Melting the Darkness
By Deirdre
July, 2006

John awakes as he always does, instantly, no gentle segue from sleep to full awareness, though long years of training makes him keep his body outwardly loose and relaxed. He can hear, distantly, the gentle shushshush of the ocean waves lapping against Atlantis, hear the sigh of wind and feel its faint cool prickle against bare sleep-warmed skin. The scent of the salt air, with the distinctive tang that makes it uniquely Atlantis, floats over him, rousting out the earthier spice of man and musk, of sex and sweat.

No warm, soft skin against his, no gentle snores snuffling into the curve of his collarbone, no furry arm or leg thrown over him, heavy with sleep. The other half of the bed is empty, and the sheets are cool as he slides a hand over them. It's been a while, then, since Radek rose, leaving him in a twist of covers around his waist and thighs.

John finally opens his eyes. Hushed grey light softens all the hard edges, muting everything around him. Automatically, his eyes go to the desk, and although the laptop screen shows the slow scroll of power consumption figures for Jumper Four, Radek's latest free-time project, Radek isn't there. His desk, usually so neat, has a skiff of papers across the top, and another stack of them weighted down by a wicked-looking Atlantean wrench.

Not quite sunrise, but soon. John stretches, relishing the pull of muscles beneath his skin, the arch of spine, the gentle hum of his body responding to his command. Later, he will run with Ronon, will shower and have breakfast before the morning staff meeting about the strategic possibilities of M3R-259, but for now, these few moments belong to him.

He slides out of bed with a rustle of sheets, and the morning air runs cool fingers over his shoulders and down his spine, making him shiver. Little wonder; the balcony door stands open. Even after all this time, Radek still doesn't think to close it behind him, but then his mind, like Rodney's, usually spins in thirty different directions in any one moment, so it's not surprising. John tugs the blanket from the bed, wraps it around himself, and pads silently to the door.

Unlike most of the balconies, Radek's doesn't open onto the sea, but rather, the city. It's his choice, this view, and while it is spectacular at night, it lacks the simple serenity of John's own ocean view. John hadn't realized just how much Radek feared the deep water until they'd gone after Rodney, lost beneath the waves. That he did so, in spite of his clearly visible terror, and did his job well, without further complaint, might've been the moment when John finally noticed the man beyond the soft, rolling accent and the fuzzy hair and the glasses constantly sliding down his nose. He's not sure, and it doesn't really matter, anyway.

Radek stands at the rail, too-big sweatshirt on over boxer shorts that are inside out and crooked. The breeze lifts his messy hair, tugs at the thin boxers on his short legs. The city lights spangle the lenses of his glasses, and the gentle half-light of pre-dawn softens the aggressive line of nose and chin. John can't see his eyes, but his expression is distant and reserved in thought, the corners of his mouth slightly curved down; even when smiling, his mouth has a downward slant at odds with his usually good nature.

John clears his throat to let Radek know he's behind him. After so many battles with the Wraith, the Genii, a dozen other threats, they're all jumpy, quick to raise a clenched fist when surprised. John has memories of a split lip from when he'd crept up silently on Radek once, and has no desire to repeat that, not after the mockery he suffered when Rodney had learned Radek, a calm and peaceable scientist, had busted him, battle-hardened soldier, in the mouth. John had actually been impressed; it had been a hell of a good shot, smooth and straight from the shoulder, all Radek's weight behind it.

It's only when John sees the slight acknowledging tilt of Radek's head that he leaves the shelter of the bedroom. The decking is chill beneath his bare feet, and he can feel the tiny cold pinpricks of sea-spray spatter his face. He steps up behind Radek, wrapping the blanket around them both, pulling the smaller man in close to his chest, long arms enfolding him. He inhales the scent of skin and sweat, muted by fresh salt air, breathes warm air against the side of Radek's neck. Cloth and skin are cold against his nakedness, and they shiver almost in tandem, bringing a smile to Radek's mouth.

John brushes his nose against Radek's neck, feeling the prickle of overnight beard, and Radek turns his head to the side a little to let John kiss down his neck. Radek's eyes slide closed, and his tongue flicks out to moisten his lips.

