One day Rodney was going to find a planet in Pegasus that had useful tech and no bizarre religious strictures. One fine, fine day.
"We could never sully the womb of Mother Lightning with the presence of a male!" the Matrissima -- yes, seriously, Matrissima -- explained to Teyla. "Man's proper sphere is stone, metal, hide, meat, warfare, and the bodies of the dead. That which quickens is the province of woman."
"Yes, yes, your customs are quaint and fascinating and really not our problem," Rodney said. "If you're serious about rewarding us for shooting down the scout ship before it could find your city, then the only thing you've got that we want is knowledge. So we're going to have to be able to study the schematics in Mother Lightning's chamber." He looked at Sheppard and Ronon for help, but they were looking respectful, damn it. Ronon could do earnest like nobody's business; Sheppard's respectful expression always made Rodney think he was probably thinking about bacon, or possibly pie. "I promise not to do anything overtly male while I'm in there. No shaving. No ... fathering children ..."
"Have you no scientists who are women?" the Matrissima said to Teyla, looking faintly scandalized. She didn't so much as flick an eye in Rodney's direction.
"Our science team includes --" Teyla began.
Rodney didn't like where this was heading. "No, no, no, no, no, that is, yes, but while they're fine technicians, they're not, to put it bluntly, me."
"Or perhaps you yourself could record notes and share with the scientists?" the Matrissima asked Teyla.
"Hello: talking, here," Rodney said. The Matrissima turned her head in his general direction without meeting his eye. "Your people promised our people a reward for the Colonel's daring rescue. All we ask is information."
"Matrissima, is there no way for Dr. McKay to enter that chamber?"
The Matrissima bit her lip. This culture, Teyla had told them, took moral debts very seriously. But the whole gender thing might wind up being more important to them.
At last she nodded, though she was twisting her hands together with anxiety. "The Ancestors did provide us with one method. But I fear that no one would suffer such a disruption simply for the sake of information."
"Not bad." Rodney turned his back to the mirror and smoothed down the civilian-issue brown corduroy pants over his newly ample hips. In the reflection, he could see Sheppard looking at the walls, the ceiling, everything but the mirror and Rodney. "A little tight in the seat, but then Henzell isn't lucky enough to have my womanly figure."
"You've only been a woman for half an hour and already you're running down the competition," Sheppard said. "Explain to me again how this is even possible."
"Genetically, at a quantum level -- look, it would take me far too long to explain, and you wouldn't understand it, anyway." Rodney turned and critically examined himself from the front. It was a pretty good-looking body, all in all -- the McKay genes had always skewed more superficially attractive on the female side than on the male. His hair was the same length, but there was more of it. The bones of his face were more delicate, and his body was definitely a body he enjoyed looking at. The thighs narrowed pleasingly to the knee. The stomach, when he pulled up the borrowed blouse, had a cute little crease across the middle of it.
He wasn't as thin as Carter was. If he'd been born female, he'd probably have to care.
"The point is, the effects last as long as I get irradiated in their Klein-theta machine every twenty-four hours. I get into the chamber, plus my fingers are smaller and my sense of smell is more acute. Plus: bonus! Breasts!"
"Is this seriously not freaking you out at all?"
"Oh, please. This is an unprecedented opportunity for knowledge! Many men claim to know how a woman feels, but until now no one has ever known from experience. I'm going to win every argument ever!"
He turned sideways to look at his profile in the mirror. "Do you think I should get a push-up bra?"
Sheppard made a gurgling noise.
"Or maybe I should give the other women a chance. They're still pretty perky even without help."
Sheppard stood up, jaw tight. "I'll just," he said, gesturing at the door.
The Klein-theta machine, which looked a lot like a tanning bed, was right down the hall from the Womb of Mother Lightning. To get to it, you had to walk through a sort of antechamber and then through a small bedroom, where people could lie around and, who knew, meditate, rest up, commune with their gender. Anyway, it was perfect for his purposes. "Sheppard, you stick with me, because I'm almost certain some of that technology is Ancient, and I may need your help to get it working. You two --" Ronon looked like he was the kind of bored that led to impromptu knife-throwing games, and Teyla looked a little queasy. Rodney shooed at them. "You're inconvenient. Go home."
Sheppard gave the twin bed a wild-eyed look like you sometimes saw on the horses in a Western. "Where am I going to sleep?"
