TITLE: The Conversation

AUTHOR: Lady Ra

E-MAIL ADDRESS: LadyRa11@yahoo.com

RATING: NC-17

PAIRING: McKay/Sheppard

SUMMARY: Sheppard overhears a conversation

EPISODE SPOILERS: None, really, except for the whole show. Set in second season.

DISCLAIMER: It all belongs to whoever the heck owns Stargate/Atlantis. And that's not me. Wah!!!

DISTRIBUTION: Wraithbait, Area 52 and my home site: www.visionsofprettyboys.com. Come visit me at my LJ, under Ladyra.

FEEDBACK: Absolutely. In fact I insist on it. No, I'm begging you for it. Damn, where are those drugs?

THANKS: Thanks to my vunderbar betas. My stories are always so much better for their hard work. For this story that includes: Joolz, Jenn, and Prentice, and a special thanks to Morr who practically rewrote the damn thing and made it much better.

The Conversation

John leaned over the balcony, enjoying the heat of the sun. He was tempted to pull off his shirt and tan for a while. Maybe he'd go find Rodney and drag him out of his lab to get some sun with him; Rodney could stand a little color. Deciding to enjoy his privacy a little longer before introducing something as disruptive as Rodney into it, he closed his eyes.

"So what's it like working for Mr. Ego?" a woman said out of the blue, almost giving John a heart attack. So much for being the only one out here, John thought. He glanced around but couldn't see anyone. Frowning, he listened harder.

"He's an asshole," a second woman answered. "But, he's also a real genius. You'll learn more from him in one day than you did while you were getting your Ph.D."

Wherever they were, John guessed they had no idea they were being overheard. He also wondered if they were talking about Rodney. Asshole-genius sounded about right. Pressed against the wall, he checked the hallway and saw the shadows of two people standing a few feet away. After a few seconds thought, John chose not to reveal his presence. Other people might consider it eavesdropping, but John preferred to think of it as surveillance.

"He's also a fucking genius in bed."

"What?" the first woman choked out. "What?" she said again, as if her mind had been broken by just the idea.

John almost choked, too. Okay. Definitely not Rodney.

"He is. He so is. I slept with him," the second woman confessed.

There was a pointed silence. Then, "You did not." The woman sounded scandalized.

"I definitely did," the second woman said. "And I'd do it again. And so would anyone else who'd ever slept with him, male or female."

"Are we talking about the same person?" woman two said doubtfully.

Say a name, John silently begged.

"Mr. I-have-a-different-laptop-for-every-day?"

They both snorted. Unfortunately for John, the cryptic phrase confirmed for them that they were both talking about the same person but left John out in the cold. And now his brain was broken, too, going Rodney--not Rodney--Rodney--not Rodney.

"Why?" The first woman sounded genuinely bewildered. "Why would you, or anyone, sleep with him, especially if you think he's an asshole?"

John thought that was an excellent question.

"I got hooked because he's so damn smart, and smart men make me hot."

John felt like flashing her a copy of his invitation letter to join Mensa. Rodney, about whom they were not talking, probably had his laminated and embossed.

"And?" woman one prompted, wanting the rest of the story.

John found himself leaning in, not wanting to miss a word.

"We were all at a party one night and we all got totally wasted," woman two said. "Evelyn, do you remember Evelyn?"

"The one with the southern drawl? The one who transferred to Yale?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Anyway, she and Mr. Laptop sneak off at one point and we don't see either of them for the rest of the night."

"I thought she had better taste than that," woman one said disparagingly.

John had to admit, that out of everyone he knew, Rodney generated the most ill-will, even if, weirdly, people, including John, still found themselves liking the man. John could totally see Rodney fitting this part of the conversation. He took pride in seeing how many people he could piss off in a day; he probably had notches on his bedpost.

"She came in the next day, dazed, almost drooling. She said he was a sex-god."

John blew out his breath and shook his head. Not Rodney. John had this vision of Rodney maybe needing diagrams to figure out where everything went. He always seemed so hopeless when he was around someone he was attracted to.

Woman one made a rude noise. "Anyone can seem like a sex-god when you're too drunk to know better."

"Do you remember Bernie?"

"Only hot guy in the lab?" woman one said in appreciation.

"That's the one. He said the same thing."

"Get out of town," woman one said in complete disbelief.

