Momentary Weakness 2

Better Memories

by Tarlan

URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/ast/tarlan/momentaa.php
Summary: When Kavanagh returns to Atlantis, John's contempt and hatred of the man leads him to his heart's desire... Rodney

A direct sequel to MOMENTARY WEAKNESS, a McKay/Kavanagh story.

***

Kavanagh froze like a rabbit caught out in the open as the hawk circled overhead. His pale blue eyes widened in fear until the freeze instinct gave way to flight when John took a deliberate step in his direction. He whipped around the corner but had disappeared by the time John reached the junction, eyes scanning along the short corridor that ended in a T-junction. With lips tightened in anger, John stalked back the way he had come. If he was of a mind to find Kavanagh then he could hunt the man down easily enough but, despite his threats to Kavanagh all those months earlier, he had no say in what science staff the SGC deemed it necessary to send to Atlantis onboard the Daedalus. He was willing to bet, though, that Kavanagh had made an unsuccessful case to stay away from the Pegasus galaxy.

The thought of Kavanagh spending the entire trip in a state of constant trepidation lifted one corner of John's mouth in a sly smile. He had made his anger pretty clear when he confronted Kavanagh over the gun incident after the siege. Kavanagh's only saving grace was that he had used the gun stolen from Rodney to save the lives of himself and two of his staff from a Wraith guard who had infiltrated the so-called safe zone in the city. Still, that was not enough for John, not enough to counter the knowledge that he would have lost his best friend if Teyla had not happened upon Rodney as he faced down two hungry Wraith alone, and with a useless gun.

His best friend.

Many years ago, upon seeing the bloodied remains of Mitch and Dex outside Khabour, John decided never to allow any person to get that close again but, somehow, Rodney McKay had slipped beneath the radar. Before John realized what had hit him, he had a best friend again, one who never seemed to get it when John pushed him away or tried to belittle him. One who was mouthy and arrogant, snide and whiny... and incredibly brave, generous, and compassionate when he thought no one would notice the chink in his armor. Rodney was all thick-skin that turned out to be a brittle shell and with a super-genius level intelligence that hid a frightening naiveté. Often John wondered how someone so clever could be so stupid too, how Rodney could pistol-whip practically everyone in the known universe with his blunt, penetrating words and yet would blather like an idiot if a pretty woman so much as looked in his direction.

Yet that was where the biggest anomaly lay because Rodney had no problem with a man making a play for him. He had not got all tongue-tied when that chieftain on Ford's 'waterworld' had made it clear he would like to get inside Rodney's pants, and probably his ass too... or when Kavanagh had made his move.

John snorted in irritation. Kavanagh had made it very clear that Rodney had needed little in the way of persuasion to follow him to his room that day, or to drop his pants and take one up the ass from a man he supposedly loathed. He tried to squash that image before it had time to form, not wanting to imagine his best friend bent over the bed with Kavanagh pressed up against his back, cock buried deep inside his flesh, and then he berated himself for a fool because that vision had haunted him for months now. He saw it every time Rodney bent over to reach something, material stretched taut across the surprisingly firm and rounded ass, or whenever he caught him naked in the showers or washing while on missions, pale skin glistening as rivulets of water trickled over the generous, delectable curves. He saw Kavanagh's blunt fingers pulling the snow-white asscheeks apart, pressing inside that hidden entrance. He imagined Kavanagh thrusting into Rodney, taking him forcefully, stretching poorly prepared muscle as he gloried in the possession for all the wrong reasons, relishing the power he had over Rodney, if only momentarily.

And the same vicious thoughts always came back to John. Why Kavanagh?

The Daedalus returned to Earth tomorrow and John knew Kavanagh would be leaving with it, silently wishing he could think of some way to ensure the man never came back to Atlantis. Though if rumors were true then others on Atlantis had no particular liking for him either. The water in his room ran from freezing cold to almost scalding hot, lights refused to work, power fluctuated when he tried to access any ancient technology. If John was not certain that these pranks could be easily staged by those in the clever scientific community then he might have believed that the lost city itself had it in for Kavanagh.

Certainly John had wished such unpleasantness on the man ever since he returned three weeks ago.

