"No," Rodney says flatly.

Elizabeth leans forward and places her hand onto Rodney's desk, her eyes steely. "Rodney, it's your turn. I had to handle the President's visit, and you swore you'd do the next one if I made sure he didn't get to talk to you. I did my part - this one is yours."

"Make Sheppard do it," Rodney says, straightening a stack of reports. "I'm not even American."

"Sheppard spent three days with the Joint Chiefs. This one is all yours."

"I don't even understand your judicial system. What am I going to talk about with the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court?"

"I don't know, Rodney," Elizabeth says, irritation coloring her tone. "How about the declassification of the Atlantis Expedition? I doubt you'll lack for conversation topics!"

"Fine," Rodney says, crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine."

"Good." Elizabeth mimics his stance.

"I hate declassification," Rodney grumbles.

On most days, Julian Lodge feels pretty smug. Today, he's the smuggest man on Earth. And he's about to be the smuggest man in two galaxies. As he ties his bowtie, repeating the precise hand motions he performs every morning (Julian works weekends), he can't help but smile at himself in the streaked mirror. Yes, he's just spent the night 30 stories beneath a mountain in Colorado, and there's a pair of armed Marines outside his door, and he's still a little thrown by the revelations of the past two days, but he's going to another galaxy.

Aliens? Real. Lost City of Atlantis? Real. Intergalactic travel? Real. Spaceships? Real.

And thank god declassification of this project is happening now, because Julian is nine months into his one-year stint as the senior clerk to Chief Justice Thomas Brankin, and he's the advance man. Julian is the one who will go to Atlantis a day ahead of the others and prepare the people there to receive the Chief Justice properly. He's the one who will do what he's been doing for the last nine months - smooth the way for the Chief Justice; make things easier, make things better, make things right. Because Julian Emerson Lodge is all about doing things right and accepting no less than perfection, and the timing on this whole thing has come together perfectly, and it will continue that way.

He tugs the ends of the bowtie, settling it exactly between the points of his starched collar before brushing his hands down the lapels of his jacket. He centers his belt buckle over the button of his pants, and checks to make sure his cuffs break perfectly over his shoes. His only regret is the stubborn unruliness of his hair. Despite frequent haircuts and expensive products, it still has a life of its own, just like it always has. Julian turns from the mirror with a sigh and heads for the door. Time to conquer another galaxy.

"Rodney." Sheppard leans in the lab's doorway.

Rodney does not look up.

"Oh, Rodney."

Rodney does not look up.

"Rodney!"

Rodney looks up, then immediately looks down again.

"Rodney, you have ten minutes before the SGC dials in." John hasn't moved, but his lean is much less casual than it was at first.

"It's the advance guy," Rodney says, offhand. "You should talk to him about security and stuff, not me."

John stalks over and grabs Rodney's arm, pulling lightly enough that Rodney is still free to save his work and shut his laptop down. "No way," he says. "This one is all yours."

Rodney tries to dig his heels in, but it doesn't work.

"Joint Chiefs," John says, still pulling. "Three days with the Joint Chiefs. Do you have any idea how horrible that was?"

Rodney smiles. "I bet they hated you."

"Fuck you," John says good-naturedly. "Time to play nice with the law clerk."

Rodney pulls his arms away, settling in to walk at John's side. "Law clerk? I have to talk to some pissant underling?"

"A Supreme Court Justice's clerk is like his assistant. His sidekick. His Robin," John explains. "It's a pretty big deal."

"Just so long as there aren't any tights," Rodney grumbles. They reach the gate room to find it draped in the flags of all the countries represented on the mission - what Rodney's come to think of as the city's party clothes. The Marine honor guard is in place, as is Elizabeth, and he and John fall into their customary positions on either side and a step behind her.

She gives them each a nod and a smile, and John calls the Marines to attention as the stargate activates.

The wormhole whooshes into existence, and they all wait silently for the visiting group to come through. Two Marine guards are first, stepping aside and coming to attention to salute John as they enter the gate room. While John returns their salutes, Rodney watches another man exit the event horizon, a familiar look of awe crossing his face. Rodney takes in the messy dark hair, wide green eyes, full lips and trim body and thinks, maybe he wouldn't look so bad in the tights.

Elizabeth steps forward, her hand held out. "Mr. Lodge, I presume?" she says, her eyes twinkling. "I'm Dr. Elizabeth Weir, head of the expedition. Welcome to Atlantis."

He drags his gaze away from the soaring architecture of the gate room and shakes her hand. "Julian Lodge, senior clerk to Chief Justice Brankin," he says, with only a small catch in his voice.

Rodney watches as Lodge and Sheppard are introduced, noting Sheppard's narrowed eyes and tight smile of welcome.

"Am I the only one seeing this?" Rodney asks, pointing back and forth between Lodge and Sheppard. "The freaky resemblance? Is this a separated-at-birth thing, or did some member of your family get around?" Because they look alike - similarities of hair and eye color, bone structure and height. It's not exact, but it seems worthy of note - at least to Rodney. Elizabeth ignores him, Sheppard glares at him, and Lodge seems too coolly polite to notice.

Elizabeth turns to Rodney. "And this is Dr. Rodney McKay, our Chief Scientist." Lodge's hand is soft, but his handshake is not; he looks Rodney in the eye, some of the shock of gate travel wearing off.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. McKay," he says, the pink tip of his tongue flicking out to moisten his lips. "The information in your briefing notes to the Declassification Committee was fascinating, especially the part about the alternate energy sources."

"You understood that?" Rodney says.

Lodge does the tongue-flicking thing again before ducking his head slightly. "Probably just about enough to be dangerous," he admits. "One of my undergraduate degrees is in Applied Physics."

"Where from?" Rodney can't decide if he's more interested in Lodge's credentials or in watching the way he tilts his head and clasps his fingers in front of his waist, like a schoolboy addressing a class - looking disturbingly like Sheppard, but with none of the flyboy cockiness.

"Northeastern."

"Oh, my god, you probably had Dr. Sampson, didn't you?" When Julian nods, Rodney grabs him just above the elbow and starts hustling him out of the room. He looks over his shoulder at Elizabeth and Sheppard. "I have to correct about a hundred points of misinformation right now. Is there a dinner thing?" At Elizabeth's nod, he drags his hapless prey away. "Sampson hasn't had an original idea since 1956, and he hasn't has a correct one since shortly after. Wait til you see some of the stuff we have in the lab. What's your clearance?"

Julian allows himself to be dragged, caught up in the raw enthusiasm and surprising strength of the man pulling him down the hall by his elbow. He's read all about Dr. McKay, knows as much as the SGC would put in a dossier - brilliant, difficult, egotistical, creative, hard to get along with and absolutely essential to the success of the Atlantis Expedition. He's awed just to be in the presence of a man who has saved the universe at least six times. Julian just didn't expect him to be so hot.

But he is - strangely hot. Julian almost never reacts to hotness. Of course, he can identify it, he always notices it - he just doesn't react. It takes a lot to make Julian react. Julian is all about the measured response. He's been called cold and analytical, and he considers those things to be compliments. The day he decided where he was going, the day he decided that he would not only be a clerk for a Justice of the Supreme Court, but that he would be the senior clerk for the Chief Justice, Julian deliberately cut himself off from anything that would detract from that goal. He set aside physics and history, subjects he'd studied with great passion, and threw himself into constitutional law without looking back. Family, friends, sex - everything that didn't put him further along the path to the Supreme Court building was exorcised, leaving just Julian E. Lodge, Esquire - sharp, cold and ruthlessly focused.

But, listening to McKay talk a mile a minute about ZPMs and subspace time and quantum singularities is pressing into him, sliding down into the cracks in the armor - Julian can feel himself getting excited in more ways than one by the brilliant fire of McKay's blue eyes and the heat of his large hand holding his arm. He wants to see the wonders this man has found in Pegasus, hear about the theories, throw himself into a world he thought he'd left behind. No, more than that, he wants to throw himself at Dr. McKay, and that scares the hell out of him.

