SGA fic: Two Weeks (Sheppard/McKay)
Feb. 13th, 2005 10:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thegrrrl2002Title: Two Weeks
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mmmchelle and thegrrrl2002
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Summary: What do you do when all you have left is two weeks?
Spoilers: The Brotherhood, The Gift, Letters From Pegasus, and The Siege. Yup, basically the final third of the season.
Notes:mmmchelle had an idea for a fic, and very generously asked me to play write it with her. Because she's so nice that way. And working with her on this has been a fabulous experience. ::snuggles chelle:: Much thanks to our generous and hard-working betas, wickdzoot and kylielee1000.
Wow, I can't believe this is actually done.
Two Weeks, Part I
"Two weeks," John said, looking into his glass. The ale was darker than he preferred, but it was all they had, and after the fourth glass, he'd stopped caring about the taste. It was late. He and Rodney had gone over every scrap of the sensor data together before going to John's quarters and opening the ale.
"Less than."
John studied Rodney's profile. He'd been pretty upset by the loss of the ZPM, even before they'd heard about the hive ships. Now he looked devastated and guilty, and Rodney couldn't have known that telling Allina they'd only just arrived in this galaxy a few months ago would result in her taking the ZPM away. "If you could do anything you wanted with your last two weeks, what would it be?"
Rodney glanced at him sharply--well, sharply for a guy who had matched John drink for drink. "Have lots and lots of sex."
John smiled because it was just like Rodney to turn around and act like a guy when you expected him to act like a scientist. "Not come up with a general theory of everything?"
"Grand unification theory, yeah, that too." Rodney leaned his head back against the couch. "What about you?"
John took a drink. "I'd probably go for the sex."
Rodney looked at him sidelong. "Kirk."
That still stung a little. "Yeah, but Kirk wasn't a member of Mensa."
The corner of Rodney's mouth twitched. "Neither are you."
No, he wasn't, but that wasn't really the point, was it? "But I could be."
Rodney snorted and took a swallow of ale.
John regarded him thoughtfully. Even though they'd been practically living in one another's pockets for months, he still didn't feel as if he knew Rodney. "When you were a kid, what did you dream of doing?"
This time Rodney's smile was regretful. "Playing Carnegie Hall."
"Really?" John tired to wrap his mind around the image of Rodney on a stage while people in tuxes and ball gowns watched.
Rodney took another drink. "Really."
John considered that. "What did you play?"
Rodney raised his free hand and wiggled his fingers. "Piano. I was technically proficient, but I lacked soul."
"You've got plenty of soul." It was true. Rodney was practically the James Brown of physics--which might make Zelenka Chuck Berry. Clearly, John hadn't had enough to drink.
"What did you want to do?"
"Fly." It suddenly seemed unfair that he'd gotten what he wanted but Rodney hadn't.
"Anything else?"
"Be an NFL quarterback."
Rodney's smile changed into something that wasn't quite a smirk. "You're so predictable."
"I am not."
Rodney gave him a look that clearly said, 'if you say so' in a disbelieving tone.
"I'm not." He wasn't. Rodney didn't know John anywhere near as well as he thought he did. "We could have it, you know."
Rodney glanced at him. "What?"
"The sex."
Rodney snorted again. "Maybe you could."
"You could too."
One corner of Rodney's mouth went down in that sarcastic smile that John found annoying and bizarrely charming at the same time. "Right. Because women are just falling all over me."
"Allina did."
Rodney's sarcastic smile got more sarcastic. "And look how that turned out."
Okay, maybe that wasn't the best example. "You were cute, you know."
Rodney rolled his head to the side and looked at John through narrowed eyes.
John leaned forward slightly. "You were."
"Uh-huh." Having clearly decided that John was either nuts or drunk or both, Rodney turned his head back.
John waited until Rodney had taken a drink of his beer and then said casually, "I wasn't talking about women. I was talking about me."
The beer went flying from Rodney's mouth and Rodney sat bolt upright. He wiped the back of his mouth with his hand. "You were not."
John nodded seriously. "I was."
Rodney stared at him as if he'd just confessed...well, almost anything. "You want to spend the last two weeks of your life having sex with me?"
John shrugged, elaborately casual. "Why not?"
Rodney's eyes widened. "Why not?"
"Exactly. Why not?"
Rodney's mouth opened and closed. He shifted, but he was still staring at John. "You're certifiable, you know that."
"It'd be fun. Besides, I've never done it with a member of Mensa before." He grinned, trying for charming and hoping he didn't get annoying by mistake. Unlike Rodney he didn't have the knack for being both at the same time. "All that brain power, applied to something interesting..." He let his voice trail off meaningfully. All that brain power, focused on him--he'd been having vague thoughts about it for weeks, thoughts he hadn't let become less vague, but now...now he didn't have anything to lose. Neither of them did.
Rodney was still staring. "You do guys."
"Not often, but, yeah, I've been known to cross to the other side on occasion."
After a moment, Rodney blinked. "I haven't."
John tilted his head quizzically. He'd assumed that Rodney swung his way at least some of the time. It wasn't the first time he'd indulged in wishful thinking. "Really?"
"Yes, really. What is it with you and this really business?"
"I could teach you," John offered, doing his best not to salivate at the thought of blowing Rodney's mind when he blew other things.
"You could," Rodney said slowly.
"And you like learning new things," John added.
Rodney nodded grudgingly. "I do."
Pressing his advantage, John leaned close and whispered, "I give great head."
Rodney turned to look at him, and John almost heard his synapses crackling. Rodney gave him a level, slightly wide-eyed look. John forced himself to remain quiet while Rodney studied him for a moment. He wasn't sure, but he was hoping that the fact that Rodney swallowed hard meant something good.
At last Rodney said, "Yeah, okay."
***
"Cool," John said, leaning back in his chair with a grin.
Rodney could scarcely believe his own voice when he said it. He could scarcely believe their entire conversation. He'd just agreed to sex--sex with John. It must have been the beer. Or maybe it had been the sense of impending disaster, a disaster he had helped to create. Sex with John. Why the hell not? It wasn't like he was going to get any from anyone else during what were likely to be the last two weeks of his life.
The way John's face lit up startled him, though. It was such a happy grin, a genuine one, not cocky or smirky or anything like that. Just happy anticipation. John really wanted to have sex with him. Because John had sex with guys.
And he, Rodney, was a guy.
The strange thing was, his cock was definitely intrigued by John's whispered boast. The thought of John's mouth on his cock shouldn't have made his breath catch, truly, it shouldn't have. He must really be getting desperate, although it wasn't as if John wasn't good-looking: rumpled hair, dark eyes, wide, mobile mouth, the kind of mouth that could stretch into a face-splitting grin, or slide into a one-sided smirk, or wrap around his--
Yeah, his dick, John's mouth. Okay, he could do this.
He drained the last of his ale, and set the glass on the table with a thud. "Okay," he repeated. "Sex. You and me."
"Stop looking so surprised, Rodney. Believe me, I'll show you a great time." One last swallow of ale and John bounced out of his chair, pulling his shirt over his head. He emerged with hair even more rumpled. Rodney's breath caught--chest, naked skin, nipples, all that hair, and nipples, two dark nipples...that was a man's chest, all right.
"I'm not surprised, Major. I'm merely--actually--it's all rather unexpected." Rodney hadn't expected John's lean, wiry torso to look so good, so...touchable. And he hadn't expected his cock to be thickening at the sight of it.
"Unexpected. Isn't that the definition of surprised?"
"What, all of a sudden you're Mr. Funk and Wagnall?"
John frowned at him. "Yes, Rodney, I am. Now come here." He held his hand out. Rodney took it, and John's warm hand firmly clasped his. He allowed John to tug him out of the chair. "You're really okay with this, right?" John asked as he led Rodney to his bed.
John's bed. It looked like it always did, with sheets neatly smoothed and tucked in around the sides, pillow at the head, plumped and resting on the folded-over edge of the blanket. Innocent. Only not so much, anymore. Rodney blinked. "Yes, I'm all right with this, of course I'm all right with this. I said okay, didn't I?"
"You seem nervous."
"I'm fine. A slight bit tipsy, though," Rodney explained with a weak laugh. There, that was the explanation right there, why he was agreeing to sex with John.
John's hand slid to Rodney's shoulder, his fingers touching Rodney's neck. Rodney rested his hand on John's shoulder--his naked shoulder--all warm skin and hard muscle. John gazed at his face searchingly, and Rodney thought that John might kiss him. He didn't know how he felt about that, because John was a guy, and that would be kind of weird. But when John merely squeezed his shoulder and sat on the bed, Rodney felt strangely disappointed.
"It's just sex," John said, his voice diffident. "Sex. That's all. We don't have to do anything complicated. Here, sit." He patted the bed, and Rodney sat.
"Oh, so now you're saying you have to keep things simple just for me? Really, I think I can handle complicated." Maybe he wanted complicated--not that he was sure exactly what John meant by "complicated." He could handle complicated. He was all about complicated. And why did John have to take his shirt off like that? He wondered whether he should take his own shirt off.
