Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

September 2024

"You're using your brain too much; stop."

"At least I'm using it, neanderthal." 

Smitty chose not to respond verbally and shifted his hips a little, as if he were about to move away. John quickly let go of Smitty’s fingers to then reach back and grab his hip instead. 

"Don't." 

Smitty wasn't sure how long they'd been laying there. A few minutes; an hour; a couple of hours? He'd lost count. 

They were 'basking in the afterglow', as John had put it, something they rarely did after having sex. Well, they'd never done it quite like this before. John had read some article about how you can still feel like you're glowing up to forty-eight hours after.

They were out to test that theory. 

But, at this rate, it felt as like Smitty was going to be laying there for all forty-eight hours.

"Can we get up now?"

"No, it's only been-" John paused, lifting his head to look at something Smitty didn't feel like locating. "Sixteen minutes. I want to get to at least twenty."

"Why?" 

"I don't know. It's a solid number." 

"Weirdo." John laughed through his nose, one of those short bursts of air where Smitty didn't need to see his face to know he was smiling. 

"Can I pull out, at least? I feel like I'ma get stuck." 

"You won't get stuck, idiot. But, fine."

Smitty smiled to himself, leaning forwards to kiss John's shoulder before he shuffled a few inches backwards on the bed, bracing one hand on John's back and wiggling the other into the hot space between their bodies. John sighed softly as Smitty guided his soft dick out of him.

Smitty cuddled back into him, pushing his left arm underneath John's and pressing his chest into his warm back.

"There, that's better," Smitty said as John picked up his fingers again, running his own fingers between them. 

The timer went off a couple of minutes later, to which Smitty flopped over onto his back, whilst John sat up on his knees. When Smitty looked over at him, his face held a thoughtful shape and he immediately knew something was being cooked up inside that brilliantly cluttered brain. 

He sat up himself, leaning back on his hands and crossing his legs. 

"C'mon, then, spit it out." 

"What?" John asked innocently. 

"Whatever you've come up with." 

"How do you know I've come up with something?"

"Because you have that stupid look on your face." 

John grinned. "First of all: fuck you. Second of all: I'm a genius. I think you'll like this idea."

"Go on then. I'm dying to know now."

John smirked. "It's a game. A sex game." Smitty's brows raised. Well, he hadn't been expecting that. "Where we fuck in a bunch of places, in a bunch of positions. All determined by the roll of a dice." Smitty's brows raised higher.

He let his head flop back and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds as he mulled over the idea. It was intriguing, very much so, but he'd always been a little reluctant to try sex in public or semi-public areas. That was assuming that some of these places were outside the safety and comfort of their house. Which, when it came to stuff like this, they probably were. 

Their one-year anniversary was coming up in the next two weeks. So, maybe - he thought - it was time to spice things up a little. That wasn't to say their sex life was boring, monotonous, or at all lacklustre, because it certainly was not. But Smitty was always up for trying something new; whether it was a new game or, in this instance, a new sex position. 

John had crawled closer when he raised his head, now kneeling by Smitty's legs and staring at him expectantly, awaiting Smitty's thoughts and feelings. 

"So..." 

Smitty took the weight off his hands, rolling his wrists to ease away the ache he'd built up from leaning back on them, and moved to also sit on his knees. He raked his gaze over John's face, exhaling deeply. John dipped his head forwards slightly, brows raising imploringly. 

Smitty reached out to put one hand on John's upper thigh, suddenly aware that they were both still very naked, and said, "Let's fucking do it." 

"Yeah?" John asked excitedly, wrapping his hand around the fingers on his thigh and squeezing. 

"Yeah." 

"Awesome. This is gonna be so fucking fun." He leaned in, held Smitty's face between his palms, and kissed him hard on the forehead, before scrambling to get off the bed. "I'm going to go make a list, and find a dice!" 

"John," Smitty started. "Put some clothes-" But John had already dashed out of the room. "-on," he finished anyway. 

What the fuck had he just agreed to? 

Chapter Text

September

John didn't bring up the game again until a week later. However, Smitty saw him researching the best places to hookup, as well as occasionally seeing a cartoon reenactment of certain positions fly up his screen as John scrolled through list upon list of ones to try.

Smitty had been preparing to stream when John popped his head through the door and asked him to look for two dice, before disappearing.

At the time, Smitty hadn't understood what he needed them for, until about an hour into his stream. He had verbally said 'oh' when it hit him. Not having a face cam was something he was thankful for at that moment as his face lit up with heat.

Smitty eventually dug out a small bag of dice, tucked away at the back of a drawer in his office. He fished out two and took them down to the kitchen where John was making dinner. 

He chucked them onto the island counter, watching them travel a short distance and landing a number two and five. 

John turned around at the sound, smirking as he caught sight of the small, plastic cubes.

"Tha-nk you," he said.

"Why two?" 

"Because there's twelve places." 

Smitty blinked at him, incredulous. "Twelve?"

"A dozen, if you're feeling fancy."

"Can I know where?" 

"It's a surprise." Of course, he thought fondly. "And I thought it would be pretty romantic if we started on our anniversary, which we haven't planned anything for yet." Smitty liked that idea, a lot. So far, he hadn't had much time to plan or even give much thought to what they could do to celebrate.

Why not let a dice decide for them?

"Can I roll first?" he asked, picking the dice back up and rolling them around between his palms. 

"Go ahead." John had his back to him again as he dealt with something at the sink. 

Smitty curved his hands so he could jumble the dice, before releasing them onto the counter. 

Four. One. 

"Five," he told John, who wiped his wet hands half-heartedly on his shirt and slid his phone from the front pocket of his shorts. After unlocking it and tapping a few times, he said, "And the winner is... the backyard!"

"Okay," Smitty began. "And how are we doing it?" 

John spun around with a playful smile. A bowl, one that Smitty hadn't noticed before, was suddenly slid towards him. Bits of paper were folded up at the bottom.

Smitty glanced at him with an arched brow. "A lucky dip?" 

John looked very pleased with himself. "Uh-huh. Pretty cool, right?" He grinned. 

Smitty just laughed wholeheartedly and stuck his hand into the bowl, fishing out one of the small pieces of paper.

A tiny image of a spoon had been sketched beside the word scribbled out in John's handwriting. 

Spooning. 

\ꕥ/

The following Monday couldn't have come sooner. Smitty had grown increasingly more antsy as the days passed. He was practically gnawing at the bars of a metaphorical cage. 

The morning of their anniversary was lazy and slow. Both of them had taken the day off from… well, everything, so they could really take their time with one another. Sleeping in until mid-day; lying about in bed for another hour; clinging to each other. A couple of friends sent congratulatory messages, although they wouldn't get a response until the next day. 

And in the evening, they watched a movie. Something random that neither of them had heard of. They managed to eat dinner and watch half of the film before deciding they were both fed up with waiting. John pounced on him, kissing him hard and fast, and wrangling his hands underneath Smitty's t-shirt like some horny teenager. 

Smitty stopped them from going any further than John ripping his shirt off and grinding his hips down into Smitty's. Reluctantly, John slid off his lap and went off to shower whilst Smitty set up the garden for the first round of this bizarre game. 

The ground outside was dry so Smitty wasn't too worried about the blankets getting dirty as he layered them over each other. He nipped upstairs to grab the four pillows from the bed, as well as the bottle of lube which John kept in his bedside table. 

Vanilla had always been the flavour of sex they enjoyed the most; neither of them was overly kinky. It was either missionary or cowgirl. Cow-boy was probably more accurate. A.k.a.: John's favourite. Smitty didn't really have a favourite position. He was happy doing whatever, so long as it was John he did it with. And, they'd always kept the roles the same. Although, Smitty would definitely be open to swapping; they'd just never gotten around to trying it out. 

They had spooned before, but only in the cuddling sense. Last week - the afternoon John had come up with the idea for this whole thing - the spooning then had followed after some good old cowgirl. 

Smitty scrolled through the comments of his most recent video to pass the time whilst he waited for John to come downstairs, which he did after another eight or so minutes. He was in one of Smitty’s t-shirts that hung loosely off his body and a pair of boxers, both of which he quickly stripped off as he approached the blankets. 

His head nodded, approving of Smitty's handiwork. “Hey, this is nice.” 

Smitty smiled at the appreciation and pulled John into him by his bare waist. John bumped against him as Smitty leaned in to kiss him softly, smoothing his thumbs across the skin under his palms. John held his upper arms, squeezing them a little at the same time Smitty felt him smile into the kiss. 

After somewhat reluctantly stepping back from the embrace, John dumped his clothing on one corner of the blankets before laying down on them, his head resting comfortably on the pillow whilst remaining on his back to watch Smitty remove his own clothes. 

“I've not seen you from this angle before; it's freaky,” he said, reaching up to squeeze Smitty's calf. “I feel like you're about to sit on my face. Something I wouldn't mind, actually.” 

Smitty arched a brow down at him, shrugging off his hoodie. “I'd squash you.” 

“Not if you do it properly.” 

“I'm not sitting on your face.” 

John shrugged as best he could whilst on his back. “Worth a shot,” he said, and rolled onto his side, waiting for Smitty. 

As he stepped out of his joggers and boxers together, Smitty was thankful they didn't have neighbours overlooking the garden. He wouldn't dare get this naked if they did. ‘No’ wasn't a word he often associated with John, but he would have absolutely used it if that were the case. Although, John would've thought of that, and wouldn't have put it down as a contender. 

Eventually, Smitty got down on the ground behind the other and gently lowered himself onto his side. He squashed his chest and stomach up against John's warm back. Smitty had kept his shirt on, like he usually did, and John's heat radiated through the fabric wonderfully. John sighed as Smitty slid an arm beneath his before squeezing him tight. He could fall asleep just like this. 

“As much as I'm loving this, I'd love it even more if you would just slip it in,” John suggested after a few minutes of simply laying there. Smitty just smiled and kissed his shoulder. “Dude.” 

“Ask politely.” 

“Are you serious?” Smitty thought about shrugging before realising John couldn't see him, so he settled for staying quiet. Eventually, John did ask, in a way that had Smitty giggling. 

He shuffled back a little and gripped his cock. It was only semi-hard, so Smitty gave it a couple strokes to wake it up. The lube was by their heads, so he reached for it and squeezed a generous glob into his palm, covering his cock in a thick layer of the stuff. 

As he applied the excess to John's awaiting hole, John let out a kind of ‘gah’ sound at the cold gel on his sensitive area. Smitty pressed his mouth to the back of his head in a gentle kiss as an apology for not warning him. 

By doing it this way, John was incredibly tight; a whole lot more than usual. He had prepped himself in the shower beforehand, but Smitty still found himself struggling a little to push inside. Eventually, his cockhead popped through the first ring of muscle. 

“Good?” 

“Oh, yeah,” John said, sounding breathless already. “Really good.” 

Smitty kissed his shoulder again and began to slowly roll his hips into him. He developed a gentle rhythm with one leg bent up. With his forehead pressed into the space between John's shoulders, Smitty watched his cock slide in and out. It was fucking incredible. 

After what seemed like a couple of minutes of this, but was probably only one, an idea sparked in Smitty's brain. He ran his hand down the arm John had resting along his side, the one he had been gripping like a handle. “Gimme your leg.” 

John twisted his head somewhat awkwardly to try to look back at him. “Huh?” 

“Let me-” Smitty trailed off, curling his fingers under John's knee and lifted the limb until it was draped backwards over his own thigh. A gasp escaped John's lips as it slightly changed the angle of the cock inside him. 

Smitty reached over John's hip and took his cock in hand. Slow strokes to begin with, up and down, and repeat. The precum that had collected at the head added another layer of slipperiness as John began to let out a quiet, repetitive chorus of quiet little moans that fell in time with each roll of Smitty's hips. 

John came first, all over Smitty's fingers and the blanket beneath them. His head curved down, or whatever the horizontal equivalent of looking downwards was, while the rest of his body trembled. And when Smitty came, he too shivered and shook, wrapping an arm around John's waist and pulling him impossibly closer, thrusting into him even deeper. 

Afterwards, they laid there, out in the open. The nightly chill cooled them down after their heated endeavour. Smitty hoped to god they hadn't been loud; he'd kind of forgotten about that, because the neighbours they did have probably had open windows and ears. 

“John,” he said. John's acknowledging hum told Smitty he was close to drifting off. “You're a fucking genius.” 

Chapter Text

John rolled next, a day later. 

The corner of the kitchen counter jabbed into Smitty's front as he leaned against it. The dice rolled away from John's hands and bounced across the surface, eventually both landing on a six. John looked down at his phone and consulted the list, scrolling until he found the location for the number twelve. 

The beach. 

John rifled around in the bowl of small bits of papers and took one out that read ‘V is for Victory’. Smitty hadn't heard of it before, but John explained that it was basically missionary, except Smitty would have to hold up John's legs to create a ‘V’ shape. 

