SGA: Speak
Title: Speak
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Characters/Pairings: John Sheppard/Rodney McKay
Summary: McKay's mouth opens under his, like he's just been waiting for John to come into his room and kiss him.
Author's Notes: Post-Conversion fic. Mucho thanks to my betas, shigure and bejiin!


When John gets out of the infirmary, it's pretty late. Carson thinks he'll be happier in his own bed. John doesn't argue. He needs to apologize to Teyla, but figures it can wait until morning. Instead, he wanders Atlantis aimlessly, watching the city light up around him. He's stretching his arms high above his head, feeling his muscles move against his (all too) human skin when he realizes that he's standing in front of McKay's room. The door slides open and he finds himself staring into McKay's surprised face.

He says, "What are you doing here? Never mind, I'm still glad you're not turning into The Fly." and "You might as well come in, already. I'm only here because Zelenka insisted on sleeping and he's holding the equations hostage." and "Why aren't you interrupting me, Colonel? Not that I'm not always happy to rant, but." and "John. Come in, this is Atlantis calling." and "Mmmf."

McKay's mouth opens under his, like he's just been waiting for John to come into his room and kiss him. His hands clench at John's shoulders, hard enough to leave bruises, drawing John closer, closer. Mckay is hard, rubbing up against him, frictions sliding against each other, velocities rising.

John breaks the kiss, and McKay moans. He does, well McKay does a kind of shimmy motion and his pants fall to the floor. He tugs his boxers down as well and John's vision narrows to McKay's cock, standing erect and red against his pale thighs. Swallowing hard, he follows blindly as McKay pulls him towards the bed.

They fall into bed kissing. McKay's tongue darts into his mouth and runs along his teeth, tasting John's mouth. Prompted, John kicks off his own pants, momentarily grateful for his undone laundry that has him currently lacking underwear. His cock moves against McKay's, sending spikes of pleasure through John's brain. These translate to shudders that travel down John's body, and he presses closer to McKay, aching with need.

John wants to say, "This is not an attack."
John wants to say, "Oh. Oh. Yeah..."
John wants to say, "This place, you, feels like home."

But he's learned how to be quiet all too well. The U.S. Air Force might not have been able to cure his insubordination, but it gave his ability to repress a hell of a boost. The retrovirus left him straining for control, but he doesn't think it was only the inhibitor that kept him sane for so long.

McKay makes enough noise for both of them, anyway.

*

Afterwards, with McKay's left arm flung heavily over John's stomach and his loud snores rumbling in John's ears, he stares up at the ceiling. It's a dull blue, a shade darker than his own. John closes his eyes, and thinks sleep. But he has slept for weeks and the darkness under his eyelids is just as boring as McKay's ceiling.

He opens his eyes, and thinks stars. And Atlantis responds.

The ceiling turns clear, revealing a deep midnight sky. He can see unfamiliar stars, shining in the darkness. John wonders how many planets he has set foot on have traveled around these suns. He thinks about whether the Ancients named their constellations and decides they probably didn't. He tries not to wonder what names Ford would have thought up.

The change in light wakes McKay up. John can feel him shifting before he speaks; he turns his face away from John's cheek (John tries not to miss the warmth) and raises his head. "It's beautiful," he says. His voice is full of awe, as if he's never seen the stars above Atlantis before.

Something breaks within John then, shattering like the glass in Elizabeth's office. He rests his head against McKay's shoulder and says hoarsely, "Yeah, Rodney, it is."