Rodney's cock was nudging the back of John's throat when their radios both squawked. "Oh for fuck's sake," Rodney snarled and then had to wince as John accidentally scraped him a little with his teeth as he pulled back.

"Sorry," John mouthed, fitting his radio to his ear as Rodney did the same. "Sheppard here."

Twenty minutes later, after throwing on their uniforms and gearing up, they went through the gate with Ronon, Teyla and a squad of marines, on their way to rescue Lorne and his team who had been overwhelmed and taken captive by the very angry natives of M30-893.

John was furious in his own tight-lipped, narrow-eyed way; their team had handled the first contact with the Blein and everything had gone well. Rodney, who went on these kinds of missions because he was team and also because after five years in the Pegasus Galaxy he'd gotten pretty good at laying down cover fire, watched with his usual uneasy admiration as John came up with a plan and then then led his men through it, firing his P-90 with intensity and precision.

Until moments like this, it was easy to forget just how good John was at soldiering, easy to forget that behind the hotshot pilot and the geek who could do complex math in his head and who knew the meaning of life, the universe and everything was a man whose job was to kill people as efficiently as possible.

And it wasn't that Rodney was ashamed or appalled that he was in love with a controlled killer; the other thing five years in the Pegasus Galaxy had taught him was that some people and almost all Wraith just needed killing. Sometimes, however, he was a little disturbed at just how hot he found the sight of John with a gun in his hands.

Today, knowing what he knew, it was even worse than usual.

Everyone made it back to Atlantis and the worst injury among the bunch of them was a sprained ankle. John briefed Sam and then stopped in at the infirmary to check on his injured corporal. By the time they made it back to Rodney's room, Rodney was sure he'd been hard forever.

"God," he said, leaning in and nuzzling John's neck. "You're so fucking...get these clothes off." He went to his knees, tugging John's boots off before his hands went to work on John's gun belt. The tac vest was next; John pulled it off and it hit the floor. Then the heavy black shirt, and Rodney finally sat back on the bed and watched.

John smiled and then turned and picked something up off his desk. When he turned back around, his mouth was red, a dark red that was, in all honesty, too dark for his complexion. "You look...damn," Rodney said and John smirked, the familiar expression made strange by the lipstick.

Rodney held his breath as John unzipped his t-shirt and then reached down, grabbed the hem and pulled it over his head.

When John had quietly stammered out his kink one night after half a jug of that sneakily strong Athosian ale, Rodney, for all he'd tried to be understanding, had worried like crazy that he'd laugh at John and ruin everything.

Now, however, as the burgundy silk and black lace of John's camisole appeared, Rodney couldn't imagine finding John in lingerie anything but hotter than hell. He knew his eyes were big because John's face lit up and he smiled a little shyly.

"Yeah?

"Oh hell yeah," Rodney said. He snapped his fingers impatiently. "Come on, the rest of it."

"Way to be romantic," John said, but his hands were already at his fly, unbuttoning and then tugging his pants down.

The black stockings had runs in them and, like the camisole they matched, the bikini panties and garter belt were dark with sweat. The effect was more punk than anything else and Rodney swallowed hard. "The shoes?" he asked and John nodded, heading toward Rodney's closet and the small double locked trunk at the back of it.

"Plausible deniability," Rodney had said, after the first time. "Never mind that most of this wouldn't fit me; I won't get fired for having it."

Now he ogled John's skinny ass as John bent over--it looked better in silk panties than it did in boxers or John's baggy BDUs--and watched as John slid a pair of black high heeled pumps onto his narrow, long feet. When he turned and leaned against the wall, all loose-limbed and slinky, Rodney licked his lips.

"See something you like?"

If they had more time, if they both weren't tired and coming off the mission, Rodney would have been torn between the shoes and the two or three inches of skin between the bottom of the camisole and the garter belt. As it was, he walked right over to John, dropped to his knees and began nuzzling John's flat belly.

It shouldn't have been hot; John might love wearing women's clothes, but he didn't shave or, do much at all about his body hair. He didn't pretend that he was anything but a guy in lingerie, which made the whole thing easier.

Where "easier" meant "hotter than fuck."

"Stupidly, ridiculously hot," Rodney mumbled as he licked and kissed at John's skin. He brought his hands up and cupped John's ass in his palms, shivering at the feel of the sleek satin under his fingers. "Wanna fuck you," he said. "Want to spread you out and fuck you."

"Yeah," John said. He moved and his cock brushed against Rodney's cheek. "I've wanted it since we went through the 'gate."

"God, me too," Rodney said, getting up off his knees and watching as John strolled over to the bed. "Knowing you were still wearing all this while we were out in the field...well, all can say is that I'm glad I'm a genius and can multi-task."

"Get over here and single task, okay, genius?"

"God, I love it when you're butch." Rodney grabbed the lube off the nightstand and settled in between John's legs. He paused to run a hand along John's thigh, all lean muscle under black nylon and John shivered just a little. "You're so hot," he murmured, slicking up his fingers and then pushing one side of John's panties out of the way.

John moaned as the panties went tighter across his cock and then again as Rodney's fingers moved into him. "C'mon," he said, arching into Rodney's touch. "I'm good, really...fuck me!"

Rodney was eager enough not to argue; he got what he considered a sufficiency of lube into John and then moved closer before sliding in. "Fuck," he murmured as John wrapped his legs around him. John was tight and Rodney could feel the leg band of his panties against his cock.

"Yeah," John said breathlessly. He dragged the heel of his shoe along Rodney's ass, and Rodney groaned and fucked him harder, abandoning any thoughts of finesse in favor of slamming into him over and over.

Given the events of the day, given that Rodney had been on the edge for what felt like forever, it wasn't a surprise that he didn't last very long. A few more hard, almost brutal, thrusts and he was coming, growling John's name as the spike heel of John's pump scored a sharp line of pain along his ass and thigh.

As soon as he could move, he sat back, wincing a little--John had probably opened his skin; those heels were vicious. Even if he'd minded the pain--which he didn't--it would have been worth it just to see John like this. Laid out on the bed, he looked wrecked, his lingerie sweaty and wrinkled, and his lipstick messy. "Rodney," he said, gasping. "C'mon...do it."

Reaching down, Rodney gripped John's dick through the satin of his panties and rubbed it hard. "Yeah," John moaned, grinding up against Rodney's palm. "Oh fuck...that's it...yeah." He lasted another moment or so and then came, groaning deeply.

"Holy fuck, Rodney, that was...Jesus."

"Yeah," Rodney, said, flopping down on the bed next to John. "It really was." He took a deep breath and then started to laugh. "You...out there all afternoon running around and shooting people and being incredibly and awesomely macho, with all this on underneath your uniform. You have no idea how hot that is."

"Oh I don't know." John went up on one elbow and looked down at Rodney. "It was pretty hot from this side too."

"Okay fine, we're both big damn perverts." Rodney took a deep breath and then frowned. "Big damn perverts who need showers.

"And don't toss that stuff on the floor again," he added as they got out of bed. "Put it by the sink and I'll wash it later."

"Yes, dear," John replied sounding so much like a hen-pecked husband that Rodney had to thwap him on the back of the head.

-end-

Notes: Written for Round Four of the IJ Porn Battle. My prompt was: Stargate: Atlantis, John/Rodney, "She's a killer queen gunpowder gelatine/Dynamite with a lazer beam, guaranteed to blow your mind/Recommended at the price, insatiable an appetite". I don't think this is what Grace had in mind, but it's where my mind went.

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