"Oh my god, will you look at that set? It looks like pack of demented apes swallowed paintballs and threw up all over the place."
"Don't act like you weren't around in the seventies, McKay."
"I was eight years old years old for chrissakes. I swear to god, if the word groovy appears in the rewrite, I'm walking out."
Decked out in pop-art and shag carpet, the GPFG Atlantis studio did appear to have been caught in the Wayback machine. Last minute hammering and furniture moving had drawn Rodney McKay, star of the studio's latest production, out of his dressing room, followed by his co-star, John Sheppard.
"I don't know," John said, standing at Rodney's side. "Some of it's pretty sweet, especially that conversation pit."
The large sectional seating area was dark brown and looked more like an orgy pit than a couch, but that suited John just fine. He followed his companion's appraising eye, taking in the turquoise and silver lame pillows, lava lamps, and colorful plastic ball chairs scattered around the living room set. This retro-porn mise-en-scène was the brainchild of Vala Mal Doran, Avant-garde director currently on loan to GPFG Studios.
"So that's it… where we'll…"
"Yep, plenty of room. We can get four positions easy."
"There goes my back," Rodney groaned.
"Director's choice, remember—and Sam said to humor her."
"Something like this would have never happened if…"
"Well, Elizabeth left Sam in charge so just get over it. Besides, I think it's a great idea."
Rodney turned to him and smirked. "I rest my case."
Such had been the passing of the mantle. Samantha Carter had been chosen to take over the position of Executive Director of the studio. Even though her authority included final approval of scripts and actors, she maintained her director's vision. She was a fierce advocate for both the business and the creative sides of the enterprise, able to spin plates and wrangle red tape with the best and yet continue to promote artistic and progressive changes for the studio.
"Have you heard the soundtrack she's put together?"
John slipped his arm around Rodney's waist. "It's kinda cool in that bow-chicka-wow-wow way," he said, smiling into Rodney's blank expression as if that alone would burn away the clouds he saw gathering there.
"You probably like the wardrobe, too… How in hell did this happen?" Rodney added with a sigh.
One of the perks of Rodney's contract with GPFG Studios was access to a masseuse – something he'd insisted on as necessary to his well-being as the best top in the industry (his own assessment). A seasoned veteran, Sam had known Rodney before coming to GPFG and knew he could be a real pain about his delicate back. Not wanting to field a barrage of well written but annoying emails, she'd enlisted the help of a Production Assistant who was also good with her hands.
Sheppard eased open the door to Rodney's dressing room and winked at Laura Cadman, who was busy kneading the ball of McKay's left foot and ignoring his muffled protestations of pain. Grinning, she let go and exited quietly as John grasped both of McKay's ankles and began working up along his calves. With nothing covering McKay but an oversized towel draped across his bottom, John eyed the dark space between Rodney's thighs. That was his target, and when he let the tips of his fingers stray just a bit too far…
"Whoa! What do you think…what are you doing?"
"Last I heard, it was called a massage."
Rodney's head jerked up, twisting around to get a good look as John continued to knead his thighs. "You… what… how…" Rodney looked down and, as if just realizing he was naked, resumed his position with his chin resting on his hands. "What did you do to Cadman?"
"Slipped her fifty bucks to take an extended lunch break."
John smirked at the dig. "Well, if the way she grabbed it and bolted is any indication, I'd say she didn't share your opinion." He moved around to the side of the massage table and adjusted the towel to get to the small of Rodney's back. "Or maybe she was just happy to get away from you."
Rodney harrumphed into his hands, but lay still.
"You know, you've got one sweet looking ass, McKay—surprised you don't show it off more."
"You—you mean bottom?" Rodney asked, cocking his head to one side.
John teased at the cleft with his finger. "Sure why not?"
"You're the studio bottom," Rodney replied with a sniff, chin back on his hands.
"Labels – don't like 'em. I'd flip-flop any day for a chance to get into this ass."
Rodney's ears began to pink, but John – towel now at his feet – kept going, letting his hands take over the conversation, kneading the taut cheeks, daring the cleft, teasing as McKay squirmed, and grinning when Rodney's legs spread open wider on their own.
