Title: Scar Tissue
Author: Coreopsis
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Rating: NC-17
Date: November 24, 2004
Sequel to Hello Timebomb (which I really wish I could rewrite from scratch but it's too late now, so I'm going with it)
Spoilers: The Storm, The Eye
Disclaimer: So not mine and I'm not making any profit from playing with them.
Notes: Again the initial idea was Nemo's and I just ran with it. Far, far away. *g* Even though I really wasn't going to write a sequel. Thanks to Sinbrat and lance_nerd for beta action (although I kept fiddling with it after they had their go, so anything wonky is my fault not theirs), and to Bettina for whip cracking. Comments welcome at coreopsis@gmail.com.

---

The first time Rodney noticed the scar was also the first time he went to a mission briefing since what he'd taken to calling his "unfortunate episode" three weeks ago. As soon as Beckett had released him from the infirmary, Rodney had buried himself in his lab and Weir had let him. For a while, John, Ford, and Teyla had accompanied various scientists on explorations to the mainland, but after a couple weeks, John asked Zelenka if he wanted to go on off-world missions in Rodney's place. That was when Rodney decided he was sick of the lab and needed to get back in the field.

He walked into the conference room to find John already there. John's head was bowed as he fiddled with the scanner on the table so Rodney couldn't help noticing the still-raw mark on the back of his neck. When John saw Rodney, he touched the scar delicately as if probing it for soreness. Rodney started to ask about it but Ford came in and engaged John in conversation about something so mundane that Rodney immediately lost interest. He chose a seat far away from John.

The next time was standing in front of the Gate. As the team prepared to step into the event horizon, Rodney caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see John run his fingers across the scar. A fleeting touch like the stroke one gives a good luck charm. Rodney swallowed hard and snapped his attention back to the Gate, but an uneasy feeling lingered in the pit of his stomach.

Standing in the middle of an alien village, desperately trying to make sense of the native language and virulently cursing the lack of a linguist on the team, was not the time to be hit by a bolt of lust that felt not unlike a Wraith stunner. All John had done was step in front of Rodney and tilt his head to one side as he tried once more to use hand signals to communicate with the village chief. The sun beat down, bringing a fine sheen of sweat to Rodney's face and making the scar on the back of John's neck almost glow. Rodney's mouth actually watered as he stared at John with a strange longing to lick those two almost perfect semi-circles of ragged pink flesh. And just where had John gotten such a scar, anyway? He was distracted from pondering the question further by the villagers starting to babble and shout excitedly and the next thing he knew Sheppard was telling the team to run.

Rodney tumbled through the Gate behind Teyla and Ford, then leaped to his feet only to be knocked over again when John rushed through a few seconds later. Lying tangled with John on the Gate Room floor brought a conflicting array of signals from Rodney's body. He wanted to shove John away and pull him closer at the same time, tenderly touch his face and savagely bite his neck. He wanted to push his hands under John's clothes and yet he wanted to run very far away, very fast. Confusion held him still while John got to his feet, held his hand out, and said, "Sorry about that."

Rodney took John's hand to brace against as he stood up and immediately loosened his grip to let go, but John held on for another few seconds, watching Rodney with a strange little half smile.

"It's quite all right, Major." Rodney gathered his dignity with an upward tilt of his chin and turned to follow Ford and Teyla to the debriefing. For once in his life, he ignored how hard his heart was pounding.

***

Shoving John face down on the bed, Rodney planted his knees to either side of his hips and spread his hands wide over John's naked back. All warm blood and firm muscles beneath the surface of smooth, smooth skin. His fingers were tingling and John's voice urged him to do something, but Rodney couldn't understand what. He leaned forward and strained to hear, but he was distracted by the nape of John's neck, so smooth and unmarked and calling to Rodney to press his open mouth...

The incessant beeping of his alarm woke Rodney before the dream could go any further. He sat up and wiped the sweat from his face with a hand that shook.

***

Rodney started the day with a resolution to ignore John's strange behavior and his own odd reactions and just focus on his work. That's what he came to Pegasus for, and that's what he would do. He'd work. He'd explore new planets, experiment, learn new things, broaden his horizons and...okay, that sounded a bit too un-worklike in his present frame of mind. He would have to get hold of himself and concentrate all his considerable intellect on his labwork and off-world missions. Yes, he could do that.

As they climbed into the puddle jumper, John smiled at him, patted him on the back and asked how he was feeling. Rodney closed his eyes and sighed. When he took his seat, he noticed he had a very clear view of the back of John's neck. Another sigh. He just knew it would be a very long day.

It was. By the time dinnertime rolled around, Rodney's nerves were shot. In the course of a blessedly tedious and uneventful mission, John had run his hand across the back of his neck approximately twenty-seven times, not that Rodney was counting or anything. Each time John's fingertips seemed to linger on the scar until Rodney was ready to knock his hand away and explore the scar himself, not just with his fingers but with as many of his senses as possible. He wondered what fascination it held and why he'd never noticed it before--especially since John could barely keep his hands off it. It had to be new but the only thing that would leave a mark like that would be a bite, most likely human. The idea of someone biting John-- with consent-- hard enough to leave a scar like that seemed utterly ridiculous, but what kind of fight could he have gotten into that would result in such an injury? The man was armed, even in the occasionally safe confines of Atlantis. He was more likely to get shot than bitten.

