Chapter 1: I Hear It Rolls Downhill

Shit happens. In the Pegasus galaxy, shit happens a lot. Usually, it's weird shit, but this time it was just regular, normal shit. Except that it was two inches deep in three large rooms without drains in their floors. And, the way of the world being what it was, John's team just happened to be the one that found the shit.

"Holy shit!" Bates found it first; his initial step into the room splashing the rank water up and onto his uniform pants.

"No," John said. "Just looks like shit, nothing holy about it." He keyed his radio. "Sheppard to Weir, we found something."

Weir's voice came back, crystal clear. "What did you find, John?"

"My bet's Ancient septic tank failure. We've got raw sewage over a couple of rooms down here."

"Ew." John marveled at Elizabeth's command of descriptive English.

"Agreed," he replied.

"I'll get someone on it. Can you continue your exploration?"

"Yes, but I'm sending Bates back. He stinks. Sheppard out." John's look stopped Bates from protesting. "Seriously, you stink. Go change." John watched as Bates trudged off, leaving a few damp footprints in his wake. "All right," he said, his wave encompassing the rest of his team. "Let's keep going, and watch where you step."

Five hours later, John stepped into the main physics lab. Rodney swung around from his workbench and thrust a finger at John's chest. "Where have you been?"

John looked down at the accusatory finger. "Did I miss something? Are we married?"

Rodney's expression didn't change. "Is that your idea of a proposal?"

John looked from the finger to Rodney's face and back. "Okay, I'm gonna go back outside and start over. Let's do this again, this time with less of the crazy. Wait here."

When he came back in, Rodney was seated in his chair, typing.

"Hello, Dr. McKay," John said slowly.

"Major," Rodney replied. "Did you find any spectacularly interesting or useful Ancient devices and then go and have a leisurely shower and possibly a manicure before coming to tell me?"

"No, I found about a thousand square feet of sewer backup, seventeen empty rooms and a storage closet full of broken glass. Then I had a shower."

"No manicure?"

John glanced down at his nails, clean but ragged. "No such luck. Weir said you wanted me?"

Rodney waved to a small pile of Ancient devices on the counter. "Touch those, one at a time."

John sighed and picked up the one with the green stones first.

Rodney was irritated. Irritation was pretty much his normal state, but he was really irritated. Out of the pile of Ancient bits and pieces, none of which would respond to his gene, only two reacted to the Major. One lit up and sent out a high-pitched squeak, producing an answering squeak from a different device in a different lab. The second flashed sluggishly when John touched it. On a whim, Rodney walked over and touched the dull golden oval cradled in John's hand.

That's when things got interesting.

"A personal ZPM?" Elizabeth's voice was strangled, as if Rodney had suddenly sprouted wings and flown into her office.

"Yes!" "No!" John and Rodney said at the same time.

"You said it was," John said, turning to Rodney.

"No, I said it was like a personal ZPM. I was just simplifying. It's more of a personal power device, not nearly as powerful as a ZPM."

"You could have just said that; that was pretty simple," John groused.

"Gentlemen!" Elizabeth snapped, hands on her hips. "What can we do with it?"

"Okay," Rodney said. "Stay right there."

John sighed deeply, but remained still while Rodney rolled his chair from one work station to another, busily typing and pointing and clicking and scowling. The personal power device lay quietly in his palm, flashing weakly. Rodney rolled his chair over, stopping himself by crashing his knees into John's.

"Ow," John remarked mildly. "Again."

Rodney waved the complaint away and hovered his fingers over the device, staring intently at it. "Radek?"

"Ready," Zelenka replied from behind a bank of consoles.

Rodney leaned in and brushed his fingers over the personal power device, smiling as it lit up.

"Is the collection grid holding?" Rodney asked, staring at the device hungrily.

"Is holding; power surge is nominal. Proceed." Zelenka pushed his glasses up.

Rodney clasped John's hand and the device between both of his, watching intently as the lights got brighter and flashed faster.

"Power building," Zelenka noted. "But it is fluctuating."

Rodney pulled his eyes away from their linked hands to scowl at John. "Think...smoother," he hissed.

"Smoother?"

"You know, less choppy. Think about, I don't know, accelerating on the highway or taking off in a plane - a slow build."

Just for grins John thought about foreplay. A shower of sparks shot out of one of Radek's monitors, causing him to drop to the ground. Rodney snatched his hands back from John's and stared at him.

"You must really like flying."

Chapter 2: Close Cover Before Striking

Elizabeth was ecstatic. The testing of the personal power device was coming along nicely. Well, except for Dr. Zelenka's eyebrows, which now sported a military crew cut. She grimaced at the thought - the man could be very vocal when angry; also very vindictive, if the stories were to be believed. She made a mental note to tell Major Sheppard to pay close attention to his personal effects for a few days - hair gel was notoriously easy to sabotage.

She reached up and keyed her radio. "Dr. McKay? How's the testing going?"

