"I thought we always went out in pairs - Oracle protocol." Tom Palmer was just being a smartass. He felt that it was expected of him at this point. Rookie smartass - but a rookie smartass who'd saved the whole organization by flipping the EMP gun around and then delivering the classic sci-fi standard line about "changing the polarity."

Kitty had either not gotten the reference or ignored it, which was fine with Tom, as she was kind of a tightass.

"Shut up," she said from her perch on the corner of his brand-new desk in his brand-new office. "I have to be away for a week, and this one is a guaranteed softball. This McKay guy is most likely a regular businessman, not a maniac bent on world domination through a software program."

Tom tilted his head to one side. "So where are you going?"

"Away," she said, and Tom had to bite his tongue to not say 'I've been wanting you to go away for a while now'. But he really, really wanted to say it.

She levered herself off his desk. "You leave for Los Angeles in three hours. Go home and grab a bag, then get back here. You can take the Harrier."

Tom grinned at her and got up from his chair. "Cool."

"Whatever." She turned and clicked away on her ridiculously high heels. He wondered if they came with a pole.

This, Tom thought, was going to be fun. No tightass partner to yank his chain. The Harrier at his disposal. If he got lucky, he might score some of the excellent equipment in Room 9. And, speaking of scoring, the Harrier would have him in L.A. in record time, leaving him with an entire evening to burn before spending 45 minutes tops with software king Rodney McKay. That left plenty of time to go to the beach, have another night out, and have the Jump Jet home by Saturday afternoon.

Tom whistled as he got into the elevator.

The Harrier was just as cool as he remembered it, landing soft and silent on the roof. The pilot waved him over, and Tom climbed in, getting himself settled and pulling his helmet on.

"Where to, Mr. Palmer?" the pilot said, laughing as he took them straight up before pivoting the jet's engines for horizontal flight.

"I'm guessing we don't land at LAX," Tom said, trying to get used to the weird feeling of the changeover in the plane's attitude.

You'd be right," the pilot said. "We have a branch in Culver City. We'll land there. They'll have a car waiting for you. When you're ready to leave, call the branch and I'll be there before you will."

Tom grinned as he was pushed back into his seat by the jet's acceleration.

The landing atop a nondescript building was just as gentle and quiet as the takeoff had been. Tom got his bag and gave the pilot a smile and wave. A man in a black suit was waiting.

"Mr. Palmer," the man said. "I'm Richard Woolsey."

Tom shook his hand and made the usual pleasantries as they walked down the stairs to the top floor of the building. Woolsey stopped at the scanners, and then motioned for Tom to do the same. The door buzzed, and then opened.

The L.A. branch was like a miniature version of the Omaha facility, with all the hustle and bustle that Tom had come to expect. Woolsey led Tom to a glass-walled office and introduced him to the agent in charge of the L.A. office, Jack O'Neill.

Tom shook O'Neill's hand and was introduced to a beautiful blonde woman named Samantha Carter.

"A pleasure," she said, giving Tom a firm handshake. "We're glad you're here."

They all sat, and Tom looked from one to the other. "I don't get it," he said. "I'd think the two of you would have no trouble checking out this McKay guy."

O'Neill and Carter exchanged an abashed look. "Well," O'Neill drawled. "He knows me, and he's not my biggest fan. I tried to recruit him for a different agency, and he pretty much told me to go fuck myself."

Tom nodded and let his gaze slide over to Carter. "What about you?" he asked.

She pursed her lips and looked to one side. "He knows me, too," she said.

Tom nodded. "So, you were in on the recruitment?"

"Not exactly," Carter said, blowing her bangs out of her face. "We were married."

Tom reached up to rub the back of his neck, and then grinned at both of them. "God, I love this town."

O'Neill and Carter gave him a quick tour of the office, then provided him with everything he'd need to clear security at McKay's office.

"Dossier?" Tom asked.

O'Neill gave him a sharp look. "How do you feel about going in cold?"

Tom furrowed his brow. "I guess I could, but why?"

Carter blew her bangs out of her face again. "Look," she said. "McKay's not just smart, he's a genius. And he's very good at exploiting any weakness. If he figures out that you've been briefed, he'll shut down at light speed and have you tossed out of the building within the first five minutes."

"So, what's my cover?" Tom wasn't sure if he liked this whole thing at all, and briefly entertained the idea that Kitty might be setting him up for a fall - trying to tighten the leash, bring him to heel.

"You're interviewing to be his chief of security," O'Neill said. "He's completely paranoid about industrial espionage. His last head of security - guy named Bates - was injured in the line of duty. He's still in the hospital."

"Okay," Tom said. "And how am I qualified for this position?"

"He's got your Langley tapes and this." Carter handed over a manila folder. Tom opened it enough to see a résumé with his name at the top.

"We stayed as close to the truth as we could, but you will have to learn a few details before the meeting." O'Neill ushered them out of his office. "There's a car waiting to take you to your hotel. We'll expect to see you back sometime Saturday."

Tom realized he was being herded out, but he went along with it. He had all the information he needed anyway.

The car dropped him off at the Regent Beverley Wilshire, and he had to laugh a little at the uptight grandeur of it. He'd have been happier with something like the Mondrian or The Sunset Marquise, but there really wasn't much room to bitch about the accommodations. A bellman came out for his bag. The minute he mentioned his name and slid his black American Express card across the desk, the sucking up commenced. The bellman led him to a suite on a high enough floor to have a nice view of the city.

The suite was beautifully decorated and had all the amenities. He tipped the bellman and carried his bag to the bedroom to unpack. Within five minutes, there was a knock on the door. The bellman was back, this time with a rolling tray.

"Compliments of Management," he said, unloading an iced bottle of champagne and two glasses, a fruit basket and a two-pound box of Godiva chocolates. "If you need anything during your stay, please dial 8 on your phone and I'll take care of it. The valet ticket for your car is on the desk."

With that, the bellman left, rolling his tray in front of him. Tom sat down at the bar and picked up an apple from the fruit basket. He'd just taken a big bite when he realized what the bellman had said.

"I have a car?"

The car turned out to be a snappy little SL600 Roadster in black. Nice. The valet handed over the keys, and Tom took a second to let the top down. He drove kind of aimlessly, looking at the distant mountains. Omaha was pretty flat, so the canyons made for a nice change.

He drove to the Beverly Center and spent a couple of hours supplementing the clothes he'd brought with him. A suit that was edgy in Omaha was staid in L.A. The salespeople were more than happy to help him out, especially once they got a look at the black card. Tom happily charged everything to Oracle. Having the cards for top-level agents was about the coolest thing Oracle'd ever done. Well, not counting Room 9. When he carried his bags to the car, Tom had a suit and all the trappings for his interview, jeans that cost almost half what the suit did, a snug black silk tee shirt and three pairs of shoes. Kitty wasn't the only one with a shoe habit, though he'd never tell her.

He took the long drive to Santa Monica and parked near the pier. He entertained fleeting thoughts about cotton candy and the Ferris wheel, but threw his jacket and tie into the trunk and walked down to the boardwalk.

