Everything You Could Imagine

by rivier

Fandom: Stargate Atlantis

Pairing: John/Rodney

Words: 3161

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: None apply
Notes: An episode tag for Home

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"Is all this for recreation?"

"Yeah – I got pretty much everything you could imagine, don’t I?"

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"So, what exactly happened in your dream?" McKay said lightly. "I mean, imaginary bachelor pad, beer, Teyla, and a bunch of dead people. What the hell kind of party was your head throwing?"

They were back in Atlantis, out on a quiet balcony near the jumper bay. It had taken a sustained onslaught on the mess hall, but McKay had finally decided that he'd refuelled himself sufficiently to make up for the fourteen-hour fast.

When Sheppard had suggested they needed to walk off the cobwebs, McKay had seemed happy enough to join him. Maybe he still felt like Sheppard felt: stiff, chilly, confused. As if he was still breathing that strange, cold fog - breathing in the entities, into his lungs, right inside his head, snooping about...

Major Sheppard seemed uniquely capable of manipulating his own fabricated reality.

He shivered, even though the balcony was a sun-trap, and sighed.

"Well, yeah. There was the house, just like something out of GQ. Teyla had, uh, these very sexy clothes all of a sudden..."

He watched McKay's eyebrows lift.

"There was beer, girls in bikinis, Ford with pizzas..."

And then there was you, Rodney.

What the hell was he supposed to say?

When Dex and Mitch had shown up, there hadn't been any more scope for kidding himself. Which hadn't stopped that last insistent little idea uncoiling in his mind, pushing restlessly, until he'd grinned at Teyla and said "Bathroom break," and headed for the door...

It's the perfect bathroom, of course, white limestone and blue-white spotlights and black glass on the walls.

And Rodney McKay, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, scribbling equations over the glass with a white marker.

"Hey Rodney," he says, trying to keep it casual. Under the jeans, he's commando. Just watching Rodney's hand dancing over the glass wall is making him hard.

"You took your time," Rodney says, but he's smiling as he stands up, capping the marker pen.

"Uh..." Rodney is wearing a black shirt and chinos and he looks despicably hot. Sheppard licks his lips. "Didn't know you were in here. How did you get in?"

Rodney nods to one side. "Bathroom window. So, I've had a while to think about what needs to happen now..."

He moves forward. Sheppard stays still, closing his eyes at the last minute, because Rodney's smile isn't right and it's distracting him. He sighs as Rodney presses in close, running one hand confidently over his ass and then round, squeezing the bulge in Sheppard's jeans.

"Not planning on wasting any time, right John? Seems like a good idea to me..."

He presses in to close his lips over Sheppard's, as his hand eases Sheppard's fly down, and he's kissing, murmuring some vague approval as his fingers close around Sheppard's hard cock...

It's hot, horny, sexy, like a dream. And completely wrong.

Sheppard sighs, leaning back, breaking the strange kiss. Rodney is watching him with heavy-lidded eyes.

"Rodney? Look, there's just one thing. Would you, would you mind going back out of the window? Gimme a minute, then come back in, okay?"

Rodney shrugs. "Well, uh, kinky, but if that's what it takes to get you off, Major - " He lets go, walks briskly to the window, and climbs straight out, giving Sheppard an excellent view of his ass, and at least that looks like Rodney's ass, something he's studied in painstaking detail for months back on Atlantis, and that thought cheers him up.

He sighs, composing his thoughts. Sixty seconds later, there's a light tap at the window. He opens it, and Rodney is there on the ledge, now wearing jeans and a t-shirt that says generic humanoid carbon unit, and a bemused expression.

He manages to get the "Uh, Major -?" out before Sheppard grabs the front of the shirt and more or less hauls him in. Amazingly, the whole chaotic movement somehow ends up with Sheppard now sitting on the edge of the bath, and Rodney on his knees between Sheppard's legs.

Neat.

Rodney has his hands on Sheppard's knees, but for once he isn't saying anything, just gaping slightly. Which means that Rodney's hot, smart mouth is open and positioned about eight inches from Sheppard's crotch. More neat. He reaches down, ruffling through Rodney's hair.

