for darkhavens. Rodney is soaked to the skin, dripping wet, and looking amazingly hot, and John has an epiphany.

Planet Monsoon was a small, grayish planet whose chief export was rain, with a promising sideline in mud. The people were unremarkable and their technology was equally unremarkable, except for some advances in the area of waterproofing. For about the millionth time, John was happy to be the grunt, if being the grunt meant he got to stand inside the weatherproof hut while Rodney got to stand outside in the rain and get a fascinating lecture on seep rates and air and vapor barriers while getting soaked to the skin.

The only upside of Planet Monsoon was that it was warm. The rain was warm, and it wasn't all that unpleasant, really. The walk from the Stargate to the village had been okay, with the rain coming down in large, soft drops and the drone of Rodney's complaints and Teyla's good-natured teasing.

John looked up at the sound of Rodney's laughter. The waterproofing expert must have made a joke, because Rodney was laughing - an actual belly laugh, not the terse chuckles that were the norm for Rodney. His head was thrown back, droplets of water sparkling in his eyelashes, the muscles of his chest stretching his soaked tee shirt, his crooked mouth open and wet.

And all John could think was, I want that.

for iadorespike. John watching Rodney's gesturing hands as Rodney is talking.

Rodney's hand flailed and moved as he talked, long fingers jutting up into the air, broad palms sweeping back and forth. His hands were shiny with water, and sometimes small drops would flick off the ends of his fingers on the wings of a particularly emphatic gesture.

John thought about Rodney's hands. They were big hands, but John had watched them manipulate the tiniest of components with surprising gentleness. He'd seen those hands cradle a ZPM and look at it like some people would look at a newborn baby - like it was a real, live miracle. He'd seen those hands shake with fatigue and too much coffee, and seen them occasionally at rest, when Rodney fell asleep slumped over a laptop in the lab. He'd also seen those hands holding a weapon; seen the way their grip had changed over time from nervous to matter-of-fact, from shaking to steady.

John wondered what those hands would feel like if they touched him.

for fallingfortruth. Shep biting his lip and trying to keep from laughing at Rodney.

Teyla and Ronon were also watching Rodney, both hiding smiles at the way he managed to insult the Rain People and still make the whole thing sound funny. Elizabeth smiled her crooked half-smile, the one that eloquently said you're wasting my time, but I like that you're happy, so I don't mind.

Rodney wrapped up his report with two mild insults and one sarcastic zinger, and John had to bite the inside of his lip to keep his indulgent smile on the inside.

for darkhavens. John dragging his thumb across Rodney's crooked lips while Rodney's all wide eyed and silent.

"You're cheerful," John observed, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"I am," Rodney said, only sounding a little surprised. "I forgot that I like rain. Well, some kinds of rain."

John knew from the small frown on Rodney's face that he was remembering the hard, cold rain of the storm, and, with it, Kolya.

"So, which kind of rain was that?" John asked.

"Spring: large drops, no wind, warm. I believe that was number 56."

"Maybe you're a Rain God," John said, smiling. "Maybe the clouds just love you and want to be near you and cherish and water you."

Rodney's grin got broader, and his eyes sparkled, and the two of them had a quick, silent conversation that went something like…

You aren't supposed to quote Douglas Adams; you're not a geek.

I'm geekier than you think.

I like that about you.

And John decided that waiting one more minute was madness, and steered them toward the nearest transporter before he died from the rightness of everything.

Rodney didn't seem to notice that he was being led; he just kept up the usual chatter, mouth going a mile a minute, fingers snapping, quips flying. John held up his end of the conversation with a few well-placed remarks and a lot of nods. He herded Rodney to the transporter and inside, and hit the panel for the living quarters without Rodney even noticing. When the door opened, he led them to Rodney's room and got them inside before Rodney caught on.

"Wait - I was going to the lab. Why are we here?"

John knew a good set-up when he heard it, and he wasn't really one to waste chances. A light body-check put Rodney's back against the door and John's body against his front.

"This," John said. "We're here for this."

