“Is this what we do, get stoned and bone?” Mark wrinkles his nose just as the words leave his mouth. He’s sitting on Johnny’s bed, adjacent from where the other man is sitting in his Pello armchair. He’s not sure why he mentions it, considering neither things are happening at the moment.
“No?” Johnny’s eyes leave his phone to shoot Mark a confused look. Poor word choice on his part, but it’s true, they haven’t boned at all, unless a few odd handjobs or blowjobs could be considered that.
What is true is that they do smoke weed together occasionally. They haven’t done it recently, they've both been too busy, and both their stashes ran dry the last time they did. Neither of them have had time to pick up some more until today. “I bought some weed today, but uh…”
“But?” Johnny raises a brow.
“They childproofed the bag.”
“They childproofed the bag.” Johnny repeats in disbelief, standing from his chair. “Where is it?”
“In my backpack, front pocket?” He’s not sure why he says it with uncertainty, he knows where it is but he wonders what Johnny’s going to do.
Johnny leaves the room, but promptly returns several minutes later with the bag that’s now clearly opened in his hand.
“Praise the almighty lord.” Mark feigns.
“No, just me, babe.”
The first time they got high together was purely coincidental.
Coincidental in a sense that Mark hadn’t expected to see his own roommate slumped on one of the old couches in the basement of this party. He had expected to find a bunch of stoners here however, but Johnny wasn’t one he had expected. Or at least, he hadn’t expected to ever witness the other man with a joint between his fingers.
It’s quieter down here, the music slightly muffled by the walls, but the heavy bass still reverberates through his bones, even as the door shuts behind him. He’s a little tipsy, but it’s not enough to make him regret it tomorrow. He still has a decent grapple of his own coordination, but he ends up flopping down onto the vacant spot next to Johnny with a lot less grace than he had intended. The liquid in his cup sloshing dangerously, a little trickles down the back of his hand, and if he was sober, he’d find a way to clean it like a civilized human being. Except he’s not, so he laps it up with his tongue.
“God, you’re so smashed.” Johnny eyed him, upper lip quirked slightly in what Mark assumes is disgust.
“Dude, I wish.” Mark snorted, downing half his cup before setting it onto the coffee table in front of them, nearly knocking it over in the process. He’s not smashed, but he’s not too far off. “Really would love to forget what I just witnessed.”
Johnny doesn’t question him, which is something Mark will forever be grateful for. He really doesn’t want to verbally recount the image of two of his friends sucking face, and shamelessly groping each other right in front of him. Instead, Johnny wordlessly offered the joint between his fingers, and Mark plucked it from his grasp with a raised brow.
“Didn’t know you smoked.” He inhaled the smoke slowly, letting the warmth linger before passing it back to Johnny.
“I only do it when I know you’d be out.” Johnny said, “Thought it would bother you.”
It’s a simple thought, a common courtesy, he wouldn’t be bothered at all, but he can’t help but feel a little endeared by it. “Is that why the apartment smells like Febreze and scented candles half the time?”
“You make it sound like I get stoned on a daily basis. I just fuckin’ love candles.” Johnny said defensively. Mark can surely testify for that statement if the stacks of 3-wick candles scattered about their apartment were any indication.
The joint gets passed between them wordlessly. Mark’s not sure how long they’ve been doing this, his mind’s a little fuzzy, and it doesn’t help that he had a good bit of booze earlier either. He’s content with it though, would be glad to sit on this couch motionless for the next whoever knows how long until one of his friends drags his ass back home. Knowing his friends, they’ve probably abandoned him by now, and it’s probably going to be Johnny that drags him back, but they live together so there’s no qualms there.
This time, when Johnny takes the joint, “Ever tried shotgunning?”
“I usually smoke alone.” It comes out sadder than it really is.
“That’s depressing, dude.” Johnny paused, a little hesitant. “You wanna try?”
Mark stared at him, searching for any indication that the other is just joking, but Johnny stared back, expression unwavering. He’s never done it before, but he’s always wanted to, he’s never felt comfortable whenever someone offers, but for some reason, he doesn’t feel that way with Johnny.
