Work Text:
Lamp & Genie
by JiM
"Whatcha got there, Rodney?"
"Just a piece of incredibly ancient technology designed by the original inhabitants of the floating city of Atlantis. Nothing you'd be interested in, Colonel," Rodney snapped and bent over what looked like a metallic vegetable.
Whoops. Maybe he had been turning down too many of Rodney's requests for some genetic lock-picking lately. That was definitely a grumpy McKay tinkering at the work bench at... 23:00? It was later than he thought.
"Hand it over and let's see what we've got," John offered. It had been quiet recently, no off-world missions scheduled and no disasters requiring Rodney's snidely accurate input for an entire week. When John realized that he had neither seen nor heard Rodney for three days, he had simply drifted in this direction, casually dropping in on a friend. Yeah, that was it.
Rodney handed over the device as if it were a sacred relic. John looked at it carefully and found he wasn't likely to revise his first impression anytime soon. It looked like a brass cucumber but it felt cool and spongy to the touch. Spongy metal? There was nothing on it to suggest it might have an "on" switch so John thought "on" and hoped for the best.
The device began to hum gently in his hand and a golden light spilled from one end. John offered it to Rodney with a half-bow. "Your ... whatever-it-is, Doctor McKay."
Rodney's mouth twisted up in that peculiar mixture of annoyance and enthusiasm that John had seen again and again as they unlocked the secrets of this place. He took it from John's hand with a raised eyebrow but said nothing and immediately transferred his attention to the artifact.
After a few minutes of silence, during which time Rodney examined every millimeter of the softly glowing tube and made copious notes on his laptop, John said, just to tease,
"It looks like an alien sex toy."
Rodney slapped the whatever-it-was down on the bench and turned to glare at John, blocking his view of the artifact. He had barely gotten his mouth open when John saw that Rodney's head was surrounded by a corona of golden light. They both turned and stared at the luminous cylinder; its light was much stronger now, gleaming from all over the device, lighting the lab with warm, golden rays. The slight hum had changed to a definite purr.
"What did you do?" Rodney demanded before cautiously poking it with his pen. Nothing happened.
"ME? I wasn't even touching it!"
"You were thinking at it," Rodney said accusingly.
John held up his hands. "Not guilty, honest. All I said was..." He stopped and figured that now he looked a little silly.
"All you said was that it looked like a sex toy. Then it lit up." Rodney shook his head in disgust. "Terrific. You're an interstellar pervert, you know that, Colonel?"
"Hey, I didn't make the damned thing! Blame the dead guys." Then he couldn't help it. "You think it really is a sex toy?"
"If you say 'cool', I'm going to hit you with it."
"Come on, Rodney. It is kinda coo...interesting," John said, nudging the scientist's shoulder with his own.
Rodney's irritation melted away from his face and John was about to congratulate himself on staving off another bad mood from Rodney when the other man began typing away on his laptop, muttering as he glared between the artifact and the screen.
He stepped up and leaned over Rodney's shoulder, watching as the man dug through his database like a demented terrier. Images of other Ancient and alien technology flickered on and off the screen and Rodney whistled tunelessly under his breath.
This was the way John liked him best; hot on the trail of some theory and too busy to snarl or snap at anyone or to try to prove his intellectual superiority. Rodney's eyes kept darting to the new, glowing find and then back to compare it with something on his screen. His face lost its guarded tension and his lips curved in what was almost a happy smile.
John wondered idly what the device was supposed to do and was startled when a shockingly clear image formed in his head. The thing whirred happily to itself as he tried to figure out how to tell Rodney what he was now sure it had to be.
He studies his friend in the gleaming light. The soft light falls on Rodney's pale skin and turns it golden. It touches his fair hair and John has never noticed the way it glimmers like summer wheat. Or honey. He likes honey. He leans in and sniffs Rodney's hair, wondering if it will smell more like clover or buckwheat.
It is like neither, but it smells good anyway. John hums happily and nuzzles his nose into the silky strands. Rodney makes a choked off noise but doesn't look up from his computer, which John appreciates. He's not really ready to explain to Rodney that they are both standing there in the yellow glow of an Ancient sex-lamp.
