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Title: Last Port Of Call
Author name: Icarus
Author email: icarus_ancalion@yahoo.com
Category: Slash
Sub Category: Drama
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: John/Rodney
Summary: If John was going down with the ship, he did not intend to spend his final two weeks living like a monk.
DISCLAIMER: The characters and universe contained in this story are Copyright MGM, Showtime, Gekko, Double Secret. No infringement on their copyright is implied. Copyright © 2006 All rights reserved. This story may not be reproduced in whole or part without the author's explicit permission. Ask, guys. I'm easy to reach and usually generous.
Author notes: This story invoked quite a discussion when it was posted for the SGA Flashfic Virgin challenge. Springwoof, Fairestcat, and Libitina beta'd but this story is not their fault and they are not liable for damages. Thank you to Electricandroid and Wildernessguru for encouraging me regardless. One of two fics inspired by the same line. Lillian, you wanted porn, right?


Last Port Of Call
By Icarus

"Well," Elizabeth sighed, her eyes a bit dilated. The briefing room had gone very, very quiet. Two weeks before three hive ships arrived and they were sitting ducks. "It's best that we know the Wraith are coming, don't you think?"

The command team exchanged glances as the news sank in. Zelenka's face had gone carefully blank though his breathing seemed a little shallow. Dr. Beckett swallowed, worry written across his forehead.

Rodney spoke up, "Actually, I'm rethinking my position on 'ignorance is bliss.'"

"It's better that we know," John interrupted. He leaned forward to back her up with a fierce tight smile before Rodney could make things worse.

"What for?" Rodney's voice was somewhere between a gasp and an hysterical laugh. "Major, there's nothing we can do!"

"We don't know that," John said in his most patient 'talking down to the kids' voice. It usually worked on Rodney for some strange reason. He tipped his head and continued mildly, running his thumb along the edge of a file folder, "And I for one would rather not be in the dark."

"Yes." Elizabeth was smart enough to end the meeting on a high note. "This gives us a fighting chance. Let's get to work everyone…" and the squeaking of chairs, the rattle of papers and the snap of laptops shutting nearly drowned her out. "I want options."

John left hurriedly, ancient doors sliding open in front of him, before anyone could ask what he thought they could do. He didn't want to lie, but the honest answer to that was "not a damned thing." Still, he had told the truth when he said he'd rather know. John quickened his pace almost, but not quite breaking into a run.

If John was going down with the ship, he did not intend to spend the next couple weeks living like a monk.

In retrospect, John didn't exactly have a plan. More like a half-formed, half-baked notion to sleep with every warm body in Atlantis that would have him.

He'd been very good -- professional -- not wanting to risk messing anything up in his already uneasy command. After the death of Colonel Sumner, well, people didn't really know what to make of John, and he kind of didn't know what to make of himself either. Atlantis was a small, tight-knit group and he couldn't afford complications, although there'd certainly been plenty of opportunities. Even Teyla had given John the eye early on.

Some guys could get away with that. Unfortunately, John had long ago learned that he wasn't one of them. Women loved pilots, yes, but for reasons he couldn't fathom they always got attached to John and started talking about things like "destiny" and being "meant for each other." John translated this to "you're hot, decent in bed, and a pretty nice guy, too, so I'm considering locking you in the basement" -- and would run like hell. But circumstances were a little different now.

In his room, John stripped off his shirt and paced, scrubbing a hand over his five o'clock shadow. First, he needed a shave. He folded open his laptop and clicked on some music. Then he picked through his clothes till he found a "nice" shirt, which here meant something the Athosians hadn't needed to patch; the Pegasus Galaxy was a little hard on clothes. His white sweatshirt wasn't a uniform so it hadn't taken any off-world abuse. Plus, white made John look 'clean-cut' and 'all-American,' or so an ex-girlfriend had once told him.

Half an hour later, John took a steadying breath and let it out, puffing his cheeks and knocked on the door to Elizabeth's office. Which might have seemed ballsy, but only if you didn't know John's history with women. He had a fairly good idea that she'd still be here, fretting over the inevitable as though the Wraith were her fault. John thought he knew what might relax her, too; he had something of an altruistic streak. He leaned against the doorjamb with a rakish smile.


Elizabeth barely looked up from her computer screen as John let the door slide shut behind him. She had dark circles under her eyes.

"You know…." John shook his head with a sigh, inserting himself in her range of vision as he settled into a chair. "You're not gonna solve this by staring at that computer all night long."

Elizabeth blinked up at him, her eyes warming. She let her head fall to the back of the chair and slumped as she stared at the ceiling, running her hands down her face. John was one of the few who got to see her like this, with her professional shields down. "I keep thinking - hoping, I guess - that there must be some way out, something that we've missed."

John chewed his lower lip. "Maybe you just need a break," he offered with a little shrug, "Look at it with fresh eyes in the morning."

"We haven't much time." She shook her head sadly, gesturing to her laptop. John peered around at what looked to be a list of all the members of the Atlantis expedition. The casualties were highlighted in red. "These people are my responsibility, and I don't know what to tell them except to not give up hope."

