Archive of Our Own

John and Smitty had managed to see each other three more times in the last week to John being in Canada. Matt had taken John to a few local museums, and Smitty tagged along. It was almost sweet. John seemed to study each piece of art and exhibit like there would be a pop quiz, how he asked questions to the workers or the Canadians he had tagged along with. 

Sometimes, when John asked Smitty questions, he started it by gently reaching out and grabbing at Smitty's fingers. Not his hand, just at his fingers. It was a feather touch, just enough for Smitty to whip his head around to meet the taller gaze. John asked such specific questions, wanting to understand the significance of everything. 

It tugged at Smitty's heartstrings. It was so sweet to him, how someone could be so enchanted by art and wanting to know everything he could. John arguably was sweet, just in his own weird way. 

The day before John's flight, Smitty found himself at Matt's house. The three men were sitting in the living room as John packed up his suitcase. He ended up leaving with more he came with, spewing about how he would alter and change all the clothes he bought. 

John's creativity was something Smitty, even when he was actively his biggest hater, could never dog and hate on. watching John create art, whether it be painting or adding designs into his jeans and shirts had always left Smitty in awe. 

John was sitting on the floor with his clothes around him, suitcases slowly being filled with clothes and shoes. Something was on the tv, but Smitty hadn't paid a lick of attention as he spoke to John. 

“-And then I think of these jeans,” John said, holding up a pair he had thrifted for cheap. They were dark wash denim, and bootleg cut. “I think I'm gon’ sew some stars and shit, maybe add a moon.” he explained, quickly folding them and shoving them into his suitcase. 

“Yeah?” Smitty grinned, leaning into the couch as he watched as John folded the last few things. The only thing he'd need to pack in the morning was the clothes he slept in. “That'll be nice. Send me photos.” 

“You guys are so sweet now,” Matt chimed in, sighing happily as he looked at the two of them. “I never thought I'd see the day.” 

“I still hate him,” John mumbled, but clearly more lighthearted. “he just now sucks my dick.” 

“And you suck mine. Don't act like it's just me.” Smitty retorted quickly, shoving his index finger at John as he laughed. 

The motion had John leaning forward and chomping his teeth at his finger, just narrowly missing as Smitty dragged his hand back with a gasp. 

“John! we talked about this!” he laughed, watching as John leaned back to his original sitting position, a smug grin on his face. 

The rest of the time went smoothly. John had (somehow) managed to shove all his clothes back into his suitcase and backpack he had brought originally. He flicked Smitty in the forehead when the younger had joked about needing to buy another suitcase, and had sworn to prove him right. and that he did. 

Smitty stayed the night. The difference from this compared to last time was where Smitty slept. Instead on Matt's couch, he found himself crawling into bed with John, where he was met with the sight of John lifting his arm and inviting Smitty to slot perfectly against his side. 

Smitty seized the opportunity and was soon resting on John's shoulder, an arm lazily thrown over his abdomen, and their legs tangled together. John's hand cupped Smitty's hip to keep them close together, knowing tomorrow they'd be thousands of miles apart. 

“How do we do this apart?” John asked after sitting in silence for a while, not looking at Smitty. Much like many times before, he stared at the ceiling. Maybe it was because he was too scared to face the reality of the conversation, or seeing Smitty's stupidly sweet face would send his emotions into overdrive. 

Smitty raised his head, placing his chin on John's chest as he looked at him. The hand that was draped across his abdomen gently rubbed circles into his bare stomach, thinking about the question. 

“You can go back to hating me, if that's easier.” Smitty shrugged, in which John pinched his hip - getting a sharp gasp in response. 

“I'm serious, dumbass,” John mumbled, his fingers soothing out the spot he just pinched as an apology. “I already hate being alone, and then your stupid Canadian ass had to come and sweep me off my feet and make me love you.” he complained, finally finding the strength to turn and look at Smitty. Just for a moment, before turning his head back to the ceiling. 

“I'll come see you soon,” Smitty spoke, like it was a promise. it was, for him - to his new found love. “And we’ll call all the time. It's not like you're leaving and we're never going to speak again.” 

A blanket of silence fell again. It was a little uncomfortable, due to the heaviness of the conversation they were having. 

“What about sex?” John asked, dead panned. 

Smitty couldn't stop his laughter, tucking his head into John's chest. When he looked back to John, he was clearly grinning as he watched Smitty having his fit of laughter. 