"Rodney, shut up." John spoke affectionately. Then he knelt on the floor, his hands on Rodney's thighs, pushing his legs apart.
"Oh. Shutting up now." John's hands slid under his shirt, over his belly and across his chest, rough, callused fingers rubbing against his skin and it was surprisingly nice. Rodney felt himself relaxing under his touch. When John unfastened his trousers, though, the room suddenly became warm, very warm and Rodney wasn't relaxed at all anymore. John, kneeling between his legs, looking so--so John, he supposed, focused and serious with his lower lip caught between his teeth and Rodney swore that he actually looked hungry, maybe even horny. John looking at him, hungry and horny. Then it all got weird, really weird, because John slid his hand into Rodney's briefs, and found his dick. His very hard dick. What the hell was his dick thinking?
Of course his dick didn't think. It just reacted--reacted to John.
Weird.
He must be drunker than he thought.
He stared down. His dick was out of his pants now, cradled in John's hands. "Whoa, nice," John said, regarding it thoughtfully. He stroked it, running his thumb over the tip.
Rodney shuddered and gasped at the sensation. "Really? You think my dick is--oh--"
Warm and wet, John's mouth covered his dick, with a just a scrape of teeth. John's. Mouth. Rodney stared down at the dark, spiky hair, because oh, definitely weird, but good, oh so good. When John sucked hard, Rodney felt the pleasure drawing up from his toes, and then John did something obscenely good with his tongue.
"Oh god--oh god, you are good at this, aren't you?" Rodney touched the top of John's head. Thick, stiff hair, and he liked the feel of it, burying his fingers, being careful not to push or hold John's head down, because that would be rude.
John chuckled and hummed deep in his throat and Rodney moaned again. He had no idea John's--anyone's--mouth could feel this good, and he was supposed to be the smart one.
John kept sucking and sliding his mouth up and down, until the room tilted crazily and Rodney gasped for breath. Sliding forward on the bed, until his hips were barely on the edge, his hands sought John's shoulders, fingers clutching and he was moaning, oh god, moaning John's name over and over, shamelessly. A small part of his brain knew that this was nuts, that Major John Sheppard should not be blowing his brains out. Major John Sheppard, who marched around on other planets all geared up with his big gun and smug hair like he was king of the world, who flirted mercilessly with every damn woman they came upon, who could do all sorts of fun and sexy things with numbers. Christ, who knew he could do even better things with his mouth?
He couldn't keep his hips still, and so good, so good, his insides twisting up until he was about to break and he couldn't breathe, his heart must have stopped, the entire universe must have stopped and oh--oh god--
--everything broke apart and he came, cock straining into John's mouth. Somehow his hand had gotten tangled up with John's hand, and he squeezed hard, their fingers entwined as he whimpered and gasped his way through it.
"Oh, god, oh god, please--" he finally moaned, and John gentled his mouth, but held onto him during the aftershocks.
Okay, yes, point made--John gave great head.
Rodney fell back onto the bed and stared up at the oddly patterned Ancient ceiling, dazed. "Oh wow," he said, and realized he sounded suspiciously like John when he said it. Jeeze, they were rubbing off on each other, weren't they?
"Good, huh?" John flopped down on the bed next to him. "Told you so." He patted Rodney's chest, then cupped the side of Rodney's neck, thumb tracing the edge of his jaw. He looked exceedingly pleased with himself, and Rodney decided he had every right to be. Not that one good blow job made up for months of annoying smugness, but it certainly went a long way.
"Yes, good. Very good." He wondered how John got to be so good at it. He must have practiced. A lot. "You're very good."
"I'm good at a lot of things," John told him with a smile.
Rodney breathed in sharply. "Oh. Really?"
"Yes, Rodney, really."
Rodney propped himself up on his elbows. He had to stop saying "really." Really, he did. "I, um--" He waved a hand at John's crotch, fascinated by the bulge there. "Can I do something for you there?"
"Whatever you want to." John sat up, ducking his head and unzipping his pants.
Rodney stared, heart skipping a beat. Maybe he needed more ale. Or maybe he'd had too much already, and oh, look, there was John's very erect dick. He'd seen naked men before, but never quite like this, sitting up against a pillow, pants pushed down, knees drawn up, legs spread, hard and horny and waiting to be touched.
It was strangely appealing.
"Do you, uh--" Rodney crawled forward, kicking his shoes off.
He lost track of his thoughts as he touched John's chest, running his fingertips across the muscle. John's chest was hairy and flat, with hard, pointy nipples. When Rodney rubbed them, John made a low noise in his throat, so Rodney rubbed them again before tracing the trail of dark hair down the center of his stomach, down to a bush of pubic hair with a hard red cock poking out. It was silky and smooth to the touch, the skin stretched tight, a heavy, thick weight in his hand, surprisingly hot. Rodney squeezed, and to his absolute fascination, John gasped, his hips jerking forward. "Do you have lotion or anything?" Rodney asked, because he wanted to make this good.
"Yes, I do," John said, looking pleased. "I have some stuff, right here." He reached across to a bedside table, his body pressing against Rodney's chest. He was solid, Rodney thought, despite being so skinny. He wrapped an arm around John's waist, pressing a cheek against the side of his neck. John smelled good, warm and alive and somehow right.
John found what he was reaching for, relaxing against Rodney for a moment before shifting back to his original position. "Here, use this," he said, pushing a small bottle of mineral oil into Rodney's hand.
Bingo. A palmful of oil and John's cock was smooth and slick, Rodney's hand gliding easily along it. He started with a slow, steady rhythm, interrupting it occasionally to rub his palm over the broad head. And John--John groaned for him, closed his eyes and groaned as if he were in pain. Rodney watched as his face took on a blissful expression. It was a look Rodney had never seen before on John's face, not even when flying the jumper, and Rodney couldn't stop looking. But then John opened his eyes. Rodney was caught. He was caught staring at John looking so naked and exposed. His face grew hot, embarrassed at witnessing such an intimate moment, but when he finally wrenched his eyes away, he found himself staring at John's cock as it slid through his very own fist. John's narrow hips moved steadily, pushing his cock through Rodney's fist, so Rodney thought maybe he should stare at John's chest instead, and watch the flush rise up toward his throat. Back arched, head lolling back, exposing the fine line of his jaw--John was a pretty man, Rodney thought. He was prettier than Allina, in his own way, with the beard stubble and muscled chest and shiny, greased cock.
"Rodney," John moaned, dragging out the sound of Rodney's name, making it sound bizarrely worshipful. Rodney shifted closer, and somehow his free arm found its way around John's shoulders, and he could smell it, the sex and the sweat and the wanting.
John twisted and clung to Rodney, hips stuttering as he cried out. His cock stiffened further in Rodney's hands. It grew wet and Rodney held on as John's body jerked, his cock slipping easily through Rodney's hand. Rodney was startled by it all even though he shouldn't have been, because really, what had he expected? The whole point was to make John come, and that was exactly what he had done. What he hadn't expected was for it to be such a thrill--John's body shaking against his, come spattering them both, moans sending shivers down his spine.
Finally, John relaxed, leaning against him, head on his shoulder, panting. "Nice," he said, with a tipsy little laugh. He hugged Rodney, hard, then fell back against the pillow. "Thank you."
His earnest tone made Rodney smile. "You're welcome. But I think I made a mess here--or should I say *you* made a mess."
John laughed again, and Rodney decided he liked postcoital John very much, especially when John took his come-slicked hand and wiped it on his belly, smearing it onto his own skin. "Messy is good." He tugged on Rodney's arm, until Rodney fell against him. "I like messy."
"Of course you do." Not that Rodney really cared about the splashes of come on his own shirt. He was too tired for that. He was very tired, as a matter of fact--so tired that resting his head on John's naked shoulder felt extremely comfortable. "I should go," he pointed out, still rubbing his wet hand on John's stomach.
"Not just yet," John protested sleepily, tightening his hold. "We need to have more sex."
"Okay." The sensation of John's skin against his cheek was soothing, and he didn't want to move. "We can do that. Later." And Rodney closed his eyes.
***
When Rodney opened his eyes again, the brightness of the room startled him, and not only that, his pillow seemed to be alive--alive and breathing, with hair that tickled his nose. Chest hair.
John.
Rodney propped himself up on an elbow, blinking at the light. John was asleep, looking far younger than his thirty-some-odd years--lines smoothed out, mouth relaxed and partly open. Peaceful. Rodney's face grew warm as he remembered all the touching. It wasn't exactly something he'd expected to be doing with John, but somehow John made it feel like it was a natural thing for them to do. And it had felt good. It was all very strange and different, but hell, so was being in another galaxy with creatures that wanted to suck the life out of you.
Rodney preferred this kind of strange.
He rubbed his face, yawning. Checking the clock, he realized he had only been asleep a few hours. The insistent pressure in his bladder had awakened him. He sat up, ready to slip out of the bed without waking John.
