There are certain things that stress Mark out. He gets stressed easily over things he cares about, even if he swears up and down that he's fine. He's a cool guy, doesn't mind embarrassing himself a little bit, says whatever he thinks. It's easy living.
He does however have an extremely hot neighbor and she stresses him out so unbelievably it's incredible.
Mark sees her the first day he moves into his apartment. He just got out of a shitty lease with his roommate from college after a hellish last six months (there was an illegal dog involved, a broken couch and a hole in the drywall that Mark doesn't particularly want to revisit). He just got a new job and made sure he was okay living by himself. The apartment is tiny — a cheap, threadbare one room apartment that will suit him fine. He doesn't have a lot of stuff.
At least, that's what he thinks when he tells Donghyuck he doesn't need any help moving in. "You have an interview in the morning, right?" he tells Donghyuck over the phone the night before, taping up all his boxes. "Don't worry about it."
Donghyuck is a good friend who pretends he's a terrible one, so he dramatically accepts the given freedom and still texts Mark in the morning to make sure he hasn't changed his mind. Mark's new apartment is on the fourth floor and he certainly has changed his mind, but he would never tell Donghyuck that.
That's the first time he sees her. He's sweating through his t-shirt and he's flushed red head-to-toe when she walks out of her apartment, keychain hanging out of her mouth. "Oh," she says, taking the keys with a delicate hand and raising her eyebrow at him. "Newbie?"
"Uh." Mark can't talk to pretty girls. "Yeah."
Pretty pretty pretty pretty is all he thinks for a solid ten seconds, followed by a terrified she's so tall and rounded out by she could kill me. She's wearing joggers and a sports bra, her hair tied up in a ponytail and her phone strapped to her extremely muscular forearm. She's taller than Mark by at least an inch, easy.
"I'm Mark," he says, holding out a sweaty hand.
She smiles. Her smile is so pretty. Her hand is strong as she takes his. "I'm Johnny."
Mark watches her take off down the stairs and decides that there's no way Donghyuck will ever be coming over here. Absolutely not.
"Come on," Donghyuck whines, bubble tea straw bouncing against his pout. "I want to see your hot neighbor."
"You're literally in a relationship," Mark reminds him. They're at the boba place right around the corner, within walking distance of Mark's new place, but there's no chance in hell he's letting Donghyuck follow him home like a lost puppy. Mark might be a pushover with Donghyuck but he knows when to stand his ground — his life is on the line.
"Jaemin does not count," Donghyuck says, one finger held up in the air like he's about to give a lecture. "We fuck sometimes. We're not exclusive. I could fuck your hot neighbor without guilt if it came to that."
Mark stares at him.
"Of course, that would depend on what she wants because she's a glorious adult woman who is capable of making her own choices." Donghyuck takes a very long sip of his tea. "Or so I would assume."
"She is," Mark sniffs, and only bristles slightly at the wicked grin on Donghyuck's face.
The worst part of being friends with Donghyuck is that they have the same type.
"Let me guess." Leaning back in his chair makes the whole thing creak, but Donghyuck is too busy being a local terror to care about cracking his head on the floor. "Taller than you? Athletic? Nice arms? Good voice? Would baby you if you asked?"
Mark takes an angry bite of his pastry.
"She's older than you?"
"And extremely successful," Mark says miserably. Johnny does post-production for a film studio and does athletic training when she's between projects. She's shown Mark her film credits — Mark had heard of at least 60% of them. She has her own Wikipedia page. Her arm had brushed Mark's when she showed him.
"Oh, baby." Donghyuck clicks his tongue. "You're horny."
Mark takes it back — the worst part of being friends with Donghyuck is that he says things that are obvious and is smug about it afterwards.
The two of them turn their heads around so fast at the new voice, and Donghyuck's chair wobbles on its back legs as he leans back even further.
Johnny is really just...so tall.
"Hey!" She's pulling an ear bud out as she walks up to their table. She's sweating, clearly just getting back from a run. Her smile is so bright. Mark almost feels bad about how hot he finds her. She's a full, complete human first before she's a pretty girl. The issue is that she's just a really pretty girl. "Long time no see."
Johnny helped Mark with his laundry machine yesterday so that's not exactly true. She's literally sorted out his underwear.
"Yeah." Mark's voice cracks. "Long time no see."
It's warm outside, and the bottom strands of her hair stick to the back of her neck. Uh...panic. Mark is panicking. Why does she never wear like, a full shirt? It's the sports bra, always, and nothing else. Mark respects her decisions but he also stares very hard at her neck and no lower. If he makes it any further up he gets stuck on her mouth. She's caught him before. Multiple times.
He's staring now, but Donghyuck is worse about it. "Do you guys know each other?" he asks, because he's more comfortable talking to beautiful people than Mark is. He knows damn well they know each other.
Johnny raises an eyebrow, hand on her hip, and it's so hot Mark wants to cry. "We're neighbors. You're one of his friends?"
"Yeah! We go way back." That shit-eating grin. Mark wants to slap it off Donghyuck's face. "I have all the dirty details. I could text them to you, if you like."
How many worst things about being friends with Donghyuck are there?
"Interesting offer." Johnny laughs. "I'd be more satisfied if Mark gave me all the dirty details himself."
"What?" Mark drops his half-eaten pastry on the floor. "What?"
"I'll see you later." She wiggles her fingers at Donghyuck. "It was nice meeting you."
"Wait..." Mark stares after her as she leaves. The bell jingles and the door slams shut and the gears are still turning. "What?"
Mark doesn't go out drinking very often, but when he does, he has no self-control. He's stressed, and recently he's extremely sexually frustrated. Donghyuck is a good friend and a very mellow drunk, but his fuckbuddy Jaemin is a horrible influence with even less control than Mark, and a pretty enough smile that they got free drinks the entire night.
It was a good time, all considered. Mark spent half of the night playing billiards and the other half with his hands down a random girl's pants. She bought Mark the drink first, which Mark always appreciates, and she has pretty brown hair and smells like chocolate and vodka. Mark likes her. He can't remember her name, but she felt good around his fingers.
She scratched at his neck and mottled his skin with bruises and red lipstick. He thinks he got her number but he can't remember. She rode his thigh and he fucked her to completion with his fingers under the stairs. He'd made sure she made it back to her friends before hailing a taxi.
Mark doesn't really like getting off with strangers. He really likes getting other people off, but drunken hookups never end up well for him. He likes girls, soft skin, and sometimes he likes boys, firm hands, but he can't really think straight right now.
He forgets how to work the elevator and takes the stairs. He thinks about the girl he fucked the entire way up, but at some point thinking about her turns into thinking about Johnny.
Maybe Mark doesn't want to fuck anyone. He's tired. His body is taut and ready to snap. He wants someone to whisper sweet things in his ear. God, he's still hard. He wants to come, but the feeling is aimless. Pretty girls, pretty girls, Johnny, pretty Johnny. Less aimless but there are still no steps to take, other than getting in the shower and rutting into his own hand. Sounds nice. He's really tired.