Julian swallows the fear, though, pushes it back down where it belongs and opens up his own steel-trap mind. Much of what McKay says goes right over his head, but he finds that he still remembers a good bit. Once they get to the lab, he manages to ask a couple of questions that make McKay smile and point, fingers slicing the air. The rest of the scientists ignore them, give Julian pitying looks as McKay rants at him, but Julian doesn't care. By the time McKay winds down, Julian's head is spinning, his pulse is racing, he's rock-hard inside his silk boxers and wool pants, and he hasn't imparted one word of the carefully-rehearsed lecture on protocol he'd prepared.

He tries to speak, but McKay stops him with a gesture, adopting a listening posture. "Yes, Elizabeth," he says into his earpiece with a sigh. He turns to Julian. "We have a dinner thing. Ready?"

Julian nods and they're off again, Rodney leading the way through corridor after corridor. Julian allows himself to be led.

Once again, Rodney's in the lead, Julian following like a tugboat in his wake, a half-step behind. Dinner is a small affair, senior officers and expedition members, and Rodney ignores much of the small talk and socializing, alternating eating with arguing with Zelenka and Sheppard, letting Elizabeth ask Julian about current Washington events. It's late when things break up, and Elizabeth suggests that he show Julian to the guest quarters.

Rodney can't seem to stop challenging Julian. He's not disappointed; where Julian lacks knowledge, he's got no shortage of insight and quickness, firing off questions and drawing lines between fragments of information in a way that impresses Rodney. It doesn't hurt that he's gorgeous- slim and sleek and quick, with a ready smile and a sly wit that makes Rodney comfortable in a way that he rarely is with people.

Julian has an air of respectful deference that makes Rodney feel like the most interesting thing in the universe (rightly so, of course). Julian listens raptly, intelligence shining from clear green eyes. Julian keeps his hands to himself - he often clasps them together either at his waist or behind his back. He inclines his head when Rodney speaks, creating a quiet intimacy. Rodney finds himself quieting, leaning in to keep their conversations private, and he's rewarded with small smiles, sardonic eyebrow lifts and, once or twice, the almost delicate touch of Julian's manicured fingers on the skin of his wrist.

Julian makes him burn.

The visitors' quarters are in an area of the city they cleared for habitation specifically when the news of declassification broke. They're centrally located, easy to protect and unbelievably opulent. They've been retrofitted to accommodate those without the ATA gene.

"Touch here," Rodney says, gesturing to the control panel by the door. Julian complies and jumps a little when the door slides back. Rodney precedes him inside, demonstrating the lights and the shower and the comm system, until, suddenly, he runs out of words.

Julian still looks perfectly together - shirt still crisp, suit creaseless, bowtie centered - but his eyes are tired. Rodney takes pity on him; he's long forgotten how exhausting the wonders of the city can be at first.

"Go to sleep," he says. "It's late."

Julian shrugs. "I still haven't given you the protocol briefing."

"In the morning," Rodney says. "I'll come get you for breakfast and you can tell me before the dial-in at 9:00."

Julian's shoulders drop a little in relief, and Rodney suddenly wants to take those shoulders in his hands and rub away the tension, or at least replace it with a different - better - kind. He shakes it off and turns to leave, only to find Julian stepping into his personal space. He's close, but his eyes are still downcast, the offer an alluring combination of shy and bold. It's gasoline to a flame, and Rodney's not made of stone. He wraps his hands around Julian's jaw, fingertips rasping against the shadow of stubble as he lifts Julian's mouth to his own.

God, Julian's mouth is sweet - soft and tentative and unassuming. He lets Rodney lead, mouth opening compliantly when Rodney deepens the kiss, teasing his tongue between full lips. He doesn't ask for too much, settling for a slow exploration before pulling away. As Rodney steps back, Julian's eyes flutter open, the pupils dilated with arousal.

Rodney lets his fingers fall away and he smiles at Julian. "I'll see you in the morning," he says, aware of the horny huskiness of his own voice. "Sleep well."

He lets himself out, leaving Julian blinking in the center of the room, heading for a few more hours in the lab before bed.

Rodney shows up early, which surprises Julian very little. He's halfway to the door when it slides open.

"Sorry," Rodney says. "The doors like me."

Julian nods, remembering that Rodney has the magic gene. He's standing there half-dressed; suit pants and undershirt, socks and shoes on, and he's got a towel around his neck, wiping the last flecks of shaving foam away.

"Why did you kiss me?" he blurts out, instantly horrified at his lack of control. A lawyer should never ask a question to which he doesn't already know the answer.

Rodney smiles broadly, rocking back on his heels and raising an irrepressible hand to gesture. "I seriously doubt that the fact of your hotness has escaped you, Julian."

Julian blinks. "Hot?"

Rodney moves in and crowds him back into the bathroom. He puts Julian in front of the mirror and pulls the towel away. Julian looks at his own reflection, and at Rodney's face, looming over his shoulder. A hand comes up, carding through the hair at the back of his neck.

"Hot," Rodney says. "Which is fine, but you're also smart. Bordering on brilliant. You kept up pretty well yesterday, and you kept coming back for more."

"You kissed me because I'm smart?" Julian is, frankly, confused. His mind isn't usually something that draws people to him.

"I kissed you because you're smart and hot and you seemed interested. These are a few of my favorite things." Rodney leaned in to drop a soft kiss under Julian's ear, making him shiver. "Also, look at you, Julian."

Rodney's fingers move on his neck, finding the edges of the collar of his undershirt and following the curve around to the hollow of his throat to toy with the dark curls that spill over. Rodney's thumb moves up to trace a freshly-shaven jaw, to stroke just below Julian's bottom lip.

Julian watches in the mirror as Rodney's other hand moves over his ribs and up, fingers dragging slightly on the smooth cotton, coming up to brush over a nipple, which instantly hardens under the caress.

"Oh," he says, his tongue feeling thick in his suddenly-dry mouth.

"Yes," Rodney says, smothering a grin in the soft skin over Julian's jugular. "Oh."

And, suddenly, Rodney's gone - Julian feels like he might stumble without Rodney's bulk behind him. Before he can protest, Rodney's back, holding Julian's crisp white cotton dress shirt by the collar. Julian slides his arms in, watching raptly in the mirror as Rodney smoothes it into place and starts buttoning it from the bottom up. He continues watching as Rodney plucks the tasteful gold cufflinks off the sink and takes each of Julian's wrists into his hands to close his shirt cuffs. His breathing hitches when Rodney unbuckles his belt.

Rodney opens Julian's belt and pants and slowly tucks his shirt in, not shy at all about letting his fingers skate over sharp hipbones and the swell of buttocks, the flat expanse of Julian's lower abdomen and the hot length of his erection, but he doesn't linger. Once the shirt is perfectly smooth, he gently zips and buttons and buckles, and Julian can only stand rooted to the spot and trembling slightly. He moans out loud when Rodney flips his collar up and loops the silk of his bowtie around his neck.

Rodney's hands move just as deftly on the tie as they do on a keyboard or on an Ancient artifact. He finishes the bow and centers it, folding Julian's collar into place with a tug. He turns away to get the jacket, and Julian's grateful for the suit's loose cut, for the panels of fine-gauge wool that will hide his arousal from the rest of the city.

Rodney buttons the center button, then stills, his hands light on Julian's hips. He pauses a second before pulling Julian back against him, pressing his hard cock against the cleft of Julian's ass and sliding his lips along the vulnerable skin above the collar of jacket and shirt.

"Brush your hair, Julian," Rodney says. He lets go and turns away, and Julian can tell that he's trying to control himself, to will his erection away before they have to leave this room. Julian does what he's told and brushes his hair, scowling a little at the tufts that won't lie down. By the time he's finished, Rodney looks the same as always. Maybe a little more bright-eyed, one shade too much flush in his cheeks, but he doesn't look disheveled. Julian looks at himself one last time and is happy with what he sees - he looks cool and calm and collected, and no one will be able to see just how hard he is under the armor of his $2000 suit.

"Breakfast?" Rodney says, smiling at him.

Julian nods, and just before they reach the door, he stops Rodney with a hand at his elbow. Before he can lose his nerve, he leans in and brushes their lips together. Rodney smiles into the chaste kiss and pulls away gently before he opens the door.