Rodney sat down at an empty table, arranged his tray to his satisfaction, and started to eat. Less than two bites into the meal, another tray plopped down in front of him and he looked up to see John sliding into the seat across the table.

"You don't mind if I join you, do you?" Sheppard asked with a confident smile that made Rodney's shoulder blades itch. "How's the...uh..."

"Ravioli," Rodney said. He poked at the lumps on his plate and added, "I think. It's...it's good, Major. Yes. Well, edible anyway."

John looked at him strangely and nodded. "Okay. I guess that's the best endorsement it's likely to get." He took a bite and made a noise that indicated it met with his own standards of edibility.

Rodney relaxed a fraction and returned to his own dinner, which he ate in silence for several moments. He cast a surreptitious glance at John and caught him touching the back of his neck, fingering the scar with an absent look on his face.

Rodney swallowed and took a sip of water. Finally giving in to his curiosity, he said, "Let me ask you something, Major. Where did you get that scar on your neck? I never noticed it before and I'm usually observant."

"Doctor Beckett didn't tell you?"

"No, of course not. Why would Carson talk to me about your injury?"

John continued eating and Rodney just stared at him for a moment before taking another bite of his own dinner. As realization dawned, horror tightened his throat, nearly choking him before he could swallow. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat and repeated slowly, "Why would Carson talk to me about your injury?"

John crooked a brow but he looked deadly serious, not even a trace of his habitual smirk. "I think you know why."

"No. No, no, I couldn't have...that's absolutely ridiculous and you know it." Rodney shoved his chair back and stood up. For the first time since they'd arrived in Atlantis, he left the mess hall without finishing his meal.

In the quiet solitude of his quarters, Rodney sat on his bed and stared at the wall, wondering if what John said really wasn't so ridiculous after all. The dream he'd had the night before was still vivid in his memory. He'd known what would come next. Had he already done that in the waking world? Had he touched John's naked skin and straddled his body and sunk his teeth into his neck? He had big grey gaps in his memory of the time he was under the influence of an alien virus and shuddered to think of what could be hiding in those shadows.

Beckett had been uncharacteristically silent about what had happened, even though Rodney had said he didn't want to know. Ordinarily Beckett said things for your own good especially when you didn't want to hear it, but this time he'd just suggested which people that Rodney needed to apologize to-- since he'd apparently cursed and insulted every member of the medical staff and several security guards at one time or another. And he'd known without being told that he'd said or done something to John--to Major Sheppard--but he hadn't really wanted to know. He hadn't asked Beckett or Sheppard or probed his own memory too deeply. He'd simply given a general apology and hoped that would be the end of it.

There was a knock on the door, but before he could answer, it slid open and John Sheppard stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. He walked over to Rodney with his hand behind his back. With a smile, he presented a small plastic-wrapped plate. "Since you didn't finish your dinner, I brought you some cake."

Rodney stared at him confusion. "What?"

"Cake. Your favorite. Yummy, yummy chocolate cake." John smiled and pushed the dessert at Rodney.

"Why are you talking to me like a child?"

"Why did you leave so suddenly?"

"I guess I wasn't hungry any more." Rodney took the cake and set it down on his bedside table. "Thanks."

"Do I need to send for Beckett? You never lose your appetite." John sat down next to Rodney--not too close but not as far away as he could have been either.

Rodney stared ahead at the wall, back straight and chin up. "Well, there's a first time for everything, Major."

"How come you call Carson and Elizabeth by their first names but not me and Ford?"

That got Rodney's attention by being completely unexpected. He turned to John and said, "You don't call Ford by his first name either."

"We're military."

"Well, there you are."

"Do you have something against the military, Rodney?"

"No, John. That would be ludicrous considering where I am right now, wouldn't it? What with my life depending on the military to some extent."

"I guess so." John looked at Rodney for a moment then turned his gaze to the wall and quietly said, "So the problem is with me then?"

"No." Rodney's mind was racing but he had no idea what else to say. The truth was that he simply didn't know what the problem was. He hadn't thought there was a problem at all and then he'd woken up from nearly a week in the infirmary with very hazy memories and a strange fascination with the back of John's neck. And neither the fact that John seemed to have a fascination with it as well, nor that he'd somehow become "John" to Rodney's mind, helped one bit.

"You don't have a problem with me? Well, good. Because guess what, Rodney?" John looked at Rodney with an openness that shook him. "I don't have a problem with you either. I don't hold a grudge or blame you for what happened. Doctor Beckett explained that the virus or whatever it was made you lose control. You couldn't help it."

Rodney had a sudden flash of memory with an accompanying burst of emotion--power, longing, rage, and a level of ecstasy his mind could hardly grasp-- that left him feeling dizzy and sick. He swallowed hard and lowered his head to his knees, shuddering when John laid a gentle hand on his back. After several deep breaths, the dizziness passed and Rodney raised his head. "Maybe I couldn't help it, but I didn't have to enjoy it so much either." He stopped abruptly when he heard how high and shaky his voice sounded.

