Summary: Rodney is fresh from the shower...
Beneath skin still moist from the shower, muscles bunched and slid in perfect synchronicity. Forearms, fuzzed with darkly golden hair, moved energetically, briskly towelling dry the hidden head and silk-soft pelt.
A second towel, a cruel scrap of cloth, hung from solid hips, shielding from display a set of biteable cheeks. It slid and slithered but never truly slipped to show the glory, just tempted with a momentary flash of lower spine. Sweetly curved and shadowed, luring tongue and lips and fingers, that dip drew whimpers every time a random droplet trickled down.
Eventually John grew too impatient and reached out and grabbed, catching up a handful of bare hip when the towel fell free.
Rodney sighed and dragged the second towel off his head. John took one took and laughed aloud.
"Excuse me? Naked boyfriend here, not quoting Monty Python, so not appreciating being laughed at, thank you very much. Want to share the joke before I dress and go on home?"
John bit his lip and tried for serious - and failed. He couldn't quite suppress the last few chuckles.
"You're, ah, looking kinda fluffy there, Rodney. You might not want to buff yourself so hard next time."
Rodney scuttled back into the bathroom and then, as expected, John heard softly muttered curses and a running tap. When Rodney reappeared, his hair was damp and pasted to his head, and the expression on his face spoke of revenge.
"This is, of course, entirely your fault, Major Sheppard. You were ogling so hard I couldn't bring myself to stop. So you are responsible for messing up my hair, and I do believe that turnabout's fair play."