Consider Smitty's interest thoroughly piqued. 

“Boy am I glad this one came up early,” John began, collecting up the two dice and placing them beside the bowl. “I did not want to fuck on a freezing beach.” 

“It's September, it's still going to be cold.” 

John's brows jumped up and down suggestively as he smiled wide. “Less people, too.” 

\ꕥ/

“I told you, you didn't have to wear it,” he said as John wiggled in the passenger seat for the umpteenth time. He wasn't sure whether it was because of discomfort or to stimulate himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed John adjusting the front of his shorts, so it was probably the latter. 

“I know, but it'll benefit us both.” 

John had worn butt plugs a couple of times before; either in preparation for sex later in the day, or some risky business around friends. Although they didn’t do the latter very often, Smitty would constantly be giggling to himself whenever he caught John wincing, because he wouldn't be able to do anything about it. It was their secret that none of their friends seemed to have noticed. 

Dog walkers, joggers and the occasional family littered the sand, presumably hoping to catch the sunset. Smitty had a feeling he would miss it this night. 

“You sure you want to go for a walk with that in?” 

“Yes. I can just hang off your arm when I feel like I’m about to faint from the overwhelming pleasure.” 

“Ok-ay,” Smitty said, the second half of the word coming out high-pitched as if to mean, ‘don't say I didn't tell you’. 

They started down one direction of the beach, with the intention of turning back at a certain point to grab the things they'd need from the car. John's hand slipped into his as they both took those unbalanced steps across the soft sand. Soon enough, John pointed down at the ground, providing a running commentary of the different shells they walked past. But never bending down to pick any of them up, like Smitty assumed. It would have been a very John thing for John to do. Smitty chalked it up to not wanting to shift the plug inside him too much. 

It was surprisingly warm for an evening in September, even as the sky began to change colour above them. The waves lapped gently to Smitty's right, and John chatted away to his left. Smitty wanted nothing more at that moment. He was watching the most beautiful time of the day occur with the most beautiful person by his side. 

Eventually, they came across a groyne that neither of them felt like climbing over - the ones they'd passed up until then had been easy to step over. 

But before they began the walk back, John toed off his shoes and asked Smitty to pick them up for him. They strolled back to the car hand in hand, both silently observing that the number of people about had decreased significantly. Smitty had been thinking that it would probably be less risky to do it once the sun had set, but at the same time, he realised that it'd be far more romantic to fuck in front of the sunset. 

And hope to the gods they didn't get caught. 

John was positively buzzing with excitement as Smitty popped open the boot and lifted out the bag they'd packed before leaving the house. It included the essentials: lube, a couple of large beach towels, as well as a bit of Tupperware to put the plug in and keep it sand-free. They had also thought to bring a cushion, which John stuck under one arm. 

There were only about half a dozen vehicles left in the car park as they ventured back onto the sand to find the perfect spot, going the opposite direction to the way they'd gone before. The beach stretched far and wide, so the likelihood of someone stumbling upon them was very little. At least, that's what Smitty told himself. 

They found an opening at the base of a tall sand dune, with tall wisps of grass on either side, and a clear view of the ocean and the sinking sun. The tide was low and far away from them, but the sound of the lapping waves was amplified against the nothingness of the evening air. 

Their stage - though, hopefully not literally - was ready after a few minutes. Smitty had been happy to set it up by himself whilst John stood there looking pretty. An ethereal glow from the dying sunlight got cast over him. And Smitty had to stop what he was doing to take a photo of him. A few photos. About ten or so. 

John shimmied out of his shorts without a word, laying down on the towels but sitting up on his elbows. Smitty was wearing trousers, which he too took off. They agreed to keep the top half of their clothing on, for two reasons. One: there was a chill in the air. And two: there would be less to put on if they heard someone coming. Smitty tended to keep his shirt on anyway when they had sex, but John loved it whenever Smitty would practically worship his body, showing a deep reverence for him. 

Smitty swiftly knelt down on the blanket in between John's bent up legs, sliding his hands from John's calves up to his knees. He gently spread them apart, catching the purple shade of the plug in his peripheral. John was already semi-hard as he laid there in front of him. 

Smitty sat up and leaned over John to kiss him, resting one hand by John's head, the other he used to cup his warm cheek. He gradually sank back onto his ankles as he bunched up the other's t-shirt and trailed more kisses across John's chest; taking one nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking with fervour until John was a moaning mess. His hand fisted in Smitty's hair to guide him further down south. Smitty planted sloppy kisses over John's stomach, before he was finally sat on his ankles again. 

“You ready?” he asked, tugging at the plug until it slipped free and placed it in the Tupperware at the bottom of the bag. For a few seconds after, Smitty just stared unabashed at the way John's hole clenched around nothing. His cock began to swell at the sight. 

John hummed and laid on his back properly, then said, “I don't think I'll last long, just so you know.” Smitty really didn't mind, so long as John had at least one orgasm. Even better if he could go a second time. 

A dollop of lube was spread across Smitty's cock; he wiped his slippery fingers across John's awaiting hole. Smitty angled his cock towards it, slowly pushing in about halfway before reaching for John's legs and lifting them up by the ankles. 

“It's a good thing I’m flexible, isn't it?” John said with an impudent smile. Smitty just shook his head, lips pressed together in a smile of his own. 

A wave crashed against the sand behind him as he pressed in the rest of the way. 

John's back arched up off the blanket as Smitty bottomed out inside him; his legs tried to bend but Smitty kept a firm hold on them. “God, that is deep.” Smitty glanced up at him and asked what he meant. “The website said something about this position being good for going pretty deep.” 

Smitty hummed something high-pitched and thoughtful, and shuffled his knees forwards some more, pushing in impossibly closer. John released a surprised, yet thoroughly aroused moan at the motion. He'd hit the spot. 

“Feels like you're in my fucking stomach, dude.” His voice was slightly shaky. 

Smitty realised it was going to be all in the hips with this one and began to rock against him. He took it slow, like they always did, pulling out until only the tip of his cock remained inside, before pushing all the way back in. Each time, making sure to press in as far as he could and hitting the spot that had John seeing galaxies. 

At one point, only a few thrusts in, Smitty lost his grip on John's ankles, whose legs flopped downwards. But John didn't seem to care or even notice, his face scrunched up with pleasure. Smitty swiftly scooped his hands under John's calves, curling his arms around so he was effectively hugging John's legs to his sides. 

After the ninth, maybe the tenth thrust, Smitty noticed John's abdomen spasming, a tell-tale sign that John was on the edge. 

“Are you close?” he asked, keeping his rhythm. 

“I've been close for the past hour,” John retorted, albeit weakly. “But yes.” 

Smitty didn't respond, and instead let go of one of John's legs, letting it rest on his shoulder, to take John's cock in hand. A gentle squeeze and John stifled a moan, digging his head further into the cushion. A thumb swiping across the slit and John came, groaning at a volume that was far too loud for being in ‘public’. Thank god they'd done this at the least busy time of the day. 

He'd just come largely untouched and if that wasn't the hottest fucking thing Smitty had ever witnessed. 

The moment replayed in Smitty's mind. That, combined with the tightening around his cock from John's orgasm and the slick slide, sent him over the edge half a minute later, emptying his load deep into John's ass. The other squirmed again at the depth. 

Smitty lowered John's limbs back onto the ground, then pulled his cock from the heat into the evening chill. A shiver ran up his spine. 

Through light pants, John said, “Put the plug back in.” 

The idea had Smitty's dick jerking a little with curiosity. “What, really?” 

“Yes.” Smitty wasn't about to argue with that and pressed his thumb against John's loose hole, some of his spend attempting to drip out, so he applied some pressure and pushed it back inside. He grabbed the plug from the Tupperware and slid it in with ease. John sighed blissfully as he did so. 

“Fuck, that's hot,” Smitty said, allowing his thoughts to verbalise. 

John laughed tiredly and sat up further. “Damn right. Now help me stand, peasant.” 

Chapter Text

Smitty rolled the dice the following evening, getting a five and a four. As John scrolled through the list, Smitty moved closer to him in the kitchen, hoping to catch a glimpse of the other locations, but John was quick to tilt the screen away. He glared at him through squinted eyes, which Smitty mirrored with a suppressed smile that broke after a short time. 

In the car, John told him. Smitty had been expecting this one to pop up at some point. He reached out for the bowl of positions, but as soon as Smitty’s fingers grazed the top of the paper pile, John stopped him by moving the bowl back out of his reach. 

“I already assigned one to this,” he said, turning off his phone and dropping it onto the worktop. 

“Why’s that?” 

“Because I liked the sound of the position, and there’s only one way we’ll get to do it: the car.” 

“What is it, then?” Smitty asked, arching an eyebrow curiously. 

John grinned and wiggled his own. “‘Doggy Door’.” 

Smitty leaned away an inch or two. “The hell is that?” 

“Technically, I’m the only one actually in the car. You’ll be behind, giving me backshots.” 

Smitty let out a surprised laugh at his bluntness. John really knew how to seduce a man. “Great.”

\ꕥ/

“Pull off here,” John told him, pointing at a lay-by coming up on the right side of the road. It was the next day, around noon, and Smitty was cruising down a relatively quiet back road. They had been scouting for an area for the past twenty minutes or 

“You sure?” Smitty asked, turning the steering wheel anyway. 

“Yeah, this looks good.” 

Once the car was in park and the ignition switched off, Smitty made to open the door and get out; they weren't doing it in here anyway. But a hand suddenly appeared on his upper arm, holding him in place. 

“Wait.” 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, I just wanted to suck you off first.” 

Smitty loved the sound of that. And apparently, so did his dick. “Fuck- okay.” 

“Let me.” John brought his legs up onto the seat so he was sat on them. He leaned over the centre console and deftly popped open the button on the front of Smitty’s trousers. In one fell swoop, he yanked down the zip and pulled out Smitty’s semi-hard cock. 

John looked just about ready to drool at the sight of it. Smitty's big, a centimetre or two above average, even when he was soft. A couple of long, slow strokes of John’s warm hand and Smitty’s cock stood to attention. 

“We didn't bring any lube, did we?” 

Smitty's head fell back against the seat. “I knew there was something we forgot.” 

“It's fine, I can just use spit,” John said nonchalantly, as if what he'd said didn't completely short circuit Smitty's brain as soon as the words left his mouth. 

The thought of using spit as a substitute for lube had Smitty feeling all kinds of dirty. Then, thoroughly filthy when John actually did it. A glob of saliva dripped down from John's lips and landed on the head of Smitty's cock. It remained there for only a moment before beginning to slide down. 

Smitty had expected John to spread it all over with his hand, but instead he dipped down and took his cock deep into his throat until the tip of his nose grazed Smitty's abdomen. Smitty waited for him to gag, but he didn't, taking it all like a professional, which Smitty supposed he was by now. When he pulled off, a thick string of saliva connected his mouth to the tip of Smitty's cock. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, John. You're gonna kill me,” he blurted out, entranced at the way John brought his hand into the mix and pumped his cock at a slow, infuriating pace. John didn't look up at him once and spat again, focussing his attention on the top half of his length and using his hand to squeeze the lower half. 

Smitty wasn’t one to use dirty talk, but he could certainly think dirty. John was one-hundred percent a whore for him, especially now as he gave Smitty the best fucking blowjob he’d ever received. 

John continued for another minute, then withdrew Smitty's length from his throat, sitting up to kiss Smitty soundly with wet, darkened lips. Smitty released a deep breath once John sat back on the seat, one that he’d been holding as he’d grown closer and closer to the edge. 

John wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “C’mon, then, out we get.” 

Stepping out into the cool autumn air had Smitty's dick growing soft, but not by much, and he soon filled out again as he watched John pull down his trousers, kick them off to the side, and bend over, exposing his awaiting hole to Smitty. Only his torso was inside the car; and with his forearms resting on the back seat for support, he waited for Smitty to kick into gear. 

Smitty was so aroused that it was borderline overwhelming, and so he didn’t quite mind sticking his fingers into his own mouth to wet them, before working them inside through the first ring of muscle until his index and ring fingers were in up to the knuckle. 

“Jesus,” John gasped out at the sudden intrusion. 

It was largely uncommon for Smitty to prep him, because John liked to do it himself. Maybe he would let Smitty do it more often if he was enjoying as much as the moans he let out made it seem. When he pushed back on the fingers scissoring inside him, Smitty took it as a sign to move on; John needed more. 

He removed his fingers from John's puckered hole, and wiped them on his trousers, which he then tugged down his legs until they lay crumpled on the ground around his ankles. 

