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"I've gotta go to the bathroom," John said.
“So what's stopping you?"
John looked down pointedly at his leg that was trapped between Rodney's thighs.
"What?" Rodney asked, squeezing them tighter.
John grinned and tugged. "I'm serious."
"So am I," Rodney said, smiling. He slid his hands up John's body, one hand stopping above his stomach, the other continuing until it covered a nipple. "If you want to go, go."
"Rodney – "
"Go on," Rodney said, plucking at his nipple.
"Hey!" John protested, leaning away. He balanced precariously on the edge of the bed until Rodney grabbed his hip and pulled their bodies tightly together again.
"Go to the bathroom," Rodney murmured against John's neck.
"I'm trying," John murmured, moving his leg between Rodney's thighs. "I've really got to go."
"Pretend really or really really?"
"That doesn't even make sense. Let me up before I have an accident."
"An accident? What sort of accident?" Rodney asked as he rubbed John's stomach.
"Cut that out,” John says, snickering.
"No, seriously," Rodney said, big grin on his face, eyes lit up manically. He rubbed harder, then pushed.
"Fuck! Rodney!" John was laughing now, even as he was trying to pull his leg out of Rodney's tight grip. Rodney laughs back, snuffling against his collarbone as he teased John's belly.
“Alright, this means war," John said and slipped an arm around Rodney's waist. Within seconds his fingers were between Rodney's butt cheeks, wiggling furiously.
"Hey!" Rodney said, bucking into him. "That's not fair!"
"Ha! Should have thought of that before. You started it."
"Did not!"
They wrestled for a while longer; Rodney still trying to maintain his hold on John's leg while squirming to get John's fingers away from his ass while John tugged and tickled and, just for kicks, mock-bit Rodney's neck until he gasped, "Okay, okay, I give up. You may go to the bathroom."
“Geez, thank you,” John says sarcastically. “You’re lucky I didn’t have an accident.”
“It’s your bed anyway,” Rodney calls out to John’s retreating back. John doesn’t even turn around as he flips him the bird over one shoulder.
“Not even my mattress,” Rodney says smugly, laying flat on his back and stretching out his legs. He indulges in the memory of John squirming against him and how hot that was, what a power trip it was to feel all of that coiled energy trapped within the circle of his arms. He yawns loudly but even over that he can hear the sound of John pissing furiously in the bathroom. Huh - he wasn’t joking when he said he really needed to go.
A few seconds later, the shower turns on.
“Oh, hello, hello,” Rodney says to himself as he gets up to join him.
John’s hair is already wet and slicked back when Rodney enters the shower cubicle. He licks his lips and his soapy hand moves slowly over his chest. “Can I help you?”
“We need to shower together for altruistic reasons,” Rodney says, briskly lathering up his hands and rubbing them over the jut of John's hip bones. “Fresh water is a precious commodity. It would be incredibly wasteful for us to shower separately when, clearly, overtaxing our water supply leads to increased pressure on the filtration systems, which would lead to my staff having to work harder to maintain them. For the good of the Science staff, Colonel, it is imperative that you and I shower together. Actually, it’s probably good for the whole of Atlantis.
“You are so full of shit,” John says, laughing, leaning into Rodney’s space, resting his forearms on Rodney’s shoulders and tipping his head down to kiss him lightly. “For the good of Atlantis, huh?”
“Absolutely. Maybe even for the good of the whole galaxy.” And Rodney stops talking because he has better things to do with his mouth, like kissing John, like licking away the rivulets of water that are trickling down his forehead, over his cheek bones, collecting in the upturned edges of his smile. Like moving his hand between them and scratching his fingertips through the thick, dark thatch of John’s pubic hair.
They shuffle around until both of them are under the heavy stream of the shower head, water pulsating down on their slick bodies, and John’s hand is smoothing down the curve of Rodney’s shoulder blades, over his ass, down under his thigh, fingers spreading wide as he clutches it with a possessive grip.
Rodney gasps in his mouth and pushes his knee forward, opening himself up to John’s exploratory hand. He wants to open up to him, to let him feel around, to indulge in the steady push and push again of their cocks touching, feeling them both starting to harden up again and he's sort of amazed because they'd just finished having spectacular sex and romping around in an amorous afterglow. This was supposed to be the portion of the evening’s festivities that was made up of a quick clean up, an even quicker drying off then collapsing into each other's arms for as decadent a night’s sleep as two grown men could have on such a small bed.