“You're so romantic, John.” Smitty laughed, pressing a kiss to John's jaw before laying his head back down. 

It wasn't a bad question. Almost every time he and John had seen each other, they had sex. it had been mostly quick, dirty fucks in public places.

The museum bathroom while John shoved his fingers so deep into Smitty's throat while jerking him off, Smitty thought he was going to suffocate. He almost wanted to, so this was his last memory. 

Matt had some stuff going on with his parents one day, and John finally got the privilege of fucking Smitty on the island like he had planned to the first time they hooked up. Smitty's hips were still bruised. 

They had gone out drinking one night, and Smitty nearly fucked John on the bar before John had the brains to order an uber, going back to Smitty's house, and letting Smitty fuck him while telling him what to do. 

That was something they learned they love. Smitty loved fucking John and John fucking loved telling Smitty what to do. but of course, John couldn't get enough of how Smitty felt on his cock and preferred to fuck the canadian until he was crying and begging for it to stop. 

Smitty remembered they were talking, and had to push aside the dirty and filthy things he and John had said and done to each other. 

“You can talk me through it.” Smitty blurted out, immediately embarrassed of the idea of phone sex. 

The idea had John giggling immediately, turning to look at Smitty. “What? Like we’re teens on the phone?” he asked, his fingers prodding into Smitty's side to get him squirming. 

Smitty has his head tucked into John's neck, whining from embarrassment. “Nevermind! It's a stupid idea!” he whined, slapping at John's hand without looking. 

John is suddenly grabbing Smitty's hair and tugging his head back, earning one of those pretty, sinful sighs he had become so familiar with. The grip on the dark curls was snug, keeping Smitty's head where he wants - while Smitty is staring wide eyed back at John.

“Do you like it when I talk you through it?” John asked, his voice low and almost in an overdramatic sultry way. 

It had Smitty weak, nodding silently. John's voice was like a damn dog whistle. He hated to admit it, and enver would to Johns face - but if he didnt like being called mutt or even now fucking pup - he fucking loved it. It made his dick twitch, and his chest full of a familiar warmth. 

“Then we’ll do that.” John grinned innocently, leaning forward and pressing a few light kisses to Smitty's lips. 

Smitty melts, like he always does, and he chases John and is kissing him hard. He's been trying to act brave, like he wasn't dreading the evening that would come tomorrow and tear them apart. Smitty is grabbing at John's jaw and dragging him close, and John is grabbing at Smitty's hip while his hand stays rested on his chin. 

“Bite me,” Smitty whispered against his lips, voice cracking slightly. “Please.” 

The original bite John had given him almost two weeks ago was basically gone, and Smitty wanted more. 

“Where?” John asked, pulling away to read Smitty's face. It was crunched up, like he would cry if John didn't move faster. 

“Everywhere,” he whispered again, nodding quickly as his eyebrows furrowed. “Please, please John.” he's begging. It'll be a reminder John was real and he was here and he was his. 

John nods, and moves his hand to cup over Smitty's mouth - and Smitty knows what's to follow. 

Smitty had learned very quickly he had a thing with biting, mostly John biting him. He knew after the first bite on his neck, and how'd he press onto it when he jacked off alone to feel the sting of pain running through his spine. 

John gave a few kisses to the side of Smitty's neck, a warning. After half a dozen, John sank his teeth into Smitty's neck. A muffled cry hit John's hand as Smitty's back arched, eyes closing tightly. It hurt so good. 

John kept his teeth there, ensuring the bruise would stay for awhile before licking the area like a dog apologizing. he looked up at Smitty, who was crying from the sensation. He slowly removed his hand, watching as the younger pants. 

“ More .” Smitty demanded, his voice weak and shaking. 

John obeys. He throws the blanket off them, revealing Smitty's body. He wore a loose shirt and a pair of boxers, while John was in plaid pajama bottoms. 

John pulls Smitty's shirt up, and the younger stabs up momentarily to help before laying back down. and then John gets to work. 

He's biting hard on the pale flesh wherever his teeth graze. A few below Smitty's collarbones, his chest, and one particularly close to Smitty's nipple that made his hips thrust against John's abdomen. He was hard, but didn't care. He didn't care if he got off, he just wanted reminders of John. 

Smitty had to pull his hands over his mouth as John worked down south, biting and kissing each spot so delicately as he moved. a few bites to his stomach, just above the waistband of his underwear. 