"Good morning," Radek says, his voice low and husky.

John tips up his face to look at the barely brightening sky to the east. "Not yet," he says. "It's still night." He's half-hard, his dick growing warmer, heavier between his legs, stretching up toward his navel, and he presses himself against the curve of Radek's ass. It feels good, so he does it again, unhurried, lazy. "Don't have to be anywhere just yet."

"True enough," Radek allows. John licks up his neck, tongue curling around Radek's earlobe. He sucks quickly, and then bites at the firm curve of his ear. Radek's soft, flyaway hair, smelling of the fresh green Athosian soap, tickles his cheek and nose.

"Some time on our hands, no place to be yet-sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me." Radek draws in a deep breath when John's hand works beneath the neckline of his sweatshirt, fingers burrowing beneath the thick cloth. John's thumb smoothes over the arch of collarbone, slow and teasing, like the rolling press of his hips. His fingers burrow into the soft, thick hair on Radek's chest, nails lightly scratching skin. "Let's not waste it, okay?"

"Yes, yes-it would be criminal to let such an opportunity slip through our fingers," Radek replies, with a low, wicked laugh that had shocked the hell out of John the first time he heard it. He knows he's the only one privileged to hear it, and usually only in the haven of Radek's quarters.

It's a sound that makes him go from half-hard to completely hard in seconds. He slides his hand up Radek's throat, tipping his head back and to the side for a kiss. Radek's mouth moves on his, warm and soft and so welcome. The touch of mouth to mouth, the taste of his lips and tongue is a long-familiar pleasure, but John's not sure he'll ever grow tired of it.

Radek's hand slips down and back, reaching for his hip. His fingers are surprisingly strong, and dig into muscle, thumb stroking over his sharp hipbone. John can still feel the ghostly imprints of other times with Radek's hands on his hips, holding him firm and steady as he fucks him, slow and deliberate, hips as powerful and unrelenting as the tide. Shivery sensation fingers down his spine at that memory, and he's suddenly warm, so warm.

The angle of the kiss is awkward, but neither complains. Radek's lips part for him, and oh, it's so much better, hot and wet, and he slicks his tongue over hard teeth, over soft inner surfaces, slides it against Radek's own clever tongue until they both break away, gasping for air.

Radek twists in his arms until he faces John, sliding an arm around his waist, fingers spreading to touch as much warm bare skin as he can, before his fingers dip into the little valley of his spine, settling into a light stroking, teasing lower and lower. John can feel the fingers of Radek's other hand ruffle the hair on his stomach, tweaking it just a little when John can't hold in the little sigh of want.

John's arms tighten around Radek's shoulders, pulling him closer, resuming the kiss as if he'd never stopped, the blanket cocooning them in warmth and closeness. He loves the sure, knowing touch of Radek's hands on his body, the press of his hard chest against his own, the slide of tongue against his, and grunts in pleasure as Radek's hand wraps around him, thumb homing in on the sweet spot just below the crown. The thin boxers hide nothing; Radek's just as hard, hips moving, pressing against him, restless.

Radek pulls away from his mouth, and John gasps at the smooth stroke of his hand on him. He's already leaking, and shivers at the sweep of Radek's thumb over the wet, slippery head. Radek laughs again, the sound wholly male, confident and promising, and John's arms tighten around him convulsively, thrusting into his hand. "I want to suck you," Radek says against his throat, and John feels the lick of tongue on his skin before Radek bites, almost hard enough to leave a mark.

"Shit, oh, yeah…" John's hand knots into the curling hair at the nape of Radek's neck, and tugs sharply downward, wanting him on his knees, wanting to slide into the heat and wetness of his mouth because it's always so good. Radek sucks him like John's dick is the best thing he's ever had in his mouth, sucks him with enthusiasm and a skill that had surprised him the first time, once he'd gathered back enough brain cells to even think about anything.

