Coffee, chocolate or me? (Moral dilemmas in the Pegasus Galaxy)

"They want what?" The shriek of outrage echoed out of Weir's office and down into the gateroom proper. Chuck looked up from the station he was monitoring to watch Rodney McKay pacing around the office for a few minutes in obvious agitation. He sighed and shook his head at nothing in particular. The Divatoxians, who were currently holding Atlantis's military commander, were demanding large quantities of coffee and chocolate in exchange for his safe return – Colonel Sheppard was doomed.

**

"Rodney, please lower your voice. There's no need to cause a scene over what is a relatively easy negotiation," Elizabeth told her Chief Science Officer firmly, crossing her arms in front of her chest for emphasis but smiling to take away some of the sting. She softened her voice before continuing, "I know you feel responsible, but…"

Rodney's pacing had taken him to the far end of the small space, and he whirled around at her words. "Responsible? Don't be ridiculous. Just because I mentioned to yet another cult of Ascension worshippers that chocolate and coffee is the true way to heaven doesn't mean I feel guilty." The whine in his voice belied Rodney's words as he continued, "How was I supposed to know they'd take it literally? What kind of air force officer gets himself kidnapped by a bunch of hippy beatniks anyway?" Rodney complained. "He was probably distracted by some half-ascended floozy. This never would have happened if he hadn't insisted on making nice while the rest of us did the real work. And by rest of us, I mean me."

Elizabeth held up a hand to forestall further complaints but was saved by the sound of an incoming wormhole. "Dr. Weir, Dr. McKay, we've got a video transmission from MAH-586," Chuck called up to them, and Elizabeth got a nice view of Rodney's retreating backside as he hustled from the room ahead of her.

The video image was actually quite clear, the Ancient technology of the Divatoxians meshing seamlessly with Atlantis's systems, meaning they had a perfect view of John's relaxed expression as he lounged on a giant pillow, flashing his empty, flirtatious smile at the three gorgeous women who were hand feeding him from a bowl of small yellow fruit.

"Colonel," Elizabeth greeted him, barely suppressing a smile, "you seem well."

John's grin grew genuine, and he laughed self consciously. "I think I can hold out a while longer. Take your time; we wouldn't want to squander Atlantis's resources needlessly. I can handle things over here."

"I'm sure you can," she murmured before turning to offer some comment to Rodney. Rodney didn't hear whatever inane reassurance she was offering him. All he could see was John onscreen, ogling a passing pretty blonde man with such openness that Rodney wondered how anyone could mistake the man for straight. When John looked back toward the Ancient camera-equivalent and winked at them, something in Rodney snapped.

"All of it," he heard himself saying to the room at large. "They can have my private stash, all of it. I have enough coffee and chocolate to keep them entertained for a quite respectable amount of time."

"Rodney," Elizabeth began with a frown. Rodney could hear his name being echoed by John, but he couldn't face the other man right now. He crossed his arms and stuck out his chin at Elizabeth. "It's my personal property and I can do with it what I want."

"Yes. But I don't think," Elizabeth tried again.

"Good, it's settled then. I'll arrange to have it all brought to the gate room. If you'll excuse me, some of us have better things to do than flirt with offworld terrorists." And with that Rodney fled the gateroom before anyone could protest.

After harassing three of his minions and two random jarheads into delivering every last ounce of coffee and chocolate in his possession to the gateroom, Rodney locked himself in his room. He needed some time to mourn his loss and to prepare an argument for Sheppard. The man was downright unreasonable sometimes; he'd probably blame Rodney for getting him into this mess - or possibly for taking him away from his new friends. Stupid air force colonels and their Ascension fetishes. Maybe if he found some sort of Ascension machine or something the Colonel would quit flirting with every Ancient worshipping priestess they ran across. And now he was going to have to defend himself with no coffee or chocolate to fortify him. Maybe he should run down to the labs and sneak some of Zelenka's before…

Rodney's train of thought was cut off as his door, his supposedly locked door, swished open to reveal one Lt. Colonel John Sheppard, dark eyes fixed intently on the spot where Rodney lay sprawled across the bed.

"What do you want?" Rodney snapped, a firm believer in the best defense being a good offense. "Make it snappy, I'm busy revolutionizing physics in my head." John remained silent, eyes raking over Rodney hungrily.

"Colonel?" Rodney asked, slightly nervous at being the focus of all that attention. Sheppard didn't answer, still staring from the open doorway. "John?" he tried again, voice rising in pitch as concern for the other man's well being overrode his nervousness.

The sound of his name seemed to pull John out of his reverie; he slowly advanced toward the bed, reminding Rodney of nothing so much as a lethal cat stalking its prey. Rodney followed the deliberate movements with wide eyes and a mouth suddenly gone dry. Despite his slight worry over John's mental state, his cock seemed very interested in John's plans for the next few minutes.

When John reached the foot of the bed he dropped to all fours and crawled over Rodney's body until his face hovered inches above Rodney's own. Abruptly, John dropped his full weight on the willing body beneath him and crushed their mouths together, taking away Rodney's questions and his ability to think simultaneously.

"John?" Rodney asked when Sheppard pulled back enough to begin systematically removing every stitch of clothing Rodney was wearing. "Not that I'm objecting, per se, but…"

"You chose me," John answered roughly. Rodney gasped as John's clever hands pushed away the last of his clothes and wrapped around their goal. Gently, almost reverently, John stroked over Rodney's erection. "They wanted everything you love, and you gave them up for me. Maxwell House to Kopi Luwak, Hershey's kisses to Chuao chocolate, all of it gone. For me." Rodney whimpered more from the exquisite torture being applied to his cock than the ache of loss and thrust into John's hand, seeking more friction. John obliged.

Sex stupid, Rodney whispered, "Love you more." Luckily John was intent on taking Rodney apart with his hands and missed the confession. Louder Rodney said, "Yes, well, it wasn't entirely selfless. You owe me."

John smiled. "Of course. How about we take some leave and go back to Earth? You, me, a hotel bed and as many chocolate-covered coffee beans as you can handle."

Rodney groaned, so close to orgasm that he could barely understand the nonsense that John kept spouting about chocolate coffee cakes and coffee filled chocolates until he couldn't stand it anymore and whined, "John, please?" not even completely sure what he was asking.

But, as always, John knew exactly what he needed. He tightened his grip, swiping his thumb over Rodney's cock head on every upstroke and whispered low and dark right into Rodney's ear. "And I'll let you lick them right off my naked body."

Rodney came with a cry that probably seeped right past the Ancient soundproofing of his room and collapsed into darkness, happily dreaming of John-flavored coffee to chase down his John-flavored chocolates.