***

When the Daedalus left for Earth just a few days earlier, John thought he had seen the last of Kavanagh so he was not best pleased when Elizabeth insisted on asking Caldwell to head back to Atlantis even though he knew it was a good call. They could not rule out a Trust operative remaining on Atlantis - John had completed enough tours in countries where suicide bombing was a serious threat to know that anything was possible - but even he doubted it was the case here. After all, the initial gate activation for the weekly data burst to the SGC had been aborted with only seconds to spare. Plus, irrational suspicion of Cadman aside, Rodney was fairly convinced that a malicious program could have initiated all of the destructive sequences seen so far. That made someone onboard the Daedalus the prime suspect, and John was more than willing to lay that suspicion on a disgruntled scientist who had caused more trouble than any other, and who had made few friends here and one definite enemy... him.

Elizabeth had already tried to interrogate Kavanagh and John wondered if Kavanagh had revealed exactly why he had chosen to return to Earth at such short notice following the siege, making his request direct to Caldwell rather than go through Elizabeth. Certainly, she had made no outward sign of knowing what had transpired between Kavanagh and Rodney - or between him and Kavanagh if it came to it - but Elizabeth could hold a poker face when she needed to.

John leaned forward as they discussed Kavanagh, latching onto Ronon's solution of taking the interrogation to the next level, though he was more than willing to admit that his thoughts were tainted by his emotions. It grated when, of all people, Rodney became the voice of reason.

"I hate Kavanagh as much as the next guy, probably even more, but..."

John doubted that. He doubted Rodney hated Kavanagh as much as John did, doubted he lay awake some nights wishing all kinds of ill upon the man who had used Rodney for more than just sex, using the opportunity to replace Rodney's gun with the broken one and thereby leaving him defenseless. But not just Rodney though, for without Rodney the city had been defenseless too. Eventually everything had come down to Rodney, with the fate of more than Atlantis resting on those broad shoulders. Earth and the Milky Way had hung in the balance too for even John's intended sacrifice and the destruction of the hive ships had not stopped the Wraith. It was not until after the radiation from the kamikaze Wraith darts had lowered enough for communication to be re-established with the city that John realized how much had hinged on Rodney during those few vital seconds and then later when the rest of the Wraith fleet arrived.

Some would argue that a single 9mm gun would have made little difference against two Wraith guards anyway, except John had taught Rodney to aim for the head at close range, knowing a bullet to the brain caused far more damage than one to the body. That had been Everett's mistake, believing he knew best and refusing to listen to the voices of those with experience of this enemy, wasting his too few bullets on body shots that his own life force would have healed within seconds of being ripped from him. At least Everett had acknowledged his mistakes and regained John's respect before they shipped him out to die of premature aging back on Earth, but John could see no hope for Kavanagh. The man's arrogance knew no bounds, as these past three weeks had shown. Once more the selfish man had made no attempt to fit in, ridiculing others, shunting aside the work of others so he could fulfill his own agenda. Rodney had suffered constant headaches from the rift Kavanagh caused within the science areas, with complaining staff and important projects grinding to a halt when Kavanagh stole essential resources for his own projects.

Still, Rodney could be persuasive in his veto of harder interrogation. Elizabeth had the final say and she sided with Rodney this time.

***

"The Goa'uld has been removed from Colonel Caldwell."

John acknowledged Hermiod with a swift nod of his nod, seeing a blink of confusion in the large dark eyes as Hermiod's gaze ran over him questioningly. He knew his barely concealed anger was causing Hermiod's reaction but John could not seem to dampen the emotions that coursed through him. Not only had they come so close to losing Atlantis and Caldwell, but he had allowed his hatred of Kavanagh to condemn an innocent man to an interrogation that, thankfully, had not taken place.

"Can you beam me back down to Atlantis?"

It sounded like a question but Hermiod knew otherwise, moving strange looking stones over the Asgard control panel set in front of him. The white light took John and when his vision cleared, he was back in the gate room, the sound of Rodney's raised voice cutting through the low hum of chatter from others. John looked up to the control section and saw Rodney berating some member of his staff as they worked over the DHD and main console, reconfiguring the power to activate the dialing sequence that would re-establish contact with the SGC. Since Arcturus, Rodney had become a little more cautious before announcing that all systems were cleared and the rogue programming removed. Instead, he and Zelenka had worked solidly through the past twenty hours checking and rechecking lines of Ancient code for anything even remotely suspicious.