"Rodney--" John mumbled, shifting.
Oops, not careful enough. "Go back to sleep," Rodney whispered.
John opened his eyes, brows rising. "Don't go." He reached an arm out, hand curving around Rodney's wrist.
Rodney felt a rush of affection. John wanted him to stay, and it was frighteningly sweet of him. "Not going anywhere," Rodney told him. "Only to the bathroom." He rubbed John's naked chest and John smiled sleepily at him.
Christ.
"Go back to sleep," Rodney ordered, his voice rough. He got to his feet and hurried to the bathroom, because John smiling like that made his stomach hurt for no real reason.
When he returned, John was curled up under the covers, his slow, steady breathing indicating that he had fallen back to sleep. And on the floor next to the bed--those were John's pants, weren't they? Not that he had expected John to sleep with his clothes on. Of course not. That would be ridiculous. He didn't like to sleep with his clothes on, either. But without his clothes he'd be naked--naked with John. John hadn't warned him about the whole naked thing, and that wasn't really fair, was it? Springing it on him in the middle of the night like this. Not fair at all.
Damn it. Fair or not, Rodney pulled his shirt off over his head, and then, after a moment's hesitation, unzipped his pants, dropping them to the floor. He was most definitely leaving his briefs on. He turned off the light and slid under the covers, shivering. He carefully stretched out on his back along the edge of the bed, because there was no need to wake John again. He could sleep just fine in his little corner of the bed; he didn't need much room, really.
Only John did wake, just enough to acknowledge Rodney's presence by rolling up against him with a soft sigh; hard, naked body--almost naked, that is, aside from his boxers, and Rodney was pleased to have called the level of undress correctly. Rodney eased toward him, moving away from the edge. After all, he didn't want to fall out of bed during the night. When he put an arm around John's waist, a leg slid between his in response, and Rodney supposed what they were doing might actually be considered cuddling.
Odd, but nice.
He slept surprisingly soundly, and when he woke to the incessant beeping of the alarm, John was still there, pressed up against him, his face tucked into Rodney's neck. "John?" he whispered. He had no idea where John kept his alarm, the noise was growing irritating, and it was too early for it to be morning yet anyway. Morning meant meetings and panic and hive ships headed their way, not to mention certain doom.
"Mmmph." John raised his head, then crawled over Rodney, retrieving his watch from the bedside table. Rodney closed his eyes, all too aware of John's body sliding across his. Thankfully, the beeping stopped, but John made no further effort to move. His body pressed down on top of Rodney's, naked chest, naked belly, hard, hairy thighs between his, and oh--good morning to you, too--boxers really didn't conceal anything, did they?
Rodney opened his eyes to see John gazing down at him. "Hi, Rodney," he said, with a hesitant little grin that came and went in a flash.
John appeared to be downright uncertain, and that startled Rodney. He responded by wrapping his arms around John's body and hugging him close, a reaction that surprised him probably as much as it surprised John, judging by John's soft exclamation. But then John rocked his hips against Rodney's, and hello again. Rodney spread his legs and pushed up, his cock just as awake and perky as John's. It felt good, better than it should, because John wasn't a pretty, curvy blonde. But it felt better than acknowledging that it was morning, because morning and panic could certainly wait, couldn't it? Because Rodney had forgotten how wonderful it was to wake up with somebody, and it didn't matter that John was a guy. He actually liked the feeling of a whiskery cheek sliding against his, the feel of another cock pressing against his stomach, the long, muscular back flexing under his hands.
John reached down and fumbled with his shorts, pulling them down, and that seemed like such a fine idea that Rodney pulled his down too, lifting his hips and shoving against John as he did so. John somehow got things arranged so that their cocks were nestled together, and when Rodney rocked his hips, the sensitive underside of his cock rubbed against John's body, and that was very good. He clamped his hands onto John's ass and pushed. John thrust down, his arms snaking under Rodney's back and gripped around his shoulders, bracing himself. Rodney pushed again and oh god, he could come from this alone. They got a rhythm going, rocking against each other and suddenly he realized that was the whole idea. They were actually having sex. Again. He hadn't known they could make it work like this.
"Oh," he gasped. "I *like* this."
"No kidding," John said, "This is good. Very good."
John's breath was a warm burst of air against Rodney's ear, and that was somehow incredibly erotic. He could feel it in his dick. Everything John did felt just right. Rodney gripped John's ass tighter and moaned, open mouth pressed against the skin of John's neck, startled and yet turned on ever further by the sharp, salty taste. He bit down gently and John shivered, moaning wordlessly. John tasted wonderful, he sounded wonderful, everything about John was wonderful. Pulling his knees up, Rodney planted his feet on the mattress and ground himself against John. He was hot, so fucking hot, the friction was burning him up, he had to come, he needed to come, he could taste it, he was so close--
John cried out sharply, right in his ear, his body strained and then Rodney felt a rush of warmth on his stomach. He felt it as John came, felt his body convulse with pleasure. It was incredible, John having an orgasm right up against his body like that. His cock pushed against wet, slippery skin, getting soaked with John's come and finally his brain shorted out and he came in one big rush of mind-numbing pleasure, gasping John's name.
"Oh, god," he sighed, when his mind finally tracked again. "Did I mention that I liked that? Because I do. I did. I liked that. It was good. Very good. Astoundingly so." He even liked the feel of come dripping down his waist--John's come, mixed with his.
John rolled off to one side, a happy grin lighting up his face. Rodney felt a little stab of pleasure at the sight of it. "I knew we'd be good together," John said. He gazed at Rodney, then his smile faded. "I only wish it hadn't taken so long. We--" He broke off, pressing his forehead against Rodney's shoulder. When he raised his head again, the smile was back, only this time it didn't meet his eyes. "This sex thing was a damn good idea, huh? It--it clears the head, doesn't it?"
Rodney nodded, turning away from the forced smile, because he couldn't manage one himself. "Yes, that's one way of putting it. Very clear." He sat up, cool air chilling his wet stomach.
John fumbled at the table. "What time is it--crap. I have a meeting with Elizabeth. I've got to get cleaned up." He patted Rodney's chest, then turned abruptly.
Rodney watched him climb out of bed, his postcoital euphoria fading. It was morning now. And *they* had a meeting with Elizabeth. Rodney even had something to suggest. It must be the clear head. It wasn't that his data compression idea would exactly save them, but contacting Earth, letting them know what happened--that was something, at least.
***
"Hey," John said as he stepped into Rodney's lab. He glanced past Rodney to where Zelenka and Simpson were working, then back at Rodney, who had gone so far as to remove his hands from his keyboard.
"Hey," Rodney answered with an almost smile.
Painfully aware that they weren't alone, John stepped as close to Rodney's lab stool as he dared. "Teyla and I are gonna do a little reconnaissance."
Rodney nodded and crossed his arms. "Zelenka told me. Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"We'll be cloaked."
"Yeah, 'cause that always worked so well for the Klingons."
"Romulans," John corrected.
"It worked for the Romulans."
"Of course it worked for the Romulans. They developed it." John heard a snicker from the other side of the room, but when he looked over, Simpson and Zelenka both appeared to be completely focused on their work. "I should go. Teyla's waiting. I just wanted you to know."
Rodney nodded, and John turned to go. As he opened the door, Rodney called out his name, and John turned toward him. Sometimes he wished that Rodney was better at hiding his feelings, because Rodney looked like he was losing his best friend. "Be careful."
"I will." John tried to smile, but he wasn't sure he succeeded.
"Okay," Rodney said, with a hint of rawness in his voice.
John stepped through the door.
***
As soon as John finished the recording for Sumner's family, he went to Rodney's quarters. He thought about going to his own; he was certainly tired enough, and he suspected Rodney would understand, but he didn't want to be alone. The door slid open as soon as he knocked.
"I wasn't sure you were coming," Rodney said, offering him a small smile.
"Elizabeth wanted me to record a message for Sumner's family."
Rodney's face twisted in sympathy, and he tilted his head toward the bed. "Come on, sit."
John followed Rodney to the bed and sat beside him, looking at the floor. Maybe he should have gone to his own quarters. No, Rodney deserved to have someone to be with before the end. They both did. He forced a smile and turned to look at Rodney. "Ford tells me you said we were like family."
"Yeah, well, we are, albeit less dysfunctional."
John found his smile slipping into one a bit more genuine. "He also said you pontificated for an hour."
"Ford said pontificated?" Rodney's smile has becoming less forced, too.
"Not in so many syllables."
"What did you say?"
"To Sumner's family?"
"To your own."
John shook his head, and Rodney, who could be perceptive when he wanted to be, let it go. "How bad was it? The culling?"
The new subject wasn't much of an improvement over the old one. "Bad." John hoped Rodney didn't ask for details, because he didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about anything. He just… He wanted sex. He wanted to feel Rodney's body against his own. He wanted Rodney to understand what he wanted.
