John loved it when a man's hands held onto his pecs, specifically from behind. It was visceral, a reminder of who had him. Not that the dick inside his ass wasn't the obvious answer, but masculine hands on his chest only added to the experience. Right now, those hands belonged to O'Neill and he gripped him in a way he knew John liked.

Getting his ass nailed after three dry months was a wonderful indulgence and John dropped all pretense at focusing on anything else, luxuriating in the thick lust that had control of him. O'Neill was talking too, and it was filthy and descriptive, filled with requests to keep Dr. Jackson safe and... satisfied. This wasn't one of their typical, if infrequent, fucks; it was insurance, an added incentive. A bribe, if you will. John didn't mind, not in the least. They always needed an excuse. Plus, his own motives were never clean since he almost always fantasized while they fucked. This time, it was about Ronon, as it increasingly was when he jacked off. John had him in his mind's eye, catching them in his office, and becoming the driver behind the wheel, responsible for sending all those shockwaves through him.

O'Neill shifted his hips and quickened his pace, forcing John to dig his nails into the leather desk pad and stop thinking about someone else. It was a reminder and one he welcomed because his cock felt so good. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep sounds to a minimum now that O'Neill was amping up the rhythm. Before long, John had to concentrate on his breathing, careful not to pant too loudly, and hated that this had to be over soon. Reaching down, he wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked quickly, pulling the pleasure higher, and higher still, until at last that spike he craved rocked through him. He bucked against O'Neill, come spurting into the shadow underneath the desk, and loved how his partner's grip on his hips turned bruising.

O'Neill gasped softly and John knew his turn was coming. He ground back against him, swinging his hips, moving slowly, sensually. Come continued to drip from his cock as O'Neill rode rapidly over his prostate, and with the slapping, dirty need of it all, John began to imagine ways of having this more often. As he always did. Suddenly O'Neill rammed hard, twice, and mashed against his ass as he came.

John loved it, just as he knew O'Neill did, and like O'Neill, he wanted to break apart soon after, unwilling to allow the fade of afterglow. A ready towel was rubbed against his ass and he reached behind him to take it, amazed by its presence. He didn't ask where it came from, for such questions required awkward answers. Instead, John simply preferred to have these interesting little surprises. Like this visit had been.

Or like the note he found on his bed an hour later. "Consider us even," it said, and it was in Jackson's handwriting. John had an idea that O'Neill had something to do with it being there since Jackson didn't even know where his room was. But consider us even?

"For what?" John asked himself. Cleaning up and changing his clothes, he thought about following O'Neill's orders. It wouldn't be difficult. There were places all over Atlantis where he could fuck in private and find out if Jackson's expertise was as wonderful to have as O'Neill had implied.

"I hear you want something from me," said the deep voice behind him and John jumped, turning to scold Ronon for sneaking up on him, never mind interrupting his fantasies. But as John assessed the amused look on Ronon's face, he saw something else there. Quickly, there came an idea, and later on, he was glad to have acted on it because, goddamn, Ronon knew more about the private places on Atlantis than he did. He certainly had no problem demonstrating that knowledge, either. In fact, Jackson might like Ronon to give him a tour, and that new idea conjured interesting images.

"Pay attention," Ronon whispered in his ear as he gave him a particularly wicked thrust. For a brief moment, John thought about asking how the man had known that his mind had wandered, but he quickly dismissed it. Like the note, some things were worth remaining a mystery.

End