All things considered, moving back to the same twenty-five mile radius of where Johnny grew up after spending four years at UC Irvine and working at a pretentious tea shop was not in his five year plan, but clearly life had other ideas. Johnny didn’t mind so much, or at least he tried not to let it get to him. At least he’s not still living under his parents roof, he tells himself. He has friends, like Jaehyun or some of the guys from school who get on his case about this, ‘what's so bad about not paying rent while looking for a better job’ but these friends are usually straight, and capable of having a conversation with their dad without having to look at the TV in order to talk.
Johnny wipes down the counter to begin prepping the mobile orders and tries to ignore the teenagers who are totally not doing homework, barely sipping their oolong, and blatantly staring at him. Working in a tea shop is fine, the live music on Fridays is nice, sometimes his friend Kun who works as a tutor at a music academy comes by and plays on the piano and sings, and even when the live music isn’t good it’s at least a change of pace. The pay is pretty good, well above the Cook county minimum wage, which is rare for a food service outside the actual city limits, and his manager is fine. Usually he doesn’t “accidentally” overschedule him and forget to pay overtime, but that's where the positives end.
His first concern, the one he told Tinder dates back when he still went on them, was that Johnny is a coffee man. He owns a french press and a pour-over and everything, for his twenty second birthday his parents got him a coffee of the month club subscription and he loved it. Honestly, his coffee love knows no bounds and yet somehow he finds himself in an artisanal teashop. Cue a gentle laugh from his Tinder date, before they inform Johnny of their favorite teas or coffees and he gets to silently judge their taste.
The second concern is with the patronage. It was clear in his first week behind the counter, that while he may make fancy tea, lattes, and actually pretty good sandwiches and salads with whoever his shift mate is, they are there mainly as eye-candy. On the weekdays, it’s commuters in the morning, grown men who like to touch hands at the drink transfer and linger too long on his fingers, and stay-at-home moms with the leggings and the Lululemon with the thumb holes in the mid morning, and Johnny’s afternoon is filled with teenagers after school. The tea shop is in a great location to be ogled at like a man in a zoo, a block away from the Metra Northline for commuters, about a half mile west of Lake Michigan (and it’s surrounding trails) for the dog walkers and weird amount of cyclists on the weekends, and not too far from the property tax-funded public high school. Johnny reminds himself that staying in southern California wouldn’t have been much better, the public transit would probably be a lot worse, and his two bedroom apartment would have been a lot more expensive.
Honestly the teenagers wouldn’t bother him that much if A, they didn’t clearly think he was much older than he is (he’s 25 for god sakes, he is not a ‘DILF’), and B, he wasn’t a low key weed dealer on the side.
Johnny doesn’t sell that much weed, like he probably only makes $300 a week from it, the vast majority of his income still comes from pouring tea and being ogled at, but he does always have the fear that of one of his customers at the tea shop will hit him up for an eighth. He tries not to sell to high schoolers, because that just makes him feel weird and also he’s sure there's another kid at their school selling and maybe they just need to make friends and Johnny Really Really doesn’t want some angry helicopter parent banging on his door. Honestly, his main clientele is anxious overachieving Northwestern and Uchicago students, and grad students from colleges in the area.
At first, it only started because his supplier, his cousin Hyuck who grows it up in Wisconsin, always gave him more than he needed, and it just went from there. Hyuck doesn’t care, but Johnny still sends him a cut of it anyway, even if he doesn’t really need it. Johnny’s cousin Donghyuck inherited a dilapidated farm in Wisconsin from some old eccentric sculptor Donghyuck took care of after school his last few years of highschool and didn’t go to college to take care of full time. There's a story there, about terminal illness, and a lack of family and some grand betrayal, but the short of it is the old man got attached to the one person who showed up for him, and when he died, Hyuck, at nineteen years old, got a farm and enough inheritance money to not work again if he lived modestly. And so he does, and he grows weed, and rents out the back cabin as an AirBnB. Honestly, as far as Johnny is concerned Hyuck is living the life.
So Johnny didn’t really mean to become a weed dealer, and he didn’t really mean to work in a tea shop, but here he is, handing a fancy sandwich and chai latte in a to-go cup to a hurried woman in a suit before he starts the long closing process.