"Poorly," McKay replied. "For some reason, the device doesn't work as well with Carson. Like most of Atlantis, it seems to prefer the Major." Rodney sounded even more put out than usual.

"Well," Elizabeth replied. "John's gene is the strongest. Have you tried pairing him up with Carson or anyone else?"

"I'd love to." Rodney's tone was drier than a cheap chardonnay. "He claimed he had some paperwork to do and disappeared two hours ago. He's not answering my calls."

"Let's allow him a little more time to himself and then I'll ask him to return to your lab, okay?"

"I guess," Rodney said. "I'm sending Carson back to the infirmary. I might as well go have dinner. McKay out."

Rodney found John in the mess hall, swirling his spoon through something brown and viscous on his plate. The spoon left a distinct trail in the substance; it then oozed slowly to fill in the rut.

"Is that gravy?" Rodney asked, placing his tray beside John's and sitting down.

"They say it's pudding," John answered, dragging the spoon to create a twisting riverbed in the gravy-pudding.

"What's it taste like?"

"I don't know." The riverbed turned into a streambed, then disappeared.

Rodney stuck his index finger into the brown glop and licked it clean. "Huh, tastes like tapioca. And gravy."

John dropped the spoon onto his tray and slid it away from him.

Rodney picked up his fork in one hand and used the other to deftly slip the personal power device under John's hand on the table. It flashed happily.

"Give it a rest," John complained, snatching his hand away. "I'm tired of touching your thing."

Rodney simply looked at him, a piece of green-ish vegetable hanging off his fork in mid-air.

"You know what I mean. Didn't Beckett make the egg work?"

"The egg? And you had a problem with 'gateship'?" Rodney speared a piece of meat on his fork and swirled it through the pudding-gravy on John's tray before eating it, nodding happily at the taste. "Not bad."

"Seriously, let it go," John replied, using his napkin to cover the alleged pudding. "So, Beckett? The egg?"

"It likes you better - Carson and I could only get the low level energy flow. Maybe you and Carson can do better." Rodney glanced up hopefully, watching as John ran a hand through his hair.

"You know I hate being stuck in the lab, right?"

"Yes, yes," Rodney said. "But I need you for this. I have a theory."

"You always have a theory."

"Well, this one is even more brilliant than usual. I think that the...egg is sensitive to physical and mental manipulation."

"We already know that," John said. "You know, like all the other Ancient technology."

"No, really? I hadn't noticed," Rodney deadpanned.

"You're getting sarcasm in the gravy."

"Well, stop dripping stupid everywhere."

"Okay, I give." John leaned an elbow on the table and cupped his chin in his palm. "What's the more brilliant than usual part?"

"Heh. Two people, one egg - two people thinking in tandem. That should generate a ton of power."

John perked up at that. "Define 'a ton'."

"Enough to open the Stargate to Earth. At will."

John whistled quietly. "That's big."

"Oh, yeah. I'm thinking the cover of Time."

"So you think it'll work best with you and me?"

"Empirical evidence suggests that you and I are the best combination," Rodney said. "As long as we think about the same thing at the same time, we should be able to generate and store energy from the device pretty easily."

John considered that for a moment, smiling to himself. "What do we have to think about?"

"Oh, whatever you were thinking about when you flash-fried Radek's head should be fine."

Chapter 3: Great Minds

John tried to keep his eyes on Rodney, but couldn't help glancing over at Radek from time to time. The man looked really...weird with mostly singed-off eyebrows. John thought about the half-bottle of tequila in his quarters, thought about giving it to Radek in apology, because a pissed-off scientist could ruin your whole day.

The small lab was set up much like a recording studio, with a glass-walled isolation booth at its center. John was seated on a tall stool in the booth, next to another stool and a table, which held a variety of equipment, the quiescent egg balanced in the middle. Rodney and Radek were in the main part of the lab, fiddling with the banks of equipment. Zelenka was wearing a fire-proof coverall and had what looked like a welder's face mask flipped up onto the top of his head.

"Major, please activate the device." Rodney's voice came over John's radio.

John reached out and stroked one finger over the slick surface of the egg. It began flashing.

Rodney conferred with Zelenka for another minute, then entered the isolation booth, closing the door behind him. "Okay, we're ready. Do you have all your sensors on?"

John pulled the neck of his tee shirt aside to show the wires snaking down to the electrodes on his chest and back and nodded.

Rodney keyed his radio. "Ready to begin, Radek." He touched the tip of his index finger to the egg and gestured for John to do the same.

As John touched the device, he felt the same sensation as when he touched any Ancient equipment - a ripple of...something...coursed through his body, and he relaxed, letting the feeling of connection settle into his bones.

"We have baseline reading." Radek's voice was loud in John's radio. "Begin when ready."

"Okay," Rodney said. "Let's go." He looked expectantly at John.

John looked back. "What?"

"Well, think!"

