Archive of Our Own

“This is ridiculous,” Ten laughs to Taeyong after scrolling through the document. “‘Make it a little kinky, be creative with sexual positions and physical barriers’? I can’t believe the government is literally inviting its citizens to check out glory holes. Or is it about full-body latex suits? I can only imagine how hard those are to wash.”

He can hear Taeyong snort through the speaker. “How about ‘Pick larger, more open, and well-ventilated spaces’ for group sex? I think your rooftop will do.”

“Tae, I can't just booty call a bunch of people and throw an orgy. They may not have symptoms, but it doesn’t mean they’re not infected. I don’t wanna go to the hospital,” Ten whines. “In fact, I can’t possibly go to the hospital, I don't even have proper health insurance. I mean, I always assumed that I’d fuck up my life one way or another, but I’d prefer to not do that in the literal sense.”

Taeyong makes a noise that’s supposed to be sympathetic. Must be nice to spend the lockdown in a country that has a working medical system.

“Plus, I live in the shortest building on the block, someone will definitely see us from their window and call the police. And I don’t wanna corrupt any curious children with their birdwatching binoculars. I mean, they’re stuck at home, what else would they do if not spy on their neighbours?”

Taeyong giggles. “Speaking from experience?”

“You wish. Johnny’s been updating me on what the guy living across the street has been watching every night for at least two weeks by now. This sad fuck has a 60-inch flatscreen hung on the wall that’s visible from Johnny’s desk, and he’s invested in it like it’s his own private TV show.”

“Why sad?” Now Taeyong’s voice sounds muffled — he must have turned onto his belly and is now lying with his face in the pillow. Ten wants to squish his cheeks so bad that his hands physically itch.

“Because he either runs random episodes of Black Mirror or goes straight to Pornhub and watches the most generic videos he can find on the home page. I mean, this guy even has a premium account. Black Mirror or that. Miserable, if you ask me,” Ten states indignantly, as if his own daily routine doesn’t include pretty much the same sequence of entertainment — with anime instead of Black Mirror and a slightly more sophisticated selection of porn, that is.

“Wait, is Johnny’s vision that good? How does he know this guy has a premium account?”

“I have no fucking idea, ask him yourself,” Ten suggests. “My guess is that he secretly has premium too and is just too familiar with the interface,” he adds over Taeyong’s predictable “no thank you”.

“Well,” Taeyong mumbles, and there’s the sound of tapping on the screen — he must be scrolling through the document again, “then just fuck Johnny. It’s either this or the good old jerking off, if you’re really concerned about your health.”

“What?” Ten doesn’t have a drink to choke on, but he makes the sound nevertheless.

“‘The next safest partner is someone you live with’,” Taeyong recites. “I mean, they’re basically telling you to sleep with your roommate.”

Ten has skipped this paragraph before, because obviously he doesn’t live with anyone — not with anyone he could have considered to be a potential hookup, at least — but now that Taeyong’s put it that way, he kinda does. He throws a glance at the door to make sure it’s closed. It is.

“Are you serious? Johnny?”

“I mean, he’s hot.” Taeyong sounds totally unfazed. Ten, on the other hand, is baffled — because yes, Johnny is, but he is also... Johnny. The toothpaste-stains-on-the-sink Johnny. The weird-sounds-from-his-room-at-4am Johnny. The walking-around-the-house-in-his-underwear Johnny. The pissing-in-the-toilet-when-Ten-is-in-the-shower Johnny. “And he’s a good kisser,” Taeyong adds, completely throwing Ten off his line of thought.

“What?” This time he isn’t even faking it. “How do you know?”

“You refused to go to that party,” Taeyong provides vaguely, sounding very smug.

“Did you two…” Ten suddenly feels betrayed — and he isn’t even sure by whom.

“Nah, nothing like that. We were just playing spin the bottle.”

“God, I miss spin the bottle,” Ten groans over Taeyong’s snickering. “And I miss you,” he adds, frustrated.

“Aww, baby,” Taeyong coos. “I miss you too. This shit will be over sooner or later, I’ll come back, and then we can play spin the bottle all you want. May even skip the bottle part.”

Ten sighs. This shit might still not be over in another year, if not more. He’s definitely not going to spend an entire year of his already short youth not having sex at all.

“Is he really?” Ten asks suspiciously after a pause. “A good kisser?”

Taeyong’s snickering intensifies. “Go find out yourself.”

The thing is, it’s not like Ten’s never thought about it before. Johnny is indeed hot. Plus, the list of people Ten can possibly imagine having sex with is pretty long — to be fair, it includes almost all of his friends and acquaintances, because Ten is really not that good at separating his friends and lovers. Can you even consider someone a true friend if you wouldn’t hypothetically fuck them? Ten wouldn’t be so sure.

And Johnny is definitely a true friend. 100% friend, 10/10 would recommend. Except for the fact that Ten has a strict rule about not shitting where he sleeps, which includes not sleeping where he sleeps. And his and Johnny’s apartment just happens to be the place where Ten prefers to spend his hibernation hours, hence hooking up with Johnny is not an option.

Were they not roommates, Ten probably would’ve made a move on him years ago, when they’d first met, but Yuta had introduced them to each other specifically as potential roommates, so Ten had kinda preemptively decided not to shit in the place where he may or may not be sleeping in the future. He and Johnny had had a couple of beers together, Johnny had laughed at Ten’s jokes, Ten had laughed at Johnny’s jokes, they’d agreed that Johnny would do the laundry if Ten does the dishes, and that was it. A week later Ten had moved into the spare room in Johnny’s old place, and they’ve lived more or less happily ever after. Johnny turned out to be pretty useful for a lot of things other than just being eye candy (e.g. taking things off the top shelves, cuddling and giving unexpectedly sane life advice), so Ten didn’t really lament the lost opportunity.

Up to this point the rule of not shitting where he sleeps has been one of the most prevalent in Ten’s life, and he hadn’t planned on breaking it any time soon. He’d always had a lot of options outside his apartment, after all. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and Taeyong is usually right about 99.9% of the things he says, so now Ten's thinking about it. Like, really thinking. What is he going to lose if it all goes terribly wrong?

Option one: Johnny declines Ten’s offer. But why would he? He’s had as many sexual encounters in the last four months as Ten has had (precisely zero), and Ten can recall at least a dozen times Johnny’s called him sexy. On the other hand, Johnny might not entertain the idea of spending even more time with Ten for an entirely different reason. The truth is, Ten can keep bitching to Taeyong about his misery all he wants, but in reality Johnny has much more reasons to be bitching to Taeyong about Ten (and he probably does). Ten knows he's been stretching Johnny thin with all his mood swings, tantrums, constant attention seeking and random requests to binge-watch Netflix together till six in the morning — it’s just when he is not being actively perceived by others, he might as well not exist at all, and in the light of the recent events Johnny's been honored with the duty of being Ten’s one and only perceiver. (Ten’s annoying coworkers on their weekly Zoom meetings don’t really count. They don't even laugh at his jokes.) Johnny, unlike them, still laughs at his jokes, but he’s also been telling him to fuck off way more frequently in the last few weeks, and he might flip him off again if Ten suggests a hookup. Embarrassing, but not fatal: a couple of online therapy sessions for Ten’s wounded ego, and he’ll be fine. Johnny might get a little weird after that, but Ten can just turn it all into a joke, and he will eventually forget it.

Option two: Johnny agrees, but the sex ends up being bad. Very unlikely for a bunch of reasons. Firstly, Taeyong has already approved of Johnny’s kissing, and he’s never wrong. Secondly, if Ten is present during sex, it can’t be terrible a priori — the lowest possible score is “will do”. Thirdly, if nature (or God, or whatever) is fair to its creations, and the size of Johnny's dick corresponds to the size of his heart, Ten's definitely not going to be disappointed. The surprise that Johnny's prepared for Ten on his 22nd birthday? At least eight inches. And one bonus inch for every night that Johnny had spent on his office couch when Ten really needed full privacy to test his feelings with a Tinder date, which is... Okay, it's probably impossible to have a dick that long.

