Series: Moments Sacred and Profane

Title: MSP1: A Language I Understand

Author: Mice

email: just_us_mice@yahoo.com

Category: Stargate: Atlantis, McKay/Beckett

Warnings: slash, first time

Spoilers: 38 Minutes (mild)

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Carson's homesick. Rodney's being more of a wanker than usual. Sound collision alarms!

Archive: If it's on your list, you can archive it. If isn't and you'd like it, just let me know where you're putting it.

Website: Mice's Hole in the Wall https://www.squidge.org/mice

Mirror: http://mice.inkpress.org

Disclaimer: I don't own these guys. Honest. I'm just playing with them for a while. I'll put them back when I'm done. They may be slightly worse for wear.

Author's Notes: This started out in #tpm as a write-off challenge -- write anything you like for one hour. I got about 5 pages into this and knew I had to finish. My first Stargate fic, but I've been writing in other fandoms for quite a while, so hopefully nobody will feel compelled to use a clue x 4 on me. Huge thanks for beta by majilique and Miss Pamela. Thanks also to the folks on the LJ group beckett_mckay for their suggestions.

This starts a series of stories that addresses the many ways the people in Atlantis find to cope with their loneliness, boredom, and isolation while they look for ways to open the Gate home. It'll be largely canon characters and focusing on the M/B relationship, but as the series progresses, there'll be a minor SG1 transplant or two, and a sprinkling of OCs of varying types. Somebody's gotta be staff aside from just the main characters, eh?

~~~~~

A Language I Understand

~~Cuirear orm f‡ilte 'sa ch‡nain a thuigeas mi

I will be welcomed in a language I understand~~

from the song "ChÏ Mi na MÛrbheanna" (I will see the great mountains) by Iain Cameron

"Ow! Ow fuck, that *hurts!*"

"Och, c'mon, don't be such a whiner. It's not that bad. You only need about half a dozen stitches here. Poor Ford broke his arm. All you got is this little scratch on your face." Carson Beckett shook his head, poking gently at the slash on McKay's forehead.

Rodney twitched and jerked away. "Not so rough, Carson," he growled.

"Hold still, will you, Rodney? I can't do a bloody thing with you wigglin' like an eel there."

"Can't you just give me a band-aid? Damn it, I can't depend on Kavanagh to do anything but jockey for position." He waved his hands in the air, and Carson ducked away.

"Oh, stop that. I can't do this if you're gonna whack me in the head."

Rodney's hands stilled, but his mouth kept going. Typical, that. "How could he question *my* conclusions? Everyone knows that *I'm* the expert here!" Stopping his hands hadn't stopped his squirming, though.

He considered tranquilizing Rodney, but it was a waste of resources. "Like we could forget. Hold still, I said."

"Carson!" Annoying as he was, there was genuine pain in Rodney's eyes. Carson always hated it when people hurt.

He turned to one of the nurses. "Shel, would you hand me a squirt of some surface analgesic?" He held out one hand, and felt a tube slap into his palm. "There's a luv, thanks."

With a quick motion, he applied a little local anesthetic to the cut, and though Rodney squawked, he settled after a moment, the pain easing.

"Now will you hold still?"

Rodney nodded. "Thanks," he said quietly.

Once Rodney settled down a bit, Carson made quick work of the stitches. "See?" he said, "If you'd shut up and held still, we could've been done ten minutes ago."

"Yeah, right."

"Off with you then, Roddy. Go bother somebody who's got less important work to do." He grinned at Rodney, knowing the nickname annoyed him, and patted his shoulder. "Give Weir something to worry about instead of me."

He watched as Rodney hustled out, muttering to himself. The man was an annoyance, for sure, but he wasn't all so bad as most people thought. When you got past the arrogance and the bluster, it seemed to Carson that the man was more insecure than anything else. The arrogance, he thought, might be mostly an act. It wasn't that Rodney didn't have buckets of self-confidence -- albeit misplaced occasionally -- but there was something in his eyes sometimes. A certain vulnerability that he wasn't sure anyone else saw.

Maybe no one really wanted to.

It was a sad thought. He'd never seen anybody really being social with the man. The women on Atlantis generally avoided Rodney like the plague. He'd heard some of the jokes.

