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He had this creature crawling down his body, kissing down his chest, and the only thing he could think of was how great it felt. Not where the guy had come from or how he'd gotten into his room, or how he knew how to suck cock like that, and faint acknowledgment that he should've worried about that skittered through his mind. He was military, for Christ's sake. If anybody had seen the guy, all cheekbones and wide, lustful eyes, they'd have to know what he was coming in for.

They'd have to acknowledge that Evan wasn't just raised in a crazy liberal California artist commune, he belonged there, because, oh. God. He'd never been able to resist a sweet reddened mouth sucking his dick, and he'd never been all that discriminatory as to gender when it came right down to it.

He ought to be worrying that Dave might catch wind of it instead of reaching down and threading his fingers into silky strands of hair and thrusting up.

He did thrust, though, shoving up his hips and listening for the loud slurping noise as he pulled off of the head of Evan's cock when all Evan wanted was for him to keep sucking, finish him off.

"C'mon. C'mon." Because he couldn't think of anything else to say even when the skinny, pale boy rose up on his knees and grinned down, all feral gleam and sharp toothy smirk. "Please, I just. I want..."

"I know what you want." He knew and it seemed like he was going to give him what he wanted, because he was up on his knees and moving over Evan's hips, and oh, fuck yes, Evan didn't care if the guy had lube or not. It didn't matter, nothing mattered, and he sprawled himself open, pushed his ass up, seeking, wanting, needing to be fucked stupid.

When he pushed in, Evan jerked. Not because it hurt or because it was dry; no, because it was fucking slick and it was ice cold and Evan didn't care. He couldn't care because his eyes were rolling back in his head and he was coming, explosive orgasm like he couldn't recall having, not ever. Just pressing into him, moving into him, and somewhere in there the guy was fucking him, hammering into his ass and coming, Evan guessed, but it didn't matter because he was on fire.

And then the guy was gone.

Evan blinked open his eyes and shifted. The room was dark, and he could feel Dave next to him, radiating heat and breathing, steady and even, and his ass was sore.

That was kind of weird. Scratch that. It was a lot weird because they'd been in too much of a hurry for anything like that. He'd sucked Dave off, jerked himself, and then they'd cleaned up and stretched out to talk about the next morning's mission. And he knew that Dave had all sorts of notions about consent and being a conscientious partner so there was no way that he'd mounted Evan's ass in his sleep.

Fucking weird dream. Maybe he'd sleep it off and morning would prove that it was all his imagination anyway. Yawning, he turned on his side and stretched an arm out, sliding it over Dave's waist.

After all. It wasn't like there was anybody else there, and when the only two possible options ended in a blank wall...


"Does Lorne look a little peaky to you?" John glanced over at Rodney and tilted his head a little. They were heading out to do some kind of weed pollen testing on M59-764 and consolidate the trade agreement for the grain they used in the kitchen for bread and rolls.

Rodney's pace was a familiar trudging one at his side while they walked through the grass, his hand resting on his P-90. "How do you define peaky? I mean, if you're asking if I think he's been hitting the peroxide again, my answer is yes."

"You're just jealous of all his hair." Teasing McKay was way too easy. That or John just enjoyed it a little too much. "No, I mean, look at him. He's just kind of..." Pale. It seemed a little telling to John. Worrisome.

"I hope he's not coming down with something. The last thing we need is flu or some alien infection, oh, god, what if the plants are doing it?" And the villagers, Rodney would jump to that conclusion next.

John couldn't help rolling his eyes. "It's not the plants. We've been here off and on for the last six months, Rodney. You haven't been exposed to something deadly."

"Maybe it's only just now triggered!" Rodney hurried forward, taking himself a little closer towards Lorne, but still not in sneezing range if Lorne was inclined. "Hey, how're you, uh, feeling. Feverish? Nose itches, any of that?"

He couldn't keep himself from grinning because the look his 2IC was giving McKay was as good as asking him if he was nuts. "Uh. No?"

"You look flu-y. I mean, if you're fine, okay, great, good for all of us, but I'd rather," Rodney made some vague gesture to the group as a whole, "we not all get it, too."

Yeah. That was the look he'd been waiting on. "Look, McKay. I'm fine. We're all fine, you're not gonna be getting some magical superbug walking from the gate to the village six feet from me."

