Fic: Bohemian Rhapsody (SGA, John/Rodney, NC-17)
Title: Bohemian Rhapsody
Author: Sandy (sp23)
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: John/Rodney, First-Time
Rated: NC-17
Word Count ~ 5,700
Spoilers: Season Two through 2x09, Aurora. Also contains spoilers for 4x15, Outcast.
Beta: Many thanks to kimberlyfdr for the lightening fast beta. I've played with the story since she read it so any mistakes are purely mine.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfic with no profit being made by the author.
Feedback: All feedback is appreciated and adored.
Written for:
Summary: When John Sheppard was fifteen, he made a promise to his mother.
~~~***~~~
Is this the real life-
Is this just fantasy-
Caught in a landslide-
No escape from reality-
John entered the apartment and tossed his briefcase and keys onto the small table that stood next to the door. Taking his cell phone out of his jacket pocket, he plugged it into the charger, then stood there for a moment tiredly rubbing his forehead. He'd had a headache off and on all day; a pressure that felt like an iron band wrapped tightly around his skull. With a sigh, he dropped his hand and walked across the living room to the small built-in bar. Pouring a generous portion of Scotch into a glass, John tilted his head back and drank it down, closing his eyes and relaxing into the liquor's burn. Setting the empty glass down, he headed for his bedroom, loosening his tie as he walked.
When he returned to the living room, his hair still damp from the shower, he was dressed in well-worn jeans and an old, faded black tee shirt. His bare feet glided across the cool, polished hardwood floor as he made his way back to the bar and poured another large Scotch. He was just about to drink it when his cell phone began ringing. Scowling in irritation at the jarring intrusion, John set down the glass and went to answer it. A quick glance at the caller ID, however, had him putting the phone back down without answering.
Chrissy. It was time, John knew, to have the 'it's not you, it's me' talk with her, but not now; not while he was over a thousand miles away. He may be a bastard, but he wasn't a big enough one to break up with her over the phone. He knew he'd put it off for too long, and he knew that the reason why was because of his father's obvious distaste for her. It was childish and unfair to Chrissy, especially since she seemed to really care for him, but it was one of the few small rebellions against Patrick that John allowed himself.
John's choice of girlfriends was often a bone of contention between the two men. No one since John's ex-wife Nancy had ever met Patrick's stringent standards of who made an acceptable companion for his son. Patrick had adored Nancy and treated her like the daughter he'd never had. He'd been furious when John had informed him they were getting divorced, demanding to know what the hell was wrong with John to throw away the best thing that had ever happened to him. John had been tempted to finally tell his father the truth about himself, but in the end, he had simply told his father the marriage wasn't working, and then had refused to discuss it any further.
He returned to his drink, and gulped it down before pouring another one and walking over to stand in front of the large window that gave him such a spectacular view of the Colorado Rockies. He sipped his drink and stared pensively out at the glorious display being put on by the setting sun. The view was the main reason he'd bought the apartment. Patrick Sheppard had invested heavily in a small start-up business developing alternative energy sources that was located in the Colorado Springs area, and had put John in charge of overseeing his investment. It soon became apparent to John that he was going to be coming to Colorado Springs on a regular enough basis that buying a place to stay made economic sense. And as much as he hated what his life had become, he appreciated the beauty he found in his home away from home.
As he stared out the window, a fighter jet from the nearby Patterson Air Force Base streaked across the sky, and John watched until it disappeared into the glare of the setting sun. The longing hit him as it always did, and he wondered what his life would have been like if he hadn't promised his dying mother when he was fifteen that he would be a good boy and stop fighting his father's desire to bring him into the business.
"Honor your father, Johnny," she had said on that long ago day, her hand weakly holding his. "He only wants what's best for you. Make him proud. Make me proud." He'd promised her he would, doing his best to hold back his tears, and with that promise, he'd sealed his fate and given up his dreams. He'd gone to Harvard, gotten his MBA, and come into the family business. He'd made the old man proud, just like he'd promised. Unfortunately for John, making Patrick Sheppard proud had meant living a life that John hadn't wanted. It had also meant denying who he really was, in more ways than one.
John finished off his drink, pushed away the unwanted thoughts and longings, and turned to get another. He saw it then, just as he took his first step; a flicker of movement just at the edge of his peripheral vision. He turned his head quickly, but there was nothing there.
He glanced around the room, trying to find some reason for the flicker, but saw nothing. Strange things had been happening quite frequently over the past day or so. Little things, like phantom voices calling his name and ghostly flickers that disappeared as soon as he looked. He was beginning to wonder if he was losing his mind. And wouldn't that make Patrick proud, John thought with cynical amusement, to have his oldest son declared insane and locked up in an institution somewhere.
He reached for the Scotch bottle to pour himself another drink, and then hesitated. He'd been drinking a lot lately. Well, longer than lately, if he were honest. But he wasn't an alcoholic, he insisted to himself, and he sure as hell didn't for one minute think he was experiencing the DTs. Still, maybe he'd be wiser to skip the drink and get something to eat. He considered ordering in, but decided to go out instead. There was a restaurant only four blocks away, and a walk would both relax him and sober him up - not that he was drunk, of course.
~~~*~~~
John settled into a booth, and, after a moment's hesitation, ordered a drink. He studied the menu disinterestedly, rubbing his once again aching head, while he waited for his drink and his waiter. Both arrived and John gave his order. The waiter had just hurried away when there was another flicker at the edge of John's vision. But this time, the flicker grew into a distortion and then the distortion cleared until the ghostly form of a man stood in front of him.
John gasped and jerked back, astonished that someone had appeared out of thin air. He glanced around wildly, but no one else in the restaurant seemed to have noticed anything unusual happening. Thoroughly spooked, John whipped his head back to look at the apparition, his eyes wide and his heart pounding.
"Sheppard, can you hear me?" the man asked. "Listen carefully. I don't think I have much time, and this is important."
When John didn't respond, the man turned his head to the side, and said, "I don't think he can hear me." Turning his attention back to John, he said, "God, I hope you can hear me. You need to-"
But John wasn't listening any more. Jumping up from his seat, he threw money down on the table and hurried out of the restaurant. He could hear the man calling out to him as he exited the door, and he broke into a run.
He was gasping for breath by the time he entered his apartment. His hands shook as he tossed down his keys, and he stood in the foyer for a couple minutes trying to catch his breath and calm down. Jesus, he thought, I really am cracking up. It was one thing to think he was hearing someone calling his name or catch flashes of reflected light that seemed to come from nowhere, but this had been a full-on hallucination.
He stood there, taking deep breaths until he had himself back under control, then straightening up, he headed into the living room and the bar. He desperately needed a drink. Before he reached the bar, however, the air shimmered again, and the same man appeared in front of him. Though he wasn't completely solid, his form was clear enough that John had no problem seeing him.
