Two Hundred, McShep, Part 2/2
NC-17
This part: 3800 words
~John was kept busy these last few weeks, what with the city almost sinking, the Wraith almost finding them, and Rodney almost dying after tampering with the Ascension Machine. When it was all over, John had fallen on the first soft surface he could find. He slept for twelve hours.
A specially-rigged life signs indicator had been placed next to John’s inert form with a note taped to it in familiar handwriting.
The note read: “Find me.”
The machine was stuttering Rodney‘s presence all over Atlantis. It finally slowed, showing Mckay in his room. Rodney had done something creative with the locks, so it took John an extra few minutes to bypass the codes. He wasn’t worried, and he certainly wasn’t going to panic, and he definitely did not thank god when the stupid lock gave it up and let him in.
John still had to wedge the doors with a crowbar and shove his way inside. He did not run to the inert form swathed in blankets on the bed, he just moved brusquely, stumbling over a discarded boot and barking his shin on a low table on the way.
This was the part where Rodney would stir from his nest of blankets and launch himself upright, glaring and sputtering about privacy and breaking and entering, or even some inanity like, “I could have been in here with someone!” And that would be the part where John would roll his eyes at him, or possibly even laugh, which was pretty cruel, John reflected, and the blankets still weren’t moving. He yanked them aside and found the ridiculously gay sparring dummy the Marines called “Dirk,” but that John privately referred to as “Rough Trade.” Why the hell did a sparring dummy need nipples anyway?
There was a note pinned to its washboard abs. It said “Bite Me,” in Rodney’s tiny, perfect, serial-killer handwriting.
Okay. So McKay was fine, and was messing with him. What else was new? Rodney wanted to be left alone. Fine. But it left John feeling bored and contrary, and in the mood for a fight, so he tracked down the other two members of his team.
Teyla and Ronon were in the gym with a bunch of Athosian kids. There was no such thing as a permission slip for parents to sign in Atlantis, so Ronon and Teyla were free to conduct martial arts workshops John liked to name things like, “Pegasus Jackass,” and “Don’t Try This at Home.” The kids were having a ball.
“You guys haven’t seen Rodney anywhere, have you?” John asked, as Jinto was flung, laughing, across the room. Teyla and Ronon regarded John silently for a moment and then exchanged their Look. John hated it when they did that. “Fine, wonder twins, I’ll ask someone else.” He turned to go.
“Wait,” Ronon said, with that sharp little smile that meant something painful was about to happen.
Teyla was trying (and failing) not to smile when she said, “We might have the information you need, if you agree to be used in a demonstration of one of the more…complex moves that we wish to show the children.”
For some reason, the next hour did not satisfy his desire for sparring. Maybe it was all those kids laughing at him. Before John limped out the door, it was casually mentioned that Carson might be able to help him in his “quest for Rodney,” as Teyla put it. That was fine. He needed to go there now, anyway.
Carson taped up the worst of John’s cuts, and checked his ribs for cracks. Then he admitted that he might possibly have some leads as to the whereabouts of Rodney, if John had an hour to spare, and about half a pint of blood for some ATA test he was running.
“Go see Radek,” Carson said shortly, when he was finished. He pulled off his gloves with a snap and dismissed John from the infirmary. When John just gaped at him, Carson gave him a twinkly-eyed grin and handed him a lollipop.
Senior-staff conspiracies and practical jokes were nothing new around Atlantis, but John wasn’t used to being on the other side of one. Was there a word to describe the condition of feeling both flattered and wanting to punch something?
Rodney would know.
Once in the lab, Radek spent forty five minutes using John as a battery to jump start three Ancient devices that turned out to be a dialect translator, a toaster oven and what seemed to be a sex toy. Radek boxed the first to be brought to Elizabeth, announced he was keeping the second for his office, and offered the third to John, “for when you finally find your missing scientist.”
Radek had the disturbing habit of saying out loud the things that others only thought about. John couldn’t complain about it, because Radek knew enough to do this when others weren’t in ear shot.
“Just tell me where he is,” John grated out.
But Radek only cackled and handed John the box. “Bring this to Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth was in her office, eyes glued to her laptop screen. “Colonel,” she said, without looking up. She quickly wrote something down on a scrap of paper and handed it to John. “Coordinates to an island off the mainland,” Elizabeth murmured, deep into Tetris. “The marine biologists set up an outpost there, but I suspect it‘s more of a Club Med. Major Lorne dropped a scientist there yesterday. I was wondering if you could take a jumper and go pick him up?”
Finally. “Not a marine biologist, I gather. Why didn’t he fly himself?”
“We wanted to make sure he got the day off he requested.”
John turned to go.
“Oh, and Colonel?”
Son of a bitch. John bit the inside of his cheek and turned back around.
“Yes?”
“Don’t hurry back,” she said.