"Oh." John seemed taken aback and his hand slid off Rodney's back and clutched the edge of the mattress. "Umm...okay. I...uh...need to..." He stood up abruptly. "I'm gonna go now, okay?"

Rodney said nothing, because he wasn't entirely sure he wasn't going to throw up in the distressingly near future.

John nodded and walked to the door, where he paused. "Enjoy the cake."

Rodney clamped his mouth shut and nodded, hoping he could get to the washroom before he got reacquainted with his dinner. He lowered his head to his knees again and waited for the door to close before jumping to his feet and rushing into the washroom. After he finished being violently ill, he brushed his teeth, rinsed his mouth, and stumbled to his bed. He didn't bother to get under the covers or take off his clothes. He just curled up into a ball and wished for dreamless oblivion.

***

The only thing missing was bomp-chicka-bomp-bom music, and that's how Rodney knew he was dreaming. He'd never been one for porn-filled wet dreams past the age of sixteen or so. His mind was always so full of other things--intellectual pursuits and scientific mysteries--that his hormones rarely had a chance to intrude on the uninterrupted computing time that sleep provided him.

So he was lucid enough to realize that having John Sheppard's head buried between his thighs was definitely a dream and not reality, but smart enough to lie back and enjoy the smooth, hot motion of John's mouth on his cock. John's hands curved around his legs, long fingers spread wide to cover as much skin as possible, digging in painfully with short sharp nails.

But the pain only added to the pleasure and Rodney made an encouraging noise in the back of his throat. He threaded his fingers through John's hair and cradled his head, urging him deeper and faster. And wow, dream-John had no gag reflex at all and was really quite talented at giving blowjobs. Rodney's eyes rolled back in head as he came so hard he was sure his spine had melted.

Since it was a dream, Rodney didn't fall asleep immediately after orgasm as he normally would have, but felt energized enough to pull John up against his chest so he could kiss him, long and wet and a bit sloppier than he usually preferred, but still hot. Everything about John was hot, his skin burned and his mouth sizzled, and Rodney was sure smoke would start pouring from his ears at any moment.

Rodney slid his hands up John's sides and curved his fingers over his shoulders, thinking he didn't really want to ever wake up.

His capricious subconscious played a dirty trick on him by changing the dream abruptly to a more familiar one in which he was hanging onto the freezing rail of a balcony in the pouring rain. Elizabeth was yelling at him to hold on, and all he could do was wonder where John was, what he was doing, what the Genii were doing to him... Rodney shuddered in his sleep. He tried to go back to the sex-with-John dream but only succeeded in waking himself up.

He lay in the dark for a moment before working his hand into his pants and taking his erection in a firm comforting grip. He started to pump vigorously, his facing burning with arousal and something very close to shame. He should be able to control his body better than this, control his mind better than this. He was becoming obsessed with John Sheppard in a way that disturbed him as much as it excited him. He'd had fleeting thoughts about John before--he was a handsome man who could be quite charming when he wasn't doing his best to irritate the ever-living fuck out of Rodney-- but nothing like this.

His hand pumped harder and his breath caught in his throat as he remembered the feel of John's skin under his hands, the firmness of his body, the sound of his voice, the pounding of his-- No, that was the door.

Stilling his hand, Rodney cleared his throat and called "Who is it?"

"Sheppard."

Rodney groaned in frustration. He pulled his hand out of his pants and lay back breathlessly. "Don't you ever sleep?"

"What? Listen, there's a problem with the shield generator. You're needed in the control room right away."

"I'll be right there, Major," Rodney called, hoping he'd go away so Rodney could have some privacy to finish what he'd been doing and regroup.

The door slid open just as Rodney swung his feet to the floor and stood up. John walked in and took one look at Rodney's rumpled state and the very obvious erection pushing at the front of his pants and smirked. "Have a good dream?"

Rodney's face flushed and he tilted his chin imperiously. "Why didn't someone just call me on the comm? Don't you have better things to do than be a messenger boy?"

John shrugged. "I was in the neighborhood."

"Message delivered." Rodney shooed John toward the door. "You can go now."

"That's okay. I'll wait," said John, continuing to smirk in a most annoying way.

Rodney sent him a death glare and went into the bathroom, wishing the swishy Atlantis doors had a slam function built into them. As he shucked his clothes and climbed into the shower, his body became intensely interested in the fact that John was on the other side of the door. Just a few feet away really. He looked down at his now painfully hard cock and shook his head. "This seems like a good idea to you? Honestly? Because I'm thinking it's a really stupid idea."

His cock declined to answer so he switched the water to cool and jerked off as quickly as possible. He had to show it who was boss every once in a while or it would start thinking it could make all his decisions. And he did not just attribute sentience to his penis, because that would be a sure sign he was cracking up.

He stepped out of the shower and was half-way through drying off when he realized he'd brought no clothes with him. They were all in his closet, out there with Major Sheppard. He closed his eyes and continued drying off, hoping he'd open the door and find the room empty. But when he wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped into his room, he found John standing by his desk unashamedly snooping through his books.

