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Rodney flipped over, slammed his head back into his pillow for the fifth time, and did not reach for his dick. He tried his relaxation exercises instead. Eight and a half years of therapy, six different therapists, and he was reduced to the Freudian equivalent of counting sheep.
Only one of them had ever really helped, and, god, did he wish Eric were available for a 'consultation.' The thought made him groan.
The ocean shushed him and made patterns from the moonlight and they played across his ceiling and his bookshelves that didn't hold any books, just empty space and his extra laptop. There was the footlocker under the shelves, but the personal items it held weren't the sort he wanted out on display. He didn't even have a photo of his cat out anywhere, much less one of his sister. He had those on his hard drive. Nothing on the desk. Nothing on the walls. Nothing on the shelves.
Nothing.
It left him lying in the dark waiting for a sound.
Distraction. He needed a distraction.
(p, p+2)
Twin primes. Where 'p' is some prime number such that p+2 is also prime, prove that an infinite number of such pairs exists...
Constructing a proof for the infinite number of twin primes should keep him busy. It was safe and not too challenging. For Rodney at least. Not like that idiot Arenstorf committing career suicide because he couldn't be bothered to check over his own work. The paper where he had claimed to have constructed his proof had been withdrawn and the man was a laughing stock with one dead career.
Not that that was the worst kind of suicide. He'd seen that four days ago. He saw it every time he shut his eyes.
He waited for the sound.
No. This wasn't about Gaul.
(p, p+2)
You're thinking too much.
He wished Eric's voice in his head would tell him something more useful. Tell him what to do. Eric was good at that. Not like Heightmeyer. She was nice. Blonde, shapely, but she never just came out and told him what to do.
Witnessing a death can bring up a lot of feelings that we may not want to face, feelings about life as well as death. It must be hard, Dr. McKay.
Yes, of course it must, Kate. Thank you for that insight. Did they teach you that in psychobabble school? Yes, it's hard. Very, very hard.
He winced at the double entendre that he couldn't avoid even in his own head and flipped over again, flopping a bit on to his stomach, and turned his head away from the footlocker that he'd brought with him to Atlantis. He did not grind his pelvis into the bed.
If he could just get to sleep it would go down on its own. Later when he was more relaxed, he'd be able to enjoy it, enjoy bringing himself off slowly. Right now, it just hurt. Later would be better. Of course, the whole not being able to relax, sleep, or get off was part of the package deal, and he knew from experience that wishing alone wasn't going to help him sleep.
And it wasn't that he was embarrassed about trying to take care of this himself, it was just that he didn't think it would work. Eric's 'relaxation' techniques had always worked, but Rodney had never tried to recreate the experience without Eric right there telling him what to do.
Back to the proof. The evidence for an infinite number of twin primes was overwhelming after all. It made sense on an almost instinctual level. There was probably something blindingly obvious that everyone was missing. That was how these things worked.
It would be good to have something non-Atlantis related to publish once he got back to Earth. Gaul had always thought Rodney was rather limited because he worked in applied mathematics. Which was laughable, really, but that hadn't stopped the little twerp from hanging his awards at his workstation as soon as they had set up in Atlantis. The man had scanned them into his computer back on Earth and then printed them out after they'd arrived in the Pegasus Galaxy.
Eric had thought Rodney limited himself as well. He'd always said that outside interests would help Rodney's stress levels, and while he hadn't meant constructing mathematical proofs, the proof of the infinity of twin primes was about as unrelated to Atlantis as one could get.
Pity it wasn't helping.
You need a physical reminder, Rodney. You need something to pull you into a reality outside your head. Let's work on that tonight.
Rodney felt himself get even harder as the memory slipped in and obliterated any interest he'd had in p+2.
He groaned and beat his head against his pillow.
What he really needed was some uninterrupted sleep. Two, three hours tops, and he'd be in good shape to get back to the lab. Really he was in good shape now, but he knew that Carson hadn't been kidding when he'd threatened to ground Rodney permanently if he didn't get some rest.
Which was what he needed.
Rest.
Not anything else.
You know what happens when you think too much, Pet.
Right, well, the proof was getting nowhere. Obviously it was too interesting to help him get to sleep. Something more calming would help. More mechanical. Cousin primes.
(p, p+4) (3, 7), (7, 11), (13, 17), (19, 23), (37, 41), (43, 47), (67, 71)...
Rodney jerked his eyes open, sure that he'd heard something, something loud. A gunshot? It had definitely sounded like a gunshot. But when he drew himself up on his elbows and looked frantically around the room, there was nothing. He let out a long slow breath and rested his forehead on crossed wrists.
He couldn't do this. He couldn't sleep and he couldn't... he just couldn't.
I'm worried about you not being able to attend our sessions for so long.
The only reason Rodney was even thinking about it was because of Gaul.
Not because of Gaul's death. Rodney was fine with that.