Him and his co-worker Aishya have it down to a science, if he wipes down tables and sweeps in the main space, and does the dishes she can do tomorrow’s prep and pack up the kitchen. Johnny is on the Metra UP Northline heading south at 7:17. That's another weird perk of working at a pretentious tea shop, unless it’s the weekend, even if he’s working a closing shift, he can be done and heading home before too late. It comes in handy because late is usually when the grad students come knocking looking for his particular goods and services.
Honestly, Johnny didn’t plan on selling for this long mostly because he thought most of his business would disappear when weed was legalized in the state. Oh, how wrong he was, if anything his business has gone up, people don’t want to spend sixty bucks or more for an eighth of weed, and Johnny would never charge more than thirty-five. He has even been known to cut his regulars deals. As a rule, the undergrads usually get housecalls, Johnny doesn’t need a ton of shaky-handed kids in engineering frats at his apartment, but the older clientele he welcomes into his home because he has very little self preservation. The one exception is Mark Lee, perhaps the most anxious kid not on something John has ever met, who he lets come to his apartment because that kid needs to get out of his study nest, and he complimented Johnny’s music once.
Johnny gets off at the Rogers Park stop and walks the five blocks to his apartment with his headphones on and an episode of the podcast Jaehyun wouldn’t stop talking about over facetime playing. Much to Johnny’s chagrin, Jaehyun was right and it's pretty good, he swipes over to tinder to check his messages.
Johnny doesn’t go on Tinder dates anymore because his Tinder has now become his best tool for advertising his ~business~ and it has been that way for the last four months or so. He has a couple messages, and he messages back to set some plans in stone. Teagan, a grad student at UIC would stop by after her office hours. Lisa, a visiting dance faculty/choreographer at Columbia would stop by at 9:30 with her girlfriend on their way home, and Yuta, an honest to god fellow at the Newberry library would stop by around 10:15 ish.
Johnny walks up the four floors to his apartment because he did not trust the elevators in his apartment and undoes the two locks to get into his apartment. He technically has another roommate, Jungwoo, but Jungwoo spends from November through March house-sitting a pent-house in Old-Town for some rich old couple who winter in Vale. Jungwoo stull sends his half of the rent each month, and Johnny doesn’t mind too much because he rarely saw Jungwoo anyway since he’s one of the assistants of some artist in France and has to work on French time, being her liaison to her exhibits in the city, and scheduling things for her. Jungwoo is the best because he lets Johnny keep his stock in his room while he’s not there in exchange for free weed Johnny would give him anyway. With a roommate who’s never there and pays his half of the rent on time, and his weed business, and his job at the tea shop Johnny can afford to pay his student loans and rent and have enough to fund his coffee addiction and buy food and toys for his pet rats.
Johnny has three pet rats, Garrison, Pickle Bean, and Monterey-Jackson. He loves them very much. He loves them so much he bought them a four level rat cage and commissioned some guy on Etsy to make them custom rat furniture and ramps, it's like a little castle. No, Johnny doesn’t have a car, he has three sick rats, an incredibly tricked out cage, and weekly appointments with a therapist over the phone so he thinks he is doing great actually.
“Hello ladies! Who wants some fucking apple?” Johnny opens the door to their cage , and as expected Pickle Bean immediately runs up on his arm, and Garrison and Monterey hang back. Johnny doesn’t mind, Pickle Bean has always been more adventurous than her sisters, and the happiest to hang out with Johnny. She keeps him company running around his shoulders, and climbing on top of the hood of his sweatshirt while Johnny washes and cuts an apple into slices.
“One for you,” Johnny gives a slice to Garrison where she’s scampering up her little rat turret, “and one for me.” Jonny repeats the process offering Monterey a big slice, since she’s always less aggressive about food than her sisters, and finally he gives a slice to Pickle Bean where she’s chilling in his hoodie pouch.
Johnny is just refilling their pellets and putting Pickle Bean back when his buzzer goes off, for him to let Teagan up. Teagan is doing well, she wants more of the same Indica from last time if he has it, oh my god does Johnny want to hear about what one of her students fucking asked her today? Can Johnny believe that?
Teagan’s nice, and she Venmos him before he is even finished fully packing up her order, and she offers him a Jolly Rancher because apparently she just always has a pocket full of them. Johnny takes a green one and she’s out of his hair in eight minutes and Johnny is fifty-five dollars richer.
