Like No Other

John barely spoke the entire trip back to Atlantis. He didn't expect to get away with that, but Rodney was quiet too, and it didn't take a genius to know that a quiet Rodney McKay was just – not normal.

What he'd done wasn't that unusual, in fact it had been instinctive. He'd have taken the place of any member of his team, they all knew that, but the way Rodney had looked at him as the Sardonan guard tightened the leather straps at John's wrists… it had taken him by surprise. He didn't know how Rodney had regarded him as he was led from the cell – he'd hung his head, made no eye contact at all.

And Rodney hadn't so much as looked in his direction since Ronon, Teyla and the Marines had burst in, gotten the drop on the guards and secured another daring rescue. Of course, it was kind of hard to have a reasonable discussion, much less an argument when you were running for your lives, dodging hanging vines and thick vegetation.

He gripped the controls of the jumper and cut his eyes over to Rodney. John knew he was hoping against hope that Rodney would let it go. He could still see that look in his eyes, still hear his hissed "you son of a bitch."

~~~~

The hot water dug deep into his tight muscles, like so many needle-pointed fingers, warming them, lengthening and relaxing them. He stood beneath the penetrating spray and rubbed over his wrists. This thing – with Rodney – hadn't been going on long and he worried he might have screwed himself with his actions earlier. Would Rodney show up? He half-dreaded a confrontation, but at the same time, he was so hard for Rodney, wanted him like he hadn't wanted anything in a long time.

He was stowing laundry when Rodney barreled into his quarters without as much as a hello. He was across the room and on John in seconds and he had just enough time to drop the underwear he was holding before Rodney's mouth was on him, rough and hard and he might have whimpered as Rodney pushed him toward the bed. He tried to keep up with Rodney's lips, but they were too quick and too demanding. All he could do was let his mouth go slack, let Rodney have him.

The edge of the mattress caught him up short and put him on his ass. John scrambled onto the bed as Rodney snatched the towel from his waist and climbed up after him. Rodney had stopped with the kissing so John reached for him, wanting more… but Rodney grabbed his hands and shoved them up over John's head, holding them while he searched his jacket.

"Rodney—"

"Shut up," Rodney demanded. John watched him pull something from his pocket, just caught a glimpse of milky-white plastic and somewhere his brain made the connection with a profound click.

His eyes widened as he searched Rodney's face; his breath quickening as the hard plastic strip encircled both wrists. Rodney quirked his mouth in a wry grin as he pulled on the zip tie and John swallowed down another whimper at the sharp ticking of the tightening teeth.

He wanted to say something but then Rodney began to caress his wrists, thumbing across the bulging veins and corded tendons and John was left with nothing but the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears. He couldn't take his eyes off Rodney and was already rock hard as Rodney pulled the tie once more, slowly, a few deafening clicks at a time. John worked his hands to feel the plastic dig into his flesh. "Fuck," he groaned as his eyelids shuttered. He knew. Rodney knew.

Rodney leaned in to him, his warm breath prickling the hairs at the back of John's neck. The scent of freshly-scrubbed skin hit his nostrils – it was mixed with a spiciness that was all McKay. Rodney's hair was still a bit damp and the steamy heat from his body fell over John, weighty and real, a different kind of embrace.

"You son of a bitch, you like this don't you—you fucking like this." The words showered John with chills and he squirmed at the rigid outline of Rodney's cock pressing into him.

"Always have to be the hero, don't you. Can't stand anyone else having a little fun, is that it? Why did you take my place today? For this?" Rodney growled, pulling the strap even tighter. "How do you think that made me feel, huh? You think I'm such a pussy I can't take a little punishment? You don't know what those bastards might have done to you."

John opened his eyes. "You don't know what they would have done to you, either, Rodney," he said evenly. "I—distracted them long enough to throw them off, bought us just enough time."

"Really? And I suppose you didn't think I'd notice the hard-on?" He grabbed John's cock. "Yeah, just like this." Rodney's hand was warm and sweaty as he stroked the length of him and John strained against the grip on his wrists, his breath coming in short, harsh pants because, Jesus, Rodney's hand on his cock.

Rodney pulled back just far enough so John could see his face. "Won't let anyone get close—don't like to be touched?" he asked, letting go of John. "Don't mind crazy native guards touching you though, do you? What is it—you don't get enough danger as it is? You need to invite more, what?"

He pushed John's hands into the mattress and held them down. "Christ, do you have any idea how hard I've tried to get through here?" John felt his face flush as Rodney raked over him with his eyes. "Who knew all I had to do was tie you up?" he smirked. The strap tightened one more click and something twisted deep in John's belly as Rodney rocked against him at the same time.