"Mr. Chief Justice? Not 'Your Honor'?" Sheppard asks between bites of pancakes.

"'Your Honor' is only used if you're appearing in court. Chief Justice Brankin should be addressed as 'Mr. Chief Justice'." Julian looks down at his eggs, missing the little pepper grinder the guards at the SGC confiscated.

Rodney nudges him with an elbow, passing a wooden pepper mill. Julian gives it a dubious look. "Try this - we trade with a civilization called the Ashmanak for it. It's remarkably like Indonesian pepper - much better than that crap the military sends."

Julian grinds some onto his eggs and tastes, sharing a happy smile with Rodney.

"Good, huh?" Rodney says.

"You like MRE's," Sheppard says, taking the mill to grind pepper onto his own eggs. "Why do you care about pepper?"

"I have hidden depths," Rodney says.

Julian's not quite sure if the mess hall is the best place for a briefing, but it seems to work okay. He's seated at a table with Rodney, Colonel Sheppard, Dr. Weir, and two people who were introduced as Ronon and Teyla. Everyone pays attention, but there's a casual camaraderie among them that Julian envies a little. They joke and tease, but they absorb all the information Julian has to give with the ease of a team that has worked together for years, which he supposes they have.

He gives them all the little protocol details he'd carefully worked out, and they all nod solemnly. When he asks if there are any questions, Elizabeth looks straight at him and tilts her head to the side.

"What drew you to constitutional law?" she asks.

It's not a question Julian would have expected. He's used to fading into the background, used to being the behind-the-scenes guy. He looks down at the table for a second before meeting her bright, curious eyes.

"I was getting a second bachelor's in history and I took a class on the federal judiciary. I fell in love with the principles of the Supreme Court, the defense of the Constitution. It's what made me want to go to law school."

Dr. Weir nods. "It's not an easy path. I imagine the competition for clerkships is fierce."

Julian thinks back to the selection process, and how many nights he'd spent worrying and scheming and strategizing, and the way he felt when he'd received the offer letter.

"Fierce is one word for it. But I wanted to be the best." He looks away.

Rodney laughs, nudging Julian with a shoulder. "You're in the right place, then," he says. "Atlantis is full of cutthroat overachievers."

"The best and the brightest," Sheppard says, and he, Rodney and Weir exchange a look - like it's a quote they've heard a thousand times before.

Teyla distracts him with a soft hand on his arm and a question about what a constitution is, and he tries to answer as simply as possible, while keeping one eye on Sheppard and Rodney, who are arguing good-naturedly about something while Weir pretends to referee.

Julian is nervous, and he's pretty sure he will stay that way until Chief Justice Brankin steps through the wormhole. It's weird. Brankin is, above all things, self-sufficient; he doesn't need Julian to keep him safe. Despite that, Julian feels proprietary toward him - as though he's the last line of defense. It's not true, and Julian wonders how he'll feel in three months when he walks down the stairs of the Supreme Court building for the last time.

Brankin comes through, laughing and chatting with his Marine escort; he's thrown a little when they snap to attention and salute Sheppard, but he smiles broadly when he sees the welcoming party waiting.

"Julian, my boy," he booms, reaching out to shake hands. "Good to see you."

"And you, Mr. Chief Justice," Julian says, smiling. He turns to Dr. Weir. "Dr. Elizabeth Weir, Chief Justice Thomas Brankin." They shake hands, and Julian repeats the introductions for Rodney and Sheppard.

Dr. Weir invites them to her office, and Julian hardly notices when Sheppard slips away, because Rodney falls in step with him, just behind Weir and Brankin.

"Nice guy," Rodney whispers. "Not really what I expected."

Julian nods, keeping one ear on the conversation in front of them. "He's one of the best Chief Justices in history."

"I'll take your word for it," Rodney says, brushing his fingers over Julian's elbow.

Somewhere over the course of the morning, Chief Justice Brankin and Dr. Weir discover that she was a classmate of his wife's at Yale, and suddenly they're Thomas and Elizabeth, exchanging gossip and laughing together. Rodney nearly hurts himself trying not to roll his eyes.

"Julian," Brankin says, turning around halfway. "Elizabeth and I are going to have lunch and tell the really scandalous stories. Why don't you meet us in a couple of hours for that lab tour? You'll be all right on your own, right?"

Julian doesn't even twitch toward Rodney when he says, "Yes, Mr. Chief Justice."

They set a time to meet, and Brankin and Weir walk off, leaving Rodney and Julian in the hallway.

"I need to check in with Zelenka, make sure the inmates haven't taken over the asylum." Rodney notices the almost imperceptible drop of Julian's shoulders, so he continues. "Come with me - we'll grab some lunch after and then meet Elizabeth and the Chief Justice." Julian's smile is sweet and shy, and it makes Rodney want to drag him off somewhere and make him gasp.

There's something about Julian, and Rodney's not sure what it is. It could be the utter dichotomy of the man - all straight-laced and prim on the outside and passionate on the inside - that's certainly attractive. It could also be the way Julian reacts to kindness or touch - surprised and shocked and grateful; it doesn't match with expectations. Rodney would expect someone with Julian's rakish good looks to be cockier, to act as if the world was at his feet. In other words, to act more like Sheppard.

Rodney steers his thoughts away from that avenue deliberately, like he has so many times before, returning to the problem at hand. From Julian's reactions, Rodney has to believe that the man is inexperienced, as far-fetched as it seems. But he's beautiful, and hot and responsive, and Rodney's not stupid enough to turn that down.

The labs are less chaotic than Rodney expects - he only has to rant and yell for forty-five minutes. At the end, the scientists go about their business, but Julian looks a little stunned as Rodney leads him away. They're at their destination before Julian looks around.

"What's this?" he asks, taking in the smallish room.

"My hideout," Rodney says. "This is where I keep the projects I don't trust the idiots to get near."

"You want to show me your secret projects?" Julian asks.

"No," Rodney says, stepping closer. "I want to do this."

Julian meets him in the middle, his mouth opening as Rodney kisses him. Within seconds Rodney's got his hands on Julian's ass and his tongue in his mouth, listening to the soft, greedy sounds coming from the back of Julian's throat. Julian pushes Rodney up against the wall of the lab, and Rodney lets it happen - it's unexpected and unexpectedly arousing to feel Julian's elegant hands unbuckling his belt. It's even better to feel those long fingers slide into his boxers to wrap around his cock.

"Jesus," Rodney groans, arching his neck. "That's good."

"You'll like this even better," Julian smirks, stepping back so he can sink to his knees, busy hands stripping Rodney's pants and boxers down to pool at his feet. Rodney's only answer is to dig both hands into Julian's thick, soft hair and hold on.

It patently obvious that Julian's not practiced at giving head - his touch is tentative, and he hesitates when his mouth gets close to Rodney's dick. He huffs out a breath, making Rodney shudder all over, and then leans in slowly until his lips hover over the tip.

"Please, Julian," Rodney moans, and that seems to be all that Julian needs; he licks a hot line over the crown and opens his mouth to take Rodney in.

John finds himself at loose ends after escaping. He's glad to be out of the diplomatic line of fire, but he's bored. Two hours is his maximum for paperwork, and things are remarkably unremarkable across the base.

Rodney's lab is quiet, scientists working and talking in low tones - Rodney obviously absent. Zelenka simply rolls his eyes when John asks after Rodney, making some complicated hand gesture that looks like he might be warding off the Evil Eye.

Following a hunch, John takes a transporter toward the east pier, then cuts through three corridors to Rodney's secret lab. If Rodney's going to hide from his tour-guide duty, this is the place. John approaches quietly, Rodney's not above playing possum if he really doesn't want to be found.

"Please, Julian." Rodney's voice is low and urgent, and John's not stupid. He stops in his tracks just outside the lab and instinctively steps away from the door to face the wall that's shared between the lab and the corridor. He closes his eyes, wishing for a second that he could see what's going on before squelching that thought.