Johnny has his Roku play one of his Spotify playlists while he eats some left-over food from the Palestinian place down the block and chips and salsa. He lets Monterey-Jackson out for some couch time and to eat some plain tortilla chips because she always goes nuts over them. He sets up his bong and opens the window in his room. He tries to keep the smoking out of the living room because he assumes rat lungs are very small and should not inhale any second hand smoke but he also knows Hyuck is constantly stoned and has like three cats who always follow him to his screen porch when he smokes. Maybe the cats are also stressed. Maybe Johnny should invite Donghyuck to come down and stay in Jungwoo’s room again if he’s lonely.
Lisa and Rosie show up right on time and Johnny buzzes them up without putting Monty away because she seems to be on her best behavior and so she can meet some funky lesbians as a treat. Rosie is paying today, and like she always does when she’s treating her girlfriend she buys a ridiculous amount while Lisa blushes and makes what is probably supposed to be sympathetic eye-contact but Johnny just laughs and lets her buy $150 worth of the fancy stuff Donghyuck just sent him. Lisa lights up when Johnny says she can meet Monty if she wants and Rose looks fond but also vaguely scared.
“She’s so small and playful,” Rose remarks.
“She’s an angel!” Lisa corrects and Johnny gives Lisa a chip to feed her. She takes it like a very polite lady before scampering back to Johnny’s arm. After they leave Johnny lets Monterey-Jackson back in the cage and heads to his room. Garrison isn’t a fan of handling, but he makes up for the lack of bonding time to make sure to stock the cage with lots of fun new toys for her to explore.
Johnny checks his phone, he still has a while before Yuta is supposed to arrive so he puts off smoking in favor of a shower, he feels like Tea shop and public transport, and he might crash early after Yuta leaves. Also, Yuta is insanely hot. Has Johnny mentioned that? That Yuta Nakamoto certified genius and scholar, hottie with piercings and a god damned PhD is a walking wet dream. What with his half shaggy, half jagged, dyed hair and cozy looking layers all in complementing tones and the lilting way he speaks that screams fancy international school Johnny could never afford, it’s hard for him to be anything besides devastatingly hot. Yuta has been his customer for a bit, four months or so, but he’s been a frequent visitor in Johnny’s tea-shop fantasies. Yuta and his fucking AllSaints boots. Yeah, Johnny needs to shower.
Honestly, Yuta seems like the kind of guy who can afford fancy legal weed and also kinda like the kind of guy who would use a dab pen instead of smoking it but Johnny certainly isn’t going to judge whatever makes a beautiful man walk through his door. Sometimes Johnny looks at Yuta’s Tinder profile, specifically the picture of Yuta laughing at something someone (probably behind the camera) said with a big open mouth and wild eyes as he leans back against a brick wall. In the photo he has one of his luxurious coats just hanging off his shoulders, tight ripped black jeans, the AllSaints boots of Johnny’s dreams and a mesh shirt that leaves nipple and belly button piercings to glint through the fabric. Johnny likes to imagine that this was taken after leaving a club, one of the fancy gay clubs in East Lakeview or Boystown. He likes to imagine meeting Yuta in one of those clubs, and grinding against each other under the lights, of offering Yuta some poppers and the dumb face he would make if he accepted.
Johnny turns the water to cold and hops out of the water gasping and swearing when the picture gets a little too clear because he may not be a professional but he doesn’t want to be some sort of creep.
The buzzer starts while Johnny is still in his towel. He rushes to the door and presses the comm.
“Hi John, it’s me.” Johnny checks the time.
“You are early,” Johnny says in a way that he hopes sounds kind of teasing and not like he’s some sort of loser who hates spontaneity.
“What can I say, I just can’t stay away from you.” Johnny laughs and unlocks the door for him.
“I guess I’ll have to let you up then, I gotta throw some clothes on but the door is unlocked so let yourself in.”
Johnny doesn’t wait to hear his response, he rushes to his room, his tragically full bong and open windows, and grabs the first shirt and underwear in his drawers, before he grabs those comfy Adidas track pants that weirdly make his quads look really nice that Jaehyun convinced him to buy. Yuta is going to know that this is Johnny’s home and Johnny just got out of the shower so it would be weird if he looked really put together but he still has the want to. He grabs this big half flannel, half denim jacket he found at a thrift shop in the Western suburbs because it makes him feel a little cooler, and it is also just very comfy.