"It wouldn't be the first time," Rodney snapped, but he fell back, more into pace with John again.

"Won't be the last, either." John grinned and they kept going. It was a beautiful day and he had a feeling that it would keep right on being one.


The gate room at midnight was quiet, a little boring, and low lit. Chuck didn't usually have trouble staying awake -- there was coffee in one of the side areas even if Dr. Zelenka kind of got his pants in a twist about it. After all, what would be more damaging to the Ancient tech -- coffee or drool when he inevitably passed out on the console because he was working a night shift?

Chuck leaned back in his chair, and started to contemplate playing solitaire.

The great thing about Atlantis was that there was a huge cache of games on the server from complicated graphics filled stuff to Bookworm to Tetris. The sad thing about it was that Chuck pretty much preferred spider. It was easy, pretty mindless, and he could leave it if somebody dialed in from off-world without caring about the game as much as he cared about his job.

He was just opening it up when he heard a footstep behind him.

That wasn't unusual; he wasn't the only person on tonight's shift, even if he was usually one of the day shift guys. What was unusual was that it didn't sound like a booted foot, so he turned, and... holy cow.

Naked skinny guy. Naked, with a hard dick and a wicked, impish grin splitting his mouth. "Hey."

"Should you, uh. Be here?" Obviously not, but Chuck was so thrown off-kilter that he couldn't do anything more than ask that stupid question. Of course he shouldn't be there, for God's sake. Naked people shouldn't be standing behind him on the gate room balcony.

"Yeah, I'm in the right place." He walked closer, and Chuck was torn between looking for a panic button, wondering if Athosians really could have mental breakdowns, who he was supposed to be visiting, and just what Athosian it was. Then the guy was right up on him, hands settling onto Chuck's shoulders. "I know what you want."

Panic was an understatement. "Uh, I want... Wait, because I'm going to call the..." Holy shit. Holy shit, because there was naked random Athosian all in his lap and over him, and what was he supposed to do with that? Chuck didn't have any urges towards the male side of the spectrum, but damn.

"Call the military? Call the commander?" He was straddling Chuck's hips and his hands were rubbing at Chuck's shoulders, starting to work his jacket off.

That was... "You should, I, um. Excuse me, but I really think I should..." There was a mouth on his, cutting off the half-assed protest he was trying to give.

There was good reason for him to push the guy off of him, no reason not to say no and shove him away, but Chuck wasn't, and he didn't know why he wasn't. Except that he was getting slipped tongue, and the guy on his lap was slowly peeling his clothes off.

He couldn't remember ever getting hard over a guy -- well, not since ninth grade and that whole thing with Justin, anyway -- but damn. Fucking hell! That was a hand sliding down and into the waistband of his pants. "I..." It was all he managed to get out before that tongue slid into his mouth again.

"Want this." He could almost feel it in his skull, that he did, and he could feel that tongue tracing his lips, pressing into his mouth, ready to fuck his mouth as much as kiss it, while he wrapped a hand around Chuck's dick.

Oh geeze.

He'd had dirty fantasies about sex in the gate room. Hell, who hadn't? Thoughts about fucking up against the DHD, sliding into someone slick and hot and wet. He hadn't ever thought about someone flicking dark-lashed eyes up at him as he slid down, making Chuck's breath catch in his throat. "Oh god."

"Why not have what you want?" Why not? Why not, because the naked guy was already moving down his body, undoing his pants with steady hands. No nerves, no fear of being walked in on for him. Nothing edgy about him, and then there was a mouth sliding around his dick, and all he could do was let out a ragged breath and settle back in his chair.

Chuck groaned, fingers shaking. He didn't know if it was because of what was going on or if it was because somebody was bound to walk in at any minute. He wasn't even close to being the only person on duty in the control room.

So where was everybody else?

Maybe, just, just freaking maybe it was a dream and he'd been there, done that before. Lucid dreams, he could even half-control them sort of. He felt tongue press hard against the underside of his cockhead, sucking hard.

"Oh my God." Yeah. Yes. Yes, Christ, that was what he wanted, what he'd wanted for a while, just like that, only he hadn't known it until it started. "I want, yeah, that's what I..." Exactly what he wanted.

