Fic: Atlantis Is For Lovers
Title: Atlantis Is For Lovers
Author: iamtheenemy
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Slight spoilers for The Return II
Word count: ~3400
Recipient: seiyaharris, who asked for, among other things, fluff and sex with clothes on. Hope you like it!
Summary: "You're the only person alive that demands his partner puts on clothes during sex, I hope you realize that." A Christmas gift leads to some fun between John and Rodney.
---
"Excuse me. Before the festivities begin, I wanted to say a few words," Elizabeth said, her clear voice carrying over the murmurings of the crowd gathered in the mess.
Rodney cut off the story he was regaling Ronon with mid-sentence and gave her his attention. Elizabeth was standing on a chair in the middle of the room, a glass of champagne in her hand.
"Even by our standards, this has been an...eventful year." She raised a wry eyebrow and Rodney chuckled along with the rest of the group at that, leaning against the table behind him and taking a drink from his beer.
Slowly, Elizabeth's smile dimmed as she became more somber. "This year has seen some terrible losses, as you all know. The brave men and women who gave their lives for this expedition will never be forgotten, even if it we are the only ones that truly understand their sacrifices."
She paused for a moment and glanced down. When she looked up again, her face was determinedly positive. "But today is a celebration, and we have plenty of things to be grateful for. A new ZPM -- and before you say it, Rodney: no, it's not as good as keeping all three, but so help me God..."
Laughter erupted from the crowd as she put on a mock-exasperated expression. Rodney smirked and raised his bottle in acknowledgment.
"It's been months since we've last encountered the Wraith," she continued. "And, most importantly, we're standing in Atlantis, the city of the Ancients. I can't think of a greater gift than that. So thank you all. It's an honor and a privilege to work along side such intelligent, resourceful, courageous people. Happy holidays, everyone. Dr. Hernandez is mixing drinks in the back, and our DJ, Major Lorne, wants you to know that he's taking requests. Enjoy yourselves tonight."
Everyone cheered as Elizabeth stepped down off of the chair and the first strains of The Macarena kicked in.
Rodney rolled his eyes heavenward. "Oh, did he have to?"
Teyla nudged through the crowd to stand at Ronon's side. "Major Lorne informed me that this song is accompanied by a dance traditional of your people."
"Traditional to Lorne's frat parties in 1995, maybe," Rodney responded.
"Careful, Rodney," John said, appearing at Rodney's elbow, voice rich with amusement, "I hear The Electric Slide is up next."
"Of course it is," Rodney said. "Whose bright idea was it to put Lorne in charge of the music?"
"He volunteered," John said.
"Of course he did."
"Cheer up, McKay!" Sheppard said. "It's Christmas! Everyone's happy, there's good food, and hey, there's even some of your stupid Canadian beer." He produced a bottle of Molson's from behind his back and handed it to Rodney. Rodney happened to know that it was John who added the beer onto the list for the Daedalus's last run, but he didn't mention it.
Instead, he hugged his third bottle of the night protectively to his chest. "Oh, and I suppose you prefer, what? Budweiser?"
Sheppard waved his own bottle of Samuel Adams in reply. Rodney snorted in derision, but couldn't help the small smile curling at the corners of his mouth. He was having a good time. Things had been quiet in Atlantis lately, relatively speaking, but it felt nice to get a chance to relax.
After two beers, he was starting to feel the heady buzz of intoxication. Living in the Pegasus Galaxy had definitely ruined his tolerance. And if nothing else, it was worth showing up just to watch Simpson and Kusanagi drag Zelenka onto the dance floor for The Macarena.
"Does anyone have a camera?" he demanded.
"Looks like Dr. Biro's beat you to it," Sheppard said, pointing to where Biro was snapping pictures of a miserable-looking Radek and cackling madly.
Rodney was about to head over and discuss blackmail material and appropriate compensation with her when he saw Cadman walking toward him, grinning mischievously. He groaned and took a fortifying swallow of his beer. That woman was a menace.
"Hey there, Rodney," she said.
"Lieutenant Cadman," he returned.
She cocked her evil blonde head at him and smirked. "You're just full of Christmas cheer, Scrooge. Always so friendly."
"Have I mentioned how glad I was that you agreed to take another tour in Atlantis?" Rodney asked, straightening his back. For some reason, talking to Cadman made him feel shorter.
"You didn't, actually," she responded.
