Work Text:
It’s been almost two months now since this whole thing with Johnny started, and Mark still can’t help but feel giddy when Johnny visits his desk to ask him on a dinner date. When Mark agrees — too enthusiastically, probably, he’s never been all that good at playing things cool — Johnny flashes him a heartthrob smile and winks as he says goodbye. Actually winks. Mark feels like an embarrassed teenager talking to his secret crush, blushing and squirming in his chair. The flush on his face is especially ridiculous given that Johnny has spent almost every night since they started dating sprawled out naked in Mark’s bed, doing things a lot more provocative than just winking at him.
Johnny is all Mark thinks about for the rest of his time clocked-in, him and that damned smile. Mark wants it pressed against his skin later, Johnny as close as physically possible, the air filled with the sound of their skin slipping together and Johnny’s soft moans in his ear as he fucks Mark hard into the mattress. The idea distracts Mark enough that he actually clocks out of work early. He knows he’ll regret it later when he has to make up the time, but forgets to care the second he sees Johnny’s face light up at Mark approaching his desk with his work bag slung over his shoulder.
They grab pizza at Johnny’s new “favorite” place by the office (it changes biweekly), get a little too drunk off of some beer that Johnny was raving about all week, and get a lot too handsy as they stumble out of the restaurant.
Donghyuck says that they’re still in the honeymoon phase, typically with an overly dramatic roll of his eyes, but Mark thinks it might always be like this, with Johnny.
Mark’s honestly never been in a relationship that felt so easy. Johnny likes him, really likes him, and he lets Mark know often — so often that Mark finds himself blushing more than he ever has in his entire life — with coffee just how he likes it on his desk in the morning (more milk and sugar than coffee itself), sticky notes in Johnny’s horrible handwriting plastered over the cabinets in Mark’s kitchen, texts with links to random songs, endless movie recs, and blurry museum photos of art that just reminded Johnny of him. They like the same music, value the same things, have the same vision of their future together. There’s almost nothing Mark would change about their relationship.
Almost.
“Somethin’ on your mind, baby?” Johnny later asks, the words pressed against the sweaty skin of Mark’s shoulder. He speaks while dragging his fingers through Mark’s disastrous hair, his voice low and syrupy in the way it always is after sex. “You look all…” Johnny breaks off with a sigh, a hot puff of air against Mark’s skin, like he can’t find the right descriptor. He yawns into his next sentence, “I dunno. Like something’s on your mind.”
“Hmm?” Mark asks, tucking his chin towards his chest to look Johnny in the eye. Johnny’s looking at him with barely concealed worry, his teeth digging into his bottom lip, plush and wet from Mark’s mouth.
“Is something bothering you?” Johnny prods again, clearly not going to let Mark get away with his silent brooding. Mark flushes pink at being caught. Is he really this transparent? Mark thought his stupid, useless brooding was perfectly contained to his head.
“Not—not really bothering me,” Mark clarifies, his words tentative. Even admitting that much has Mark’s throat tight, some part of him terrified that he’s about to accidentally walk himself into a fight that he’s not sure he really wants to have. He and Johnny have never fought before, and Mark doesn’t really want to start now, when he’s still coming down from an insane orgasm, all pliant and vulnerable.
Johnny sits up a little, resting his weight on his elbows to get a better look at Mark’s face. “So there is something?”
“It’s just…” Mark sits up against the headboard, not really wanting to have this conversation while laying in the mess of come and lube and sweat on his sheets, the air suddenly tense. Mark’s mouth opens to elaborate, but he can’t find the right words.
How do you tell your boyfriend — your very new boyfriend — that you’re worried he’s hiding something from you already?
“If I’ve done something wrong, I’d like to know, Mark,” Johnny says, his voice quiet and serious in a way it very rarely is with Mark. Mark decides immediately that he hates it, wants it gone. Johnny sits up, too, moving so he can face Mark, reaching for Mark’s hand and pulling it into his lap. Johnny runs a thumb over a scar on the back of Mark’s hand in soothing circles, and Mark doesn’t know if Johnny’s trying to soothe Mark, or himself.
“No, no. It’s not like that,” Mark rushes to assure him, shaking his head. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Then what’s it like?”