As soon as he got to the sand, he stopped at a handy bench to strip off his shoes and socks and roll up his pants. Holding his shoes by two fingers, he trekked down to the water's edge, letting the cool Pacific wash over his toes. After Omaha - where he still hadn't learned to relax - this part of California, with its breeze and salt air, made his shoulders drop from their usual position, which seemed to be somewhere around his ears.

He stayed for a few minutes, then headed back to the car. He stopped at the restroom block to rinse his feet and reluctantly put his socks and shoes back on. The drive back to the hotel, with the wind ruffling his hair, only eased him further into the kind of relaxation he hadn't felt much of lately.

Back in his suite, Tom took a long shower, then wandered back out to the living room in the hotel-provided spa robe. He dialed 8, and the same bellman as before appeared at his door in minutes.

"Yes, sir?"

Tom ushered him in, then perched on one of the bar stools. "I need a cheeseburger - no tomato, no mayo - fries, two Harps and a recommendation for a dance club."

The bellman nodded. "American cheese? Frosted glass? Gay, straight, or mixed."

Tom smiled. "Yes, yes, and gay."

The bellman nodded again. "I'll be right back."

Tom had just enough time to towel-dry his hair and pull on a pair of sweatpants before the bellman was back with the ubiquitous rolling tray. He unloaded Tom's food onto the table, then expertly poured the first beer into the frosted pilsner glass. He laid a linen napkin next to the plate, slipping a matchbook on top of it.

Tom called the car service. He definitely planned to have a few more drinks, and Kitty would have entirely too much fun ragging him if he wrecked the Mercedes or got a DUI.

Pulling up in front of the bar, the driver got out to open his door. At Tom's quizzical look, he muttered, "This way you won't have to stand in line," out of the side of his mouth.

Tom raised an eyebrow and smirked as he got out of the car. As predicted, the bouncer waved him right past the long line and into the club.

The front area had a four-sided bar. The edges of the room separated into conversation areas by white leather couches and glass tables. The windows were blocked and hung in white and silver. With a quick look around, Tom could see the back room, a cavernous space for dancing.

Back at the hotel, he'd dressed in the jeans, black tee shirt and a pair of black leather boots from the earlier shopping trip. He'd stripped his wallet of any identifying information, leaving everything but the AmEx and a lot of money in the suite's safe. He picked up another Harp from a very attentive shirtless bartender, and then found an unoccupied corner from which to view the room.

The bartender'd told him that the dancing would begin around midnight, and Tom watched as the hardbodies began wandering in. They all looked as though they'd chosen their shirts based on how they would look hanging out of their back pockets later.

A number of men checked Tom out, and he returned their curious smiles with a guarded one of his own that clearly said "no thanks." He was absolutely not looking for a muscle-bound idiot who was more interested in his own reflection than anything Tom might have. Tom had been in enough of these places to know that 98% of the patrons fell into that category. Tom was more of a diamond-in-the-rough sort of guy. There was a certain type of guy who came to these places and stuck to the fringe. They were the ones who were drawn in, but mostly felt like they couldn't compete. Tom had gotten some of his best flings off the wall.

He finished his beer, then had one more. A few minutes later, he heard the music in the back room start to thump. He watched the steady stream of guys head to the dance floor before handing his empty bottle and a hefty tip to the bartender.

Stepping over the threshold was like stepping into another world. Where the bar area was light and clean, the dance floor was dark and crowded, with flashing lights and the smell of clean sweat and expensive aftershave. A second level ran along two sides of the dance area; it had metal railings and there was a bar up there. Tom figured that the wide stairs leading up would be where his kind of guy would be.

A soft hand touched his elbow, and Tom allowed himself to be pulled into the fray. He got groped about ten times on the way to the middle of the floor, and he returned a few of the touches. He loved the anonymous intimacy of the seething mass of people. In Omaha, people rarely touched him, but he was actually a tactile person.

Dancing with one guy turned into dancing with two guys, which led to dancing hips to hips with a different guy. The driving beat never stopped, and Tom could barely make out the songs layered over it. When he felt sweat rolling down his face, he worked his way back to the edge, moving slowly enough to enjoy the feeling of gentle hands at his waist, hip, or ass.

Tom climbed the stairs to the back bar and ordered a tequila shot and a bottle of water. He skipped the lime and salt and just tossed the shot back, closing his eyes at the savage burn. He got one more shot, tossed it back, and then threw money at the bartender. Walking back to the stairs, he opened the water and drank most of it. On the way down, he checked out the rail, but no one caught his eye.

Sliding back onto the dance floor was easy. The tequila warmed him up inside, making him ease up. He hadn't realized just how much tension he'd been carrying around in Omaha - new job, new partner, saving the entire organization, putting up with Kitty - all of it. The mindless thump of the music and the press of bodies let him forget the pressures of time and work.

When the shirts started coming off, Tom moved back to the stairs. Every bit of chest hair on the dance floor likely added up to half of his. Despite that, there was no way in hell he'd ever considered waxing.

Halfway to the bar, he found what he was looking for. The guy was standing back from the rail, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. He looked to be Tom's height, maybe a few inches shorter. He had a high forehead and sandy hair. Tom wished he could see his eyes behind the gold-rimmed glasses.

Tom stopped and stood right next to him, but leaned forward with his hands on the rail. After a moment, he flicked his sweaty hair out of his face before sliding back against the wall. When the next person came through, Tom allowed himself to be jostled into the man beside him.

"Sorry," Tom said, and the guy glanced at him. The eyes were blue, Tom's favorite. The guy waved him off and Tom leaned in, smelling a light, clean aftershave.

"Can I buy you a drink?" Tom had to yell to be heard over the music.

The guy's eyes went wide, but he nodded. Tom led the way to the back bar. Once there, he ordered two tequila shots. The guy looked at him and frowned. "No lime," he said, loud enough to be heard over the music. Tom nodded at him and handed one shot over before tossing his back. After a glance, the guy did the same, grimacing at the burn. Tom paid the bartender and took the guy by the wrist.

They made their way across the dance floor with the usual casual touches before they reached the door to the patio. Outside, the music was muffled, and the shock of loud to quiet was almost as good as the transition from the sweaty, steamy dance floor to the cool night air.

Tom walked over to a small table with two tall stools and hopped up onto one. He held out a hand. "I'm Trey," he said.

"Rod," the other guy answered. His hand was big and a little sweaty. Tom held onto Rod's hand and pulled him toward the other chair.

Rod took his hand back and sat on the stool. Once he was settled, he turned his sharp blue gaze on Tom and tilted his head to the side.

Tom grinned at him. "No, Omaha, and business."

Rod frowned.

Tom's grin got even bigger. "Do I come here often, where am I from, and is my trip business or pleasure."

Rod gave him a crooked smile. "Okay," he said slowly. "Then sometimes, Canada, and I live here."

"Good to know," Tom said. "Any other questions?"

Rod's eyes went shuttered behind his glasses. "Why?"

Tom gave him a grin that showed his teeth. "Why not?"