He placed a hand on his chin and pretended to think. "Hmm...and why do you suppose that is?"
"Be nice, Rodney," Sheppard cut in, grinning. He still got a kick out of watching how flustered Cadman made Rodney, the bastard.
"Yeah, be nice, Rodney," Cadman repeated. "Or else you won't get your Christmas present."
Rodney raised an eyebrow, but before he could say anything, Cadman continued. "I brought enough for everyone, actually."
She flicked a bag at him, which he caught without thinking. The package was soft, and opening it revealed a folded blue t-shirt. Pulling it out of the bag, he opened it up and rolled his eyes when he saw the design on the front.
"Ha!" Sheppard said, looking over his shoulder. "That's hilarious!"
Stenciled on the shirt was an outline of their six-pronged city overlaid with the words, 'Atlantis is for lovers.'
"I had them made for everyone," Cadman told Sheppard. "I thought it was funny."
It looked like a jab at Carson from where Rodney was standing, but he kept that thought to himself. As harmless as she seemed then, in her festive red dress and done up hair, at the end of the day, Cadman was still an explosives expert and a marine, and Rodney wasn't stupid. Plus, she'd seen him naked. There was no way that combination of things could give him a win.
"What do you think, Rodney?" she asked.
"I'm trying to count up how many confidentiality regulations you broke getting this made," he answered, waving his hand at the ironed-on letters.
Cadman's eyes widened and she pressed her hand to her heart. "Aw, Rodney, but Denny's such a nice guy, and he swore on his mother's grave that he wouldn't tell anyone. I'm sure it'll be fine."
"Who's Denny?" Rodney asked.
"He made the shirts," Cadman said, and then laughed at his expression. "The name Atlantis isn't exactly a state secret, Rodney. He probably thought it was a band or something. Anyway, Lieutenant Powell has the box over by the bar. You can all grab one before you leave."
"Thanks, I will," John said, and Rodney rolled his eyes as Cadman moved on to Elizabeth and Parrish.
"Don't bother," he said, "you can have mine."
"That's a gift, Rodney. You can't give away a gift thirty seconds after you've received it," John said, crossing his arms and refusing to let Rodney nudge the bag into his hand.
"Indeed that would be quite rude," Teyla said.
"Indeed," John repeated, grinning. "You love novelty shirts, Rodney, and the only reason you don't want to keep this one is to stick it to Cadman, and that makes it even ruder."
"When did you become my mother, Sheppard?"
"It's Christmas," he replied.
"What? What does that even..." Rodney sputtered before John cut him off.
"I think you should wear it."
"Huh?" Rodney blinked at John as he tried to pick the thread of the conversation.
"The shirt," Sheppard clarified. "I think that you should put it on right now and wear it for the rest of the day."
"How drunk are you?" Rodney asked, giving him an incredulous look.
"Not very. Well, maybe a little." He leaned his hip against the table. "I'll get you to wear it by the end of the night."
"No, you won't," Rodney said, tossing the bag on the table for emphasis.
A slow grin spread over Sheppard's face and he shifted into Rodney's personal space. "I bet I will."
Rodney's eyebrows flew up in surprise, and he quickly looked around them to see if anyone else had noticed John's abnormal behavior. Rodney could tell that Ronon was regaling Teyla with one of his "hilarious" war stories by the way he mimed shooting his gun, and no one else seemed to be paying them any attention. Still, though, this was unlike Sheppard.
"Colonel, what the hell are you doing?" he asked.
"Having a little fun, Rodney. What do you think, wanna make it a bet?"
Rodney stared at him a moment, watching his face, before asking suspiciously, "Did you leave your drink alone at any point tonight?"
"No one drugged my drink," John said, rolling his eyes.
"You can't know that for sure. Some of the scientists are lonely, lonely people."
John chuckled in that way -- full-throated, deep and maybe a little weird -- that always managed to make Rodney half-hard. "Come on. What do you say?"
His hand grazed lightly against Rodney's on the table and Rodney took a long drink from his beer. "I'm going to lose," he said sadly, already resigning himself to his fate.
"Yeah, you are," Sheppard agreed. "Let me get you another drink."
As he made his way towards the bar, Rodney's eyes slid down to watch his ass. Oh, he was definitely going to lose, but getting a chance to see John this way -- flirty and a little reckless -- was a win of its own.
*
"Hey, buddy," Sheppard said, causing Rodney to startle.