Option three: Johnny agrees, and the sex is great, but someone tall and dumb catches feelings, and it’s unrequited. The worst case. They won’t have to immediately move out to the separate apartments because it’s not really a wise thing to do during a pandemic, but Johnny would probably stop cuddling him — that’s a big loss. Plus he most likely would not keep listening to Ten’s complaints about his other hookups. And definitely would not provide a comfortable shoulder to cry on anymore. Damn. But that, too, is very unlikely, because in the four past years they’ve done pretty much everything that a couple in a relationship can do, except for the actual sex and maybe taking a bubble bath together. If any of them had the potential to catch anything nasty, they probably would have already. They didn’t. Ten definitely did not. And Johnny’s never showed any signs of being secretly in love — if all the girls and even one or two guys who have been consistently interrupting Ten's sacred morning ritual of making instant coffee during these years are anything to go by.

Still, there’s a risk, albeit a small one. Ten goes through his other options. Taeyong is in Seoul, everyone else is either staying with their parents or stuck in their own apartments, much like Ten. Besides, he can’t be sure that they’ve been following all the lockdown guidelines, and even if they have, it’s still not completely safe.

This leaves Kun, a colleague of Ten’s who also happens to be living in the same apartment building. (As a matter of fact, it’s more like Ten is living in the same building as Kun, because it was actually he who helped Ten and Johnny find a new place after the rent at their previous one went up a couple years ago, but it’s not the point.) The point is, Ten is pretty sure that Kun has checked him out multiple times, plus Kun is probably the most cautious person Ten knows — сautious in a “changing masks every hour and boosting social distancing up to 15 feet” sort of way. So if there’s anyone in this building who’s as safe, if not safer, as Johnny, it’s Kun. But… No, many more people have to die and leave Ten out of options for him to consciously consider it.

So it really is either Johnny or jerking off. Ten decides to sleep on it first, which, when put to practice, means taking an afternoon nap after… well, yes, jerking off to the image of it. Just to see if it works.

Of course it works. Ten is fucking horny, and Johnny is pretty and kind and six feet tall and has really nice arms, why wouldn’t it work?

“Do you wanna hook up?” Ten blurts out, eyeing the back of Johnny’s head from his strategic position behind the kitchen counter. Johnny puts down the controller, leaving his own small copy of Norman Reedus to freeze somewhere in the mountains with an ungodly huge stack of cases on his back, and slowly turns his head away from the TV.

“Do I wanna what?”

“Hook up.” Ten tries his best to sound as chill as Taeyong did over the phone. “Like, have sex. With me.”

Johnny licks his lips, eyeing him with curiosity.

“Why?”

“I don’t know?” Ten shifts his weight from one foot to the other awkwardly. “I mean, for obvious reasons?”

“Which are…?” Johnny’s lips are curving into a grin, and oh no, he’s totally gonna make fun of him. What did Ten even expect after getting on his nerves for so long?

Still, Johnny might go along with this joke — and go along with it as far as to the bedroom, which is exactly where they need to end up. Ten takes a deep breath, rolling his eyes with the maximum amount of condescension. “Which are: I’m horny, you’re probably horny too, we’re stuck in this apartment and won’t get out any time soon. I thought, why not?”

Johnny turns on the couch, folding his arms over its back to face him properly. “I thought you had a rule about not fucking where you sleep,” he inquires, looking positively amused.

“Really?” Ten sweats.

“You told me, like, twenty times.”

“Did I?”

He can’t remember doing so.

“Yep,” oh, does Johnny enjoy his suffering, “last time... at Lucas’ New Year party? Remember, when we got so wasted that the taxi driver refused to take us?”

Or maybe he can. Screw his past self.

“Well, I changed my mind,” Ten huffs indifferently. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“So I’m a desperate measure?” Johnny has the audacity to look offended. He’s clearly not — he’s having the time of his life watching him squirm, Ten can see it in his fucking face.

Still unclear if he’s for or against the plan.

“It’s just a figure of speech.” Ten suppresses the urge to cover his face. “Look, are you interested or not? If not, just forget it and go back to your damn game, it’s not a big deal.”

Johnny makes no move to take the controller. “Maybe,” he shrugs noncommittally. “Sounds like fun. I’ll think about it.”

And they don’t talk about it for three more fucking days.

Taeyong laughs his head off when Ten recites the conversation to him, providing little comfort, and Johnny provides no comfort at all, acting like he’s completely forgotten about their talk. Instead, he bakes the third sourdough bread loaf of the month and asks for Ten’s opinion on his baking technique (it is getting better, but Ten hates the bread nevertheless). He keeps updating Ten on the sad fuck’s selection of porn (no major changes), as if the matter of people’s critical sexual conditions is still a joke to him. He finishes Death Stranding and starts Persona 5. He even invites Ten to rewatch Avatar: The Last Airbender, and they go through the entire first season in one night, lounging on the couch shoulder to shoulder as they always do — and still nothing happens. It’s infuriating.

Johnny definitely didn’t forget about his question — his fucking face is still the same — but for some reason he doesn’t bring it up. Did he change his mind? But if he did, why wouldn’t he just tell him so loud and clear so that Ten can arrange his much needed therapy session and move on?

Because Johnny likes to be the bane of his existence, apparently. That’s why on the end of the third day he sticks his head into Ten’s room, innocently asking if he wants to start the second season. Is this some kind of game? Or a bonding ritual? Maybe Johnny’s unable to get into the bedroom mood without long and boring foreplay that requires watching a bunch of magical teenagers go through their character arcs. Ten lets out a long-suffering sigh and gets out of bed to trudge after him.

“Who’s your favorite character?” Johnny asks somewhere in the middle of the season. This time, unlike yesterday, Ten is splayed across his lap with Johnny’s fingers put to work on Ten’s scalp (he’s just touch-starved, okay?), but then again, it’s nothing unusual. They’ve done this a hundred times before, during Stranger Things, and Black Sails, and BoJack Horseman, and Sex Education (Johnny clearly didn’t learn anything from that one). Johnny isn’t nervous, so why the fuck would Ten be? He’s comfortable.

“Azula,” he suggests without much thought.

Johnny chuckles above his head. “No wonder.”

“Why?” Ten twists his neck to look him in the face. “She’s cool! It’s just her parents are assholes!”

“I know, I know.” Johnny is quick to raise his hands in surrender. Ten tries to pull them back to his head, almost rolling down to the floor in doing so, but Johnny manages to drag him back, hands secure around Ten’s waist. “I just kinda figured that it’s gonna be either her or Zuko,” he continues. Ten settles between Johnny’s legs more vertically, grumbling under his breath.

“Yeah, they’d make a good couple,” he agrees after a pause.

“What?”

“What?”

Johnny just snorts and shifts him into a more comfortable position, making sure that Ten’s ass doesn’t put too much pressure on his junk (as it should).

Two or three more episodes go by in cozy silence, broken only by Ten’s complaints about Katara putting up with everyone’s shit and Johnny’s noises of agreement. His fingers are lightly brushing Ten’s side, small mindless movements that make Ten feel like he’s being petted like a cat. It’s not sex, but it’s good in its own way — to the point where Ten turns into such a jelly that Johnny has to hold him tighter to keep him from sliding off the couch. Ten could totally fall asleep like this. Well, he has fallen asleep like this before, but now he can’t focus either on the show or on his own drowsiness because Johnny keeps breathing into his neck, making the small hairs there stand on end. Ten shifts slightly, trying to find a pose that won’t put him at risk of popping a boner, with Johnny only letting out a sated sigh after he’s finally settled. Ten’s gonna kill him one day.

“Who’s your favorite character?” he asks dryly.

“Zuko,” Johnny replies smoothly, as if he’s been waiting for Ten to ask him. (Oh wait. He probably has.)

Ten does the math.

“So you don’t think they’d make a good couple?”

Johnny huffs through his nose. “What kind of question is that?”

“A normal one,” Ten shrugs. “I’ve always thought they had good chemistry. Like. There’s potential. Don’t you think there’s potential?”

Johnny makes another confused sound. “Wait, are we still talking about the incest or about us?”

Ten leans into him further, tilting his head back onto Johnny’s shoulder to look him in the eye. “You tell me.”

It doesn’t have the desired effect — Johnny just snickers and closes his eyes, shaking his head as if he’s tired of him. Fuck. Ten braces himself for another round of mockery, but then Johnny’s nose finds its way behind his ear — and stays there. Ten holds his breath.