Well, not fine, obviously, but he'd dealt with it. He'd talked to Kate.
Briefly.
Dr. McKay, I really don't think you should leave yet. At least make another appointment for tomorrow.
But really, what was there to say? 'Young, brilliant, and doomed to suicide by a Wraith that just didn't know when to die.'
Not that any of them did.
Not like Gaul.
He'd known when to die.
No idea when to shut up, of course, but that was just a sign of an active mind. Rodney himself had occasionally been told the same thing and look where it had got him? In another galaxy ripping standard theory physics to shreds.
Feel it. Quit thinking. If you can't stop on your own, I'm going to have to help you.
Rodney jumped at the memory. His leg stretched a bit and the sheet shifted. There was a soft sound of sheet on twill as it slipped across his trousers, but he didn't feel anything through the coarse fabric. Rodney swallowed and blinked hard.
What had Gaul said? How had he put it?
It had been so embarrassing at the time, Rodney should remember. Worse than getting slapped in the cafeteria by Gina Zweiliski in ninth grade.
They'd been at the lab in Antarctica, just a few days before departure. Elizabeth had been busy with last minute preparations and there were various supplies and reports coming in at odd times addressed to whoever Elizabeth thought should handle it, so he hadn't even hesitated to open the envelope. He had half a dozen others around his desk after all. Big manila envelopes with his name and 'Chief Scientist, Project Pegasus.'
He'd been ripping some tech a new one over incorrectly calculated power consumption equations for the chair's drones when he stuck his hand in the envelope and pulled them out.
Black silk panties and a red and black garter belt.
Gaul had whistled loudly shutting down all conversation in the lab. "Wow, Dr. McKay, you've been holding out on us!"
Rodney had jerked his eyes up and glared at his staff, and then back down at the women's underwear in his hands. Then back up to find Gaul still staring.
"What?" Rodney had snapped as he stuffed the lingerie back into the envelope.
Gaul had grinned and pointed to the floor. "You dropped the note."
The paper had fallen against the leg of his desk.
"Yes. Thank you. Fine." Rodney remembered that there had been a buzzing in his ears and he wasn't sure if Gaul had said anything else after that. There might have been something about how 'she' was a big girl.
"Don't you have celestial measurements to be taking Dr. Gaul? Of a galaxy far, far away, perhaps?"
Gaul opened his mouth, but Rodney didn't even let him start.
"Measurements. Unless you'd prefer to stay here when the expedition leaves. It can be arranged."
Gaul had found himself amazingly busy from then until Rodney had left for the day.
Later, Rodney had read the note.
Just a little something to keep you focused. Don't think too much. ~All the best, E.
He still had the note in his footlocker, along with the gift.
And it wasn't that he was ashamed. Eric had made him realize this was just another need, like food to keep his blood sugar up or sunscreen to keep from burning. It was just that this was a need he hadn't had since coming to Atlantis and he wasn't sure Eric's little gift would be enough to satisfy his... need.
Rodney flipped over and sat up, head in his hands and the tip of his cock poking at his waistband.
Shower. He could try a shower first.
He got undressed on automatic, walked into the shower cubicle, and climbed into the lukewarm spray. His mind was running like a gerbil on a wheel.
(5, 11), (7, 13), (11, 17), (13, 19).
He soaped up and his hand drifted down, and it wasn't painful. Not yet, anyway. Maybe he could do this. Feel. Focus on the physical.
(17, 23), (23, 29), (31, 37)
Oh, damn. Yes. Just a bit more.
(37, 43), (41, 47), (47, 53)
Faster. Panting.
(q, p) such that (p - q= 6)
He was leaning up against the shower wall, one hand braced against the slick polymer sheet that passed for tile in the city of the Ancients, and the other hand pumping dick as fast as he could go when he realized that he was reciting the sexy primes and still not coming.
"God dammit!" he slammed both hands into the wall and then turned the water icy cold and directed it right onto his already stingingly numb dick.
All he could hear was Gaul's voice struggling to get out his last breathy sentences: "Go. Go, McKay."
It killed his erection, but didn't do anything to quench his restless mind.
He was shivering when he finally got out of the shower, but he wasn't ready to sleep. He needed something. A distraction.
A walk. And fuck Carson if he tried to stop him.
Rodney paused as he was drying off.
That might actually work if Carson were sincere in his statements that he'd do whatever it took to get Rodney to take a rest.
Rodney tried to imagine himself at the mercy of the sweet tempered physician.
He snorted and went to rifle through his clothes for something that wouldn't irritate his tender skin.
It was pure chance that he found the panties and garter belt in his footlocker. Pure chance. He rubbed them between his fingers remembering.
Distraction. Sensation.
They're just a physical focus for your mind. I think they will help. And I like the way you look in them.