Johnny opens her door sometime between Mark pulling his keys out of his pocket and managing to open the lock. To be fair, he's struggling with it quite a lot. "Good morning." Her sleep voice is thick and deep.
Mark drops his keys.
She's seriously so pretty. She's not wearing a bra at all, and Mark has a useless penis for a brain so he just...looks. Normally he tries so hard but...he's so tired. Johnny is so pretty. And tall. Her sleep pants hang so low.
"Noona," he whines, and it's the first time he's ever talked to her in Korean, probably. "Noona, you're so pretty."
The entire hallway probably smells like booze, likely permeating from Mark's jacket, but Johnny still asks, "you're drunk, right?"
Mark leans his back against his door, head tipped back. His pants are too tight but he can't do anything about it because...why not? He needs to open his door? Where did he put the key? "Noona, I'm so...fuck." He pats his pockets, looking for his keys, and is reminded how hard his dick is. "I can't stop thinking about you. What?" He sighs. "The pretty girl wasn't as pretty as you but she...ah. I'd rather fuck you, though."
He's really such a messy drunk.
It's really quiet in the hallway. Mark can't tell because he's trying very hard to keep his head from rolling off his shoulders, but Johnny is barely breathing.
She crosses her arms over her chest. "You want to fuck me?" Johnny sounds unimpressed. It's really good. Mark likes it.
"I think I want you to fuck me," he tells her, and the flyaway thought makes the heavens open up. "Oh, noona." He's whining. He's a whiny drunk, when it mixes with exhaustion. He really needs to get into his house.
Mark is thinking about it, though. He thinks about fucking himself on Johnny's lap. He thinks about her pinning him against the wall.
There are a couple of reasons why Mark doesn't like getting off with strangers. Sometimes it feels like a lot to ask for.
But Johnny doesn't say no. She doesn't say anything, at least not that Mark notices. She takes a couple quiet steps forward, and then Mark notices everything. Johnny smells like sleep and something darker, and her eyes are such a pretty amber. They're narrowed, focused. Mark makes a small noise when she steps into his space. When he's wearing his boots and she's barefoot, they're almost the same height. He feels her breath on his cheek.
The door does not feel strong enough to carry his weight when he's reeling like this.
She leans down and picks up his keys off the floor. "You're drunk, baby."
Johnny is so close and Mark is so tired. One of them smells like smoke. It's probably Mark. He puts his face in her neck just to make sure.
The sound she makes is nice. Her hand on his hip is nice. "Noona," he says again. Right now, in this moment, it's his favorite word. "Say goodnight."
Another moment, quiet, and then the soft sound of a key in the lock. "Goodnight," Johnny says.
Mark purses his lips, hums, not quite a kiss. She's a good height for this.
The door behind him shifts, and he'd fall over if Johnny didn't have a hand at the small of his back. She holds him close, front to front, and that just reminds Mark of the situation he needs to take care of. It reminds Johnny too, but she doesn't say anything. Mark wishes she'd say more things. Her sleep voice is so nice.
"Goodnight," he mutters, and then he finds his balance and shuffles into his apartment.
(Behind him, Johnny laughs, and takes his keys out of the knob before throwing them on the side table and shutting the door.)
The shower is hot, Mark is hot, Johnny is hot. Mark fucks into his own fist. He thinks about how pretty she is. He thinks about sitting in her lap, her hands on his waist, how soft she would be. Would she like the sounds he makes? Would she let him grind against her until he comes? Would she fuck him open with her pretty hands? Oh, fuck. Her hands. She has such pretty hands. Mark wants to...fuck.
By the time Mark comes, he's sober enough to realize he'll regret this in the morning and tired enough to ignore it for now. He rinses his come down the drain and trips on his way to bed.
In the morning, I'll...
He doesn't have time to make a plan. He falls asleep already dreaming.
"Donghyuck, you son of a bitch." Mark calls, receives no answer, and calls again. Then he looks through his phone for Jaemin's number and calls Jaemin. And then he calls Donghyuck again when Jaemin does not pick up.
Donghyuck answers then, "What?" he demands, incredibly sour. "You shouldn't be awake. You shouldn't even be alive until noon."
"I think I told Johnny that I wanted to have sex with her last night," Mark says so quickly it feels like he's still slurring. His head aches something awful. He remembers taking the girl under the stairs, but everything after that is hazy. Well, he remembers one thing. "She wasn't wearing a bra." He remembers that extremely clearly.
"Dude, gross." Donghyuck sounds disgusted even across the terrible connection. "Have some class. She's not a piece of meat."
"Donghyuck, I want her to fuck me so fucking bad and I'm pretty sure she knows. Me seeing her tits is the least of my worries."
"Oh, fuck, man." Donghyuck whistles. Mark hates that Donghyuck is enjoying this. "You're so valid but like...fuck." There's rustling on the other end of the line, and a soft, good morning, you big baby.
Mark knows what's coming. His time is limited. "Stop laughing at me and tell me what to do."
"Call back later," someone else says — Jaemin, who had taken Donghyuck's phone if the loud protests on the other end are anything to go by.
"Jaemin, you horny fuck—"
"Takes one to know one."
The line goes dead.
Mark feels like a limp noodle, and he trips over himself trying to find pants. This is terrible. This is so fucking bad. He needs to drink water and take an aspirin but first he needs to go next door and beg on his fucking knees.
He really likes Johnny. She doesn't deserve to get leered at in the hallway because Mark doesn't know when to stop. He feels disgusting. He's so embarrassed. There are so many problems.
His head is pounding and he barely remembers to leave his door unlatched before he's scrambling into the hallway. Mark's hair is a mess and his face is all puffy and he still kind of smells like alcohol even after his shower but maybe it's all in his head. He almost pounds on the door before he remembers he needs to be polite.
Knock, knock, knock.
Johnny opens the door quickly, and she doesn't seem particularly surprised to see him standing there, but she does take a long second to drink in the sight of him. Her face is carefully neutral. Terrifying. God.
She is still not wearing a bra but Mark doesn't even notice. Not at all. Definitely notices only a normal amount and then glues his eyes to the little smudge of toothpaste on the side of her mouth (also dangerous, but significantly less dangerous).
"Good morning," Johnny says, flat.
Mark swallows thickly. "Good morning."
And then, a slight quirk of her mouth, and out falls Korean. "Won't you call me noona today?"
Mark was not prepared to have this conversation at all. That sentence alone makes him short circuit. "Oh my god." Beet red. He can feel his entire body flush red. He doesn't remember this. He forgot too much. "I'm so sorry? What the fuck?"
Johnny shoves her hands in the pockets of her sleep pants and leans against the door jamb, waiting.