He wanted a blowjob, and he still wanted to bend the guy over and fuck him, and if it was a dream then why not? He could do whatever he wanted, enjoy the slide of tongue over his dick, enjoy the way those fingers were cupping his balls, massaging slow and easy, and yeah. Yeah, there, a rub just behind his balls that made him desperate, made it hard to think.

"I wanna fuck you. I want to..."

"Maybe I'll let you." He smiled, mouth still twitching wildly before he leaned in to lick the head of Chuck's dick.

It was almost enough to set Chuck off. He'd always had a weakness for watching somebody lap at his dick and it was just this side of too much. "Then you'd better stop that or I'll come in your mouth."

"You could maybe come twice. I think I'd like that." He pulled back, eyes still fixed on Chuck's face when he started to stand up.

"I could maybe come once," he offered, because he'd like that. Like to come fucking him over the DHD. "Here. Just here."

The guy's laugh was quiet, a chuckle, arrogant, and he stood up and leaned over the DHD. He reached one hand back, pulling his ass cheeks apart. "Dial home."

Fuck. Keeping himself from coming in that moment was harder than he would have thought, but he managed. Barely, eying that slick crevice, and then he pushed forward, hand pressed against the DHD, and slid into what should have been hot and slick and perfect.

It was ice cold instead.

He'd done that once, fucked a girlfriend who had a thing for teasing herself with ice before he slid into her, and she always warmed up quickly. This stayed cold, though, and he almost freaked out in his dream-state, but he didn't because then he was coming, and his hips were still moving, but he was there, orgasming with stars behind his eyes.

"Hey, Chuck. You want me to bring you some coffee?"

He jerked awake, head coming up. He could feel the marks where the keyboard had pressed against his face. "Un."

"Seriously. You'd think they'd actually consider how it would fuck things up to switch day staff to night without an appropriate amount of time to acclimate yourself."

"I'm uh..." He covered his mouth in a yawn, and smacked his lips trying to shake that strange feeling that he'd just had his hands on some dude's hips, just hammering away. "Coffee sounds great."

There was a quick smile tossed his way. "I'll bring you a cup. Fully leaded."

Chuck watched her walk away, ass swaying. Obviously he needed to get laid a lot more often. Maybe he should be paying more attention to the people around him, considering.


Fresh scrambled eggs didn't happen all that often on Atlantis. It was usually the powdered kind, yellow and watery. Sometimes they were warm enough to melt the pretend cheddar and sometimes they weren't.

John was a guy who knew how to make the best of things, so he took the fresh eggs while he could get them and didn't let the fact that McKay was making god-awful faces every time he spooned up grits bother him.

"Seriously, how do you eat that? How -- there's good food here!" McKay's standard of 'good food' was pretty flexible. It included MREs and stale Cheetos. John was pretty sure that he should be insulted but he felt too good to get worked up about it. Instead, he gave Rodney a blissed-out smile and took a big bite, just to rub it in.

"Ugh." Rodney shoveled eggs into his mouth, and stopped long enough to chew. Or do something long enough to stop himself from choking. "We don't have any missions on deck today. Are you going to finally get to that paperwork?"

John leaned back in his chair, stretching his spine. "Actually, I was thinking of taking a day off. Playing some golf. Doing something relaxing." Not that he really planned on it, but teasing Rodney was half the fun of breakfast. "Napping, maybe. I'm still reading War and Peace."

"Page what, ten?" Rodney snorted. "I'll trade days with you. I'm looking at maintenance of some of the power stations."

Leaning forward, John snagged his spoon and took another bite. "Yeah, well. I could volunteer to help a little later this afternoon, if you felt like you needed somebody to lend a hand."

"Huh, well, if you're willing." Rodney was moving through his eggs, heading for the not-sausage that tasted weirdly like pork rinds and kiwi. "It's just mindless grueling maintenance that I have to do because if it's not as easy as I expect it to be, and if there are any hidden problems, I'm the only one who can fix it. Well, and Radek. He's checking the waste filtration unit."

"Wow, what'd he do to piss you off like that?" Reaching out, he stole one of the grapes on Rodney's plate. "Isn't that usually the job of whoever screwed up worst yesterday?"