He was an inch or two shorter than John with thinning, light brown hair, incredible blue eyes framed by long lashes, a sharp nose, and thin, mobile lips, dressed in what appeared to be a uniform of some kind. John stared him, his heart racing. He had no idea why he was imagining this man. He was sure he'd never seen him before in his life, and yet there was something about him, a teasing familiarity that drew John to him. The sharp pull of attraction he suddenly felt was more than a little unnerving, and John stepped back putting more distance between himself and the apparition.
"Don't run away again, okay?" the man said in a rush, his hands held out as if to keep John from bolting. "Just listen to me. This isn't real. You're in a virtual environment, and you need to get out of it."
John's eyebrows rose in surprise. "A virtual environment?"
"Yes! Look, I don't have time to explain, but I need you to think about Atlantis."
John scrunched up his face in confusion and said, "Atlantis? Like the lost continent of Atlantis?"
"Yes, exactly!" the man said excitedly. "Except, you know, it's a city; not a continent. The Greeks had that totally wrong, which considering the information they were working from is... Ow!" The man turned and glared at something John couldn't see.
John stared at him and then closing his eyes briefly, he muttered, "Christ, I really am going nuts". He turned away, carefully stepping around the apparition on his way to the bar. The neck of the liquor bottle rattled against the glass as he poured with a badly shaking hand.
"Sheppard," the man began, but John slammed the bottle down on the bar interrupting him.
"I don't know what the hell's going on here other than I'm losing my mind," John said, his voice nowhere near as forceful as he'd hoped. "So I'd appreciate it if you'd just go way and haunt someone else."
"Sheppard... John, please, listen to me," the man said with a hint of desperation in his voice, his eyes wide and pleading, his hands tracing elegant arcs in the air as he talked. "None of what you think is real is. You have to trust me on this. We need to get you out of here before it's too late."
John held his glass of Scotch tightly in his hand and said, "Too late for what?" Then he shook his head, resisting the man's plea, trying to hold onto what he knew was reality. "You know what? I don't even want to know. And since you don't really exist, I think I'm going to forgo the whole 'trusting you' thing."
"No, listen to me, John. I'm real! You know me, I'm Rodney. McKay. Dr. Rodney McKay. We've know each other for three years now. We're... we're very close."
The words said so passionately, so desperately, made John's heart skip a beat, a rush of yearning enveloping him. He stared at the man, longing to go up to him, to touch him, to feel those big hands on him. Licking suddenly dry lips, he said, "Close? How close? Are you saying we're lovers?"
The man looked utterly stunned by John's words, and John felt his heart sink. He should have known that even in madness, he wouldn't get what he wanted, and John was sure. with a certainly that came from somewhere deep inside himself, that if this man, this 'Dr. McKay', had been real, had been part of John's life, John would want him.
"Um, no," the man said, looking decidedly taken aback. He glanced nervously to the side, once again looking at something John couldn't see. "We're, uh..." He began to fuzz out like a bad broadcast signal, and John heard him say, "Dammit, Zelenka," before he was gone.
John had no idea what 'zelenka' meant. A nonsense word to go with this whole nonsensical situation, he supposed. John glanced around the apartment to see if there was any sign of his visitor, but the room remained empty. He pushed aside his disappointment and the ache of loneliness he suddenly felt.
He wiped a shaky hand across his face, trying to figure out just what had happened. 'A virtual environment', the man had said. John stared at his surroundings, at his professionally decorated luxury apartment, at all the expensive furnishings, original art, high-end electronics, everything the best that money could buy. Beautiful to look at and cold to the touch, like much of John's life. If only it were a virtual environment, John thought cynically. He raised his glass in a mock salute. "To my gilded cage," he said and gulped down his drink. He set the empty glass down next to the nearly depleted Scotch bottle. Maybe it was time to cut back on his drinking. God knew the alcohol wasn't doing anything for his pounding head.
Though it was still relatively early, he decided to go to bed. Maybe it'd all be better after a good night's sleep. Maybe he was already asleep, and this was just a weird dream, and things would be back to normal when he woke up.
~~~***~~~
He was in a strange room on a narrow bed with a man, both of them naked. The man was laying on his stomach, and John was straddling his thighs. Moonlight filtered in through the long, narrow windows beside the bed, and the man's fair skin glowed in the soft illumination. John ran his hands lightly up the man's back and over broad shoulders. He leaned forward and place a gentle kiss on the back of the man's neck. The man turned his head, beautiful eyes framed by thick lashes looked back at him.. They kissed, slow and deep, and John body burned with need and desire. He pulled back and began kissing his way back down the man's - down Rodney's - back until he reached the twin globes of the most beautiful ass John had ever seen.
The scene shifted and now Rodney was on hands and knees with John's cock buried deep inside him. John was stretched out over Rodney's back, one hand clasping a sweat-slick shoulder while the other was wrapped around Rodney's hard cock, stroking it in time with his thrusts. Rodney's hips rocked, driving John deeper, thrusting his cock through John's fist.
"Harder, John, harder," Rodney demanded, his voice hoarse with need, and John sped up, pushing harder and faster. He was so close, so close...
John was abruptly awake, fully erect and aching, and alone in his bed. He thrust his hand under the waistband of his sleep pants and, taking hold of his cock, he jerked himself hard and fast. Within seconds, his back was bowing from the force of his orgasm. He lay there catching his breath, trying to hold onto his dream even as he felt it slipping away. The man in his dream was the same man as from his hallucination. John huffed out a cynical laugh. Why didn't it surprise him that he had had an erotic dream about a figment of his imagination, one that denied that they were lovers?
The discomfort of his semen-soaked pants finally forced him out of bed and into the bathroom. He pulled off his pants and washed himself, forcing from his mind the dream and 'Rodney'. The pounding of his head that had started as soon as he'd stood up made it easier to not think.
When he was clean again, he shook out a few aspirin and scooped water into his mouth to ease them down. Returning to the bedroom, he pulled on fresh pajamas and went back to bed, sinking wearily into the mattress and willing his headache to go away.
It was a long time before he once again fell asleep.
~~~*~~~
His alarm sounded shrilly only a couple hours after John had finally fallen back to sleep, and he reluctantly rose. His headache was even worse than it had been the night before, the odd pressure even greater, and he popped a couple more aspirin into his mouth before stepping into the shower.
The day's meeting didn't go well, and the pain in John's head got worse as the day wore on. By lunchtime, John could barely concentrate.
"I'm really sorry," he told the people with whom he was meeting, "but I'm going to have to postpone the rest of our meeting until tomorrow."
"Are you all right, Mr. Sheppard?" Garret Talbert asked with a concerned voice. He was the CEO of the firm that Sheppard Enterprises had invested in, and John knew that he was anxious for everything to go smoothly. The Sheppard capital was vital for the small company.