John thought. He thought about the steady acceleration of taking a plane down a runway. The lights on the egg flashed erratically, and the monitoring equipment followed suit.

"Stop." Rodney's voice was flat. "Radek, was that as uncontrolled as I think it was?"

"Yes," Radek said.

Rodney removed his hand from the egg and put his elbows on the table. He cupped his chin in his hand a stared at John, a calculating look on his face. "Major," he said. "We need to be on the exact same page here. And when I say exact, I mean just that. Tell me what you're thinking about."

John pulled his hand away from the egg and ran it through his hair. "I'm thinking about flying, about what it feels like when you're heading down a runway to take off. The way the pressure builds up exponentially, pressing you back into your seat - the excitement of getting ready to get off the ground...what?"

Rodney was grinning, his eyes sparkling. "Major, that was almost pornographic. I'm just sorry I don't have the same frame of reference. I don't really like flying, and the only thing I've taken off in is a puddle jumper, which has inertial dampeners."

"Okay," John said, trying to think of something, anything that would get him out of telling Rodney what he'd really been thinking about during the eyebrow incident. "Football?"

"Hockey."

"Skiing?"

"Yeah, right." Rodney's expression was sour. "Eating?"

"Not exactly an uplifting experience for me," John said.

"Not even eating pizza?" Rodney countered. "The way it looks, all hot and bubbly - the smell of melted cheese. The taste of the Canadian bacon, all savory and crisp, and the sweetness of the pineapple..."

"Pineapple?" John was scandalized. "You eat pineapple and Canadian bacon on pizza? I am so thoroughly grossed out right now."

"Philistine. What about math?"

"I like math," John said.

Rodney keyed his radio. "Radek, we're ready to try again."

"Ready," Zelenka replied.

John and Rodney each placed a finger back on the egg, which flashed happily at them.

Rodney blew out a breath. "Here we go. Okay, an equation. It's on the whiteboard, and it looks pretty straight-forward. You look at it, checking it out, noting all the variables..."

"Yeah," John said, feeling himself relax. The lights on the egg flashed lazily and a low hum emanated from it.

"Okay," Rodney's voice smoothed out, getting deeper and slower. "You isolate the terms..."

"Stop, stop, stop!" Zelenka's voice over the radios broke the mood. "That's all well and good, but it's too low level."

Rodney blinked slowly for a second, then snapped his fingers. "Major, you find math relaxing, don't you?"

"Well, yeah," John said. It was true; he did find math relaxing. It was like brain yoga.

"Radek, why don't you take a break," Rodney said. They both watched as Zelenka left his work station and headed for the coffee machine in the corner. Rodney reached up and removed his radio's earpiece and gestured for John to do the same.

John laid the headset on the table between them and waited.

"Isn't it time you told me what you were really thinking about when you caused the overload, Major?"

John considered lying. He could lie. He was even pretty good at it. He had the knack of faking sincerity when he needed to. He looked at Rodney, then back at their radios lying on the table.

"Sex," he admitted, glancing at Rodney.

Rodney's blank look cracked around a small smile. The small smile widened into a huge grin. "Now, that I can work with."

Chapter 4: Progress, Not Perfection

"You can?"

"Well, yeah." Rodney's smile dropped away and he gave John a hard look. "Please, Major - tell me you didn't buy into the stereotype of geeks never having sex. Most research labs have comfy couches for a reason."

John could feel himself blushing. He hated to blush. "No, I..." he stammered. "I was just kind of embarrassed."

"Don't be," Rodney said. "No shame allowed in the pursuit of science and my eventual Nobel Prize." He rubbed his hands together and reached for the egg. "Let's go - let's think about sex."

John recoiled, holding his hands up in a warding gesture. "Slow down, Rodney."

Rodney smirked. Loudly.

John slumped in his seat and let his hands fall back onto the table.

"Look," Rodney said. "We can leave the radios off, so there won't be any recordings. Don't wimp out on me now."

John scrubbed his palms over his face. "Oh, thank you so much for saying 'recordings', Rodney. That didn't inhibit me at all."

"Since when are you a blushing virgin, Major? Just touch the egg and pay attention - I'll lead."

"This isn't getting any less disturbing." John sighed and reached out to touch the egg, resolutely closing his eyes.

Rodney reached out and keyed his radio. "Radek, get ready - this should be good." He released the radio and placed his fingers on his side of the egg. "Ready?" he asked John.

"Ready, I guess."

"Okay," Rodney said. "We'll skip the humiliations of dating and all that and just go for the good bits, right?"

"Disturbing," John muttered.

"Shhh. You're in bed, and not one of these stupid, narrow Ancient beds, either. One of those wide hotel beds, the kind with 600 thread-count sheets that are soft and crisp and cool under you. The pillows are fluffy and soft; they just cradle your head. The lights are off, and the drapes are open and the lights from the city...Toronto, no - New York, Manhattan, are shining in." Rodney's voice slowed as he spoke, getting deeper and softer.

