Beta by Inkscribe
Rating; NC-17 McShep
Characters;Carson Beckett, Rodney McKay, John Sheppard, Radek Zelenka and Laura Cadman.
Word count; 5,400 approx
No spoilers or warnings needed, tis a flufflet PWP.
Summary; The Physician sees all and hears all. Today he's telling all. John and Rodney do the math.
Disclaimers; The usual. Not mine, never will be, but hey, a girl can *imagine*, can't she? Oh-and "Sunday" did NOT happen.
text="What else are Best Friends for?">
What Else are Best Friends for?
John Sheppard stopped outside Carson Beckett 's door and fidgeted. There was something strange going on. His summons to the infirmary had been peremptory; the exam sketchy and Carson's instruction to come to his quarters an hour after he finished had been firm, reinforced as it was by the very large needle Carson had been waving at the time. The door opened.
"There you are. Come in, come in." Carson said, gesturing him into the room.
He'd never been in Carson's quarters before, so he looked around with interest. The room was tidy and neat, no surprise there. Where Rodney had endless photos of himself with various bits of parchment, Carson had colour posters of striking landscapes, dark mountains and gleaming water with soft blue skies above. No prizes for guessing where they were although legends like "Kyle of Lochalsh" helped. The door to the balcony stood open and sunlight poured through billowing nets.
"So, this is about?" John asked.
"Let me get you a drink, first," Carson offered.
"First? Carson what's this about?" he asked.
"You need to talk, son. This will help lubricate the process," Carson said, handing him a glass with warm amber fluid in it.
"Talk about what?" John queried.
"Yes, I'd quite like to know that too," came Rodney's voice from the balcony. The man himself followed, also holding a glass.
Taking a gulp from his glass to cover his surprise, John startled into a cough. "Wow! This is good stuff," he exclaimed.
"Aye, but you might be wantin' to sip that; it's a twelve-year old Islay single malt, matured in oak, and it deserves a little respect," Carson said. "You're not getting any more of it, either. I want you both relaxed, but not incapable," he added.
"Why?" Rodney asked, suspiciously.
"Oh for goodness' sake, sit *down* the pair of you!" Carson commanded.
Unused to such a tone from the doctor they both sat, meekly side by side on Carson's sofa.
"Now, sit there and listen and don't interrupt me. You can talk afterwards," Carson said.
"Yes, Mom," John drawled. Rodney sniggered beside him.
"Shut up or there will be some unnecessarily invasive medical procedures in your immediate future," Carson threatened.
"You wouldn't," Rodney opined smugly. "Hippocratic Oath and all that."
"Clearly," Carson retorted, looking at Rodney. " You've never considered the merits of preventative medicine."
"Right then," Carson said firmly. "You two have been drivin' the rest of us crazy with your bloody antics. We can see it, but apparently neither of you can, so I have been deputised to straighten the pair of you out. Although," he laughed, "That may not have been the best phrase to use."
Rodney opened his mouth to yell something but Carson got there first.
"Shut it, Meredith," Carson warned. "Or not only will I be testing the new proctoscope that the Daedalus brought, but I'll link the camera to the base intranet so that everyone can see where you've got your head most of the time!" Carson watched, amused, as John attempted to stop Rodney from going supercritical all over Carson's sofa.
When the yowling and threats had died down, and John felt safe enough to let Rodney go without his attempting violence against the physician, he said, "What are you talking about, Carson?"
That produced a long-suffering sigh, and a shake of the head.
"Denial. The pair of ye are so deeply in denial, it's a wonder you can find your own arses. Either that or you're both bloody clueless," Carson said.
"Denial of what, Carson?" Rodney raged. "Get to the point, man!"
"You want each other," Carson said bluntly. The silence that followed was absolute.
"Don't be ridiculous," John blustered.
"You watch him, all the time, when you think he's not looking, or isn't paying attention to you." Carson replied. "When he's in the infirmary you hover, 'till he wakes up and then you slope off and pretend you haven't been there the whole time."