Mark just shakes his head again, switching tactics. He looks up at Johnny, looks into him, and his eyebrows draw together, his throat suddenly tight. “Why’d we come back to mine tonight?”
“Mark, what?” Johnny asks, laughing a little incredulously, very clearly confused. Normally, Johnny’s laugh is Mark’s favorite sound in the world. Right now, Mark wishes Johnny would just be straight with him. This has been eating at him all week.
“Just answer me, please,” Mark pleads. Johnny must see something in his eyes because the humor dies almost immediately, pretty laugh falling off of his tongue as his mouth flattens back out into something neutral and entirely foreign on his permanently joy-struck face. “Why did we come to my apartment instead of yours tonight?” Mark rephrases.
“Um. I guess it’s closer to the restaurant we went to than mine,” Johnny says, voice lilting like he’s asking a question instead of answering one. “I — I don’t know, Mark, is this a quiz?”
Mark does not like that answer. Johnny sounds defensive, and people don’t get this defensive when they’re not hiding things. Mark chews an anxious hole into the inside of his cheek. “And last night?”
“Jaehyun had friends over,” Johnny says, looking at Mark like he’s lost it. “I told you that.”
He did tell Mark that. So why does Mark feel like he’s being lied to?
“So there’s no reason you don’t want me to come back to your apartment?” Mark asks very slowly. When Johnny doesn’t respond immediately, Mark’s pulse quickens to something concerning, a pit of dread forming in his stomach. “You’re not…not hiding something from me, are you? Because, if you are—”
“Mark.”
“It’s just weird, Johnny,” Mark says, the words bubbling out of him now that he’s finally brought it up. “It’s weird, I don’t know. We’ve been dating for like weeks now, and I don’t even know where you live. I don’t know what your bed looks like, or what your stupid fancy coffee machine you always brag about looks like, or even—”
“It’s not weird,” Johnny defends, cutting Mark off from his rambling, but the retort must sound weak to even his own ears by the wince that quickly follows it. Johnny swallows hard, looking at Mark with all of the intensity in the world, squeezing his hand. “And I’m not hiding anything from you. You know me, Mark. I wouldn’t… I just wouldn’t, okay?”
“Then I want to see it,” Mark insists. He lifts his chin to level with Johnny’s eyes and continues, “If you’re not hiding something from me, then I want to see it. I don’t see why I can’t. I’m sorry, I just don’t get it. I — I need to see it, okay?”
Johnny is silent for one, long, horrible second before he sighs, “I didn’t even realize… I’m sorry, yeah, yes, of course. Of course you can see it. I’d love to have you at my place.”
“Okay,” Mark says, deflating, Johnny’s words soothing the fire licking at his heart just the slightest. He knows he won’t feel any better until Johnny actually acts on his word, but it’s at least something.
“I really wasn’t trying to be weird, it’s just—” Johnny breaks off again, mouth slanting towards the side, and Mark knows he isn’t going to elaborate any further. Mark tells himself that it’s okay. He’ll go to Johnny’s apartment, and it will be fine. Johnny isn’t hiding anything from him.
“It’s okay,” Mark says, tugging on the hand that’s tangled with Johnny’s, until his head is resting back on Mark’s shoulder. Johnny goes willingly, mouth pressing a kiss to Mark’s throat that feels like an apology. Mark swallows against it, his heart still racing in his chest. “Just… I want to see it, is all.”
“I get it, baby. I’m sorry,” Johnny says, pressing an indulgent kiss to Mark’s collarbone. “You tell me when, and we can go. I promise.”
🧸
Mark’s teeth dig into his bottom lip as he starts to re-think his plan to finally get eyes on Johnny’s apartment. The same plan that he worked on in his head all afternoon while he was supposed to be focused on his Zoom meetings, of course.
“I thought I told you to stop that,” Johnny murmurs, drawing Mark out of his thoughts as a rough thumb presses against Mark’s bottom lip, pulling it out from between his teeth.
With an indignant squeak, Mark’s mouth falls open under Johnny’s touch. He looks up at Johnny with wide eyes, his cheeks burning at the casual intimacy of the gesture. It’s a lot, even for Johnny, for right outside of the office when any of their coworkers could be watching. Mark tears his gaze away when Johnny meets his eyes, a dark eyebrow raised, amused tilt to his pretty mouth.
