When you´ve been around something enough you pretty much get used to it. Sure John gets a charge out of firing his weapon, but who doesn´t? The adrenaline starts flowing, the senses become heightened, the eyes get focused, the hair on his arms stand up, he can hear everything for the next mile. But would John say he´s got a “thing’ for guns? No. Not really.

Which doesn´t really explain for him the fact that seeing Rodney aim the weapon at the paper target of Kavanaugh´s face (Rodney´s precision had greatly improved when Ford suggested using Kavanaugh´s face instead of a regular target) makes his focus go wonky and his hands go sweaty and his dick go hard.

Rodney might be a scientist and he might bitch an awful lot, and his middle section might not be the tonest stomach John´s ever seen in the world, but his shoulders are broad and his ass is certainly a sight to behold. Firm, taught, round, and just the perfect size that John knows it would fit right into the cup of his hands if he ever reached forward.

But still, John´s mostly able to write it off as just your average arousal due to weaponry. Just your average weapons kink, nothing Rodney specific. It´s really not at all to do with Rodney, it´s just the close contact one has with someone when training them to become a killer, or at least a skilled wounder. It´s just the fact that Rodney´s the loudest person he´s ever met except when John´s hands are on his hips as he´s lining him up to fire.

It´s not about Rodney, it´s just this thing. Just this thing that happens only with Rodney.

But it´s totally not about Rodney.

And maybe John would have been able to fool himself about this for a little while longer if he hadn´t ever thought to himself ‘if only Rodney were as skilled with a gun as he is with words´, which led to the thought ‘Rodney´s weapon of choice is his vocabulary,´ which led to the thought ‘oh my god, Rodney just called me a moron and I´m hard, what the hell is wrong with me?!´

Because the thing that´s sexy about a man with a gun is his concentration, how he puts all of himself in it. How his body lines up and his eyes narrow and his shoulders straighten. How nothing else in the world matters except for his fingers around that trigger and the target at the end of the sights.

And for Rodney, all of that´s true, but not just with a gun. When he´s insulting someone is just about the only time Rodney is completely concentrated on one thing. Any other time Rodney has five thousand other things on his brain, his hunger, his problems, Sam Carter, the fact that Kavanaugh is the most inept scientist to ever be accepted into the science program for the US military. But when he´s insulting someone, he´s focused, he´s concentrated. His eyes narrow and his body straightens up and he starts lobbing bombs that could decapitate anyone in a fifty foot radius.

The first time John catches himself hearing Rodney´s derisive insults in his head while he´s jerking off he stops immediately and takes a cold shower.

The second time John catches himself hearing Rodney´s derisive insults in his head while he´s jerking off he lets himself finish, and he comes so hard he has to take yet another shower.

So by the time John figures this out he´s been training Rodney at Atlantis´ version of a firing range for going on six months and even if he´s pretty sure it´s kind of dangerous, for both his ego and his status as military commander of Atlantis, for him to go on training him, he can´t stop now. The timing is odd, and Rodney´s getting good, and Rodney needs to be good. Because the Wraith are seriously fucked up creatures and Gaul and Abrams didn´t die from paper cuts on that planet.

And then things combine, and John´s completely fucked.

“Oh, come on, Major, I hit him in the nose!’

“Not good enough, McKay, you were aiming for his eyes.’

“Oh believe me, I´d be pleased as a pig in shit to hit Kavanaugh in his nose. It´s close enough.’

“No, McKay, you´re aiming for his eyes. We´re trying for accuracy here, not wishful thinking.’

“Don´t be a moron. That´s a kill shot any way you look at it.’

“Accuracy, McKay.’

“No, you idiot, listen to me! Still. A. Kill. Shot.’

Rodney´s eyes are narrowed, hands squeezing rhythmically on the gun, head turned towards John, and John is two inches from Rodney´s back and he´s aching, literally aching, to reach out and touch his ass. His adrenaline is pumping and his dick is hard and he´s almost dizzy with arousal.

“McKay, get it right,’ John says, and then he steps forward and puts his arms around Rodney´s shoulders, closing his hands over Rodney´s, lacing their fingers together, finger over the trigger. He lowers his voice and puts his mouth right next to Rodney´s ear and says: “Accuracy is key.’

And as if it wasn´t already bad enough, if John hadn´t already stepped above and beyond and a couple of miles past the Safe Zone, Rodney shuddered. His whole body shook, from head to toe, and John was standing close enough to feel every inch of it.

His hand slides down Rodney´s arm to his elbow, a slow crawl inch by inch, and he turns his mouth into the crook of Rodney´s neck. “An inch can make a difference,’ he says.

“Hm,’ Rodney mutters, voice soft where it was hard moments before, shoulders rigid where they were relaxed. “Yeah, I uh… I guess it can.’

John takes a deep breath, the smell of sweat sweet in his nose, and slides his hand down Rodney´s side to his hip, because there´s just no turning back now. Not for him. “Rodney…’

“Major,’ Rodney answers, voice just as shaky as John´s. “What… I don´t understand…’

“I want you,’ John whispers into his neck, like maybe if he says it quiet enough Rodney won´t actually hear, like maybe he can just pretend this isn´t happening and that´ll make it not real. “I wanna fuck you, suck you, I don´t even care, I just want you, right here, right now.’

“Oh god,’ Rodney says, moaning and leaning back against John. John´s dick throbs at the close proximity of Rodney´s ass, pushing against the material of his BDUs to get closer. “Yes, yes, please, god yes.’

John doesn´t hesitate one second, doesn´t give Rodney the chance to change his mind, just spins him around and melts against him, legs intertwined, hip to hip, chest to chest, and finally, finally, lips to lips. The kiss is slow and languid and then it isn´t, quickly growing fast and heated and yanking John´s breath away as Rodney´s hands come up to the back of his neck, fingers spreading through his hair.

John´s got his hand down the front of Rodney´s pants a minute into it and his fingers wrapped around Rodney´s dick and then he´s slowly jerking him, his body jerking forward against the jut of Rodney´s hip.

The sounds Rodney makes are obscene, hot little gasps and high pitched moans that make the hair on the back of John´s neck stand up on end and shivers run down his spine. He hears the word ‘Major´ stuck in the back of Rodney´s throat when he gives his wrist a savage twist and buries his mouth in Rodney´s neck, teeth nibbling as Rodney´s fingers grip and twist in John´s hair.

Rodney says ‘I´m gonna, I´m gonna´ and John says ‘come on, Rodney, come for me,´ and then Rodney is, gasping and moaning and writhing, and he doesn´t even have to touch John before John starts coming too, riding out the waves of Rodney´s orgasm as his own takes him over.

Afterwards Rodney stares into John´s eyes and looks bewildered and well-fucked and exhausted and John smiles, lifting his hand to his mouth and sucking Rodney´s taste off of his fingers as Rodney watches wide-eyed.

“Well,’ Rodney says, swallowing convulsively. “I have to say, that is not the way to encourage me to work on my accuracy.’

John loves nothing more than topping off an orgasm with a good laugh.