"Personal concern for my team isn't allowed?" John retorted, his tone crisp and military.
"Oh, aye," Carson replied. "But I've not seen you holdin' Ronan's hand under the covers, nor whispering little endearments to encourage him to wake up."
Rodney, clearly expecting Sheppard to deny everything, was stunned when the man ducked his head and went bright pink.
"Really? But that's … that's just crazy," Rodney said.
"Don't think I've not noticed you doing the same Rodney," Carson continued inexorably.
"I do not hold his hand!" Rodney retorted.
"No," Carson conceded, "You usually pet his ankle as you walk past. Then, if you think no one is looking, you stroke his hair."
Rodney opened his mouth, then shut it firmly, jutted out his jaw and glared. The effect was somewhat marred by the deep blush spreading across his cheeks.
"I have rather good hearing, too," Carson continued. "So I heard the things you said to him when the retrovirus was changing him and we had him under sedation. You thought you were going to lose him and you got quite emotional, even though he could neither hear, nor understand."
"Rodney … ?" John said, a startled expression flashing across his face before he smoothed it out.
"Oh God!" Rodney said and dropped his head into his hands. "Carson how could you?"
"In fact, they were pretty similar to the things John whispered to you when you were in and out of it whilst withdrawing from the Wraith enzyme," Carson concluded. "You were screaming abuse at everyone when you were conscious and you were moaning in pain even when you were asleep. John was there, three or four times a day, until you started being more rational."
"What?" Rodney said.
"Umm, I--" John started, at the same time.
Then they looked at each other.
Then they turned away and stared in opposite directions.
"Oh no you don't," Carson admonished. "There's been quite enough of that." Then he put a hand on each man's cheek and turned their faces so they were looking at each other.
"All of us, all your friends, can see that you are emotionally invested in each other, but aren't doing anything about it," he continued.
"He's military!" Rodney snapped. "Even if he … even if, well … he couldn't."
"But he does, Rodney. Every time he looks at you I can see it," Carson said.
"Oh, so now you're the big gay expert, Carson? Where and when did you last fuck a man?" Rodney challenged nastily. "If we're all being so frank here, let's share."
"That bed," Carson replied promptly, pointing. "Last Saturday. And I can tell you I'd be doin' a lot more of it if you didn't force Radek to work such bloody unholy hours!" he huffed.
"Radek!" Rodney howled. "Wait--that sneaky little Czech bastard is getting laid when I'm not? " He stopped, apparently realising what he'd said. "Of course, when I said that I wasn't getting laid, I meant-"
"Cadman," Sheppard said, features sharpening as if smelling a rat. "You were dating Cadman, weren't you?"
"Aye." Carson smirked.
"You're doing them both? I think not." Rodney sneered. "She doesn't strike me as the sort to let herself be two-timed," he finished triumphantly. "Especially with a man!"
"Oh no, you're quite right there," Carson conceded, watching Rodney puff himself up for the next attack. "Laura likes to watch," he said.
"Watch?" Rodney squeaked.
"Quite a few women are turned on by watching two men make love, you know," Carson said conversationally. "Just as most men are turned on by the whole lesbian thing," he finished.
"But … but Cadman?" Sheppard said as if it were the last thing he would ever think of. "She … and you and Radek?" he almost wailed. "In the same bed …" he trailed off. "Fuck!"
Carson nodded happily.
"But, but … you're Mister Vanilla!" Rodney complained. "Nice, friendly Carson, who wouldn't harm a fly. How come you get two lovers and kinky sex?" he finished in a tone that protested the ultimate unfairness of the universe.
"Possibly because I pay attention to people, and I have never denied my own nature," Carson replied easily, just a hint of force behind his words. "Granted that John obviously has a problem with that … "
"Tell me about it," John muttered, sighing.
"You?" Rodney said. "You, umm, you know…erm," He made a specific gesture. " …With another man?"
Head held down, John nodded in reply.