He'd much rather stand close behind Rodney, one hand on his shoulder, the thumb stroking the side of Rodney's throat, slowly, gently. Who would have thought that Rodney had such delicate skin anywhere on him, soft and satiny? Then John's lips burrow through Rodney's light hair to the soft skin at his temple and it is better still. Rodney's scent is stronger still here, more complex, sweet and dark. How weird is it that Rodney smells most like himself right there? John's tongue darts out to taste, very gently, and he thinks he might have heard Rodney whimper.
OK, this is all terribly wrong and there is no way John can stop himself. He is caught in the grip of the lamp and Rodney's skin is so golden, so sweet. He would try to stop if Rodney wanted him to, he would do battle with himself and this weird alien influence that seems to have seized his body.
But Rodney isn't stopping him. Rodney isn't reacting at all, unless you count the way he refuses to look away from the screen and the tiny hitches in his breath when John's hand tightens on his shoulder. John draws away slightly, just to look at Rodney's profile in the light of the lamp; the light turns Rodney's face into a playground for shadows and his eyes gleam when they flicker up for a moment. John rubs his chin down the blade of Rodney's nose and wonders what he'll find lurking in those shadows. The device seems to purr more loudly, drowning out every other sound.
Rodney's jaw is rough with evening stubble but turns very easily when John's fingers press against it. His breath is warm against John's face, panting out softly from between parted lips. The light is humming all through him now and John can barely see Rodney's face for the corona of light around him. So he settles for leaning in and finding Rodney's lips with his own. His eyes are closed now. He has to skate his mouth across a rough cheek but he loves the sensation of Rodney's skin buzzing against his own.
But that's nothing compared to the slick heat of Rodney's mouth and tongue moving against his own. He tastes nothing like honey and John loves it. Wishes he knew he were going to have a chance to love it once they got the damned light turned off.
He drags Rodney to his feet and turns them both. Now Rodney is all in shadow and John can see the swirls of golden light against the inside of his eyelids. Closing his eyes doesn't seem to have lessened the lamp's effect at all. Warm hands are moving up to hold his head in place as Rodney's tongue delves further. John takes advantage and hoists Rodney the few inches up to seat him on the bench. Rodney makes a plaintive murmur, but subsides when John slides his hands beneath his shirt. He eases him back, hearing something papery slither to the floor when Rodney's back topples it. The skin is warm and so silky beneath his fingers and now he knows what it could taste like.
He has to look.
Alien influence or not, it's worth it. Rodney McKay is lying spread out on his own workbench, shirt rucked up, hands clenched on John's forearms. His eyes are darkened and glitter strangely in the streaming golden light. The light off to the side makes Rodney look like unexplored topography. John plunges in, face nuzzling, hands slipping across ropy muscles, tongue swiping up broad strokes of scent and flavor from Rodney's shuddering skin.
Rodney's clever fingers are now running through John's hair and he sighs at how good it feels. Then Rodney is rubbing callused forefingers behind each of John's ears and there is no way John is ever going to stop doing this with Rodney. Ever. They can toss the lamp in the ocean and no one need ever know about it, but he will have Rodney in his bed...or Rodney's bed...or the workbench...or anywhere, so long as he can taste and touch and have Rodney's amazing hands on him.
Then Rodney whispers something but the device is humming too loudly for John to hear him. He thinks at it, and the noise lessens and when he looks up at Rodney's flushed face, he whispers it again and John melts.
"Suck me."
John can do that. He's never done it before, but he knows he can do this. God, he really wants to do this and he knows it's the damned light, but Rodney's slacks are easy enough to yank down and so are his briefs. And when he slides between Rodney's dangling legs, he can smell more of that scent, the dark, sweet scent that got him into this. Rodney's fingers are rubbing tiny circles at his temples now and that's as much encouragement as John needs.
Rodney's cock is thick and smooth against his lips. The foreskin slips easily beneath his tongue and there is an explosion of tangy sharp Rodney scent and flavor. Rodney's balls are soft and their hair tickles underneath John's chin as he laps down and back up the length of the shaft. Golden light glistens along the wet trail he's left on Rodney's skin. Every hair gleams with its own halo and John wonders if he's high. His own cock is as hard as Rodney's but he can't stop lapping at Rodney long enough to touch himself.
