John and Rodney Fucking

by toomuchplor

Summary:

Five (stand-alone) ways that Rodney and John fucked, or could have fucked, or may someday fuck.

Notes:

This is based on the Canflick, Young People Fucking (yes, actual title) which is basically 5 intertwined stories of 5 couples having sex. The movie, while cute, is quite heteronormative and so I thought it would be good to gay it up, and what better way than with five iterations of McShep?

Big thanks to sparktastic for audiencing/cheerleading, and to kho for doing a marathon run of beta duty.

Warning: There is a little very very very light BDSM at one point.

1. The Exes

i. Prelude

"No," said Rodney, sounding earnest, "no, this was really good. I mean, it's good to know we can still be, um."

"Civil?" John suggested dryly. He hadn't planned to walk Rodney right up to his front door, for Christ's sakes, but Rodney had kept talking as he got out of John's rental car, and it had seemed too rude to cut him off for a farewell.

"I was going to say 'friendly'," Rodney said, sounding a little disappointed. "But, okay, yes, civil is good too." He was digging around in his pockets, obviously trying to locate his keys. He extracted them with a soft smug McKay-sound of victory and plugged one into the lock. "So," said Rodney. "I guess this is goodbye, I mean, you did say your flight leaves early tomorrow, so, uh."

"Yeah," said John, relieved that Rodney was winding it down. "Okay. So, goodnight. Good to see you again."

"Right," Rodney said, and John knew that fucking look, he knew it. That was the fucking look of Rodney wishing he could kiss John and knowing that he couldn't, not in public.

John sighed shortly and leaned in, brushing a dry kiss over Rodney's mouth. Jesus. It wasn't like there was a soul to be seen anywhere around here, and any SGC surveillance teams that might be watching this closely probably needed a little something to relieve their boredom.

Rodney swayed towards John infinitesimally as John drew back, and John was suddenly irrationally angry with McKay, who had always been so damned needy and sad, always wanting more than was safe or reasonable, and that was really what had landed them here, after all.

"Goodnight," John said again, more abruptly, and Rodney heard the tension in John's voice, judging by how quickly he got his ass in gear and unlocked the door, going inside.

"Goodnight," Rodney mumbled apologetically, and closed the door with a click, and John was left standing on the stoop with his hands in his jacket pockets feeling like a douchebag. Pissed or not, John should have allowed Rodney to enjoy that one stupid chaste little kiss without John being an asshole immediately afterwards.

He lifted his hand to knock, annoyed with himself and Rodney at the same time, but before he could act, the door swung open again, and there was Rodney, looking annoyed right back at him.

"You know," Rodney began, showing all the classic signs of launching into a rant, "I'd appreciate it if you'd stop being a total douchebag and"—and then he noticed John's hand, his raised fist, primed for knocking. "Oh," said Rodney, screeching to a halt mid-complaint. "So. Um. You want to come in for a drink?"

Rodney got out some pretentious Canadian microbrew and they stood on opposite sides of Rodney's kitchen island, drinking and continuing some of the small talk from dinner. John had already pretty much made up his mind that they were going to go through with this, and he was starting to get annoyed all over again because why the hell was McKay taking so long to make a move? – and then he realized that Rodney wasn't on the same page, not yet.

"So," said John, coming around the island, setting down his beer, "did I tell you that I'm not wearing underwear under these nice dress pants?"

Rodney's jaw dropped in a satisfying way. "Oh my god, you totally thought I was a sure thing!" he said accusingly.

"Aren't you?" said John, a little impatiently, and Rodney said, "Oh, all right," and came over to unzip John's nice dress pants.

ii. Foreplay

It'd been over a year since John had seen Rodney, but in essentials he seemed very much unchanged. He was mouthy and insecure and pretty much game for anything John wanted to do, and he really liked it when John pushed him up against things and made out with him aggressively, his hand stuffed down the front of Rodney's pants, giving Rodney the world's most awkward handjob.

"This is probably just a really bad idea," Rodney said, panting.

"Hmm," John said, "your friend here disagrees." He extracted his hand and took a small step back, working on Rodney's fly. "Oh, hey," said John, "this is new."

"Well," said Rodney, "it seems the dating world has changed since we left Earth, and now there are all sorts of expectations on men to do weird personal grooming. I'm just, you know, doing my best to please any potential partners."

John tugged Rodney's pants down a bit, taking his boxers with them, exposing Rodney's hard cock and weirdly neat bush. "It's not a bad look on you," John admitted.

"Really?" Rodney preened. "I mean, it's good to hear that it's worth the effort, I can't even tell you how fucking horrible it is to stretch out your balls so you can shave them bald like this."

John reached out to feel. "Smooth," he said appreciatively.

"Mmm," said Rodney, and his cock bobbed a little.

"Let's do this," John said, and went to his knees. It didn't feel that different, except when John went all the way down and felt Rodney's soft skin brushing his chin, and there was no hair on the base of Rodney's actual cock, which was kind of nice; but Rodney's thatch of hair was still there, just tamed a little, still smelling good like Rodney's soap and Rodney's sweat and Rodney's skin.

"Whoa," said Rodney, "stop."

"Hey," said John, pulling off, "I thought you were a sure thing."

"I am, I'm a little too sure," said Rodney, "I'm so sure I'm about to give you a facial, back off, would you?"

John obediently backed off. "So, what," he said, "you need me to go slower? Because you used to be able to go twice in one night."

"I still can," Rodney said indignantly. "I just, I'd like to maybe enjoy myself a little first."

This was new, John thought, awkwardly getting back to his feet; Rodney was usually in a big hurry to get off and it was only then that John could take his time and really lavish attention where attention was due: like the backs of Rodney's knees, for example, or the awesome crack of his awesome round ass.

"So what do you need, then?" John asked, exasperated. "You want me to write you a song, or maybe hold hands and walk on the beach?"

"Oh, fuck you," Rodney said, clutching at his cock as though John was about to make a lunge. Which, okay, John had sort of vaguely been considering. "I'd settle for a bed," Rodney said, "and maybe you getting naked first."

They went into the bedroom and stripped down, and Rodney made John lie back so Rodney could study him as only Rodney could. "What's this?" Rodney said, poking at a thin scar under John's left ribs.

"Classified," said John, just to make Rodney angry.

"I don't like that you're still out there getting hurt," said Rodney in a small voice, and John's insides went a little puddly in a dangerously familiar way, and he helplessly hauled Rodney up by the elbows and kissed him and kissed him, fond and angry and desperate all at once.

"It's my job," John said, apologetically, and rolled them so he could crawl down and take another crack at Rodney's new coiffed junk. This time Rodney got up on his elbows and watched, not objecting, and it was good and familiar (barring the naked balls) and John sucked until he got was he was after, the thick bitter-salt taste of Rodney pumping onto his tongue: like seawater, like the ocean, like home.

iii. Sex

It got good fast after that. Rodney pushed John onto his back and spent a long time sucking him with his finger snugged comfortably behind John's (still hairy) balls. John kept his eyes closed, a little afraid of losing control if he looked down, and gave Rodney the usual unnecessary directives: "Just under the head," and "Ah, take more, take more," and "Yeah, in the slit, there."

Eventually John got a little too worked up and he eased Rodney back with a gentle push.

"How do you want it?" Rodney had said, and John got Rodney on his side with his upper knee tucked up a little, exposing Rodney's neatly shaven asshole, which made John take a detour to lick and explore.

"Was this for me?" John asked, because Rodney was shaved down to nothing, not even a day's worth of stubble.

"I tidied up earlier," said Rodney, not really admitting anything, but John knew what it meant.

"Mmm," John said, and stuck his finger in Rodney's asshole, which was spit-wet and looked like it wanted a finger in it.

"God," Rodney said, choked. "Okay."

When they got to the actual fucking, John moved Rodney onto his stomach, still with that one leg hiked up, and it was like a really good sparring match with John having the winning hold, Rodney pinned and open and squirming as John pushed into him.

"I missed this," John admitted to the back of Rodney's neck, working his cock in and out, shallowly.

"Me too, me too," groaned Rodney, shifting up into it, wanting more.

"We're good at this part," said John, crazed. "God, we're so good at this part."

"This part," Rodney agreed, "was never our problem."

It took a couple of minutes for that statement to really get past the sex haze enveloping John's brain and down to where his dick was pushing frantically in and out of Rodney's lush round ass.

"I need a break," said John, pulling out, abruptly unable to focus on anything at all.

iv. Interlude

It was weird for a couple of minutes and then it wasn't anymore. Rodney pulled on his ugly old plaid pajama pants and John went on a pointless diatribe on the subject of their continued existence, and Rodney wandered off to make coffee (only McKay, at 11 o'clock at night, mid-coitus, thought John sort of fondly) and John lay on his back listening to the sounds of the percolator and idly pulled on his erection, which wasn't going anywhere.

"So," he said, when Rodney came back with a mug and a bag of Chips Ahoy, "who are you boning these days with your manscaped dick?"

"No one," said Rodney. "Well. One person."

"Name?" said John, taking a cookie, holding his palm under his chin to catch crumbs.

"Julian," said Rodney, and John had to snort. "He's not as gay as he sounds," McKay protested.

"He must be at least a little gay," said John pointedly.

"Well," Rodney said, and his chin went up, smugly.

