title: I'll Wait
pairing: McKay/Sheppard
rating: NC-17
words: ~2,000
warnings/spoilers: none really, see kink
kink/prompt: orgasm denial, wrist restraints
notes: Special thanks to my lovely beta, sonadorita. (I hope I fixed the beginning) I tinkered afterward, so any mistakes are all mine.
summary: "You remember what we talked about… about bringing each other to the edge, then backing off…"

Written as part of kink_bingo, (amnesty) orgasm denial
This follows my previous story, Like No Other, but it's not necessary to read that one first.

The plain, brown cardboard box sits on the nightstand like it belongs there. Perfectly at home beside War and Peace, it blocks Evel Knievel's view of the room. It's so innocuous, so there, John doesn't notice it at first, concentrating rather on flopping onto his bed, crushing the heels of his hands into closed eyes and massaging his brow bone to stave off a stealthily brewing headache.

Even without Rodney on the mission, they'd barely escaped P7X-809 without a scuffle and the need for weapons. John still isn't clear on exactly what Ronon did or said, but he does know that a sulking Ronon is every bit as annoying as a bitching McKay.

With Rodney Earthside for his annual evaluation and not due back for another day, there's not much around to help ease John's tension except maybe his right hand or a nap. Toying with the idea of both, he toes off his boots and sits up to take off his thigh holster. That's when he sees the box – the box that now stands out as if it's wrapped in purple, polka-dotted, glow-in-the-dark wrapping paper.

Someone's been in his quarters. He looks around and seeing no other evidence of an intruder, he takes the box from the table. When he opens it, the sharp, bitter tang of leather stings his nostrils as his eyes widen at the contents. Rodney!

John lifts one of the black leather wrist cuffs from the box. It's heavy, stiff and it creaks when he undoes the thick silver buckle and stretches it out. Bringing it to his nose, he inhales the raw scent of its newness. He turns it over and notices the big silver ring and looks back in the box. Next to the other cuff, there's a small plastic bag containing two large lanyard hooks. But, there's also something else.

It's another pair of restraints. His pulse quickens as he takes one out and stares dumbly at it. It's identical to the other, the same color, the same hardware, but this one's lined with short-pile shearling. He swallows hard. The weight of the implication makes his head spin. Reaching for his earpiece, he tries to keep his voice even as he calls for Rodney.

**

Sitting across from McKay in the mess is torture. He wouldn't have even bothered with dinner, but he hasn't eaten since breakfast and, of course, Rodney isn't likely to want to miss a meal. He hasn't mentioned the box, but with each exchanged glance, John senses they're both on the same page and the thought of Rodney's wrists in those cuffs has him shifting in his seat more than once. Even Teyla remarks how "jumpy" he seems. Ronon is oblivious to it all. Finally, John throws a pointed look toward Rodney and excuses himself.

Back in his quarters, he pulls off his shirt, removes his boots and waits. He doesn't have to wait long. He's standing by the bed, holding one of the restraints, as Rodney enters and walks up behind him.

"Mmmm." Rodney drapes himself around John. "Missed you," he says between kisses across John's bare shoulder. "You were off-world when I got back and then I got stuck with Zelenka."

John presses into him and lets Rodney's warmth fall around him like a caress. He turns his head to the left and finds Rodney's mouth.

"Like your present?" Rodney asks him, breaking the kiss.

John hums in Rodney's arms, running a hand over his thigh. "Both of them." Turning around, his breath catches at the almost shy smile. "I wanna try them out, now."

He slides Rodney's jacket over one shoulder and Rodney lets it fall to the floor, then drags his shirt over his head. He reaches out for John's fly but John takes a step back. "You first," he says, fixing Rodney with what he hopes is an irresistibly disarming grin.

Rodney strips and John watches him take one of the leather restraints from the box, one meant for John. "Here, let me—"

"No," John interrupts, taking it and laying it aside. He holds up the one in his other hand. "These."

"But—I got those for—"

"For you. Yes, I know and I want to try them out… now." As he says the words, he draws Rodney to him, draws him into a kiss that's hot and hard and he's focused on a single purpose as he pulls Rodney to the bed.

Rodney blinks at him. "Aren't you—aren't you getting naked too?"

"Not yet," John replies, kneeling on the side of the bed to wrap the lined restraints around Rodney's wrists. First one then the other, cinching them as tight as Rodney can comfortably stand. He slips one of the hooks through both D rings to join the cuffs before gently lifting Rodney's arms over his head. "Promise me you'll keep them like this."

"Why, what—what are you going to do?"

John gently sifts his fingers through the fine hair dusting Rodney's chest, circling, lingering on a nipple. He wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and stares into Rodney's eyes. "You remember what we talked about... about bringing each other to the edge, then backing off..."

Rodney nods and John thinks he might even be trembling a bit.

"When you finally get to come, you shoot so hard you'll see stars?" John whispers, leaning in for another deep, searching kiss, its strong pull stirring a swirl of memories, thoughts and fantasies.

"I'm gonna make you see stars... okay?"

The little groan showers John with chills. He straddles Rodney and begins his slow seduction at Rodney's neck. By the time he's mouthed his way to that sensitive strip on the inside of Rodney's thigh, John's already had to remind him to keep his hands over his head three times. Threatening to stop altogether and take a late run with Ronon seems to finally do the trick.