John relaxed, almost able to feel the bed at his back. Rodney was right - beds in Atlantis left a lot to be desired. John could remember a bed just like the one Rodney was describing. He'd stayed at a New York City hotel once, on a trip with a former girlfriend. She'd gone out to dinner with friends and he had begged off and spent the evening relaxing and looking at the glittering skyline. The girlfriend hadn't lasted, but the memory of that bed was still there. John could feel the egg vibrating slightly under his hand - he could feel the energy building up, being transferred to the collector. It was working.

"You're stretched out on top of the sheets, waiting," Rodney continued. "Your eyes are closed, but you can hear someone else moving around the room, and you're waiting for them to join you. After a bit, the bed dips down, and you can sense them leaning in, closer. You can feel their breath on your face, light and feathery."

John shifted in his chair, leaning forward. He slid more of his hand over the egg; it wanted him to hold it. He didn't know how he knew that, but he did. He carefully slipped his hand under the device and cupped it gently. John sighed as Rodney's hand slipped forward to cover the top of the egg, clasping it between their palms. The energy thrummed languidly through John's bones.

Rodney made a low "hmmmm"-ing noise as their hands joined, and John wondered if he, too, could feel the energy.

What John could feel was the heat of Rodney's skin at the places on the edges of their hands where they touched and the steady beat of Rodney's pulse under his fingertips as they rested on the soft, thin skin of the inside of his wrist. It seemed odd that Rodney's skin should be so delicate, since much of him was so relentlessly shielded in a carapace of bluster and sarcasm and snark. John couldn't help curling his fingers just enough to let his blunt nails scrape lightly against Rodney's skin, and that's when things got strange.

"Kisses." Rodney's voice was husky as he said the word. "Soft ones, barely there, gusting over your forehead and eyebrows and temples."

John made a small sound, because suddenly he was there, lying on those soft/crisp sheets, with Rodney - Rodney - leaning over him and brushing unbelievably soft lips over his skin. And just then, John realized that he was hard. Not interested-hard; committed-hard.

A flood of tinny Czech cursing came shrilly over the radio and their eyes snapped open. Just in time to see a cascade of sparks bounce over Zelenka's welder's mask.

Chapter 5: See Conversation (comma) uncomfortable

John stayed in his seat while Rodney checked the equipment and told Zelenka to calm down. The equipment took it rather better than Radek, who stomped off, throwing black looks and Czech curses over his lightly toasted shoulder.

While he was talking his erection down, John considered what he might say if Rodney mentioned the hyper-vivid hallucinatory sex fantasies. Then he considered the mathematical possibilities of opening a wormhole with his brain and running away. He was still looking down at the tabletop and panicking when Rodney slipped back onto his own stool.

"Scientific curiosity or denial?" Rodney asked.

John glanced up. "I'm in the Air Force."

"Denial, then." Rodney sighed. "I expected better of you, Major."

"Why?"

"I'm an optimist, I guess. Oh, except that I'm not." Rodney toyed with his radio, still lying on the table.

John watched from under his eyelashes. He'd never noticed how big Rodney's hands were, how delicately he moved his long, tapered fingers on equipment. Rodney stroked down the slender bar of the radio's boom microphone, and John wondered if that fingertip was as callused as his own, or if it was soft and smooth. He made himself look away.

"Look, Major," Rodney said, squaring his shoulders. "We have a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity here to break all kinds of barriers and rewrite the law of physics..."

John interrupted. "I have tequila," he said.

"Thank God," Rodney replied.

By unspoken agreement they remained silent as they made their way to John's quarters, though they took the long way around, neatly avoiding both the labs and Zelenka's quarters. Once they arrived, John retrieved the bottle, two shot glasses and a salt shaker that closely resembled the ones in the mess hall and placed them reverently on the large, solid square of something that acted as a table in front of his small couch. He kicked off his shoes, took off his jacket, opened the bottle and poured.

"It won't be the same without the lime," John said, licking the back of his thumb and sprinkling it with salt.

"Yeah, I'll miss the wheezing death so much." Rodney took off his own shoes and jacket, then tossed back his shot, his body giving off a tiny shudder as the liquor burned its way down. John noted the slight downturn to Rodney's mouth and wondered if it was for the sharp taste of the tequila or the upcoming conversation.

Rodney refilled their glasses and reached for the salt. "So, how many shots before we can discuss this?"

"All of them," John said. "Everywhere."

"De-nial," Rodney said, drawing the word out into a jaunty little tune.

John licked his salty thumb and drank his shot in answer.

Rodney drank again, then reached for the bottle.

"Did you get the feelie-vision porno, too?" he asked.

John fell back onto the sofa, draping one forearm across his eyes.

"I'll take that as a yes," Rodney said, picking up both shots and holding one out to John. "I'll also take your horrified posture to mean that you're straight."