He’s pulling on some socks and trying to make his still very damp hair do something so at the very least it won’t dry weird, when he hears the sounds of the front door opening.
“I’ll be out in a moment, sorry!” Deodorant, Johnny needs deodorant that's non-negotiable, and some moisturizer because the wind chill off the lake has been trying to destroy his skin lately.
He makes himself pause in front of his bedroom door and take a breath before he’s pushing it open to see Yuta in his doorway, standing still but somehow still managing not to look awkward.
“Sorry about that, take off your shoes and come in, make yourself at home.”
Yuta smiles and begins unlacing his boots, the boots, “I had a feeling you would say that but I didn’t want to be presumptuous.” Johnny laughs and it’s easy.
“What can I say, I was raised right.”
“Well, if we are being polite, can I get you a glass of water?”
Yuta stands, stepping out of his boots and shrugging a tailored leather jacket unlike any Johnny has seen before off his shoulders and laying it on the back of Johnny’s couch, “Water sounds lovely,” he flashes Johnny another one of his all teeth smiles before making his way to the ladies’ cage.
Johnny grabs two cups and actually uses his Brita even though if he was alone he would just use the tap because everyone knows that water from Lake Michigan is some of the best tap water out there. Johnny has a special appreciation for the Chicago tap water, especially after four years in Irvine, but Yuta is a guest.
Yuta accepts his glass with a quiet, “thank you” before looking back at the cage and up close like this Johnny can tell just how tired Yuta looks. There's a certain resignation to his posture, subtle darkness under his eyes, and he cups the glass with two hands like he’s somehow getting strength from a cool glass of water.
“How are you holding up?”
Yuta looks at Johnny with suspicion for a moment before he sighs, “I spent the night at the library last night.”
“Oh shit, did you sleep at all?”
“Yeah, I managed a couple hour on a couch in the employee lounge, but I just got caught up in work, and we have these diaries that are on loan from a conservatory in Germany and they’re currently being hand delivered back but I wanted to finish reading them and analyzing them before I had to rely on scans.”
“Did you manage to finish them?”
Yuta gives Johnny a look, the weighty kind, “Who do you think I am? Of course I did, now I’m just beat.”
“I bet you are!” Sometimes when Johnny talks to Yuta, or Lisa, or even his friend Ten in college, people who learned English as a second or third language and speak it more elegantly than him, Johnny feels aggressively Midwestern and distinctly uncool, “ I slept seven hours last night, and only worked an eight hour shift, and I still was about to smoke a bowl to relax.”
Yuta sighs and his eyes slip close for a second, “That sounds so nice.”
“Do you want to join me?”
“Would I be intruding?” One of Yuta’s eyes opens and narrows at Johnny.
“You would be incredibly welcomed,” Johnny grins, “in fact, I might be a little insulted if you refused.”
“Well, we can’t have that,” Yuta finally opens both eyes and leans forward, closer to Johnny’s space until Johnny thinks he can smell some of his cologne, “seriously, I think that would make my week.”
That's how Johnny ends up with Yuta Nakamoto in his room sitting across from him on his futon in front of the open window while Johnny adds another ice cube to the bong.
“I’ve never had it with ice before,” Yuta remarks.
“Really? It makes a surprisingly big difference, here you start,” Johnny passes him his bong, the medium sized one with all the pink and gold details, when he bought it it was called the ‘Gold Princess’ and his boyfriend at the time, his like, second boyfriend ever, thought it was fitting because he used to call him Princess John. The messy breakup made using the bong weird for a bit but they were on better terms now and so the bong was back in rotation, Johnny liked how much it could hold and that it actually fit his hands instead of being too small.
Yuta takes his hit, a long noisy pull and he coughs after exhaling and somehow something is broken in Johnny. He can’t help but giggle, something about the image of Yuta, edgy but elegant so carefully crafted Yuta coughing on his own drag is a good reminder. Yuta giggles with him, after he’s finished coughing that is.