When he opens his eyes, he's dismayed to find that Atlantis has taken his stray thought at face value: the wall has become transparent. He slams his eyes shut, trying to tell Atlantis to knock it off, but she knows and the wall stays transparent. And, apparently, sound-permeable, because he can hear Rodney. He can hear Rodney getting a blowjob from the senior clerk to the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States of America. And John really, really doesn't need to know that Julian Lodge's mouth is "so hot; so good," and he really, really doesn't need to know the kind of obscene noises Rodney makes when he's getting blown.

Rodney's pants and boxers are around his ankles, and his bare ass is pressed to the wall, bisected by the bottom hem of his uniform shirt. John can see the shoulders of Julian's suit jacket, and the way his hand is clenched against the flesh of Rodney's hip, the way his other hand is moving between Rodney's legs, maybe touching his balls, maybe sliding fingers behind.

He can't look away, even when Rodney's hips start to move forward and back in a faster rhythm, when Julian brings both hands up to squeeze Rodney's ass.

"Oh, god," Rodney moans. "Please, Julian." And then he makes a sound - low and rough - and John knows that he's coming in Julian Lodge's prim little mouth.

Julian keeps sucking, and Rodney's hands move through his hair, petting gently. Finally, Rodney urges Julian to his feet - Julian stands, pulling Rodney's boxers and pants back into place without zipping or fastening them. Rodney kisses him deeply and half-turns so that each of them is leaning a shoulder against the wall. John curses silently, because he can see everything. He can see the way Rodney's hands cup the edges of Julian's face, the way their tongues tangle in slow, deep kisses.

He can see it when Rodney's hands slip Julian's jacket off his shoulders, letting it catch on his elbows. He can also see Rodney untuck Julian's shirt and unbutton it from the bottom, pushing the sides away and shoving the white undershirt up Julian's hairy belly before unbuckling his belt and carefully unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers. John watches as Rodney never stops kissing Julian the whole time he's sliding pants and silk boxers down Julian's thighs to bare his cock, thick and dark with blood.

Julian's fingers twist into Rodney's shirt, and he pulls away enough to look down at Rodney's hand on him. "Oh," he says, voice soft and surprised.

"Yeah," Rodney says. "Is that good?"

"Y-yes," Julian gasps. "God, yes."

"Good," Rodney laughs, hand stroking roughly. "I want to make you feel good, Julian. Want to make you come. Want to bend you over the foot of my bed and fuck you."

That's enough for Julian; he comes hard into Rodney's hand, pushing his face into the side of Rodney's neck to muffle a sharp moan. Rodney laughs and gentles him through it, kissing the side of his face sweetly.

"Inside pocket," Julian says, his voice slurred and fucked-out.

"What?" Rodney says, nuzzling Julian's temple.

"There's a handkerchief in my inside jacket pocket."

Rodney fishes the handkerchief out awkwardly with his dry hand. He mops himself up, then carefully folds the square of cotton to a clean side before gently wiping Julian's belly. Rodney fastens his own trousers before buttoning and smoothing Julian's dress shirt. He tucks it in and zips and buttons Julian's pants, then buckles his belt and pulls his jacket back into place. Julian remains quiet, allowing Rodney to fuss and arrange him, smiling softly when Rodney attempts to smooth his wayward hair.

"This is getting to be a habit," Julian says softly. "You dressing me."

Rodney kisses him lightly on the lips. "I like dressing you. I'd like a shot at undressing you, too. Tonight?"

Julian returns the kiss, his hands straightening Rodney's shirt and hair. "I'd like that, but the Chief Justice might need me."

"We'll see, then," Rodney says. "We have to go." He straightens Julian's jacket one last time and pulls him in for a quick kiss.

John turns and heads for the nearest transporter. When he gets there, he has to lean on the wall for a minute to catch his breath. He's not sure what's got his chest so tight, but when he closes his eyes, all he can see is the intent way Rodney looked at Julian while he carefully dressed and kissed him, so he keeps his eyes open.

Julian enjoys his lunch - it's some sort of chicken-like thing that Rodney calls a "quacker," a name that makes Teyla glare at him a little. It tastes like chicken, and it comes with an approximation of mashed potatoes and some strange, yet tasty vegetables. Teyla recommends the tea, and he tries it - it's spicy and good.

Halfway through their meal, Sheppard and Ronon show up, still sweaty from working out. Sheppard has a bruise coming up on his cheekbone; Ronon is unblemished.

Rodney frowns at the bruise, but doesn't say anything. Sheppard keeps his head down and eats quickly. Ronon puts away a pile of food that makes Julian forget his manners and stare.

"Yes," Rodney says, drawing Julian's attention. "He always eats like that. You get used to it."

Ronon sticks a "chicken" leg into his mouth and pulls out a stripped bone.

"Elizabeth has asked that we all meet in her quarters for dinner tonight, to celebrate Julian and Chief Justice Brankin," Teyla says. She stumbles a little over the title, looking at Julian to see if she has used it correctly. He smiles back and nods, and she returns the smile, bowing her head slightly.

"Great," Sheppard says, his voice sharp.

"I'm sure you can get out of it if you want," Rodney says, finishing off his mashed potatoes.

Sheppard grunts.

"Mr. Chief Justice," Julian says, standing as Elizabeth and Brankin approach the table.

Brankin puts a hand on Julian's shoulder and pushes him gently back into his seat. "No rush, son. Finish your lunch."

Julian sits, and picks up his fork obediently, but he keeps his attention on the Chief Justice. Brankin pulls a chair out and seats Elizabeth next to Sheppard before settling himself next to Julian.

"This is a helluva place, isn't it, Julian?" Brankin is relaxed and comfortable-looking, and Julian relaxes a little in response.

"It is, Mr. Chief Justice. I'm glad I got to see it." He is, too. He's thankful for the opportunity to see a real wonder of the world - it's not something he's likely to ever forget.

Brankin's sharp eyes glance around the table, stopping on Sheppard for a moment before moving on. When he gets to Julian, he smiles. "Don't forget," he says, grinning. "You don't get to lord it over the other clerks."

"I'll have to settle for being smug in a non-specific way, Mr. Chief Justice," Julian says, biting down on the happy smile that wants to break free. He can feel himself blushing when Rodney's fingertips trail against his knee.

"See that you do," Brankin says. "Elizabeth tells me the laboratories are fascinating, Dr. McKay."

"Well, of course," Rodney says. "Though you probably won't under...I mean, yes, fascinating." Rodney throws Sheppard a poisonous glare, and Julian figures there was a kick under the table. He cuts his eyes toward Sheppard and is surprised to get a small smile and an eyebrow lift in return - it's the most personality he's seen Sheppard show since he's been on Atlantis.

Brankin doesn't understand most of the things he's shown in the lab, but he's diplomatic enough to be complimentary anyway. Rodney just wishes he'd go away. And that he'd take Elizabeth with him. It's been years since he's wanted someone the way he wants Julian. Well, since the one he wants has wanted him back.

He gives extremely low-level descriptions of the major projects, barely paying attention to what he's saying. Instead, the bulk of his attention is focused on Julian. He watches the way Julian takes up position just behind Brankin's left shoulder, the way Julian keeps his hands clasped behind his back, the way Julian keeps his head respectfully inclined when Brankin speaks. When they move from room to room, Julian always manages to wind up in the perfect position to open doors and usher the others through, and Rodney always manages to be last. As he walks through each door, Julian ghosts a touch over the small of his back.

Finally, the tour is over, and Julian, Brankin and Elizabeth disappear to prepare for dinner, and Rodney spends a gleeful hour screaming at his scientists. He returns to his quarters and digs out civilian clothes, pulling on khaki pants and a long-sleeved black pullover. He brushes his hair and prepares to leave, but an impulse makes him stop to look in the drawer in his bedside table. The condoms and lube are still there, and the condoms aren't even expired, though that's more a testament to Beckett's paranoia than Rodney's success at getting laid. He's hopeful that will change tonight.

Dinner is long and boring; Rodney amuses himself by setting Brankin up to have to explain Earth concepts to Teyla and Ronon. Elizabeth and Sheppard hide their smiles and Julian earnestly tries to help. Rodney eats cookies and rubs Julian's knee with his own.

