Pairing: McKay/Sheppard [Stargate: Atlantis]
Warnings: Graphic Smut of a Manly Nature. Oh, and vulgarity.
Summary: Sheppard's been thinking about McKay a lot lately, and he's not sure what to do about it.
Notes: This is all geonncannon's fault. Guess which HKH challenge I mutilated.
Thanks to lonelyfedora for the title.
John felt the shower spray trickle down his back. He pressed his forehead against the tile in front of him, unable to stop thinking about the conversation at poker night the night before. Unable to wash the accusations away...
...Despite Weir's reign of civilian domesticity in Atlantis, the soldiers got together every few nights for cards. They had to maintain their proletariat sense of machismo somehow, and all mercenaries and flyboys on assignment had played cards since the days of yore. At least, that's what they remembered from television. And it had been a long time since any of them had seen television--real television--the kind where you flip channels and watch half a Lifetime movie here, half a golf tournament there, and stare at The Weather Channel for hours on end.
Thank god someone had brought a deck of cards to the other side of the galaxy.
They let the non-coms play with them. There weren't enough soldiers for a good hand otherwise. John was dealing five card draw. No scientists allowed. It wasn't a discrimination thing. Scientists just liked counting cards and bragging too much, which was very annoying.
"So, Shep, what you think of McKay? You work with him the most." Corporal Dent asked him.
"Annoying," John said. He dealt another card.
Dent persisted. "Think he's banging that sweet little assistant of his?"
John glanced at Dent. "No."
"Naw." Ford nudged Dent. "I think McKay plays for the other team."
"The boys' team."
Gunnery Sergeant Jackson peeked at his cards, and then leaned forward. "Who do you think he has the hots for? The Czech?"
"The Scot! Hit me." Dent slapped two cards onto the pile at John's right hand.
"This isn't Blackjack," John said for the sixth time as he slipped Dent replacement cards.
"Come on, fellas. McKay sets his sights higher. He's too arrogant to bed with the 'help.' That leaves..." Ford winked at his commander. "One man."
John folded his cards. "Teasing a senior officer isn't very smart, Lieutenant."
Ford just smirked.
Dent sang, "McKay and Sheppard, sitting in a tree. Hey, would you have to change your names to McShep?" He laughed.
"I am not a value meal," John said, grousing as he switched out one card for Jackson.
"Oh, no. You are premium cut." Ford grinned.
"That's right. And none of you boys will ever get a taste of me."
...He was sure it was just talk, he repeated to himself as he lathered up his chest. He was sure. McKay didn't have sights set on him. Even McKay wasn't that arrogant... Or that dumb. As he rubbed the soap in, one finger touched his left nipple and it tightened. John cringed and ignored the sharp, pleasurable sensation, instead sliding his hand down to his abdomen. But there, too, his skin was sensitive, and his stomach muscles contracted under the slick touch and the warm, soapy water. He sighed, and covered his left breast with his hand. Best to just get this over with.
He circled his nipple with his index finger, allowing the other fingers to drag behind, marking soapy paths in the curls on his chest. That's right, he thought. None of that trendy shaving. He had a man's chest. "I am not pretty," he said aloud, all the better to convince himself. "I am not witty." He washed the soap from his chest with smooth strokes of his hand. "I am not gay."
His hardening cock begged to differ. He reached down and gripped it, willing the erection to subside. Touching himself was an inappropriate response to thoughts of Rodney.
"I am not gay," he repeated, sliding his fist up and down his cock.
They never would have let a homosexual join the Atlantis expedition. Security risk and Air Force just didn't mix, and he'd been in enough trouble already, unique alien gene or not.
...Maybe that was the gene...
Shut up, John.
He groped himself, a moan escaping his lips as his cock, fully hard now, strained under his fingers. There had only been those couple of times, to take the edge off, when he'd pushed his willing copilot against the smooth metal side of a fighter jet, and had taken him, both of them standing, both of them panting, both of needing release...
