John doesn't know when minimum yards became feet became the inches he hovers over Rodney's shoulder constantly, but now the scent of Rodney's skin is a familiar pull to his senses he has to firmly ignore if he's going to do his job--right, his job, which is not touching even when there's an excuse to do so. That last half inch will just have to wait.
Reading this, I got the feeling that John has indulged his senses with Rodney's skin (as he damn well should!). But then it occurred to me that maybe that last half inch was in waiting because John hadn't crossed that last divide. Not yet, not with intent.
How long could he maintain that spiraling orbit before Rodney either noticed or lost patience and grabbed John first? (When a metaphor about gravitational mechanics meets a demanding astrophysicist)
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Reading this, I got the feeling that John has indulged his senses with Rodney's skin (as he damn well should!). But then it occurred to me that maybe that last half inch was in waiting because John hadn't crossed that last divide. Not yet, not with intent.
How long could he maintain that spiraling orbit before Rodney either noticed or lost patience and grabbed John first? (When a metaphor about gravitational mechanics meets a demanding astrophysicist)
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