He closed his eyes while he put them on, imagining Eric's little taunts as he arranged the panties more comfortably. There was less give than in a pair of knit cotton Y-fronts, but the material conformed so closely, cupping his cock and balls like a lover's hand. The garter belt slid over his hairy stomach, but didn't catch or pull. The only thing he regretted was that there was nothing to fasten the elastic suspenders on. He wondered why Eric hadn't sent a pair of stockings as well. Probably had difficulty finding the right size.
Gaul was right you certainly are a big girl.
Rodney gritted his teeth. This wasn't about Gaul.
This wasn't about Gaul, or death, or vampiric hordes coming to suck out everyone's life unless Rodney could come up with a way to save the day.
It wasn't about any of that.
It was about turning off his brain for just a little while.
It was about sensation.
He took three steps after he got dressed and stopped at the shock of the dangling elastics trailing over his thighs and bunching under his trouser legs. He went and got a longer jacket.
He walked.
The halls of Atlantis were never empty, but Rodney was used to that, having spent almost half his life on military bases. The city, however, wasn't a base. It wasn't contained. It sprawled and spread and couldn't be fully patrolled by Bates and his security detail.
So Rodney walked. And he nodded absently at marines who were taking their measured steps as they cradled their P90s. They looked at him and nodded back. Rodney tugged at the hem of his jacket, which was zipped in the front, and kept walking.
The generators were closely watched, and the control room was never quiet. The lab would be his usual haven, but he'd have had to sit in his desk chair and feel the elastic rub against the small hairs on the backs of his legs and he really was not sure he could do that for long without getting hard again.
So he walked some more. Out to the edges and along the water. The elastic tickled a bit, but didn't really bother him; the silk panties were soft and didn't irritate his skin.
Finally, he found himself half way down pier four with a half hard dick ready to go to full mast at the touch of the lightest breeze. His balls were full and heavy, and it was all Gaul's fault.
Not the dying part, but the way he had made Rodney think about things he'd left behind. Just before they'd left on their last mission, Gaul had asked, "So Rodney, You still have those souvenirs from your lady love?"
Sneer.
"Of course, Dr. Gaul, I have nothing better to do than pack dirty laundry into the Pegasus Galaxy. The detergents here are so much better. I can't think of any other use for the Ancient's technology." He'd paused. "Oh, wait, saving the world! That's it, I knew there was something."
Gaul had raised his eyebrows. "You could tell she hadn't washed them?"
There was just the hint of a laugh at the end of the sentence as Rodney felt his entire face heat.
"Oh, for god's sake, can we do something important here! Do you think you can accomplish anything on this trip today? Or was I wasting both our time when I picked you for this mission?"
Famous last words.
Rodney came to an open catwalk that was over the ocean and leaned against the railing, careful to keep his crotch well back and lean his weight on his hands.
Could death be considered an accomplishment? Not really. After all, everything in the universe moved towards entropy, didn't it? Certainly in a galaxy full of Wraith it did.
The Shannon entropy of a variable X is defined as
H(X)= - ∑p/X (x) (log2) [p(x)]
bits, where P (x) is the probability that X is in the state x, and P log2 P is defined as 0 if P=0. The joint entropy of variables-
"McKay?"
He spun around, backing up against the railing and giving the hem of his jacket a sharp tug.
"Jesus, Major! Don't do that when I'm standing next to the edge of a catwalk! I could fall in and end up drowning, and then what you do?"
"Jump in after you. Although if you fell in here, you would pretty much have to have climbed over the railing on purpose, and frankly, McKay, I don't think I'm that scary."
Rodney folded his arms and sniffed. "I wasn't scared. Somewhat startled, that's all."
Sheppard gave him a small smile and a shrug. "My point."
"Yes, well, as long as we understand each other, and you don't have some crisis you need my assistance with, I think I'll be going along."
He got two steps away before, "McKay! Hang on a sec."
"What?" Rodney turned and threw up his hands. "What is so important? Is the city sinking? Have the Wraith arrived early? Or is it just that you found Zelenka's fabled Belgian chocolate stash and you're looking for someone to fence the goods for you? What!"
Sheppard took on step back, and raised his right hand in the same placating gesture he'd used with various trading partners that Rodney had managed to offend.
"Back it up, and take a breath, McKay. I just wanted to know how you're doing. Carson's got you off duty tomorrow on mandatory rest. And since marching laps around the perimeter of Atlantis at 3:00 AM doesn't really fit Dr. Beckett's definition of 'a good night's sleep,' I thought I'd check and see what you've got on your mind."
"Oh, let's see." Rodney purposely took his most annoying scientist pose with his arms crossed and his right hand up, with one forefinger tapping his chin knowingly. "There's the new schematic for daisy chaining the naquada generators to maximize power, there's Grodin's idea for powering up the lifeless satellite that Dr. Gaul- that he's taken on since Gaul had the gall to go die on me!"
When had he started shouting?
