.
.
.
Once John has made his escape from the near 'invasion of the body snatchers' situation, he plans his next move. First he collects all of Rodney's research along with the samples he got from Lucius's home planet. Then he gets Beckett alone and shoots him with a stunner. Manually bypassing the security protocols from the Jumper bay, he takes Beckett to a remote location on the mainland.
About halfway there, Beckett wakes up confused that he is being held captive with his hands bound. He pines about how much Lucius needs him, whining constantly the rest of the way there.
Once John is on the ground setting up the research materials, Beckett's complaints become more morose as he slumps in his seat, dejected and defeated.
John explains as he finishes setting up the equipment, "Call it an intervention… You probably don't realize it right now, but what you're going through is, uh, kind of like, uh… a detox."
John coughs suddenly into his fist, then clears his throat to continue, "Now, according to the research Rodney was able to do before joining the Lucius fan club, that liquid he's been drinking contains some kind of a… chemical.
It interacts with the body and causes a… secretion of a, of a, pheromone, and then there's something about gamma activity in the prefrontal cortrex"
"Prefrontal cortex", Beckett corrects John on the term, "the part of the brain responsible for positive emotions."
"See?" John bats Beckett on the arm in enthusiasm, "That's why I need ya. It seems that when people are exposed to this pheromone in close proximity, it makes them, uh… easy to influence, and the longer they're exposed, the worse the addiction gets."
"You mean literally an addictive personality?" Beckett asks with a stricken expression.
"That's what it looks like." John hopes he is getting through to what is left of Beckett's rational self.
"It's rubbish!" Beckett shouts with sudden emotion.
"Check for yourself." John points to the computer, "I will bet you a year's pay that the liquid in that vial is some kind of an extract made from the herb that you collected for him… He made you his mule."
"If this is true, why weren't you affected?" Beckett challenges.
"My cold." John gestures to his nose, "I can hardly breathe. Plus, I haven't been around him much…
Look, I would just kidnap him and take him away somewhere till the pheromone wore off, but the people on his home planet are starting to get sick, and it looks like their gonna get worse before they get better. I don't want to put our people through that."
"You're doing it to me right now!" Beckett cries out in distress.
John gives Beckett a solid punch to the chest hoping to shock him out of it.
"Ow!" Beckett yelps.
"Buck up Carson!" John yells, "You haven't been exposed that long."
John grabs the other man by the shirt and peers at him intensely, "Look, I need you to figure out a way how to counteract this thing. There's got to be an antidote of some kind."
Beckett's countenance falters. John raises his brow quizzically. Is he getting through?
"I can't" Beckett chokes out the words.
He releases a sniffling Beckett from his hold and insists, "Yes, you can. You can beat it."
"But he needs me." Beckett begins weeping openly.
This doesn't seem like the right time to give Beckett another punch to the gut. John tries another approach and kneels down next him, patting his arm, "Hey, it's going to be okay… This'll pass-"
"No, he's…" Beckett is inconsolable, "He's the most important person in the world to me."
"No," John presses him, "you just feel that way that now, but if you think back, a couple days ago… before you met Lucius."
"I, I won't have anybody if he's gone." Beckett sobs.
"Hey you have lots of people." John leans in, "I mean, there's Rodney. You guys are good friends, right?"
Looking teary and unconvinced, Beckett sniffs.
"And hey," John continues, "you got me, I'm your friend too."
"Are you?" Beckett peers at John; "I don't even remember you ever calling me by first name until today."
"It's a military thing," John lifts his hands, "doesn't mean we're not friends, Carson. What could be more friendly than a, a… well intentioned intervention?"
"I don't know," Carson hangs his head, "I just don't know anymore."
"What if…" John ventures, "we just see if I'm right first. You can be the judge. If I'm wrong, well, I take you back with a sincere apology… Will you just take a look?"
Carson stays in his stooped position, staring at the floor.
"Carson?" John gently shakes him by the shoulder.
"Okay, I'll look." Carson gulps, "But if your wrong I want you take me right back to him.
