Whoo, this turned out a whole lot longer than I thought it would. Some of this dialogue is not mine, it is taken from above conversation. Enjoy!
“Chief of Staff McKay to the President’s Office. Rodney McKay to my office,” came over the intercom.
Rodney snarled and shoved away from his computer. This was not the time to be interrupting him and John very well knew it. How the man kept the nation running he had no idea. Oh, wait, yes he did. Rodney kept it running.
Rodney marched into the President’s office, slamming the door open.
“What is it this time, sir.?”
“Shut the door.”
“You do realize that I’m right next door. There’s no need to use that stupid intercom you insisted you must have. And you know I’m working on the treaty you ke—“
“Rodney. Shut the door.” Rodney stopped talking at the command and finally took a good look at John. Who was leaning against the front of his desk, tie loosened, jacket off, hair crazier than usual. And his eyes were molten.
Rodney’s breath lodged in his throat and he quickly shut the door.
“Come here.” A finger beckoned. Rodney made his way to John, loosening his tie as he went. No matter how many times they did this, no matter the location, Rodney never tired of it.
With a final leap, Rodney crashed his lips onto John’s with a slight click of teeth, both men already hungry. Hands leapt to reach skin, scrabbling on button and buckles. Rodney bit back a moan as John latched onto the juncture of his neck. He trembled as hands swept across skin to knead his ass. And was startled from his euphoria when John flipped him around to bend him over the desk. THE desk.
“John!” Rodney squawked. “W-wait, we can’t do this over this desk! This is the desk! Think of the number of great men who’ve sat here, who’ve—” Rodney broke off with a groan. John was grinding his hips into Rodney’s, erection sliding along Rodney’s crease with Rodney’s own erection trapped against the desk. He tried to restart his train of thought. “T-the paper work...” and with a wail gave up all resistance as John wrapped a warm, calloused hand around him.
“I’m going to fuck you hard into the desk, Rodney. So hard you won’t sit for a week,” John rasped in his ear. Rodney whimpered, head braced on his arms, legs spread. He could feel the brush of cloth oh his bare skin where John laid, arousing him beyond belief to know John still wore clothing while he did not.
He cried out as John shoved in with no preparation and immediately started pumping his hips. Thankfully Rodney was still a little loose from their morning activities. But the pain only spiked the pleasure.
Rodney listened to John’s faltering breath before all senses turned white with one twist of John’s hips.
“Oh god,” he moaned and enthusiastically joined in. John’s fingers spasmed against Rodney’s hips once before moving them: one to grasp Rodney’s erection, the other to his clenched fist. It was the joined hands that was Rodney’s undoing. With a muffled shout he spilled into John’s hand. A few erratic thrusts later John came as well.
They laid there across the desk, John’s body a welcome weight. John finally picked himself up and Rodney flipped himself around, ready to voice his usual grumble when his breath caught all over again.
The sunlight streamed in the floor to ceiling windows, bringing out shades of red in John’s birdnest hair. It highlighted the high cheekbones, the planes of his chest framed by his undone tie, the single piece of clothing on John’s body. John’s lips were swollen and bruised, and he was staring at Rodney with his head cocked. It struck Rodney all over again that even though John is intense, his presence filling up more room than he actually does, he’s Rodney’s. And it made Rodney fall in love all over again.
no subject
“Chief of Staff McKay to the President’s Office. Rodney McKay to my office,” came over the intercom.
Rodney snarled and shoved away from his computer. This was not the time to be interrupting him and John very well knew it. How the man kept the nation running he had no idea. Oh, wait, yes he did. Rodney kept it running.
Rodney marched into the President’s office, slamming the door open.
“What is it this time, sir.?”
“Shut the door.”
“You do realize that I’m right next door. There’s no need to use that stupid intercom you insisted you must have. And you know I’m working on the treaty you ke—“
“Rodney. Shut the door.” Rodney stopped talking at the command and finally took a good look at John. Who was leaning against the front of his desk, tie loosened, jacket off, hair crazier than usual. And his eyes were molten.
Rodney’s breath lodged in his throat and he quickly shut the door.
“Come here.” A finger beckoned. Rodney made his way to John, loosening his tie as he went. No matter how many times they did this, no matter the location, Rodney never tired of it.
With a final leap, Rodney crashed his lips onto John’s with a slight click of teeth, both men already hungry. Hands leapt to reach skin, scrabbling on button and buckles. Rodney bit back a moan as John latched onto the juncture of his neck. He trembled as hands swept across skin to knead his ass. And was startled from his euphoria when John flipped him around to bend him over the desk. THE desk.
“John!” Rodney squawked. “W-wait, we can’t do this over this desk! This is the desk! Think of the number of great men who’ve sat here, who’ve—” Rodney broke off with a groan. John was grinding his hips into Rodney’s, erection sliding along Rodney’s crease with Rodney’s own erection trapped against the desk. He tried to restart his train of thought. “T-the paper work...” and with a wail gave up all resistance as John wrapped a warm, calloused hand around him.
“I’m going to fuck you hard into the desk, Rodney. So hard you won’t sit for a week,” John rasped in his ear. Rodney whimpered, head braced on his arms, legs spread. He could feel the brush of cloth oh his bare skin where John laid, arousing him beyond belief to know John still wore clothing while he did not.
He cried out as John shoved in with no preparation and immediately started pumping his hips. Thankfully Rodney was still a little loose from their morning activities. But the pain only spiked the pleasure.
Rodney listened to John’s faltering breath before all senses turned white with one twist of John’s hips.
“Oh god,” he moaned and enthusiastically joined in. John’s fingers spasmed against Rodney’s hips once before moving them: one to grasp Rodney’s erection, the other to his clenched fist. It was the joined hands that was Rodney’s undoing. With a muffled shout he spilled into John’s hand. A few erratic thrusts later John came as well.
They laid there across the desk, John’s body a welcome weight. John finally picked himself up and Rodney flipped himself around, ready to voice his usual grumble when his breath caught all over again.
The sunlight streamed in the floor to ceiling windows, bringing out shades of red in John’s birdnest hair. It highlighted the high cheekbones, the planes of his chest framed by his undone tie, the single piece of clothing on John’s body. John’s lips were swollen and bruised, and he was staring at Rodney with his head cocked. It struck Rodney all over again that even though John is intense, his presence filling up more room than he actually does, he’s Rodney’s. And it made Rodney fall in love all over again.