“Sorry. Habit,” Mark squeaks out, shaking his head, blinking hard at the ground. His brain shorts out, echoing the gentle command he heard in Johnny’s voice and all of the implications that same tone normally has in the bedroom. Mark’s steps falter at the thought, causing him to trip over a crack in the sidewalk, barely catching himself before his face kisses the ground.
“Clumsy, much?” Johnny teases, finding way too much enjoyment in Mark’s lack of coordination. He bumps his shoulder softly into Mark’s with a grin, which shouldn’t be surprising given how often Johnny does it, but sends Mark flying in the other direction nonetheless — because Mark still can’t find his feet, his knees all wobbly with desire and stupidity. Before Mark can crash into the trashcan on the corner of the block like an idiot, Johnny grabs his bicep and tugs him back to his side with a bark of a laugh. Once Mark is safely upright again, Johnny’s fingers slide down Mark’s wrist to intertwine their fingers until their hands are locked together.
“Jesus, Mark.” Johnny laughs, squeezing Mark’s palm. He doesn’t let go, not even when Mark pulls himself together enough to walk in a straight line, and the warmth of Johnny’s skin is comfortable and welcome, even if they’re not normally the hand holding in public type. “You gotta watch where you’re going, babe.”
“Sorry,” Mark groans, thoroughly embarrassed now. “Was distracted.” He makes a point to focus on his steps, anyway, one foot after the other, and again, and again. Johnny tells him a random story about his desk neighbor, Yuta, and all of his mysterious packages that keep showing up, and before Mark knows it, they’re a block away from the entrance to the subway station that leads back to Mark’s apartment. He hadn’t even realized that was where Johnny was leading him to, too focused on his footing and Johnny’s words.
“Wait — Yo, Johnny, wait,” Mark blurts out, suddenly remembering that the whole point of the plan he spent three hours thinking up was that they were supposed to go to Johnny’s apartment tonight, not his like they always do. Mark freezes in place, the stop so abrupt it nearly pulls Johnny’s arm out of its socket.
“Ow. What’s wrong?” Johnny asks, taking a step back towards Mark so their arms aren’t pulled quite so taut.
“Nothing, sorry, just…” Mark smooths his tongue over his lips, heart in his throat as he tries to suggest, as casually as possible, “What about your place, tonight?”
“What about my place?” Johnny asks, eyebrows knitting together.
Fuck. Here we go again.
“Like, how about we go there instead of mine?” Mark clarifies, nervously laughing as his damn cheeks go hot again.
“Oh,” Johnny says, eyes widening as he realizes what Mark’s asking. “Like tonight? Um…well…”
Mark’s hackles rise immediately at Johnny’s lollygagging. “Um. You said to ‘tell you when,’ and then we could go,” Mark reminds him, trying not to sound as frustrated as he feels. He’s not sure he succeeds. “So. I’m telling you when, Johnny.”
“Look, I know that I said that, but—” Johnny starts, cringing. He looks apologetic even before he opens his mouth to speak, and Mark knows what his next words will be without having to hear them. “I don’t know about tonight, baby.”
“Right,” Mark sighs, feeling his hand slacken in Johnny’s grip as a sort of familiar dread settles in his stomach. He really wanted to believe Johnny when he said he wasn’t hiding anything. God, he’s such an idiot. “Um. In that case, I think maybe I’m just gonna head home on my own tonight. I’ll see you at the office tomorrow, or, or something.”
“Wait,” Johnny pleads, pulling Mark closer, his eyes slipping shut. “Fuck. No.”
“No?” Mark repeats, his jaw tight.
“Shit, okay. Okay, sorry. I bet I sound crazy right now. You’re totally right. You’re telling me when, just like I told you you could,” Johnny says, all of the fight leaving him. He fidgets for a second, clenching Mark’s hand tightly before releasing it. “Of course we can go back to mine.”
Mark pauses. “Really?”
