And looking up, oh God, looking up the long line of John's torso, the loosening shell of his jeans as John shoves them down his hips--skinny, slinky hips, powerful thighs pu

He tugs at John's shirt and John doesn't bother with the buttons, reaches for the hem and pulls it off, and Rodney dazedly follows the twist and arc of his spine, the fine weave of muscle at his flank, his shoulders as he shrugs the shirt off and tosses it away. It's eloquent movement Rodney barely has time to process before John presses down into him again, only this time with skin and heat and flesh.