Rodney scuttled over to his closet and took out a clean uniform, then realized that John was standing between him and the dresser where his socks and underwear were. Feeling backed into a corner, he went on the offensive in the only way he knew how. "Major, I'm sure you'd be more likely to find something to read somewhere else. Lieutenant Ford looks like a Dr. Seuss kind of guy. Why don't you go bother him for a while, so I can go and save the day?"

John looked at him in surprise then replied in his best deadpan voice, "I would but he refuses to recognize the brilliance of The Cat in the Hat."

"Ha. Very amusing, now would you please leave so I can get dressed in peace?"

John gave him a closed mouth smile that, had he been a cat, would have made Rodney check on any canaries in the vicinity. "Glad you're back."

Rodney blinked. "Where've I been?"

John tilted his head. "You haven't been yourself lately."

"Yeah, well, I went through a rather traumatic exper--" Rodney broke off as he remembered just how traumatic it had been for both of them. John's hand was creeping toward the back of his neck, as if in subtle reminder. "I'm sorry. I didn't...umm, look, I don't know what's going on, okay? But in the middle of a crisis is not the time to figure it out."

"And you're naked," said John, with a nod at the towel that Rodney was gripping so hard his fingers were about to cramp.

"Yes," Rodney sighed and closed his eyes. "Please, let's not miss a chance to add to my embarrassment."

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, Rodney." John's voice sounded closer and Rodney opened his eyes to find John standing right in front of him. "But you're right. Now's not the time. How about after the crisis is over, I buy you breakfast?"

"Breakfast is free here," Rodney pointed out through lips almost numb with nervousness.

"Well, you're definitely back to your old self again." John turned to leave, and Rodney watched him go. John paused at the door as he'd done the night before, but didn't say anything. Then a second later he was gone and the door was sliding silently shut.

***

While Rodney worked on the generator problem with seventy-five percent of his concentration, the other twenty-five was frantically trying to figure out what Sheppard was up to. He should be angry at Rodney, resentful that Rodney had hurt him, that Rodney had actually bitten him hard enough to draw blood and leave a scar. Rodney thought about that for a moment as he made a few last adjustments to get the generator back on line. He was as baffled as he was horrified by what he'd done. If he'd had any previous desire to bite John Sheppard, it had been buried so deep he'd been unaware of it. Oh sure, he did get aggravated or frustrated with the man, but never that violently angry. Nor that violently aroused, and perhaps that was the part that shook him most.

A English-accented voice intruded on his multitasking to ask, "McKay, did you remember to check--"

"Of course, I did, Grodin. What kind of incompetent idiot do you think I am?" Rodney snapped, and a few seconds later the reassuring hum and glow from the control panel told him he'd gotten the job done. Now he could go to breakfast with John. "Is there anything else that needs to be done? I have all the time in the world, you know. Anything at all, I can do it."

Rodney realized he must have been a little too adamant because Grodin gave him a worried look as he said, "No, everything's good at the moment."

"You're sure? Because I could--"

"McKay."

John's voice cut him off and he gave Grodin one more pleading look, but the infuriating man just shook his head. Rodney lifted his chin and walked out of the control room at a brisk pace, letting John catch up with him as he strode down the corridor toward the mess hall.

"McKay?" Rodney glanced at John and kept walking. "Rodney. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Of course, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be fine?" Rodney's chin rose another notch and at this rate he'd give himself a crick in the neck, but he couldn't help it.

"Are you trying to avoid me? Because I could go somewhere else until you've had your coffee if that's what you want." John smiled earnestly and Rodney knew it was serious because John was many things but seldom was he earnest.

Pride kicked in at that point and Rodney refused to take the out he'd just been given. He said, "No. No, it's fine. We'll have coffee and breakfast and, and...and talk."

"You make it sound like getting a tooth pulled," John said, but the complaint seemed good-natured.

"Well, Major, discussions of..." Rodney glanced around to make sure he wouldn't be overheard before finishing in a near whisper, "discussions of feelings are not unlike getting a tooth pulled. Without anesthetic. From a large Neanderthal armed with rusty pliers."

John looked alarmed and said, "Whoa, whoa, hold up a minute. Who said anything about..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "feelings?"

"What did you want to talk about then?" Rodney glared at John in confusion.

"Well, I...I wanted to, um...okay, there might be some...of those things you mentioned, you know, involved." Rodney was astonished to see John becoming flushed and a little sweaty. It made him feel better to know that he wasn't the only one suffering severe discomfort from this conversation.

Rodney nodded briskly and clapped his hands together, "Okay. This is what we're gonna do. We'll go to the mess hall, eat breakfast and drink copious amounts of coffee--or a coffee-like beverage if that's our only available option--and then we will go somewhere private and talk where nobody will be able to witness the humiliating event. Oh. I hope they have some of those Athosian muffin things today."

"Athosian muffin things and a coffee-like beverage. Sounds tasty." John rolled his eyes and suddenly the tension between them felt completely normal again.

"I can't believe someone who has been in the service as long as you can still be such a picky eater."

"I'm not picky. I just haven't murdered my taste buds like you."

"I haven't done any such thing. It's just a preference."

John glanced at Rodney out of the corner of his eye and said, "Yeah, we all have those, don't we?"