John, the champion of multi-tasking, had managed to squeeze shampoo into his cupped hand and was scrubbing it through Rodney’s hair, using his strong, dexterous fingers to give him a scalp massage, to drag his thumbs slow and hard down his nape.
“See?” Rodney says, lips mashed against John’s. “Good idea.”
“Well, you are a genius,” John says smiling, pulling back. “C’mon, Rodney, turn around. Let me do this properly.”
“Sir, yes sir,” Rodney says and reluctantly removes his hands from John’s ass. He turns around and tips his head forward. “Oh my god, yes, keep doing that.”
John continues to wash his hair and Rodney adds some shower gel to the loofah, giving himself a light but thorough wash down of his front. He parts his legs so he can swipe under his balls and John gives an appreciate hum, kissing the back of his neck. “I could help you with that, you know.”
Rodney rinses the loofah and himself, closing his eyes and tipping his head back to let the warm water wash away the suds from his hair and body. “If I let you do that, we’ll never leave the shower and then where would our water usage be?”
He pours more gel on the loofah, turns John around by the shoulders and starts scrubbing his back. John leans forward, rests his hands on the wall and sighs. The way he’s positioned causes his ass to stick out a bit and Rodney can’t help thrust against it gently as he moves the loofah around to John's front, sweeping over his nipples, underneath his armpits and between his legs.
Rodney’s cock stirs a little more and he thinks that maybe the close conditions, the warm spray and the sight and smell of a wet clean Sheppard is enough to inspire him for Round Two. He’s definitely got a funny feeling happening in his nether regions.
John fiddles with the shower head and what was once a steady stream of water turns into a soft spray, a pulsating mist that fills up the stall. It makes the air around them foggy, more humid. John turns with languid grace and pulls Rodney against him as the pearls of water on their skin start to run together and slide down to the floor. Rodney pushes closer and feels that tightening in his stomach again, a sudden awareness of a spasm just above his pubic bone. His cock is half hard and he can feel John firming up against his hip.
Oh, he's a complete idiot. He’s getting hard but he needs to go first. He was so caught up in what they were doing that he neglected any awareness of a basic human function; that is, the need to take a piss.
He lets a quarter of his brain focus on that annoyance and the rest remains concentrated on their kisses. Wet, sliding, deep kisses that take his breath away and makes him -
No, it's not working. Now that he’s realised that he needs to go, it takes up most of his brain and the glorious kissing slides back to a grumpy second place. But he has to be clever about this. After the amount of teasing and chicanery he’d indulged in when John had had to go, he knew there was no way of getting out of the shower to take of business without John clueing into the fact and indulging in his own brand of mischief.
“What's up?” John asks, looking down his long nose at Rodney, eyebrows crunching together. And that look really shouldn't be hot, but it was, because every single little silly thing about John got Rodney’s motor running.
“Ah, nothing?” Rodney says, trying his best to pull off innocent.
“You’re jiggling around.”
“I have never in my life jiggled.”
“Okay,” John says, far too patiently for someone who had had to stop kissing in the very romantic setting of a misty shower. “Squirming. Why are you squirming? And don’t say,” John adds, holding up a finger as warning, “that you’ve never squirmed in your life. Because we both know that isn’t true,” he adds, with a totally unnecessary wink.
Rodney once again ponders the mechanics and physiology of such a horrendously bad attempt at a wink but, like John’s scrunchy eyebrows, his long nose and his pointy ears, it’s just one more thing about him that Rodney finds ridiculously alluring.
“Maybe we should finish up. I’m getting tired,” Rodney says with a totally fake yawn and his attempt to sneak out of the shower so he can quickly use the toilet is stopped by John’s hand on his forearm.
“Problem?” he asks, looking down. In any other situation Rodney would assume (correctly) that John was staring interestedly at his crotch but, alas, John was just as wily as Rodney. He poked a finger into Rodney’s stomach.
“Don’t do that!”
“Why?” And the finger poked lower, just under the slight curve of Rodney’s belly, unerringly at the place where Rodney felt taut. “Is there a problem?”
“No problem at all,” Rodney says, skittishly. The heavy feeling in his bladder is becoming more noticeable now; all this alluding to it and the warmth and the mist surrounding them, it’s getting to be a thing now.