He turned away from his conversation with Zelenka to see Sheppard standing beside him. A little too close, but that may have been Rodney's imagination. He had been on edge all night while Sheppard watched him from across the room, his hot gaze following Rodney wherever he went, and came up with new and interesting excuses to brush against him. Not the most nuanced seduction attempt, but the illicitness of it was making every brief touch sizzle across Rodney's nerves, and every time their eyes met, Rodney's dick gave an enthusiastic twitch.
"Brought you another beer," Sheppard said, plucking Rodney's empty bottle out of his hand and replacing it with a fresh one.
"Thanks," he said.
"So what are you guys talking about?" Sheppard asked, gesturing between Rodney and Zelenka.
"I am listing for Rodney the ways in which his theory about the Ancient..." Zelenka gestured vaguely with his hands, "television-shaped item we found last week is wrong, wrong, wrong. It is a long list."
"Well, with three 'wrongs' in there, it would have to be," Sheppard said, looking amused.
"Yes, both of you, ha ha. Look, all I'm saying is that if you look through the main..."
Rodney trailed off and watched helplessly as John tipped his head and took a long drink from his own beer bottle. When he pulled back, he blinked innocently at Rodney as the tip of his tongue came out to swipe across his bottom lip.
"You okay?" he asked.
"No, yes," Rodney said, shaking himself out of his stupor and turning back to Zelenka. "If you look through the mainframe, you'll see that it's not impossible to think that the Ancients had some sort of long range..."
"And it's also not impossible to think that I will finally give up this life of science to pursue my dream of the stage," Zelenka countered. "All the same, let's try to keep this argument within confines of probability."
"We're living on an alien planet in a galaxy largely populated by insect/human hybrids that can suck the life out of you with their hands," Rodney said. "Limiting ourselves to the probable makes as much sense as going to the zoo and only visiting the monkey house."
"Well, you guys have fun with that," John said. He clapped Rodney on the back and then let his fingers trace along the length of it as he pulled away, the slight pressure raising the hair on the back of his neck. "And hey, tell me when you figure out the television thing. It sounds interesting."
*
"Come on," John whispered to him some time later.
"What....yeah, okay," Rodney said when he noticed the hot look John was giving him.
"Let's get you back to your room," John said in a normal voice. "I think you've had a little too much to drink."
"Why do I have to be the drunk one?" Rodney asked, his voice pitched so only John could hear it.
"Because you are the drunk one," John answered, and then pulled sharply on Rodney's arm to keep him from banging into the doorway.
"You might be right about that," Rodney mused.
He followed John, careful to keep a respectable distance between them so he didn't risk pushing John's newfound lack of caution too far.
They were down to a skeleton crew on watch, and everyone else was at the party, so no one stopped them on their way to Rodney's quarters.
"Seriously, though, what was that back there? All that stuff with the bet?" he asked once his door had closed.
"It's Christmas, Rodney."
John dropped Cadman's shirt on the floor, shoved Rodney against the wall and trapped him there, bracketing Rodney's head with both of his hands.
"And if I had asked you the date, that would be a reasonable explanation," Rodney said. He struggled to keep his voice steady as John watched him, standing close enough that Rodney could feel his even breaths as a warm tickle on his skin. "Or perhaps if the question I'd posed was, 'what's with the red and green lights strung up all over the city?' In that case, your answer would also be appropriate."
The only response John gave was to curl one corner of his mouth upward and close the distance between them until their lips met.
He tasted like shitty American beer, but Rodney must have tasted like exquisite Canadian brew, so he didn't complain. John pressed a hand to the back of Rodney's neck, pulling him closer. When his tongue slipped past Rodney's parted lips, Rodney forced himself to pull back, breathing harshly.
"Don't think I can't see that you're manipulating me in order to win the bet," he panted. "I'm just choosing to go along with it for the moment."
"That's nice of you," John said, and then his mouth was back and the hand on Rodney's neck was massaging in slow, languorous strokes that left Rodney pliant almost against his will.
Sheppard's other hand trailed down Rodney's chest until it reached his nipple. Rodney groaned and bucked hard when the blunt edge of a thumbnail scraped across the nub over the thin material of his blue button down shirt. He squeezed his eyes shut, the combination of alcohol, adrenaline and John's body making him dizzy.
"Did you get me drunk on purpose?" he asked.
"You weren't exactly resisting," John said, and then leaned down to lap at the sensitive juncture of Rodney's neck and shoulder while continuing to thumb his nipple.
