#johnnyxreader

"You're too pretty to be roadkill, babydoll," he rumbled. "I'd make you into a trophy. Hang you in my bedroom so I could look at your beautiful face every night 'fore I fell asleep."

It took some time before you'd gotten used to his fascination with keeping trophies, but the numerous animal heads hanging on your walls showed he wasn't slowing down any time soon. You leaned your weight back against him, enjoying the feel of his bare torso, and smiled as his lips trailed down your neck.

Still, the hardness you felt pressing against your backside proved that the outfit you'd worn to entice him had worked, and your mind was already becoming hazy with lust.

"I been thinkin'," Johnny said, kissing the nape of your neck, "you'd make the most fuckable little housewife."

Your pulse fluttered against his lips. You'd never pushed him for anything; you'd been happy just being his girl. But the word "housewife" made your heart race. He hooked a thumb in your waistband and pulled your shorts and panties down, and his fingers quickly found your already soaked slit.

"Oh yeah?" You gasped as he dipped his fingers inside you. "You think so?"

He murmured an affirmative against your skin while he rocked his hips against your butt. "I know it. What do you think, babydoll? You wanna get married?"

Your lips curled, one of your hands flipping the burners off on the stove before you turned around to face him. His head was cocked to the side, a handsome smile on his face. Your eyes trailed down his bare chest, pausing at each scar, each one telling a different story before looking up into his deep brown eyes. "It's a tempting proposal, but I could use some convincing. Why don't you make me?"

He smiled, but it wasn't friendly. No, it was more like a predator, the type to make your blood run cold.

"Alright, I'll make you, darlin'. If you really want me to, I will."

You felt like a rabbit in a snare, squeezed between his muscular body and the stove, completely at his mercy.

"What'll it be, sugar?" He asked, his hands on your hips, and his eyes trailing down to your cleavage before snapping back up to meet your gaze.

You leaned forward and cupped the bulge in his jeans with one hand.

"Make me."

That was all it took. Johnny's fingers sank into your hips almost painfully as he yanked you against him. "You'll eat those words, darlin'," he growled.

Then he dropped to his knees and pulled your hips against his lips like a man starved. You gripped his wrists while his broad hands cupped your ass, forcing your hips toward him as he burrowed into you.

He always loved eating you out, but this time there was a primal aspect to the way he licked and nipped at your folds. Your fingers entwined in his dark locks as you moaned his name while he traced your entrance, gathering every last drop of your sticky wetness.

Johnny twirled his tongue around your clit and dove in so hard you could feel his teeth against your lips, his tongue curling upward, lifting your hips into his hungry mouth.

Desire dripped down your thighs, mingling with his saliva, while your muscles clenched and shivered. They remained taut, each nerve pulsating with sensation. It felt like an exhilarating marathon, beautiful agony traveling from your thighs to your hips. Moans spilled from your lips, and you tried to draw him closer, but he withdrew.

"This pretty little pussy is mine," he said, his voice low and possessive, before thrusting two fingers into you, making you whimper and tug at his hair. His lips descended upon your clit, nibbling it, sending sparks of both torment and ecstasy throughout your body.

"You're such a slut for me, baby girl." His fingers moved to tease your sweet spot, making your toes curl. "So fucking wet."

He stood, and you whined at the loss of his tormenting touch. His eyes were hungry and dangerous. "You're going to be my pretty little housewife, aren't you, baby?"

You gasped as he pressed against you, his hands on either side of the stove, trapping you.

"I could be," you purred, "but… I'm not entirely convinced."

His gaze darkened. "You're mine," he hissed, a predatory snarl forming at the corner of his lips.

"Prove it," you whispered breathlessly. His pupils dilated, and suddenly, you felt the tip of a blade pressing against the soft skin of your stomach.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you looked up at him. Fear mingled with a strange sense of excitement, sending tingles shooting through you.

"Johnny?" You whispered as your mouth ran dry.

"You ever watch someone die?" He said, more to himself than to you.

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. Johnny had always had a fascination with his Bowie knife, and sometimes you'd glimpse it stained with fresh blood, but he had never wielded it against you—until now.

"You ain't never quite the same after that, lemme tell ya."