"Just a bad headache," John told him reassuringly. "I'm sure I'll be fine tomorrow. So, we'll take this up in the morning?"
"Yes, of course," Talbert said. "Would you like a ride home?"
John was going to refuse, but his headache was growing increasingly worse, and he knew he was in no shape to drive so he gratefully accepted the offer. He managed to make it into his apartment without throwing up, though it had been a close call once or twice. He stripped as he walked to his bedroom, carelessly dropping jacket and shirt onto the floor as he moved. He swallowed four more pain pills before tumbling naked onto his bed and passing out.
A voice woke him up.
"John, oh god, John. Wake up. Dammit, Sheppard, wake up!"
His eyelids fluttered open, and he saw through bleary eyes that Rodney was back.
"Oh, thank god," Rodney said with relief when he saw John's eyes open. "Listen to me very carefully. You have to think about Atlantis. Remember where we live. Beautiful city built by the Ancients. Please, John. Concentrate."
John ignored him, and closed his eyes again against the pain. Maybe if he went back to sleep the irritating hallucination would go away.
"John!" the man shouted. "Don't pass out again. If you do, you'll die."
John pried one eye open and looked at the man. "Die?" he managed to croak out.
"Yes! Please, I'm begging you to trust me. Think about Atlantis." The man was running his hand agitatedly through his hair, and the look on his face was frantic. John didn't know why he was doing it, but, obeying the frantic pleading, he pushed himself up to sit on the side of the bed and tried to think through the haze of his pain. It wasn't easy. Everything hurt so badly, and all John wanted to do was go back to sleep, escape the pain. But the desperation in the other man's voice, in Rodney's voice, made him try to think, to concentrate. Suddenly, he saw it, a breathtakingly beautiful city made of towers and spires and stained glass. It floated on an endless, empty blue sea, and John felt a longing for it nearly as strong as the longing he felt for Rodney.
"Atlantis," John whispered just as a wave of vertigo overwhelmed him and everything went dark.
~~~*~~~
He came to in the infirmary surrounded by his team.
"Doc, he's awake," Ronon called. John winced as the sound pierced his skull.
"All right, everyone. Get out of my way"
John looked over to see Carson Beckett pushing Rodney aside. John smiled at him and said, "Hey, Doc. What happened?"
"What happened," Carson said with a disapproving tone in his voice, "is that you and Rodney decided to play with an Ancient device, and you nearly died. That's what happened!"
"He didn't nearly die," Rodney said defensively, though John could see the guilt and worry on his face.
Carson glared at him, then pointed at John's three teammates and said, "Out, all of you. Go away so I can examine the Colonel in peace."
Rodney protested, of course, but Ronon grabbed him by the collar of his uniform jacket and hauled him out of the infirmary, Rodney sputtering in protest the whole time. John grinned and then turned back to Carson, his smile slipping as pain lanced through his head.
"How are you feeling, Colonel?" Carson asked.
"Head hurts," John answered.
"Aye, well I'm not surprised. We're lucky you didn't come out of this with brain damage."
John winced. "That bad, huh?"
Carson looked up from the blood pressure reading he was taking. "Yes, that bad. The VR or VE or whatever you call that bloody device," he pointed to a mat-black, metallic headband that was sitting on the table next to John's bed, "malfunctioned, and we nearly lost you."
John thought for a minute, and vaguely recalled Rodney bringing the device to him, excitedly explaining that it was a portable version of the VE program that they'd found on the Aurora. They'd argued over who'd try it out first with John winning by pointing out that if anything went wrong, Rodney'd be there to fix things.
"Rodney said that everything was going fine at first," Carson was saying as he continued his examination. "But then time passed and you didn't come out, and when Rodney tried to turn off the device, you started to convulse. We brought you to the infirmary and when we did a scan, we discovered your brainwave patterns were off the chart. We couldn't get you to wake up, and every attempt to interfere with the device made you convulse."
Carson sighed, and shook his head. "We thought we were going to lose you. With the failure of the device's external fail-safe, Rodney thought that perhaps like the Ancients on the Aurora, you didn't realize that you were in a virtual environment, which meant that you didn't know that just thinking about Atlantis was your escape route. You were trapped there with no knowledge that it wasn't real, and the device was slowly killing you. Rodney and Radek worked for forty-eight hours straight to cobble together a way to get Rodney into your environment and get you home again.
Now," he continued in his efficient doctor voice, "you lie still there and let me finish my examination."
~~~*~~~~
It was late the next day before Carson allowed him to leave the infirmary. In that time he hadn't seen or talked to Rodney, and John wasn't sure what to think. Ronon said that McKay was probably worried that John was even more angry at him than he'd been after Doranda and was hiding from him. John wasn't so sure that was the only reason Rodney was avoiding him. Either way, he didn't want to just let things lie, and so here he was, outside of Rodney's quarters trying to build up the courage to knock.
Taking a deep breath, he slid his hand over the Ancient equivalent of a doorbell and waited. The door slid open, and Rodney stared at him, obviously surprised to see him.
"Oh, you've been released?" he asked, and then flushed. "Well, obviously, you have." His eyes took on a concerned look. "Are you okay?"
John smiled, going for casual cool. "Doc says I'm fine. No damage, permanent or otherwise."
"Oh, good. That's... that's really good," Rodney said looking relieved.
"Can I come in?"
Rodney blinked and looked as if he was going to deny him, but then stood back. "Yes, yes, of course you can," he said, making a little welcoming wave with his hand.
Once the door whooshed shut, they stood looking at each other in awkward silence for a moment, and then John held out his hand containing the VE headband and said, "I brought this back to you."
"Oh, thanks. Yeah, I've, um, I've been trying to figure out what went wrong." He gestured to his desk where his laptop was open and papers with scribbles covered every inch of surface. It was the only thing messy in the otherwise spotless room.
"Come to any conclusions?"
"Yes," Rodney said with obvious irritation. "The Ancients were idiots. You'd think that before they abandoned the city they would have destroyed any harmful devices instead of just letting them lie around tempting innocent bystanders."
John smiled. "Yeah, I think in the future we'd better just stick to the game."
Rodney flashed a look at him, guilt written all over his face. "I'm really just so, so sorry about what happened." He glanced away. "Seems like all I do lately is apologize to you for almost getting you killed."
"Hey, Rodney, don't," John said. He reached out but dropped his hand back down without touching Rodney. "I was as eager to try that thing out as you were. We'll just have to be more careful in the future, okay?"
Rodney looked at John closely and then nodded. "Yeah, okay, thanks."
"So, we're good?" John asked with a smile.
Rodney returned John's smile with a small one of his own. "Yeah. Yeah, we're good."
"Good," John said, his smile widening. They stared at each other again for a bit until the silence began to get awkward again, and then John said, "Well, I'll let you get back to your work. See you at breakfast."
He turned to leave when Rodney said, "Colonel... John, can I ask you something?"