John set the cloaked jumper down about a half mile from the island outpost and made his way quietly through the trees toward the shore.
There was a cabin where the trees stopped and the beach began. John remembered something about the Athosians coming out here to help the scientists in their version of a barn-raising. It had sounded like a good excuse for a party, but John had been busy. There were the remnants of a bonfire, and some scattered camp chairs. The place felt deserted.
The beach was like one you’d find in New England, more grass and rocks than sand, calm waves, and not a palm tree to be found. Not much use for surfing, but it was beautiful.
John strolled down the beach and found Rodney on a blanket in the shade, flat on his back and sound asleep, a dog-eared copy of Stranger in a Strange Land open on his chest.
John watched his chest rise and fall for a few minutes. Rodney’s nose and cheeks were pink, despite the sun block John could smell from where he stood. It smelled really good.
“Hey,” John said quietly. He figured Rodney would start awake but he came to slowly, blinking up at John.
“You found me.”
“Yeah. Nice obstacle course. Seems like you got the whole Scooby gang involved.”
Rodney sat up slowly, rubbing at his face and sleep-spiked hair. “They love me,” he said simply, his eyes on the ocean. “Anyway,” he said, snapping out of it. “Not so much an obstacle course, as a treasure hunt.” He smiled up at John, who just reflected it back helplessly.
“I didn’t know--” John started.
“Never see it coming?”
Oh. John knelt down next to Rodney, before he fell down, and wished he’d worn shorts and sandals, so he could feel the warm grass tickling his calves and toes.
“Colonel…John. Do you know what yesterday was?”
John knew very well what yesterday was, and he didn’t want to go there, not now, not ever.
“Yesterday was officially my two-hundreth near-death experience.”
Of course Rodney would keep track of something as fucked up as that. John opened his mouth, but Rodney cut him off. “I’m counting all of them, not just mission or lab related: two unfortunate childhood incidents involving a bicycle and a train set respectively, half a dozen cases of anaphylaxis, one really stupid mistake in college I will never speak of again, and all the times out here everyone almost died. I’m counting those, too.”
His head was turned away, and John’s eyes moved restlessly around the curve of his jaw, his ear, his throat. He waited Rodney out. He was shaking a little, rooted to the spot, not breathing, and he actually flinched a little when Rodney focused on him.
“Two hundred near-death experiences. And I decided two things: One: that I’d take a fucking day off.” John heard Rodney swallow. “And two: that if you took the time today to track me down,” Rodney’s voice broke a little, and he reached out and got a handful of John’s shirt, pulling him in, “that if you found me, I’d tell you, I’d show you…”
Rodney trailed off and just looked at John, who was sweating and shaking and probably looking completely wrecked, before anything’s even happened, and said, “Oh,” quietly.
John felt like he might pass out. He blew out a breath, close enough to Rodney to ruffle his hair a little, and spread his knees more to keep his balance. Rodney’s eyes tracked the movement and came back up to John’s face. His hands fell naturally on Rodney’s shoulders. Rodney’s eyes widened a little more, Their mouths touched, soft, not really a kiss, warm air on sensitive skin. Then, by some unspoken agreement, there was a lot more pressure and tongue and groping. The heat rose between them, a palpable thing. There was more noise too, above the steady ocean sounds. He wished he could blame Rodney for the desperate groans he was hearing, but no, they tore from his own throat, louder and more frantic, until he was beyond caring.
Rodney was at least still articulate, managing a “yes,” and “anything, anything,” to some of John’s pre-verbal soundtrack, then John recovered enough language to say, “Fuck me.”
“God, John, yes,” Rodney said fervently and got his hands around John’s ass, reeling him in against his body to press their hard cocks together. Their kiss got wetter, and grew teeth.
They worked together, sliding each other out of clothes efficiently, staying close. John couldn’t stop himself, just grasped Rodney, starving, writhing against him full body when they were skin to skin. “So fucking hot,” Rodney whispered, his hand dropping down to wrap around John’s shaft. He stroked John slow, appreciative, seeming to enjoy the heft of John in his hand. John shifted his legs and let himself fall back on the grass, and Rodney made a harsh sound at the sight of him. Rodney’s fingers teased a drop of pre-come from his slit and John watched him lick his lips in response. Rodney bent his head and sealed his mouth around the head of John‘s cock, while his tongue explored the sensitive skin, hot, slippery and brilliant. John’s legs fell apart. Rodney’s hands fit perfectly over his hips, and John lifted up, just to feel him grip harder and hold him down.
He could come like this, get his fingers in Rodney’s hair and let go in the heat of his amazing mouth, but John stopped him and rolled away, onto his stomach. “Come on.”
Rodney flipped him back over, and reached for the sunscreen. He was flushed and sweating. “I want to see your face.”
