"This is crazy," Rodney says. It feels like his voice is slurring, but that might be just because his lips are both insanely sensitized and partially numb.

John's voice is rough and a little indistinct, too, coming from somewhere beneath Rodney's collar. "Your fault," he says. "You started it."

"Not on purpose," Rodney protests. It's a lame protest at best, because there's John, and John's hair and John's face and neck and ears and the hard line of his jawbone and the soft skin below, and all those things are just lying there, waiting for Rodney to kiss them some more.

John's fingers cup the back of his neck, his broad palm warm and a little sweaty against the nape of Rodney's neck, and Rodney could get used to that feeling really easily. "I know," John says, his temple rubbing against Rodney's mouth, saving him the trouble of moving. "Was just supposed to be a quick backrub."

Rodney lips his way up into John's hairline, tugs a few strands with his teeth. "Yeah. How's your shoulder, anyway?" He makes a little noise when the tip of John's tongue traces his collarbone.

"Can't feel a thing," John says. Rodney can feel the smile.

"I don't think I've ever made out with anybody for this long," Rodney confesses, letting his hands tighten around John's waist enough to rock them onto their sides. John's head tilts back, exposing even more of his throat, so Rodney starts diligently mapping all of that pale flesh.

"Me either," John says. "Yeah, right there."

"This is good," Rodney says, a little surprised. "Just this, I mean." He bites down gently, making John give a slow squirm under him.

"Yeah," John says, his arms tightening around Rodney's body. "We've got plenty of time."