John pats him on shoulder sympathetically, "Alright buddy, I promise. If I'm wrong, I'll take you right back to your best friend."
After Carson has synthesized an antidote and inoculated himself, they let themselves get recaptured. Carson pretends to be under the influence still, so he can have time to produce enough of the antidote for everyone on Atlantis. Then he tricks Lucius into a Jumper where John is waiting to keep him aboard; flying around the planet long enough until the antidote has kicked in for everyone and they return to normal.
.
.
.
.
After the effects of the antidote take hold, Rodney feels like such an idiot. He heads to the lab to clean up. He is almost done getting rid of everything but he decides to set aside a small amount of the herb, for research purposes. There is a small tincture of the stuff, he wonders if he should keep that too?
He unscrews the cap and sniffs the contents. It doesn't smell like anything really. Without thinking Rodney lifts it to his lips and takes a small sip. No taste. He puts it aside for safekeeping, knowing that it probably isn't a good idea.
But it's just that a drug like this, with the power to influence cognitive decision making might come in useful one of these days. Like, on a mission.
With everyone on Atlantis immune, medical teams have gone out to give the villagers from the backwater hamlet the antidote. John returns some hours later to take Lucius to the brig.
That evening over dinner, Rodney sits on a long table with everyone from the team; John happens to be sitting next to him and Rodney notices that he seems unusually attentive. Even when Rodney isn't talking, John just gazes at him.
That's when Rodney remembers that John is the only person who was not been given the antidote. Aha. That explains it. The herb should wear off soon but Rodney decides to make the most of it.
He smiles and turns to converse with John at length. It is really pleasant having someone hanging off your every word, especially John, who is prone to eye rolls and sighs when Rodney is talking. It is amazing actually, John is rapt in attention no matter what subject Rodney brings up, even the technical specifications for the intergalactic gate bridge. Rodney starts to feel a little guilty by the end of the meal and excuses himself early.
Back in his room, Rodney hunts for a missing drive. God this place is a mess, even for him. He pushes some clothes on the bed to the floor and spies it. He sits on his down and hooks it into his laptop.
Rodney hears a noise and looks up to see the door open by itself. It's not supposed to do that. Oh, it's John. Maybe his strong gene can override the door mechanism somehow?
John looks flushed, smiling, and he quickly makes his way over to the bed, sitting next to him. "You left without saying goodbye."
With John's shoulder bumping against his, Rodney's face flushes.
"Oh? Oh, yeah. Uh, sorry… I was tired or stressed, you know? Long day."
"I know what you need." John puts his hands on Rodney's shoulders and begins kneading the muscles without asking permission.
Oh. Okay, that feels good. Rodney shudders in pleasure. But this is bad.
He moves to stand up but John physically stops him. "Wait, Rodney, you're really tense, don't get up."
John sits up on the bed behind Rodney and he doesn't protest. His mouth has gone dry.
Suddenly John's hands are under his shirt entering from the waist and above the collar to gain access.
The shirt gets pushed up high to Rodney's chest, and then before Rodney realizes what John is doing, it has been pulled halfway off his head.
Flustered, he lets John untangle the garment from his head and arms. Rodney feels ridiculous now, shirtless… with John's hands moving over his skin. John's hands are amazing… Oh, God. How did he let this happen?
But John is murmuring to him, caressing his back. "Come on Rodney, lay down and relax."
He stays sitting upright and stiff.
John reaches an arm around Rodney's middle and playfully pulls him to the bed. He pushes Rodney onto his stomach.
"Wait, Whoa –Whoa" Rodney protests.
Casually sitting on the back of Rodney's waist, John acts as if this is the kind of thing that they do every day. He trails his fingertips over the length of Rodney's back "So soft, Rodney. You've always been so soft."
What is going on here? Rodney's heart is pounding; his cock is getting hard under him. John's hands are pure bliss.
Oh, the warm, slightly dry quality of those long and strong hands. He has been missing them for so long… all these years. It's even better than he remembered it.