Is he...?

“Ask me nicely,” Johnny murmurs into his skin.

Oh, what is wrong with him.

“Excuse me?”

“Ask me nicely,” Johnny repeats, sounding extremely smug even whispering — and then he leaves a kiss there, on the edge of Ten’s hairline. An inoffensive one, just a warm press of lips, but Ten shudders anyway — and Johnny must notice, because he snickers again, the piece of shit.

Well, now Ten’s angry.

“Stop fucking with me, Suh.” He makes sure to elbow Johnny’s ribs in passing as he turns on his lap to look him straight in the face — the face that doesn’t look sorry at all. Instead, Johnny is positively beaming.

“I thought that’s what you wanted to do.” He wiggles his eyebrows. Ten can’t believe he’s trying to get laid by an actual clown.

“I want to, I said that already!” he whines. “You’re the one who keeps beating around the bush!”

“I’m not!”

“Then why won’t you just give me a fucking answer?”

“I told you, just ask me nicely,” Johnny giggles, catching Ten’s arms when he goes for his throat.

“What kind of bullshit is this? Johnny, it’s either yes or no, I’m not gonna fucking beg for it.”

“Then you won’t get what you want.”

“It’s not about what I want,” Ten fumes, although even he can admit that he’s being a little hypocritical. “You have to want it too!”

Johnny rolls his eyes. “I already said that I want you.” Ten takes a break from his struggle to get his hands out of Johnny’s grip to look up at him in confusion. Did he? “...to ask me nicely,” Johnny adds with a shit-eating grin.

No way in hell is Ten going to keep living with this bitch when this whole mess is over. It was foolish of him to even assume that they might be friends. “I’m gonna fucking kill you,” he promises, resuming his efforts to break free.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” Johnny agrees enthusiastically, still not letting go of his hands, but then his gaze falls to Ten’s mouth, and he licks his lips again, and it’s almost like he’s done with his bullshit and going to kiss him, and then Johnny finally…

lets go of him.

The end credits of the current episode are playing in the background. Ten breathes through his nose.

“I think I’m done for today,” Johnny yawns, stretching his arms. He pets Ten’s thigh rather amicably, as if they weren’t in the middle of a fight just a couple seconds ago, and then moves him to the side to get up from the couch. “Come when you’ve made your mind.”

“I have!” Ten huffs to his back, but Johnny just chuckles, shaking his head, and disappears into his room.

Okay. You know what? A year without sex doesn’t sound so bad. Ten will manage.

Ten’s determination to manage a year lasts for two and a half hours.

Nothing to brag about, but at least he didn’t run after Johnny immediately after he left. Ten even tried to sleep — he spent an hour or so under the covers, going through all kinds of clever remarks he could’ve made earlier to knock Johnny down a few pegs. If his roommate wasn’t such a drama queen, Ten would’ve probably gotten laid several times by now. Several times in the last 24 hours, maybe. Johnny has pretty good stamina.

Fantasizing about all of this doesn’t help Ten find his peace of mind (quite the opposite: now he’s bouncing off the walls), but what it does is give him a more clear view on his ultimate goal. Johnny wants to be asked nicely? Fuck it, he will be. Ten may have not been the last one laughing tonight, but he’s definitely not going to be the last one begging.

The door to Johnny’s room is slightly ajar when Ten tiptoes to it; the lights are off, and there’s none of the usual TikTok sounds from inside, but Johnny couldn’t have been asleep for long. He doesn’t usually go to bed this early — won’t have much trouble waking up. Ten easily sneaks inside.

Johnny's sleeping form is backlit by the weak orange glow of the street lamp; he's on his side, facing the edge of the bed, hair messy and cheek squished into the pillow. Despite his size, he doesn't look intimidating even during the day, and in the night, snoring serenely, he looks like a total moron. That makes Ten even hornier for some reason. He asks himself if he's being a predator, but quickly rules otherwise: he’s not here to force Johnny into anything, he’s here to fucking ask nicely. Johnny didn’t exactly promise him he’d say yes, but he did say “sounds like fun,” and if Ten knows anything about Johnny, it’s that he’s up for any fun activity. Plus Johnny's never had a problem with saying an explicit no to him, so Ten can trust himself to not cross any boundaries. Or at least trust Johnny to not let him.

The path from the doorway to the bed is just five steps — Ten's bare feet make almost no sound as he creeps up to the unoccupied side of the mattress and carefully slips under the duvet. Johnny's definitely started doing laundry less frequently than he did before the pandemic (not that Ten can't be accused of the same) — the sheets smell distinctly like him, like home and family. The giant cozy nest of the giant dumb bird Ten's going to catch tonight. He's never been this horny in his entire life.

Johnny’s warm as a furnace as Ten presses into his back and hugs him from behind. “Hey?” he asks softly, but his stupid sexy roommate doesn’t even flinch, still sound asleep. “Johnny, wake up,” Ten tries a little louder, tickling his stomach.

Johnny finally grunts at that, his hand moving under the blanket to catch Ten’s fingers. “The fuck?”

“I came to ask nicely,” Ten announces proudly.

Johnny lets out an exasperated sigh, dropping his hand and hugging his pillow again. “Ten, are you insane? It's three in the morning. Go to sleep.”

“Very hypocritical of you to pretend that time isn't a construct that’s proved itself completely useless in the past couple months.” Ten just cuddles closer. He really is a fool for not checking Johnny out sooner — he's just the right kind of warm under the blanket, and the back of his neck smells like heaven. “So? What do you wanna hear?”

“I wanna hear nothing in the next eight hours,” Johnny groans.

“Johnny, I’m not kidding,” Ten snickers, tucking his nose into the soft spot behind Johnny's ear, hand creeping under his worn-out t-shirt. “You told me to come when I’ve made up my mind, so here I am.”

“Couldn’t you, like, wait? Till the morning?”

“No, I couldn’t,” Ten purrs, going as far as to start lowkey humping Johnny's ass. “Please? Pretty please?”

Johnny groans again, louder this time. “Don't fucking tell me you’re expecting me to be on the receiving end. I'm not gonna go to the shower and start all that mess in the middle of the night, you need to make an appointment for that.”

Ten cackles into his ear. “I'm not, dummy. I'm ready to get my ass railed.”

“Do I look like I wanna rail someone's ass right now?”

“Give me another five minutes, and that’s exactly how you'll look,” Ten assures, starting to plant small kisses just under the edge of his jaw.

Johnny makes a guttural sound, his abs constricting under Ten’s fingers. “How can someone so tiny be so full of himself?”

“You know what else I could be full of right now?”

“And you're saying my puns are bad,” Johnny cracks up.

“Hey, you laughed!”

Johnny yawns, finally turning onto his other side, eyes still heavy with sleep as he squints to make out Ten’s face in the dark. There’s just a few inches left between their noses, and Johnny’s warm breath hits Ten’s face when he huffs quietly, looking at him with some unreadable emotion. Ten abruptly realises that this is actually happening — him and Johnny, in the same bed, going to fuck — and the familiar wave of jittery, greedy excitement rushes down his body. God, did he miss this feeling. “So?” he mumbles, suddenly shy. “Did I ask nicely enough?”

“Uh-huh,” Johnny smiles lazily. He wraps an arm around Ten’s waist, the pleasant weight of it sending another rush of hunger through his guts, and Ten allows himself to wet his lips in anticipation, vision seizing on Johnny’s curving mouth.

The next moment he’s being forcefully rolled onto his other side, with Johnny coming to spoon him from behind a second later. This pulls a little impressed oof out of Ten. “What are you...” He tries to turn back to him, but the sheer weight of Johnny just pins him to the mattress.

“Sleep,” Johnny shushes, snuggling into his back more comfortably. “We can fuck in the morning.”

“Are you kidding me?” Ten pinches Johnny’s arm only for him to push down his hands too. “I didn’t come all this way to just sleep!”

Johnny laughs inaudibly into his neck. “I have no doubt it was immensely hard for you to cross the living room.”

“Johnny,” Ten whines in disappointment, “you’re up anyway, and it’s not that late!”

“You're not gonna change my mind.”