"That's sick," Rodney said, the click of the 'ck' in the back of his throat ending on a choke as Sheppard bit down.
"I'm competitive," John said with a shrug that Rodney could feel against his body. "And when you drink you get, you know...easy."
Rodney snorted. "Great rationalization. That's definitely not creepy at all. And I am not easy."
It was John's turn to scoff. "Please, after your fourth beer I could have fucked you in the middle of the dance floor while Livin' On A Prayer played, and you would have loved every minute of it." He shifted his position slightly against Rodney, and suddenly his thigh was between Rodney's legs, putting perfect pressure on Rodney's dick. Rodney groaned, a pitiful sound to his own ears, but John murmured, "Yeah, look at you."
Even as an embarrassed flush heated his cheeks, Rodney tipped his head back against the wall and ground into John's thigh.
"Fuck off," he gasped. "Fuck...just...John, come on."
Okay, Sheppard may have had a point, because he thrusting against John's thigh, wildly and disproportionately turned on for all that John had barely even touched him.
When he felt a hand palming his dick over his jeans, he knew he was gone.
"You're such a bastard. You're such a...please. Do it harder, John...I need just a little more...just a little..."
Rodney's boxers were soaked inside his jeans, and the sodden material slid over and against his dick deliciously as Sheppard stroked him, his face tucked into Rodney's neck. Rodney scrambled at John's shoulders, clutching for dear life.
John tightened his hand, jerking Rodney with long, strong pulls. "Better?"
"Yeah, yeah," he said, rocking into John's grip and closing his eyes.
He was there, he was almost there, so of course that's then Sheppard stopped touching him and took a step back. Rodney opened his eyes and glared at his smug face.
"You've got to be kidding me."
"Nope," John said, waving the bag at him.
"I could just..." Rodney made a move to shove his hand down his pants, but stopped short when he saw the look Sheppard was giving him. "I hate you."
"Why?" Sheppard said. "What's the big deal? It's a shirt; it's nothing."
"It's not about the shirt," Rodney argued, feeling his resolve weaken. "It's about pride, and you know it."
"You already said you were going to lose," Sheppard pointed out. "And what's pride compared to me making you come?"
He placed his hand back on Rodney's dick and rubbed lightly for emphasis.
"Oh, give me the shirt," Rodney said. He ripped off what he was wearing as Sheppard pulled the new out and let the bag flutter back to the floor. "You're the only person alive that demands his partner puts on clothes during sex, I hope you realize that." He dragged the shirt over his head and through his arms. "Happy?"
"Yup," Sheppard said, and then surprised Rodney by letting him go and joining him against the wall so that their shoulders touched.
"What are you doing?" Rodney demanded.
John turned his head and grinned. "Take what you need."
Rodney didn't have to be told twice. Pushing off of the wall, he draped himself over John's willing body and kissed him hard on the mouth.
"Your hand again, come on," he groaned.
John insinuated his hand between his own thigh and Rodney's dick rubbing insistently against it. The long fingers squeezing Rodney's jean-clad erection were all it took for Rodney to go hurtling over the edge. He came hard inside his pants, feeling wetness coat his stomach and start to drip down his legs.
"Shit, get...John, I need to get these off," he said, fumbling with his fly.
"You already got off," John protested, taking Rodney's wrist and guiding it into John's somehow-unbuttoned jeans.
Rodney let his fingers trail along the humid, sweaty skin of John's thigh a while before wrapping around John's dick and stroking firmly. John bit his own bottom lip and gripped hard on Rodney's forearm, as if to prevent Rodney from stopping.
"Is this the part where I say I'm going to write Cadman a thank you note?" Rodney asked as he carefully stroked his thumb over the tip of John's dick.
John stuttered a pained-sounding laugh. "Ask me again in about thirty seconds."
"Thirty," Rodney whispered in his ear, sucking the lobe briefly into his mouth, "twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven, twenty-six..."
"I said a...about," John gasped, and then he was shooting all over Rodney's hand and his boxers, bucking wildly.
"Let me help us get cleaned up," Rodney said after John had melted back against the wall. He peeled off his jeans and pulled Cadman's shirt over his head to deliberately wipe up the mess on his stomach.
"Never tell Cadman about this," John warned, taking the shirt from Rodney and cleaning himself.
"Oh yes, because I was so likely to," he returned. "So is this the part where I say..."
