Trust Rodney to have a black tee shirt that proclaimed in white letters, "Your Favorite Band Sucks", and trust him to wear it to a concert by John's favorite band, Blue Frisson.

As they wandered to their seats, pushing their way through a wall of unwashed humanity, Rodney kept up a steady commentary. "Not since the stunning debut of Creed has America been bombarded with the phenomenon that is the emo power ballads of the idiotically named Blue Frisson. They have captivated an audience so diverse that it encompasses everyone under the sun in perfect harmony. Emo kids - hey! You! The one with more eyeliner than Cher! 12-year-olds dressed worse than Cher, trailed by their miserable parents, who probably remember Cher - all the way down to aging, closeted Air Force Colonels with hair that looks like..."

John elbowed him in the ribs. "Don't go there," he said. "And besides, what's with all the Cher references? I thought Celine was the object of your stalkery."

"There was no stalking," Rodney protested. "Seeing her Vegas show ruined it. Too many headdresses."

John looked back over his shoulder, causing Rodney to have to steer him through a herd of guys with goatees and berets - they were either jazz aficionados or mimes; Rodney couldn't tell.

"Hello! Cher! Headdresses!" John said. "What, have you suddenly developed a fear of headdresses?"

"Don't start with me, you Bozophobe." Rodney always got a kick out of the look John gave him when he talked about clowns - terrified annoyance.

"Here," John said, stopping short and causing a six-stoner pileup. Their seats were in the tenth row from the stage.

Rodney frowned with disgust. "I'm going to go deaf. This is revenge for Cirque de Soleil, isn't it?"

John nodded happily. "Yep," he said. "I should have gotten first row."

Rodney sighed. "They weren't regular clowns. And, anyway, I had no way of knowing that the acrobat that pulled you up into the rafters was pantsless."

John sat and pulled Rodney down next to him. "Let's not talk about it, okay?"

"Fine," Rodney said. "I'll just sit here and enjoy my contact high."

John patted him on the leg. "That's the spirit!"

Four beers managed to numb Rodney enough to stand the opening band. After Blue Frisson took the stage, he started partaking of the joints circling their area of the audience.

He was high as a kite by the time the band finally slipped into the "slow songs" part of their show. Rodney pulled John in front of him and wrapped his arms around John's slender waist. Rodney kissed the back of John's sweaty neck, and John slumped into the contact, giving Rodney most of his weight.

Rodney buried his nose in the back of John's hair, breathing in the smell of John's sweat, his hair gel, and the light mint scent of his own shampoo. He moved so that his nose was tucked behind John's left ear.

"Can you hear me?" he said. John nodded languidly; he hadn't exactly been giving the joints a miss either. "Mmmmmm," Rodney hummed against the back of John's ear. John shuddered and made a little sound of his own.

"God, you feel good," Rodney said. "Letting me hold you up. You almost never do that." John leaned back just a little more, putting his hands over Rodney's, where they rested on his belt buckle.

Rodney hummed again. "You don't let me do this much, just don't like you don't let me fuck you very often." John moved as if to turn in his arms, but Rodney held him easily. "Relax," he said. "I'm not complaining. You think I don't like it when you fuck me?" Rodney smiled to himself when John slumped against him again.

He moved one hand to cup John's hip, feeling the motion of John's body as it followed the beat of the music. "You remember when we started out?" The skin behind John's ear tasted like salt and sweet smoke. "You kept trying to go slow, but every time you touched my balls, I tried to get you to touch my ass, to put your fingers in me."

John rumbled deep in his chest; Rodney could more feel than hear it. "You teased me forever. You thought you were trying not to rush me, but all I wanted was for you to open me up." Rodney remembered how annoyed and turned on he'd been; how he'd been unable to say the words to ask John for what he wanted.

"Remember what I did?" Rodney felt a nod, his cheek scraping against Rodney's own, stubble against stubble. "You should have seen the look on your face when I put the lube in your hand. You practically shoved me onto the bed."

John nodded again, and Rodney could feel another moan vibrate through his body. Rodney slipped his hand from John's hip and pressed the heel of his hand to the hard ridge of John's cock before sliding back again.

"You looked at me like you couldn't believe it," Rodney said. It was true - John had looked utterly gobsmacked - he'd stood by the bed gaping, only springing into action when Rodney looked up at him and spread his legs.

"You were on me so fast," Rodney said, taking a deep breath against John's neck. "You looked wild, and I didn't have the first clue what to do." Rodney pushed his hips forward, and this time he actually heard John's groan.

