thegrrrl2002 | SG: Atlantis, Post-Sanctuary Ficlet, (Sheppard/McKay)

thegrrrl2002

How not? *g* But really, this is all

mmmchelle's fault. And once the damn idea got into my head, I had to write it down. Slow day at work, yes. *g*

Quick and dirty, unbeta'd at the moment, just an attack of smut and silly.

He found Rodney hunched over the new equipment, fiddling at the controls and looking very perplexed.

"Hi there, McKay," John tried.

Rodney's eyes didn't leave the screen. "Major." Short and clipped and not at all friendly.

All right then. So Rodney was still a little miffed. "Got that biometric thing all figured out?"

"No, I don't. I don't have a clue."

"Oh." John leaned against the console, watching with intent until Rodney's eyes finally flicked up to meet his. "Rodney," John tried again, with his most winning expression.

"Can I do something for you, Major?"

"Rodney, I--I should have listened to you, okay?," John pleaded, " You were right."

Rodney looked remarkably unimpressed with his heartfelt admission. And the winning expression. "I know," he said, with a scowl, as if John just told him the sky was blue. Turning his attention back to the machine, he flipped a switch, and then switched it back.

As if John weren't standing there at all.

"Damn it, Rodney, I'm trying to apologize here," he burst out. "You're not making this any easier."

"Why should I?"

"Fine. Fine. All I'm trying to say is that you were right, I was distracted by Chaya's beauty, and you know, she was--" John waved his hands helplessly. "But it turned out all right in the end, she didn't mean us any harm, she was just--lonely." And sweet and nice, John wanted to add. He hadn't had much sweet and nice in his life lately.

"Oh, how lucky for us." Rodney straightened up, arms folded against his chest, chin lifted. "And you, apparently. "

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm sure you know what I mean, Major. Or does someone have to explain the facts of life to you?"

John shook his head. He didn't the energy for this. All they did was kiss, damn it. And it was such a nice bit of kissing. He had liked Chaya, had really liked her. And she had liked him. She had really liked him, even though she was an ancient. Couldn't Rodney see how cool that was? "Listen," he said, more annoyed than ever. "You know what I think? I think you were jealous."

An odd expression swept over Rodney's face, his eyes widening briefly. Then like a door slamming shut, the look of smug superiority returned. "Oh please. Yes, that was it, I was jealous. Happy now? And may I please get back to work?"

Son of a bitch. "Be my guest. Sorry to have *bothered* you with my apology." John spun and left the control room, thankfully almost empty at this time of night.

Difficult, prickly, royal goddamn pain in the ass. This wasn't over, not by a long shot, he thought, stomping down the stairs.

*****

He sat on his bed, fuming. Rodney. Insufferably rude Rodney. Most obnoxious man he had ever met, and John was sick and tired of thinking about him.

Because Rodney had looked so odd when he had accused Rodney of being jealous. Rodney hadn't flirted with Chaya at all. Quite the contrary, actually. He seemed to have taken a instant dislike to her, right from the start. He had questioned her motives and her honesty with dogged determination. He didn't even seem to notice how pretty she was.

Maybe that's was just Rodney's way, he decided. Covering up an attraction with a bad attitude and ill-tempered remarks. How childish. Still John knew that Rodney could be fun and almost, well, flirty. He'd seen it himself.

None of it made any sense.

The more he thought about it, the more it bothered him. He liked to think that he had Rodney figured out. He knew he had been pretty rough with Rodney when Rodney had confronted him in the hallway like that, but he was just trying to protect Chaya. She seemed so nice. And not difficult. Or confrontational. And she kissed nicely. What was wrong with that?

And why the hell did he feel guilty about it?

Damn it. He wasn't going to get any sleep that night, was he?

He left his room, and headed straight for Rodney's.

Rodney's doors were closed, but he could the see a light shining through the seam between the doors. "Rodney, are you in there?" he asked, knocking not-quite-so-politely.

A moment later the door opened, and there Rodney stood, looking, John suddenly noticed, rather tired. Rodney stepped back, two steps, enough to allow John to come in, and for the door to slide shut behind him. "What?" Rodney asked wearily.

His face, his eyes--John couldn't stop staring. Rodney looked--well, almost vulnerable, almost like John's presence pained him. Tired, Rodney must really be exhausted. Then it all came together in his head.

"I'll be damned. Jealous," John said, excited. "You *were* jealous! But not of her. I mean, because of her. I mean--" John couldn't find the words. Rodney had been jealous, because Rodney wanted *him*.