"Shut up, Rodney," John said, and kissed him.
##
Author: iamtheenemy
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Slight spoilers for The Return II
Word count: ~3400
Recipient: seiyaharris, who asked for, among other things, fluff and sex with clothes on. Hope you like it!
Summary: "You're the only person alive that demands his partner puts on clothes during sex, I hope you realize that." A Christmas gift leads to some fun between John and Rodney.
---
"Excuse me. Before the festivities begin, I wanted to say a few words," Elizabeth said, her clear voice carrying over the murmurings of the crowd gathered in the mess.
Rodney cut off the story he was regaling Ronon with mid-sentence and gave her his attention. Elizabeth was standing on a chair in the middle of the room, a glass of champagne in her hand.
"Even by our standards, this has been an...eventful year." She raised a wry eyebrow and Rodney chuckled along with the rest of the group at that, leaning against the table behind him and taking a drink from his beer.
Slowly, Elizabeth's smile dimmed as she became more somber. "This year has seen some terrible losses, as you all know. The brave men and women who gave their lives for this expedition will never be forgotten, even if it we are the only ones that truly understand their sacrifices."
She paused for a moment and glanced down. When she looked up again, her face was determinedly positive. "But today is a celebration, and we have plenty of things to be grateful for. A new ZPM -- and before you say it, Rodney: no, it's not as good as keeping all three, but so help me God..."
Laughter erupted from the crowd as she put on a mock-exasperated expression. Rodney smirked and raised his bottle in acknowledgment.
"It's been months since we've last encountered the Wraith," she continued. "And, most importantly, we're standing in Atlantis, the city of the Ancients. I can't think of a greater gift than that. So thank you all. It's an honor and a privilege to work along side such intelligent, resourceful, courageous people. Happy holidays, everyone. Dr. Hernandez is mixing drinks in the back, and our DJ, Major Lorne, wants you to know that he's taking requests. Enjoy yourselves tonight."
Everyone cheered as Elizabeth stepped down off of the chair and the first strains of The Macarena kicked in.
Rodney rolled his eyes heavenward. "Oh, did he have to?"
Teyla nudged through the crowd to stand at Ronon's side. "Major Lorne informed me that this song is accompanied by a dance traditional of your people."
"Traditional to Lorne's frat parties in 1995, maybe," Rodney responded.
"Careful, Rodney," John said, appearing at Rodney's elbow, voice rich with amusement, "I hear The Electric Slide is up next."
"Of course it is," Rodney said. "Whose bright idea was it to put Lorne in charge of the music?"
"He volunteered," John said.
"Of course he did."
"Cheer up, McKay!" Sheppard said. "It's Christmas! Everyone's happy, there's good food, and hey, there's even some of your stupid Canadian beer." He produced a bottle of Molson's from behind his back and handed it to Rodney. Rodney happened to know that it was John who added the beer onto the list for the Daedalus's last run, but he didn't mention it.
Instead, he hugged his third bottle of the night protectively to his chest. "Oh, and I suppose you prefer, what? Budweiser?"
Sheppard waved his own bottle of Samuel Adams in reply. Rodney snorted in derision, but couldn't help the small smile curling at the corners of his mouth. He was having a good time. Things had been quiet in Atlantis lately, relatively speaking, but it felt nice to get a chance to relax.
After two beers, he was starting to feel the heady buzz of intoxication. Living in the Pegasus Galaxy had definitely ruined his tolerance. And if nothing else, it was worth showing up just to watch Simpson and Kusanagi drag Zelenka onto the dance floor for The Macarena.
"Does anyone have a camera?" he demanded.
"Looks like Dr. Biro's beat you to it," Sheppard said, pointing to where Biro was snapping pictures of a miserable-looking Radek and cackling madly.
Rodney was about to head over and discuss blackmail material and appropriate compensation with her when he saw Cadman walking toward him, grinning mischievously. He groaned and took a fortifying swallow of his beer. That woman was a menace.
"Hey there, Rodney," she said.
"Lieutenant Cadman," he returned.
She cocked her evil blonde head at him and smirked. "You're just full of Christmas cheer, Scrooge. Always so friendly."
"Have I mentioned how glad I was that you agreed to take another tour in Atlantis?" Rodney asked, straightening his back. For some reason, talking to Cadman made him feel shorter.
"You didn't, actually," she responded.
He placed a hand on his chin and pretended to think. "Hmm...and why do you suppose that is?"