“Yes, of course. I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted you there. It’s just — before we go,” Johnny starts, his ears burning hot as he breaks eye-contact, dragging his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t think I’d have company, so I didn’t think to… clean,” Johnny says, the words slow and measured.
Oh. Mark laughs at that, some of the tightness in his chest leaving. “Oh my god, you idiot. I don’t care if it’s dirty. It’s not like my place is super tidy or anything.”
Johnny still looks wary, his eyebrows furrowed, and Mark can’t help but coo at him. He reaches up, tugging on Johnny’s ear. “You’re cute. If it’s really dirty, I’ll help you clean, how about that? You don’t have to worry about impressing me, if that’s what this is. I like you fine already, I promise.”
Johnny eases up a bit at that, grabbing Mark’s wrist before he can tug on his ear again and rolling his eyes. “Oh, you like me fine, huh?”
“Don’t roll your eyes at me. How about you show me this messy apartment of yours already, and I’ll tell you all about how much I like you.”
Johnny sighs, twining their fingers together again. “Fine. Fine. You owe me lots of pretty words, though, okay? My place isn’t that far, if you want to walk.”
“Lead the way, you big baby,” Mark grins.
🧸
Mark isn’t grinning anymore when they get to Johnny’s street. No, he’s pissed.
“You’re seriously telling me you live two blocks away from the office, and we’ve been traveling thirty minutes from mine almost every morning?” Mark asks, baffled. Johnny is leading them towards a tall apartment building, but if Mark glanced behind him, he’d still be able to see their office building.
“You’re cute even when you’re angry, it’s crazy,” Johnny says, which only makes Mark angrier. Johnny nods to the doorman as they walk into the building, his dress shoes clacking against the tiled floors as he leads Mark towards the elevators. Mark glances around, silently marveling at how much nicer Johnny’s apartment complex is than his.
Seriously, what the fuck?
Mark waits until the elevator doors close behind them to continue. “Johnny, do you not care about morning sex? Be honest. Do you not even think about my needs, my, my — I mean we could be lazy fucking every morning instead of rushing to work after a half-assed quickie in the shower like we did today. Every morning, dude.”
Johnny laughs, pulling Mark in by his belt loops, and kisses the scowl off of his face. “You’re ridiculous,” Johnny murmurs, pressing another kiss to Mark’s mouth, his tongue slipping between Mark’s lips for only a teasing second before he’s pulling back again. “And, please. I love lazy morning sex with you.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“What? Was I not into it enough on Sunday or something?” Johnny asks, eyebrows raised. If Mark remembers correctly, last Sunday Johnny woke him up with a mouth on his cock, and made him come at least twice before they made breakfast together. And, great, now Mark’s pissed off and horny.
“No, because if you actually loved morning sex, you’d have brought me here ages ago,” Mark argues, willing his dick to fall in line so he can give Johnny the ribbing he deserves without getting distracted. “And we’d be having actual good morning sex more often than just the weekends. Because we’d have time.”
Johnny has been keeping his gorgeous apartment from Mark for no apparent reason, denying him his rights to morning sex with his stupid hot boyfriend, on top of all sorts of other luxuries, now that Mark’s thinking about it. Like the chance to walk to work for once instead of taking the subway. Or the rights to morning sex before work. Has Mark mentioned that already?
Before Johnny can tell Mark off for being ridiculous again, the elevator doors ding open on the seventh floor, and Johnny shuffles out, Mark trailing him down the hall.
The apartment is beautiful, even if it’s simple. One of the first things Mark clocks are the windows, almost floor to ceiling, practically made to be fucked against. Maybe next time Jaehyun goes out of town and Johnny has the place to himself… Mark tells himself to propose the idea to Johnny later. Besides the mouthwatering windows and ridiculous amount of natural light, the apartment is relatively plain, at least compared to Mark’s chaotic style. It’s styled in a muted palette with a big gray sofa that looks like it was probably chosen for comfort instead of attractiveness, and there are significantly less trinkets strewn about the living room.
“So where’s all the mess?” Mark asks, turning to face Johnny, deeming his quick snoop of the living room and kitchen finished. For now.
Johnny just laughs, tugging his jacket off and throwing it on the back of the sofa. “You just want to see my bedroom already, don’t you?”