"Well, now I know." John shuddered at the tone of Rodney's voice. "I'm through trying—I'm going to touch you. I'm going to touch you like nobody else." The words slid in his ears like hot mercury, burning a path straight through him, and—

"Jesus fuck, McKay."

Rodney's tongue danced over the shell of his ear. "Who knows, Colonel, we might get to that too," he said pulling away and John tugged against the strap again.

Rodney looked around. "Don't move," he ordered and got up from the bed. It never occurred to John to move. He could have, easily, but he lay there rooted to the spot, chest heaving, eyes following Rodney.

"What are you doing?" he asked when Rodney came back holding one of the long Kamagong poles he used for sparring with Ronon. Rodney didn't answer him.

Blood pulsed in his wrists as he watched Rodney wedge the pole between the mattress and the ancient column behind him, pulling on it to make sure it was secure. John looked over his head – his hands were on the far side of the gleaming ebony, which was too tall to reach over.

When he turned back, Rodney was stripping. John watched him uncover all that skin he wouldn't be able to touch. Done, Rodney stood at the foot of the bed, eyeing John, his hard dick jutting out from his solid frame and John's mouth actually watered at the thought of getting to suck it.

"Rodney," his voice a hoarse whisper as he pulled to test his bindings, the pole was surprisingly wedged tight. "McKay?"

He still didn't answer, just climbed onto the bed and pushed John's legs apart, sliding those big, warm hands of his over shins and knees, up between John's legs – a soft kiss here, a stray lick there and as he got dangerously close to his crotch, John closed his eyes in anticipation… waiting.

But there was none of Rodney's soft nuzzling, no buzz of stubble that always sent shivers through him, no warm softness enveloping his brutally hard cock. In fact, there was nothing – no movement at all and when he opened his eyes again, Rodney was there, looking down at him, mouth set in a familiar McKay smirk that screamed I'm in charge here, and when their eyes locked, John knew he didn't want it any other way.

"I'm not going to hurt you." The words spilled from Rodney's mouth like spun silk, but John quickly ignored them.

"Yeah?" he replied, flashing Rodney a defiant grin, because what the fuck good was it if it didn't hurt a little? He wanted to feel Rodney; he tried to reach around him with his legs, wanted Rodney's weight on him, a man's weight, pressing against him hard and heavy.

John gasped at the hot slide of something over his hip. Looking down, John watched Rodney's dick weave a crystalline trail back and forth over his stomach. He slammed his head back and bucked forward; trying to use Rodney's body the same way, but Rodney was too quick and rose up on his knees, out of John's reach.

He called Rodney's name, not caring how needy it sounded. Fuck, he was needy, dammit – needed Rodney to touch him, needed Rodney to kiss him or at least to have his mouth on Rodney's body somewhere, anywhere, his lips and tongue almost hard with the want of it. He sucked in his breath as the hard plastic teeth of the strap scraped his flesh.

Rodney smiled at him. He wasn't playing fair and John knew a whiny please wouldn't do any good, but he gave it to Rodney anyway. He answered by lowering his head, making John turn to meet him, but Rodney nudged him out of the way to get at his neck, mouthing his way over the protruding tendon, the hot press of his tongue wrenching a moan from way back in John's throat.

He could still get close, though, and he struggled toward Rodney, kissing his temple, his hair, nipping at his ear, anything he could reach until Rodney grabbed his chin and forced him away again, this time holding on as he licked a long, slow stripe up to where his thumb rested on John's jaw. A shudder began to tickle the base of his spine as Rodney licked his way across, then burst into a full force tremor as Rodney husked, "I touch" in his ear.

Sweat cooled across his neck with each huff of Rodney's breath. It seemed he was just as turned on as John, drawing in a mouthful of flesh and when John moaned again, the sensation immediately stopped. Rodney moved on, trailing his tongue to the hollow of John's neck and he braced himself for an assault on his nipples, but Rodney only brushed past them, licking further to the side, to the sensitive skin at the shore of his armpit, his disappointment almost as strong as the aching in his wrists, but it was short-lived and as soon as he lifted his body into Rodney, offering more skin, Rodney moved away again. Christ, if he couldn't touch, if Rodney wouldn't give him any more, he was going to fucking explode.

John was all set to protest until he felt a long, wet swipe over the crease of his thigh, then again and once more before Rodney slid his hard dick across it, up and back through the spit and sweat and this time when John thrust up, Rodney didn't move, John's cock catching on Rodney's skin and God, the friction felt so good, but after only two or three thrusts, Rodney moved to nuzzle the hollow of John's left hip.