Apparently he did, because Rodney didn't ask for more details; he just gazed at John intently for a moment, then slipped to the floor in front of him. As John watched, he untied John's boots and slipped them off. His socks followed. Then Rodney rose up on his knees and pushed John's jacket from his shoulders. John helped, wiggling free and ducking his head so Rodney could pull his shirt off. Rodney reached for the button on his pants, and together, they removed them. John slid back until he was lying flat on the bed, completely naked, and Rodney, still clothed, was on his hands and knees over him. Rodney studied him closely for a moment, and for an instant John tensed, thinking that Rodney was going to kiss him, but then Rodney sat back on his knees, straddling John's hips.
Then he began to touch. Rodney had warm, broad hands with calluses in places John wasn't used to. He touched gently, soothing and arousing at the same time as he moved from shoulders to arms to chest to abdomen and back. He touched John with his mouth, too, brushing soft lips across a shoulder, teasingly licking the inside of an elbow, sucking lightly on the side of John's neck. Despite his exhaustion, or maybe because of it, John responded. Rodney's touch felt good, and John needed to feel good, needed to be touched.
Rodney worked his way lower, mouthing his way along John's hip, while taking hold of John's cock and stroking slowly.
John groaned.
Rodney licked the head of his cock. Then he looked up at John, "If I do this wrong, you'll tell me."
John cupped Rodney's cheek in his hand. "You can't do it wrong." And he couldn't because this was Rodney touching him so intimately that it took John's breath away.
"Bad blow jobs are possible. Trust me on this."
John stroked Rodney's cheekbone with his thumb. "You can't do this wrong."
Rodney looked startled, but then he smiled his little pleased smile. "You'll tell me if I can make it better. I can take constructive criticism."
John nodded, because if he didn't, he knew Rodney would spend the next twenty minutes discussing the issue.
"Okay." Rodney closed his mouth around the head of John's cock.
Rodney sucked, and the pressure was sweet. John closed his eyes. He wanted to lose himself in the sensation, to forget everything he'd seen, the people he hadn't been able to save, the people he wasn't going to be able to save. He'd done it often enough in the past--lost himself in a warm mouth.
Rodney was moving up and down in a nice, steady rhythm, and John buried his hand in Rodney's hair. He couldn't keep his eyes closed, couldn't forget, because this was Rodney, because Rodney was one of those people he might not be able to save, and because this time, he needed more than a warm mouth.
"Rodney, stop."
Rodney let go and looked up at him. There was more than a little hurt in his face, as though John was telling him he was doing it wrong. Seeing that look on Rodney's face cut more deeply than it should have. "I want to do you, too," he said gently.
The hurt vanished, and Rodney nodded before sliding from the bed. He undressed quickly. It took a little maneuvering before they were lying diagonally across Rodney's bed, cock to mouth.
Rodney really did have a nice cock, John thought as he took it in hand. He stroked it a few times, swirling his tongue over the head. Rodney smelled good--warm and comfortable. He wasn't sure when Rodney's scent had become so familiar that it was reassuring. He wasn't sure he cared. He inhaled deeply, filling himself with Rodney's scent.
He took Rodney in, took him deep, and sucked. Rodney did the same, and John groaned around the cock in his mouth. Everything about Rodney felt good--the cock in his mouth, the mouth on his cock. He drew back, sliding his mouth along Rodney's length, and again Rodney did the same. At first Rodney was a second or two behind, but after a few strokes, they found the rhythm.
Caressing Rodney, feeling Rodney caress him at the same time was oddly serene. John let everything else go, let himself feel nothing but Rodney and the shared pleasure of mouths and cocks. John wanted there to be more sharing in his life.
John had been right. Rodney couldn't do this badly. In fact he was doing it damn well, his mouth moving over John's cock, taking him deep, suction creating a sweet pleasure for John to lose himself in.
Rodney was getting close. John could feel it and he slowed his movements, dragging it out because he didn't want it to end. But the end was inevitable, and when Rodney's fluid began filling John's mouth, he swallowed and swallowed. He didn't want to lose any part of Rodney that he could have. And when John came, he felt Rodney swallowing, and that made him want to come more, for Rodney.
He let Rodney's cock slip from his mouth and rested his cheek on the bed, stroking Rodney's hip with his hand and watching Rodney's cock soften.
"We should probably get under the covers before we fall asleep," Rodney said, sounding like he didn't really want to move. He was right, but John didn't want to move either. "Come on," he said, giving John's ass a squeeze.
John acquiesced, and they settled beneath the covers with a minimum of fuss, lying side by side and staring at the ceiling. John waited for Rodney to fall asleep. Between the sex and the exhaustion, it shouldn't take long.
But it was. As long as Rodney was awake, John was awake. "You going to tell me what's bothering you?" John asked when he couldn't take it anymore, even if he wasn't sure he wanted to know what, from the laundry list of possible sources of insomnia, was the one keeping Rodney awake.
"Nothing's bothering me."
"Uh-huh."
"Nothing is bothering me," Rodney repeated.
"Then why aren't you asleep?"
"Why aren't you asleep?" Rodney countered.
"I prefer to wait until you fall asleep." Which Rodney would assume that this was some weird military thing and John was content to let him think that.
"You are so weird."
John rolled onto his side and placed one hand on the center of Rodney's abdomen. "What's wrong?"
"Other than the obvious?"
He nodded. "Other than that."
"Nothing's wrong. I was just thinking. Wondering, really, if…"
A flustered Rodney was unbelievably endearing. John figured it was because he was such an arrogant ass the rest of the time. "Wondering if?"
"We could..." Rodney hesitated. "Kiss."
John was more surprised than he should have been. "Sure," he said immediately.
Rodney turned to look at him. "Really? Because you haven't seemed like you wanted to. I thought maybe it was something you only did with women."
"I kiss men sometimes."
"Oh."
John closed his eyes. Rodney was hurt that John hadn't kissed him. "Once. Well, more than once, but only one guy." John opened his eyes to find Rodney looking at him, his expression curious, yet oddly kind. "His name was Tim; we met the summer before my senior year in college. He was a grad student. We were doing research in the same lab."
"You did research? What kind of research?"
"It was for my senior thesis."
"In?"
"Chemistry."
"You were a chemistry major? What was your thesis on?"
"Rodney."
"Sorry, so you met in the lab. What was he studying, by the way?"
John sighed. Only Rodney would interrupt a story about sex to ask what the participants were majoring in. He was surprised Rodney hadn't asked for details of their experiments, the chemical ones. "Chemical engineering." He glared at Rodney in an attempt to ensure there wouldn't be any more interruptions. "We got along really well, started hanging out, catching movies together. I thought of him as my best friend. I didn't want to go home over Thanksgiving break and Tim suggested we have our own Thanksgiving together. We bought a couple of six packs and some pizza and watched football. It was fun." John took a deep breath. It had been fun.
"What happened?"
John rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling for a moment before answering. He didn't know why he was telling Rodney this, except they might not be alive in a few days, and he could still taste Rodney on his tongue. "He kissed me. I left. I didn't know what else to do. He was a guy and I didn't, at least I thought I didn't. I stayed up all night thinking about it and the next day I went to see him." He could still see Tim's face when he'd opened the door to find John on his doorstep, surprise and hope and a little fear. "Tim wasn't like anyone else I'd ever known. I could be myself with him."
Rodney nodded. "You're very good at that, being what people expect you to be."
The insight surprised him, but John wasn't sure it should have. Rodney was smart, after all. He just generally didn't bother to pay attention to people unless he had to. "Tim didn't expect me to be anything and that was...liberating. So I decided that guy or not, I wanted to be with him."
"Sounds like you were lucky."
"Yeah, it was great for a while. We were discreet, because I was planning on joining the Air Force. In fact, I was already signed up. It's why we split. Tim didn't want to keep our relationship a secret forever. He wanted me to go to grad school, become an academic or a researcher, choose a profession where we could be together openly. I wanted to fly. When I was getting ready to leave, he told me it was him or the Air Force." John stopped because it was obvious what his choice had been.
"Do you ever regret it?" Rodney asked quietly.
"Sometimes."
Rodney rolled onto his side, looking down at John with a gentle, understanding expression that John had never seen before. John reached up, touched Rodney's cheek with his fingertips. "Kiss me."
Rodney leaned down and pressed his lips to John's. John was certain that groan hadn't come from him, just like he was certain that he wasn't really splitting down the middle. Rodney slowly deepened the kiss, and John wrapped his arms around Rodney's shoulders. John hadn't known many people he could hold onto, but he could hold onto Rodney.
And he was going to, for as long as he could.
***
Authors:
mmmchelle and thegrrrl2002Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Summary: What do you do when all you have left is two weeks?
Spoilers: The Brotherhood, The Gift, Letters From Pegasus, and The Siege. Yup, basically the final third of the season.
Notes:
mmmchelle had an idea for a fic, and very generously asked me to wickdzoot and kylielee1000.Wow, I can't believe this is actually done.
Two Weeks, Part I
"Two weeks," John said, looking into his glass. The ale was darker than he preferred, but it was all they had, and after the fourth glass, he'd stopped caring about the taste. It was late. He and Rodney had gone over every scrap of the sensor data together before going to John's quarters and opening the ale.