John cuffed him on the back of his head, making Rodney slop some of his coffee onto the ugly plaid pajama pants. "I can't believe you're fucking a guy named Julian," John complained.

"You're so jealous," Rodney gloated.

"Is he the one who got you to defuzz your balls?" John asked, not jealous, except maybe a little.

"No," Rodney said, "that was Trina, she was before Julian."

"Trina?" said John, arching an eyebrow.

"I sleep with women!" Rodney insisted.

"I know you do," said John reassuringly. "So when you started in with Julian, how long before you broke up with Trina?"

Rodney flushed miserably. "There may have been a slight overlap."

"No," said John, letting his mouth fall open with amazement.

"Green is not your color," Rodney said, taking small self-righteous sips of coffee.

"Not jealous," said John. And then, for good measure, "Also, your pants are ugly."

Rodney didn't rise to the bait this time. "So, who are you boning?" he asked, grabbing the cookie bag from John.

"Lorne," said John.

"Ha," Rodney said.

"Ronon," John tried.

"Careful, Amelia Banks would cut a bitch," Rodney said.

"Fine," said John, defeated. "I'm not boning anyone you know. I'm hardly boning anyone at all."

Rodney, to his credit, didn't verbalize his smirk this time.

v. Orgasm

After cookies and coffee, they ended up intertwined lying with heads at the foot of the bed, making out with luxurious slowness. Rodney tasted so good with the bitter tang of coffee on his tongue, he tasted like a hundred late nights on Atlantis spent like this, lying naked on twisted sheets with hands groping and dicks hard. When John pushed into Rodney again, they stayed on their sides. The angle wasn't great for John's leverage but it had always been Rodney's favorite, the way the head of John's cock pushed up sweet and steady into Rodney's hot spot. Rodney's nipples went hard; his face flushed and then the pink spread down his neck and John kissed Rodney's blushing freckled shoulder and fucked into him, gasping and sweating.

"Why," Rodney said, "why aren't you doing this how I expected?"

John drew back, a little thrown by the question, jolted out of the languorous groove he'd been in. "You want me to do it fast?" John asked, not sure if he was offended or hurt or what. Rodney didn't seem to be any of those things, just boneless and liquid and always so fucking smart, he never stopped thinking.

"No," said Rodney, blinking out of his stupor. "No, I – well, okay. Yeah. Let's just," and John flipped him over, got him up with an arm around Rodney's hips, grabbing his cock, and really started fucking into him, fast and hot and hard. Businesslike, getting it done, wrapping things up, because Rodney was right – John had been playing with fire back there. Certain stones had to be left unturned tonight.

It only took Rodney a couple of seconds to catch up – smart and quick, thought John, trying to work his orgasm out as hastily as possible – and then Rodney was right there too, groaning loudly and starting to cry out, because John knew Rodney, he knew him all too well, and that was the place, there, there, there, and John jerked Rodney and pounded his prostate, and Rodney came in the space of a dozen strokes, and John followed him, dizzy and a little lightheaded with how fast it had ended, Rodney's shouts still shivering in the air of the room around them.

vi. Afterglow

After a good fucking, Rodney usually dropped like he'd taken a wallop to the back of his head, but this time he just shook and sighed and tugged John's arm away from his cock before he pulled himself free. "Shower," he said, and John collapsed onto the bed watching Rodney's awesome round ass retreat into the adjoining bathroom.

The water came on a minute later. John thought about joining Rodney. Instead he got up on his haunches and stripped the condom away from his soft dick, winged the slippery used thing into Rodney's wastebasket, and started hunting around for his clothes.

"So," Rodney said, coming back out as John tied his shoes. As always, Rodney was wearing a towel on his head like a stupid turban, and his ratty gross bathrobe. "Uh, you're off?"

"Yeah," said John. "Flight in the morning, et cetera."

Rodney nodded, sticking his pinkie in his left ear, twisting it around to get rid of water.

"But that was," said John, and sighed. Fuck.

"Me too," said Rodney, which didn't even make any fucking sense. "Hey." And he tilted John's chin up and laid a McKay Special on him, all tongue and need and sweetness. "I miss you. Every day," Rodney said.

John wanted to tell Rodney to come back, if that was how he felt – just come the fuck back and forget all this bullshit with Trina and Lucian or whoever, come back and stay the night in John's room on Atlantis and John would tell anyone Rodney wanted him to tell, he'd tell the Air Force Chief of Staff if that's what it took, John would bend Rodney over the DHD in the control room and give a damn demonstration, if that was –

"Me too," John said, pulling back, dropping his gaze. "Fuck."

But of course, there could be no declarations, no public displays of fornication, not even a single lonely sleepover in John's stupid military twin bed. There wasn't room on Atlantis for the both of them, not the way Rodney needed there to be, and Rodney was the bigger man after all, and had been the one to give it all up so that John could stay, and it sucked and it made John hate Rodney almost more than he hated himself and it made no sense at all, but here they were again.

"Let me walk you to the door," Rodney said, hauling on John's shoulder.

John went, amazed at how his body moved with something like alacrity even as his brain dug in its heels and refused to exist in this moment.

They kissed at the front door again, long and desperately sad, and then Rodney pulled back and said, "You know they'll be watching to make sure you leave. Go."

And John cupped the back of Rodney's neck and pressed his face into Rodney's cheek and held on for a long minute before it was okay to move away again. "Bye," John said, and opened the front door.

"Good to see you," said Rodney, with a nod, and closed the door behind John.

John stood on the stoop with his hands in his jacket pockets. It was cool outside, and dark, and quiet. He found the keys to his rental and fumbled with them. He could feel Rodney, almost, just on the other side of the door. Waiting.

John straightened his shoulders and rushed down the steps, heading for the car, heading for home.

 

2. The Roommates Teammates

i. Prelude

"Oh my god, are you hitting things with sticks again?" said Rodney, leaning in the doorway of Atlantis's dojo, looking aggrieved. "Seriously, I'm all for you staying in shape so you can kick the asses of anyone who tries to kidnap or assault me, but this is just ridiculous. It's Friday night! You're totally hot! Go out and get laid!"

Ronon twirled the bantos sticks and circled the mat, keeping a weather eye on Sheppard, who was temporarily down for the count but had a way of popping back up when you least expected it.

"You talking to me, or Ronon?" said Sheppard with a pointy grin.

"Ronon, obviously," huffed Rodney. "Come on, John, you are getting laid tonight, let's go."

John held up his hands towards Ronon to signal his surrender. "Duty calls, Chewie. Gotta take this one."

Ronon stepped back, a little disappointed, but he couldn't say he didn't get it. Rodney McKay could talk anyone to death but sex was sex, and John seemed to like doing it with McKay over all others.

"Come on, come on," Rodney said, snapping his fingers, and John got up, hitching up his pants and pulling down his t-shirt. Ronon watched him go, idly, appreciating he view as Rodney hustled him out of the room. "Friday night," Rodney said again, to Ronon. "Get laid."

Ronon put the sticks away and looked out the window. It was Tuesday, actually, and it couldn't be later than 1500 hours. McKay sometimes had trouble with that stuff.

"Hey," said McKay, as though overhearing Ronon's thoughts, poking his head back in the room.

Ronon looked over, and it immediately hit him that Rodney looked weirdly anxious all of a sudden.

"Hey, so, uh. The thing is. Would you maybe want to come with us?"

Ronon lifted an eyebrow. "Come where?"

"To my place," said Rodney. "You know. With us."

Ronon hesitated, sure he wasn't hearing this right.

"I know you think Sheppard's hot," said Rodney. "He's ridiculously hot. I get it. So, come on. Join us."

Ronon scratched his head. It seemed he was hearing this right after all. "Sure," he said.

ii. Foreplay

Rodney wanted to watch.

"Sure you're okay with this?" John said to Ronon, taking the words right out of his mouth. "I mean, it's okay if you're not okay with it."

Ronon glanced from John to Rodney and back. Rodney was already getting comfortable in the armchair by the bed. He had a bottle of beer and a bowl of popcorn, and his knees were sprawled open. He was completely matter-of-fact about letting Ronon bone his boyfriend.

"I'm here, aren't I?" said Ronon.

"Yeah, okay," Rodney said. "Let me just"—and he put down the popcorn and the beer bottle and unzipped his fly, tugging off his shirt. "This is going to be hot. I have the best ideas."

John smiled back at Rodney, obviously charmed.

"Okay," said Rodney, looking at Ronon. "Go on. Kiss him."

Ronon reached out and pulled John to him. He'd thought about this before, not that he'd spent hours lusting after John – it was just the sort of idle thought that drifted across his brain now and then, late at night. John's mouth was soft, and he was surprisingly lax in Ronon's arms, nothing at all like how he was when they were sparring.

"Yeah," said Rodney. "Hang on. You guys are too tall, I can't really see. Get on the bed."

Ronon drew back and John tugged him over towards McKay's bed. They stretched out on it, John under Ronon, and started making out a little. John was so pliant, so luxuriant, Ronon got kind of frustrated and tried to get him to work a little harder. McKay was obviously letting John get all lazy in bed. Probably he did all the talking and the fucking for both of them.

Ronon bit John's lower lip, gently.

"Hey, careful," Rodney piped up, "don't break the skin, that's unhygienic."