His dick was just slick enough still that he could slide in relatively smoothly; without any lube there was some additional friction that sent a glorious shiver down Smitty's spine. Once he was fully inside, flush against John’s ass and gripping his waist like they were handles, Smitty began thrusting his hips at the pace they usually took it. 

“Harder,” John then commanded in a rough voice. 

Smitty was a little taken aback by the direction. They hadn't ventured into the hard and fast sex territory yet; this entire thing was about exploration, so Smitty supposed it was the perfect time to try it out. “Are you sure?” 

John twisted his head back as much as he could in an attempt to look at Smitty. Though, it didn’t quite work. “Fuck me, Smitty.” 

“Aye, Captain.” 

The purring sound of a car engine suddenly entered earshot. 

“Don't fucking stop,” John gritted out, each word punctuated by a hard snap of Smitty's hips as he did what he was told, building up speed and never pausing for a second. It was clear that John had passed the point of caring whether they got caught, or if someone saw them at all. 

The car passed them in a fleeting whoosh, none the wiser. At least, Smitty hoped. 

So, with the distraction no longer present, Smitty began to really put his back into it. The skin of John's backside rippled at the sheer force that Smitty pounded into him. John's head had fallen onto his clasped hands on the backseat. 

Fast pants stuttered from John’s lips and his knees buckled, a loud moan erupting from his throat as he came untouched. Smitty held him up and felt John clench hard around him. He didn't think too much about the cleaning he'd have to do afterwards. 

When Smitty came moments later, come spurted from his cock for the best part of twenty seconds, painting thick ropes inside John. Smitty dug his fingers harder into John's hips as his orgasm ripped through him. He'd never come so hard in his fucking life; it was glorious. They were absolutely going to be trying rough sex again. 

Smitty pulled his softening dick gently from John's reddened hole after about a minute of coming back to himself. John sighed heavily as he did.

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to sit properly for a while, so I’ll just-” he trailed off and crawled forwards until he was laying across the back seats. Smitty grew worried that he’d gone too hard - despite John asking for it - as he watched John wince whilst shifting onto his back. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Smitty asked, reaching out to squeeze John's calf. 

“Yeah, I think you actually fucked my brains out.” 

Smitty chuckled, shaking his head. 

He bent down to hike his trousers back up his legs, not bothering to do them up properly. 

After digging out a blanket from the boot of the car and draping it over John, Smitty shut the door and walked around the car to the other side, yanking open the door to lean down and press his lips to John's hair, his nose and lastly, his mouth. The upside-down chaste kiss lingered for a couple of moments before Smitty pulled away, ruffled John's curls and closed the door again. 

He got into the front seat and drove home as smooth as he could manage. 

Chapter Text

Just this once, they decided to splurge on a hotel room when TwitchCon finally came around. Everyone in the group tried to book a room at the same hotel. It made it easier for them all to meet up. But more often than not, the hotel would be full because of everyone else attending the convention, and so they'd end up scattered about. It was annoying, but not the end of the world. 

But this year, John and Smitty purposefully chose to book somewhere else entirely. Somewhere fancy and romantic.

Why? Because Smitty had rolled two ones on the dice. The window. And picked out the position: upright missionary. 

He'd rolled on Monday; the convention started on Friday. Afterwards, they'd scrambled to look for a hotel with rooms with large windows. The floor to ceiling kind. Hardly anyone would be booking something like that for a convention, so they were able to book a room, even if it was relatively last minute. They had both cringed at the price - the things they did for love. But grinned as they clicked through the provided photos of the room. A floor to ceiling window, a large floor to ceiling mirror on the wall beside it, reflecting the bed. Smitty couldn't wait to watch himself and John absolutely ravage each other. 

Everyone arrived in San Diego the night before the first official day of the convention, but they didn't meet up until the next morning. 

We should get one, maybe one on the ceiling too, John remarked, looking at himself in the giant mirror once they'd finally found their room. They had gone to the wrong floor, and spent far too long wandering the maze of hallways before they realised the number was 4-6-2, not 4-2-6. Christmas was coming up - Smitty told him - maybe he'd get one or two installed for John's present. 

The first day went by slowly. It was fun, really fun, and they made sure to take plenty of pictures; but it also kind of felt like the universe knew that all Smitty could think about was getting back to the hotel room, and was purposely making time tick by as tedious as possible. 

In the evening, the group went to a local restaurant for dinner. Someone, though Smitty couldn't remember who, had booked ahead of time, making sure they had the biggest table available. They were accommodated easily, the table stretching right down the middle. Convenient for them, an annoyance to the rest of the patrons.

John had always been able to hold his liquor better than Smitty. Whilst he tended to pace himself, John ordered drink after drink. Smitty had a low tolerance, but John's was as high as a skyscraper. The last time Smitty had gotten completely wasted led to him and John getting together, so maybe it wasn't completely a bad thing. 

John got touchy when he was tipsy. And playful. He started a game of footsie with Smitty under the table as they ate. It grew pretty intense, and ended with John smacking his knee into the underside of the table and knocking over Puffer's glass. He had chosen to sit beside John, though he probably regretted that decision pretty quickly. 

At the end of the night, they said their goodbyes and broke away from the group, who were venturing back to their own hotels. Smitty crowded John against the wall of the lift when they finally got back to theirs, eagerly devouring John's hot mouth against the cold metal. 

Once the lock chirped, signalling the door was open, the two of them immediately stripped off their clothes and slipped into the bathroom to shower. Having worked up quite the sweat from both the convention and the meal out with their friends, they took turns lathering the shampoo provided by the hotel into the other's hair. It was high quality stuff that they weren't going to let go to waste. Smitty did a once over on his whole body with the body wash before swapping with John and standing under the shower head to wash it off. John shooed him out once he was done, telling him he'd only be a few minutes. 

After drying off and toweling his hair down moderately, Smitty realised he should probably stretch a bit in preparation for this position. He also slipped on a fresh t-shirt, leaving the rest of his body naked. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” John asked with a laugh as soon as he emerged from the bathroom five minutes later, towel wrapped loosely around his waist. 

With an arm stretched across his chest, Smitty replied, “Limbering up to carry your ass.” 

John chuckled a little, shaking his head, before walking over to his suitcase and rummaging around in it for a few seconds, pulling out a t-shirt. The towel around his waist was dropped to the floor as he pulled the shirt over his head. Smitty frowned curiously. 

“Why are you putting a shirt on?” 

“I'd rather not get a friction burn, thank you.” As much as he enjoyed having access to John's body, Smitty couldn't argue with the logic. 

John stepped in close and linked his fingers at the base of Smitty's skull. “You better not fucking drop me,” he warned. 

“Good thing I've been going to the gym then, isn't it?” Smitty said with a teasing tilt of his head. 

John smirked, brows jumping up his forehead. “Touché.” 

He staggered as John suddenly jumped up, catching his legs awkwardly. A grunt burst from his lips. With a frown that carried no real weight to it, he chided, “Could you not've waited until you were against the window?” 

“Nope,” John replied with a playful grin. 

Decidedly not dropping him, Smitty took a few cautious steps towards the window. He was thankful that the roof of the building opposite didn't come up to the height of their room. He'd switched the lights off too before John left the bathroom, just in case. 

A few paces from the window, he suddenly let go of John's legs for a split second before gripping them properly again. 

“You fucker!” John exclaimed whilst laughing heartedly, grappling to hold onto him tighter around the neck and shoulders. 

Smitty grinned, and pressed John against the window with a slight thud sound. Right away Smitty realised that it wasn't going to be as easy as just slipping it in, holding John like he was, so he carefully lowered his legs to the ground to rethink the strategy. 

“Just hold one of my legs,” John suggested, doing it for him. 

“Do you even bend that way?” Sure, John was flexible to a certain extent, far more so than Smitty was, but they'd never had sex standing up like this before so he wasn't sure if John's flexibility was both horizontal and vertical. 

John shrugged a shoulder. “Only one way to find out.” 

As it turned out, he did. 

Smitty hooked his arm underneath John's knee as he raised it up for him, lifting it up until his knee was about level with Smitty's shoulder. 

“How does that feel?” 

“Perfectly fine. Now, c'mon, stick that dick in me.” 

He should have been used to it by now, but sometimes John's bluntness took him by surprise. “So polite,” he retorted with a giggle, reaching for the bottle of lube that he had put on the small table by the window for convenience. He mouthed at John's neck as he coated his cock with the hand that wasn't attached to the arm holding up John's leg, and stroked it twice to get himself full hard. He hadn't even touched John and yet his cock was standing to attention, leaking from the tip. 

His mouth left a trail of licks and kisses and bites across the expanse of John's neck, his jaw and cheek, and finally his lips. All the while, easing inside of him. A wonderfully gruff sound vibrated against Smitty's mouth when he was buried to the hilt. John's head lolled to one side, eyes falling shut in bliss. Smitty began to nip at his neck again. 

They never usually marked each other this way, but he had such easy access that he couldn't help himself. And the way John whined made him all the more thankful he hadn't held back. That would certainly get the fandom raving at the sight of red marks littering the right side of John's neck. People knew about them, of course, but they were always careful to not be too affectionate with one another. 

The rhythm was easy to find, pumping his hips upwards, in and out of John at an increased rate. His hold of John's leg was stable; John had slid his hands back and was now squeezing at Smitty's shoulders tightly. Ever since having sex in the car, a fast fucking was a frequent request. Smitty supposed it was good exercise for himself too. 

One of John's hands left his shoulder and slid down his side, slipping beneath his t-shirt. Smitty didn't quite know what he was searching for, if anything at all. A shiver worked its way across Smitty's body at the delicate touch. Fingers traced lightly up and over Smitty's stomach, absently pinching at his belly, his nipples, and then letting go completely. John's cock was trapped between their stomachs. He started rocking his hips in sync with Smitty's thrusts, creating that friction that he desperately needed, until he was spurting up over both of their fronts. John sagged against the wall, completely sated, and his mouth hung open. 

The arm holding up John's leg screamed at him as Smitty kept pistoning his hips up into John, hard and fast, chasing that ever-growing release. His thighs had started to shake too, both from the strenuous movement of the last few minutes, and the power of his orgasm. He thrust his hips up a couple more times, trying to get as deep as he could at this angle as he came. He bit down on John's neck with a muffled groan, pulling a strained ‘fuck’ from him. Smitty loved it whenever John made sounds, said words, like that - breathy and fucked-out; noises no one else would ever hear but him. 

For a moment, Smitty thought he'd bitten hard enough to draw blood, but when he bent his head back and opened his eyes, he was thankful to see he hadn't. They weren't that kinky. 

Smitty put John back on solid ground as gently as he could, his whole body now feeling shaky. A steamy outline from the waist down was left in John's wake. He latched onto Smitty's arm, and they took wobbly steps towards the bathroom. 

“Fuck, that was good; my legs are shaking.” John ran his hands down his thighs as an aid to relieve some of the tension. “And they ache like hell.” 

Smitty scoffed a little. “Your legs are achy? I've just been carrying your heavy ass.” 

“Yeah, well-” Smitty raised his chin and brows in anticipation of John's retort. “You suck.” 

“Nice one, idiot.” Smitty giggled. “Oh, but there is something you could suck.” 

A devilish glint flashed in John's eyes. “Suddenly my knees are fine.” 

Chapter Text

Smitty wasn't quite sure how they were supposed to do this one. The position was something John called ‘Quickie-fix’. In the kitchen. It sounded like they were playing some sexual version of Cluedo. 

This ‘round’, so to speak, didn't need to be planned like the others they'd done so far - hence the name ‘quickie’. It was supposed to be spontaneous. What was he supposed to do? Just come up behind John as he stood at the stove making dinner one night, and just start humping away? 

He laughed to himself as the thought struck him. No, that would be dangerous, and they'd probably end up burning the house down. 

It would happen when it happened, he supposed. 

\ꕥ/

It was a few days later when Smitty came downstairs in the late morning and found John leaning on the kitchen counter, scrolling on his phone. Not an unusual sight by any means. But what was unusual was the t-shirt he wore. The only thing he wore. A light brown oversized thing that definitely was not Smitty's. 

His feet were a shoulder width apart, baiting Smitty like they were in some cringe porno. Smitty wasn't that easy. 

Actually, when it came to John, he absolutely was. 

“This is new.” Crowding up behind him, Smitty slid his hands around John's waist, and pressed a kiss to his hair. “And, it's not even one of mine.” 

“You like it?” Smitty could hear the smile in his voice without needing to see it. 

He tugged John closer to his front. “Fucker; you know I do.” 

John hummed a laugh, pushing back against him. “No, you fuck-er me now.” 

“What?” Smitty asked, laughing at John's disjointed play on words. “I'm about to stream.” 

“Dems the rules.” John turned his head to one side to look at him. “So, you better make it quick then.” 