“Yes I am. I'm not gonna sleep here!”

“Do you wanna sleep in your room?” Johnny lifts his arm demonstratively, letting him go, but Ten huffs and makes no move to get out of bed, so he drops it back with a satisfied chuckle.

Oh, Ten gets what this is about. It’s not about the time of the day or about Johnny being tired (he’s different when he actually is), it’s about who’s going to be a bigger bitch. This is unfolding exactly like it does every time they try to choose a movie to watch and end up bickering for a half an hour despite the fact that neither of them feels particularly strongly about their pick. Ten just hates when things don’t go his way, and Johnny, in turn, just loves to make him give in. Now he thinks he’s won because he is heavier and Ten is hornier — but the thing is, the latter doesn’t have to be a weakness.

Ten huffs a resigned sigh, sinking deeper back against Johnny’s chest and willing his breathing to calm. Johnny stills for a moment, obviously surprised that Ten didn’t try to complain for longer, but eventually he relaxes too, tucking Ten a bit closer to himself as he settles. What a fool.

Two or three minutes go by in silence, with Ten quiet as a mouse as he waits for Johnny to truly believe that he’s won. Eventually his chest starts to rise and fall slower, signalling exactly that, and that’s when Ten subtly rolls his hips against his crotch for the first time. Just a little rub. And then another, on Johnny’s next exhale. And another.

“Ten,” Johnny sighs against his hairline, admonishing. Ten rolls his closed eyes.

“What?” he hums, feigning innocence. “I’m just trying to get more comfortable on this damn mattress of yours. You were the one who insisted I stay.”

There’s a click of a tongue behind his head. “Why can’t you just accept that you’re not gonna get what you want?”

And why can’t this wet blanket play along even for a little bit? Ten huffs through his nose. “Johnny, I don’t get it. You’re dying to go back to sleep, right? Then why are you even bothered? Last I remember, you could fall asleep on the floor in the middle of a party, my fidgeting is hardly worse than that. Or do you want me to leave?” He squirms in his arms as if trying to get up, but Johnny swiftly tugs him back, getting a not-so-surprised snicker out of Ten. “Then go on, sweet dreams,” he follows the last word with another faint roll of his hips.

Johnny audibly exhales into the base of his skull. “Fine.”

“Fine,” Ten sing-songs, pressing his ass firmer against Johnny’s dick.

“Fine.”

So Johnny thinks he can just ignore him? Well, good luck with that. Ten resumes the light cant of his hips, burying his forehead into the pillow and subtly bracing a hand against the bed for better leverage. Johnny remains still as a statue, seemingly unaffected by his movement as Ten rubs his ass against his pelvis, but Ten is not going to be demoralized so easily. After what feels like a few minutes he moves a tiny bit, shifting his upper leg to slot between Johnny’s to get even closer to him. This way he can feel the unmistakable soft outline of the clothed cock, pressing directly into the cleft of his ass as Ten starts grinding a little harder. God, the things he does for this man — and still no reaction, save for the even sound of his breathing in the quiet of the room. Has Johnny always been such a loud breather or is Ten just predictably good at what he’s doing?

The latter proves itself right after another couple of minutes, when the bulge behind him starts growing steadily the more he rocks. Ten bites his lips into his mouth, smiling to himself in the dark. Johnny wanted to do this the hard way? Fine, he’s going to get that in the quite literal sense.

The pressure of a half-hard dick does wonders for Ten’s undeservedly wounded ego, so he stops being shy and lets his whole body move as he slides his ass along the swelling cock, basking in the warmth that radiates from Johnny’s chest. The hand on Ten’s waist tightens for a split second, betraying its owner’s acknowledgement of what is happening here, and Ten half expects his roommate to finally grab his hips, or turn him around, or at least do something, but nothing follows. The torture of being completely neglected stretches over the next few minutes, with Ten’s only reward being Johnny’s uneven breathing on the nape of his neck and the weight of his now fully hard dick dragging back and forth over his ass. Is Johnny really so tough that he’s going to try and fall asleep with a boner just to outplay him? Ten might not be able to compete with this level of self-mutilating dumbassery — his hips are getting tired already, not to mention an aching hard-on in his own pants. God knows he tried, but if Johnny insists on being a bitch, he might as well stay here and pathetically jerk off in his cold and empty bed, because Ten is going to take the shower for himself.

He gives a few more mean grinds just to show Johnny how much he’s losing — as expected, to no avail — and stills at last, accepting the fact that this isn’t going anywhere. That is, until Johnny thrusts his own hips forward, unashamedly trying to rub against Ten’s ass when the next roll of his hips doesn’t come.

Ten just about loses his mind.

“Hah!” he spits, whirling in Johnny’s arms to poke him in the chest — this time the other doesn’t manage to stop him. “You piece of shit, you wanted it, and you were fucking waiting for me to give up?”

“Oh, now I’m a piece of shit?” Johnny rasps, eyes glimmering in the low light as he stares back at him. Ten can feel his heart pounding under his palm. He gulps, head suddenly empty as a drum as the knot of anticipation tightens in his gut, but Johnny doesn’t seem to be waiting for a response, punching the air out of Ten’s lungs with how forcefully he pushes him onto his back and leans over, yanking the blanket off them in the process. “You’re gonna kill me one day,” he breathes out with something akin to awe in his voice, and Ten doesn’t get a chance to say “I told you so,” because the next second Johnny’s mouth is on his.

He nudges Ten’s jaw open right away, capturing his lips, slides his tongue deeper without much care, and Ten makes a needy sound as his eyes fall shut, because oh, is Johnny a good kisser. Taeyong has proven himself right again — or maybe Ten is just too kiss-deprived after months and especially the last three days of craving it, imagining in detail how Johnny’s fucking pretty lips would feel against his. They feel better than he imagined — softer, unbearably soft — and Ten can’t resist finally sinking his teeth into that deliciously thick lower lip. He bites down at it just a little at first, runs his tongue over it to soothe the sting, and then bites again, more and more and more until Johnny bites back, hard, making Ten jerk away with a hiss.

“Fucking knew you'd be a biter,” he heaves, eyes wild and lips glistening with spit in the low light.

“Yeah?” Ten breathes in delight. “Did you think about me a lot?”

“You make it very hard not to think about you,” Johnny utters, but then he ducks back down to kiss him again, pushing Ten’s thighs apart with one of his own as he does, and Ten full on moans in his mouth at the feeling. His hips rut up uncontrollably to chase the sweet pressure, but Johnny just cackles at that, making no effort to alleviate his suffering. “Needy, huh?”

“Says you,” Ten bites back, sneaking a hand between their bodies to palm Johnny’s cock through the fabric of his briefs. It draws a moan out of him to match his own — a low, desperate noise that makes Ten’s mouth water as he runs his fingers up and down his heavy length. Fuck, Johnny will totally not fit in his mouth. Like, at all. God, why did Ten spend four years living near this dick and letting other people do what they want with it when he could have joined their cause much, much earlier? Some big mistakes in life are just irreversible — you can only learn from them and hope to make better choices in the future.

“Wanna do something about it?” Johnny mutters above him, hot breath just an inch away from his lips.

“What?” Ten doesn’t follow, torn between humping Johnny’s thigh, kneading his cock and trying to lift his head up to taste his mouth again.

“Get this off,” Johnny snickers, slipping his hand under Ten’s shirt to drag it up his stomach. That, Ten gets. He raises his arms swiftly, lifting his upper body from the bed to let Johnny tug the shirt off him, and falls back with an oof, impatiently reaching out to return the favor. To his dismay, Johnny manages to get out of his tee on his own, raising his arm to grab the fabric on his back and yanking it off in one smooth motion worthy of an exemplary high school jock.

“Fuck,” Ten exhales, running his fingers up his abdomen, knees falling apart as Johnny settles between them and goes back to bruising Ten’s mouth. “What did you think that was, sexy?”

Johnny laughs against his lips, unbothered, and rolls his hips forward to draw another involuntary noise out of him. “You think it was.”