"You can have the whole antechamber to yourself," Rodney said generously. "See, that couch thing is plenty long enough to sleep on. I don't want to waste time going back and forth to Atlantis."
"I can understand why you wouldn't want anybody there to see you like this," Sheppard said.
Rodney rolled his eyes. "I don't see that any of them have been good enough to deserve a chance to see me like this. Not that you have, either, but true justice isn't a possibility in this life."
"What's it like? The sex-change machine?" They went past the machine and down the hall and into another antechamber that led into the room with all the tech. Sheppard held the outer door open for him and stepped back to let Rodney pass.
"It itches. Lend me your flashlight, will you?"
The technology was fascinating. Somehow they were using sound waves to disrupt the navigational and targeting systems of Wraith ships, something they'd originally developed to use against the giant, smelly, semi-intelligent eels that were the planet's chief predators. Out in the antechamber, he could hear Sheppard pacing, sighing, maybe cleaning his guns. Every now and then, Rodney would take him something with an Ancient-type aesthetic (Frank Lloyd Wright with glowy blue panels) to give him the delusion of usefulness.
Rodney lost track of time and didn't realize he was hungry until wonderful smells began to drift through the door. He stuck his head out to find Sheppard serving up a bowl of something that looked like a cross between turkey stuffing and pasta salad.
"This, you're sure this doesn't have any --" Rodney's mouth was watering.
"Already worked out the citrus issue with the kitchen people." Sheppard set down the spoon and pulled out a chair and nodded at it. Rodney was already spooning up the stuff as he sat down.
"Good?" Sheppard served up his own bowl.
"Edible," Rodney said with his mouth full. "Thanks."
He didn't know what Sheppard did with himself in the afternoon, aside from taking the dirty dishes someplace and occasionally bothering Rodney with some comment over the radio, but at dinnertime he knocked on the door and persuaded Rodney to come out for dinner. The hall looked like mess halls everywhere except for a table up on a platform where the Matrissima sat with a crowd of women; that setup carried the ominous possibility of speeches, but no speeches seemed to happen, thank heaven.
Sheppard held the door, and waved Rodney ahead of him in line, and pulled Rodney's chair out for him again, but it wasn't until he cleared away both their trays that Rodney figured it out. "You can cut that out any time."
"What?" Nothing could possibly have made Sheppard look any guiltier than his innocent look.
"You're flirting, and you're appallingly bad at it; it's no wonder your usual romantic strategy is to wander through life with a vacant smirk on your face and wait for the mayor's daughter to show up after lights-out and take her top off. If you wanted to see my new breasts, all you had to do was ask."
Several people turned around at the next table. Sheppard gaped as if he had a head injury. "What? Are you --"
"Sure. No problem." Rodney snagged another of the cheese rolls on his way out the door. "I've been wanting to look at them again myself. It's been hours."
They really were remarkably attractive breasts, round and firm and large-nippled under Henzell's plain-jane underwire bra, prettily framed by the unbuttoned blouse. He cupped his hands under them and lifted them. Sheppard pretended to be looking at his boots.
"You're not even looking," Rodney said, and then enlightenment dawned. "Oh, my god, this is turning you on. You're aroused by this!"
"McKay," Sheppard began in a warning tone, and was he blushing?
"Are you blushing?" Rodney asked. "Don't worry. It's only natural. You want to touch them?" If he moved from side to side, they swayed; this probably meant the bra didn't fit, but it was very pleasing to look at.
"McKay," and the tone now was aggrieved.
"No, I'm serious. You think you're the only one who's curious? And there's a limit to how much you can do for yourself. Though one thing that disappoints me greatly is that it doesn't feel all that great to the female body to have them squeezed --" He demonstrated, but gently, having learned that lesson early -- "which is grossly unfair when it feels so good to the male body to do the squeezing."
"You know, you can really be an asshole sometimes." And now Sheppard was looking at him, and he really looked angry.
"What?" said Rodney, honestly perplexed. "If you don't want to, all you have to do is say so. I'm not the kind of woman who --"
"Look," Sheppard said, beginning to honest-to-god pace, "if you had any idea how long it's been -- no, seriously," because Rodney had snorted, and who could blame him, "seriously, half the women in Atlantis are either under or over me --"
"Oh, ha ha, I'm sure they are."
"Shut up. The goddamned command structure really limits my options, is all I'm saying."
"So you're forced to settle for, oh, every single woman on every planet in Pegasus?"
"Right, because that's good tactics."