Rod's crooked smile was back.

Tom eased himself off his chair - carefully, he was a little high from the tequila and from finding exactly what he was looking for. He crossed to the other side of the table, gently pushed Rod's knees apart and stepped into the space he'd created. He let his hands fall naturally onto Rod's thighs and was gratified when Rod's hands came up to curl around his shoulders. Tom smiled at Rod, savoring the moment before leaning in. Before he managed the lean, Rod's hands came up to bracket his jaw and Tom found himself getting the sly smile kissed right off his face.

Jesus, Rod could kiss - his mouth was wide and soft, his tongue easing across Tom's lower lip, his hands holding Tom's head to the perfect angle.

When the kiss ended, Tom found that his fingers were clamped down on the sides of Rod's thighs, and his head was spinning from more than the tequila. They stared at each other for a second, then Rod let one of his hands slide back from Tom's jaw into his sweaty hair. Rod pulled and moved Tom right where he wanted him, and Tom couldn't stop himself from moaning into Rod's mouth. A diamond-in-the-rough, indeed.

A few minutes into the kiss, Tom pulled far enough back to gasp, "Do you want to..."

Rod pulled him back into the kiss, and then away again. "Get out of here?" he finished the question.

"Hell, yeah," Tom said, breathing heavily. A couple more fast kisses and Tom moved back far enough to let Rod slide off the stool. Tom found himself being hurried along by a determined Rod out the patio door and onto the sidewalk. One glance at the bouncer and they had a cab. Inside, Rod gave the driver an address and dove back into the kissing.

Tom was just about ready to shove his hands down Rod's pants when the cab stopped. Rod handed the driver several twenties and dragged Tom out of the car by one hand. Tom smelled the ocean. "Where are we?"

Rod pulled him through a privacy gate and into a short brick alley. "Santa Monica," he said, then pinned Tom against the wall to kiss and bite at his neck, grinding their hips together.

"Fuck," Tom moaned. "Oh, fuck."

Rod pulled back to grin at him. "I think that can be arranged. Inside - now."

Tom let himself be pulled through the door. The house looked to be tall and narrow, like many of the beach houses. The downstairs was taken up by a kitchen and living room. Tom got a quick glance as he was more or less dragged up the stairs.

The second level was all bedroom, and Tom was able to look around for about half a second before Rod was in front of him, kissing him hard with a firm hand on the back of his neck. Tom fell into the kiss, happy to let Rod take the lead. It had been so long since he'd been handled like this, and god, it felt good.

Rod broke the kiss and stepped back, holding Tom off with a hand on his chest when he tried to follow. "Clothes," Rod said. "As in, 'take them off.'"

Tom stripped his tee shirt off, then toed off his boots and socks. When he got down to his tight jeans, Rod stopped him.

"Fuck. You are so hot," Rod said. He traced his finger over the curve of Tom's hip, exposed by the low waist of the jeans. Tom reached down and unbuttoned and unzipped them, but Rod pushed him down onto his back on the bed before he could pull them off. Rod stripped himself with lazy precision, revealing a compact body with wide shoulders and well-developed arms. Once he was naked, Rod reached for Tom's jeans and peeled them off. He stood there looking until Tom reached a hand out.

"Come 'ere," Tom said, and he could hear the thickness of his own voice. Rod took the hand and let Tom pull him down. He moved as if to push himself to the side, but Tom pulled him right on top, reveling in Rod's weight holding him down.

"Trey," Rod said in a strained voice. "I don't want to..."

Tom grinned up at him. "You're not hurting me; I like it when you pin me down."

In answer, Rod rolled his hips, pushing their cocks together. Tom had been hard since the first kiss on the patio, so the friction felt incredible. He bucked up, moaning.

"Come on, come on." Tom really didn't recognize his own voice - the desperation in it. It had been a while since he'd gotten laid, but he hadn't expected this burning need, or the raging desire to turn over for Rod; to get fucked hard.

Rod rolled his hips again.

"Jesus Christ!" Tom pushed up against Rod's solid weight.

"Too much?" Rod said, bracing himself on his elbows and trying to pull away.

Tom got his hands up, curving around strong shoulders, pulling. "Not enough." Tom knew he sounded desperate, but he wanted, wanted it so badly - to be pinned and covered and fucked hard. He surprised himself with how much.

Rod eased back down, putting more of his weight on Tom. One hand threaded into the back of Tom's hair, jerking him forward for a bruising kiss.

"Fuck," Rod said into Tom's mouth. "You're so fucking hot. I don't know why you picked me, but I know I'm going to fuck you hard enough that you'll feel it all day tomorrow."

"Yes," Tom panted out, "Oh, god yes. Now."

"Okay," Rod said, rolling to one side. Tom grabbed at him automatically. "Stop it." Rod shook Tom slightly by the hand still clutching his hair. "I've got you."

Tom sank back onto the bed, finally understanding that Rod was trying to get to the bedside drawer. He lay back on the bed, trying to get control of himself. He was perilously close to coming just from kissing and Rod's body over his, Rod's voice in his ear.

Tom closed his eyes and took deep, even breaths, his hands clenching in the sheets. Rod rolled back, tossing a condom and a tube of lubricant onto the bed.

"Hands and knees," Rod said, and Tom obediently rolled over, his head hanging down between his arms. He moaned when Rod's fingers came up to press the base of his cock.

Tom panted, groaning at each touch. Rod pulled his hand back, fingers cupping Tom's balls, the pad of his thumb coming to rest on Tom's hole, tapping lightly.

"Jesus, Rod," Tom said desperately. "Please."

Rod's hand disappeared, and Tom heard the click of the top of the lube. He shook and bit his lower lip in attempt to not beg. He couldn't help making a small sound when a wet finger slid over sensitive skin, stopping to tap the same way as Rod's thumb had.

"Don't tease," Tom rasped out, and Rod obliged him by easing one fingertip inside and pushing inexorably forward until the whole finger was stretching Tom's ass.

"Good?" Rod asked, his tone light. He seemed inordinately pleased to have Tom at his mercy. Tom was pretty pleased about it, too.

"More." Tom rocked back. "Come on, Rod."

Rod pulled out and came back with more lube and two fingers. Tom pushed back again, feeling the stretch and burn of tissues long unused to this.

Rod worked a third finger in and had them moving in and out when Tom broke. "Fuck me. Oh, god, fuck me." Tom knew he was way past any kind of control and he didn't care at all. If he didn't get Rod's cock in his ass right then, he was going to break apart.

Rod's fingers left and Tom heard the sound of a condom packet being torn, Rod's quiet curses as he rolled it on.

"Trey." Rod's voice was low and tight. "You ready?"

Tom had to laugh breathlessly at that. "Been ready."

Rod chuckled, and Tom had to catch his breath as the broad, wet head of Rod's cock pressed against him. Tom let his breath out slowly, relaxing enough to let Rod in.

Tom moaned at each push; each slight withdrawal and shove back in - it was slow and easy. Finally, Rod was all the way in. This time, he didn't bother to ask Tom if he was ready, he just started pushing in deep, his fingers pressing into Tom's hips hard enough to bruise.