"I shouldn't have...I don't even remember everything I said but I shouldn't have said it." Mark doesn't know what to do with his hands so they're flying everywhere. He runs them through his hair and over his pants and then hangs them awkwardly in the air while he spits out word after word. "I respect you a lot! I was just...man, I was really drunk and that's not an excuse. I'm so sorry."
The clock ticks. Johnny squints at him. "You didn't read my text message, did you?"
Mark's phone is currently tossed somewhere amongst his bed sheets. "Did you tell me to like, never talk to you again? Because I’ll do that."
Johnny laughs. Mark doesn't even take the opportunity to swoon a little because he's still panicking. "No, that's not what I said."
"Oh." Mark is winded from thinking so many things all at once, and he stares at Johnny in a normal, not horny way until he remembers he needs to catch his breath. He scuffs his shoes on her welcome mat. "You can just tell me now."
"Are you any good?"
"Uh..." Mark blinks at her. He's still running haywire. "What?"
Johnny is shifting, a little closer. "You hooked up with someone last night, right?" Her hand reaches out, and Mark is too shocked to stop her fingers from tugging down the neck of his shirt. "Looks like they liked you well enough."
The hickies on his neck look like a mauling. Is this...? "She did," Mark agrees, a bit small. And then a little stronger, when his heart starts beating again. "I'm good."
Johnny drops the fabric with a flick of her hand. "Would you be good for me, too?"
Mark can't even say anything. All he can do is stand there in the hallway gaping like an idiot. It's so early. This isn't how he thought this would go. About ten minutes ago his life was in shambles in a completely different way.
"Yeah." Throat dry. "I'd be good."
Johnny grins, running a hand through her hair. "It's not like you'd be the first person I'd ever fucked."
"Oh my god." Weak. Mark wants to sink into the floor and also ascend into heaven. He settles for leaning in closer. "So you would?" She smells like sleep and spearmint.
With a grin, she tucks her fingers under his chin. The tips of her nails dig into the soft flesh of his throat. “Maybe.” Wicked. The grip on his chin forces Mark to meet her eyes and it’s terrifying. “If you ask noona nicely.”
Mark was expecting extreme discomfort with this conversation — a part of him still expects Johnny to tell him off and never speak to him again. He did not expect to get leered at in return. He did not expect...anything. He is wholly unprepared for this turn of events.
He licks his lips. He is not hallucinating when he sees Johnny track the movement, all the way down to the bob of his Adam’s apple. “Please, noona,” he says, very quietly.
The grip tightens. “Louder, baby.”
Mark’s knees are so weak. It’s like she’s holding him upright with her thumb, forefinger, and expectations. “Please, noona.” The acoustics in the hallway make his words ring. He shivers.
Johnny pauses for a moment, like maybe she’s decided whether that’s good enough. “Please, what?”
Has Mark truly died? “Please…” His hands reach out for her, the tips of his fingers pressing lightly into the flat of her stomach, tentative. “Please fuck me, noona. God, please.” His hands twist in cotton.
The hand under Mark’s chin comes up and slaps his cheek — gently, but enough, and he takes a deep breath before releasing the material of her sleep shirt.
“That’s better,” Johnny says, and that hand cups the same cheek. “I trust you. You wouldn’t lie to me about being good, would you?”
Whatever voice Mark has is gone. He shakes his head, pupils blown.
“Be a good boy then.” Johnny pushes Mark away a step or two. It’s only then that Mark realizes he has slowly been inching past the barrier of her doorway. She’d let him, but this is all she’ll allow. Dutifully, Mark steps back out onto the doormat. He feels a bit like said doormat, ready and willing to be trampled under foot. “Answer my texts next time.”
Johnny shuts her door.
When Mark returns to his own apartment after standing in the hallway just long enough to realize he is a human being with legs that work. He opens his door with shaking hands and stumbles into his bedroom, searching for his phone amongst the sheets. Donghyuck has not responded (unsurprisingly) and he has no message notifications until he opens up his chat with Johnny.
I can be a very generous woman if you convince me you deserve it.
The phone falls out of his fingers. Mark throws himself back on the bed, arm draped across his eyes, half-hard in his pajama pants. He wonders if Johnny had noticed, the way he noticed her chest or her mouth. He wonders if Johnny has thought about this before this moment. His other hand palms himself through his pants, squeezes slightly too tight until he lets out an unsteady breath. There’s no relief in it.
He remembers Johnny’s parting words and picks up his phone again — i deserve it. i promise.
It is an hour later when Mark gets a reply. He is washing his bed sheets with extra detergent and standing naked and sticky in his laundry room when the phone dings.
If you deserve it, you can be patient.
Mark can certainly be patient. He is a hard-working person with lots of things to be doing and at least one friend who takes up way too much of his time. He can be patient.
After two days it rapidly becomes apparent that Mark’s patience has a low threshold and also that Johnny is determined to break his brain.
Two days after their conversation in the hallway, Johnny waves at him breezily while watching Mark struggle with his groceries. She laughs at him a little while he fumbles with the door (which has everything to do with the pack of beer in his hands and nothing with a pretty smile) but she does pick up a roll of paper towel that falls out of his bags. She doesn’t say anything, just laughs and waves and goes inside. She doesn’t text him. Nothing.
Mark can be patient. Mark has the patience of a saint because there are so many terrible parts about being Donghyuck’s friend. He’s used to this. He can handle it.
He just doesn’t want to.
“Dude, this is really bad.”
“God.” Mark slumps onto the table. “I know.” At this point he’s pulled taut like a wire and desperate to snap.
Donghyuck is wearing a turtleneck during the summer purely because Jaemin surely mauled his entire neck and he’s shameless about it. He flirted with the barista to get a discount on his coffee that is half-empty in his hand. He’s pretty sure he and Jaemin were sexting on their lunch break. Horrifically Mark wishes that was him. “You haven’t jerked off or anything?”
Mark holds his face in his hands. “No,” he moans. “Not even a little.”
To be fair, Johnny never told him he couldn’t. He just likes the feeling of being on edge, likes the release that comes with something hard won. Still, he didn’t know she would be testing his patience for so long. He’s committed now to being good in this way for her, in a way she never asked for, but Mark is kind of gone for her. His stupid heterosexual brain keeps thinking about the look on her face when he tells her he hasn’t touched himself since she said she would fuck him.
Needless to say Donghyuck does not agree with his useless devotion. “What about a good wet dream? I know you have those.”
Mark has in fact had many of those. “I just take a shower afterwards,” he admits. He has been showering very regularly.
He has also been unusually attached to his phone. He works in a primarily network driven industry, phone pinging with casual job offers and requests from clients of all sorts, so it’s not as though this is a new development — Mark’s phone is always on him, always in sight, usually on silent but always in the back of his mind. He’s a professional.
The screen lights up white and Mark scrambles to check the notification so aggressively that the ice in Donghyuck’s mocha rattles.