"I am not shitting you," woman two said solemnly as if swearing over a stack of bibles.

"So you just decided to sleep with him to find out for yourself?"

"It was after one of his lectures. He'd been particularly brilliant and a shade less condescending than usual and it was an irresistible combination. I followed him back to his room and essentially jumped him."

Woman one shrieked. "Oh, my God, Deanna, you are such a slut."

"I know," Deanna shrieked in return. They both dissolved into gales of laughter.

When the laughter turned into an occasional rift of giggles, woman one prompted, "And?"

"Best. Sex. Ever."

See? Not Rodney. Rodney and Best Sex Ever did not compute. It was an oxymoron, like military intelligence.

"I'm sorry, but I can't picture that. I just can't. Ewww."

Neither could John. And John had tried. He was an equal opportunity fantasizer. He was willing to imagine sex acts with almost anyone. But he'd failed with Rodney. It was like Rodney was too real, too immediate, too in your face, to be easily conjured up to participate in some insipid two-dimensional sexual fantasy.

"Sex god," woman two said again with a touch of reverence in her voice. "Catherine, I saw the light."

Ah, now John had both of their names.

"I don't even know what to say," Catherine one confessed. "I'm speechless."

"Awesome, mind-blowing sex," Deanna said with a sigh.

"So what happened?"

"You mean when we had sex?"

"No," Catherine said with a snort. "After. If he's so good in bed, why aren't you two together? Sex can smooth over a lot of personality defects. Although, you'd have to have a lot of sex to help with his."

John dropped his head. Who the fuck were they talking about? If there was a sex god here on Atlantis, John wanted to know about it. Damn it. John liked sex.

"That's all he wants," Deanna said firmly. "He wouldn't know a relationship if it bit him on the ass. He's all about the slam, bam, thank you ma'am, or sir, except the slam, bam, is the most amazing sex you'll ever have, and you're still weak in the knees when he's saying thank you ma'am and shoving you out his door."

"How does he manage not to be pissy and arrogant in bed?" Catherine asked doubtfully.

Damn it. Pissy and arrogant sounded just like Rodney. Rodney was the quintessential pissy and arrogant. And brilliant, and all the other words they'd used to describe whoever the hell they were talking about. But the 'in bed' part couldn't be about Rodney. Finding out Rodney was a sex god would be like finding out Ronan knitted in his spare time.

"Oh, he's totally pissy and arrogant in bed," Deanna said. "But somehow when you're on your fifth orgasm, it just doesn't matter so much."

Both women dissolved into more shrieks of laughter.

"And," Deanna finally said, "at least the guy sort of deserves to be pissy and arrogant. He could run circles around all the other geniuses with that brain of his. In fact it wasn't until I got to Stargate Command that I saw someone outthink him."

John slapped a hand over his face. Surely there was another pissy and arrogant genius on Atlantis who worked for the Stargate program. There had to be.

"So what happened then? Did you just sleep with him once?"

"Nope," Deanna confided. "Well, almost, but I got over myself pretty fast once I realized he wasn't exactly pining for me. How was I supposed to know that he never wanted for sex partners? I was one in a long line of people who sought him out to scratch an itch."

John slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. A long line?

"So does that mean he never came and knocked on your door?"

"Not even once. After I got done pouting and realized I was missing out, I just tried to get there first," Deanna said with a laugh. "With a stack of condoms, because he was totally safety guy. The guy's germ phobic."

Crap. That sounded like Rodney again. But John was an expert at denial and there was no way Rodney McKay was a sex god. There was no way that John had been working next to the man for over a year and not known that. No way that John had been crowing about his occasional sexual conquest to a man who had people lining up outside his door for sex.

"Will you go knocking on his door now that you're here?" Catherine asked. "He's going to actually be your boss this time around. I can't imagine him denying himself anything he wants, but I suppose it's possible he might think it's unethical."

"I know, but I may still give it a try. I thought about having sex with him the whole way here on the Daedalus," Deanna said with a dreamy sigh.

"Are you sure he's available?" Catherine asked. "Maybe he's found someone."

Deanna snorted. "Please. The man's not interested. And, even if someone was interested in him, he'd never notice. He's completely clueless about stuff like that."

John was starting to get mental whiplash.

"That's weird that he's so good at the sex but so bad at everything that usually goes with it," Catherine said.