Turning to Aiden Ford, he smiled. "So, son, how's the cast feel?"

The lieutenant shrugged as Shel finished up working on the cast that immobilized his left elbow. "Like a cast. How long am I gonna be out of commission here, Doc?"

"Couple of weeks, tops. The break's an easy one. It'll heal up quick." He squeezed Aiden's shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll have a word or two with Major Sheppard for you. You'll be clear to go on missions again soon as we can put on a lighter cast."

Aiden's eyes lit and he grinned. "Oh, man, that's great!" Carson enjoyed the young man's infectious enthusiasm.

"Could you do me a favor though?"

Aiden raised an eyebrow. "Favor? Sure, Doc. What do you need?"

Carson huffed out a breath and thought for a moment. Maybe he was an idiot. "You think you could keep an eye on Rodney for a few days? He seems more out of sorts lately than usual. I think something's botherin' him, and it's not just that knot on his thick skull."

"Sure, I guess so." Aiden chuckled. "It's hard to tell when he's being more of an asshole than usual. Seems like he's always that way. And Kavanagh really was out of line today, so I can sort of sympathize. Do you think something's wrong with him?"

"I'm not sure what to think, really. I think he needs a little sortin', though. Does anybody ever talk to the man when they're not forced to?"

"You know, now that you mention it, I don't think I've seen much of anybody talking to him outside of work or missions." Aiden's brow wrinkled. "That can't be good for somebody."

"Nope." Carson folded his arms over his chest. "Maybe I should tell him to see Kate. If he hasn't friends, he probably needs at least a shrink to talk to. A man'll go a wee bit mad with no friends."

"That's true," Aiden said. "I guess I hadn't thought that much about it. He's just so standoffish. If he's not telling you how you've fucked up, he's complaining about somebody or something else."

"Sometimes I wonder what he's hiding," Carson said, idly tapping his fingers on his arm.

"He doesn't seem the sort."

"Ah, kid, everybody's got somethin' to hide."

Aiden looked thoughtful.

"Now, we're done with you here. Go ahead on and get some rest, then. Pain meds as prescribed for the next week. If things start to hurt more instead of less, come on back, all right?"

"Thanks, Doc." The man's ever-present grin was back again. "Will do."

"Just doin' my job. Don't let me see you back here again anytime soon."

They both laughed.

*****

Carson tucked himself into a corner table in the mess hall, a pot of some kind of weird tea in one hand and a tray of local food in the other. He missed things from home. Scones. Salmon. Celtic Glasgow football. The World Cup. Movies. Real tea. Music. They'd only been allowed to bring one or two personal items each outside of clothing and necessities. The choice had been hard for him.

He poured himself a cup, and lightened it with some cream. A bit of sweet and it was almost but not quite exactly not like tea.

He sighed and stared into the creamy tan liquid.

It had been a long, difficult day. After the team had returned, with Aiden's broken arm and Rodney's stitches, there'd been an accident on the water, and three people nearly drowned. They'd lost a fourth, which always got to him. Sure, a doctor was always going to lose someone eventually, but there were so few people here from Earth; only two hundred through the Gate that day. He'd gotten to know each of them in the months they'd been in the Ancient's city. It was harder to lose someone you'd gotten to know, whose face you saw every day.

It wasn't really conscious when he started singing quietly to himself. His whole family had been harpers and poets and singers as far back as anyone could remember, and music had daily rung through his home, even as an adult. While he'd become a doctor, and they'd been proud of him, he'd still got a little something of the family talent.

He was lost in the melody, thinking of his mum, when something appeared in front of him.

"When did *you* start singing?" Rodney plopped himself down across from Carson, half-eaten sandwich in hand. "And what the hell was that? Tortured goats?"

"It was Gaidhlig, Rodney. At least try to be polite about it." It was hard to hide his annoyance with the other man's jibe. Things were bad enough back home where the language was concerned -- most acted like only old, poor, probably stupid people spoke it -- but to have the language his family had always spoken compared to goat torture? Nobody appreciated true beauty anymore. He poked at his food, determined to eat something despite his low mood.

"Actually, Carson, your voice isn't bad. And what was that, anyway? It sounded... sad."