Rodney's exasperated voice cut off suddenly as he spotted John, mouth tightening into a thin line as John let his hard gaze flow over Rodney before he turned and stalked away, heading for the quarters where Kavanagh was being monitored until he could be returned to the Daedalus. John hesitated at the door, eyes flicking to the marine stationed outside but he decided he owed Kavanagh a modicum of respect following the wrongful accusation. He reached out and palmed the visitor announcement panel. After a moment, the door slid open. Kavanagh stood six feet away, face tight with veiled emotion, eyes glaring over the top of his wire-rim glasses.

"Come to apologize," he stated once John had stepped inside and the door had closed behind him.

"No."

The lips twisted into a sneer. "I didn't think so." His head rose in defiance, blue eyes glittering with anger and resentment as he waited for John to speak, surprised that this particular confrontation had not happened weeks ago. John did not make him wait long.

"Why did you come back?"

"You truly believe your pathetic attempt to threaten me was sufficient? I left because I had reached a stage in my research that did not require working in an alien galaxy with the threat of having the life sucked out of me hanging over my head." If possible, Kavanagh's chin raised higher, head turning slightly as if even looking at John was demeaning to him. "I needed more research material to prove my theory of Material Combustion within..."

"I don't give a fuck about your theories. I told you never to come back here. Not while I'm here... and not while he's here."

"Or what?" Kavanagh dropped to the seat beside his bed and crossed his arms, leaning back casually, having not learned his lesson following his interrogation by Elizabeth. "Or you'll feed me to the Wraith?" He snorted. "Empty threats, Major."

"Colonel."

"In word only. It's a known fact that Dr. Weir whored herself to get you that promotion... *Colonel*." His lips sneered around the title.

John contained the flinch, unwilling to give any ground to this man. He had always suspected that Elizabeth had a hand in his sudden promotion back to Lieutenant Colonel, a rank he had forfeited after going against direct orders several years back in Afghanistan. Part of him had hoped that the Air Force had conveniently forgotten and had rewarded him for his command of Atlantis but he should have known better. He gave a humorless, predatory smile and had the pleasure of seeing Kavanagh flinch as if only just realizing how dangerous it was to court his wrath. The lights in the room flickered and gurgles came from the small bathroom attached as faucets and shower switched on and off.

***

Kavanagh blanched, eyes darting first to the lights and then to the bathroom before hearing the terrifying twist of distressed metal that had awakened him through most of the nights spent in this room during recent weeks. Some of the shutters opened to reveal bright sunlight while others shut tighter when they were supposed to move smoothly as one, the strange Ancient alloy warping. His eyes darted back to Sheppard and he swallowed hard, having never really considered the possibility that Sheppard could have this strong a hold over the city, bending it to his will. The so-called empty threat now had substance. Sheppard had already been judge and jury for his crime against McKay and Kavanagh realized that Sheppard did not have to feed him to the Wraith to find justice. All he had to do was let Atlantis play executioner.

His thoughts returned to his crime, to the moment of near insanity that had heralded his final condemnation in the eyes of most of the Atlantean expedition, and this man. He recalled the taste of Crown Royal upon McKay's lips, the feel of McKay beneath him, pale naked ass raised as he fondled the firm yet silken flesh. At first he had seen his seduction as a power trip, plunging into the tight ass, drawing a whimper in response from McKay as he rode him hard and fast, taking what he wanted to ease the terror that frayed at his mind as he thought of the Wraith hive ships only hours away. After he spent himself inside the solid body, it had taken all his will to tell McKay to leave, denying himself the human contact he desperately needed, refusing the arms that would have wrapped around him, holding him. Viciously, he cut off any chance of hearing McKay's whispered assurances that all would be fine, that they would beat back the Wraith. Instead, he had used McKay's distraction to slip the working gun out of its holster, replacing it with the damaged weapon.

