May 4th, 2005

AnamChara1

SGA - Healing Touch (FRAO)

Hands. Hands that touch him and stroke and press and…oh yes there, right there… “Yessssssss!”

He is trying to remember when he first noticed the hands and noticing them he’d actually seen the other man for the first time. Those hands, oh God what they were doing, touching him, so soft, strong, running along his shoulder, leaving a trail of heat behind them.

He thinks it was the day that they were trapped off world and Ford was hurt. He’d had to help that day. Everyone else was guarding the perimeter against another attack. He’d been drafted to help and almost passed out at the sight of all that blood. And then he’d seen the inside of Aiden Ford, the beating, breathing, bleeding inside of the soldier and watched those hands work their magic, so sure and swift and …powerful…sewing up an artery to keep the youngster from bleeding out.

He shivers at the memory and the hands still for a moment. But only just. Then they continue on, this time with soft kisses and quiet words murmured in his ear, brushing back up his arms and across his nipples and , oh God that is so good and yes, please, please rub them more… make them hard and too, too sensitive…
He arches his back and groans and the hands keep up their onslaught only now they are traveling down, trailing across his skin, making it twitch under their touch and he can feel his hardness twitching as well and the need building up inside. And behind he can feel the heat that presses into his crack as the owner of those hands starts up a gentle thrusting that drives deeper and nearer to the tightness that they both crave.

And now the touches aren’t quite so gentle or soft. Hands slide down between his thighs, pressing them apart, one wrapping around his shaft and the other snaking further down cupping balls and rolling them expertly back and forth, squeezing but never enough to hurt. And when it is all almost too much, his own hips thrusting into the strong grip that surrounds his need, then there is a pushing and probing and now the hands hold him and stroke him and invade him so that the stroking is around him and in him and the pleasure shoots through him, so, so good.

Hands guide him up and forward, guide heat to his core, pleasure into his center. Hands hold him and steady him and wrap his length in their own heat and unbearable sensation until finally they draw the fire up from behind his balls, from deep within him and it explodes in wave after wave of gasping, clenching pleasure that steams inside him as they both ride their crests.

Afterwards, Rodney lays curled around Carson, taking in his smell and warmth. Lulled by the gradual slowing of the other man’s breathing he drifts off to sleep himself, his hands finding their way into the other's, fingers entwined.