Both of your eyes fixed on the blade as he subtly twisted it, drawing a single droplet of blood from your delicate skin. You winced, but you didn't concentrate on the pain as you were enraptured by the intense look on Johnny's face.

With the pad of his thumb, he traced the droplet and brought it to his lips. You were immobilized, watching as his eyes fluttered closed, savoring your essence. A low growl rumbled in his throat, as if your blood were an exquisite ambrosia.

Johnny had given you love bites, sure, but this was the first time he'd purposefully tasted your blood. You could tell he reveled in it, and part of you wondered why he never asked to try it before.

You would have let him, after all. He could've had any and all of you that he desired.

As the unfamiliar tingle of blood leaving your body coursed through you, he picked you up roughly, and your legs wrapped around his hips reflexively. Your blood smeared against his abs, but he didn't seem to mind; in fact, it seemed to arouse him even more as he carried you to your shared bedroom and laid you down like an offering.

Your eyes remained wide, adrenaline surging through you as he unzipped his pants and revealed his gorgeous erection, stroking it hungrily while his eyes devoured your body. He looked at you like a man might admire an ice sculpture, as if he expected that he wouldn't get to admire your beauty much longer.

"Baby?" You asked hesitantly as you tried to sit up in bed.

Something sinister sparked behind his eyes, and he left the room briefly, returning with a handful of rope. "Oh, you ain't getting away. I'm keeping you," he snarled, then knelt on the bed beside you, tying your wrists together and then to the bedpost with ease.

A rush surged behind your ears as he immobilized you, leaving only your legs free, trembling with both arousal and fear.

How did he know how to handle the rope like that? He'd never tied you up before, but the way he did it so effortlessly spoke of practiced experience. You'd always felt that Johnny was hiding something from you, and you had a suspicion it was directly related to his ability to make you feel absolutely helpless.

But what Johnny didn't know was, some part of you had been waiting for this. You were more soaked than you could ever remember being before, and the unadulterated bloodlust he exuded was intensely alluring.

"You ain't going anywhere," he growled, his eyes ablaze with an intensity you had never witnessed before. Your blood gleamed on his torso, and every sinew of his body appeared tightly wound, poised for imminent action. "Ready to meet the Bad Man?"

"The Bad Man from your dreams?" You let out a trembling whimper. Now, this was the figure you'd only encountered in Johnny's waking nightmares. Those harrowing nights when he'd awaken in terror, locked in a life-and-death struggle with an invisible foe. Those nights when he shielded you with his body even in slumber, and upon waking, he remained unconvinced of your safety for days upon days.

"Darlin', he's all too real," he murmured, his words dripping with a chilling anticipation. With deliberate slowness, he drew nearer, his eyes locked onto yours. When his face finally met yours, he seized your head and tilted it to the side, trailing his tongue from your collarbone to your ear, where he clamped down with savage intensity. A sharp cry escaped your lips as he pressed his body flush against yours, the taste of fresh blood flooding his ravenous mouth.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned as he ground his hips against your stomach, his length squeezed between you both. Tears welled in your eyes, but you felt more alive than you'd ever felt before.

"Johnny," you whimpered as he continued to suck your earlobe.

"You wanted this, darlin'," he said with a chilling laugh.

You bit your lip. "I-I'm not asking you to stop."

And, for some reason, that gave him pause.

"Really?" He asked, pulling back. His lips were bloodstained, but that wildfire that had consumed him was simmering behind his gaze as he regarded you with equal parts possession and hunger.

You nodded. "Yes, really. I always knew there was something you were hiding. I want you to know I love you. All of you, Johnny," you said, even as your body shook. "And," you let your wrists go slack, "I like being claimed by you like this."

Something in Johnny shifted then. It was almost too much, the flood of emotions that swept over him, and he didn't realize it, but you felt his tears splatter against your skin.

"I love you more," he said, his voice barely a whisper. You'd heard him say it before, especially during sex, but this was different. It sent chills rippling through you. And when his aching cock slid into your wetness, you both gasped in pure ecstasy.

He gripped your thighs, pulling you against him, and groaned deeply. You felt so good that he couldn't help but pick up the pace, driving into you with a fervor. All your nerve endings coiled and tensed, already hypersensitive, and you wrapped your legs around his powerful hips in euphoria.