"What?" The word boggle wasn't really a useful part of Rodney's vocabulary, but he now had a greater appreciation for the term and for the feeling it described. Rodney was definitely boggling at the unspoken implication he seemed to be picking up in John's comment, but then he worried that the dreams and other unsettling thoughts he'd been having about John were making him imagine things.

"Hm? Oh, nothing." John walked into the mess hall like a man without a care in the world. Rodney followed like a man who had many.

Breakfast consisted of Athosian muffins and tea, and Rodney got so caught up in complaining about the lack of coffee that he forgot to be nervous. When the meal was over, John looked at him and said, "My quarters?" and all of Rodney's earlier disquiet came rushing back.

As they walked down the corridor toward John's quarters, Rodney conveniently ignored the fact that this had been his plan in the first place. "Major, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"It's a good idea for you stop acting so squirrelly."

"I'm acting squirrelly? Who's the one who keeps touching the back of his neck twenty-seven times a day?"

"You were counting?"

"No, I wasn't counting."

"You were counting."

"No, I wasn't--" Rodney huffed out a breath and refused to go another round. "Look, the number is irrelevant."

"Not if you were counting," John said with a smile as he opened the door to his quarters. He waved Rodney inside and continued, "Okay, even if you weren't counting, you were noticing."

Rodney opened his mouth to say something sarcastic, but then he stopped and just considered John for a moment. "You wanted me to notice you? Even though we see each other every day."

John opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again and just shrugged. Rodney found the thought of either of them at a loss for words almost ridiculously unusual.

"Have you forgotten what I did to you a few weeks ago?"

"No." John sat down on the chair, motioning for Rodney to take a seat on the bed. He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "It pissed me off for a day or two, but mostly..."

Rodney perched on the edge of the bed and clamped his hands on his knees, waiting impatiently for John to finish.

"Mostly, it was scary."

"It was scary," Rodney repeated, then he jumped to his feet and started pacing back and forth across the small room. "Damn right, it was scary. Who knows what else I could have done to you? To somebody else if you hadn't stopped me?"

John waved off Rodney's concern and smiled. "Beckett said my flying tackle was one of the best he's ever seen."

"Pfft. He likes soccer. What does he know about tackles?"

"Yeah, yeah," said John, but there was a spark of pride in his smile. "And hey, you'd never have gotten the drop on me in the first place if I hadn't been taken by surprise. I'm usually not watching my own team mates to see if they're going to attack me in the infirmary."

"Well, maybe you should. No, really, I'm serious. We're in a new galaxy where there are all kinds of unexpected dangers. Like Wraith bugs that attach to your neck and can only be removed by stopping your heart." Rodney caught John's wince and immediately lowered his voice apologetically. "Who knows what else is lurking out here? Or in here? Any one of us could encounter something that could make him snap like that." He snapped his fingers and continued pacing.

"It's already happened. Doesn't that lower the odds of it happening again?" John asked.

Rodney stopped and stared at him. "No, I don't think it does. Just the opposite. It proves that it can happen and just how easily."

"Come on. We can't wrap ourselves in bubble wrap and live in fear." John stopped and tilted his head. "I wonder if anyone thought to bring bubble wrap? Think of all the--"

"Focus, John, focus." Rodney interrupted before he could go too far down this tangent "We are not talking about bubble wrap."

"No. But you just called me by my first name."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't. You must have heard wrong. Maybe you're hallucinating. You should go to see Doctor Beckett right away." Rodney started toward the door, but John got out of his chair and stood in his way.

"You're loosening up, Rodney." John watched him with that sly little grin he got whenever he knew he was going to get his way, and Rodney just wished he knew what he wanted his way about.

"I'm loose enough." John laughed and Rodney rolled his eyes. "I meant I'm not as uptight as you're implying."

"I'm not implying anything. Just stating a fact as I see it."

"Well, you see wrong. I'm just--" Rodney interrupted himself to snap, "Stop doing that." John dropped his hand back to his side with a shrug that seemed sheepish. "That's where this started, so why don't we go back to that. Why do you keep touching that scar?"

John was standing so close that Rodney could practically feel his breath when he sighed and said, "I...I don't know. I like the way it feels, I guess."

Rodney found himself shifting closer and lower his voice to match John's. "You do? How...?"

John reached down, took Rodney's hand in his own, and lifted it to the back of his neck. "See for yourself."

Rodney swallowed hard and moved his fingertips across John's skin. He couldn't stand the intensity of John's gaze so he focused his eyes on the part of his hand he could see around the edge of John's neck. The tremor in his hand was embarrassing, but the increase in his heart rate was enough to distract him from dwelling on the flush he was sure was creeping over his face. The scar tissue was unexpectedly soft, a bumpy anomaly in the otherwise smooth skin of John's neck.

"Does it hurt?" Rodney asked abruptly, but not drawing his hand away, even though he knew he should.

"No, not anymore." John's voice was soft. His breath was warm on Rodney's face and Rodney realized they'd moved closer together, into each other's personal space, and his own breath caught in his chest. He finally moved his gaze back to John's face and found that John was staring into his eyes as if he could read every prurient thought and dream that Rodney had ever had about him.