His intention had always been to take the gun and then point out the deficiencies in McKay's gun when it was too late for anyone to bother with trying to fix it. Sheppard would dredge up another working 9mm from somewhere, for he knew Sheppard would never leave McKay defenseless, taking it from one of his soldiers if necessary, knowing they had P90s to back them up. Except the opportunity had never arisen as they moved from one fearful moment to the next after the Wraith destroyed the space mines and started to beam into the city. Wielded by him, McKay's gun had saved three lives that day, his and two of his lab technicians who had come running towards him in terror with a Wraith guard close on their heels but that meant little to the soldier standing before him. Sheppard saw only the betrayal, saw only *his* friend facing up to two Wraith alone with a malfunctioning gun and the means to save Atlantis and Earth lying useless in a box by McKay's feet. In truth, Kavanagh saw it too, with his nightmares filled with images of him resting against McKay's back, sweat dripping onto heated flesh, rocking his hips into the beautiful, living flesh only to have McKay shrivel to a husk beneath him until he was fucking a Wraith-drained corpse, while the ZPM smashed to the floor beside them, shattering into a million tiny pieces.

He shuddered and huddled in his seat, all arrogance and self-assuredness slipping away as Sheppard's eyes blazed with hatred. He should never have come back to Atlantis. Not even the friendship struck up with the two people he had saved that day could justify his stupidity and his arrogant presumption that no-one would dare touch him, let alone Weir or Sheppard. He swallowed hard. The last two times he had left Atlantis with his pride hiding the tail tucked firmly between his legs but, this time, he would walk away with barely a shred of dignity, finally realizing that he had forfeited all his rights to be a part of this great city from the moment he betrayed McKay.

Long minutes passed and when he looked back up in the deathly silent room, he found Sheppard still staring at him but the burning hatred had turned to bitter satisfaction mingled with ice-cold contempt.

"When the Daedalus heads back to Earth, You'll be on it... for good this time."

Kavanagh nodded wearily, waiting a few minutes after Sheppard had left before deciding to leave too, unwilling to spend another moment in the claustrophobic confines of his temporary quarters. He needed to feel fresh air on his face, his footsteps faltering for only a moment as his unwanted marine escort followed him along the corridor towards the closest balcony. Kavanagh stepped out and looked across the city, for once ignoring his sense of superiority to truly take in the beautiful, graceful spires and the sparkling blue ocean; deep blue like the Stargate. Electric blue like McKay's startled eyes.

"McKay," he uttered softly, having forgotten that McKay liked to come here to think. McKay had frozen in shock upon coming face to face with him on the balcony but, on hearing his name, his eyes became cold, flicking across to Kavanagh's escort before coming back to rest on him. He made to walk away with out a word but faltered.

"I... I want you to know I didn't sanction the... the Ronon..." His hands made abortive gestures, reminding Kavanagh of how much he had always loved to watch McKay's hands, the way they described the words and the emotions behind them. Graceful and expressive hands. Though he had always been so careful not to reveal that particular kink.

McKay's eyes darted over Kavanagh's shoulder when the balcony door slid open again, warmth thawing the icy chill in the cold blue eyes for a moment before they shuttered in barely concealed embarrassment, giving a strong hint to exactly whose presence stood upon the threshold. McKay glanced back at Kavanagh, offering a sharp nod before he walked away, stiff-backed, but Kavanagh heard his footsteps falter again, heard the rasp of flesh against cloth, knowing Sheppard had offered assurance to his friend and team member. The door slid shut but Kavanagh knew he was alone on the balcony with just his silent marine escort for unwanted company and he could not believe how much it hurt to watch McKay walk away. Despite it all, he had harbored a lot of respect for McKay's abilities, and far more for the man himself if he was to be brutally honest.

***

Rodney looked down at the hand gripping his forearm and then back up into John's handsome face. He let John guide him back inside and along the corridor towards the transporter, hoping to leave thoughts of Kavanagh far behind. Moments later they were entering the commissary, heading towards one of the few tables set along the back wall that offered a little more privacy. John pushed him into a seat and told him to wait, returning several minutes later with several coffees on a tray. He placed two of them in front of Rodney, lips quirking into a knowing smirk. John took a sip and grimaced as the hot liquid of his own coffee burned his tongue. He licked his lips and leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes looking up at Rodney through dark, lowered lashes.

"We never talked about what happened that day."