Atlantis was all edge, all the time. No conjugal beam-building when the Wraith were out there, so you were reduced to a hot shower, if you were lucky.
He wasn't gay. You couldn't be gay, and get approved for this kind of mission, so therefore, he wasn't gay. So sayeth the United States Air Force. So it was all academic what McKay thought of him... Soft-bellied, wet-eyed McKay... Whose smart-ass bickering had so woven itself into the language of Atlantis that it was a comfort to hear him complaining about how the world was ending, especially when the world was actually ending. McKay's open, whimpering, unashamed desperation was an outlet for your own fear...
McKay, who would never touch him, never kiss him... He groaned as his fingers moved faster. Fluid seeping from the head of his cock mixed with the steamy heat of the shower, making him slick, and hard, and ready, and McKay had nothing to do with it.
"Hey, Major Sheppard!" A voice outside the stall door called to him.
"McKay!" He shouted. Not now, damnit, not when his cock was surging in his hand, not when he was so close...
"Stop spunking and let me have some hot water!" McKay yelled over the door.
"Fuck." His balls were tightening, and he pressed his face against the wet tile, trying not to think of McKay, and then he was coming, spurting onto the wall in front of him, gasping as the release left him dizzy. He stroked himself as he softened, washing a few last droplets away.
He had the presence of mind to clean the wall before he turned off the water and wrapped a towel around his waist. McKay was waiting for him, dressed in a terrycloth robe that made him look like a giant, white Ewok. John laughed. "All yours," he said, as water drops turned cold on his chest. He tried not to think about how McKay saw him there, half-naked and dripping. Tried not to wonder what McKay thought about in the shower.
"Thank you, Your Excellency," McKay said, and stepped into the stall.
John sighed and headed for his locker. "Didn't the Atlantians hear of bathrooms for everybody?"
"Energy conservation," McKay said tiredly, his voice muffled by the shower door. "Believe me, it will be the first thing we get when we find a ZPM."
* * *
John sipped the disgusting tea that Teyla's people had found on the Atlantian mainland and looked out at the ocean. He was leaning on the railing on the balcony outside of Weir's office, enjoying the sunrise. Weir was beside him.
"Doctor Weir," he said, conversationally, as if they picked a topic at random each morning and today they were choosing from column H, "How many homosexuals do you think are on Atlantis?"
"Well," she said, as she focused on the horizon. "I know of three. But given the population, and what we currently know about demographic spread, I'd say there are probably 9 or 10."
John tried not to let on that the tea was scalding his mouth, burning up the air trying to escape his lungs, and that he was going to die. "Which three?"
Weir leaned against the railing and looked sideways at him. "That doesn't matter, unless you're planning on dating any of them. And I'd prefer, given the threat of the Wraith, the limited resources, and the fact that all of us have to live with each other, that everyone keep it professional." She squinted.
"Of course." John took another sip of tea to wash away the last one. "Just wondering."
* * *
Finding someone to sleep with in order to prove his manhood wasn't as easy as John thought it would be. He'd flirted, he'd charmed, he'd offered ladies a ride in his puddle jumper. Women either laughed him off or looked frightened, and he was beginning to lose confidence.
He and Ford were out scouting a planet the gate had dialed up. The surface was a desert. It looked hot. It looked barren. No way in hell were they landing. John folded his arms and watched Ford work the controls. "Lieutenant, do you think I'm attractive?"
"What?" Ford glanced at him with horror apparent on his face, and then quickly looked back at the panel again.
"I just mean... I'm striking out lately. Ever since we got to Atlantis."
"Well, it hasn't exactly been frolicking on an alien world for me either, sir." Ford paused, and then shook his head as he made the shuttle bank right. "Is this about McKay?"
"McKay? No." John sat up straighter in his seat. "It's about the ladies, Ford. The lay-dees. Why would you think it's about McKay?"
"Well, you're avoiding him, sir."
"I am not avoiding him." John felt affronted.
"He should be on this mission."