Carson folded his arms and smothered a smile. The most volubly articulate man in Atlantis reduced to 'erm' and hand waving to suggest a sexual act. But now that they were actually talking about it, it was time to leave.
"Lads," he said gently. "You need to talk about this, together. So I'm going to go now. Radek and Laura and I will never speak a word of this to anyone else, be certain of that. John, you're three billion light years from Earth and your command structures. If the 'brightest mind in two galaxies' can't help you find a way round that problem, then he doesn't deserve the title, especially since he has the motivation."
He turned to the still-blushing scientist. "Rodney, I know that you have been trying to prevent John from losing both his career and Atlantis over this, and while that's very selfless of you, John is capable of making that decision for himself. Why don't you let him?"
Carson forced himself not to laugh at Rodney's expression. Clearly, selflessness wasn't something the man had ever been accused of before. He turned towards the door.
"But," Rodney looked horrified at the thought of being left alone with John.
"No 'buts', Rodney," Carson said. "What you decide is between the two of you, but for God's sake, get this sorted. You can't go on denying everything now that you both know that you have feelings for each other. Sexual feelings," he added firmly, just in case they were still unclear on that point.
"Oh," he added. "And if those sexual feelings end up being expressed on my bed, please have the decency to put the sheets into the laundry basket before you go. All right then lads?" He turned his back on John's horrified expression and Rodney's outraged yell.
With the door closed at his back and his own command to 'lock' for the next hour, he smiled to himself. Sometimes he did his best work away from the infirmary. Toggling his headset he called, "Radek, love?"
"Ano, Carson. They are together?" he asked.
"We can hope. I don't put it past either of them to screw it up still, but at least they're on the same page now." Carson said, walking along the corridor towards Radek's quarters.
"Good. A well-laid Rodney will be much easier to work with, I think. A little more relaxed perhaps?" Radek said slyly.
Carson laughed out loud.
"Speaking of being well-laid …" Laura Cadman's voice was warmly suggestive.
"How can I help you, m'dear?" Carson asked, ever the gentleman.
"Oh, it's not me that needs your attention," she replied wickedly. "I think poor Radek's about to have a heart attack. Aren't you, sweetie?" she asked.
"Bože! Carson, she-oh!" Radek gasped. Then he made a series of very, very explicit noises.
"I'll be right there," Carson said, breaking into a run.
Rodney and John sat on the sofa, carefully not looking at each other. There was a deep, embarrassed silence between them that neither of them knew how to break.
"So, you, er-" Rodney gulped.
"Yeah," John muttered by way of reply. "You?"
"Ah, " Rodney coughed. "Yes. Yes I have."
"Oh," John said.
The silence resumed.
Rodney tossed back a mouthful of whisky and started coughing. John thumped him on the back, and then carefully left his hand on Rodney's shoulder. Still pink from the whisky, Rodney turned and looked at him.
"Why did you join the Air Force?" he asked abruptly.
"I wanted to fly," John replied. "And that's where the best and fastest planes were."
"But, the whole homophobic atmosphere?" Rodney asked.
"I didn't think it would matter," John said uncomfortably, running his fingers through his hair. "Because I'm bi. I figured I'd just stick to women, but over the years … I started craving sex with men. All those locker rooms full of naked athletic men didn't help either." He looked into Rodney's eyes and held his gaze.
"I once drove six hundred miles for a three-minute fuck. Waited 'till after my regular physical, took a weekend pass and drove as far away from the Air Force base as I could get. Found a gay bar, hooked up with a guy, went out into the car park and …" He hesitated, and then plunged on. "Wham, bam, thank you Sam up against a wall. Yes, I know it was an incredibly stupid thing to do, especially since I hadn't been with a man in, well, years. It hurt like fuck, he came inside me, jerked me off, said 'thank you', and went back into the bar."
He looked at Rodney defiantly, as if daring him to comment. "And I came so hard I couldn't stand. Driving back to the base was really uncomfortable, not the least because every time I thought about it, I got hard, really hard. I had to keep pulling over and jerking off. That's when I knew I was in trouble."