Johnny pulls next, it’s second nature at this point. He’s coming up on almost a decade of being a stoner, so he doesn't really cough that much anymore, but Yuta pokes his thigh when he takes too long to exhale and he ends up half laughing his exhale.
Yuta is a lot of things, but it isn’t until now, curled up on Johnny’s lumpy futon, his knees bowed out to the side and one of the sleeves of his turtleneck pushed up to his elbow and the other pulled down to his knuckles that Johnny realizes that he’s cute. Yuta is cute, like really cute, he won’t stop giggling, especially as they both get more elevated, he points out every photo on Johnny’s wall and makes up stories about them.
“Oh! And that one!” He points to the photo of Ten on Jaehyun’s shoulders at the beach.
“Yeah, what's the story there?”
“That one is just so tragic,” Johnny hums and Yuta takes another hit, exhaling smoke when he speaks, “the last photo of the brothers, the one on the bottom died that day.”
“Oh, no!” Johnny says, trying not to giggle as he pretends to be horrified.
“So sad, yes, he was caught in a riptide and he managed to get out, but when he did he cut his leg on a rock and the blood attracted the nearby sharks.”
Johnny gasped, “Sharks! He was eaten by sharks?”
Yuta nodded, solemnly, “it’s heartbreaking he was so young,” Yuta points to another photo, this one of Donghyuck on top of one of the hills on his property, silhouetted by the sunset, “that boy was raised by wolves.”
Johnny laughs out loud at that, “He was, but he’s not vicious.”
Yuta seems delighted that Johnny is joining him, “No, he’s just wild. The wolves that raised him were killed by hunters.”
Johnny hums, low in his throat, “so he must be looking for a new pack.”
“Yeah, he is,” Yuta hums, “I don’t think he will ever fully enter society, and I don’t think he should.”
Johnny laughs because he’s at the level of high where this is starting to feel deep and true instead of ridiculous. Yuta tells him more stories, at a picture of Yellowstone Park, Yuta tells him about a shotgun wedding and running away from home. At a picture of Johnny’s parents when they met in college back in Korea, Yuta makes Johnny snort with a story of secret agents on the run from their own government after betraying a mission for love and to poison a diplomat.
At some point, the stories switch and Yuta is asking Johnny questions and Johnny gets to ask a few of his own. Yuta grew up in Osaka, Johnny knew that much, but he got his bachelors in Korea, and his PhD on the east coast of America. Johnny laughs when Yuta asks him genuinely curious questions about California, it seems surreal, since Johnny can count the amount of times he’s been outside of the continental United States on one hand, that Yuta would want to know what Johnny thinks of any place.
At some point, after already having used his poker on the bowl a couple times he realizes it’s dead, and he’s just been holding it uselessly in his lap as he listens to Yuta speak. At some point, probably when they were still passing the Gold Princess, they got closer, and now Johnny can see the different textures of each of Yuta’s piercings. He decides his favorite is the one that curves around his ears in two branches and looks like the bark of a birch tree. Johnny has always liked Birch trees even if they aren’t very strong.
“Johnny, I have a confession,” Yuta says. Johnny hums and prepares himself for another one of Yuta’s fantastical lies, but Yuta’s face looks different, earnest.
“When I matched with you on Tinder, it was before you changed your bio. It wasn’t until I messaged you and you responded with rates and info that I even realized you changed it.”
Wait. That means, “You didn’t realize I was a dealer? You just…” Johnny trails off.
“I just wanted to talk to you. I wanted to meet up with you and see how tall you were in person, and I wanted you to…” it’s Yuta’s turn to trail off, his voice sounds shy but his eyes are still steady in that confident way of his.
“What did you want me to do to you, Yuta?” Johnny reaches out to the side to put the bong on the table there.
“I wanted, I wanted you to fuck me, and throw me around, and try and get on top.” Yuta giggles, shy and delighted, and high, “and I wanted you to kiss me, I still do.”
And so Johnny does. Because out of all the things in Yuta’s last sentence it’s the easiest one for him to immediately act on.
Yuta kisses him back immediately, and it’s with none of the deliberate elegance he carries himself with, it’s rough and wanting. He grabs the back of Johnny’s hair like he’s caging him in, and Yuta kisses him like Johnny has something he wants, like he might find it with a searching tongue behind Johnny’s teeth and under his tongue.