"We don't need him on this mission."
"He's always useful for something, sir. And he's a member of our team."
"Teyla's not here, either," John said, and felt smug for pointing that out.
Ford sighed. "She's harvesting with her people. What about McKay?"
"This isn't about McKay."
Ford turned his attention to the view. "You're still avoiding him."
* * *
Despite John's best efforts, they'd found ruins on the surface of the desert world, and Weir wanted a closer investigation. Wearing desert camo, he, McKay, and Ford emerged from the parked puddle jumper. Rodney headed for the nearest column. "I recognize that language."
John nodded. "You investigate. We'll secure the area."
"From sand mites?" McKay scowled at them over his shoulder.
"You never know," John said. He gestured at Ford to walk in one direction, and he started off in another.
He and Ford met again at the other side of the ruins. "You're avoiding him," Ford said.
Ford raised his eyebrow. And then waggled his eyebrow, and then John realized that the ground underneath them was shaking, and as soon as his mind could formulate 'Earthquake!' he heard McKay screaming from the center of the ruins.
The ground settled and John took off running. "McKay!"
"Fuck fuck cock-sucking desert I hate Stargates Fuck!"
John followed the curses to where McKay was pinned under a column. "Are you all right?" He fell to his knees next to McKay. "I'm sorry I wasn't here. That I was over there." Avoiding you.
"Am I all right?" McKay's face was twisted in pain. "Do I look all right, Major?"
John heard footsteps and panting behind him. "Ford! Get the equipment from the puddle jumper."
McKay gritted his teeth. "You can rewire the generator to emit a focused laser. Safer than explosives, to break this thing up."
"I'll talk you through it over the comm," McKay said, and then yelped. "Fuck, this hurts. Why couldn't it have crushed my spine so I wouldn't have to feel this?"
Ford ran off.
John pressed at the column covering McKay's legs. It wouldn't budge.
McKay scowled at him. "Thank you, Mr. Superhero."
John sighed. "I'm sorry," he said again, and reached for his pack. He pulled out the first aid kit and found the syringe. "This'll help the pain."
"Don't gouge--Ow!" McKay closed his eyes. "Okay. That feels better. I only kind of wish I were dead."
John touched McKay's shoulder. He'd been so stupid. Out here, classifications and the military and whatever he thought of himself didn't matter--There was only him and McKay, and he didn't want McKay to die.
McKay opened his eyes, and squinted at John. "What?"
"I love you," John said.
McKay rolled his eyes. "Great, foxhole syndrome. I love you, too. Man. Now would you hand me that rock?" He jerked his head in the direction of a pale rock near his leg.
"No, really." John touched McKay's cheek. "I really love you."
McKay sighed. "If you really loved me you would help me live. Right? Give me the rock!"
John handed over the rock.
McKay began tapping at the column. "I don't know what to say."
"That's a first."
McKay looked sharply at him.
"Sorry. Are you--?"
"Am I what? Gay? Attracted to you? Trapped under a fucking sandstone column in the middle of nowhere? Do you really think this is an appropriate time? Maintain some professionalism."
John frowned. "You sound like Doctor Weir."
"What the hell is wrong with Elizabeth?"
"Nevermind." John glanced around. Ford was still in the shuttle. Nothing else stirred--There wasn't even any wind. He and McKay were the only two people alive.
"Does it matter?" McKay said softly.
John refocused his attention on McKay.
McKay repeated himself. "Does it matter what I am..." He tapped the column as hard as he could, and the column crumbled into chunks and fell away from his body. "If I'm in love with you?"
"How'd you do that?" John looked wildly from McKay's smug expression to the broken stone pieces, the declaration of love ringing in his ears.
"Basic physics," McKay said, lying back in the sand.
John bent to kiss him. Their mouths met with eager intent. John's rough, chapped lips moved against McKay's, until McKay opened his mouth to allow John's tongue. Kissing McKay felt completely normal, like John should have done it a year ago, and now, tasting the heat, feeling the pressure of McKay's mouth against him, John couldn't quite remember why he hadn't.