"You look really good from this angle," Sheppard says conversationally. His cock is twitching desperately again. Rodney's eyes are almost as wide as his mouth now. He swallows noisily.

"What do you mean, Major?"

"Well..." Sheppard lifts himself, easing the jeans down to mid-thigh. It's gratifying that Rodney's eyes actually get even bigger as he does. "You're in the perfect position to help me with this."

"Right - I am? Oh, okay, I can see that, yes..." When Rodney leans forward, shifting to make enough space to get the jeans out of the way, his hair brushes fractionally against the underside of Sheppard's erection. It's too intense. Sheppard has to fight the impulse to drag Rodney's head back and just -

Hell, well, why fight it? His hand is fisted in Rodney's hair, and Rodney is whispering yes, yes, oh God, please, yes! as he lets Sheppard guide his cock towards Rodney's open, wet mouth.

As good as a dream, the kind of dreams he'd been whacking off to for the last six months. Fantasies of Rodney on his knees, helpless and eager and desperate, as Sheppard's hot cock rams into his mouth, putting a stop to all that endless sexy sarcasm -

Sheppard stops with his cock half a centimetre from Paradise. "You're very - quiet," he says slowly.

Rodney blinks. "Well, there's a time for conversation..."

"But right now, you're rather be on the floor, quietly sucking my cock, right?"

"Well yes, that's pretty obvious, I should think!"

Too obvious.

"Look, Rodney, I don't know how to break this to you, but you're really not that kind of a boy..." Any more than Dex and Mitch are alive and well and sitting in his flashy play-pen next door, chugging beers and leering at Teyla.

Rodney stands up carefully, eyes narrowed in thought.

"Well, maybe you have a point. I'm not that kind of a boy... but something tells me that you might be -"

Damn, he's fast. Okay, so Sheppard's ankles are tangled in his jeans, but it's still disconcerting how quickly McKay manages to grab him, spin him and shove him against the big limestone sink.

He's heavy and strong, and he's nimbler than Sheppard has given him credit for. Leaning down, he tugs one of Sheppard's feet out of the tangle of denim, so that he can use his knee to knock Sheppard's legs wider apart.

Sheppard's cock is jammed painfully up against the cold stone of the sink. He tries to reach for it, whining, but McKay's hand slaps him sharply, and he sticks to bracing himself, pushing away to give his tormented cock a little space. Behind him, McKay leans back for a moment, then pushes in again and, oh God, oh yeah, his cock's hard and it jabs right into the cleft of Sheppard's ass.

He hears McKay mutter "Cabinet, cabinet..." and he nods up at the mirror, watches McKay open the door and make a beeline for the big bottle of baby oil that just happens to be there. When McKay shuts the door, Sheppard sees his expression, a flushed, triumphant sneer.

"I guess you really are that kind of a boy, Major. Although - "

He sloshes baby oil over his hand, reaches down. No preamble: one hand on Sheppard's neck, the other working against his asshole with brutal efficiency. Sheppard feels the tight flesh give way, feels himself being reamed open, vulnerable and desperate for it. He pushes back, and McKay says mirthlessly, "Oh, yeah, loose... such a whore," as he drives his finger in up to the knuckle, pumping it in and out as Sheppard writhes.

So hot. Dirty, needy, bad in the best way. Sheppard looks up, wanting to see himself in the mirror, to see the arousal in his own face, and McKay looks up at the same moment, and -

It isn't. It isn't Rodney. It could be and it isn’t, not here like this, not -

Sheppard twists then and McKay slams him back, hard, and there's a moment when he thinks the dream or nightmare or whatever it is has gotten away from him. A moment when McKay's grip is too tight and his body is bearing down, too close to be thrown off. Then it passes, before he has a chance to panic. He gives a shove and Rodney reels back and slumps against the wall, panting.

He doesn't seem bothered. Just looks up at Sheppard with a shrug and grins.

"Okay. That wasn't such a good idea, I'm guessing?"

"I don't know, Rodney. I - Maybe another time. Another place?"