"You?" Sheppard echoed softly. His eyes brows were raised and he had that 'what do you mean' look on his face.
"Us." Rodney corrected. "I mean us. Atlantis. Not that the poor bastard could help it. Although obviously he could have. I mean, he chose to shoot himself, nobody forced him to, even if I did give him-- Yes. Well. In any case. I think I've answered your question. As usual. Now if you'll excuse me."
"McKay."
Rodney didn't stop this time.
"Rodney." Sheppard's voice was a lot lower, and almost in his ear.
He hated that the man could move that fast and that quietly.
"Rodney, stop."
The hand on his elbow was burning right though his sleeve, or at least that's what it felt like.
Rodney closed his eyes for a second, frozen under Sheppard's fingers.
"Don't."
"Don't what, Rodney?" Now it was the don't-spook-the-unstable-genius tone that he'd far too often in the past and really didn't need from Sheppard.
"I... I can't sleep. It makes me tense, and I'd rather you didn't touch me right now, Major," he said it slowly in the tone of voice that he saved for especially arrogant yet stupid graduate students and Kavanaugh on a good day.
"I've lost men before, Rodney." The Major sounded more sure of himself. "I know a little bit about what you must be feeling right now. But it wasn't your fault."
Rodney rounded on him, tugging his arm out of Sheppard's grip and snarling, "You know how I feel? Because you lead a bunch of geeks from the top universities of the world, who signed up for the greatest research project in the history of our planet and ended up being the main course for a bunch of green skinned soul suckers with bad dental hygiene? You know how that feels, Major?"
"I know how it feels to sign on to give my life for a bunch of geeks and then turn around to find them giving their lives for me. That's what I know, McKay. So, yeah. I think I have an idea of how you feel."
He poked Rodney in the chest, backing him up against a pillar that Rodney hadn't noticed before.
"Now, are you going to tell me what crawled up your ass and died, or am I going to run you into the infirmary and call Heightmeyer to talk you down until you can sleep."
Rodney clenched his jaw. There was really nothing to say. There wasn't anything he could tell Sheppard. Not anything he wanted to tell him, anyway.
Sheppard's mouth tightened to a straight line. "Right. The infirmary and Heightmeyer it is, then."
"I've already talked to her." The words slipped out even as Rodney snapped his jaw shut a moment too late.
Sheppard cocked his head and frowned in that expression that Rodney was fast learning meant the Major was about to start in with the hard questions.
"Okay. So what'd she say? How come she let you out of her office if you're still this freaked out?"
"Do you have any idea how inappropriate those questions are? Just asking them breaks all sort of etiquette, not to mention doctor/patient confidentiality. And if you think I'm just going to--"
John put his hand over Rodney's mouth and pressed him back more firmly against the pole. "Stop." He stared into Rodney's eyes until he got a minute nod.
"Okay." Sheppard moved his hand away slowly.
"Maj--"
The hand was back.
"No, Rodney. This is where you listen."
The hand stayed over his mouth this time and Rodney's brain continued to run in ever more frantic circles, even as his body slowly began to relax for the first time all evening.
Well, most of his body.
He shifted as the Major pressed his advantage. Rodney felt the damp silk panties rub along his cock head. He wanted to gasp, but all he allowed himself was to half close his eyes and wait, hoping the major wouldn't notice, or would assume it was all part of sleep deprivation. Which it was. Sort of. In a chicken and the egg kind of way.
"You're a member of my team." Sheppard was saying. "You are my responsibility off world and here. If you had a bad hangnail, I'd want to know about it. You lost somebody on a mission and that affects you. What affects you is important to me. You're important to me. Now, I'm going to take my hand away, and you're going to tell me what's going on inside that genius head of yours. Right?"
Rodney nodded.
"Okay, then," Sheppard pulled his hand away slowly.
Rodney licked his lips.
"I can't sleep."
Sheppard waited for a moment, but Rodney just leaned back against the pillar and thought sexy triplet primes: (7, 13, 19), (17, 23, 29).
"You can't sleep."
"I believe that's what I just said. What? Are you unable to grasp the consequences of prolonged sleep deprivation? Irritability, mood swings, eventually hallucinations, followed by death." He closed his eyes, and shifted against the pole so that the elastic straps from the garter belt brushed against the backs of his thighs.
(31, 37, 43)
"You're having hallucinations?"
(47, 53, 59)
"No, but it's just a matter of time."
Rodney fought the urge to pull at the bottom of his jacket, and cracked open his eyes just in time to see Sheppard's what-kind-of-crazy-assholes-did-they-pick-for-this-mission look. Utter confusion was a good look on Sheppard.
"So let's go to the infirmary and get some sleeping pills or something for you."
"That doesn't help."
"Why not?" Sheppard had the lightest hint of a smirk around his mouth. "Are you allergic to sleeping pills, too?"
