I usually don't write slash, but this is one of three on sganoticeboard on Live Journal.

John's deceptively soft hair comes to a point nearly dead center of his ridiculously long neck. Seriously, men should not have such elegant necks. I rest my chin on the knob of his spine, pulling him closer. A sated John is a pliable John, and every time I get the chance, I hold him for as long as I can. Closing my eyes, I let myself drift, inhaling the scent of that spot at the nape of his neck.

John has already claimed his spot on my body, and I think I've found mine. I wonder if he likes my lips against his skin the same way I love his smile against the hollow of my neck. Something about the smell of sweat, shampoo, and his own unique scent drive me insane. Lying here, I hear him mumble something about thinking too much. Whatever.

Before I know it, I'm calculating ratios of pressure to repetitivness. Amazingly enough, John doesn't bruise easily, and if this is going to work... I begin with a kiss, followed by a bite. By increasing pressure and suction, my goal is achieved; I hear John let out a little whimper. He melts against me with a contented sigh, drifting back to sleep. I let my lips curve against my spot and follow him into a well-earned rest.

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Morning dawns clear and bright and far too soon. John's late for a meeting with Lorne, and claims my mouth unchastely. In the blink of an eye, he's gone.

After berating a few of my staff of fifth graders, I march off to the mess hall for a refill and breakfast. John is waiting by the door, leaning against the wall. It always amazes me how the tilt of his hips is in exact correlation to the crookedness of his smile. Without a word, he leads the way inside.

He had taken to wearing that stiff black military shirt as of late – not that I mind – but today he's wearing a plain black tee shirt. John stands in front of me, talking about something; I've stopped listening. My pulse quickens, and I try to hide my accomplished – screw that! – proud, satisfied, and downright smug grin.

John's hair comes to a point at the nape of his ridiculously long neck. The usually snug collar of the shirt dips a bit, revealing an oval-shaped mark.