Rodney's throat tightened and his cock twitched and he realized that he was about to do something very stupid. He stepped back and dropped his hand, unable to stop his fingers from trailing over the side of John's neck and he fancied he could even feel the race of John's pulse under his fingertips.

"Are we done here?" Rodney's voice cracked and he cleared his throat. He took another step back, but the spell he seemed to be under didn't lessen with distance. He wanted John. He wanted John in ways he'd only dreamed of--literally. He wanted to do things to and with John that he'd never done before and some that he'd only done a couple times when he was really, really drunk. Things that John probably had no idea that Rodney wanted, that he had no idea that he seemed to be offering. But then...

John stepped forward into Rodney's personal space, picked up Rodney's hand and curled it around the back of his neck again. With that dead serious look that Rodney thought was so rare, he said, "No. We're not done."

"Um...what...What're you doing, Major?"

"Let's go back to 'John', why don't we?" John smirked then and Rodney relaxed just a tiny fraction. This was the John Sheppard he knew and lo-- could deal with. Yes.

"Actually, I should probably be getting to the lab--" Rodney's burst of responsibility was cut off by John's mouth on his, soft and quick. He opened his mouth to...not protest, but say something, but John stopped him with another kiss, this one longer and exploratory with tongue and a bit of teeth.

Somehow Rodney's back ended up against the wall and his hands ended up clutching John's shoulders and he had no idea how it had happened. His knee seemed to have developed a mind of its own and was dead set on working its way between John's legs, and John was apparently willing to accommodate because he planted his feet on either side of Rodney's so that his legs were spread. And he didn't stop kissing Rodney, which Rodney was glad of after the shock wore off, because John could kiss. He was damn good at it, in fact, and Rodney didn't want to think too much about whether it was more because of native talent or vast experience. Perhaps it was a combination of both, but really, as long as Rodney got the benefit, it was all good.

Rodney tried to shut his mind down and just concentrate on kissing back, but niggling little worries kept invading his thoughts. He went from his teeth are perfect and his thigh, oh yeah, right there... to why is he doing this?. From I'm getting hard, he's getting hard, oh my G-- to guys like him don't go for guys like me, what the fuck? He pulled back, banging his head on the wall, and said, "Wait. What's going on here?"

John opened his eyes and then blinked. "Kissing?"

"Yes, I know that, but why is there kissing?" Rodney tried to look John in the eyes but his gaze was inexorably drawn to his mouth, to his flushed lips shining with saliva that could be his or Rodney's or some intimate mix of the two.

"I wanted to and I thought you wanted to and we were having a moment..." John frowned. "We were having a moment, weren't we?"

Rodney moved his leg from where it had nestled so easily between John's and lifted his chin. "I guess you could call it that."

"Okay then." John smiled and slid his hands up Rodney's sides as he leaned forward for another kiss. Rodney swallowed anything else he might have wanted to say and just went with it. Eventually John would remember who he was--who they both were--and would stop, so Rodney might as well enjoy it while he could.

John's hands moved down to Rodney's hips, holding him firmly while he brought his own hips forward that crucial inch so that their erections were pressed together through the restricting layers of clothing. Rodney wished they were naked, and just the thought made him even harder. He arched into John's body and opened his mouth wider for John's tongue.

John rocked his hips, increasing the delicious friction, and nibbled on Rodney's lower lip until Rodney was just about to come in his pants. Worrying about actually coming in his pants and the long humiliating walk back to his quarters to change, Rodney opened his eyes and pulled his head away so he could say, "Whoa, whoa, hold up a minute." He shuddered as John buried his face at the base of Rodney's neck and breathed warm moist air in the hollow of Rodney's throat. "John, please..."

"Mmm, I like the way you say that," John murmured, licking Rodney's neck and sending tingles all over his body. "Say it again."

"John, please stop," said Rodney, regretfully.

John raised his head, surprised etched on every feature. "Okay. See, that's not what I was expecting to come next."

"I'm so close. Like really close. Like about to embarrass myself close to coming. If...If you're really serious about this..." Rodney reached between them and brushed the back of his hand over John's erection, smiling when John made a choking noise in the back of his throat. "I just need to get out of my clothes or something..."

"Oh, now that's not a problem." John lowered himself to his knees and opened Rodney's pants with a speed and dexterity that Rodney chose not to read too much into. He was too relieved to have his cock out of its fabric prison to worry about anything else at the moment, and then John's warm, wet mouth was sliding over his cock and he stopped thinking altogether.

Rodney let the wall at his back and John's hands on his hips hold him upright while he wallowed in the voluptuous sensations of John's tongue and lips caressing his cock with an admirable attention to detail. His hands found their way to John's hair and tangled in the already messy strands briefly before sliding lower to cradle the back of John's neck, the slick bumps of the scar underneath his fingers an eloquent reminder of how fucked up this all was. But then one of John's hands moved from his hip to his balls and Rodney didn't care how fucked up it was. He'd care later when the top of his head wasn't about to come off. When he knew he couldn't hold back any longer, he tapped John's shoulder and made a strangled noise of warning. John nodded his head and slid his mouth to the head of Rodney's cock but didn't remove it until after Rodney stiffened and jerked and came in an ecstatic rush.