Donghyuck clicks his tongue, watching Mark struggle to unlock his phone. “Tragic.”
“Shut up.” Mark’s cheeks are red. It’s just a text from his aunt about when she’s coming into town next week. Useless. He writes her a very long reply with lots of exclamation marks and an emoji at the end because he knows that makes her happy and then slumps in his chair. “I just want her to text me back!”
“Why don’t you just text her first?”
Donghyuck takes a very long sip of his drink. “Okay, buddy.”
Donghyuck is not helpful at all. Not even a little bit.
Mark fiddles with his phone. He’s not sure why he doesn’t want to reach out to her first. It seems like it’s breaking some kind of rule, despite the fact that they texted haphazardly before his embarrassing episode in the hallway that may or may not turn into a dream come true. It feels...like cheating. Like if he asks her anything she’ll decide he isn’t willing to wait.
“You like her, right?” Donghyuck asks.
“I don’t know.” Mark’s face is cherry red.
Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “Love is gross.” It’s a very bold statement for someone with a fuckbuddy willing to take his hand in marriage literally at any given moment. “But you’re endearing by nature. Just send her something cute. Girls love that shit.”
Something cute? Mark is not cute. He doesn’t know how to be cute.
“You’re cute,” Donghyuck reiterates, even if saying makes his face turn green. “And you already showed her your proverbial ass. What’s the harm?”
Mark doesn’t text Johnny until he wakes up in the middle of the night, sweaty and sticky and miserably sated, about three days later.
His chest is heaving like he just ran a marathon, and his boxers cling to his legs, messy messy. His sheets are soiled and his skin is too hot. He kicks on his covers and throws his arms over his face, trying to catch his breath. The sound is too loud in the quiet of the room. He can hear disembodied voices in the parking lot, the slamming of a car door, but it’s not as loud as his heart thudding in his chest.
It was a very good dream.
Mark claws for his glasses and his phone on the bedside table and checks the time. The sun is closer to rising than falling, but it’s not quite that murky line between night and morning. Too late to be awake, surely, and too late to beg someone for attention.
He isn’t sure what makes him do it. Is it the way his skin is on fire or the lingering image of her in his head? Is it the memory of the dream or the idea of what might happen in reality?
He opens his chat with Johnny — good morning
Pressing send feels like a nail in his grave, one final damning thing that sets off butterflies in his stomach even though it feels just a bit like dying. It’s fine.
Johnny is a morning person. Mark always sees her in the morning, her shifts at the gym start before the sun comes up, but he’s never really been able to get a grip on her schedule. He’s surprised when the three dots pop up at the bottom of the screen, although he’s less surprised by her reaction. Good morning! You’re up early or late?
Mark takes a deep breath.
Mark really, really doesn’t know what makes him do it — what makes him take the picture, what makes him stare at it in the dark of the early morning. What makes him send it to his neighbor with just enough shame to set him buzzing but not enough to stop him from pressing send. His hands are shaking and his heart is thudding but he sends this grainy image of his cock softening under the soiled and see-through cotton of his boxers like he has nothing to lose.
Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe Johnny’s response is only his to gain.
It’s only after the arrow marks read that Mark realizes he sent her an unsolicited dick pic, but she’s already typing out a response before he can properly send himself into a hysterical spiral. His bones are loose and jelly but his spine zings with adrenaline as he reads her answer.
Mark’s heart pounds in his chest. He feels sticky and jittery and lazy and tired and a little bit like if Johnny told him to do a backflip off of their apartment building he would.
The noise that pushes it’s way out of Mark’s lungs is wounded, feral, and desperate. If this is where his night is going then truly Mark did have everything to gain. His hands are shaking.
It comes out in a rush. Mark has had too much time to think about this. He thinks about Johnny an unhealthy amount — not always with his dick. Sometimes he just thinks about how soft and strong she looks and the way she smells and the sound of her laugh and the way her eyes crinkles but other times his darker nature thinks about other things. He thinks about her thighs around his head. He thinks of drinking her in. He thinks about the sounds she might make. He thinks about doing such a good job that she asks him to do it again.
He thinks about suffocating on her. It’s an even better dream.
Mark’s cock is almost completely hard again, peeking up out of the waistband of his boxers and dribbling onto his stomach, but he was good. He only touched once to readjust, and his hips jerked thinking about eating Johnny out more than once. Better than the image, the knowledge that across the hallways Johnny was touching herself, fingers wet against her clit, because of Mark. Thinking about Mark.
His cock twitches.
With a groan, he sits up in his bed. The sheets are hot and his skin is sweaty against cotton. There’s come dried on his stomach and the room smells like sex. He puts his phone down on the bedside table and shuffles into the bathroom to clean himself off. A part of him is embarrassed — he’s a grown man coming his pants in his sleep. He hasn’t done that since high school. His thoughts are stuck somewhere between racing and sluggish, like he’s trying to cycle through a million things at a snail’s pace.
The cold water barely wakes him up and the half-dried sweat just makes him shiver, but he slips into his sheets with a heavy brain and just enough energy to check his phone one last time before he falls into an easy sleep.
There’s only one notification, and it’s from Johnny — Come over tomorrow.
Mark texts her back, takes off his glasses, and falls asleep with a smile on his face.
Johnny works until seven today at the gym. Mark knows because she texted him this morning and told him so. He knows because he has been thinking about it all day and pressed it into his horny little brain so he wouldn’t forget.
Mark gets off work a couple hours before her, and when he gets home the first thing he does is get his lube and hop in the shower.
He’s done this a few times but not very often. Just often enough that the first finger takes just a few moments to feel good. It’s a hard angle, cleaning himself and opening up for the prospect of getting fucked by a pretty girl. He thinks of Johnny running her hands over his chest, thighs dimpling from the straps of her cock. He groans into the ceramic tile, pumping a finger into himself until he’s desperate for a second.
It’s not until the third finger that his arm starts getting tired. It feels so good, despite the uncomfortable position, and Mark has to stop himself from spending too much time on his prostate. He isn’t doing this to get off. There’s the promise of something better lurking just across the hall. He’s not going to waste an opportunity on a sad orgasm in his shower.
His hole clenches when he removes his finger. He hates feeling empty. He shivers, even though the water has long since steamed up the mirror beyond use.
Mark has no guarantee that Johnny is going to live up to his expectations, but he rarely expects anything in the first place. He hadn’t asked her to fuck him with expectations either. The memory of that night, or lack thereof, haunts him. He wishes he could remember clearly what her face looked like, what she said. Has she always been interested in him or is the idea of fucking a man who wants her enough to pry her interest?
It doesn’t matter. Mark steps out of the shower on wobbly legs and keeps a feral eye on the clock.