* * *
On the shuttle ride back, John and McKay sat silently next to each other in the passenger seats, not touching, just occasionally glancing at each other, smiling, and then looking away.
"You're avoiding me," Ford said, muttering as he dialed the coordinates for the Stargate.
"Are not." John scoffed. "I'm just... thinking."
"And I," Rodney said, gesturing with an air of grandiosity, "Am wallowing in my extraordinary pain."
John chuckled. He unbuckled his seat belt and stood, reaching out to touch McKay's shoulder as he took the copilot seat. McKay stuck his knee out, so that it touched John's thigh as he passed. John shivered. "What you're really saying," he said to Ford, "Is that you can't pilot this thing without me."
Ford maneuvered the shuttle into the Stargate event horizon. "Whatever."
* * *
Two days later, after McKay had been released from the doctor's care, and John had finished washing all the sand out of his hair, John rang the chime for McKay's quarters. He should have brought flowers, he thought. Is that what men do for each other?
Rodney'd been in the infirmary, so it was probably appropriate... But he hadn't brought anything. He should at least go back and get War and Peace. The door slid open. Too late, now.
John stepped inside. McKay was lying on top of the covers on the bed, wearing a tee shirt and boxers and reading a book that had a painting of a half-naked woman being embraced by a long-haired, all naked male on the cover. John blinked. "Are you reading a romance novel?"
McKay folded the book over his stomach. "I borrowed it from Elizabeth."
"Figures." John settled onto the chair opposite McKay's bed. "How are you feeling?"
"Look, McKay... Rodney..." John took a deep breath. "What happened out there... It doesn't have to happen again. I can forget. If it was inappropriate..."
"Are you going to kiss me?" McKay interrupted him.
"Because if you're not..." McKay pointed at his book. "Go away. There's kissing in here. Let me enjoy myself."
John stood up and crossed to the bed. "McKay...Shut up." He sat beside McKay and leaned down, looking into McKay's eyes, surprised by how much he liked the affection he found there.
"So many people say that," McKay said, putting his hand on John's shoulder. "But so few people offer me something good in return." He pulled John closer.
John kissed him urgently. They sucked the air from each other, sealing their mouths together, biting each other's lips. John was stroking McKay's chest, finding muscles underneath the thin tee shirt. McKay tore his mouth away from John's, in order to reach up and tug at the zipper of his jumpsuit.
"Oh god," John said, kneeling over McKay, settling against him. He felt McKay's cock, hard and hot, against his belly. He slid his hands under McKay's shirt, wanting more, wanting to touch him everywhere at once.
McKay drew down the zipper of his jumpsuit, opening it to his waist. "Easy, flyboy," he said, gasping as John pinched his nipple between his fingers, "We have time to do everything you want to do."
John inhaled, trying to slow down his racing heart. He pulled away from McKay's hands, reaching up to peel the jumpsuit off his upper body, leaving him bare, before bending down and pressing his mouth to McKay's abdomen. "Everything?"
McKay's hands found his hair. "Yes."
John's lips traveled across McKay's stomach. He bit gently into love handles that hadn't quite lost their shape under the demanding life on Atlantis. McKay's fingers were massaging his scalp, encouraging him. He slid his tongue across McKay's belly button, and then shifted lower, to where McKay's erection was rearing against his boxers, and there was a wet spot on the front staining the cotton that made a perfect target for John.
He covered it with his mouth. McKay groaned and arched his hips at John as John sucked on the head of his cock through the cloth.
"God. Fuck." McKay squeezed his eyes shut, and tightened his grip in John's hair. John grinned, his lips curling against McKay's crotch, and reached into McKay's boxers to free his cock.
McKay exhaled forcefully as his cock was released, only to be quickly trapped by John's hand. "Wow," John said, "It's bigger than mine."
"That's nice. Is now really the time?" McKay squirmed, shifting his hips, pressing himself against John's fingers.