Rodney huffed softly, not bothering to pretend he didn't know what day John was referring to. He reached for one of his coffees as his mind whirled with embarrassing memories of Kavanagh's creepy proposition and his own shocking acceptance. He recalled the burn of Crown Royal whiskey in his throat as Kavanagh took his mouth in that brutal, demanding kiss before pulling his pants to his ankles and pressing him face down onto the bed, bare ass raised high in the air. The sex was rough. Fingers dug into his flesh with bruising strength as Kavanagh thrust inside his poorly prepared body but it was exactly what Rodney had needed at the time. He had not wanted love from Kavanagh, had not wanted soft kisses and gentle caresses from a man he could barely stand to be in the same room with from day to day. He just wanted to lose himself for a moment, to forget those who had died bringing them to this point in time, and those who would die at the hands of the Wraith in the days that followed.

Still, if Rodney had his way then that day would be forever struck from his memory and, with each passing month, he had hoped it had already been erased from John's. He should have known better. Rodney raised his chin in defiance.

"What's there to talk about? Peter Grodin was dead, the Wraith were coming, Everett was a fool, and the Daedalus was too far away to help any of us. I wanted..." He bit down on the next words, not wanting to reveal how close Kavanagh had been to the truth about waiting for 'flyboy' to get the message, feeding his despair that he would never have John Sheppard in his arms. "Kavanagh offered an opportunity to feel alive one last time before..." He swallowed hard. "A momentary weakness that won't be repeated."

"Why didn't you come to me?"

Rodney looked up in shock, hardly able to believe the clipped words he just heard but then he realized John could not have intended the interpretation Rodney had placed on them. He shook his head slowly, lips curling into a wry, self-deprecating smile, choosing his words deliberately to shock John out of some misguided notion that could have offered more than Kavanagh at that moment.

"I hardly think a slap on the back and a quick pep talk is on par with a good ass fucking... No offense." He grimaced as John's eyes widened and his eye brows rose. "Not that your pep talks are that bad," he relented almost begrudgingly, though Rodney had expected a far stronger reaction from John.

"No offense taken, Rodney." John's lips twisted and he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. "And, as it so happens, I wasn't offering a pep talk and a slap on the back."

Rodney froze in confusion, feeling the pull of skin on his forehead as he frowned. He leaned forward, eyes fixed on John's, seeing a glint of surprise vying with anger and desire; the emotions flashing behind the clear hazel.

"I..." He started and stopped. "You never..." Rodney sat back, lips tightened to a thin line in annoyance, arms folding over his chest to mirror John's pose. "You could have said something. You think I would have even entertained the idea of Kavanagh if I'd known you were interested?"

John seemed to recover quickly and he snorted, sneering back in a low voice. "Until I found out about your little sex romp with Kavanagh, I thought you were straight. The Aurora Wraith, Allina, and harping on about Colonel Carter's many charms ring any bells?"

Rodney felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment, recalling how hot the first officer of the Aurora had looked, even if she had been a Wraith in disguise. He studiously refused to think about Sam Carter and the imagined feel of her mouth as he kissed her hallucination in the downed jumper. Instead, he stabbed a finger at John.

"What about you and all those...Ancient bimbos?"

"Two, Rodney."

"Two too many," he whipped back.

John grinned. "So we both have a healthy appreciation for the female form... as well as the male."

The heated look he gave Rodney made the flush rise even higher in Rodney's face and he checked around the near empty room to ensure no one had noticed his embarrassment, but the few people present seemed to be interested in only their own companions. He looked back at John, anger fading as confusion gripped him again.

"Why? Why now?"

John stared across the table at Rodney, seeing renewed confusion in the beautiful blue eyes that haunted his dreams. The signs of Rodney's interest in him had been there right from the start, but John had not wanted to see signs that could lead him back into the maelstrom of fear and grief that he had left back on Earth with Mitch. Better to remain detached even after Kavanagh's spite-filled revelation had torn away the remnants of denial on John's part, except Rodney had found a way to bridge the chasm between what his heart wanted and what his mind would allow. He felt no pride in his deception, in knowing how Rodney felt about him and his refusal to acknowledge it openly until now. He had begun to fret over the attraction only when the retrovirus began to break down his control, knowing the mindless, animal part of him was drawn to Rodney. He had told Elizabeth to double the guards outside his door, told her to stop all visitors, especially Rodney, without revealing that it was because he was afraid he might lose his weakened grasp on his slipping thoughts if Rodney's scent overpowered his brittle control.

