lunabee34 | SGA fic: Genius; McShep; Adult; 1000 words

This is for

suki_blue who requested McShep and a Rodney who suffers from erections every time he has a brilliant idea. LOL

No one has ever accused Rodney of erring on the side of socially acceptable behavior. He knows he’s arrogant and petty and bad with people; he doesn’t need a hallucination of Sam Carter to tell him that. Rodney also knows that at times his behavior can be excruciatingly awkward and at other times mortifyingly incomprehensible to his fellow man in ways that have nothing to do with his surplus of IQ points.

For instance, like now.

Rodney has just made the most important discovery of the entire Atlantis expedition, perhaps of the entire SGC. He has found in the database, nestled between an entry on contact dermatitis as a biological weapon and an entry on a water-based weapons platform that looks eerily like a giant surfboard, the blueprints for a ZPM. Rodney thinks for one glorious moment of his name in inch high letters on the cover of Time Magazine; he thinks of small children pinning maple leaves to their sleeves and saying, “Mommy, I wanna be just like Dr. McKay when I grow up;” he thinks of blasting the Wraith out of the sky and not for one minute worrying that the shields will fail or that someone will risk a suicide mission because Rodney’s out of power and out of ideas. As usual, this bliss doesn’t last.

Rodney is aware he has an erection in the way that he’s aware of peripheral matters beneath his notice. It’s a response that’s been hardwired into Rodney’s nervous system since he was eighteen and Crystal Bertram cornered him in the acoustics lab and jerked him off while reading his latest math theorem in a throaty voice. Inappropriate erections are part and parcel of Rodney’s genius. He can live with that. But apparently Colonel Sheppard can’t because Sheppard isn’t looking at the tablet Rodney’s pointing to and making embarrassing squeaking noises over. Oh, no. The colonel is looking at Rodney’s crotch, at the unmistakable bulge in his pants and damn it. Rodney can’t help himself; he’s always responded to success this way, and the least Sheppard could do is pretend to ignore it like everyone else. Rodney squares his jaw and waits for the teasing to start.

Only Sheppard doesn’t tease. He clears his throat, licks his bottom lip with a quick swipe of his very pink tongue, and scrubs a hand through his already ridiculous hair. He meets Rodney’s eyes for just a second, and the blatant longing on Sheppard’s face floors Rodney.

“Radek,” Rodney says, abruptly shoving the tablet into Radek’s hands. Normally Rodney would take offense at Radek’s look of shock when he realizes Rodney is actually passing on a chance to impress Sam, but Rodney’s got more important things to worry about. “Why don’t you show Colonel Carter what we’ve found?” Rodney grabs Sheppard by the elbow and steers him into the corridor. Sheppard doesn’t say anything, just lets Rodney drag him down to his quarters and manhandle him inside.

Once the door slides shut, Rodney is unaccountably anxious, terrified he has misread the signals—as if staring at another man’s crotch and licking one’s lips is suddenly open to interpretation. Sheppard crosses his arms and leans back against Rodney’s wall, one eyebrow quirked, waiting him out.

Fine. Sheppard wants Rodney to do all the work. Rodney can handle that. “Colonel,” he says, moving into Sheppard’s personal space. “I’m going to kiss you now, and if we’re still on the same page after that, I think you can count on getting the best blowjob of your life.”

“Jesus, Rodney,” Sheppard breathes and then they’re kissing. Sheppard kisses nothing like Rodney thought he would. He’s messy and desperate and so, so earnest—none of the cooler than thou how-lucky-you-are-to-be-making-it-with-me-McKay that Rodney halfway expected. Instead, their teeth clack together and their noses bump and Sheppard bites Rodney’s bottom lip a little too hard and, altogether, kissing John Sheppard is the hottest thing Rodney’s ever done.

After a bit, when Rodney’s lips are swollen and his neck is raw with beard burn, Rodney drops to his knees. Sheppard’s head thunks against the wall and his eyes glaze over and as Rodney drags down his zipper, Sheppard actually whimpers, a needy little sound that has Rodney squeezing himself in his pants. Rodney eases Sheppard out of his boxers and sucks him down because Rodney might be arrogant, but that whole best blow job of your life boast? Rodney wasn’t kidding about that.

Sheppard lets his hips go, fucks into Rodney’s mouth despite himself and it’s not long before Rodney’s rocking back on his heels and dragging his knuckles across his mouth. Sheppard slides bonelessly down the wall and hauls Rodney into his lap. Sheppard’s hand lazily stripping his cock is the most amazing experience of Rodney’s life, but then Sheppard starts talking and Rodney has to revise that opinion. Sheppard’s voice is trashed, fucked out and ragged and what he’s saying—Rodney could come from that alone.

“God, Rodney,” Sheppard says. “You always do that. Every damn time you save the day, you get a hard on and every damn time, I want to push you down and do this.” Sheppard twists his hand almost viciously on the upstroke and Rodney moans loudly. He’d be embarrassed but Sheppard’s still talking, mouthing words into Rodney’s neck. “I want to touch you and suck you and kiss you. All of it, Rodney. I want all of it,” and Rodney comes. They sit that way for awhile, catching their breath, Rodney’s hands still fisted in John’s shirt.

Later, when Rodney’s going over the blueprints with Sam and arguing the finer points of the ZPM’s construction, Sheppard wanders into the lab. He’s smiling like Rodney’s never seen before, open and easy and beautiful, though Rodney would never in a million years confess that last. “Hey, McKay,” he says. “They got blue jello today. Let’s hit the mess.”

Rodney closes his laptop, says goodnight to Sam, and walks down the hall with Sheppard, their shoulders bumping every fifth step.