And, with no further thought whatsoever, John leaned in and kissed Rodney the way he'd kissed a world of blondes, brunettes, redheads and half-Ascended priestesses when he wanted to get into their pants. Robes, whatever. He was just a little bit shocked when kissing Rodney left all those other kisses in the dust. The shock didn't, however, slow him down.

Rodney's mouth was wide and lush, his lips soft. The stubble was new, but it felt great - a rough burn against his own that made John's belly clench in a way that was scary but so damn good.

Apparently, Rodney wasn't one to waste chances either, because he opened his mouth against John's and licked his way inside while one big hand went for John's hair and the other gripped his hip bruisingly hard.

John moaned when Rodney's tongue slid into his mouth, and moaned again - harder - when he managed to get both hands onto Rodney's ass to pull their hips together. John was hard, and Rodney was hard, and there was barely enough blood left in John's brain to perform autonomic functions: breathing and heartbeat and kiss Rodney.

John pulled back for air and pressed his face into Rodney's neck, kissing and licking and nipping. He tasted salt and soap and something both sharp and sweet - something good. Rodney panted harshly over his shoulder, his long fingers digging into John's hair, exactly the way John knew they would. Rodney's hair envy was anything but subtle.

John stumbled onto a spot on Rodney's neck - just below his earlobe, at the hinge of his jaw - that got him a gasp and a low, raw groan when he sucked on it, so he applied himself diligently, just to make Rodney squirm.

"Oh, god." Rodney's voice broke a little - the way it did sometimes when he was horribly stressed or the rare occasion when he didn't have a ready answer in a crisis, but with a deep current of need thrumming through it instead of fear. "You're so...oh, god."

John lifted his head and really looked at Rodney - looked at his wide, shocked eyes and his flushed cheeks and his mouth - his mouth - pink and a little wet from the kisses. He forced himself to remove one hand from Rodney's ass and brought it up between them, smoothing the pad of his thumb across the soft, crooked curve of Rodney's lower lip. Rodney stood stock-still, his fingers clenching on the back of John's head, his eyes growing even wider as John's thumb stroked slowly back and forth. On the fifth or sixth pass, the tip of Rodney's tongue flicked out and his eyes closed, his whole body easing and relaxing into the touch.

Finally, John couldn't stand it any more. He brought both hands up to cradle Rodney's face and leaned back in for more tender kisses. Rodney's hands moved to his waist, and their bodies seemed to snap together - puzzle pieces or tongue-and-groove - finding the sweet spot and settling into it.

Rodney's hair felt surprisingly soft under John's fingers, his skin hot and smooth against his palms. Their mouths fit together and found a slow, exploratory rhythm of give and take that echoed the gentle wash of the ocean against the city. John felt almost drugged, slipping into a blissful place in his mind, hearing only the soft sounds of their breathing and Rodney's mouth moving against his.

Kissing Rodney was somehow not what he'd expected. Oh, he had expected that Rodney's mouth would be soft and wet and wide, but he hadn't exactly expected the level of focus. Rodney kissed like it was the only thing in the world, which really didn't compute for John, because conventional wisdom suggested that Rodney multi-tasked in his sleep. But Rodney kissed like he had all the time in the world and like there wasn't one thing he'd rather be doing. His fingertips described tiny circles on the back of John's neck and on the arch of bone behind his ear and his knees opened just enough for his thighs to bracket John's with solid warmth.

John got his own hand between them to unzip Rodney's uniform shirt, spreading the wings of cloth enough to expose light brown chest hair and soft, pale skin to his exploring fingers. Rodney's own hands followed his lead, and they moved just far enough apart to get rid of their shirts. John leaned back in for more of those sultry kisses, but was stopped by Rodney's hand, splayed flat against his chest; stroking the hair there, fingers following the dog tag chain and finding a nipple, which hardened instantly.

It occurred to John that he was in over his head at just about the same time that he realized his knees were slowly bending. He lowered himself to kneel between Rodney's feet, his hands coming to rest naturally against the buckle of Rodney's belt. He tilted his head down and let his cheek rest against the gentle swell of Rodney's belly, his breath stirring the hair there.

"You...you don't have to," Rodney said, his hands moving restlessly at John's neck and shoulder.