He pleaded with Rodney to suck him but wasn't surprised when he continued on with the hit and miss shots all over his body – leaving John hanging each time he gave any indication of pleasure with words or moans.

He tried to tell himself to relax and go with it, but he couldn't relax, not with Rodney scavenging every uncharted square inch of him, and Jesus, he'd hoped to keep a few secrets, but what he hadn't given away with a moan or a sigh, he'd given away by voluntary surrender – the thrust of a hip to meet Rodney's mouth or a muscle relaxed beneath Rodney's hand. Finally, he closed his eyes; giving himself over to whatever the hell it was Rodney wanted from him.

Until the sudden shock of Rodney's tongue on his dick made him gasp out loud. He groaned as that slick, wet heat finally engulfed him. "Christ, Rodney," he gritted. "So—so fucking good." He tried to pull himself up using the pole so he could watch his dick disappear between Rodney's lips, but as soon as he raised himself up, Rodney pulled off him.

"Rodney, no—please. God—damn it, Mc—" His words ground to a halt as Rodney slid his tongue back, back to swipe over his balls.

"What's wrong, Sheppard?" he asked between licks. "I thought the point was not to be in control." John caught the edge of a smirk before Rodney moved further to massage the sensitive mound of skin behind his sac, and the tension built up in his muscles almost broke him as John felt the inevitable warm slide down to his opening.

Pain, hot and sharp ripped through John's shoulders as he strained against his bindings once again, but that didn't stop him from opening his legs wider as Rodney flicked over his hole, teasing John by swiping the flat of his tongue all the way back to his balls.

John fell back, boneless. Rodney was only keeping his promise to touch him like no one else, he thought, but Jesus God, he wasn't just touching him, he was learning him and John knew he'd feel this the next day, the next week, the next month. "Fuck, Rodney," he growled. "Touch me.  C'mon, put your goddamn hand on my dick."

But Rodney merely looked up and shoved his tongue into John's ass, and swear to God, he could fucking come just like that. He tightened up again, his muscles pulling taut in anticipation, sweat trickling along his temples, through his hair and around the backs of his ears. The sheet beneath him was damp from his writhing and before he could ask, Rodney moved up and sank down on him again, this time working his cock with a purpose. John arched into him and cried out when Rodney took him deep, holding him there.

"Damn it, McKay, move," he ground out, pushing his hips up, only to have them shoved back and pinned to the bed. Anything else he was going to say was cut short when Rodney began to work his throat, pulling John into him, swallowing around him and like a sucker punch from nowhere, John's orgasm hit him – hard – and Rodney held him down and took it all, gentling him through the shuddering aftershocks, staying with him until he was well spent and softening inside Rodney's mouth.

John watched as Rodney let go of him, kissed across his hip and got up to get something from the other side of the room. He came back with John's knife in his hand and settled himself back down on the bed. John didn't flinch as Rodney slipped the cold, severe blade into the space between his flesh and the plastic strip.

With a couple of pulls, John's hands were free and immediately tangled in Rodney's hair, pulling him down amid crushing lips and crashing teeth, both locked together as if they could feed off each other's life force. Rodney suddenly broke the kiss and rolled them onto their sides.

"Rodney, I want—" he started, but Rodney shushed him and took hold of his hands. John wrapped a weakened leg around him as Rodney's erection, hot and hard, dug into John's abdomen.

"I'm sorry about the zip tie," Rodney said. "It was the only thing I could find." He looked up and gave John a shy smile. "You think leather cuffs might throw up a red flag as a requisitioned item?"

John shrugged. "Depends on which department does the requisitioning," he replied wryly, but his look was serious. "Maybe on our next trip to Earth…"

Still hazy from his orgasm, John watched as Rodney mouthed and licked his wrists – as gently and seductively as he had forcefully bound them – soothing them while he started to rub himself against John again.

He edged closer, increasing the friction. Pulling one of his hands free, John slid it down to tug at Rodney's cock. He closed his eyes and held onto the last few moments of Rodney's mouth at his wrist, his harsh, throaty panting and his fuck, Johns until finally, Rodney stiffened and came in a rush between them.

John didn't know how long they'd stayed like that. Thinking Rodney was sleeping, he inched away slowly to get up, but Rodney's soft voice stilled him.

"Don't do that again," he said. And John knew what he meant. Rodney looked at him and thumbed across the raw skin. "Promise me."

John heard himself promise and then he pulled Rodney close. He kissed him, not knowing how to explain that he could never keep that promise. Not now, not when he had so much more to lose.