New Parameters

by The Grrrl

Title: New Parameters

Author: The Grrrl

Author's email:

Author's URL:

Archive: Ask first.

Fandom: Stargate Atlantis

Pairing: Sheppard/McKay

Rating: NC-17

Summary: McKay thought he had it all figured out.

They were so screwed.

Rodney entered a different set of parameters into the model, but the results were the same: not enough power. He reviewed the details one more time, hoping beyond hope that, unlikely as he knew it to be, he had actually made a mistake, when he realized someone was standing behind him—make that leaning over him, practically breathing down his neck.

"Major," Rodney said, without taking his eyes from the screen. "Is there something I could do for you?"

"What is all that?" John asked, moving closer and pointing at the screen.

"You wouldn't understand." He had work to do, damn it—why did the major have to choose now? When John just stayed there, breathing on him, Rodney relented and explained, "I'm trying to see if I there is any way we can divert enough power under an emergency situation to power up the shields, even for a short period of time."

"Oh, I see. So what do the flashing red numbers here indicate?" John tapped at the screen before Rodney could stop him, smudging it.

Rodney folded his sleeve over his hand and wiped away the fingerprints. "Please don't touch," he said testily. "That means it's not going to work, unless I've miscalculated the loss of energy due to—oh, never mind. It's a complex system, but I it's highly doubtful I've made an error. Suffice it to say, things are not looking good for my current approach, at least right now. So if I could get back to what I was doing before you interrupted me—"

"Rodney." John placed a hand on his shoulder. "You've been working on this all day. Don't you need to take a break?"

Rodney shrugged, but John's hand didn't move. "Take a break? Major, if you recall, we've discovered there are at least 20 Wraith ships in this sector alone—"

"Not directly on their way here, are they?" John's lips brushed the side of his neck as he spoke.

Rodney sighed, then closed his laptop and swiveled his chair around. "Remarkable, how my needing to take a break always seems to coincide with your being horny."

The man didn't have the decency to even look guilty, just smug. "This isn't all about me, you know. You've been awfully bitchy lately. More so than usual." John surprised Rodney by straddling his legs and actually sitting on his lap. "And that's bad for morale." He squeezed Rodney's shoulders with both hands, then cupped his neck, fingers massaging tight muscles.

"Oh, now you are performing a public service?" Rodney refused to give in to the urge to sigh and lean into the touch, even though John's fingers felt good. They always felt good.

"Something like that." John smiled at him, a smile designed made the recipient feel extra special and important. Worse yet, Rodney couldn't help himself—he did feel special when John smiled at him like that. Just like when John first propositioned him a few weeks ago. Just a friendly hand job between buddies, John had said. Where was the harm in that?

And Rodney couldn't think of any harm in it at all. As a matter of fact, it seemed like a damn good idea, especially with the way John's thigh had been pressing against his hard-on. It had turned out to be a singularly enjoyable experience, one he wanted to repeat as often as possible. But he knew he had to keep on playing it cool, because that was the thing you had to do with pretty boys like the major.

"I suppose I could spare a few minutes," Rodney said. Already his hand was gliding along John's thigh. Such nice, hard muscles. He could get used to this lap thing, even though he had to lean back and tilt his head in order to look John in the eye.

"Great," John said with a broad smile, as if he hadn't been getting his way with Rodney each and every time. His hands slid from their massage of Rodney's neck and reached for his pants.

Rodney place a hand on John's, stilling it. "The door?"

John rolled his eyes. "Locked, of course."

"Okay, okay, just checking—I—." He gasped as John's busy hands unbuttoned his trousers and tugged at his clothes until his dick sprang free. Warm hands stroked him as he scrambled desperately to catch up, fumbling with John's trousers, cursing the poor military design. At last he slipped his hand under the waistband of John's briefs to find his dick, nice and firm and eager.

John made a small sound and slid forward, pushing his hips closer. Rodney watched as their dicks bumped together and their fingers entwined. It looked good to him, both of them hard and red, and it felt insanely good to have John's big hand squeezing him like that. It felt so good that he was afraid he was going to lose it, right there, or worse, that he might moan John's name, right out loud.

"Oh, jeeze," John whispered, hunched over so that his forehead touched Rodney's. "Rodney."

He said it so sweetly that before Rodney could stop himself, he blurted out, "Can I kiss you?"

So much for playing it cool.

John pulled back, a surprised expression on his face. "Rodney, I thought you said you didn't—"

"I changed my mind."

"Oh. Okay." Without hesitation, John pressed his lips against Rodney's mouth.

John kissed just the way Rodney thought he would—small, playful kisses, then with more intent, his tongue delicately touching Rodney's lips before slipping past. It was the kind of kissing he could do all day, the kind that actually made him forget about what else he should be doing, at least until John's dick twitched in his hand, reminding him. He moved his hand over it, stroking and pulling, and John did the same with his, and it was incredible—John's tongue, his mouth, those hands sweeping over his dick, John rocking his hips, thrusting into his hand, grunting and kissing him with even more enthusiasm, as if Rodney was the most amazing thing John had ever experienced.

Except that John suddenly stopped, his mouth sliding wetly across Rodney's cheek as he stood up. "What—John?" Rodney stammered, reaching out for him. It was definitely not a good time for John to leave.