John liked it, though, he arched up and grabbed the back of Ronon's head and tugged him down hard, getting a little competitive all of a sudden.

"Oh, yeah," Rodney said. "God. Take off his shirt, Ronon, John likes making out with his shirt off."

Ronon got up on his knees and tugged at John's shirt, not sure if he was more annoyed with Rodney or turned on by the sight of John's flat hairy belly. He shot a quick look over at McKay: he had one hand down his pants and was eating popcorn with the other. John followed Ronon's gaze. "Oh, yeah," panted John, obviously more appreciative of the view than Ronon. "You like this?" he asked.

"Obviously I like it," said Rodney, rolling his eyes. "Front and center, Sheppard!"

"Right," John said, and pulled Ronon back down. "Here, take this off." Ronon stripped out of his shirt and got back down onto John, skin to skin this time, settling his hips down into the cradle of John's pelvis and grinding their hard-ons together. John caught on a lot faster this time, coming at Ronon quick and rough, tugging at his hair, digging his hands into his back, his ass.

"Whoa," Rodney said, "this isn't one of your little testosterone fests in the gym. Ease up, Ronon, jesus."

"No, it's okay," said John, between hard kisses, "I like this, this is – ah – this is good."

"Are you sure?" Rodney said doubtfully.

"No, I'm sure," John said, thank god, because if Rodney kept talking Ronon was going to start swinging. "Just – yeah. Keep on touching yourself, god, yeah."

Ronon pulled John's head back so he could kiss him again, working to get John's fly open.

"Wait," said Rodney, panicky.

Ronon waited, his hand still holding onto John's dick.

"We, uh, we forgot our ground rules!"

"Right," said John, blinking. "Right, the ground rules."

"No fucking," said Rodney, "that was the big one. So, uh, I mean – mouths, fingers, whatever, but no – no fucking."

"Sure," said Ronon, who hadn't really wanted to fuck Sheppard that badly anyway.

"And," said Rodney, "and also, no declarations of, you know, affection or whatever."

Ronon looked at John, then back at Rodney. "You are clear on who's on this bed, right?" he said.

"Well," Rodney said, "I know, just. None of that mushy stuff. It's just sex."

"Right," said Ronon, "without the fucking."

"Exactly!" said Rodney, proud to have gotten his point across. "Okay, keep going."

Ronon pulled John's pants off.

iii. Sex

Ronon had John's cock in his mouth, kneeling over him back to front. John was licking the head of Ronon's cock. It was going pretty well. Ronon was having a good time, and in a second he was going to get John to open up and take Ronon down, because this position was good for fucking mouths and John had a really nice mouth.

Ronon went down and swallowed around the head of John's cock, giving a nice hint, and John groaned and his mouth sucked Ronon further in, and yeah, went lax and soft and Ronon lifted his hips, starting to fuck in and out.

"Wow," Rodney said, "we've got to try this position, John, look how deep you can take his dick!" He'd come up off his chair at some point and was peering at John and Ronon like they were a sculpture in a museum. He still had one hand in his pants.

John made a hum of acknowledgement and took Ronon a little deeper, possibly by way of demonstration. Ronon didn't particularly care what his motivation was.

"Oh, god," said Rodney. "Yeah. Fuck his mouth, Ronon, he likes taking it."

Ronon had been doing just that, but he stopped now and pulled off John's dick. "Would you go and sit down, McKay?"

"I just wanted a better angle," said Rodney, defensive.

"Sit. Down."

"Fine," Rodney said. "Just, can you maybe give me a signal, like slap the mattress when you're getting close to coming? I want to come with you guys."

Ronon stared at Rodney.

"Or you could pull out and come on his face," said Rodney brightly, and John licked Ronon's cock and groaned, obviously liking that idea.

Ronon sighed and turned back to John's cock, taking it in his mouth again.

iv. Interlude

Rodney wouldn't stay in his damn chair, and finally Ronon gave up and climbed off John, heading for the foot of the bed.

"Whoa, whoa, where are you going?" squawked McKay. "Look, I'm sitting, I'm sitting right now!"

"It's fine," said Ronon. "I'm just going to go." He pulled on his pants.

"No, don't go," John said, coming up on his knees behind Ronon, putting his arms around his chest. "Come on, Rodney will keep his mouth shut. Right, Rodney?"

"Hey, I'm a participant too!" Rodney said, indignant. "I don't have to sink into the background just because Mr. Stoic and Silent here can't handle a little conversation competing with his mad blowjob skills."

"Jesus, did I say that?" said John. "This whole thing was your idea, you asshole."

"You liked my idea!" Rodney said. "You're the one who picked Ronon! You said he'd be perfect!"

"And he was perfect," snapped John, "until you started with the backseat driving."

"Well, it's not fair that he's doing stuff to you that I've never done," said Rodney.

Ronon started looking for his boots.

"We've done that," John said.

"Not in that position," said Rodney.

"Oh my god," said John. "You're such a pain in the ass, McKay."

"He should be fucking you!" Rodney said. "You don't like getting it up the ass much anyway."

"I like it," John said, hurt.

"Oh, right," Rodney said, "that's why I'm the one bending over every night."

Ronon got his shirt over his head.

"You'd really be okay with him fucking me?" John said, skeptical.

"What did I just say? You never listen to me!" Rodney exclaimed. "Ronon, get back here. You're going to fuck John."

Ronon was almost out the door. He paused.

"Come on," said John. "We'll stop fighting. And Rodney's going to sit in his chair and shut up."

Ronon sighed, but he pulled his shirt back off. John's ass had better be worth it.

v. Orgasm

John's ass was worth it, and what was more, it was distracting enough to tune out McKay, who was holding up his end of the deal by staying in the chair, but who – of course – couldn't seem to shut his mouth anyway.

"Lift his leg, I want to see," McKay panted desperately, and Ronon lifted John's leg so McKay could see. "God, god," said Rodney, and Ronon focused on John, John's tight ass and his strong legs and sweaty body, the long groans Ronon was forcing out, John's hard cock poking in and out of John's fist as he worked it.

"I'm going to come, yeah," Rodney was saying, and then, judging from the quick series of grunts he produced, Rodney followed through on his promise.

Ronon reveled in the new silence, pushing John's leg up a little higher and settling into a sweet circular thrusting motion. John's moans went up a few notes.

"I'm just going to," Rodney said, and Ronon was vaguely aware of McKay getting up, putting away the popcorn bowl and beer bottle, shuffling around the room, while Ronon kept on fucking John and John kept groaning and jerking himself off.

Neither Ronon nor John, trained fighters that they were, saw it coming when Rodney suddenly flew at Ronon in a flailing possessive ball of fury.

vi. Afterglow

But it was still McKay, after all. Ronon had him pinned within the space of a few startled breaths, flat out on the floor with his wrists over his head.

"God, your penis is touching me," said Rodney. "Ow, you're hurting my shoulders too."

"What the hell, Rodney?" John said, pulling Ronon off and helping McKay to his feet.

"You don't like getting fucked," said Rodney, sadly. "Not when I do it."

"Sure I do," said John. "Are you kidding me?"

"You don't make those noises," Rodney said. "And you don't get all blushy down your chest like that either."

"Well," John said, looking down his chest, "well, it's warm in here."

"Oh my god, I should just leave you and Ronon to have perfect athletic gay sex together," said Rodney in despair. "This was a terrible idea. I can't believe you talked me into this."

"I don't want to have sex with Ronon," said John, rubbing Rodney's sore shoulders. "I want to have sex with you."

"Standing right here," said Ronon.

"I mean, it's different with him," said John. "It's more like – I don't know. I like it when you fuck me. But I do like fucking you even more."

"What, because I'm the girl?" said Rodney bitterly.

"Because I like making you make noises," John said, ducking in to kiss the corner of Rodney's mouth, "and I like making you go all blushy down your chest."

"Well," Rodney said, clearly mollified. "Well, okay."

Ronon was looking for his pants again. John and Rodney started in with the kissing.

"Hey," said Rodney, noticing when Ronon began to get dressed, "no, we should at least let you get off."

John cast Ronon a fond humorous look. "Why don't you fuck Rodney and I'll watch?" he suggested. It was pretty clear he was joking, but Rodney's eyes went big like they did when he was stealing someone else's good idea and claiming it as his own.

Ronon was about to decline in no uncertain terms when he took a moment to consider the potential there. He was fairly certain he could make McKay shut up, given the right leverage. And John definitely wouldn't be yapping away, either.

"Okay," said Ronon, and shoved McKay onto the bed.

"Oh yeah," John said quietly, and sank into the chair, grabbing at his reviving cock. "I'll be over here."

"This is so hot," enthused Rodney, getting on his hands and knees. "I have the best ideas."

 

3. The Couple

i. Prelude

The wormhole winked out behind them with a sucking noise not unlike the noise that John's mud-caked boots were making with every step. "Ugh," said John.

"Tuesdays," Rodney said in agreement.

They decamped to the locker room and the team shucked all their heavy equipment before squishing off to the showers.

"You have mud behind your ear," John said as they walked to dinner in the mess, mostly clean.

"Huh," said Rodney, and reached up to wipe it off.

"No," John said, "you missed, it's"—and he stuck out his finger and swiped at the spot. "There."