It was the change in address that warned John, and it was on the tip of his tongue to deny Rodney's request, but suddenly he just didn't want to. He'd been hiding for so long. Hell, even in his pretend world he had hidden away from who and what he was. Turning back he said, "Sure."
Rodney licked his lips, and then straightening his shoulders he said, "When you were in your virtual environment, you asked me if we were..." He paused briefly before drawing in a deep breath and finishing in a rush, "You asked me if we were lovers."
John swallowed to relieve his suddenly dry throat and then nodded. "I did."
"Why?" Rodney asked, his nervousness practically vibrating off his body. "I mean, why did you ask that? What made you think... Do you..." He stopped talking as if suddenly running out of both words and courage.
"You said we were very close. I took that to mean we were more than just acquaintances."
"And more than friends?"
John nodded. "And more than friends."
"So, you... You're gay?"
And there it was. The sixty-four thousand dollar question. John knew that this could completely destroy his friendship with Rodney if he answered honestly, and that if word reached the wrong people, it would mean the end of his career. It all came down to trust, and John trusted Rodney, more than anyone he'd ever known. And more than anything, he wanted Rodney to know the truth.
"Mostly, yes."
"Oh."
They stood looking at each other for several seconds, and when Rodney didn't say anything further, John turned away with a sinking heart. "See you tomorrow, McKay," he said as he headed for the door.
He felt a warm hand on his arm stopping him. "Wait, please," Rodney said, and he turned back around.
Rodney stared at him as if trying to puzzle out the answer to all the universe's problems. "Do you really, um... I mean, I was wondering if you want... What I'm trying to say..."
He looked so nervous and yet so hopeful that John felt his own hope growing. Taking a chance, he stepped forward, wrapped his hand around the back of Rodney's neck, and drew him into a kiss. Rodney stiffened for a split second, and then he was kissing him back, hot and wild and full of Rodney enthusiasm.
John's heart soared, and he pulled Rodney closer to him, wrapping his arms around him, and opening his mouth to allow in Rodney's questing tongue.
They stood there wrapped up in each other, bodies pressed tightly together, kissing over and over. Long deep kisses and short, sweet ones that made John harden and ache with want, tongues touching and licking and lips brushing gently. When they pulled back, gasping for breath and grinning at each other, Rodney said, "Seriously?"
John laughed and pulled him in for another quick kiss. "Seriously, McKay."
"Does this mean we can..." Rodney motioned in the direction of his bed.
"God, I hope so," John said, and though John didn't think it was possible, Rodney's face lit up even more.
With kisses and touches and more than one loss of balance as socks and shoes and pants were pulled off, they managed to strip and tumble onto the bed. John moaned when he pulled Rodney on top of him, reveling in the feel of Rodney's weight, the softness of Rodney's smooth, warm skin, and the hardness of Rodney's cock.
John ran his hands down Rodney's smooth back and over the firm rise of an ass every bit as gorgeous as John had dreamed. He wrapped his legs around Rodney's and began to gently thrust, sliding his cock over the warm, soft skin of Rodney's hip and belly. Rodney moaned and began to rock, his own cock sliding over John's stomach.
Rodney's lips traveled over his face, to his neck and up to John's sensitive earlobes, sending shivers of pleasure down his body and straight to his cock. The pressure built until he was gasping into Rodney's open mouth, thrusting harder, holding Rodney tighter, wanting, needing. So close... So close... And then it was there. He stiffened and came, pulse after pulse of pure pleasure. With one final groan, he relaxed into a boneless heap, gasping for breath, his legs slipping to either side of Rodney's legs. Rodney lifted himself up on his elbows and when John opened his eyes it was to a flushed face and a smug grin.
John smiled back and then pulled Rodney's head down for another kiss. The kiss deepened and Rodney began to move once more, his hard cock sliding easier now that John's stomach was slick with come.
It was good, so good, but John wanted more. He pushed on Rodney's shoulder and said, "Roll over. Let me.. I want to..." Rodney pulled back, his eyes hot with desire, and eased off John, carefully maneuvering on the small bed until he was on his back, as near the edge of the bed as he could comfortably get.
John turned onto his side, and rested on his elbow, gazing down at Rodney's body. He'd wanted this for so long, to be able to touch and to taste. He slid his hand over Rodney's chest, though the light-brown hair, flicking his thumb over a hard, brown nipple, and down past Rodney's stomach until he was able to wrap his hand around Rodney's cock.
Rodney moaned as John slowly pumped, and John had to lean down and kiss that mouth, the bristly jaw and neck, down to the pert nipples that just begged to be licked and sucked. Slowly, reverently, he kissed his way down Rodney's body, until he got to his ultimate goal, and his tongue flicked out to taste the salty droplet that beaded at the tip of Rodney's cock.
"John", Rodney whispered, his voice hoarse with passion, and John felt Rodney's fingers glide through his hair. He glanced up to see Rodney's eyes dark and pleasure-drunk, and as he watched Rodney's face, he took the head of Rodney's cock into his mouth and sucked. Rodney moaned. His eyes closed, and his head dropped back. His hips jerked up pushing his cock deeper into John's mouth. From then on it was pure pleasure, the weight of Rodney in his mouth, the taste of him on his tongue. John sucked and licked, paying close attention to Rodney's reactions to find out just what he liked best. He pulled off and licked around the head, then took him into his mouth again and sucked, dragging another groan out of Rodney.
John's jaw began to ache, and yet it was still far too soon when suddenly Rodney stiffened and John's mouth was filled with the bitter warmth of Rodney's come. John drank it down, sucking gently until Rodney's cock began to soften, and then, with a final kiss on the silken head, he pulled off and moved back up to lay beside Rodney. He watched as Rodney slowly recovered from his orgasm, and smiled when his eyes finally opened and contented blue eyes gazed at him.
"God, that was good," Rodney said with a grin.
"Yep," John said, his own grin wide. He knew his happiness had to be showing, and he was okay with that. Okay with Rodney knowing that he had made John happier than he'd been in far too long a time.
"Can you stay the night?" Rodney asked hopefully.
"For most of it, anyway," John answered, and then got out of bed to clean up a bit. He returned to the bed with a damp cloth and wiped the drying semen off Rodney's stomach, then turned off the light, crawled under the sheets, and curled up against a warm, sleepy Rodney.
John couldn't hear the ocean, but he knew it was there, surrounding the City of the Ancients, buoying it up. Moonlight filtered in through the long, narrow windows beside the bed, and Rodney's fair skin glowed in the soft illumination, reminding John of his dream within a dream.
And if, by chance, this were the dream world and the other world reality, then John would stay here, thank you very much. Here in this crazy world where he was a Lieutenant Colonel in the Air Force who lived in another galaxy in a ten thousand year old city and flew space ships and fought ugly, evil aliens and had fallen in love the smartest man in two galaxies.