"I'm gonna make sure you ain't never forget who owns you," he said, and you mewled in response as he withdrew from you and reached to the bedside table, taking his knife in hand. You caught your reflection in the silver blade, your skin flushed, your lips parted and panting. You couldn't wait to see what he'd do.

Johnny used two fingers to gently circle your clit, keeping you on edge as he traced the tip of the knife between your breasts, down your belly, and to your hip where he'd marked you earlier. His motions slowed to allow him better control, and he pressed the tip of the blade into your skin again, a little deeper than before.

You winced but didn't move as he etched into your skin. Your body was screaming to have him back inside you, and his slow circles on your clit were driving you mad with desire. Pain was indistinguishable from pleasure as he carved your skin like an artist working on a masterpiece. When he finished, he dipped his head and ran his tongue along the marks he'd made. When he withdrew his tongue, you caught the small JS he'd carved just above your hip before blood obscured it.

"Mine," he said once more, and this time, you didn't argue. After all, no one else had their initials etched into your flesh.

Johnny continued to play with your clit as he positioned himself at your entrance before pushing into you again. You'd submitted to him before, but this time was different. This time, you felt nothing but pure bliss. You were his, it could no longer be denied, nor would you ever want to deny it.

The resounding slap of his balls colliding with your sopping wetness was lewd enough to make your mind spin, or perhaps it was the blood loss, but either way, you felt light-headed and airy under his command. One hand moved to cup your breast while the other continued to assist his cock in driving you to the brink.

"Are you going to be my perfect little housewife?" He asked, pressing his forehead against yours as he thrust deeply into you. You could see two sides to him, the vicious and the docile, in harmony in his rapturous gaze.

"I will," you conceded, your breaths coming in sharp pants while he pistoned into your exquisitely viscous core.

"Cum for me, babydoll," he commanded. The tension that had been building since the moment he approached you sprung loose, and you climaxed hard around his throbbing length. With a guttural groan and a final, deep thrust, you felt his climax paint your inner walls before he collapsed on top of you, completely spent.

You wanted to wrap your arms around him, but they were still tied to the bedposts, so instead, you kept your legs locked around his hips and nuzzled your cheek against the top of his head. He looked up at you with the same smile that had melted your heart the first day you met him.

“What do you mean she threw up on you?”

“Dude I was about to finish and next thing I know-”

You’re sat on the couch perched by the table completing a jigsaw puzzle while Johnny sits at the bar conversing with Jaehyun about one of his sex horror stories that you begin to zone in on for a moment but quickly regret it, putting your airpods back in. You had the day off today but you were out of the house for most of it, running errands and catching up with Mark before you two had to part due to his schedule. You couldn’t help the feeling of guilt that ignited whenever his lips met yours when you prepped to part ways because you felt like a cheater and he was the last person on earth that deserved to be backstabbed after everything he did for you. Looking up from your puzzle you spot Johnny peering over at you mouthing words you are unable to make out with your airpods in as your hand comes up to take one out he reiterates.

“We’re gonna catch a movie later.” He says, not asking you but instead informing you.

“What if I don’t wanna go?” You counter.

His expression shows he’s taken aback as he plants his hands on his chest and parts his lips letting out a gasp.

“Did you just say you hate me and that I should die?”

Rolling your eyes and letting out a chuckle you shake your head at his melodramatic attitude. You didn’t mind going to catch a movie with him; you’d done it before and the night ended in him having to restrain himself from uttering another word since every syllable he uttered had you clutching your stomach in laughter.

“I’ll be ready.” You assure him.

“Thank god, Jaehyun, how boring of a roommate are you to have her doing a puzzle on a Saturday night?” He exclaims, flailing his arms around. Your eyes fall on him who is already staring at you with that sharp gaze that makes you wanna run to your room and never come out.

“Not my fault she doesn’t know how to hold a conversation.”

“Why would I want to hold a conversation with you?”

Your tone is sharp, matching your eyes that shoot daggers at him from across the room. It’s not that you aren’t aware of the fact that talking back only fuels the fire between the two of you but you refused to let him have the last word especially after the crap he pulled last time he got you alone. Did he not feel even an ounce of the guilt you felt for what he caused? Him and Mark have been friends way before the two of you lived together. So much for bro code.