McKay shrugs. "You're the one calling the shots, Major. Really, I just thought you wanted this to happen."

"That's - nice. Thank you. You know, I think I ought to get back to the party now."

"Good idea." The thing that clearly isn't Rodney stands up, tucks his cock away nonchalantly, zips up, walks to the window. "You know where I am if you change your mind, Major..."

...

"Major?"

There was a familiar hand waving in front of his face. McKay was watching him, frowning anxiously.

"Are you feeling alright? You seemed to be off with the - I mean, I was starting to worry that you were about to fall asleep again or, or, or something."

"No, no, I'm fine." The dream had felt as real as anything Sheppard could ever remember, real and cruelly wrong. The sense of frustration was sharp, like a huge trick he'd fallen for too easily. He wondered if the mist-aliens had gotten a voyeur's thrill out of playing with him. It was an unpleasant thought.

"Really? You know, you still look kind of dazed, Major. Maybe you need to go see Carson - "

"I'm fine!" Sheppard snapped, and McKay drew away from him, hands up.

"Alright, you're fine, I get it. So: Teyla, Ford, beer, pizzas, bikini girls. And what happened then?"

"Nothing worth remembering." It was true. It dawned on Sheppard, with a kind of miserable chill, that this whole thing might even have put an end to him enjoying the secret thrill of thinking about Rodney while he played with himself.

The dream had only showed him how far away his fantasies were from the real thing, standing before him in the sunlight, rocking slightly on his heels and looking perplexed, dressed in the Galaxy's most unflattering uniform and still, bizarrely, far hotter here than any of the fake McKays with all their casually sexy outfits.

He sighed. None of this was Rodney's fault, of course. Rodney had been right, like he usually was - about the civilisation, about the power potential of the mist planet.

The only thing that was wrong here was the inside of his own head.

He leaned back against the rail, hands in pockets, concentrating on making the amiable grin look as sincere as he could.

"So, your turn. Come on, fess up. What did you dream about? Grand Unifying Theory? Make-out sessions with your Colonel Carter...?"

McKay looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, before squaring his shoulders.

"Uh, let's see. Well, I went home, had a nap, dreamed that the girl in 302 came to see me, only then it turned out to be you at the door, and we were in my lab, and you started talking particle physics to turn me on. You were pretty good at it, as a matter of fact. Then you gave me a blow job and, um, you were pretty good at that, too. Then I woke up because Elizabeth was -"

It was like a sonic boom in reverse: Sheppard's brain was suddenly light-years behind the shock of what his ears were registering.

"Wait - hold on. Slow down. Did you just say I gave you a blow job in your dream?"

"Yes, exactly that. Only, I was dreaming about it, in the dream, so when I woke up I'd been jerking off and Elizabeth was at the door, and I was trying to get dressed without her seeing what I'd been up to, which was pretty embarrassing, let me tell you. I mean, even though it was just a dream, obviously I didn't realise that at the time. After that, we went to the SGC and nothing was making any sense, you know, at the quantum level, so I started to figure out something was wrong. Next thing, we're all standing on the ramp at the SCG, only we were still on M5S-224, of course. At least they let me keep my pants on that time!"

So utterly matter-of-fact, leaning back against the side of the balcony, hands drumming a light rhythm on his hips as he looked at Sheppard.

"Does that - bother you?" Sheppard said carefully. It was hard to concentrate, because the words then you gave me a blow job were still ringing in his ears, eliminating pretty much every other coherent thought.

"Ah, let's see. Strange alien entities rummaging about in my head without being invited? Well, speaking ethically, of course it does, though if I'd even started to realise the potential before we had to -"

"No. No, Rodney. I meant, doesn't it bother you that you dreamed about me, you know, blowing you?"

"Well, uh... No? I mean, should it? It was just my subconscious running off the leash, Major. That's what happens in dreams, as I understand it."

"So, subconsciously, you want me to give you head?"

Abruptly, Rodney was looking down at his clasped hands.

"Well, er, no. I pretty much want that consciously, to be honest."

Wow. Just - wow.

He stared at McKay, who looked up and shrugged.

