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Okay, this?
This?

Serves absolutely no purpose except to make me stupid.
And this post serves no purpose except to tell you that.
ETA: And lest we forget...

They're guilty of it too.
This cannot continue. It cannot.
ETA2: And hey, the comments are officially NC17 now. Woo hoo!
ETA3: Woefully delayed because of busyness, but
syntaxe has written some very nice man-bracelet-fastening comment!fic that you all should read right now.
ETA4: And one more from
ifylla, in which the bracelet keeps count.

Serves absolutely no purpose except to make me stupid.
And this post serves no purpose except to tell you that.
ETA: And lest we forget...

They're guilty of it too.
This cannot continue. It cannot.
ETA2: And hey, the comments are officially NC17 now. Woo hoo!
ETA3: Woefully delayed because of busyness, but
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ETA4: And one more from
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
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*sighs*
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Yes, but it's both aesthetic and functional; it helps John hold his gun, write, hold Rodney when they're asleep, etc.
But the stupid piece of string does ABSOLUTELY NOTHING AT ALL except turn me into a drooling idiot. Maybe he could unknot it and slide a housekey through, but you don't need housekeys on Atlantis... I think it's the juxtaposition... slender, simple string, next to the uh bones of his wrist, those capable hands, arms that are used to lifting and moving and doing things oh my asjkfljk.
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*eyelidtwitch*
Rodney believes in empiricism and observation, careful study, and for good reason. He knows how to look, and how to see, the details where the devil lives.
Detail: Sweat tracing the line of the vein on the inside John's forearm, the skin slightly paler there. It finds the groove between tendons, slim line of bone before the complexity of the wrist, finally catches in
Detail: the string bracelet, which probably has a more manly name, but call it bracelet for now, improbable delicacy encircling all that strength, an implied leash, restraint. It's loose, riding up into John's palm, abrading that and John's cock, clasped in his right hand.
Rodney wonders if it's rough, and finds coherency enough to ask.
"Yeah." John's voice is rough as that knotted string, though his skin shines smooth with sweat and moves like silk under his hand, under Rodney's, as he strokes and moves and comes.
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::THUD::
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*sends porny dreams via the fangirl hive mind*
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No, when I drive I pretty much thik about keeping that damn car on the road. I'm pretty proud of myself actually, 'cuz I'm a fairly good driver for a newbie. When I dream on the other hand... that's when I crash the car. Luckily then the dream smoothed over into JohnandRodney fluff.