John leaned forward and tipped the screen down with his most charming smile, edging just a bit into her space. "You do still need to eat, Elizabeth. You're only human. I know this great little place called 'the mess hall.' You should check it out sometime."

She snickered and finally seemed to focus on him. "Wow," her eyebrows raised, eyes widening. "Don't you look nice."

With a bewildered blink, John realized that 'dressing up' might have been a mistake. He shrugged it off. "Oh, this thing? Yeah, all my uniforms are in the wash." He scratched at his jaw, remembering that he'd shaved, too. "Though I thought I'd take the night off myself. You know, breathe a little." He stretched uncomfortably. It had been a while and he was a bit off his game.

"Uh-huh," Elizabeth said, her voice both amused and suspicious.

"Of course, if you want to stay here and brood…." he added innocently.

"I suppose I should probably get some dinner." She folded her hands.

"Great!" John stood, hand sweeping across the desk. "And maybe we could talk this out, see if we can, oh," John pursed his lips and gave a half-shrug, "think of something."

"Over dinner," she said calmly.

"Oh well, sure, if you insist." John gave her his most impish smirk.

"As in… maybe a picnic?" she quirked her lips meaningfully.

John's eyes widened in panic; she'd heard about the picnic with Chaya and was onto him -- which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He recovered and decided to lay his cards on the table. He relaxed and let his grin spread, though his face was probably tinged pink.

"If you like. In fact," John bounced a little in place, "a picnic sounds great."

Elizabeth was still smiling, but she looked down at her lap and took a deep breath. John cringed and shut his eyes even before she began speaking.

"John. It's not that I'm not flattered," she began in a painfully sincere voice. "But under the present circumstances I really feel it's best that we keep our relationship professional."

"Professional," he repeated.

"Yes." Her clasped hands tightened. "I think that would be best for all concerned."

John measured her with his eyes and did some quick calculations, running through his moves - he really hadn't made any big mistakes except maybe tipping his hand with the shirt. He knew the attraction was there; there had been some lingering looks. He reached the inevitable conclusion and, not bothering to hide his disappointment, said in a dry rasp, "Well, I hope he's worth it."

She sat up, startled, and John knew he'd guessed right. Though it didn't win him any points as her expression hardened and she turned back to her work, eyes glued to the screen. "Good night, John."

He beat a hasty retreat through the halls, stiff-shouldered, head down, not meeting anyone's eyes, grateful none of his old Air Force buddies were here. They'd enjoy this too much. "Shot down in flames, eh, Sheppard?" Truth was, John didn't get a 'no' very often, so they'd always gloated when he did.

John changed course abruptly, aiming for the mess hall. He actually did need to eat. So did Elizabeth, but she'd hopefully be in her office a while longer -- he definitely did not want to chance a 'professional' dinner across the table from her right now. Irritated and angry -- and, all right, frustrated -- he selected food at random, slapping bowls onto his tray. He let the tray smack the table as he sat down.

What he needed was to get back on the horse right away, maybe take the edge off first so he'd be more relaxed in his approach. If this were a real Air Force Base he'd be asking around about prostitutes -- John considered this as he dug his fork into some kind of bitter salad -- but if there were any Athosian women practicing the universe's "oldest profession" he'd have heard about it by now. Then there was the other option, of course. When you struck out at the bars and didn't want to pay for it, any soldier knew that in the right kind of neighborhood there was always some guy who'd be happy to buy you a drink and suck your dick. The one thing you could say about guys was that they were easy; you could hook up in ten minutes flat.

John made a wry face. Not that they had that kind of neighborhood around here either. What he needed was a "sure thing."

"Ah! Major." Rodney plunked into the seat across from John. "Just the person I was looking for."

And Rodney McKay, desperation and "sure thing" went together like peanut butter and chocolate. John smiled slowly. "Hey, Rodney…."

It turned out to be surprisingly easy to steer the conversation towards sex, women, and Samantha Carter -- John knew Rodney had dated her or something, but he didn't think it was serious or else they would've heard about Rodney's sex life in Technicolor detail every mission. Still, he'd just learned a hard lesson with Elizabeth.

"Oh, we've decided to 'just be friends,'" Rodney answered as he wiped his mouth. "Which doesn't preclude anything in the future, of course…."

It so did, but John decided not to enlighten him on that point. John stretched his hands behind his back. "So no options at the moment?" If John's voice seemed a little bit husky he blamed the months since Chaya. He tipped his head doubtfully. "Because, two weeks, that's not a lot of time."

Rodney pointed at him and declared, "I knew it! I knew you didn't believe we stood a chance!"

John hissed, leaning forward with a scowl, "Keep your voice down. And no, I don't. But we have to stay positive."

"Oh, right. Positive," Rodney snarled. "You just suggested that I might never have sex again!"

"Actually, that wasn't what I was suggesting." John let that thought sink in, but Rodney's face merely went blank. John shrugged, glancing up and squirming with a rueful little smile. "I'm just saying that I don't have any immediate options myself." John swallowed as he leaned back, studying Rodney. Embarrassingly, he was actually panting. The landscape of his chest rose and fell as he watched Rodney's reaction. "So maybe… we could both take care of that."