“Sure.” He shifted in his seat to face Johnny, the other man does the same as he takes a long drag from the joint. Johnny beckoned him closer, lips pressed together tight to keep the smoke from escaping his mouth. Mark braced a hand on the back of the couch for balance so he can lean in until their mouths are mere centimetres away, inhaling the smoke as Johnny exhaled into his mouth.
“What’d you think?” Johnny said sitting back.
“I don’t hate it.”
“Good.” Johnny takes another drag. This time, Johnny brings his free hand to the back of Mark’s neck, pulling him closer than before until their lips are almost touching. Being this close to someone, his automatic instinct is to flutter his eyes close, even if he’s consciously aware that he’s not actually kissing someone right now. So, he’s not sure why he feels a little disappointed and unsatisfied when they part.
“Lemme try.” Mark snatches the joint from Johnny’s grasp. Johnny lets him, lets Mark push him against the back of the couch, lets Mark straddle his thighs.
He’s not sure why he’s suddenly so bold, so brazen, so uninhibited, but he doesn’t really care at the moment. He knows Johnny will tease him about it when they’re both sober, but his brain tells him to think about now. He’s practically straddling Johnny’s lap now, not quite sitting on his thighs, but Johnny doesn’t make any move to push him off. In fact, the other man is smiling at him, almost challengingly, with a careful, supportive hand resting on Mark’s hip when the younger had swayed a little.
He takes the longest inhale his lungs could muster, the slight burn tickling his throat, mirroring what Johnny had done earlier, a hand curled around the back of his neck to pull the older man impossibly close to exchange the smoke.
When he pulled away, he’s a little breathless, eyes half-lidded, heart beating rapidly, and mind hazy. Mark attributes the physiological freak out his body’s going through is probably because he’s high (and drunk) as fuck, and not because of Johnny-related reasons.
At least that’s what he had convinced himself.
But Mark kind of really wants to kiss Johnny. It doesn’t help that Johnny’s got pretty lips, not too plush, but he thinks they’re cute the way they naturally curve into a pout when the other man speaks. They’d probably feel great on his, probably would feel great elsewhere too, and his brain short-circuits at the thought.
His cognitive functions are faltering, why is he even thinking about kissing Johnny.
It takes him a long moment to consider whether kissing Johnny would even be a good idea, in theory, yes, in practice, probably not. He doesn’t even know why he has to think about it, and if the stupid grin on Johnny’s face was any indication, the other man probably knows. Especially considering Mark’s been absentmindedly staring at his lips all while trying to process a simple thought.
Suddenly, he’s being yanked back harshly by the collar of his shirt, a strangled noise escaping his throat as he’s pulled away from the other man. He turns to find the source of the offending hand, and an unapologetically disheveled Ten is smirking at him. A few steps behind Ten, Taeyong had stumbled into the room looking equally as disheveled, gaping at them as if this was the most scandalous thing he’s seen all night.
It’s not, and Mark has the memory he wishes he could forget.
“Don’t do anything stupid, like drugs or Johnny.” Mark recited Taeyong’s words verbatim a week later.
When Mark had told Johnny this, the other man had doubled over cackling, hands clutching his sides as if it was the funniest shit he’s ever heard all week. It takes a few moments of random outburst before Johnny had fully regained his composure and he’s back to meticulously roll the joint he had previously abandoned on the coffee table.
Normally, Mark would heed Taeyong’s advice, but this time he doesn’t. Not really. It’s not like the one instance at the party was the first time he’s ever smoked marijuana, neither will it be his last. But he definitely has no intentions to do Johnny.
He’s still following Taeyong’s words, just not fully, but Taeyong doesn’t need to know.
This time, Mark isn’t drunk. He’s completely sober, and able to rationalize that getting high with Johnny was a choice that he had consciously made. He wants to experience it again, just without the alcohol this time, that’s why they’re in their living room, lounging on their couch, with Johnny hunched over rolling the paper with practiced ease as Mark watched.
“Noice.” Mark hummed approvingly when Johnny twisted the end.
