Rodney has a fantasy.

He knows that if he thought about it deeply enough or -- god forbid, a shrink ever heard the details -- he would get it all explained as a suppressed desire for intimacy. Need, perhaps, and a shrink would couch it in terms of perfectly normal and everyone needs to feel connected.

But it's his fantasy, and he doesn't need to be told he wants friends. Besides, he's pretty sure he's just got a huge exhibitionist kink, along with maybe one or two others.

His fantasy is this: they're on a planet, trading for a ZPM. It has to be a ZPM because he can't imagine doing this for anything less than something they desperately need. The others wouldn't allow it otherwise, but for this they are willing to agree.

So Rodney is naked, and on his back. The room is a large, stone hall like they're in the throne room of a castle. Or a temple. It doesn't matter, except that he can feel the cold, stone of the table he's lying on. An altar, maybe.

Details don't usually matter. All that matters is that he's here and he has a darned good reason to be.

He's naked. On his back and his legs are up and in his fantasy he gets to skip past all the necessities like stretching and lube and are you sure you want to go through with this.

The leader of the people they're trading with is standing at the end of the table. Rodney can see him between his upraised knees even though he can never make out a face. The guy is dressed according to some authoritative fashion. Robes, maybe, etched in metallic embroidery. Something faintly religious and that's one of the kinks Rodney doesn't like to think about having.

But Rodney is ready, willing, and -- this is the part that gets kinky -- his friends are all there. Gathered around the head of the table in a circle. His teammates all fully dressed, watching. Sometimes they have their hands on him. Sometimes they don't. Sometimes it's just the offworld team, sometimes it includes Carson and Radek and Marcie. Sometimes they're talking to the leader, sometimes one of them is talking to Rodney, coaxing him through this. But regardless, they're there, and they're giving him away.

That's the part that always makes Rodney gasp. It's the part that he knows would make a shrink talk about wanting his friends to know him -- to see inside his soul and see to the very root of him. Intimacy, surrender, and blah blah blah and really all Rodney cares about is that fantasizing that his friends are watching him, can makes him hard enough to come without even jerking off.

When that isn't enough -- when he isn't horny and desperate enough that just that image does it for him, he thinks about what this leader is doing to him. Thinks about the fact he isn't fucking Rodney in the usual sense, but rather he's got his hand in Rodney's ass. Fucking Rodney with his hand, and since this is a fantasy Rodney can pretend that he's got his entire fist inside. No matter that Rodney has rarely ever been fucked, much less by something so large and ill-suited to fit without preparation.

He jerks off hard and fast as he concentrates on that moment. When he's spread open, naked on his back and helpless, unable to say no because they really do need a ZPM. Being watched, being touched, being *given* to this stranger by his friends. Knowing they can see what is being done to him, knowing that he can't expect them to look away because... well, he doesn't know why. But it's his fantasy and he knows they're watching. Watching this man put his fist inside him because they need a ZPM....

As soon as he comes, Rodney stops the fantasy. Stops before he can look at what happens next. He doesn't think about coming in front of his friends, doesn't think about the leader removing his hand and saying something inane like well-done, or you have what you want. He knows that reality would crash in all too soon and his friends would start saying things like you didn't have to do, and my god are you OK.

It would just make him think about the fact it would never, ever, happen in the first place because his teammates wouldn't agree to a deal like that no matter how much Rodney would insist it was ok. And even if they did, they'd never agree to watch, and Rodney would never agree to let them because there is a difference between reality and fantasy.

But it's ok because this is just a fantasy, albeit an extremely wild and kinky fantasy where Rodney can lay back and let someone give him away and be fisted and watched and not have to deal with the afterwards.

And it doesn't matter that he cleans himself off as soon as he's through, and he gets out of bed and goes over to the computer, grabbing a pair of boxers as he goes. Barely dressed and barely awake, he goes back to his work and he loses himself in it before the images of his fantasy can haunt him. If he doesn't, the shame will eat at him until he is unable to jerk off at all and he will get jittery and flinch every time someone he's dreamt about comes near. But if he lets it go and does not think -- he can tell himself it's perfectly normal, and that it didn't really happen, and even his fantasies don't really exist outside that tiny space of his bed, and midnight, and a desperate need for something that only this fantasy provides.

Rodney works late into the night, and sends memos to personnel and answers email from Weir and Sheppard and Beckett, and browses the archives for any new reports he might have missed. And if he looks at the names on the screen and thinks about reaching down and touching himself -- well, it's his damned fantasy, anyway. Nobody's business but his own.