Rodney's mouth fell open and his hand went to his forehead as he leaned on the table, not looking at John. Silverware fell with a clatter from slack fingers as Rodney buried his face in his hand. "Did you just proposition me?" Rodney asked softly.

John rolled his eyes. He was really regretting bringing this up in the mess hall. He needed to get laid, and fast, because it was clearly affecting his judgment.

"Because you're, ah… attractive… and well, you're very," Rodney frowned in confusion as thoughts crossed his face, "male -- or, er, masculine, I guess. I mean, certainly you are, I mean there's no question -- not that there'd be any reason to question of course. Not that I would…" he whimpered.

"Rodney." John cut him off at the pass with a glare.

"What?" Rodney looked vaguely panicked.

"It's not as though I'm not enjoying this conversation," which John sort of was, or might have been if Rodney hadn't just thrown every trace of discretion out the window, "because, while I've always been embarrassed for you when you do this, on the receiving end it's actually pretty funny. But that's probably because I know what it means."

Rodney searched John's face with obvious confusion, wide blue eyes darting.

"How does my place, 2300 hours, sound?" John stood, picking up his tray. Out of the corner of his eyes he caught sight of Elizabeth and very carefully looked into the distance past her. This was one conversation he didn't want her to overhear. "If you change your mind we could always just watch a movie or something."

Rodney's vulnerable open-mouthed expression as he watched John leave was vaguely unsettling. John chalked that up to eating too fast, and headed for his evening work-out with Bates.


John rubbed his wet hair with a towel, the shower still steaming behind him. He had 'California Dreamin' playing on the computer and his pants on already, debating, since he'd stripped to a t-shirt for that work-out, if the white sweatshirt was still clean or if walking home in it sweaty counted. John's brows furrowed in a frown all of the sudden. He had a funny tingly feeling on the back of his neck, the kind he always listened to on missions. Throwing the towel around his neck, John tapped open the door.

Rodney stood in the hallway, wringing his hands, shoulders angled as if he were about to leave. He was ten minutes early.

"You're early," John said.

"I haven't said yes," Rodney blurted out defensively. "I just thought we should -- we should talk about this."

John stepped away from the door in an unspoken invitation. Rodney was early. John's warm smile turned predatory. Rodney knew none of the dating cues and hadn't a clue about the clear message he'd just sent. John tossed the sweatshirt into the laundry; looked like he wasn't going to need it. He sat on the bed and continued casually drying his hair.

Rodney gaped at his bare chest and then glanced around the room as if seeking something, anything else to look at. John ignored his nervousness, merciless. If Rodney was going to show up early then he was just going to have to pay the price of finding his host half-dressed. John let the silence stretch out.

"So, ah," Rodney began, clearing his throat for what was probably a carefully rehearsed speech. "We have had a very good, um, good working relationship. Very, um, professional."

That word was starting to irritate John. He deliberately threw a wrench in Rodney's speech, saying in a sarcastic schoolboy voice, "I like you, Rodney."

"Y- you do?" Rodney squeaked.

"Yes. I do." John did, although it was beside the point at the moment. Rodney was easy to manage once you realized that his emotions trumped his logic every single time and that he had absolutely no control over the former.

Rodney blinked rapidly, frozen in place. "Oh. Ah. That's very nice. I - I like you too." He winced and looked at the floor, seeming to understand how stupid that sounded, and John grinned at him. Rodney's fist closed. "But I don't want to mess that up."

"I'm sure in a couple weeks the Wraith will be deeply concerned about our working relationship."

"Don't." Rodney made a stabbing gesture in John's direction, still not looking at him. "I have nightmares already."

John softened. He stretched out on his bed in an easy sprawl and folded one arm behind his head, tossing the towel at the hamper. It dangled precariously.

"Well, we could always just see a movie. I did say that." John offered him a way out. He smirked. "Although, you've already seen everything I've got." He folded his other arm behind his head smugly as he noticed Rodney's gaze trail down his body and pause at his crotch before Rodney blinked away.

"And of course," John stretched with a rich sigh, deeply amused, "then you'd be the guy who turned down sex for a movie he's seen a million times."

"Homosexual sex," Rodney pointed out.

"For a re-run."

Rodney tipped his head and conceded the point. "True…."

"Look. Rodney. If it goes past your comfort zone you can always call it off."

"We're already well beyond my comfort zone, Major," Rodney said.

"But you're still here."

"Yes. And I'm wondering what that says about me."

Still, Rodney glanced around as if searching for a chair. There wasn't one. When Rodney's eyes flicked to his face, John folded up his legs, edging his hips over to make room on the narrow bed. Rodney had the same look on his face that he'd had when John told him to rappel off a cliff: distrustful, resigned and determined all at once. He sat down on the bed, shoulders slumped, his hands tucked nervously between his knees.

John winced and rolled his eyes impatiently; he wondered when the hell he'd ever thought Rodney was going to be easy. Then again seduction could be fun, especially when there was no chance of failure. John knew Rodney; he probably needed this more than John did.

"So." Rodney broke the silence, looking carefully away from John, "Do you do this often?"

Small talk? John's eyebrows raised. Now there was a mood killer. John was fast coming to the conclusion that Rodney was spectacularly bad at this.