Seven is a watched pot never boiling, and Mark can’t bring himself to text Donghyuck and complain about it because he’s not sure he can live up to the teasing. His cock is still hard under the material of his jeans. His brain is telling him to tuck his shirt into his pants so he looks presentable but he can’t calm himself down and even a short walk across the hallway with his dick out is too embarrassing to fathom. He tucks his cock into his waistband and paces his kitchen.
Johnny texts him a little before seven and Mark doesn’t bother replying. He grabs his phone and his keys and he makes sure his bulge is manageable and he bolts out the door.
“No shoes?” is the first thing Johnny says when she opens the door, because of course Mark would put on actual pants and forget something important.
“Uh…” He laughs, bright red.
Johnny clearly just got out of the shower. There’s a towel wrapped around her neck and her hair is damp around her shoulders. She doesn’t wear it down very often. She smells like lemons and something that Mark should definitely recognize but definitely doesn’t. Her shirt is loose and she’s wearing pajama shorts and she might be the most beautiful thing Mark has ever seen.
“Hi,” he says, breathless.
She grins, rolling her eyes, and pulls him inside by the collar.
Johnny’s apartment is a mirror image of Mark’s, but it’s clear that a woman lives here and that she cares about how it looks. Not everything is clean but everything has a place. There are flowers by the doorway and a hook for jackets in the winter. All her sneakers are piled up haphazardly by the doorway, where Mark’s would join them were he not a fucking idiot. There are large photographs on the wall. None of them are of Johnny but some are of things he finds familiar — the woman who brought Johnny groceries the other day, or the playground around the corner, or the gas station that sells the only triangle kimbap for ten miles in any direction.
Mark takes it all in. It feels like Johnny. “This place is nice.”
“Thanks.” She tilts her head and says with a straight face, “I’d tell you to take your shoes off but you seem to have done that already.”
Mark flushes all over again. “I…” He clears his throat.
“Got excited?” Johnny drops her towel over the back of her couch and takes a step closer. She’s not wearing a bra again and Mark doesn’t feel like he can’t stare, but the look in her eyes is too hot to ignore. “Did you count down the minutes?”
He did. He really did. “I...maybe.”
Her hands are cool as she moves some of his hair of his face with a coo. “That’s cute,” she says. “Did you fuck yourself open for me, too?”
Mark closes his eyes. “I did.” He looks at her slow, through his lashes. “I wish you could hear me.”
Johnny smacks her lips. “Me too, baby.” She smiles and it’s still soft. She’s both, with a firm hand and a soft smile and that hot, hot look in her eyes. “I bet you sound so pretty. Did you fuck yourself until you came? Did you get too excited?”
“No.” Mark grins at her, unable to stop the quirk in his mouth. “I was patient. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
The energy between them is good, not desperate and broken but comfortable and expectant. It’s not like Mark pulling an orgasm out of a stranger underneath a bar, rushed and heated, but this is simmering. Mark is ready to pull his hair out, would fall on his knees if she asked him to, but she just hooks her fingers in his collar and pulls him into her bedroom.
Her room smells the same as her shampoo, mixed in with something more human and whatever is puffing out of her diffuser. Her window is above her bed and faces the lake behind their complex. Mark can see it through the slitted blinds. No one ever goes back there, but the sun shining makes Mark warm in the stomach.
There are shelves of books and albums and thick binders. Some random sports equipment is sitting in the corner beside an emptied bag that’s fraying around the edges. Her desk is covered in fake plants and a candle and an empty plate covered in crumbs.
That’s all Mark really takes in before there are hands on his waist and he’s distracted.
Johnny gently tugs his shirt up and over his head from behind. Her hands trail over his skin, brush his hips and sides and his nipples before carefully pulling his shirt off and tossing it on the floor.
He looks at her, pupils already blown, but she’s too focused on his back to notice. Her nails are short for her work, but Mark still feels them as they scrape down the muscles of his shoulders and spine. He feels the muscles move in response, feels himself straighten up, feels the deep breath — feels Johnny pull him closer, back to her front, so her hands can roam his stomach and chest.
“You’re really nice,” she says cutely in his ear, her face tucked into the jut of his shoulder. “You should wear tight clothing more often.”
Mark laughs. “But isn’t the surprise good?” He doesn’t look like Johnny. He’s seen most of Johnny’s body at some point, and he can imagine the rest, so he knows he can’t compare to her, but he does work hard when he can. He works hard for moments like this, when it’s appreciated.
“Mmm.” She hums in his ear, her fingers tweaking over his nipple. She laughs he flinches back into her. “You’re good.” Her hands trail down to his belt. “Can I see how excited you are?”
Mark is...really excited. His cock is angry red, jutting out as soon as deft fingers undo the buttons of his pants, and he covers his face in embarrassment despite knowing this is what Johnny wanted.
It’s the first time she’s really seen Mark, aside from a grainy photo in the middle of the night. Her chin is still hooked over his shoulder and Mark can’t see her expression to gauge her interest, but she pauses when she sees his cock straining against his boxers. She pushes the waistband down and cups one hand around his balls. Mark is so sensitive already from fingering himself that he bucks into her hand. Embarrassing.
“Sorry,” he says. “I just…” like you a lot.
Johnny doesn’t say anything, just spins Mark around by his shoulders and pushes him backwards onto her bed. His cock bobs as he barely sticks the landing but it doesn’t matter. Johnny is already shimmying his jeans down his legs until he’s bare and throbbing in the middle of her room.
“You have too many clothes on,” he whines at her, because he’s naked and she’s fully clothed. He can see her nipples poking through the thin material of her shirt and his mouth is watering.
“What if I don’t want to take them off?” Johnny asks, putting one knee on the edge of her bed and leaning over him on both arms. “What if I make you fuck yourself naked in my lap and you don’t get to see me at all?”
Mark shivers. “I…” He can’t find his voice, but when he finds it’s, it’s small. “If that’s what you want.” Anything she wants. “But…”
She raises an eyebrow. “But?”
“But it will be harder to make you come,” he says, rolling his lips between his teeth. Delicately he touches the side of her arm to distract himself, tracing the outline of a faded tattoo. It’s pretty, like her.
Johnny grins. Her hair falls over them both like a curtain, casting Mark’s face in shadow as hers is illuminated through the slightly-opened window. “If you take my cock well, maybe I’ll see if yours works.” She reaches down, moving her fingers over his hard shaft. “You’re pretty big, but…” She pulls it towards her and releases it so it smacks against Mark’s abs. “You could be useless.”
Mark needs Johnny to take off all of her clothes immediately right now this very moment. “Fuck me, please.” It comes out like air.
She settles back on her knee, looking down at Mark sprawled out bare on her bed. “Anything you don’t like?” she asks, stepping away.
“I don’t like blood,” he says immediately.
Johnny whistles. “That’s it?”
It’s all he can think of. “I’ll tell you if something bothers me.”
Her grin is wicked as she opens the drawer of her desk. “Works for me.” She pulls out a giant bottle of lube, half-full, and then she asks, “black or purple?”