The way he is lightly sweeping his fingers across Rodney's neck, arms, and back… It feels so tender and expressive. Rodney knows it is probably just the drug. John doesn't feel anything for him, but he is making Rodney ache.
He should put a stop to this… Just a little more, maybe?
A little more, but he will stop it before anything gets too out of line. John begins working with his thumbs, working his way down Rodney's, neck, then fans out, kneading the muscle between the neck and shoulder.
Oh. Yes. Most of the tension is there in his upper back… Well, lower back too… Rodney sighs in contentment, forgetting for the moment, the moral ambiguity of the situation.
"See Rodney, I knew I could make it feel better if you just let me try. You know, your back is beautiful?"
He tenses again. He's lying here with a hard on, under John. Fuck.
"There." John moves to other side using a different technique, "How does that feel?"
"Good," Rodney squeaks.
"Wait here, a sec." John pats his hand on Rodney's shoulder blade, "I have something I want to try."
Rodney needs to get up and stop this but he is frozen in place. He hears John open his night side table and pull something out. He can smell it now, it's his cocoa butter sunscreen moisturizer… and occasional lube. What is John thinking?
John's hands return to his back, softer, more lubricated. He is able to artfully slide his hands into and around the skin. The massage is luxurious, John leaves nothing unattended. The shoulder massage begins to morphs into an arm massage.
He shouldn't be so relaxed. But he feels helpless under John's touch. John sits further back, resting on Rodney's ass while he digs into the lower spine.
God. Rodney can feel John's erection against his ass. He wants John to fuck him so bad. He is grateful that his own cock is being obscured between his bed and stomach. He can't let anything like that happen between them. John wouldn't be hard for Rodney if it wasn't for the drug.
Working the tension completely out of Rodney's lower back, John ventures a little lower and massages the top of Rodney's ass. He is burning with desire now, wishing John really wanted him as he much he wants John.
John sighs like he is finished and then collapses his chest onto Rodney's back. Rodney feels John's face and lips pressing into his neck, his cock pressing up against his ass.
"Mmm… Rodney." John's hands slide down Rodney's arms, he groans. John's lips start to trail along Rodney's nape.
This is too much; Rodney has to stop this.
He can feel John's hips grinding ever so slightly, moving his hard cock against Rodney's ass.
He stiffens, "John?"
"Mmm?"
"John… That was wonderful, that was really wonderful. I feel so relaxed now, and, uh, I would just like to go to sleep now. Do you think I could do that… alone? Would you mind leaving?"
"Sure Rodney, whatever you want." John sounds disappointed.
"Sleep well." John gushes sweetly on his way out.
Rodney wakes the following day with a massive amount of guilt. Is there any way he can untangle this mess without anyone finding out? Maybe the herb will fade quickly from his system. After all, Rodney only took the smallest sip.
He gets ready to join the team. Today they are taking Lucius back to his planet. Rodney is anxious when he sees John. But throughout the day John appears to be acting pretty much the same as he always does.
Well, maybe a bit more attentive to Rodney. Less sarcastic, perhaps even a little bit sweet. Nothing that anyone else seems to notice though. Rodney hopes the effects are fading.
.
.
.
When Rodney and the rest of the team get back to Atlantis, they meet up with Elizabeth and Carson at the top of the stairs.
Elizabeth enquires about Lucius' homecoming.
"Well, they didn't kill him, although I do see a string of divorces in his future." John offers.
"That's if they haven't strung him up first." Ronon adds.
"Well," Rodney disagrees, "the townspeople are over their withdrawal, and on the mend, so I doubt that will happen."
Teyla speaks up, "That is, unless we discover he's revealed the location of Atlantis to anyone."
"In wish case," Ronon is stern, "I said I would track him down, hang him by his feet, and cut off his-"
"Thank you." Elizabeth interrupts, "We get the idea."
"So everyone here, ah…" John smiles in amusement, "back to normal?"
Elizabeth and Carson both look a bit ashamed.
"We're still fine, John." Elizabeth answers evenly.
"No lingering desires?" John teases, "Secret longings for his touch?"