"It's stopped working. We've got, oh, I'd say three days until that's a problem." Rodney gave him a dirty look, and gestured the tines of his fork at John. "Thievery, Colonel?"

"The best things in life are things that belong on your tray, McKay." Yeah, that didn't come out right. "Or something like that. You're looking a little tired. Did you catch whatever Lorne had the other day?"

"Haven't been able to sleep. I feel all right. I mean, I feel really good and energetic, so I'll give it another day before I go to the infirmary." He could see the wheels turning in Rodney's head, though -- there was now a fifty percent chance that after breakfast he'd go straight to the infirmary.

Snitching another couple of grapes, John stood up and popped one in his mouth. "Yeah, well. Let me know if it's communicable. I'd hate for everybody to catch it."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll come down with it next." Rodney pulled his tray in closer to himself, and if he could have wrapped his arms around it to protect his grapes, he would've. "I'll page you if I want someone to hand me tools later."

John smirked at him and tried to steal one more. It didn't work, but what the hell. "See you around, Rodney." Taking his tray in hand, he strolled away, feeling pleased with himself in so very many ways.


Richard had a ridiculous affection for Wagner played at volume.

It was soothing, in some ways, passionate and loud, and it helped him to relax. Considering the days on Atlantis and the stress of keeping up appearances in a foreign land... Well. It was a relief to come home and live in unfettered relaxation.

It was a relief to have quarters that he could call home, a relief that people knocked and didn't simply let themselves in, a relief that it seemed that his command staff at least attempted to respect him. They were a motley but spirited crew, and mostly they made him think of sea shanties.

Richard had no idea why.

He settled into the most comfortable chair of the lot and sighed, reaching for his glass of wine. It was a nice red from one of the moons two systems over. Ms. Emmagen had brought it back as a gift for him, and he certainly appreciated that. It was well-considered of her and it made him feel that he'd been accepted.

Richard settled back and took another sip of his wine. There was something comfortably decadent about passing out in relaxation in a chair, just resting in place and drinking slowly.

The feel of hands settling on his shoulders, stroking down his chest, was unsettling, deeply unnerving. "Hi." The voice whispering in his ear drew out that word, slow and lazy, as easy as that touch.

He startled at the words, after the touch, and yes, it was silly, but the word felt sharper than the touch, breath against his ear that made his eyes snap open. Hostage situation, oh, that was never good. "Who are you?"

"Maybe your best dream come true. Maybe something else altogether. Close your eyes and see."

As if Richard could do that. For God's sake, he'd rather see what was coming at him than be caught completely unaware when he died.

He kept his eyes open, and shook his head. "No, I'm going to do no such thing. You're going to get off of me, and I'm going to get security. Where did you even come from?" And he tried to get his hands on the man, tried to push him off. The hands were persistent, though, and when he peeked around Richard, he caught a glimpse of dark-shaded eyes, straight nose, and a ridiculously sweet smile. That was right before he felt a tongue lick up the line of his jaw, slow and wet, ending in a kiss against the corner of his mouth.

"Close your eyes," he said again. "And see."

Richard grimaced, and closed his eyes, and he knew, he just knew the guy was going to try to snap his neck. Slit it from ear to ear, and that scared him in ways he hadn't considered since the first time he had ever left Earth.

Instead there were fingers tracing the muscles in his shoulders, sliding inside of his jacket and pulling it back and off slowly, moving his arms so that they came out of it with an ease that was just a little unreal.

"See," that voice murmured again, deep and quiet, and then his tie was being loosened, fingers sliding incise to trace the hollow of his throat.

"Not particularly." Richard swallowed, and tried to relax, and he didn't know why he was relaxing. There was no sense to it, no reason or logic, it just was, and when those hands slid down, the buttons of his shirt appeared to part with an ease that made the entire thing seem two steps removed from reality. Made it easier to let go and pretend that it really was.

Maybe he was asleep in his dreams and he'd just nodded off on the chair. That was all, it was a fantastic, surreal chair dream, half-walking. One that involved cool fingers sliding into the waistband of his pants, wrapping around his penis and stroking exactly the way he liked it. Perfect and gentle and slick, and he didn't stop to wonder how that had come about, just shifted and pushed up into that touch.

