John Sheppard is pissed. The kicker—the REALLY FUNNY part about the whole situation—is that he can't show it. And he's good at that, hiding how he's feeling. Sure, he may hold himself a little stiffly as they walk back to the Stargate. He may punch in the coordinates to Atlantis a little more forcefully than necessary. His facial expression could be classified as "stony." But all in all, John Sheppard thinks he's handling the whole situation brilliantly.

Right up until he glances at Rodney. Rodney, who's all...googley-eyed and twitterpated. Rodney, whose lips are kiss-swollen and shiny and enticingly red. Rodney, who's quickly swept away by half the science department, chattering madly and being all King-of-the-Geeks. John nods perfunctorily at Weir and heads off to his quarters, ignoring Ronon's knowing smirk and Teyla's calm smile.

When the door chimes later, John throws his pillow at it. He's operating under the assumption that if he ignores it, it'll go away.

John curses when light from the hallway spills into his room; he doesn't have a pillow to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness and his arm's a poor substitute. John grunts as his exuberant scientist tumbles on top of him practically vibrating with energy. Rodney pries John's arm from across his eyes, and John glares daggers at the way-too-perky scientist on top of him. He's pissed, dammit, and it's ALL RODNEY'S FAULT.

"Jo-ohn," Rodney sing-songs, giggling madly. Giggling! John growls nastily at him, and Rodney has the audacity to grin widely and wiggle, his erection rubbing against John's body—which apparently doesn't understand that he's currently mad at McKay and should not be encouraging the man in any way.

"I'm trying to sleep, Rodney," John says as he pushes against the weight on top of him. He can't stop the involuntary gasp when one of Rodney's talented hands sneak between them.

"You can't be mad about that," Rodney whispers huskily. John snorts and rolls his eyes, but doesn't try to move Rodney's hand. That would take more willpower than he has to spare at the moment; he's using too much reminding himself why he's pissed. He watches with a growing sense of doom as Rodney bends his head and licks delicately at John's clavicle.

"You kissed her!" Rodney's nimble fingers rub against the head of John's penis.

"For a ZedPM." John arches into Rodney's expert touch, his body well-conditioned to respond exactly how Rodney wants it to.

"You still kissed her," he gasps out, clinging desperately to his reason. Rodney's hands and mouth are driving him to distraction, making him forget the world around him.

"ZedPMs are on the top of my List." Rodney latches onto one of John's oddly-shaped ears, makes his lover whimper low in his throat.

"Wh-what list?" Rodney frowns; if John can still sound mad, the Rodney is obviously doing something wrong. He quickly runs through down his mental checklist of How to Drive John Sheppard Crazy. Oh, of course. He dips down and attacks one of John's nipples, worries it with his teeth and tongue. John writhes beneath him, his hands clutching reflexively at Rodney's hips, fingers digging in and marking the pale skin. Rodney pulls away to admire the way John's nipple gleams in the moonlight, all tight and aroused.

"You know, the list. The five celebrities you can sleep with without getting in trouble." John looks dazed and mussed, and Rodney thinks how utterly hot John is right before Sheppard goes Special Ops on him and reverses their position. Rodney can never figure out how he does it and keeps them on the bed. Seriously, he's tried to graph it out, done calculations and tested theories and it should be impossible. John hovers above him, eyes dark.

"A ZPM is not a celebrity and you kissed the Priestess." Rodney rolls his eyes and sneaks his hands up John's USAF shorts, one hand caressing his lover's dick, the other gently rolling his balls. John's eyes roll up into the back of his head.

"They're MY celebrities, and the Priestess was like a ZedPM by proxy. Besides, few people get hotter than you and it's not like I wanted to! She MADE me do it." John collapses on top of Rodney, their lower halves rubbing together, his upper body braced on trembling arms. His hazel eyes hold Rodney captive. "She was a really bad kisser." John's mouth quirks up, just a little.

"Yeah?" Rondey nods vigorously.

"If there wasn't a ZedPM involved, it would have been the worst kiss ever." He's never meant anything more fully in his life. John slowly rolls his body, a sensuous movement that makes Rodney whimper and wonder where the hell John's bones have gone.

"It was that bad?"

"Unbearable. Awful. Totally...horrid." John sucks a small hickey into Rodney's skin.

"That's unfortunate." And John leans down to claim Rodney's lips with his own, to drive away the memory of the Priestess' awful kiss and replace it with his own taste and technique. Rodney opens up beneath him, his tongue as deft and capable as the rest of him. They take each other apart, one touch at a time, lost in the sensation of lips and teeth and tongue. When John finally pulls away, he grins a little goofily. "We have a ZPM."

Rodney grins back and then pulls John in for more. They have celebrating to do.