Yes, Really

by The Grrrl

Title: Yes, Really

Author: The Grrrl

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Archive: Ask first.

Fandom: Stargate Atlantis

Pairing: Sheppard/McKay

Summary: The morning after. John's a little bit uncertain.

John woke slowly. It took him a moment to realize his pillow was warm and soft and moving under his cheek--up, down, up, down. Something soft tickled his nose.

Rodney's chest hair.

John's head was nestled on Rodney's naked chest. He had been sleeping on Rodney, one arm flung over Rodney's naked stomach, a leg draped over naked Rodney's legs and they were naked. Both of them. Even worse, Rodney's arms were wrapped tightly around him, one around John's waist, the other resting heavy on his shoulders and there was no way he could escape, no way he could slither off the bed and be out the door before Rodney awakened.

Not that he wouldn't have to face Rodney later that day, hell, he'd probably run into him at dinner but at least he'd have a few hours to recover, some time to come up with an explanation for his actions. How the hell was he supposed to know that when Rodney complained about the stiffness in his shoulder that his muscles really were stiff and when John had offered him a massage, Rodney thought he actually meant a real massage?

It was all too clear from Rodney's dismayed yelp that John's gaydar had failed him once again.

A soft snore from above and John held his breath, willing Rodney to remain asleep, to give him time to figure out his next move. He held still as Rodney flexed his hand, tightening his grip on John's waist, stroking his skin. Then to John's relief Rodney relaxed, his breathing growing deep and steady once again.

John let out his breath. He needed a plan. Maybe he could maybe out-nap Rodney, pretend to be asleep when Rodney to woke. And stay that way as Rodney got out of bed. Even though Rodney would have to slide out from underneath him. It could work. He could later explain to Rodney that he was a heavy sleeper. Although this was Rodney's room and Rodney's bed so he probably wouldn't be hurrying out anytime soon. He'd probably linger. And want to talk.

John winced.

Talk. John didn't want to talk. He didn't want to explain to Rodney why his idea of a back massage required his hands being inside Rodney's pants. Granted, once Rodney caught on to what John was doing, he didn't bolt out of the room. He actually went along with it, hesitant but willing, out of sympathy, curiosity--John didn't know and he was pretty sure he didn't want to know.

In a way Rodney staying was even worse than Rodney leaving. Clumsy awkward sex, god, it had been pretty awful, all elbows and knees, tangled shoelaces and bumped noses. Rodney looked a little too astonished for comfort when John slipped his own pants off, and John had clutched too much, held on too tight, murmured Rodney's name a little too often. He had come all over Rodney's stomach and pillow and maybe even the wall and all Rodney had said was "huh" in the same tone he used for badly mangled laptops. But at least Rodney had come too, even though John was a little out of practice with the blow jobs. He cringed as he remembered an accident scrape of his teeth, and the resulting squawk that had come out of Rodney.

Maybe if John slid down the bed very, very slowly he could ease his way out of Rodney's arms without waking him. And then figure out a reason to stay off-world for a few days. Or weeks. Enough time to allow the memory of very bad, very gay sex to fade from Rodney's mind.

Maybe John was needed at the alpha site.

Unfortunately, John was pretty sure nothing ever really faded from Rodney's laser-sharp mind. Especially something so startling that it resulted in nearly ten minutes of stammering "really? you want to--with me--really? I had no idea you were--you know--" while practically sitting on John, preventing him from skulking out the door and forcing him to say "yes, really, with you" a hundred times before Rodney brightened and said, "sure, okay" as if John had offered him a cup of coffee.

Rodney really drove him crazy sometimes. All the time.

It was time to leave. John closed his eyes, took a breath and shifted his weight to the right, ever so slightly.

Rodney grunted.

John paused, then moved his arm down from Rodney's shoulder but Rodney twitched and moved and then grabbed him by the armpits. John found himself being hauled up by strong arms, until he was stretched out over Rodney's body and staring down at Rodney's sleepy not-cute-at-all face.

"Hi," John offered nervously.

Rodney blinked. "Hi." There was a bruise on Rodney's shoulder, in the shape of John's thumb.

"So," John said.

"Wow," Rodney said at the same time.


Rodney grinned up at him. "Wow. I can't believe we had, like, the best sex ever. You and me. And sex. Really, really good sex."


"Gay sex. Really good gay sex." Rodney beamed at him.

John straightened his shoulders and nodded proudly. "Damn right we did."

Rodney's grin grew broader and broader, until John found it necessary to kiss him--on the nose, a dimpled cheek, his pointy chin and then Rodney's mouth found his for a lush, sweet kiss. John relaxed into it, stretching out till his toes touched Rodney's toes and then he kissed Rodney again, reveling in the fact that hey, technique wasn't everything and they were pretty damn good together and they would be even better with a little practice and it was entirely possible that Rodney would be willing to consider it.

"So how's that shoulder?" John asked, lips moving down Rodney's neck.

"Still a little stiff," Rodney answered solemnly.

"I can fix that, you know."

"Really?" Rodney spread his legs and wriggled against John, hands on John's ass as John laughed and said "yes, really" and kissed Rodney some more.

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