Radek's hand closes tightly on him, a warning, and John makes his fingers unclench from Radek's hair. "No. Not here. My knees don't appreciate decking anymore." His hands slide away from John's body, and he gathers John's blanket into his fists and tugs, backing into the bedroom. "I want to take my time. Enjoy it." His cheeks are flushed with more than just the cold, his pale eyes glitter, and his soft mouth curves up into a smile. John has seen that expression often enough to know that a mind-bending orgasm is in his immediate future. He follows eagerly, his eyes never leaving Radek's face.

The balcony door slides closed, and the warmth of the room curls around them. When they get to the bed, John lets the blanket slip from his body, and it pools at his feet. He has a strong body, knows he looks good naked, all long lean lines, knows Radek loves to look at him, and so John stands and lets him. It costs him nothing-he lost all body modesty years ago--and the payoff is always worthwhile if he's patient enough to let Radek look his fill.

And Radek always looks, every time they come together. His teeth sink into his full lower lip, pale blue eyes huge and dark with desire. He always seems so delighted, almost as if he can't believe John is naked for him, like someone has given him the best gift ever. No one's ever really looked at him like that before, and it's flattering as hell, every single time.

Radek reaches out for John's belly, and his stomach muscles quiver at the light touch, before Radek's hands move up to his chest. His fingers crook to scratch gently through thick chest hair, nails raking lightly over his nipples, already drawn tight and pointed. It feels good, sending a little spike of electricity curling down his belly, making his dick twitch, and a low, needy noise rises into his throat. He's sure Radek can feel the beat of his heart tripping fast beneath his palm, feel and hear the catch of his breath. He knows it for certain when Radek looks up at him and grins.

John decides the time for looking is over, and the time for moving, for touching, for sucking, is here. Extensive training in hand-to-hand comes in useful; with a pull-twist-shove, he and Radek bounce on the mattress, Radek beneath him, John twisting just enough to keep from slamming his weight into him. Radek swears at him, calling him something that sounds vile, and John stops the coming string of insults by covering Radek's mouth with his own.

So fucking good, John thinks. Radek has a hot mouth, wet and slick, and such a clever tongue, curling around his own; John loves the prickly scrape of whiskers against his lips. John shifts his weight and shoves a hand under Radek's sweatshirt. Radek's just as furry as he is, his skin so warm, and he shudders and bucks up against John when John pinches both nipples. He thrashes beneath John, and wraps a leg around his hip, struggling to get closer, arms sliding up over John's shoulders, fingers knotting in his hair as John strokes him from hip to shoulder, stopping to rub his thumb over a tight little nipple. John can feel Radek hard and hot against his belly, and his own dick, trapped against Radek's hip, aches. His blood rushes through his veins, desire a steady carnal throb low in his belly. It would be so easy just to rock against one another until they both come; he likes that. But he's been promised sucking, and that's exactly what he wants.

He rolls and pulls Radek on top of him. Radek laughs against his mouth and gives his hair an affectionate little tug before pulling away, putting his hands on John's shoulders and pushing himself up to sit astride John's thighs. John quickly reaches up to snag the glasses off his face and fumbles them onto the bedside table; although Radek has five other pairs tucked away in case of accident, there's no sense in breaking them.

Radek wriggles as he strips off the sweatshirt and sends it sailing across the room. John almost laughs; Radek's always liked the little theatrical flourishes, whether it's hitting keys on the keyboards and consoles to initiate programs, waving wrenches or markers or forks to punctuate his arguments, or taking off his clothes for John. Radek smiles down at him, the dimple in his left cheek a dark shadow that John wants to lick. John's gaze slides over the narrow, sloping shoulders, over the chest and soft belly covered in dark hair, down to the boxers riding low on his slim hips, dick a fat bulge stretching toward his left hip. Radek is his hidden treasure-who would guess that this quiet, dishevelled, unassuming man would be so incredibly generous in bed, could be tender and ferocious, sly and inventive, who could play his body so easily and send him joyfully hurtling off a cliff into the freefall of orgasm? This secret, private Radek, the one no one else knows of, or would even suspect exists, is his alone.

He plans to keep it that way. He doesn't care how Radek came by his skill, or who he fucked before; it doesn't matter. John knows he's the last lover Radek will have.

