It wasn't until after the third time that Rodney poked his eye on John's headset while they were making out that they realized they'd taken to wearing them pretty much all the time, and after that John became obsessed with the idea. He'd be doing inventory and thinking, "Right now I could be talking dirty to McKay and no one would know but me," and even though he wasn't doing much jerking off alone these days, the whole headset phone-sex thing became a favorite fantasy.
Which is why what actually happened was such a disappointment.
"I'm sorry, I just really don't understand waht that has to do with --," Rodney's voice crackled over the headset, and John gritted his teeth and glared at the ceiling as he toyed with the button on his jeans.
"McKay," he said slowly, "What. Are. You. Wearing?"
"-- I mean, I'm trying to solve a pretty important problem here and unless you like the idea of floating through raw sewage to get to the control room, then you can --"
"Is it the grey boxers or the white ones?" he asked, losing patience. "I think the white ones make your ass look --"
Rodney inhaled sharply and said, "OH! Oh, okay, I get it - what am I *wearing*, okay, okay then hang on a second, I'm wearing -- this is really kind of stupid, you know, because you saw me ten minutes ago and I haven't changed but --"
John threw a pillow across the room. "Do you want to do this or not?"
"Yes! This! Yes!" Rodney answered immediately. "Okay. Ask me again."
"What are you wearing?" he repeated for perhaps the ninth time.
Rodney hummed thoughtfully before saying, "The white boxers. Under the pants you saw earlier, the grey ones. And, uh, the black t-shirt. Which I spilled coffee on, so it's kind of clammy right now, but that's not that sexy is it? And hey, why haven't we done this before? If we did this more often I would be able to get off and not leave the lab, which would up efficiency and --"
"Okay, you know what? I don't even want to do this anymore," John sighed. "I just thought --"
"No, no, no, let's do this, I'm wearing the grey pants, the black shirt, the white boxers, and uhm, I'm ah -- twisting my nipples through my shirt," Rodney said quickly.
"Okay, that's good, that's good, do it," John thought a second, "do it really light, really gentle and then --" there was a clicking noise on the other end, and John narrowed his eyes as he heard it again. Unmistakeably the sound of computer keys and that was really just too much.
"You are not twisting your nipples at all," John accused, and it was absurd to sound hurt but he probably did, "you're typing!"
"I am not!" Rodney protested. "Well, okay, maybe with one hand, but --"
John closed his eyes and starting banging his head against the mattress of his bed.
"Listen, listen, John, I want to suck your cock. I want to talk to you about how much I want to suck your cock. I"m in a -- a -- wild frenzy, and I want to -- oh, okay. Thought occuring: do you think this is safe to do, because Kavanagh can probably record this with that little machine of his if he wants to and you've got the whole don't ask, don't tell thing and I don't really want the whole science department to know that I was pretending to twist my nipples. Kavanagh would do it, too, that useless weasel, he certainly isn't spending his time working on ---"
"I really, really hate you," John said tiredly into his headset before turning it off and throwing it at the wall.