Mark grins. “Hey. You’re making me sound like a slut.”
Johnny just looks at him, eyebrow quirking up.
“Oh, whatever,” Mark grumbles. So what if he’s a slut for his boyfriend? That’s like half of the point of having a boyfriend in the first place, right? “Fine. I want to see your bedroom already.”
Johnny rolls his eyes, but leads the way anyway.
He pauses in front of a closed door in the hallway, but doesn’t move to open it. Mark looks up at him, about to ask what all of the pomp and circumstance about showing him his bedroom was about, but the sentence dies on his tongue. That light, playful expression that had been on Johnny’s face as Mark fake snooped through his living room was gone, replaced with something entirely different, nervous and tense again. With a resolved sigh, Johnny reaches for the doorknob, but even then he doesn’t pull it open. Mark can tell he’s anxious about something, he just doesn’t know what. Maybe his bedroom really is messy.
“You don’t actually think I’m going to break up with you because of a dirty room, do you?” Mark asks him softly, stepping forward and replacing Johnny’s hand on the doorknob with his own. Johnny lets him remove his hand from the door, taking a small step back to let Mark replace him.
“It’s not dirty, it’s—” Johnny falters as Mark turns the doorknob, a soft pink glow coming from a lava lamp on Johnny’s desk, illuminating the room in a pretty haze as the door swings open. “Embarrassing.”
And, oh. Oh.
“Well. It’s not even dirty at all, actually,” is the first thing Mark says, his voice laced with surprise as his eyes nearly bug out of his head at what’s laid out before him. It’s really quite neat, actually — the bed is made, the floor is clear, and even his desk is tidied up, all of the pens back in the right place, only donning two small framed photos and a stack of books.
It’s just… There are also about a hundred plushies on Johnny’s bed, every shape and size and color you could ever imagine.
“Look, I know it’s … a lot,” Johnny says, and Mark can hear his embarrassment even if he can’t see Johnny’s face. “So please don’t think you have to pretend like it’s not weird just to make me feel better.”
Mark turns back to him, only to find Johnny still at the door, arms crossed over his chest, unable to make eye contact. Even in the pink tinged room, there’s enough light coming through the windows for Mark to make out a furious blush on Johnny’s cheeks. Mark’s never seen him look so embarrassed. Mark’s never seen him look embarrassed, period. Mark didn’t honestly know it was an emotion that Johnny was capable of.
It’s so cute. He’s just so cute. Mark just can’t fucking believe that Johnny has been keeping him away from his apartment for almost two months because he thought he had to hide this part of himself away from Mark.
“It’s really not that weird, though, and I’m not pretending anything,” Mark says, somewhat offended by the accusation. Sure, the cutest thing in Mark’s apartment is a pink framed picture of his God-children (Jaemin’s three cats), but it’s not like Mark doesn’t know how to appreciate cute things. He’s just a little surprised, is all. He didn’t know Johnny was a doll guy. “
“I like cute things,” Johnny says simply, smiling softly in the door, but clearly still embarrassed. He breaks eye contact, shoulders sagging a bit. “I’m really sorry for hiding it from you, the whole apartment and all, I just thought you’d be… I don’t even know what. I’m sorry if it’s too weird.”
“Baby,” Mark says, an incredulous laugh falling from his lips. Mark crosses the room, pressing his palms to Johnny’s cheeks, and forces him to make eye contact so he knows Mark is being serious. “It’s honestly not a big deal. I don’t care about your stuffed animals.”
“But—”
Mark doesn’t give him the chance to make even more of a big deal over nothing. “No, seriously. I thought you were hiding something huge from me, like a secret wife, or a collection of illegal guns, or, I don’t even know. Not some cute little stuffed animals. You had me seriously freaked out. Like, honestly. I thought you could be cheating. Don’t ever do that to me again, asshole.”
“A secret wife?” Johnny repeats, eyebrows raised. He’s still blushing, but at least he looks less like he wants to sprint out of the room.
Mark grins, “My imagination is incredible, isn’t it?”
Johnny grins at that, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Probably didn’t imagine this, though, did you?”