"I know. He's kind of like an idiot savant. The couple of times I've seen him interested in someone, he's, God, it's painful to watch. He stutters, can't put a sentence together to save his life, and he gets both feet in his mouth before he can even ask them out on a date. You should have seen him with Major Carter. It was like watching the scene of an accident."

John's eyes opened wide. Jesus. They had to be talking about Rodney. They had to be. How many arrogant pissy geniuses could there be with a crush on Samantha Carter? Then he frowned. He didn't like the fact that these women were talking about Rodney where anyone could hear. Rodney might be a jerk, but he was John's jerk. John's best friend jerk. A bi-sexual jerk, apparently. And a sex god, to boot. That information confused the hell out of him, but John had to admit it also intrigued him in all sorts of places. He reached down to adjust himself a little.

"How do you think he got so good at the sex thing but so bad at the rest of it?" Catherine asked.

John sort of wanted to know that, too. He furrowed his brow, unhappy with the idea of long lines outside Rodney's door to have sex. Not that he'd ever seen long lines outside Rodney's door. But if Deanna started talking there might be long lines in the near future. John bet that there were a lot of horny people on Atlantis. He was one of them.

"See, you need to know McKay."

John rolled his eyes. Figures she'd finally say his name after John figured it out.

"He thinks the soft sciences are for the birds," she continued. "He has no patience for them, thinks they're essentially a waste of time. And part of that is because his mind just doesn't work that way. He likes cause and effect, a certain amount of reliability. And romance is the soft science to end all soft sciences."

John tapped a finger against his pursed lips. He hadn't ever looked at it that way before.

"But sex," Deanna continued, "sex is all about cause and effect. It's a problem he can solve. You're both horny. That's the problem. There's a clear solution. Orgasms for both of you. And say what you want about McKay, he doesn't do anything half way. If something's worth doing, it's worth doing well."

John pulled at his shirt collar, unbuttoning the top one, needing a bit of cool air on his throat.

"And doing something half-assed, by the way," Deanna said, "will get you blasted by him in the lab more than anything else will. He hates people who don't try their hardest. He'll forgive a lot if you give it your all. He'd rather deal with misguided enthusiasm than lackluster skill any day."

"I'll keep that in mind," Catherine said dryly. "So, keep going. I'm mesmerized by this new insight into the famous doctor."

"He looks at you. I mean, once you're together in bed, he looks at you. Like you're the most interesting thing he's ever seen. And he watches while he touches you, and you can see him cataloguing it, running it through his massive brain, figuring out the connections. Like he's learning exactly what touches turn you on the most. And," there was a pause.

"Go on," Catherine encouraged. "You've got me on tenterhooks here. I'll be fanning myself in a minute."

No kidding. John adjusted himself again. Jesus.

Deanna snorted. "You and me, both. Maybe I'll pay the good doctor a visit tonight. Just talking about it is getting me all hot and flustered."

Fucking great, John thought morosely.

"Anyway," Deanna said, "all I can say is I was a wet noodle by the time we were done. I'd had more orgasms than I thought was humanly possible, and parts of me I didn't even know existed were sore in that really great sex kind of way."

They both sort of hummed, like they were eating a really good piece of chocolate. For some reason, John had a vision of being in bed with Rodney while he and Rodney shared a Milky Way. He blinked, frowning.

"But that's where it ended," Deanna suddenly said.

"What do you mean?"

"Once the show was over, which included about fifteen seconds of glorious afterglow, he was showing me the door."

"Are you serious?"

"Very. It's sex, Catherine. It's not about friendship. McKay doesn't know the first thing about being friends, or being nice."

That made John angry. Rodney was a great friend. Okay, maybe a pissy, arrogant, high maintenance sort of friend, but he was the best friend John had ever had.

"It's all about getting an itch scratched." Deanna snickered. "And I'm not kidding about being sore; he's totally hung."

That got another shriek of laughter. John frowned again. Jesus, this was worse than the shit he heard in male locker rooms. He wasn't crazy about anyone knowing that much about Rodney. Especially that little, or not so little, piece of information.

"And man, he has the curviest ass. It's a thing of beauty. I wish I had an ass like that. And that was before he came to Atlantis. I can see he's lost some weight and buffed up. I want to sink my teeth into those biceps of his. Mmm hmm."

That precipitated more laughter.

When the laughing wound down, Catherine asked, "So he really just kicked you out?"

