He doesn't know it's there at first. The room's small and cluttered, chairs stacked high against the walls, sequined tapestries thrown over giant three-armed candelabra, sagging shelves filled with baskets, vases, scepters, papier mache rocks. It's closer to a storage closet than a guest room, like the Fizzi weren't expecting visitors and had to put them up wherever they could, but it's got a mattress on the floor and that's really all John's thinking about when he pulls Rodney in there after dinner.
"Jesus," Rodney says. "I didn't realize the Fenzi had a sideline in community theater. Is that a wishing well?"
John kicks a knee-high idol in front of the door to act as a lock and grabs Rodney by the vest. "Shut up and fuck me."
They strip and fall onto the mattress, naked and kissing. They roll around for a while and then John's on his back, watching as Rodney kneels between his legs and slicks him up with his big, pushy fingers.
John arches his back. "Gimmie another."
"You are the laziest bottom ever," Rodney says, shoving a third finger in. John's breath comes out in a laughing gasp and his head falls back against the mattress. God, he loves this.
Rodney flicks the condom wrapper at him. John sticks his toes in Rodney's armpit.
Rodney slaps him away, laughing. "Oh my god, you're such a freak!"
"Come on, Rodney. Do me."
"Only if it'll shut you up," Rodney says, moving in closer, lifting one of John's legs to wrap around his hip.
John pouts theatrically. "I want you bad."
Rodney braces himself over John, hands denting the mattress on either side of his shoulders, and kisses the pout off John's lips. John moans and pushes up into the kiss, running his hands up and down Rodney's arms. Rodney licks into his mouth, brings one hand up to cup his face, then trails his fingers down John's neck, his chest, his belly. The kiss ends with a wet smack and Rodney looks down between them, takes his cock in hand and guides himself into John in one long, slow push. John's arms fall above his head, hands clutching at nothing as he shudders through it. Rodney can make the first thrust last forever, drawing it out until John's begging for it. But, today, long and slow is just what he wants and he stares up at Rodney's flushed face and eggs him on.
"Is that the best you can do? Rodney--"
There's movement in the corner of the room. John's heart kicks up, adrenaline flooding his system. He grabs Rodney by the shoulders, ready to roll them, cover Rodney's body with his own while he goes for his gun, but there's nothing there. Or there is something there. A mirror, pushed into a corner and draped with gauzy blue fabric.
Rodney pants. "You can't hurry genius, Sheppard. I mean, yes, you frequently hurry genius, but you're only cheating yourself in the end."
Limp with relief, John runs his hands backwards through Rodney's hair, making it stand up in sweaty spikes. "I don't know. My end doesn't feel all that cheated."
"You are so juvenile," Rodney says, forgetting himself and shoving the rest of the way in, hard and fast. "I don't know why I put up with you."
John snickers and gives Rodney's cock an encouraging squeeze.
"Oh, that's right. You're ridiculously attractive and moderately useful to have around."
John just smiles up at him and rolls his hips lazily. In response, Rodney pulls almost all the way out, then slowly pushes back in, studying him the whole time. John sighs and Rodney does it again, and again, each thrust harder than the last. It's perfect. Rodney knows him, knows what he likes. John's never had that before. The mirror catches his eye and he turns his head to watch as Rodney fucks him.
Their rooms in Atlantis don't have mirrors, so he's never seen this. Never seen the way Rodney looks curved over him, his wide shoulders, the arch of his spine, the back of his powerful thighs. And then there's the way John looks spread out beneath him. Rodney's thrusts make John's entire body shake, his toes curl, his fingers twitch. He can see it instead of just feel it, and the sight of Rodney's hips working as he drives into John makes John want to perform, to stroke his hands down Rodney's back just to see it in the mirror. Rodney shivers when John brushes his fingers over his ribs and John's hands look huge spread out over Rodney's creamy white skin. John wraps his legs around Rodney's hips and watches the mirror, just to see how it looks. His heels bump into Rodney's ass with every thrust, but the angle's bad and he can only catch glimpses of Rodney's cock.
"I'm sorry," Rodney says, "am I boring you?"
John jerks his attention away from the mirror and back to Rodney, who looks annoyed. Whoops.
"What's over there that's so fascinating?"
"Nothing!" John says.
Rodney turns to look over his shoulder. Their eyes meet in the mirror.
"Oh," Rodney says. "Oh. That is so hot." He slides his palm up John's thigh and they both watch as he takes John's cock in hand and points it toward the mirror. He gives it a few experimental strokes, changing his grip, brushing his thumb over the head. In the mirror it looks hot and dirty, like the best kind of porn. John's so worked up he's about to come just from this, just from watching his cock poke in and out of Rodney's fist, something he's seen dozens of times, but never like this. His breathing turns rough and Rodney's attention snaps back to him.