Who, John was pretty sure, had fallen in love with him, too.
The End
Author: Sandy (sp23)
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: John/Rodney, First-Time
Rated: NC-17
Word Count ~ 5,700
Spoilers: Season Two through 2x09, Aurora. Also contains spoilers for 4x15, Outcast.
Beta: Many thanks to kimberlyfdr for the lightening fast beta. I've played with the story since she read it so any mistakes are purely mine.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfic with no profit being made by the author.
Feedback: All feedback is appreciated and adored.
Written for:
Summary: When John Sheppard was fifteen, he made a promise to his mother.
~~~***~~~
Is this the real life-
Is this just fantasy-
Caught in a landslide-
No escape from reality-
John entered the apartment and tossed his briefcase and keys onto the small table that stood next to the door. Taking his cell phone out of his jacket pocket, he plugged it into the charger, then stood there for a moment tiredly rubbing his forehead. He'd had a headache off and on all day; a pressure that felt like an iron band wrapped tightly around his skull. With a sigh, he dropped his hand and walked across the living room to the small built-in bar. Pouring a generous portion of Scotch into a glass, John tilted his head back and drank it down, closing his eyes and relaxing into the liquor's burn. Setting the empty glass down, he headed for his bedroom, loosening his tie as he walked.
When he returned to the living room, his hair still damp from the shower, he was dressed in well-worn jeans and an old, faded black tee shirt. His bare feet glided across the cool, polished hardwood floor as he made his way back to the bar and poured another large Scotch. He was just about to drink it when his cell phone began ringing. Scowling in irritation at the jarring intrusion, John set down the glass and went to answer it. A quick glance at the caller ID, however, had him putting the phone back down without answering.
Chrissy. It was time, John knew, to have the 'it's not you, it's me' talk with her, but not now; not while he was over a thousand miles away. He may be a bastard, but he wasn't a big enough one to break up with her over the phone. He knew he'd put it off for too long, and he knew that the reason why was because of his father's obvious distaste for her. It was childish and unfair to Chrissy, especially since she seemed to really care for him, but it was one of the few small rebellions against Patrick that John allowed himself.
John's choice of girlfriends was often a bone of contention between the two men. No one since John's ex-wife Nancy had ever met Patrick's stringent standards of who made an acceptable companion for his son. Patrick had adored Nancy and treated her like the daughter he'd never had. He'd been furious when John had informed him they were getting divorced, demanding to know what the hell was wrong with John to throw away the best thing that had ever happened to him. John had been tempted to finally tell his father the truth about himself, but in the end, he had simply told his father the marriage wasn't working, and then had refused to discuss it any further.
He returned to his drink, and gulped it down before pouring another one and walking over to stand in front of the large window that gave him such a spectacular view of the Colorado Rockies. He sipped his drink and stared pensively out at the glorious display being put on by the setting sun. The view was the main reason he'd bought the apartment. Patrick Sheppard had invested heavily in a small start-up business developing alternative energy sources that was located in the Colorado Springs area, and had put John in charge of overseeing his investment. It soon became apparent to John that he was going to be coming to Colorado Springs on a regular enough basis that buying a place to stay made economic sense. And as much as he hated what his life had become, he appreciated the beauty he found in his home away from home.
As he stared out the window, a fighter jet from the nearby Patterson Air Force Base streaked across the sky, and John watched until it disappeared into the glare of the setting sun. The longing hit him as it always did, and he wondered what his life would have been like if he hadn't promised his dying mother when he was fifteen that he would be a good boy and stop fighting his father's desire to bring him into the business.
"Honor your father, Johnny," she had said on that long ago day, her hand weakly holding his. "He only wants what's best for you. Make him proud. Make me proud." He'd promised her he would, doing his best to hold back his tears, and with that promise, he'd sealed his fate and given up his dreams. He'd gone to Harvard, gotten his MBA, and come into the family business. He'd made the old man proud, just like he'd promised. Unfortunately for John, making Patrick Sheppard proud had meant living a life that John hadn't wanted. It had also meant denying who he really was, in more ways than one.
John finished off his drink, pushed away the unwanted thoughts and longings, and turned to get another. He saw it then, just as he took his first step; a flicker of movement just at the edge of his peripheral vision. He turned his head quickly, but there was nothing there.
He glanced around the room, trying to find some reason for the flicker, but saw nothing. Strange things had been happening quite frequently over the past day or so. Little things, like phantom voices calling his name and ghostly flickers that disappeared as soon as he looked. He was beginning to wonder if he was losing his mind. And wouldn't that make Patrick proud, John thought with cynical amusement, to have his oldest son declared insane and locked up in an institution somewhere.
He reached for the Scotch bottle to pour himself another drink, and then hesitated. He'd been drinking a lot lately. Well, longer than lately, if he were honest. But he wasn't an alcoholic, he insisted to himself, and he sure as hell didn't for one minute think he was experiencing the DTs. Still, maybe he'd be wiser to skip the drink and get something to eat. He considered ordering in, but decided to go out instead. There was a restaurant only four blocks away, and a walk would both relax him and sober him up - not that he was drunk, of course.
~~~*~~~
John settled into a booth, and, after a moment's hesitation, ordered a drink. He studied the menu disinterestedly, rubbing his once again aching head, while he waited for his drink and his waiter. Both arrived and John gave his order. The waiter had just hurried away when there was another flicker at the edge of John's vision. But this time, the flicker grew into a distortion and then the distortion cleared until the ghostly form of a man stood in front of him.
John gasped and jerked back, astonished that someone had appeared out of thin air. He glanced around wildly, but no one else in the restaurant seemed to have noticed anything unusual happening. Thoroughly spooked, John whipped his head back to look at the apparition, his eyes wide and his heart pounding.
"Sheppard, can you hear me?" the man asked. "Listen carefully. I don't think I have much time, and this is important."
When John didn't respond, the man turned his head to the side, and said, "I don't think he can hear me." Turning his attention back to John, he said, "God, I hope you can hear me. You need to-"
But John wasn't listening any more. Jumping up from his seat, he threw money down on the table and hurried out of the restaurant. He could hear the man calling out to him as he exited the door, and he broke into a run.
He was gasping for breath by the time he entered his apartment. His hands shook as he tossed down his keys, and he stood in the foyer for a couple minutes trying to catch his breath and calm down. Jesus, he thought, I really am cracking up. It was one thing to think he was hearing someone calling his name or catch flashes of reflected light that seemed to come from nowhere, but this had been a full-on hallucination.
He stood there, taking deep breaths until he had himself back under control, then straightening up, he headed into the living room and the bar. He desperately needed a drink. Before he reached the bar, however, the air shimmered again, and the same man appeared in front of him. Though he wasn't completely solid, his form was clear enough that John had no problem seeing him.