Panic flashed in Rodney's eyes. He backed away, but John grabbed his arms, and at a loss for any better way to express himself, he yanked Rodney in close and kissed him triumphantly.

And found himself slammed back against the closed door in return. Rodney obviously knew something about a full body check, because the air rushed out of John's lungs in a whoosh, and Rodney's big, warm solid body stayed pressed up against his. Rodney's mouth was harsh and firm and whoa, that was Rodney's tongue storming past his lips. Hands cupped his ass and John made a sound that might have been mistaken for an embarrassing whimper as clung to Rodney's shoulders, Rodney's big, broad shoulders, how come he had never noticed such shoulders before?

Ravaged. John was pretty sure he was being ravaged. Or maybe even plundered. It was hard to think with Rodney's mouth sucking all the air out of his body, but oh god, it was good, he loved it, even if it made him pretty much the heroine in some kind of bodice ripper-type novel. He was okay with that, he really was, because Rodney's thigh slid between his legs, and oh god, that was Rodney's erection pressing into him. Rodney was hard, and he was hard, and it felt especially good to rub his cock against Rodney's thigh, which was pretty damn hard and strong, too.

Rodney helped him out by grabbing his ass firmly and pulling his hips forward, so very helpful that John made noise again, right into Rodney's warm, wet mouth. Who knew Rodney could kiss like this, although, really, this wasn't a kiss, this was pure porn, complete with the rubbing and moaning and the way John's leg ended up hooked around Rodney's hip. As if to make the point, one of Rodney's hands, which had slid up under his shirt and onto the small of his back, found its way back down but this time inside of John's briefs--hurray for baggy pants that didn't quite fit--a hot, heavy hand caressing his ass, and then oh god, clever fingers sliding down between his cheeks, another inch or so and it would be right there, right--right--oh--

God yes--right there.

John gasped, hooking an arm around Rodney's neck, rocking his hips, because the rubbing--the rubbing was *amazing*, electric jolts of pleasure right up through his body, Rodney's finger working its way inside his ass. Rodney made a low noise, a low, vibrating, wonderfully growl of a sound, sucking on his tongue, as if he owned John's mouth. John whimpered, pleading wordlessly, his fingers curling into Rodney's shoulders and his cock grinding into Rodney's hip. Fuck, it was good, it was too good--holy shit--

Blinding pleasure all in a rush, his body shaking and stars flashing and son of a bitch, coming hard and fast, right there in his god damn pants.

"Rodney," John gasped, shaken. He slumped against Rodney with a weak little laugh, his head still spinning. "Oh my god."

He'd come in his pants. He'd never done that before. Rodney did it to him. Rodney, obviously, was some sort of sex god. Who needed soft, pretty ancients with Rodney around? And what was it going to be like when they actually got naked and had genuine sex?

"Rodney, oh man," he said, straightening up, giddily. He was pretty sure they needed to get naked, right now.

But Rodney stepped back, holding him at the shoulders. He looked John up and down, eyes settling in on the stain at his crotch. "Huh," Rodney said, wiping his lips. "What do you know."

John frowned, leaning against the door, still dizzy. Brain still addled, but he didn't like the sound of that. "Huh?"

"Major, I believe you were right," Rodney said. "I *was* jealous."

One hand left John's shoulder, reaching for the door control. As the doors opened John fell backward, losing his balance. He stumbled right out into the hallway, nearly falling in his astonishment. He righted himself just in time to catch a glimpse of Rodney's smirk as the doors closed up again.

"Good night, Major," Rodney called out.

John blinked.

What the hell?

"God damn it--Rodney--" He pounded on Rodney's door, furious, then remembered it was nighttime, rooms all around, filled with people. "Rodney, you bastard, open this god damn door," he whispered, loudly.

Silence.

Voices down the hallway, people approaching, and John realized he was in total disarray--shirt rucked up, stain on his pants, underwear twisted and crumpled in the wrong places. He was sticky and uncomfortable and his lips, god, they felt warm and swollen. He was sure he had whisker burn on his chin.

"Rodney McKay," he tried one last time, slapping the door with his hand. Still nothing. Son of a bitch. Putting his mouth at the seam between the doors, he growled, "this is NOT over."

He turned, yanking down his shirt, clasping his hands together over the wet spot on his crotch. Gathering up his dignity, he marched back to his room.

Smiling.

Oh yeah. It wasn't over, not by a long shot.