"Less than."
John studied Rodney's profile. He'd been pretty upset by the loss of the ZPM, even before they'd heard about the hive ships. Now he looked devastated and guilty, and Rodney couldn't have known that telling Allina they'd only just arrived in this galaxy a few months ago would result in her taking the ZPM away. "If you could do anything you wanted with your last two weeks, what would it be?"
Rodney glanced at him sharply--well, sharply for a guy who had matched John drink for drink. "Have lots and lots of sex."
John smiled because it was just like Rodney to turn around and act like a guy when you expected him to act like a scientist. "Not come up with a general theory of everything?"
"Grand unification theory, yeah, that too." Rodney leaned his head back against the couch. "What about you?"
John took a drink. "I'd probably go for the sex."
Rodney looked at him sidelong. "Kirk."
That still stung a little. "Yeah, but Kirk wasn't a member of Mensa."
The corner of Rodney's mouth twitched. "Neither are you."
No, he wasn't, but that wasn't really the point, was it? "But I could be."
Rodney snorted and took a swallow of ale.
John regarded him thoughtfully. Even though they'd been practically living in one another's pockets for months, he still didn't feel as if he knew Rodney. "When you were a kid, what did you dream of doing?"
This time Rodney's smile was regretful. "Playing Carnegie Hall."
"Really?" John tired to wrap his mind around the image of Rodney on a stage while people in tuxes and ball gowns watched.
Rodney took another drink. "Really."
John considered that. "What did you play?"
Rodney raised his free hand and wiggled his fingers. "Piano. I was technically proficient, but I lacked soul."
"You've got plenty of soul." It was true. Rodney was practically the James Brown of physics--which might make Zelenka Chuck Berry. Clearly, John hadn't had enough to drink.
"What did you want to do?"
"Fly." It suddenly seemed unfair that he'd gotten what he wanted but Rodney hadn't.
"Anything else?"
"Be an NFL quarterback."
Rodney's smile changed into something that wasn't quite a smirk. "You're so predictable."
"I am not."
Rodney gave him a look that clearly said, 'if you say so' in a disbelieving tone.
"I'm not." He wasn't. Rodney didn't know John anywhere near as well as he thought he did. "We could have it, you know."
Rodney glanced at him. "What?"
"The sex."
Rodney snorted again. "Maybe you could."
"You could too."
One corner of Rodney's mouth went down in that sarcastic smile that John found annoying and bizarrely charming at the same time. "Right. Because women are just falling all over me."
"Allina did."
Rodney's sarcastic smile got more sarcastic. "And look how that turned out."
Okay, maybe that wasn't the best example. "You were cute, you know."
Rodney rolled his head to the side and looked at John through narrowed eyes.
John leaned forward slightly. "You were."
"Uh-huh." Having clearly decided that John was either nuts or drunk or both, Rodney turned his head back.
John waited until Rodney had taken a drink of his beer and then said casually, "I wasn't talking about women. I was talking about me."
The beer went flying from Rodney's mouth and Rodney sat bolt upright. He wiped the back of his mouth with his hand. "You were not."
John nodded seriously. "I was."
Rodney stared at him as if he'd just confessed...well, almost anything. "You want to spend the last two weeks of your life having sex with me?"
John shrugged, elaborately casual. "Why not?"
Rodney's eyes widened. "Why not?"
"Exactly. Why not?"
Rodney's mouth opened and closed. He shifted, but he was still staring at John. "You're certifiable, you know that."
"It'd be fun. Besides, I've never done it with a member of Mensa before." He grinned, trying for charming and hoping he didn't get annoying by mistake. Unlike Rodney he didn't have the knack for being both at the same time. "All that brain power, applied to something interesting..." He let his voice trail off meaningfully. All that brain power, focused on him--he'd been having vague thoughts about it for weeks, thoughts he hadn't let become less vague, but now...now he didn't have anything to lose. Neither of them did.
Rodney was still staring. "You do guys."
"Not often, but, yeah, I've been known to cross to the other side on occasion."
After a moment, Rodney blinked. "I haven't."
John tilted his head quizzically. He'd assumed that Rodney swung his way at least some of the time. It wasn't the first time he'd indulged in wishful thinking. "Really?"
"Yes, really. What is it with you and this really business?"
"I could teach you," John offered, doing his best not to salivate at the thought of blowing Rodney's mind when he blew other things.
"You could," Rodney said slowly.
"And you like learning new things," John added.
Rodney nodded grudgingly. "I do."
Pressing his advantage, John leaned close and whispered, "I give great head."
Rodney turned to look at him, and John almost heard his synapses crackling. Rodney gave him a level, slightly wide-eyed look. John forced himself to remain quiet while Rodney studied him for a moment. He wasn't sure, but he was hoping that the fact that Rodney swallowed hard meant something good.
At last Rodney said, "Yeah, okay."
***
"Cool," John said, leaning back in his chair with a grin.
Rodney could scarcely believe his own voice when he said it. He could scarcely believe their entire conversation. He'd just agreed to sex--sex with John. It must have been the beer. Or maybe it had been the sense of impending disaster, a disaster he had helped to create. Sex with John. Why the hell not? It wasn't like he was going to get any from anyone else during what were likely to be the last two weeks of his life.
The way John's face lit up startled him, though. It was such a happy grin, a genuine one, not cocky or smirky or anything like that. Just happy anticipation. John really wanted to have sex with him. Because John had sex with guys.
And he, Rodney, was a guy.
The strange thing was, his cock was definitely intrigued by John's whispered boast. The thought of John's mouth on his cock shouldn't have made his breath catch, truly, it shouldn't have. He must really be getting desperate, although it wasn't as if John wasn't good-looking: rumpled hair, dark eyes, wide, mobile mouth, the kind of mouth that could stretch into a face-splitting grin, or slide into a one-sided smirk, or wrap around his--
Yeah, his dick, John's mouth. Okay, he could do this.
He drained the last of his ale, and set the glass on the table with a thud. "Okay," he repeated. "Sex. You and me."
"Stop looking so surprised, Rodney. Believe me, I'll show you a great time." One last swallow of ale and John bounced out of his chair, pulling his shirt over his head. He emerged with hair even more rumpled. Rodney's breath caught--chest, naked skin, nipples, all that hair, and nipples, two dark nipples...that was a man's chest, all right.
"I'm not surprised, Major. I'm merely--actually--it's all rather unexpected." Rodney hadn't expected John's lean, wiry torso to look so good, so...touchable. And he hadn't expected his cock to be thickening at the sight of it.
"Unexpected. Isn't that the definition of surprised?"
"What, all of a sudden you're Mr. Funk and Wagnall?"
John frowned at him. "Yes, Rodney, I am. Now come here." He held his hand out. Rodney took it, and John's warm hand firmly clasped his. He allowed John to tug him out of the chair. "You're really okay with this, right?" John asked as he led Rodney to his bed.
John's bed. It looked like it always did, with sheets neatly smoothed and tucked in around the sides, pillow at the head, plumped and resting on the folded-over edge of the blanket. Innocent. Only not so much, anymore. Rodney blinked. "Yes, I'm all right with this, of course I'm all right with this. I said okay, didn't I?"
"You seem nervous."
"I'm fine. A slight bit tipsy, though," Rodney explained with a weak laugh. There, that was the explanation right there, why he was agreeing to sex with John.
John's hand slid to Rodney's shoulder, his fingers touching Rodney's neck. Rodney rested his hand on John's shoulder--his naked shoulder--all warm skin and hard muscle. John gazed at his face searchingly, and Rodney thought that John might kiss him. He didn't know how he felt about that, because John was a guy, and that would be kind of weird. But when John merely squeezed his shoulder and sat on the bed, Rodney felt strangely disappointed.
"It's just sex," John said, his voice diffident. "Sex. That's all. We don't have to do anything complicated. Here, sit." He patted the bed, and Rodney sat.
"Oh, so now you're saying you have to keep things simple just for me? Really, I think I can handle complicated." Maybe he wanted complicated--not that he was sure exactly what John meant by "complicated." He could handle complicated. He was all about complicated. And why did John have to take his shirt off like that? He wondered whether he should take his own shirt off.
"Rodney, shut up." John spoke affectionately. Then he knelt on the floor, his hands on Rodney's thighs, pushing his legs apart.
"Oh. Shutting up now." John's hands slid under his shirt, over his belly and across his chest, rough, callused fingers rubbing against his skin and it was surprisingly nice. Rodney felt himself relaxing under his touch. When John unfastened his trousers, though, the room suddenly became warm, very warm and Rodney wasn't relaxed at all anymore. John, kneeling between his legs, looking so--so John, he supposed, focused and serious with his lower lip caught between his teeth and Rodney swore that he actually looked hungry, maybe even horny. John looking at him, hungry and horny. Then it all got weird, really weird, because John slid his hand into Rodney's briefs, and found his dick. His very hard dick. What the hell was his dick thinking?