"Uhn, I should have this dream more often." He kept his hands on the arms of the chair, clutching them while he lifted his hips up to that hand.

"You can have it. All you have to do is keep your eyes closed." Richard felt him, it, his surreal partner, felt the way he moved and knelt, hands pressed against Richard's thighs.

"Huh. What happens if I open my eyes?" He had to be obstinate, had to ask because he was curious. That was the thing that had tripped him up as often as not, mostly when he'd been younger. He'd always had an unbearable curiosity.

Oh. Oh god. That was a tongue sliding up his cock. It had been so long that it took everything he could dredge up to keep himself from coming. "Maybe nothing. Maybe everything."

Maybe he didn't want to open his eyes. He swallowed and clenched his ass cheeks together, trying to keep himself stalled, keep himself from coming. He didn't think he was going to manage it, but then that slick motion was at an end, and there was a long, slim body pressed against him, legs over his chair arms, and it was so tempting. Just to look, to see something beyond the murky glimpse of shining eyes.

He lifted his lashes and there was nothing at all.

Nothing at all, and he could still feel everything.

Oh, God, he was so glad to realize that it was a dream, that he'd just drifted off and he was dreaming about an invisible force touching him, sliding his cock between invisible ass-cheeks and... oh. OH.

He could see his dick held upright, could see something contracting around it, could feel, and oh, oh god. It was cold and burning and it didn't matter. Didn't matter because it was slick and he let his hands leave the chair's arms, let them settle on ridiculously slim hips and pull down, down until he was buried in that icy chill and trying to catch his breath.

"Oh god, oh god..." He almost wanted the man -- boy? -- off of him, but he wanted to fuck up into that cold stricture, too, wanted to move whether he could catch his breath or not.

It was a dream, just a dream, and so he let go. He let go and tilted his head back and closed his eyes again, because letting it happen seemed like the best idea ever. Letting it ensue, unable to see, with Wagner rising in volume in the background, was quite possibly the most memorable sex Richard could remember having in quite some time.

It was fantastic and unbelievable, and he wanted it to go on and on while he thrust, harder and harder. He was so close, so close; he couldn't even see his partner, but he could feel him. Feel the way he tightened, feel the warm, slick nudge of his tongue against his lips, feel his thighs lifting, moving, and oh. Oh, because he was there, he was coming, he was right there, and oh. Oh, dear heavens, that was... that was just perfect.

That was amazing, and then he felt the invisible man getting off of him. How strange. How, how damn strange, and he felt drained and sleepy, but when he stretched, he knew, just knew, that he was awake.

He was awake and he was very, very uncomfortable. Not sticky, no. Uncomfortable, though.

Uncomfortable, and undressed.

For a moment, Richard considered reaching for the tiny earpiece they used on Atlantis and calling someone. Dr. McKay, perhaps. Someone without that murky darkness of eye that made him hesitant, somehow, to call Colonel Sheppard.

He hesitated, and then reached up for the comm, and called for Lorne.


He'd waited a long time to walk into the room. If he meant it in a simple measure of time, years -- oh, he walked in there all the time, through John's different phases of what passed for interior design which wavered through posters on the wall and sparkly curtains and candles -- years where he'd wanted to walk in there for the purpose of sex.

For the purpose of John, lying him down and doing unspeakably filthy beautiful things to him, the kinds of things that Rodney only held as a vague memory. Things he hadn't done since college because he'd been working for the Air Force every spare moment since then, and it wasn't the kind of thing they appreciated.

Civilians who got into wild gay sex acts in their free time weren't welcome, he supposed. Just the fear of being caught out was enough to keep him controlling himself, but this... this was almost worth it. No, completely worth it. Rodney smiled at John as he knelt on the bed, while John stretched out smugly. He was long and lean and looking at Rodney with a glint of knowledge that was almost terrifying.

"Hello, Meredith." That drawl twisted him up, and he glanced away for just a second, and oh. God. Flat on his back.

That wasn't the way this dream usually went.

"Hi. Are you in on this?" He was used to being the one in control in his dreams and he was pretty sure that nothing like that was going to happen this time. It was a feeling skirting around the pit of his belly brought on by the way those hips flexed against him, John's eyes dark, his mouth curved in a sharp dangerous smirk.