"And the rest of Atlantis? The woman, what's her name, very, very, manages the firing range? Or the, you know, the giggle twins in military staffing?"
"Are sort of my subordinates, even though they're civilians." He blew out a noisy breath. "So, look, McKay, basically what I'm telling you is that this is the first time in I don't know how long that I've been in a room with a half-naked woman, and you're strutting around, fucking with me -- just, look. Put your clothes on, or I'm leaving."
"Well." When was the last time he'd heard Sheppard say that many words at once that weren't about either military strategy or golf? "That's, that's -- flattering. In a wildly dysfunctional way." He rubbed his hands together. It seemed like a really major confession, so intimate as to be embarrassing. "I might point out, however, that you could try getting over your issues enough to locate some of the hundred or so women who aren't ruled out by your little algorithm of love and put some time into developing some trust with them. Or, alternately, getting over this fetish for heterosexuality, so that if all your friends are going to be male, you can have sex with one of them."
"Not an option," Sheppard said tightly. He had his hand on the door handle.
"Not that you have all that many male friends, either," Rodney mused. "So possibly we have general intimacy issues to blame here."
He looked up from the confusing backward button on Henzell's trousers. "What are you waiting for? Didn't you hear me say yes?"
Of course Rodney had been planning on having sex -- to do anything else would be a wasted opportunity. He hadn't really been planning to have it with Sheppard, but now that they were here, he'd just have to make the best of it. "Here, touch them, seriously. They're great, nice and firm and squishy --" He tried to get his arm up to the hooks. Women did this all the time without even a mirror, so surely he, with his superior spatial skills, could -- ow, it felt like he'd pulled his shoulder -- "A little help?"
"Here." Sheppard's voice was deeper than usual. He came forward slowly and fumbled at the hooks -- damn, his hands were cold -- and finally, finally the thing came undone and Rodney let the beige satin fall forward down his arms. The nipples were the same color they'd been before the change, but bigger, for some reason, wide as the length of his thumb. They were tightening up before Sheppard even touched them.
Sheppard's smile was getting a little smug, but Rodney supposed he had reason.
"Oh," Rodney said as Sheppard's hands finally made contact, stroking down the upper slopes with the backs of his fingers. "Oh, that's much nicer than when I did it." And then he was struck by a stroke of brilliance. "Here, wait, stand behind me so I can watch."
"I can't believe it. You're getting hot for your own body." Sheppard's hands, slightly darker than Rodney's skin, spanned the undercurve of Rodney's breasts and lifted them up, as though he were showing them to an appreciative audience.
Rodney leaned back a little and watched Sheppard's hands. He was being a lot more gentle than Rodney had been when he touched them himself, almost too gentle. Almost but not quite. "Of course I am. Who wouldn't be?"
Arousal felt different in this body. It was, in fact, disturbingly similar to a full bladder, but he'd done a number of experiments already, and he was starting to get used to it. Sheppard was running his open hands over Rodney's nipples now, fingers slightly spread so that each one registered as a separate sensation, thip thip thip thip, and then in the other direction, thop thop thop thop. Rodney found he wanted to tense his thigh muscles, and it sent a very satisfying zing through his new genitalia, and he did it again.
Sheppard seemed to recognize this as a signal. He smiled at nothing in particular and stroked his right hand down over Rodney's stomach to cup his mons, one long finger just lying along the center, through the thickness of the pants.
"Christ," Rodney said. "Come on. Bed. Standing up doesn't give you enough access." He'd stashed condoms in the nightstand. He handed Sheppard one. "Here. Impregnate me and you die," and then he kicked off the pants and the boring beige underwear and lay down.
Sheppard actually turned his back to strip, and when he turned back around, he'd already put the condom on. He was still kind of looking like Rodney was going to break, or haul off and slug him, or demand an engagement ring first. But he knew his way around a female body, no question about that. He didn't give in to temptation and squeeze. He did everything by the book.
Not that Rodney had ever managed to locate a book, but he was sure if he did it would go just like this: respects paid to breasts, hands very gentle, then mouth and intoxicating new sensation of stubble, and when Rodney started squeezing his legs together, Sheppard nudged his knee aside and opened him up with his thumbs and cored him with his mouth, did something that had Rodney coming in about five places at once, so intensely that it was a minute before he could catch his breath.
"Oh, my god," he said when he could speak, struggling up onto one elbow. "What was that? What did you do?"