"I can't believe you didn't tell me that was there. With a little planning, not your strong suit, I know, but just a moment's forethought and we could have optimized, oh, why do I even bother." Rodney reaches down and, taking hold of the condom, pulls out of John.
John yelps. "Hey! A little warning?"
Rodney sits back on his heels. "Get up. Come over here."
No longer so close to coming, and a little surly besides, John moves over to face the mirror. Rodney gets him on his hands and knees and slides back into him. John groans, head dropping down, but Rodney's not done. He pulls John up to straddle his thighs, back against Rodney's chest, completely exposing him to the mirror.
"Mmm, that's better," Rodney says, pressing against him from behind. He splays a hand over John's chest. "See, now we can both enjoy how ridiculously hot you are without me getting a neck cramp."
"That's not...why," John says, squirming in Rodney's lap. He isn't interested in his own body. It's too familiar, awkward with its knobby knees and weirdly pointed ears. It's how he looks with Rodney that fascinates him, the way they move together, fit like puzzle pieces.
Rodney's fingers slide over to tease a nipple. "No?"
John rises up on his knees, then slowly sinks back down again, watching in the mirror as he fucks himself on Rodney's cock. He can see its thick red base, the rolled lip of the condom, the trembling muscles in Rodney's thighs as he struggles to hold them both up.
"God, Sheppard," Rodney pants, breath hot against the back of his neck. "I can't--" Rodney swears and grabs John's hips, pulling him down into short, hard thrusts. "Are you close? I want to see. Come on."
John's hair is going sideways and his cheeks are flushed. The color spreads down his neck to his chest and he wonders if he always looks this messy during sex. He watches his hand skim down his chest to his belly. His cock is hard and shiny with lube and he curls his fingers around it, gives himself a nice long stroke. Rodney's hands tighten on John's hips. John rocks back into him and jerks himself off, hips rolling, sweat trickling down his chest. Rodney's staring at him like John's the best thing he's ever seen and no matter what John said earlier, he's starting to turn himself on. He rubs a hand down his own thigh, lets himself moan and turn his head to kiss what turns out to be Rodney's cheek since Rodney refuses to look away from the mirror.
"Later," Rodney says, eyes fixed on their reflection, one hand sliding over to help out with John's cock. John tangles their fingers together and watches Rodney watch him. He slips his other hand down to cup his balls, and then lower to where Rodney's cock stretches him open. Rodney's hips buck.
"Come on, come on," Rodney mutters, both hands back on John's hips. "Any day now, Sheppard, or my knees will never recover."
John laughs, body tightening around Rodney, Rodney cursing into his neck.
"Wait," John says, giving himself a few rough pulls and working that spot behind his balls. "I'm almost...there."
"For fuck's sake," Rodney says, and bites the back of John's neck. That's it. John's there, shooting all over his chest and thighs. He tries to keep his eyes open, but they slip shut as he feels Rodney shuddering behind him, feels Rodney's head come to rest against the back of his own.
They stay that way for a while, catching their breath. The mirror shows John leaning against Rodney's solid body, Rodney looking vulnerable with his eyes closed and his cheek pressed to John's shoulder. John doesn't like the way that makes him feel, as if in that moment he's as vulnerable as Rodney is.
Rodney stirs, face sweaty and red, hair sticking up, mouth twisted into a frown. "Okay, get off, move it. That was fantastic, but you've paralyzed me. It's possible we will never have sex again without the aid of hydraulic devices and a block and tackle."
"Sounds like overkill to me," John says, carefully lifting off Rodney's lap.
"That's just how badly you've broken me."
John tosses the condom at a used powerbar wrapper. "Are you forgetting the part where this was your idea?"
"And an excellent one!" Rodney says, rocking from side to side as he straightens his legs out in front of him. "Ow."
"C'mere," John says. "We can rest up before the big bonfire."
Rodney moans pathetically and wiggles over to lie against John. John throws a leg over him and tugs him closer. This is nice too, just lying together, naked. John rubs a foot against Rodney's.
Rodney catches him staring at the mirror again. "What now?"
"Nothing," John says, then changes his mind. "It's just, we're good together."
"Oh, really?" Rodney snorts. "I've been telling you that for months with no effect, and here all you needed was to have sex in front of a mirror. That's classy. We'll have to get you one for your room so that you don't accidentally forget you're in a relationship."
"Maybe we can trade with the Fizzi for this one," John says, ignoring that part about being in a relationship. There's only so much he can handle at once.
Rodney yawns and snuggles into him. "You just like it because it'll match your curtains."
"That's a lie," John says, already mentally making room for it in his quarters. Across from the bed's too obvious, but maybe in the corner.