Nick Lorne is a regular guy. Some would call him reliable. Trustworthy. Dependable. Those less charitable might call him staid. Boring. An utter tightass. And those less charitable ones might find themselves carrying their own fucking 75-pound space philodendrons to their own damned greenhouse, too, while Nick himself goes for a run.

"Yeah."

Nick hears the single word from somewhere above him. He's tucked himself into a semi-hidden corner beneath one of the catwalks. He's not pouting, he's resting, and his radio is in his pocket because he doesn't want to be disturbed.

"Yeah."

The word is repeated, a little breathlessly, and Nick recognizes Colonel Sheppard's voice.

He looks up, and sees a dark shape settle onto the floor grating. "Ready," he hears Sheppard say. "Where are you?"

And then...

"I can't believe you modified the comms so we could have phone sex."

Nick nearly bursts an eardrum getting his radio in place. He has to click through a few channels, then over to the private settings Parrish had showed him before he finds the right one.

"I love it." Sheppard's voice has a slight echo as he hears it from the radio and from above at the same time. "Tell me what to do, Rodney."

Holy shit. Holy holy shit. McKay. McKay and Sheppard. McKay and Sheppard having phone sex. Holy holy shit.

"Put your hand on your throat, like I do when I kiss you, with your thumb just under your ear. That spot always makes you shiver."

Oh, god - he didn't need to know that. He'll never be able to look at Sheppard's neck again. Not that he does. Look at Sheppard's neck.

"Sensitive," Sheppard says, and his voice is low and needy. "You showed me that."

"Bow down before my keen observiness," Rodney quips.

"It shouldn't make me hot when you talk like Buffy," John groans.

"Kinky bastard. Stroke your throat, down to your collarbone and back."

Nick can't see him, but he can imagine what it looks like, Sheppard's tanned hand sliding up and down his long neck. He puts his own hand against his throat and swallows hard.

"How do you want it, John?" McKay asks, and his voice is...sexy. Oh, god, he's doomed. Now he won't be able to look at Sheppard or McKay ever again. "Fast or slow?"

Sheppard's answer is breathless. "God, fast. Slow later."

"You hard?"

"Yes."

"Good. Touch your cock. Over your pants."

Nick hates himself for it, but he slides his hand down the front of his track pants on the outside. Because McKay said so, and he's pretty sure that he's going to need therapy for this.

"I bet you look good," McKay says, and Nick would put serious money down on that. "Makes me wonder if anyone can see you." McKay is panting a little and Nick thinks finally. He was starting to think the guy was made of stone. "What if Ronon...or, god, Lorne was up there, out for a run, and they could see you."

Nick freezes and Sheppard moans, "Rodney..."

"Put your hand in your pants," McKay instructs. "Touch your bare cock, pull it out."

Nick bites down on his lip hard, but he pushes his hand into his pants and starts stroking.

"If someone could see you..." McKay's voice is back to soft and seductive. He sounds like he's totally in control.

"Lorne," Sheppard moans. Nick has to put his free hand over his mouth to stifle his own needy sounds.

"Oh, god, your mind is a filthy place." McKay sounds impressed. "Okay, if Lorne could see you, see your head thrown back, the way your neck cords up when your jaw clenches. You're so fucking gorgeous like that."

Nick cranes his neck, but, dammit, he can't see in the gloom, and he really wants the visual.

"Rodney." Sheppard sounds like he's getting close, and Nick's not very far behind him.

"Slow down, John," McKay says. "Left hand only for a minute; let me catch up."

Nick ignores that instruction, since he's only got the one hand in his pants anyway. Also, he's left-handed.

"I'm getting close, John," McKay says. "I wish you were here in front of me, wish I could have you on your knees in front of me, wish I could come on your face."

That's it. That does it. The 3-D brain-flash of McKay coming on his C.O.'s face pushes Nick over the edge, and he nearly bites through his own fingers as he comes hard all over his hand and the inside of his pants. He throws his head back so hard that the earpiece slips out, slithering down his tee shirt and into his lap.

His ears ring from the force of his orgasm, and he leans against the wall trying to recover. He holds his breath when he hears Sheppard get up. Sheppard's feet clang on the grating as he jogs away, still talking to McKay on the headset. Nick thinks he hears something about lunch.

He cleans his wet hand off on the inside of his pants, grimacing at the stickiness. He flips his headset back to a standard channel and replaces it in his ear. He starts a slow jog toward his quarters. He's planning on a quick shower, and then he's got a botanist to visit.