"You're special," John said smoothly with more than a little irony and Rodney gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes, snorting with disgust. "All right, not really, no," John admitted. "You happy?"

"I just didn't want to be the next in a long line of conquests. It makes me feel like I'm getting soiled goods." Rodney's mouth dipped in a frown.

John choked. The man was unbelievable! He recovered, smothered a laugh and then leaned up with an arm draped over his knee. "Let me give you a word of advice." Rodney eyed him warily. "Sexy talk-? Is not really your bag."

"I wasn't trying to be -" Rodney said in an annoyed voice, turning to John, who gave him a meaningful raised eyebrow. "Oh. Yes. I see what you mean. It's not really conducive to…um." He gestured between John and himself.

"Not so much, no," John agreed. He laid a hand on the back of Rodney's shoulders, his thumb feeling the short hairs at the base of his neck. Rodney shivered. "Why don't you just let me drive?"

Rodney looked openly scared, something that John -- and his dick -- was starting to find appealing. Either John was more hard-up than he'd realized or he was discovering a kink he hadn't known about. He wondered briefly if this was why the Wraith went out of their way to scare their victims, if they got off on that. Actually, he really didn't want to go there.

John squeezed Rodney's shoulder gently, stroking tender circles down his back, feeling a little sad. The curve of Rodney's back was broad and warm under his palms.

"Thought about the Wraith just then, didn't you?" Rodney asked him.

"How'd you know?"

Rodney's eyelashes fluttered, only inches from John's face. "The same reason I knew you weren't joking when you suggested this."

"I wouldn't joke with you about this," John tucked in his chin with surprise. Annoyed, he wondered who'd played a joke on Rodney in the past. Things like that didn't come out of nowhere. Well, with Rodney they might, but he didn't think so.

"I know," Rodney sighed, closing his eyes.

John knelt behind Rodney, leaning his chin on Rodney's shoulder as he reached around to stroke his solid chest through the uniform shirt. Rodney hadn't changed his clothes, John noted with some amusement. He brushed his cheek against Rodney's, feeling the scrape of stubble. He hadn't shaved either.

A woman he'd kiss right about now, but he didn't know how Rodney would handle that.

John swallowed and watched the rise and fall of Rodney's breathing as he ran his hands over the smooth fabric. Rodney's breath hitched when John swept over a perky nipple, teasing. He was pretty sensitive. Rodney's chest puffed subtly, asking for more, his breath turning shallow and bird-like.

But John took his time before sweeping over it again, and was rewarded for his patience with a soft sound somewhere between a grunt and a whimper. His strokes turned into slow circles on the left nipple. Rodney's chin raised, an open invitation, his shirt damp. Trailing his hands down Rodney's chest, John lifted the edge of the fabric, then slid his hands back up underneath.

Rodney's bare skin was warm and slick, his hard pointed nipples easy to find again. This time Rodney did whimper, his breath hot in John's ear.

John opened his legs and squeezed his hips forward against Rodney's ass. Rodney would feel the hard line of John's cock, but he was just going to have to deal, because John needed that pressure right now. Rodney's eyes blinked open, startled. John took a shuddering breath, rolled Rodney's shirt up for easier access, and pressed again.

"You're shaking," John said, lips brushing Rodney's earlobe. It took at effort not to bite, to force himself to go slow.

Rodney nodded, looking down. "I’m trying not to."

"Well. You can if you want," John drawled with a small feral smile. He tugged on Rodney's shirt, eyes half-lidded, asking with a barely perceptible jerk of his chin. Rodney didn't respond except by lifting his arms as John pulled the shirt up and off.

John slid his hand slid down to Rodney's stomach. It was firm, more firm than he'd expected. A slight pleased smile touched John's lips. Their missions had done Rodney some good.

Shutting his eyes, John pushed the thought of their missions -- and the reasons for them -- out of his mind. Rodney's head nudged against John, his short cropped hair rough against John's cheekbone, smooth forehead slick with sweat. He squirmed in unspoken complaint, and John realized that his hands had fallen still.

There was a warm wetness on John's cheek where Rodney had placed an awkward kiss, his mouth too open, too soft and shy.

John turned to accept it, kissing Rodney McKay -- his mind announced the name in alarm -- at one of the more difficult angles he'd ever attempted. French-kissing Rodney, a concept he couldn't quite take in. They broke apart with shuddering laughter, Rodney's voice nervous, his breath warm on John's face.

"That was not - not working," Rodney spluttered as he dipped his head in embarrassment. "I think my back was going to spasm."

"Do not attempt this at home, kids," John deadpanned. "These are professional contortionists."

He leaned his chin on Rodney's shoulder again. It actually was pretty comfortable. Solid, and he could hold John's weight.

Smiling, they finally looked each other in the face for the first time. Rodney's cheeks were flushed, eyes glazed over and bright. Dazzled.

"We're really screwing up here, aren't we?" John asked him in a quiet murmur.

Rodney licked his lips and nodded briefly. "Yeah. I think so."

"Do you want to stop?" John pulled back an inch. He closed his mouth, jaw set, steeling himself, all expression locked away.