It had seemed so much easier keeping Rodney at arms' length but each brush with death brought him to the slow realization that life in the Pegasus galaxy could be painfully short. Without Rodney in his arms, what little time he had would be filled with even more regrets piled on top of those already weighing down his soul.

John knew better than to lean across the table and take Rodney's hands where someone might see him. He let his eyes speak for him instead, holding onto Rodney's, and willing him to understand.

The tension seemed to flow out of the man seated opposite, long eyelashes fluttering closed on a heart-felt sigh. Rodney nodded, lips pursing in acceptance of the risk John had been unwilling to take until now. At the same time, Rodney seemed to realize why John had told him in a public place, offering him the chance to walk away knowing John would not create a scene.

"I have a bottle of Crown Royal in my room." John saw a flash of pain cross Rodney's expressive eyes, heart sinking in his chest for he had requested that brand knowing Rodney was partial to it but just when he feared the worst, Rodney gave a tremulous smile.

"I'd prefer vodka... if you still have any."

John frowned and then relaxed, unable to stop the silly grin that pulled at his lips. He nodded and glanced meaningfully towards the exit before rising from his seat, all senses tuned to the man who followed several paces behind.

***

The last time he stood at the threshold of John's room, he had been refused entry by the marine guarding the door on both John's and Elizabeth's orders. It had hurt that John had not wanted to see him, perhaps almost as much as the lack of acknowledgement when Rodney greeted the heavily cloaked figure in the gate room. The words had faltered on his lips at the lack of emotion in those alien, slitted eyes, and it had hurt even more to realize that he had lost John well before the Iratus retrovirus began to devolve John into some kind of wraith bug.

He hesitated on the threshold this time, even knowing he was welcome. John turned and looked back at him, eyes narrowing slightly in concern but otherwise making no move to drag him forcefully into the room. Rodney had to be willing to take this step of his own free will knowing John had not offered more than a one-night stand. Yet, this was more than Rodney had ever expected from John so he took that final step. The door slid closed behind him with a relieved sigh as happiness danced in John's eyes, the ambient light turning them first one color and then another as John walked back across the room towards him with slow, even steps. He stopped barely two feet away, reaching out to lightly stroke fingers down Rodney's exposed forearm from elbow to wrist before those fingers wrapped around his and drew him further into the room. The soft caress sent shivers of desire through Rodney and he swallowed hard as he followed John across the room meekly, allowing John to gently press him down to sit on the edge of the bed.

He knew he ought to be more confident, more self-assured and far more assertive but he did not want to say or do anything that might remind John that he was Rodney McKay; arrogant, petty, 'destroyer of worlds' McKay.

A glass was pressed into his hand, the clear liquid catching the soft light from the walls, sparkling with a crystal clarity that mesmerized him for a moment. He looked across as John settled onto the bed beside him, drink in hand, and he raised the glass to lips. The straight vodka burned against his lips, tingling the inside of his mouth as he held the alcohol for a moment before swallowing, and gasping as it burned all the way down his throat. He licked partially numbed lips, flicking glances towards John as memories of Kavanagh returned, half expecting John to slam back the remainder of his vodka, impatiently waiting for him to do the same before taking the empty glass from his hand. Instead, John smiled at him, full lips twitching as he took another small sip before leaning back on one elbow, eyes still fixed on Rodney.

"Why don't you take your boots off... get comfortable?"

Rodney could not resist looking down, only now aware that John had already removed his own boots and a glance across the room saw them abandoned beside the small cabinet where John had retrieved the glasses and vodka.

"Hmmm... Okay." He placed his glass on the bedside cabinet and bent over to untie laces and kick off his boots, nudging them slightly under the bed. Kavanagh had not bothered to make him feel comfortable, wanting only a quick and dirty fuck that had left Rodney feeling hollow afterwards. Oh, he had got off, for even Kavanagh was not *that* selfish, but the pleasure had been physical only, tearing an autonomic response from his body that was bereft of any warmth, and leaving no satisfied glow afterwards.