Johnny’s hands go to Yuta’s ribs and his tiny waist, pulling him closer, if Yuta wants to be thrown around Johnny can deliver, he starts by hoisting him into his lap, ignoring the groan of the ancient futon. Yuta just digs his claws in tighter, Yuta grabs onto Johnny not like he’s looking for stability they way past partners have, but like he’s getting control, like he might tear Johnny apart. Johnny would let him.
When Johnny turns his head to the side to catch his breath Yuta doesn’t miss a beat, licking and biting across Johnny’s cheek to get to his ear. High like this it feels like hot coals, or paraffin wax, something shocking that makes him want to metl. Johnny groans when Yuta sucks on the lobe, he’s ruthless and Johnny regains his footing finding one of Yuta’s nipple piercings through his shirt. Johnny isn’t sure why he thought this would help at all because now he can hear Yuta panting and moaning right in his ear, like some sort of immediate buzzer to his own dick.
Johnny immediately brings both hands to frame his ribs in order to toy with both at once.
“Did they get more or less sensitive when you pierced them?”
“More, definitely more,” Yuta whimpers right into Johnny’s ear and punctuates it with a wet sucking kiss right under his earlobe.
Yuta’s hands work over him like he’s molding clay, forming Johnny pushing Johnny’s shoulders back against the wall so he can nip at the most delicate parts of Johnny’s neck, pushing at his arms until he loses his jacket, grinding in his lap until his mouth is so dry he needs to swallow just so Yuta can chase his adam’s apple with his tongue.
All Johnny can do is respond, he feels like he’s fighting through the lag of his own arousal. None of this computes, Yuta, hot and unattainable, young genius, trust-fund dressing, Yuta Nakamoto is sitting in Johnny’s lap and Johnny is barely holding up his end of the deal.
“You still want to be thrown around?”
Johnny can feel him smirking against his neck when he responds, “If you think you can.”
Instead of responding Johnny just stands, holding Yuta’s wiry frame with a hand on his waist and one under his ass, and tosses him right onto his bed. Yuta shrieks in the air and giggles when he lands, he has the good sense to tuck his chin so he doesn’t fuck up his neck but Johnny doesn’t give him time to recover before he’s shucking his shirt and crawling on top of him.
Yuta seems delighted by recent events. He’s all wandering hands and pearly whites biting into Johnny’s shoulders, before he pulls back so he can slide out of his clothes entirely. Johnny sits on his heels and smiles at the view. Yuta throws a shirt that probably costs more than what Johnny would charge for a fourth, right onto Johnny’s floor and pulls his knees from under Johnny to pull off his jeans and underwear. Johnny doesn’t even pretend not to look, he reaches out a hand, just to slide down the side of one of Yuta’s thighs, push it down and to the side and give it a little squeeze.
“No dick piercing?” Johnny asks.
Yuta spreads his other thigh straight out to the side showing off a surprising amount of flexibility, “It’s plenty sensitive just like this.” Yuta winks up at Johnny, propping his arms behind himself, showing off every soft curve and sharp jutt of his body, utterly shameless.
“Fuck,” Johnny can’t help but mutter.
“Come on, John, don’t you want to see for yourself? Or are you just going to sit there and watch with your mouth open?”
Yuta is like a sexy little statistics problem. Man, he must be high because he can’t stop thinking of the hottest person Johnny’s fucked in years as a page long word problem but it feels true. Yuta is all moving parts and probability, Yuta wants Johnny to not give him what he wants, he wants Johnny to fight him but not really fight him at every stage of attraction, Yuta wants Johnny to work for it and work him and he wants Johnny to give and inch so he can take a mile. Johnny extrapolates the things he knows, the truths that continue to be true.
Yuta wants him.
Johnny wants Yuta. So bad.
Johnny yanks Yuta forward by the hips, so his arms fall out from behind him, so he’s thrown off his center and he falls onto his back with another giggle-shriek. Johnny wastes no time grabbing both of Yuta’s thighs right under the back of his knese to push them back and to the side so Yuta is fully on display. He must wax because he’s hairless except for the leg hair on his thighs creeping towards his groin.
“I could,” Johnny says, already a little breathless, “I could suck you down right now but I think I would rather eat you out first,” Johnny punctuates his thoughts by pressing Yuta’s thighs back more, until Yuta sucks in a quick breath at the stretch, “If that’s okay with you.”
