The fingers he’d meant to use to push John away instead dug into John’s shoulder and held him in place. Rodney’s hips rolled forward, pushing his cock against John’s throat. John made a muffled noise, one Rodney suspected was laughter, and reached between them to fondle Rodney’s balls, holding them gently. Too gently, like he cared if the touch hurt. Maybe he did.

Rodney hoped he didn’t, though. It was bad enough John had him pinned against the wall next to Rodney’s bathroom door, obviously intent on working out a little sexual frustration and adrenaline afterburn. Rodney couldn’t handle having John care, not beyond the level of affection he placed on every resident of Atlantis. This was stupid enough as it was and when John was finished rendering Rodney speechless, he was going to be told all about it, in great detail.

John finally stopped torturing Rodney’s hip, only to move lower. It had been so long since Rodney had felt a broad, strong masculine tongue on his cock that the first touch made his knees weak. Rougher than a woman’s, but so much more knowing and Rodney couldn’t help but thrust into that first caress, shoving the head of his cock against the top of John’s mouth.

God, this was wrong. It was dangerous and irresponsible and didn’t John know that? Rodney was in a precarious enough situation as it was; he was hated and scorned, weak and soft and so very easily put down. Anyone in the city would kill him with a well placed spritz of lemon juice, for god’s sake. Didn’t John know what would happen if Atlantis’s least favorite person turned up queer?

People said science was a haven for freaks, but people were stupid. John’s fingers were strong, though, and sure in a way that screamed about how experienced John was. Nobody got that good at stroking and pressing a man’s perineum by practicing alone; it was a trial-and-error type of experience gotten only with time and work. Work with men, and John seemed to have done his share of men. He knew just where to put those fingers. Dumb, wrong, perfect fingers pressing lightly against Rodney’s hole, palm a warm presence cupping his balls and John was swallowing, taking Rodney’s cock deep.

Just once, because John seemed to need it so much. The man was whimpering now, but Rodney wouldn’t call him on it, not when Rodney himself was moaning. Groaning in open-mouthed delight because it felt so fucking good, one hand between his thighs and the other digging into his waist. John wasn’t complaining about the bruises Rodney was leaving on his shoulder, wasn’t pulling back or warningly scraping his teeth on Rodney’s cock as Rodney rocked into his mouth.

Rodney looked down, but John’s eyes were closed, dark lashes fanned out on pale skin and John looked so turned on, like sucking Rodney’s cock just made his day. Idiot, Rodney thought while he still could. Maybe John was trying to get him killed, offed by one of the closeted bigots in his lab. God, he’d missed this, the strength he got from having a man on his knees begging for his cock. John wasn’t begging but Rodney would’ve put money on him starting if Rodney pulled away. It was irrational to want this so much, to want so badly to bite John’s swollen lips and kiss him until he came, to taste himself in John’s mouth and feel the man come all over his hand.

The hand on his hip disappeared, but Rodney didn’t care. He was into it now, fucking John’s mouth in perfect rhythm with that slick tongue and the strong suction that kept pulling him in. In, deep down John’s throat; out, even more turned on by the cold rush of air as John breathed through his nose like an expert cocksucker. Back, onto the finger John pushed into him. In, as John took him in again.

Another glance down and Christ, John was jacking himself, cock jutting out of his fatigues. It wasn’t right; Rodney wanted John’s cock for himself, wanted to wrap his fingers around it and bring John off screaming for him. John faltered, paused and then went down, all the way down and stayed there and Rodney let him press in hard, heat and wet and John’s tongue pushing up against him so perfectly. And John was coming, shuddering so hard Rodney could feel it everywhere, John’s fingers thrusting deeper.

Rodney closed his eyes as John leaned back, still sucking hard and then it all fell down on him. John wanting this so badly, his hand holding Rodney open and warm slickness brushing his balls and that was John’s come slicking inside, another finger and more pressure and that was all Rodney could take.

John drank him down eagerly, like he’d been starving for Rodney’s taste. Rodney didn’t care, didn’t say anything except wordless, idiotic moans as orgasm rendered him as silent and stupid as the next worthless queer scientist down the hall.

Rodney felt John’s hands abandon him, but not for long. John stood, still shaky and using Rodney for support. And then there was a warm body leaning against him, a face pressed into his neck. Rodney opened his mouth to tell John how incredibly wrong this was, how they couldn’t do this because they had responsibilities, damn it, and they didn’t have the luxury of dealing with the fallout that was going to come crashing down on their heads.

But John wasn’t listening to the words spinning around in Rodney’s head. No, he was leading Rodney to bed, yanking off their clothes and giving Rodney these looks that said again, we’re doing this again and again and again because it was good, better than good it was frighteningly great how well they fit together. Rodney was still trying to form the words he had to say when John pushed him down, naked, on the scratchy blanket covering Rodney’s bed, distracting him by being just as naked and all hard muscle and hairy skin.

Then John’s mouth found his and Rodney felt the words slip away.