Sheppard came back up Rodney's body, slowly and with many sidetracks; wow, breasts were sensitive after you came; it got to be too much almost instantly -- and said, "Can I? It might hurt you. I can go slow."
"Yes, yes, do your perving over my putative virginity on your own time. I've deflowered myself with a variety of objects with no pain whatsoever, so unless I'm slain by the sheer power of your manliness --"
"When? When did you have the time?"
"I make time for what's important. You know that."
Sheppard grimaced, either turned on or grossed out, and then lined up and slid in so effortlessly that Rodney didn't even have time to make any mental notes about how it was and wasn't different.
"Good?" Sheppard said.
Rodney had a few things to say, but Sheppard moved his hips suddenly, and it was good, and with a little luck and a better angle -- ah, there! --
"Yeah," Sheppard said, and cooperatively made the same move at the same angle over and over while Rodney clutched at him and gasped and shuddered and came again. It felt different, good, amazing, and then he opened his eyes and saw that Sheppard was hardly even out of breath.
Rodney hadn't exactly been pining away for Sheppard, but one of the chief things he'd imagined, on the occasions when he'd imagined it, was a chance to break Sheppard's composure, and this obviously wasn't doing it. Far from wild-eyed sweaty abandon, Sheppard had more the attitude of someone who was teaching someone to drive.
"Think you could go again?"
"Yes, yes, I'm not your prom date; get on with it."
And Sheppard's eyes got big for a second, and his hips jerked like he couldn't control them, and then he was coming.
"Sorry," he said a second later, and Rodney said, "I was getting hungry anyway," because despite the accusations of the jealous and spiteful, he didn't say everything that popped into his head; he had some tact.
When they were done, Sheppard said goodbye to Rodney's breasts, separately -- seriously, this was getting ridiculous -- but his eyes slid past Rodney's. He had on that impenetrable smirk that he used to suggest general agreement without actually ever answering a question, and when he sat up, he flipped a corner of the sheet over his lap so Rodney couldn't see what he did with the condom.
"So -- they're great breasts, right? Just the right size." He covered them protectively with his hands.
Sheppard narrowed his eyes. "Rodney, you are the strangest man I've ever met. And ... almost the strangest woman."
In the morning, Sheppard showed every sign of incipient freakout, but Rodney ignored it, and after a while it went away.
Teyla and Ronon came from Atlantis, just to check in and make sure there was no torture, imprisonment, drugging, or other Pegasus shenanigans happening. When they arrived, Sheppard was talking to Rodney on the radio -- something about putters; Rodney wasn't really paying attention -- and it was obvious something was up by the way the teasing note went out of his voice. Rodney wondered idly whether Sheppard had actually processed that it was Rodney he was sleeping with, or whether he had his brain partitioned enough to think of this as another offworld affair, but Sheppard's psychosis really wasn't his problem.
The Womb of the Goddess Whatever was your standard repository of things that amazed the ignorant: guns of many lands, Ancient doodads, geodes and meteorites, things that had just washed up someplace. Worth a few days of his time, but he could already see that nothing earthshaking was going to come of it, though the soundwave weapon had promise.
But it was all right, because it turned out he was really enjoying being a woman. Especially the orgasms, which were (1) terrific and (2) numerous. They required a bit more skill to achieve, of course, though not quite as much as he'd expected. And they seemed to go on forever. As soon as one was done, he could start winding up for another. He didn't understand why women ever got out of bed.
It was annoying not to be able to sleep on his stomach, but that was a small price to pay for having breasts available to him 24/7.
When Sheppard showed up at his door again, he almost said no. It had been a successful experiment in the sense that orgasms had been achieved all around, but he'd been thinking it might be good to experience some of the other men. Plus it was frankly a little creepy that Sheppard seemed to assume they were going steady or something, as if breasts automatically endowed the bearer with a desire for permanent monogamy after the first date. He wasn't going to get to be here for very long, and he wanted to get the most out of it.
But Sheppard looked so endearingly nervous, hands twitching like he was wishing he had a bouquet to hold. Maybe he was the kind of guy who needed a warmup. Maybe tonight they'd get down to the really sweaty dirty good stuff.
If not, he'd still have time to give somebody else a chance.
It all started out pretty much the same: It was like Sheppard had learned his techniques from those stupid romances Jeannie used to read, where apparently women didn't want to undress, or touch, or do anything but lie back and let the guy do all the work. And though Rodney had always felt that a little special treatment at times was not unwelcome -- was, you might say, no more than his due -- still, in bed no one, even real women, wanted to be treated like a lady.