Yuta laughs, breathless, his long neck falling back against Johnny’s mattress, "Is it okay with you he asks," Yuta teases, "Johnny at this point I might be a little insulted if you refused."
Johnny muffles his laughter at having his own words being thrown back at him with a nip to the back of Yuta's thigh, right near the subtle cleft of his ass. He doesn't have much of an ass really, but Johnny doesn't mind, under his tongue all the muscles in his legs and this tense and flutter in a way that screams endurance. Johnny bets Yuta is great at riding, maybe he can find out another time, but for now, he's happy to do this.
To circle Yuta's hole with his tongue and lick a broad stripe across his pucker, to push Yuta's legs back even farther as he leaves wet open mouth kisses all over his taint and hole, to suck on Yuta's velvety-soft balls before he refocusses his attention. Ass eating isn’t really his thing, not that he doesn’t enjoy it but he wouldn’t really call it his go-to move either. But something about Yuta, something about the way he holds himself and loses himself both screaming of control, something about the way he choked on the smoke and the tired way he leaned against Johnny’s couch. Something about his laugh, something about the way he likes to make up stories and laugh at himself. Something about the way he smells, and the way he tastes, and the way he doesn't like to have anything for free. Something about tonight.
It all has him desperate to feel Yuta twitch and quiver and clench and unwind. He wants to lose himself in Yuta and he wants Yuta to lose himself in the sensation. So Johnny loses himself.
The music from the living room is faint in here with no hope to cover up the sounds, the sounds of Johnny’s kisses and slurping and Johnny couldn’t care less. He slurps and makes awful noises and lets his drool drip out of Yuta’s hole and down his crack and has to remind himself to breathe when all we wants to do is block out everything else.
The noises Johnny is making couldn’t hold a candle to the ones Yuta make, the keening and whining, his own hands on his nipples has him moaning and writhing so Johnny has to apply more pressure to Yuta’s thighs which sets off another wave of moans. And he’s laughing, laughing at himself and with joy in his breathless laugh that encircles Johnny like some sort of lasso and pulls.
It’s Yuta’s voice that stops him, “John- Johnny, I’m going to cum if you don’t start fucking me soon.” Johnny smirks and let his fingers trail over Yuta’s spit slicked entrance.
“Oh, this is the first im hearing of it, am I going to fuck you, Yuta?” He asks bemused.
Yuta just rolls his eyes, “Yes, yes you are, you are going to fuck me until I scream and your neighbors file a noise complaint and the cops will come and find all your fucking weed so, get. On. with. It.”
Johnny’s dick twitches in his pants and he laughs, already acquiescing and grabbing his lube and a condom from his drawer.
“Okay, I’m just,” Johnny slides out of his Adidas and takes his boxers with them, “glad to be let in on the plan.” Yuta immediately reaches out a hand to smear Johnny’s precum down the length of his dick and Johnny would probably smirk and make some comments about getting behind schedule but instead he’s too busy gasping at the feeling of finally having Yuta touch his cock.
He distracts himself with lubing up his fingers and pushing Yuta back down onto the bed with a hand on his sternum.
“Can you grab your own legs for me?” Johnny asks.
“Have to do everything my- myself around here,” Yuta says, stuttering mid-sentence when Johnny sinks a finger into him like it’s nothing. Yuta relaxes around him immediately, obviously used to the sensation and Johnny wastes no time adding a second finger and circling Yuta’s prostate.
Eating Yuta out was fun, it was incredible actually but from that vantage point he wasn’t treated to this, to the view. To the sight of Yuta panting and flushed, his cock leaking against his stomach, a gossamer pool glinting in the light like another one of his piercings. His cock twitches when Johnny increases the pressure around his prostate, circling it in unpredictable circles and figure eights, scissoring around it just to watch Yuta moan and his cock twitch.
He pulls out to pinch the top of the condom, roll it over his cock and apply more lube, and is unsurprised to hear Yuta’s teasing voice.
“You bring me so close and then you abandon me, leaving me empty and-” Johnny cuts him off by pressing just the head of his cock into him.
“So dramatic,” Johnny murmurs as he slides in halfway, slowly, waiting for Yuta’s go ahead.
