TITLE: The (Dr.) Manhattan Project
SUMMARY: John gives Rodney a Valentine's Day present... and things don't turn out quite how he expected. Pretty much light-hearted PWP.
PAIRING: John Sheppard/Rodney McKay
WORD COUNT: ~3,000
Disclaimer: Not mine! I only profit from it intangibly!
NOTES: For sheafrotherdon 's someecards.com flirting/friendship/thinking of you fest
Thank you to my lovely betas, bittenbird and sasha_feather !! Your cheerleading and carrots made this possible!
No, I didn't come up with the Dr. Manhattan thing all by myself...
This is my first fic! Comments are love!
John, pre-coffee, silently slid his mug across the table, and raised an eyebrow at Rodney's inhalation of its contents.
"Something the matter?"
Rodney sighed theatrically. "If you must know... I didn't sleep well."
"Oh? What's kept you up?" John stretched luxuriously, relishing the easy pull of muscles warm from his morning run.
"Don't you pay attention to the date, Colonel?"
"Um... President's Day was on Monday? I know tax season is coming up... though come to think of it, those probably don't matter to you..."
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Saturday! This past weekend!"
John stared at him blankly. "Torren's half-birthday?"
"No! VALENTINE'S DAY, you idiot. Even Zelenka and Miko got cards from Woolsey, who conveniently forgot me, and I couldn't help but notice the ridiculous spray of roses Amelia had next to the DHD controls, which are definitely NOT regulation, I mean, those crystals are delicate and anyone could just knock the vase over and we'd be down to ONE functioning gate on this poor doomed rock of a planet!"
"ROD-ney. I guess nobody thought you'd care about this stuff. You're always bitching about holidays."
"Yes, well, that was BEFORE I had the hottest boyfriend in two galaxies who can't be bothered to even send me some chocolate. I mean, chocolate! Who could say no to that?"
"You could. And you have. I tried to give you those truffles on Christmas and you told me I was cheap for getting Russell Stover. You know, it's not like we've got a thriving local chocolatier in the city, and the SGC won't let us do mail orders out here, so... flowers were hard to pull off."
"Ronon swam all the way to
"Well, why couldn't you make a trip to... wait, Ronon fought a shark?" Rodney's eyes bugged.
"No, idiot, I flew him over in a jumper. Even Ronon would have trouble making that trip--it's like twenty miles to the shore! I didn't get you flowers because I know you're not a flowers kinda guy. I figured I could just do something nice for you next time we have sex." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"Yes, yes, sex is nice, but the point is a public display of superiority. As in, look, my boyfriend is nicer than yours."
"Well, you didn't get me any flowers, Rodney. I don't think you've got a leg to stand on, here."
"No, but I did adjust the environmental controls to fluctuate subtly all over the city so you'd get warm enough to go around in just a t-shirt and then get cold enough for your nipples to become erect."
"You have to admit, it's an effective strategy for rubbing into everyone's faces how incredibly attractive you are."
"Rodney, you can't have it both ways. Either I'm the trophy wife or I'm the boyfriend in the doghouse. If it's the first, then I should be off the hook for the flowers. Also I'm... not sure if I'm flattered or disturbed by your attempts to flaunt me."
"Yes, and I asked Atlantis to change the lighting to a softer, subtly warm backlit glow to emphasize your ridiculous hair. And also? Fuck you. You could have done something." He downed the last swill of coffee and stomped out of the mess.
One of the best things about being back on Earth was the internet. John had forgotten how much he missed fark.com and ESPN.com. Not to mention the porn. And there was something incredibly addictive about this new facebook thing, through which he had caught up on the lives of half of his kindergarten class and two ex-lovers, one of whom was now married with a kid on the way.
He also realized that he wore the same expression of intense concentration whether he was writing up mission reports or trying in vain to beat Jeannie Miller at Lexulous, so he figured either way he looked like he was getting something done, and he might as well be improving his vocabulary while he was at it.
He was in the middle of playing a six-letter triple word score when his inbox pinged. He opened the email and followed the link:
From: Jennifer <email@example.com>
To: John <firstname.lastname@example.org>
Jennifer (email@example.com) has sent you an ecard from someecards.com!
"Hope you boys had a good weekend! Thanks for the flowers, now the medical staff have a pool going as to who my secret admirer is. I'll never tell."
John grinned. Things with Keller were still a little awkward, but she had that classic friendly Midwestern response to everything, and if nothing else the flowers were a simple appreciation for everything.
He fondly remembered that drunken night in the Castro after they had saved the galaxy yet again, when Ronon was getting hit on left and right for his leathers and Keller had bought three rounds of tequila for herself, John, and Rodney before finally giving her inebriated boyfriend a gentle shove in John's direction, eyes twinkling diabolically at John's shocked expression. She had sauntered off to the bar and flirted shamelessly with a group of transmen until late in the evening, finding Rodney passed out in John's arms while the colonel held him and stroked his hair, wearing a bemused expression of contentment.