Of course his dick didn't think. It just reacted--reacted to John.
Weird.
He must be drunker than he thought.
He stared down. His dick was out of his pants now, cradled in John's hands. "Whoa, nice," John said, regarding it thoughtfully. He stroked it, running his thumb over the tip.
Rodney shuddered and gasped at the sensation. "Really? You think my dick is--oh--"
Warm and wet, John's mouth covered his dick, with a just a scrape of teeth. John's. Mouth. Rodney stared down at the dark, spiky hair, because oh, definitely weird, but good, oh so good. When John sucked hard, Rodney felt the pleasure drawing up from his toes, and then John did something obscenely good with his tongue.
"Oh god--oh god, you are good at this, aren't you?" Rodney touched the top of John's head. Thick, stiff hair, and he liked the feel of it, burying his fingers, being careful not to push or hold John's head down, because that would be rude.
John chuckled and hummed deep in his throat and Rodney moaned again. He had no idea John's--anyone's--mouth could feel this good, and he was supposed to be the smart one.
John kept sucking and sliding his mouth up and down, until the room tilted crazily and Rodney gasped for breath. Sliding forward on the bed, until his hips were barely on the edge, his hands sought John's shoulders, fingers clutching and he was moaning, oh god, moaning John's name over and over, shamelessly. A small part of his brain knew that this was nuts, that Major John Sheppard should not be blowing his brains out. Major John Sheppard, who marched around on other planets all geared up with his big gun and smug hair like he was king of the world, who flirted mercilessly with every damn woman they came upon, who could do all sorts of fun and sexy things with numbers. Christ, who knew he could do even better things with his mouth?
He couldn't keep his hips still, and so good, so good, his insides twisting up until he was about to break and he couldn't breathe, his heart must have stopped, the entire universe must have stopped and oh--oh god--
--everything broke apart and he came, cock straining into John's mouth. Somehow his hand had gotten tangled up with John's hand, and he squeezed hard, their fingers entwined as he whimpered and gasped his way through it.
"Oh, god, oh god, please--" he finally moaned, and John gentled his mouth, but held onto him during the aftershocks.
Okay, yes, point made--John gave great head.
Rodney fell back onto the bed and stared up at the oddly patterned Ancient ceiling, dazed. "Oh wow," he said, and realized he sounded suspiciously like John when he said it. Jeeze, they were rubbing off on each other, weren't they?
"Good, huh?" John flopped down on the bed next to him. "Told you so." He patted Rodney's chest, then cupped the side of Rodney's neck, thumb tracing the edge of his jaw. He looked exceedingly pleased with himself, and Rodney decided he had every right to be. Not that one good blow job made up for months of annoying smugness, but it certainly went a long way.
"Yes, good. Very good." He wondered how John got to be so good at it. He must have practiced. A lot. "You're very good."
"I'm good at a lot of things," John told him with a smile.
Rodney breathed in sharply. "Oh. Really?"
"Yes, Rodney, really."
Rodney propped himself up on his elbows. He had to stop saying "really." Really, he did. "I, um--" He waved a hand at John's crotch, fascinated by the bulge there. "Can I do something for you there?"
"Whatever you want to." John sat up, ducking his head and unzipping his pants.
Rodney stared, heart skipping a beat. Maybe he needed more ale. Or maybe he'd had too much already, and oh, look, there was John's very erect dick. He'd seen naked men before, but never quite like this, sitting up against a pillow, pants pushed down, knees drawn up, legs spread, hard and horny and waiting to be touched.
It was strangely appealing.
"Do you, uh--" Rodney crawled forward, kicking his shoes off.
He lost track of his thoughts as he touched John's chest, running his fingertips across the muscle. John's chest was hairy and flat, with hard, pointy nipples. When Rodney rubbed them, John made a low noise in his throat, so Rodney rubbed them again before tracing the trail of dark hair down the center of his stomach, down to a bush of pubic hair with a hard red cock poking out. It was silky and smooth to the touch, the skin stretched tight, a heavy, thick weight in his hand, surprisingly hot. Rodney squeezed, and to his absolute fascination, John gasped, his hips jerking forward. "Do you have lotion or anything?" Rodney asked, because he wanted to make this good.
"Yes, I do," John said, looking pleased. "I have some stuff, right here." He reached across to a bedside table, his body pressing against Rodney's chest. He was solid, Rodney thought, despite being so skinny. He wrapped an arm around John's waist, pressing a cheek against the side of his neck. John smelled good, warm and alive and somehow right.
John found what he was reaching for, relaxing against Rodney for a moment before shifting back to his original position. "Here, use this," he said, pushing a small bottle of mineral oil into Rodney's hand.
Bingo. A palmful of oil and John's cock was smooth and slick, Rodney's hand gliding easily along it. He started with a slow, steady rhythm, interrupting it occasionally to rub his palm over the broad head. And John--John groaned for him, closed his eyes and groaned as if he were in pain. Rodney watched as his face took on a blissful expression. It was a look Rodney had never seen before on John's face, not even when flying the jumper, and Rodney couldn't stop looking. But then John opened his eyes. Rodney was caught. He was caught staring at John looking so naked and exposed. His face grew hot, embarrassed at witnessing such an intimate moment, but when he finally wrenched his eyes away, he found himself staring at John's cock as it slid through his very own fist. John's narrow hips moved steadily, pushing his cock through Rodney's fist, so Rodney thought maybe he should stare at John's chest instead, and watch the flush rise up toward his throat. Back arched, head lolling back, exposing the fine line of his jaw--John was a pretty man, Rodney thought. He was prettier than Allina, in his own way, with the beard stubble and muscled chest and shiny, greased cock.
"Rodney," John moaned, dragging out the sound of Rodney's name, making it sound bizarrely worshipful. Rodney shifted closer, and somehow his free arm found its way around John's shoulders, and he could smell it, the sex and the sweat and the wanting.
John twisted and clung to Rodney, hips stuttering as he cried out. His cock stiffened further in Rodney's hands. It grew wet and Rodney held on as John's body jerked, his cock slipping easily through Rodney's hand. Rodney was startled by it all even though he shouldn't have been, because really, what had he expected? The whole point was to make John come, and that was exactly what he had done. What he hadn't expected was for it to be such a thrill--John's body shaking against his, come spattering them both, moans sending shivers down his spine.
Finally, John relaxed, leaning against him, head on his shoulder, panting. "Nice," he said, with a tipsy little laugh. He hugged Rodney, hard, then fell back against the pillow. "Thank you."
His earnest tone made Rodney smile. "You're welcome. But I think I made a mess here--or should I say *you* made a mess."
John laughed again, and Rodney decided he liked postcoital John very much, especially when John took his come-slicked hand and wiped it on his belly, smearing it onto his own skin. "Messy is good." He tugged on Rodney's arm, until Rodney fell against him. "I like messy."
"Of course you do." Not that Rodney really cared about the splashes of come on his own shirt. He was too tired for that. He was very tired, as a matter of fact--so tired that resting his head on John's naked shoulder felt extremely comfortable. "I should go," he pointed out, still rubbing his wet hand on John's stomach.
"Not just yet," John protested sleepily, tightening his hold. "We need to have more sex."
"Okay." The sensation of John's skin against his cheek was soothing, and he didn't want to move. "We can do that. Later." And Rodney closed his eyes.
***
When Rodney opened his eyes again, the brightness of the room startled him, and not only that, his pillow seemed to be alive--alive and breathing, with hair that tickled his nose. Chest hair.
John.
Rodney propped himself up on an elbow, blinking at the light. John was asleep, looking far younger than his thirty-some-odd years--lines smoothed out, mouth relaxed and partly open. Peaceful. Rodney's face grew warm as he remembered all the touching. It wasn't exactly something he'd expected to be doing with John, but somehow John made it feel like it was a natural thing for them to do. And it had felt good. It was all very strange and different, but hell, so was being in another galaxy with creatures that wanted to suck the life out of you.
Rodney preferred this kind of strange.
He rubbed his face, yawning. Checking the clock, he realized he had only been asleep a few hours. The insistent pressure in his bladder had awakened him. He sat up, ready to slip out of the bed without waking John.
"Rodney--" John mumbled, shifting.
Oops, not careful enough. "Go back to sleep," Rodney whispered.
John opened his eyes, brows rising. "Don't go." He reached an arm out, hand curving around Rodney's wrist.
Rodney felt a rush of affection. John wanted him to stay, and it was frighteningly sweet of him. "Not going anywhere," Rodney told him. "Only to the bathroom." He rubbed John's naked chest and John smiled sleepily at him.
Christ.
"Go back to sleep," Rodney ordered, his voice rough. He got to his feet and hurried to the bathroom, because John smiling like that made his stomach hurt for no real reason.