"Be nice, Rodney," Sheppard cut in, grinning. He still got a kick out of watching how flustered Cadman made Rodney, the bastard.
"Yeah, be nice, Rodney," Cadman repeated. "Or else you won't get your Christmas present."
Rodney raised an eyebrow, but before he could say anything, Cadman continued. "I brought enough for everyone, actually."
She flicked a bag at him, which he caught without thinking. The package was soft, and opening it revealed a folded blue t-shirt. Pulling it out of the bag, he opened it up and rolled his eyes when he saw the design on the front.
"Ha!" Sheppard said, looking over his shoulder. "That's hilarious!"
Stenciled on the shirt was an outline of their six-pronged city overlaid with the words, 'Atlantis is for lovers.'
"I had them made for everyone," Cadman told Sheppard. "I thought it was funny."
It looked like a jab at Carson from where Rodney was standing, but he kept that thought to himself. As harmless as she seemed then, in her festive red dress and done up hair, at the end of the day, Cadman was still an explosives expert and a marine, and Rodney wasn't stupid. Plus, she'd seen him naked. There was no way that combination of things could give him a win.
"What do you think, Rodney?" she asked.
"I'm trying to count up how many confidentiality regulations you broke getting this made," he answered, waving his hand at the ironed-on letters.
Cadman's eyes widened and she pressed her hand to her heart. "Aw, Rodney, but Denny's such a nice guy, and he swore on his mother's grave that he wouldn't tell anyone. I'm sure it'll be fine."
"Who's Denny?" Rodney asked.
"He made the shirts," Cadman said, and then laughed at his expression. "The name Atlantis isn't exactly a state secret, Rodney. He probably thought it was a band or something. Anyway, Lieutenant Powell has the box over by the bar. You can all grab one before you leave."
"Thanks, I will," John said, and Rodney rolled his eyes as Cadman moved on to Elizabeth and Parrish.
"Don't bother," he said, "you can have mine."
"That's a gift, Rodney. You can't give away a gift thirty seconds after you've received it," John said, crossing his arms and refusing to let Rodney nudge the bag into his hand.
"Indeed that would be quite rude," Teyla said.
"Indeed," John repeated, grinning. "You love novelty shirts, Rodney, and the only reason you don't want to keep this one is to stick it to Cadman, and that makes it even ruder."
"When did you become my mother, Sheppard?"
"It's Christmas," he replied.
"What? What does that even..." Rodney sputtered before John cut him off.
"I think you should wear it."
"Huh?" Rodney blinked at John as he tried to pick the thread of the conversation.
"The shirt," Sheppard clarified. "I think that you should put it on right now and wear it for the rest of the day."
"How drunk are you?" Rodney asked, giving him an incredulous look.
"Not very. Well, maybe a little." He leaned his hip against the table. "I'll get you to wear it by the end of the night."
"No, you won't," Rodney said, tossing the bag on the table for emphasis.
A slow grin spread over Sheppard's face and he shifted into Rodney's personal space. "I bet I will."
Rodney's eyebrows flew up in surprise, and he quickly looked around them to see if anyone else had noticed John's abnormal behavior. Rodney could tell that Ronon was regaling Teyla with one of his "hilarious" war stories by the way he mimed shooting his gun, and no one else seemed to be paying them any attention. Still, though, this was unlike Sheppard.
"Colonel, what the hell are you doing?" he asked.
"Having a little fun, Rodney. What do you think, wanna make it a bet?"
Rodney stared at him a moment, watching his face, before asking suspiciously, "Did you leave your drink alone at any point tonight?"
"No one drugged my drink," John said, rolling his eyes.
"You can't know that for sure. Some of the scientists are lonely, lonely people."
John chuckled in that way -- full-throated, deep and maybe a little weird -- that always managed to make Rodney half-hard. "Come on. What do you say?"
His hand grazed lightly against Rodney's on the table and Rodney took a long drink from his beer. "I'm going to lose," he said sadly, already resigning himself to his fate.
"Yeah, you are," Sheppard agreed. "Let me get you another drink."
As he made his way towards the bar, Rodney's eyes slid down to watch his ass. Oh, he was definitely going to lose, but getting a chance to see John this way -- flirty and a little reckless -- was a win of its own.
*
"Hey, buddy," Sheppard said, causing Rodney to startle.