John's lips lift in a wicked smile of his own before he drags his fingertips slowly over his own mouth, down his throat, over his chest, and down his belly, watching Radek watch him with a sharp, hungry avidness. When John wraps his hand around his own dick, strokes slowly down, then up, the tip of Radek's pink tongue slips out to flick over the center of his upper lip.

"I'm pretty sure," John says in a deliberate, lazy drawl, "that I was promised a blowjob. There's a distinct lack of mouth on dick action here, don't you think?"

Radek looks up from watching John's hand move slowly on his dick. He blinks, and then he smiles, surprisingly predatory, and John's dick surges into his fist. "I think you're right," he says. "But I'm fairly certain that I can correct this lack."

"See, I knew you were a nice guy," John replies, his mouth curving up at the corners.

Radek shifts, and John opens his legs so that he can settle between them comfortably. "Oh, I am very nice," Radek says, and his hands on John's thighs are warm and strong as he slowly moves them upward toward John's hips. His thumbs slide to the insides of his thighs, just skimming his balls, before moving upward through the creases where hips meet thighs, to run along the sharp wings of his hipbones. "And I never promise things I cannot deliver."

"Kinda getting that idea," John says, and when his hand, on the upstroke, slicks over the head of his dick, Radek's fingers ruffle through thick dark hair and his hand closes around the base. He squeezes him gently, thumb sliding up the underside until his hand meets John's.

"I think I can take it from here," Radek says, and John lets his hands fall to the bed, perfectly willing to give himself over into Radek's deft, sure touch.

Radek leans forward, and John's whole body jerks and shudders when he feels the slick, wet glide of tongue against his belly. The slick head of his dick bumps against the underside of Radek's chin and the prickle of stubble against sensitive skin pulls a little gasping moan from him. Unable to keep still, his hands skitter down and wind in Radek's soft, warm hair, and when his fingers tighten, John feels the sudden nip of teeth at his navel.

His eyes fly open-when had he closed them? He looks down the line of his body and sees a slice of nose, the fan of dark lashes on Radek's cheekbone, the curve of his eyebrow, and when Radek opens the one eye John can see, it glitters up at him. Right. No hair pulling, and John loosens his grip, the strands clinging to his rough skin as he pulls away and knots his hands into the sheets, instead.

Radek hums against his belly, pulls away to rub his bristly cheek against one thigh, drags his tongue over John's heavy, aching balls, and then licks up his dick with the flat of his tongue. John's tongue flicks out to wet suddenly-dry lips, and his breath grows louder, sharper, more hitching as Radek, that teasing bastard, licks him, excruciatingly slow. Radek slicks his tongue once over the wet head, and John swears, his voice a low growl. His dick is swollen and heavy with blood, dark against the pink of Radek's lips and tongue.

"You taste so good, John," Radek murmurs, his breath whispering across wet flesh, making John jerk hard in the firm grip.

Gently, Radek cups John's balls in his palm as he sucks the head of his dick into his mouth. John swears again, and then his voice smoothes into low moans. He has to touch, and his fingers stroke through Radek's hair, gently. Radek's mouth is hot and wet, the best place ever, his tongue talented, agile, seeking out the places that make John moan, make his hips rise in small, shallow thrusts. It's good, it's always so fucking good with him. Everything narrows down to this, to his rapidly beating heart, the blood singing sweetly in his veins, the quickening rasp of breath, the need, the desire coursing between them, connecting them together

Radek looks up at him again, eyes hazy and dark, his mouth smiling around the weight of John's dick. John's thumb slides over Radek's cheek to the corner of his mouth, then slides it over Radek's wet lower lip. His other hand steals down to run over Radek's throat, feeling the movement as Radek swallows around him.

John feels sweat gathering at the small of his back, at the nape of his neck, on his upper lip, and he wonders for a moment how he'd ever been cold, because heat licks along his veins, pooling in his dick. He can feel the pressure, the urge to come building low in his belly, powerful, irresistible. He watches as Radek sucks him, cheeks hollowing with it, tongue sweeping over thin, sensitive skin, flicking and stroking the sweetest places, the places that feed even more fire into his blood; there is something to be said for a lover who knows all his hot spots and exploits them ruthlessly.