When John pulled away, Rodney's knees gave out and he slumped to the floor in a heap. He closed his eyes for a minute and just breathed, enjoying the afterglow of his very intense orgasm. The rustle of clothing and the sound of John's zipper being lowered reminded him that he was not alone, so he opened his eyes and said, "Wait."

John looked at him like he'd lost his mind, but his hand stopped moving on his cock. Rodney shifted to his knees and pushed John back onto the floor so that he was lying flat with his legs splayed and his erection sticking out the front of his pants. Rodney crawled over John's body and propped himself up on one hand so that he could take John's erection in his other hand. He lowered his head for a kiss, deep and open, and just as sloppy as in his dream. But this time he didn't mind it. Tasting traces of his own semen on John's tongue was kind of hot--intimate and dirty and arousing-- even though it was too soon for him to get it up again. He nuzzled John's neck and breathed in his scent, felt the warm satin of John's cock sliding along the palm of his hand, tasted the salt of John's skin with the tip of his tongue, memorizing each sensation

Stroking John to completion didn't take long and Rodney worried that he'd been too quick and clumsy at it, but John was arching and twisting handfuls of Rodney's shirt as if everything Rodney did was just perfect. He moaned into Rodney's mouth and came in Rodney's hand, and for an insane split-second Rodney never wanted to let go of him. With one last kiss to the corner of John's mouth, Rodney did let him go and sat back on his heels. He cradled his sticky hand in his lap and just stared as John smiled at him and then slowly climbed to his feet and staggered off to the washroom.

When John came back, he tossed a cloth at Rodney and sat down on the bed with a glass of water. As Rodney wiped his hands on the cloth, John drank half and then offered the glass to Rodney, who took it, ignored all of his mother's warnings about drinking after someone else, and drained it in one gulp.

"So," John said with another smile, this one a little sharper but still strangely intimate. "That's an interesting way to start the day."

"Interesting, yes." Rodney set the glass on the small bedside table and got his clothes in order before rising to his feet. "Well, now that we've got that out of the way, I guess you need to go to work. I should have been in the lab an hour ago."

"Hold on a minute, Rodney." John jumped to his feet and put a hand on Rodney's arm. "Atlantis won't sink without you in the lab for another few minutes."

"Oh, you'd think that, wouldn't you? But around here it's not such a sure thing. Those imb--" John cut off Rodney's impending tirade with a kiss that Rodney found himself enthusiastically returning. When John pulled back, Rodney blinked and said, "No, probably not."

"Sit down for a minute." John pushed Rodney toward the chair with a firm hand in the small of his back.

"Isn't that how all this started?"

"No, we were standing when the good stuff started."

"You thought it was good?"

"Didn't you?"

"Well, yes, but..." Rodney sat abruptly and tilted his head to watch John closely. "This is all terribly unexpected."

"Why? I've been flirting with you for months."

"Flirting? You badger me and make fun of me and hang around..." Rodney trailed off when John just smiled and nodded. "Oh great, you're an eight year old."

"Rodney," John chastised gently. "What would you have done had I showed up at your door with flowers and candy?"

"I'd have laughed at you." Rodney considered it and then amended, "Well, I'd have eaten the candy and then laughed at you."

"Exactly." John looked very pleased with himself. "The hunter has to know his prey."

"I'm officially freaked out now." Rodney stood up and started pacing before he realized that was how it really all started. Or maybe it had all started the first time he'd gone on a mission with John Sheppard and spent hours in his company. No, no, none of that. He'd not instantly fallen under John's spell. He'd not even seriously considered him as anything more than just another attractive coworker among an assortment of ridiculously good-looking people until these last few days when everything John did seemed to be designed to turn him on and even his dreams were technicolor pornography starring one John Sheppard. He sat back down on the chair and said, "Okay, hotshot, now what? What are we supposed to do next? Where do we possibly go from here?"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Rodney realized what he'd been expecting--waiting for--ever since the moment he'd first touched John. He was waiting for the punchline. The joke that was Rodney's love life had to have a punchline, and sooner or later John would spring it on him. Rodney groaned and jumped to his feet again. "Wait, no, don't tell me. This was all an experiment just to see how the geek would react to a come-on, right? Would he fall right into your hands or cower like a frightened virgin? Or maybe this was just an elaborate way to get a silly story to tell all your soldier buddies."

"I have soldier buddies?"

"Ford and Stackhouse and, and...and whoever. The point is that I will be the punchline."

"Rodney. Aren't you getting a little...hysterical?"

"I do not get hysterical. Women get hysterical. I am entirely in control."

"Right, this is just masculine panic, because...why? You think I'm making a fool out of you somehow? What did I do to lead you to that insane conclusion?"

"You had sex with me against the wall and on your floor. Wasn't that enough?"

"Uhh..no?" John looked completely baffled and Rodney couldn't blame him because he wasn't feeling all that on top of things either. "Would it have been better if we'd done it on the bed? Well, it would have been more comfortable, certainly. But it's the rest I'm having trouble with. How do I know you're not trying to make a fool out of me?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Do I seem like the kind of person who would do that?"