Smoking weed with Johnny wasn’t something he had anticipated the first time, nor was it something he had anticipated happening a second time either. He finds that he enjoys the company, it’s better than getting high in his room alone even if they don’t talk very much. It’s almost a stark contrast to the usual playful jabs and innocuous insults they would throw at each other. This is nice though, even if it feels odd to not hear Johnny run his mouth about something mundane.
Mark also hadn’t anticipated to find himself in a familiar position, upper body twisted almost uncomfortably as he inhaled smoke from Johnny’s mouth, just like they had done last time. They didn’t have to do it like this, but Mark had shyly asked if they could try shotgunning again after being rudely interrupted the previous time. Johnny didn’t have any resignations to his request, just a familiar grin gracing his lips.
And Mark also didn’t anticipate the words that leave his own lips either. He’s mere centimetres away from Johnny’s face after having taken their last hit from the dying blunt. “Can I kiss you?”
“I don’t know, can you?”
“May I kiss you?” He grumbled, annoyed.
“Oh my, are all Canadian boys as polite as you?” Johnny feigned, earning a smack to the arm. “Ow.”
“God, shut up. You could have said no if you didn’t want to.” Mark huffed, ready to retreat to his room.
“Wait. I’m just teasin’.” Johnny deposited the roach from his hand while his other tugged the younger onto his lap.
Mark remembers the night of the party in a haze, but the memory of straddling Johnny’s lap was particularly vivid and a hot flush of embarrassment creeps its way onto his cheeks. He stared at Johnny in stunned silence, the elder’s hands are on his hips just like last time, but his grip is a little firmer, a little more sure about the touch. He wonders if Johnny wanted to kiss him as much as he wanted to kiss Johnny last time.
He’s never kissed someone while high before, he really doesn’t do much when he gets stoned really. His mouth feels like cotton, and kissing Johnny feels weird on so many levels, both physically and mentally, but he doesn’t hate it. He doesn’t hate the plush feeling of Johnny’s lips on his, or the tentative swipes of his tongue, and he doesn’t hate the hands of his hips pulling him close.
But he does hate that it’s over too soon.
“Is this your way of getting into my pants?” Mark said jokingly.
“Do you want to stop?” Johnny replied, voice serious.
He considers it for a moment. No, he really doesn’t want to stop, but making out with Johnny was definitely not on his to do list today, but neither was getting high with Johnny on it, and here he is, so fuck it.
“Fuck no.” And that’s enough permission for Johnny to surge forward, crashing their lips together almost painfully. Mark winced, letting out a small annoyed grunt but all complaints dissipate when Johnny swipes his tongue across his bottom lip apologetically.
Maybe Mark does like kissing Johnny, or maybe he just likes kissing while high. He definitely likes kissing, so whatever it may be, it doesn’t really matter. It’s just been awhile since he kissed someone like this, and maybe he's just willing to accept whatever presents itself at this point, even if it is Johnny.
It should feel weird to be making out with his roommate-slash-friend, but Johnny’s mouth feels great against his. It’s a little more open mouthed this time, a little more insistent, eager, bordering on desperate. Mark kissed back with equal fervor, and his knees are beginning to cramp. He settled himself on Johnny’s thighs, and the older slides his hands up to his waist, holding him in a way that Mark loves being held, a content sigh escaping between breaths.
If they were bordering on desperate before, they’re way passed that border now. He grinds down onto Johnny’s thigh, gasping as he pulled away, “Fuck, sorry man.”
“Don’t be.” He pulled Mark’s hips against his own crotch, guiding the younger to grind against his own building hard on. Mark whimpered, hands flying up to grasp onto Johnny’s shoulders for balance, and maybe to confirm that he’s really dry humping Johnny right now.
“Fuck.” He whined in frustration. The layers of fabric are impeding, he’s not fully hard yet, but he sure as hell is turned on and if he keeps rutting against Johnny, he’s sure he’s going to come in his pants. At least he's ten steps away from his room if that happens, and ten steps away in case he wants to run away.
“Can I touch you?” The other man asked as if on cue.
“Please.” His breath is shaky, laced with a sense of shame with how uninhibited he is right now. But all thoughts of regret dissipate when Johnny pushed his pants down and wrapped a hand around his cock. “Shit.”