"It's embarrassing enough without you constantly reminding us, thank you." Carson says uncomfortably.
It is funny though, that John keeps reminding them. Rodney smiles.
"All right, all right" John smirks. He lets it go and turns around, affectionately grasping Rodney's shoulder, "Hey buddy, I'd better get back and clean your quarters before next scout."
He gives Rodney a few pats on the back and runs off.
Rodney blanches; the rest of the team is looking at him like he is the most evil man in the world. Oh fuck, he thought the effects were wearing off... He tries to quickly excuse himself.
Teyla and Ronon block his exit, and Elizabeth's voice is icy, "Rodney."
With no escape available, Rodney tries for an appeal, "It was one teeny, tiny taste ...for research purposes."
"Burn it." Elizabeth is adamant.
"All of it". Carson answers hot on her heels.
"Right now." Elizabeth continues.
"Fine." Rodney looks down, dejected. Now everyone will think even less of him than they already do, "Story of my life."
This time Teyla and Ronon let him pass, but just barely.
Sullen, Rodney returns to the lab to dispose of the remaining material.
When he returns to his quarters they are impeccably clean. He could bounce a quarter, if he had one, off of the bed. Rodney sits on the edge and sighs. He had thought maybe Ronon or Teyla would have stopped John from doing this.
Too ashamed to face anyone at dinner, he stays in his room for the rest of the night, nursing his hunger with Powerbars and MRE's. What is he going to say to John?
When morning comes, Rodney sleeps in, he knows John gets up early and if he waits long enough he will miss him at the mess hall. There is no mission today, just lab work to do.
By the time Rodney makes it to the cafeteria it is mostly empty, he eats his fill and stocks up on as much as he can carry with him for later, just in case. What if John kicks him off the team? He probably deserves it.
He skips lunch in the cafeteria, dipping into his reserve and then leaves early, despite Zelenka's objection. Grabbing a tray for dinner, he takes it to his room before he runs into John.
Rodney finishes his meal alone and is gloomily looking over some specs when the door chimes.
"Yes?" Rodney's voice cracks.
It is John. He is walking in. Okay, there is no avoiding this now.
John looks around the room, "I see it took you no time to make a mess of things again."
"Oh. Right." Rodney looks at a food tray and some disheveled clothing, on the floor "Yes."
There is a strange look on John's face, one Rodney doesn't recognize. Is it anger?
"John, I'm really sorry, I didn't intend for it to go so far. I was just testing and I forgot you hadn't had the antidote…" 'Had he forgotten?'
"Well, I've taken it now." John smirks.
"Right." Rodney looks down, "I don't know what to say… There is no excuse, really. I don't know what to do to make it up to you. I understand if you want me off the team."
He looks up to John's face again, afraid of what he might see.
"I know." John is smiling dangerously.
"What?" Rodney asks.
"How you can make it up to me."
"Oh. Okay. Whatever you want." Rodney is desperate.
John looks self-satisfied, "I want…"
Knowing there has to be some kind of punch line, Rodney waits.
"A massage." John punctuates his words with definition.
Of course. Rodney's face falls, "Look, I am so, so sorry. It wasn't really my idea, but that isn't any excuse-"
Walking up to Rodney, John pushes him in the shoulder insistently, "I. Want. A. Massage… So give me my massage Rodney. And then we'll be even."
"We'll be... even?" Rodney looks up in utter confusion.
"Yeah." John smiles darkly again, "You got one, I want one. Even."
He is starting to wonder if John is serious when he sees him reaching into the bedside table and take out the cocoa butter.
Reaching up with a lazy hand, John pulls his shirt easily over his head. His hair looking slightly more ruffled than it already does.
Rodney tries to keep his breath steady, staring wide mouthed at John's chest. His body is too beautiful, achingly perfect, with those sinuous tight muscles, sun kissed skin, and long and lanky limbs. Rodney is frozen.
.
.
.
.
John sees Rodney's fearful expression and finds it funny that Rodney thinks he's mad at him. He laughs out loud. Poor Rodney hunches his shoulders and winces.