Just when Tom was getting into it, shoving himself back into each thrust, Rod stopped. He ignored Tom's noise of protest and sat back on his heels, pulling Tom up and into his lap, his knees pushing Tom's legs apart. Tom rolled his head back onto Rod's shoulder, his hands reaching down to clutch Rod's thighs.

"Anything," Tom said, rolling his face into Rod's neck. "Oh, fuck, Rod. You can do anything you want."

Rod's laugh was quiet in Tom's ear. "I know, Trey. You don't have to tell me."

With that, Rod grabbed Tom's hips and started moving him up and down, slamming himself up to go deep. Tom felt like he was being torn in two, but, god, he loved it. He was going to feel it tomorrow. He hoped he'd be shifting in his seat in the Harrier, remembering this as he went back to fucking Omaha.

Rod still hadn't touched Tom's cock, but there was no way he was letting go of his bruising hold on Rod's thighs.

Rod gasped and cursed, shoving up hard and all the way in. Tom felt the deep throb just as Rod's teeth closed on his shoulder; the pain was almost enough to push him over. At least, it would have been. Instead, Rod's hand sneaked around and closed around the base of Tom's cock, derailing his orgasm.

"Rod, please," Tom begged, and Rod laughed into his neck, breathlessly fucking through his own release.

"Not yet," he panted. "Not yet, Trey. Hold on for me."

Tom tried to push up against Rod's hand, making sharp noises, trying so hard to do as he was asked - to hold on. Rod bit into Tom's shoulder again before pulling out with a groan.

"You got it?" he asked. "Can you hold on if I let you go?"

"Yeah," Tom said, his voice reedy. The pressure on his cock went away and Rod eased him forward, back on to his hands and knees as he pulled out.

Tom heard the condom hit the trashcan, then the sound of the bedside drawer opening. Rod grabbed Tom by one hip and neatly flipped him over onto his back. Tom stared up at Rod, knowing that everything must be showing on his face.

"I've got you," Rod said quietly, and Tom saw that he had another condom in his hand. Rod opened it and rolled it onto Tom's cock. By the time his muddled brain could catch on, Rod was sucking, working his way down Tom's cock, tongue wetting the latex.

Tom tried desperately to keep his hips down, tried to stop himself from pushing up into the heat of Rod's mouth. He moaned when his cock was released from the suction and Rod looked up at him with big blue eyes and long lashes.

"You can, you know," Rod said. "You can fuck my mouth."

The words were barely spoken before Tom's hands were stroking the soft hair above Rod's ears and he let his hips come up as slowly as he could manage. Rod took him in, his tongue pressing against the length of Tom's cock on each stroke.

Tom knew he wasn't going to last long. When Rod's hand came up between his legs, pushing two fingers into his ass, it was over. Tom bucked his hips hard and came in Rod's mouth, wishing for a moment that there was no barrier between them.

He came down from the incredible high of his orgasm with Rod's head resting on his hip, one grounding hand stroking the dark hair on his belly.

Sitting on a somewhat hard couch in the anteroom of Rodney McKay's office, Tom shifted his weight a little. He hoped that the secretary would take it for pre-interview nerves, but Tom was more intent on feeling the soreness Rod had promised - and delivered - the night before.

After the admittedly great sex, they had rested a while in Rod's big bed. By the time they were cleaned up, it was past 3:00 am, and Tom was glad his appointment with McKay wasn't until 11:30.

Oddly, there hadn't been any one-night-stand awkwardness as they dressed - Tom in his club clothes and Rod in loose jeans and a tee shirt. Rod called a cab and gave Tom a bottle of water, which he drank thirstily.

After that, Rod had walked with him to the gate to wait for his taxi. Outside, Rod pinned him to the wall and kissed him. They'd made out like teenagers until the cab's headlights cut across them. They parted with one last kiss.

Exhaustion hit Tom hard, and he stumbled into the hotel lobby, just managing to stop at the front desk to leave a wake-up call. Upstairs, he used the last of his energy to strip off his clothes and fall into bed.

McKay's office was understated and elegant with a sleek modern design saved from starkness by the glow of carefully concealed lighting and subtle curves that softened hard edges. Finally, the secretary stood, motioning for Tom to follow.

She opened the door. "Dr. McKay, your 11:30 interview is here."

Tom took in the office, decorated in tones of grey, and found himself looking at the top of McKay's head as he worked on something on his desk. Without looking up, McKay said, "Thank you, Sabrina. That will be all." Tom heard her mutter, "Jennifer," as she left.

Tom stood quietly until McKay looked up. When he did, Tom felt a shock like ice water rush down his spine.

"Uh, Rod..." he started.

"...ney McKay," Rod - no, Rodney finished. His lips pursed. "Trey?"

Tom sighed. "Nickname. It's a basketball thing."

Rodney stared at him through the wire-rimmed glasses that Tom remembered sliding off his face and placing gently on the bedside table. Right before he'd rolled over and gotten the holy hell fucked out of him by the subject of his investigation. And Kitty could never, ever find out about this.

McKay regained his composure first. "We...we should..." he said, then cleared his throat. "There's a Starbuck's across the street."

Tom cleared his throat. "That sounds like a good plan."

Rodney sighed and stood up from behind his desk. He took the leather portfolio out of Tom's hand and threw it onto the couch. He ushered Tom out of the office, carefully not touching him.

"Sabrina," he said to the secretary as they passed. "We'll be at Starbuck's. Tell anyone who calls that I'll be back...soon."

"Yes, Dr. McKay," she said.

They didn't speak in the elevator or on the walk to Starbuck's. They each ordered and paid for their drinks, then went to the table furthest from the door in mutual silent agreement. Once they were settled, Rodney pinned those laser-sharp eyes on Tom.

"Okay," he said. "I guess I know why you picked me up at the bar. Nice plan, by the way."

Tom felt his eyes go wide at that. "What are you talking about?"

Rodney's mouth went into a hard straight line, and Tom could barely believe that it was the same hot, generous mouth that had sucked him down so eagerly the night before.

"Don't play dumb with me," Rodney said coldly. "I should have known better. Guys as hot as you don't choose guys like me out of the crowd, and they certainly don't roll over for them."

Tom blinked. "At the risk of being repetitive, what the hell are you talking about?"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Who do you work for: Marshall or Durden?"

"Neither," Tom said, taking a sip of his coffee.

Rodney took a sip of his own drink. "Great," he said. "That means I've got someone else sending their industrial spies after me. Just what I need."

Tom looked at him for a long moment. "I'm not an industrial spy. I'm an investigator."

"Oh, even better," Rodney said. "NSA? IRS? SGC? Who wants to play the game this time?"

"The U.S. Patent Office," Tom said, wishing that Oracle had a less lame cover story.

Rodney looked at him sharply, then rolled his eyes again. "The Patent Office has moved up to using whores now? Wow. That's just bizarre."