Rodney glared at him. "Oh, fine. Make fun of my condition. I live to provide you with entertainment."
He pushed off the pole and started to walk away yet again, with only faint hope that he'd get any further than last time. He took long strides and silk shifted across his hips. The skin on his cock stung under even that slight amount of friction.
"All right, all right, I shouldn't have said that," Sheppard admitted as matched steps with Rodney. "I apologize. Now, tell me why sleeping pills won't help."
Rodney rounded on the Sheppard. "Because they take care of a symptom, Major. A symptom. Not the underlying problem. On top of which, they are eventually addicting, as Carson would take great pleasure in telling you if you suggested it. So just drop the pseudo medical advice and let me get on with my walk. Please. Thank you. Good bye."
His exit would have been far more satisfying if Sheppard has just let him leave. But again, the Major walked beside him as he commented, "So you've already taken as many as Carson will let you have and now he's cut you off and you still can't sleep. Does that about sum it up?"
Rodney gave him a sharp look, but there wasn't really any point in denying it. "Yes."
He continued for a few minutes before another word forced its way past his lips without his conscious approval.
"Mostly."
"What?"
"Mostly. That mostly sums it up."
"All right. You want to fill in the last blanks and tell me what I'm missing?"
"No."
"Right."
Rodney didn't notice they were in an internal corridor again until a door on his left opened and John pushed him inside.
And across the room.
And against a wall.
"I am tired of playing games, Rodney. I don't want to spend the rest of the night guessing at what's wrong and having to plan for replacing you on our next mission-"
"What?" Rodney's focus was suddenly sharp on Sheppard's eyes.
"Replacing you. On the next mission." Sheppard's eyes were hard and his face was blank. "Because that is what I will do if we can't get Carson to clear you for duty. It would be tough to find someone to take over from you, but I will if I have to."
Sheppard's look, his voice, the way he had Rodney backed up against a wall, it all went straight to Rodney's dick, which twitched as his balls drew up tight.
"I can't come," he gasped.
Sheppard did a double take.
"On the mission?"
"No, in my - I mean, I mean, yes. Obviously. On the mission."
Sheppard got that look on his face that he had whenever he was trying to find the right thought to turn on a new and particularly puzzling ancient device.
"No, that's not what you meant."
"Yes, it is. Was. Anyway, I can't." Rodney tried to push past the major, but Sheppard simply put one hand flat against his chest and pushed him, not too gently, back against the wall.
Rodney gasped as every muscle from his crotch, up his spine, all the way up his neck suddenly shivered so hard his vertebrae popped. He only stopped himself from grabbing his cock by digging his fingers into his thighs. His gasp was loud and obvious; so was Sheppard's silence.
Sheppard glanced over his shoulder at the door and it slid shut, then he turned back to Rodney with an expectant look on his face.
Rodney shut his eyes. Eric had said that sometimes it made it easier to say things. Rodney wasn't sure if it made it easier to talk, but it did make it harder to stop.
"I had a therapist. Back on Earth. In California." Rodney said.
Sheppard's hand was still on Rodney's chest. He pushed against it just a little and was relieved that there wasn't any give to it.
He felt Sheppard's body shift a little, but his hand didn't move.
Sheppard's voice was low and gravelly as he filled in the parts that he knew. "Dr. Eric Beale. Specialist in sleep disorders. You were his patient from 1993 until 2001. Limited social contact consisting of occasional weekend visits from 2001 until mission departure. There wasn't any indication that you were still receiving treatments."
"Of course. You've read my file." Rodney sighed and leaned his head back against the wall, still not opening his eyes. Eric was right. It was easier this way. "It wasn't exactly treatment by then."
"So what was it?"
"The reason I can't sleep when I'm stressed is because I can't relax." Rodney started in the same tone he used when explaining why naquadah reactors couldn't power the city's shield. "I can't stop thinking. And it's not productive thinking, because if it were, I really wouldn't have a problem with it. But no. It's the kind of running in place sort of fidgety thinking that just leads to making mistakes. And I. Can't. Stop."
"Dr. Beale found a way to help you stop?"
Rodney took a deep, shuddering breath. He could feel it shaking Sheppard's hand.
"Eric found a way to make me come. Harder and better than I have ever had it with anyone else. So overwhelming a climax that I would black out and sleep for twelve hours. Something for which I would give my right testicle, at this moment, although that might somewhat defeat the purpose."
There was no sound in the room except for Rodney's harsh breathing. If it weren't for the hand on his chest and the warmth of the body standing just in front of him, Rodney would have thought the Major had left the room.
The silence stretched for a few more seconds before Rodney couldn't take it any more.
"Right, I've told you. You are the man in Atlantis who has cracked the mystery of my insomnia." He opened his eyes and focused on a point just beyond Sheppard's shoulder and tried to push past the man's hand. "Now if you will excuse me, I'm going to continue marching laps around Atlantis until I fall down into a healing coma."