"Thanks," said Rodney with a small smile.

"No problem," said John with a shrug.

After dinner they played some video golf.

"Happy birthday," Rodney said to John, and gave him a paper bag with the new Grand Theft Auto game. "Do you want to play it now?" he asked.

John looked at the game. "Well," he said, "maybe not tonight. It's late, and we've got an early debrief tomorrow."

"Sure," said Rodney. "Yeah, of course. Another time."

It was John's birthday after all, so Rodney went back to his quarters with him. "Oh," said John. "You coming?"

"I figured," Rodney said, shrugging, "your birthday."

"Oh," John said. "Yeah, of course."

He went into to the fridge and got them each a beer, and because it was John's birthday Rodney skipped the usual litany of complaints about Coors' crimes against the art of brewery.

"So," said Rodney, and pulled off his shirt, unbuckled his belt, "shall we?"

ii. Foreplay

"Oh," said John again. "We do have that early debrief."

Rodney kept working on his fly. "Pants off," he said, "we haven't had sex in three weeks, that's far too long."

"It hasn't been three weeks," John said, making a face.

"Count 'em," Rodney said, "one, two, three."

John frowned, obviously counting. "Well," he said, "I did grope your ass a little on M4G-352 last week."

"Doesn't count," said Rodney. "Come on."

"Really? Are you seriously in the mood after all that mud and that gross meatloaf at dinner?" John griped, but he was working on his pants as he bitched.

"Three weeks," Rodney said again. "John. We are having sex tonight. So man up and take off your shirt."

They got naked and got into John's too-small bed, and then John did the thing with the cute smiles and the coy kisses until Rodney rolled his eyes and pushed John's head down.

"Subtle," said John, rolling his eyes back at Rodney.

"Oh my god, you haven't gone down on me for weeks and weeks," Rodney said. "I'd given up trimming entirely, or hadn't you noticed?"

The expression on John's face said it all – he totally hadn't noticed. His ears went a little red, and then he obediently opened his mouth and started licking at Rodney's cock. There'd been a time, a few years back, when John had really seemed to get off on this, but more and more often, he treated blowjobs with the same sort of ho-hum matter-of-fact-ness that he gave to his AARs and his morning jogs: a necessary evil.

Rodney watched John give the world's laziest blowjob for a few minutes, trying to get into it, because a blowjob was still a blowjob, but after a while he gave up and pulled John up by the hair. "I guess we should skip ahead, then," he said. "Come on up, I'll get you ready."

"You want to do all that?" John said, startled. "I kind of figured we'd just trade off here and get it done."

"Be still my heart," said Rodney. "You know what? You can go fuck yourself, literally."

iii. Sex

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" John asked as Rodney pulled away and grabbed his shorts.

"It's supposed to mean you can jerk off like you always do when I'm not here to see it," said Rodney, and felt a wave of mean enjoyment when John went all blushy and stammery. "Come on, John, it's not like it's a big mystery. Clearly you're not exactly past your physical prime, I know you've got to be getting your giggles somewhere, and I know you're not low enough to be cheating on me."

"That's not something – that's private, Rodney, don't you"—

"I do it too!" Rodney said. "Hell, I'll admit that sometimes I pretend that I'm going to be working late at the lab just so I can go back to my quarters and watch porn and get off."

"You do?" John asked, stunned.

"So do you!" Rodney shouted.

"Well," said John, hand on the nape of his neck, embarrassed, "yeah, I guess."

"So why are we doing that when we could be fucking each other instead?" Rodney asked, desperately. "It doesn't make any sense! How did we go from fucking like crazy in the jumper bay every other week to being boring as hell and getting off in our rooms, miles apart?"

John twisted his face in that way that meant he was trying to force himself to say something personal. "God," he grated, "okay, I just…I guess I got tired of seeing how you don't get excited over me anymore."

"Me?" said Rodney. "You suck my dick like it's just another chore on your to-do list!"

"Well, I'm sorry if I'm boring you, I'm guess I can't live up to all the hype about how I'm such a stud and Captain Kirk and whatever!" John exclaimed.

"As if that's what I expect from you!" Rodney yelled back.

"You don't seem to expect anything at all anymore," John said, "let's be honest here, you probably aren't even thinking about me when we"—and he broke off with a vague hand gesture.

Rodney dropped his head into his hands, frustrated and tired. "Well, I can tell you're not thinking of anyone else," he grumbled, "or you'd maybe stop lying there like a dead fish while I do you."

"So maybe we're bored with each other," said John. "Maybe we've fizzled, or whatever."

"I refuse to believe there's no chemistry here when we can still fight like this," Rodney said, shaking his head. "Clearly we've just got to experiment, here, we've got to try some different things, we've got to"—he snapped his fingers. "Wait. I have an idea."

iv. Interlude

Rodney threw on his clothes and ran to his quarters, ignoring the fact that he had a bit of a hard-on from his fight with John – angry sex was pretty much the only good sex they'd had in months. He grabbed what he needed out of his sock drawer and double-timed it back to John's room.

"Here," said Rodney, entering with a flourish.

"Handcuffs," John said, squinting. "No way."

"Yes, because being closed-minded has gotten us so far," Rodney said, exasperated. "Look, I think we've tried just about everything we're going to try when it comes to vanilla sex. It's time to delve into a new field."

"I'm not your slave master or whatever," said John. He'd pulled on a pair of sweats while Rodney was out, and now he folded his arms over his chest, grouchy.

"Please," said Rodney, "like you'd be the master. I want to use the cuffs on you."

"Why?" John said, baffled.

"Because," Rodney said, "I didn't have a ball-gag. Now shut up and take off your pants."

"Or you'll do what?" asked John, challenging him.

Rodney was ready to launch back into him, paving the way for another round of angry sex, but he checked himself just in time. He dropped the hand holding the cuffs, and sighed. "Or I don't know what," he said, abruptly depressed. "Or we give up."

John chewed on his lower lip for a minute. "Let me see them," he said, and Rodney tossed the cuffs to him. "These are standard issue," said John. "You have the key, right?"

Rodney dug the key out of his pocket and held it up.

John clicked the cuffs all the way open and contemplated them. "Fine," he said. "But we need a, what do they call it?"

"A safe word," said Rodney, putting the key on John's desk and hastily beginning to strip down again.

"How about 'mud'?" said John grimly.

v. Orgasm

The Ancient wall fixtures didn't really give them anyplace to anchor the chain of the cuffs, so Rodney hunted around the room until he noticed the big steel loop under the hasp of the lock on John's old battered footlocker.

"How's that even going to work?" John asked doubtfully, naked again by now. "It's only a couple of feet off the ground."

"Who says you're not on the floor?" said Rodney, and waved John down to his knees before threading the cuffs through the loop with some difficulty. "Okay," said Rodney, "they're obviously not mink lined or whatever, so tell me if it starts to chafe," and he closed one cuff over John's wrist. "Actually," Rodney said, "do you have another sweat band? – because that would probably do the trick."

John directed Rodney over to his dresser and Rodney came back with a second sweat band, which he pulled over John's free hand before cuffing that wrist too. "Now what?" John said, testing his restraints idly. "Do I suck you off or lick your ass or something?"

"Ha," said Rodney, and settled down in John's armchair a few feet away, making sure John had an unobstructed view. "No," he said, "I figure, if we're going to be jerking off anyway, we should do it in front of each other."

"But," said John, and rattled his chains.

"Exactly," said Rodney, and took hold of his own cock, stroking it nice and slow, watching with pleasure as John's soft cock began to take notice. "Hmm," Rodney said, pausing once they were both fully erect, "I need some lube, I think."

"This is stupid," said John, shifting uncomfortably. "I mean, the whole point of this is just some petty revenge for you?"

"Let's think of it as partner appreciation day," said Rodney with a grin, and squirted a little lube into his hand before sitting back down and starting in on himself again. "I mean, this is already way more fun than if I was alone."

"For you," John said, dangerously.

"For you, too," said Rodney, "or am I misreading the signs? You seem to be enjoying the show."

"Fuck you," said John, and his cock bobbed. He was so hard by now that his cock head was kissing his belly, and it was starting to leave little sticky wet spots as it brushed against his skin.

"Is this good?" asked Rodney, "or should I"—and he trailed off deliberately, pulling one leg up a little.

"God," panted John, sweating. "Yeah."

"Yeah what?" prompted Rodney.

"You're such an asshole," John said.

"What about my asshole?" Rodney said, cool and smiling.

"Okay, okay," said John, hips flexing a little. "Finger it. Come on."

Rodney pulled his leg higher and wet one finger by fellating it showily, then dipped his hand down and tucked the wet fingertip just inside his asshole.

"God," John said. "Okay, get me out of these things, I have to fuck you."

"Hmm," Rodney said. "That didn't sound like the word we discussed. Are you sure?"

Rodney was actually worried for a minute that John was about to cave and drop the safe word, but John actually rolled his shoulders and shook his head.

"Yeah," said Rodney. "It'll be so good if you just wait, John."

He didn't have to wait long, though, because Rodney was too worked up by now, driven past strategy by the sight of John, hard and untouched and kind of pissed off about it. He only managed another dozen strokes before he came noisily.

"Still here," John reminded him with a rattle as Rodney's heart slowed a little.