Sheppard tolerated being touched, but with a "whatever you want, sweetheart" attitude that just took all the fun out of it. He got more excited piloting a jumper. And when Rodney tried to put a hand on Sheppard's cock, Sheppard pulled away: "Hey, easy, now. Don't want to lose the rubber."
"I could have put that on you," Rodney said. "I wanted to."
Sheppard ducked his head and lay down fast. "I didn't think you'd --" He ran out of steam. "You know."
"Oh." Rodney squinted at him; how weird must it be to have a whole fifty percent of the human race that you couldn't be attracted to? "You seriously didn't know I slept with guys?"
"I didn't ask," Sheppard said flatly, "and nobody told me." He ducked his head and started kissing Rodney's neck.
"Let's not have any of this intimacy-challenged 'Pretty Woman' nonsense," Rodney said. "I expect the full treatment," and he pulled Sheppard's head down for a kiss.
It was a slow kiss, a teasing kiss, all nibbles and brushes of lips. As though Sheppard, despite being naked in bed with Rodney, still felt that he had to seduce Rodney's mouth separately, and that was when it hit him. Sheppard was giving him the girl treatment! Sheppard was doing what you did when you wanted to show a girl a good time in the hopes that she'd return the favor and you were using all your skill to make sure everything went smoothly because you didn't know each other well enough to cope with any sort of awkwardness without entirely spoiling the entire evening.
"You know, no offense, but could you be any more boring in bed?" Rodney flipped Sheppard over and got on top of him, straddling him. "Where's the passion? Where's the spontaneity? You aren't my only option, you know. You weren't even my first choice."
"Didn't anybody ever warn you about what happens when you wound the delicate male ego?" Sheppard didn't seem too wounded. He settled his hands on Rodney's hips and then slid them around to squeeze his ass, which unlike his breasts actually enjoyed that kind of attention. Rodney shifted forward a little to encourage him, and he took a fast breath. "So who was your number one?"
Rodney had discovered that if he angled his upper body up a bit, his lower lips would open over Sheppard's cock, allowing it to slide in place like -- well, like a hot dog in a bun, a pretty deeply unsexy image but one he couldn't remove from his brain once he'd thought of it. He shifted his hips from side to side, teasing himself with it. "I was thinking Ronon."
Sheppard must have been enjoying the position, too; he sucked his breath in through his teeth. "Ronon, huh?" He tightened his hands on Rodney's ass. "He's kinda. Mm. Big."
It was almost enough. Rodney got a finger on one side of his clit and sort of pushed it back and forth -- oh, oh, yes. "Yeah. That's why."
"You saying I don't have what it takes?" Rodney had mostly been kidding, but Sheppard actually looked kind of hurt.
"How would I know? You won't let me look at your cock or touch it. For all I know, it isn't even real." He punctuated this with an experimental shimmy.
Sheppard shuddered. "Oh, it's real, all right."
He dug his fingers in hard, sliding inward until one of them rubbed up against Rodney's asshole, and Rodney said, "Oh, christ, yes."
"You like that?" He was obviously suppressing a 'baby' by sheer force of will.
"Of course I do. That's one of the relatively few erogenous zones that are exactly the same in both bodies."
"Yeah? You liked this before?" His voice had roughened, and he didn't wait for an answer: "Yeah, should have known you'd tried it out. You try everything out." His thumb slid easily on the comprehensive slickness of Rodney's new and highly responsive pussy, and then he must have put a thumb into his vagina without removing the fingers pressing against his ass -- Rodney had noticed it was sometimes tricky to tell what was what; maybe if he'd been born in this body it would be easier -- and executed a sort of two-way press that had him groaning, "More! More! Just like that!"
"Yeah," Sheppard said, rough and low, shoving his cock against the crease of Rodney's thigh. "Yeah, you like it. Bet you liked it like this before, to have somebody finger you, huh? Bet you could come like this." And Rodney sped his finger up and came like this with much fluttering and squeezing of unfamiliar muscles.
"Jesus, yes," Sheppard said, pulling his fingers loose. "Let me do you from behind. Can I?"