"I've been in on this since the beginning," he said, and then he was coming down over Rodney, blanketing him, and oh.

Damn that was good, and John was pushing him onto his back, hard against the mattress, sliding lips over his jaw line. "Huh, that's interesting, you're..."

"Going to fuck you into the mattress, McKay." That was a little scary, or possibly even a lot, because he'd thought about it. He'd had fantasies about John opening him up with his fingers, his cock, his hand, John making him do things, John... Just John, and now that this was here, now that it was happening, he was almost afraid. "Going to make you beg for my cock in your ass like a bitch in heat."

It sounded fantastic.

Rodney leaned back, looking up at John in a way he hoped was alluring. "Well, are you going to just mouth off about it, or are you going to do something?"

He was going to do something apparently because John leaned down and took his mouth. Took it like something out of porn, and okay. This was the best dream Rodney had ever had because there were thumbs flicking at his nipples while John kissed him, and then pinching so that he gasped and arched up and oh. Oh.

He wouldn't even recognize John like this if it weren't for the absolute perfection of his face, the way he looked like John even when he was so deeply, amazingly...

Yeah.

Beautiful, Rodney supposed, and he tried to reach back to grasp John's hair, pull him back in for another kiss, hard and hot and he wanted it, pinched nipples, fingers up his ass, foreplay, lack of foreplay, all of it.

"Please." Because it was John, John over him, eyes dark, almost pure green when he was that close, and that was ridiculously hot.

"You'll be saying more than please before I'm done with you."

Which was porn-style lines, sure, but Rodney didn't care because he lifted his hips and shoved his hard dick up against John's body. "We'll see. Maybe you just think you're so talented."

Maybe, but the way John shifted, the way he took both of Rodney's hands in his and shoved them up above his head made Rodney's heartbeat spike. "I'm so talented you're going to be sore in three days. And asking me for it again that night all the same."

He wished. He truly wished, and moved against the tightness of John's hands. Rodney's hands didn't move when he arched, trying to test what John was doing. "I'd hate to be disappointed after the hype."

"You won't be."

They were the last words John gave him because then he was moving, Rodney still held down. He was shifting down and his teeth were so sharp, biting into a nipple. Ordinarily Rodney probably would have protested, but after the pinching, the teasing, all he could do was give a desperate choked sound as John worked at the left one, biting, nipping, sucking.

Oh God.

Just the left one, so he knew it was a prelude to the right one, and he was panting, twisting, trying to move to get away or get more or get something that Rodney wasn't sure of, so he knew that by the time John moved on to the right one he was going to be out of his head with the sensations.

Best. Dream. Ever.

Ever, and John was looking up at him, all black lashes and lust and wet tongue. "You have very pretty nipples, McKay." Just talking rasped his chin over the first one, and Rodney spasmed despite himself.

"You should try shaving." His breath caught, and he knew he was trying to be mouthy to get a rise out of John, but it was falling apart, shaking at the edges.

"What would be the fun in that?" And then, oh Christ. That rasp of chin was followed by the feel of John's teeth, and all he could do was shake, head dropped back, trying to keep from coming yet. Not yet.

Oh please not yet, and John was using one hand to hold Rodney's down, because he'd moved the right one to play with Rodney's other nipple.

"John." He didn't want to come yet, and he wanted to say something, wanted to stop John from moving so hard, and he just had to stay in control. That was it; he just had to stay in control. "John..."

That wasn't him, mewling like that, out of control and writhing, shuddering. It wasn't him, even when John swarmed back up over him, kissed him again.

"I'm going to fuck you. But you're going to beg me for it first, McKay. Meredith. You're going to beg me to put my cock in you before I do it." God, the way he smirked, it was incredible, it wasn't the John he knew at all and that gave everything an edge of almost fear that was unreal.

He wasn't sure he could piece that together but he exhaled hard, staring at John, still trying to writhe, moving against the kisses except the kisses were full of suction and wet and he loved that kind of kiss, deep and lingering, tongue in his mouth. It was luscious and pure sex without cock even being involved, except it kind of was. Definitely was, because he was whimpering and rutting upwards. He could feel John, the hard length of him sliding against the inside of his thigh, leaving a slick trail of precum behind.