Radek pulls off him with an obscene-sounding wet pop, and then licks his palm before wrapping it around him again. He begins pumping his fist up and down John's length as he sucks the head back into his mouth, concentrating on the one spot that drives John insane. John gasps and struggles, trying to thrust, but Radek moves the hand that had been gently rolling his balls to his hip and holds him in place, fingers biting into his skin.

Heat and suction and the relentless stroking of Radek's hand makes John moan with every intake of breath. Thick, heavy desire winds tighter and tighter in his belly, and he's close, so close. Radek looks almost as lost in the pleasure as John, his face soft and intent at the same time, concentrating wholly on working to drive John out of his mind.

"Oh Jesus, oh, fuck," John gasps, and that's his last coherent thought before sensation sweeps away any rational thought, giving himself wholly over into the skill of Radek's hand, the hungry ferocity of his mouth. He reaches the edge of climax and tumbles headlong into it with a long, low moan, his dick pulsing in Radek's fist, in his mouth, helpless against the rush of hot pleasure that pours from him. Radek rides him as he thrusts into his hand and mouth, never letting go, and John can feel Radek's throat work around him as he swallows. When John slumps back, utterly sated, he feels boneless, his muscles utterly slack, his fingers and toes and everything in between tingling warmly, his heart thundering in his chest.

John watches him with heavy eyes as Radek pulls off him with a last gentle suck, then sits on his heels and wipes his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. He looks pleased with himself, and if John could string together a couple of brain cells, he might say something about that smugness. But maybe later.

Radek crawls up his body, supporting his weight on hands and knees, giving John a chance to breathe and sweat. He's still wearing his boxers, the front heavy and tented with his erection, and as soon as John catches his breath, he'll be glad to do something about that, because he's all about reciprocity. Radek's crazy hair flops in his face, but his pale eyes gleam, and his mouth is fucked up from sucking him, red and swollen. The hell with breathing. John wants to kiss him, and so he curves both hands around the nape of Radek's neck and pulls him down. He tastes sour and bitter, tastes like John, and he suckles hungrily at Radek's tongue. Radek makes small, desperate sounds in the back of his throat, and John feels the harsh rasp of breath on his cheek as they seek to take in enough air.

It's Radek who breaks away first. "Please," he says breathily against John's mouth. His chest and neck and cheeks flush brightly, making his blue eyes all that much more striking. "John. I need. I want…"

"What? What do you want?" John slides a hand down Radek's chest, down his belly, fingers ruffling through the trail of hair, thumb running through the dip of navel, before diving beneath the elastic of Radek's boxers, and wrapping around the thick, slick length of Radek's dick. He strokes once, twice, foreskin flowing smoothly beneath his palm. Radek makes a little strangled noise, rocking into his grip, a noise John loves to hear. Lying in the fold of his groin, John's dick twitches, but he is too spent to get hard again so quickly.

Radek's eyes close a moment, and then open again, hot and bright. "To fuck you," he says, his accent heavy enough that John almost doesn't catch it. "I want to fuck you."

John feels his mouth curl up at one corner, watches Radek's face almost glow. It's late, and they probably shouldn't, but they will, because it's Radek asking, and there's very few things John's not willing to give him.

He rolls them to their sides, a tangle of arms and legs, and there's a bit of frantic thrashing to get the boxers off Radek, because John doesn't want to let go of his dick, and Radek's getting desperate, trying to strip and keep from coming, all at the same time. The boxers land on the desk, Radek manages to get John's hand off him, and John has to grin at the mix of frustration and annoyance and lust on Radek's face.

"So much trouble you are," Radek says, and hitches himself up to reach into the bedside drawer for supplies.

John runs a hand up the smooth line of his back, and then leans in and kisses the soft skin right at the rise of his ass, licks into one of the little dimples. Radek's breath catches, and the beside drawer rattles in his hand. "You love the challenge," John drawls, and then bites down gently, just to hear him yip. "You can't deny that."