"Did you hear?" John asked, seizing his opportunity. "It looks like we're gonna be working together again. Rumor has it Hank & the Handyman 3 is the next production—script's in the works."
"Yes. Apparently the sales and distribution figures for 2 indicate—nngghhh."
John's oiled fingers circled Rodney's hole. "You like that?" Not waiting for an answer, he slipped one finger past the muscle-ring, just inside, making Rodney groan into the face cradle.
"Oh, yeah, that's tight, McKay." Twisting his wrist, John licked his lips and watched Rodney's ass raise a bit. "You just need a little stretching is all. So, you've never done it?"
"Bottomed? Sure I have. A time or two. When I was just starting out."
"Ever do it for fun?" John asked, voice dropping an octave as he slid his thumb over the little mound behind Rodney's balls and pressed his finger in further.
"You really should think about it. It's fucking amazing when the top hits the right groove."
"Yes, well, uhm, I suppose you're speaking from experience, but, and I realize it's a job and all but I… what I mean is…"
John leaned down. "Yeah, Rodney, you know how to hit it—best top in the business, right?" He watched Rodney's flesh pebble under his breath. "Stable Boy 3… dude, hands free. I never even had time to get my hand on my dick."
"Aw… you don't remember?"
"The only thing I remember is the smell of horse shit in my nostrils for days. Only Larrin would go for that kind of realism. Sadist."
"I guess it was a while back," John said, straightening." The first series we—"
"It's not that, I just don't watch the finished cuts… Do you?"
John didn't believe that for a minute, not someone with McKay's ego, but he let it slide. "Sometimes," he replied, because he wasn't ready to admit he had copies of most everything GPFG had produced starring McKay, or that he thought the scenes they'd done together had been some of the studio's hottest.
McKay was a pro, and he could come on cue and give just the right reactions and groans and thrusts the gals called for, but only in the scenes he'd done with John had Rodney ever flubbed his lines or come too soon or gotten too excited. Many of those moans and sighs weren't faked. And, of course, the goosebumps.
That was the only measure Sheppard needed; that and the way McKay's nipples would shrink and peak into hard nubs. He pulled out to another loud moan from McKay and rubbed the pads of three fingers over the puckered skin, flirting again with the opening.
"Oh god, Sheppard… please…"
Grinning, John easily slid two fingers inside… reaching for and finding…
"You're mighty religious today," Sheppard quipped, working his fingers in and out, catching the fleshy-soft bump on nearly every go, and thinking how good it would be to fuck Rodney… and not just on camera. For real. It was fast becoming his daydream of choice. He'd have to work up to it with McKay, have to figure out a way to make it seem as if it were Rodney's idea. "You never answered… ever bottomed just for fun?"
Rodney's ass began to move, pushing back to meet John, making Sheppard's breath hitch as he went in with yet another finger.
"Jesus… more… or move, or something!"
"Is that a no, then?" John asked, slowly beginning to finger-fuck Rodney. Rodney's reaction was undoing Sheppard just as slowly. He was tempted to bend down and bite into McKay's ass cheek because, sweet Christ, his dick was rock hard and he wanted inside McKay like nobody's business.
"You want more?" he asked instead, his voice unsteady and nearly drowned out by Rodney's half-formed stabs at a reply.
Panting, John's vision zeroed in on the spot where he was knuckles deep already. He pulled back and carefully tucked his pinky in, working the whole of his hand slowly back and forth until… "Four fingers, McKay." Leaning forward, he licked the shell of Rodney's ear just to watch him shudder. "Oh yeah, I think you're ready."
"Ready… yes, ready… I'm ready."
Rodney's hand disappeared beneath him and his hips ground back and forth between the massage table and John.
"Shep—John—oh god, don't…"
"If you like my fingers, just wait 'til you see what 'ol Jim's got in that tool belt."
"And when I'm done with that, I'm gonna slide my cock into your sweet hole and fuck you dry."
"Jesus… fuck… oh, fuck…"
Rodney clamping down on his fingers almost sent John off on his own; he bent down closer, working his teeth into Rodney's shoulder, mumbling and soothing, "Feels good, doesn't it? I've got you, now, McKay… I've got you."
Sam dropped the script she was reading and looked up at McKay. "You what?"