It takes no more than a few strokes to get Mark fully hard. The younger biting back his moans every time Johnny works his hand over the sensitive head, his hips jerk with every down stroke, fingers twisted into the elder’s shirt, the cotton wrinkling under his grasp.
He buried his face into the crook of Johnny’s neck, almost wanting to curl in on himself, he wants to evade Johnny’s studious gaze, to hide the flush that arises on his cheeks. But he feels so wound up, every stroke of Johnny’s hand unfurling whatever tension that’s accumulated within the last week. Whatever tension that had made itself present between them since the party is finally finding release.
He’s panting, breath ragged, and his hips are stuttering. It doesn’t take much before Mark’s coming with a full body shudder, a shaky moan escaping his lips as he spilled onto Johnny’s fist.
He hears what might be a curse from the elder, but he’s not sure in his post-orgasm daze. A few beats pass before he’s sitting up straight, blinking slowly. His own hands have fallen to rest on Johnny’s stomach, and he hooked his fingers into the elastic of Johnny’s joggers, eyes almost pleading as he asked, “Can I?”
“Yeah.” Johnny lifted his hips, just enough to push his pants down mid-thigh. If Mark had made an audible noise at the sight of the other man’s cock, Johnny doesn’t comment.
He’s big, and Mark really, really wants to put his mouth on him. He’s not sure where they stand in their relationship to ask if he could blow Johnny, but Mark has yet to meet another man that would refuse getting their dick sucked when they’re this hard. He doesn’t though, instead his fingers wrapped around the length, the girth feeling weighty against his palm. He gives a few experimental strokes, hand a little shaky, and Johnny rolled his hips in a similar rhythm, meeting each of Mark’s strokes. He worked his hand along the length leisurely, twisting his wrist with every upstroke, thumb occasionally swiping at the tip, catching the beading pre-cum with the pad of his thumb and smearing it down his length.
He hadn’t noticed the hand on his thigh until the other man gripped him tightly, and that’s all the warning he gets before Johnny comes with his head thrown back, with a low, guttural moan that has burned its way into Mark's memory.
They’ve hotboxed in Johnny’s shitty Corolla before.
Mark can’t say it was the most pleasant experience. He prefers the comfort of a home, not a creaky, old car that’s probably as old as he is.
They’ve made this a regular thing, smoking marijuana together, making out, jerking each other off. It’s become almost predictable, each step systematically aligning and automatized when one step clicks into place, the next step is already known. Hotboxing in Johnny’s car is something new, and he’s not sure if the steady thrum through his veins is excitement, unease, or the THC. Johnny wanted to try something new and that’s why they’re here. Mark wanted to try something new too. Something different.
That’s how he ended up with his upper body bent uncomfortably over the centre console, his lips wrapped around Johnny’s cock, and giving what might possibly be the sloppiest blowjob he’s ever given. He’s not usually this messy, first it was too little saliva, now it’s too much. It wouldn’t bother him so much if it weren’t for the fact that they’re in Johnny’s shitty fucking Corolla, parked in a mostly empty parking garage. Mostly empty, is what bothers him. Getting caught smoking weed in public is one thing, but getting caught giving head is another and he doesn’t like the idea of either happening.
Some part of him wants to make up for it, to redeem himself. It doesn’t settle well with him knowing that Johnny probably thinks that he sucks at sucking dick. But Johnny never voices any complaints, and maybe he just passes that thought by as another reason to want to suck Johnny off again.
He’s at least pleased with himself when Johnny comes down his throat.
“I swear, I’m not usually this sloppy.” Mark said defensively, voice hoarse.
“I would tell you to prove it, but my dick’s on lunch break right now.” Johnny panted.
It’s almost Pavlovian. The sound of the lighter hissing, the earthy scent filling the room, the billowing smoke above their heads.
This time, he doesn’t get those cues when Johnny kisses him. The baggie Johnny had retrieved from his backpack now rests on the nightstand. They’re both acutely aware that they’re both still sober, never having kissed each other before taking their first hit.