Mark realizes then that Johnny seriously thinks that Mark is going to think less of him because his bed is covered in stuffed animals. He doesn’t know if someone made Johnny feel like he wasn’t allowed to like things like this, just because they’re “girly” or cutesy, or what, but he hates that Johnny thinks he should be ashamed of it. If anything, Mark thinks it’s mad cute, that Johnny wants his bed all pretty. Mark also knows that no matter what he says, Johnny’s not going to believe that he honestly doesn’t care.
He’s going to have to show him, then.
Mark makes quick work of the buttons of his dress shirt. When those are through, he shrugs it off, tugging his undershirt over his head next and throwing it onto the floor, joining the ever growing pile of clothes. He unbuckles his belt, wincing at the sharp clang of the metal crashing into the floor. His pants are the next to go, his briefs quick to follow. Stark naked and possibly a little insane, Mark walks to Johnny’s bed, just a few short steps, and sprawls himself out on top of — well. On top of Johnny’s mountain of plushies.
It’s admittedly a little odd at first, the pile slightly lumpy under Mark’s back, but he relaxes into it quickly. Johnny’s fucked him bent over Mark’s kitchen island, the fake marble sharp against his stomach, so in comparison this was really nothing. Really. Once Mark gets comfortable, it’s pretty nice. The stuffed animals are soft against Mark’s skin, and the bed itself is a perfect balance of firm and squishy.
“Mark,” Johnny starts, his voice strangled. He’s still rooted at the door, eyes wide and glassy as he stares at Mark with a mix of confusion and astonishment. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, you don’t remember?” Mark asks innocently, letting his thighs fall open and savoring the way Johnny’s gaze flicks to the bare skin, eyes widening with hunger and shock. Mark stares at Johnny through his lashes, bedroom eyes on full display. “Thought I was a slut who just wanted to get in your bedroom?”
“Jesus, Markie,” Johnny groans, reaching for the door handle and slamming the door shut. Johnny sags back against it, watching Mark with a heavy gaze as he strokes his fingers over his belly, through his happy trail, down to his thighs. Just having Johnny’s full attention on him is enough to get Mark’s cock stirring to life, chubbing up against his thigh.
“You like me all spread out for you on top of your plushies, don’t you?” Mark asks, smirking when Johnny reaches down, palming his cock through his slacks. Johnny grunts out an affirmative — at least, Mark thinks it’s an affirmative — and Mark sinks further into the collection of stuffed animals, finally wrapping his fingers around himself. Mark gives his cock a long, slow tug, eyes fluttering at the lick of pleasure crawling up his spine. “Looks like I’m just another one of your dolls, huh?”
“Fuck. You’re insane,” Johnny pants. Mark’s eyes follow the path of Johnny’s hand hungrily, watching him palm the growing bulge in his pants once more before moving his strong fingers up to work at the buttons of his shirt.
“Maybe,” Mark hums, smirking before pointedly staring at the strain in Johnny’s pants. “But I think you like it.” Mark doesn’t know where all this sudden confidence is coming from, honestly. It’s almost always Johnny who controls their dynamic in the bedroom. But Mark can’t help himself, not when Johnny is still flushed, so cute, so pink, so shy.
Johnny laughs, the sound husky and warm. “Oh, you think I like it, do you?” Johnny repeats, his voice thick with desire. He doesn’t move from his spot leaning against the door, his eyes glued to Mark spread out on his bed. Happy to put on a show if it means Johnny will get over himself, Mark plants a foot on the mattress, bending his knee and reaching between his legs to press a dry thumb against his hole. He’s still a bit loose from that morning, so the tip of his thumb slips in almost easily, even without lube. Mark lets out a soft whine at the feeling, and Johnny curses, his hand tugging feverishly at the fly of his pants, tucking into his boxers to stroke his cock. Mark grins to himself. So eager. “Fuck. Yeah, I like it so much,” Johnny grits out.
“Yeah?” Mark asks.
“Mhm.”
“Good. Now… are you gonna stand there and just watch me masturbate or do you wanna fuck me on top of your plushies like I know you’ve been dreaming about for months?”
“Mark,” Johnny whines, burying his face in his free forearm, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks from Mark.