"What did you do?" Rodney asked quietly.
"Nothing. I got posted to Afghanistan a month later. I was kind of too busy. Then I got shot down, court-martialled and sent to Antarctica … where the opportunities were even more limited. The rest you know." He finished. "You?"
Rodney fidgeted for a second then spoke.
"I, uh, kind of have a problem," he said. John raised an eyebrow but absolutely did not say the first thing that came to mind.
"With attractiveness," Rodney continued. "Not mine, obviously," he continued, sounding much more like himself. "Other people's attractiveness."
"You've lost me," John said bemusedly.
"Then listen," Rodney shot back. "I can do bodies, either kind; it never really mattered to me. It's still sex, however you're doing it," he shrugged. "Minds, now that's the problem. I like to talk-yes, yes, I know," he snapped in response to John's disbelieving expression.
"I like to talk and have some intelligence on the other end of the conversation. The problem is my requirement for an above-above-average intellect. Lesser minds irritate me after a very short time. I really hate dumb blondes. They expect you to make small talk about stupid, unimportant things, like sports or celebrities or the latest fashions. I can't do that; it's a waste of my intellect," he complained.
"So," John drawled. "You need someone who can manage a little post-coital discussion of post-Newtonian parameterization?"
"Exactly!" he beamed. "I knew you'd get it. But," and he looked down at the glass in his hands. "If we're being frank, I want more than a quick fuck, a one-night stand. Been there, done that, paid for it," he declared, throwing back another mouthful of whisky.
"Paid?" John said with his eyebrows raised.
"Yes. An exchange of currency tends to cut out the whole small talk section and you get straight to the fucking. Plus they don't expect you to phone afterwards. I don't expect that you'd understand that, seeing the amount of women that throw themselves at you," he huffed.
For a moment there, John had been feeling a certain sympathy for the shining intellect that had saved Atlantis on a regular basis but couldn't connect with most of his own species on a personal basis. Then Rodney had … deliberately tried to shove him away, distance himself.
It wasn't going to work. Not this time, because thanks to Carson, John knew why he was doing it.
"Did it ever occur to you that I didn't want most of them? That I like to be the one choosing?" John asked, setting down his tumbler on the table. He took a deep breath and went for it. "I choose you, Rodney," he said.
"But," Rodney began, but John's hand clamped down over his mouth.
"Shut. Up." John snapped, close enough now to watch Rodney's eyes widen in surprise. "We've wasted too much time dancing around this," he said. "Tomorrow we could be dead. I've spent enough time regretting the things that I couldn't, or didn't do."
Rodney's mouth tried to move under his hand but he kept it firmly clamped. If he let Rodney talk now, this could still go south.
"Yes, we'll have problems. Carson's right: with you on the case, the rest of the universe doesn't stand a chance. You want an intellectual challenge? Try this," he said, almost angrily. "I want you … and Atlantis. Those are the operational parameters, now find me the solution, Rodney. I don't care if I have to resign from the Air Force. I don't really care if I never go back to Earth, there's nothing there for me. Everything I want is right here!" he finished, looking deep into Rodney's eyes. Carefully, he took his hand from Rodney's mouth and waited, knowing that quite possibly the rest of his life hung on Rodney's reply.
"That's quite a challenge," Rodney said, finally.
"You do better with a challenge," John said. "Besides, I wouldn't want you to get bored with me, would I?"
He saw Rodney's expressive face bloom with a sudden, fledgling hope. Very carefully, John put a hand to the side of Rodney's face and leant in. Their first kiss was tentative, almost disbelieving. A soft brush of lip against lip, a mingling of breaths and Rodney said, "Oh," on an intake of air.
Then John was pulling him in, needing to touch him because, finally, yes. They were here, where he'd thought they'd never be and he needed to make sure he wasn't dreaming it, though his dreams had never been like this.