"I was still in bed the first time he came back from the bathroom and he frowned and asked me why I was still there."

"Ouch," Catherine said in sympathy.

"No kidding. I didn't talk to him for days." She let out a short laugh. "I finally realized he hadn't even noticed, or if he had, he certainly didn't care. So I could either carry on an ineffective grudge or get over it and get me some more of that great sex."

"You went for the sex, I take it."

In the immortal words of General Jack O'Neill," Deanna said, "You betcha." They both started laughing again.

John glowered at their shadows. Then their shadows shifted indicating movement. He chose that moment to leave the small balcony and join them in the hall. He drawled, "Ladies."

They both let out a shriek and jumped.

John grinned.

"I didn't know anyone was here," one of them stammered out.

"I guessed that, actually." He stood, looming over them. "Colonel John Sheppard, ranking military here on Atlantis. Oh, and Rodney McKay's best friend."

"C-c-Colonel," the same one stuttered.

"Deanna?" he guessed, taking note of the tall willowy blond. It figured.

She nodded, blushing a furious red.

"Catherine?" John asked the second one, a more geeky looking redhead.

She nodded, miserable.

John stared at them both, memorizing them, enjoying watching them squirm. Then, deciding to leave them in their misery, John strode away. Behind him he heard a frantic, "Fuck!" Smiling, John headed down the hall.

*****

John went to find Rodney, deciding he needed to see his friend in this new and fairly awkward light and get the weirdness over and done with.

He found Rodney in the lab and stood stock still, shocked at the desire that ran through him as he watched Rodney shift forward on the stool, stretching for a glass beaker on the other end of the table. The sight of Rodney's ass captivated him. He wanted it. Badly.

He almost ran away. Screaming. He didn't want to want Rodney's ass. The level of complication it would add to his life was astronomical, no pun intended. He should just turn away and leave this alone. Friends was good. Friends worked.

He'd just turn away and leave Rodney's ass alone. So what if Deanna knocked on Rodney's door so they could have sex. Let her knock. Let them all knock.

Right. Like John was going to let that happen. No fucking way. No one was going to be knocking on Rodney's door in the middle of the night except for him. He swallowed hard and stepped further into the room. "Hey," John said, as normally as he could manage.

"What?" Rodney said, distracted, before he finally looked up and saw John there. "Oh, hey."

John gestured to the coffee pot. Rodney's lab always seemed to have the best stuff.

"Help yourself," Rodney said.

John did, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Rodney cleared his throat.

John waited for Rodney to speak.

Rodney cleared his throat again and stared down at John's feet for a moment, frowning.

Confused, John stared at his boots to see if there was something gross on them, maybe some toilet paper stuck to one of them. He didn't see anything amiss.

"I, um, I was, well, you know, sort of, well, wondering," Rodney began.

Frowning, John stared as Rodney tried to talk, wondering what the heck Rodney was babbling about. "What?" he said, hoping to prod Rodney along. He was hungry and he really needed to do something normal to get his body and brain back on track. Walking and eating would be good.

Rodney frowned back at him, and then he sort of smiled in a way that would probably frighten small children. "I just, I was thinking, that maybe, you and, um, you know…" he stopped, frustrated.

John rolled his eyes. Whatever. If it was important, Rodney would eventually spit it out. "Hey, you want to go get something to eat?" John asked. "I'm hungry."

Looking pitifully relieved, as if he'd just been told detention was over, Rodney nodded emphatically. "Yes, eating is good." He started to power down his laptop.

John frowned at the back of Rodney's head feeling like he'd missed something. But then Rodney closed his laptop and was up and the two of them were heading out the door and back to normal.

*****

Over dinner, Rodney seemed distracted. "Something on your mind?" John asked.

Rodney opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again. "Yes, yes, there is." He stopped talking.

John waited a minute but no more words were forthcoming. "You stopped talking, Rodney. This is where you usually tell me what's on your mind." Rodney didn't tend to be shy about it. Usually Rodney wouldn't shut up about it.

Rodney ripped into a piece of bread, looking a little hunted.

Hmm. Maybe Deanna had already cornered Rodney. No, John corrected himself, he'd been with Rodney nonstop since that conversation, and there'd been no sign of Deanna or Catherine. Which was a good thing, because John wasn't feeling too charitably disposed toward either of them right now.