John’s nails were stripping the ground of grass, and scoring grooves in the soil as Rodney coated both his hands with sunscreen and coaxed his legs further apart. He stroked John’s buttocks, and dug into the muscles a little with his thumbs, relaxing John’s whole entire ass, warm hands and sunscreen smoothing the way.
He stroked a tight fist the length of John’s shaft at the same time he pushed two slick fingers into him, slow and steady. Rodney’s cock was rigid and leaking, the silken length of it pressing against John’s thigh.
Rodney was beautiful from this angle, towering over him, wide, and solid and strong and looking at John like he was edible. John wiggled closer, so he could put his legs up on Rodney’s shoulders. Rodney swore under his breath and removed his fingers, gripped his own cock and lined himself up. John expected him to just push in, painful and perfect, but Rodney teased a little, stroking the head of his cock up and down John’s slippery cleft until John opened his mouth to beg. What came out was a ragged shout as Rodney finally pushed into him, sharp and raw and so fucking good.
John snarled and swore encouragement as Rodney found the right leverage, gripped his thighs and just pounded into him as hard as he could. Perfect, to just lay there open, taking it, the scent of the ocean and Rodney in his nose, Rodney's harsh, desperate sounds in his ears. John reached down and started stripping his own cock. Rodney squeezed his eyes shut and looked away, as if the sight of that were too much.
Then he was slowing down, way too fucking slow, staying buried inside John, but barely moving. John whined a little and squeezed his own dick, but then Rodney was pulling his hand away and pressing it to his chest.
“I have a confession to make,” he said.
“What, now?”
“Shut up, before I lose my nerve!” Rodney seemed to be gathering his thoughts. He took John’s cock in his hand, giving it an absent squeeze from time to time, making John dig his hands further into the grass and swear under his breath. “Go for it;” he managed, tightening around Rodney and making him gasp, while trying to push his cock up through Rodney’s fist.
“You don’t remember it, but I took advantage of you on MK-543892. You were high and dressed in drag--”
Taut with tension and lust, and impaled on Rodney's cock, and Rodney could still piss John off. “I was drunk and wearing a priestly robe!”
“You were wearing eyeliner!” Rodney snapped. John’s legs were still draped over Rodney’s shoulders. Rodney closed his eyes and rested his head on John’s thigh, hair damp with sweat, and took a few deep, slow breaths. When he spoke it was soft and quick, “And I got you up against the wall and I was touching you just like I am right now--“ He gave John’s cock a long, slow stroke, “--and you wanted it, god you were fucking hot for it--"
Rodney had started moving again during this speech, thrusting into John helplessly, his hand moving fast and rough over John's cock, "--and you were beautiful, and I couldn’t stop myself from touching you, from making you come, but I did stop you from sucking me off, and please forgive me, say you forgive me," and all John could grind out in response was, “yes, yes, yes,” before he bucked and shivered apart, coming all over himself and Rodney, Rodney swearing and groaning in his ear, following him down, until they were in a limp sweaty heap in the grass, under the bright afternoon sky.
***
John had managed to survive eighteen days off world without Rodney. It was only supposed to be three, but the planet’s storm season, electrical in nature, disrupted the Gate. It had been safe, quiet and almost terminally boring. John hadn’t remembered being this horny since junior high.
Debrief, shower, stride with purpose to Rodney’s quarters, chessboard under his arm to deflect the questions no one ever asked. John let himself in without knocking. Rodney’s uniform was strewn across the floor. The bathroom door was ajar and John could hear water running.
John dropped the board and bent down to unlace his boots. “Three weeks gone, McKay,” he called out, stepping out of his boots and pulling off his socks. “I thought I was gonna fucking die,” he muttered more to himself. “I know you’re in here.”
Rodney appeared in the doorway of his bathroom and made no move to shove John against the door and ravage him. He was in his bathrobe, and John hoped, nothing else. When John raked his eyes over his body, Rodney stiffened and tightly tied the sash.
“Uh, I wasn’t expecting--I thought I had a little more time,” Rodney stammered, looking like he wanted to escape.
What the fuck?
John advanced on him. “Are you ok? Are you wounded?”
Or somehow worse, “Shit, Rodney, are you in here with somebody else?”
“I‘m fine, no, and definitely no!” Rodney said, exasperated. “I was experimenting.” His voice dropped to an unintelligible mumble.
“What?”
“I wanted to try something new for when you got back,” Rodney repeated, a little too loud this time.
Now John was intrigued. He got Rodney by the arms and kissed him into distraction, enjoying the feel of Rodney’s mouth after so long. He began to walk them toward the bed, but Rodney stopped him.
“Could you--could you come back in about twenty minutes?”
“What? Why?”
Rodney was still trying to hold his bathrobe closed, so John shoved him on the bed and straddled him to untie the knot. It was tight and stubborn. Rodney was alternately grinding his hips up into John’s and trying half-heartedly to fight off his hands. He was babbling something about ML-867549, “where we visited that open air market and I traded for that old fashioned barber’s kit? You know how I enjoy the classics--oh god!”