After dinner, Brankin requests that Julian join him, citing the need to go over a few cases before their return to Earth the next day. Rodney swings by the lab for a last check before returning to his room. He changes into sweatpants and a tee shirt and settles down on his bed with his laptop to review a few reports and to wait for Julian, telling himself he won't be terribly disappointed if he doesn't show. He laughs at himself a little when the soft knock at his door makes his heart start to pound. He answers the door.

"Sheppard?"

Sheppard steps in, still in the black pants and black sweater he'd worn at dinner. The door slides shut behind him, and Rodney steps back. "What's wrong? Why didn't you call on the comm? Is something happening?"

Sheppard holds his hand up, and that's when Rodney notices that he's licking his lips nervously.

"No emergency; I just wanted to talk to you."

"Oh," Rodney says, calming down. "About what?"

Sheppard shoves his hands into his pockets and looks at the floor, arousing Rodney's suspicion. Sheppard doesn't do nervous. "About Julian," Sheppard finally says. "About you and Julian." He looks up, and Rodney can see a flash of anger in his eyes, which sparks his own.

"What I do with Julian is none of your business," he snaps, tuning away.

Sheppard's hand on his shoulder stops him, spins him around. "You're trying to tell me that it's none of my business that you want to fuck a guy who just happens to look like me? Is that what you're telling me, Rodney?"

Rodney looks at Sheppard's flushed, unhappy face and feels his own temper flare. "Are we having this conversation now, Sheppard? You never seemed to want to have it before, and I can respect that, but you push me on this and you might hear a few things you'll wish you hadn't."

That takes Sheppard back a little, and his hand drops from Rodney's shoulder, but he doesn't move back. Rodney takes it as agreement and gets into Sheppard's personal space.

"Yes, I want to fuck Julian. And, yes, he looks like you. Younger, not so jaded, but like you." Rodney gives into the urge and pokes Sheppard in the chest with a finger. "You can do the math on this one - you don't want me; he does. End of story."

"I..." Sheppard says, his hands dropping to his sides. He looks down and then back up at Rodney, all the anger washing from his face. "Fuck. I'm jealous," he says, as if he's just figured it out for himself.

"Why?" Rodney says, hearing his voice going high and thready. "You're fucking straight!"

"I'm career military, Rodney."

"What does that mean?" Rodney wishes that he'd never opened the damn door, wishes that it had been Julian who'd come knocking. Sweet, uncomplicated Julian, with no military bullshit, no friendship bullshit - refreshingly bullshit-free for a Republican.

Sheppard's turning away, his head bowed, but Rodney's having exactly none of it. This time it's him who reaches out, bodily turning Sheppard toward him. "What does that mean?" he repeats, more softly this time.

"I'm not 'fucking straight,' Rodney; I'm fucking bi, and I haven't even thought about being with a man for eighteen years; at least, not until I met you." He looks up, and there's so much confusion and frustration in his eyes that Rodney actually pities him. The pity lasts for the half-second it takes Rodney to process what he's heard.

"Since you met me?" Rodney rants. "That was five years ago! You couldn't say anything? It would have killed you to put me out of my misery a couple of years ago when I was practically pining away for you?"

"Wait. There was pining?" Sheppard looks pole-axed, his mouth falling open.

Rodney's not buying it. "You aren't that stupid - nobody is. I've been in love with you for years, you jackass. Half the fucking base had it figured out before we'd been here eighteen months."

"But...but...but...if you're in lo...if you feel that way about me, what are you doing getting blowjobs from Julian Lodge?"

"It was a blowjob, not plural - at least, not yet, and how the hell do you know that?" Rodney's hands are flailing in the air, his voice rising and falling crazily.

Sheppard has the good grace to look sheepish. "I went looking for you, and I...heard."

"You heard." Rodney's voice is flat.

"And, uh, saw," John adds.

"You saw!" This time, Rodney's voice is the antithesis of flat, hitting several octaves within two words.

"Atlantis, well...madeawalltransparent," Sheppard mumbles.

"Did you just say that the city made a wall transparent?" Sheppard nods. "Because you told it to?"

"No." Sheppard shrugs. "Because I thought it."

Rodney holds up a hand, a single finger extended. "We're talking about this later - this mind-control voyeurism you and the city have going on. But not now."

"What now?" Sheppard asks.

"Now?" Rodney says, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Now you tell me what you want, Sheppard."

"I want you to call me John," he says, closing his eyes like the admission hurts.

"John," Rodney says softly, willing him to look up, to see what his simple request has wrought, to see the emotions that Rodney knows are written across his face, to see him utterly undone.

John looks, and he sees - and in seconds, they're kissing. It's nothing like kissing Julian - instead of Julian's compliance, Sheppard - John - takes charge, practically devouring Rodney's mouth, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and taking advantage of Rodney's gasp to slide his tongue inside.

The kiss goes on and on, and Rodney doesn't care. He manages to breathe through his nose, because he's not giving up John's mouth, not for a second. He's wanted this for so damn long, and Rodney's not stupid, not in the least. He's pretty sure that John's going to come to his senses any minute, that's he's going to remember that this is not something he does, that he's going to turn Rodney away on purpose, when he's been doing it unknowingly for years.

But, to his absolute shock, John doesn't pull away, he wraps his arms around Rodney and holds him close and kisses him like he'll never stop. When he does drag his mouth away, it doesn't stay gone long. John's teeth and lips close on his neck, and Rodney fists his hands into John's thick hair and groans out loud.

When John bites and sucks his way down to Rodney's collar, he can't keep the words in any longer. "Jesus, John. I've wanted this for so long - wanted you for so long." It takes him a minute to realize that John's muttering "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" into his neck.

"Don't be sorry," Rodney says. "You can be sorry later, when I'm going to give you hell for being such a moron. Right now you should take off your shirt."

John steps back and peels the soft black sweater up and off, and Rodney wastes no time in digging his fingers into the thick, dark hair on John's chest. There are a few silver hairs mixed in, and Rodney likes them. He also likes the slight softness of flesh at John's waist - so much less than his own, but endearing just the same. Rodney's fingers find a tight nipple, and John moans and drops his sweater onto the floor before lowering his hands to his belt buckle and kicking off his shoes.

Rodney slides both hands down John's chest and over his abdomen, scratching through the hair until he can close his fingers over John's and take charge of unbuckling, unbuttoning and unzipping. He has to laugh when he sees that John is wearing those familiar blue-striped boxers.

"I've had filthy fantasies involving these damn boxers for years, John. I kept seeing them poking up over the back of your pants," Rodney says, reaching into the back of John's trousers to squeeze his ass through the thin cotton.

"What kind of fantasies, Rodney? Did you want to rip them off me?"

"No," Rodney says, sliding to his knees and pushing John's pants to his ankles. "This." He leans forward and presses his mouth to the tiny wet spot forming on the cotton where it covers the tip of John's cock, blowing hot air through the boxers just to hear John make strangled groaning noises. He wets the cotton with his tongue and sucks, drawing in the slight salty taste of John's cock. Rodney smiles when he feels John's thighs tremble under his hands, and it just makes him suck harder before pulling back to lick along the length of John's cock under the increasingly damp fabric.

"Please, Rodney," John begs, and it's enough to make Rodney drag the boxers down before taking John's cock into his mouth and pushing down, down, down until his nose is pressed against the soft skin of John's belly, breathing him in.

"Please what?" Rodney teases, pulling off. It's kind of cruel, but he can't help himself. He's thrilled to be getting what he wants, but there's anger there, too. He's pissed at John and his stupid military sensibilities, at the wasted time, at the frustration and disappointment he's carried for years, thinking that he had no chance. The waste of it makes him madder than if John has just been straight or uninterested.

But John looks down at him, and touches his hair, and Rodney can feel John's fingers tremble, he can see everything in John's face - fear and longing and want and wonder.

"Anything," John says. "Anything you want."

That brings Rodney to his feet, drawing a noise of protest from John. Rodney kisses him hard. "Naked. Now," he says, pulling his shirt off. "Now. On the bed."

John wastes no time in kicking off his pants and boxers and socks, and he moves to the bed, all feline grace and long, lean body. He sits on the edge of the bed and looks at Rodney.

"Well?" John's smile is equal parts sly and happy, and Rodney only looks away from it when John's fingers move down to touch his own cock, curling around the base and stroking lightly upward.