Carson snorted. "It's a homesick song, really. We're good at that, you know."

"You're missing Earth."

"Brilliant guess, just brilliant. I'm missin' Glasgow. Missin' my mum. If I had any Scotch, I'd be weeping in it. It was a lousy fucking day." He stabbed a vegetable viciously, then dropped his fork.

Rodney touched his stitches. "You're telling me. I hear we lost somebody today." There was sympathy in his voice, which surprised Carson a bit.

"Aye." He slumped down in his chair, shoulders falling with weariness. "Jules Tremand, an oceanographer. He worked with Jacques Cousteau, you know, back before the old man died. Always had a good story to hand."

Rodney's hand slid across the table, and he rested it atop Carson's. Carson looked down at their hands, then up at Rodney. That seemed unusual for him. He wasn't much for touching other people. "I'm sorry. I should have known you would know him." He took another bite of his sandwich.

"I know everyone, Rodney. They all see me, you know." He turned his face away, gazing over the noisy, chatting crowd in the room. He could name all of them, tell you their blood type and medical problems, and what family they'd left behind to come here. He knew most of the Athosians on the mainland too.

"It must be hard."

Carson looked back at Rodney, staring him in the eye this time. "This doesn't sound like you. Where are the insults? Are you sure you're not inhabited by some weird alien life-form, now?"

Rodney shook his head, exhaustion suddenly appearing. "No. I wish it was that simple."

Carson's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by that?" Rodney's hand was still on his.

"I know you sent Aiden to keep an eye on me earlier today. Why?"

"Well, really it's that you've not been yourself much recently. Mostly you've been more annoying than usual, but this, man, it's frightening to behold." He chuckled. "I never thought I'd see the day when you were bein' sympathetic to somebody."

The pain from earlier was back in Rodney's eyes. "I'm not always like that, you know."

That stopped Carson; he'd expected a sharp remark or an insult again. "Rodney, what's wrong? Should I make you an appointment with Kate this week?"

"No." Rodney's hand slipped back and he waved his sandwich in a vague arc, shedding something lettuce-like on the table. "I'm not sure what's wrong. Something."

"How do you feel, then?" This was a genuine puzzle.

Rodney looked around them furtively then turned his attention back to Carson, speaking softly. "Look, if I tell you, you have to swear you won't tell anyone. In a place like this, the consequences could be... unpleasant."

"Tell me what?" He leaned forward in his seat, homesickness forgotten in his curiosity.

"Promise me. It can't go in my records."

"I don't know that I can promise that. If it's some danger to you or to others, I may have to report it. You know that."

Rodney looked down at the table, dropping his partially eaten sandwich with a quiet 'thup'. "It's nothing like that. I mean, not really."

"What, then? Out with it, lad."

He couldn't quite believe it when Rodney actually blushed. "Carson, this place is filled with military. I work with them every day. The U.S. Air Force signs my paycheck. If they knew, I could be in a world of pain."

He gestured with one hand, waving the rest of it out of Rodney's awkward silence.

"I... I'm gay, okay?" His voice was low and furtive, rattling on with his usual reckless speed. "I can't stand this anymore. Everyone jokes about how the women won't talk to me, but I'm really just not that interested. I mean, sure, sometimes it's good, but... but I'm just more interested in men. Being alone all the time is driving me nuts, but I don't dare say anything to anyone, because God only knows how these people will react, and the last thing I need is a bunch of stupid gossip that's going to keep people from cooperating, or making more jokes about me than they already do, or a bullet in the back on some God-forsaken hole of a planet, and--"

"Whoa, there. Slow down, Rodney." He blinked. "I though you had some kind of unnatural obsession with Lt. Col. Carter?"

"Well, okay, so there's that too, but that's irrelevant out here."

"And you think being bi is a problem?"

"Damn it, Carson, *yes* I think getting the crap beat out of me is--"

Carson laughed quietly. "Were you *deaf* during your psych screening, man? They were specifically looking for that kind of bigotry, and racists and all, to keep it off the mission. They *knew* we might be stranded here for the rest of our lives, and they didn't want people along who would endanger the base or the other personnel. With so few of us, they knew we'd have to at least try to get along."