John bent down and applied his teeth to the knot.
“Oh, fuck, and it had--it had that straight-edge razor and razor strop?”
John was considering getting out his knife to slice through the knot when it suddenly gave way. He pushed the bathrobe apart, so it pooled around Rodney’s pale skin, and pushed Rodney’s thighs apart and up, wanting to look his fill, it had been so long, and…
Wow.
“Go ahead and laugh,” Rodney sighed.
John rested his head on Rodney’s stomach and laughed until his eyes were wet.
Rodney had shaved. He had shaved for John. But he hadn’t had the chance to finish. What this meant for someone with a brain like Rodney’s was perfectly smooth shaven skin, from his navel, all the way down and around, to just shy of the dimples above his ass.
Over exactly one-half of his body.
The other side was still covered with light, soft hair. The line of demarcation separating the smooth from the hairy was so even, so perfect, the sight of it forced another weak wheeze and chuckle out of John. Rodney squirmed.
“Now that we’ve had our fun, why don’t you let me up so I can go to the bathroom and finish the job?”
John ran a careful finger up Rodney’s shaven right ass cheek and thigh--the skin was flushed and a little goosebumped at the same time--and smoothed his other hand over the light fur on Rodney’s left.
“Or we could do it later,” Rodney said thoughtfully.
John shifted over and tucked himself over Rodney’s face as tight as he could, kneeling deep, backs of his thighs pressing the backs of his calves, right instep crossed over left arch, hands spread, covering the back of Rodney’s skull, two shades from vice-like. John tried out every possible way their mouths could meet: dry, slick, pressure, angle, soft and hard. When Rodney got it, that John planned to take his time with him, his head fell back, boneless, but his hips pushed up strong, thighs shuddering.
For a long time, John just explored his mouth, face and neck, ignoring Rodney from the nipples down, so when he finally pulled back to look at the rest of him, he saw that Rodney’s knees were up, feet planted on the bed. He had his own rock-solid cock trapped and sliding between his own sweat-slick thighs. It was the hottest thing John had ever seen. He got up from the bed and fumbled his pants open, freeing his cock, and Rodney spread himself out, and gave his own dick an appreciative squeeze.
John stripped in record time and covered Rodney, went for the spot on Rodney’s throat that had been driving him apeshit for the last three years, the little dip under his ear, where neck meets jaw. He set his teeth in Rodney’s skin and used his knees to push Rodney’s thighs further apart. John settled his dick down right beside Rodney’s and rutted against him, counterpoint to Rodney’s pressing, Rodney’s fingers digging holes in the cheeks of his ass. It took forever, the heat and friction keeping them on the edge, until it was too much, and they came, one after the other, growling and grasping at each other. They kissed until the sticky mess between them started to dry.
Then John took Rodney into the bathroom and spread Rodney out in the warm water of the bathtub and finished shaving him, slowly, carefully, with Rodney trembling under his hands and slowly getting hard again.
~.::O::.~
~Rodney decided that if he ever got to meet an actual Ancient again, he would punch them in the face. PX-342378 had trees that made the redwoods look like saplings, and some of the most seductive power readings Rodney had encountered. The readings turned out to be from a Virtual Reality machine programmed to show you your worst fear. Rodney suffered no ill effects from it once he realized he was not completely alone and suffering from anaphylactic shock. Teyla had emerged from the VR grim but unshaken, as had Ronon.
Something had really spooked John though. He was barely holding it together. Upon closer inspection Rodney noticed his hands were shaking, and there was sweat on his upper lip.
They made it to the Athosian settlement, where they had to wait for a ride from Lorne and his team. By some unspoken agreement the team stayed close, settling around Halling’s fire to wait for the evening meal. John was still shaking like a spooked dog. He hadn’t said a word, but he looked up suddenly and seemed to notice where he was. He took a deep breath and relaxed a little. When Teyla saw this, she let out an appreciative sigh. She didn’t have to explain; she was Team, so Rodney knew she was feeling honored that John felt safe enough to relax in his fear among her people. Ronon handed John a power bar. John ate it silently, gazing at the fire, still looking a little haunted.
Before he realized what he was doing, Rodney reached out and gently rubbed the back of John’s neck. John responded by leaning his head on Rodney’s shoulder. Rodney glanced up at the rest of his team. Teyla remained serene; Ronon just smirked and tossed him another power bar.
Jinto and his young cousin Nila approached timidly, holding a familiar cage. The cat-rabbits had been sent into their care a few weeks earlier. Nila opened the cage and set Spock in John’s lap. John smiled a little. He shifted, so he could lean on Rodney a little more, and stroked the creature’s soft fur.
No one asked what anyone else experienced in the VR. It wasn’t necessary.