He spent a few minutes surfing the website, suppressing undignified giggles until his inbox pinged again:
From: Dr. Rodney McKay, Ph.D, Ph.D <firstname.lastname@example.org>
To: Lt. Col. John Sheppard <email@example.com>
Don't think I'm not monitoring your internet use. Have you done ANY work at all this morning? If you're going to waste your time, you might as well do something worthwhile with it, like looking over these new proofs Jeannie sent. If either of you spent half as much time doing real work as you do squandering your mental faculties and SGC resources on stupid English major games, we would have found a new power source and gotten the city back to Pegasus by now. Just because we're not under quite-as-constant threat from utter annihilation doesn't mean you get to kick back and smell the roses (Amelia's, obviously, since I am curiously rose-deficient).
Your quarters tonight?
John rolled his eyes and sent Rodney an ecard out of sheer spite:
He then gave in to his curiosity and opened Jeannie's proof.
Twelve hours and seven cups of coffee later, he tore himself away from the math, scrubbed at his eyes, leaned back from his desk and gave an enormous, bone-cracking stretch, which morphed into a startled jerk toward his holster when he saw Rodney leaning against the doorjamb, staring intensely at him.
"If you're not careful, you'll turn into me, you know."
"Jesus, McKay, don't you knock? How long have you been standing there?"
"You looked like you were on to something. I know you don't multitask as well as I do, and I didn't want to interrupt. Plus," he added, sloping into the room, "you're kind of hot when you're doing equations. You whisper to yourself, you know. Sexy. Or insane. Whatever." He came around behind John's chair, deliberately not touching him while he scanned John's corrections, saved them, and closed the laptop with a soft click. John suddenly realized they wouldn't be making it back to his quarters.
"Rodney, you are such an asshole." John smirked, deliberately rolling his chair back and swiveling to face Rodney, thighs relaxing open.
"Speaking of which, I think it's about time you took your pants off," Rodney gritted. John stared smugly at Rodney's crotch, watching as the shadows in the fabric shifted as his cock began to lengthen.
"Haven't you heard of foreplay? Jesus, McKay.' John fumbled open the fly of Rodney's pants, wriggling away from Rodney's insistent tugging on the waistband of his BDU's. He fell forward onto his knees, licking his lips and glaring up at McKay with a dangerous smile quirking his lips. He freed McKay's cock and just knelt there, breathing on it, feeling his cheeks flush at the scent of sweat and the hitch in McKay's breath. He pressed his shoulder gently against McKay's thigh, shifting him so his weight was taken by John's desk.
"John..." Rodney's hands knit themselves gently through John's hair, spiking it up. John bent his head, pressing it against Rodney's thigh, feeling the hard rectangle of the iPhone in his pocket against his ear. He ran his fingernails down Rodney's quads, the muscles shuddering through his pants.
"So, about that Valentine's Day present..." John murmured, pressing quick kisses to Rodney's cock. "Have you decided what you want?"
"Oh God! You were serious!" McKay's voice cracked a little on the last word.
"Well, yeah. I can't have you going around bitching about what an awful boyfriend I am." John nuzzled into the rucks of Rodney's underwear. " So? Requests?" He mumbled, nibbling playfully at Rodney's pubic hair and tugging his pants down to his ankles. "Favorite
"I... just kiss me already?" Rodney's pupils were huge, transfixed on John's face as he rose sinuously to plant a chaste kiss on his lips.
When Rodney leaned in for more, John pulled back. "Nope. Not until you name your present." He ignored Rodney's agonized whimper, murmuring "My God, McKay, I've never known you to be at such a loss for words! You'd better start talking, or I'm going to start guessing." He reached down and tweaked Rodney's balls, eliciting an unbecoming squeak.
"Alright, alright, Lieutenant Colonel de Sade!" He bit his lip. "Look. It's not kinky or anything, well, I suppose it would be if you asked my Aunt Phyllis, but.” He coughed, his flush darkening slightly into a deep blush. “I want to try it. I want... you to fuck me. I mean, well, I'm in a gay relationship now, having ridiculously hot gay sex with my ridiculously hot boyfriend, and so far it's been some unbelievably good blow jobs and two unforgettable nights with me fucking you through the mattress. And the way you look at me when I'm inside you and you're just about to come... it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. And I want to know what it feels like." His mouth sloped to the side. "Sorry. But that's... that's my request."
John licked his lips. "So, did you bring any lube?"
"What am I, your personal drugstore? I didn't expect to end up pantsless against your desk... well, okay maybe I could have seen that coming," he amended when he saw John's quirked eyebrow.