He was an inch or two shorter than John with thinning, light brown hair, incredible blue eyes framed by long lashes, a sharp nose, and thin, mobile lips, dressed in what appeared to be a uniform of some kind. John stared him, his heart racing. He had no idea why he was imagining this man. He was sure he'd never seen him before in his life, and yet there was something about him, a teasing familiarity that drew John to him. The sharp pull of attraction he suddenly felt was more than a little unnerving, and John stepped back putting more distance between himself and the apparition.
"Don't run away again, okay?" the man said in a rush, his hands held out as if to keep John from bolting. "Just listen to me. This isn't real. You're in a virtual environment, and you need to get out of it."
John's eyebrows rose in surprise. "A virtual environment?"
"Yes! Look, I don't have time to explain, but I need you to think about Atlantis."
John scrunched up his face in confusion and said, "Atlantis? Like the lost continent of Atlantis?"
"Yes, exactly!" the man said excitedly. "Except, you know, it's a city; not a continent. The Greeks had that totally wrong, which considering the information they were working from is... Ow!" The man turned and glared at something John couldn't see.
John stared at him and then closing his eyes briefly, he muttered, "Christ, I really am going nuts". He turned away, carefully stepping around the apparition on his way to the bar. The neck of the liquor bottle rattled against the glass as he poured with a badly shaking hand.
"Sheppard," the man began, but John slammed the bottle down on the bar interrupting him.
"I don't know what the hell's going on here other than I'm losing my mind," John said, his voice nowhere near as forceful as he'd hoped. "So I'd appreciate it if you'd just go way and haunt someone else."
"Sheppard... John, please, listen to me," the man said with a hint of desperation in his voice, his eyes wide and pleading, his hands tracing elegant arcs in the air as he talked. "None of what you think is real is. You have to trust me on this. We need to get you out of here before it's too late."
John held his glass of Scotch tightly in his hand and said, "Too late for what?" Then he shook his head, resisting the man's plea, trying to hold onto what he knew was reality. "You know what? I don't even want to know. And since you don't really exist, I think I'm going to forgo the whole 'trusting you' thing."
"No, listen to me, John. I'm real! You know me, I'm Rodney. McKay. Dr. Rodney McKay. We've know each other for three years now. We're... we're very close."
The words said so passionately, so desperately, made John's heart skip a beat, a rush of yearning enveloping him. He stared at the man, longing to go up to him, to touch him, to feel those big hands on him. Licking suddenly dry lips, he said, "Close? How close? Are you saying we're lovers?"
The man looked utterly stunned by John's words, and John felt his heart sink. He should have known that even in madness, he wouldn't get what he wanted, and John was sure. with a certainly that came from somewhere deep inside himself, that if this man, this 'Dr. McKay', had been real, had been part of John's life, John would want him.
"Um, no," the man said, looking decidedly taken aback. He glanced nervously to the side, once again looking at something John couldn't see. "We're, uh..." He began to fuzz out like a bad broadcast signal, and John heard him say, "Dammit, Zelenka," before he was gone.
John had no idea what 'zelenka' meant. A nonsense word to go with this whole nonsensical situation, he supposed. John glanced around the apartment to see if there was any sign of his visitor, but the room remained empty. He pushed aside his disappointment and the ache of loneliness he suddenly felt.
He wiped a shaky hand across his face, trying to figure out just what had happened. 'A virtual environment', the man had said. John stared at his surroundings, at his professionally decorated luxury apartment, at all the expensive furnishings, original art, high-end electronics, everything the best that money could buy. Beautiful to look at and cold to the touch, like much of John's life. If only it were a virtual environment, John thought cynically. He raised his glass in a mock salute. "To my gilded cage," he said and gulped down his drink. He set the empty glass down next to the nearly depleted Scotch bottle. Maybe it was time to cut back on his drinking. God knew the alcohol wasn't doing anything for his pounding head.
Though it was still relatively early, he decided to go to bed. Maybe it'd all be better after a good night's sleep. Maybe he was already asleep, and this was just a weird dream, and things would be back to normal when he woke up.
~~~***~~~
He was in a strange room on a narrow bed with a man, both of them naked. The man was laying on his stomach, and John was straddling his thighs. Moonlight filtered in through the long, narrow windows beside the bed, and the man's fair skin glowed in the soft illumination. John ran his hands lightly up the man's back and over broad shoulders. He leaned forward and place a gentle kiss on the back of the man's neck. The man turned his head, beautiful eyes framed by thick lashes looked back at him.. They kissed, slow and deep, and John body burned with need and desire. He pulled back and began kissing his way back down the man's - down Rodney's - back until he reached the twin globes of the most beautiful ass John had ever seen.
The scene shifted and now Rodney was on hands and knees with John's cock buried deep inside him. John was stretched out over Rodney's back, one hand clasping a sweat-slick shoulder while the other was wrapped around Rodney's hard cock, stroking it in time with his thrusts. Rodney's hips rocked, driving John deeper, thrusting his cock through John's fist.
"Harder, John, harder," Rodney demanded, his voice hoarse with need, and John sped up, pushing harder and faster. He was so close, so close...
John was abruptly awake, fully erect and aching, and alone in his bed. He thrust his hand under the waistband of his sleep pants and, taking hold of his cock, he jerked himself hard and fast. Within seconds, his back was bowing from the force of his orgasm. He lay there catching his breath, trying to hold onto his dream even as he felt it slipping away. The man in his dream was the same man as from his hallucination. John huffed out a cynical laugh. Why didn't it surprise him that he had had an erotic dream about a figment of his imagination, one that denied that they were lovers?
The discomfort of his semen-soaked pants finally forced him out of bed and into the bathroom. He pulled off his pants and washed himself, forcing from his mind the dream and 'Rodney'. The pounding of his head that had started as soon as he'd stood up made it easier to not think.
When he was clean again, he shook out a few aspirin and scooped water into his mouth to ease them down. Returning to the bedroom, he pulled on fresh pajamas and went back to bed, sinking wearily into the mattress and willing his headache to go away.
It was a long time before he once again fell asleep.
~~~*~~~
His alarm sounded shrilly only a couple hours after John had finally fallen back to sleep, and he reluctantly rose. His headache was even worse than it had been the night before, the odd pressure even greater, and he popped a couple more aspirin into his mouth before stepping into the shower.
The day's meeting didn't go well, and the pain in John's head got worse as the day wore on. By lunchtime, John could barely concentrate.
"I'm really sorry," he told the people with whom he was meeting, "but I'm going to have to postpone the rest of our meeting until tomorrow."
"Are you all right, Mr. Sheppard?" Garret Talbert asked with a concerned voice. He was the CEO of the firm that Sheppard Enterprises had invested in, and John knew that he was anxious for everything to go smoothly. The Sheppard capital was vital for the small company.
"Just a bad headache," John told him reassuringly. "I'm sure I'll be fine tomorrow. So, we'll take this up in the morning?"