"But they're *military.* You know; a bunch of brain-washed, muscle-bound, macho he-men without two brain cells to bang together!"

Carson nodded. "I think you're exaggerating here, Rodney. I never quite saw you as paranoid. These people are trained for contact with unknown cultures. That includes folks whose sexual practices your average human might find... a wee bit peculiar."

Rodney thought about that for a while, and Carson found his own thoughts running in some usually-ignored directions as well. He'd been too busy to actually have much of a private life, though he'd had a few invitations from both sides of the fence. He'd gently turned all of them down; not because he wasn't attracted, but because work had been too hectic, and he wasn't a man to take advantage. It would probably always be 'too hectic,' though, and he could understand how anyone might slip over the edge from too much loneliness and denial. He realized it might just be a danger for him, too.

"Look, Rodney." Rodney peered up at him. "Some of us get together on Thursday nights over at Zelenka's place, just to talk and be around others like us. Some of us are military, too. You'd be surprised."

Rodney blinked, and his eyes widened. "Wait a minute -- *you*?"

He laughed. "Yes, *me.* They may not forgive me for bringing you by though. You have been a right terror of late. Zelenka may threaten to throttle me. Or you."

"Oh, that Czech guy whose name I can never remember." Rodney put his face in his hands. "Like anyone's going to want me around in the first place. I get insulted every time I turn my back. Nobody even bothers to whisper anymore."

"Okay, so there's that. Everyone knows you don't have the social graces God granted an amoeba."

Rodney looked up at him, red with embarrassment. "You're not helping, Carson."

"It's not like I can kiss it and make it better." He leaned his chin in one palm and took a sip of his not-quite-tea.

A peculiar expression spread on Rodney's face. "I wouldn't be so sure of that." The words were quiet, almost seductive. A wry, lopsided grin appeared.

Carson held his breath so he wouldn't spew the tea across the table in his astonishment then swallowed carefully. "You didn't just make a pass at me, did you Rodney?" He wasn't quite sure he'd heard right.

"Umm... I think I did, actually." There was a half-frightened, half-hopeful look in Rodney's eyes.

He turned the thought over in his head. It *had* been a while. Rodney wasn't actually a bad looking man, much as he tended to spout bollocks on a regular basis.

"I think maybe we should talk about this a little." Carson wasn't sure what he wanted here. He actually liked Rodney when he wasn't being an utter arsewipe. In a weird way, he thought of Rodney as a friend. One of his closest, when he got right to it.

"Oh, great," Rodney muttered. "He wants to talk."

Carson rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You know, with so few of us around, you're not gonna get far without learning to talk to somebody like you might actually be interested in them. It's not like back home, where you can get something anonymous and move on. No glory holes here, Rodney. No bathhouses. Even where you can find privacy, we all know each other. You can't walk away and think you're never gonna see him again."

He could see the surprise register. Rodney must have been halfway to Narnia, where closets were concerned. Too many years working with SGC, he supposed. Too much exposure to the American military, with their rules and regulations and prejudices.

"Really," he said, but Rodney looked away. This time, Carson reached out to him, laying a gentle hand on one arm. "It's not so bad as you've been thinking, you know."

Rodney's reaction was subdued, softer than Carson was used to from him. "I shouldn't have said anything. I'm sorry."

He slapped his hand down on the table. "What? Why ever not? Rodney, nobody actually hates you. Well, maybe Kavanagh, but he hates anyone who looks better than him. Sure, you annoy people, but they do respect you for how hard you work and all the knowledge you have. You've kept us all alive through some of the things you've done. Nobody's gonna forget that, believe me. John's said more than once how grateful he was for you fixing the Puddlejumper when you were stuck in that space Gate."

"He did?"

Carson's voice softened as he realized just how deep this ran under Rodney's bluster. To the best of his knowledge the man never showed that insecurity to anyone else. "Aye, he has." It was the truth, too. All of it. Rodney only ever heard the snarks and the rough things people said behind his back. When they praised him, it was privately. Everyone thought hearing it would only swell his head bigger than it already was, and it was common knowledge that he had trouble getting it through the Gate anyway. "You've never heard any of that, though, have you?"

Rodney shook his head, and Carson could see the shock on his face.