Smitty's mouth opened and closed a couple of times like a fish out of water. Tough decision… Create content for his viewers, or rail John against the kitchen counter. Well… He would be lying if he said he didn't already know the answer. 

“You're lucky I love you.” 

He took a step back to lift the shirt and unveil John's unsurprisingly naked ass. John leaned forwards, his elbows resting on the counter as the rest of the shirt was pushed up his torso. Smitty traced a hand down John's warm back, over each ridge of his spine, to the small of his back. A thought struck him. 

“I'm not using fucking soap, or olive oil.” 

“Good thing I like to keep a bottle of good ol’ lubricant close by wherever I am, isn't it?” John said slyly, before sliding a bottle of lube out of seemingly nowhere. 

Smitty scoffed and squeezed John's hips. “Spontaneous, my ass. You planned this.” 

“No shit, Sherlock.” 

Smitty smiled and shook his head in disbelief, running a hand through his hair. 

He picked up the bottle and held it in one hand whilst splaying the fingers of his other just above John's ass. “Do you want me to prep you?” 

John's answer was instantaneous, hips swaying from side to side. “No.” 

Smitty was mesmerised by the movement for a second before he registered what John had just said. “Really? Do you have some kind of pain kink I don't know about?”  

“I guess we'll never know,” John replied, doing his best Kanye West impression. Smitty chuckled, lifting his hand from John's behind, and flicking open the cap to the lube bottle. After squeezing out an ample amount, Smitty let the lube just dribble down between John's ass cheeks, watching it slide to where it needed to be. 

He watched for a few more seconds before reaching for the top of his joggers, pulling them down in one quick motion. He stepped out of them and kicked them away. Sliding in between the globes of John's ass, he coated his cock in the lube. A shiver ran up his spine. 

John hissed as Smitty guided his cock inside him, breaching that first ring of muscle, understandably so. Smitty paused. 

“You sure you don't-” 

“Yes.” There was no arguing with that, he supposed. 

“Okay.” Smitty kept pushing forward until his hips were flush against John’s ass. He rubbed a comforting hand on the base of John’s spine as he panted heavily. “You want it slow or fast?” 

“You’ve got somewhere to be, don’t you?” 

And that was all Smitty needed to hear. 

He began to piston his hips, fucking hard and fast into him, just as John had requested, both hands gripping his hips in a vice grip. John floundered for something to hold on to, like he was searching for something in ultimate darkness, or Velma reaching around for her glasses. Eventually, his fingers curled over the edge of the sink. 

Every time Smitty slid home, John would let out these blissful, quiet moans that would only encourage Smitty to keep going. But he wanted them louder, wanted to feel them vibrate through his brain. He slid his left hand up John's back until his fingertips touched the base of his skull, weaving between John's waves. 

“Yeah,” John begged. “Fucking pull it.” 

Smitty didn't need to be told twice, curling his fingers into a fist between the strands of hair. Tugging once, then twice, then a third time, each one receiving a loud whine. John let out a sharp gasp when Smitty used his other hand to pull him up from the counter, his back arching a little, hands scrambling to find stability at this new angle. He was like a bit of malleable metal that Smitty could bend to his will. 

“Holy fucking shit.” John's voice came out stuttered and breathless as Smitty hit him with quick and determined thrusts, over and over and over again, quite literally knocking the breath out of him. 

“Ah, fuck, I'm gonna come,” Smitty admitted gruffly. 

John turned his face towards Smitty's as best he could, hot breath against his temple. “Yeah, c'mon, baby, give it to me.” 

Fuck. Smitty's thrusts grew sloppy, and he lost the rhythm he'd built up, chasing his orgasm with gritted teeth. He bucked up into John one last time, going in as deep as he could as he came. The body in front of him trembled as Smitty sandwiched him against the counter. 

John collapsed forward when Smitty loosened his grip on his chest. He lay there, exhausted and used, across the marble. Smitty loved that he was the one to do this to him. 

“Okay?” 

“Yeah,” John trailed off, the single word nothing more than a whisper. He pressed his cheek into the cool worktop, panting heavily. 

Smitty smoothed a hand up John's flank, gently guiding his cock from him. “Definitely?” 

John nodded against the marble, his lips dark red from biting so hard on them. “In the car, you fucked my brains out; and now, you've fucked all the air out of my lungs.” 

“Another satisfied customer.” 

John pushed up from the counter. “Bitch, please.” 

Smitty stepped back to let John have his personal space back. 

“Did you come?” 

“Uh- yeah.” There was a hesitation in his voice that had Smitty thinking he was lying. But then John took a step backwards, his shoulder knocking into Smitty’s, and he saw what made John take pause. His come was splattered down the height of the kitchen island. “Oopsies. My bad.” 

Smitty chuckled, then scrunched up his nose at the thought of wiping it up. “I'm not cleaning that shit. Your mess, your problem.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Now,” John began, wrapping his arms around Smitty's neck. With his mouth millimetres from his own, John said, “Kiss me, you fool.” 

They both grinned into the kiss. Hands slid up the back of his skull, nails raked across his scalp. Smitty squeezed John's hips as pleasant tingles scattered throughout his head. He took John's bottom lip between his teeth for a moment before diving his tongue back into his warm mouth. One hand travelled low, scooping around John's ass and along his thigh. Smitty curled his fingers, silently asking. And John answered, lifting and bending his leg to allow Smitty to raise it. He hooked his hand under John's knee, holding it close to his side. 

“Oh, wow.” John's eyes were locked onto somewhere above his head once they'd parted, a good two minutes later. 

Smitty dropped his leg back onto the floor. “What?” 

“You should see your hair.” He subconsciously reached for his hair, stepping over to the small mirror on the wall beside the fridge. Strands of hair stuck up in all directions like he'd just woken up. “Bet you're glad you're a faceless Youtuber,” John teased with a smirk. 

When Smitty finally sat down to start his stream - twenty minutes later than when he'd originally planned to - he told the chat to blame John. 

Chapter Text

October

On a chilly morning in early October, the dice left John's hands and bounced across the kitchen counter. They landed on ‘5’ and ‘2’ respectively. The living room floor. It sounded uncomfortable. But he supposed a pillow or three, and a blanket would do the trick.

“Mountain Climber,” John read aloud before scrunching up the small slip and chucking it in the general direction of the bin. 

“The fuck is that?” Smitty asked, watching the tiny ball hit the floor. 

“Basically missionary but you'd be, like, planking over me.” 

“Great. Another one for me to strain my muscles for.” 

“I don't make the rules, man.” 

Smitty narrowed his eyes. “Yes, you do.” 

“Oh, yeah.” 

“Dumbass.” 

“Bitch whore.” 

“Ass fucker.” 

“Cumslut.” 

“Pot calling the kettle black, buddy.” 

John stuck his tongue out childishly before fleeing the room. Smitty heard the bathroom door close gently, and he was alone. Well, not entirely. Octavia was snoozing soundly on her bed by the back door, dead to the world. As he stared at her sleeping face from across the kitchen, an idea struck him. One that had his stomach filling with a ferocious flurry of butterflies. 

What if he was the one on the bottom this time? 

He'd never been brave enough to cross that bridge and suggest it as an option. But the idea seemed kind of… intriguing. Never before had he done it, nor was he sure he'd even enjoy it. There was no harm in trying, right? Don't knock it until you try it, and all that. 

Sometimes, John's fingers would wander whenever he sucked him off, and his thumb would graze over Smitty's area. He had thought about it before: John applying the slightest amount of pressure and dipping the tip of his finger inside him. It was both a scary and exhilarating thought. He wouldn't be averse to trying it. 

“How about we switch it up?” Smitty suggested before he could stop himself when John came back into the room. 

“Yeah, okay,” John said, somewhat disinterested as he pulled open the fridge door. “How?” 

“Switch it up.” 

John pulled his head out of the appliance, eyes widened significantly with realisation. “Oh. You want to?” 

Smitty shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t freaking out about the idea. “Why not? This whole thing is about trying new things, and this is just another new thing.” 

John's face lit up, the contents of the fridge swiftly forgotten as he strode towards Smitty. 

“Shut the d-” Smitty began to say but was cut off as John kissed him. It was short and sweet and made him glad he'd brought it up. 

John cupped his cheek; he leaned into it. “This is gonna be fucking awesome.” 

The rest of the day passed normally after that. At eleven, Smitty drove them to the store to pick up some groceries. Not a full shop but just a couple of bits that they considered to be essentials. John bounded further down the toiletry aisle, leaving Smitty to push the trolley they didn't really need. 

“You wanna get condoms?” 

The question startled him into dropping the bottle of shampoo he'd been holding. “What?” Smitty asked, eyeing the elderly couple a few metres away from him, before bending down to pick it up. He was surprised to find it hadn't split open and burst all over the floor. 

“I said: do you want-” 

“I heard what you said. I just wasn't expecting you to say it so loudly.” He laughed. 

“My apologies, good sir. Allow me to be more discreet.” John stepped up to him and whispered into his ear, “Do you wanna get condoms?” 

“What do you suggest?” 

“We should.” John touched his arm in a comforting manner, then brushed the back of the same hand feather-light across Smitty's cheek, his eyes scouring over his face. He loved John's gentle touches; they never failed to make his stomach perform flips. “It's your first time, so.” 

Smitty smiled softly. “Okay.” 

The drive back was silent apart from the music filtering from the car's speakers. They'd known each other long enough that a moment of silence wasn't awkward. Unless they argued, seriously argued, which even then, rarely happened. Back at home, John dashed upstairs to begin streaming. Just a couple of short solo indie games. Smitty slipped Octavia's harness over her head, securing it around her middle. For the next hour or so, he took her for a run around the park. Throwing a tennis ball for her, sprinting in short spurts across the field, and snapping a couple of photos to post on Instagram. 

Later, when he returned home, he hopped onto his own stream and joined John. They hadn't chosen a game beforehand, but eventually settled on diving back into 'Long Drive'. Two and half hours passed before they wrapped up. It was the early evening. Smitty didn't end up eating much of the dinner they prepared together. Not because he was nervous - he was - but mostly because… wasn't that part of it? Eating very little beforehand? He'd hardly eaten the entire day. 

“It's been a while since I've put my dick in anything other than my hand, your hand, or your mouth,” John said, shovelling a piece of broccoli into his mouth. 

Smitty chuckled lightly as he pushed around his own piece with his fork. “Well, it's your lucky night, buddy.”  

John stabbed another onto his fork and spun it in front of his face. "It's also gonna be my first time fingering anyone other than, y’know, myself." 

He shook his head fondly at how unapologetically unabashed he was. "I'm honoured to be your first." Smitty put his cutlery together on the plate. Most of the food was left untouched. John eyed it as Smitty slid the plate a short distance across the table, but didn't say anything. "So, I suppose I should shower?" 

"Want help?" 

Smitty smiled, grateful for his offer. But really, he couldn't think of anything more mortifying. "Nah." 

"You didn't eat much." 

"Yeah, you know why." 

"I do. But just know: I don't fucking care. You don't need to be squeaky-clean." 

Smitty laughed a little. "Okay. Good to know. I'll see you in the living room in a bit, yeah?" 

Under the hot spray, Smitty wondered how long he should take. Five to ten minutes was how long he usually took. Unless John was there, then it would take twice as long. And how hard should he scrub? John had been adamant that he didn't need to 'squeaky-clean', but Smitty couldn't help but want to. Whenever the sex was spontaneous, it never mattered. Cleanliness was last thing they worried about. Getting each other off was the priority. 

He wetted a flannel and squeezed a generous amount of body wash onto it. After foaming up the cloth, he used it to get into every nook and cranny. Rinsing off the suds was done in quick succession. Before turning off the shower, he dared to press a finger against his hole. Out of curiosity. It was only a few millimetres that he pushed inside. It didn't necessarily feel good or bad, just weird. Unfamiliar. 

He was really about to do this, wasn't he?

In the centre of their bedroom, he thoroughly dried himself and towelled his hair to a somewhat dry state. Walking through the archway into the living room a few minutes later in a t-shirt and a towel wrapped securely around his waist, Smitty noticed how John had pushed the coffee table to one side, creating a large amount of space for them. He was lounging on the sofa, facing away from Smitty, who crept up behind him, pouncing on his shoulder and causing him to leap from the sofa. 

“Are you absolutely, one hundred percent sure you wanna do this?" John asked him earnestly after having called him a 'little bitch' for scaring him. "Y’know I go fucking crazy for a good dicking.” 

Smitty smirked. “Crazy? I was crazy once.” 

"They locked me in a room." Smitty opened his mouth to continue the bit, but John swiftly cut him off. "Hey, wait, you're stalling!" 

"I'm not!" 

John rolled his eyes. “But seriously: you don’t have to.” 

"John, I want to." He stepped closer, resting a hand on John's forearm reassuringly. "Like I said before: it's just another new thing. And if I don't like it, I don't like it." 

