moonlettuce | SGA Fic: Geometry of Need

Title: Geometry of Need
Author: Claire
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Rating: R
Summary: Rodney thinks that every glance, every touch over the past two years has led to this.

Notes: I wrote comment fic for

xanphibian and she said I could share *grin*

It shouldn't feel so right, metal wrapped around his fingers, embossed lettering branding itself into his palm.

"Rodney..."

John's voice is soft, low. Careful in a way he's never heard it before.

Rodney looks up, gaze moving across his hand and travelling up the chain that connects him to Sheppard.

"Rodney, I--"

But John doesn't finish as Rodney tugs, pulling John towards him with a connection more tangible than any of the others they seem to have.

Rodney's fingers tighten on the chain as John moves inexorably closer until he's there, breath hot and shallow as it ghosts across Rodney's lips.

There's no going back once they cross this gap, no denying what's between them for anything other than what it is. Rodney thinks that every glance, every touch over the past two years has led to this. Has led to dog tags in his hand and John standing so close he thinks they may be touching, even if he can't feel it.

And it's still not too late to end this, to walk away and not look back. But Rodney's sick of holding himself back, of stopping himself from touching in case he can't stop.

"Rodney."

His name whispers over his skin as he watches John waiting for him to do something, anything. And keeping his gaze on John's, Rodney leans forward, closes the distance between them and takes.

*

Rodney's mouth is on his, and John knows they shouldn't be doing this. Thoughts fly through John's mind - 'he's on my team' and 'conduct unbecoming' and 'don't ask, don't tell, don't do, don't get fucking caught' and a thousand others that are all chased away by the feel of Rodney's lips against his.

The fist resting against John's chest flexes, and the chain for his dog tags bites into his neck just that little bit extra, forcing him to move closer to Rodney, closer to the heat, the want.

Rodney's lips open and John swallows the whimper that escapes before Rodney breaks the kiss, pulling back and stopping John's from reaching him again.

"Fuck me."

The words are quiet, so soft that John thinks he's misheard until he looks into Rodney's eyes, heavy and wanting and need written in the blue. And this is it; this is the time to stop this before it goes too far. So why are his lips back on Rodney's? Why does the word he's whispering sound like 'yes' instead of the hundred other things he should be saying?

The bed's too close and somewhere along the way they've lost their clothes, scattered and dropped in the haste to get to skin. A tube is pushed into his hand, open and already half used. Shaking fingers manage to squeeze slick gel out and then his fingers are in Rodney, in the tight heat that makes his cock harder than it's ever been.

"Please, now, yes."

But it's not enough and it's too much and if John doesn't get into Rodney right now then he doesn't know what he'll do. Rodney hisses as John pushes in and John wants to ask him how long it's been, because Rodney is tight, too tight, but then he sinks inside, skin pressing against skin and all the thoughts leave.

John holds himself still, waiting until Rodney nods, until Rodney adjusts and accepts him, before he moves. The fingers wrapped around his arms tighten, branding Rodney's touch into his flesh in ten heated points. And this? This is what flying feels like - all heady rush and adrenaline forcing him higher, faster. Only this isn't flying. This is Rodney, all heat and need and want as John moves in him.

John wants to draw this out, wants it to last longer, but Rodney is too hot, too tight, too wanting as he cries out, coming apart in one sharp exacting moment and dragging John over the edge with him.

And as he rests his head against Rodney's chest, steady beat of Rodney's heart vibrating through his body, John thinks that maybe, just maybe, he's still flying.

*

It's still dark when Rodney wakes up, thigh numb where John's leg is thrown across it. And Rodney's pretty sure that it's a testament to the trust John has in him that he manages to slide out of the bed without waking John up. He bites down on the hiss that threatens to escape as he moves, reminder that it's been too long since his body was last used in this way.

The floor's cool as he walks across it, collecting clothes as he goes. Maybe the Ancients were warmer blooded than people are now, but Rodney thinks the floors are always cold. Or maybe they have under-floor heating in Atlantis and they just haven't found it yet.

The door opens without sound, without fanfare, and the one thing he's never told anyone is that he still has the urge to murmur 'Bridge' under his breath whenever he steps through them. But he's refused to buy into the geek stereotype for so long that he's not about to start now - even if he does actually have a pair of Spock ears somewhere in his flat.

Rodney has plans, now he's left Sheppard's quarters - back to his own to shower and sleep, so when he looks up to find he's actually standing outside lab two it's more than a little disconcerting. The lab allows him entry without comment, door closing behind him and sealing him inside, sharp light shining down on Ancient artefacts and a whiteboard showing equations that less than ten people will ever understand.

Only any thoughts of having a nice quiet little breakdown -- ohmygodi'msofucked -- are chased away by Radek, sitting in front of one of the laptops and looking at Rodney like he just walked in on him jerking off.

"Rodney? Is reason you're in the lab at--" Radek looks at his watch "--three in morning?"

Well, I just had sex with Colonel Sheppard and now I'm slightly freaking out about it, he doesn't say. "I could ask you the same thing."

Radek's eyes narrow as he studies Rodney. "Am running diagnostic on the database. You know this."