"Okay," Rodney finally said. He leaned across the table, closer to John, as if he were about to tell him a secret. "It's just that, we've been, you know, and I just, I was just thinking that maybe, um, that, uh, it might not be too horrible an idea, or maybe it is, that's why I haven't said anything, you know?"

John blinked at Rodney. "No, I don't know. You're still babbling. What are you talking about?"

Rodney sighed, and bit off another hunk of bread that would have choked a horse.

Deanna and Catherine chose that moment to walk into the cafeteria. Fortunately, Rodney had his back to them. They caught his eye, saw who he was sitting with, blanched, and removed themselves to the table farthest from them. By the time he got back to Rodney he was done chewing. "You want to try that again?"

Shaking his head, Rodney said, "No. No, I think I'm done." He let his fork clatter on his plate.

"No, I meant whatever you were talking about," John clarified, although it was weird that Rodney wasn't even finishing his dinner, especially as it was good stuff tonight. No weird colors.

Rodney swallowed, squinted his eyes a little, and picked his fork back up to play with his food. "It's just that you're military…" Again, Rodney petered out.

"Can't get anything by you," John drawled.

Rodney glared at him. "Ha ha. You're so amusing in a really, really sad way."

John grinned. "Okay, so, we've established I'm in the military. If it will speed things up, consider it understood that you're a scientist and that we're both on Atlantis in the Pegasus Galaxy." He gestured at Rodney that it was his turn to talk.

The glare grew more sarcastic and narrow-eyed. "Forget it." Just as John was about to suggest dessert, however, Rodney started up again. "It's just I think that, um, even though you are, and uh, I, well, I'm not, I think I can be discreet. I think I've proven that I can be discreet."

John did his best to have that make any sense at all, but he just couldn't do it. "What? You are seriously making no sense. And I've heard you say a few things that were definitely not of the discreet variety." He leaned forward, "Such as weapons 'R' us." He snorted and leaned back again.

Rodney let out a sound of disgusted insult. "I was trying to make friends. It's hardly my fault that we didn't know yet that the Genii were homicidal psychos."

"They were holding us at gunpoint," John complained.

Rodney waved a dismissive hand at him as if that was totally beside the point.

John decided to get back to the important stuff. "Want dessert? They have real ice cream tonight."

Rodney was up so fast it was like his chair had been spring loaded. John had to jog to keep up with him. John saw the moment Rodney recognized Deanna. He didn't exactly stop his forward momentum, but it sort of stuttered a little. "Deanna," he said coolly.

"Rodney," she said back.

Niceties done as far as Rodney was concerned, he headed for the ice cream. John watched as both women's eyes followed Rodney's butt. John moved between them and Rodney, wishing he could tell them to keep their fucking eyes to themselves. Then he snuck a look at Rodney's butt. It looked just as good as it had in the lab. Except now it was a butt that had to be protected from enemy hands.

Rodney was purring over the ice cream, in the middle of an exacting deliberation over which flavor to choose. John leaned closer until he could whisper in Rodney's ear, saying, "Have some of each." There were only three flavors so it wasn't like he'd have to eat gallons of ice cream. Not that Rodney wouldn't be equal to the task.

To John's surprise, Rodney blushed and took a step away from John.

John wondered if he had bad breath. But then Rodney took his suggestion and got a scoop of each, and John asked for the same. They went back to their table, where John had to listen to Rodney make these little orgasm noises that would make having to stand up any time soon embarrassing.

As he ate his ice cream, John thought over the conversation he'd overheard earlier. Maybe he should just ask Rodney for sex. Maybe he could ask him for sex every night and beat everyone else to the punch. Granted, John wasn't crazy about the idea of never having it be more than sex, but he was even less crazy at the thought of anyone else getting to have sex with Rodney while John didn't.

Rodney finished his ice cream and sat back with a cat-got-into-the-cream look of satisfaction on his face. It really made John want to see what else would put that look there. "Ready?" he asked.

"Yup," Rodney sat, patting his stomach before rising.

John got up, too, and then they were walking back to their quarters. They reached Rodney's first and both stood there for a time.

"Um," Rodney said, not making eye contact again.

"I think we should have sex," John blurted out.

Rodney grabbed his arm. "Oh, thank God." He had his door open and John inside before John could even process that Rodney was saying yes.