Rodney undresses so fast he feels like a blur. Time slows down again when he's standing in front of John, who parts his knees to let Rodney stand between them, his hands coming up to bracket his hips, his mouth moving lightly along the trail of hair under his navel.

Rodney rests his hands on John's shoulder, cupping the muscle there and feeling the tension when John leans forward. "Suck me," he says. And John does - no tease, no preamble, just hot, wet suction. His head bobs down and Rodney can feel him learning the curve and shape with his tongue. John may be out of practice, but he knows what he's doing.

Rodney makes noises that aren't words - words usually require consonants - and they get higher in pitch when John laughs around the cock in his mouth. John seems amenable, so Rodney thrusts slow and shallow, reveling in the feel, the sight of his cock in John's mouth.

"Never thought I'd see...this," he gasps, and John pulls back, hard suction and nimble tongue all the way, until he can speak.

"You like watching me blow you?" John asks, his lips buzzing against the wet head of Rodney's dick.

"God, yes," Rodney says. "Better than the best porn."

John laughs and dips his head again, taking short strokes that make Rodney gasp and moan. He starts babbling when John's bottom teeth lightly tease the bundle of nerves at the base of the head of his cock.

After long minutes of merciless teasing, John pulls back, his lips swollen and wet. "Do you want to come in my mouth, Rodney?" he asks, glancing up through his eyelashes, criminally pretty.

"Yes," Rodney says, "but not this time. I want you to be inside me when I come."

John's eyes go wide at that, and he dives back down to take Rodney's cock all the way, swirling his tongue and sucking hard, pulling away almost immediately.

"Jesus Christ!" Rodney swears, almost overloading from the sensations. He curses again when he's unceremoniously pulled down onto the bed and John lands on top of him, rangy long limbs and hairy chest and stiff cock leaking a line of heat along his hip.

Rodney loses track for a while, trying to absorb all of the sensations - John's mouth on his, on his neck, on his chest. Teeth and tongue teasing his nipples to stiff peaks, John's long fingers running through his hair, touching his back and sides, squeezing his ass, curling around his cock in long slow strokes. He's lost in the sounds John makes - low chuckles and curses when Rodney arches against him; a sweet whimpering noise when Rodney's fingers cup his balls and tug and roll them lightly, and words. All the words that Rodney has waited years for - his name on John's tongue, gasps of oh and yes and more and please when Rodney finds all the sensitive places at John's neck and hip and belly and thigh.

When he's had all the teasing he can take, Rodney leans over to open the drawer in the bedside table and hands John lube and a condom. John gives them a startled look, then smiles down at Rodney.

"We're doing this," he says.

"Damn right we are," Rodney answers. "No more waiting."

John looks him right in the eye and stops smiling. "I really am sorry," he says, as earnest as he's ever been.

"And I may forgive you some day if you get with the program and fuck me." Rodney punctuates his request with a sharp upward grind that snugs his cock against John's hip almost painfully.

"I can do that," John says, and the smile is back - sweet and hot and joyful.

Rodney hears the snick of the lube's cap being opened and closes his eyes in anticipation. He keeps them shut and spreads his legs when John shimmies his hips and works his knees between Rodney's thighs. The first tentative touch of cool, slick fingers makes him clench his hands down hard on John's shoulders, and the feel of a fingertip slipping inside makes him hiss.

"You okay?" John asks, stilling.

"Oh, yeah," Rodney says. "Keep going."

John keeps going, maddeningly slow, little fluttering touches that open Rodney up millimeter by millimeter. With a single finger all the way in, he stops.

"More," Rodney grits out. "You're not hurting me."

"Good," John says, and he's sweating, tiny drops at his hairline, his golden skin sheening with it. He speeds up, and Rodney feels himself stretching and opening, more than ready for the second finger, groaning in protest when John pulls out for more lube before pushing back in.

"Please, John," Rodney begs.

"Just a little more," John says, and Rodney can hear the tightness in his voice, hear what the care and attention are costing him.

When the third finger goes in, Rodney freezes in place, trying desperately not to come. John gets it, and holds still, too. "Not yet, Rodney, not yet. Not yet," he chants.

They stay there, frozen, muscles locked and shaking, and Rodney takes a deep breath. When he releases it, John is breathing with him. After three breaths, the urgency of the need to come recedes a little and Rodney relaxes. John slowly slides his fingers out and leans down for a kiss.

"Are you ready?" he asks, and Rodney's ready. Really ready. So ready that he blindly feels around for the condom and rips it open when he finds it. He opens the lube and squeezes some into the tip of the rubber before rolling it onto John's cock.

"Cold," John whispers, shuddering.

"Sorry." Rodney slicks the outside of the condom with more lube, and John shudders again.

"It's okay." John stays propped above him, so Rodney tugs lightly on his cock, pulling him closer. John hooks one of Rodney's knees in the crook of his elbow, opening him up, and Rodney guides them together, arching his back to get to the best position.

"Do it," he says, and John presses forward, sliding in slow and easy.

Flat on his back with his leg braced against John's bicep, Rodney can barely move, but it's okay. John has him pinned down, and Rodney likes it - more than he thought he would. He pulls his free knee up and to the side, and the change of angle forces John's cock further into his ass. Rodney feels himself relax and John keeps pushing until they're sealed together, skin on skin.

"Oh, god - that's good," Rodney moans, because it is. It's the best thing he's felt in years. It's better than a charged ZPM, better than the initial step through a wormhole, better than those first hours on Atlantis when every moment was a new discovery and there was no such thing as Wraith.

"Yeah," John says, voice low and tight. "It's good. Can I...?"

Rodney answers with as much of a thrust of hips as he can manage, and it's enough to get John moving, slow and steady, sliding deep with every stroke, sliding out as far as he can and teasing Rodney with short jabs against his sweet spot. Rodney makes incoherent noises and claws at John's back and ass.

Rodney knows it won't last - he's way too close to the edge, and he's wanted this for so damn long. It's all right, though - everything points to this being a beginning, not an end, and Rodney intends to take John apart, to find out every little thing that makes him moan or gasp or cry out. He's planning the best way to start when a John's rhythm changes, the gentle slide becoming faster, harder. Rodney snaps back into the moment just in time to see John's eyes go dark and focused as he pulls Rodney's leg up onto his shoulder, bends his back and starts fucking.

It's rough and hard and violent and incredible. Rodney digs both of his hands into the tight muscles of John's back and meets him stroke for stroke as best he can. He tilts his hips up and suddenly John is hitting his prostate dead-on every time.

"John, I'm gonna..." He doesn't even get the word out when he's coming hard against the hot skin of John's belly. With a sharp groan, John is right there with him, his cock swelling and pulsing inside Rodney.

They ride it out, motions slowing to a gentle rocking, Rodney's leg slipping back down onto the bed like a string-cut puppet. John breathes hard above him but doesn't stop moving, drawing every sensation possible out of both of them with slow shifts of his hips. Finally, John stops and pulls away slowly. Rodney stays where he is - blessed-out and fucked-out on his bed - while John disposes of the condom and mops them both up with a discarded shirt.

When he's finished, John shoves Rodney over and curls tight against his side, pressing his sweaty face to Rodney's equally sweaty shoulder, kissing the side of his neck. Rodney holds on.

Julian is unsure. It doesn't happen often, but then, neither does the situation in which he finds himself. Julian rarely travels to galaxies that aren't the Milky Way. Julian rarely has assignations with men. Julian is rarely faced with decisions that he hasn't researched, investigated, finessed and conquered before he makes a choice. Julian rarely runs on instinct or emotion. Julian listens to his head, not parts of his anatomy that make their homes further...south.

However, Julian muses, if one were to have an...indiscretion, one should do it as far away as possible from the workplace. He's sure that someone much cruder than he would phrase it as "don't shit where you eat," and Atlantis is a long, long way from the ground floor cafeteria at the Court. And Rodney McKay just might be worth the chance. Julian's not an idiot; he knows nothing can come of it, but it would be nice to have a little something for himself, a memory to take out and turn over and over on the nights when he's alone. Once he leaves the Court, Julian's life will begin anew - he'll be highly sought-after; he's already got offer letters from three prestigious New York and DC firms. And, despite the cachet of a Supreme Court clerkship, he'll still have to start out as an associate, and that means 90-hour work weeks and no social life for the foreseeable future.