It’s clear now that there’s nothing clouding his thoughts that he does enjoy kissing Johnny. He reciprocates eagerly, his arms wrapping around the back of Johnny’s neck to pull him closer. Mark can kiss Johnny for hours, they have, but most times their kisses are rushed, devolved from impatience.
A gentle hand nudges his chest until Mark is lying on the bed, his legs falling open for Johnny to settle on top of him. He grinds his hips upwards, Johnny’s own hips grind down to meet his as he kisses him languidly. The friction is barely there but it’s enough for a pleased noise to rise in his throat. His hips start rolling a little rougher, a little more eager, and their kissing mirrors the same desperation.
Johnny mouths at his neck, sucking lightly, but not enough for any marks to blossom. His tongue licks a fat stripe up his neck and Mark squeezes his eyes shut.
“God, I want to fuck you.” Mark barely catches the murmur against his skin.
“Fuck, please.” Mark gasps.
Johnny braces his weight onto his arms and pushes far enough away so he can look at Mark’s face, his gaze is almost dark. The younger stares back at him, eyes comically wide, a complete contrast.
“Yeah?” He runs a hand up along his thigh and Mark nods with more enthusiasm than intended. “You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about it.”
Mark gulps, he really doesn’t know. Of all the time they’ve spent together, sober or not, Johnny seems to keep his composure well. Mark wonders what makes today any different. “Why haven’t you?”
“We’re usually stoned.”
“That’s it?” Mark asks perplexed.
“Explicit consent, my dude. Can’t really ask for it if we’re both high.” Johnny elaborates, his hand continues to run along his thigh, and it’s almost comforting if it weren’t for the given situation. As endearing as it is to hear Johnny say that, he wonders why the other man didn’t draw the line when they started mutually jerking each other off. Regardless, hearing someone ask him if they could fuck him elicits a small thrill of excitement through him, his dick twitches in his pants.
“Then you have my consent.” Mark pauses, “One thing though.”
“Please don’t call me dude when we fuck.”
“Anything for you, bro.” Johnny laughs, evading Mark’s swatting hand.
“I hate you.” But he still kisses Johnny anyways, wrapping his legs around Johnny’s waist and locking his ankles, trapping the other man from moving away.
“Mark.” Johnny says sternly. “I can’t fuck you like this.”
“I’m sure you can.” Mark rolls his hips upwards, his erection making contact with Johnny’s equally as hard cock.
“I can’t fuck you without lube.” He hisses, and that's enough for Mark to relent, letting his legs fall open once again, allowing Johnny to get up.
Johnny returns to the nightstand he had abandoned the small baggie from before on. It catches Mark’s attention, a subtle reminder of his earlier words about get stoned and boning, and his face twists into a grimace recalling how he had phrased it earlier. He manages to shuck his shirt off by the time Johnny returns with the lube and a condom in hand, and he’s pleased to see the other man has pulled his own shirt off too.
Mark’s seen Johnny topless before, but at least now he can admire how broad and toned the other man is. He reaches out to run a hand down the other man’s chest, his other hand pats the edge of the bed signaling the other man to sit down. Johnny sits but not without raising a confused brow as Mark plucks the bottle of lube from his hold and sets it on the floor.
“Pants.” Mark comments pointedly towards Johnny’s still clothed legs. He takes off his own pants and sinks to kneel on the floor between Johnny’s spread legs, helping the older man pull his bottoms off. Johnny finally catches on, this is familiar territory for them. He’s found himself between Johnny’s legs just as often as Johnny’s been between his and this isn’t any more different.
Mark grasps the base of Johnny’s cock with one hand, giving it a few quick pumps before flattening his tongue along the shaft, licking from base to the tip, his tongue flicks against the head. He licks his lips, wetting them so he can easily glide his lips along the underside of his cock.
“Mark.” And that’s enough of a signal for Mark to sink his mouth down the length, taking as much as he can, while his hand works what he can’t reach. Johnny’s hand comes to rest on the back of Mark’s neck and he can tell the other man is trying to ground himself, using whatever willpower he has not to fuck into the warmth of Mark’s mouth.