John sat up and reached for the glass, then clinked it against Rodney's. "Not completely," he said, then drank. When Rodney simply stared at him with an open mouth, John swiped the shot glass hanging from his lax fingers and drank it, too.

It took Rodney a minute to find his vocabulary. "N-not completely horrified, or not completely straight?"

"Well," John said, setting the glasses back onto the table. "You aren't supposed to ask and I'm not supposed to tell, but both."

"Since when?" Rodney demanded.

"Eighth grade?" John refilled the glasses, then closed the bottle, saving the last bit for an emergency. "What about you?"

"What about me what?" Rodney said, indignant. John simply looked at him. "High school," Rodney admitted. "Hey, I'm a geek - being bisexual doubles my chances of rejection."

John picked up his drink and looked steadily at Rodney. "You understand that this can't get out, right?"

Rodney looked back, just as steadily, then reached for his own glass. "You can trust me, Major."

John held the eye contact for a long second, then looked away. "I...do," John said, then nodded. "I trust you."

Rodney returned the nod and they both drank their tequila.

Chapter 6: A Gentlemen's Agreement

After the tequila was gone, the awkwardness set in.

"So," Rodney said, turning his glass around and around in his hands.

"So," John replied.

"I checked the preliminary data on the collector. It - er - worked."

"Yeah?" John set his glass down and turned to face Rodney.

"Yeah. We got enough to charge a ZedPM about a half a percent."

"That's...kind of a lot for such a short time, isn't it?"

"It's very impressive." Rodney set his own glass down and glanced up. "Look, Major, I realize that this is awkward and weird and completely insane but we need this power. Shields, sensors, the gate..."

"I get it, Rodney," John said, sighing. "I get it. You're saying we should just think of Atlantis."

Rodney grinned. "Nope, we have to think about sex - but, it can be sex for Atlantis, if that helps."

"Actually, 'Sex for Atlantis' sounds like a demented telethon."

Rodney snorted. "You are a very strange man."

John nodded sagely. "Yeah, well. Okay then, but I can't promise that I won't be completely freaked out most of the time."

"Well, that'll make a nice change, since I'm usually the freaked-out one."

John reached out and took Rodney's glass and his own, stacking them together. "Go to bed, Rodney. We'll deal with this tomorrow."

Rodney nodded and left quietly.

John carried the glasses into the bathroom and rinsed them in the sink, then brushed his teeth, all the while keeping up a tuneless humming designed to help him not think for a few minutes. It worked long enough for him to strip down to his boxers and get into the bed. As soon as the lights went out, however, his brain leapt into overdrive.

Sex. Rodney. Sex. Rodney. Sex. Rodney. Sex. Rodney.

He was doomed. He was also very, very hard. Doomed.

John slid a hand down his chest and under the waistband of his boxers, trying desperately to think of something that was not Rodney. Not Rodney, moving closer, not Rodney's mouth moving toward him, moving closer to brush against his face in soft kisses that were somehow more intimate than being kissed on the mouth.

John tried to change the channel in his brain, but it was like the cable was out and he was stuck on All Rodney All The Time, broadcasting on W-Oh-My-God-You're-So-Gay. With a gasp, he gave up completely, closing his eyes and remembering the feelings that the egg had imposed on him, remembering how hard the concept of Rodney kissing him had made him, and how fast.

Fast - that was one word for it. John lay on his back, sticky and gasping, and thought about his place in the universe. And fell asleep with his come-covered hand still in his shorts.

John was safely hidden in his office doing paperwork when Rodney radioed him.

"Can you come to Lab 12?" Rodney asked.

"I was doing paperwork," John complained.

"That means yes, right?"

"Yes." John released his radio and sighed. He didn't particularly want to go confront the dusty corners of his sexual identity with Rodney, except that he kind of did. That scared him most of all. He made his way to the lab, trying to decide what to say when he got there.

"Hi, Rodney! Is it mental-porn time already?"

No.

"Hi, Rodney! My hand was fused to my dick this morning!"

No. A world of no.

"Hi, Rodney! I'm losing my mind!"

True, but no.

Luckily, Rodney just steamrollered over any greeting John would have offered anyway.

"Good, you're here. Go sit over there. Radek refuses to work with us anymore and he told so many lies and had so many bandages that no one else will, either. So, I have to do his part, too. Some people. Anyway, sit." He gestured toward a pair of padded chairs that faced each other across a small table, on which the egg was perched, lying on a small, red pillow.

John sat. He picked up the electrode pads that were hanging over the chair's arm by their leads and placed them on his chest, wincing as the adhesive stuck to his chest hair. Rodney finished messing with the collector console and sat on the other chair, attaching his own electrodes before fixing John with a steady gaze.

"You going to be able to do this without having an aneurysm?"

"Probably," John replied.

Rodney's look softened. "I know this isn't easy. I wouldn't ask, but it's..."

"I get it," John said. "Stop being sensitive, it's creepy."