Ten bites at his mouth until it’s raw, tugs at his roots until Johnny grabs his wrists and presses them to the mattress, hands running up Ten’s forearms to slot into his palms and in between his fingers. “Can you stop trying to hurt me for just half an hour? Please?” Johnny asks softly, pulling away to look him in the eye, and his face is suddenly so sober and sincere, no trace of his usual mischief, that Ten mumbles out an embarrassed “okay” just to get out of this conversation. “Thanks,” Johnny smiles, bending down to press their lips together one more time before he moves to the side, leaves gentle, open-mouthed kisses on his jaw, under his chin and lower. Ten hisses as Johnny starts sucking a first hickey into his neck, fingers pulling out of Ten’s grip to trace over his body, warm and sure as they pet down his sides, thumb at his hipbones, slide under his ass and along his thighs.

Ten squirms in his grasp, muscles tensing under Johnny’s touch. Usually, he doesn’t have a problem with being a pillow prince, but he does have a problem with being vulnerable, and now that Johnny insisted on keeping things civil, everything is so quiet that it makes Ten’s skin prickle. “Hey,” he whines, using his legs to pull Johnny’s hips down, getting them both some much needed friction. “We don’t have all night.”

“We don’t?” Well, at least Johnny’s back to his usual annoying self, grinning at him. “We could’ve had all morning, you know.”

Ten rolls his eyes. “Still wanna go to sleep?” he asks dryly, pointedly lowering his eyes to the prominent bulge in Johnny’s underwear.

“Nah,” Johnny smirks, easing his fingers under the hem of Ten’s shorts as he leans back to sit more upright between his legs. Ten wiggles his hips towards him, letting Johnny’s palms slide all the way up to his ass and sighing appreciatively when his fingers dig into his cheeks.

“Then do something about it,” he parrots, hoping that he makes a tempting enough picture like this, splayed openly on the mattress with arms thrown around his head.

Johnny wets his lips, gaze flicking from Ten’s face to his cock straining against his shorts. “Where do you keep the lube? I ran out of mine just before quarantine, but I can go ge...” He trails off as Ten digs the tube out of his pocket and throws it at him without another word. Johnny snorts. “Really?”

“Told you I came prepared,” Ten shrugs, smug.

“And what if I said that I don’t have condoms too?”

Ten just pets another of his pockets, the rustling of foil from it making Johnny laugh out loud this time. “So full of yourself.” He shakes his head with fascination, lifting one of Ten’s legs over his head to tug his shorts off along with the underwear. Ten sucks in a deep breath when the cold air hits his flushed cock, fighting the urge to curl in on himself as Johnny fixes him with a heavy gaze, taking in his now fully naked body. He’s almost forgotten what it feels like — to be seen like this for the first time — but Johnny makes a great spectator, not letting himself be distracted from the picture until he’s discerned every little detail. “Pretty,” he mouthes at last, a small smile stretching the corners of his lips as he meets Ten’s heated glare.

“Fuck you.”

“We’re getting there,” Johnny promises, leaning back between his legs. One of his hands cups Ten’s bare cock, making him hiss again, but Johnny shushes him, presses kisses to the inner side of his knee and then lower, all the way down to the crease of his thigh, twisting his fingers around the head until Ten’s noises turn from displeased to outright pathetic, which finally makes Ten remember that he has more pressing matters than fucking Johnny’s hand.

“Lube,” he reminds him, pushing his fingers away. Johnny simply nods, grabbing the tube from where he’s thrown it onto the bed and squirting the gel onto his fingers, waiting until it warms up. Of course he would. Ten rolls his eyes. “Come on,” he urges, “I can take it.”

Johnny grumbles something incomprehensible but still obeys, spreading Ten’s knees wider as he kneels above him, rubbing the wet tips of his fingers over his rim. “Okay?”

“Uh-huh,” Ten hums impatiently, head spinning with the feeling of someone else’s hand touching him there at last. “Two.”

“Hm?” Johnny’s eyes snap back to his face from where they were glued to his hole.

“Two fingers,” Ten explains, annoyed.

“You sure?” Johnny frowns, but Ten just glares at him again, and Johnny bites his lower lip into his mouth as he finally pushes inside, probably harder than he intended to — Ten’s eyes roll back at the feeling. Johnny’s fingers are longer and thicker than his own, but they still slide in almost knuckle deep with little resistance. Johnny lets out a shuddering breath above him. "Are you always so…?"

"What do you think I’ve been doing for the past two hours?" Ten replies weakly, mouth falling open as Johnny pushes a little deeper.

Johnny swallows thickly at his words, and the following twist of his fingers is mean enough to make Ten’s toes curl into the sheets. “I might have an idea.”

Ten doesn’t bother scrambling for a witty response, closing his eyes and resigning himself to small whines as Johnny works him open. Everything is wet, and hot, and foreign in the best sort of way — the way that doesn’t work with his own fingers, without someone else who would try to please him as desperately as Johnny does, the tips of his fingers rubbing steadily over his prostate on each stroke. Ten doesn’t know what to do with his hands as they wander over his own body, petting his cock, stroking over his nipples, sliding up to his neck and digging into his hair. When he opens his eyes for a moment, he meets Johnny’s heavy gaze, the same one from when he’d just undressed him, following his every movement. Ten lets his eyes fall back shut, lets Johnny see whatever he wants if he’s going to keep his eyes on him. Everything feels like it’s not enough and too much at the same time, and before long, he’s fucking himself back onto Johnny’s hand, chest burning and thighs twitching uncontrollably.

A warm, sweaty hand comes to wrap around his thigh to calm him, and when Ten opens his eyes this time, Johnny’s face is wearing a weird expression — open, tender, and hungry all at once. “More?” he asks simply, and Ten nods shallowly, stilling his hips as Johnny adds more lube to his ring finger, breathing hard through his nose.

Ten belatedly wonders why he even considered option two. Johnny’s always been good for him, of course he’d be good for him in bed, he’s way too good. There’s a wet spot on his briefs where the fabric clings obscenely to the head of his cock. Ten itches to touch, to taste, to ruin Johnny with his mouth, it must’ve been hard to endure for so long — but the next moment he’s being stretched open again, and any semblance of a thought evaporates from his head, because the size of Johnny’s fingers does make a difference after all. Ten tenses up, voice cracking on a high-pitched keen, but Johnny’s already eased his fingers out of him, looking up with concern. “Too much?” he asks, pressing a kiss to his thigh.

“No… no,” Ten manages to utter, “go on, I’m…” He never finishes, but Johnny gets him anyway, giving him a little more time to breathe before pushing his fingers back, slower this time. Ten clenches on the intrusion instinctively, but he wills himself to relax, and the burn goes away in a minute. “Go on,” he repeats through gritted teeth, gasping as Johnny pushes deeper, but it’s better already, the feeling of being spread making Ten’s insides quiver as he gets used to it. His hands fly up to cover his overheated face, but they’re hot too, everything is hot again, and Johnny doesn’t make his life easier when he returns his other hand to wrap around Ten’s cock. He keeps kissing his thigh as he strokes him loosely, murmuring soothing nothings into his skin, but the words fly out of Ten’s head as soon as they reach his ears, and maybe it’s for the better — right now he doesn’t have the mental capacity to unpack whatever that Johnny has in himself to spill.

He loses himself in it, in the feeling of the fingers curling into his prostate, and the hand rubbing at the spot under the head of his cock, and the lips sucking bruises into his inner thigh — all three of them somehow multiplying each other’s effects on his body to the point where he can’t control the sounds coming out of him. Something fervent and tight keeps steadily growing low in his belly until it almost snaps, and that is when Ten finally finds it in himself to turn his brain back on. Not yet.

“Stop,” he heaves out, trying to shake Johnny’s hand off, “enough, I’m ready.”

Johnny smiles up at him from where he’s lying between his legs, splayed almost flat across the bed, and Ten belatedly realises that he’s probably been rubbing himself against the mattress. Poor baby. “Come on.” Ten clumsily lifts himself up after Johnny slides his fingers out of him. “Get on your back.”

“Wanna be on top?” Johnny beams, evidently happy that he won’t have to spend more time testing his core strength. He readily flops down onto the pillows, groaning as he stretches his cramped arms, but still manages to make grabby hands at him. “C’mere.”