"And you started so slow. I didn't know what to expect; no one had ever had their fingers in my ass before. Jesus, I wanted it...wanted something."

John reached back with one hand, clutching at Rodney's thigh.

"Mmmmm," Rodney murmured, "you were such a goddamned tease. You took forever to even get close. I was cursing everyone even remotely associated with your birth by the time you put your finger in me." John's hand tightened convulsively.

"I hated it - and I liked it, but you didn't stop. You fingered me until I came all over both of us. Then you waited a minute before you took your fingers out. You looked so fucking smug." Privately, Rodney thought that John had earned the smugness, but he'd die before saying it.

"You want me to tell you what it felt like the first time you fucked me?" Rodney bit John's neck softly, careful not to leave a mark.

John turned abruptly in his arms, and Rodney felt his body shake as they were pressed close together. "No," John said into Rodney's neck. "Please don’t. God, Rodney." John's voice was choked and he was grinding his cock desperately against Rodney's hip. He was leaning heavily, and Rodney easily held his weight.

"Get it under control, John." Rodney petted long strokes up and down John's back. "Not here."

Rodney kept petting until John's panting and grinding slowed. "Where?" he croaked. "Rodney, where?"

"Come on," Rodney said, pulling John along, steadying him when his knees nearly gave out. "I'm not fucking you here. I'm too old to fuck behind buildings." John let himself be dragged. Rodney moved steadily through the crowd like the power forward he'd once briefly been. When he saw a roped-off VIP area, he pulled John's wallet out of his pocket, stripping out the wad of hundred-dollar bills John had put there earlier. He handed two to the bored-looking kid at the "door," two more to the big guy behind him, and five to the twinky-looking guy all in black wearing a Bluetooth headset.

"Get me a cab," Rodney ordered. The guy looked at the money in his hand, then looked at Rodney and said something into his headset. A cab pulled up within a minute. Rodney got them in and tossed another hundred over the divider to the driver. "Ritz-Carlton," he said, then sat back.

John lunged at him, but Rodney fended him off. "No," he said. "Not here either." John huffed and sat back. His fingers clenched and unclenched against his knees.

Luckily, the Ritz-Carlton wasn't far; Rodney wasn't sure either of them could have made it much farther. The bellman opened the cab door and they scrambled out, John clinging to Rodney's arm.

"No luggage?" the bellman started to say, but then closed his mouth on a sly grin, his cheeks flushing.

Inside, Rodney threw his driver's license and his AMEX onto the registration desk. "Check us in," he said. He threw two more hundreds onto the counter. "Hurry."

The entire time they were waiting, John held Rodney's forearm in a bruising grip. Finally, Rodney signed and the key was encoded, and they were hurrying into the elevator. As soon as the door closed, John herded Rodney into a corner and kissed him. It was much softer than Rodney expected, but John's cock was as hard as steel pressing against Rodney's own on every breath.

When they got to their floor, the doors were barely open before John pulled Rodney out and hurried him down the hall. "Easy, John," Rodney said, trying to pretend that John's hadn't stolen his breath. "We'll get there." He had to smile when John turned a scowl on him.

"Hurry the fuck up, Rodney," he said. "Or I will kill you."

Rodney chuckled, but he kept walking. "You kill me and you won't get fucked."

"Can I just maim you?" Before Rodney could answer, they stopped in front of their door. John snatched the key card and opened it, shoving Rodney through it. Rodney pushed back, making John stumble.

"Get naked," Rodney said. "I'll be right back." When John made a negative noise, Rodney rolled his eyes. "Hand lotion, John - I'm not fucking you dry."

In answer, John pulled his shirt off and started on his pants. Rodney stepped into the bathroom and reached for the small bottle of lotion. He tried not to notice that his hands were shaking. He almost dropped the little bottle on his way out, but he recovered it. When he got back to the bedroom, John was spread out on the bed with his eyes closed; his chest was heaving with each deep, unsteady breath.

Rodney stripped quickly, then sat down and pushed John's legs up to fit himself between them. John's face and chest were flushed, and his cock lay hard against his belly. When Rodney touched his thigh, John's eyes snapped open. Rodney stared down at him, his hand stroking up and down.

John was as out-of-control as Rodney'd ever seen him - he was completely lost in his arousal, his eyes dark and pleading. Rodney squeezed some of the lotion onto his fingers.