"You think I'm set to say no, don't you?"

"What else would you mean when you said you wanted to talk?" The shock had transformed to anger now, Rodney's voice sharp and harsh. "That's what they all say when they want to give you a polite rejection."

He reached out and took both of Rodney's wrists, holding them hard and forcing the man's attention to him. "Listen, you stupid git -- I meant I wanted to talk to you and see if we both thought this might work. I'm not all flighty like some, Rodney. I don't go to bed with just anybody."

"Wait a minute -- are you saying..." Rodney paused, momentarily at a loss for words. "Are you serious?"

"Well, were you?" Carson locked eyes with the man.

"I..." Rodney took a deep breath. "I, uh, I guess I was."

"Then yes, so was I." Strangely enough, he meant it.

Rodney stared at Carson's hands wrapped tightly around his wrists, and Carson could feel the man's pulse rising.

"Why? I mean, why me? You're a hell of a lot nicer to people than I am -- don't you... aren't you..."

Carson grinned, feeling a wee bit evil. "Truth is, I could have pretty much anybody I fancied, if I asked nicely and they swung that way. I've got lots of friends, and had some quite remarkable offers since we've been here, but I haven't really felt like I had the time or the energy to treat anyone proper."

"But you just said--"

He sighed and smiled. "I know this'll come as a surprise, but I do consider you a friend, Rodney. Most of the time I even actually like you."

Rodney just sat, thunderstruck.

"So maybe you might reconsider your position on having a conversation here."

Rodney rose, food forgotten. "Right. Reconsidering. Is there a better place to talk about this?"

Carson rose and grinned, then led him from the room.

*****

As the Chief Medical Officer, Carson's quarters were a little bigger than most, but nobody's quarters were truly large. He had a tiny sitting room that he also used as his home office, and a bedroom. There was a little sanitary facility as well, with what passed for the Ancients' idea of a loo and a shower. The real perk was the large window overlooking the vast ocean. It was fortunate Atlantis was such a large city; it meant that even with all the critical staff quarters clustered within a five minute run of the Command Center, nobody had to share quarters with anyone else unless they chose to.

Rodney sat on one side of his couch, while Carson perched on the other. They'd been staring at each other for the last ten minutes, not saying anything.

"I thought you wanted to talk," Rodney said, finally.

Carson nodded. "I do, yes. I'm just trying to think where to start."

Rodney edged a little closer and placed a tentative hand on Carson's knee. It was warm, and shaking just a little. "How about, if you've got all this potential for getting laid, why would you bother with me?"

He sighed and moved toward Rodney a few centimetres. "You're someone I can talk to."

Rodney blinked. "Oh?"

"Well, what would you call those god-awful long conversations about science and philosophy and technology we have at hours when a respectable vampire would be crawlin' for his coffin?" He grinned and chuckled, then slipped his hand over the one on his knee.

"Arguments?"

Carson laughed. "They're that, too, I suppose." He looked into Rodney's blue eyes. There was a look of puzzlement in them that eclipsed his usual overconfidence. "It's good to talk to a man with a mind sharp as yours. I learn things from you that I don't think I would from anyone else. But don't you be telling anyone I said so. I know it'll all just go to your head."

"You wound me." Rodney slapped his free hand over his heart and put on a theatrical, stricken look.

"Bollocks."

"I've always liked you, Carson. I haven't always acted like it, but I do."

"I know. You'd be transparent if anybody cared to look."

Rodney went silent. Carson could feel the tension echoing between them.

"I think you're a handsome man, Rodney. You have a fair face, but for those stitches you're wearing today. If you'd let yourself relax a wee bit, and not be so pompous sometimes, I suspect more would like you."

"Asshole," Rodney growled. "Are you planning on following every compliment with a whack on the head with a stick?"

"Canada," Carson chuckled, "where men are men and beavers are nervous."

Rodney razzed him, loud and wet with his tongue, then laughed. "Is it true what they say about kilts and sheep?"

"Only the ewes know for sure." Carson gave him an annoyed look.

"Jerk."

"Arse."

"Dickwad."

"Smeghead."

They were nose to nose, snarling at each other when they both burst out laughing. Carson wrapped an arm around Rodney's shoulder and brushed their lips together.