Ten is quick to obey, finally straddling his thighs as he should have done in the first place. The air is much clearer up here, bringing his faculties back at an impressive speed, so by the time Johnny winds his arms around his waist, Ten is conscious enough not to give in immediately. “Pants off,” he orders, dragging the waistband of Johnny’s briefs down and lifting himself up so the latter can kick them off his legs. His cock springs out at last, thick and ruddy and just plain beautiful, resting hard and leaking against Johnny’s stomach. Ten wets his lips.

“The condoms are in my nightstand,” Johnny provides eagerly. “Or… in your shorts, wherever they are.”

“Not so fast,” Ten shakes his head, finally in his element as he kneads Johnny’s massive thighs appreciatively, drinking in his form in the low glow of the street light. He’s pretty like this, messy hair spread around his face and muscles standing out underneath the thin layer of fat that makes him so soft around the edges. Ten runs his fingers up Johnny’s stomach and chest, making a greedy noise at the back of his throat as he digs his nails into his biceps.

“Like what you see?” Johnny teases, shaking him out of his trance.

Ten meets his eyes again, smirking as he tightens his grip just a tad bit more. “Sure,” he purrs, rocking his hips forward to put some pressure on Johnny’s cock, and revels in the weak moan he lets out at that. He’s caught his bird. Finally.

Johnny’s hands come to rest on his hips again, but Ten shakes them off, already moving backwards to settle between Johnny’s knees. “Ten, you don’t ha…” Johnny starts, undoubtedly trying to tell him something very important, but the words turn into a punched out sob when Ten wraps his fingers around the base and licks a broad stripe up the side of his cock. There’s another sound, even louder, when Ten closes his lips around the head and runs his tongue through the slit, lapping up the bead of precome. Johnny’s hips jerk up at that, his cock hitting the roof of Ten’s mouth for a moment before he pushes Johnny back down. “Behave,” he reminds him, looking up just to see Johnny throw an arm over his eyes.

“Uh-uh,” Ten pinches his thigh, “look at me, or you won’t get it.”

“Not that I asked for it,” Johnny breathes out weakly, but he still moves his arm away from his face, and the look in his eyes is the horniest Ten’s ever seen on him so far. Good.

He ducks back down, running his fist up and down the base as he draws the head into his mouth, keeping his eyes locked with Johnny’s. He was right, it’s impossible to take more than half — or two thirds, if he’s being really generous — but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to put on a show. The weight of it on his tongue is the stuff of Ten’s dreams as he slides his mouth lower, letting the head drag against the inside of his cheek only to pull off the next second. Johnny’s lips are parted, chest heaving as he watches him with hungry eyes, gaze locked on his cock disappearing into Ten’s mouth. Ten smirks around it, suckles slow and languid, letting his spit run down the length and then lapping it up filthily. Another moan.

“You can touch,” Ten swallows thickly after pulling off, mouthing along the side of the cock to breathe a little as Johnny’s tentative hand winds into his hair, scratching at his scalp just the way he likes. There’s something to be said for fucking a person you’ve been living with for four years, Ten figures, guiding the head back between his lips. This time he takes him deeper, breathing hard through his nose as he lets the head slide all the way down into his throat. He can’t see Johnny’s face this way, but he can hear the shocked whine and feel his fingers tighten in his hair. “Fuck,” Johnny gasps wetly as Ten keeps bobbing his head, hollowing his cheeks. “How are you so good at this?”

Ten doesn’t dignify him with an answer, basking in the feeling of Johnny's thighs trembling under him. Next time his cock slides down his throat, Ten hums around it, feeling it throb against his tongue as Johnny curses above him. “Just letting you know,” his voice is going thin, “you’re gonna make me come in a minute flat if you keep this up.”

“Oh, come on,” Ten pulls off again, groaning in disappointment. “Johnny, you can still talk, it can’t be that bad.”

He flicks his tongue under the head just to see if he’ll moan one more time, but Johnny hisses, yanking him up by his roots. “Do you want me to fuck you or not?” Johnny’s voice is surprisingly deep again, now that he doesn’t have Ten to suck his soul out of him, but the ragged sound of it still does weird things to Ten’s guts. Nice things. Nice, as in finally getting dicked down.

“Valid,” Ten rasps, getting back up on his knees and wiping his mouth. “Where did you throw the lube?”

They find it under the blanket, and Ten retrieves his shorts from the floor to dig out a condom from his pocket. He giggles when Johnny impatiently drags him back to himself after that, letting Ten climb into his lap once more before hauling him into another kiss, wet and messy and with too much tongue. “Sap,” Ten snickers between their lips, pleased, “I just sucked your cock.”

“So what?” Johnny huffs, hands coming to grip onto his ass as he spreads him open, fingers brushing over his hole. “It’s a nice cock.”

Ten moans into his mouth. “You’d suck it yourself if you could.”

“Totally,” Johnny agrees easily, prodding a finger at Ten’s entrance and distracting him from his efforts to rip the foil. Ten bites his lip into his mouth, hands shaking as he keeps fighting with the slippery wrapper. “Need help?” Johnny teases, dipping in a second finger.

Ten growls, pausing his fumbling to flick Johnny on the forehead. “Need you to stop fucking with me. Shut up,” he interrupts him in advance. Johnny, to his credit, does shut up this time, slowing the movement of his fingers until Ten finally gets the job done. He shakes Johnny’s hands off after that, sliding lower down his thighs to fist Johnny’s cock a couple of times before rolling the condom down onto it. Johnny’s quick to hand him the lube, breathing hard as he watches Ten thoroughly slick him up.

“Pretty,” he whispers, almost inaudibly.

Ten’s eyes snap back to his face. “What?”

Johnny swallows, looking almost embarrassed. “Your hands,” he explains after a pause. “Pretty.”

“Shut up,” Ten cuts him off on autopilot, but it makes Johnny snicker for some reason.

“You know I’m right,” he grins.

Ten just rolls his eyes indifferently, scooting back over his hips to line himself up. Johnny’s cock slides through the cleft of his ass, catching on his rim before slipping free, and Ten shudders with his whole body at the feeling. He wraps his fingers around the base of the cock to guide it back, bracing his other hand against Johnny’s thigh for balance, and when the head finally sinks inside, he doesn’t hold back a whimper, followed by Johnny’s equally helpless sound. This is a lot. This is more than his vibrator, or his fingers, or Johnny’s fingers, or anything that he’s taken up his ass in the past months, for that matter — but this is also exactly what Ten’s craved for all this time, and he’s going to savor every fucking second of it.

Johnny’s warm hands creep up to his sides, rubbing soothing circles into Ten’s hipbones as he lets his own weight sink him down inch by inch, eyes crossing at how fucking full he is, stretched to his limits, the burn going away bit by bit as it’s replaced by prickling pleasure. He’s gonna be so sore tomorrow. Today. Whatever. Ten can’t fucking wait.

“Okay?” Johnny asks faintly as he finally bottoms out.

“So full,” Ten pants, head pleasantly hollow as he clenches around the cock buried deep in his ass. Johnny moans at that, fingers going bruisingly tight where they’re curled around Ten’s hips. Ten can’t bring himself to care.

He gives himself a minute or two to just breathe, trying to get used to the feeling. Johnny’s hands resume their movement eventually, circling around Ten’s waist to rub on the small of his back as he waits. Ten hums at that appreciatively. “I’m fine, I just,” he swallows, lost. He doesn’t know what he’s just. It doesn’t matter.

“You feel so good,” Johnny whispers, voice stifled.

“I know,” Ten laughs weakly, dropping his head down. Johnny chuckles beneath him, raising a hand to brush Ten’s hair out of his eyes, and Ten leans into his touch briefly before straightening his back again. “I’m fine,” he repeats, blinking as he gathers his marbles.

“I know,” Johnny echoes. “Want me to move?”

Ten shakes his head, bracing his palms against Johnny’s stomach as he lifts himself up a bit and drops down, letting out a little ah. God, that’s good. He goes up again, higher this time, then rolls his hips down against Johnny’s lap, eyes falling shut on their own accord. There’s almost no pain left in Ten’s body, the ability to control his limbs coming back to him as he repeats the motion again and again until he’s sure he can move the way he wants.