"You need to..." Rodney swallowed, trying to wiggle his hands free and maybe he could get them back now that John just had the one hand to pin down. "Please, John. Plea--" And then kisses, silencing him. Obviously John wasn't ready to hear him beg for it even as he spread his legs wider, squirming to get John a little further down. Get him closer to his ass.

"Fuck you?" Murmured sound, between kisses, John's chest hair rasping against his oversensitive nipples. "Say it like I want to hear it."

Too much sensation, more than he was used to. "Fuck me. I want you, your dick, just get to it, I want you." He could feel the words roll off of his lips, in heavy, unsteady pants. They'd been on the tip of his tongue for so long that it was a relief to say them, to get them out of his mouth.

That slice of smile was terrifying. It made him wonder if they'd somehow managed to run across another energy creature like the one on M3X-387, the one that had nearly killed him. For good. "Say please. Sir."

"Please." He swallowed, and dug a heel against the mattress so he could twist enough to fuck up against John. "Please, sir."

That gleam of John's eye, the way he looked up at him, it was... oh God. "Please sir what, Meredith?"

It was sharp, sharp as he remembered John of before, and it made him nervous, made him wonder even while he answered, responded to John. "Please sir, I want you to fuck my ass."

That was it, what John wanted to hear, he could see it in his eyes, in the way he grinned down at him, the way he moved, and fuck. Rodney was surrounded by John, by the way he came down over him, broad shoulders, slim hips, pressing him down, and somehow, from somewhere, there were slick fingers between them, breaching him so quickly, so thoroughly, that he could barely breathe.

It was a dream, so why not. Magical lube he was used to, but magical finger lube was a fascinating touch, and John's fingers felt fantastic pushing into him. "Yeah, give it to me, fuck me, Sheppard, you know you want to."

A second finger slid in, and oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, he had to pant to hold back from coming, head thrown back. "I'm going to fuck you until you're raw with it, and then I'll fuck you that much harder the next time."

Out of control, and he went with it because it was new and different, and he moved his legs, trying to spread them for John, trying to hook him in somehow to get John's body closer against his.

"I'm gonna fuck you now." It was strange, that warning, nothing Rodney ever dreamed of before that he could remember, and then there was cock, in him, burning him up from the outside in, like the slide of ice across his tongue when it was too dry. John hissed, and then he was all the way inside, and Rodney shook with the force of it.

"Oh god." Oh god, oh god, he wanted that, he wanted more fucking, he wanted John to keep moving, to haul him up from the mattress and just hammer into him, and John seemed to know it. He seemed to know everything because Rodney felt him moving, getting up onto his knees with his dick still deep, and he was arranging Rodney like he wanted him, pulling his legs into position, letting him arch back onto the bed like it was nothing. Rodney couldn't even bring himself to care what that would feel like later, because John was moving him, had his hips, and he was pulling him in to meet every thrust with a strength Rodney hadn't ever thought John would have.

It was a dream, so that explained that. He moved with him and clutched hard at John with his heels, struggling to time breathing with the pounding thrusts, dick hard and so close, so close, to coming. He could shift, reach for his own cock, but John had left his hands above his head, and Rodney didn't think he should move them. Just... just take it, and he was letting out sounds, groans and curses, with every thrust, begging John, desperate and needy, and John was pushing into him harder each time.

He took it, rode it out, and finally gave up and lost himself in the stretch and the burn of it, the almost there cusp of it stimulation he was getting. So close, so close, and then John moved and the angle changed and he came explosively, shaking with the force of it.

Unbelievable, more than he'd ever expected, and Rodney needed to keep moving or stop, more or none at all because he was falling apart and John was still moving, fucking into him, and then...

He opened his eyes.

And he knew.


His radio had gone off before he'd managed to get dressed so John had picked it up and slid it on and answered.

He'd never seen Lorne look so embarrassed. Not even when they'd come back through the gate high and naked and singing 'U Can't Touch This'. John was pretty sure they still showed the security footage at some of the Marines' parties.

It started to make sense once Lorne had started to explain things to him and it fit right in with that inkling he'd had about his evening. A phantom lover had visited Woolsey while he'd napped, and then Lorne had said that the only reason he didn't haul Woolsey's ass down to the infirmary for a straight jacket fitting was that he'd been visited by the same dream that bled into reality nearly a week before.