Tom took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He dropped his voice a little. "First," he said, "I am not a whore. Second, I had no idea who you were last night, Rod. I chose you because you're exactly my type and because I really, really wanted you to fuck me. And last, I'm here to investigate the AXIS project, not you personally."

"How do you know about AXIS?" Rodney's eyes narrowed.

Tom flicked his hair out of his eyes. "I work for the government, Dr. McKay. We know stuff."

"So you aren't trying to steal proprietary information?"

Tom shook his head. "No."

"And last night wasn't a ploy?"

"No."

"Okay," Rodney said quietly. "Show me some ID."

Tom pulled a leather case out of his inside jacket pocket and handed it to Rodney. Inside was a complete (and completely authentic) set of U.S. Patent Office credentials, listing him as a senior investigator, complete with photo and the appropriate government seals.

"Okay," Rodney said, handing the case back He dropped his voice down to just above a whisper. "What do you want to know about AXIS?"

Tom matched his voice to Rodney's. "I want to know why AXIS gathers corporate and private data that would allow your company to control large portions of world-wide banking systems and various international security networks."

"Ha!"

Tom was a little surprised at Rodney's sharp bark of laughter.

"If you had bothered to pay attention to any of the program patent specs, you'd know that any and all backened information is encrypted, then scrambled randomly by a proprietary algorithm and then destroyed with no possible method of recovery by us or anyone else."

Rodney took a sip of his coffee and looked smugly across the table at Tom. "So, who do you really work for?"

Tom looked away. "You know I can't tell you that, Dr. McKay."

Rodney gave him a small, cold smile. "I think we can dispense with the formalities. Honorifics seem a little much after you've come in someone's mouth, hmm?"

Tom flushed and looked down at his hands, toying with his cup. "Look, Rodney," he said. "Last night had nothing to do with my investigation. If I had seen a photograph of you beforehand, I would have known."

Rodney made a humming noise. "Okay, so whoever you work for is stupid."

"No," Tom said. "They asked me to come in cold. And, wait - you had my Langley tapes. You should have recognized me."

Rodney looked sheepish. "Yeah, that," he said, rolling his cup between his hands. "I hadn't quite gotten around to that. I had a late night." He looked up at Tom. "Langley, huh? So you're CIA."

"No," Tom said, exasperated. "Trust me, you wouldn't have ever heard of the organization."

Rodney gave him that searching look again. "Oddly enough," he said. "I do." When Tom cocked an eyebrow at him, Rodney looked down at the table. "Trust you, I mean. I don't do that for anyone."

Tom nodded. "Thank you." He paused. "I guess we should go back to your office so I can get my stuff."

Rodney looked away, then stood. Tom followed him silently. They threw their cups away and walked back across the street. They didn't speak in the elevator or on the way to Rodney's office.

Tom picked up his portfolio from the sofa and turned back to Rodney, watching him sit down behind his desk. "Well," Tom said, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Rodney looked up. "Will you come here?"

Tom moved closer, coming around the desk when Rodney gestured for him to do so. Rodney pointed and clicked a few times on his computer, and Tom heard a printer start up.

"Look," Rodney said. "I'm giving you a document that shows how we encrypt AXIS. All the identifying information has been stripped, but if this winds up in the hands of my competitors, I'll know it was you, and I will find you."

Tom gave him a narrow-eyed look. Rodney returned it, then pressed a button on his phone.

"Sabrina," he said, "can you bring me the Palmer file?"

There was a slight pause. "It's on the upper left corner of your desk, Dr. McKay."

"Oh, thank you," he replied. He reached for the file folder and opened it, pulling out a DVD.

"I want to see you in action," he said.

Tom dropped his voice down low. "You saw me in action last night."

Rodney looked up, that sharp blue gaze searching Tom's face before he half-smiled. Rodney put the DVD into his computer and started the Langley training file.

"Wow," he said as it started. "That's some floppy hair you had there."

Tom frowned at him and Rodney turned back to the screen. The familiar recording showed him entering the training area with his gun drawn. Exaggerated "bad guys" were projected on the walls. Tom watched Rodney start to smile when the video showed Tom quickly taking out the first four criminals in rapid succession. He couldn't help turning his head slightly to watch Rodney's expression when the image on the video turned almost straight at the camera. A second later, the screen fuzzed out.

Rodney smiled broadly and looked up at Tom. "You threw your gun at the projector?"

Tom smiled back. "Yep."

"What if you'd missed?"

Tom's smile turned into a grin. "I don't miss."

Rodney's eyes sparkled as grinned back. "So, you Kobayashi Maru'd them, and no one caught on." It wasn't a question.

"Hey," Tom said. "If you can't get the answer..."

"Change the question," Rodney finished.

Tom continued looking down at Rodney, but he could feel his grin fading. He suddenly felt a sense of loss, wishing things could be different.

Rodney's smile also faltered and he looked away, clearing his throat. "I..." he started, his voice still a little hoarse. "I guess you have a plane to catch."

Tom swallowed hard. "Not really. It's more of a 'whenever I'm ready' sort of thing."

Rodney's eyes widened. "Well..." he started. "I don't suppose you'd be..."

"Interested?" Tom said.

Rodney licked his lips. "In... um..."

Tom licked his own suddenly-dry lips. "Staying?"

Rodney blinked. "One more night..."

"With you." Tom finished.

"With me." Rodney said.

Tom let out the breath he'd been holding and said, "Yes."

"Okay." Rodney let out his own held breath. "I can...I can wrap up here early. And, oh!" He picked up a piece of paper from his desk and scribbled on it before handing it to Tom. "My address. That's my address. Can you be there at 6:00?"

Tom looked down at the paper. "This isn't in Santa Monica," he said dumbly.

Rodney waved a hand. "That's my beach house." He pointed to the paper in Tom's hand. "That's the address to my...house house."

"Okay," Tom said slowly.

"So, 6:00?" Rodney looked happy and eager, much like he'd looked the previous night - not like the snide, angry man he'd been in the coffee shop. Tom liked this Rodney better.

"6:00."

Rodney looked up at him. "I'd kiss you," he said. "But I wouldn't want to stop."

Tom closed his eyes for a second. He squeezed Rodney's shoulder before moving back around the desk. "6:00," he said.

Rodney nodded.

Tom got almost to the door before turning back. "Rodney?" he said.

Rodney looked up from his desk. "Yeah?"

Tom smirked at him. "Your secretary's name is Jennifer." He walked out, leaving Rodney gaping at him.

Back in his hotel room, Tom ordered a steak from room service, hung up his suit and slipped back into the comfortable robe. Happily ensconced on the sofa, he picked up his super-special Room 9 cell phone and called the Omaha headquarters. He got Dawkins.

"Tom?" Dawkins said. "What have you found out?"

"We're clear," Tom said. "I even have supporting documentation. AXIS isn't a threat."

"Good, good," Dawkins said. "Shall I send the Harrier?"

"Not just yet," Tom said. "I thought I'd stay a little longer; take some downtime. I like it here."

"By all means." Dawkins gave him a paternal chuckle. "Just be back for the 10:00 a.m. status meeting on Monday. You don't want to miss the opportunity to report on AXIS."