“John.” he cried. He was crying. The pain was almost too much, the reality of John leaving was growing by each bite knowing it's all that would be left of John in twenty four hours. 

“Hold on, mutt, a few more.” The name is muttered affectionately right below Smitty's navel, instead of its typically harsh and sharp way. It makes Smitty whine, and breathe heavily. 

John is kissing across the fabric of Smitty's boxers, missing the obvious outline of his harden cock, and is landed on the milky skin of his inner thighs, now laid completely down on the bed on his stomach. he pushes Smitty's legs apart, his fingers digging into his skin.

John bites down particularly hard down here. The fat of Smitty's thighs makes it hard to not push the bounds of what his skin could take. 

Smitty has to once again, cover his mouth with his hand. Hot, salty tears are falling down the side of his face - and he can feel the heat radiating in his cheeks. 

Smitty wasn't even sure if he was sobbing from the radiating pain across his body or the idea of John leaving tomorrow. glancing down as he saw the blossoming dark red bites across his body as John continued to work on his thighs, Smitty thought this was the most beautiful he had ever looked. 

John eventually left his last bite, pulling his head up to look at Smitty. His eyes scan the younger closely, going from each clear indent of his teeth to the next, and then he notices the shake in Smitty's body and his wet face. 

“Come here.” John coos, moving to his knees and motioning for Smitty to sit up, which the younger obeys effortlessly and had his arms wrapped around John's neck, and was kissing him hard. 

They're kissing, hardly breathing as they try to etch the feeling of each other's skin into their own, to remember what it felt like before they're ripped apart until the next time they can see each other. like they could ever forget it. 

“John,” he whines into John's mouth, fingers grabbing a handful of John's hair and lightly tugging on it, earning a well deserved gasp from it, lighting tugging his head back. “Can you-” 

“Yes.” John answers before he can continue, one hand trailing from Smitty's waist and to his boxers, forcing his hand past the elastic and wrapping his slender fingers around Smitty's cock. 

The younger keeled into John's body, head falling into the perfect slot between John's neck and his collarbone. One hand moved from his hair and onto John's stomach, his fingers waiting patiently at his waistband for John to tell him what he wanted. 

He could hear the hitch in John's throat, his thumb gliding over the slit of Smitty's mock to earn the whimper he was dying to hear first. “Go ahead, jerk me off.”

The words had Smitty panting like a mutt - John's mutt. It was almost ironic how well Smitty fit that description, rather he never admitted that or not. He obeyed every command from John, followed him at his heel whenever they were out - and damn near whined like one when John didn't give up what he wanted. 

Smitty's hand was quick to move, reciprocating what John was doing to his own dick. It was so intimate, to sit with their knees interlocked, putting such intense fixation on each other. He was only sure the sight looked pathetic. Smitty crying and fucking his hips forward into John's hand, and John silently consoling him with feather light touches to his ribs and side. 

“I'm here,” John whispered into the side of Smitty's head, followed with heavy breathing and grunts. “I got you.” 

John wasn't nice, to anyone really. Half the time, his friends couldn't tell if he was serious or not about his words and behavior. Random clips of John would get occasionally passed around youtube or twitter where he sounded genuinely pissed at the people he was talking to. 

But Smitty? Oh, John was weak for the man. The last few weeks had only made that clear, and he wanted to hate it - but he loved it. He loved how Smitty smiled whenever he got John to whatever he wanted, and how he melted like this when he was whispering the sweetest words. 

John loved it. He loved Smitty. 

“John.” he whined into his skin, his wrist starting to finally move more than John's - the light teasing nearly having Smitty falling apart. The action had John squeezing his hand on Smitty's cock. 

John copied the action, listening to Smitty moan louder into his neck - muffling his cries. Smitty was practically shaking in John's hold, his entire body flushed against him. His free hand was gripping onto John's hip so hard he was leaving bruises. 

They sat like this, jerking each other off. Smitty bit at John's shoulders and left the familiar and repeated patterns that John left across his body, 

Smitty soon felt the familiar pressure building, and his and stopped on John's cock as it became too overwhelming for the short moments he was approaching his orgasm. 

“ Baby ,” Smitty whined into his skin, pulling his head back to look at John. His cheeks were red and blotchy from the crying, his face wet from tears and sweat. The sweet pet name that he had never called John before was broken up from his cries, eyebrows drawn together. “Please, close.” 

“I got you,” John whispered, nodding as he spoke. “Go ahead, pup.” 