When he returned, John was curled up under the covers, his slow, steady breathing indicating that he had fallen back to sleep. And on the floor next to the bed--those were John's pants, weren't they? Not that he had expected John to sleep with his clothes on. Of course not. That would be ridiculous. He didn't like to sleep with his clothes on, either. But without his clothes he'd be naked--naked with John. John hadn't warned him about the whole naked thing, and that wasn't really fair, was it? Springing it on him in the middle of the night like this. Not fair at all.
Damn it. Fair or not, Rodney pulled his shirt off over his head, and then, after a moment's hesitation, unzipped his pants, dropping them to the floor. He was most definitely leaving his briefs on. He turned off the light and slid under the covers, shivering. He carefully stretched out on his back along the edge of the bed, because there was no need to wake John again. He could sleep just fine in his little corner of the bed; he didn't need much room, really.
Only John did wake, just enough to acknowledge Rodney's presence by rolling up against him with a soft sigh; hard, naked body--almost naked, that is, aside from his boxers, and Rodney was pleased to have called the level of undress correctly. Rodney eased toward him, moving away from the edge. After all, he didn't want to fall out of bed during the night. When he put an arm around John's waist, a leg slid between his in response, and Rodney supposed what they were doing might actually be considered cuddling.
Odd, but nice.
He slept surprisingly soundly, and when he woke to the incessant beeping of the alarm, John was still there, pressed up against him, his face tucked into Rodney's neck. "John?" he whispered. He had no idea where John kept his alarm, the noise was growing irritating, and it was too early for it to be morning yet anyway. Morning meant meetings and panic and hive ships headed their way, not to mention certain doom.
"Mmmph." John raised his head, then crawled over Rodney, retrieving his watch from the bedside table. Rodney closed his eyes, all too aware of John's body sliding across his. Thankfully, the beeping stopped, but John made no further effort to move. His body pressed down on top of Rodney's, naked chest, naked belly, hard, hairy thighs between his, and oh--good morning to you, too--boxers really didn't conceal anything, did they?
Rodney opened his eyes to see John gazing down at him. "Hi, Rodney," he said, with a hesitant little grin that came and went in a flash.
John appeared to be downright uncertain, and that startled Rodney. He responded by wrapping his arms around John's body and hugging him close, a reaction that surprised him probably as much as it surprised John, judging by John's soft exclamation. But then John rocked his hips against Rodney's, and hello again. Rodney spread his legs and pushed up, his cock just as awake and perky as John's. It felt good, better than it should, because John wasn't a pretty, curvy blonde. But it felt better than acknowledging that it was morning, because morning and panic could certainly wait, couldn't it? Because Rodney had forgotten how wonderful it was to wake up with somebody, and it didn't matter that John was a guy. He actually liked the feeling of a whiskery cheek sliding against his, the feel of another cock pressing against his stomach, the long, muscular back flexing under his hands.
John reached down and fumbled with his shorts, pulling them down, and that seemed like such a fine idea that Rodney pulled his down too, lifting his hips and shoving against John as he did so. John somehow got things arranged so that their cocks were nestled together, and when Rodney rocked his hips, the sensitive underside of his cock rubbed against John's body, and that was very good. He clamped his hands onto John's ass and pushed. John thrust down, his arms snaking under Rodney's back and gripped around his shoulders, bracing himself. Rodney pushed again and oh god, he could come from this alone. They got a rhythm going, rocking against each other and suddenly he realized that was the whole idea. They were actually having sex. Again. He hadn't known they could make it work like this.
"Oh," he gasped. "I *like* this."
"No kidding," John said, "This is good. Very good."
John's breath was a warm burst of air against Rodney's ear, and that was somehow incredibly erotic. He could feel it in his dick. Everything John did felt just right. Rodney gripped John's ass tighter and moaned, open mouth pressed against the skin of John's neck, startled and yet turned on ever further by the sharp, salty taste. He bit down gently and John shivered, moaning wordlessly. John tasted wonderful, he sounded wonderful, everything about John was wonderful. Pulling his knees up, Rodney planted his feet on the mattress and ground himself against John. He was hot, so fucking hot, the friction was burning him up, he had to come, he needed to come, he could taste it, he was so close--
John cried out sharply, right in his ear, his body strained and then Rodney felt a rush of warmth on his stomach. He felt it as John came, felt his body convulse with pleasure. It was incredible, John having an orgasm right up against his body like that. His cock pushed against wet, slippery skin, getting soaked with John's come and finally his brain shorted out and he came in one big rush of mind-numbing pleasure, gasping John's name.
"Oh, god," he sighed, when his mind finally tracked again. "Did I mention that I liked that? Because I do. I did. I liked that. It was good. Very good. Astoundingly so." He even liked the feel of come dripping down his waist--John's come, mixed with his.
John rolled off to one side, a happy grin lighting up his face. Rodney felt a little stab of pleasure at the sight of it. "I knew we'd be good together," John said. He gazed at Rodney, then his smile faded. "I only wish it hadn't taken so long. We--" He broke off, pressing his forehead against Rodney's shoulder. When he raised his head again, the smile was back, only this time it didn't meet his eyes. "This sex thing was a damn good idea, huh? It--it clears the head, doesn't it?"
Rodney nodded, turning away from the forced smile, because he couldn't manage one himself. "Yes, that's one way of putting it. Very clear." He sat up, cool air chilling his wet stomach.
John fumbled at the table. "What time is it--crap. I have a meeting with Elizabeth. I've got to get cleaned up." He patted Rodney's chest, then turned abruptly.
Rodney watched him climb out of bed, his postcoital euphoria fading. It was morning now. And *they* had a meeting with Elizabeth. Rodney even had something to suggest. It must be the clear head. It wasn't that his data compression idea would exactly save them, but contacting Earth, letting them know what happened--that was something, at least.
***
"Hey," John said as he stepped into Rodney's lab. He glanced past Rodney to where Zelenka and Simpson were working, then back at Rodney, who had gone so far as to remove his hands from his keyboard.
"Hey," Rodney answered with an almost smile.
Painfully aware that they weren't alone, John stepped as close to Rodney's lab stool as he dared. "Teyla and I are gonna do a little reconnaissance."
Rodney nodded and crossed his arms. "Zelenka told me. Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"We'll be cloaked."
"Yeah, 'cause that always worked so well for the Klingons."
"Romulans," John corrected.
"It worked for the Romulans."
"Of course it worked for the Romulans. They developed it." John heard a snicker from the other side of the room, but when he looked over, Simpson and Zelenka both appeared to be completely focused on their work. "I should go. Teyla's waiting. I just wanted you to know."
Rodney nodded, and John turned to go. As he opened the door, Rodney called out his name, and John turned toward him. Sometimes he wished that Rodney was better at hiding his feelings, because Rodney looked like he was losing his best friend. "Be careful."
"I will." John tried to smile, but he wasn't sure he succeeded.
"Okay," Rodney said, with a hint of rawness in his voice.
John stepped through the door.
***
As soon as John finished the recording for Sumner's family, he went to Rodney's quarters. He thought about going to his own; he was certainly tired enough, and he suspected Rodney would understand, but he didn't want to be alone. The door slid open as soon as he knocked.
"I wasn't sure you were coming," Rodney said, offering him a small smile.
"Elizabeth wanted me to record a message for Sumner's family."
Rodney's face twisted in sympathy, and he tilted his head toward the bed. "Come on, sit."
John followed Rodney to the bed and sat beside him, looking at the floor. Maybe he should have gone to his own quarters. No, Rodney deserved to have someone to be with before the end. They both did. He forced a smile and turned to look at Rodney. "Ford tells me you said we were like family."
"Yeah, well, we are, albeit less dysfunctional."
John found his smile slipping into one a bit more genuine. "He also said you pontificated for an hour."
"Ford said pontificated?" Rodney's smile has becoming less forced, too.
"Not in so many syllables."
"What did you say?"
"To Sumner's family?"
"To your own."
John shook his head, and Rodney, who could be perceptive when he wanted to be, let it go. "How bad was it? The culling?"
The new subject wasn't much of an improvement over the old one. "Bad." John hoped Rodney didn't ask for details, because he didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about anything. He just… He wanted sex. He wanted to feel Rodney's body against his own. He wanted Rodney to understand what he wanted.
Apparently he did, because Rodney didn't ask for more details; he just gazed at John intently for a moment, then slipped to the floor in front of him. As John watched, he untied John's boots and slipped them off. His socks followed. Then Rodney rose up on his knees and pushed John's jacket from his shoulders. John helped, wiggling free and ducking his head so Rodney could pull his shirt off. Rodney reached for the button on his pants, and together, they removed them. John slid back until he was lying flat on the bed, completely naked, and Rodney, still clothed, was on his hands and knees over him. Rodney studied him closely for a moment, and for an instant John tensed, thinking that Rodney was going to kiss him, but then Rodney sat back on his knees, straddling John's hips.
Then he began to touch. Rodney had warm, broad hands with calluses in places John wasn't used to. He touched gently, soothing and arousing at the same time as he moved from shoulders to arms to chest to abdomen and back. He touched John with his mouth, too, brushing soft lips across a shoulder, teasingly licking the inside of an elbow, sucking lightly on the side of John's neck. Despite his exhaustion, or maybe because of it, John responded. Rodney's touch felt good, and John needed to feel good, needed to be touched.