It was amazing. It was a great angle, slick and hot, Sheppard reaching around and groping a little clumsily before he got his fingers on Rodney's clit and then Rodney was coming over and over in one long wave while Sheppard said, "Yeah, Rodney, yeah," against the back of his neck and totally forgot to be gentle, muttering, "Yeah, you like it, I knew you would."
Rodney wasn't sure what he'd done to get them out of Perfect Boyfriend land, but it had somehow involved his ass, so he brought lube the next time and said, "You can top me if you want to," and Sheppard's eyes went narrow and he shoved Rodney down on his face and dragged his pants off and had two fingers in his ass before he said a word.
"Yeah," was the word: "Yeah. You like this? Yeah, you do, don't you. Christ, I know you do."
It was possible that this was meant to be a form of erotic degradation, but Rodney had liked it as a guy, and he said so.
"Yeah," Sheppard said, moving smoothly into him.
There was no prostate in a female body, of course, but Rodney had already figured out that the G-spot was in a pretty similar location, and everything was close together. He spread his knees, and, yeah, the same angle worked. "Yeah, do it," Sheppard said when Rodney stroked himself off with his fingers. "Yeah, you're good, you could probably come over and over if you got it like this, christ, Rodney," coming before Rodney even got there.
He adjusted fairly quickly to the keener senses and the higher center of gravity; the lower pain threshold was hardly more than a theory, since naturally he avoided pain. He wasn't yet familiar enough with the body to notice any hormone-cycle-related changes, and thank heaven he'd arrived at early cycle and would be able to return to maleness before he had to suffer through anything as grisly and undignified as menstruation.
And Sheppard lost that weird body shyness and let Rodney touch him, let him twist his nipples and jerk him off, and about the time Rodney was sucking him, he gasped, "Oh god, how'd you learn, christ, I want--" and came all over, and Rodney, whose lifelong appreciation for pussy had only been increased by having one of his own for a while, actually had a brief moment of regret at not having his cock available. He'd bet Sheppard would really be wowed by it.
When he had a male body again, he probably had a great sexual wonderland ahead of him. He'd never had any idea Sheppard had so much enthusiasm for his male parts. He'd never noticed so much as the twitch of an eyelid that suggested that Sheppard found him attractive, though admittedly this was the sort of thing he found difficult to interpret.
Anyhow, it was all the encouragement he needed to wrap things up quickly. Teyla came back long enough to convey their thanks to the Matrissima so she wouldn't have to speak to them directly, and he skipped the Klein-theta visit, and after about an hour, his body decided it wanted to be male again.
As before, the only sign he had that anything was changing was a furious all-over itching, which covered his entire body and seemed to extend several inches beneath his skin. It was one degree short of intolerable for one second short of unbearable, and then it vanished suddenly and his body was male again.
Wow, did chest hair ever tickle.
His face hadn't been shaved in eleven days, so he looked like a hobo, and really his eyes were much too far from the ground, and christ, how the hell had he ever gotten used to having his sex organs dangling loose in the air and changing sizes all the time? And his beautiful breasts were gone forever, but at least there was the compensation of a new set of experiments with Sheppard.
They came through the gate with a backpack full of miscellanea, and Sheppard's rapidly retreating back was the last thing he saw of the guy for ten days.
If Rodney was at a meeting, Sheppard would somehow manage to have another one scheduled at the same time. If Rodney was in the mess, Sheppard was up in the jumper. If Rodney went to Sheppard's quarters looking for him, the bed would still be warm but Sheppard would be nowhere in sight.
It was bizarre and insulting and finally kind of pathetic. "Humph. His loss. See if I ever let him look at my breasts again." It left Rodney feeling depressingly used. Maybe he should find someone who'd been born female and commiserate about the porcine nature of men. Maybe it would even get him laid.
It made it weirder than it might have been to reacquaint himself with his male body, because he couldn't help remembering the scrape of Sheppard's voice saying, "I'll bet your nipples were sensitive when you were a guy, I'll bet you'd like it if I licked them like this," and it left him turned on and pissed off at the same time, giving masturbation the character of angry fight sex.
Every day he thought maybe Sheppard would finally get over himself, and every day there would be a new proof that this was not the day. He tolerated it because he certainly wasn't going to go and beg Sheppard to be his friend again.
Three days later, he marched down to Sheppard's quarters full of righteous rage. Sheppard was lying on his bed with War and Peace open on his chest and his eyes shut, but he jumped to his feet when Rodney burst in and said, "I wish it were still possible to sue you for trifling with a lady's affections."
"McKay. We are not talking about this."