But Sheppard simply pushed him back against the wall, with just a hint of roughness that sent another wave a shivers up Rodney's spine.
"How?"
Rodney finally made eye contact again. "What?"
"How did he do it? I mean it's got to be something special, or you'd do it yourself, right? So, what did he do? Toys? Videos? An amazingly huge dick?"
The major's face was bright red. Even his hair looked embarrassed, if that were possible. Although of course his hair was probably used to being embarrassed.
It was more than Rodney could stand. "What are you looking for? Pointers to use with the next alien priestess you meet? There is nothing you can help me with here. Nothing to discuss. And I am not going to satisfy your prurient curiosity just so you can add to your sexual encounter playbook! Leave me alone, Major."
"How do you know I can't help you if you don't tell me what he did?"
"Because you're male!"
"So was Eric. "
Rodney blinked. His chest was heaving. The room was chilly. The silk and elastic lingerie he was wearing was vainly attempting to rein in his amazingly hard cock. And the proof for an infinite number of twin primes was on the tip of his tongue, but... "Oh."
"Yeah." A slow smile spread across Sheppard's face. "So tell me how he touched you. Let me try, Rodney."
"He didn't. Touch me, that is."
The smile slipped and Sheppard shook his head slowly. "Okay, so now I am back to one word questions: what?"
"Couldn't. At least not while I his patient, and after that, well, we'd developed a certain routine that we stuck to. It worked for both of us."
"So he didn't touch you, he just...watched?" Sheppard's eyes were narrowed as if he were trying to picture the scene in his mind, and just the idea of Major John Sheppard imagining him, Dr. Rodney McKay, naked, was enough to make Rodney want to groan.
Instead, he licked his lips and tried to stay focused on the question. "He, um, no. He didn't just watch. He would tell me what to do. Everything." Rodney swallowed, his dry throat clicking. "Sometimes he gave me things to, ah, work with."
"So, you don't like the idea of being touched?" Sheppard ran an index finger of his free hand up the outside of Rodney's arm as he asked the question.
Rodney could feel the hairs on his arm standing on end. He swallowed convulsively, but didn't close his eyes or move away. He could imagine John's touch continuing up down and around his body, and it seemed he liked the idea very much.
Sheppard's eyes stayed glued to Rodney's, weighing his reaction, before dropping his hand to his side and looking expectantly at Rodney.
Oh. Right. He actually expected a coherent answer.
"It's never come up. Not in this context. I mean, women I've touched. Some. You know, but Eric and I. No."
Sheppard nodded, and narrowed his eyes. "But you like being told what to do?"
"Normally, no." Here Rodney felt on more solid ground. He'd had years with Eric to discuss and analyze what he liked. "But sometimes it's a relief to just let go in a clearly delineated space and time. Let someone else take care of things. It's fairly common to find those who have great responsibility in everyday life benefit from giving up that responsibility in their fantasies."
John cocked his head as if listening to something underneath Rodney's words. "You're quoting."
Rodeny could feel his face heating up again. "Doesn't make it less true."
"Okay, then." Sheppard gave one sharp nod, and then jerked his head over towards an alcove that had just lit up. There was a bed in it. "Get undressed. Take off your shirt first."
There was nothing playful in that voice, no room for compromise. It was a direct order, and it made Rodney shake.
"Now, Rodney."
He wanted to follow that order. To let go. Rodney swallowed and closed his eyes. "Delineate."
How he managed to push the word past his lips, he wasn't sure, but it stopped Sheppard for a moment. It put the whole room on pause.
Sheppard's response was equally brief, and sounded more like he was talking to one of the marines.
"Explain."
Oh, thank God.
Rodney opened his eyes. "The time, the place, the rules. We have to agree on the rules, or... Not that I want to tell you what to do, or... but I - we need-"
Sheppard gave a sharp nod and cut him off. "Right. Place and time are easy: here, and now until sunrise. As for rules," the major shrugged and smirked. "I've never been very good at following other people's rules."
"I didn't mean I would tell you how to-except, I mean, of course you haven't done this before so you might need some- But, really the whole point is that--"
Sheppard's hand whipped forward and he grabbed Rodney by the back of the neck. He didn't pull much. Just held Rodney there and forced the eye contact that Rodney was trying to avoid. "I meant Eric's rules, Rodney. You and I, what we agree on, is a different thing."
Rodney could only nod frantically.
Sheppard didn't let go and Rodney shivered as the major's eyes studied him as if looking for weaknesses. Then he seemed to come to a decision. "A safe word. That's what it's called, right? If you want things to stop?"
Rodney nodded again. He was already slipping into that place where he didn't have any words.
"How about 'Wraith'? Would that work?"
Yes, he'd never say that by accident would he? Good choice. Sheppard actually seemed pretty good at this.
"Rodney!"
