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Game Plan

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Rodney looked over the chess board, trying to see where he had gone wrong. He trawled back in his mind about twenty moves but there was nothing to suggest he was moving into a trap and exposing his King. Then he spotted it, eleven moves back, when he thought he was making one move but having been distracted for the seventh time in an hour by someone coming up to him with some pathetic minor problem, he had moved his knight to the wrong square. That particular distraction had broken his concentration completely as he focused on rebuking the hapless scientist who had switched the sewage and clean water filters, sending raw sewage into the--fortunately, infrequently used--Tower C communal showers. Even the pleasure of knowing he had ordered the man to clean up the mess--personally--now paled into insignificance.

"This is so unfair! At least when we were playing the Game, no one knew where we were."

"I thought you said you were the king of multi-tasking, Rodney."

"Oh yes, throw that back in my face. Maybe we should see how well you'd do under the same set of distractions."

John shrugged. "Wouldn't change a thing, McKay."

"Oh yeah? Then how about a your quarters tomorrow evening."

"My quarters?" John looked skeptical so Rodney gave him a reason.

"None of my people are going to go knocking on your door looking for me unless it really is an emergency."

"And if that was the case, they'd use the radio."

Rodney pointed at him. "Exactly!"

John chewed his lower lip, looking as if he was contemplating it when Rodney knew he'd already decided to say yes. It was just one more of those games he liked to play with Rodney, but underneath it Rodney could read his intrigue, wondering how Rodney was going to arrange all those distractions in his quarters when no one approached him even in the mess hall.

"Okie, dokey. Tomorrow evening in my quarters."


Eight minutes after setting up the game in John's quarters, Rodney shrugged out of his expedition jacket to reveal one of his older blue shirts with the darker side panels, zipper and the body hugging form that used to chafe his nipples. Cadman, of all people, had pointed out how people stared at him when he wore that shirt. Embarrassed, he'd stopped wearing it after that, especially when he realized that a lot of the attention came from people he would rather not have thinking of him in that way. It hadn't occurred to him until earlier today, while he was digging through his drawers for something to wear, that John had always seemed skittish when he wore that shirt.

On the opposite side of the table, John looked a little flustered and wriggled a little in his seat. Eight minutes later, Rodney stretched deliberately, arching his back and rolling his shoulders back before tugging at the half-zipper to pull it all the way down. Another full minute passed with John looking slightly uncomfortable before Rodney leaned forward over the board.

"Clock's ticking, Sheppard."

John looked momentarily flustered before giving Rodney his patent smirk. "Working out the next moves so I can kick your ass."

They played on and Rodney watched as John relaxed again, slouching in his seat, but he tensed when Rodney stood up.

"My feet are killing me. Would you mind if I...?"

Not waiting for an answer, Rodney sank down onto the side of John's bed and bent over to untie his boots, stretching the material over his broad shoulders and playing his tongue across his lips as if busy concentrating on the menial task. Rather than leave the boots scattered across the floor, he deliberately scooped them up and took a few steps, bending over to place them neatly by the door, and giving John a full view of the material stretching across his shoulders and ass.

By the time he sat back down, John looked even more flustered, and defensive with it. "Are we going to play or what?"

By the seventh interruption--standing to stretch, talking about some unnamed scientists tryst in what the two men had thought was a deserted hallway, that involved blow jobs that Rodney described in far more detail than necessary, completely made-up, of course, but how was John to know any different? Rodney knew he had won.

"Checkmate!" he crowed.

"No way!" This time it was John who scanned the board, trying to see where he went wrong but Rodney had deliberately timed his distractions at strategically important moves, aware that John's attention would be divided, to Rodney's advantage. John's eyes narrowed, his head tilting in that passive aggressive way that usually meant trouble. "You did that deliberately."


John pushed up from his seat and slowly stalked around the table, leaving Rodney to scrabble to his feet and back away like a prey evading a predator. John stepped in closer, backing Rodney into the bed and leaving him floundering to maintain his balance for a moment before moving in another step that send Rodney edging along the bed. Rodney squeaked when he backed into the wall, raising a smirk from John, but that didn't stop him from moving in closer to Rodney. Eventually they were only a foot apart, chests almost touching. John rocked his head again and leaned on the wall, hands either side of Rodney's head.

" want to play games, do you?"

Before Rodney could formulate a response, John was pressed up against him, kissing him deeply. Momentarily flustered, Rodney wasn't sure what to do with his hands, but then John leaned all the way in, groin to groin, and the shock of pleasure had Rodney hard in seconds. His hands grabbed at John, pulling him in tighter as he opened up all his defenses and let John take what he wanted. John unzipped Rodney and wrapped a hand around his cock, groaning into Rodney's mouth as Rodney came moments later.

"Checkmate," John whispered raggedly as he licked the come off his fingers, and for once Rodney didn't care that he'd lost the first round because this game wasn't over yet, and if the heated look in John's eyes was anything to go on, then they still had plenty more moves to play.