"I know," said Rodney, "jesus, you think I could forget? You look so"—and Rodney sort of stumbled out of the chair and walked on his knees towards John. "I can uncuff you now," he offered dizzily, "or I can leave you like that while I blow you."

"Uh," said John, "the latter. I choose the latter."

Rodney rearranged John for better access, shifting his legs apart and pulling his hips a little away from the footlocker, getting John comfortable. It had been a long time since Rodney had been this eager to go down on John, and he'd never done it before without John's controlling hand in his hair. John probably could have lowered his cuffed wrists and rested them on Rodney's head, but he wasn't, oh, he wasn't. He was holding his hands up and out of the way, watching and shivering and letting Rodney take his time.

"Just so you know," John said, flexing his hips up into the suck of Rodney's mouth, "I'm definitely not thinking of anyone else right now."

Rodney didn't want to pull off to articulate it, so he hoped his answering moan told John what he wanted to say: me neither.

It was really damn uncomfortable down on John's floor, but Rodney scarcely noticed, and John was so excited that it only took a couple of minutes anyway before he was crying out and coming hard, his cuffs jangling noisily.

vi. Afterglow

"Oh, stop gloating, you asshole," John said for the third time.

"I just, sometimes I amaze myself," Rodney said.

"Mud," said John, and tackled Rodney with his full body. Rodney honestly wasn't sure if they were wrestling or just rubbing against each other, but he kind of liked the fact that John's hands were free again, regardless.

 

4. The First Date

i. Prelude

"It gets to be such a trip," John said wearily. "I mean, don't get me wrong, sometimes you're in the mood for the quickie in the back of the club but honestly, cruising night after night? I just don't think that's the way I want to spend my life at this point."

Rodney nodded, hastily stuffing another armload of dirty clothes into the hamper. He straightened up, then spotted the boxers hanging off the back of the couch, and dove for them. "No," he said, "I know what you're saying, I totally agree – uh, sorry, I swear I'm normally not this sloppy, I've just been in the middle of that huge design project and I'm"—

"It's fine," said John, waving it away. The place looked more messy than just lived-in, though, that much was obvious. There were dirty dishes stacked in the sink and take-out containers everywhere. Either McKay hadn't expected to bring John up here after their date or he had very low standards of cleanliness. "So, what about you?"

"What about me?" asked Rodney, trying vainly to brush a carpet of white cat hair off his dark green couch.

"Do you do the club thing?" John asked.

"Oh," said Rodney. "Well, no."

"Really?" John said. "Jeez, you're just so"—

"Pretty," Rodney said, rolling his eyes. "I know, trust me, I've been told. I prefer to be evaluated on my brains, thanks very much."

"Sorry," said John, twitching into a smile. "I didn't mean to imply – I mean, we work together, sort of. I think your reputation as a brain precedes you."

"And yours as a punk-ass crazy test pilot precedes you," said Rodney, giving up on the cat hair as a bad job. He came over to where John was leaning against his kitchen counter. "I'm totally a pig," he confessed. "Sorry this place is so gross."

Rodney was very pretty up close, John thought, smiling and leaning in a little. He was probably only in his early twenties, twenty-five at most, and he had that smooth sharp jaw you mostly only saw on guys who were around that age, and big long-lashed blue eyes to go with that wide red lush mouth, and short dark blond hair that aspired to small curls at the nape of Rodney's neck and along his hairline over his forehead.

"It is a little gross in here," John conceded, and bit his lower lip playfully.

"Can I at least get you a drink?" said Rodney, blinking free of John's spell and turning towards the fridge. "Oh. I only have American beer."

"What other kind is there?" John said easily. "Oh, wait, you're Canadian, right?"

"Hmm," nodded Rodney. "Someone brought these over for a potluck a while back and I haven't gotten desperate enough to drink them yet."

"I'll take one off your hands," John volunteered, and Rodney made a face, like your funeral, dumbass and popped the tab, handing the beer to John. John took a quick swig. "I'd toast you but it's weird if you're not drinking." He set the beer down. "I probably shouldn't kill this," he said, "I probably should be going."

"No," Rodney said, a little hastily. "No, I mean. You're staying for a while, right? Drink up."

ii. Foreplay

Rodney was coy with his hot body, which John kind of liked better than the guys who just ripped their shirts off and whipped out their dicks the moment John got around to kissing them. Rodney let John make all the moves, gliding a hand a few inches under Rodney's shirt, enjoying the silky tautness of Rodney's belly, the palpable bumps just at the waistband of his jeans that were the wings of his hip bones. John eased Rodney back on the cat fur couch and was kind of a gentleman about it as they made out.

"Is this okay?" John asked, hand going to the button of Rodney's jeans.

Rodney let out a little pant of warm air. "Uh," he said, "sure, I guess, okay."

John liked this, he liked it a lot. It was pretty clear that Rodney wasn't all that experienced, that in spite of having a list of aeronautical engineering credentials as long as John's dick and four degrees to boot, Rodney McKay PhD PhD was kind of lacking in the sexual confidence department. It was weirdly sweet. It made John want to kiss him on his neck, behind his ears, before he went ahead and opened his jeans up.

It wasn't like Rodney was just lying there, inert, either. His hands, surprisingly solid through the knuckles and palms, were working their way up and down John's back, grabbing on a little desperately as John worked Rodney's cock free of his jeans and boxers. "That's, ah," said Rodney, head tilted back, "that's pretty nice, actually."

John began to stroke gently, Rodney's cock already getting wet at the tip – god, to be twenty-three again – and flexing in John's grip. "This okay?" John asked again, monitoring Rodney's reactions, the little gasps and moans.

"Yeah, yeah," said Rodney. "Wait."

John waited, and Rodney's gaze met his.

"Do you even like me?" Rodney asked, point-blank.

"What?" said John, startled.

"Well," Rodney said, "you've got to know you've got kind of a reputation for sleeping your way through my division. Through the company, actually."

John got up on one palm and squinted down at Rodney. "If you're trying to piss me off, it's not going to work," he said. "I know my reputation just fine, thanks."

"Of course you do," huffed Rodney. "Just. You've been talking all night about how you're so tired of meaningless one-night stands but it seems to me like you're about to have another one."

John blinked, considering. "It's different with you," he said, earnestly.

"How?" said Rodney, not buying it.

"It just is," John said. He huffed out a breath, gave in. "I like you, okay? I've liked you for a long time. From afar, sort of."

"So you're not, like, just giving me the whole Captain Kirk act?" asked Rodney, still suspicious.

"Definitely not," said John, letting his voice drop down a few notes, leaning in to kiss Rodney's pink soft mouth. "Besides," he said, "look at my ears, I'm clearly not Kirk."

"Right," said Rodney, "if you're a Vulcan then you're having the longest pon farr on record, my friend."

"Ooh," said John, "geek talk. That gets me all hot." And he picked up where he'd left off, gently working Rodney's dick.

"Actually," Rodney said, sighing and smiling, "I'm pleasantly surprised that you got that reference."

John moved down Rodney's body a little. "Can I blow you for a while?" Rodney shakily nodded his assent, and John slid all the way down until he was level with Rodney's cock. He wasn't cut. It fit nicely with John's still-evolving image of Rodney as kind of sweetly untouched.

"God," said Rodney, pushing John's hair back so he could watch, "you're really hot."

John hollowed his cheeks and let his eyelashes drop down a little.

iii. Sex

In Rodney's unmade but clean-smelling bed, John laid Rodney out and slowly stripped them both bare before spreading Rodney's legs, slicking up, and easing between them, Rodney's ankles resting up on John's shoulders and his ass propped up with a pillow.

From that angle, John could have a good look as he fucked into Rodney nice and slow. And Rodney was just as gorgeous as John had thought he'd be from the little glimpses he'd gotten here and there: hitting that perfect balancing point in the transition from awkward teenage skinniness into the bulk and hairiness of men in their thirties. Rodney wasn't shy, but he didn't seem exactly comfortable either as John surveyed his body with probably too-obvious appreciation.

"God," John said fervently, "enjoy your bare chest while you can, once you hit my age it's either shell out for waxing or wear the hair shirt." He grinned and gestured down at his own hairy chest. "Guess you can tell I'm not exactly flush with money for spa appointments right now."

"I like it, shut up," said Rodney. "You're only, what, thirty?"

"Thirty-one," John said. "Seriously, I love your body." He ran his hands up Rodney's sides and down again. "You have the most amazing body." He drove in a little harder, carried away with the sight Rodney presented. But when he looked up, Rodney wasn't smiling with pleasure, he was frowning a little. "What?" said John. "Oh, shit, what did I say?"

"Nothing," Rodney said unhappily.

"Oh, that sounded like bullshit, didn't it?" John said. "Fuck. I know it sounds lame as hell, but I was just – you really are amazing." He pulled back, letting Rodney's legs down so he could move forward and lie down on top of Rodney again.

"No," said Rodney, "no, it's okay. I just. I guess I'm kind of oversensitive, I've probably fucked too many total assholes to take that sort of thing as something other than a line." He smirked, humor at his own expense. "Hey, there's a reason I kind of put up a fight when you asked me out, you know. I have some trust issues, to put it mildly."

iv. Interlude

They sat on the edge of the bed, Rodney with one knee tucked up under his chin, his hair messy, a little withdrawn.