Rodney's mouth made a tight line and he shook his head.

John let out the breath he'd been holding and rubbed his chin along the smooth line of Rodney's shoulder, the delicate scratch of his five o'clock shadow returning. This was already not the quick and easy fuck John had imagined, and he felt thrown into the deep end. He should have known better. He and Rodney had way too much history together. "Good."

John kissed his way gently down Rodney's neck, hands moving from Rodney's hips to squeeze his thighs.

Rodney stiffened. "Okay--" he said, on a swift intake of breath, blinking. His hands seized John's wrists.

"Rodney," John said warningly.

"I'm okay, I'm okay!" Rodney said, his voice high and panicked. "I'm just, uh…."

John's hand broke Rodney's loose grip and slid over to cup the hard ridge of Rodney's cock. "I'd say you're very 'uh.'"

"Oh god," Rodney breathed, hanging his head. "Does this mean I'm gay?"

"It means," John said irritably, "that you're having sex, Rodney. I'm working pretty hard here. I think I might be insulted if you weren't." He stroked the hard, rounded bulge in Rodney's pants, finding the soft curve of his balls. They were very full and made a nice handful. Rodney fell still, his eyelashes fluttering, chin tipped up. Rodney's forehead creased almost as if he were in pain but John figured Rodney just needed a little encouragement as he cupped him, stroking up and down. Rodney was very hard.

Rodney bit his lower lip, undulating into John's hand. "That's… that's really pretty good," he snickered.

John smiled, showing the bright line of his teeth. "Yeah." He pressed himself up into Rodney's back again with a sharp breath, but it didn't do very much for him now. "I hope," John swallowed. "I hope this isn't too fast, but I need to take these things off you."

Rodney reached for his zipper with alacrity. Then he paused. "It seems a little unfair that I'll be totally naked while you're still dressed." His eyes were wide.

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask," John leaned back on his elbows, legs sprawled out. He scrabbled at his suddenly too-complicated belt.

They stripped quickly, though Rodney knelt on the end of the bed and hesitated over his underwear, thumbs running along the inside of the elastic. He still had his socks on, too. And his watch. Rodney kept shooting John quick embarrassed glances, looking down at himself, then the covers, then back up John's naked body, before flicking away to look at something else.

John reached up to help Rodney with the underwear, peeling it slowly down to expose his thick cock, curving down with gravity. He had big balls. "Nice."

Rodney brightened, looking pleased and surprised, like no one had ever said that about his dick before. Sometimes women forgot those details, that a guy liked to be appreciated too.

"Well, you're very… uh," Rodney glanced nervously at John's cock and blinked away, scanning the ceiling instead. He took a shaky breath. "Um. Yeah."

"I want to feel you, Rodney," John said.

Rodney stared, open-mouthed and uncomprehending, his gaze steady now.

John made a vague gesture but Rodney seemed to understand. He stripped his underwear off the rest of the way, clambering up on his hands and knees, and John was reminded of blanket forts when he was a kid, awkward and innocent, bumping into each other without meaning to. He arranged Rodney next to him, squeezing his ass as he pulled Rodney in close. Rodney's bright eyes blazed, lips parted.

Sensitive ass, check.

John made a mental note and left his hand right where it was, dipping a finger between Rodney's cheeks. Rodney squirmed but John didn't think it was a bad squirm as he teased the hair in his crack. John's cock was rigid between them, the tip wet and leaving a trail, Rodney a warm fleshy presence alongside him. John shut his eyes in relief, head tipped back on his pillow. Damn, it had been so long….

Weirdly, Rodney was more confident with a hand on his ass. "So you like this, eh?" Rodney asked, edging his chest closer, smug.

John laughed and gave him a lazy smile.

"You know…" Rodney glanced over his shoulder and then back at John, bright and amused. "I happen to be a very good kisser."

"Oh, you are, are you?" John smirked at him.

"I have it on excellent authority."

"Well, I dunno. I have pretty high standards…."

John pulled Rodney on top of him, solid and too heavy and warm with sleek thick skin. There was hair on a chest that John had half-expected to be baby smooth -- he ran his hands through it -- and swallowed as they took a breath and Rodney delved deeper. John couldn't remember much kissing in his other times with guys. In fact, he couldn't think of any kissing. His head spun, dizzy, and this was all getting slightly out of hand.

"Oh god," John said when Rodney let him up for air.

"Yes, that's the usual reaction."

John just couldn't let him get away with being that full of himself. He flipped Rodney over onto his back, their elbows falling off the edge of the bed, grinding his hips into Rodney's. John started and blinked down as he felt Rodney's warm cock press up against his stomach; he'd forgotten they were naked for a second there.

He bent down to force Rodney to kiss him on his terms, slower and sweeter, pulling away and out of reach as Rodney tipped up into him for another devouring kiss. Rodney hummed and relaxed, eyes closed, cooperatively kissing. John marveled that it was this easy, given what a pain in the ass Rodney was normally.

Rodney's leg wrapped around John's thigh, and John began a steady rocking rhythm, his mouth falling open as Rodney clutched at his shoulders, hauling up to press back. John shook his head slowly, breaking away. "I don't want to do it like this," he said, hovering over Rodney.

