Some days John doesn't know what to think.

Watching Lorne and Parrish, their faces streaked with dirt and blood, carry Winston's limp body through the gate makes his mind go blank. The look on Rodney's face as he watches the same thing makes him wonder when it's going to be one of them.

John's been in bed for a couple of hours when the knock on the door finally comes. He answers it in nothing but dogtags and boxers, and when he sees Rodney standing there he turns away. The boxers hit the floor halfway to the bed and he grumbles, "What took you so fucking long?"

Rodney shuts the door and start shedding clothes, and John simply sprawls down onto the bed on his belly and spreads his legs, the long lines of his body part invitation, part surrender.

Apparently, Rodney gets it, because it's only a few seconds before knees force John's legs wider and the bed dips under an added weight. John's still a little blurry from sleep, but his dick isn't - it stiffens under him and he curls his hands into the pillow and tries not to squirm.

The lights start to brighten, and John lifts his head a little. He's stopped by one of Rodney's hands. It's big and hot and surprisingly gentle against John's neck. It's everything John can do not to fight the hold, because he knows that Rodney is kneeling there on his bed and looking at him.

Fingers trace down the back of his neck and across his shoulders, and then they curve around his shoulders, pulling his back into an arch. He gets his elbows under him and pushes up onto his hands, feeling the stretch. Rodney's hands move around to his sides, tracing muscle and rib, easing along his stomach, scratching in the thick hair there. The soft touches are almost hypnotic, which makes it all the more shocking when Rodney reaches John's nipples and pinches and twists, tormenting sensitive skin.

John throws his head back even further, moaning loud and long, and Rodney doesn't let the pressure up for a second. John's back is a tight arc, and Rodney leans in and touches his teeth to the rounded curve of a shoulder: he touches once, twice, then sinks his teeth in to dent the flesh, closing his lips to suck at the warm, sweat-sheened skin.

A last tug at his chest and John's nipples are released, stinging as the blood returns. He only gets a second to register the change before he's flat on the bed again and Rodney's mouth is moving over his back, finding new spots to kiss and bite and suck. John can feel his blood rising, the skin tingling, and he can't stop the needy moans and gasps he's breathing into the pillow.

He doesn't even care that Rodney is leaving marks - he'll just keep his shirt on for as long as it takes for them to fade. He'll gladly wear the bruises; gladly feel the deep ache of them for as long as they last.

Rodney's teeth map John's spine, almost chewing at juts of bone. At the small of John's back, he gentles, kissing with a surprising delicacy, tongue tracing arcs and waves down to his tailbone. John can't stand it; he has to pull his legs up and get his knees under him. He lets his shoulders and chest and the side of his face take his weight as he kneels up and gets his hands back to his own ass to hold himself open in invitation. God, he's as big a whore as everyone thinks he is, but he doesn't care - he'll wear a fucking scarlet W if it'll get Rodney's tongue in his ass.

Rodney takes the hint, and John moans at the touch of soft, slick, hot tongue and rough stubble. Rodney's hands move up, one clutching John's hip, the other reaching between spread legs to cup his balls. John shoves his ass backward, knowing that Rodney's solid enough to take his weight, grunting harshly when Rodney pushes back with his mouth, opening John further, stubble abrading delicate skin.

"Fuck!" John's voice is muffled in the pillow. "Lube, bedside drawer. Fuck me. Now."

John can feel Rodney's smug grin against his ass, and - god help him - it's turning him on even more.

Then, Rodney's hands and mouth are gone, and John rearranges himself onto all fours, his head hanging down. He waits, listening to the quiet sounds of the drawer sliding and the cap of the lube being opened. He stole it from the medlab knowing full well what he wanted. Rodney. Fucking him. Fucking him hard and fast and way too brutal for hand lotion or other inadequate lube. Because, for all his innate whorishness, John doesn't get fucked very often and never by Rodney. Except when he does.

