MGM owns SGA

Little ol' Des owns little to nothin'.

Stargate: Atlantis

TAG TO TRIO

by Destiny Brighthope

-6-

Rodney

Rodney hoped to use his and Jennifer's injuries as an excuse for a leisurely stroll down the corridors. It would have been nice to pretend he was walking home with a special someone. But while Katie would have hung on his arm and chattered away; stern, silent Jennifer never so much as brushed up against him. And while bandaged hands made holding beer bottles a challenge, they didn't affect her gait. She and Rodney reached her door within minutes.

"So, I'll see you at the staff meeting on Monday?" he remarked casually. He started to walk away, debating whether returning to the club alone and drinking himself into oblivion would be too pathetic when Jennifer did the most surprising thing.

She kissed him. Not a friendly peck, nor an obligatory good night smooch, but a long, lingering kiss that promised untold delights if only he managed not to screw things up. What happened to the reserved girl who couldn't wait for the evening to be over?

She's sliding her tongue into your mouth, he answered himself matter-of-factly. Let her.

How he wanted to. The kiss fed a hunger that had gnawed at Rodney since Katie declared her intention to leave. The wine that tasted too sweet in the glass tasted perfect upon Jennifer's lips. Oh, yeah. The wine.

In just under two hours, they'd consumed a couple of beers and a glass of wine each. Rodney was buzzed. But Jennifer was smaller, and she'd had that second glass. A quick calculation told him she might be impaired. Damn. He ran the numbers again. Damn, damn—son of a bitch—damn!

Then she pressed her body against his, and he forgot what numbers were. He was conscious only of her curves molded against him, of her erect nipples poking at his chest, of the cold hand with it scratchy bandage that had worked itself under his tee shirt, and the short puffs of hot breath against his throat as the kiss ended and she clung to him. But mostly he was aware of the throb of desire starting in his belly and uncoiling slightly lower.

Giving in would be so much easier if they didn't work together so closely. Though botany was technically under his auspices as head of science, his and Katie's duties rarely overlapped. If he messed things up with her, his day-to-day life wouldn't suffer. Being with her involved no risk. She was safe, uncomplicated...

Boring.

But one night of passion with Jennifer could lead to years of awkwardness. Was it really worth the risk? He inhaled, and her scent—still fresh and sweet after hours in a dirty mine—overwhelmed him. He moaned her name, fully intent on telling her they had to stop. His voice failed him. He gripped her shoulders, fully intent on pushing her away. The feel of her bare flesh beneath his fingers weakened his resolve.

"Wait, we shouldn't—" he offered in token refusal.

"Don't let me go," she whimpered, running her fingers through his hair. Her lips tendered the skin of his throat, the sensation extra cool after the heat of her breath.

Desperately adopting the role of diagnostician in honor of the physician turning his legs to jelly, he reasoned, Maybe alcohol isn't a cause, but a symptom.

Surviving a trauma could be a license to throw caution to the wind. Jennifer had nearly died that afternoon. If her advances were a reaction to trauma, then no one could accuse Rodney of taking advantage. To the contrary, he'd be doing her a service—healing her as she'd so often healed him. Besides, he'd also nearly died, a victim of the same trauma. Didn't he deserve to act with the same impunity?

Groaning, he wrapped his arms around Jennifer and crushed her body against his. He kissed her again, hard. His hands roamed over her back. In answer, she pressed more insistently against him. That gave him the courage to move his hands still lower to the swell of her buttocks. He squeezed the firm globes and—with his rationality ebbing—began forcing her against his rampant erection.

-7-

Jennifer

Clarity fought to regain a purchase in Jennifer's mind. For minutes, her entire world consisted of the scrumptious lips and nimble fingers of her favorite physicist. When Ronon Dex, the so-called sexiest man on Atlantis, failed to follow up after the lock down, Jennifer was hurt and disappointed. All his smooth talk about her being stronger than she appeared nearly charmed a kiss out of her. Now she was glad he hadn't pursued her. If he had, she might have missed out on this.

Reaching up, she ruffled Rodney's hair. She felt like laughing out loud. Her other suitor might have the smoldering eyes and flawless physique that turned the heads of most women, but he lacked that wide wondrous smile that—clichés be damned—lit up a room. Or, if he didn't, it was hidden under that scruffy beard. Rodney's own beard was growing in, at least a day's worth. She nuzzled his neck, and the stubble grazing her cheek gave her a delicious shiver.

His arms tightened around her, and he kissed her hard. Thrilled by his enthusiasm, she was ready to match him kiss for kiss and grope for grope. His grip on her butt tore a low moan from her throat. Her nipples were painfully erect, her panties soaked, and when he began rubbing her against his generous erection, she nearly climaxed from the electric jolt that shot through her nethers.

Then she remembered where they were and realized they were grinding against one another in the hall—in full view of anyone who might happen by. Her hands moved rapidly to his chest and applied gentle pressure. Rodney's eyes were glazed over, and she had to shake his shoulders and call his name several times before he came to himself.

Horror contorted his face when he did. "Oh, God, Jennifer. I'm so sorry." He looked about frantically to see if they'd been spotted. "I should—I'll go."

"Oh, no, Mister. You're not getting out of this that easily." She palmed open her door and dragged him inside. He was still babbling an apology when she forced him against the door and renewed her attack on his throat. He didn't stop apologizing until she took his hands and forcefully replaced them on her buttocks.

Between kisses, she fumbled with his belt buckle. Heading off his protest, she said, "You can't undress by yourself with those bulky bandages. And who would you rather help you? A burly orderly?" She gave him a pointed gaze. "Or a girl with—and I quote—'a sweet bod'."

"You remember that?"

"I've been thinking about it all afternoon." Pulling his belt from its loops, she let it drop to the floor then led him by the hand to her bed and set him on the edge of her mattress. "I just wish Sam hadn't cut you off." She licked her lips. "I'd love to know what else you would have said."

Rodney's mischievous grin set off fireworks inside her. Whatever he had to say would have been good, but the sudden throb of need coursing through her would not be fulfilled by words. She placed a finger on his lips. "Tell me later," she whispered huskily. "Now, show me."

[tbc]

Thanks again to RoryFaller for beta work. And to all you wonderful reviewers and those who have added me to author and story alerts. I can't thank you enough.