"Fine," Rodney snapped. "Can you think the lights a little lower in here?"

John closed his eyes and thought; when he opened them, the room's lighting had dimmed to a soft glow that approximated the light from a fireplace in an otherwise dark room.

Rodney laughed out loud. He laughed even harder as John banged his head several times on the edge of the table.

Chapter 7: Are You Lonesome Tonight?

No matter what John did, the "mood lighting" stayed the same, so he manfully ignored Rodney's snickering and settled into the chair, leaning forward to brace his elbows on the table. He reached out and picked the egg up, cupping it in his palm. It vibrated slightly, then settled into a slow pattern of blinking.

Rodney leaned forward and enclosed John's hand in both of his, one above and one below. John shrugged and placed his free hand on top, pressing down so that Rodney's bottom hand rested on top of the pillow on the table.

"Ready?" John asked. When Rodney nodded, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Hotel?" he asked.

"Sure," Rodney said.

The hotel room reappeared in John's mind, but this time he could hear the muted sounds of traffic and quiet piano music, as if from the next room. He smelled clean linens and a trace of something floral, and he could feel the sheets against his bare back as well as the softness of the pillow cradling his head. It was as if the egg had turned up all of the sensations, deepening the illusion.

"Are you here?" John asked.

"Yes." Rodney stepped out of the room's shadows.

John knew that his eyes were closed, but he could see Rodney standing there wearing a grey tee shirt and a pair of faded jeans. He could see that Rodney's feet were bare, could smell his subtle cologne or after-shave or soap. He looked down at himself, not terribly surprised to find he was wearing nothing but his favorite blue-and-white striped boxer shorts and his dog tags.

"Dog tags?" he asked, looking at Rodney, who looked away and blushed.

"It's a thing," Rodney said. He glanced back at John. "Bare feet?"

"I like bare feet," John admitted, smiling. "Do you want to come over here?"

Rodney hesitated. "This feels really, really real."

"Yeah."

"Are you freaked out?"

"Oh, yeah," John said. "Do you think we're really talking, in the real room?"

"I don't know," Rodney said, one hand coming up to cup his chin thoughtfully. "I wonder if motion in the illusion transfers. But, before, when I kissed you I didn't really kiss you, so..."

John cut him off. "So it's a mystery, I'm okay with that."

Rodney nodded sharply, but stayed where he was. John stood up, kicking the sheets back and leaving the bed slowly. He walked over to the window and twitched the curtain back. Times Square, just like he remembered it - teeming with taxis and people, awash with neon lights.

"What do you see?" he asked Rodney without turning. "Is it a shared illusion?"

"I see you, and ugly curtains, and a city I've never been to," Rodney said, moving closer to the window. "Are there really that many taxis in New York?"

"Yeah," John said. He pulled the curtain wider and pointed. "That's Broadway, down there."

Rodney leaned closer. "Cool."

John let the curtain drop from his fingers and leaned into Rodney's warmth, his bare shoulder pressing back against Rodney's chest. "We," he said, stopping when his voice came out a little squeaky. He cleared his throat and tried again. "We should..."

"Think of Atlantis?"

John turned so that he could see Rodney's face, so that he could get a read on the situation. Rodney looked...nervous, and it brought out all of John's protective instincts. He lifted one hand and cupped Rodney's jaw, feeling the rasp of faint stubble against his palm. Rodney leaned into the touch and closed his eyes.

"That's nice," he whispered.

"Yeah," John answered. "It is." He remembered the first time; the way Rodney's lips had felt, ghosting over his skin. He tightened his fingers against Rodney's face and leaned even closer to brush a tentative kiss along Rodney's cheekbone.

"Oh."

Encouraged by that small sound, John trailed kisses over Rodney's face - up to his temple, across his forehead and down the bridge of his nose, sliding back up to trace the fine hairs of one eyebrow, pausing with his cheek against Rodney's. He opened his eyes and looked at the window, studying their reflection. Rodney was just an inch or two shorter than him, and they fit together well - or, they would, if Rodney took a half-step forward so that their bodies were touching. Rodney had his eyes squeezed shut, but his lips were slightly parted, and his hands were fisted at his sides.

John brought his free hand up to Rodney's shoulder and urged him closer. "Relax," he said. "It's okay."

Rodney stepped forward and placed his hands tentatively on John's waist, and some of the tension went out of his face. His hands were big and hot, and John shivered a little at the contact, which made Rodney slide one palm around to the small of his back, finally closing the distance between them. Rodney's tee shirt was soft against his chest, and John could feel rough denim against the front of his thighs.

John tightened his fingers on Rodney's jaw, tilting his face upward. Rodney's eyes opened; they looked hazy and unfocused, flicking from John's own eyes down to his lips and back. "Yeah," John said, and brought their mouths together in a soft kiss that quickly turned fierce.