Smitty hardly waited a few seconds before he came, biting down onto the area connecting John's neck and collarbone. He hardly was waiting for his own orgasm to pass before he was jerking John off. 

“Wait-” John gasped, which was broken off by grunts and soft moans being muffled by the side of Smitty's head, his hips weakly bucking into Smitty's hand. It didn't take long for John to freeze, his cum covering Smitty's hand. 

They both stay there for a moment, retracting their hands from each other's boxers and catching their breaths. Slowly, John shifted off the bed, immediately catching Smitty's attention and reaching out to grab John. 

“Where are you going?” The younger asked, almost panicked. 

“Just to grab a towel and new pairs of underwear,” John hummed, grinning slightly. “Unless you want to sleep in cum soaked boxers?” 

Smitty immediately felt silly in his panic, and shook his head and let go of John. “No, that doesn't sound good.” he laughed lightly. 

John stepped outside the room for a second, going to the bathroom and grabbing a towel. He entered the room again, to Smitty standing and discarding his boxers into the hamper in the corner. They had a small load of laundry to do in the morning, some of it John's clothes and some of it Smitty's. 

John steps to Smitty and carefully cleans him up, making sure to wipe the sticky, white substance up from his pelvis before he removes his own pants and boxers and does the same to his own cock and pelvis.  

Smitty slips on another pair of boxers that he packed from his overnight bag, and John pulls some out from his very full suitcase. He stays crouched at his suitcase for a few moments, which gets Smitty's attention as he settles back into bed. His face is still hot, and his cheeks are still patchy red, but he's not crying anymore. Every blink, he can feel his damp eyelashes. 

“What're you doing?” Smitty finally asks, which gets no response as John is fishing for items from his suitcase. Two shirts, a hoodie, a crewneck, and a pair of sweatpants. 

John stands up, and picks up Smitty's bag. “For you,” he says, patting the pile of clothes before reaching into Smitty's bag and rugs out a few shirts of the younger's and a pair of gym shorts. “For me.” he hummed, before packing his clothes into Smitty's bag. 

Smitty smiles as he watches John, how carefully he tucks his own clothes into Smitty's bag before taking Smitty's clothes and tucking them into his own suitcase, having to use his free hand to hold down the outside of the luggage to zip it close. 

John climbs into bed, and this time is now snuggled into Smitty's side, breathing in the familiar scent. 

“Thank you.” Smitty whispered, carefully running a hand through John's hair. 

“Thank you .” John repeats, yawning. 

They're fast asleep within minutes, eventually with them turning to their sides and John spooning Smitty and holding him snuggly to his chest, fingers pressing into his stomach and waist to hold him tight. 

The next day comes faster than either of them are ready for. They lay in bed for as long as they can, taking turns holding each other while talking and laughing. John soon had to get up, and start his final load of laundry before his plane. 

Smitty gets up with him, and they're soon joined by Matt in the living room. Matt chooses to ignore making snarky remarks about the obvious bite marks across both of them, knowing that it couldn't be easy for them to be separated after growing so close after a few days. 

They spend the day watching TV, while John finally finishes packing about an hour before they need to take John to the airport. 

Then before anyone is ready, they're on the way to the airport. Smitty sat in the back while John took the passenger seat, letting Matt and John take the drive to the airport to say their final bits in person. It only felt right. 

Smitty helped get John's luggage from the trunk of Matt's car, and Matt and John hugged goodbye. Smitty promised he'd walk John all the way he was allowed to. 

The walk was silent. Full of dread, and Smitty was fighting tears the whole walk. He felt almost pathetic for how hard this felt, considering they hated each other two weeks prior. 

but Smitty was snapped out of this when John stopped, and Smitty looked to see why. tsa. dreadful. 

“Okay,” Smitty whispered, looking to John. He forced a smile to his face, nodding slightly. “keep me updated.” 

“I will.” John nodded. 

they stared at each other, and Smitty felt the back of his throat burning. 

“I'm gonna miss you, buddy.” Smitty whispered again, nodding slightly. 

“Come here.” John spoke sweetly, the only time he ever did was with Smitty. 

Smitty stepped forward and hugged John, his arms wrapped around his midsection, gripping at his shirt.  His head tucked perfectly into his neck, with John wrapping his arms around Smitty's neck and his face was in Smitty's hair.

They stood like this for probably way too long, until John's hands moved to cradle Smitty's jaw. “I have to go, Smitty.” he whispered sadly. 