Rodney cleared his throat; John watched him shift his weight from one foot to the other. Sam had heard just fine. The tiny curl of her lip said she just wanted to hear him say it again.
"I want to bottom in Hank & the Handyman 3."
She shot an amused glance at John before punching a button on her phone. "Vala? Would you step in here a moment?"
The guest director seemed more than pleased. The spark in her dancing, dark eyes spoke volumes. John could see the wheels were already turning as she looked at him. "John, you're okay with this?"
He winked at Rodney. "We thought it'd be a nice change-up for the series."
"Well, you aren't paid to think," Vala snapped. "But I must admit… this could be big." She turned to Sam. "Is a script even ready—I want to do this before McKay changes his mind."
Sam tapped her fingers on the desk. "Well, it'll need some revising, but I haven't cracked the whip on the writers in a while… sounds like fun."
Vala shook her head. "What revising? We've got the Tracy and Hepburn of porn here. All we need is fluff; we'll just let the boys go. Think you can keep up with them?"
But Vala was already ahead of them all, a far-off, visionary look on her face. "Wait! I'm—oh my god, sometimes my brilliance astounds even me," she said, pressing fingers to her temples.
John elbowed Rodney, noticing the lingering flush of McKay's cheeks. "Looks like Jim and Hank are back in business."
Rodney opened his mouth to speak, but then pulled Sheppard aside while the ladies continued their brainstorming.
"I might need… What I mean is… what if I wanted more, uhm, prep?"
John waggled his eyebrows and ran a hand up Rodney's arm instead. "I think that can be arranged. But first, how about you and me going for a pizza. I'll buy," he added, hooking his arm through Rodney's.
"Well, I am a little peckish… okay, but only if you stop with the eyebrow thing."
They left the girls talking about framing and sets and camera angles.
Celebrated director or not, Rodney put his foot down at the idea of wearing wigs. "It's for the overall effect," Vala had argued, but Rodney made the astute observation that no one was going to remember their hair. John was in agreement. They could both look like Bozo the Clown and all anyone would remember was him plowing McKay's ass.
Now, lurking just off stage, John watched Rodney emerge from his dressing room. Being the consummate professional, Rodney embodied the part – even without the permed seventies coif – from the way the white poet's shirt and gold chains showed off his ruddy brown chest hair to the tight, bell-bottomed trousers framing his perfect ass. And he'd grown a bit of facial hair for the role, a compromise with Vala. The mustache and goatee looked sexy, even if it was only a few days more than stubble.
John couldn't help himself, walking up behind Rodney, breathing in McKay's choice of cologne. The famous manly scent packaged in the emerald green bottle stirred some complicated memories that John quickly brushed aside to move in closer, their bodies just touching. "Has anyone told you how hot you look?" he asked, nuzzling his own scruffy beard against Rodney's ear.
McKay shivered, then turned to John, blue eyes soft for just a second before… "Oh my god! What is that on your face—and…" Rodney gestured wildly in the direction of John's head.
"Didn't have enough time for the full beard like Vala wanted," John said proudly, stroking his own mustache, most of it really his, the Fu Manchu extension courtesy of Marie in make-up. "But I did use a little extra product in my hair. Too much?"
"Just be careful, I don't want to lose an eye or, god forbid, be rushed to the ER wearing these clothes. Actually, you look… hey, where have you been, anyway?"
After sticking to Rodney like a shadow for weeks, John had purposely kept his distance until the shoot. He grinned. "Miss me?"
"I did not. But I thought we were going to, uh, you know, the preparation thing."
John produced a latex glove and some lube. "Your dressing room or mine?"
News of McKay bottoming had the effect of two-fer shot nights at the local pub. Even though Sam had anticipated the demand, she'd kept the set personnel to a minimum as best she could. Still, by the time they were scheduled to shoot the production stills, extra stagehands, grips and PAs were everywhere. Even Cadman was there, standing by as Rodney's personal assistant. Never let it be said Samantha Carter didn't have a sense of humor.
"Christ, how am I supposed to perform under these conditions?" Rodney stood just off camera, speaking to no one in particular, though he did send a withering glare in Cadman's direction. "You saw the script? I'm not sure I can deliver half those lines… I swear to god, Vala did that on purpose."