Rodney took charge, clutching at John's hips and flicking the tip of his tongue against John's bottom lip to make him open his mouth. John did with a soft groan, welcoming Rodney's tongue inside. After a few minutes, Rodney eased back, and John took him up on the invitation, sliding his tongue into Rodney's mouth, returning the gentle exploration.

Chapter 8: Ye Shall Receive

"Whoa," John said. "Jump cut." Without even a flash or movement of any kind, they were on the bed. Rodney found himself lying on top of John. His tee shirt was gone and his jeans were unbuttoned. John's hands were on his ass, his own braced on the bed at either side of John's shoulders.

Rodney instinctively rolled his hips, and John arched up to meet him. "Off," John said, and Rodney froze. John's hand came up to cup his cheek. "No, Rodney - just for a second, so we can get naked."

That sounded like the best idea Rodney had ever heard. He rolled off and shoved his jeans and underwear down before looking back at John, who had shed the boxers and was lying there fondling the chain of his dog tags.

"Jesus fucking Christ." Rodney whispered the words on a sudden outrush of air, but it neatly summed up what he was feeling. John was long and lean and gorgeous, lying on the soft white sheets, his cock hard against his belly and the silvery dog tag chain wrapping around one finger as he twisted it, the tags rattling slightly against each other.

"What?" John said, but his smile was evil. "See something you like?"

"We're going to blow up Atlantis," Rodney said. "I can see the headline now: 'Ancient City Destroyed by Hot Gay Sex'."

John laughed and pulled Rodney back on top of him, leaning up to kiss his surprised mouth. Rodney returned the kiss - tentatively at first, then harder, wetter. John moaned into his mouth, and Rodney used his knees to spread John's legs. The both made noises when their cocks touched. Rodney broke the kiss and grabbed John's arms. Pinning them to the bed.

"Keep 'em there," he said gently. "Let me play."

John shivered under him, but kept his hands at his sides as instructed. Rodney moved to John's neck, licking softly beneath John's jaw. "What do you think," Rodney said, his tone speculative. "Would a hickey cross whatever sort of barrier this is? Would you have it on the other side?"

"I don't know," John said, turning his head to the side to bare more of his throat. "Just put it where it'll be below my collar, just in case."

"God, John," Rodney said reverently. "I had no idea you'd be like this."

John opened hazy eyes and looked up. A small smile curved his lips. "I haven't gotten to do this in almost fifteen years, Rodney. What did you expect?"

Rodney answered by dropping his head back down to John's neck and biting and sucking at the smooth skin just below John's collarbone, making John tense and arch under him before easing himself back flat on the bed, his body relaxing as if by will alone.

"Jesus, Rodney. I want you. Please." John's voice was rough, his hands clenching and unclenching in the sheets at his side, his hips straining upward just a little, like he was holding them down with great difficulty.

Rodney found himself honestly stunned. Stunned to hear John ask for this, for him. John's head rolled back and forth on the pillow, that crazy hair getting wilder with each pass. His eyes were shut tight, his lips open and wet, and his chin jutted forward at an angle that Rodney recognized, and he was suddenly aware that he'd never again see John become belligerent with Elizabeth or any other authority figure without getting hard.

John's eyes opened to slits, his lashes damp and spiky, his eyes shining in the half-dark. Rodney looked at him and saw the need, the want. John's face was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Please? Please, Rodney - suck me."

The question jolted him out of his stillness, and he smiled gently at John. "Yes," Rodney whispered. "God, yes."

He ducked his head and looked at John's cock. Long and elegant like the rest of him; so hard that the skin was shiny and tight-looking. It twitched at each of Rodney's exhalations. When he touched his tongue to the tip it jumped and John groaned something that sounded like it might be Rodney's name. Maybe just part of it. The vowels.

Rodney was no stranger to sucking cock, and, like nearly everything he did, he was good at it. He knew all about angles and friction and suction, but that sort of knowledge was unnecessary with John. He just listened ; paid attention to John's movements his noises and the tension in the lean thighs under his hands. He let the head of John's cock slide into his mouth and rolled his tongue against the slit.

"So good," John moaned, his hand coming up to card through Rodney's hair. The fingers shook, and that just made Rodney want to give him more, to please him more, so he opened his mouth further and sucked John in, tongue sliding wetly around.

Rodney placed one hand flat on John's hip, letting his fingers skate over thin, soft, smooth skin. John's hipbone jutted sharply, and Rodney thumbed over the point, digging in. His other hand rose up, too, but he slid it around and cupped the flexing muscle of John's ass, moaning as John's legs spread wantonly, knees rising, opening.

John bucked up, pressing the head of his cock to the ridges on the roof of Rodney's mouth. Rodney felt the motion in his hands and adjusted his angle, up and then down, opening his throat to let John's cock skirt the edge, trying to see if he still remembered how to do this. He did, and John's strangled cry sounded like heaven. Rodney slid down, grabbed a breath through his nose and swallowed.