“I know.” Smitty's voice broke, nodding as he frowned. 

“I'll text you before I take off,” John promised, his thumbs gliding across Smitty's red cheeks. “And when I land. and when I get back home.” 

Smitty nodded, his hands rested on John's waist, gripping him loosely. 

“Kiss me goodbye?” Smitty asked. He, originally, had talked to John about not doing pda until they came out to their fans and other friends. It felt right, to enjoy what they had before anyone else ruined it. But John was leaving, and Smitty didn't know when he was seeing John again. 

John didn't speak, and just dragged Smitty in for a kiss. It was sweet, like the type of kiss you give to your lover. They didn't really have a discussion of what they were, they just… knew. They clearly had admiration for each other, and had practically confessed being in love with each other since the first week. 

They, once again, probably kissed for way too long. Smitty eventually pulled away, lips bruised from John. 

“You have to go.” Smitty whispered, his hands slowly dropping from John. 

“I have to go,” he repeated, nodding slowly. He kissed Smitty one more time. “I'll see you soon.” 

Smitty just nodded, knowing if he spoke - he would probably cry. 

It was slow, how John pulled away and grabbed his luggage, and then walked past the gates of TSA. Smitty stood there until he could no longer see John, and then he lingered longer in case John turned around and decided to stay. 

He didn't. Of course. 

Smitty was soon leaving the airport, where Matt was standing in his car waiting for Smitty with a sad expression. 

“Didn't expect you to fall in love with the enemy.” Matt joked, watching how Smitty's lips twitched upwards and he nodded. 

“Me neither,” he mumbled. He stood next to Matt, shoulder to shoulder, with his arms crossed. “I really can't believe it.” 

Matt raised one hand and placed it on the outer shoulder of Smitty, dragging him in for a side hug. “You're gonna be okay,” he hummed, nodding his head. “You both will.” 

Smitty just nodded, leaning into the comfort of his friend. They stood like this for a minute, before Smitty straightened out and that was the signal for Matt that he was ready to get home. 

The drive was mostly silent, with Smitty only occasionally speaking up when John gave him updates on where he was. 

When Smitty walked into his house, there was a newfound sense of sadness that filled his body. He kicked off his shoes at the door, and dragged his feet upstairs to his bed. 

and then he slept. He didn't mean to, but the emotional exhaustion from John leaving was weighing heavy. 

Days passed since John had gone home. It was depressing, honestly. Smitty had always made fun of the girls in high school who acted like it was the end of the world when they didn't see their boyfriends, but now he gets it. 

He missed John. It consumed his every thought. He told John probably three dozen times a day. 

It was after a particularly long stream, with the clooless guys, the goons, and a few other friends. and John. Smitty had particularly invited John to a session of mario kart, just wanting to hear him talk for hours. 

Smitty had gotten ready for bed. A new routine, sort of. Showered, washed his face, brushed his teeth, and carefully slipped on one of John's shirts. He only wore them for bed, worried the scent would rub out too soon. 

he was laid in bed, doing his typical mindless scroll on instagram before his screen changed to John's contact. 

'Johnny 🧊is calling…’ 

He remembered being with John when he finally saved his number. He didn't want something cringy, with John's name or a pet name with a sparkling heart next to it. He had always teased John with “Johnny” knowing he hated it. and the ice cube was a reference to his channel. 

Smitty answered, bringing the phone to his ear. 

“Hi, mutt.” John's voice echoed, and Smitty smiled, immediately. his favorite pet name. Last he knew, John had his contact saved under “Smit 🥛” , but now he wondered if he had changed it.

“Hi John. couldn't stay away from me?” he asked, his free hand resting on the hem of the shirt and rubbing it between his index and thumb. It smelled effortlessly like John. 

“Never,” he hummed sweetly. “What are you up to?” 

“Just got ready for bed, probably gonna turn on my favorite streamer Kryoz videos. Have you heard of him?” he teased, his words encapsulated by giggling. 

“Ohh yeah, heard that guy sucks dick,” John replied back, and Smitty could almost hear the smile. “Like, actually sucks dick. I think some guy named… Smitty? some Canadian asshole.” 

“Ahh.” Smitty breathed out, nodding despite John not being able to see him. 

“Yeah, I heard that too. Also pretty sure that asshole Canadian loves being fucked by this kroyz guy.” John shot back quickly. 