Mark blinks, propping himself up on his elbows. “Purple?”
Johnny pulls out a giant purple cock, vague and unrealistic, hanging off her fingers by a myriad of black straps. “This one is bigger. Is that alright?”
“Yeah.” Mark is so hard he thinks he might pass out. He hangs his hand back with a groan. “Oh my god, dude, I’m...fuck.” He flops back on her bed spread. “I haven’t been fucked in so long.”
Johnny barely reacts at being called dude. “Is that why you came early?” she asks, and Mark raises his head to whine at her only to be struck speechless by the sight of her pulling her shirt off.
She doesn’t have huge tits. They’re big enough that there are stretch marks on the sides, big enough that Mark wants them in his mouth, but that would be the case regardless. There’s so much skin. Johnny is tan and the square of her shoulders is sharp and there are impressions in her skin from where her sports bra was only an hour or so before. She looks like she could rip him to shreds.
And then she laughs at him and his cock twitches.
“Nothing to say?” Johnny asks. “What are you gonna do when I take my pants off?”
“Cry?” Mark offers, and Johnny laughs again so it’s worth being shameless.
“Save it for later,” she says, untying her shorts with one hand and letting them drop to the floor.
Mark notices that she isn’t wearing underwear, that she’s trimmed, and that she’s coming towards him in rapid succession. “Can I…?” he asks, his hands reaching up towards her.
“You wanna help me put it on?” Johnny asks, holding the strap between them. It’s not what Mark was asking but like hell he’s going to say no. She’s delicate as she steps into the straps, and as soon as she’s within arm’s distance Mark’s hands are smoothing up her thighs because he fucking can. He can touch her. Her skin is smooth and plush and he can feel her muscles moving. God. “That’s not the strap, baby.”
“Sorry,” he says, not sorry at all. Delicately, he places a small kiss on the smooth skin of her stomach, another apology. He tightens the adjuster and fits his finger underneath to make sure it’s not too tight. He ignores Johnny’s goosebumps, but he’s grinning when he does the other side. He slides the straps up her hips and puts both hands there, looking up at her. He’s so close her cock is by his ear. “Is that good?”
“That’s great.” Johnny puts one hand over his and the other on his shoulder and pushes him back on the back. “How do you want to do this?”
“I want…” Mark clears his throat. “Can I kiss you?”
It’s clearly not what Johnny was asking, but she doesn’t balk at the suggestion either. “Kisses?” She leans forward, her thigh rubbing against the angry red of Mark’s cock. “Are you gonna come immediately like we’re in high school?”
Honestly? “Maybe.” Mark wraps his arms around her waist. She’s more than happy to settle against him, although the plastic of the toy digs uncomfortably into his hipbone. “But I’ll be happy.”
Carefully, Johnny pulls him to the side, tilting his head towards her with a firm grip on his jaw, and when she kisses him Mark realizes she was right to assume he’ll come early. She tastes like toothpaste and Jolly Rancher, and her mouth curls even when she kisses. It’s not heavy, not at first, but kissing her sets off a raging fire, and suddenly any space at all is too much between them. Her hand rubs down his back and over his ass, and he throws his leg over her until their cocks rub together.
Her body is smooth against his, her chest flush against him. Mark can’t help but pull her closer, can’t help but feel everything that’s suddenly available to him — her ass, her hips, her back, her sides. He wants her chest in his mouth. He wants her cock so fucking bad.
Mark gasps into her mouth and she bites at his lip until he whines.
“You’re a big baby,” she says, placing feathery kisses on the corner of his smile and lavishing open mouthed at his jawline. “It’s cute. Desperate to get fucked.” Her teeth scrape down his pulse point. “I love that in a man.”
Mark is beside himself. “You’re...something.”
“Something good?” Johnny’s fingers tease over Mark’s hole, still slick with lube from earlier, and he flutters beneath her touch.
“Something really good.” He tangles a hand in her hair and kisses the high of her cheekbone while she laughs at him. He groans when the tip of her first finger slips inside him and he kisses her open-mouthed, deepening everything until there is nothing between them. “I’m ready,” he says against skin. “Please.” He’s been worked up for weeks. It isn’t fair.
“What do we say?”
Mark sticks his face in the curve of her neck. “Noona, please.”
The sound of lube opening has never been accompanied by so much relief.
Johnny drizzles it over her fingers, sitting up so she can warm it in her hands. It’s a nice gesture, although Mark’s never minded lube cold from the bottle. He watches her work her hands over that purple cock, looks at the way the straps dig into her skin, and he leans forward, mouthing at her clavicle. Her free hand comes around and spanks him on the ass, not hard enough to be a deterrent but just enough from him to rut his dick against the planes of her stomach.
“Want you spread out for me,” she says, moving to sit up against her headboard. She tosses a pillow on the floor with a lube covered hand and pats her lap. “Ass up,” she says.
Mark obliges. He puts one knee on either side, giggling as he gets into position and his ass is in her face but he moans when she flattens her hand along his spine and pushes him down. She’s much stronger that Mark expected, and he expected a lot.
The position has him vulnerable, spread out in front of Johnny, but also in front of the window. Mark can see the slits of sunlit across the bedsheets and wiggles his hips with a sigh.
“You’ve got such a nice ass,” Johnny tells him, her palm flattening over one cheek.
“Haha.” Mark has heard it before but it still turns him red.
The sharp smack to his ass is so sudden — not strong, but loud and out of nowhere — that Mark collapses a little, his elbows buckling. His cock is dribbling sadly on Johnny’s comforter.
“Yes?” Johnny asks, unsure.
When Mark looks back at her his eyes zero in on her raised palm, poised to strike again. “I’ll come so fast,” he admits, as much as he wants her handprint on his skin. “Like...oh my god, so fast.”
Johnny’s eyes are hot but she softens, and she pats him far more gently, pushing his legs further out. “Next time, then.”
Mark could come from the implication of a next time alone but he’s not going to because he refuses to be so pathetic. But just...he could have. He really could have. He just lets Johnny manhandle him into position, already shaking, and takes what she will give him.
“Let’s see how good you did,” Johnny says, smoothing a hand along Mark’s inner thigh before entering him with two fingers at once.
Mark can feel the way he eats her up. It should be embarrassing, how much he wants to be full right now, but he can’t bring himself to be any more ashamed that he was fucking himself in the bathroom. He has surpassed shame and entered desperation, and the feeling of Johnny’s fingers inside him is enough to repress any regret he might feel — maybe in the morning.
Her thumb digs into his perineum, slick, and her fingers search for his prostate just shy of brutal. He twitches underneath her, not sensitive enough yet to flinch violently when she finds the perfect spot, but the sound he makes is inhuman and he bites down on her comforter to keep it down.
There’s another smack to his ass and Mark moans so loud it’s embarrassing, thin and reedy.