They were ok.
This part: 3800 words
~John was kept busy these last few weeks, what with the city almost sinking, the Wraith almost finding them, and Rodney almost dying after tampering with the Ascension Machine. When it was all over, John had fallen on the first soft surface he could find. He slept for twelve hours.
A specially-rigged life signs indicator had been placed next to John’s inert form with a note taped to it in familiar handwriting.
The note read: “Find me.”
The machine was stuttering Rodney‘s presence all over Atlantis. It finally slowed, showing Mckay in his room. Rodney had done something creative with the locks, so it took John an extra few minutes to bypass the codes. He wasn’t worried, and he certainly wasn’t going to panic, and he definitely did not thank god when the stupid lock gave it up and let him in.
John still had to wedge the doors with a crowbar and shove his way inside. He did not run to the inert form swathed in blankets on the bed, he just moved brusquely, stumbling over a discarded boot and barking his shin on a low table on the way.
This was the part where Rodney would stir from his nest of blankets and launch himself upright, glaring and sputtering about privacy and breaking and entering, or even some inanity like, “I could have been in here with someone!” And that would be the part where John would roll his eyes at him, or possibly even laugh, which was pretty cruel, John reflected, and the blankets still weren’t moving. He yanked them aside and found the ridiculously gay sparring dummy the Marines called “Dirk,” but that John privately referred to as “Rough Trade.” Why the hell did a sparring dummy need nipples anyway?
There was a note pinned to its washboard abs. It said “Bite Me,” in Rodney’s tiny, perfect, serial-killer handwriting.
Okay. So McKay was fine, and was messing with him. What else was new? Rodney wanted to be left alone. Fine. But it left John feeling bored and contrary, and in the mood for a fight, so he tracked down the other two members of his team.
Teyla and Ronon were in the gym with a bunch of Athosian kids. There was no such thing as a permission slip for parents to sign in Atlantis, so Ronon and Teyla were free to conduct martial arts workshops John liked to name things like, “Pegasus Jackass,” and “Don’t Try This at Home.” The kids were having a ball.
“You guys haven’t seen Rodney anywhere, have you?” John asked, as Jinto was flung, laughing, across the room. Teyla and Ronon regarded John silently for a moment and then exchanged their Look. John hated it when they did that. “Fine, wonder twins, I’ll ask someone else.” He turned to go.
“Wait,” Ronon said, with that sharp little smile that meant something painful was about to happen.
Teyla was trying (and failing) not to smile when she said, “We might have the information you need, if you agree to be used in a demonstration of one of the more…complex moves that we wish to show the children.”
For some reason, the next hour did not satisfy his desire for sparring. Maybe it was all those kids laughing at him. Before John limped out the door, it was casually mentioned that Carson might be able to help him in his “quest for Rodney,” as Teyla put it. That was fine. He needed to go there now, anyway.
Carson taped up the worst of John’s cuts, and checked his ribs for cracks. Then he admitted that he might possibly have some leads as to the whereabouts of Rodney, if John had an hour to spare, and about half a pint of blood for some ATA test he was running.
“Go see Radek,” Carson said shortly, when he was finished. He pulled off his gloves with a snap and dismissed John from the infirmary. When John just gaped at him, Carson gave him a twinkly-eyed grin and handed him a lollipop.
Senior-staff conspiracies and practical jokes were nothing new around Atlantis, but John wasn’t used to being on the other side of one. Was there a word to describe the condition of feeling both flattered and wanting to punch something?
Rodney would know.
Once in the lab, Radek spent forty five minutes using John as a battery to jump start three Ancient devices that turned out to be a dialect translator, a toaster oven and what seemed to be a sex toy. Radek boxed the first to be brought to Elizabeth, announced he was keeping the second for his office, and offered the third to John, “for when you finally find your missing scientist.”
Radek had the disturbing habit of saying out loud the things that others only thought about. John couldn’t complain about it, because Radek knew enough to do this when others weren’t in ear shot.
“Just tell me where he is,” John grated out.
But Radek only cackled and handed John the box. “Bring this to Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth was in her office, eyes glued to her laptop screen. “Colonel,” she said, without looking up. She quickly wrote something down on a scrap of paper and handed it to John. “Coordinates to an island off the mainland,” Elizabeth murmured, deep into Tetris. “The marine biologists set up an outpost there, but I suspect it‘s more of a Club Med. Major Lorne dropped a scientist there yesterday. I was wondering if you could take a jumper and go pick him up?”
Finally. “Not a marine biologist, I gather. Why didn’t he fly himself?”
“We wanted to make sure he got the day off he requested.”
John turned to go.
“Oh, and Colonel?”
Son of a bitch. John bit the inside of his cheek and turned back around.
“Yes?”
“Don’t hurry back,” she said.
John set the cloaked jumper down about a half mile from the island outpost and made his way quietly through the trees toward the shore.