John stroked a finger over McKay's bristly jaw and watched those blue eyes soften again. "Nobody's gonna care or remember what we say. You're a professional—these people are all professionals." He wasn't about to give McKay's feet time to chill. "You're Rodney McKay," he said before leaning in to kiss Rodney.
The kiss was full and soft and lasted a beat longer than John intended, causing Rodney to pull away and stare at him. John stood still, holding his breath, not sure what to expect. Maybe he'd screwed it all to hell. He had flashes of Rodney storming off in a huff, but Rodney just nodded his head and parroted, "Rodney McKay…"
"Rodney McKay, star!" John added, breathing a bit more easily.
Jarring them both back to the task at hand, Vala called for quiet and for McKay to take his mark.
Hank fingered the corner of the business card – the word anytime handwritten over the name, Jim Studd. He surveyed the tidy living room, as if looking for something that needed fixing or if there was anything he could believably put in need of repair. After pacing a few moments, he picked up the vintage phone and dialed the number.
When Hank opened his door, Jim didn't pause for formalities; he brushed past Hank with a look that tugged his Fu Manchu to one side.
"Everything seems to be in order here," Jim said, looking around and hitching his hands up on bared hips. Shirtless, flared blue jeans, tool belt, and an open black leather jacket completed his look.
Hank cleared his throat. "Is this how you're making calls, now?" He gave Jim a dazzling smile and Sam was quick to get the close up.
"Nah, this is for the special customers," the handyman drawled. "So where's the fire, Hank? Lost your picture-hanging mojo again, or is it the bathroom… you got something that needs plugging?"
"It's here—I mean, it's me—well, what I mean is…"
"Because I've got the equipment for any job." Jim grinned again, patting his toolbelt.
"You, uhm, you did say to call you anytime…?"
Jim moved in and slipped a hand over Hank's hip to pull him near. "That I did, Hank. That I did."
McKay played his part to perfection. At first, Hank shied away from the kiss, but as Jim started in with his tongue, Hank leaned into it, swirling tongues together, going through the requisite motions, before settling in to a real kiss, lips pressed together hard, then more giving, teeth scraping, and sucking in the soft swollen fullness of Jim's lower lip.
"That's great guys," Vala called. "Nice touch, McKay, but let's move on."
Sam followed them over to the focal point of the set where several stationary cameras were set for various angles. From behind one of them, Teyla Emmagan gave the boys a full smile and a nod. She'd flown in from the mainland especially for this shoot. As one of the original founders of GPFG Studio, it was her revolutionary vision that helped mold the studio's mission: that what the consumer brings to watching porn is the key to turning the mechanics into magic. Her soft-lens close-ups and POV shots were part of that magic.
"Wow," Jim said as they stood beside the conversation pit. "That is one sweet piece. Nice and roomy," he added, flashing a sensual smile.
Rodney missed his cue and stumbled over the next line, which fortunately worked well with Hank's reactions.
"No worries, Hank. Jim's got just what you need."
"No kidding, your first time?" Jim asked. Sheppard groaned inwardly. He wished they'd cut the dialogue altogether. At least he'd enjoyed the getting naked part. Untying the laced fly front of McKay's pants with his teeth had been a bold bit of improvisation. Vala even made them stop and do it again to ensure she got a good print. Only now, John was hot to move on to the part where he got to fuck the gorgeous ass he held in front of him.
With the curve of a well-rounded globe in each hand, Jim spread Hank wide. Sheppard himself felt quite smug watching the puckered skin twitch. He was hell-bent on giving back some of what Rodney had given Jim in the previous installment, licking a long, wet stripe with the flat of his tongue from just behind Rodney's balls up and over that quivering hole. Once, twice, and again until he was sure he heard a whimper from McKay; it sure as hell wasn't Hank's next line.
"That's okay, Rodney," Vala called out, her tone more understanding than miffed. "Just pick it up from there."
"You… you know what I want, Jim. Give it to me."
John missed his cue then; he was too busy trying to tease out another ball-tightening groan and loving it. Damn, Rodney tasted good.