Rodney gave him an irritated, exasperated huff. "What?" He stared at John, glassy-eyed.

"Turn around."

"Whoa, hold on there, partner." Rodney scrabbled backwards till he sat up, bumping John's poster, knocking it askew. "Ow. You're not planning on…."

"Well yeah," John spluttered the word on a laugh.

"Oh, no." Rodney shook his head, legs sprawled, and naked. "No, no. Rodney McKay doesn't give it up for anybody."

"Rodney…." John complained, horny and frustrated.

"Oh yes, that's good. Whining. That'll get you what you want."

"Rodney. You knew that I wanted-- you knew that-- you knew."

Rodney's eyes flicked to the side defensively and John was surprised for a moment to realize that, yeah, they had understood each other perfectly. Sex meant the same thing to both of them. And that Rodney had come knowing damned well what John had in mind.

"I was just going to talk." Rodney glared up at him with a faint trace of hope crossing his face, as if John would buy that. It was such bullshit that John laughed.

"But look at you." John gestured to him, stark naked on the bed. "I mean, you can see where I might get some ideas."

Rodney licked his lips, his chest rising and falling, trapped. John felt sorry for him.

"I may have been a somewhat, um, wanton."

"It's fine, Rodney," John assured him. He chewed his lip, and ran the back of his hand up the inside of Rodney's calf, enjoying the tickle of his hair. He came to a decision. "Just tell me if you don't like it."

"Well, I like that." Rodney rolled his eyes as if this were obvious.

"Yeah?" John ran his hand up the inside of Rodney's thigh and watched his eyes go round. "That?"

Rodney nodded, wordless.

John ran the back of his hand up the line of Rodney's smooth cock, and raised a questioning eyebrow at Rodney.

Rodney swallowed. "Please."

But John went one better. He'd done this maybe five times in his life, but he doubted that would be much of a problem as he lowered his mouth to Rodney's cock.

Rodney gave a voluptuous sigh as he raised his knees, melting into the bed. "Oh. This just became worth it."

John lifted off to answer that, murmuring, "It became worth it to me at the kissing."

"You're a romantic." Rodney's hand brushed at John's hair absently, before falling aside, and John frowned. He couldn't tell if that was a criticism or joke or what. He wrapped his hand around Rodney's dick, licking his lips, though he paused.

"You, ah, you don't have to do that," Rodney said, swallowing around the reluctant words. His pleading hot eyes told a different story.

"Just getting the lay of the land."

He stroked Rodney's heavy cock, watching those eyes light with hope as he lowered himself again. It felt too thick and full and John struggled to just get half in.

He gripped Rodney's ass, eyes smiling over Rodney's cock as Rodney writhed, fingers spread, digging into the blanket. John struggled to control the persistent thrust of Rodney's hips, bearing down with his shoulder until Rodney stilled with a little exasperated huff. Rodney squirmed in his hands, head turned to one side on the pillow and eyes closed. John should have been annoyed at the lack of consideration, but mostly he was amused, sucking harder, teasing and toying with Rodney's non-existent self-control. He lifted off to laugh, and Rodney looked up at him with bewildered wonder.

John didn't expect Rodney to lean up and kiss him, seizing the back of his head.

"Oh man," John said when Rodney released him, his cock aching hard.

He sucked his finger and laid Rodney gently back on the bed, stealing another one of those wide passionate kisses. He slid his finger down between Rodney's cheeks, and Rodney broke away, breath damp on John's chest as he tried to look down between their bodies.

"You did that just to obligate me," he observed.

John explored the length of his crack. "Well, I was thinking more along the lines of distraction, but obligate will work, yeah."

Rodney didn't pull back when John found his hole and circled it, though his brows were drawn together in a frown and he stared as if he could see through their bodies to what John was doing.

"This okay?" John ventured.

Rodney made a noncommittal sound.

"Would you like me to 'obligate' you some more?" John smirked.

"No, no, this is good," Rodney hummed in a rather high voice as John's fingertip dipped inside. "Do that again." His eyelashes fluttered. Rodney had really long lashes. "It's… hmm… interesting."

And that was Rodney's ass pressing back, hesitantly. John's eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"It, uh, it'll be better with some oil," John pointed out.

"Well then, get some," Rodney demanded, glancing around as if it might be just lying nearby, but really, John tried not to scare away potential dates by lining up the sex toys on the dresser.

With an uncertain glance down at Rodney, John disentangled himself, his stomach pressed against Rodney's shoulder as he fumbled under the pillow for… ah. He retrieved the flattened tube, wishing there were more. Stupid things like this, dental floss, Q-tips, no one had thought to bring extra, though some of the guys swore by Athosian oils.

"Under the pillow, eh?" Rodney smirked up at him. "I take it the shower isn't your location of choice?"

"Well, I like to change it up once in a while," John admitted, slicking his fingers. "You know, this'll be easier if you lay on your stomach."

The look Rodney gave him was steeped in suspicion and John could almost see him weigh the possibilities and potential consequences, ticking down them like a Pro/Con list. With a wary glance at the oil Rodney finally took off his watch.

Then he rolled over and said over his shoulder, "Stop looking so gleeful."