Yuta hooks his legs up onto Johnny’s shoulder, whimpering as he willingly bends himself in half even more and Johnny pauses to let him get used to it. A pause that Yuta ignores, reaching up with shaky hands on Johnny’s neck to pull him closer and deeper, and contorting himself to kiss him.
It’s overwhelming, the feeling of being inside Yuta, feeling the overwhelming pressure around his cock and the way Yuta has gone back to molding him like a clay golem come to life all from Yuta’s charm and direction. He’s happy to let Yuta direct him so long as it leads back to his mouth, his sweet lips and sharp teeth.
Yuta breaks the kiss first, to collapse once again back onto the mattress and declare in no uncertain words, “I’m ready, you can move.”
Johnny may not be the best at sticking to plans, or even making them, but he finds that if he puts his mind to it he can achieve some of his goals. Like fucking Yuta until he screams.
He quickly finds that with Yuta what really makes him react is surprise, is Johnny ramping up the pace only to stop, to start a rhythm only to change the angle of his hips and make Yuta whine. To go slow and deep but achingly hard. He manages the screaming, although they are mouth like loud drawn out moans that spike, when he sets a fast and ruthless pace only to grab Yuta’s hair and change his angle until he knows his cock is dragging across his prostate. Yuta’s hands pull on Johnny's. At first he thinks he’s going to pull them out of his hair but he keeps them there and moans in a fucked out voice.
“Harder, you can go-” He moans when Johnny gives and experimental yank, “yes, like that, Oh My God!”
Johnny fucks him like that, changing the rhythm and pace, until it exhausts him and pulls him to the edge with Yuta.
He moves one of his hands from Yuta’s hair, to pinch one of his nipples, “I’m close.”
“I’ve been close,” Yuta breathes out, still teasing even as he whines and writhes. Johnny Chuckles and settles into a more consistent fast pace, swiveling his hips and focussing most of his attention on playing with Yuta, tugging his hair and pinching one nipple. Yuta’s stomach flutters tellingly and Johnny leans forward to suck Yuta’s other nipple into his mouth, controlling himself in ways that stab at his muscles but it’s worth it because Yuta comes with a shout.
Johnny pulls back to fuck him through his orgasm and watch, he arches and collapses, his hands digging into Johnny’s shoulders next to his own ankles, and his dick spurting over his own torso. Johnny watches with great satisfaction as some of his release coats his belly button piercing in a gross sight that shouldn’t do as much for Johnny as it does.
It’s the sight, and the feeling of Yuta’s orgasm around him that sends Johnny close to the edge. Yuta clamps around him and squeezes his legs just right and Johnny comes with a long drawn out moan and Yuta’s name on his lips.
Johnny’s orgasm hits him like a steam roller, pushing every ounce or arousal and pleasure and air out of him until all he can do is hold himself up as he pumps the condom full of his release.
Yuta drops his legs wide and to the side, all lax flexibility, and boneless pleasure and Johnny catches himself with his arms by Yuta’s ribs before he crushes him. Yuta ignores his efforts to save him and pulls Johnny down on top of him like a big sweaty 180 pound blanket.
“I’m gonna crush you,” Johnny murmurs into the space next to Yuta’s neck, sounding exhausted even to his own ears.
“I’d like to see you try, Stoner.” Johnny laughs, and Yuta joins in.
“Do you have work in the morning?” Yuta asks after a moment.
“I don't start until one I think,” Johnny responds until his brain catches up, “do you have to be anywhere in the morning?”
Yuta giggles more, Johnny can’t imagine getting tired of hearing it, “After the time I spent at the library recently? No,” He giggles more and Johnny just hums, “No, the only place I have to be tomorrow morning is in your kitchen getting to try your very fancy coffee.”
Johnny pushes his face closer to Yuta’s neck, he hopes his humming will reverberate in Yuta’s bones like they do in his own, “mmm, I can't wait.”
Yuta laughs at him, and Johnny rolls to the side so he can pull Yuta with him and cover them both with his duvet. They are gross, but that's for the morning, there's so much for the morning but now Johnny can have this. Sleepily humming into Yuta’s warm sweaty skin and listening to the way he giggles and teases him about his stubble.
All things considered, Johnny’s life isn’t going as planned, and he couldn’t be more delighted.