The scent is the beach at noon, salt and sunlight and things washed up from the deeps. The taste is even moreso and John can feel Rodney's cock pulse and he pulls away even as Rodney mumbles a warning. Semen pours into the light and falls onto Rodney's gold-tinged skin and John is still entranced. He leans forward and licks up one of the fallen drops. Salty sharp flavor and then Rodney is choking, "John," and he has to clamber up onto the bench and bend over Rodney, Rodney who is kissing him like he has all the oxygen in the room. Rodney's hand doesn't even have a chance to stroke all the way down his front before John is coming, light bursting in golden sparks behind his eyes.
John collapses and rides out the shudders in Rodney's arms, face buried in the curve of Rodney's neck. That same scent is still there and John breathes it in gratefully, though now it speaks of comfort and not lust.
Lust.
The lamp.
Oh damn. He and Rodney...the lamp...
This was bad. Very bad.
John lifted his head and glared at the smugly shining alien sex lamp. It dimmed somewhat but there was plenty of light for John to see what he'd done. Wrinkled clothing, strewn papers, the laptop on screen-saver... Rodney's hand moving up and down his back almost distracted him but it wasn't until dry lips were pressed against his sweaty chin that John decided to forget about the lamp for the moment.
"John?" Rodney's voice was softer than he'd ever heard. It sounded good, it flowed like sun-warmed honey...oh, god, not again. He had to turn off that damned lamp. Then he could listen to Rodney speak to him in that velvety voice and know that what he was hearing was real.
He brought his gaze down to meet Rodney's and promptly forgot about the lamp. That uneven mouth was turned up in a real smile.
"I'm not going to take it back. You're still an interstellar pervert."
"Rodney..."
"But my back may not recover if we lay here much longer. Maybe a bed next time?"
"Rodney..."
The other man shoved him off gently and sat up slowly. He grimaced down at the undignified wreckage of his outfit, then shot a happy, evil grin at John and hopped down to pull up and fasten his slacks.
"Maybe we should try this in the 'jumper bay next time."
No, no. There won't be a next time. John will have to tell him about the evil sex lamp and then Rodney will get all upset and embarrassed (much the way John is feeling now), despite the incredible heat there had been between them. Somehow, Rodney will blame John for this, which will be unfair, despite the fact that John blamed himself for ever letting it get this far.
His underwear is sticking to him damply and the chilly feeling pretty much describes his mood now. But Rodney keeps talking, even as he is struggling to pull his shirt down and smooth his hair.
"There's a whole rack of those lights down there. Who knows what you'd do then?"
Wait. Alien sex lamps in the 'jumper bay? He'd have noticed. He's sure of it. The hot gay sex with Rodney would have tipped him off almost immediately. He clears his throat before speaking because he knows he would squeak and then have to kill himself from sheer embarrassment.
"I think I could restrain myself. Why is there a whole rack of those things in the 'jumper bay?"
The patented McKay eyebrow goes up at that. "I don't know, Colonel, maybe because that's where the mechanics stored the rest of their utility lights?"
"Utility lights?" he said faintly.
"For seeing into unlit places...like the undersides of puddlejumpers?" Rodney looks at him as if his brains have dribbled out his ears and John thinks they may have.
"It's not a kinky alien sex toy?" He strains for that teasing tone he had so easily half an hour ago, before he'd had Rodney's cock in his mouth.
"Well, depending on your definition of kinky alien sex, but I'd have to say no. It's a flashlight. A really good one, I admit, but still... just a light."
Well. Fuck. John wants to start shouting, but his natural sense of the absurd kicks in before he can draw breath. Oh, those wacky Ancients.
"Not just a light, Rodney. Trust me on this."
Rodney's gaze sharpens. "Why? Have you figured out what else it could have been used for? Is it a diagnostic tool? Or maybe..."
John places his hand over Rodney's mouth before it can get up enough speed to get away from them. "Just bring it along to your quarters, Rodney. I'll show you what I've discovered about it there." John removes his hand and kisses Rodney's crooked mouth and vows he will never tell Rodney about his alien sex lamp theory.
end