Rodney took a sharp breath then fell into the kiss. It was sweet and tentative, the tips of their tongues meeting with a light, tickling touch. It only lasted a few seconds, but Carson felt it in his body, and thought there was definite potential in it.

"Not bad," he said, backing up a wee bit to look at Rodney. The man's eyes were still closed, dark lashes on fine, pale cheeks, and he had an expression somewhere between stunned and ecstatic on his face. "Oh, Rodney," he whispered, "has it really been so long for you?" He slid one hand softly along Rodney's face, thumb passing tenderly over the slash he'd stitched. "I do wish you'd be more careful, you clumsy git. Seems like every time you come home, I have to patch you." He placed a soft kiss on the wound.

Wordless, Rodney moved closer and slid his arms around Carson. It was a warm, trembling embrace. Carson returned the motion, and drew them body to body on the couch as they sat. A moment later, he moved his legs so their bodies were face to face, legs twined in a comfortable tangle.

"I like this," Rodney said. "This is good." He squeezed and Carson sighed, content, running a hand up Rodney's back. It *was* good.

"What is it you want from this -- from me?" Carson asked.

Rodney opened his eyes and looked straight into Carson's, his glance piercing and sharp. "A friend. Someone I don't intimidate." He looked away for a moment then looked back, tightening his arms around Carson. "Someone who understands."

"When you've felt alone for so long, finding someone -- it's like walking into a place where they speak your language after many a year in foreign lands." He caressed Rodney's face and pressed their foreheads together, closing his eyes. It felt right. He liked the way his friend felt, so close and so warm and shaking a little from something deep he'd not been able to reveal before.

"Carson, I think you speak a language I understand." Rodney started the kiss this time, deeper and harder than the last, tongues exploring slowly. It was like slipping off layers of winter clothes when the spring sun had come out -- freeing, revealing, yet comfortable. Hands moved over backs and arms, up necks, down shoulders. They panted together, lips still touching, as they performed their research, measuring each other's bodies like some precious artifact.

"Mo ch‡raid bhÚidheach," he whispered, and slipped his tongue back into Rodney's mouth. He leaned forward, urging Rodney to lie back, pressing his weight on the other man. Rodney moaned and yielded, still deep in the kiss, melting under him. It lasted almost forever.

"Wha... what about you?" Rodney asked, panting a little. "What do you want?"

Carson thought for a moment, kissing his friend for a distraction before he had to answer. Rodney's quiet sounds sent a shiver through him. "A friend," he said, echoing Rodney's answer. "Someone to be with sometimes, to make things less lonely."

"I, uh, I think I can manage that," Rodney whispered. He pressed himself against Carson's body, hands moving over his back, sliding along his ass and thighs.

Body on body, length on length pressed together; god it was good. Like this, without the posturing and the snarking, Rodney McKay was just another man, hot and aroused, hard with want and groaning his need in quiet sounds.

Rodney's hands slipped between them, tracing the line of his ribs, the curve of his chest, fingers tracing over hidden nipples, and he gasped at the touch. There was a tentative roughness to it that spoke of being too long out of practice, but he thought with more opportunity, it could be much, much better. His own, more recently practiced hand made its way under Rodney's shirt and the man writhed beneath him, gasping but still quiet. Fascinating that such a loud man in daily life would be so subdued when it came to this. He tugged at Rodney's shirt, and they parted for a moment and pulled it off.

Carson massaged his fingers along Rodney's chest, slipping down his body to kiss and lick his throat, along his collarbone, then down his sternum until he felt the swift murmur of his friend's heart beneath his lips. Rodney's breath hitched, and he moaned again, no louder than before. Lifting himself with his arms, Carson gave a slow, languid thrust of his hips, cherishing the feel of their hard cocks moving together.

"Ohhhh..." Rodney's harsh voice was half-sob, half desperate need. "Please, Carson, please..." He clutched at Carson's waist, slid his hands down along Carson's buttocks, and pulled them closer between his spread legs. It was so hot, so good. Their bodies meshed so well like this. Carson could feel strength calling out to strength, and knew he wanted to fuck the man.

"What do you need, Rodney? Tell me."