“Look. If you’re still embarrassed about this, we can stop. I’ll put all my clothes back on, and go home,” Mark threatens, letting go of his cock as he pushes up onto his elbows. They’re both way too turned on for Johnny to actually want to stop, but Mark needs Johnny to get out of his head already, and just give in to what he wants.
“Markie,” Johnny groans, letting his arm fall. “Don’t. Wanna fuck you so bad.”
“Well thank god,” Mark laughs, falling back onto the pillows and opening his legs even wider, hoping Johnny finally gets the hint and crawls between them. “Get over here and touch me already.”
Johnny takes off the rest of his clothes on the way over, stopping only to grab an almost empty bottle of lube from his bedside table.
“Damn. Been busy without me, huh?” Mark teases, taking the bottle out of Johnny’s hand and squeezing it over his fingers, getting his fingers nice and wet before dragging them down between his legs. Johnny likes watching Mark get himself ready for his cock almost as much as Mark likes when Johnny watches him finger himself.
“You weren’t wrong when you said I’d been dreaming about this for months,” Johnny says, his voice dripping with pure sex. His eyes are glued to where Mark has two fingers crooked inside of himself, his bottom lip dragging between his teeth as he concentrates on where Mark’s greedy hole sucks the digits in, showing Johnny just how well he’s gonna take him.
“Yeah? And what happens next in the dreams?” Mark prompts, staring up at Johnny from under his lashes. He pulls his fingers out, silently communicating he’s ready for more. Mark didn’t take nearly enough time to prep himself, and he knows it’s going to hurt more than it needs to, more than it would if he had an ounce more patience, but he doesn’t really care. He’d gladly take a little pain if it meant Johnny being inside of him right now.
“I flip you over,” Johnny grunts out, wrapping his huge hands around Mark’s waist and forcing him onto his front. Mark pants, turning his head so he can still breathe properly as Johnny’s fingers wrap into Mark’s hair and press his face down into the plushies beneath him. Mark’s back arches out of habit, and Johnny helps him up onto his knees, those big, capable hands nearly meeting around Mark’s waist.
“Fuck. Yeah, then what?”
“Sometimes I fuck you hard, the headboard slamming into the wall, plushies falling onto the floor,” Johnny muses, the tip of his cock pressing against Mark’s cheeks, rubbing up and down over his hole, teasing him with the promise of more but never pressing in. Mark pushes his ass back, biting his tongue so he doesn’t beg for it, not just yet. “Other times I edge you until you cry, sobbing into the plushies and begging to come.”
“God, yes. Anything,” Mark pants, dizzy with want. He’d take anything, if it meant Johnny would just get inside of him already. “Please,” Mark begs, his cock already dripping onto the sheets below him. He rolls his hips, chasing friction, but it’s not enough. He needs Johnny inside. He tells him as much, and Johnny groans, rubbing his tip over Mark once more, just teasing his rim.
“Gonna make you feel so good,“ Johnny promises, finally guiding his cock to Mark’s hole, pressing in until every glorious inch of him is buried inside, stretching Mark’s rim until he’s so full he feels like he could split in half.
Mark can’t find his words to tell Johnny that he feels like heaven, too lost in the feeling of Johnny filling him up. Mark’s eyes roll back into his head when Johnny starts to move, every drag of Johnny’s cock inside of his ass deliriously good. Better than normal, even, and Mark has never had sex as good as the sex he has with Johnny on the daily.
“So fucking pretty like this,” Johnny praises, fucking Mark in earnest now, the slap of his balls against Mark’s ass ringing out obscenely between the chorus of their moans. “Knew you’d be so pretty for me. Could come just looking at you.”
Mark whines, spreading his knees wider, arching his back and taking, taking, taking every hit of Johnny’s cock. “Just like that, yes. Don’t stop, don’t—ahh, fuck.”
Mark bites down on the plushie by his mouth, trying to drown out the loudness of his cries as he plummets towards an orgasm. They’re being too loud, too lost in each other’s bodies, absolutely drunk on pleasure. Mark only has half a mind to hope Jaehyun hasn’t come home. Or maybe he doesn’t care, actually. Maybe he almost likes the idea of someone hearing them like this, getting off on the sound of Johnny fucking Mark into the mattress, hearing Mark cry out for more, more, more.