Johnny groans low in his throat as Ten gets bolder, lifting himself up and dropping down at different angles until he finds the one he wants, the head sliding over his swelling prostate on the next grind down. He gasps at the sensation, arching his back as he tries to repeat it. His thighs and abdomen start to shake pretty soon, strained from keeping him in one place like that, but then Johnny’s bent knees come up behind his back as he plants his feet onto the mattress, hips twitching upwards to meet his ass. Ten hums gratefully as he lets himself lean back on Johnny’s thighs for support, gnawing at his lower lip as he starts grinding down harder. “Oh my fucking God,” he whines when the next thrust of Johnny’s cock sends his head spinning.

“Good?” Johnny sounds wrecked as fuck, and Ten opens his eyes for a moment to see his flushed face, wet lips parted and brows pulled together. Looks good on him.

“Yeah,” Ten replies weakly, too focused on the feeling of Johnny’s cock rearranging his guts to form a cohesive sentence. He wants to kiss him, but he also doesn’t want to change a thing, stuck in the cycle of chasing the same moment when the head passes by his prostate and makes his whole lower body tighten for a short blissful second — again, and again, and again, and again, and again.

At some point Johnny’s hands come up to grab his hips, forcefully driving Ten down on his cock and back up to even out their pace. Ten doesn’t protest, throws his head back and lets himself be screwed as long as Johnny doesn’t change the angle. Soft meaningless sounds start spilling out of his mouth, mixing with Johnny’s grunts and filling up the room, but then one of Johnny’s hands moves from Ten’s hip to twist around the head of his cock, and Ten whines out loud. He mindlessly fucks into Johnny’s fist a couple times, barely holding himself together, before he remembers that this is not what he’s here for and stills his hips, slapping Johnny’s hand away. “Don’t,” he scolds, breathless.

“You sure you can…?” Johnny trails off, sounding a little disoriented.

“Fucking watch me,” Ten wheezes, shaking off his other hand.

Johnny resigns himself to watching Ten fuck himself onto his cock, hair damp on his forehead and hands fisted into the pillow as the muscles of his stomach flex helplessly. His half-lidded eyes keep flicking between Ten’s face and his body, desperate as if Johnny can’t decide what to focus on. Cute. “Like what you see?” Ten smirks, picking up his pace. Johnny just lets out something between a laugh and a moan, nodding.

Ten doesn’t bother going all the way down each time anymore, focusing on that one spot inside him to make sure the cockhead pounds against it as often as possible. He shudders at how too much everything feels like this — his thighs burning, skin prickling with sweat, lower lip stinging between his teeth, insides quivering from each heavy drag of Johnny’s cock, stretching him out just right. Little needy mewls start making their way past Ten’s lips as he grinds his ass down erratically, and it must tell Johnny he’s close, because his careful hands return to Ten’s sides, smoothing up his ribs, thumbing over his nipples, sliding up along his collarbones and under his jaw.

“So pretty,” Johnny breathes out over Ten’s noises, bucking up into him slightly, “so good for me, just like that,” and Ten would've told him to shut up, but he just can't get the words out of his mouth, instead closing his eyes and losing himself to sweet praises in the dark as his whole body goes tighter and tighter.

His back arches painfully when he comes, a weak spurt of liquid spilling from his dick onto Johnny’s stomach as Ten’s vision whites out. He clumsily slides all the way down onto Johnny’s cock once again, legs giving out completely when hot, shuddering pleasure ripples through his body all the way down to his toes. He doesn’t know if he’s making any sound because his ears just popped, the only unbearably loud voice in his head screaming better Better BETTER, so much fucking better than his own… anything, Ten doesn’t remember the words, he just knows that he’s happy. He can breathe again. His back hurts, but it doesn’t matter.

Ten balances himself back up with Johnny’s help, chest heaving as if he’s just run a marathon. His belly’s gone so tight that it hurts, so he tries to take deeper breaths, his whole body buzzing with exertion as he goes through the сycle of inhales and exhales. Johnny smiles up at him softly, still petting Ten’s skin where it keeps tingling from the afterglow, obviously waiting for him to come down from his high as his own forgotten cock stays hard inside him. Ten wriggles his hips a little but stops quickly, moaning at the ache in his legs. No fucking way he’s gonna walk in the next 24 hours.

“Do you mind, like,” he struggles, “moving me? Thigh cramp,” he explains weakly. Johnny nods, lowering him down onto his chest and dragging Ten’s torso forward until his cock slips out of his hole. Ten hisses, suddenly feeling too warm and too cold at the same time. “On my back,” he commands next, a deep satisfied sigh erupting out of him as his back finally hits the mattress, bones immediately turning into goo. “Come here.” He spreads his legs again, trying to pull Johnny on top of him with one hand.

“You don’t have to…” Johnny protests hesitantly, but the hope in his voice betrays his words. Ten just huffs a laugh.

“I want to,” he forces himself to speak, “I can come again, I mean, I didn’t… like, if you…” Ten’s brain to mouth filter isn’t filtering shit, and Johnny must think the same, snickering above him.

“Okay, okay, I get it.” He reaches for the lube again, slicking himself up once more before he leans into Ten’s space again, bracketing him between his arms. “I can go slow,” he offers, and Ten simply nods, letting his eyes fall shut as he blindly loops his arms around Johnny’s damp neck.

His mouth falls open on a silent moan when Johnny pushes in again, thankfully mostly missing his swollen prostate. He’s rearranged him a little, pulled Ten’s legs on top of his thighs and over the crooks of his elbows so he could kneel more comfortably between them, and he feels different like this, closer, deeper for some reason. One of Ten’s two currently present brain cells, the reasonable one, knows for a fact that Johnny can’t possibly get any deeper than when Ten was on top of him, but it still feels like it. Ten’s breath gets caught in his throat when Johnny bottoms out.

“Okay?” he asks again, giving a first shallow thrust.

Ten groans low in his throat, irritated. “Can you stop asking that already? I’m okay, I’ll tell you if… fuck,” he stutters when Johnny drives his hips forward without another word, leaning in to lick into his mouth messily. Oh, that’s better. Much better. But still could be improved. “More,” Ten slurs, tipping his head back to expose his throat.

“More what,” Johnny whispers against his chin as he keeps pulling Ten on his cock.

“Hickeys. But also. Everything,” Ten breathes out between thrusts, pleasure pooling slow and steady in his belly.

Johnny eagerly latches onto his neck to suck another bruise, hands heavy on Ten’s hips to keep him where he wants him, and the two equally intense sensations on both ends of his body have Ten’s head spinning, nails digging into Johnny’s nape as the force of each thrust shunts him up and down the mattress.

Ten feels caged like this, left completely at Johnny’s mercy, but he’s missed that too — missed being under someone. He isn’t really into feeling small and controlled, but right now it doesn’t seem that bad. Maybe it’s because he's sex deprived or plain tired, or maybe it’s just Johnny — there’s something about him that makes Ten feel very safe instead of on edge like he would’ve usually felt with a new partner. Maybe it's because by this point Johnny’s the opposite of a stranger to him — he's someone whose body is a part of Ten's own, familiar like one of a family member. Maybe it's this very smell of family, however weird it is to be turned on by that word, that envelopes Ten once more as Johnny covers him with his whole body. Johnny's all good. He’s the same as him. He knows him best, he won't ever make him feel less than he is.

Ten's whole body tightens at the last thought, making Johnny groan. He fucks inside harder, and Ten bites at the open side of his neck in retaliation, sinks his teeth deep and cruel until he can feel the rumble of Johnny’s laughter right on his tongue. “I was wondering when you’d do that.”

“What?” Ten murmurs between bites, pulling Johnny lower down for better access.

“Mark me up,” Johnny’s Adam’s apple moves up and down as he speaks, glistening with sweat, and Ten catches it between his lips too, licking off the salt. Johnny’s hips stutter. “Ten.”

Ten drops his head back onto the pillow to meet Johnny’s eyes, leaving his neck for a moment — there’s a couple of small pretty bruises blooming on the side of it already. Ten should add more. “Did you want me to?” he smirks, licking his lips. “For how long? You could just ask, you know. Nicely.”