Rodney worked his way lower, mouthing his way along John's hip, while taking hold of John's cock and stroking slowly.
John groaned.
Rodney licked the head of his cock. Then he looked up at John, "If I do this wrong, you'll tell me."
John cupped Rodney's cheek in his hand. "You can't do it wrong." And he couldn't because this was Rodney touching him so intimately that it took John's breath away.
"Bad blow jobs are possible. Trust me on this."
John stroked Rodney's cheekbone with his thumb. "You can't do this wrong."
Rodney looked startled, but then he smiled his little pleased smile. "You'll tell me if I can make it better. I can take constructive criticism."
John nodded, because if he didn't, he knew Rodney would spend the next twenty minutes discussing the issue.
"Okay." Rodney closed his mouth around the head of John's cock.
Rodney sucked, and the pressure was sweet. John closed his eyes. He wanted to lose himself in the sensation, to forget everything he'd seen, the people he hadn't been able to save, the people he wasn't going to be able to save. He'd done it often enough in the past--lost himself in a warm mouth.
Rodney was moving up and down in a nice, steady rhythm, and John buried his hand in Rodney's hair. He couldn't keep his eyes closed, couldn't forget, because this was Rodney, because Rodney was one of those people he might not be able to save, and because this time, he needed more than a warm mouth.
"Rodney, stop."
Rodney let go and looked up at him. There was more than a little hurt in his face, as though John was telling him he was doing it wrong. Seeing that look on Rodney's face cut more deeply than it should have. "I want to do you, too," he said gently.
The hurt vanished, and Rodney nodded before sliding from the bed. He undressed quickly. It took a little maneuvering before they were lying diagonally across Rodney's bed, cock to mouth.
Rodney really did have a nice cock, John thought as he took it in hand. He stroked it a few times, swirling his tongue over the head. Rodney smelled good--warm and comfortable. He wasn't sure when Rodney's scent had become so familiar that it was reassuring. He wasn't sure he cared. He inhaled deeply, filling himself with Rodney's scent.
He took Rodney in, took him deep, and sucked. Rodney did the same, and John groaned around the cock in his mouth. Everything about Rodney felt good--the cock in his mouth, the mouth on his cock. He drew back, sliding his mouth along Rodney's length, and again Rodney did the same. At first Rodney was a second or two behind, but after a few strokes, they found the rhythm.
Caressing Rodney, feeling Rodney caress him at the same time was oddly serene. John let everything else go, let himself feel nothing but Rodney and the shared pleasure of mouths and cocks. John wanted there to be more sharing in his life.
John had been right. Rodney couldn't do this badly. In fact he was doing it damn well, his mouth moving over John's cock, taking him deep, suction creating a sweet pleasure for John to lose himself in.
Rodney was getting close. John could feel it and he slowed his movements, dragging it out because he didn't want it to end. But the end was inevitable, and when Rodney's fluid began filling John's mouth, he swallowed and swallowed. He didn't want to lose any part of Rodney that he could have. And when John came, he felt Rodney swallowing, and that made him want to come more, for Rodney.
He let Rodney's cock slip from his mouth and rested his cheek on the bed, stroking Rodney's hip with his hand and watching Rodney's cock soften.
"We should probably get under the covers before we fall asleep," Rodney said, sounding like he didn't really want to move. He was right, but John didn't want to move either. "Come on," he said, giving John's ass a squeeze.
John acquiesced, and they settled beneath the covers with a minimum of fuss, lying side by side and staring at the ceiling. John waited for Rodney to fall asleep. Between the sex and the exhaustion, it shouldn't take long.
But it was. As long as Rodney was awake, John was awake. "You going to tell me what's bothering you?" John asked when he couldn't take it anymore, even if he wasn't sure he wanted to know what, from the laundry list of possible sources of insomnia, was the one keeping Rodney awake.
"Nothing's bothering me."
"Uh-huh."
"Nothing is bothering me," Rodney repeated.
"Then why aren't you asleep?"
"Why aren't you asleep?" Rodney countered.
"I prefer to wait until you fall asleep." Which Rodney would assume that this was some weird military thing and John was content to let him think that.
"You are so weird."
John rolled onto his side and placed one hand on the center of Rodney's abdomen. "What's wrong?"
"Other than the obvious?"
He nodded. "Other than that."
"Nothing's wrong. I was just thinking. Wondering, really, if…"
A flustered Rodney was unbelievably endearing. John figured it was because he was such an arrogant ass the rest of the time. "Wondering if?"
"We could..." Rodney hesitated. "Kiss."
John was more surprised than he should have been. "Sure," he said immediately.
Rodney turned to look at him. "Really? Because you haven't seemed like you wanted to. I thought maybe it was something you only did with women."
"I kiss men sometimes."
"Oh."
John closed his eyes. Rodney was hurt that John hadn't kissed him. "Once. Well, more than once, but only one guy." John opened his eyes to find Rodney looking at him, his expression curious, yet oddly kind. "His name was Tim; we met the summer before my senior year in college. He was a grad student. We were doing research in the same lab."
"You did research? What kind of research?"
"It was for my senior thesis."
"In?"
"Chemistry."
"You were a chemistry major? What was your thesis on?"
"Rodney."
"Sorry, so you met in the lab. What was he studying, by the way?"
John sighed. Only Rodney would interrupt a story about sex to ask what the participants were majoring in. He was surprised Rodney hadn't asked for details of their experiments, the chemical ones. "Chemical engineering." He glared at Rodney in an attempt to ensure there wouldn't be any more interruptions. "We got along really well, started hanging out, catching movies together. I thought of him as my best friend. I didn't want to go home over Thanksgiving break and Tim suggested we have our own Thanksgiving together. We bought a couple of six packs and some pizza and watched football. It was fun." John took a deep breath. It had been fun.
"What happened?"
John rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling for a moment before answering. He didn't know why he was telling Rodney this, except they might not be alive in a few days, and he could still taste Rodney on his tongue. "He kissed me. I left. I didn't know what else to do. He was a guy and I didn't, at least I thought I didn't. I stayed up all night thinking about it and the next day I went to see him." He could still see Tim's face when he'd opened the door to find John on his doorstep, surprise and hope and a little fear. "Tim wasn't like anyone else I'd ever known. I could be myself with him."
Rodney nodded. "You're very good at that, being what people expect you to be."
The insight surprised him, but John wasn't sure it should have. Rodney was smart, after all. He just generally didn't bother to pay attention to people unless he had to. "Tim didn't expect me to be anything and that was...liberating. So I decided that guy or not, I wanted to be with him."
"Sounds like you were lucky."
"Yeah, it was great for a while. We were discreet, because I was planning on joining the Air Force. In fact, I was already signed up. It's why we split. Tim didn't want to keep our relationship a secret forever. He wanted me to go to grad school, become an academic or a researcher, choose a profession where we could be together openly. I wanted to fly. When I was getting ready to leave, he told me it was him or the Air Force." John stopped because it was obvious what his choice had been.
"Do you ever regret it?" Rodney asked quietly.
"Sometimes."
Rodney rolled onto his side, looking down at John with a gentle, understanding expression that John had never seen before. John reached up, touched Rodney's cheek with his fingertips. "Kiss me."
Rodney leaned down and pressed his lips to John's. John was certain that groan hadn't come from him, just like he was certain that he wasn't really splitting down the middle. Rodney slowly deepened the kiss, and John wrapped his arms around Rodney's shoulders. John hadn't known many people he could hold onto, but he could hold onto Rodney.
And he was going to, for as long as he could.
***
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-02-13 05:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-02-13 05:37 pm (UTC)I don't think I've ever seen a more apt description of Rodney.
no subject
Date: 2005-02-13 06:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-02-13 06:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-02-13 06:59 pm (UTC)::reads pt 2::
no subject
Date: 2005-02-13 08:21 pm (UTC)suhweet.
must be a "smug hair" icon.
moving on to part two
no subject
Date: 2005-02-13 09:29 pm (UTC)this description is marvelous: "He grinned, trying for charming and hoping he didn't get annoying by mistake. Unlike Rodney he didn't have the knack for being both at the same time."
any other reasoned discourse about the character dynamics has been lost in the hotness of the rest of the story. :::swoons:::
and there's a bitter-sweetness about both of them revealed to each other. very nice.
no subject
Date: 2005-02-14 02:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-02-15 02:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-02-15 02:57 pm (UTC)And thank you, I'm so glad you enjoyed this. It was kind of tough to write--we were looking for that happy ending, and didn't get one! (yet!).
no subject
Date: 2005-02-15 02:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-02-15 10:19 pm (UTC)looking forward to whatever you both write next.
:)
no subject
Date: 2005-05-05 07:33 am (UTC)Heh. This is just absolute spot on John and Rodney voices.
Love this fic.
-Erinna
no subject
Date: 2005-05-05 12:50 pm (UTC)