“You’re mine. You’re fucking mine, Markie. Isn’t that right? Just another one of my pretty dolls, aren’t you?”
"Fuck,” Mark cries out, his vision blurring as Johnny drapes his torso over Mark’s back, just grinding into him now, shallow rocks of his hips that have his cock rubbing right against Mark’s prostate, the instant rush of pleasure almost overwhelming. “Yours, Johnny, Johnny. Your doll, whatever you want. Please, god. I’m so close, please,” he babbles, tears clinging to his lashes as he tries to stave off his orgasm for long enough that Johnny can come with him.
“Come for me, baby, come on,” Johnny pants, burying his mouth in the crook of Mark’s neck, biting kisses along the sweaty planes of Mark’s shoulders. Mark rolls his hips over the mattress, one, two times, and that’s all it takes before he’s coming with a cry of Johnny’s name, his skin prickling over, toes curling, mind going completely blank.
At the tight clench of Mark’s ass around his cock, Johnny comes, too, every erratic thrust of his hips filling Mark up more as he milks his cock dry. Mark pretends he hates this part, Johnny’s come making a mess of him, but he loves it. He loves how full he feels, how dirty, how claimed. He is Johnny’s, and Johnny is his.
Johnny is also fucking heavy, and about to suffocate Mark if he lays on him for one more second.
“Off,” Mark scolds, squirming underneath Johnny’s weight picks up the first stuffed animal he sees — a surprisingly large cheetah with a downright adorable face — and throws it over his shoulder, hitting him in the face.
“Ow,” Johnny grumbles, but he pushes up onto his forearms, giving Mark room to breathe. “What was that for?”
“That was for you being stupid. Seriously. Was that so bad?” Mark asks, shivering when he feels Johnny’s softening cock shift within his sensitive walls.
“Fuck off,” Johnny groans, pulling out as he pushes up off of Mark and onto the other side of the bed. Mark is so bone tired he doesn’t even know if he could roll over if he tried, but turns his head to look at Johnny, chin resting on his shoulder. “I was wrong, okay? I thought you’d react differently.”
“Oh, so are we talking about it now, or are we not gonna talk about it? Cus I feel like we gotta talk about it.”
“We can talk about it,” Johnny sighs. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop it already,” Mark says, heart pinching at how cute his boyfriend is. “I think the fact that you like your bed covered in plushies is adorable, baby. I really don’t care. What I do care about is the fact that you thought you had to hide it from me. You do know how much I like you, right?”
“It’s not that,” Johnny assures him. He looks up at the ceiling, and sighs. “It’s just… I don’t know. I was embarrassed.”
“Why, though?”
“I really like cute things,” Johnny admits, his cheeks pinking up again.
“Aw, dude. You think I’m cute?”
Johnny laughs at that, rolling onto his side to face Mark, reaching his hand out to slide down Mark’s sweaty spine, “Among other things.” Johnny’s fingers dip between Mark’s cheeks, swiping through the mess of come Johnny left there. A digit slips into Mark’s stretched hole, squelching obscenely as he presses some of his come back inside, massaging it against Mark’s sensitive prostate. Mark clenches down onto Johnny’s finger, moaning into the stuffed animal under his mouth as he feels a glob of come run down his thighs, spilling out around Johnny’s hand.
“Too sensitive, ah, stop. If you want to fuck me again tonight you gotta give me a minute,” Mark groans, batting Johnny’s hand away from his ass, though he does miss being full almost immediately.
“Fine,” Johnny sighs.
“And you owe me morning sex,” Mark adds, pushing up on his elbows to stare Johnny down so he knows he’s being serious. “Lots of morning sex.”
Johnny laughs at that, the sound music to Mark’s ears. “Fine, again. God, Twist my arm. I have to fuck my boyfriend three times in twenty four hours. What a hardship.”
Mark rolls his eyes as he twists onto his back, frowning at a lump underneath him. He fishes a hand under his hips and pulls out a familiar stuffed animal, a glob of something unmistakeable on her sweet face. His eyes widen, and he laughs, startled.
“Oh my fucking god, I think we got come on Hello Kitty.”