When Rodney told John what he intended to do, that he intended to let the Wraith feed on him to save his sister, something sharp and hollow thudded in John's chest.
He found himself saying, "No. You can't, I won't let you," and "I'm your commanding officer," and "That's an order." But really he wanted to say Please, don't, I need you. He told Rodney he was a valuable member of the expedition but thought I don't know what I'd do without you.
But McKay had that look, the one he got when he was stubborn and determined to see his idea through. John always loved that look in the midst of a crisis, but now...
So John had a brief flash of Rodney, old and withered, the bright light in his pale blue eyes dulled, skin a papery husk and no proper tribute to the man in front of him now. It scared him. It really scared him.
John's instinct has always favored fight over flight. He finds himself lunging forward and grabbing McKay by his shoulders, forcing him back against the wall. McKay's mouth does that little surprised turning-down-at-the-corner thing, gaping a little, and John can see it in his minds' eye, lifelessly gaping and death-pale and the last of his will breaks as he kisses the expression from Rodney's lips.
There are heartbeats of silence and stillness and panic before Rodney moaned low and deep and started reciprocating. It was a sound Rodney reserved for really good chocolate and coffee and fully-charged ZPMs and it travels in electric waves down John's spine and his hips hitch forward.
John tilts his head back enough to worry Rodney's lip and mutter, "Oh God, Rodney, I can't, I can't let you, I just-" and he fits his mouth in the hollow of Rodney's jaw, to pant hot breath against the shell of Rodney's ear, so he can taste the worry and fear and sweat coating Rodney's skin like a husk. So he rocks his hips into Rodney's with just enough pressure to say Please.
"John, it's Jeannie, I have to-" Rodney protests weakly, responding to the pressure with an arch of his back.
"No, come on, Rodney, God, I know she's your sister and all, but-" John sighs and darts his tongue out to lick the pulse of Rodney's neck, "Can't I- just be- selfish- for once?" He punctuates his sentence with slow, evil rolls of his hips and the slow, hungry glide of his hands up under Rodney's shirt.
He can't stop, can't get enough of Rodney. He won't give this all up, won't let Rodney face his doom. He won't bury him.
Rodney doesn't seem to be coherent enough to remind him why he can't. His eyes are closed, mouth gaping, panting, his entire body responding to John's insistently, hands scrabbling in John's hair, making small little moaning sounds John can't get enough of.
"I could order you not to, again," John says into Rodney's neck, lips skating over his pulse. He feels Rodney shudder, then, full-body and delicious. He wants, wants, wants so bad he needs.
He know Rodney will pull away even before he does. He tries to hold on, rubs the pads of his fingers over Rodney's nipples and wants to taste the breath Rodney sharply inhales, wants to lean forward and kiss, take, have. His lips press harshly against Rodney's even as Rodney mumbles, "No, no I can't, Jeannie's dying-"
"Don't you want-" John licks inside Rodney's mouth. This. Me. He can't say it, has to spell it out in caresses on Rodney's chest.
"Oh God, you have no idea how I want," but Rodney can't finish it either. So he ends the kiss reluctantly, chasing John's taste even as he pushes away. "But It's the only way." He trails his nails lightly down John's back, over his shirt, and gives him a look that says if only and we could have- and finally, John. And then he leaves.
And John falls back against the wall, panting, running unsatisfied hands down his shirt, over oh God the front of his pants and thinks of Rodney. He has to save him. But he has to save Jeannie, too. And the Wraith has to feed. There's no one left but-
It hits him then, strung out with need and desperation, and the very idea makes him sick and disgusted with himself.
But it's Rodney.