John had listened, nodded in all the right places, and told him he'd go wake up McKay and get him on the problem before whatever was going on spread more widely through Atlantis.

If worse came to worst, he'd rather handle it alone.

He went through the effort of paging Rodney thirty seconds out from his door, thirty seconds before he let himself into Rodney's room. He didn't answer, of course, but that didn't surprise John exactly. It just made him feel smug, gave him the determination to make certain that what had happened wouldn't come to light.

He wasn't sure how he was going to fix it, but. He let himself in and let the door shut behind him. It took his eyes a second to adjust to the dark room, and a moment longer to realize that Rodney was lying in bed, face up, covers pulled up to his chin.

Rodney never slept on his back. Not ever.

"Meredith," John said slowly. "I know you're awake. You can't pretend you aren't, not with me."

"What do you want, Colonel?" At least he didn't feign sleepy-voices, but he also wasn't sitting up or moving yet.

"You know exactly what I want, Rodney. So you might as well stop lying there and faking it. I hear you're actually pretty good at the opposite of that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" At least it got him a dirty look from Rodney while Rodney started to move, pressing hands against the mattress.

John stepped closer, looking down at him. "You started with Lorne. Tonight, there was Woolsey, and then me. I don't know who's been in between but I'm pretty sure it's not that you were born an incubus. So. Where's the tech?"

Rodney opened and closed his mouth. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Sheppard. None."

He put his knee on the end of the bed, and reached for the closure of his pants. "Don't you, Meredith? See, what I'm thinking is that you found something. Something that gave you access to dreams and dreamlike states. Maybe it's another crazy Ancient ascension device. Maybe it's some pervert's idea of a good time. The thing of it is, though, I know you. And I've been to your sister's house. I've seen pictures of you from high school. Meredith."

He watched Rodney deflate, and he knew, knew, he'd been right, and Rodney's face just fell. "Oh, uh, look, I wasn't even sure what it was until, uh..."

"Until when?" Because John was going to get all of it out of him, even if he was stripping while he did it. "How many?"

"You. I realized that I wasn't controlling that, that it wasn't a dream, and what are you doing?" He almost expected Rodney to gather the sheets up to his chest, balking at nudity, and as it was he clutched at them, holding them on his lap.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" His pants were undone, and he reached down, grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt to pull it up over his head.

"Stripping. Look, Sheppard, I'm, I'm sorry that I tangled myself up in your head and once I'm sure this thing has no lasting side effects I'll dismantle it and it'll never happen again, I was just trying to get a better five hours of sleep a night." He was babbling. Rodney did that when he was nervous and when he was sure he was going to get the hell beaten out of him.

John smiled at him. "Tell me you don't want it."

"I..." He wasn't going to lie, but he lifted his chin and stared at John. "This isn't you."

"What makes you think it's not?" He shoved his pants down to his knees and squirmed forwards. "What makes you think I don't want to give you exactly what you were asking me for?"

"You're, you're..." Rodney waved a hand, staring. Like it had just sunk in, never mind that John was naked and moving in on him fast. "Are you kidding me?"

"McKay." If his voice was a little rough, maybe not all that together, well. It wasn't like he didn't have good reason. "I've been waiting for a goddamned sign, but you kept on with Katie and then Keller. I was starting to think you just had a K kick."

"No, I was just trying my most obvious options, you didn't..." Rodney swallowed. "So uh, you're okay with this? I mean, I'm assuming so since you're naked."

Reaching out, John snagged the comforter and tugged it out of Rodney's hands. "That'd be me saying yeah, McKay. And, if it's all the same to you?"

"Yes?" It was almost a squeak, but he could see that Rodney was puffing up his chest, more startled by it all than scared.

"If it's all the same to you..." John stretched out over him, and he couldn't keep from grinning. "I kind of prefer you now to you then."

Later, he'd work out what Rodney had used to do it with. Ban it, break it, or more likely bury it into a bin, never to be touched again.

John could feel Rodney relax when he kissed him. He'd worry about all of that afterward, work out how to keep the knowledge of what had actually happened out of the hands of everybody who'd had a meeting with Meredith. For now... for now, he was going to give Rodney exactly what he'd asked for.