The mattress dipped and swayed as John moved again. He stretched lengthways along the bed on the side farthest from Rodney, half-propped up against the wall behind the bed, and leaving space for Rodney to stretch out beside him. He patted that empty space and, after a moment's deliberation, Rodney swung his legs up and sat down beside him, shoulder to shoulder. He retrieved his drink and took another careful sip, confused when John leaned over and started rummaging through the drawer on the other side of the bed... and then John pointed the retrieved object at the wall opposite where one of the Ancient view screens hung almost unseen, transparent until an image began to play.

All the remaining tension fled from Rodney as the opening strains of the X-Men movie began to fill the room. He snorted softly and settled down, having never seen this one before. Rodney indicated towards the screen and DVD setup.

"Zelenka?"

John looked affronted. "I'm not just a pretty face." His expression turned smug. "And Atlantis likes me."

"Never said you were, Colonel... and of course she does."

"John." His eyes had narrowed. "I think you can call me John under the circumstances."

"I'm... Okay. John."

"See? That wasn't so hard."

Rodney flushed in part embarrassment, part delight, relaxing further as the film, vodka, and John's warm, solid presence slowly worked its magic. He took a final swallow and placed the glass aside, hands loosely clasped over his stomach, legs crossed at the ankles as the film played on. John dropped a hand casually over his, fingers wrapping over his top hand and squeezing gently before lying still.

"Oh, now that is anatomically impossible. No wonder Carson hates this movie! A geneticist's nightmare."

"Oh, I don't know. I figure he has worse nightmares than this."

"One mutant gene can't account for all these differing abilities. They should all have the same mutant factor."

"I've got the same genes as you but I don't have a super-genius brain." John leaned over, looking straight at Rodney. "Or stunning blue eyes."

Rodney felt his breath catch in his throat and cleared it. "Well... of course there are variations... on genes. Color..."

"Or these kissable lips." John's fingertip brushed over Rodney's lips, setting the nerve endings tingling, radiating desire through him that set his heart hammering and his blood rushing south.

"Shape..." He whispered against the finger, tasting the slight saltiness of John's skin before a soft mouth replaced the pad of a finger, pressing gently but firmly, tongue sliding almost tentatively against his lips, waiting for them to part in invitation before stroking into Rodney's mouth.

Rodney moaned as tastes mingled, tongues entwining, coiling around each other, licking and gliding before John began to suck gently, drawing Rodney's tongue into his mouth to explore and taste and touch. Another moan reverberated between them as they moved into each other's arms, one hand cupping the back of Rodney's head while another snaked between his body and the covers beneath them, splayed across his back to press him closer. His own wrapped behind John's shoulder and neck, fingertips trailing through soft, spiky hair while the other dropped onto John's hip, tightening on the strong handhold until he could no longer resist the urge to let his hand slide down to caress the curve of an asscheek, cupping it in his hand and squeezing as they joined along the length of their still-clothed bodies. A jerk of hips and John's mouth slid away, a harsh gasp falling from him as he rocked against Rodney, the hardened evidence of his desire pushing into Rodney's soft belly, trapping his own erection between them.

He whimpered as John's mouth latched onto his throat with careful licks and bites that sent shudders of need racing through Rodney, his own body bucking up against John's, grinding into the hard abdominal muscle, one leg forcing its way between John's thighs to increase the delicious friction. As the first tingling of imminent orgasm spread through him, he came to his senses and pulled back sharply, pushing John away.

"Too much, too soon," he uttered quickly, flushed with embarrassment at his lack of control and finesse, but knowing he did not want meaningless sex, coming in his pants like some uncouth adolescent. He wanted far more than that. He wanted to know every inch of this man, wanted to be known in return. He wanted to share all that he was with John, mind and body.

John looked dazed and confused, breath coming in short, ragged pants, wide eyes almost wild with unconsummated desire.

"Hope you don't mean--"

"No! God, no." Rodney licked his suddenly dry lips, giving a nervous laugh. "Just don't want to have to explain the come stain in my pants when..." he trailed off with a hitched breath as John's kiss-swollen lips stretched into a lust-filled grin, hands already moving to open Rodney's pants, deftly pulling down the zipper.