"I suppose that much is true," Radek says, and rolls back, tossing a condom and lube to the rumpled bed. He lies propped up on one elbow, looking at John, and John watches his exasperated expression shift, become thoughtful. Radek reaches up and runs the tips of his fingers over John's cheekbone, down the line of his nose, and over the curve of his lips. John opens his mouth, and Radek slips his fingertips just inside, running over the soft inner part of his lower lip, over the edges of his teeth, the tip of his tongue.

Radek's own lips part, and his eyes grow intent and deep. It is an expression that makes something shift inside John, makes something warm and bright bloom inside his chest. "When first I saw you, it was this I noticed, before anything else. I thought, ah, such a soft, sweet mouth on such a hard, strong man." He runs his thumb over John's lower lip, and it tingles, hotly, until Radek slips his thumb down John's chin.

"I am a hard man," John says, his voice husky, because it's truer than even Radek knows.

"But not entirely," Radek replies softly. "Not entirely."

No one has ever kissed him as much as Radek does. Sometimes it's light and flirty, sometimes it's wet and messy and lewd, sometimes it's sweet and gentle. This one is slow and unhurried, soft and sensual; this one has weight and presence and meaning, and it makes John's chest feel tight.

And then Radek pulls away and murmurs something warm and rolling, and his hands move gently on his skin. John flows with him, letting Radek turn him to his side. Even though Radek has to be aching with the need to come, he's still gentle and tender, careful with John, as if John is something of great value. In Radek's hands, John sometimes comes close to believing it.

He feels Radek's mouth at the nape of his neck, licking taut, sunburned skin, tongue tracing over each knob of vertebrae. Radek's hands are never still either, smoothing over his shoulders, his back, curving over his hip, spreading over his ass, thumbs teasing through the cleft, just barely skimming over the opening of his body.

He feels heavy and light at the same time, almost as if he might either float away or sink down to the bottom of the ocean floor, if it wasn't for Radek's hands keeping him in place. His skin seems more sensitive, somehow, everything more acutely magnified; he can feel the brush of chest and belly hair against his back, the scratch of calluses on Radek's fingers, the hot drag of mouth, the graze of teeth, the soft moistness of breath as Radek whispers words he doesn't understand to the curve of his spine. He feels both lax and loose, and wound tight as a coiled spring, and every pass of Radek's hands on his skin spreads thick, syrupy desire over him. He's not hard, won't get hard again for a while, but still, it feels good. He's gone so long without the simple pleasure of touch that every one is a gift.

Radek shifts, and his hand strokes over John's hip, slipping under his thigh, pushing it up, nudging his body over, forward, and John goes, willingly. His breath stutters a little at the first touch of cool slick fingers, and Radek kisses his shoulder blade and murmurs encouragement as he circles, then presses slowly, so slowly, inside. John's fingers wind in the pillow, pull it down under his cheek and chest just to have something to hang on to. He rubs his cheek over the pillow, rough beard making a little scritchscritch noise, but the sound that rises into the back of his throat never makes it out.

A pause for more slick, and then there's two fingers, gentle and inexorable. It's a quick, startling burn of protesting muscles before a sweet slide deep within. Radek's voice croons softly as he presses inside, and John lets the sound wash over him, through him as he concentrates on relaxing, on letting go. Radek rewards him with slow, deep thrusts of his fingers, and he loves it, he wants it, can't stop the low moan that breaks from his throat.

A moment later, he hears Radek murmur, "three," before pushing them in. It's more of a burn, intense, but it feels so good all the same. Three fingers slide in, pressing and searching, filling him. The intensity of the sensation grounds him, centers him, gives him focus. He feels Radek's weight shift slightly behind him, and the angle of his fingers changes, and John jerks roughly, his fingers scrabbling over the pillow in his grip, because oh yeah, right there, right there.

"C'mon," he gasps, "now, I'm ready now."