Only John didn't leave. He knelt on the floor, between Rodney's legs, and Rodney watched in wonder as John's mouth slid over his dick. He'd dreamed about John doing this, but never expected it to actually happen. "Oh—oh god," he whimpered, for once not caring what he sounded like, because John's mouth was hot and wet. John sucked hard, lips sliding down the length of the shaft. It was better then he had ever imagined. It was beautiful and wonderful, with little slurpy noises that sounded just right. Sliding further down in his chair, pushing himself deeper into that mouth, his head fell back. He buried his fingers in John's hair. He was panting so hard he just knew he was going to hyperventilate and pass out, and that wouldn't be good, no, not good at all, but then he felt it start—the tension in his balls, that twisting sensation deep in his gut, and oh my, that was nice, very nice—

"John," he gasped, grabbing dark hair. "I'm about to—you might want to—"

John moaned around his dick, and that was it. Rodney came, right in his mouth, with almost blinding pleasure, heart thudding noisily in his chest. He swore he saw stars. Oxygen deprived—that must be it. And if that wasn't bad enough, as soon as Rodney finished, John reached up and kissed him. His mouth tasted of come, sort of nasty, but Rodney kept right on kissing him until he was completely out of breath.

The man was hazardous to his health.

When his vision finally cleared, John was on his feet, arms crossed, looking fairly pleased with himself. His trousers were still unfastened, and his dick was hanging down, irresistibly thick and full.

"I thought you said that this was all about a couple of hand jobs between friends?" Rodney asked, trying to keep his body from oozing off the chair and onto the floor.

"I changed my mind," John informed him.

"Okay. Mind changing. I like that." He sat up, tucking in and buttoning up his pants. "I liked it very much."

"Hey, listen, feel free to return the favor, if you want to. If it's something that you do." John reached down to touch his own dick. He sounded uncharacteristically tentative.

Rodney rolled his chair forward, because no way was he standing up right now. "As a matter of fact, yes, it is something I do. Sit," he said, pushing John up on his desk. "Just watch out for the—thank you," he added as John gently pushed his computer aside. Then he spread John's legs and focused his attention on John's dick, poking up right in front of him. He gripped the base and brushed his lips against the head. It was smooth as silk, and from the way John grunted and clutched his arm, exceedingly sensitive. Rodney smiled to himself, because it was his turn now, and he knew this was going to be fun.

And it was fun. Very fun. John's dick fit nicely into his mouth, and every time he sucked it in deep, John would make a satisfyingly desperate noise. He lingered over the head, licking it until John had murmured "oh, Jesus" enough times, and then went back to sucking, pressing his tongue along the underside. He pushed John's shirt up, to see his stomach, running his hand over, enjoying the smell and the feel of John's skin. John grunted loudly, his dick growing even thicker, and Rodney knew this was it, John was losing it.

John came, hips jerking violently and his dick slipped from Rodney's mouth. Rodney grabbed it, trying to keep the mess to a minimum, holding it through spasm after spasm. All the while John moaned, long and low, a sound of pure delight, a sound Rodney wanted to hear all the time. After a final sigh, John grew quiet.

"Uh, damn, did you bring any napkins or anything?" Rodney asked, leaning in to kiss John's stomach. No question about it. He was good at this. Very good.

"Huh?" John looked bewildered. "A what? No, I don't—" He leaned back, eyes half-closed, hair even more disheveled than usual. "Damn, Rodney."

Shaking his head, Rodney stood up to look for himself, his handful of come—John's come—trickling down his wrist. But he stopped to kiss John, because he could, because John's mouth was hanging open. And because John was prettier than ever right after he came.

"Mmm. You know, this might be easier if we were both naked," John murmured against his cheek.

"What? Here? In the lab? Wouldn't that be a little risky?" Rodney located a stack of napkins left over from lunch within arm's reach. He wiped his hands awkwardly, because John had wrapped his arms around his waist and didn't seem interested in letting go anytime soon. "Ah, now look, it's all over my sleeve."

"No, I meant that if I maybe came to your room at night, we wouldn't have to worry about getting come stains on our clothes, or about being interrupted."

Rodney's heart beat faster as he pictured it, he and John naked together in bed, all wrapped up in each other. "I suppose that would be the practical thing to do," he acknowledged.

"Yes, practical. Absolutely." John nodded. "It's important to be practical about these things. And see, I wouldn't have to keep interrupting you while you were trying to get work done."

"Precisely. What do you say—drop by at 2300 hours?" In bed. Naked. He'd be able to touch him everywhere. They could get come all over each other, and maybe even shower it off together. He wondered whether John would stay the night.

"I'll be there." John smiled at him—not that smirky little grin, but a great big, wide smile. A happy one, one that made Rodney feel ridiculously warm inside, and one that made him feel special.

"Good. Don't be late." Rodney crumpled up the napkins he'd used, and for lack of anything better to do with them, stuffed them in his pocket.

"I won't." John tightened his grip around Rodney's waist, pulling him close and kissing him. He lingered a few minutes longer, then adjusted his clothing and left with one last kiss and what seemed to be genuine regret.

Rodney opened his laptop, trying to remember what the hell he had been doing before John had come barging in. Something about modeling energy flows, he thought as the screen blinked to life. And something about being screwed, because he had failed to find a way to power the force field, even for a minute.

Screwed. Maybe he'd be the one getting screwed, tonight, in the privacy of his own room. He rubbed his hands together happily. He decided that his original model wasn't at all correct, and that it would be best to start all over again with a fresh one.

Stargate Atlantis (including all characters and images) is the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. No copyright infringement is intended or should be inferred. This is a nonprofit fan site.

The Grrrl's site is maintained by The Grrrl