The jar looks harmless – which, of course, should have been their first clue. Teyla says her people use it to numb small injuries that don't require proper anesthetics, and that it's perfectly safe and made entirely of natural substances. Keller gives it to them with a shrug, saying she hasn't had a chance to test it on an actual wound, but that nothing in it is harmful.
Rodney's thigh is aching and sore and the cut – inflicted by one of Radek's many sharp tools in what the Czech scientist had claimed was an accident – is starting to sting something awful; he's tired, he's cranky, he's not willing to wait for Keller to do a full examination. He just wants his bed.
So he grabs the jar of ointment, John, and a sterile packet of gauze, and heads back to his quarters to slather some on.
He doesn't expect it to start... tingling. Teyla had never mentioned anything about tingling. But, now that he thinks back, he does remember the strange glint in her eye; and with the part of his brain not invested in dragging John close and kissing the breath out of him, he curses her out. She knew exactly what she was doing.
"Rodney?" John asks, pulling back. His brow is furrowed and he looks adorably confused. "What are you doing?"
John flails wordlessly for balance when Rodney collapses back on the bed, pulling him along. His hand lands high up on Rodney's thigh, thumb skirting along the edge of where Rodney's applied the ointment, and Rodney groans, arching up, instantly hard and aching in his boxers.
His eyes slam shut as John's hand skims up his thigh to cover his aching erection, thumb sliding over the wet cotton covering the head.
Rodney moans at that and John chuckles, low and devilish as he obviously gets what the Athosian remedy is doing to Rodney and then suddenly his warmth is gone from the bed. Rodney opens his eyes to the sight of John stripping off his clothes beside the bed, holster making a hollow thunk as it hits the floor. Rodney whines low in his throat when John divests himself of his pants, cock visibly hard through the worn fabric of his boxer briefs, before those too join the rest of his clothes on Rodney's floor. John laughs again when Rodney whines so Rodney just has to open one eye to glare at him, which only earns him a smirk in response. John kneels at the foot of the bed then and raises an eyebrow, fingers tracing maddening circles over the inside of Rodney's ankle.
"One of us is overdressed," he murmurs before skating his hands up Rodney's body, nudging his tee shirt up and Rodney takes the hint, whipping it off and over his head in a flurry of motion. Rodney lies back and lets John finish undressing him, reaching out with both arms towards the sides of the bed and balling the sheets in his fists. His thigh feels hot, tingles at every slight movement in a way that he's slowly deciding he really likes; when John strips his pants and boxers off, the rough cotton weave scraping gently over his wound feels like a hand on his dick. He can't even imagine how intense it's going to be to have that inside him, how hard he's going to come when John gets those long, long fingers into him and crooks them until he finds just that spot -
"Oh god," Rodney gasps, rolling his hips, and lets out a low whine when John steadies him with a hand in the middle of his stomach. "John, please."
John leans down and kisses the head of his cock, chastely with just the barest hint of tongue. "I've got you," he murmurs as he licks the sensitive ridge, trails airy kisses down along the vein, "and I'm gonna make you come so hard, Rodney. As many times as you can take."
Shuddering, Rodney reaches down and twines his fingers in John's unruly hair, holding on through a flurry of deep, biting kisses over his hip and the crease of his groin. He's so caught up in anticipating the next wet touch of John's mouth that he doesn't notice John slicking his fingers up in the jar of ointment until they're right against him, teasing at the rim of his hole and making his eyes roll back in his head.
"Tell me when it starts," John says, and Rodney's not sure what he means at first, but then he's panting and spreading his legs as far as he can, pushing his ass down against John's fingers for some kind of friction because it's so good and hot and, god, sensitive, and if John would just touch his cock - just a little - he could come right now.
Rodney tugs hard on John's hair when he starts pressing his fingers inside, the tingling in his thigh spreading upward, inward. He moans, his head arching back against the pillow and he knows what John meant now; can feel the ointment starting to work as John fingers him, slick and hot.
"Oh, god... John... I..." he trails off, swallowing hard, unable to formulate a thought to convey how he's feeling.
John smiles against the skin of Rodney's hip and starts sucking kisses into the thin skin there.
"Yeah, come on. Give it to me."
Rodney barely even hears him, caught up in the slow spread of heat and sensation, the way John's fingers are inching closer and closer to that spot, like John's drawing it out; like John knows that as soon as he touches, Rodney's going to helplessly fall apart.
It's almost too much, and Rodney's ready to start begging for John's mouth, his cock, more, anything.
"It's okay," John murmurs, pulling his finger out, and it's only then that Rodney realizes he's been whispering nonsense under his breath. He purses his lips, abruptly determined to make it through at least one orgasm without giving in, and when John asks, "Ready?" he only nods stiffly.
A second later, he feels two fingers sink in, deep, even slicker than before; they find his prostate on the first try, and John doesn't even pretend that's not what he's aiming for. He doesn't move them anymore than he has to, rubbing the pads of both fingers gently against the bundle of nerves until the - the whatever it is kicks in.
"Oh god," Rodney whispers, "oh god," and then he's right there and it's like a star going supernova: a sudden heated rush that makes his vision spot black and his breath catch in his chest, and it goes on for so long he thinks he might go crazy with it, suspended just on the edge of pleasure-pain forever.
He comes back to John running a soothing hand down his side, kissing his neck softly. John smiles crookedly when Rodney opens heavy eyes to stare blearily at him.
"Hey, buddy," he says, rubbing his body against Rodney's, erection dragging wetly across the flesh of Rodney's hip. "Thought you were a goner there for a minute."
Rodney can only nod, slowly, eyes drifting shut when John slides a slick hand up Rodney's soft cock, mouthing at Rodney's ear.