"Shep—Jim? Oh, oh god…"
Sam was right in there. The close ups were great, but time was money in this business. She finally cleared her throat and Vala called the boys down again.
Sheppard pulled back reluctantly. "Yeah," he said, smoothing out his mustache. "I've got just what you need right here on my tool belt." With that, he slid a large, shiny black dildo from the belt along with some lube. He delivered the scripted smirk when Hank looked back over his shoulder, but the hunger in Rodney's eyes hit him in the gut like a fist.
"What are you going to do with that?"
"You said it was your first time," Jim replied. "I need to get you ready."
"But I'm ready now."
Rodney's ad lib was priceless. "Just relax," Jim said. "Before I'm finished, you'll be begging for it." Which was a really stupid line considering the break in Rodney's voice and the way he had his backside tilted in the air. It was clear he was more than ready.
But McKay was nothing if not professional, so he lay back and gripped the material of the pit as Jim rubbed the head of the dildo across Hank's slick hole.
"Oh yeah," Jim said, pushing the head past the tight resistance. "Here it comes, Hank… relax and breathe…"
Slowly, inching his way, Jim had most all of the shaft inside. "All you gotta do is go with it, man," he said, following the motion of the dildo, in and out, carefully at first so McKay could really feel it and get used to it.
Just as he was working up a good rhythm, Vala stopped the action and another photographer appeared. All part of the shoot, taking still photos could be a frustrating exercise, stopping motion during the act while cameras from three or more angles caught the action. John usually didn't mind, but now it was only ramping up his desire to be inside Rodney and he sure as hell hoped it was working on Rodney, too.
Vala left her director's chair to personally arrange some items on the set, making sure the boys knew they could use the pillows if needed. "All right, Rodney?" she called over her shoulder, "Ready to move on?"
Sheppard answered as Jim. "Oh, I think Hank's ready for the real thing, aren't you Hank?"
More of a growl than words, McKay's response stood the hair at the back of John's neck on end. He carefully slid the dildo free and tossed it onto a towel on the floor just out of camera range.
"Turn over," he ordered, and now it was Sheppard who wasn't following the script. "Get on your back so I can see you."
Rodney's face and chest were flushed like the head of his dick, and the look in his eyes said he clearly wanted this but there was a tiny part that still wasn't sure. He touched John's thigh, digging his nails in, and it took John a few seconds to realize they were rolling again.
As he positioned himself between Hank's legs, Rodney pulled them open wide, giving him plenty of room.
Chills shimmied up Sheppard's spine leaving cold sweat in a ring around his neck. He bit his lip and grazed his cock over Rodney's slick hole, just enough to ease the head inside, teasing Hank by pulling out and going in again deeper and then deeper.
"Okay, and cut!"
Thank Christ. Another second and John would have… He glanced over at Vala. When their eyes met, it was clear… she knew, and she was using it. But he was a professional, too, damn it. Flashing her a grin, he felt around under the cushions for the condoms while Sam stalked around the pit to be sure she had the best unimpeded view.
"Go ahead, John. Once you're ready, we'll go." She looked around and gave Vala a thumbs-up.
He tore into the condom and rolled it on as quickly as he could. As he lubbed it up, he wondered if the girls had any idea what they were about to capture – well, maybe Vala did. He signaled he was ready then teased Rodney with the excess lube, slipping a finger in part of the way. Jesus, Rodney was hot, and still so tight. John jacked himself a few times before leaning down and whispering, "Ready for me, Hank?"
Rodney licked his lips and offered a weak nod.
"I'll be gentle," John joked.
The reply shot a fiery rush straight to John's groin. He felt light headed, his entire body bristling with anticipation as Vala finally called action.
Jim guided his cock inside the slick entrance and Hank moaned to perfection, delivering his throaty "fuck me" right on cue. Hell, even if it was one of Hank's lines, John took the charge personally and slid inside McKay like he couldn't wait a second longer.
He tried moving slowly at first, the way he'd done with the dildo, but the tight heat and the raw, unbridled lust staring back at him rolled over him like a wave, leaving Rodney beneath him open and bared – not just naked, but as if John could see inside him, touch him in places no one else could. Rodney's hands roamed John's skin as he opened himself more. This wasn't acting. Rodney wanted this, wanted John, and John wasn't about to hold back.