“You’ve got to go,” John sing-songs delightedly. He rubs his big hand right across Rodney’s stomach, pressing down a little.
“Hey! Cut that out!”
“Turn about's fair play, McKay,” John snickers then pulls his hand away. “If you’ve got to go, then just go.”
“I was about to but someone stopped me.” Rodney’s got his arms crossed over his chest and his head tilted to the side. If he thought he could pull it off, he’d tap his foot too, but he wants to continue having sex with John and also he’s not sure what the sensation of tapping would do for his bladder. “Now if you’ll excuse me - “
“So you're going to leave this nice warm shower, schlep out onto the cold tiles just to take a quick piss then come back in?” John’s counteracting Rodney’s crossed arms with hands on his hips.
“I wasn’t planning on coming back in.”
John pouts. “I thought we were fooling around in here.”
“We were,” Rodney said, starting to get a little bit desperate. “And I want to but, I really gotta go.” Then he gives John back some of his own medicine when he holds up a finger in warning. “And yes, I mean really really, not pretend really.”
“If you were by yourself, there’s no way you wouldn’t just do it in here.”
“Well, of course not. I don’t care what surveys say, there's no way the vast majority of normal people don't piss in the shower rather than getting out. “
“Well, then, just do it! It's all pipes.”
“Thank you, George Costanza,” Rodney says sarcastically. He slumps abruptly. “I can’t, okay? You’re in here and that’s just too weird.”
“You can’t tell me you’ve never shared a shower with anyone else before.”
Rodney feels a look of frustration alter his face and it’s partially due to John’s comment and mostly that, if he doesn’t take a piss soon, his bladder is going to explode.
“Look,” John says placatingly. “I’ll turn around, you do what you’ve got to do, rinse off, then we get back to happy fun times together.”
“Okay,” Rodney says begrudgingly. “But don’t look!”
Even though John’s back is turned, Rodney can still feel the eye roll.
Rodney wraps his fingers around his dick and closes his eyes in anticipation of sweet relief. And waits. And waits.
He scowls down; why isn’t it happening? This shouldn’t be a problem. This hadn’t ever been a problem. That so-called squirming he had been doing before has graduated to full-on body writhing. He can feel the muscles in his thighs and ass clenching, can feel a tickling sensation in his urethra and he really, really needs to fucking go.
“Okay, swap places,” he says to John, shuffling him from one side of the cubicle to the other. “I need, like, the drain or something, some sort of inspiration.”
“Something to aim for,” John laughs from behind him and Rodney is so not in the mood for his donkey-braying right now. He feels John’s ass rubbing against his and, as nice as that feels, it doesn’t sweeten his mood.
“C’mon, c’mon,” Rodney says, jiggling his dick a little, shifting from one foot to the other. The mist is just as pervasive here as it was on the other side of the cubicle and Rodney is wet, he’s dripping from head to toe, it’s damp and steamy and he’s surrounded by water and if he can just get this water out from his own damn body he won’t wet himself.
“Hey,” John says, sneaking around and breathing into Rodney’s ear. “You don’t need to hold back. It’s not like you haven't done it a million times before. It’s not like I haven't done it a million times before.”
“Yeah, but I’ve never done it in front of you,” Rodney says, tilting his head back to rest on John’s shoulder. “Or anyone else for that matter.”
“So maybe I help you out a little bit,” John says, sliding his arm around to the front of Rodney’s body, sliding his hand down Rodney’s forearm until it’s resting gently on top of Rodney’s hand.
“Um, that wouldn't be weird?”
He can feel John shrug. “It’s only weird if we make it weird. It’s not like I’ve never touched you there before.”
“Oh,” Rodney says, leaning a little more heavily against John. “Right. Okay, sure, if you don't think it wouldn’t be too weird to - ”
“S’alright,” John breaths as he gently nudges Rodney’s hand away, as his fingers curl around the semi-stiffness of Rodney’s cock.
Rodney looks down his body; down past the sparse hair on his chest, down past his own wet pubic hair, down to where John’s long, elegant fingers have him carefully cradled. He feels John shift behind him, widening his stance and pressing his own interested cock into Rodney’s ass cheek.