And then it was happening. Just like that woman said. Rodney was in his personal space, and he was staring at John, at his lips, his jaw, his eyes piercing and attentive as if John held all the answers to the universe. As if John was one of the millennium problems and that at the end of whatever this was, if Rodney got it right, he'd be presented with a million dollars.

Whatever it was, it was a heady feeling. John liked that attention. A lot. Then Rodney's hand was on his face, cupping one side, the tips of his fingers sliding into John's hair. Rodney moved in closer, gently kissed John, just the slightest sort of rub, lips sliding against lips. Rodney pulled back and flicked his tongue out to lick his own lips as if testing John's taste.

A pleased smile shaped Rodney's mouth as he moved in close again, this time pressing more fully, his tongue running along the seam to John's lips. Opening his mouth, John felt his cock harden, fast. A part of him wanted to press closer, to get more contact, but another part of him wanted to see what Rodney would do.

Rodney's hands plunged into John's hair, caressing his scalp. John couldn't help the groan that escaped him. He loved being touched this way.

"I've wanted to do that since the day I met you," Rodney confessed, as he nibbled on John's earlobe.

John just moaned again as Rodney's fingers continued to caress him. "Good," he finally got out. He reached out and let his hands sweep down Rodney's back until he had his hands full of Rodney's ass. "I've wanted to do this," he said to Rodney. Maybe not from the day they'd met, but he'd want to do it from now on.

Rodney laughed, and when he did, John realized that Rodney didn't laugh that much, at least he didn't if you ignored all his slightly manic we're-going-to-die-now sorts of laughs, or his oh-my-God-you-are-too-stupid-to-live sorts of laughs. This laugh was completely different. It was a we're-having-fun-now kind of laugh. It was a this-makes-me-happy kind of laugh. John wanted to hear it more often.

Then Rodney was pulling John's t-shirt off over his head, his hands running through his chest hair, fingers pulling on nipples. One hand crept back up into John's hair when Rodney's mouth latched onto a nipple.

John could never explain how good it felt to have someone play with his hair. It was like it was a pipeline to his endorphins. And while previous lovers tended to touch his hair, he'd never had one who'd combined the hair touching with the nipple sucking and it almost made him pass out. Another groan escaped him, and he closed his eyes, pressing his head up into Rodney's hand and his chest forward into Rodney's mouth.

Then Rodney's mouth was gone, but before John could feel the loss, a hand was cupping his aching cock through the fabric of his pants. John opened his eyes to find Rodney staring at him again, studying him.

"What do you see when you look at me like that?" John asked in a whisper.

"I see you," Rodney said. "I see what you like." His fingers fisted in John's hair.

"I like that," John said.

"I can tell," Rodney said with a grin. "I wonder if I can touch you like this when I suck your cock," he asked in a low voice. "Or maybe I can play with your hair while I fuck you."

That was when John decided he'd been entirely too passive, and he tumbled Rodney down on the bed, falling on top of him. Rodney let out another one of those laughs that did something wonderful to John's heart. And feeling Rodney's hard cock pressing against his made everything astonishingly great.

"We'd have better luck getting our clothes off if we were still standing," Rodney observed with an even broader grin.

"Shut up," John said fiercely as he took control of the kiss this time, sweeping his tongue into Rodney's mouth, determined to figure out Rodney's hot buttons.

It was a competition at first, both of them trying to drive the other one crazy. It felt like an extreme sport as they fought to get each other's clothes off, then fought to touch each other the most. But, then, all at once, they weren't fighting any more.

Somehow they knew just where to touch and for how long, and when quick grabs were needed as opposed to long caresses, and where John liked to be kissed, and where Rodney liked to be licked, and after John's second orgasm, he slipped into a sexual fugue unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Under Rodney's fingers and teeth and tongue, John's body was revving up for a third go-round and John became nothing more than one giant sensual nerve cluster.

Of course, John was doing his best to get Rodney off a third time, too, and it was gratifying to hear that Rodney had lost the power to speak in complete sentences. Maybe he was stringing two words together, but more often than not he'd stop on a gasp after getting out one syllable. Or half a syllable. Like, "'Wha' or 'ple' or 'ye', before it turned into a gasp or a moan. John loved it that Rodney couldn't even manage to get yes out. Three letters.