As John tastes and suckles his way across the soft skin, damp with sweat and arousal, he sweeps his hand up over Rodney's cock, already hot, hard and leaking. Moaning into Rodney's flesh, he steals a glance up his body. The sight of Rodney, head thrown back, arching into his touch stiffens his own dick, and when he closes his hand around Rodney and begins to stroke, the protests that he's taking too damn long dissolve into soft panting and moaning.

John grins and spreads Rodney's legs further apart so he can lick over Rodney's balls at the same time. Unless Rodney jerked off every day, he'll be getting close real soon. A quick swirl of his tongue over the head slicks the way to pump faster, thumb relentlessly nudging the sensitive spot underneath the ridge, and just when Rodney's breath smacks the air with those familiar hard, tight huffs... John lets go. He pulls his mouth away, too, back to the spot on Rodney's thigh, worrying a bit of skin between his teeth as Rodney hisses.

Rodney starts to say something, but John shushes him. He waits for Rodney's breathing to slow. As it does, John begins to tease his balls again, a gentle, languid probing that leaves Rodney squirming, and then John leans in to lick a long stripe up the underside of his dick before taking Rodney deep.

"Oh fuck, John, yes..." Rodney babbles, pushing up into John.

Damn, he loves blowing Rodney. Even if it has only been a few days, he's missed the visceral pleasure of having Rodney in his mouth, the familiar taste, the scent of his skin. Working his mouth over Rodney's cock, he listens. Rodney's breathing starts to hitch so John pulls off and uses his thumb and index finger, like a tight ring, right at the head. A few strokes more, just until Rodney starts to suck air in tight little gasps... then John stops again.

"Bastard!" Rodney grits through clenched teeth. John knows he's trying to hold it back, knows if he comes now it won't be any good.

"That's right, Rodney," John purrs, not touching him at all this time. "Don't even think about coming yet."

"Bastard," he whimpers again. "How many—"

John leans over to kiss him. Sharp, quick kisses that have Rodney chasing his lips. "Stars, Rodney..." John whispers against his mouth.

Still holding his hands over his head, Rodney tries to thrust up against John but can't reach him. "Fuck. Stars, yes, I know... but I really need to... John, please... I want to come now."

John shakes his head and slides his thumb along Rodney's lower lip, slipping it gently inside as Rodney opens for him. "Did you jerk off?" he asks, mouthing his way to a nipple.

Rodney moans and nods.

The pull on his thumb makes John shiver. That and the image of Rodney in his bunk, pants bunched around his knees, fisting himself. "Did you think about me?" he asks, drawing his thumb back so Rodney can answer.

"Yes..."

John takes Rodney's cock again, stroking slowly.

"... God, yes, John..."

"Tell me," John husks, eyes wide and full of a writhing Rodney – so needy, so ready, so fucking hot.

"Thought… thought about fucking you," Rodney pants, "the way you... the way you look with... with my dick inside you." The look in Rodney's eyes knots John's stomach, in a good way. "Jesus, John… please. I need to… I need to come," Rodney growls, pushing up into John's hand. He tugs at his restraints, though dutifully keeps his arms in place.

John grins into Rodney's plaintive eyes as he brushes the back of his hand across Rodney's balls. They're tight. "Yeah? Sure you're ready?"

"Yes."

"You think I should let you come now?"

"Yes… fuck, yes!"

Stroking with a purpose, John increases his speed and all of a sudden this isn't just about getting Rodney off, it's about Rodney not questioning what John wanted, it's about Rodney's openness and wanting to do this for him and he knows that he could stop right now and Rodney would take it.

He looks from Rodney's face to his cock, the head dark and swollen with the need for release and John's almost too far gone himself now, chest tight, his own breath shallow, not sure he wants to take it any further this time because his need is almost as great as Rodney's. He needs to see it. He wants to feel Rodney shatter beneath his hand, wants to hear Rodney tell him how good it is.

"Then do it, Rodney. C'mon... show me... show me how ready you are."

He watches Rodney grind into the mattress, breath ragged, his muscles, slick with sweat, stand out like chiseled marble as John lets his fingers amble over a taut thigh.

"That's it… let go." He pumps Rodney's cock fast and tight and feels the split second when it gets harder. John's own desires are the words that burn in his throat, "Show me... show me."

He dares not even blink as Rodney's hips start to buck. Rodney cries out as thin ropes of white stripe his stomach and chest, the rest dribbling over John's fist and John's wrecked just watching. Watching Rodney's face contort six different ways and back again, all while he babbles incoherent nothings, floating John's name on whispers as John silently unbuckles the cuffs.

**

He snags a discarded t-shirt deftly with his big toe, flipping it into his hands. Wiping them first, he then sweeps it over Rodney's stomach before stretching out over him. Ear to Rodney's heart, he nestles into the damp, boneless man beneath him. It's like curling up in a big comfy leather chair in the middle of July.

John listens as Rodney's heartbeat slowly conforms to his own, or is it the other way around? Rodney's trembling arms try to hold him and lazy fingers meander through his hair. Nice.

"So… stars?" he asks, poking Rodney.

"Oh, God… it…" Rodney's spent and his words seem to struggle to escape. "You next but... I... not right..."

John smiles and burrows deeper into his big, warm Rodney-pillow. He inhales the scent of sex and sweat while planting a kiss on the smooth, moist skin.

"I'll wait," he murmurs. "I'll wait."