"Jesus!" John practically jackknifed in half, legs and arms coming around Rodney, tight and shaking.

Rodney pulled back and gentled John with soothing hands, lifting up only enough to speak. His voice was hoarse, his lips a little numb. "You want to finish like this? Come in my mouth?"

John groaned and thrust a hand between them, fingers grabbing the base of his cock in a tight grip to keep from coming. He stayed there for a second, his whole body rigid, then he relaxed back onto the pillows, grinning at Rodney.

"That was close," he laughed.

Rodney pushed up, hovering over him with his weight on his hands, his mouth a little slack. "I can't believe I could make you..."

"What, beg? Of course you can."

John's hand was still holding the base of his cock, and Rodney had a hard time looking away from those slender fingers, but he did, because this was important - this felt crucial, and Rodney wanted to make sure he connected all the dots.

"Why?"

"Why? Because I want you that much. Is that so hard to believe?" John's eyes glittered in the dark, and there was a small smile on his lips, but he had that open look he got when he told a simple truth.

"Yes?" It didn't compute; Rodney'd always been the one begging before, the one asking and pleading and, usually, being ridiculed for it afterwards. It didn't make sense to him that John could mean it.

"I do want you that much, Rodney." John's voice was low and rough, but it was as rich as melted chocolate, and Rodney could almost feel it slide over him.

"Begging...it doesn't make you feel...weak?" It always made Rodney feel weak. And ashamed. And too much like the geek that no one liked once the homework was turned in or the problem was solved.

"Hell, no. It makes me feel a little reckless, like I'm not in control."

"You like that?"

John brought his hand up to grab Rodney's and lead it down between them. Rodney wrapped his fingers around John's cock and squeezed, and the flesh surged in his hand, growing even harder, which shouldn't have been possible.

"What do you think?" John asked.

"Oh. I think you like that a lot." Another squeeze, another heavy twitch.

"Yeah. Make me beg some more." John's voice was strained; he really wanted this, wanted it badly.

"I...I can do that. Tell me - no, ask me for what you want, John."

"Oh, god - want you in me, Rodney. Please."

"Uh-huh...you're skipping steps, Major."

"Jesus, Rodney. Just lemme..." John's eyes drifted closed and he breathed harshly through his nose.

Rodney looked down at John in the dim light, noting the fineness of his skin and the lines of his face and how they were emphasized by the tension of his jaw and neck. He brought one hand up to trace the strong planes. "You're so fucking gorgeous like this," he said.

"God, Rodney," John groaned, arching up. "Please."

Rodney leaned in and kissed John slowly, then pulled back to work his way down the stubbled line of his jaw to his neck, licking and biting as he descended, each movement accompanied by John's wordless sounds of pleasure. Rodney slid further down to mouth at the dark hair on John's chest, seeking out each peaked nipple with tongue and teeth before moving ever downward.

He spent several minutes tracing the line of dark, silky hair that arrowed down John's abdomen with his tongue, outlining the defined muscles above his navel and the unexpected hint of softness below. John's hands moved restlessly, carding Rodney's hair and moving down to clutch at his neck and shoulders, yet Rodney waited.

"Please," John growled harshly. "C'mon Rodney. I bet there's lube in the bed table."

"Probably," Rodney said. "What do you want me to do with it?"

"Fuck me."

Rodney made a humming noise. "I think you're jumping the gun, John."

John's fingers tightened on Rodney's neck and in his hair, and he made a low sound. "Get the lube, then put your fingers in me, get me ready so you can fuck me."

Rodney bit the top of John's thigh and made the humming noise again. He really, really wanted to hear John beg again, so he waited. When John figured it out and moaned, "Jesus, Rodney. Please." Rodney reached for the bedside table. As expected, there was lube there. He got it out and squeezed some onto his fingers.

John spread his legs even further and canted his hips up. Rodney rewarded him by sliding his slick fingers behind John's balls and pressing in gently.

"Cold," John said, shivering. Then he moaned when Rodney slid his finger in further. "Don't stop."

John was so tight that Rodney could barely keep from coming at just the thought of getting his cock in there. He was pretty sure he was going to go off like a rocket as soon he pushed in, if not before. He pushed his finger in all the way and listened to John's low moans above him.

"Weir to Sheppard. I need you and Dr. McKay in the gate room."

The voice was tinny, and at first, Rodney ignored it.

"Weir to Sheppard. I need you and Dr. McKay in the gate room immediately."

"Fuck!" John sat up enough to brace his elbows under him.

The hotel room dissolved and they were sitting at the table in the lab, their hands clasped over the egg, both panting harshly. John pulled one hand away and picked up his radio from the table

He stuck it in his ear and activated it. "On our way." He and Rodney unstacked their hands to allow the egg to rest on the pillow again. John smiled at Rodney apologetically and tossed the other radio to him.

As they got up, Rodney was gratified to see that John was as hard as he was. Hopefully the jog to the gate room would take care of that.