He turned away from his conversation with Zelenka to see Sheppard standing beside him. A little too close, but that may have been Rodney's imagination. He had been on edge all night while Sheppard watched him from across the room, his hot gaze following Rodney wherever he went, and came up with new and interesting excuses to brush against him. Not the most nuanced seduction attempt, but the illicitness of it was making every brief touch sizzle across Rodney's nerves, and every time their eyes met, Rodney's dick gave an enthusiastic twitch.
"Brought you another beer," Sheppard said, plucking Rodney's empty bottle out of his hand and replacing it with a fresh one.
"Thanks," he said.
"So what are you guys talking about?" Sheppard asked, gesturing between Rodney and Zelenka.
"I am listing for Rodney the ways in which his theory about the Ancient..." Zelenka gestured vaguely with his hands, "television-shaped item we found last week is wrong, wrong, wrong. It is a long list."
"Well, with three 'wrongs' in there, it would have to be," Sheppard said, looking amused.
"Yes, both of you, ha ha. Look, all I'm saying is that if you look through the main..."
Rodney trailed off and watched helplessly as John tipped his head and took a long drink from his own beer bottle. When he pulled back, he blinked innocently at Rodney as the tip of his tongue came out to swipe across his bottom lip.
"You okay?" he asked.
"No, yes," Rodney said, shaking himself out of his stupor and turning back to Zelenka. "If you look through the mainframe, you'll see that it's not impossible to think that the Ancients had some sort of long range..."
"And it's also not impossible to think that I will finally give up this life of science to pursue my dream of the stage," Zelenka countered. "All the same, let's try to keep this argument within confines of probability."
"We're living on an alien planet in a galaxy largely populated by insect/human hybrids that can suck the life out of you with their hands," Rodney said. "Limiting ourselves to the probable makes as much sense as going to the zoo and only visiting the monkey house."
"Well, you guys have fun with that," John said. He clapped Rodney on the back and then let his fingers trace along the length of it as he pulled away, the slight pressure raising the hair on the back of his neck. "And hey, tell me when you figure out the television thing. It sounds interesting."
*
"Come on," John whispered to him some time later.
"What....yeah, okay," Rodney said when he noticed the hot look John was giving him.
"Let's get you back to your room," John said in a normal voice. "I think you've had a little too much to drink."
"Why do I have to be the drunk one?" Rodney asked, his voice pitched so only John could hear it.
"Because you are the drunk one," John answered, and then pulled sharply on Rodney's arm to keep him from banging into the doorway.
"You might be right about that," Rodney mused.
He followed John, careful to keep a respectable distance between them so he didn't risk pushing John's newfound lack of caution too far.
They were down to a skeleton crew on watch, and everyone else was at the party, so no one stopped them on their way to Rodney's quarters.
"Seriously, though, what was that back there? All that stuff with the bet?" he asked once his door had closed.
"It's Christmas, Rodney."
John dropped Cadman's shirt on the floor, shoved Rodney against the wall and trapped him there, bracketing Rodney's head with both of his hands.
"And if I had asked you the date, that would be a reasonable explanation," Rodney said. He struggled to keep his voice steady as John watched him, standing close enough that Rodney could feel his even breaths as a warm tickle on his skin. "Or perhaps if the question I'd posed was, 'what's with the red and green lights strung up all over the city?' In that case, your answer would also be appropriate."
The only response John gave was to curl one corner of his mouth upward and close the distance between them until their lips met.
He tasted like shitty American beer, but Rodney must have tasted like exquisite Canadian brew, so he didn't complain. John pressed a hand to the back of Rodney's neck, pulling him closer. When his tongue slipped past Rodney's parted lips, Rodney forced himself to pull back, breathing harshly.
"Don't think I can't see that you're manipulating me in order to win the bet," he panted. "I'm just choosing to go along with it for the moment."
"That's nice of you," John said, and then his mouth was back and the hand on Rodney's neck was massaging in slow, languorous strokes that left Rodney pliant almost against his will.
Sheppard's other hand trailed down Rodney's chest until it reached his nipple. Rodney groaned and bucked hard when the blunt edge of a thumbnail scraped across the nub over the thin material of his blue button down shirt. He squeezed his eyes shut, the combination of alcohol, adrenaline and John's body making him dizzy.
"Did you get me drunk on purpose?" he asked.
"You weren't exactly resisting," John said, and then leaned down to lap at the sensitive juncture of Rodney's neck and shoulder while continuing to thumb his nipple.