There was a cabin where the trees stopped and the beach began. John remembered something about the Athosians coming out here to help the scientists in their version of a barn-raising. It had sounded like a good excuse for a party, but John had been busy. There were the remnants of a bonfire, and some scattered camp chairs. The place felt deserted.
The beach was like one you’d find in New England, more grass and rocks than sand, calm waves, and not a palm tree to be found. Not much use for surfing, but it was beautiful.
John strolled down the beach and found Rodney on a blanket in the shade, flat on his back and sound asleep, a dog-eared copy of Stranger in a Strange Land open on his chest.
John watched his chest rise and fall for a few minutes. Rodney’s nose and cheeks were pink, despite the sun block John could smell from where he stood. It smelled really good.
“Hey,” John said quietly. He figured Rodney would start awake but he came to slowly, blinking up at John.
“You found me.”
“Yeah. Nice obstacle course. Seems like you got the whole Scooby gang involved.”
Rodney sat up slowly, rubbing at his face and sleep-spiked hair. “They love me,” he said simply, his eyes on the ocean. “Anyway,” he said, snapping out of it. “Not so much an obstacle course, as a treasure hunt.” He smiled up at John, who just reflected it back helplessly.
“I didn’t know--” John started.
“Never see it coming?”
Oh. John knelt down next to Rodney, before he fell down, and wished he’d worn shorts and sandals, so he could feel the warm grass tickling his calves and toes.
“Colonel…John. Do you know what yesterday was?”
John knew very well what yesterday was, and he didn’t want to go there, not now, not ever.
“Yesterday was officially my two-hundreth near-death experience.”
Of course Rodney would keep track of something as fucked up as that. John opened his mouth, but Rodney cut him off. “I’m counting all of them, not just mission or lab related: two unfortunate childhood incidents involving a bicycle and a train set respectively, half a dozen cases of anaphylaxis, one really stupid mistake in college I will never speak of again, and all the times out here everyone almost died. I’m counting those, too.”
His head was turned away, and John’s eyes moved restlessly around the curve of his jaw, his ear, his throat. He waited Rodney out. He was shaking a little, rooted to the spot, not breathing, and he actually flinched a little when Rodney focused on him.
“Two hundred near-death experiences. And I decided two things: One: that I’d take a fucking day off.” John heard Rodney swallow. “And two: that if you took the time today to track me down,” Rodney’s voice broke a little, and he reached out and got a handful of John’s shirt, pulling him in, “that if you found me, I’d tell you, I’d show you…”
Rodney trailed off and just looked at John, who was sweating and shaking and probably looking completely wrecked, before anything’s even happened, and said, “Oh,” quietly.
John felt like he might pass out. He blew out a breath, close enough to Rodney to ruffle his hair a little, and spread his knees more to keep his balance. Rodney’s eyes tracked the movement and came back up to John’s face. His hands fell naturally on Rodney’s shoulders. Rodney’s eyes widened a little more, Their mouths touched, soft, not really a kiss, warm air on sensitive skin. Then, by some unspoken agreement, there was a lot more pressure and tongue and groping. The heat rose between them, a palpable thing. There was more noise too, above the steady ocean sounds. He wished he could blame Rodney for the desperate groans he was hearing, but no, they tore from his own throat, louder and more frantic, until he was beyond caring.
Rodney was at least still articulate, managing a “yes,” and “anything, anything,” to some of John’s pre-verbal soundtrack, then John recovered enough language to say, “Fuck me.”
“God, John, yes,” Rodney said fervently and got his hands around John’s ass, reeling him in against his body to press their hard cocks together. Their kiss got wetter, and grew teeth.
They worked together, sliding each other out of clothes efficiently, staying close. John couldn’t stop himself, just grasped Rodney, starving, writhing against him full body when they were skin to skin. “So fucking hot,” Rodney whispered, his hand dropping down to wrap around John’s shaft. He stroked John slow, appreciative, seeming to enjoy the heft of John in his hand. John shifted his legs and let himself fall back on the grass, and Rodney made a harsh sound at the sight of him. Rodney’s fingers teased a drop of pre-come from his slit and John watched him lick his lips in response. Rodney bent his head and sealed his mouth around the head of John‘s cock, while his tongue explored the sensitive skin, hot, slippery and brilliant. John’s legs fell apart. Rodney’s hands fit perfectly over his hips, and John lifted up, just to feel him grip harder and hold him down.
He could come like this, get his fingers in Rodney’s hair and let go in the heat of his amazing mouth, but John stopped him and rolled away, onto his stomach. “Come on.”
Rodney flipped him back over, and reached for the sunscreen. He was flushed and sweating. “I want to see your face.”