"This is what you did to me," Rodney said, breathless. He started sliding his fingers around between John's legs, slow and teasing.

"Please," John begged. "Please, Rodney - put your fingers in me. Stop screwing around."

In answer, Rodney pushed one finger all the way in, carefully not touching John's prostate, not wanting to set him off so soon. A couple of fast strokes and Rodney pulled back. John bucked his hips and tried to follow. When Rodney pushed two fingers in, John moaned and fucked himself on Rodney's fingers. "This is what you did to me," Rodney told John. But, god - slower. You opened me up and moved so goddamn slow that I thought I was going to shake apart."

John's only answer was a low groan. Rodney leaned down and kissed John's knee, pulling back with a gentle touch of tongue to John's skin. "This is how I'm going to make you come," Rodney said. "I'm going to make you come all over your belly, then I'm going to put your come on my cock and fuck you."

"Almost there," John said, reaching down to pull his legs up and back. "God, Rodney. So fucking close."

"What do you want?" Rodney was having a hard time holding back, he wanted to get inside John now. But, he desperately wanted John to come first. John had fucked him after coming before, and it was incredibly intense - he'd felt more open, like John was as far inside as he could go.

"Fuck me with three fingers, Rodney. Make me come."

Rodney wasn't going to pass that up. He pulled his fingers almost all the way out - just enough so he could squeeze more lotion onto them before working the tip of the third finger beside the first two. He pushed forward, slow and deep, and John moved faster on his hand.

"Yeah?" Rodney said. "Is that it? Jesus, John. If I didn't need your come to fuck you, I'd suck your cock right now."

In answer to that, John curled his shoulders up off the bed and came, his voice winding down to moans and gasps and quiet repetitions of Rodney's name. Rodney watched. John was so fucking hot - flushed and sweaty and so gone. His eyes were dark and blank; his lips red and his jaw clenched.

Rodney didn't even give him a minute to recover, he just ran his hand over John's heaving belly, mixing come with the last of the lotion and slicked his cock.

"John," Rodney said. "Look at me." John blinked a few times, his focus sharpening. When Rodney could tell that John was aware of his surroundings, he hauled John's legs onto his shoulders and pushed in.

John groaned deep in his throat and clutched at Rodney's shoulders. "Fuck. Oh, fuck, Rodney."

"Is that good?" Rodney said tightly. He knew it was, but he wanted to hear John say it.

"God, yes." John's eyes were open and Rodney stared into them.

"It's your turn to talk to me," Rodney said, the words coming out haltingly as he fucked John hard and fast.

"Jesus," John moaned, shuddering. "You're...it's..."

Rodney would have asked for more, but he was so close. He waited so long; kept his cool the whole time he'd been destroying John's. Rodney grabbed John's hips in a bruising grip, shoving in so hard that they both cried out.

Rodney knew it had to hurt when he pulled out, but John only sighed deeply. Rodney pushed to the side and helped John straighten his legs. John flipped onto his stomach. Rodney propped himself on one elbow, easing his palm over the soft curve of John's ass, smoothing the lotion left on his hand into John's skin.

"Jeez, Rodney," John said into the bed. "My ass is going to smell like...what is that, anyway?"

Rodney found the empty bottle on the floor. "Cucumber melon," he read from it.

"Great," John huffed. "Don't take the cucumber joke, okay?"

Rodney sat up. "How stoned are you? Room service stoned or mini-bar stoned?"

"Room service," John said decisively. "Cheeseburger. Ice cream." Rodney picked up the phone and made the call.

"Shower," he said after. "Let's try not to smell like a Bath & Body Works when we go back to the military base."

"Bath & Body Works?" John said. "Have you been sneaking off to the mall? And did you get me a soft pretzel?"

Rodney slapped John's ass. "It's on the bottle, dick. Also, mmmmm, soft pretzel."

John pushed himself onto his hands, groaning. "Shower?"

Rodney leaned in and kissed the sensitive spot at the nape of John's neck. "We have a little time before the food gets here. Everything's good, right?" He pushed himself up to stand by the bed.

John slid across to sit on the edge of the bed. He caught Rodney around the waist and pressed his forehead to Rodney's hip, breathing out "yeah".

Rodney wrapped his hand around the back of John's head, his thumb rubbing against the back of John's ear, against the place where he'd whispered secrets and promises. John's lips moved over his hipbone. Rodney couldn't quite hear the words John whispered into his skin, but he could feel them pushing through, finding their way inside him just the same.