"Yes, of course," Talbert said. "Would you like a ride home?"
John was going to refuse, but his headache was growing increasingly worse, and he knew he was in no shape to drive so he gratefully accepted the offer. He managed to make it into his apartment without throwing up, though it had been a close call once or twice. He stripped as he walked to his bedroom, carelessly dropping jacket and shirt onto the floor as he moved. He swallowed four more pain pills before tumbling naked onto his bed and passing out.
A voice woke him up.
"John, oh god, John. Wake up. Dammit, Sheppard, wake up!"
His eyelids fluttered open, and he saw through bleary eyes that Rodney was back.
"Oh, thank god," Rodney said with relief when he saw John's eyes open. "Listen to me very carefully. You have to think about Atlantis. Remember where we live. Beautiful city built by the Ancients. Please, John. Concentrate."
John ignored him, and closed his eyes again against the pain. Maybe if he went back to sleep the irritating hallucination would go away.
"John!" the man shouted. "Don't pass out again. If you do, you'll die."
John pried one eye open and looked at the man. "Die?" he managed to croak out.
"Yes! Please, I'm begging you to trust me. Think about Atlantis." The man was running his hand agitatedly through his hair, and the look on his face was frantic. John didn't know why he was doing it, but, obeying the frantic pleading, he pushed himself up to sit on the side of the bed and tried to think through the haze of his pain. It wasn't easy. Everything hurt so badly, and all John wanted to do was go back to sleep, escape the pain. But the desperation in the other man's voice, in Rodney's voice, made him try to think, to concentrate. Suddenly, he saw it, a breathtakingly beautiful city made of towers and spires and stained glass. It floated on an endless, empty blue sea, and John felt a longing for it nearly as strong as the longing he felt for Rodney.
"Atlantis," John whispered just as a wave of vertigo overwhelmed him and everything went dark.
~~~*~~~
He came to in the infirmary surrounded by his team.
"Doc, he's awake," Ronon called. John winced as the sound pierced his skull.
"All right, everyone. Get out of my way"
John looked over to see Carson Beckett pushing Rodney aside. John smiled at him and said, "Hey, Doc. What happened?"
"What happened," Carson said with a disapproving tone in his voice, "is that you and Rodney decided to play with an Ancient device, and you nearly died. That's what happened!"
"He didn't nearly die," Rodney said defensively, though John could see the guilt and worry on his face.
Carson glared at him, then pointed at John's three teammates and said, "Out, all of you. Go away so I can examine the Colonel in peace."
Rodney protested, of course, but Ronon grabbed him by the collar of his uniform jacket and hauled him out of the infirmary, Rodney sputtering in protest the whole time. John grinned and then turned back to Carson, his smile slipping as pain lanced through his head.
"How are you feeling, Colonel?" Carson asked.
"Head hurts," John answered.
"Aye, well I'm not surprised. We're lucky you didn't come out of this with brain damage."
John winced. "That bad, huh?"
Carson looked up from the blood pressure reading he was taking. "Yes, that bad. The VR or VE or whatever you call that bloody device," he pointed to a mat-black, metallic headband that was sitting on the table next to John's bed, "malfunctioned, and we nearly lost you."
John thought for a minute, and vaguely recalled Rodney bringing the device to him, excitedly explaining that it was a portable version of the VE program that they'd found on the Aurora. They'd argued over who'd try it out first with John winning by pointing out that if anything went wrong, Rodney'd be there to fix things.
"Rodney said that everything was going fine at first," Carson was saying as he continued his examination. "But then time passed and you didn't come out, and when Rodney tried to turn off the device, you started to convulse. We brought you to the infirmary and when we did a scan, we discovered your brainwave patterns were off the chart. We couldn't get you to wake up, and every attempt to interfere with the device made you convulse."
Carson sighed, and shook his head. "We thought we were going to lose you. With the failure of the device's external fail-safe, Rodney thought that perhaps like the Ancients on the Aurora, you didn't realize that you were in a virtual environment, which meant that you didn't know that just thinking about Atlantis was your escape route. You were trapped there with no knowledge that it wasn't real, and the device was slowly killing you. Rodney and Radek worked for forty-eight hours straight to cobble together a way to get Rodney into your environment and get you home again.
Now," he continued in his efficient doctor voice, "you lie still there and let me finish my examination."
~~~*~~~~
It was late the next day before Carson allowed him to leave the infirmary. In that time he hadn't seen or talked to Rodney, and John wasn't sure what to think. Ronon said that McKay was probably worried that John was even more angry at him than he'd been after Doranda and was hiding from him. John wasn't so sure that was the only reason Rodney was avoiding him. Either way, he didn't want to just let things lie, and so here he was, outside of Rodney's quarters trying to build up the courage to knock.
Taking a deep breath, he slid his hand over the Ancient equivalent of a doorbell and waited. The door slid open, and Rodney stared at him, obviously surprised to see him.
"Oh, you've been released?" he asked, and then flushed. "Well, obviously, you have." His eyes took on a concerned look. "Are you okay?"
John smiled, going for casual cool. "Doc says I'm fine. No damage, permanent or otherwise."
"Oh, good. That's... that's really good," Rodney said looking relieved.
"Can I come in?"
Rodney blinked and looked as if he was going to deny him, but then stood back. "Yes, yes, of course you can," he said, making a little welcoming wave with his hand.
Once the door whooshed shut, they stood looking at each other in awkward silence for a moment, and then John held out his hand containing the VE headband and said, "I brought this back to you."
"Oh, thanks. Yeah, I've, um, I've been trying to figure out what went wrong." He gestured to his desk where his laptop was open and papers with scribbles covered every inch of surface. It was the only thing messy in the otherwise spotless room.
"Come to any conclusions?"
"Yes," Rodney said with obvious irritation. "The Ancients were idiots. You'd think that before they abandoned the city they would have destroyed any harmful devices instead of just letting them lie around tempting innocent bystanders."
John smiled. "Yeah, I think in the future we'd better just stick to the game."
Rodney flashed a look at him, guilt written all over his face. "I'm really just so, so sorry about what happened." He glanced away. "Seems like all I do lately is apologize to you for almost getting you killed."
"Hey, Rodney, don't," John said. He reached out but dropped his hand back down without touching Rodney. "I was as eager to try that thing out as you were. We'll just have to be more careful in the future, okay?"
Rodney looked at John closely and then nodded. "Yeah, okay, thanks."
"So, we're good?" John asked with a smile.
Rodney returned John's smile with a small one of his own. "Yeah. Yeah, we're good."
"Good," John said, his smile widening. They stared at each other again for a bit until the silence began to get awkward again, and then John said, "Well, I'll let you get back to your work. See you at breakfast."
He turned to leave when Rodney said, "Colonel... John, can I ask you something?"