He can hear John chuckling breathlessly, but Smitty's breath got caught in his throat. 

John heard. 

“Heard this Smitty guy takes cock like a fucking dream . Like the perfect bitch made for it,” John's voice is sharp, his mix of praise and degradation made Smitty dizzy. “Yeah, like a good mutt. the perfect dog.” 

Smitty can't stop the gasps that flee his mouth with each word, the hand that held the hem of his shirt moved to his waistband of his boxers. 

Smitty hadn't touched himself since John went home. Maybe because it didn't feel right without John, but there he was - talking to him the way he loved. 

“John,” Smitty whispered into the phone. “I miss you so bad. Miss your hands on me, you in my ear.” 

“I am in your ear,” John hummed, and Smitty could hear light shuffling. Smitty could only assume John was getting his pants off and comfortable. “Wearing your shirt. Fuck, it smells just like you.” 

Smitty shuffled his boxers down, nodding along to each word that John said. “Wearing yours,” Smitty whispered as he kicked off the blankets and gasped as his cock was hit by the cold air from his house. “Can I touch myself? Please.” 

Smitty's hand rested right at his pelvis, his fingers twitching against his pale skin. He could hear the gasps from John as he assumed he grabbed at his own dick. 

“Go ahead. Go slow, yeah?” John allowed, and Smitty's hand jumped to the head of his cock. 

The younger’s thumb pressed into the slit, his back arching off the bed. It didn't feel the same, didn't feel like John. He can hear John on the other side, breathing heavier and grunting. There's a light sound of flesh on flesh, and Smitty can see the visual. 

Smitty's hand slowly wraps around the girth of his dick, and slowly pumps himself. The sensation had him gasping immediately, shaky moans following shortly afterwards. 

“Good, that's good,” John's voice brought him back, his eyes half lidded as he slowly guided his hand up and down his length. “Wish I was fucking you, pup. You always feel so good around me.” 

Smitty's moaning again, the lingering scent from the shirt he was wearing only helped. “I miss you.” Smitty whined pathetically, his voice broken. 

While Smitty missed the feeling of John's body blanketing over him, his hands on his waist or thighs, teeth pushing into the fat on his thighs or right on his neck. 

Fuck . His bite marks. 

Smitty moved quickly, tearing the phone from his ear and put John on speaker and sat the phone on his chest, and now with a free hand - was pressing against the bite mark on his neck. It was by far the most tender one, and the prodding on his neck immediately had him crying out. 

“ Fuck you sound so good,” John gasped, the slick, filthy noises of skin on skin got louder, and John was cursing into the mic. His voice was low, almost gravely. “My perfect, whore of a dog.” 

Smitty was dizzy. “Need more-” he gasped, his back arching off the bed. “ Sir , more.” 

John went silent on the other side. That was new. Smitty hadn't even realized what he had said, too blinded by his own pleasure. 

“Go ahead, mutt,” John breathed out after a moment, and the sickening sounds of John's hand moving faster. He loved it. “Fuck yourself until you cum. And let me hear you.” 

Smitty didn't need to be told to be loud, because he couldn't stop himself. He got into a rhythm of his hips thrusting upwards into his fist and his hand moving. His moans were loud, bouncing off the walls of his bedroom and right into his phone mic. his hand pressed into the tender flesh on his throat. 

Smitty could barely hear what John had to say over his heavy breathing and whimpers and gasps, but all he could hear were the reciprocating whines and grunts. 

There was a familiar tensing in Smitty's stomach, and he felt like he couldn't breathe. The weight of missing John, the way he sucked in each breath so sharply that it felt like ice in his lungs, and the way his orgasm was approaching him quickly. 

All Smitty could think was how badly he wanted John here. To take care of him. To hold him and wipe the tears that had begun to fall from his eyes. He didn't even remember when he started to cry. But when he opened his mouth, beads of salt fell across his lips and onto his tongue. 

“ Hahfuck! John,” Smitty finally spoke up, which felt like the hardest task imaginable. “Coming- I’m going to cum.” 

John let out a breathy noise that resembled a chuckle, and Smitty could see the smile on his face. “Not my name.” 

“ Sir ,” Smitty cried without hesitation, which earned a deep grunt from John immediately. “Please! I've been such a good mutt.” 

His hand moved faster, and he could hear the same filthy skin hitting skin noise from John. 

