kageygirl

Atlantis slash

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Atlantis kageygirl

The Heart of the Matter

Title: The Heart of the Matter

Author: kageygirl

E-mail: kageygirl@gmail.com

URL: http://www.kageygirl.com

Feedback: LiveJournal

Archive: Ask first.

Fandom: Stargate Atlantis

Pairing: McKay/Sheppard

Rating: NC-17

Feedback: Please and thank you.

Disclaimer: Have they been to the planet where the wearing of clothing is punishable by death? No? Then they ain't mine. No money being made here (though if the producers wanted to run with the "clothing=death" idea, I hereby cede all rights to it).

Summary: "Rodney liked being direct."

Rodney liked being direct. Direct was economical, and efficient, and he didn't have to worry about anything ridiculous like remembering which lie he'd told to whom. He'd never seen the point of being evasive or holding back the truth to spare someone else's feelings, because either they needed the information, in which case it made sense to deliver it as expeditiously as possible so that they could act on it, or they didn't need the information, in which case there was no reason to waste his time or theirs in idle chatter.

(It was a sad fact that most people didn't share his appreciation for what constituted important data, but then most people lacked Rodney's facility for anticipating alternate outcomes and planning for contingencies. He did his best to compensate for their lack of foresight. It was tiring, sometimes, but he'd resigned himself to that burden.)

He'd also resigned himself to having to deal with people who seemed to be trying to avoid the truth as assiduously as possible, so it was incredibly refreshing when someone else was direct with him.

John Sheppard moaned into his mouth as he buried his fingers in Rodney's hair, and Rodney had a second to think that maybe "refreshing" was entirely the wrong word, before his brain shut down from too much stimulation.

John's hands were already moving when he broke the kiss, running smoothly down Rodney's chest and straight to the zipper on his pants. If Rodney'd had any thoughts of protesting (which he didn't, because, hello, genius), they would have melted away at the feral look in John's eyes. Sort of the way his spine was melting as John growled into that spot on his neck, and Rodney was fairly certain that the hands he had braced against the lab counter behind him and John's body rubbing hotly against his were the only things keeping him upright.

Direct. Yes. Rodney was learning to appreciate the hell out of John's directness, because "John" and "direct" and "no immediate danger" usually resulted in Rodney coming so hard that he lost the ability to speak. And didn't care.

John had Rodney's pants open, and was dropping to his knees, staring up at Rodney with those wild eyes. Rodney was already completely hard, and when John wrapped a hand around him and licked his lips, Rodney throbbed so suddenly that he gasped. He tightened his fingers on the edge of the counter, and—oh god, it was good that he did, because John was trying to kill him with wet heat and suction and dangerously talented hands.

Rodney couldn't keep from thrusting, and John braced a hand against his hip to control the depth—but didn't stop him, and kept watching him, in that way that meant he wanted Rodney to lose it as quickly and completely as possible. Between the look and the hands and John's unbelievable mouth, Rodney was doomed, and he came, clutching the counter and panting, "Oh, god," and John devoured him with his eyes as he swallowed.

He wasn't up to forming words yet when John stood up, so Rodney just kissed him, tasting himself bitter on John's tongue, and John's hunger dark and needy, as he slid a thigh between Rodney's and rubbed himself against Rodney's hip.

Rodney unfastened John's belt and pants at the same time, letting the holster drag them down on one side so that he could get a hand on John. He smiled as John muttered, "Oh, yeah," and sagged forward, leaning his hands on the same counter that had held Rodney up. Rodney slid down from between John's arms and took John in his mouth, just as direct as John had been, because John was already so close, breathing unevenly and twitching his head to the side a little, staring through half-shut eyes. John was salty and hard and urgently solid in Rodney's mouth, and he jerked his hips once, twice, coming with a shuddering sigh.

Swiping the back of his hand across his mouth, Rodney scooted to one side and stood up, a little unsteady. John pulled his pants up slowly with a shaking hand, still resting the other on the counter, and gave Rodney an endearingly goofy grin.

Rodney leaned back on the counter in front of John and crossed his arms over his chest. He half-suspected that he was grinning just as stupidly, but he couldn't quite bring himself to care. "What brought this on?"

John eased in next to him, setting a hip against the counter. He brushed his cheek against Rodney's shoulder, nuzzling into his neck. "Are you complaining?"

Rodney slid a hand around John's waist, feeling the black shirt damp with perspiration. He chuckled softly. "Not even remotely. I just want to be sure to do it again as often as possible."

John blew out a breath against Rodney's shoulder and raised his head, looking almost—embarrassed?—but still smiling softly. He blinked a few times, and then said, "I was passing by the mess hall while you guys were having your big interdepartmental… thing."

"The interdisciplinary science team meeting?" What a monumental waste of time that had been—Rodney was utterly convinced that seventy-five percent of the people in the room had gotten their doctorates from Clown College. Rodney shook his head. "What about it?"

John ducked his head briefly, then looked up again. "Do you have any idea how hot you are when you're laying into someone?" He smirked. "Someone other than me, I mean."

Well, that was—nowhere near anything he thought John would say. Rodney took a breath. "So, you saw me trying to wade through the morass of idiocy in that room, and you had to drag me back here for—okay, very hot sex, which I approve of, don't get me wrong…"

John raised his eyebrows, trying to look innocent and only managing "even naughtier," and leaned in lick at Rodney's neck, right around the collar. "I like seeing you in your element. Very—commanding."

"Commanding."

"Yeah." John shrugged and bumped Rodney's shoulder with his own. "Very hot. From afar."

"From afar." Rodney brushed John's tousled hair off his forehead, then ran his fingers down John's cheek. "So, no new power games in the bedroom, then."

"Right." John rolled his eyes. "As if I didn't give you everything you asked for, anyway."

Rodney opened his mouth to argue, and John cut him off with a kiss. A long, slow, meandering kiss… that managed to get right to the point.