Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1436971.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Terminator:_Sarah Connor_Chronicles
  Relationship:
      Derek/John, John_Connor/Derek_Reese
  Additional Tags:
      Future_is_the_past, Pre-Apocalypse, Post-Apocalypse, First_Time
  Collections:
      Fall_Fandom_Free-For-All_2009
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-04-09 Words: 1235
****** I Know ******
by hunters_retreat
Summary
     He knew that look from so many days in the trenches but he’d never
     understood. Until now.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes

There was no other word for the look in his eyes, no other thought or emotion
that could encompass what he was seeing.  He knew that look, had seen it in an
older version of the man before him, but he’d never understood.  They’d never
been like that.  Derek had never been able to focus on anything more than his
brother and John Connor had a war to win and it wasn’t until he’d shoved him
back in time and he’d come face to face with the younger man that he understood
that look.
Desire.
He’d run as far as he could, tried to be as gruff and uncaring as he could be
but he was John fucking Connor and even if he wasn’t, he was his goddamned
nephew and there was no way he could watch John suffer and not reach out. 
It was all lost after that.
John stripped the clothes off him in military precision, a manner he realized
was more his teaching than Sarah’s.  As much as John loved and listened to his
mother, he’d always fought he precise movements that Sarah fought to teach him,
fought to gain herself.  For Derek it wasn’t a choice, but instinct.  Stillness
unless action was needed, precise movement to compensate for exhaustion and the
always upcoming battle. 
He gasped when John’s hand trailed down his naked chest, ignoring scars and
tattoos alike as he reached for Derek’s pants.  John barely touched him as he
took each piece of clothing off, then pushed him back onto the bed, eyes
capturing Derek’s for the first time since I’d started. 
He tugged his own shirt off as he took a step closer to his uncle, kicked out
of his pants as he stepped into the space between his thighs.  When Derek
scooted back onto the bed, John didn’t crawl up his body, but slid in beside
him, his fingers beginning to trace the wound that had brought them together in
the first place. 
“John…” He didn’t realize his voice could be that weak, that needy.  He’d never
heard himself like that, not in interrogations or when the medics were doing
field work, stitching him up without medicine or pain killers so they could
survive a little longer.
“I’ve got you Derek.” 
Derek had no idea what those words meant; only that yes was the answer to it. 
John leaned over, his lips trailing over bullet marks and knife wounds, his
tongue tracing the ink on his skin as if he could embed them further with his
touch.  Jesus, Derek thought, he just might.
“John,” he tried again.  “I need…”
“I know.”
John’s hand moved across his abdomen until his fingers were curled around
Derek’s cock, his hips trying valiantly to rise even as Derek forced himself to
stay still, to not break whatever this moment was. 
“Is this what you want?”  John asked in his ear, lips a breath away from his
skin.  He turned his head but John moved back, lips out of reach and it was
more than Derek could take.
He moved, pushing John back onto the mattress and pressed hard into him.  “I
need.”  He demanded, his lips crashing hard into John’s.  The other man moaned
and Derek felt his hands grabbing at his ass, pulling him into the right spot
and the friction between them was so damn good.  He could get off just like
that but it wasn’t what he wanted, what he needed it to be.
“Do it.”  John whispered into his lips, like he could read his mind and damn
John Connor because even more than his brother, John Connor had always been
able to read Derek. 
It wasn’t the same as what Derek was used to, but he’d done this before,
frightened men in a world of hell, surrounded by metal and taking comfort in
what little they could.  It was different now though; different with John than
it would ever be with anyone else and small part of him mourned for what John
had lost in the future, mourned the look in his eyes that Derek hadn’t
understood.
But John was under him now and as he pushed his fingers inside him, John
moaned, pressing back into his hand and he let the future be the past for a
while, let himself sink into the beautiful heat of the John beneath him.
“God... now Derek…”
He didn’t know if John was ready, really ready for this, but he couldn’t wait
any longer.  He pulled his fingers free and then he was pressing inside young
flesh and marveling at the sound of his name as it fell from John’s lips, a
litany of awe and revelation. 
John’s legs wrapped around him, hips rolling against Derek’s and he could feel
the hard flesh pressing against his stomach and he shuddered with the want that
continued to rock through him.  He pulled out, the full length of his cock
before sliding back in.  John gasped, lips pressed against his throat and Derek
closed his eyes against the vision, embedding it into his memory so that
nothing could steal it away.  A vision to replace the pain and torture that was
to come in the following years.  John Connor had taught him.  He wondered if he
would teach John Connor.  He wondered if this vision of the two of them
together had kept John safely in his head when his body was being ripped apart
in those early years.
A sob nearly broke through his defenses and he opened his eyes, looking at the
man beneath him, taking in the flush that spread across his body, the passion
that filled his eyes as he looked back.  John’s hand came up to his neck and
Derek was kissing him again, kissing him like there was nothing left on the
earth, no air to breath that wasn’t in John’s lungs, no land to sink against
that wasn’t John’s body.
He wrapped his hand around John, stroked in time with his thrusts and when John
was squirming Derek changed his angle.  He pressed against John’s prostate and
John was screaming his name, come painting their skin as they continued the
slick, slide against one another.
He followed quickly after, his hips thrusting into the tightening muscles and
instead of letting John’s name fall from his lips, Derek devoured John’s mouth
to keep his reverence quiet. 
When his heart stopped pounding, Derek pulled away gently.  His heart pounded
for another reason then and he slid his legs over the side of the bed, hands
buried in his hair as he looked down at the floor, trying to figure out how
he’d managed to screw this up so monumentally.
If his mother had been there… but Jesus she hadn’t been and Derek was the only
thing John had now except a monster of a ‘sister’ that they could never
completely trust. 
“Derek.”  He jumped because he hadn’t felt John moving behind him.  His hand
was on Derek’s shoulder though, one leg falling beside Derek’s over the side of
the bed.  He watched him with knowing eyes.  “I needed too.”
“I know.”
“I always will.”  And he knew that look from so many days in the trenches but
he’d never understood.  Until now.  He wasn’t sure it made it alright exactly,
but it did.  So he smiled softly and pressed a kiss to John’s lips.
“I know.”
End Notes
     written for the Fall Fandom Free For All, prompt for
     [http://l-stat.livejournal.net/img/userinfo.gif?v=17080?v=113.1]
perdiccas
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