They were both sex gods, John thought with a blissed-out grin. Then Rodney's hand was in his hair, and his mouth was on John's cock, and John's toes curled into the mattress as he was coming in ecstatic bursts that made him see stars. When his body sagged, totally drained, he felt Rodney lift his legs to his shoulders, part his butt cheeks, and slide back inside of him easily.

It felt so good John wished he could get hard again, but all he could do was moan as Rodney slowly withdrew and then pushed back in, no pain, just an easy glide that made John want to keep doing this until he ready to go again.

John mustered the strength to lift his hands, his arms just long enough to grab Rodney's ass and let his fingers slide into his crack and then slide further until his fingers were teasing his asshole. Rodney was still slick from when John had fucked him, and his fingers easily slid in. He couldn't reach far enough to touch Rodney's prostate, but considering the noises Rodney was making, it didn't matter.

Rodney's groan was deep and heartfelt as he pushed back against John's fingers and then into John. It only lasted a few thrusts and then John could feel Rodney's pucker spasm around his finger and felt Rodney come deep inside of him. John's arms dropped, letting the exhilarating exhaustion sweep over him. He felt Rodney's cock soften and slip out, then his legs were being lowered, and John mindlessly drifted into sleep.

*****

He had no idea how much time had passed when he woke up as he'd totally lost track during their sexual marathon. John reached out to find the bed empty. He heard a noise coming from the bathroom and realized Rodney must be taking care of business or maybe cleaning up. John didn't feel sticky, so Rodney must have cleaned him up already. For a few seconds he stretched in satiated luxury, enjoying the coolness of the sheets against his naked body.

Then, like a splash of cold water, he remembered Deanna's words. Would Rodney come out of the bathroom wondering why he was still there? Would John come knocking tomorrow night only to find that Deanna had beaten him to Rodney's bed? The delicious afterglow John had been feeling evaporated, leaving a queasy feeling in his stomach. Should he just get up and go? He'd rather make a preemptive strike and look like he was planning on leaving anyway, than have Rodney suggest it in a cutting and impatient voice.

Decided, John sat up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed, reaching for his boxers. He stood, put them on and grabbed for his pants.

Rodney came out of the bathroom and frowned at John.

John braced himself for whatever Rodney was about to say.

"Where are you going?" Rodney said in some confusion.

John stopped dressing with one pants leg on and one off. He hadn't been expecting those words. "Uh," was all he could manage.

"Get back in bed," Rodney said, annoyed.

John stared down at his groin. "Rodney, I appreciate your confidence, but I couldn't get it up again for all the chocolate in the universe."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "To sleep, idiot. Get back in bed."

"To sleep?"

"Yes, to sleep," Rodney said in his getting crankier voice. Then he shot John an apprehensive look. "Unless you don't want to stay." He sat on the bed and sort of hunched over.

"No," John said. "I definitely want to stay. I just wasn't sure if…" John suddenly had a flashback to earlier in the day when Rodney had been babbling at him, first in his lab, then in the cafeteria. Painfully babbling. Maybe trying to tell John he liked him babbling. That he wanted to be in a relationship with John babbling. He grinned at Rodney, slipping off his pants and boxers. "I definitely want to stay. Pretty much permanently."

The look of relief in Rodney's eyes would have been funny if John hadn't known it was probably echoed in his own eyes. "Good," Rodney said. "Good. That's good." When John continued to stand there, Rodney frowned. "Could we sleep now?"

John laughed. "Yeah, we can sleep now." He slipped into bed next to Rodney, feeling like everything was all right with his world. But then he frowned. "Hey, if someone knocks on your door in the middle of the night and it's not me, don't answer it."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Aren't you going to be here?"

"Yeah. So?" John was definitely going to be here. Maybe not all night, every night, but whenever he could.

"So, you're on that side of the bed. You can answer the door if someone knocks."

John grinned. He could do that. In fact, he'd enjoy the hell out of doing that. He sincerely hoped Deanna did drop by. John was perfectly willing to indulge his catty side. This sex god was out of business. "Hey, sex god," he said to Rodney with a grin.

Rodney opened his eyes, or at least he opened up the one eye that wasn't smushed into a pillow. "Please. If I'm a sex god, you're like a whole pantheon of gods. And, really? Sleep now. You wore me out."

Laughing, inordinately pleased with himself, with Rodney, with his whole life, Wraith aside, John decided he'd call on one of his pantheon of sex gods and try to make Rodney come one more time.

The End

April 26, 2006

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