"Rodney," John takes a serious tone, "if you want to make it up to me, this is what you have to do."
"Now, move over and let me-" He shoos Rodney, making him move to the side of the bed.
"Thank you." John crawls up, lying on his stomach; sighing in relaxation, he pulls a pillow under his head.
.
.
.
.
Rodney stares at John's back, so long, lithe and defined. His body always seems to lean into everything naturally.
The arches are graceful; he can see the beginnings of John's pert butt curving at the edge of his pants. Rodney's cock hardens despite himself.
"And Rodney?" John is speaking again, "You'd better make it good."
Reaching for the jar, Rodney uses the movement to muffle his adjustments. He positions his cock so the head is folded under the top of his briefs. A trick he used in high school to hide unwanted erections. His cock is long enough to stay put that way.
If he is going to do this, Rodney doesn't want John to know he much how is lusting for him. He is sure John wouldn't want that. He straddles John but keeps himself propped up on his knees.
His hands are shaking as he opens the jar of lotion. How much should he use? Rodney takes some out, maybe too much, then accidently drops it on John's back.
"Rodney." John complains.
"Sorry", Rodney moves his hands to smooth it out, "Sorry, I'll just… spread it out.
Uh, he isn't doing a good job so far. John had lovingly worshipped his back; it is only fair that he do the same. Rodney rubs it in and then begins to take enjoyment from his punishment.
He moves his hands up the arch of John's back, over his shoulders, and down his arms. It is intoxicating; he has never gotten to touch John like this before, not even when they'd their brief affair in Antarctica.
Rodney lingers on the arms. God, John is so hot. Rodney leans too far forward and his knees wobble a little.
"Relax, Rodney. Sit down." John instructs.
Thank God he tucked his cock up out of the way. Rodney seats himself onto John's back. He would be mortified right now if John could feel his erection. He takes a breath and tries to relax.
Closing his eyes, he feels where John needs the knots worked out. Rodney works one side of John's shoulders and then the other until they feel completely loose.
Then he moves back down to John's arms. They don't seem to need it but Rodney lavishes attention on them before working on John's neck.
Rodney has always wanted to touch John's hair but he keeps himself in check. Instead he works his way down John's neck and lower spine. He shouldn't be doing this; it just fuels his feelings for John.
Right now they feel so close and familiar, like he could turn John around and… and John would love him back.
But it's not that. Rodney has to remember not to get carried away.
Sitting back on John's pert ass, he massages John's lower back. Rodney lets his hands express all the love he wants to. He savors the feeling of John's skin. He will probably never get to touch him like this again.
When he finishes the low back, he works his way up again. He wants to make this last as long as he can.
.
.
.
.
John smiles into the pillow. Rodney is making it good, really good. He has been massaging him for over an hour. Rodney's fingers are warm to the touch and they feel so… God, John is going to think about this later when he is jerking off. Why can't he stop thinking about Rodney this way? He just can't get him out of his head. There is something about Rodney that…
Well, Rodney was the first guy John's slept with more than just the one time. And then there had been that blowjob… That had really pushed it over the edge.
John doesn't know if all blowjobs from guys feel like that, he doesn't think so. It was Rodney. And Rodney, Rodney feels good. He makes John want to hold him against a wall and have his way with him. Oh, God.
And he's never gotten a massage from a guy either. John pushes his cock into the mattress with pleasure and wonders how he is ever going to stand up from this.
He wants to beg Rodney to bite his shoulder again, the way he did that time he sucked John's cock. He'd made John tell him he wanted it.
Fuck. John still wants it. What is wrong with him?
Finally, Rodney stops and moves off of him.
But John wants to grab him back down to the bed…
"Let me just wash my hands." Rodney is saying on the way to the bathroom.
John has to get out of here before Rodney sees how hard he is.
He pulls his shirt back on and grabs one of Rodney's jackets he sees lying on the floor; holding it over his tenting pants, he calls to Rodney in the other room, "Okay! We're even."
Then he bolts out of the room and heads for his quarters where he can take care of his aching cock.
.
.