“I don’t care about the neighbors,” Johnny tells him darkly, circling his prostate with a practiced hand. The other one soothes over the sting of her smack. He wants her to hit him harder, maybe, or just over and over again until he’s sobbing in her sheets. “I want you loud. You seem like you’d be loud.”
Mark is loud. Mark is so loud his last girlfriend put a gag on him whenever her roommate was home. Mark is so loud that when Johnny rubs against his prostate again he covers up Johnny’s satisfied sigh completely.
“I’m ready,” Mark pants into the sheets. He hasn’t had a good orgasm in so long there are tears collecting in his eyes. Stupid. Fuck. “I’m ready, I swear.”
“I know,” Johnny says, adding another finger. She’s so careful not to brush Mark’s aching cock when she reaches around, pulling him upright until he’s curved backwards. His head is almost brushing the headboard and his hips twitch back on Johnny’s hand. If he moves at all he’s impaled on her fingers, exactly where she wants him. She hums, so close her breath tickles Mark’s ear. “You can fuck yourself, baby. I know you want to.”
God, he does. He really fucking does. His thighs shake from the strain of the position as he fucks back, rutting on the three fingers Johnny has perfectly still behind him.
“You wish that was my cock?” she coos.
“Fuck.” He braces one hand on her thigh. “Yeah. Fuck. Please.” If he comes on her fingers he’ll never forgive himself. He’s already bubbling, not boiling over but he’s warm and weak and woozy, drunk on this. Fuck.
“Alright.” Johnny pulls his hips back suddenly with both hands and Mark’s balance shifts until Johnny has gently lowered him into her lap, cock slick against the curve of Mark’s ass. She leans forward, arms hooking under Mark’s knees until he’s held up by her completely. Held open by her. “Go on.”
With a shaking hand, Mark fumbles around between his legs until his fingers touch warm plastic. It’s slippery, and his fingers have a hard time wrapping around it from this angle, and he’s very distracted from being held up by a pretty girl, but when he finally gets the head flush against his gaping hole he feels Johnny lower him down with a sigh.
There is nothing better in this moment than being completely filled.
Mark has not been fucked very often in his life. He tried with Donghyuck once and didn’t really like it, and only one of the girls he dated seriously was really into it. With the others, he took whatever they would give him and gave tenfold. Never once has his first time with a girl been this way, with her spreading him out in her lap and fucking into him like she was born to do it.
Johnny fucks like she was born to do it, and on that they’re in agreement. “God, you’re made to take cock,” she hisses, rutting into him smoothly. “Look at you, swallowing me up. Damn.” Mark is still braces himself against her but his feet are barely stable enough to roll back once she gets her rhythm.
His head lolls back, one hand gripping Johnny’s where her fingers dig into flesh hard enough enough to bruise. “Fuck. Fuck, fuckfuck.” His thighs shake. He gets his feet underneath him with a fragile huff. There’s lube dripping out of him and onto Johnny’s cock, and it feels wet and nasty and he wiggles his hips to feel most of it. “You are so — shit, again.”
Johnny pulls him down onto her dick, hips smacking Mark’s ass so hard his entire body feels the rebound. “Yeah?” she asks quietly, rolling her hips, when Mark whines so loud he thinks the whole hallway can hear them. “Is that all you needed? My cock?”
Mark slumps against her, her breasts pressed into his back, completely split. She’s deep, the plastic of the toy hitting further than Mark can get with his own hands and desperation. He wants her to shove his face into the mattress, and she’s more than happy to indulge the babbling that falls out of his mouth.
“Is that baby talk?” she asks. She kisses his shoulder — just once, just sweet — before pulling him off of her cock and shoving him onto his back beneath her.
Mark scrambles when she presses the head of her cock back inside, wrapping his legs around her waist, trying to pull her closer but she’s bottomed out in a moment. He’s so open for her, wet and sloppy. He feels messy. “Noona,” he whines into her ear. “I just...I just want…”
“I don’t care what you want, baby,” Johnny says, kissing his cheek and his neck and his mouth, just to shut him up. Her hands snap against his thighs, sharp, and her hands snap harder on the sides of his ass. “You’ll take what noona gives you, right?”
“Anything,” he says, breathless. and Johnny drives into him with vigor. “Anything—” Her cock rubs against his prostate and he sinks his teeth into her shoulder, whining. He is loud, and he’s weak, and he wants to be useful, and he wants to be fucked. He wants her nails scraping down his chest. He wants—
When Mark comes, he comes blind. There is so much, and the feeling in his stomach is so much, and he’s talking mindlessly into Johnny’s chest when he feels the first building into a storm he can’t stop and fuck, he’s coming, he’s coming—
“Shhh,” Johnny says, whispering into his temples, her hand smoothing down his sweaty hair. “Come. It’s okay. Noona says you can.”
Everything is white and black and Mark’s hips jolt violently as he paints the space between them with his release.
It takes him a minute to catch his breath.
Johnny kisses his forehead. “Was that good, Mark?” she asks, sitting back on her heels. Her cock pulls out with a slick sound, still giant and purple and proud.
He hums, smacking his lips together. His legs are still shaking. The sun shines on him in slats. If he could look at himself, he’d see he was a vision, but his eyes closed and he’s trying to set the world in order. “Did I take it well?”
With a laugh, Johnny leans forward. “Yes.” She kisses his knee.
Mark lifts himself onto his elbows. “Then do I get to eat you out?”
It’s quiet for a moment, and more than anything else Mark thinks he’s actually managed to shock her. There’s lube on her sheets and come on her stomach and surprise on her face and she says, “of course?” but Mark is already reaching over to slide the strap on off of her hips.
There are red marks on her hips and thighs when he pushes the straps down and slides them over her legs, hands trailing all the down until the purple cock is set aside. His fingers trace the bruising. She looks...like a dream. Like a daydream, something beautiful, and she smiles at him like an angel. Mark kisses the sensitive skin in thanks. This is something she did for his pleasure. It’s the least he can do to return the favor.
Mark has been dreaming about this. He has been dreaming about a lot of things — Johnny’s cock, Johnny’s smile, Johnny’s laugh — but he has definitely dreamt of gently pushing her knees apart and sinking into her. She’s already wet. If she were still wearing her shorts she would have soaked through thin linen. Her thighs are shining and Mark puts his nose in the crease of her hip and breathes her in.
He really loves this.
Gently, Mark places a soft kiss on Johnny's clit before he takes her into his mouth, and he revels in the uncontrolled way Johnny responds. Her hands are already in his hair and he doesn’t care about the smell of lube or anything because Johnny smells like lemons and something else and also, wonderfully, like Mark. She smells like he wishes she would.