"So why did you agree?" John asked. "Why did you decide to go out with me then?"

Rodney lifted one shoulder. "I guess I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. I mean, you're kind of a legend in the company."

John rolled his eyes, grinning. "Oh, you wanted to see how I stacked up against my own studly reputation?" he said.

"No," said Rodney, shaking his head. "Well, maybe a little."

"So?" said John. "You know, totally throwing you out of the mood and freaking you out aside?"

"Pretty good so far," Rodney said appraisingly. "You are really good with your mouth, I'd heard that."

"Thanks," John said, "well, you've got a nice dick. It was a pleasure to suck on it."

Rodney snorted. "Another line?"

"Jesus," said John, dropping his face into his palm. "I'm sorry. God. I fucked this up. I would have played it totally differently if I'd realized you thought I was a complete jackass."

"Like how?" asked Rodney, suddenly curious, and John was uncomfortably reminded that this kid, pretty or not, was some kind of fucking genius.

"Well," John said, "I might have laid off the compliments a little." He shot a sidelong glance at Rodney's still-naked body. "Seriously, though, you are totally hot. That wasn't bullshit. I just might not have mentioned that I thought so."

"Okay," said Rodney. "What about all the stuff about eyeing me from afar?"

"Too much?" said John ruefully.

"Too much," said Rodney.

"Okay, how do I fix this?" John said briskly.

"Nah, it's fine," said Rodney, "you just – let's keep going. You know, without the player stuff."

"No," John said, not going along with it, "no, I can tell, it's – hey. How about if we swap places?"

"What, me top you?" Rodney said, startled blue eyes going wide.

"Sure, why not?" said John. "Hey, it might help, with the thing. The trust thing."

Rodney pulled John over by the back of his head and kissed him a little messily. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, okay, I'll fuck you, okay."

v. Orgasm

John was forced to revise his opinion of Rodney as shy and a little inexperienced within about a minute of Rodney bending him over and pushing into him. "Ah, Jesus," John said, and Rodney pinned John's wrists together above the headboard and held them there with one strong broad hand while the other gripped John by the hips and held him steady, working his ass in devastatingly even perfect strokes. "Oh, fuck," John said, "I'm gonna come just like this, yeah, yeah," and it had been ages since John had come untouched, just from a fucking, but yeah, Rodney had the magic hips, and John's vision was starting to go fuzzy and bright.

"Do it," said Rodney, "ah, god, come on, come. John, yeah."

John's hands were slipping but Rodney had him, and with a great shudder, John gave up trying to hold himself back and felt the orgasm hit him square in the small of his back, wracking and uncontrolled and right on the edge of pain-pleasure.

"Fuck," John said with a scratchy voice, "fuck, you are some kind of genius, all right."

"Mmm, yeah," Rodney said, shivering and pulling out, kissing John's back and neck and going all tender and post-coital.

"You came?" John asked, because he honestly hadn't really noticed.

"Yeah, right when you did," said Rodney. "Sorry, I stay hard for a while afterwards."

"Ah, to be young," John said, and went for Rodney's still-hard dick.

"No," said Rodney, gently catching John by the wrist, "god, really, I need a while. It's sensitive as hell right now." He flopped down on the mattress beside John. "But that was awesome."

"It really, really was," said John fondly. He was trying to work out a way of finding whether he could stay the night so they could do it again in the morning, but the words were hard to put together when his brain was still mostly offline.

"Hey," Rodney said, "I'm going to shower, you go ahead and just enjoy the buzz." He dropped a casual kiss onto John's head and vaulted over him off the mattress. John wanted to offer to join him in the shower but the bed was soft and John was so warm and sated, he was drifting before he could get the sentence out of his mouth.

vi. Afterglow

John opened his eyes again a few minutes later, wakened by the leap of the heretofore-unseen white cat as it landed on the mattress next to John. John eyed it, not wanting to risk a stroke to its fur when John's dick was still hanging out, vulnerable.

He poked his head into the bathroom and made out the vague outline of Rodney in the foggy shower stall, scrubbing.

Not scrubbing.

Jerking off.

"Hey," John said, going in, "I thought you were all sensitive down there and shit."

Rodney jumped, startled to see him, and that was what really clued John in.

"You didn't come," said John. "What the fuck? Why did you lie about that?"

Rodney let go of his soapy dick and his expression sank out of shock into something a little meaner. "Look," he said, "as flattered as I am that you lowered yourself to letting me fuck you, it wasn't really the crowning achievement you seem to think it was for me."

"Are you serious?" John said, stunned. "No, are you serious?"

"Of course I'm serious," said Rodney. "Jesus, half the guys you've fucked are guys I've been with too, you know. Pilots aren't the only ones who get any play." He lifted one shoulder. "I was curious, like I said. I wanted to see if there was substance to this fucking legend you've become or if it was all just hype based on the way you sell yourself as god's gift to ass-fucking."

"You played me?" said John, indignant.

"Please," Rodney said, and okay. Maybe he had a point.

"So, what, I'm lousy in bed?" John said, torn between fury and confusion. "Is that what you're telling me?"

"No, not lousy," said Rodney a little coolly. "Just, a little too 'ooh, yeah, baby, there' for my tastes. You really did your best work when your mouth was full."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this shit," John said, anger overtaking confusion in a hot rush. He pointed at Rodney. "You're an unbelievable asshole."

"Well," Rodney said, "if that's all, you're welcome to leave. And take that shitty American swill with you, it was one of your fellow flyboys who brought it in the first place."

"Fuck you, too," said John, backing out of the shower. "Enjoy your jerk-off fest, you fuckhead."

"Touchy," Rodney said, smirking, unselfconscious as he wrapped his hand around his dick and started tugging again.

John pulled his jeans and shirt on with a little difficulty, still dripping water and too pissed off to stop and find a towel in Rodney's disgusting hole of an apartment. He stormed to the front door, paused, went back and pulled the beer out of the fridge, and left.

He was too fucking old for this cruise-'em-and-lose-'em bullshit, John told himself fiercely, and he fucking well meant it this time.

 

5. The Friends

i. Prelude

"I'm just saying, this is not how reasonable people deal with a break-up."

John twisted the cap off the second beer bottle and handed it to Rodney, calm and – at least outwardly – completely sane. "It's been seven months, McKay," John said. "You're past the point of dealing with the break-up and into the phase of wallowing."

"This coming from the guy who's, what, seven years out from his divorce and has yet to attempt anything approaching a normal relationship?" groused Rodney, even though he'd already tried this argument.

"Look," said John, unbothered, "think of this like a system reboot."

Rodney groaned and dropped his head down despairingly. "God, not another inane Sheppard analogy."

"Shut up and listen," John said, "and drink your beer." Rodney sighed, but he knew Sheppard wouldn't give on this point – Sheppard had great and unshakeable faith in the power of beer as a social lubricant – so Rodney tipped his chin back up and took a few healthy swallows. "Right, a system reboot," John said. "Like, you've got all this spyware and cached garbage clogging up your, your ROM"—

— "Why are you even attempting a computer metaphor, it's like me trying to explain quantum mechanics using football"—

— "Okay, whatever, the point is that your computer is running slow and that little hourglass thingy keeps popping up and the only thing that's going to make it go back to the way it used to be is a reboot, something that wipes all this old Keller bullshit off your drive and gets you back into your regular operating mode."

"That makes no sense," said Rodney flatly.

"It makes total sense," said Sheppard, affronted. "Drink up."

"Even accepting your completely ridiculous theory," Rodney said, obediently drinking up between clauses, "I don't see how us messing around is going to do anything other than, you know, upload more spyware and viruses."

John blinked, feigning confusion. "I'm totally clean, if that's what you're getting at."

"Oh, shut up, that's not what I meant," said Rodney, irritated, "I meant"—

"We're overwriting that file," John said, more firmly. "We're just, we're totally overwriting that messed up shit." He took Rodney's empty bottle and passed him another. "It's just fucking, McKay. Your brain needs to remember what that's like. It's not all soft-focus and tender and meaningful. It's fucking."

"You know," Rodney said, getting huffier, "I think you really have the wrong idea of how things were between me and Jennifer, I mean, we spent our fair share of time just – you know. Like bunnies."

"Hmm," said John, not buying it. "What, like, pegging?"

"Jesus Christ," said Rodney, exasperated, and took a long pull off his new beer without even thinking about it.

"That's it," said John approvingly. "Drink up, and I'll even let you do me."

Rodney had to spit his last mouthful back into the bottle.

ii. Foreplay

Kissing Sheppard was so fucking bizarre.

It wasn't like Rodney hadn't made out with a guy before, though, okay, it'd been a while. But the stubble, the breadth of John's jaw, the aggressive way he kept trying to take charge – that wasn't the bizarre part. The bizarre part was that it was Sheppard, Sheppard's stubble, Sheppard's jaw, Sheppard's goddamned alpha male behavior. Sheppard's weird heavy huffs of breath through his nose, like each new move on Rodney's part was being greeted with ironic impatience on Sheppard's.

Sheppard's weird disobedient hair, soft and bristly at the nape of his neck, like every time Rodney'd lost his patience and delivered a smack there. Sheppard's voice, recognizable even in the little broken grunts he was producing whenever Rodney managed to take over the kiss, noises like Sheppard made during emergency jumper repairs or on the landing part of a good dive-tuck-roll or when showing appreciation for a new and unexpectedly tasty alien dish.