"No, we're not talking about this: I'm talking, and you're listening. Look, I can understand it if sex with another guy is like the thing with the webcam, one of those things that's hot in fantasy and kind of nauseating in practice; I get that. But we're friends. We're team. You can't just --"
And he trailed off, because Sheppard wasn't listening; he was tracking his shoulders, his arms, every move he made.
Rodney had never given his gender a lot of thought from day to day, but by god he felt male now, with his heavier musculature still new enough to feel strange and Sheppard's eyes following the line of his arm.
"I don't --" Sheppard began, and Rodney actually shoved him up against the wall and said, "Well, you really should."
It was like kissing an entirely different person. Sheppard just melted for him -- trite but true -- went boneless against the wall and leaned his head back in a position that just begged Rodney to, well, plunder him.
His hands felt huge on the side of Sheppard's face, and Sheppard moaned into his mouth, already hard and squirming against him while Rodney kissed him over and over.
When he raised his head, Sheppard looked wrecked, eyes heavy and mouth swollen. He shook his head, but not very convincingly. "I don't --"
"Whyever not?" Rodney said, and pushed Sheppard's shirt off over his head.
This time there was no gentlemanly objection to Rodney touching him as much as he liked. Pinning his hand over his head to lick at his armpit, leaving a line of toothmarks down the side of his ribs, sucking at the skin between his pants and his navel, and Sheppard was shaking under his hands when he undid the first button.
Rodney had sucked his cock before, but it hadn't been like this; after only a few minutes, Rodney stood up and tossed his own clothes on the floor while Sheppard stared at him like he was Mr. Adonis.
"Turn around," he said, rough-voiced.
"I don't --" Sheppard said one more time, and Rodney said, "You do now."
The lube was right where he expected it to be; he snagged it absently with one hand while the other one petted Sheppard's back. Sheppard's muscles were tense, but he opened right up for Rodney's fingers. "Jesus! Don't --" he said between gritted teeth, and Rodney stilled, and he said, "Stop. Don't stop --" and then "More," in a low growl of a voice that made Rodney put his teeth in the meaty side of his neck and drive in with two fingers.
"Do it hard," Sheppard muttered, subsiding against the wall. "I don't care if it hurts. Do it hard."
Rodney ran a quelling, possessive hand down his side. "I'm going to do it right," he said.
He'd wanted to see Sheppard's face, but Sheppard's back was expressive enough as he gasped and shuddered and groaned. He'd put his hands against the wall in front of his shoulders, and he left them there as if he were under orders not to move them, so when his sounds came closer together, Rodney reached around and grabbed his cock, and Sheppard stiffened as though he'd been shocked and let out an honest-to-god wail of "Rodney!" and came all over the Ancients' classy carved wall niche.
It seemed like he kept on coming, longer than he had when Rodney was female, and Rodney waited him out, moving gently in him, because it felt good and because it made Sheppard grunt. It was like the long climb in a roller coaster before the great plunge. Only when Sheppard had calmed down a little did he draw back and push in again, and Sheppard said, "Christ," and laid his face on his folded arms.
"You thought it was over?"
"Fuck," Sheppard said in a drunken voice and spread a little more. Sweat stood on his back and shoulders, and Rodney could see his sides going in and out, slow and deep, while he settled down into the languid after-pleasure, and Rodney felt vindicated -- "See, it's good," he said, and Sheppard said, "Jesus, come on, I've been waiting for this," and Rodney went over the top of the coaster and hurtled down, moving himself deep, deep, deep into the willing embrace of Sheppard's body while Sheppard muttered, "Yeah, yeah, Rodney, do it, oh, god, I can feel it --"
Rodney wasn't sure how they made it from the wall to the bed, only that mercifully they got there before his legs gave out. Sheppard settled into the girliest position imaginable, head on Rodney's shoulder; he was too tall for it to work very well.
"You know," Rodney said after a bit, "you could easily find a woman to manhandle you and boss you around."
Sheppard lifted his head and stared at him.
"For that matter, there's probably at least one strap-on in Atlantis," Rodney persisted. "If that's what turns you on."
"That's not what turns me on," Sheppard said, and he pulled himself up until his head was on the pillow beside Rodney's and carefully wrapped his big hand around Rodney's cock. "I think -- this turns me on."
"Well," Rodney said, mollified. "And well it should," and he wondered if he could find someone who could take his pants in, just a little, in the back.