John’s pointy chin digs into Rodney’s neck as he too looks down. “See, nothing to it.” And it must be that the shower mist has time-altering properties because everything has slowed down to honey, to molasses, to maple syrup dribbling down the bark of a tree, all thick and expectant. “It’s okay, Rodney. You should go,” John says, a bare whisper of sound above the scratch of his five o’clock shadow against Rodney's cheek.
“I…I can’t…I want to - “ Rodney says, eyes pinched closed, writhing slowly within the circle of John’s arms, his hands moving back to clutch John’s hips. The dull ache in his belly has turned into a persistent throb and feels almost full enough to burst. He wants to; he wants to but he can’t. “Please, I really need to…help me, John.”
A soft kiss to his neck, a big hand moving slowly over his stomach, a voice in his ear. “I’ve got you, buddy. You can let go.”
And Rodney does and the first spurt startles him. His eyes pop open and he looks down to see piss streaming out of his cock, just like he’d seen it a million times before, but it’s different now. He can’t feel it in his hand because it’s in John’s hand, John’s thumb and fingers delicately aiming outwards. He immediately starts to feel relief and he groans, then gasps when John bites at his neck. He pulls John closer to him and feels John riding his hard cock against his wet ass, feels the minute thrusts that just seem to encourage him to piss more, piss harder, let it come out of him and let it be messy, let it splatter -
“God, Rodney,” John breathes in his ear and his hand moves down a fraction until his fingers are cupped just in front Rodney’s cock head. They’re stroking lightly and Rodney can feel himself getting harder and he can’t believe how good it feels, all of it - John thrusting into him from behind, his hand on his stomach, his hand on his cock, the feeling of relief and lightness as he continues to let go, the sound of it urgent and forceful over the soft surration of the mist, the pale opaque stream of it arcing out of his body and hitting the cubicle wall, spilling down to the floor, swirling around their feet before disappearing down the drain.
“You make me hard,” Rodney says, turning his head and biting kisses onto John's waiting lips. “You make me so hard.”
John strokes harder and Rodney whimpers, both of them turning back to watch as Rodney continues to spray messily.
“Is this okay?” John asks and his voice is tremulous but his hand is steady.
Rodney’s voice is just as unsteady when he says, “Yes. God, do it.”
John's hand moves all the way down and cups around Rodney’s cock head. Rodney couldn’t stop pissing if he wanted to; it had hurt and now it feels so good and he watches, mesmerised, as some of his piss pools in John’s upturned hand and spills out over the sides and between his fingers.
“Oh, fuck,” Rodney says, thrusting forward. John’s fingers curl again and he lifts Rodney’s cock up, lifts his almost hard cock up all the way and back and Rodney’s pissing on himself now, the stream hitting his chest and stomach, falling down in rivulets to get trapped in his pubic hair, to splash against the base of his cock. “Oh, shit, yeah, do it, do it.”
John does it and does it in two ways. He tightens his hold on Rodney’s stomach and his hard thrusts against Rodney’s ass become syncopated as he grunts in Rodney’s ear, seeking his own oblivion. “You make me crazy,” he says as he tightens his hand on Rodney’s cock and starts jerking him off, uncaring about the fact that Rodney is still pissing sloppily, uncaring about the fact that he's got Rodney’s piss on his fingers, that he's running his hands all over Rodney’s wet front and he doesn’t seem to care if it’s Rodney’s piss or come, he wants it, wants to draw it out of Rodney, wants to help him get it out.
Rodney can feel the orgasm building and he knows he's nearly finished, can feel it emptying out of him so he pushes and the last of the stream spurts out, then spurts again, does it one more time and then he can feel it dribbling down, the last of it leaving his body so he can feel the other sensation building up again, building fast and hectic and he already knows before he comes that he’s never had an orgasm like this before.
Relief and release. An emptying of both the body and the mind. Tongues of plasma leaving the corona of a sun and stretching out confidently across a solar system as a soundless explosion of heat and light. The gorgeous collapse of the star’s core pulling back into itself to create a neutron star spinning too many times a second to count. The split second of stillness between lethargy and eruption that would lead to the creation of a black hole, pulling all reason and sensation through a wormhole that led to nothingness.
Rodney comes back to himself, aware that he was whimpering as John gasped his name repeatedly in his ear, coming with a yielding sensuality along Rodney’s back. He sighs, content, and rested more of his weight across Rodney.