"I want to," John said, almost completely sure it was true. "I've just never done this before."

Rodney jumped a little and brought his own hands down to cover John's. "And telling me that just guaranteed that this will end more quickly than it should," he said, his voice tight and a little exasperated.

John looked up into Rodney's flushed face. "Me being inept turns you on?"

Rodney smiled and tilted his head. "You turn me on. You on your knees turns me on more than any three things have ever turned me on."

"No pressure," John groused, hiding a smile in the warm flesh of Rodney's waist. He felt a broad hand cup the back of his head briefly, and then Rodney was unbuckling his belt. John watched those long fingers work the leather out of the buckle, then watched them unfasten the button and zip of Rodney's uniform pants, revealing dark blue boxer briefs, their front distorted by the press of Rodney's erection.

John brushed Rodney's hands aside and worked the trousers down, letting them fall to the floor. He sat back on his heels and looked at Rodney, flushed and aroused and leaning back against the door.

"I saw you, on the planet," he said, his hands tracing gently up the outside of Rodney's legs to his hips. "I saw you wet and laughing, and I figured something out." He knelt up again, and pressed his lips to the skin above the boxers' waistband. "We're going to die out here."

"You are very bad at pillow talk," Rodney said, fingers tightening down on John's shoulders.

John laughed and bit warningly at the soft flesh of Rodney's hip. "Probably," he said, letting go. "I mean, this is it for us. We're not - at least I'm not - planning to go back to Earth for good." He leaned in and lipped along Rodney's waistband to the soft flesh below his navel. "And since I'm going to die here, I figure I should probably start living here, right?"

"Okay," Rodney said, and John thought that sex-befuddled Rodney might possibly be his favorite flavor of all.

He eased his fingers under the waistband of Rodney's boxers and slid them down. And there it was: Rodney's cock. It looked big, but John figured anything would look imposing from that angle. It looked pretty much like his own, and that was somehow reassuring. He reached out and touched the side of it, letting his fingers press in enough to feel the silkiness of the skin and the firmness underneath.

"That's...oh, feels good," Rodney said, watching with bright eyes.

John tilted his head, examining the problem from all angles. He was nearly certain that there was no way the whole thing was going to fit in his mouth, no matter how many volume calculations he did in his head. But he hadn't gotten to Atlantis on logic, he'd gotten there completely by chance, so he decided to take another one. He wrapped his hand around the base and took a deep breath. He glanced up at Rodney, seeing the hope and longing on his face, and that worked - that was just as good as flipping a coin, except that he knew the outcome. Heads - John Sheppard sucks cock.

It felt surprisingly good. The head of Rodney's cock was broad and slick and a little salty. He learned the shape with lips and tongue, letting his eyes drift shut at Rodney's quiet gasp. After a moment, he found a gentle rhythm, breathing through his nose and sucking his way up and down, taking a little bit more each time he bobbed his head. It still felt good - smooth and hot - and the repetitive motion was soothing and arousing at the same time.

Rodney made the best noises when he was getting a blowjob. Little breathy moans and small grunts every time the head of his cock rubbed against the roof of John's mouth. John could feel the tension in Rodney's body, could feel how rigidly he was holding himself against the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see one of Rodney's hands pressed against the silvery metal hard enough to whiten the knuckles.

He pulled off with a lick. "Touch me."

Rodney's eyes were very blue in the golden, late afternoon light that filtered through the stained glass window, and the color only seemed to deepen as he smiled down at John. He lifted his hand from the wall and placed it gently against the side of John's face, fingers curling around earlobe and stubbled jaw. John closed his eyes and leaned into the touch briefly before opening his mouth and taking Rodney back inside in a long, slow glide.

"Jesus," Rodney moaned, and his other hand landed on John's shoulder, clutching hard.

John let his free hand curl naturally around the back of Rodney's thigh, feeling rough hair and the clench and play of muscles beneath the skin as he urged Rodney to thrust into him. Rodney took the hint, but kept his motions controlled, hips rocking just enough to make John's lips touch the edge of the hand still wrapped around Rodney's cock on each stroke.