"I mean, yes of course I'd be more concerned about it, about wanting that, if you hadn't spent the last six months staring at my groin or checking out my ass every chance you got. I assume you weren't looking for lint?"

Sheppard wondered how obvious it was that his head was reeling.

"No, I wasn't looking for - Rodney, wait a minute. You're saying you knew I was hot for you, and you were okay with that, and you've known for months and you've done nothing...?"

McKay sighed. "Well I didn't know, in some satisfyingly empirical way. I had a theory, that was all. A theory I rather liked."

"So why the hell did it never occur to you to test it?"

He caught Rodney's small smile, lop-sided and rueful, before he looked away from Sheppard and out at the sea.

"Truthfully? As long as it was only hypothesis, it was within the realm of the possible. The moment I set out to test it and you - disproved me, if you like - well then, that was that."

He moved restlessly, still avoiding Sheppard's eyes.

"I've never tried to pretend that I'm not acutely risk-averse, Major. I thought you knew that." He straightened. "Getting chilly out here. I think I need to get back to the lab."

Sheppard put out his hand, touching Rodney's sleeve lightly. "Rodney, wait. Don't you want to know what I dreamed about?"

Rodney looked confused. "I was assuming you preferred not to tell me..."

"That's not it. If you really want the truth... the truth is that I'm an - even more risk-averse guy than you. I chickened out of telling you."

McKay said "Oh!" then turned quickly back. "Well, you could tell me now, uh, if you wanted to. I doubt it's going to be any more embarrassing than dreaming that Elizabeth's just walked in on you when your hands are covered in - " He grimaced, rubbing his palm absently against the seam of his pants.

Sheppard sucked in a long breath. There was something so completely disarming about the realisation that Rodney McKay had been carrying a torch for him, all this time, and he hadn't even noticed.

Almost as disarming as finally realising which one of them was the bigger coward here.

Time to do something about that.

"You really want to know what happened?"

"Well... Not if it involves dead people and is going to put me off my dinner."

"Nothing like that. It's kind of simple, really." He moved closer, and Rodney gave a fractional shiver.

"I dreamed about you. I made you come to me, again and again, and you were never - right. you were never you. You were doing things I thought I wanted you to do, but they weren't... I knew it was an illusion."

Somehow, Rodney managed to look pleased and worried at the same time. "Okay - really? What exactly was I doing?"

"Oh, just about everything I'd ever imagined. Putting your hands in my pants. Getting on your knees and sucking me off. Offering to bend me over the sink and fuck me till the fixtures broke..."

Rodney's eyebrows quirked. "So, obviously not me, given my little revelation just now," he said dryly.

Sheppard reached out, cupping Rodney's face, and to his relief Rodney didn't try to move away.

"It wasn't that. I kept trying to get you, but you were always too... Too willing, too vicious. Too predictable. That isn't you, Rodney."

"Oh, I don't know. I'm much easier than you're suggesting, really..." Rodney was colouring, the flush spreading lightly over his cheeks. Sheppard could feel the warmth under his palm as he leaned in.

"Look, I have a theory of my own. What if we're still on that planet? What if this is all still part of the dream?"

Now Rodney was leaning in too, eyes glittering. "Yes, yes, you might be right. Do I feel - not right, still?"

"No, you feel, you feel - " His free hand was sliding around Rodney's waist. "- you feel perfect."

"But you want to be certain, right? Test the theory?" Rodney murmured. He was blinking, vivid blue eyes, long lashes... Sheppard hadn't noticed the lashes before. It was funny how the alien fantasies had failed to fill in any of the really good details.

But then, he hadn't ever been this close to Rodney before.

"I think that would be a good idea, yeah. They were pretty damned sneaky aliens -"

"- Manipulative devious alien mind-altering -" Rodney was still blathering softly when Sheppard closed his mouth on the stream of words, turning them into a sigh that turned into a low, happy moan.

Rodney's lips against his, warm and living and real. Rodney's tongue moving to meet his. Rodney's hands closing around his back, pressing their bodies tightly together.

It was, thank God, absolutely nothing like any dream.