"Yeah," Tom drawled. "That'll take all of a minute and a half. And that's with Q and A."

Another chuckle. "Enjoy your weekend."

Tom flipped the phone closed and held it between his hands. "Oh, you have no idea how much I will," he told it.

Tom briefly considered driving the Mercedes to Rodney's house, but he figured he'd get lost. He had a moment's crazy thought of taking the Jump Jet. All that did was make him laugh.

Tom showered, shaved extra-close, and dressed in his jeans from the night before and a plain white Oxford that was artfully wrinkled from his suitcase. He had the bellman call for his car service while he packed his bag.

Tom's car arrived at Rodney's house at 5:55 p.m. They were buzzed through the gate, and Tom watched as the white-and-steel contemporary house came into view. It was surprisingly like Rodney's office - the same sleek lines softened by occasional gentle curves.

"I won't need you 'til morning," Tom told the driver. He added, "or maybe afternoon. Or possibly Monday," with a smirk. They shared a quick grin before Tom took his bag and walked up the few steps to the front door. Before he could knock, the door opened to reveal a smiling Rodney.

Tom smiled back and stepped into the house. He got a quick glimpse of modern furniture, beveled glass and geometric shapes before Rodney closed the door and pinned Tom to it, one hand touching the door on either side of his head.

Tom dropped his bag, then put his hands on Rodney's hips, pulling him forward; bringing them into contact from chest to knees. "Now you don't have to," Tom said.

Rodney looked confused. "Don't have to what?"

Tom smiled what he knew was a feral grin. "Now you don't have to stop kissing me."

Rodney leaned in, letting his lips explore the side of Tom's throat. "Mmmm," Rodney said against Tom's skin. "Jennifer sends her regards, by the way."

Tom had to laugh at that. "How long have you been calling her Sabrina?"

Rodney didn't even lift his head from where he was gently biting the underside of Tom's neck. "Six months," he murmured, the words coming out on a stream of air that chilled Tom's damp skin, making him shiver and tighten his fingers on Rodney's hips.

Rodney pulled back with a final lick, then dropped his hands from the door to curve around Tom's shoulders and pull him in for what could only be termed a hug. Tom went with it, sliding his arms around Rodney's hips, letting his hands fall down onto Rodney's gorgeous ass.

"Do I get to see the rest of the house?" Tom mumbled into the curve of Rodney's neck.

Rodney pulled back and looked at Tom, blue eyes sparking. "Sure," he said. "Bedroom first."

Tom reached out and cupped Rodney's face in his hands. "I'm glad I'm here," he said. He smiled when Rodney nuzzled into the touch and said, "Me, too."

Tom thought it was sweet when Rodney took his hand to lead him up the stairs to a large bedroom. It was as starkly modern as the rest of the house. The best part was the low, wide platform bed Rodney was leading him to.

Tom resisted when Rodney tried to push him down onto it. "Wait," he said, clinging to Rodney's shoulders. "I haven't even gotten to kiss you yet."

At that, Rodney's half-smile was back, his eyes snapping in the low light. "Well," he said, "what's stopping you?"

Tom shut him up with a rough kiss, suddenly needing reassurance that he'd done the right thing - that staying with Rodney, a near-stranger who had gotten under his skin so quickly and thoroughly - wasn't a stupid lark.

Rodney caught on quickly, reaching up to cup Tom's face in his hands, returning the deep kisses, his fingers digging into the back of Tom's neck. Tom moaned into Rodney's mouth before getting his hands up to unbutton Rodney's shirt, quickly making his way to Rodney's belt.

"Off, off," Rodney said, and then stepped back just enough to get their clothes off. Tom had to close his eyes and take a deep breath at the sight of Rodney's wet, swollen lips. As soon as they were naked, Tom moved back in, picking up exactly where he'd left off, kissing the hell out of Rodney.

Tom felt his breath catch when Rodney's hands wandered over his back, tracing down his spine and then back up to run his fingers along Tom's shoulder blades and down his arms to his elbows. Tom lifted his mouth from Rodney's just long enough to quickly scout the room. He found what he was looking for, then kissed Rodney hard while moving him back against the clear space of wall between the bed and an ornate dresser.

"Oh," Rodney said as Tom pushed him against the wall. Tom just smiled at him and kissed him harder. When he had Rodney panting into his mouth, Tom put his hands on Rodney's hips and broke the kiss to slide slowly to his knees.

"I want to suck you bare," Tom whispered into the skin of Rodney's hip. "But I can't."

"Condom?" Rodney suggested, but Tom looked up at him, letting the head of Rodney's cock slide along the jut of his jaw.

"That's...god," Rodney groaned, pulling back before easing his cock along the hollow below Tom's cheekbone. Tom leaned into the contact, running his lips along the side of Rodney's cock on each pass.

"You...you shaved," Rodney stuttered out. "Your skin..."

Tom ducked his head again, making the ridge of the head of Rodney's cock trace his cheekbone. Rodney threaded his hands into Tom's hair. He started moving Tom's head to meet the soft thrusts of his hips, finding new places to rub himself against Tom's face and neck.

When Rodney's breathing got fast and sharp, Tom turned his face up, looking Rodney in the eyes. "Can you come like this?" he asked, tilting his head to one side to catch the glide of Rodney's cock in the crook of his neck.

"Jesus," Rodney panted. "I could come just looking at your face."

"Do it," Tom said, leaning in to press his nose into the hair at the base of Rodney's cock, breathing him in.

Rodney pushed Tom back and turned his face up with one hand. He held his cock with the other, pushing it hard against Tom's jaw and the hollow under his cheekbone a few more times. With a groan, he pulled back and came on Tom's chest, his body folding over Tom's shoulders, hands pressing Tom's face into his hip.

It was Tom's turn to pant harshly, tasting the salt of Rodney's sweat and breathing in the scent of his come, wishing he had it in his mouth.

Rodney unfolded himself, then pulled Tom to his feet, kissing him hard. Tom couldn't stop squirming into the contact - still hard as nails, dying to come. "What do you want?" Rodney asked, his voice low and dirty.

Tom had to swallow hard so he could answer without his voice cracking. "Fingers. I want your fingers in me." He let himself be pushed onto the bed and turned onto his side.

Rodney reached past him for the lube before bending Tom's top knee, putting his foot flat on the bed. The lube cap snapped open and Tom--strung tightly as a wire--shivered, shaking with need.

Rodney settled himself behind Tom's legs, sitting up to keep both hands free. Tom moaned when Rodney eased one lubed finger in. Tom pushed back, then had to push forward into Rodney's other slick hand as it curled around his cock.

Rodney played him like that for a long time, keeping him balanced between two pleasures, slowly working his fingers inside, stroking Tom's cock hard, then lightly in a random manner that had Tom groaning and begging.

"Oh, fuck, Rodney, please." Tom wasn't sure what he was begging for, whether he wanted more or faster or slower. He just wanted. He cried out when both of Rodney's hands left him.

Rodney gave a low laugh and kissed the point of Tom's hip. "Trust me," he murmured. "I've got you."