So Julian makes a choice, and, straightening his bowtie, heads to the transporter.

At the quiet knock on the door, Rodney wakes. He scrambles for a pair of boxers and rushes to the door, trying not to wake John.

"Julian."

"Rodney. May I come in?"

Rodney has no idea what he looks like, but it can't be good. However, there's not a real choice, so he pulls Julian inside and closes the door, thinking the lights on to an ambient glow.

"So," he says, hands twisting nervously.

"So..." Julian echoes. "You didn't wait for me, then?"

Rodney can't really think of what to say. This situation has never actually come up for him before. "I...um...it's not what you think," he stammers.

Julian smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "You smell like sex and have..." fingers brush the side of Rodney's head, then pull back, rubbing together. "Lube in your hair. What am I supposed to think?"

They're looking at each other when John speaks from the doorway. "Hey, Julian."

Julian and Rodney both turn to look at him, slouched in the bedroom doorway , wearing nothing but blue-striped boxers, a hickey over his collarbone and towering bedhead.

"Colonel Sheppard," Julian says.

"I...uh...I don't know what to say," Rodney says, looking back and forth between them.

Julian shrugs, and Rodney can see the disappointment in his face. That's a first - he can't ever remember anyone being upset because they missed out on Rodney McKay before.

"I guess I should..." Julian says, turning back toward the door.

Rodney automatically reaches out to him, his hand wrapping snugly around Julian's bicep, feeling the tense muscle under wool and cotton. "Julian," he says. "I didn't know John was...I mean, I didn't plan this."

"I know," Julian says, his eyes flicking from John to Rodney and back, his mouth twisting into a wry grin. "But your timing sucks - at least for me."

A small movement from the doorway draws both their attention, and they watch as John resettles into his slouch, one hand coming up to rest on the waistband of his boxers where it clings precariously to his hipbone.

John gives Julian a speculative look, then turns it on Rodney. "Why don't you invite Julian to join us?" He says it like it's normal, like he's talking about lunch, not...

"Are you talking about sex?" Rodney's voice goes high at the end of the word.

Julian looks shocked. John crosses his arms over his chest.

"May I ask you a question?" he says to Julian. At his nod, John continues. "On Earth, you're straight, right?"

Julian nods.

"And you came here for Rodney, right?"

Julian nods again.

"Would I be a deal-breaker?" John tilts his head as he waits for an answer.

Julian shakes his head.

"But, but...you were jealous!" Rodney crosses the room to John, his face turning red.

John lays a hand on his back and rubs softly. "You want him, don't you?" It's not much of a question - Rodney's already admitted as much.

"Yeah," Rodney says, closing his eyes. "You know I do." And he does, god help him, he still does.

John inclines his head toward Julian, who's looking thoughtful. "I could go there," he says.

Rodney thinks about exactly what John would look like with Julian's dick in his mouth; what they would look like kissing, and his cock gets hard so fast it almost hurts. John reaches down and runs the backs of his fingers up the length of it over the thin cotton of the boxers.

Julian takes three steps toward them, moving so that Rodney is between himself and John. His hand joins John's on Rodney's cock, caressing them both. "I'm in," he says, his voice husky.

"Be sure," Rodney says. Pushing his hips forward, trying to get more friction.

"What happens in Atlantis stays in Atlantis," John says, leaning in to nuzzle at Julian's neck.

"I think I'm overdressed," Julian says.

John smiles and pulls them both into the bedroom. Stopping them at the foot of the bed, he disengages and kicks off his boxers before sliding onto the mattress. He props himself up on the pillow and wraps the fingers of one hand lightly around his hardening cock.

Rodney gives him a long look, but he doesn't see any stress or worry, just lust and affection, and those are both things he can work with. He turns to Julian, who is flushed and breathing a little heavily. "Tell me you're sure," he says.

"I'm sure." Julian leans in and Rodney takes his mouth in a soft kiss, again marveling at the differences between the two men. The two men he's going to have sex with. At the same time. Right now.

That thought is enough to make him kiss Julian harder, enough to set his hands into motion, sliding Julian's jacket off his arms. Rodney breaks the kiss long enough to hang the jacket carefully over his desk chair before turning back to untuck Julian's crisp, white dress shirt. When he reaches Julian's throat, he deftly unties the bowtie and tosses it onto the desk. Julian holds up his hands and watches raptly as first one and then the other cufflink is undone.

Rodney puts the cufflinks onto the desk and turns his head to look at John. Who is stroking his cock with slow, easy strokes and watching the two of them with hazy, intent eyes. Rodney gives him a small smile and turns Julian so that he's facing the bed. Rodney strips off the shirt and hangs it carefully before pulling Julian's undershirt off, exposing his chest to John. Rodney runs his hands up Julian's abdomen to his chest, his fingers seeking the firm points of nipples. John mirrors the gesture with his free hand, and it's seriously hot.

"Shoes," Rodney whispers into Julian's ear, and Julian complies, stepping out of his loafers. Rodney unbuckles his belt, then unbuttons and unzips his trousers, kneeling down to strip them to the floor. While he's down there, he pulls off Julian's socks, dropping soft kisses onto hairy calves and a silk-covered buttock.

"All the way," John says from the bed, and Rodney eases Julian's boxers over his jutting erection and down and off. He tosses the shorts to the side and gets both hands onto Julian's ass, squeezing, which makes Julian throw his head back and moan. Rodney leans in and gently bites the fullness of one cheek, holding flesh between his teeth and shaking his head playfully.

Julian gasps again, and Rodney peers around his hip to see that John has crawled down to the end of the bed and has Julian's cock in his hand. Rodney pulls himself to his feet and wraps his arms around Julian's waist, letting one hand rest on Julian's belly, reaching the other out to touch John's face. John leans into the touch, then closer, moving to kiss Rodney over Julian's shoulder.

"Kiss him," Rodney whispers against John's lips. "I want to see."

John kisses Rodney first, slow and dirty, and then he pulls back to look at Julian. Rodney slips away and to the side, thinking that he night be seeing what John saw when Atlantis made a wall transparent - and isn't that a mindfuck? - earlier. John and Julian look at each other for a moment, then Julian nods, as if giving permission for the kiss. Which is funny, because John's been stroking his cock the whole time.

Finally, finally John's hand comes up to cup Julian's jaw and they kiss. Rodney watches, silently comparing them to one another. They do look alike - they're of a height, and are built similarly. Julian is heavier, softer - not fleshy, just not as bone-thin as John, who is all muscle and sinew and scar tissue. Julian's face is softer, too - rounder at chin and cheek, making him look young and sweet. The hair is similar, though it's obvious that Julian takes great care to calm his down and John has long ago given up any efforts in that area, keeping his short and letting the cowlicks go mad. Rodney thinks that Julian is everything John could have been, if things were different; it also strikes him that John is everything that Julian might yet become.

Either way, it's hot seeing Julian give it up to John so easily, so compliantly. John takes it, too - kissing Julian deeply, using the hand on his jaw to adjust the position to his liking, using his hand on Julian's cock to urge him closer.

Rodney steps in close and slides a hand around each of their waists - John's hipbones are sharp where Julian's are more padded, but they both have great asses - small and tight and muscular. He takes turns kissing their necks and jaws and shoulders while John and Julian kiss, lost in the slow slide of his lips over skin.

"Rodney, you're too dressed," John complains, and he obviously does something good with his hand, because Julian moans and buries his head in his shoulder.

Rodney steps back to push his boxers off and away. "How are we doing this?" he asks.

John smiles and shrugs the shoulder that Julian's not leaning heavily on. "However you want," he says softly.

"Julian?" Rodney leans in to kiss the back of his neck. "What do you want?"

Julian doesn't pick up his head, so his voice is muffled. "I want you to fuck me while I suck Colonel Sheppard's cock."

John and Rodney share a look, stunned at Julian's forthrightness, and then John laughs. "If we're going to do that, Julian, I think you should call me John."