Johnny is close, Mark thinks. She’s responsive, twitching almost wildly underneath him despite trying to hold her on hips down, and her hands in his hair pull just hard enough to make him drunk on it. Maybe she’s like this because of him. Maybe Johnny liked fucking him that much. When he puts a palm over her stomach he can hear her say, “Fuck,” very quietly under her breath, like she doesn’t want him to hear. He digs his fingers into her ribs and back down again.
He licks up her slick and it’s sweet. One of his hands comes up to trail up her ass, palming her there until one finger moves to slip into her folds. She gushes around him. Mark feels it on his chin and he drinks in everything she gives him. His palm presses against her and he kisses the sensitive skin just below her stomach and grins at the way she rolls against him.
Mark sighs into her. “Good?” he asks, cheeky.
The noises she makes when she comes are so cute.
Slick is already covering Mark’s mouth but he doesn’t mind more. He eats her out through her orgasm, even past, just because she holds his head there. Her hips ride his face for a glorious moment, so hot that Mark presses in deeper until he nearly can’t breathe. And on the come down, he kisses the creases of her thighs, the red marks on her hips, and gazes up at her as she finds her center again. It is so cute, stirring even, watching Johnny fight with her body to regain balance.
Suddenly, Mark feels pressure against his cock. He whines, high in his throat.
“Are you hard again?” Johnny asks breathlessly. Her hair is in her face and there’s bright red on her cheeks Mark wants to kiss off. Her foot rubs against him.
The ball of her foot presses firmly into his shaft, almost to the point of discomfort, and Mark can’t help himself from rutting forward, just a little. When he looks down, his cock is heavy between his legs.
It’s true. He is definitely hard again.
“I like eating you out,” he says, ignoring the short turn around. He pops a finger in his mouth, sucking them clean before wiping her slick off of his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m gonna make you feel good. I promised.”
Johnny is staring at him with fire in her eyes. Her hair is almost dried and it’s going in every direction, wrapping around her shoulders and jaw. Her chest heaves, and she notices Mark’s eyes drift downward. With a shark’s grin she pulls him in by the neck until his cheek is pressed to her tits. “Fuck me,” she says into the crown of his head. Mark feels a kiss in his hair. “God.”
Mark nods, mouthing at her chest, lavishing kisses on the stretch marks and sucking her nipple into his mouth like he has been wanting to do for so long. She responds nicely, or maybe she’s so worked up from Mark writhing underneath her that it takes very little. It doesn’t matter. Mark puts his fingers between her legs and kisses her until her chest is shining and he feels her pulsing around his fingers. “If that’s what noona wants.”
It’s Johnny who takes the next step, Johnny who takes Mark in her hand and slips his cock between her folds, but it’s Mark who nearly weeps with it. She throws her arms around his neck, presses his face back where it belongs so he can give her chest all the attention he wants. Her hips move smooth circles, and Mark takes the opportunity to map out of the muscles in her back and the moles on her collarbone.
“You’re so beautiful,” he tells her, reverently. It’s difficult, almost, to remove his mouth from her skin. He doesn’t want to, ever. Just wants to kiss her bruised and brilliant. “I know I’m just like, your neighbor but—”
“Shut up,” Johnny says, cupping his face and kissing him hard on the mouth. “Just call me beautiful.”
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Mark groans when she pulls his hair back. She looks so pretty with the sun behind her and her eyes blown, moving up and down Mark’s cock even though he doesn’t deserve it. “You’re like...god.” He can’t think of the word. “Noona, you’re so pretty.”
Johnny snorts in the middle of a moan. “Thanks.” She flips her hair over her shoulder. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
Mark pulls them both back on their sides, Johnny landing on top of him with a huff, and he pulls her leg up to fuck into her smoothly. “Okay?” he asks, even though the sound Johnny makes is low and sweet.
“Hmm, fuck yeah.” She says it softly, and she’s laughing, and Mark is overcome by the desire to kiss her straight on the mouth so he does. Johnny curls into him, and it doesn’t feel like their first night.
When she comes, Johnny makes the best sound, the best face, and the way she tightens around Mark is enough to send him over the edge a second time.
Mark comes out of Johnny’s shower and he smells like lemons and honey. He knows because he checked the bottle.
“Feel better?” she asks. Johnny is leaning over her kitchen counter with a cup of coffee in her hand despite the late hour. She should be going to be soon. Johnny works early in the morning — it’s part of the reason why Mark isn’t hanging around.
He really wants to.
Her hair is wet again, and she’s wearing a hoodie and actual pants and she looks cozy. There are fuzzy socks on her feet and the curl of her mouth is self-satisfied.
“I feel great,” Mark admits. That was the best orgasm he’s gotten in some time. That isn’t saying much, considering that he’s been having rushed and stilted one-night-stands for the past several years. Although…
Maybe that’s all Johnny thinks this is.
She beats him to the moment of existential crisis. “That was really good for me,” she says, taking a long sip of her drink. The mug is shaped like a llama. Mark’s pretty sure he saw it at Target. “For a first time, like…” She whistles and makes an ok sign with her hands.
Mark is pretty sure that’s a compliment. He grins. He picks at the fringe on one of her throw pillows. “It was good for me, too.” Coyly, he looks over at her through his lashes, and the look on her face hints that she knows exactly the game he’s playing. “I’m uh...I’d do it again.”
“Oh yeah?” Johnny raises an eyebrow at him. “Did noona ruin you?”
“Oh my god.” Mark wills his dick to quiet down. He just showered. He scratches the back of his neck. “But like, yeah.”
Johnny puts the mug down on the table and crosses her arms over her chest. She gives Mark a critical look, head to two. “Then we can do it again.” She smiles, teasing. “You’re not useless, after all.”
Flushed, Mark clears his throat. “It was, like okay that you called me that though, not gonna lie.”
“Yeah, I know.” Johnny snorts. “I saw your dick perk up. I’m sure it’s fine.”
Down, down, down. “Well.” He looks at the pile of shoes and remembers he doesn’t have any. “I should go.”
Slowly, Johnny walks around the counter. “You can stay, if you want.” She’s so tall and pretty and Mark likes looking up at her.
“You’ve gotta get up early, though.” He chews on the inside of his cheek. “I can just, uh, text you?” Mark taps his bare foot against the carpet. “Or see you tomorrow?” That would be nice. Maybe they could go out and get coffee or something, since he knows she really likes coffee. The drink in her mug is much darker than what Mark likes, and it smells nicer, but not as nice as her because right now she smells like Mark.
“Sure.” She tucks her hands into the pocket of her hoodie. “See you tomorrow.”
Johnny leans forward and kisses Mark. She smiles when he squeaks and she hums when he sucks on her bottom lip.
He presses one more kiss to the bow of her mouth and decides if he doesn’t leave now he’ll find a reason to stay forever (or at least until she tells him to go). “Alright.” He scratches his neck again before shoving reaching hands into the pocket of his jeans. “Good night, Johnny.”
Johnny leans her hip against the side of the couch. “Good night, Mark.”
See you tomorrow.