And he looks like he enjoys it, mouth slightly open and empty of its usual sarcasm, and he moves hard against Rodney now, noises that come soft and deep and almost get lost in the slickness of moving flesh and Rodney's racketing heart.

C'mon, c'mon, he thinks John says, encouragement Rodney doesn't need because everything in him is headed toward where John is taking him with each deliberate stroke, the fascinated glitter in his eyes and the curve of his lower lip that Rodney wants to bite. He does, leaning up awkwardly to catch John's mouth, pull him down, tug and nip that make John moan and twist against him and makes his hand go tight, tight, tight just as Rodney thrusts up into his fist one last time.