He wraps his lips around the head, tongue swiping against the slit, and the grip on his neck tightens a bit. He blindly reaches for the bottle of lube, then he’s pulling off Johnny’s cock. He pours the liquid onto his fingers, snapping the lid closed and tossing in onto the bed. When he glances at Johnny, the other man is watching him carefully, realization slowly dawning on his face as Mark reaches between his own legs, pushing a finger into himself.
“Christ.” Johnny gasps, just as Mark’s mouth and free hand return to his cock. He relaxes his throat, taking as much of the length as he can. Over the times Mark has done this, he’s tried taking more down his throat, but it usually ends up with him sputtering and wheezing. He knows this time wouldn’t be any different, so he only lets the tip barely graze the back of his throat before he focuses on sucking the head.
“So good. You’re doing so well.” Johnny comments. Mark moans at the praise, eyes fluttering closed as Johnny runs his hand through his hair. He works a second finger into himself, there’s probably a mess on the floor boards below, too much lube dripping from his fingers. He feels some of it run along the back of his hand obscenely.
His knees hurt and he wonders why he thought this was a good idea in the first place. It’s when he glances up at Johnny with half lidded eyes, and his lips stretched around Johnny’s cock that he realizes he probably looks so fucking filthy like this. If Johnny’s expression says anything, it’s that the other man definitely likes this, and it only gets Mark harder, his cock throbbing painfully, untouched between his legs.
The tug against his locks is pleasant, but when he runs his tongue along the slit, Johnny’s fingers twist into his hair almost painfully. He winces, pulling off wetly, a small string of saliva forming between his lips and the tip. It breaks when he throws the older man a sly grin.
“C’mere.” Johnny rearranges himself on the bed so he’s no longer sitting so close to the edge. Mark follows, climbing onto his bed with shaky legs, his knees feel numb but he straddles Johnny’s thighs anyways, hands on his shoulders for balance.
Johnny pours some lube onto his fingers, reaching between Mark’s legs and smears the cold liquid along his perineum, Mark gasps, shuddering at the sensation. He holds his breath, letting out an anticipatory huff when Johnny runs the tip of his finger against his rim. Finally, Johnny is pushing two fingers into him, curling them, and frustration begins to build every time Johnny barely misses his prostate. He’s teased himself enough earlier, actively avoiding that spot and he’s not sure if Johnny is doing it on purpose but he wants more. Eventually, Johnny does find the right angle, a loud moan rips from the younger’s throat, his hips grinding back onto Johnny’s fingers.
“More.” He pleads. Johnny obliges, working a third finger in and Mark pushes back against his hand, riding his fingers.
“Fuck, that’s hot.” Johnny stares at him, pupils blown wide as he flicks his wrist shallowly, his other hand is on his Mark’s hip, thumb circling his hip bone in a comforting manner.
“Another.” Mark pants, his leg muscles are burning, thighs beginning to tremble.
“Another?” Johnny exasperates.
“Yes, just do it.” He demands. Johnny works the fingers he has in him a few more times before pushing a fourth in. It’s a tight fit, the stretch almost unbearable but he loves it. He’s done this before, but Johnny’s hands are a little bigger than his, and it’s so overwhelming. Mark drops his head to rest on Johnny’s shoulder, lips pressed against his skin to muffle a moan when Johnny pushes his fingers to the knuckle.
“You alright?” Johnny runs his hand along his back soothingly, slowly fucking his fingers into Mark.
“Yeah.” He rasps, his legs are about to give out. “’M ready.”
“You sure?” Johnny asks as if he doesn’t have four fingers inside Mark.
“Dick me down now or forever hold your peace.” He collapses onto the mattress, rolling over onto his back. He blindly reaches out in the direction where Johnny had left the condom and helps Johnny roll it on.
“Sometimes, I wish you wouldn’t speak.” Johnny mutters pouring more lube onto his hand to coat his length.
“Then shut me up.” He says jokingly, hooking his hands under his knees, pulling them close to his chest.
“You’re so annoying.” There’s no bite to his words, and Johnny is definitely not annoyed considering he’s pushing the tip against Mark’s rim, one hand guiding his cock, pausing halfway when Mark clenches around him. “Relax.”