John stared at him with narrowed eyes for another twenty seconds before his shoulders relaxed and he guided Smitty to the makeshift bed he'd created on the rug. The cushions once adorning the couch were now on the floor in a neat pile; the blanket typically slung over the back of the armchair now lay folded in a rectangle beneath his feet. Smitty lowered to the ground, laying on his back on top of the blanket. John got down on his knees between Smitty's open legs, resting his hands on Smitty's knees. He shivered at John's cool palms. 

"May I?" John asked, tipping his head towards what Smitty assumed was the towel still wrapped around his waist. He nodded, attentive hands untucking the fabric and flattening it across the floor. 

“A cushion for your head, my good sir.” A cushion from the pile was placed under his head. “And another for your ass.” The other, placed under his hips. 

Smitty stared up at him with a grin. “You treat me so well.” 

“Only the best for my bottom baby.” 

“Fuck you. Don't you fucking call me that.” 

John slanted a glance his way with an amused smirk, brows bouncing in excitement as he plucked the rings from his fingers and placed them on the coffee table. "Now comes the fun part." 

"I thought getting to stuff your dick inside me was the fun part?" 

With an arched brow and head tilted to one side, John suddenly crawled up his body until his hands laid flat on either side of Smitty's head, exactly what the position required. He lowered a little, like a press-up, and said, "This is more fun. I get to make you squirm." His voice was unnaturally low, and Smitty shuddered at the sound of it. John noticed his reaction and smirked again, sitting back on his ankles to pluck a bottle of lube from the coffee table. He pumped a line along his index finger, using the opposite hand to spread it over the whole digit. 

And then, John did the exact thing he said he would, pushing his lubed up index finger through the first ring of muscle. It was only a few millimetres at first and yet it had Smitty squirming. 

“Shit.” 

“Okay?” 

“Y-yeah.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes, John. Keep going.” 

“Okay, baby, just making sure.” 

The finger pressed in deeper until the knuckles prevented it from going any further. Smitty did indeed squirm, chasing the pleasure and pushing back against John's hand. He sucked in a shaky breath, sharply releasing it the moment John slid his finger out and straight back in. 

“Another?” 

“O-okay.” 

The finger slid out of him completely and Smitty let out the breath he'd been holding. It was quickly replaced with something wider: the width of two fingers pushing inside him. Smitty's stomach fluttered as John began to scissor and curl his fingers. He pressed in further than Smitty thought possible, like he was searching for something. Smitty immediately knew when John had found it because he was suddenly arching up off the floor in shock. 

"Oh! Fuck. Me." 

"Bullseye." 

Smitty didn't have the mind to laugh, or tell him how ridiculous he was. An embarrassing sound burst out from the back of throat. High-pitched, and entirely unlike him. John had kept eyes on him the entire time, and his mouth tipped up in a pleased half-smile. Smitty thought he'd never looked more attractive. 

“Wanna go three for three?” 

Smitty lifted his head from the cushion once more. “No, no, I just want you.” 

John reached out to brush his free hand over Smitty's forehead, shifting some hair to one side before leaning closer to kiss him there. “You have me.” 

Smitty let out a breathy laugh, head falling back against the cushion. "Shut up."

Grinning, John slid his fingers out and wiped them on the towel. He plucked a condom from the box on the coffee table and tore open the small packet. 

"Ready? Last chance to back out."

"Please, John." 

"Okay." John's smile was warm and reassuring, and it had butterflies swarming in Smitty's stomach. 

With the condom rolled onto his cock, additional lube slathered all over it, as well as Smitty's entrance, John sat up from his ankles. He placed one hand on the floor beside Smitty's hip, starting to lean over him again like the position they were meant to be doing. Although, Smitty didn't think either of them cared too much about it now. 

The head of John's cock pressed against his hole as Smitty attempted to control his breathing. With one last encouraging smile, John pushed inside him, and- holy fuck, it was surreal. It felt like he was being stretched out a thousand times wider than John had managed with just his two fingers. Smitty's eyes began to water from the mixed sensations - the painful stretch, the surrealism of John filling him, and the blissful pleasure beginning to seep through. 

“F-fucking dammit,” he stuttered out. His hand flew to his face to wipe at his eyes, whilst the other gripped the top of his thigh tightly. 

“Hey, it's okay. You're doing so well, baby.” 

John finally slid home after what felt like hours but was likely less than a minute. A few stragglers had slipped down Smitty's cheeks and into the corners of his mouth. He licked his salty lips as John remained stationary inside him. 

"You look so beautiful like this, Jaren." 

Smitty whined at the sound of his first name. John always knew the right time to use it. 

The following slide of John's cock was glorious and overwhelming and other-worldly. He pulled out about halfway before diving straight back inside. The pain had largely subsided and Smitty was now swimming in an ocean of bliss. Another happy tear slipped out. 

The third time John thrusted all the way inside him, it must have been at a slightly different angle because Smitty arched up off the ground again, fireworks exploding behind his eyelids. He let out a high-pitch whine. Above him, John was smiling, appearing pleased with himself. 

"Are you close already?" Smitty couldn't do anything but nod, and give a little hum. "Me too. Let's get there together, okay?" 

"'Kay." 

Smitty hissed when John wrapped his fingers around his overly sensitive cock. His nerves were on fire so much so that it was almost painful when John to begin pump up and down. He could explode right there and then, but he held back. They were doing it together, and he wasn't about to ruin that wonderful idea. He somehow managed to hold on for a short while longer, even as John continued to thrust in and out at a languid, tantalising pace, hitting all the right places inside of him every time. 

Smitty's entire body quivered when he finally did come, pulsing come across his stomach. His legs shook, pure ecstasy spreading throughout his body, hips bucking upwards a little too. A burning heat radiated inside of him simultaneously. John collapsed on top of him, his head just falling shy of the mess Smitty had made on himself. He threaded a hand through John's curls, scratching his nails across his scalp as they both recovered from their intense orgasms. 

A minute or two passed quietly with only their gentle breathing filling the silence. At some point, John raised up onto one arm, reaching between their bodies with the other to guide his softened cock out of him. An emptiness was left behind. John then sat back on his knees to pull off and tie up the condom. Smitty sat up on his elbows, watching him dump it on the floor. 

Just then, he caught sight of the drying spend on his stomach, having completely forgot about it. To wipe it away, he picked up the corner of the towel still beneath him. 

John batted his hand away. "May I?" 

Smitty chuckled, knowing exactly what he wanted to do. "Go ahead, freak." 

John's tongue was warm and wet flattened across the plain of Smitty's abdomen, licking stripe after stripe until nothing remained. Good as new. At this point in their relationship, Smitty didn't think much could surprise him anymore, or gross him out. 

"Yum," John said, a shit-eating grin lighting up his features. 

Smitty laughed happily. "You're a child." 

They clung to each other afterwards. John laying on top of him again with Smitty's arms wrapped tightly around him, head tucked in Smitty's neck, and their legs tangled together. He was exhaling so softly that Smitty wondered whether he'd fallen asleep. So, he decided to say something. 

“Thank you for this. I love you.” 

John picked his head up off his shoulder, eyes shining brightly, the slightest hint of a smile playing on his lips. Pressing his lips to Smitty's cheeks, he replied, “My absolute fucking pleasure.”

Chapter Text

"First oral position!" John announced after Smitty read out the name of the position: Elevator. Which was ultimately a glorified blowjob. 

"And we're doing it in the woods?" 

"Yup." 

"Fantastic," Smitty said, trying to sound less an impressed. Though, the thought did excite him. Sex in nature could be romantic. 

A couple of hours later, Smitty drove them back to the same forested area they had visited for the car round. He parked at the entrance of a public hiking trail. At the sight of two other cars parked in the small dirt car park, Smitty arched a brow towards John. 

"What?" 

"There are other people here." 

"So? It's more fun. And, risky." 

"Okay, well, don't say I didn't warn you when we're getting arrested for public indecency." 

"C'mon, party pooper." 

For a little over ten minutes they strolled down the trail, finding no one. But that didn't mean they weren't around there somewhere. Smitty's eyes darted from left to right with every step. John told him to relax half a dozen times. No one's here. 

Eventually they came across a tree a few metres from the path with a thick enough trunk that Smitty was unable to see John from the trail when they tested it out. 

John slapped the trunk a few times. "I think this is the one." 

"Take your pants off, then."

He didn't. Not completely. It was safer to just let his trousers fall to his ankles, in case of an emergency. An emergency such as: a stranger stumbling upon them, John up against a tree, his cock down Smitty's throat. The scenario played out in Smitty's mind even as he sank to his knees on the surprisingly dry ground for the middle of October.

John's cock was soft, of course; not at all helped by the chill in the air. Smitty set about changing that, taking it in one hand and stroking it leisurely until he felt it filling out in his palm.

"There we are. That good?"

John's face was scrunched up, one hand bracing the tree trunk, the other buried within his own curls, tugging loosely at the strands as if to make up for Smitty not being able to do it from the ground. "Yeah."

Smitty opened his mouth to suck in the head of John's cock, tonguing the slit attentively before pulling off completely. John let out an irritated noise, eyes snapping open.

"Don't fucking tease me right now, Smitty, please." Smitty hadn't quite heard the final word. Or, at least, that was what he told John when he asked him to repeat himself. "Please," John responded dutifully, head leaned back against the bark.

Smitty didn't say much else, and instead slid his lips down the complete length until the tip of his nose touched John's stomach. John cursed up a storm, not expecting him to be so forward. Smitty attempted to swallow around him. A hand shot into his hair, trying to pull him back as if it was too much. He held firm and brought his fingers to John's balls, squeezing them gently, just to add fuel to the fire. And, to add a little more volume to John's pretty moans and whines. 

Suddenly, Smitty's worst nightmare came true as the sound of chatter came into earshot. 

"Why'd you stop?" 

He kept one hand on John's cock as he stared up at him in mortification. "Can you hear that?" 

John turned his head to one side, listening out. His face dropped when he heard it. "Oh, shit." 

"Yeah, oh shit." 

"See what I mean, though? It's exhilarating." 

"You're insufferable." 

Just then, a chocolate labrador with a greying chin bounded up to them. 

"Hey, doggy," John cooed quietly as the pooch sniffed the area around them, tailed wagging happily. Smitty preemptively covered John's cock with his hands, just in case the dog thought it was a toy for him to chew. That was the last thing they needed. Imagine recounting that story to their friends. 

"Alfie!" One of the people walking past called out. The dog's ears perked up, eyes locked on Smitty's as if to say 'You hear that?' before scampering back to his owners. 

And, just as quickly as the dog had arrived, it was gone.

Smitty breathed a sigh of relief, eternally thankful the other people hadn't caught sight of them, or worse: they got curious and followed their dog to the tree. But it seemed John had thought it to be a minor mishap, as he got comfortable against the tree, and said, "C'mon, then, finish me off." 

"I'll bite it off if you're not careful." 

John's cock had started to lose interest. Smitty gave it a few languid strokes to wake it up again. John let out a series of stifled groans and soft moans from the kisses and licks Smitty began to pepper over the tip and along the shaft. He was back to teasing him. 

A dirty thought suddenly struck him. 

A few weeks ago, when John had sucked him off in the car, he'd done something revolutionary. And Smitty wanted to do the same. Continuing to pump his fist up and down John's cock, he gathered some spit in his mouth, and at the same time, raising up from his ankles to be higher than the cock in front of him. 

Saliva dripped from his lips. He used his hand to spread the makeshift lube over John's cock, before taking him back into his mouth. It wasn't any less dirty than when John had done it to him. He took him deep into his throat once, twice, and then, a third time. Smitty focused his attention back on the leaking tip.

John shuddered. "Fuck." He fisted Smitty's hair, tugging at it in a way that had Smitty vibrating a moan around him.

"I'm close."

Smitty was determined to push him over the edge before anyone else came along, so he sucked on the head like his life depended on it. John squirmed against him, knees shaking a little, chasing his release.

When it did eventually come - so to speak - it didn't startle him. John was all too vocal about it. Warmth and wetness spilled into Smitty's mouth in spurts. And he swallowed it dutifully. He always thought come was an acquired taste, but by now he was very much acquainted with the taste. Of John's, at least.

Falling back on his ankles and wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, he peered up at John. "I should've known you were an exhibitionist."

"What can I say?" John grinned down at him smugly. "Want me to suck you off too?"

"Nah," Smitty said, pushing himself to his feet. He palmed his trousers to offer some relief. John bent down to hike his own trousers back up his legs. Smitty shooed away his hands, taking over the fiddly task of pulling up the zip and looping the button through the hole for him. "I'll just think of your dad, and it'll go away."