Julian finally pulls his head off of John's shoulder, nodding frantically despite the bright blush staining his cheeks. "Okay, John," he says. "Can we do that now?"

Rodney answers the question by shoving both John and Julian toward the bed. John moves to the top, pushing the pillows to the floor. Julian goes to his hands and knees in the center of the bed, his head hanging down, his chest heaving. His cock is flat up against his belly and wet at the tip.

John leans down to kiss him again while Rodney rummages in the bedside drawer for lube and a condom. He lays them on the bed and eases into position on his knees behind Julian, running his fingers over his hips and ass, reaching under to hold his balls and to tease the head of his cock, making Julian moan into John's mouth. He watches avidly as John breaks the kiss and straightens up, guiding Julian's head down to his cock. Rodney can see it on John's face when Julian sucks him in.

Kissing the small of Julian's back, Rodney gets the lube open, slicking his fingers generously. Just touching Julian's hole lightly makes him do something that makes John gasp, and Rodney plays, loving how recursive it all is, filtering touches and reactions through Julian to John. When he eases his fingertip inside, John mutters, "oh, god - teeth," but not in a bad way.

Julian is incredibly tight - tighter than anything Rodney's ever felt. From the "straight on Earth" discussion, Rodney figures that Julian doesn't do this very much, or hasn't for a very long time, so he slows way down, taking what feels like forever and half a tube of lube just to get one finger inside. He finds Julian's prostate and touches it lightly, causing a full-body shudder and a yelp from John.

Rodney slicks his other hand sloppily, then reaches around to grab Julian's cock. Julian makes frantic sounds around the dick in his mouth. "Easy," Rodney says. "I'll never get in you if you don't relax first. Let me do this."

Julian relaxes a tiny bit in acquiescence, and Rodney sets a fast pace, stripping Julian's cock and pressing lightly on his prostate. When he looks up, Julian has let John's cock slip from his mouth and has both arms wrapped around his lean waist, his face pressed firmly into John's abdomen as he rocks back and forth in time to Rodney's movements. John's hands are in Julian's hair, but his eyes are on Rodney, who gives him a leering smile as he does something with both hands that makes Julian cry out and come hard over his hand.

While Julian is still locked in his orgasm, Rodney slips a second finger into his twitching and clenching ass, his other hand sliding down to encircle the base of Julian's cock, keeping him hard.

John sees what he's doing and smiles. "Youth," he says, shrugging.

"Wasted on the young," Rodney answers.

"Fuck you both," Julian slurs, getting his hands back onto the bed, his body trembling.

"Other way around," Rodney says. "Suck him."

Julian does what he's told, and Rodney speeds his pace, easing a third finger into Julian's now-relaxed body. Julian and John moan together, and Rodney leans forward over Julian's back. John meets him halfway for a scorching kiss.

"Fuck me," Julian interrupts, and Rodney pulls away from John's mouth long enough to lean down and bite his back.

"Pushy bottom," he complains. Julian only moans in answer.

"Fuck him," John says.

Rodney pulls his fingers out and gets himself ready. When he turns back, John has Julian's head in his hands and is fucking into his mouth with careful strokes. Rodney slides his fingers back into Julian's ass, just to make sure. Julian is open and relaxed, so Rodney uses his slick fingers to guide the head of his cock inside, making Julian cry out around John's cock.

Rodney freezes, and John looks down at Julian's face. "You okay?" he asks. Even Rodney can see Julian's frantic nods, so he pushes forward into incredible heat and tightness, sliding all the way in, one slow inch at a time. He stops when he's all the way in, wanting to give Julian time to adjust, and he notices that they're all three locked in place, time standing still.

Then, as if they've planned it, Rodney and John start moving, slowly and gently, in perfect opposition. Rodney pulls out and John pushes in, rocking Julian's body between them. Julian doesn't move, he just lets them find the perfect rhythm, and the only sounds are of their harsh breathing.

Rodney can barely process everything that's going through his head - John! Julian! Threesome! - but he feels as if he's touching John, fucking John, and it makes him feel like he's being a jerk to Julian - who, technically, was there first. But, Julian is writhing and moaning between them like he's getting exactly what he wants, so Rodney concentrates on finding the perfect angle, on giving Julian everything he's got. He knows he's hitting the perfect spot when John groans and closes his eyes.

"I'm close," John grits out, and Rodney reacts by fucking harder, Julian by lifting one hand from the bed to cradle John's balls. Rodney watches raptly as John comes in Julian's mouth, his face opening up with pleasure and relief. When he's done, John pulls away before getting his hands under Julian's arms to tug him upright without pulling him off Rodney's cock. John moves in, letting Julian drape himself against his chest, pinning Julian between them. The change of angle pushes Rodney one step closer to the edge, and he can feel it when John starts jerking Julian off.

Rodney kisses John, and it's all he needs. His orgasm hurtles up through him, through his stuttering hips, taking all coherent thought with it. John does something fast and slick and dirty and Julian's coming, too - the clench of his body drawing Rodney's orgasm out longer and longer.

When it ends, they hang there like a house of cards, each held up by the other. Rodney moves first, shuffling backward on his knees and moving unsteadily to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. He comes back with a damp cloth and John has lowered Julian to the bed, letting him rest against his chest while he catches his breath. Rodney cleans them both up in turn, pushing and pulling the come-streaked blanket out from under them. Julian recovers enough to let John get him under the sheet, and Rodney inserts himself into the small amount of space on John's other side, nosing into his neck.

John's skin is warm and soft, and Rodney spends long minutes just breathing him in, still terribly unsure how this all happened - how two days ago he was alone and now he's got this embarrassment of riches in his bed.

He feels a toe stroke down the line of his shin, and when he raises his head, Julian is looking at him over John's chest and John is asleep, his eyes shifting rapidly under his eyelids.

"Hey," Julian whispers, smiling sweetly.

Rodney smiles back and tilts his head toward the living room. They slip out of bed, easing away from John and making sure he's tucked in before moving into the other room. Rodney slides into the corner of the sofa and pulls Julian down to nestle between his legs. Julian settles against his chest and drags the folded blanket off the back of the couch to cover them.

"Thank you," Julian says, rolling his head against Rodney's shoulder.

Rodney kisses his temple. "My pleasure."

"So, you and the Colonel? Is that new?"

Rodney laughs quietly. "Brand new. He was jealous."

"Don't sound so shocked," Julian chides.

Rodney doesn't have an answer for that. "It has to stay secret," he says instead.

Julian makes a humming noise. "Don't Ask, Don't Tell won't last forever," he says. "It'll come to the Court in the next couple of years, and there's a good chance it could be overturned."

"It's okay," Rodney says. "We'll be okay." He kisses Julian's neck again, tasting salt and the sweetness of Julian's skin. "How about you?"

"I'll be fine," Julian says. "I'm not going to run out to join the Log Cabin Republicans, though."

"What are the Log Cabin Republicans?"

"Gay Republicans," Julian answers.

"They have gay Republicans?" Rodney asks, and Julian twists around to give him a look. "They have openly gay Republicans?" Rodney amends.

"Yeah," Julian says. He presses his lips to Rodney's neck, then wriggles away. "I should go," he says.

Rodney doesn't answer, he just stands up and helps Julian dress, repeating the motions of the morning - dressing Julian back up in his armor. When he's done with the tie and jacket, he pulls Julian in and holds him close.

Julian hugs back, then kisses Rodney gently. "I'll miss you," he says.

Rodney nods and walks him to the door, using the life signs detector to make sure the coast is clear. Before he opens the door, he turns Julian and presses their foreheads together in the Athosian sign of respect and affection. As Julian leaves, he gives Rodney a small wave.

John snuffles and curls into him as he climbs into the bed, and Rodney is asleep before his head hits the pillow.

John, Elizabeth and Rodney watch as the wormhole closes behind Julian and Chief Justice Brankin.

Elizabeth turns to Rodney. "See?" she says, smiling. "That wasn't so bad. We'll make a diplomat out of you yet."

Rodney snorts. "No, thanks." As he turns to leave, he looks at John. "Well?" he snaps impatiently.

John rolls his eyes at Elizabeth and falls into step beside him.