Rodney’s eyes are screwed shut and he turns, mouth seeking John’s blindly. He kisses him with what feels like desperation and John calms him, slows down his kisses, softens his mouth, runs his hands soothingly over Rodney’s trembling body.
“I didn’t know,” Rodney said, his voice breaking. “I don’t understand.” He wanted to hide but he also wanted to bury himself in John’s embrace and never leave. He pushes his burning face against John’s neck and keeps his eyes tightly closed.
“It’s okay,” John said, cupping the back of Rodney’s head. “It’s okay. Everything’s fine.”
“No, seriously, what the hell?” Rodney grouched. “Why am I feeling like this? What am I feeling?” He finally opens his eyes and scowls up at John. “What the fuck did you do to me?"
John’s face was frozen in his usual ‘I don't know what the hell is going on but we’ll push through and hope for the best’ expression that Rodney usually only saw when something hinky happened off-world. Then he snorts and bites his lower lip in an attempt to not break out in laughter. “That was the fastest recovery time from vulnerable to petulant I’ve ever seen. Sure you don't need any more time to come down?”
“I didn’t go anywhere, Colonel Confused-A-Lot.” The bickering was good. Rodney feels his agitation draining from his body and wondered if there was anything he was going to be able to keep inside tonight. "No, seriously, Sheppard,” he said, a small grin starting to curl his mouth. “Pissing? And the jerking off? And the shock? And the, you know, comforting?”
“They were very manly whimpers,” John said in way that was a hair’s width away from condescension. He pats Rodney on the shoulder. “I’m glad I could be here for you.”
“Oh, shut up,” Rodney said, giving John a light shove and ignoring his snickering. “Serves me right for - “
“Serves you right for trying to stop me before,” John replied.
“Yes but I let you go when you needed to!”
“So did I,” John said, his eyes darkening.
Rodney grabs him by the back of the neck and crashs their mouths together. “Is there nothing I wouldn’t do for you?”
“Right back atcha,” John said. He cleared his throat and got that look on his face when he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. “Listen. If you, ah, like that sorta stuff, then maybe, we could do it again. Or I could, you know, on you. Or you could, maybe, on me. If that's, ah - “
At Rodney's shocked expression, John continues, his voice pained. “I want to make sure you’re getting everything you need, okay?”
Rodney tenderly cups John’s flushed face between his hands and pulls him down for a sweet kiss. “Stop talking before you give yourself a brain hernia. And, yes, I get it and, ah, same goes for you. If you’re unsatisfied with our current practices - “
“Not at all,” John interjected.
“ - but were maybe interested in spicing things up - “
“Sure,” John said.
“ - then I’d have no objections to, ah, taking a little walk of the wild side, maybe? But certain things are off the table - “
“Got it. Me neither, not interested, don’t even need to say it,” John interrupted.
“ - okay, fine, this is good. This is fine.”
John ducked his head sheepishly. “We maybe don’t need to talk about it tonight?”
“Absolutely, I agree,” Rodney says, nodding furiously. “We really need to get to bed and what-not. Hey, but listen,” he said, sidling up to John and rejoicing in the feeling of his warm steady hands cradling Rodney’s hips, drawing him closer. “We should probably talk about it at some stage. Because there’s things I’ve always wondered about but I, you know…”
“Never trusted anyone enough to do them with?”
“Yeah,” Rodney said, relieved. He knew John would understand.
“Me too,” John said, dropping a kiss on his mouth, then the tip of his nose, then in the middle of his forehead. “We’ve got time, Rodney. We’ll get to try everything we ever wanted.”
“Or things we didn't even know we wanted.”
“Seems like you liked it,” John said, nibbling on his ear.
“So did you!”
“I’m not denying it. It was hot. It gave me a rush to help you out like that.”
“That’s the thing,” Rodney said, returning the favour by nibbling on John’s neck. “I didn’t know I liked that. Or the, you know, pissing thing.”
“Hey, I didn’t know either. I was just going with the flow.”
The sad thing about their relationship, Rodney thought as they laughed until tears were streaming from their eyes at the awful joke, gave each other a final rinse, dried themselves off and collapsed into bed wrapped around each other, was that their shared humour was quite often juvenile and cliched.
The wonderful thing about their relationship, Rodney thought as John pressed a kiss into his collarbone and settled comfortably along his side, was that their affection for each other would quite possibly weather any unexpected revelation. And as amazing as discovery was, it was infinitely better when shared.