"I'm not gleeful," John insisted, wishing his voice didn't waver just then and the smile would stop fighting its way to the surface. "What? I'm not!"

"You did not win; I simply reevaluated based on available evidence."

John raised his eyebrows and forced that smile back down. But he really couldn't help himself. "Of course, leaping to conclusions before evaluating the evidence isn't exactly sound scientific practice…."

The look Rodney turned on him was glowing with outrage and John decided to stop before he completely blew it. He swallowed. "But practical application is good."

Rodney did not look mollified, though he lowered his chin to pillow on his arms. "Just be careful with that." John wondered if he meant the oil or, well, anyway. Rodney hunched nervously with a tight frown. "That's a delicate area."

"I'll be gentle," John said with sarcastic sweetness, pouring more oil on his hands and swearing inwardly to himself. No one in his life had been this much work. If he hadn't gotten this far already he'd call it quits right about now.

"Will you?" Rodney looked at him over his shoulder, wide-eyed, like John was Kolya or something.

"Yes!" John snarled. "Christ, Rodney, what do you think I am?"

"Okay," Rodney said. "Because, you know I've heard that it can, uh…." He dipped his head and made a little fluttering gesture with his hands to finish the sentence.

John sighed and shut his eyes. They could watch a movie. He had Raiders of the Lost Ark lined up, which they've only seen nine billion times but he could see it again. He looked down at his hands at the precious oil that he'd been stretching with the Athosian stuff -- stuff he did not like -- and decided, oh, what the hell.

"Just trust me."

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't," Rodney growled. "It's just that you have to relax the inner and outer sphincter muscles beyond their usual capacity, and colorectal tissue is easily damaged."

"That sounds too medical to be hot," John complained, letting the oil drip on Rodney's ass. "What did you do, read up?"

"No, I'm gonna let someone fuck me without having a clue what's going on -- of course I read up!"

"Aha! I knew you were planning on doing this!" John pointed at him.

Rodney choked, eyes traveling all over the room, unwilling to look at John. "It was… one of the options." He shook his head as if to clear it, blinking and waving a hand. "Besides, I read it all a long time ago. I wouldn't bring that kind of material to Atlantis. We had to declare our personal item."

John frowned down at his hands, voice cracking as he tipped his head. "Is there something you want to tell me, Rodney?"



This was already getting way more complicated than he'd intended. John ran his fingers down the crack of Rodney's ass, drizzling a little more from the tube. What the hell, chances were he wouldn't need it much longer anyway.

"Though," Rodney began as if this were an afterthought. "I certainly hope you know what you're doing. When you approached me it certainly seemed that you had done this befor… oh. Oh God."

Rodney breathed heavily as John stroked in, fingers working in slow erotic circles.

John made another mental note: sensitive ass, plus fingers? Equals Rodney shutting up. Which could only be a good thing. "You like that?" John asked unnecessarily.

Rodney continued to gasp, his face blank. "We're doing this."

"Yes. We are." And just like that John felt Rodney open up around his hands. One minute he was tight and John could barely fit two fingers inside; the next, John felt like he could fit his whole arm if he wanted to. John scrambled up on his knees to lube his cock. "We're so doing this."

Rodney twisted around to watch John stroke himself, his eyes heavy-lidded and distant. "Oh. Wow."

No trouble staying hard, not with someone looking at him like he was a fucking Roman God. John fit himself to Rodney, hoping that Rodney wouldn't lose his nerve, not now, oh please not now.

John pushed forward, eyes mostly closed and his lips parted. "Push back," he grunted into the back of Rodney's shoulders.

Rodney nodded emphatically. "Yes, yes…."

John met resistance and hauled back and pressed again, hard. Rodney's backward push was a little late and he felt Rodney sprawl underneath him.

"Hey, whoa, I'm all for enthusiasm but not so, that's a little, uh…." John was already into his next stroke when Rodney went limp like a kitten held by the scruff of the neck.

"Stop, stop."

"Okay," John panted, placing loose kisses on the back of Rodney's shoulders, saying, "How 'bout you tell me exactly how you want it?"

Rodney cringed, wavering as he said, "But that would mean that I want it."

"It's me, Rodney," John growled. He didn't bother to point out that his dick was buried three-quarters of the way up Rodney's ass, because that was just too obvious.

Rodney let his head drop forward on his arms and sighed. He was quiet a moment. Then, with a loud exhale, he moved to his hands and knees and said, "Okay. Angle up about ten degrees higher - and definitely go slow until I'm used to this. Kapische?"

"Oh yes, sir," John smiled. He added in his most lascivious voice, half-mocking, "Do you want it slow and deep? Or slow and shallow?"

"How am I supposed to know?!"

"Well, let's experiment then." John slid forward with a few small, gentle moves. "That's shallow." Then he pressed in gradually, grimacing as he squeezed as far as he could. Rodney made an explosive breathy sound somewhere between a gasp and a sneeze. "And that's deep."

"Deep, deep," Rodney said, his head dipping between his arms, "oh yes that's…"

It figured Rodney would pick what took the most work.