Tom closed his eyes and swallowed hard, hearing the sound of the bedtable drawer opening and the sound of a condom packet being torn open, Rodney cursing when his slippery hands made it difficult. Tom heard the snap of the lube's cap again and pushed his hips back, waiting for Rodney's cock.

He sucked in a quick breath when something wet and blunt touched him. Oh, god - Rodney was going to fuck him with some sort of toy - a dildo or vibrator or plug. "Oh, god." Tom moaned. "Oh, god - fuck me."

Rodney pushed, and Tom could tell it was a dildo. It was thick and firm, but it had a little bit of give to it. Rodney worked the head in and out until Tom couldn't hold back his sharp moans, couldn't stop pushing back.

"Easy," Rodney said. "Here we go." With that, he pressed the dildo all the way in. Tom's whole body shook, but Rodney held him down by one hip, holding the dildo in place, pushed deep.

"Please," Tom begged. "Rodney, please."

Rodney laughed that low, dirty chuckle again and started moving, started fucking Tom with long, slow strokes.

"Come on, come on," Tom panted, squeezing his muscles around the dildo, making it feel even bigger. "Harder, more."

Rodney's strokes got faster, harder. Tom stretched his arms over his head, his hands finding purchase on the top edge of the mattress as he was fucked ruthlessly, fast, and hard.

When Rodney's hand came around to strip his cock roughly, Tom only lasted a minute more. The orgasm shook through him, burning him up. He could feel it in his heartbeat, in his rushing pulse. In his cock, jerking in Rodney's hand. He could feel it in his ass, clenching hard around the dildo, prolonging his pleasure.

As he started to come down, the hand on his cock gentled, and Tom felt Rodney slowly work the dildo out. He put it aside and laid down behind Tom, wrapping strong arms around his shaking body. It took Tom a few tries to make words come out of his mouth. "Jesus fuck, Rodney," he panted. "Another day of this might kill me."

Rodney laughed and squeezed Tom hard enough to make him oof out a breath. "Don't die on me yet," Rodney said. "Not before you fuck me, at least."

Tom's spent cock gave a small twitch at that, and he wished like hell that he was twenty, just so he could get hard again.

Rodney ran a hand down Tom's chest, drawing small circles in the come there. "Shower," he said. "Shower and food and making out and more sex later. Then sleeping. Then breakfast. We've got to keep our strength up."

Tom laughed and pushed back hard enough to roll his head onto Rodney's shoulder and plant a row of gentle kisses down the side of his neck.

"Swiss," Rodney said decisively.

"Oh, no - cheddar." Tom waved a slice at Rodney.

"Swiss goes on sandwiches; cheddar goes on crackers." Rodney waved his own slice.

Tom looked down at the huge sandwich they were making with an entire loaf of French bread. "Half and half?" he suggested.

Rodney sighed. "Fine, but don't get any of yours on my side.

"Cool," Tom said. "Pickles?"

Rodney looked at him like he was stupid. "Duh, dill."

Tom reached for the sweet pickles. "This is gonna take a while."

Tom had the best of intentions - he definitely wanted a shot at Rodney's ass, and he'd devoted quite a bit of time to deciding how he wanted to make Rodney come. Jerking Rodney off while fucking him had merit, as did sucking his cock, though it would have to be with a condom, which he hated. He loved the taste and feel of a cock in his mouth, the sharpness and salt; the heavy weight, the head against the roof of his mouth.

He knew he was headed for a crash when even those thoughts didn't get him hard. While eating, they both wound down, realizing that they were ignoring the giant sandwich in favor of tangling their fingers together on the marble countertop and yawning.

Finally, Rodney wrapped up their leftovers while Tom stared glassily at him.

"Come on." Rodney reached out a hand. Tom took it. "It's been a busy couple of days," Rodney said. "Let's go to sleep. We can take this up in the morning."

"Okay. That sounds like a plan." Tom stifled a yawn with the back of his hand.

Back upstairs, they stripped and crawled into the wide bed. When Tom was flat on his back, Rodney propped himself up on his hands and loomed. Tom looked up, raising an eyebrow.

Rodney leaned down and kissed Tom softly on the lips before pushing back onto his side with a sigh.

"What was that?" Tom asked.

"An apology," Rodney said.

Tom raised his head to give Rodney a look. "For what?"

Rodney smiled with one side of his mouth. "I'm not used to having another person sleep with me, so that was a preemptive apology for any elbowing, kicking, or bedhogging I do."

"Ditto," Tom said, yawning again. He turned and pushed his face into the side of Rodney's neck. "Now we sleep," he mumbled. He felt Rodney's laugh against the top of his head as he drifted off.

Tom started awake, trying for a moment to figure out where he was. He slumped down onto the pillow when he heard Rodney's soft snores coming from the other side of the bed. He fumbled his way to the bathroom and back. Slipping back into bed, he came up against Rodney, bedhogging as advertised. Except not.

"Hey," Rodney whispered.

"Hey." Tom slid into Rodney's arms, warm and easy. Rodney laid his cheek against Tom's, scratching their light stubble together.

Rodney said, his voice rough with sleep, "What you did earlier - I think that was the hottest thing I've ever seen."

Tom brushed a kiss along Rodney's temple. "What? Making a sandwich gets you hot?"

Rodney laughed into Tom's neck, a soft puff of breath. "Shut up and go back to sleep; tomorrow's a big day." Tom kissed the top of Rodney's head and did as he was told.

When Tom woke up, Rodney was gone. The bed was still warm, though. He tried to go back to sleep, but couldn't, so he got up.

In the bathroom, he dug through his bag to find his toothbrush and razor. Ten minutes later, he was pulled together. He slipped into a clean pair of boxers and a white cotton robe hanging on a hook on the back of the bathroom door, then looked around the bedroom. With the sunlight streaming in, it didn't look as cold and edgy as it had the night before. He noticed that Rodney's glasses were gone from the bedside table.

Tom wandered downstairs. As soon as he got to the hall, he followed his nose to the kitchen, the heavenly scent of hot coffee leading him to a high-tech machine on the counter. He filled a mug and walked into the living room. The back wall was made completely of glass; through it, he could see Rodney standing on a tiled terrace, looking out over a sparkling blue pool.

Tom walked to a set of open French doors and stepped out onto the shaded terrace. He assumed that no neighbors could see in, because Rodney was wearing just his boxers, drinking from the large mug in his hand.

Tom walked up behind Rodney and slid one hand around his waist, hooking his chin over Rodney's shoulder.

Rodney shivered. "Your hair is wet."

"I know," Tom said.

Rodney snorted and took a long drink from his mug, then turned his head slightly. "You shaved, too."

"Uh, huh." Tom rubbed his smooth cheek against Rodney's rougher one.

"You're giving me flashbacks."

Tom slid the hand around Rodney's waist lower. "I see that." He ran his hand lightly over Rodney's hardening cock.

Rodney leaned over to place his coffee mug on a glass table, pressing his ass against Tom, who was well on his way to hard, too. Tom handed Rodney his mug, then waited until he was bent forward to make his move.