"Okay," said Rodney, pulling away. "This is so fucking bizarre."

John didn't bother arguing. He just wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and sighed. "Maybe if we just pushed past this bit," he suggested.

"Right," Rodney said, because yeah, that kind of made sense. He knew John's mouth and hair and voice all too well, but he was blissfully unfamiliar with other parts of John. Maybe if they could just get to that level of making out, the weirdness would recede into background noise. Rodney took a step back and tugged his t-shirt over his head. John blinked, surprised, then did the same.

Rodney'd seen John without his shirt on – perhaps not as often as he might expect for someone who'd been on his team for the past five years – but he'd seen him nonetheless. The hairiness wasn't a surprise then, or John's thinness, or even the slight convexity of John's embryonic beer belly. John Sheppard was, Rodney supposed, hypothetically hot stuff, but he'd long since become everyday, ordinary, just Rodney's asshole friend and teammate.

Judging by the disinterested downward glance that John spared for Rodney's torso, Sheppard felt exactly the same.

"Pants," said Rodney, and dropped onto the couch to work on his boots and socks. John, whose bootlaces were in a perpetual state of looseness, didn't have to sit. He just toed out of his shoes and reached down to tug off his socks. His belt jingled open and his pants hit the floor – leaving his boxers in place, Rodney noticed – before Rodney was even done with his second boot.

John's hairy skinny runner's calves. Ho hum. John's bare monkey-toe feet. Yawn. Rodney could see they'd been right to try and skip over to the actual sexy parts, because there was no way he was going to get all swoony, never mind hard, over the boring revelation that John's leg hair kind of faded out above his knees.

Rodney stood up and dropped his pants, following John's lead and leaving his boxers in place. "Okay, bed," he said, and waved his hand in invitation. John scratched his ass with idle comfort – classy – as he led the way over to Rodney's bed. They stretched out together, like any one of a hundred movie nights here in Rodney's quarters, except never once had movie night included John getting on his side to face Rodney, then slipping a callused hand down Rodney's bare back and under the waistband of his boxers.

"Of course you go for the ass," Rodney said, amused, because John liked asses. Rodney often told John it was mostly envy, since Sheppard had so little in that department himself.

"Feel free to go for my breasts," John said with equal amusement, and Rodney reached across gamely to stroke his hand over John's flat pectoral muscles, the draping chain of John's dog tags obscuring the nipple closest to the mattress.

"Hmm," said Rodney, and shimmied a little closer so he could lean in and tongue one of Sheppard's small dark pink nipples. The motion made John's hand dip the rest of the way into Rodney's boxers, and John's hand squeezed reflexively as Rodney's tongue raised his nipple to a point. It was still weird – this close to John's armpit, he could smell John's Speedstick, the familiar sharp masculine scent that Rodney always associated with situations that made them all sweat, and those situations were far, far from sexy fun. But John's hand was a great distraction, and Rodney was getting a weird pang of satisfaction out of the fact that he was the one making the bolder move here.

"Hey," said John, when Rodney tried to slip his hand into his shorts. "Uh, just"—and of course, John wasn't hard, neither was Rodney, and John probably had that guy thing where he didn't really like being touched when he wasn't already hard, especially if it was the first time someone was touching him. Rodney understood that; an erect dick was always more impressive. John bumped Rodney's hand out of the way and got in there himself, clearly coaxing his dick into a state of readiness. He had to close his eyes to do it, Rodney noticed.

"Okay?" said Rodney, once it was fairly obvious that John had been successful, judging by the clear shape now tenting his boxers.

"Okay," John said, and pulled his hand out again, reaching across to stick it back down Rodney's shorts.

"Okay," Rodney said, and put his hand back in John's boxers. John's cock was pretty hard, and definitely hot to the touch, though Rodney could tell he wasn't really excited yet. "Hey," said Rodney, "I'll blow you," and just like that, John's cock sort of thrummed like the jumper controls and went from 80% interest to 120% in about two seconds flat.

They had to tug John's shorts down around his thighs, and John had to get onto his back, but soon enough they were set, and Rodney moved until he was straddling one of John's hairy skinny legs. John's cock, at least, was a new sight, even if the thick dark hair around it wasn't unexpected. He was cut, as Rodney'd always thought, and he was a good size too, which made Rodney think good for him, with the exact same selfless goodwill he'd felt when John had recently been promoted to a full-bird colonel.

"Okay," said John, "I know you're overwhelmed with my cock and everything, but you can go ahead and suck it any"— and John fell off into a sort of incoherent grumble as Rodney decided to shut him up with a strong opening move, mouth wide and taking John down all the way. Rodney honestly kind of hated deep-throating – it made his eyes sting and his heart race wildly with panic as he blocked his airway – but he at least knew how to do it. Rodney swallowed showily around John's cock head a few times before succumbing to the pressure in his lungs and coming up for air. After that Rodney let himself slip into a slightly aggressive blow job, not something he usually did for a first time, but the sort of thing he thought might kind of throw John off his guard. Rodney sucked hard at all the usual hot spots and did a detour to take John's balls in his mouth one at a time, tonguing them a little roughly just to hear John curse. Once he'd gotten John to slam his fist into the mattress, Rodney came back up and set a fast slick pace bobbing up and down John's cock, sliding all the way down every dozen sucks or so, showing off.

"Okay, okay," John said, getting his hand in Rodney's hair and easing him up. "Jesus, okay. Stop before I blow my load, you asshole."

"Wow," said Rodney, sitting up, wiping his mouth and feeling his swollen lips, his tired jaw. "You're such a seductive stud, I can totally see why all the ladies swoon when you smile."

"Hey," said John, probably not aware that he had his cock in hand now and had gone from pinching at the base to giving it a friendly series of tugs, "you're the one who just spent ten minutes sucking me off and didn't even get a boner out of it. That's not exactly convincing, you know."

Rodney pulled his shorts down, defensive. "It's a semi!" he exclaimed, and pointed. "That totally counts!"

John's hand left his own dick and came over to appraise Rodney's self-proclaimed semi-erection. "Huh," he said. "I guess." Seeming to figure he was there anyway, John tightened his grip a little and worked his fist up and down a few times. Rodney watched, a little bemused to see his dick get hard in John Sheppard's hand even as Rodney's mind was still stuck on annoyed and grouchy. "You like that?" said John, voice dropping into something that John probably thought was sexy but actually just sounded cheesy and stupid.

"Shut up," Rodney said.

"Oh, you like it," John said in the stupid cheesy voice.

"No, I mean – stop talking," said Rodney. "Seriously. You're undoing all your work, here."

"Oh," said John, in his normal voice again. "I thought you said you liked dirty talk."

"Not from you," said Rodney. "Uh. Possibly that came out wrong." John's hand had left almost the second Rodney had said it, and now John toppled him to the bed, pinning Rodney under him. Rodney couldn't figure out if this was supposed to be dorky retaliation or another of John's ridiculous Kirk maneuvers.

John didn't really seem to know, either. He hovered over Rodney as they both became aware that they were naked, and that their junk was touching.

"We should probably just fuck," John said, still hovering, looking worried.

"Yeah," Rodney said. "Okay, move already."

iii. Sex

Once they got into it, the actual sex wasn't too bad. Rodney took John from behind, John on his hands and knees. John was tight, even though Rodney knew he was pretty experienced as a bottom. The bumps of John's spine and the strength of his thighs framing Rodney's were an unwelcome reminder of John's athleticism, his power, and Rodney maybe was overdoing it a little as he pounded John, but John was making grunting appreciative noises, so Rodney figured maybe this was just what it took to have sex with Sheppard.

"God," Rodney panted, after maybe ten minutes of this, "are you close? Do you need a reach-around?"

"No, I'm close," said John, equally breathless. "No, okay, maybe a reach-around."

Rodney fumbled under John's hips, losing a little of his momentum as he tried to locate and grip John's (impressively hard, actually) cock. With one hand occupied, it was a little more difficult to keep moving as hard and fast, so Rodney took the opportunity to redistribute his weight a little and shifted them both up and back, settling John a little more into Rodney's lap. "Is this okay?" asked Rodney, starting to jab upwards in quick thrusts.

"Uh," John said. "Your hand is good."

"What about my dick?" asked Rodney, a little exasperated, because fuck that. John was not pulling the stoic uncommunicative card while Rodney was fucking him up the ass.

"It's, uh," said John, and wriggled. "It's not really hitting the spot like this."

Rodney slowed his thrusts, blinking sweat back out of his eyes, abruptly feeling how tired and sore his thighs and hips were, how heavy John was splayed out over his pelvis like this. "Oh," said Rodney. He kind of wanted to drop his forehead down onto John's flat shoulder blade, which looked welcoming and steady and strong, but he held himself back. "So, uh. We should try something else?"

John wriggled again. "Hold the rubber, I'll lift off."

Rodney obediently gripped the base of his cock and John pulled away. "Maybe if we stood and you bent over and braced yourself on the wall?" said Rodney, who'd actually only ever seen that move in porn.

"Right," John said. "Well. Or."

"I'm open to suggestions here," Rodney snapped.

"Or I could go on top," said John. "Like, ride you."