"Want to suck you," he groaned, "want to feel you fuck me. Please. Been so long..."

A charge of pure erotic power shot through Carson's veins and he crushed Rodney to him, biting his shoulder and thrusting his hips hard against the man, parting strong legs with his thighs. "Mmmm..." His groan was pure desire. "Oh god, man, yes! You want me to fill you, a ch‡raid? You like that?"

Rodney responded with a wild, strangled sound, and bit Carson's neck. The sensation filled him, and his already throbbing cock got harder, aching to be buried in his friend's body. Both of them would bear the marks of this passion for days.

It was a struggle to pull himself away, but if he wanted to be sucked, he had to move. Rodney was up fast, and tugging at his pants like he was the last man on Earth, or maybe the last one in the Pegasus galaxy; he didn't think it mattered. "Easy, Rodney," he said, still panting. "Let's not spend it all in one place."

"Shut up, Carson, and let me suck your dick."

He laughed and buried his hand in Rodney's dark hair. He should have known there would be a great lack of delicacy, despite the circumstances. "You can't suck it with your lips flappin' like that." He eased Rodney's face toward his crotch and was rewarded with intense, wet heat.

"Ahhhhh..." Carson let himself slip down the couch, boneless as that amazing mouth worked him. Rodney's hands were awkward but gentle on his cock and balls, and Carson surrendered to the pleasure of it. The sounds the man made as he sucked, deep and hungry, shook him to the core.

Rodney was beautiful to watch, his strong face bobbing, eyes closed in pleasure. Carson watched his cock slip in and out, wet and glistening between Rodney's lips. He could feel the lips and tongue work him, slick on his flesh, smooth along his shaft then teasing his head, tongue rasping into the slit. He moaned and thrust, and Rodney took him deep. Both hands smoothed over the muscles of Rodney's bare shoulders and back, traced the shape of his ears, fingers trailing through the sweat-dampened hair. It was good -- so good. If it had been so long as Carson suspected for Rodney, he wondered if he must have practiced on cucumbers. Maybe he'd packed a dildo along to keep him company at night.

With a groan, he gave in to sensation, imagining Rodney fucking himself on a long, fake cock. God, he'd fill the man better than some silicone toy. He'd trade pleasure for pleasure and share it with his friend. He let himself thrust faster and deeper as Rodney got more enthusiastic. Soon he was fucking that sweet mouth with sharp strokes, and Rodney took it all. When he felt Rodney swallow his cock, he nearly came, head tossing against the back of the couch as he babbled senseless words of praise and encouragement. Only a hard squeeze at the base of his shaft kept the top of his head from exploding.

"Ohhh, god Rodney -- so good!"

Rodney only hummed in acknowledgement, the vibration sparking momentary madness, and Carson pulled the man's head away before he shot into the hot, exquisite mouth. "God, I can't take it. I want you, Rodney. Want to be in you. Take off your clothes."

He was frantically shedding his own as Rodney tugged at his pants, kicked his shoes off, and hopped on one foot, then the other, trying to get his socks under control.

"Bed," Rodney said, his voice rough as a file.

"You got that right." He took Rodney by the elbow and they staggered into the bedroom together, kissing and groping as they moved. Rodney pulled away and sprawled himself on his stomach, legs spread, ass raised. It was an incredible sight, and Carson's heart, already hammering, skipped a beat. He tucked a pillow under Rodney's hips and knelt beside him.

"Oh, god, you look so good," he whispered, caressing the bare flesh before him. His fingers traced the curves of Rodney's balls, stroked along the hard ridge of cock.

Rodney's still quiet moans sent a shudder through him. He slid down over the pale body, reveling in the warm touch of skin on skin, and the luxury of it being all along the length of him. "Let it out, mo ch‡raid, let it out. I want to hear you." His hard dick fit so well in the cleft of Rodney's cheeks, and he couldn't help a half-choked groan himself.

"Please..." Rodney was shaking now, his knees none too stable.

"Oh, crap. I got no lube."

"Carson!" Rodney snapped. "How the hell could you pack for a possibly one-way trip to the fucking *Pegasus galaxy* and not bring any goddamned *lube*? Next you're gonna tell me you don't have co--"

Carson gritted his teeth and pressed himself against Rodney with a rough stroke. The ensuing startled groan shut down the man's incessant prattle.