"Lucky for you I planned ahead." John reached down and pulled the bottom drawer of his desk open, pulling a stack of files off the top to reveal an impressive collection of sex toys. Rodney glimpsed some leather straps, a gag, some DVDs, a pair of handcuffs, a vibrating egg, and---was that a double-sided dildo??--before John plucked a bottle of lube and a handful of condoms out and shut the drawer. He held up the fistful of Trojans. "Flavored, ribbed, or warm sensation? I gotta admit, I'm leaning toward the latter."
Rodney grabbed a condom at random, squinted at it, and carefully tore it open, hands shaking slightly. John kissed him roughly, biting his lower lip and stroking Rodney's cock with his slick hand. "Not helping!" Rodney yelped, gasping into John's mouth and fumbling with sudden urgency at his fly. "Oh, God, I love this part," he muttered as John's cock fell into his hands, velvety and nearly hard, darkening as he gripped it.
The first condom ripped when Rodney tried to roll it on a bit too enthusiastically, and the second turned out to be a lurid shade of blue, complete with the chemical tang of blue raspberry. "I'm losing my anal virginity to Dr. Manhattan!" Rodney moaned.
John grinned. "I was thinking more along the lines of The Beast..."
"You're certainly hairy enough."
"Yeah, well, at least he's not radioactive," John purred, tightening his fist around the base of Rodney's shaft. "Now, look," he husked, grabbing Rodney's wrists and pulling his grabby hands away from John's cock. "I'm going to go slowly, but it'll still hurt, and I know how much you love to complain. So all you have to do is say the safeword, and I'll stop." He pulled Rodney's orange fleece and tshirt off, folding them and setting them over the edge of the desk. Rodney unbuttoned his shirt and pulled John against him, and moaned as John's hand opened to grab both cocks, the slick rubber of the condom warming alarmingly with the friction of his steady grip.
John chuckled low in his chest. He rubbed his perpetual five o'clock shadow against Rodney's jaw as he yanked him closer and whispered, "Your safeword is '
John began to deliberately rock his fingers into Rodney, wiggling around until he found his prostate and Rodney gave a startled gasp. He turned Rodney and pushed him down over the desk, finding just the right angle. "Fuck, Sheppard. Yes, oh!... my... OW!" Rodney squealed as John breached him with a third finger. He whimpered as John ran his other hand comfortingly over the fine hair of his ass. "No, God, okay, keep going."
"McKay," John bent over Rodney and nibbed briefly down his spine. He felt Rodney shudder. "You've got to relax. I've got you, I'm not letting go." He felt his cock twitch impatiently, the sticky condom losing its chemical heat. After a moment of stillness, he started to move his hand again with agonizing slowness. Rodney clenched the edge of the table and pushed back into him, muttering a steady stream of invective under his heavy panting.
"Fuck me, you are gorgeous." His fingers twisted, tacky with lube and suddenly desperate to feel Rodney lose control. He stared at the broad curve of McKay's back, feeling momentary vertigo as his fingers reached deeper and his own muscles clenched at the somatic memory of McKay's weight, his cock buried in him and his blue eyes boring hungrily into John's. He panted and pressed his body against Rodney’s, rocking his hips, his ears roaring as he hurtled toward orgasm.
"Goddamnit!" John grabbed at his cock in horror, the condom full of come and hanging slightly off the head.
"What? What happened? Oh GOD, yes exactly right THERE!" Rodney gasped as John inadvertently twisted the fingers buried in his ass.
"Nevermind, fuck!" John swore, his right hand hitting a rough rhythm, his fingers aching as Rodney tightened with pleasure. He reached his left hand around and jerked Rodney's cock with that special twist, Rodney's yell echoing in the high-ceiling of the office as he came over John's hand and, no doubt, the underside of his desk.
They collapsed for a moment, recovering their breath, Rodney's inner muscles contracting pleasantly, then painfully, against his cramped fingers. He pulled them slowly out, wiping them off with Rodney's shirt and slumping over the desk next to him.
"Sorry. I got to thinking about you fucking me, and then, well... I was done." He reached down, stripped the condom off, and wiped both of them off with the shirt before tossing the whole mess on the ground.
Rodney grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him in for a deep, slow kiss. "That... was fucking hot."
John's mouth quirked, and he reached down to hold Rodney's softening cock for a fond moment. "Yeah it was. We'll have to try it again tomorrow. I keep my promises. " He straightened sinuously, pulling at Rodney come up off the desk.
John grinned evilly and growled, "the world will look up and scream ‘save us!’, and I’ll say... no!"
"Oh my God, I am regretting ever introducing you to Alan Moore!"
John laughed, kissed him, and tossed him his pants.
The next morning John sent Rodney an ecard:
In the body of the message, he enclosed the final calculations for Jeannie's proof, and a confirmation link for a hotel reservation at the
He was grinning so much it hardly fazed him when Teyla coughed politely at the forgotten, lube-encrusted t-shirt on the floor by his desk.