John managed to hold the laughter in when Rodney slapped his ass, mainly because Rodney was also fucking his ass at the time. However, when Rodney groaned, "Fuck, yeah!" in the worst Brooklyn accent ever, John lost it. He pitched forward on the bed, pulling off Rodney and collapsing in a shaking heap.

"Sorry, sorry," he yelped between giggle fits. "I'm so sorry."

Rodney slumped beside him, careful not to fall off the narrow bed. "At least I took my shoes off," he groused, throwing an arm over his eyes.

"Really," John said, wheezing slightly and turning mostly onto his back. "You can't quote bad porn while fucking me - you just can't."

"Yeah," Rodney said. "What is it with porn? Five minutes of it and you can't wait to have sex, but twenty minutes of it and you never want to have sex again."

"Well, the Brooklyn accent tipped me over," John confessed. "That and the really bad acting."

"You watch porn for the acting?" Rodney's hand trailed lightly down the center of John's chest.

"No, but that was just distracting. Right up there with the perfectly manicured body hair."

"Manscaping," Rodney said.

John made a choking noise. "Never say that word again, Rodney. I'm not kidding."

Rodney patted John's belly lightly just below his navel, where there was a hint of softness and a lot of dark, silky hair. "I'll be good. Besides, I like your body hair."

"Good thing," John said. "It'd be a bitch to explain waxing."

Rodney stroked lower, making John arch up into his hand. "Can we try again?"

"Yeah, okay." John was a little breathless.

"Wrong answer," Rodney said, stilling his hand.

John froze, then snorted with laughter. "I meant, fuck, yeah!"