"Ready for number two?"
Rodney squirms, still feeling the phantom touch of John's fingers inside of him, and now the new tingle of heat low in his belly from John's hand around his cock.
"Gon' kill me," he accuses breathlessly, and then grits out, "Oh, Jesus," helplessly rocking his hips in counterpoint to each of John's tight, fast strokes.
He's still reeling from his last orgasm - easily the hardest he's ever come - and he can already feel the beginnings of another building at the base of his spine; from the looks of it, this one's going to be just as intense. Every pull of John's hand has him clenching around nothing, sharp pleasure shivering up his spine.
Rodney realizes how loud he's being when John leans down and claims his mouth, licking past his lips and teeth with desperate determination. He can only thank god that John hasn't had the idea to smear any of that ointment over himself yet, because Rodney's not sure he wouldn't pass out right then and there if John's kiss were any sexier.
Rodney feels like his entire body is tingling, thrumming with sensation and need as John kisses him, his hand working Rodney's cock expertly. Rodney can barely clutch at John's shoulders, his muscles weak with pleasure. John smiles into the kiss before pulling back. Rodney opens his heavy eyes, wanting John's mouth back on his again.
He whimpers when he takes in John's rosy wet mouth, flushed cheeks and absolutely wild hair.
"God, Rodney," John mutters, voice low and reedy with need. "Drive me crazy. So fuckin' hot."
The second orgasm slams into Rodney with all the force of an eighteen wheeler, goes on for just as long as the first, drawn out by John's slow, gentling tugs on his cock. The only thing that keeps him grounded through it is the raw silken feel of John's hair against his palm; when he can see again, hear past his own thundering heart beat again, John's reaching up with his dry hand to gently pry Rodney's gripping fingers loose.
"Sor'," Rodney mumbles, dropping both of his hands back on the bed. He feels boneless and lethargic. If he turned on his stomach right now and buried his face in a pillow he could possibly fall asleep - well, if the demanding hum still pulsing away just under his skin went away.
It hasn't though, and it feels like every inch of him is begging for John's touch, even though he's so wrung out he doesn't think he'll get it up again for months. But John's always been inspiring, and as soon as those fingers slide back into his body, he moans and spreads his legs again. He's not hard - not yet - but he knows the potential is there, knows John could force another one out of him without even trying.
And, god, that's hot. Hot and messed up, maybe, but he can't find it in himself to care - not when John's staring down at him like that, all sex rumpled and possessive, mouth wet and red from Rodney's teeth.
John smiles, eyes dark, expression decidedly predatory, and Rodney shivers, feels his cock jerk in response. He hisses at the sensation and then suddenly John's got three fingers inside of him, working him open.
"Gn'a fuck me?" he mutters, wanting it. Needing to feel John splitting him open, making him burn. He thinks maybe John filling him up may stop the ever-present buzzing under his skin.
John twists his fingers a little ruthlessly in response, right against Rodney's prostate, and nods.
"Gonna fuck you so hard," he says in response, voice dark with promises of things to come, and Rodney feels his cock start to harden again.
By the time John's lining up, head of his cock pressing blunt and wet against Rodney's body, Rodney is impossibly ready all over again, and just the faint pressure of John shifting to get his knees under him is enough to have his stomach turning over with a strange mix of nerves and desire. Then John gives him a conspiratorial sort of grin, like he's sharing a great secret, and starts to slide in, easy and slow.
Rodney shivers his way through it and wraps his good leg around John's waist to keep him close because, god, he couldn't bear it if John stopped now; this is right, this is what he needs: to be filled up with John's thick cock, pinned to the bed and helpless to do anything but take whatever John would give. It's so good already, just the sweet burn of being stretched wide.
And then John starts to move, shallow, not pulling all the way out but just rolling his hips fluidly.
"John, oh - oh god," Rodney manages, voice breaking in the middle.
John looks down at him, sweat beading along his hairline and dripping down the sides of his face to meet at the point of his chin, and it's only then that Rodney realizes what this must be doing to him by now, how tightly he must be controlling himself to keep from coming.
His eyes slam shut at the realization and he shivers, distantly aware of John moaning, hips snapping a bit harder. Rodney grabs onto John's biceps, grips hard and arches his hips to meet John's next thrust. John grunts, bending down to get his teeth against Rodney's pulse point, biting down hard, just this side of being too rough.
Rodney moans and tries to get John closer. His entire body is singing with sensation, skin buzzing with it and, god, all he can think or want or need is this: John inside him, around him, on him.
It's over too quickly this time - Rodney wants it to go on forever, just him and John and this bed until he can't even remember his own name, but his third orgasm is starting at his toes and spreading up through the rest of him in waves, centering hot and heavy just behind his navel, and John's not giving him much of a choice in the matter, biting hungrily at his lower lip and thrusting into him, hard and fast and so, so good.
He's almost sure he blacks out for a minute when he comes, but when he blinks again John's still pounding into him, face pinched. Rodney reaches up, touches the swollen bow of his mouth. He doesn't say anything, can't find the coordination to form any words, but John's eyes fall closed like he's been waiting for something and has only just been given it, and an instant later, Rodney feels the pulse of John coming.
John collapses against him in what almost looks like slow motion, and Rodney wraps his arms tight around John's torso, holding him against his body. John shivers a few times with aftershocks, face nuzzling into Rodney's neck, humming contentedly under his breath.
Rodney finds himself smiling at that, dopily, and presses a soft kiss to the sweat damp hair on top of John's head.
"Tha's some good stuff," he slurs blearily as John snuffles sleepily into Rodney's skin. "Shoul' get Teyla to give us more."
John's only response is a soft snore.