Mark does relax, but his jaw clenches at the lingering pain, he’s being stretched so good, he can’t help but to sob, “Move.”
Johnny continues until he bottoms out in one fluid motion. Mark does shut up though, feeling all the air in his lungs escaping into a breathy moan. He barely catches his breath when Johnny starts rolling his hips shallowly.
“Oh god,” Mark babbles. His cock twitches, and he realizes he hasn’t touched himself at all. He’s so hard, pre-cum smearing against his stomach, practically dripping from the tip, but he keeps his hands away from his dick, wanting to focus on feeling Johnny in him, because he knows he’ll blow his load if he touches himself now.
“Faster, please—” He insists. Johnny grasps Mark’s thighs, hiking one of his legs over his shoulders for a better angle.
“Fuck, look at you, taking me so well.” Johnny watches his cock disappear into the younger, and Mark keens at the praise, eyes fluttering closed, lips parted, red and swollen. “You look so good too, baby.”
And Mark isn’t sure if he moans because Johnny’s cock slams against his prostate hard or because of the unsolicited pet name.
“Is that what you like? Being called baby?” Johnny snaps his hips forward, eliciting another moan from the younger.
“Shut— shut up.” Marks grabs the back of Johnny’s neck, pulling the older man in for a kiss. The kiss is sloppy, and Johnny’s rhythm is beginning to get sloppy too, and when Johnny strokes Mark, his hand jerks him sloppily too.
Johnny presses hot kisses along his neck, murmuring praises into his skin. “So good, you’re so good, baby.”
"'M close. Oh god, ah—" Mark gasped between breaths, heat coiling in his stomach and he's so, so close.
"Go ahead, baby."
“Fuck— oh god— Johnny.” Mark comes with a whine, legs trembling, spilling into Johnny’s hand and making a mess on his stomach, his rim clenches around Johnny’s cock as Johnny fucks him through his orgasm.
Johnny doesn’t stop though, but he has slowed down a bit. “I’m close. You can take it, right?”
Mark nods speechless, still coming down from his high and he feels so sensitive, so overstimulated it almost hurts every time Johnny pushes against his prostate. A few more thrusts and Johnny is coming with a deep moan against his collarbone, his sweaty forehead pressed against Mark’s equally as sweaty shoulder, breath hot against his skin. Johnny lays on top of him for a few beats trying to catch his breath and then he’s pulling out, making Mark wince.
The other man disappears from his sight, and it gives him time to process what just happened. His mind’s a little fuzzy and he’s so glad he isn’t stoned right now because even after mulling it over he’s still not sure.
“So that’s a thing.” Johnny comments when he returns with a dampened towel.
Mark groans, squeezing his eyes shut. “Yeah, it was.”
Johnny helps him clean up, wiping his stomach clean. He takes the towel from Johnny, dropping it to the floor where he was kneeling earlier and wiping up the droplets of lube that had pooled there.
“Gross.” Johnny has pulled his clothes back on, collapsing back onto the bed.
He’s about to join the other man until the doorbell rings. He looks over at Johnny confused, they aren’t expecting company right now, and he’s still naked.
“Shotty not.” He touches his finger to his nose.
“Seriously?” Johnny lifts his head to look at him disapprovingly.
“I am naked, John.” He deadpans, and that’s enough to convince Johnny to get the door.
Johnny comes back with a brown paper bag, a familiar logo printed on it with oil spots soaking through the paper.
“I forgot I ordered food because I thought we’d be smoking.” Johnny admits, lifting the bag up.
“So you got McDicks.” The most mediocre of all fast foods, perfect for satisfying the munchies, but absolutely horrible when sober. “First you ruin my ass, and now you’re out to ruin my stomach, huh.”
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Johnny looks concerned.
“No you didn’t.” Mark pulls his sweats back on. “Where are your papers?”
“Nightstand, first drawer.” Johnny riffles through the paper bag, pulling the contents out. Mark nods, walking over to it and easily finds the papers and the lighter. He picks up the small bag of weed and brings all the items to where Johnny is sitting on the floor.
“We’re going to need this if you’re going to make me eat this shit.”