when it moved so he could talk.
"We should probably slow down."
I silently laugh and shake my head before following the jaw line before me to his left ear. I pull his earlobe in to taste it and feel a shiver pass through him this time. His fingers spasm at my waist so I lick it from inside my mouth again, earning a stray breath huffed on my own ear. The advantage of position is mine and I put it to full use by entangling my legs around the thighs so close to mine already and drawing them nearer. The closer he got, the more of him touched me until finally he pulled me to the edge of the unknown furniture and briefly allowed me to feel why he wanted to slow down. I threw my arms around him to crush my chest against his in response. He may want to slow down, but I want to speed up. Even with the closeness, not enough was touching. I want to feel his warm skin. All of it.
He's confused when I push him away by the shoulders but it disappears to be replaced by full understanding as I pull him back by the zipper of his jacket. That's what I love about these uniforms; the zipper easily comes undone with a few displaced tugs. Yet easy as the uniform jackets are, Rodney looks more relieved his obstacle is a simple sweater. I thought he might have liked the change in look so I pulled out the pink sweater I buried after subconsciously wearing it in my dream with the doppelganger Sheppard. Rodney could give it a better memory.
And with the way he eyed it and slipped his hands below it again, he was well on his way. Now if he would just slide it up…
Never one to take advice – silent advice at that – Rodney redirected my attention to his eyes and God help me if he… managed to… Were they always that blue? They couldn't possi…
I glare and he smiles his success but I know he's won the battle, not the war. His jacket is off his shoulders faster than his smile can dim with the same realization.
The jacket had been form-fitting but had hidden far too much. Muscles others denied had any influence in the make-up of his arm rippled under my fingertips, each ridged against the slight pressure before slowly relaxing with the consistency.
If the jacket hid so many muscles, I start to wonder how many his shirt was still withholding from me. The thought had me pulling bunches of his blue shirt from out of his pants before he could protest. It wasn't until his hands captured my wrists and the shirt fell back down to cover his lower abdomen that I met his eyes.
"Not your turn."
Mumbled as they were, the three simple words set my cheeks ablaze as he redirected my hands to the hem of my sweater.
He urged my hands to slowly lift it up and the heat lodging in my cheeks intensified as I remember something he already knows well. Not my turn, huh? What would it really matter when as this single garment hit the floor, I'd be bared to his sight? At least he would still have his shirt to taunt me.
Seeing as he offered me the position of interest, the sweater was dropped back into place. Instead, I pushed each shoe off by the heel and allowed them to fall to the ground amidst his protesting pouts at the turn of events.
Suddenly I can't wait anymore yet the shirt sticks on his shoulders when his arms don't immediately comply with my desperate tugging. The finesse I normally reserve for such occasions seems unattainable and my tugs become desperate pleas to separate shirt from skin.
I bask in success as the shirt finally crumples to the floor and his entire chest is open to my critique.
Damn, Rodney. I let close to two years pass before this moment?
As chests came, his certainly isn't par to course with the majority of the soldiers stationed here but it's the first I want to run my hands over. What will the hair tracing paths across his skin feel like? Guesses come to mind but before I can come up with a hypothesis, it's pressing against my fingertips and I'm halfway sure it wasn't my doing.
His lips overtake mine before sliding down to my throat. My fingers are aching – almost pulsing with the increased blood flow – and it seems the only cure comes from squeezing his shoulders. I try with all my heart to get across the need for him coursing through my every fiber with each kneading of his muscles. I don't know if it worked but he's back at the hem of my sweater already lifting the fabric.
The muscles of his back ripple as he bends to press his mouth alongside my navel and I can't help but stretch my fingers across them as the butterflies in my stomach erupt. My arms already partially raised, he pauses long enough to shuck the sweater off my torso.
The slim resolve to slow down to his pace crumbled apart with every open-mouthed kiss pressed to my stomach. The last of it crashed down as he discovered skin farther to the north.
His nose dips down to trace my skin and to my delight, it stays to precede his lips. The trail blazes upward and the response within is nearly devastating. Another minute of this and… "Oh," a gasp slips out and the heat travelling throughout my veins can't seem to decide whether to slip to the south or color my cheeks.
The intimacy of his nose's nudge against my breast pulls my hands from their roaming around his shoulder blades to nestle into his hair. Instead of putting myself through another of his touches and risk everything he had built up, I lift his head and slip off the counter with less ease than I had hoped. The jolt that went through my heels at the graceless drop only served to further the sensations tearing through my body.
The height difference back to normal, he tilts to meet my mouth and pulls me against him so snuggly I doubt I could define an inch of space anywhere between us.
Our mouths break apart and he whispers against my cheek, "You're beautiful."
From any other man, the words would have been rejected with a smile and a thank you. From Rodney, I can actually believe he means it, and if looks are anything, he means it more than I can possibly imagine with expressions of love overtaking this moment of desire.
I doubt I'm up to wording the incredible feelings he brings about in me, shirt on or not, so I don't try – for now.
And suddenly, I doubt I'll find the time to until much later. I'm too busy trying to keep up with his wandering hands. They had found my waist and were drawing me closer and tighter into him. His lips landed on mine and slowly descended until I dipped my head back for him. Despite all the harsh words his lips often molded, they were velvety soft on my neck.
Breath escaped me. Thoughts, I'm sure, weren't going to be far behind. The way he slowly traced my neck down made me aware of every little sensation. How my collar bones pressed against my skin as my ragged breathing silhouetted them every time another breath left. He noticed too, because before I knew it, he was kissing, nipping, and sucking along the jutting skin only to follow the smooth slope back down along the other side.
The lower he kissed, the less air I could draw in. And when he kissed so much as the edge of one areola, I forgot breathing altogether. My hands nestled in his hair while his tightened rhythmically around my waist and slowly carved a path up my back to anchor my breast to his mouth.
Gasps were all I could manage as sensation after sensation vied for attention. A small relief came from arching my thankfully slim stomach up towards any bit of him it could reach. Switching sides with his mouth, he allowed his hand to slip back down to the edge of my pants.
Unfortunately, my hand on his wrist stopped him.
"You're right."
His head lifted to catch my eyes. "About what this time?"
"We should go somewhere more private." I slowly closed in on his ear and nipped. "Preferably with a bed."
His mouth hung open for a moment, then, "Private with a bed. That I can do."
Distance finally separated our bodies as I bent down to pick up my pink sweater, his shirt and jacket. I thought it over, then tossed him the sweater. Instead of offering him the shirt and jacket as well, I pulled them over my torso instead. The shirt had given me such trouble before I'd be damned if I had to try and get it off him again. Keeping the jacket purely for fun, I headed to the door while harboring quite the mischievous grin and called out, "Don't leave my sweater here, McKay."