He knows it because Radek told him, spoke to him about it. He knows it because some of the things Radek is doing are Rodney's ideas. "I had a thought about the power differentiation equation."

The silence and Radek's raised eyebrow are enough of an answer.

"I woke up and had a thought about why the figures are out, and I wanted to come and check them while it was still fresh in my mind." And Rodney really needs to stop talking because all that's happening is Radek's eyebrows are getting nearer and nearer his hairline. Crawling upwards because Rodney's wearing the same clothes he came back from A8X-295 and he smells like Sheppard and sex, and he's not sure which scent is which because they're overlapping in his senses.

Ignoring the gaze that follows him, Rodney walks over to the whiteboard and picks up the eraser, harsh felt that will rub away thoughts and plans and ideas. He presses the eraser against the board and moves his hand, intent of rubbing out the numbers until fingers around his wrist stop him.

"The figures are fine."

But Radek's wrong. The numbers there will lead to the greatest output, but also run the highest risk for error. "If we run it at these numbers we risk an explosion. If we change the co-efficient, lower it, then--"

"Then output is reduced." Radek isn't wrong, but--

"It's safer that way." Less chance of explosion, of error, of someone getting hurt.

Radek looks at him, long moments drawn out in the silence. And then the fingers on his wrist tighten as Radek starts to pull him towards the door.

"What--"

"Am taking you to infirmary to get you checked out. Is no way the great Rodney McKay would ever go for the easier option, especially if it meant smaller result."

Rodney pulls his wrist out of Radek's grasp. "I'm just saying--"

"Figures are fine, Rodney." And is Radek ever going to let him finish a sentence? "Everything is where it should be. Everything." And he may be short and Czech and still not as intelligent as Rodney, but Radek has a point.

Rodney puts the eraser he's still holding on one of the desks before he takes a step towards the door, turning to face Radek. "You shouldn't be in the lab at this time of night." Because all work and no play makes Radek a dull boy. Even worse, all work and no play means Radek ends up having a breakdown which leaves Rodney to deal with the idiots like Kavanagh by himself.

"Where else would I be?" Because they may have labs and gyms and even an atrium, but the nights are still dark on Atlantis, still silent.

"I don't know." Rodney just knows he should have some time away from computers and databases and unknown devices that look like a cross between a grenade and a plant pot. "Go out; get laid. You need to get laid." Even if Elizabeth can't see Radek, it doesn't mean other people don't.

Radek just smiles. "I would say same to you, but I think that has already been taken care of, yes?"

Rodney doesn't answer as he walks away, door shutting behind him and leaving him back into the corridor.

A transporter and a few more corridors and he's back outside of Sheppard's quarters, hand hovering over the door. He can still feel Sheppard inside him, but Rodney doesn't know if that gives him permission to walk in without knocking, even if the question is answered for him by the door sliding open.

Rodney walks into the room, low light casting a dull glow over everything, over Sheppard sitting on the bed.

"We shouldn't do this," he says. "We shouldn't do this because it's reckless and it's dangerous. It's reckless because you're part of a stupid military that teaches you to kill but doesn't let you love who you want. And it's dangerous because if it ever came down to a choice between you and anyone else on this expedition -- hell, between you and everyone else on this expedition -- there's no way I wouldn't be able to chose you." The words tumble out, unstopping.

So now everything's out, lying between them like fog. Because Rodney knows that if they do this then nothing would prevent him from moving heaven, earth and Atlantis to stop anything from happening to John. Part of him knows it's already too late.

John's standing up, pushing himself off the bed and closing the distance between them, hands reaching out and grasping Rodney's arms. "Rodney, look at me." So Rodney does. Looks at John, soft brown eyes that can't decide if they should be green and hard muscle playing under his skin. "If you're trying to say that we shouldn't love each other for the good of the expedition, I gotta tell you, it's a little late for me."

"Oh." Just like that John steals Rodney's breath, words taking away the air like vacuum.

"Yeah." And John is kissing him now, soft and gentle, like there are a thousand promises wrapped up in that one act. A hand trails down his arm and links their fingers together as John pulls back slightly.

"You were awake when I left." Because John's been military too long to sleep through someone moving around as much as Rodney had, even if he hadn't let on.

"Yes."

"You didn't follow me." Although John's not Richard Gere and Rodney's certainly not Debra Winger, so he's not quite sure why he thinks John would ever follow him.

"Didn't need to," John says, careful fingers rubbing circles over Rodney's wrist as he leads him back to the bed. "I knew you'd make the right choice."

And if Rodney doesn't say anything about the blinking life signs detector still sitting on the table and the fact that John's clothes are now thrown over a chair instead of strewn across the floor, well then that's his prerogative.

End.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

bentrumors.livejournal.com

And if Rodney doesn't say anything about the blinking life signs detector still sitting on the table and the fact that John's clothes are now thrown over a chair instead of strewn across the floor, well then that's his prerogative.

The whole thing was so sweet and good, but that last line. Perfect.

From:

...but the fish are suspiciously silent

SGA Fic: Geometry of Need - McShep

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