John smirked and touched his lips to the tip of McKay's cock. McKay tasted sweet and salty, and he realized he'd actually never tasted any man like this, not really. He wanted to make a joke about Canadians and maple syrup, but he resisted, instead closing his lips around McKay and sucking, taking more of McKay's penis into his mouth.
McKay moaned. He kept his eyes closed, and was still except for his hands, still on John's head, following John's movement's. John felt McKay's cock nudge the back of his throat and drew back, until he was just licking at the tip again. McKay started to beg for it, calling, "John, please," and John reveled in his sense of control over McKay, which would last only a moment, and McKay would make him regret it later.
When McKay's pleas became incoherent, John took pity and gave into wanting McKay's cock in his mouth, and he sucked McKay, loved McKay, until McKay yelled and filled his mouth with sperm. John choked, swallowing what he could, pulling back to feel McKay spurt on his cheeks. He milked McKay's cock until McKay fell back on the blankets, panting.
McKay opened one eye. "Take that thing off." He gestured to John's jumpsuit.
John slid off the bed and pushed the jumpsuit off his hips, stepping out of it and his underwear, and standing naked in front of McKay.
McKay sat up, and pulled off his tee shirt. "Good." He offered his hand to John, and when John took it, pulled John onto the bed. "See? You're not so bad." He cupped John, sizing up his erection, before pushing him onto his back.
McKay smirked. He settled between John's knees, and pushed them up toward John's chest. John hugged them, feeling a little exposed under McKay's gaze, but thinking he liked it.
"I've always thought you were kind of an asshole," McKay said. "Now I get to see what kind of asshole you are."
"Funny," John said. McKay had flattened himself onto his stomach and was licking at John's asshole, rimming him with pointed, wet precision that taught John that a little experience with gay sex could be a good thing. He felt McKay's tongue penetrate his anus, stretching the tight, clenched muscles. "Fuck me," he demanded, and pulled his knees up, his back cramping, hoping his cooperation would get him what he wanted.
McKay's tongue left him. "I just came, Major. It's not a gun, I can't just pump new bullets into it."
"Fuck me!" John growled, knowing that if anyone walked in his career would be over, they'd throw him into the ocean, branded a pervert for life, which would be fine if he could just be a pervert for a few moments longer with McKay. He felt McKay's rough tongue stroking his ass again, and then something larger, something harder, pressing against an entrance too small for it.
He thought about taking his request back, but then McKay's finger was inside of him, and the pain in his backside was exquisite, and he shouted something vulgar and happy. Something warm touched his balls--McKay's tongue--McKay's wonderful tongue. So that's why McKay had such a mouth on him. With McKay's finger inside him, he straddled McKay's shoulders and let McKay support his legs.
McKay was licking his testicles and John reached down to grab his cock. He jerked himself and came quickly, spilling onto his stomach, groaning as McKay's finger left him. He felt empty and sore and spent.
"So," McKay said, his head rising from between John's knees. He grinned. "What else did you want to do?"
* * *
Later, when they were exhausted and lying side by side on McKay's bed, John wondered aloud, "What do we do, now?"
"We sleep." McKay rolled onto his side and squinted at John. "You really are as dumb as you look."
John frowned. "I don't look dumb."
McKay closed his eyes again.
"I mean, do I... Can I stay the night? And the next night? Do men really sleep over?"
"Did you never have a slumber party?"
John grinned. "Did you?"
"My mom made the other parents bring their kids over. She was good at guilting the neighborhood."
"Ha." John stretched, smirking at McKay.
"Don't go there, flyboy. I became a brilliant astrophysicist who traveled to another galaxy. You have a gene."
"Do you really love me?"
McKay kept his eyes closed. "You're the man I always wanted to be."
John reached out, touching McKay's bicep. He felt the muscle there under the skin and thought about all the times McKay had saved his life. "You are that man."
"Say whatever you want," McKay said, mumbling into the pillow. "We are not having sex again until morning."