"Jesus, Tom."

Tom clenched both hands on Rodney's hips, not letting him straighten back up. Instead, he pulled Rodney backward as he canted his hips forward, snugging his cock against the cleft of Rodney's ass.

Rodney spread his legs and pushed back, bracing his hands on the table. "Please tell me you're going to fuck me," Rodney moaned, and the crack in his voice made Tom lean forward over his back, getting his mouth as close to Rodney's ear as possible.

"I'm going to fuck you, Rodney," Tom said. "The only question is...where do you want it? Out here? Over the couch? Upstairs? In the kitchen?"

"You...you..." Rodney started. "You've got a condom and lube in your pocket, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah." Tom pushed forward again. "Where, Rodney?"

Rodney waved a hand toward a double lounger a few feet away, in the shade of the terrace. "There," he said. "Right there."

Tom pulled them both upright and grabbed Rodney's hand. When they got to the lounger, Tom pulled the condom and lube out of the pocket of his robe, then quickly stripped them both. Rodney gave him a questioning look. Tom smiled back at him, then fell onto the lounger on his back. Rodney immediately straddled his hips, and Tom moaned when his cock rubbed against Rodney's.

"Here," Rodney said, handing over the lube, running his hands up Tom's chest and scratching a fingernail against one nipple.

"Oh," Tom moaned, the pleasure making him clumsy, struggling to get the lube open. "Lift up," he said. Rodney pulled himself up onto his knees. Just before he was going to slide his fingers behind Rodney's balls, Tom looked up. Rodney's eyes were incredibly blue in the reflected sunlight, and he was looking down at Tom with a soft expression.

"Come down here and kiss me," Tom said. Rodney leaned down and kissed Tom the same way he'd kissed him at the bar - strongly and slowly and thoroughly. Tom brought one hand up to cup Rodney's shoulder, then moved the other to slide one finger into Rodney's ass.

Rodney lifted his head and pushed down, making Tom's finger go in fast and hard. "More," Rodney growled.

Tom laughed out loud. "Well, okay, then," he said, and then pulled out far enough to get the second finger in. Rodney shoved himself back again. "Easy," Tom said. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Doesn't hurt," Rodney moaned, sounding almost drugged.

Tom pulled his fingers out completely, ignoring Rodney's sound of protest. He got more lube on his hand and started slowly working three fingers into Rodney's ass, keeping his free hand wrapped around Rodney's bicep so he couldn't push back. He held on even though Rodney squirmed against him.

"Quit it." Tom pulled Rodney down onto his chest. The angle made his fingers slide in enough to touch Rodney's prostate, and Tom kissed Rodney hard as he felt Rodney's ass clench around him. When Rodney pulled up from the kiss, Tom looked him in the eyes. "You like to get fucked after you've come, Rodney? You want me to do that to you?"

"Yes," Rodney said. "God, yes."

That was all the encouragement Tom needed. He pushed Rodney back and shoved his fingers in all the way. Rodney's hands went down to grip Tom's ribs tightly, and he fucked himself as hard as he could on Tom's fingers. Tom wrapped his hand around Rodney's cock - not stroking, just holding it while swiping his thumb over the head.

Rodney groaned and pushed him self between Tom's hands until his whole body clenched and he came on Tom's chest, panting.

Tom didn't waste any time. He eased his fingers out and gently pushed Rodney onto his back on the-thankfully wide-lounger. As he turned, he heard the crinkling noise of the condom package and grabbed it before it could get lost. He knelt between Rodney's legs and stripped the condom on. The lube was on the ground next to them; Tom fumbled with it, getting it all over both of them.

"In me," Rodney said, his voice slurring, and Tom pushed Rodney's leg up to his chest and lined himself up. "Come on," Rodney complained.

Tom pushed in, slow and steady, and Rodney lost all his words to continuous low moans. Tom knew what it felt like - he'd had it done to him before. Having a cock push into his sensitized, still-shaking body was like sensory overload.

"Fuck me," Rodney said. Tom braced himself on the back of the lounge chair and started moving, his hips jerking forward hard, but pulling out as slow as he could make it. The tease didn't last long. Looking down at Rodney's flushed face and wide eyes was too much. Tom started moving hard and fast, holding on longer than he thought he could before coming-and fucking Rodney all the way through his orgasm.

Tom caught his breath and pulled out, flopping onto his back next to Rodney to toss the condom onto the flagstones. "You okay?"

Rodney stretched his legs out with a grimace, then slapped Tom on the thigh. "I think you broke me," he complained.

"All's fair," Tom said, putting his hand over Rodney's where it still rested on his leg. "You had me feeling it all day after the first night. Just like you promised."

"Really?" Rodney sounded surprised.

"Yeah, really." Tom leaned up and kissed Rodney gently. He looked down at them, sweaty and come-streaked. "Another shower?"

"Pool," Rodney said, pushing himself up to a sitting position with great effort.

Tom propped himself up on his elbows. "Can your neighbors see us?"

Rodney half-frowned at him. "Who cares?"

As predicted, Tom was feeling quite sore aboard the Harrier. The pilot didn't mention his shifting in his seat, and Woolsey had again accompanied him to the roof for his departure. O'Neill and Carter had both given him disbelieving looks when he'd waved the AXIS papers at them. He even asked Carter how she liked his tan-the one he'd gotten lying naked next to Rodney's pool for most of Saturday and Sunday. Rodney had barked cancer warnings at him from the shade, but it hadn't stopped Tom from basking. Nor had it stopped Rodney from jumping into the water for a splash fight that turned into enthusiastic handjobs while sprawled on the steps leading down to the shallow end of the pool.

He and Rodney had lounged around, raided the fridge, watched stupid movies, made out on the couch and found new and exciting pieces of furniture to bend one another over. Tom had a sore ass, a hickey on his shoulder blade, and a standing invitation to visit Rodney, starting with the next weekend.

They arrived back in Omaha at 9:45 Monday morning, and Kitty met Tom on the roof.

"How was L.A.?" she asked, adjusting her sunglasses and smirking.

Tom gave her a beatific smile and waved the AXIS folder at her. He grabbed his bag, thanked the Harrier pilot and sauntered to the stairs. Kitty's heels clacked as she tried to keep up.

As predicted, the AXIS report took about a minute and a half, and even Kitty couldn't come up with much more than a snide remark.

"Excellent work, Tom," Max said in his creepy Russian-accented voice. "You have proven yourself to be a valuable member of the team."

Tom looked straight at Kitty and said, "Well, I'm just doing my part for world safety." She raised an eyebrow at him.

Once they were alone at the table, Tom gathered the AXIS papers back into their folder. "So," he said, shifting in his seat. "Why'd you come back early?"

"That's none of your business," she snapped. She stood up and turned to go. She stopped and looked at Tom over her shoulder. "Why did you come back late?"

Tom slid his chair back and propped his crossed feet on the conference table. He looked up and gave Kitty a wide grin. "I decided I like California - great weather, nice people. I think I'm going to have to spend a lot more time there."