"There's a thing called foreplay," John said, and then Ronon leaned down, his hands heavy on John's wrists, and kissed him. The ropy curtain of his hair fell across John's chest piece by piece.
Other hands--Rodney; he knew those broad and tentative fingers--stroked his kneecaps, his thighs, the points and grooves of his hips. John opened his thighs wider and a mouth, Rodney's mouth, touched his knee, and John felt sweat prickle up all over his body. He felt wide open, ready to be touched.
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