Oh, right, focus. "Yes."
"The word, Rodney. What's your safe word?"
Rodney blinked. He almost said 'red.' He could almost hear Eric in the background.
Are you sure you want to stop, Pet? You know you need this. And no one else can give it to you.
"Rodney?" Now Sheppard sounded unsure.
"Wraith! My safeword is Wraith." Rodney panted and nodded and prayed that Sheppard wasn't going to make him talk anymore. Or leave. God, don't let him leave. Because Rodney wasn't sure he could make it without this.
Eric had said he'd never make it. Eric had said he'd be back, not realizing that where Rodney was going this time, he might not be able to come back.
Rodney had tried to break it off before. Three or four times, he'd tried. First by ending their sessions together and then by moving away. Eric had always chuckled and let him go, secure in the knowledge that Rodney would be back.
The garter's elastics shifted against his legs and felt like Eric's laughter across his skin.
"Okay, Rodney." Sheppard pulled his hand away and left Rodney saying slightly in the middle of the room. They were standing chest to chest, not quite touching. "Let's do this. Go over to the bed. Get undressed, starting with your shirt. No more stalling, understood?"
Rodney nodded and was amazed to find his body moving: turning away from Sheppard, his legs carrying him to the alcove, his hands working the zipper of his shirt, and his arms pulling it over head. And his cock as hard as it had ever been in his life. It didn't make any sense.
The major.
Sheppard.
John?
Oh, God, should he call him John?
He was about to commit acts in front of the man that would likely wreck a promising military career and quite possibly compromise their team, so certainly. Yes. He should call him John.
If John didn't mind.
An irrational number is a number that cannot be expressed as a fraction p/q for any integers p and q.
His shirt was off and lying on the floor.
"That's good, Rodney. Now the T-shirt."
Square root of two. Irrational.
"Slow down, Rodney. Run your fingers over your chest."
It was different than with Eric. Rodney felt as if his skin was thinner, hotter, like the blood was closer to the surface. He shivered.
"Yeah, that's good." Sheppard's voice was deep and rough with a slight tremble at the end of the sentence. It was nothing like the cool tones that Eric had always used.
Goosebumps rose all across Rodney's chest and his nipples stiffened as he brushed them with his thumbs.
"God, how could he not touch you?"
John's voice was quiet and far away. The question was more for himself than for Rodney.
Square root of three. Irrational.
"Pants now, Rodney." Major Sheppard's voice-John's voice-was getting very hoarse. Rodney could understand that. His throat was dry, too.
He fumbled with his zipper.
"Wait." It was only one word, but it held a world of uncertainty in it.
Rodney stopped and dropped his head into his hands. He felt like he was going to be sick. "Oh, god-don't back out now. I know I'm not any great prize to look at, and probably this isn't even your kink, but you volunteered and if you back out now, I will make the rest of your stay on Atlantis so miserable you will tie yourself to the roof of a Wraith hive ship in order to hitch a ride out of here! You will never drink coffee again, your shower will scald you, and your room will be so cold that your sheets will have icicles hanging from them." He blinked rapidly, feeling a stinging behind his eyes. No. Crying was not an option.
pi
3.141592653589793238462643...
"Hey." Sheppard - definitely Sheppard if he was leaving Rodney here calculating with almost nothing on - was standing in front of him, his hands half way out to grab Rodney. Halfway out, and no further. Like Rodney had his own personal shield. "Rodney, I'm not backing out. I just wanted you to-um, turn around before you take your pants off."
...383279502884197169399375...
"Turn around?" Rodney looked up. Breathed. Blinked.
Sheppard-no, he got to be John again-nodded. His face was still red, but now there was a strangely hopeful look in his eyes.
Rodney cleared his throat. "Right. I can do that."
So he turned, and slowly undid his belt, bent over at the waist to untie his bootlaces, and then pushed his pants down to his ankles. He didn't think about the garter belt and panties until the trailing elastics snapped back against his thighs after catching on the waistband of his trousers. He cringed and waited for the sarcasm.
Eric would have said something.
"Oh, wow."
But not that.
Wow? Was that good?
"God, you look amazing." John's tone was closer to reverent than sarcastic.
Okay, so 'wow' was good. Rodney started to straighten up and step out of his boots.
"No! Just-just stay there for a minute."
Slowly he lowered himself back down, bent at the waist, hobbled at the ankles by his pants, and ass in the air. He could feel the elastic straps swinging, and the panties riding up into his crack.
He heard John move. Coming closer.
Fingers brushed up the outside of Rodney's legs and every hair stood on end.
"Oh."
"Sorry. Is this okay? I mean, do you want to use your safeword?" The uncertainty was back.
Rodney shook his head then nodded wildly. "No! No, safeword. Yes. Fine."
Then a hot wet line was drawn up the back of his thigh and damp breaths puffed across his skin.