A mischievous glint shined in John's eyes. "When I think of your dad-"

"Don't you dare finish that fucking sentence."

Chapter Text

For the final two weeks of October, they went to the States. 

On the plane journey, Smitty was surprised to see John pull out the dice from his carry-on luggage, as well as the bits of paper now decanted into a small pot secured with a lid. Feeling like it wasn't an appropriate time to be doing this, Smitty told him to put it away, but John was adamant they did it then. No one would know what it was for, he reasoned. 

John rolled the dice across his tray table, swiftly placing his hands around the perimeter in case either of the dice fell. 

A five and a six. 

"The bathroom," John said into his ear in a bad attempt at a sexy voice after consulting the list. Smitty giggled and nudged him away. 

John opened the tub with a satisfying click-click, and stuck two fingers inside. Instead of saying it aloud, he angled it towards Smitty. Restroom Assistant. How convenient. He wasn't quite sure what it even was though, and he didn't want to ask John and risk him attempting to recreate it on the plane. So, he pulled out his phone, lowered the screen brightness, and searched it up. 

After looking at a few diagrams, he realised he knew the position, just not the name. He nodded to himself, liking the look of it, assuming they'd do it in the safety and comfort of their hotel room. 

Just then, as if John had been reading his mind, he said, "I was thinking of not doing in our room." 

"Where, then? Where else could we possibly do it?" 

He watched a sly smile light up John's face. A public bathroom. Of course John would want to do that. 

"Fucking fantastic, another semi-public one." As soon as the words left his mouth, Smitty remembered where he was and glanced around at the people close by, hoping none of them had heard him. The person across the aisle side-eyed him, and Smitty internally face-palmed, cheeks very likely red from embarrassment.

He just smiled innocently at them until they looked away, which didn't take long. 

Something that hadn't taken long, however, was for John to move on from the conversation. His headphones were over his ears, head tipped back against the headrest. He'd closed his eyes too, but Smitty could see a hint of a smile, like he knew Smitty was watching him. 

Bastard. 

\ꕥ/

The plane arrived in the late afternoon. And, after checking into their hotel room, they went back out to meet with the others for dinner. The group spread themselves out across three booths at the diner they'd chosen. John had decided to sit one booth away from him, but Smitty could still see his stupid smirking face from his own seat. A couple of times, Puffer would twist to look behind himself and see what Smitty was constantly staring and making faces at. An eye roll would promptly follow. 

But it wasn't until the third evening that they visited an establishment that had an adequate bathroom for the two of them to… occupy for a brief time. It was a bar close to their hotel. They'd been there before, a few times; and Smitty knew for a fact that the bathrooms were typically clean and tidy. The perfect place to do it. 

John didn't sit when they arrived. 

But neither did Droid. There weren't enough seats for the lot of them - that was the reason. Droid stood behind the seat Pezzy sat in. And John stood behind Smitty, alternating between planting his hands on the back of the chair, and wrapping his arms around Smitty's neck with his chin resting on top. 

The fact he'd chosen to stand definitely had nothing to do with the plug he'd previously inserted inside of himself before meeting up, preventing him from sitting comfortably on a hard surface for an extended time. It was exhilarating, because no one knew. 

But Smitty knew. 

He'd watched John finger himself and slide the small thing inside in preparation for their next sexcapade. There had been a brief respite of about half an hour before they'd met back up with their friends. So, there wasn't much time to really get into anything else. It was strictly business, despite how willingly Smitty would've asked for a rain-check with the others if John had asked him to. 

Smitty wasn't sure how long they'd been there. But what he was sure of was the three beers he'd downed, now on his fourth, and that John was starting to feel heavy on his lap. He'd plonked himself down sideways on Smitty's thighs about ten minutes ago, linking his fingers over Smitty's shoulder. Instinctively, Smitty had looped one arm around John's back. And he rested one hand chastely on John's knee, whilst flattening the other on John's bare waist, beneath his cropped top. 

He fucking adored John in a cropped top. The first time Smitty saw him wearing one, he'd frozen for a good two minutes, before snapping out of it and pulling John onto his lap by the waist to run his hands up his warm, soft flanks.

Smitty had just finished a conversation with Matt about going to an ice hockey game next month, when John suddenly squirmed and pulled himself closer. 

"I want you," he whispered seductively into Smitty's ear. He leaned away slightly to put his empty cocktail glass on the table. 

Smitty reached for his own drink, eyes darting between his friends. "Now?" 

"I'm literally bricked the fuck up." 

"Dude." Smitty had been in the middle of taking another sip when he said it. He choked a little but recovered quickly, slanting a glance at the rest of the table, but everyone was too mixed up in their own conversations to notice them. 

"Tis the truth, my dear." 

Smitty sighed. "Okay. But you're finding an exit." 

"Easy peazy, man. Watch this." 

John hopped off his lap. 

“I'm gonna go powder my nose,” he announced to no one really, and was gone before Smitty could even register what he'd said. 

He hastily downed the rest of his drink and shot to his feet. “And, I'm going to, uh- help.”

John was already stood beside the bathroom door, allowing another person to exit, by the time Smitty caught up to him. "If we get caught, I will murder you," he muttered into John's ear, then smiled at the person leaving. 

"Do you promise?" John teased, pushing through the door. 

"I'm serious; I will literally kill you." 

The bathroom was empty. Clean, too, like Smitty had hoped. And there was a giant mirror on the wall, stretching across the width of the sinks. 

John walked over to the sinks and leaned a hand on the counter. "And I'm serious when I say: we won't." 

Smitty narrowed his eyes at him before eventually realising something. "Is there even a-" 

He'd see it in movies all time: the character easily locking a somewhat public bathroom. But Smitty had always thought it was bullshit. So, colour him surprised when the bathroom door actually had a lock that he could just twist, like a cubicle. 

"People are too busy getting pissed, than needing a piss," John reasoned. 

"I hope you're right," Smitty concluded, and twisted the lock. 

When he turned back around, John had stripped off his top. 

"I'd keep my shirt on, if I were you." 

"Uh, why?" 

"Well, what if someone breaks the door down? How will you explain it?" 

"Why I have my shirt off will be the last question they'd ask. Your dick in my ass will be a dead giveaway." 

Smitty just shook his head in disbelief, and pulled his trousers down, carefully tugging the material over his shoes. As he lay the garment beside one of the sink, there was movement in his peripheral vision. He glanced over at John through the mirror, watching him pull his cropped top back over his head. 

Smitty gasped incredulously, holding a hand to his heart. "You listened to me." 

"Don't get used to it." John looked him up and down through the reflection with a smirk. "And anyway, I know how much you love fucking me in a crop top."

Damn right he did. There was nothing more attractive than John in a cropped top. That sliver of exposed abdomen; the happy trail usually only Smitty got to see. If he had to assign a word to describe how John looked, it would be something along the lines of… slutty. 

Something overcame Smitty then. He strode up behind John, grabbing him firmly by the waist, pulling him against his front and sandwiching him against the counter. John's arms rested over his own. For a moment, they just stared at one another in the reflection. 

They looked good together. No, better than good. Sure, they were great together personality-wise; but they also complimented each other well physically. Smitty nuzzled his nose against the side of John's head, kissing the shell of his ear. He shifted his hands to John's belt, slowly undoing it. 

"We should invest in mirrors," John said. 

Smitty arched a brow through the reflection, tugging the belt out from its loops. "Like… the concept of mirrors? 'Cause they're pretty well-established at this point in time." 

John glared at him. "No, smart-ass. For our bedroom." 

"We have a mirror. You should know." 

"Hardy ha-ha." John threw another deadpan look his way. "I'm serious, though; we should install a few floor-to-ceiling mirrors on the wall." 

Smitty nuzzled his nose behind John's ear again. "That might be your best idea to date." 

"I'm full of 'em, man." 

"I'll think about it," Smitty told him, and dug his thumbs under the waistband of John's trousers, but he didn't pull them down quite yet. "Now, c'mon, let's do this. No time to waste." 

"I know. You should already be twelve inches deep by now." 

"Twelve is an exaggeration." 

"Eight?" 

Smitty laughed in disbelief. "Less so, but still, an exaggeration." 

"Just take the fucking compliment, man." 

"Oh-kay." 

"Oh, wait, hold on."

John reached into one of the side pockets of his trousers, and produced a clear zip-lock bag as well as a small sachet of lube. Smitty chuckled. "You've thought of everything, haven't you?" 

"Pays to be prepared, my friend." 

"That it does," Smitty agreed, then tugged a little on John's trousers. "May I?" 

John shrugged a shoulder like he couldn't care less what Smitty did. "Go ahead." 

Once his trousers and boxers were pooled at his ankles, John gripped the edge of the counter with both hands spread wide as Smitty reached down to lightly tug on the base of the plug. He pulled it out to the sound of John's exhale. Smitty leaned around the other's body to run it under the tap for a few seconds before dropping it into the small zip-lock bag. 

Smitty snatched the sachet of lube from where John had left it on the counter, tore it open, and squeezed some out over his cock and John's hole. He used the entire contents, and chucked the empty wrapper into the closest sink. 

"Lean forward."  

Smitty drew his bottom lip in between his teeth as he watched the cropped top ride up John's torso as he did what Smitty had told him. Fuck. He gripped John's exposed waist with one hand, using the other to guide his cock inside with one graceful movement. John let out a contented sigh once he'd bottomed out. 

He was tight; the plug hadn't stretched him to the same width as Smitty's cock. But he quickly loosened as Smitty picked up the pace, pulling John back on his cock and ramming inside him over and over and over again. 

"Ah- fuck. Right there." 

John panted and moaned and gasped with each hit to that glorious spot inside him. Through the reflection, Smitty could see his eyes had closed, his jaw was slack, and his lips were parted. Smitty slid a hand up John's warm back, beneath the top for a moment before pulling his hand out and threading his fingers into John's curls. 

Smitty yanked on the strands to bring John flush against his front. He couldn't get over how fucking ravaged John looked. How… pornographic this was. 

"You look like a- a-" 

John opened his eyes a little and stared at him through the mirror, like he knew what Smitty wanted to call him. "Say it." 

Smitty could see the sweat building on his own forehead, John's words driving forward and giving him the confidence to finish his sentence. "You always look like such a- slut, like this." John hummed as if he was agreeing. But Smitty knew him well enough to know he was.

A blissed-out smile lit up John's face then. "A common whore?" he teased. Smitty's answer to that was a particularly hard thrust of his hips that had John yelping a little. "Good fucking god." 

Smitty's left hand travelled around John's waist and reached for his leaking cock. As he sucked kisses and bruises into John's shoulder, keeping up the quick snaps of his hips, Smitty pumped his fist up and down John's cock. In the reflection, his face was scrunched up with pleasure. John blindly reached an arm up to the side of Smitty's head. John's palm slid over his hair, and back a little to his ear, like he was searching for purchase. 

But then, John's body began to quiver, and he pushed back against him as he came all over Smitty's hand. Smitty let go of him so he could collapse forwards, and clutch the rim of the sink. Deep breaths filled the bathroom air. The base of the music playing on the other side of the door suddenly reminded Smitty of where they were. 

How was it that no one in the entire establishment needed to use the bathroom? 

"Do you want to-" 

Heavy pants continuing, John shook his head and said, "No. Keep going; you haven't- yet." 

"Wanna change positions?" 

"What?" John lifted his head, having apparently not heard him. But a few seconds passed before it seemed to register in his brain. "Uh- yeah, okay." 

Smitty pulled out, his cock still hard and glistening. And, with nowhere to dispose of John's come, he was struck with a perverted thought. So, as he waited for John to turn around, Smitty wiped off the spend onto his own cock, providing some additional lubrication. He was going to fuck John with his own come. 

John eventually spun around to face him, his face appearing more fucked-out and sleepy than what it looked like in the mirror. 

"Hey." 

"Hey." 

He smiled softly as John leaned in and mushed their mouths together in a tender kiss. "Up you get." 

John attempted to sit up on the counter, but his slightly lethargic movements prevented him from being successful. They both laughed. John hung his head loosely, falling forward against Smitty's chest. 

"Hold onto me." 

John swung his hands up and around Smitty's neck, lifting his head. After an admittedly pathetic little jump by John, Smitty managed to scoop him up under his knees and lift him onto the edge of the sink. John's face scrunched up once more as Smitty pushed back inside of him.

He forgot about the existence of the mirror, the bar, and the people on the other side of the door, as he began to jackhammer his cock in and out, chasing his own release. Smitty watched intently as John's head lolled to one side, completely lost in the moment. 

A string of airy 'yeses' and 'yeahs' followed that only served to spur Smitty on. John clung to him - effectively hugging him - holding him close and pushing his cheek into the top of Smitty's head. Smitty panted heavily into his shoulder as he kept up the brutal pace.