John’s nails were stripping the ground of grass, and scoring grooves in the soil as Rodney coated both his hands with sunscreen and coaxed his legs further apart. He stroked John’s buttocks, and dug into the muscles a little with his thumbs, relaxing John’s whole entire ass, warm hands and sunscreen smoothing the way.
He stroked a tight fist the length of John’s shaft at the same time he pushed two slick fingers into him, slow and steady. Rodney’s cock was rigid and leaking, the silken length of it pressing against John’s thigh.
Rodney was beautiful from this angle, towering over him, wide, and solid and strong and looking at John like he was edible. John wiggled closer, so he could put his legs up on Rodney’s shoulders. Rodney swore under his breath and removed his fingers, gripped his own cock and lined himself up. John expected him to just push in, painful and perfect, but Rodney teased a little, stroking the head of his cock up and down John’s slippery cleft until John opened his mouth to beg. What came out was a ragged shout as Rodney finally pushed into him, sharp and raw and so fucking good.
John snarled and swore encouragement as Rodney found the right leverage, gripped his thighs and just pounded into him as hard as he could. Perfect, to just lay there open, taking it, the scent of the ocean and Rodney in his nose, Rodney's harsh, desperate sounds in his ears. John reached down and started stripping his own cock. Rodney squeezed his eyes shut and looked away, as if the sight of that were too much.
Then he was slowing down, way too fucking slow, staying buried inside John, but barely moving. John whined a little and squeezed his own dick, but then Rodney was pulling his hand away and pressing it to his chest.
“I have a confession to make,” he said.
“What, now?”
“Shut up, before I lose my nerve!” Rodney seemed to be gathering his thoughts. He took John’s cock in his hand, giving it an absent squeeze from time to time, making John dig his hands further into the grass and swear under his breath. “Go for it;” he managed, tightening around Rodney and making him gasp, while trying to push his cock up through Rodney’s fist.
“You don’t remember it, but I took advantage of you on MK-543892. You were high and dressed in drag--”
Taut with tension and lust, and impaled on Rodney's cock, and Rodney could still piss John off. “I was drunk and wearing a priestly robe!”
“You were wearing eyeliner!” Rodney snapped. John’s legs were still draped over Rodney’s shoulders. Rodney closed his eyes and rested his head on John’s thigh, hair damp with sweat, and took a few deep, slow breaths. When he spoke it was soft and quick, “And I got you up against the wall and I was touching you just like I am right now--“ He gave John’s cock a long, slow stroke, “--and you wanted it, god you were fucking hot for it--"
Rodney had started moving again during this speech, thrusting into John helplessly, his hand moving fast and rough over John's cock, "--and you were beautiful, and I couldn’t stop myself from touching you, from making you come, but I did stop you from sucking me off, and please forgive me, say you forgive me," and all John could grind out in response was, “yes, yes, yes,” before he bucked and shivered apart, coming all over himself and Rodney, Rodney swearing and groaning in his ear, following him down, until they were in a limp sweaty heap in the grass, under the bright afternoon sky.
***
John had managed to survive eighteen days off world without Rodney. It was only supposed to be three, but the planet’s storm season, electrical in nature, disrupted the Gate. It had been safe, quiet and almost terminally boring. John hadn’t remembered being this horny since junior high.
Debrief, shower, stride with purpose to Rodney’s quarters, chessboard under his arm to deflect the questions no one ever asked. John let himself in without knocking. Rodney’s uniform was strewn across the floor. The bathroom door was ajar and John could hear water running.
John dropped the board and bent down to unlace his boots. “Three weeks gone, McKay,” he called out, stepping out of his boots and pulling off his socks. “I thought I was gonna fucking die,” he muttered more to himself. “I know you’re in here.”
Rodney appeared in the doorway of his bathroom and made no move to shove John against the door and ravage him. He was in his bathrobe, and John hoped, nothing else. When John raked his eyes over his body, Rodney stiffened and tightly tied the sash.
“Uh, I wasn’t expecting--I thought I had a little more time,” Rodney stammered, looking like he wanted to escape.
What the fuck?
John advanced on him. “Are you ok? Are you wounded?”
Or somehow worse, “Shit, Rodney, are you in here with somebody else?”
“I‘m fine, no, and definitely no!” Rodney said, exasperated. “I was experimenting.” His voice dropped to an unintelligible mumble.
“What?”
“I wanted to try something new for when you got back,” Rodney repeated, a little too loud this time.
Now John was intrigued. He got Rodney by the arms and kissed him into distraction, enjoying the feel of Rodney’s mouth after so long. He began to walk them toward the bed, but Rodney stopped him.
“Could you--could you come back in about twenty minutes?”
“What? Why?”
Rodney was still trying to hold his bathrobe closed, so John shoved him on the bed and straddled him to untie the knot. It was tight and stubborn. Rodney was alternately grinding his hips up into John’s and trying half-heartedly to fight off his hands. He was babbling something about ML-867549, “where we visited that open air market and I traded for that old fashioned barber’s kit? You know how I enjoy the classics--oh god!”