It was the change in address that warned John, and it was on the tip of his tongue to deny Rodney's request, but suddenly he just didn't want to. He'd been hiding for so long. Hell, even in his pretend world he had hidden away from who and what he was. Turning back he said, "Sure."
Rodney licked his lips, and then straightening his shoulders he said, "When you were in your virtual environment, you asked me if we were..." He paused briefly before drawing in a deep breath and finishing in a rush, "You asked me if we were lovers."
John swallowed to relieve his suddenly dry throat and then nodded. "I did."
"Why?" Rodney asked, his nervousness practically vibrating off his body. "I mean, why did you ask that? What made you think... Do you..." He stopped talking as if suddenly running out of both words and courage.
"You said we were very close. I took that to mean we were more than just acquaintances."
"And more than friends?"
John nodded. "And more than friends."
"So, you... You're gay?"
And there it was. The sixty-four thousand dollar question. John knew that this could completely destroy his friendship with Rodney if he answered honestly, and that if word reached the wrong people, it would mean the end of his career. It all came down to trust, and John trusted Rodney, more than anyone he'd ever known. And more than anything, he wanted Rodney to know the truth.
"Mostly, yes."
"Oh."
They stood looking at each other for several seconds, and when Rodney didn't say anything further, John turned away with a sinking heart. "See you tomorrow, McKay," he said as he headed for the door.
He felt a warm hand on his arm stopping him. "Wait, please," Rodney said, and he turned back around.
Rodney stared at him as if trying to puzzle out the answer to all the universe's problems. "Do you really, um... I mean, I was wondering if you want... What I'm trying to say..."
He looked so nervous and yet so hopeful that John felt his own hope growing. Taking a chance, he stepped forward, wrapped his hand around the back of Rodney's neck, and drew him into a kiss. Rodney stiffened for a split second, and then he was kissing him back, hot and wild and full of Rodney enthusiasm.
John's heart soared, and he pulled Rodney closer to him, wrapping his arms around him, and opening his mouth to allow in Rodney's questing tongue.
They stood there wrapped up in each other, bodies pressed tightly together, kissing over and over. Long deep kisses and short, sweet ones that made John harden and ache with want, tongues touching and licking and lips brushing gently. When they pulled back, gasping for breath and grinning at each other, Rodney said, "Seriously?"
John laughed and pulled him in for another quick kiss. "Seriously, McKay."
"Does this mean we can..." Rodney motioned in the direction of his bed.
"God, I hope so," John said, and though John didn't think it was possible, Rodney's face lit up even more.
With kisses and touches and more than one loss of balance as socks and shoes and pants were pulled off, they managed to strip and tumble onto the bed. John moaned when he pulled Rodney on top of him, reveling in the feel of Rodney's weight, the softness of Rodney's smooth, warm skin, and the hardness of Rodney's cock.
John ran his hands down Rodney's smooth back and over the firm rise of an ass every bit as gorgeous as John had dreamed. He wrapped his legs around Rodney's and began to gently thrust, sliding his cock over the warm, soft skin of Rodney's hip and belly. Rodney moaned and began to rock, his own cock sliding over John's stomach.
Rodney's lips traveled over his face, to his neck and up to John's sensitive earlobes, sending shivers of pleasure down his body and straight to his cock. The pressure built until he was gasping into Rodney's open mouth, thrusting harder, holding Rodney tighter, wanting, needing. So close... So close... And then it was there. He stiffened and came, pulse after pulse of pure pleasure. With one final groan, he relaxed into a boneless heap, gasping for breath, his legs slipping to either side of Rodney's legs. Rodney lifted himself up on his elbows and when John opened his eyes it was to a flushed face and a smug grin.
John smiled back and then pulled Rodney's head down for another kiss. The kiss deepened and Rodney began to move once more, his hard cock sliding easier now that John's stomach was slick with come.
It was good, so good, but John wanted more. He pushed on Rodney's shoulder and said, "Roll over. Let me.. I want to..." Rodney pulled back, his eyes hot with desire, and eased off John, carefully maneuvering on the small bed until he was on his back, as near the edge of the bed as he could comfortably get.
John turned onto his side, and rested on his elbow, gazing down at Rodney's body. He'd wanted this for so long, to be able to touch and to taste. He slid his hand over Rodney's chest, though the light-brown hair, flicking his thumb over a hard, brown nipple, and down past Rodney's stomach until he was able to wrap his hand around Rodney's cock.
Rodney moaned as John slowly pumped, and John had to lean down and kiss that mouth, the bristly jaw and neck, down to the pert nipples that just begged to be licked and sucked. Slowly, reverently, he kissed his way down Rodney's body, until he got to his ultimate goal, and his tongue flicked out to taste the salty droplet that beaded at the tip of Rodney's cock.
"John", Rodney whispered, his voice hoarse with passion, and John felt Rodney's fingers glide through his hair. He glanced up to see Rodney's eyes dark and pleasure-drunk, and as he watched Rodney's face, he took the head of Rodney's cock into his mouth and sucked. Rodney moaned. His eyes closed, and his head dropped back. His hips jerked up pushing his cock deeper into John's mouth. From then on it was pure pleasure, the weight of Rodney in his mouth, the taste of him on his tongue. John sucked and licked, paying close attention to Rodney's reactions to find out just what he liked best. He pulled off and licked around the head, then took him into his mouth again and sucked, dragging another groan out of Rodney.
John's jaw began to ache, and yet it was still far too soon when suddenly Rodney stiffened and John's mouth was filled with the bitter warmth of Rodney's come. John drank it down, sucking gently until Rodney's cock began to soften, and then, with a final kiss on the silken head, he pulled off and moved back up to lay beside Rodney. He watched as Rodney slowly recovered from his orgasm, and smiled when his eyes finally opened and contented blue eyes gazed at him.
"God, that was good," Rodney said with a grin.
"Yep," John said, his own grin wide. He knew his happiness had to be showing, and he was okay with that. Okay with Rodney knowing that he had made John happier than he'd been in far too long a time.
"Can you stay the night?" Rodney asked hopefully.
"For most of it, anyway," John answered, and then got out of bed to clean up a bit. He returned to the bed with a damp cloth and wiped the drying semen off Rodney's stomach, then turned off the light, crawled under the sheets, and curled up against a warm, sleepy Rodney.
John couldn't hear the ocean, but he knew it was there, surrounding the City of the Ancients, buoying it up. Moonlight filtered in through the long, narrow windows beside the bed, and Rodney's fair skin glowed in the soft illumination, reminding John of his dream within a dream.
And if, by chance, this were the dream world and the other world reality, then John would stay here, thank you very much. Here in this crazy world where he was a Lieutenant Colonel in the Air Force who lived in another galaxy in a ten thousand year old city and flew space ships and fought ugly, evil aliens and had fallen in love the smartest man in two galaxies.
Who, John was pretty sure, had fallen in love with him, too.
The End