"Come inside me," John instructed with a slight shake in his voice. He always did; but it was so fucking sexy when John asked for it.

Smitty responded with a barely audible, "Yeah."

"Please,"

"You wan' it?" Smitty felt so drunk, but he'd only had a few beers. But it was John. He was the one to make him feel like this. John's desperate pleading always did wonders in helping to tip Smitty over the edge. He was so close.

"Put a fucking baby in me."

That was not at all what he expected John to say, but- fuck, it was hot - even if impossible. And, not even ten seconds later Smitty came, sinking his teeth into John's neck. He sloppily thrusted into him half a dozen times more, almost like he was making sure it stuck, until the waves of his orgasm subsided and he was just left with a wonderfully tingly feeling throughout his body. 

He let John's legs fall heavily to the floor, allowing him to recover, and stepped over to the paper towel dispenser. Ripping off a couple of sheets, Smitty wetted them under the tap before wiping down his spent cock. 

"Fuck me." John was bent over a sink now, hands gripping the counter with his head hanging between his arms as he recovered. "You are a fucking god." 

Smitty laughed through his nose. "Thanks." 

He brought another damp ball of scrunched up paper towels over to John. Pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder, Smitty set about cleaning him up. John let Smitty manhandle and turn him, meeting his eyes with a grateful smile. And when Smitty had finished, he chucked both things of paper into the bin beneath the counter, before bending down to pick John's trousers and boxers up off the floor, and handing them to him. 

"So, uh- what was that thing about?" Smitty asked, sliding his own trousers back up his legs. 

John stepped into his boxers. A satisfying snap echoed around the bathroom as he let go of the waistband. "What was what thing?" 

"The whole 'put a baby in me' thing."

John just shrugged, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to tame it. "Thought I'd try it out. Hot, right?" He grinned, bouncing his brows up and down. "What about your thing? Where'd that filthy talk come from?" 

Smitty also shrugged. "I call it like I see it." 

John glanced up from fiddling with the drawstrings of his trousers, and stared at him through his lashes with a sly smirk. "You should call it like you see more often." 

"Yeah? You liked being called a slut?" 

"Duh, man." 

"Y'know I'm gonna be thinking about what you said for the rest of the night now, don't you?" 

"Yup." John booped him on the nose, then kissed him once, and headed for the door. The door; that hadn't been knocked on once, or kicked inwards either. But as John twisted the lock open, he paused. 

A moment of silence passed, until he turned to look at Smitty with a mischievous smirk. Smitty already liked where this was certainly about to go. 

"Wanna ditch these losers?"

Chapter Text

When their friends asked where they'd disappeared to the night before, Smitty floundered for an answer. But John, ever the over-sharer, straight up told them that they'd gone back to their hotel to fuck. Smitty had choked on saliva as soon as the words left his mouth. Most of them laughed and grimaced, like it was a joke, and the matter was swiftly dropped. Smitty had breathed a sigh of relief. 

At the start of the second week, John threw himself on the bed next to where Smitty was busy texting the others about meeting up in an hour or two. He didn't acknowledge John until a hand appeared on his bare knee, slowly sliding up and disappearing under his shorts. 

"Can I help you with something?" Smitty asked, gradually pulling his eyes from the screen to look at him. It was then he noticed the familiar small pot John held between three of his fingers, and the two dice clamped beneath the other two fingers and his palm. 

John wiggled his hand in the air. "It's your turn," he announced in a sing-song voice. 

"It is, isn't it?" Smitty said, taking the dice. He threw them across the space between John and himself. They both landed at an angle from the duvet's creases. The indented dots facing upwards on the dice were that of five and three. 

"Oh, you're gonna love this one," John said with a giddy grin. 

"Ay-kay-ay: I'm going to hate it." 

He wiggled his eyebrows. "It's another risky one." 

Smitty rolled his eyes. Of course, it was. "More risky than a public bathroom?" 

"Yup." 

"Go on, then. Tell me." 

A mischievous smirk slid onto John's face. “Camping, slash, in a tent.” 

Smitty frowned. “Camp- oh.” They were going camping with the others in a few days, on the thirty-first… How fucking convenient. 

“Yeah, oh.” 

“You want to fuck in a tent?” 

“Uh, yeah; it's on my bucket list.” 

Smitty narrowed his eyes. “A lot of things on your bucket list are sex-related.” 

“That they are, my friend,” John affirmed, crawling closer to him. “When one has a boyfriend who is as hot and sexy as you, one would want to experiment.” 

Smitty sighed, accepting his fate. "Okay, freak." 

This was his life now. Not that he was complaining. 

\ꕥ/

"I still don't understand why I can't watch you get dressed." 

"Because- I want it to be a surprise, dumbass," John's muffled voice reasoned from the behind the bathroom door. 

Smitty shook his head in disbelief, half rolling his eyes. It wasn't like they were wearing costumes on this camping trip tonight. He himself was just wearing shorts and a t-shirt - nothing special. But John had apparently bought something new the other day. "It's like anything else; the process is just as fun as the result." 

He heard him laugh softly through the wood. Smitty pressed his mouth into the corner between the door and the frame. "Please, John." 

"No, just- gimme one second." 

"Okay, but it'll feel like a lifetime!" Smitty lamented, moving away from the door and sitting on the bed. 

He heard another stifled laugh. "Shut the fuck up." 

Another minute passed before the lock jiggled. Smitty smiled to himself at the fact John had locked himself in. He wouldn't have gone in anyway. He had been about to start actually twiddling his thumbs, when the door finally swung open. 

His brain short circuited. 

John was wearing a crop top, which was already hot as fuck. But this particular piece was even shorter, one where he didn't need to stretch or bend to show off his stomach. It was just there. About two inches of exposed skin for Smitty to gawp at. 

But the real cherry on top was the trousers. Billowing, wide-leg, and made of linen. Cream, with a floral pattern running diagonally across the lower half of the fabric, made up of purple, blue and red flowers with green stems and leaves. And a drawstring along the waistline that John had tied into an uneven bow. Smitty could tell they were 'women's', but it didn't matter because they looked fucking amazing on him.

"Holy fuck." 

John in a cropped top: Smitty's Achilles' Heel. 

"You like?" John asked in a foreign accent, spinning around to let the material swish after him. It was a glorious display. 

"Fuck yeah, I do. C'mere," he urged, even though he was the one to make John 'come here' by pulling him in by the hips. Smitty nosed the wide strip of exposed stomach, trailing kisses from left to right, feeling the muscles beneath John's skin contract. "I have the hottest fucking boyfriend." 

John smiled softly, brushing his fingers over Smitty's hair. "You know I can hear you." 

"Just thinking out loud, baby." John huffed a laugh, pushing at his shoulders and stepping away. "Can't we just stay back? I can't let you go out like this. This should stay as a 'for your eyes only' thing." 

"Oh… I love it when you get possessive," John practically growled, before coming closer again and shoving Smitty back on the bed, straddling him. 

\ꕥ/

Grizzy picked them up from the hotel ten minutes later. And on the way to the camping ground where they were meeting Pezzy and Droid, Smitty turned his phone brightness all the way down and searched up the position he'd blindly picked. Puffer was in the seat beside him - John had called shotgun - and he didn't quite feel like explaining why he was looking up a sex position.

'The 7 and I' was the name of the oral position for tonight. Smitty had no idea where John was getting all these obscure names from, but he wasn't about to complain. 

It was that time of day when the trees appeared almost completely black against the darkening blue-grey sky. A gentle breeze had set in, blowing in through the truck's open windows, and shifting John's curls poking out of his baseball cap. Smitty couldn't look away. He was fucking mesmerising. And he knew that John could sense the persistent eyes on him as Grizzy drove them down the dirt road to the campsite. 

Grizzy parked right beside Droid's bike, and the four of them piled out. Matt's rented car sat on the other side of the bike. With no other vehicles in sight, they were alone. 

"I'm hot as balls right now," Droid lamented twenty minutes into putting up the tent for himself and Pezzy. He wiped the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead. He was building it by himself as Pezzy had volunteered to start up the campfire for them to cook the sausages and barbecue chicken they'd brought, and get the music playing. 

"Pip-pip tally-o, my good fellow, and you'll soon get to relax," John joked from the other side of the campfire. 

In the end, it took everyone just over an hour to set up the tents. Grizzy cracked open the cooler, handing out drinks to everyone as they all cozied around the fire. Everyone sat on the provided logs except for John, who sat on the dirt between Smitty's knees. 

"You're gonna melt if you sit that close," Smitty told him, wrapping his arms around John's neck and pulling him closer. 

John twisted his head to look up at him. "Thanks, dad." 

Smitty leaned down to awkwardly kiss him, tasting the bitter sweetness of ketchup on his lips. 

From across the flames, Grizzy's nose wrinkled as he said, "If my dad kissed me like that, I'd call the police." 

"If my dad kissed me at all, I'd call the police," Droid chimed in too. 

"Don't get jealous 'cause none of you are getting any." 

Puffer raised his hand. "I'm not a part of this." 

"Neither," said Matt, through a mouthful of chicken. 

In the end, they laughed, drank and ate for about two hours. After cheering to a happy Halloween, Matt brought out an assorted bag of sweets, to everyone's delight, and Smitty felt like a kid again. Except for the fact he hadn't collected them himself, which he didn't quite mind as he wrapped a hard candy and popped it into his mouth.

"Well, fellas, I think it's about time I hit the hay," John announced, slapping his knees loudly.

"Yeah, me too," Smitty agreed as nonchalantly as he could. John stood up, ass directly in his face. He put his hands on the back of John's thighs to steady him. Pushing him out of the way so he himself could stand, Smitty said, "John needs his bedtime story."

Matt shared a similar sentiment, gulping down the rest of his bottle. They disappeared into their respective tents after saying goodnight. The nerves were starting to set in now as he ducked into the tent. There really wasn't much distance between them and the others, maybe a little under five metres. But thankfully, they hadn't set up any extra lights, so except for the campfire still blazing away, and a few streetlamps dotted in the corners of the area, it should be fine. Smitty was overly conscious of silhouettes.

Once the door flap was zipped all the way up, they spent no time dawdling and began to undress. In the small space, getting his shorts off wasn't an easy task. He started on his knees, shimmying the garment down his waist, then fell back onto his ass to pull the rest of his trousers off, and dump them in a heap in one corner of the tent. Beside him, John was going through a similar process.

"Don't-" Smitty started and stopped, watching John wrangle his foot out of his trouser leg. 

"What?" 

"Don't rip them." 

"Wasn't planning on it, dumbass." He finally got them off and folded them up, then looked at him with sultry eyes that Smitty could just about see. "I know you like them." 

Smitty laid back, sitting up on his elbows, and spread his legs open. "C'mon, then, lover boy. My turn this time." 

John smirked and crawled between his knees. He came right up to him, hands planted on either side of his hips. Smitty laughed softly, at nothing at all, and pulled off John's hat, chucking it behind him. They kissed after that. Slow at first, tongues staying strictly behind their lips. Until John made the first move, sitting up on his knees and holding Smitty's face in his palms, licking languidly into his mouth. 

Smitty moaned softly when he felt a hand apply pressure between his legs. 

John broke the kiss, and said in a low, "Hush now." A finger was pressed to his lips. "Wouldn't want our friends knowing what we're doing, would we?" 

Smitty shook his head, not saying a word, as John shuffled back and bent down. There was still music blasting from the portable speaker Droid had brought, that would hopefully drown out any noises he let slip. He had to suppress another sound as John began to mouth eagerly at his cock. Kissing all the way up and down, gradually waking it up. 

And then, he wrapped slender fingers around it. Pumping up and down seven tantalising times. Precome had collected at the tip when John brought his mouth to it. Smitty inhaled sharply when he felt that first touch of wet tongue on his slit, licking up the leakage. 

Smitty had to put a hand over his mouth as John suddenly spat onto his cock, worried he would cry out. Then took it into his mouth. All of it. Until the tip of his nose was buried in Smitty's public hair. It never failed to amaze him, just how much John could take. 

"Can you-" Smitty began in a shaky, quiet voice after John repeated the pattern half a dozen times. 

"Can I, what?" John asked in a similar volume, slowing his ministrations. 

He wiggled his fingers in John's face, who smirked knowingly. 

"It would be my pleasure." 

He watched in awe as John stuck his index finger into his mouth, wetting it, before bringing it to Smitty's hole. With a sharp intake of breath, he felt him push in all the way to the knuckle. A barely controlled groan erupted from the back of his throat when pressure was applied to that star-seeing place inside of him. John's eyes snapped to his, bright even in the dimness. 

"Sorry," he whispered. John smirked devilishly before committing a brutal assault on his prostate, rubbing fingertips against it over and over again until Smitty was squirming and biting his bottom lip hard enough that he thought he'd drawn blood. If only this tent wasn't paper fucking thin. 