John bent down and applied his teeth to the knot.
“Oh, fuck, and it had--it had that straight-edge razor and razor strop?”
John was considering getting out his knife to slice through the knot when it suddenly gave way. He pushed the bathrobe apart, so it pooled around Rodney’s pale skin, and pushed Rodney’s thighs apart and up, wanting to look his fill, it had been so long, and…
Wow.
“Go ahead and laugh,” Rodney sighed.
John rested his head on Rodney’s stomach and laughed until his eyes were wet.
Rodney had shaved. He had shaved for John. But he hadn’t had the chance to finish. What this meant for someone with a brain like Rodney’s was perfectly smooth shaven skin, from his navel, all the way down and around, to just shy of the dimples above his ass.
Over exactly one-half of his body.
The other side was still covered with light, soft hair. The line of demarcation separating the smooth from the hairy was so even, so perfect, the sight of it forced another weak wheeze and chuckle out of John. Rodney squirmed.
“Now that we’ve had our fun, why don’t you let me up so I can go to the bathroom and finish the job?”
John ran a careful finger up Rodney’s shaven right ass cheek and thigh--the skin was flushed and a little goosebumped at the same time--and smoothed his other hand over the light fur on Rodney’s left.
“Or we could do it later,” Rodney said thoughtfully.
John shifted over and tucked himself over Rodney’s face as tight as he could, kneeling deep, backs of his thighs pressing the backs of his calves, right instep crossed over left arch, hands spread, covering the back of Rodney’s skull, two shades from vice-like. John tried out every possible way their mouths could meet: dry, slick, pressure, angle, soft and hard. When Rodney got it, that John planned to take his time with him, his head fell back, boneless, but his hips pushed up strong, thighs shuddering.
For a long time, John just explored his mouth, face and neck, ignoring Rodney from the nipples down, so when he finally pulled back to look at the rest of him, he saw that Rodney’s knees were up, feet planted on the bed. He had his own rock-solid cock trapped and sliding between his own sweat-slick thighs. It was the hottest thing John had ever seen. He got up from the bed and fumbled his pants open, freeing his cock, and Rodney spread himself out, and gave his own dick an appreciative squeeze.
John stripped in record time and covered Rodney, went for the spot on Rodney’s throat that had been driving him apeshit for the last three years, the little dip under his ear, where neck meets jaw. He set his teeth in Rodney’s skin and used his knees to push Rodney’s thighs further apart. John settled his dick down right beside Rodney’s and rutted against him, counterpoint to Rodney’s pressing, Rodney’s fingers digging holes in the cheeks of his ass. It took forever, the heat and friction keeping them on the edge, until it was too much, and they came, one after the other, growling and grasping at each other. They kissed until the sticky mess between them started to dry.
Then John took Rodney into the bathroom and spread Rodney out in the warm water of the bathtub and finished shaving him, slowly, carefully, with Rodney trembling under his hands and slowly getting hard again.
~.::O::.~
~Rodney decided that if he ever got to meet an actual Ancient again, he would punch them in the face. PX-342378 had trees that made the redwoods look like saplings, and some of the most seductive power readings Rodney had encountered. The readings turned out to be from a Virtual Reality machine programmed to show you your worst fear. Rodney suffered no ill effects from it once he realized he was not completely alone and suffering from anaphylactic shock. Teyla had emerged from the VR grim but unshaken, as had Ronon.
Something had really spooked John though. He was barely holding it together. Upon closer inspection Rodney noticed his hands were shaking, and there was sweat on his upper lip.
They made it to the Athosian settlement, where they had to wait for a ride from Lorne and his team. By some unspoken agreement the team stayed close, settling around Halling’s fire to wait for the evening meal. John was still shaking like a spooked dog. He hadn’t said a word, but he looked up suddenly and seemed to notice where he was. He took a deep breath and relaxed a little. When Teyla saw this, she let out an appreciative sigh. She didn’t have to explain; she was Team, so Rodney knew she was feeling honored that John felt safe enough to relax in his fear among her people. Ronon handed John a power bar. John ate it silently, gazing at the fire, still looking a little haunted.
Before he realized what he was doing, Rodney reached out and gently rubbed the back of John’s neck. John responded by leaning his head on Rodney’s shoulder. Rodney glanced up at the rest of his team. Teyla remained serene; Ronon just smirked and tossed him another power bar.
Jinto and his young cousin Nila approached timidly, holding a familiar cage. The cat-rabbits had been sent into their care a few weeks earlier. Nila opened the cage and set Spock in John’s lap. John smiled a little. He shifted, so he could lean on Rodney a little more, and stroked the creature’s soft fur.
No one asked what anyone else experienced in the VR. It wasn’t necessary.
They were ok.