"Oh, God." Rodney was swaying; the room seemed to swing. He looked around desperately until he realized the bed was right there in front of him and he grabbed the edge of it with both hands and held on as John's tongue, continued to trace a path up and in.
The next thing he knew, that tongue was skimming along his panty line, pushing the silk even further into his crack, and soaking the material. He was so caught up with John's tongue that John's hands gripping his ass and spreading him even wider was a shock. He jerked up for a moment as John's thumbs slid under the silk and John pushed him slightly forward.
"Easy." John's voice was low and more than a little ragged.
Rodney managed to nod as he gripped the edge of the mattress in front of him. It wasn't entirely comfortable. He had to bend at the hips, and he felt the pull in his hamstrings, but the bed was high enough that he was able to support himself on his elbows and rest his head on his arms.
He struggled to get his legs free of the boots and the pants and spread them wider, as wide as possible, to get more of that tongue and those hands. John caught on and helped, easing off the boots and socks, caressing Rodney's ankles as he went until Rodney was finally standing with his legs spread, bent over at the waist in nothing but the panties and garter belt with John kneeling behind, dragging teeth across that soft stretch of skin right behind his balls.
Rodney thought John might go further. He whimpered in anticipation of John's mouth actually sucking in his tight sac, but John drew back, and stood up, pulling Rodney with him.
"Wait-No, no, no-Don't-" Rodney couldn't have stopped himself from begging if he'd tried, but luckily he didn't have to as John turned him in his arms and covered his mouth with his own until Rodney caught on well enough to start kissing him back.
They fell back onto the bed, Rodney lying under John, pinned by his weight and yet feeling like he was floating.
"Get my pants off me." John ordered.
He was still fully dressed, but his pants were unbuttoned and it was easy enough for Rodney to shove them down far enough to allow unrestricted friction. The only thing separating their cocks was a thin layer of silk, and that just heightened the sensation.
"Jack my cock against yours. I want to feel it through those panties you look so hot in."
John held himself up on his arms so that he could look down between. Rodney could feel John's eyes burning cross his skin as he pressed John's cock against his own and groaned.
"Move," John hissed. "Move your hips."
It was like building an electric charge. Like waiting for lightning to strike the city and power the shield. There was nothing to do but feel.
Rodney's mind was emptying out like a water pouring from a bottle, until the only thing he knew was John grinding into him, and the only thing he wanted was to keep going, even though the only thing he needed was for it to finish. Finish, finish, finish-
"That's it, Rodney. Come on, come on, spill it for me." John whispered his demands in Rodney's ear.
"Please, please, please-" Rodney thrashed his head back and forth as he begged and pleaded. He didn't think. He couldn't. He just needed-
John pulled them over roughly to lie on their sides as they rubbed and slid against each other. Cradling Rodney's head on his left arm, he shoved the middle finger of right hand into Rodney's mouth.
"Suck it."
Rodney whined, but did as he was told.
One, two, three times that finger pumped in and out of Rodney's mouth in time with the writhing of their hips. Then it was gone.
Rodney keened.
"Shhhh." John slid his right hand down and under the garter belt and panties to stroke his middle finger over Rodney's hole.
"Now," John whispered and shoved his middle finger in as far as it would go.
Rodney's mind flew apart and the pieces melted into the wind as he shook and came in one pulse after another, again and again, as John kept thrusting against him and into him and there was nothing else anywhere that mattered at all, ever.
The last thing he remembered was John holding him whispering, "How the hell could he not touch you?"
When he came back online later, he had no idea what time it was, and for the first time in days, he didn't really care. The sky was twilight colored, so it was either sunrise or sunset, but the important thing was that everything was quiet. No prime number sets running through his head. No ghostly voices from Gaul or Eric trying to tell him who he was or what he was supposed to do.
Just quiet.
And warm.
And in bed with someone.
"Hey, you up?"
Rodney lifted his head and ended up rubbing his face in John Sheppard's five o'clock shadow. "Ow. Don't you know how to shave?"
John snorted. "You're up."
"Yes. And feeling much better. Thank you." Rodney sat and looked around for his clothes as he tried to figure out what he was supposed to do now. The garter belt and panties were gone and it appeared that John had cleaned them both up while Rodney had been out. Which made peeling himself off the major more of a mental Band-Aid pull than a physical one. Although either way it was best done fast to get it over with. "You didn't have to stay."
John sighed and rubbed his face with one hand while patting Rodney's leg with the other. "Just so you know, if we ever get back to Earth, I'm going to look up this Dr. Eric Beale and beat the shit out of him."
Rodney looked at him sharply, eyes wide. "What? Why?"
John grabbed Rodney by the back of the neck and pulled him close. Rodney only resisted for a moment, his eyes glued to John's narrowed eyes. "Because you deserve someone who touches you and stays with you."
Then he kissed Rodney hard on the mouth.
END