Johnny silently stares at him for a couple seconds, expression deeply conflicted but hips still moving, and then, for the first time this night, Ten correctly predicts what’s going to happen next, opening his mouth just in time to be kissed. Johnny moans as their teeth clash, fingers digging into the meat of Ten’s thighs. “You,” he hisses, and Ten holds his breath, waiting for anything, everything, whatever Johnny has to say because it’s going to be something very emotional about Ten, and that’s what matters most — but it never comes. Instead, there’s one of Johnny’s hands wrapping around Ten’s cock, thumbing right under the wet head as Johnny keeps fucking into him, and it’s unfair, too fast, Ten wants to say, but he can’t say anything, because it just sort of happens like an avalanche — one snowflake catches another until there’s billions of them in one giant wave, and they’re unstoppable.

Tingles start in his toes, creeping up his calves, between his thighs and up his spine until they reach his fingertips and make his dick twitch in Johnny’s hold as he jerks him off fast and unrelenting, almost like he wants Ten to suffer as much as he can, and maybe he does, because all the while his cock keeps pounding deep into his hole, Ten can feel it in his fucking throat, blocking his airways, and Johnny’s lips won’t stop abusing his neck and ear, kissing, licking, biting, and he’s making these strained sounds as if he’s close himself, as if he’s gonna come just like that, inside him, if Ten just clenches down on him one more time, and for one short and maddening second Ten imagines it in its full depravity, craves it, wants Johnny to fill him up, to fuck it into him and leave him leaking, and that fucked up image must be the one to finally tip him over the edge.

This time he does hear himself — a punched out cry escaping him as he comes in hot stripes over his stomach, body jerking violently. It has no chance not to, because Johnny keeps stroking him through the aftershocks, hand sliding through the mess of Ten’s come until he can’t bear it anymore, pushing Johnny’s fingers away with shaky hands. But his cock still moves inside him, and when Ten starts to whimper, oversensitive and tender all over, Johnny breathes a small “please” into the crook of his neck. Please, as in let me — and Ten, the ever-benevolent giver, lets him, allows his knees to fall apart wider, scratches his nails down Johnny’s nape, whispers little come on’s and so good’s as Johnny hides his face in Ten’s neck, grinding deep inside him. His blunt nails dig into Ten’s sides, quivering eyelashes tickle his skin, hips move too fast — everything is happening at once, everything is too much, too messy, Ten’s body is so overflowing with sensations he might be forgetting to breathe again, he has trouble remembering his own name, but he somehow knows that he can take more, he wants to take more until he can't physically control his body, strung out like a live wire, but they haven’t gotten to this level yet — they’ll get there next time. There must be a next time.

This thought alone makes Ten’s poor dick pulse and release another weak spurt of liquid, joining the sticky mess under his navel. He lets out a strangled sound at that, clenching desperately around Johnny’s cock to be at least of some help, tugs him closer to bite at his neck once more, and that must be what finally does the job, because after a few more thrusts Johnny pulls Ten’s ass flush against his hips and just holds himself there, whining out loud. His dick throbs deep inside Ten as he rides his high, panting wetly into his skin until Johnny’s limbs give away and his whole body slumps down, crushing Ten under its weight.

Ten lets him breathe for a moment, but an unmoving dick in his ass is somehow harder to bear than a moving one, so Ten eventually pushes Johnny off, wincing when the latter slides out and falls onto the mattress with an audible thud. They lay like that for a moment — Ten sprawled on his back, heaving with his eyes closed, Johnny making similar sounds beside him. Everything suddenly falls into place, as if the bones that disappeared from his liquified body are popping back into their respective slots one by one. Everything hurts, but he remembers how to breathe, he remembers his own name, he’s aware that he just fucked his roommate, and he can’t wait to tell Taeyong. Well. He’ll tell him in the morning, right now he isn’t ready to move a single muscle.

“Clean me up?” Ten mumbles in Johnny’s general direction, still not bothering to open his eyes. He kinda expects him to complain, but Johnny surprisingly doesn’t, humming in agreement as he slowly gets up, walking to the trash bin and then rummaging around the bed for a box of tissues.

Ten stays like that for a while, letting Johnny rearrange him to his liking as he wipes the come off his belly and carefully moves his legs to do the same with the remnants of lube on his ass. He doesn’t remember the last time someone else made him come like that. He doesn’t remember the last time someone else made him come, period. His head is fuzzy.

“Do you wanna shower?” Johnny murmurs above him, but Ten shakes his head, committed to staying strictly horizontal. “Thank God, me neither,” Johnny breathes, dropping back on the bed next to him. He tugs the duvet over them once again, hands searching for his waist under the blanket, and Ten, pliant like a ragdoll, lets Johnny drag him closer and plant a kiss on his temple. “You good?” Johnny asks softly.

"So good,” Ten sighs. “Can’t feel my legs."

“Thanks,” Johnny snickers, nuzzling into his hair.

“Why do you keep offering to do things you don’t want to do?” Ten mumbles word by word, such a long sentence taking a toll on his cognitive abilities.

Johnny huffs a laugh. “Because it’s important to be polite.”

“What’s the point in being polite,” Ten argues lazily, snuggling into his shoulder.

“Because people deserve it,” Johnny hums, brushing the sweaty strands of hair out of Ten’s eyes. “You deserve it.”

Ten doesn’t have an answer to that, but still he wants to have the last word. Johnny can’t outplay him by just being kind. “How do you know that?”

“I just do,” Johnny whispers above him, smile audible in his voice. Even if he wanted Ten to follow the line of his thought and assume that Johnny himself deserves as much politeness as Ten does, he doesn’t try to get that out of him — he just holds him close, fingers lightly massaging at the small of Ten's back again. It's nice. To be held.

Maybe that’s what it is about Johnny — his ability to bicker and argue with him for days and yet still treat Ten in a way that suggests that he wouldn’t change a single thing about him. Maybe that’s why they’ve made it work for four years. Maybe that’s why Ten was so sure that the whole sex thing was gonna work out as well. Because Johnny just gets him. That’s nice, too. To be got.

“What are you doing?” Johnny mumbles in confusion as Ten lifts himself up to nip at the side of his neck — conveniently, it’s the one that’s still intact.

“Marking you up,” Ten explains casually, sucking into Johnny’s pulse point. “For symmetry.”

Johnny laughs at that, but lets him do it for a minute or two, before Ten’s gnawing apparently gets too unbearable and Johnny shoves his head away. “I didn’t ask for gangrene.”

“Your loss,” Ten huffs, lowering his head back onto the pillow. Absentmindedly, he presses his fingers into the bruises on his own neck, wondering how awful they’re going to look in the mirror tomorrow morning. Too bad no one but Johnny will see them. Maybe Ten should post a selfie.

“Will you help me dye my hair tomorrow?” he asks idly. “I feel like dyeing my hair.”

“But no one’s gonna see it,” Johnny argues, puzzled. Dumbass.

“Can’t I have good things just for myself?” Ten pouts in irritation.

“Yeah, you’ve just got one,” Johnny’s chest shakes from laughter under Ten’s hand. “Okay, fine,” he adds when Ten glares at him, “I’ll dye it.”

“You wanted it too,” Ten mumbles under his breath, offended. “And you would’ve been slow as a sloth in the morning. What was with that whole ‘ask me nicely’ thing?”

Johnny groans, turning onto his side to look at Ten. “What would you do in my place?”

“I would just say yes, you moron!”

“Yeah? You would? Look, Ten, do you wanna hook up?” it’s disgusting how good Johnny actually is at mimicking his voice, “I mean, I would never have sex with you under different circumstances, but we’re stuck in this apartment, and you’re my only option, so I think I can put up with you for a night or two, I mean, you’re horny anyway, right?”

“Okay, okay, I get it, shut up,” Ten cuts him off.

“Do I get a sorry?”

Ten huffs. “You fucked me already, what’s a better sorry than this?”

“I can think of many options,” Johnny giggles, but Ten just ignores him. His eyes are getting heavy with sleep, and Johnny’s mattress, despite all Ten’s complaints, is probably better than his own. Still, there’s one thing that keeps gnawing at his mind.

“Hey,” he starts, waiting for Johnny to hum in acknowledgement. “How do you know that porn guy across the street has a premium account?”

Johnny groans, tucking his face into his pillow. “Can you just shut up?”

Ten sighs in delight. He’s been waiting for this the whole night.

“Ask me nicely.”