"Rodney," John said gently, but Rodney didn't move. John sat on the edge of the bed and nudged him. "Hey."
It took some pointed shoving before Rodney opened one eye, blearily. "Mmph," Rodney said, and then closed his eye again.
John felt a wave of disappointment. He was glad Rodney wasn't hurting anymore; he'd just had... plans for offering Rodney some pain relief of his own. Plans which were were clearly not in the cards anymore. "Guess Keller gave you the good drugs."
Rodney made what was obviously a supreme effort and nodded, his eyes still closed. "Mmm-hmm."
John stood up. "Okay."
"Hey," Rodney protested sleepily. "Where're you...going?"
"I was going to offer you some stress relief," John said, "but you look pretty unstressed to me."
"Y'could...stay," Rodney pointed out, and moved over about a quarter of an inch as though he meant to make room.
Going back to his room did sound uniquely unappealing with nearly-naked Rodney right there. "If you're sure," John said, but he was already stripping out of his BDUs.
Of course, once he was lying alongside Rodney, it was impossible not to kiss the back of Rodney's neck and press himself against the warm length of Rodney's body. The beds were small; there was no other way they were both going to fit.
And even if John knew intellectually that Rodney was pretty much down for the count, his dick didn't seem to care.
Actually, there was something weirdly hot about Rodney like this. He'd never been so passive or pliable. John pushed up against him and Rodney didn't push back, just made little happy noises and stayed asleep. He tried moving Rodney onto his side so John could spoon with him instead of being flopped mostly on top of him, and Rodney went, willingly. At least John hoped it was willingly. He didn't really want to consider what it said about him that he was getting off on cuddling with his unconscious boyfriend.
The thing was, Rodney was never this still. Not even in his sleep. Not even when he got drunk, which was almost never. But this -- this gave John the opportunity to press up against him, to run his hands over Rodney's biceps and chest, past his tiny flat nipples (which perked up right away under John's hands. That had to be a sign that Rodney was okay with this. Didn't it?) Rodney's spectacular ass was right there next to John's dick, thinly-veiled in ridiculously soft grey cotton, and now John was pushing up against it again and again. Enjoying the pull and drag of the fabric against his dick, the feel of Rodney in his arms. Rodney not doing anything, or saying anything: just taking it.
God. Once that thought crossed his mind, John was painfully hard. He could imagine fucking Rodney like this. Manhandling him. Pulling him into whatever position John wanted, and slicking up, and sliding inside. He could kneel up and pull Rodney with him. The angle would be so good: it would be perfect. And Rodney would wake up impaled on John's cock, gasping with pleasure, too lax to do anything but lie back against John's chest and let John fuck him hard.
Lying there on his side, tucked close to Rodney on their narrow bed, John bit back a groan. His hips jerked, rubbing him off against Rodney's ass. Rodney shifted slightly in his arms but didn't wake.
You are so hot like this, John wanted to say, but didn't. He didn't want to risk waking Rodney up. Instead he bit his lip and worked himself against Rodney's still, solid body. He was so close. He closed his eyes and imagined again that he was pushing inside Rodney. He could almost hear Rodney's low broken groan.
"Mmm," Rodney murmured, pressing back against him just a little bit, and that was all it took.
John always woke up before Rodney did. He was in the shower when Rodney stumbled into the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and then opened the shower door.
"Hey," John said, his head covered in lather.
Rodney stepped in and pulled the door shut behind him. "You stayed the night," he said.
John rinsed his head clean and then stepped out of the way so Rodney could get wet. "Yeah," he admitted.
"I had the hottest dream," Rodney murmured, pressing John against the wall of the shower and kissing him thoroughly.
John's body responded to that exactly the way it always did. "Hm?" He hoped he sounded appropriately nonchalant.
When Rodney pulled back, there was a knowing glint in his eye. "Just wait until next time you pull a muscle," he said, and reached for the shampoo.
"Is that a threat or a promise?" John asked, but he wasn't surprised when Rodney didn't answer, just grinned.
The End