Rodney willingly moved so he was on his back, and John straddled him so they were face to face. John's dick, Rodney couldn't help but notice, was losing interest a little, but it perked up once John sank down onto Rodney's cock. "Yeah?" Rodney said, reaching out to stroke John's side.

"Don't," John said, squirming away. "Tickles."

"Right," said Rodney, who'd known that about John. "So." And Rodney lifted his hips up again, a little tiredly, and John steadied himself on his knees, and they awkwardly began to reclaim the rhythm they'd discovered earlier.

iv. Interlude

"I'm totally parched," said John gratefully when Rodney came back with a glass of water for each of them.

"That's because you keep your mouth open the whole time," said Rodney unsympathetically. "You're totally a mouth-breather when you're fucking."

"At least I don't soak the sheets with sweat," John returned, waving his free hand at the spot where Rodney had been lying, which, yeah, okay, was a little damp.

They drank their water in silence. Rodney couldn't decide if things were weird because they'd just taken a break from fucking, or if they were weird because they were almost back to their normal dynamic. It was starting to feel ordinary again, even with John bare-ass naked on Rodney's bed and Rodney wearing only his underwear, which he'd hastily tugged on before making the water run.

"I don't think this is overwriting my file," Rodney confessed with a sigh.

"Yeah," John said. "I'm starting to think maybe my analogy wasn't perfect."

"It's just too – us," Rodney said, dejected. "I mean, that was okay. But it was weird, right?"

"Totally weird," conceded John. "I kind of pictured it going better."

"Better how?" asked Rodney, interested. He sat down on the bed and got comfortable against the headboard. "I mean, obviously, better as in without the weirdness. But otherwise, do you have any, um, notes for me?"

John settled back next to Rodney, their elbows bumping. "I guess I thought we could just get each other off without all this friend bullshit."

"Yeah," said Rodney. "I guess I'm not, I don't know, macho enough or whatever. Maybe if I could have slammed you around more."

John cast Rodney a strange look. "Is that what you think I like?"

"It's what you do like," Rodney returned, rolling his eyes. "Come on. You like someone who takes charge. It's probably the military thing."

"So that's why you were so," said John, sketching a vague gesture in the air. "Huh. I thought that might be why."

"I told you," Rodney said tetchily, "I am capable of doing the big aggressive top act, it's not like I've never done it before."

"Fine," John said, setting his glass on the nightstand and raising his hands in defeat. "I mean, point taken. Literally."

"Besides," said Rodney, "it's not like it worked any better when you were the one in charge."

"No," agreed John with surprising grace. "Yeah, that sucked."

"We should have done this when you had that crush on me," said Rodney, "when was it, back in our fourth year on Atlantis? When I started dating Jennifer and you were so fucking grouchy for weeks. That would have been a good time for me to shove you around, I really felt like it back then."

John had gone very still. "So," he said, awkwardly, "you, uh. Knew about that?"

"Yes," Rodney said, waving it away. "Of course I did."

"Could have said something," John grumbled, his ears going red.

"I was with Jennifer," Rodney protested. "Jesus." He tilted his head back, drank the last of his water, and set his glass down as well. "Besides, you didn't say anything when I had a crush on you our first year on Atlantis. And don't tell me you didn't know anything about that, because even I know I was just ridiculously obvious."

"Yeah, well," said John, a little sheepish now. "There was so much shit going down, we were a new team, I kind of had a thing for Teyla"—

"I know," Rodney said. "And, duh. I'm just saying, I knew, you knew. And that also would have been a good time for us to try this out. We obviously have shitty timing."

"Can't argue with that," said John ruefully. "Sorry about all this. I really did think it would help."

"Yeah," Rodney said. "I thought it might, too."

"Well," John said, getting off the bed. "I guess we should call it a night before things get even more weird." He bent over, looking for his shorts and his pants.

"Oh," said Rodney, because this was definitely a new view of John Sheppard: naked and ass-up in the air.

"What?" said John, twisting around. "Oh." His gaze locked on Rodney's crotch, where Rodney was clearly responding to the new vista before him. "You like that?" John asked.

"I guess I do," Rodney said, stunned. "Hey. Come back here, I want to see something."

John gamely dropped his boxers and hopped back onto the bed, knee walking over to Rodney as Rodney pulled his shorts off again. "I see something," said John, being a huge stupid dork.

"Yeah, yeah," said Rodney. "Hey. Just – come here." And he reached up and tugged John's mouth down to his, and something abruptly snapped: this was John's mouth, god, John's noisy breathing, John's stupid hair and John's knobby knee digging into Rodney's side, and they both suddenly went nuts for each other, striving together and kissing hotly and it was effortless, mindless, and perfect.

Rodney could feel it, god, like a laser cutting through his brain: John was totally overwriting his files.

v. Orgasm

They'd wound up with Rodney on top again – face to face this time, which they would have tried before except they'd thought it would be too weird – but now it was just awesome, awesome for kissing and fucking at the same time, awesome because John was bendy and Rodney had all sorts of parts of John accessible at the same time, and the angle seemed to be perfect for John, the way John was arching and digging his hands into Rodney's thrusting cheeks and making throaty desperate noises.

"I'm going to come," Rodney admitted, perspiration dropping from his jawline onto John's neck, and Rodney bent down to lick it away. "Can you – with your hand?"

And John reached between them, open-mouthed and red-cheeked, and Rodney could feel the close brush of John's fingers closing around his dick, starting to jerk. "This is going to be fast," John warned, and Rodney was just fucking fine with that, he'd been riding the edge of orgasm for minutes now.

John worked his fist and Rodney sped up his thrusts, and they kissed and grunted and Rodney pushed his face into the space between John's shoulder and his neck and said, helplessly, "John, oh, yeah, I love it, I love you so fucking much."

And John didn't say anything back, but that was just fine, because his response was clearer than words. He sighed, and then held his breath, and then Rodney could feel John shooting between them, warm and wet, and Rodney slammed in hard and came too, kissing John's open mouth and shaking.

vi. Afterglow

"I am starting to see some advantages to knowing each other this well," said Rodney. He and John were tucked under the covers on opposite sides of the bed, a good safe six inches between them.

"Yeah," John said, voice a little raspy. He probably needed more water.

"I mean, I know your surprised face," Rodney said, trying not to be smug and failing, "and you were totally surprised when you came."

John made a face.

"It's okay," Rodney said graciously. "You don't even have to say it, your expression said it all. I'm totally the hottest stud you've ever bagged, and no one's ever made you come that hard before."

John made another face.

Rodney settled into his pillow a little more. He was tired, wanted to drop off to sleep, but John's rising tension was palpable. "You can leave," said Rodney, "if that's what you're trying to work up the courage to ask. I know you're thinking about your military rules and the tiny chance that you might get caught doing the walk of shame tomorrow morning."

"I'm not thinking of that," said John, throwing Rodney.

"You're not?" Rodney asked, sitting up. "Wait. What are you thinking?"

John was biting his lip and shifting his gaze back and forth, left to right, like he was reading an invisible teleprompter. "I'm trying to," he said. "Look. I know sometimes you say stuff."

"Wait," said Rodney. "Is this about what I said before I came?"

John's jaw flickered with acknowledgement. "I'm just saying, you're kind of – you do babble, you know. When you're under pressure." He moved his hands down his thighs, over the sheets, restless, awkward with the effort to get out words that had to do with feelings. "And maybe you say stuff you don't"—

"Oh," Rodney said. "I meant it. If that's what you're trying to ask, in your weird constipated way."

"You," John said, and stalled out. But his expression said it: he was relieved beyond the telling of it, but then he abruptly edged back into worry. "I," John tried again, "I'm pretty – I have trouble with"—

"Oh my god," said Rodney. "John. I think we've established that I know you very very well. Do you think I honestly expected you to declare your love? It's fine: I love you, and you love me, and you don't have to give yourself an anal fissure trying to get the words out."

All John's air left his lungs in an explosion of breath that was caught between horror and laughter. But his shoulders dropped and his head turned, and his eyes were – god help Rodney – they were sparkling and happy and relieved. "Yeah?" said John, almost pathetically grateful.

"I can talk for both of us," said Rodney, and closed the space between them, pressing his mouth to John's. "Look," he said, "there's one mistake here I want to clear up."

John probably wanted to get worried all over again, but his hands were crawling up Rodney's arms and clinging, and his mouth was kissing small trails over Rodney's neck and shoulder. He was otherwise occupied.

"I think we overwrote the wrong files," Rodney said, "and, yeah, no, right there, god."

John made an interrogative noise as he paused obediently to kiss Rodney's earlobe.

"I think we overwrote the John Sheppard files by accident," Rodney said, continuing once his brain popped online again and John moved on, "I think we must have, because an hour ago you were just my annoying friend and teammate, and now"—

John pulled away, curiosity all over his face, his awesomely familiar and weirdly gorgeous face.

--"Now you're, god, so hot," Rodney said in a rush. "How did I forget that you're this hot?"

John kicked the covers down and pressed into Rodney's side, his lean muscled body heated and heavy in all the right places. "I don't know," John said, reaching down to stroke Rodney's incipient hard-on, "but maybe you need to get your eyesight checked, McKay."

"Oh my god," said Rodney, "shut up and blow me."

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