John pushed a little deeper again, just for fun, and got a less surprised version of that same sound. Rodney's knees spread wider, inviting him in, and John glanced around and watched Rodney's cock swing, heavy and hard between his legs as John rocked. His eyes flicked up as he realized Rodney was staring at himself too and they grinned at each other.

"Oh yeah," Rodney beamed. And even though the words made no sense, Rodney made perfect sense to John. John hooked an arm around Rodney's chest and shoulder, and quickly found that 'slow'? Was no longer an item on the menu.


As if accommodating John's mood, his bed felt warmer than usual.

John's head rocked lazily back and forth on his pillow and he groaned, letting out a long soft sigh. He took a deep breath. His bed smelled like sex. His body felt warm and relaxed, like melted taffy.

He hovered in and out of a sense-memory of last night, savoring it. Things had gone… surprisingly well. Who knew that after Rodney got past his initial inhibitions he'd be such a fun fuck? John's renewed sex life was off to a roaring start.

John didn't feel like getting up, wanted to lay there like a cat in the sun, but he licked his lips and leaned up on his elbows. Or tried to. His right elbow hit a warm lump.

"Ow!" said a familiar voice.

John blinked twice and stared up at the ceiling. Rodney McKay.

"Move over, I'm practically falling off here." A large bare ass shoved into John's hip.

John groaned inwardly. Of course McKay didn't know he was supposed to leave last night. He dimly remembered drifting off to sleep as Rodney tugged at the blankets.

"Oh, hmm, this is awkward, isn't it?" Rodney said. "But on the other hand I'm really glad you woke up because I've desperately needed to go to the bathroom for the last hour."

John frowned at him. "Why didn't you just get up?"

"I didn't want to wake you," Rodney mumbled. John squinted over at him, wrinkling his nose.

"I would've gone back to sleep."

Rodney cut him off impatiently. "Yes, well, much as I'd love to chat -- nature calls. I understand urine is only warm a few minutes before the sheets become uncomfortable."

With that image Rodney squirmed under the covers, clutching the sheet to his chest. His hand snaked out to run across the floor till he caught up a pair of boxers. The bed wriggled again as he managed to pull them on under the blankets then lurched up to pad to the bathroom.

Light back-lit his round bare shoulders before the door closed. Rodney was a big guy.

Laying in the warm spot Rodney had left, John rolled to his back and put a hand to his forehead. Did he have a problem here?

It turned out John couldn't go back to sleep after all.

With a long sigh John staggered up to take a shower. He might as well get an early start on his day. The Wraith were still coming one way or another. He popped open the door to the bathroom, blinking in the lights irritably, which were set brighter than he liked. He was greeted with a squawk from Rodney.

"Do you mind?!" Rodney said, arms clutched and wrapped over his lap. "Don't you know how to knock? I'm on the toilet!"

John just gave him a confused sneer, still bleary-eyed, stepped past, and ran his hand along the inside of the shower wall until he found the controls. Water misted from the ceiling jets. It had taken John a while to get used to showers that rained from directly above him. John ran his hand under it, testing the temperature. Atlantis was slow to warm up.

"Haven't you ever lived with anyone, Rodney?" he asked, not looking over his shoulder at Rodney to give him some semblance of privacy.

"My roommates all knew how to knock. And respected a closed door - especially the bathroom door."

"The shower'll kill the smell." The temperature was finally nice. John stretched and rolled his shoulders, looking at Rodney again. "You're welcome to join me if you like."

Rodney stared at him open-mouthed, as if he and John hadn't just spent the whole night fucking. John wondered exactly how much about sex Rodney had from books. None of this should have been unfamiliar.

With a shrug at Rodney's silence, John stepped into the shower and began to soap down his chest, building up a good lather. He hoped Rodney would follow his cue. This could be nice.

He heard the click of the bathroom door as it shut, and felt the emptiness of the room, and knew that Rodney had collected his clothes and gone.

John shut off the water and leaned his head on his fist, squeezing his eyes shut, trying very hard not to berate himself even though this was exactly what he'd meant to avoid all along. Only this was a team member, and Rodney, so that meant it was going to be ten times louder and if he was lucky it might only be ten times worse.

There was no place to run this time. He had to mend fences.

Wrapped in a towel John stepped into his room. Rodney's watch was still on the floor next to the bed -- an expensive one with all sorts of functions and extra buttons. John picked up his radio and adjusted it over his ear as he dressed.

"Gee Rodney, I'm wounded. Really." John phrased it carefully for the open channel as he buttoned his shirt. "I didn't think the movie was all that bad."

He put on Rodney's watch like a trophy, noting Rodney had programmed it to reflect Atlantis' 26-hour cycle, no mean feat. John had fought with his own for hours before he gave it up. He added dryly, "I'll have you know I have a hostage and you're not getting it back until we at least chat. Contact me to negotiate terms of release."

He clicked off. There was no response.

With a mirthless laugh at himself, John thought, Houston, we have a problem.

Still tucking in his shirt, John skipped a little in his hurry to stake out the mess hall -- Rodney had to eat some time. As he slapped the transporter to life and felt the beam take hold, John considered that the only way this could have been worse was if he'd succeeded with Elizabeth.

Rodney's perspective



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