With the other hand, John started to stroke him again. Seven times more. Then taking him in all the way. And repeating the cycle. 

Smitty was already close. How could he not when he was being pleasured like this? So thoroughly. On the brink of falling apart completely. 

"You wanna come on my face?" John asked, jerking him another two times, then sucking him down. 

He shivered at John's words and mouth, the knot in his abdomen growing tighter. "Oh, fuck, yeah." 

"C'mon, baby." Slowing his movements for only a millisecond, John chuckled lightly at his words. "Literally." 

"John." 

"Sorry, couldn't resist." 

He took Smitty's tip between his skilled lips once more, sucking with fervour, and using his fingers to pump the rest of the shaft. Curling the finger inside of Smitty to brush his prostate in a glorious repeating pattern. Overstimulating him to the max. The rules of the position be damned. He quickly tapped on the top of John's head as he tinkered on the edge, seconds from bursting. 

John popped his mouth off, and slid out his finger, now only using his hand to bring him over that glorious edge, and closing his eyes as he braced himself. 

Smitty's legs quivered as he came. His hips bucked. He clenched his teeth together. Spurting ropes across John's dimly lit pretty face. Landing on nearly every perfect feature. A nasally whine slipped passed his lips as John wrangled out the last of his orgasm. He sucked on the head of his cock one final time, like he was cleaning up anything left over. 

But before John could start to do anything to clean himself, Smitty grabbed hold of his head, holding his ears like handles, to bring him closer. Tasting himself on John's lips. Licking up the come on his mouth. Salty bitterness, not entirely unpleasant. 

When they broke apart, John began to swipe a thumb across his cheek, wiping up the stray come there. Smitty should have seen it coming as John sucked on his thumb. Fuck. His cock twitched with interest. 

"You're disgusting," Smitty said with a grin when John had cleaned up most of it. They continued to speak in low, whispered voices, even though they were done. His heart was racing. Please say none of their friends heard them. 

"No, what you did was disgusting. I'm just cleaning up the mess." 

"You asked!" 

"You could've said no, you ass." 

"Just-" Smitty cut himself off, then shuffled forward so he could lie back properly. "C'mere." John crawled back up to him, laying between his legs. Smitty wrapped his arms around him, holding him tight. 

The speaker was shut off ten minutes later. Perfect timing. 

In the morning, everyone left their tents, tired and hungry, absolutely none the wiser. 

Chapter Text

November

As he watched John roll the dice and pick out the paper, Smitty was hit with the realisation that after this one, there were only two places and positions left in the game. He had fucking loved the last couple months, and was so glad that John created this for them. It would be sad to see it end. But it wasn't like they wouldn't ever do any of the positions again. All of them had been glorious. But then, when it came to the places they'd fucked in… yeah, some of those they would not be going back to. At least, not to do that, anyway.

The numbers John rolled were a two and a four. Six altogether, which turned out to be on the couch. Not bad. Private, too. Unless John planned a trip to the nearest furniture store, where they could fuck on one of the display sofas.

Twiddling his fingers within the pot, John pulled out one of the three remaining paper pieces. 'Face Off', it said. And, Smitty just had to laugh at the name.

"Is it you that comes up with these fucking ridiculous names?"

"Don't shoot the messenger! It's from the website." 

"You could've just changed it to something simpler, more on the nose, or just printed out a diagram." 

"Where's the fun in that?" Smitty just rolled his eyes with an assumed smile. There was a brief pause in the conversation, until John sidled up to him and asked, "Do you wanna try bottoming again?" 

"I'll crush you," Smitty reasoned, even though he did really want to experience it again. 

"That wasn't a no." John smirked, and nudged his side playfully. "And, hey, maybe I'm into that." 

\ꕥ/

They decided to do it in the living room. Despite the fact they both had sofas in their respective offices, the living room sofa was just bigger, and somewhat comfier.

To begin with, John spent some time stretching Smitty open, laid back on the couch with his legs up and open. One lubed-up finger first to get him used something inside of him again. And then, two fingers to scissor and loosen the muscle further. John would curl his fingers intermittently and brush over that sweet spot, making Smitty whine unabashed, and push back against him.

When John deemed him ready, they switched places on the couch. Smitty's legs were already shaking from being brought so close to the edge. John tore open the packet and rolled on the condom. He patted his thighs, encouraging Smitty to sit. Even as he did, Smitty was cautious and went about it slow and careful, closing his eyes the entire time. But when he opened them, John was grinning with a look of 'I told you so'.

"Not so bad, yeah?"

Smitty just hummed the speech equivalent of an unconvinced 'uh-huh'.

Between his thighs, he could feel John's hard cock pressing against his own. The condom was already covered in lube, but only a thin layer, so Smitty reached over where they'd left the bottle between the cushions, and pumped out enough to lather over both John and himself.

He held them both in one hand. Jerking them off together. Rocking into it a little, losing himself in the feeling of John's cock rubbing against his own.

"Oh, fuck, Smitty." He intertwined his fingers with John's in the space between them. John moaned loudly, sounding so wonderfully desperate for more as his hips bucked upwards. "Baby. Fuck, that's so good."

Precome had clouded up the tip of the condom by the time Smitty let go of their cocks, his own mixing in for even more additional lubricant. John's face was flushed pink, lips dark red from biting them to keep a hold of himself. He let out a burst of air when Smitty released him.

But he didn't let go for long, grabbing John's cock again to angle it towards his entrance. John's eyes were wide as he stared up at him, like he was shocked that Smitty was doing it himself and not letting him do it. But Smitty was desperate to feel it inside him. He'd waited far too long.

Taking a deep breath, Smitty sunk onto him. Like last time, it hurt, but it was manageable, and the pleasure outweighed it by a thousand percent. It felt so big and he was in so deep, and Smitty forgot what it felt like when John wasn't inside of him. Then once he was fully sheathed on John's cock, they just sat there for a minute.

"You're a natural already," John praised, raising his eyebrows up then down quickly. Despite the remark, Smitty didn't think he'd ever get over the feeling of something inside of him. He could only smile as he leaned in to kiss him. Wrapping his arms loosely around John's neck as he fisted his fingers in Smitty's t-shirt. Almost instinctively, he rocked against him. John moaned into his mouth, which Smitty used as an opportunity to push in his tongue.

Something he always loved when it came to having John in his lap, straddling his hips, was when he would switch from the rocking to the glorious bouncing. But personally, all Smitty was comfortable doing himself was the rocking, which was just as pleasurable.

And the moment he began to grind his hips harder, the cock inside him rubbed against his prostate. He gasped, squeezing around John, whose head fell back onto the back of the sofa. His hands gripped Smitty's ass hard, pulling him down impossibly further onto his cock.

"I fucking love how tight you are. Driving me crazy." John didn't look at him, or even open his eyes as he said it, likely thinking out loud. Too overwhelmed to realise what he was saying.

Smitty kept the pace slow and consistent, hands planted heavily on John's shoulders, squeezing perhaps slightly too hard.

Not even two minutes passed, both of them panting heavily and on the verge of coming, when the doorbell suddenly went off, followed by a few swift knocks. God fucking dammit.

"We've fucked in…" Smitty struggled to count them all, his head full of static. "I don't know how many public places, but the one time we're in the safety and comfort of our own home, someone knocks on the fucking door."

"We've done it thrice at home."

"They don't count."

"Yeah, they do."

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"Just don't."

John just rolled his eyes, then nudged at Smitty's upper arms when whoever it was knocked for a second time. "Are you going to get off me so I can answer the door?"

"I really don't want to." And to show just how much, he tensed around John's cock again.

John clenched his teeth together, wincing a little, before saying, "The quicker you get off me, the quicker I can tell whoever it is to fuck off, and I'll finally be able to make you come."

Smitty liked the sound of that. A lot. Leaning in to kiss him again, he said against John's mouth, "Okay," before easing off his cock, immediately yearning to feel that fullness again, and collapsed onto the couch at the same time John stood up from it. He pulled off the condom, chucking it into the small bin beside the fireplace - it didn't matter about wasting it as they'd bought a whole box of them for Smitty's first time.

John picked up the towel they'd laid out to wrap it around his waist, then turned back to Smitty with a finger pointed at him. "No touching."

"What-"

"Stay. Like that."

Smitty actually crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not a dog."

"But you are my bitch."

He opened his mouth to respond, but John had already rounded the corner out of the room. And, he was gone for what felt like five minutes, incoherent voices filtering into the living room.

Smitty had sobered up a bit while John answered the door. The pleasant buzz in his head dissipated. His cock had gotten soft too. Because, as much as he wanted to jerk himself in John's absence, he held strong. Which then led to his cock losing interest altogether.

"It was Matt."

"What did he want?"

"He wanted to see if we were free to go out later."

"And he couldn't've just messaged?"

"I dunno, man."

John flopped back onto the sofa, just as Smitty asked, "Did he ask why you were half naked?"

"Yeah."

"And what did you tell him?"

"The truth." Smitty's stomach dropped, and so did his jaw. "He thought I'd been in the shower," John added with a small laugh and shake of his head.

"You told him we were having sex?" Smitty asked, more than a little bit dumbfounded.

"Yup."

"John!"

"What?"

Smitty shot up from the sofa, grabbing his boxers, almost falling over as he slid them on. "I'm never gonna be able to look him in the eye again."

"It's not the end of the world."

He looked down at John incredulously. "Yes, it is."

"No, it's not… C'mere." John's fingers grazed his thighs as he tried to pull Smitty back in, but he stepped out of reach.

"I'm going to shower."

"But we weren't finished! You were doing so well."

He started towards the arch leading into the hallway. "Don't use praise to lure me back into sex."

"Baby!"

"Or, endearments."

"Smitty."

"Finish yourself off."

"Can I, at least, come shower with you?"

"No." He began to ascend the stairs. "You can sit in your filth while I go rinse off my embarrassment."

"This feels so good!" He heard John exclaimed moments later, exaggerating a sensual moan. Smitty shook his head in amused disbelief. "I just wish I had a really amazing boyfriend to help me!"

"Not gonna work, buddy," Smitty called down from the landing, poorly fighting off a smile.

He showered by himself for about five minutes before John's presence filled the door frame. Through the fogged up glass, he watched as a naked John draped himself along the frame in an attempt to be alluring. Smitty had left the bathroom door open, knowing all too well that John would follow him.

As he slid the glass door open to let him in, John apologised by immediately sinking to his knees and kissing all over Smitty's soft cock. Not using his hands at all, gripping just above Smitty's knees, John then began to lick up from the head to the base, slowly waking it up. The shower water sprayed down Smitty's back and shoulders, splashing over John as he sucked in Smitty's half-hard cock. All of it. Getting him instantly hard. Growing inside John's mouth. He swallowed the best he could, the space constricting around the sensitive head of Smitty's cock, pulling a loud moan from him that was quickly lost in the roaring sound of the shower.

Smitty found purchase on the wall with one hand, wrangling the other into John's somewhat wet hair. For short while, maybe thirty seconds, his hand moved with John as he repeated the process of pulling off, then filling his mouth again.

And then, Smitty did something he hadn't done before. The next time John took him in, he applied pressure, ensuring that John's nose was pressed against his abdomen, and holding him there for a few seconds before letting him up.

John stared up at him with glazed over eyes, mouth open in shock. Oh, shit. Had that been a bad move? Smitty reached down to brush a soaked clump of curls out of his eyes, and started to speak, "Sorry, I should've-"

"Do it again." Smitty's hand halted.

"You want me to-"

"Yes."

"Fuck. Okay." John wrapped his long fingers around his shaft once more, chills running down his spine despite the warm water spraying down his back. "I'm not gonna last much longer."

John grinned devilishly. "Fine by me."

Smitty guided him down by the hair, now mostly wet, fingers buried to his roots. The first few times were slow, as if testing the waters. But then, he sped up and put a little more force into it. It was so fucking attractive, the way John was just letting Smitty use him like this. Completely at his mercy. Fucking his mouth to bring himself over the edge. The sounds he made reverberating around Smitty's cock, adding another layer to this glorious moment.

As he came, Smitty held John firmly in place, nose buried in his pubic hair as come filled John's mouth. The grip on his thighs tightened, nails digging in hard. Borderline painfully. When it grew too much for him, choking on just how much had pulsed from Smitty's cock, John pulled off. A string of come and saliva now the only thing connecting them.

He leaned on the wall and drinking in the sight of the man below him. Quite literally on his knees for him. Breathing heavily. Hair now completely drenched. Utterly wrecked. Yet, utterly breathtaking.

John carefully stood from the slippery ground, lips red raw, using Smitty as a crutch with one hand, and wiping his mouth with the other. "Does that make up for it?"

Smitty just smiled and said, "Make up for what?"