"I've seen your blood work, Rodney. Everybody here's clean, so it's not a worry right now. We'll just have to do it the old fashioned way. I can still spit."

He rubbed the tip of his cock, still wet from Rodney's mouth and his own dripping fluid, into the hot space between the man's cheeks. A nudge or two and Rodney's shaking was getting much more pronounced.

"Please, please," he whimpered. "God, Carson, fuck me."

He slid a couple of fingers in Rodney's mouth to keep him from talking. Rodney sucked eagerly, and started making noises that were sure to make Carson come far too soon.

"Oh, yeah, I want you. I'll give it to you until you scream." His voice was harsh and thick, not quite under control. The scents of one overheated, utterly horny astrophysicist, along with the little sounds he was making were driving him insane, and quickly. "You're gonna give it up for me, aren't you Roddy?"

Rodney pulled back from his fingers and snarled, "Stop calling me that!"

Carson took the pragmatic route. He slid a slow finger into the man's ass, and Rodney's desperate "Aaaaaaaagh!" was quite possibly the most erotic thing he'd ever heard in his life. Keeping up the measured movement, he slipped the second finger in. He could feel his friend's racing heart, feel the trembling in his body. He could hear all the quiet, tiny sounds Rodney made, and the barely coherent pleas for mercy.

Oh god, it made him so hard. He thought his dick would split open if he got any harder. Getting up a good bit of spit, he pulled his fingers out and spat on his palm, then slicked himself up good.

His body still lay along Rodney's back, he used one hand to guide himself to his friend's waiting entrance. As the thick tip of his cock pressed against it, Rodney started breathlessly chanting, "Pleasepleaseplease fuck me please ohgodfuckmefuckme."

With one sweet thrust, he slipped inside. Rodney bit the bedspread, fisting it with both hands, and let out a muffled scream.

Oh, yeah, that was what he'd been wanting. He clenched his eyes shut, riding out the wave of heat and pleasure that shot through his body. "Yessss... need this, want this; feels so good to fuck you." He gasped for breath, pulled out a little and slid back in, deeper this time. Rodney pushed back against him, trying to take more of him inside. "Tight, god, so tight." Not virgin tight -- he was sure his guess about Rodney's solo nocturnal activities had been right, but it was all the better to know he wasn't going to hurt the man.

"Fuckmefuckme oh *god* Carson fuck me." It was a soft, rapid-fire gasp and hiss, and Rodney bit back down on the bedspread, moaning breathlessly again.

"Tell me you want it Rodney. Let me hear you. Need to hear you." His body had a mind entirely of its own now, and he was pounding into Rodney's sweet, hot ass like there would never be another chance.

"Want it." A gasp and a harsh, keening cry poured from Rodney. Carson almost came from the sound. "Need it, Carson, need this so bad. You don't know -- oh fuck."

He could feel that Rodney was close. Too soon, too bloody soon, but he was so wrapped up in the pleasure that he didn't think to try and slow things down. With another muffled shout that could have been "Carson!" Rodney exploded and collapsed underneath him.

Carson wasn't ready yet, so he kept thrusting, his balls moving against Rodney's as they started tightening to his body. It wouldn't be long. He could feel his fingers digging into Rodney's hips as his friend kept up a barely audible series of grunts and whimpers.

"Can you feel me, Rodney? Feel me fuck you?" Oh, this was hot. Not the best ever, but then no first time ever was. He just hoped they'd get more practice. Oh, that would make things better. He wanted that, so much.

"Yes," Rodney panted, "god yes. Please, please, Carson -- oh god, come for me."

He bit down on Rodney's shoulder as he came, arms wrapped around his friend's body. He groaned into the hot, salt, sweat-slicked flesh as he drove in deeper and harder for the last few, aching thrusts.

Gasping, he let himself sink down onto Rodney with all his weight. "Oh, god," he whispered. "Felt so good."

The only response was Rodney's snore.

He buried his nose in Rodney's dark hair and kissed him. "Lazy wanker."

~~end~~

*****

Gaelic in the story:

Mo ch‡raid bhÚidheach - my beautiful friend

a ch‡raid - friend