"That's sick," Rodney said, the click of the 'ck' in the back of his throat ending on a choke as Sheppard bit down.
"I'm competitive," John said with a shrug that Rodney could feel against his body. "And when you drink you get, you know...easy."
Rodney snorted. "Great rationalization. That's definitely not creepy at all. And I am not easy."
It was John's turn to scoff. "Please, after your fourth beer I could have fucked you in the middle of the dance floor while Livin' On A Prayer played, and you would have loved every minute of it." He shifted his position slightly against Rodney, and suddenly his thigh was between Rodney's legs, putting perfect pressure on Rodney's dick. Rodney groaned, a pitiful sound to his own ears, but John murmured, "Yeah, look at you."
Even as an embarrassed flush heated his cheeks, Rodney tipped his head back against the wall and ground into John's thigh.
"Fuck off," he gasped. "Fuck...just...John, come on."
Okay, Sheppard may have had a point, because he thrusting against John's thigh, wildly and disproportionately turned on for all that John had barely even touched him.
When he felt a hand palming his dick over his jeans, he knew he was gone.
"You're such a bastard. You're such a...please. Do it harder, John...I need just a little more...just a little..."
Rodney's boxers were soaked inside his jeans, and the sodden material slid over and against his dick deliciously as Sheppard stroked him, his face tucked into Rodney's neck. Rodney scrambled at John's shoulders, clutching for dear life.
John tightened his hand, jerking Rodney with long, strong pulls. "Better?"
"Yeah, yeah," he said, rocking into John's grip and closing his eyes.
He was there, he was almost there, so of course that's then Sheppard stopped touching him and took a step back. Rodney opened his eyes and glared at his smug face.
"You've got to be kidding me."
"Nope," John said, waving the bag at him.
"I could just..." Rodney made a move to shove his hand down his pants, but stopped short when he saw the look Sheppard was giving him. "I hate you."
"Why?" Sheppard said. "What's the big deal? It's a shirt; it's nothing."
"It's not about the shirt," Rodney argued, feeling his resolve weaken. "It's about pride, and you know it."
"You already said you were going to lose," Sheppard pointed out. "And what's pride compared to me making you come?"
He placed his hand back on Rodney's dick and rubbed lightly for emphasis.
"Oh, give me the shirt," Rodney said. He ripped off what he was wearing as Sheppard pulled the new out and let the bag flutter back to the floor. "You're the only person alive that demands his partner puts on clothes during sex, I hope you realize that." He dragged the shirt over his head and through his arms. "Happy?"
"Yup," Sheppard said, and then surprised Rodney by letting him go and joining him against the wall so that their shoulders touched.
"What are you doing?" Rodney demanded.
John turned his head and grinned. "Take what you need."
Rodney didn't have to be told twice. Pushing off of the wall, he draped himself over John's willing body and kissed him hard on the mouth.
"Your hand again, come on," he groaned.
John insinuated his hand between his own thigh and Rodney's dick rubbing insistently against it. The long fingers squeezing Rodney's jean-clad erection were all it took for Rodney to go hurtling over the edge. He came hard inside his pants, feeling wetness coat his stomach and start to drip down his legs.
"Shit, get...John, I need to get these off," he said, fumbling with his fly.
"You already got off," John protested, taking Rodney's wrist and guiding it into John's somehow-unbuttoned jeans.
Rodney let his fingers trail along the humid, sweaty skin of John's thigh a while before wrapping around John's dick and stroking firmly. John bit his own bottom lip and gripped hard on Rodney's forearm, as if to prevent Rodney from stopping.
"Is this the part where I say I'm going to write Cadman a thank you note?" Rodney asked as he carefully stroked his thumb over the tip of John's dick.
John stuttered a pained-sounding laugh. "Ask me again in about thirty seconds."
"Thirty," Rodney whispered in his ear, sucking the lobe briefly into his mouth, "twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven, twenty-six..."
"I said a...about," John gasped, and then he was shooting all over Rodney's hand and his boxers, bucking wildly.
"Let me help us get cleaned up," Rodney said after John had melted back against the wall. He peeled off his jeans and pulled Cadman's shirt over his head to deliberately wipe up the mess on his stomach.
"Never tell Cadman about this," John warned, taking the shirt from Rodney and cleaning himself.
"Oh yes, because I was so likely to," he returned. "So is this the part where I say..."
"Shut up, Rodney," John said, and kissed him.
##