Radek slides his fingers from John's body, and John has just a moment to miss the stretch, the feeling of fullness before he hears the crinkle of Radek tearing open the condom package. He hears a shuddering sigh as he smoothes it on himself, hears the snap of the lid on the bottle of slick. Behind his closed eyelids, he can see the deliberateness of each act, see the serious concentration of Radek's face, and see his lips move silently as he tries to distract himself from coming as he slicks himself up.

Radek's hand squeezes his hip, pulls him back to a better angle. And then there's a quick sharp slice of pain as Radek pushes in, thick and hot, so slick. Radek wraps both arms around him tightly, and doesn't stop; he doesn't thrust hard, but eases in slowly, steadily, relentlessly, until he comes to rest completely against him, buried deep in his body. They're so close John thinks they could share one skin. Over his own ragged breathing, John can hear Radek's broken, "John, John, it's so good, so tight-oh, I…"

The moment his body finally relaxes, finally gives over and submits, is a moment of aching wonder. He makes his fist unclench from the pillow and slides his hand over Radek's smaller one that's spread over his belly, holding him close. Their fingers tangle and catch, locking together. John feels a tug around his neck; Radek's other hand has his dogtags in a tight fist, right over his heart.

The feeling of Radek inside him slips past burning into fullness, and then it's good. Sweat slicks his forehead, his chest, all along his back, where Radek presses against him. They're spooned together just like they do when they fall asleep, Radek tucked closely in behind, thighs behind John's, belly and chest pressed to his back, Radek's cheek against a shoulder blade; the only difference is the hard dick deep inside him. He can feel the scrape of Radek's beard, the press of lips as he murmurs as much to himself as to John. The words are in Czech, as they are half the time, but it's the tone he responds to more than anything else, anyway. He shifts, pushing back, encouraging Radek to move.

Radek's hips pull back, push in, and he sets a slow, easy pace, almost too slow. John can feel the tremors racing through Radek as he works to keep it gentle, to give John's body time to adjust, to find some pleasure in it. And there is pleasure: pressure and friction, the slide of sweat-slick skin, the spangles of bright sensation when Radek brushes over his sweet spot-it's all good. He feels no driving need to come, so he's free to accept and enjoy the sensations as they roll through him. And although he would never admit it, he thinks the closeness, tenderness with which Radek holds him, is most likely the best feeling of all.

Radek's fingers tighten in John's when John rocks back harder onto him, against him. "I'm good," John says, his voice low and scratchy. "Let it go and take what you need." John shifts, a slow forward slide, bringing his knee up and spreading his legs, giving Radek more room, because as sweet as this slow rocking is, it isn't enough for him. Radek turns with him, scattering kisses over his back, and his arms tighten even more before his thrusts quicken, growing deeper, more powerful as he gives in to the need to move.

It's not long before Radek gives a long, low cry, muffled against John's back and comes hard, pressing so deeply into him with a slamming, twisting grind of his hips that John sees colors splash across the backs of his closed eyelids. Two more thrusts and Radek goes still, gasping for air, his body melting over John's. Heat radiates from him, skin sweat-slick against his own, and John swears he can feel the hammer of Radek's heart against his back. He untangles his hand from Radek's, reaches back and runs his hand along a strong, hairy thigh, then gives it a little squeeze.

Within him, John feels Radek's dick twitch, and then with a moan, Radek's hand goes to John's hip for leverage, and he pulls out, slowly, steadily. John bites his lower lip against the spasm that follows, the achy sense of emptiness as Radek rolls away to toss the condom in the trash.

He'll be sore, and running with Ronon will be hell, but when he turns over and sees Radek lying there sweaty and limp and sated, a blissed-out expression on his face, he thinks it'll be worth it. His body thrums in time to the beating of his heart. In this moment, he feels so fucking alive, so glad the cold, numb darkness of before has begun melting away.

Radek's left palm has indentions from where he'd grasped John's dogtags so tightly, and John runs a finger along one deep red groove. His eyes open, pupils huge and dark, and he rolls his head lazily to look at John, mouth curved into a smile.

"Milácku," Radek murmurs, and John feels his own mouth smile. This is one word he does know.

John rests his hand on Radek's chest and together they watch the sky pinken with dawn.