Holding the solid body tightly in his arms he was nuzzling Rodney's cheek, his hair, his own mouth just barely grazing skin as he inhaled hungrily. He could smell Rodney beneath shampoo and faint sweat, and something that might have been cologne, but was nowhere near as intense as the man's own scent.
Rodney's hands described restless arcs across his back, his shoulders, his arms and fingers fluttering across the planes of his torso, learning him.
"Please," John heard himself say, though he had no idea what exactly he was asking for. Only that it shouldn't stop. That would be enough.
Then Rodney was kissing him; hard hungry kisses that took, almost biting, withdrawing then giving it all back in softness of mouth and tongue, possessing him, then drawing his soul out through his mouth until he was shaking so hard the kiss broke apart.
"What do you want?" Rodney asked, mouth against his neck.
"You. You. Please, Rodney, only you. All of you, everything ... just you," he said helplessly, not caring that it didn't make sense. Rodney was a genius; after all, he would work it out.
"And Chaya? Neera? Too many Ascended and other women to list?" Rodney asked, in an almost pained tone, stilling against him.
Or not. Maybe Rodney couldn't work it out because John hadn't told him, hadn't given him the last factor in the equation.
Letting go of the barriers inside himself, he took Rodney's face between his hands and looked into his eyes, willing Rodney to look into his own, to see into his soul, and believe.
"I took what was offered, yes. Because I figured that the one person that I wanted, the only person that I wanted to be with would never, ever be mine. That if I tried, I would lose you … I couldn't bear that. I couldn't imagine my life without you in it somehow. Please," he ran out of words.
Rodney was staring at him, wide-eyed. "You wanted me? When?"
Right. His heart was breaking and Rodney wanted details.
"I'm not sure, exactly. I can't say that it was love at first sight. I thought you were annoying but funny in Antarctica. I figured out pretty quickly that the most interesting things happened 'round you on Atlantis. I got you on my team, so we could be together more, and somewhere along the way I fell for you. One day I picked you off the floor from the latest disaster and discovered that I wanted to hold you, pull you in tight and stop you hurting. And I couldn't because Teyla and Ford were right there and I figured that maybe you'd just hit me if I tried and … it's been killing me ever since," he said.
"Love?" Rodney said, cutting straight to the chase, as usual.
"God, yes!" John yelled. "D'you think I'd be in this much of a mess if it wasn't love?" Oops. He really hadn't meant to say that, not out loud, anyway. Not yet. Oh shit, now Rodney was going to run a mile and-
"You love me?" Rodney said, almost plaintively. John could almost see the wheels turning in Rodney's head. "Nobody ever loved me before," he said with simple, heartbreaking honesty. And there it was, the insecure, inept, and untouched heart of Rodney McKay.
"Well, I do, you moron," John said and kissed him.
It was slow, slow and gentle, just his mouth moving carefully on Rodney's. Then Rodney gave a little gasp and kissed him back and . . .and wow. They were just holding on to each other and kissing softly and it was going deep into him, so deep his knees wanted to give and he just wanted to lose himself in it ...
"Bloody hell!" Rodney said. John held onto him for balance and nodded weakly because his breathing had kind of gone funny and he didn't think he'd been getting anywhere near enough oxygen. They needed to lie down because he didn't think he could stand up anymore and this just couldn't stop. Not now.
"Bed," he said, and then mentally kicked himself as Rodney's eyes went wide.
"You want to … with me?" Rodney said in a very small voice.
"God, yes!" he said, without conscious thought. Then his brain kicked in and he looked at Rodney, really looked. His body was screaming now, do it now, but Rodney was looking . . .frightened. Slow down, slow down or you'll lose him, he told himself and the thought of startling Rodney into a panicked retreat killed his arousal faster than any fire-retardant.
"Rodney," and his voice came out broken. "You set the pace; whatever you want. If all that you want to do is cuddle, that's all we'll do, I promise," even if it kills me, "I can wait until you're ready--" He was cut short by an annoyed snort.
"Oh please, I'm *not* a fainting virgin," Rodney said with one hundred per cent pure McKay snark.