John dragged his hand down the back of Rodney's thigh and then into his own lap. He was so hard it hurt, but his fingers felt huge and clumsy as he fumbled at his fly, so he wound up just pressing the heel of his hand to his cock for a little desperately needed pressure. He was forced to grab back onto Rodney's leg when the shallow thrusts sped up and Rodney started cursing under his breath.

"Fuck. Oh, god, John," Rodney moaned, his hips jerking forward. John just sucked harder, sliding his hand up and down the base of Rodney's cock, slick with his saliva. Rodney stiffened and pulled away, dragging his cock out of John's mouth and turning his body just enough to come all over John's neck and shoulder with hot splashes.

John rocked back onto his knees and tore at the fastenings of his uniform pants, desperate to get to his neglected cock, panting harshly. He could hear his own breath whistling through his nose, and he was making short, sharp noises that would have been embarrassing, if he'd had enough presence of mind to give a damn.

"Don't," Rodney said, his hand tightening in John's hair. "Don't come yet."

John almost but not quite managed to bite back a frustrated whine, but he dropped his hands onto his tensed thighs.

Rodney's hand slid from his hair to his neck, smearing come and sweat against John's skin. John turned his head and licked at Rodney's fingers, tasting salt and bitter. Rodney groaned and moved his hand closer, sliding his wet thumb against John's lips.

John licked Rodney's thumb clean, then looked up, pleading. "Rodney. I'm dying here."

"Okay, bed," Rodney said, stepping out of his crumpled pants and boxers and kicking off his shoes. He hauled John to his feet and stripped him out of the rest of his clothes before pushing him down on the bed on his back.

John let himself be manhandled, taking the chance to calm down a little. He'd been so close when Rodney had made him stop - incredibly hard, more than ready to come - that his guts ached, and his balls felt like lead. He looked up at Rodney helplessly, sighing when Rodney took mercy on him and crawled up his body, letting their chests and thighs brush lightly. John could feel every hair on Rodney's body against his skin; every touch felt like an electrical shock.

"Please, Rodney," he begged. "Oh, please."

"Shh," Rodney said gently. "I'll take care of you. I promise."

"Oh, god - hurry," John said, throwing one forearm over his eyes and arching his hips up.

"Soon," Rodney said, laying a line of soft kisses down the side of John's throat. His lips were wet and soft, and John's skin felt like it was lighting up under the gentle onslaught. Rodney lifted up slightly and pushed John's arm away, over his head. John arched his back as hard as he could, pushing up against Rodney's weight, feeling the brush of Rodney's renewing erection against his own over-sensitized dick.

Finally - finally - Rodney took the hint and snaked his hand between them, wrapping his long fingers around John's cock, squeezing and stroking. John felt his blood pounding like the waves against Atlantis in a storm - felt it in his temples, in his chest, in his cock, and he knew he was babbling a steady stream of nonsense as Rodney finally pushed him over into an orgasm so hard his breathing faltered as he came all over his own belly and chest.

Rodney's hand kept moving, fast, then achingly slow, and John's body felt like it was going to shake apart. Just when he couldn't take another second, Rodney knelt up, wet his hand in the pool of semen on John's belly and took hold of his cock, pumping himself hard and fast over John's exhausted body.

John watched Rodney's face through slitted eyes, taking in the almost pained expression as Rodney reached his second climax, spilling against John's slick belly before collapsing down onto him with a deep groan. John oofed out a surprised breath, and Rodney slid over to one side, gathering John close and burying his face in John's sweaty, disheveled hair.

John felt Rodney's mouth open and close several times, and he knew that the inevitable talking part was coming, so he decided to nip it in the bud. He pushed Rodney back far enough to kiss him softly, to gently pull Rodney's lush lower lip between his for a second.

"Shower?" he asked, releasing Rodney's lip.

"Uh...yes?" Rodney looked adorably confused.

"Good," John said, smiling smugly. "You look good wet."

Rodney shook his head and gave John a small grin. "I don't understand this at all." When John opened his mouth to answer, Rodney closed it with gentle fingers. "Tell me later," he said. "I want to see you wet."

John nodded and led the way to the shower.