"Get 'em off," he growled as he moved to his own clothing, dragging his t-shirt over his head in one swift movement and carelessly throwing it aside before working on his pants. Rodney watched in wondrous awe as the long-coveted body was revealed to him, inch by perfect inch as John raised his hips, sliding the material down swiftly before kicking his pants and boxers the rest of the way off to drop over the side of the bed. Totally nude, with one hand playing casually with the hard flesh arching from a bed of soft, dark curls, his eyes narrowed again. "Get 'em off, Rodney," he ordered again and this time, Rodney was quick to comply but still not fast enough for John, who pounced once Rodney had shoved his pants and boxers down to his knees.

Rodney arched up into the hot mouth that swallowed his cock, fingers grappling for a handhold as John sucked and licked at the over-sensitized head, feeling the tightening across his belly, thighs and groin as his innards turned to molten lava and then he was coming hard, crying out in shocked pleasure. He slumped, body still shaking from release as John gave a last few gentle licks and kisses before crawling back up the bed, stiff erection bouncing against the sweat-matted fur of his belly. He grabbed Rodney's hand and wrapped the fingers around his cock, his own hand over Rodney's, guiding the movement as he thrust hard and fast, once, twice and then came, his release coating their joined hands, and splattering across his belly and chest before John slumped down onto Rodney, smearing his come into Rodney's skin.

"Fuck," Rodney exclaimed without any force behind his curse, opening his eyes to see John grinning down at him in triumph before he swooped down to kiss Rodney soundly in a wet, open-mouthed kiss, swallowing Rodney's ragged breaths. The bittersweet taste of his come in John's mouth sent a small twitch of interest into his still half-hard cock but Rodney knew he was wasted.

He felt a stirring of disappointment as John's mouth slid away across his cheek, tongue tracing the shape of his ear before flicking in. Soft, hot breath fanned his ear. "Just taking the edge off, Rodney. We've got the rest of our lives for taking it slow."

Realization struck as John drew back, eyes no longer filled with lust but with love too. He leaned in again and they kissed with passion-sated tenderness.

This was a forever thing. A 'til death do us part' thing and Rodney felt small and lost beneath the enormity of it all. Past lovers had never offered him eternity. They had known him as completely as John but had been unable to overlook his many faults and failings. Yet, John still wanted him, still loved him regardless, and it was strangely humbling.

John slid off the bed, padding to the bathroom to retrieve a damp cloth but detouring on the way back to grasp the bottle of vodka and the Crown Royal sitting on the cabinet. He smiled as Rodney wiped the sticky semen off his belly, pouring himself another generous shot of vodka ands then one for Rodney when he declined the whiskey. John smiled, recalling a team night when they had discussed the merits of a fine Canadian whiskey over John's preference of a good Russian vodka, still a little surprised when Rodney accepted the vodka and settled back down, moving only at John's urging so he could pull down the bed covers and draw them up over their rapidly cooling bodies.

He grinned as Rodney took a sip, seeming to relish the more astringent bite and feeling the pleasant sting of the alcohol on his own still sensitive, kiss-bruised lips.

"Thought you hated vodka, Rodney?" John teased. "Bad memories of Siberian winters?"

"Just made a better set of memories."

And John felt his heart flip at the warmth in the crooked smile as Rodney nestled down beside him, finishing the drink quickly and snuggling up closer once he had put down his glass. The rest of the film played out but John barely took in a single scene as all his senses tuned in to the amazing man lying pressed up against his side, head on his shoulder and one hand draped over his stomach, and with his very presence warming John through to the core of his being. Later, he knew they would make love again, more slowly, taking their time to learn what each other liked now that the urgency has left them relaxed and temporarily sated. Already John could imagine the things he wanted to do with Rodney, could almost feel the heat as John sank into the tight sheath of living flesh, knowing from Kavanagh's taunts that Rodney was not averse to bottoming for another man. He sighed gently. As much as he hated Kavanagh for the way he had used Rodney, part of him also felt grateful now, wondering how much more time he would have wasted if Kavanagh had not come back to remind him of all he had to lose.

Even so, a momentary weakness in the commissary had let slip his long-held desire for this man but he had no regrets. Rodney was his best friend, and now his lover for as long as Rodney would have him... and John hoped that would be forever.

THE END