'Thank God!' John thought. "Right. Right. So this is about--?" He asked.
"You . . ." Rodney trailed off and his hands described complex arcs. John's normal ability to read Rodney-semaphore had gone and after trying to follow the tangentials of Rodney's hands for a moment he was just dizzy.
"Me?" he said, raising one eyebrow.
"You," Rodney said. "You. Just look at you, all ..." his hands were going again, but this time John got it. Rodney was describing him, hands following the lines of his body, but in mid-air. "…And the hair, Jesus, the 'I've just rolled out of bed, freshly fucked' hair, and the eyes, God -'come to bed' doesn't come near it-and, and that mouth …" Rodney was looking at his mouth and John actually saw Rodney's pupils dilate.
Rodney wanted him. Whatever else he was freaking about, that much was clear and the blood started singing in his veins again, picking up speed.
"And the point of this is?" he asked, fairly certain that it didn't matter and this was just Rodney being, well, himself.
"You. You're sex on two legs. And," he seemed to recover himself. "You have the temerity to have a brain, as well. Why would you want me?" Rodney asked, gesturing at himself dismissively.
Ah. There it was. He smiled, knowing that he could solve this equation.
"Don't smile at me like that!" Rodney complained.
"Why? Does it do things to you?" John husked at him, then watched as Rodney swallowed. Oh yeah, it did things for Rodney, because the front of his pants were tented and he was flushed and licking his lips nervously. And God did that little movement of tongue on lips do things to John.
"I want to do things to you, Rodney. Dirty, delicious, hot things. I want to rip your clothes off and taste you all over," he said as he drew Rodney into a loose embrace.
Rodney shuddered visibly.
"You drive me insane with that mouth that never knows when to stop. I love the clever, rude things that you say. I want to hear you say rude, dirty things to me and then I want to see if that mouth is as agile and talented at other things," he whispered into Rodney's ear, letting his breath stir Rodney's hair.
Rodney whimpered softly and the front of his trousers were tautly stretched over what appeared to be an impressive erection. When John tilted his Rodney's face up so he could look into his eyes they were wide, all pupil and stunned.
"You are an arrogant, awkward, condescending son-of-a-bitch. You're useless with people, clueless with anything that isn't related to what you're interested in. You're brilliant, amazing, funny, great to be with. You're good with your hands, I could watch your fingers fly over the keyboard or caress an Ancient device all day. I want those hands on me, Rodney. I want you. I'm not blind to your faults, and you're not perfect in the body-and I don't care, because I still want to fuck you into next week and beyond and … do you get this? I. Love. You." he finished huskily.
Rodney stared at him, making soft, helpless noises at the back of his throat and hanging onto him as if he might evaporate somehow.
"Are we clear now?" John asked. Rodney nodded, opening his mouth as if to speak.
"Shh!" John commanded. "No more talking," and pulled Rodney in.
Rodney kissed like the Devil and John wanted nothing but to be possessed. He had one hand on the front of Rodney's pants, rummaging for the zip because he needed to touch him there. Rodney's hands were everywhere, pulling him in, yanking at his tee shirt and somehow they were shedding their clothes in random heaps across Carson's living space as they moved inexorably towards the bed. There was no conscious consideration in what they were doing; it was all hot blinding need, too long repressed and undoing them both rapidly as it uncoiled.
"Now, Rodney, now!" he moaned into the hotness of Rodney's mouth.
"Yes! Now." Rodney moaned right back at him.
They fell onto the bed, trailing the half-shed remains of their uniforms and in another universe maybe another John Sheppard might have noticed that Rodney still had his socks on, but right here there was only Rodney's body against his, Rodney's mouth and hands flying across his over-sensitised skin and he was down on his back and Rodney had his cock in a firm grasp and Dear God it was going to be over too soon because he didn't think he could hold it back anymore and-
He was sobbing Rodney's name, over and over. He'd never thought it would be like this, it had never been like this, spinning out of control, no longer in charge.