Seconds. He had seconds left until he came, and John was taking too long- 

“Go ahead, baby.” John grunted, like he was fighting off his own orgasm to respond to Smitty. 

It hardly took five seconds before Smitty came with a loud cry, his hips rising off the bed. His cock twitched as the substance coated his fingers, and as he caught his breath - he could hear John swearing as he came onto his own hand. 

The two men sat in silence as they caught their breaths. Smitty felt like jello as he laid there, and there was the expectancy of John to be there and to take care of him, like John always did. 

But then Smitty realized he was alone. John had left days ago. 

The realization hit him like a pile of bricks landed on his chest, and he moved the hand from his throat and covered his eyes, pressing down so hard onto them to hopefully stop the flow of tears. 

But he couldn't stop the hiccup as he cried. Again. Like he had days ago. 

“Smitty?” John called from over the phone, rustling behind his voice. He was moving around in the bed, presumably to clean himself up. “Whats wrong?” 

Smitty forced a deep breath, shaky, but deep enough to gain composure. “You always clean me up,” Smitty mumbled, pulling his hand from his face and wiping his face. He laughed pitifully. “I miss you, so fucking much.”

John hummed over the phone, and Smitty could see the nod. Before Smitty knew it, his phone was vibrating and he saw his screen with his own face - John was moving the call to facetime. 

Smitty wiped his face, grabbed his phone from his chest and sat up. He accepted the call, and saw John's face staring at him. 

“I miss you,” John finally responded back, and there was a twitch of his lips. “Now get up. Don't sleep in your own cum, freak.” 

And Smitty was giggling, nodding as he put his phone back on the bed. He luckily kept tissues on his bedside table, so he grabbed a few and wiped his hand clean, before grabbing his phone and standing from the bed - and quickly tossed the tissue into the small trash can in his room. He threw his boxers into a hamper, quickly stopping by his dresser for a new pair and slipped them on. 

He looked at John, who was seemingly doing the same thing. He was cleaning himself up and set his phone propped in the kitchen, just wearing Smitty's shirt and his own pajama pants. He was making himself something to eat. 

“Are you just now eating?” Smitty asked as he went to his kitchen, to grab a class of water, dropping a few cubes of ice in the glass. 

“I snacked earlier,” John hummed, glancing at Smitty as he took a few sips from the glass. “Stream and well… the phone sex, made me hungry.” 

Smitty shook his head hearing John, setting the glass down. “I should just prepare meals for you.” he joked, propping himself on his elbows on the counter to watch John. 

John grinned as he heard Smitty, looking down as he assembled himself a sandwich. “What? You want to be my house wife? Make me meals and bring them to me in my office with a kiss?” 

Smitty giggled, taking a few more sips from the glass. “Yup. I'll be your pretty house wife, only as long as you promise to dick me down every night.” 

The joke got John laughing, nodding quickly. “If I ever pass it up, I need to be shot and put down.” 

The next few minutes were light and airy like this, and Smitty forgot why he was crying. Well. He didn't. He missed John terribly, but this felt easy - Smitty felt okay. 

“Hey,” John asked after he had finished his sandwich, and Smitty had slithered his way back into bed, now wearing John's hoodie and had tucked John's shirt up and set it on the top of his dresser so it didn't lose any scent. “You… called me sir. When did you start that?” 

Smitty's face felt hot at the words, as he barely even remembered doing it. It was so in the moment, and his dizzying, sad brain acted on impulse. 

“Oh,” Smitty mumbled, burying himself into his bed, slightly shrugging. “Slipped? Sorry. I probably should have asked.”

“No,’ John shrugged, picking up his phone and turning off all the lights of his apartment before climbing into bed, barely illuminated by his phone screen and the lamp from Smitty's room. “I liked it. Just… didn't know that was something you liked. You can keep up with it, smit.” 

Smitty yawned, nodding. He set his phone up on his bedside table, making sure to plug it up and so John could see him. “Stay until I fall asleep?” 

“I’ll be here in the morning.” John promised. 

Smitty hummed contently, and within minutes fell asleep. He had the blanket pooled around his chest, his hands bundled up near his face as he breathed in the scent of John. It's almost like he was there. 

When the morning came, Smitty tossed and turned before he opened his eyes, and there John was. Still asleep, on the phone. He looked effortless as he slept, gorgeous. 

While John slept, Smitty went into his office and got onto his computer, and only half an hour later had a flight in two weeks to America. 

It would be a nice surprise for when John woke up.