"And I do?" Now John looked angry and reviewing the conversation, Rodney couldn't blame him for that either. During his review, Rodney realized exactly how much of himself, his history, that he'd revealed and he hoped like hell that John didn't call him on it. "Maybe that's what happened to you in the past," said Sheppard, causing Rodney to deflate just a little more. "But that's not what I'm gonna do."

Rodney nodded and turned away because looking into John's eyes right now was impossible, too intimate and revealing and just...impossible. "I know. I'm sorry. You're...you're a good man, John. I'm sorry. For everything I've done to you." Rodney started for the door, but John stopped him with a hand on Rodney's arm. Rodney stiffened his spine until he thought it would crack and waited.

John walked around to stand in front of Rodney and try as he might Rodney couldn't avoid his eyes this time. "This isn't a mistake, Rodney. Maybe it is an experiment, for both of us, but that's what every relationship starts out as. And the fact that I just used that word should tell you something."

The corner of Rodney's mouth twitched. "That you've lost your mind?"

"Possibly." John shrugged and tightened his grip on Rodney's wrist. "Want to lose yours with me?"

Rodney smiled now, relaxing slightly for the first time in what felt like days but was probably only a few minutes. "I think I already did. On the floor, of all places."

"That was hot." Now John grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "Spontaneity and impatience and getting swept away? That's very hot."

"I agree, but maybe next time we could get caught up and swept away on a bed?" Rodney rubbed his leg with his free hand to surreptitiously dry his sweaty palm and added, "My knees would thank us both for it."

"Tell me about it." John sighed and winced. "For a minute there I was afraid I'd cracked something. For all their superior intellect and technology, the Ancients couldn't have put some carpet in this place?"

"You do realize we just tacitly agreed that there'll be a next time?" Rodney slid his wrist out of John's slack grip and rubbed that hand on his pants as well.

"Yes, we did just that. You can pick the time and place for next time."

"Oh, okay, how about next week?" John raised an eyebrow and Rodney corrected himself, "Tomorrow?"

"I was hoping for dinner tonight, but tomorrow works too."

"You want to have dinner with me? Together? In the mess hall?"

"We have dinner together all the time."

"With other people. That's not exactly like a date."

"No, but it could be. It could be something special just for the two of us even with other people at the table. They'll never have to know."

"Or, I could grab something from the mess hall and you could come to my quarters."

"We could do that too. I'll come by around...six? Is that good?" Rodney nodded, once more swamped with worry and fear over what he was getting himself into. John must have noticed something was off because he stepped closer to Rodney and put his hands on Rodney's shoulders and added, "Rodney, you can always say no, if that's what you really want."

"It...no. What I really want," Rodney gulped and took a deep breath. "What I really want is you."

John leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Rodney's lips. "That can be arranged."

"Six tonight in my quarters," Rodney said and John nodded. "I have to go now. I have to get to the lab. Zelenka will be wondering." Privately, Rodney thought Zelenka probably hadn't even noticed he was gone, but whatever got him out of here faster.

"See you tonight." John kissed him again and Rodney clung to John for a brief second before bolting out the door.

Out in the corridor, Rodney walked quickly towards the lab, muttering, "What have I done? What the hell have I done?" under his breath and it was probably a sign of just how used to him everyone had gotten that nobody even looked twice at him. He glanced at his watch as he turned a corner and realized that he had roughly eight hours to figure it out, or at least to accept it.

That night as they lay curled together on Rodney's narrow bed, Rodney pressed his lips to the scar on the back of John's neck, gently feeling his way from side to the other. Opening his mouth, he traced it with the tip of his tongue and felt the shiver that ran down John's naked back. Rodney tightened his arms around John and rocked him with a tenderness he'd have sworn that he didn't possess. "I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that. I already forgave you." John looked over his shoulder and smiled. He stroked the scar on Rodney's arm where Kolya tortured him. "Besides, everybody's got scar tissue. Some of it's on the outside and some of it's not."

Rodney nodded, and after a moment's thought he said, "You've been waiting to say that, haven't you?"

"Maybe. Let's just say I've been thinking about it for a while." John yawned loudly and shifted onto his back.

"Yeah, we never really talked about what happened with the Genii, did we?" Rodney had hoped not to have to, but he knew he had to make an effort if he and John were going to be serious about this thing they'd started. "Are you all right...with everything?"

"I'm living with it." John let out a laugh that was halfway between amused and bitter. "I've added it to the collection."

Rodney considered that and observed, "I guess I'm getting my own collection since coming out here."

"You started your collection a long time before Atlantis, Rodney."

"It's that obvious?"

"Just to someone who's looking." John slid his lips along Rodney's jaw and nipped his ear lobe. "And I've been looking for a while now."

"I can't imagine why," Rodney said with a bitter chuckle of his own. He spread his hand out on John's chest, his fingers ruffling the silky hair.

"That's part of your charm." John then did what was becoming a habit and stopped Rodney's protests with a kiss, and after a moment, Rodney forgot what he'd been about to say and got lost in John's mouth instead.

All in all, it wasn't a bad place to be.

The end.

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