Rodney's hand was generating deep friction, sparking new sensations everywhere and he really should reciprocate somehow, but Rodney batted his hand away as a distraction and all that intellect, all that concentration was focused right down on him and that was so, so hot and his hips were moving faster now, into Rodney's hand and oh God his body was thrashing uncontrollably and he grabbed two handfuls of sheeting because the world was accelerating into a stall turn and he couldn't keep his eyes open as he-
Pulled gee and-
Hit the top of the curve perfectly, pure blue everywhere around him, impossible black above, weightless for just a moment before gravity tugged and he would bring the nose over and they would arrow down …
A jumble of words, including his name brought him out of it. He opened his eyes to see Rodney, still kneeling over him, jerking himself off frantically, and moaning.
"Saw you come, John. God, so beautiful, so … beau … ti …" And then he was stuttering, even as John reached for him, a single gasp of air the only warning, and Rodney's body bowed perfectly into John's hand and he was coming, coming all over John and all he could do was wait for gravity to finish the job as Rodney's hand slowed, then stopped and he fell forwards into John's arms.
John let Rodney drape all over him, holding him close as the aftershocks kicked in. He closed his eyes and luxuriated in sensation, Rodney's weight against him, the heat and pleasure melting their bodies together.
After a few moments, gravity was back enough that Rodney's weight became uncomfortable and John gently turned them onto their sides, one leg hooked over Rodney's thigh to hold them together. Rodney made a soft, contented noise and pushed in against him, turning his face into John's neck. John held him and shut his eyes against the sudden dizzying rush of emotion. This felt so right.
He'd worry about consequences later and somehow he'd have to find a way to thank Carson. If the Scot hadn't intervened, would they ever have got here? John pushed the thought away, aware of how much time he'd spent looking over that cliff edge. Jesus, but he was getting all slushy over this. He settled for finding Rodney's mouth and giving him a slow, satiated kiss.
Probably the sweat and other substances trickling off his belly weren't romantic but John didn't care. God, he had Rodney's come all over him and wasn't that one hell of a thing? Almost idly, he trailed a finger down himself to the sticky bit and scooped some onto a fingertip. He brought it up to eye level to inspect. Rodney's eyes were open, watching him. Yep, it was come, and without any conscious consideration he popped the finger in his mouth and tasted. Rodney made a little, incoherent noise.
"You … guh," was what he said.
A speechless Rodney. Now *that* was a thing of beauty. John grinned at him, ear to ear and Rodney, apparently reading his mind, swatted at his head.
"Just think," John smirked. "Of the endless possibilities for rendering one Rodney McKay silent."
Rodney stared at him, narrowed his eyes and said, "Bastard," softly.
"Just think, " he repeated gleefully, "of all the ways we can have sex together, that we didn't even get to try yet."
"You mean when one of us has enough self-control to last more than five seconds?" Rodney asked, as if it was all his fault.
"You did that to me, Rodney. You made me come so fast, so hot-"
"You're going to be the death of me, aren't you?" Rodney accused.
"Yes! Death by rampant, continuous, mind-blowing sex!" John smirked. "We'll come and go together, Rodney," he sniggered, and then leant in over his lover. "And you'll love every minute of it, I promise."
Rodney's eyes were alight with joy, but he said, "Cocky, aren't we?" Looking pointedly at John's crotch.
"Well no, not so much at the moment. But I'm sure you can help me with that. Later." John waggled his eyebrows at Rodney suggestively. Rodney laughed at him.
"Later, flyboy?" he smirked, and looked down at his own cock, which was stirring. Then he looked at John, eyes raking his body, up and down, pure carnal appreciation lighting his face and *damn* if something wasn't happening down there.
"Fuck, Rodney!" he said with a certain astonishment.
"That would be the plan," Rodney deadpanned, but his face was glowing.
Shit. They were *so* going to kill each other. Also they were going to have to do Carson's laundry.
"Bring it on, genius!" was what John said, laughing.