Sheppard walks around Atlantis for two straight weeks, looking disgustingly smug every single minute of the day and puffing his chest out like some kind of proud bird.
Rodney spends the time thinking uncharitable thoughts about how even ruffled feathers have more organization about them than John Sheppard's hair. And, naturally, plotting his revenge.
He gets his chance during that week's senior staff meeting. Sheppard, who is smarter than most people give him credit for, has been carefully staying away from Rodney in public places since their return, but by the time he arrives, all of the other seats but the one next to Rodney are already filled, and he's forced to park it or stand in the doorway like an awkward little boy at his first seventh grade dance for the entire briefing.
Rodney lulls him into a false sense of security, talking with his hands out in full view of the entire table for the first fifteen minutes. He watches Sheppard gradually relax out of the corner of his eye, watches the instinctive way Sheppard sighs and slumps in his seat, legs falling wide open under the table so their knees bump companionably together. However, once Rodney's done speaking and Teyla steps in with her own report, he slides his left hand under the table and across Sheppard's lap so fast Sheppard doesn't seem to realize what's going on until Rodney's hand is inside his pants.
Sheppard goes gratifyingly rigid in his seat, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. He looks almost like he might be a little afraid, but Rodney knows better - he can feel Sheppard's cock already pushing into the palm of his hand, slick and hot at the tip.
Everyone can see his shoulder and at least one or two of them would quickly figure out what was going on if it started moving rhythmically, so Rodney carefully does not wrap his hand around Sheppard and stroke up hard how he wants to. Instead, he tries to remember what Sheppard had done to him at the feast and copies it the best he can: pressing his fingers up behind Sheppard's balls without the layer of fabric between their skin, rubbing the heel of his palm against the underside just below the head.
Sheppard's breath catches audibly in his throat, flushing from his ears down his neck. He's chewing on his lower lip in a focused way that makes Rodney smirk and reach for a pen with his free hand.
Having fun, Colonel? he writes on the yellow legal pad between them.
Sheppard glares hard at the message, but his fingers are clenched so tightly around the edge of the table it doesn't look like he can get them to grab the pen, let alone try to write with it. He opens his mouth, no doubt to tell Elizabeth that something important has just come up, meeting adjourned - Rodney gleefully scrapes his thumbnail down the vein on the underside and watches Sheppard's lip turn pressure-white as warmth spills over his fingers.
"Oh god," Sheppard gasps out loud.
The entire meeting pauses and turns to look at him.
"I...just remembered. I left my ancient toaster on," Sheppard says lamely. He doesn't wait for an answer or a dismissal, leaping to his feet and shooting out the door.
Rodney wipes his hand off on Sheppard's vacated seat cushion, feeling vindicated.
no subject
Rodney spends the time thinking uncharitable thoughts about how even ruffled feathers have more organization about them than John Sheppard's hair. And, naturally, plotting his revenge.
He gets his chance during that week's senior staff meeting. Sheppard, who is smarter than most people give him credit for, has been carefully staying away from Rodney in public places since their return, but by the time he arrives, all of the other seats but the one next to Rodney are already filled, and he's forced to park it or stand in the doorway like an awkward little boy at his first seventh grade dance for the entire briefing.
Rodney lulls him into a false sense of security, talking with his hands out in full view of the entire table for the first fifteen minutes. He watches Sheppard gradually relax out of the corner of his eye, watches the instinctive way Sheppard sighs and slumps in his seat, legs falling wide open under the table so their knees bump companionably together. However, once Rodney's done speaking and Teyla steps in with her own report, he slides his left hand under the table and across Sheppard's lap so fast Sheppard doesn't seem to realize what's going on until Rodney's hand is inside his pants.
Sheppard goes gratifyingly rigid in his seat, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. He looks almost like he might be a little afraid, but Rodney knows better - he can feel Sheppard's cock already pushing into the palm of his hand, slick and hot at the tip.
Everyone can see his shoulder and at least one or two of them would quickly figure out what was going on if it started moving rhythmically, so Rodney carefully does not wrap his hand around Sheppard and stroke up hard how he wants to. Instead, he tries to remember what Sheppard had done to him at the feast and copies it the best he can: pressing his fingers up behind Sheppard's balls without the layer of fabric between their skin, rubbing the heel of his palm against the underside just below the head.
Sheppard's breath catches audibly in his throat, flushing from his ears down his neck. He's chewing on his lower lip in a focused way that makes Rodney smirk and reach for a pen with his free hand.
Having fun, Colonel? he writes on the yellow legal pad between them.
Sheppard glares hard at the message, but his fingers are clenched so tightly around the edge of the table it doesn't look like he can get them to grab the pen, let alone try to write with it. He opens his mouth, no doubt to tell Elizabeth that something important has just come up, meeting adjourned - Rodney gleefully scrapes his thumbnail down the vein on the underside and watches Sheppard's lip turn pressure-white as warmth spills over his fingers.
"Oh god," Sheppard gasps out loud.
The entire meeting pauses and turns to look at him.
"I...just remembered. I left my ancient toaster on," Sheppard says lamely. He doesn't wait for an answer or a dismissal, leaping to his feet and shooting out the door.
Rodney wipes his hand off on Sheppard's vacated seat cushion, feeling vindicated.