Switching positions was obligatory, but Sheppard welcomed the breaks. Waiting while the crew reset lights and cameras helped him keep his stamina. A lot of guys in the industry resorted to artificial means to keep it up for hours at a time, but John had learned early on to separate the act from the actor and then separate it all from his personal life. Working with Rodney had slowly eroded that gap. While he had no problem keeping wood, it was getting harder to shut out the distinctions, leaving him thinking about how Rodney felt and sounded and smelled off the set, the little, annoying tics that had ceased to be annoying and had become endearing. As dangerous as he knew it was, he couldn't help wanting this to be personal for Rodney, too.
Reverse cowboy had been a real test. Pistoning up into Rodney's hot hole and hearing him moan and mumble and fluff his lines was all kinds of fucking hot. Christ, he'd been right on the edge when Vala called for the change. Doggie hadn't been much better – hands caging Rodney's hips, Rodney pushing back, allowing John to go deep. But John couldn't see the way Rodney's eyes darkened or his expression changed when John adjusted the angle of his thrusts. Sam had commented on it, prompting Teyla to grab a hand-held to get all the reaction shots.
During one of the cuts, John had asked Vala to end with them face to face again, and here they were. John donned a fresh condom as Rodney braced his legs on John's shoulders, one of the tacky silver pillows tucked strategically beneath his ass.
"Forget all this." John brushed his lips over the curved muscle of Rodney's calf. "Just keep your eyes on me—I'm gonna make you come so hard," he said, entering Rodney and beginning a slow rocking with his hips even before Vala called for action, long, deep strokes. "Feel me?"
The guttural noise rumbled up from McKay's throat, signaling to all that both of them had pretty much abandoned the script. Sam asked Vala if they should start again, but Vala, who had left her chair for a more hands on approach, waved her off with a "keep going" motion and John caught her mouth the word "Gold."
It didn't take long for the white noise of lights and cameras and the crush of bodies just feet from them to fade. Not long for this to feel less like fucking Rodney and more like… home. A place John hadn't been in a long, long time. Even though he kept his form of hard, pounding thrusts, he spoke a different language with his eyes and his touch – jacking Rodney's cock when he sensed Rodney needed it most, feeling Rodney stretch then tighten trying to hold on, and watching the beads of sweat pop out along Rodney's hairline.
Then Rodney's eyes shot wide. "Oh—right th—fuck—I—fuck—you're going to make me…" With one hand still knotted in the upholstery, Rodney grabbed his dick with the other.
This was it. There was no way Rodney was going to fight this one off. John hooked his hands around Rodney's thighs, lifting him up and fucking him harder with bursts of sharp thrusts that slapped skin against skin and forced Rodney to strip his cock faster.
"That's it, Hank. Go for it. Lemme see that load."
John had barely gotten the line out when the first spasms jerked Rodney's hips forward. He started to back off in order to give Rodney the spotlight, but Rodney protested, grinding out the words as he came.
"Don't stop—keep—Christ, Sheppard—keep—fucking—me."
Sam's voice dampened the white-hot coil ready to spring at the base of John's spine.
"Vala?" she called out. "You want to back it up?"
But the distraction wasn't going to last.
"No, no… we'll dub it in later. Okay, John, anytime you're ready? Let's go for your money shot. Cameras?"
John spread Rodney's legs, holding him by the ankles and pumped hard, Rodney still clenching around him. Two, three more times before pulling out, stripping off the condom, and gritting out some inane line while coming in a hot rush all over Rodney's stomach and chest, a few drops even as high as McKay's flushed and puckered nipples.
His eyelids felt heavy; the space behind them began to white out, slamming him head-on into a full body shudder that bend him forward. Jesus, he hadn't come this hard since… fuck, he couldn't even think straight, his mind was going blank as his thighs began to tremble. He had the feeling he was speaking but he couldn't hear his voice, just the crash of blood pulsing in his ears, and then Rodney reached for him, dragging him closer.