The first finger goes in fast, and John makes a noise that would embarrass him if he weren't so far gone. The second finger just makes him shudder and press back, spearing his ass on Rodney's hand, fucking himself shamelessly.

Three fingers now, and Rodney knows exactly what he's doing, flicking over John's prostate and driving his thumb up behind his balls in a calculated rhythm before pulling away in a rush. John hears the lube cap again, and then he's got one of Rodney's hands on his hip and the other one guiding the head of Rodney's cock inside.

"Jesus, you're tight," Rodney groans, but that doesn't stop the slick slide as he pushes in all the way. He waits just long enough to work his hands around and push at John's elbows, dropping them back flat on the bed. And then he fucks.

John can feel Rodney everywhere - in his ass, in his arms and legs, in the blood throbbing at his temples and his neck and the base of his cock. All he can think is more and harder and more, and Rodney gives it to him.

Rodney's knees press up further between John's legs, making him lift his own, spreading him wider. Rodney's hands come up to brace against John's arms, holding him down. John feels like a bug on a pin, ready to be dissected as Rodney pushes forward even harder. Rodney's cock is in him so deep he's surprised he isn't splitting in two. It hurts like hell, but it's so good.

John's making noises into the pillow that have gone beyond moans, nearly to sobs. Each powerful thrust presses Rodney's hands into John's triceps, shoving John's shoulders into the bed. John arches his back more and the change of angle does what it's supposed to, gets him that huge rush of sensation when the head of Rodney's cock finds his sweet spot on every stroke.

Rodney never falters, pistoning in and out with a relentless power that makes John shake, takes every thought that doesn't involve coming right out of his mind. Rodney somehow manages to turn up the intensity just a little more, go a little faster, a little deeper, and it's all John can take. He comes with a strangled noise, feeling his ass contract around Rodney's cock and his entire body go stiff with pleasure.

Before he can catch his breath, Rodney slams into him, going deeper still, and comes in a wash of heat and another rough bite on John's shoulder. Surprisingly, Rodney doesn't collapse on him; he gets his hands down onto the bed and keeps his weight on them and his knees without withdrawing even an inch. John wiggles his hips a little.

"No," Rodney says, breathless. "I want to stay in you. Are you too sore?"

John thinks about it. Hell, yeah, he's sore, but he doesn't want to give up the feeling of Rodney's sturdy body pinning him down inside and out. "Stay," he says.

Rodney manages to relax down onto the bed, keeping their hips tight together without crushing John, and that's enough. They stay like that for a while, long enough for John's breathing to become slow and measured and long enough for the sweat on their skins to start to evaporate. John feels Rodney shift his weight, and wonders if it's over. He wonders if Rodney will just pull out and leave or if there will be words.

He's a little surprised to hear the quiet sound of the tube of lubricant being thumbed open. Rodney's weight shifts again, a little more of it resting on John, and then he feels it. He feels Rodney's cock twitch inside him. He realizes what Rodney's doing - that Rodney has a finger, maybe two, up his own ass and that he's touching his prostate, making himself hard again. John shudders at the feeling of Rodney's thickening cock opening him up, and he can't stop the quiet groan that breaks free.

"Shhh," Rodney says, taking his weight on hands and knees again. He's fully hard inside John again, and he pulls almost all the way out and starts moving with short, languid thrusts that find the perfect angle. John gets hard so fast it almost hurts.

Rodney doesn't speed up; he just switches to longer strokes and fucks with a gentle precision that has John pushing back and moaning softly. They stay like that for a long time, moving together in a sultry rhythm that's unlike anything they've done before. John has no idea how close he is when a soft kiss to the back of his neck pushes him over into an orgasm that rolls through his body like a perfect wave. He manages to get one hand behind him to grip Rodney's hip and feels Rodney come in long pulses.

Eventually, Rodney gets up and comes back with a damp towel. He cleans them both up and arranges John under the covers. He crawls into the other side of the bed, and it just feels right for them to meet in the middle in an exhausted tangle.

In the morning, John wakes up alone.