The kiss was slick and hot, building like some kind of desperate, emotional pressure valve before hissing out its release in a slow tangle of tongues and caresses. Through this fog, John was pretty sure he'd heard "cut" already, at least once, and realized that Rodney had chucked protocol out the window along with the script, which called for the standard post-coital behavior and witty repartee before finally fading to black. John couldn't remember the rest of his lines if his life depended on it. And Rodney… hands trying to touch John everywhere at once, like a blind man in an unfamiliar room, shredded what was left of John's professionalism. Giving up, he collapsed on top of Rodney and gave back all he could.
"Ah, boys… We've got it all now, thank you. We'll need to do some creative editing on your money shot, Rodney, but… Boys!"
John finally drew back, though not too far, ignoring Vala and smoothing Rodney's mussed hair. "You okay?"
"Oh god," Rodney said, chest still heaving. "Can you make all these people go away? I'm not sure I can walk to the dressing room… Jesus Christ… Jesus fucking Christ." He looked around and seemed startled to see Cadman standing there with his robe.
"Do you mind?"
She dropped the robe onto a chair that was probably a Peter Max painting in another life and gave John a wink before leaving them.
John slid off to the side and propped up on his elbow. "You're a star, remember?" He eyed the goosebumps covering McKay's body and grinned.
"I am the star," Rodney said, grinning back.
"C'mon, let's go shower off and grab a burger, or catch a game. The Pegasus Penguins are playing tonight," John added, hoping to appeal to Rodney's weakness for the one sport in the galaxy he could follow (and the one he'd lost the most money betting on). "Or maybe we could just go to your place?"
He waited for his answer amid the bustle of the crew packing up gear and Vala chattering away on her phone about expedited distribution.
"Wait a minute!" Vala whirled around, waving a hand at John. "What was that you said?"
John froze, trying to think what he'd said that was so interesting.
"Did you say shower? No, no… not you—I'll get back to you.
"Guys, what would you think of adding a special feature? We could film you cleaning up in the shower, chatting about the shoot—those gorgeous bodies, all that slick, soapy skin…"
John shrugged and turned to Rodney. "I don't know… you game?"
"What the hell for?" Rodney asked Vala.
"Promotion, darling, what else? We'll make the Hank and the Handyman series the hottest thing going, and if the fans have the notion the stars actually like each other, hang out together, what better selling point—call it an element of romance."
"Romance?" Rodney spluttered, managing to make the word sound like an infectious disease.
"I think it sounds great." John beamed. "Because McKay really does like me… follows me around like a puppy."
Rodney sat up and pushed his way off the couch. "Oh, for god's sake… I… I do not like you," he said, snatching his robe from the chair. One of the stagehands was quick with a towel and Rodney took it and swiped at his stomach. "But for the sake of promotion and sales, I'll… I'll do it."
"Fabulous!" Vala put the phone to her ear again and, with a turn and a wave, walked off lauding the new feature.
John helped Rodney on with his robe. "On second thought, what say we hit Sam up for a dirty copy of the dailys and get those burgers to go?"
"You're doing that… thing again," Rodney said, pointing. "That thing with your eyebrows. Do you even—you do it just to torment me don't you?" But there was nothing in Rodney's eyes or even the tone of his voice that led John to think Rodney believed it was anything but a fucking brilliant idea.
John was okay with it being only burgers and a game at first, because that could turn into overnight bags, weekends in bed, and clothes in each other's closets. And maybe, after a while, they might just start thinking of exclusive contracts.
"These articles in the trades make it official – GPFG Studio's Hank and the Handyman series is officially the highest grossing gay porn franchise in the industry."
"Must be the reason Larrin's left us a dozen messages in the last two days," John called from the bathroom.
"Mhm, I suppose it is only fair she gets her share of the pie," Rodney mused, folding the paper and tossing it aside. He brushed toast crumbs from the sheet – breakfast in bed with John… again. "But no ropes this time—you tell her, she listens to you—last time it took weeks for the marks to fade."
"She does not listen to me and she's earned the right to do as she pleases—creative license."
"My ass," Rodney said with a sniff. "Then let her tie you up next time." He looked up as John came into the room. "What…?"
Naked save for boots and a toolbelt studded with toys, John stood at the foot of their bed fingering the leather strands of a rather benign looking flogger.
"I just thought we haven't worked with Larrin in a while, and you know how you are about preparation …"