“Afraid you might fuck around and like me?” He teases, tongue in cheek with his words while you feel the hair on your skin stand up and your nostrils flare in annoyance so much you nearly forget about Johnny who’s eyes dart between the two of you incessantly.

“Fuck off.” Your jaw clenches as you look at him with the looming urge to punch him in his beautiful face.

“If you guys are gonna fight, at least let me pop some corn.” Johnny quips, laughing at his own joke while you raise a questioning brow at him.

“No? Tough crowd.”

Deciding it’s best to step away for a bit you excuse yourself to your room with the excuse that you’ve left to get ready for the movie. Taking your time to pick out clothes after doing your makeup which you figure is a slight waste since you would be in the dark for the majority of the night but you were desperate to pass the time in your room and you ruled out starting another series on Netflix. Looking over yourself in the mirror you take your phone to glance over your notifications and they hold no substance until a ding sounds and your finger taps on the text message from Mark.

Mark <3: Missing you :(

Your heart swells and deflates at the words on your screen. Even though you did not act on your sudden attraction for Jaehyun you did only an ounce of what you could have to stop him from touching you the way he did but it was still wrong of you to think of another person while you were in a happy and healthy relationship.

You: Miss you too, bub.

Your fingers press send as a knock sounds at your door, startling you.

“Yeah?” You answer, rubbing your glossy lips with another coat of product.

“We’re ready when you are.” Jaehyun’s voice sounds from behind the door causing you to stiffen at the sound of it, hating yourself for wanting to feel his breath on your lips while he utters filthy words to you.

“Be out in a sec!”

You utter a ‘fuck’ under your breath hastily searching for your bag and trailing over to your door to whip it open before your face nearly collides with a chest but your hand squeezes the door knob for leverage and peers up at the face that belongs to the body you nearly crashed into. Your eyes are wide like a deer in headlights before you clear your throat to compose yourself.

“S-sorry I didn’t know you were still behind the door-”

His eyes trail over your attire making you gulp at the way he feels no need to be subtle.

“Can you chill? Seriously, you don’t have to be a fucking cunt all the time.” You spit, before shoving him to the side and turning the corner where you meet Johnny's line of sight, falling into a conversation quickly. His head tilts in resignation at your attitude, he concludes he deserved that one after pushing your buttons in front of Johnny.

“I call front seat.” You chirp when you walk out of the apartment towards Johnny’s truck, hopping in with the help of the ledge that juts out when you open the door of the vehicle. You’re pressing buttons on the radio to occupy yourself while you tune out the men’s voices in the minimal space of the vehicle. The room always felt ten times smaller when Jaehyun is present, somehow sucking the energy out of you through gestures even though his comments did bother you most of the time his aura is what ticked you off.

“You remember Diana?” Johnny’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts as you move your eyes from the radio to watch his smirking face.

“Yeah! We’ve only talked a few times but she baked me cookies for my birthday- why?”

You recall the timid girl that sat across from you in your English class occasionally asking you to get coffee and you were surprised to be approached since you were still coming out of your shell as well. She’s beautiful and you had some of the best conversations with her.

“I asked her out and she said yes.”

Your heart soars for your friend. It was easy for people to like him since he has the looks and personality everyone searches for but he never felt a deep connection with any girl he “dated”, meanwhile every girl he ever dated fell in love with him and he never stayed present long enough to catch them.

“She’s so sweet! You guys vibe?”

Jaehyun chimes in, poking at Johnny’s cheek from the backseat with a smirk.

“My boy’s in it for a good time.” He laughs, peering over at you with an indisputable look in his eye making you roll yours.

“Are you not emotionally drained making everything about sex? Where’s the fun in that?”

You couldn’t help but be bothered by his take on the subject. Sure you had your fair share of meaningless hook-ups but they all left you with that same feeling of emptiness and at your age now you only gave real relationships you feel would make you grow to be a better person with the whoever you ended up spending your life with.

“The fun is in the sex.” Answering like it is the most obvious thing in the world, his dimpled smile comes into view as he replies to your serious question and you are reminded why you despised him in the first place; no longer clouded by lust or the feeling to put all the energy you put into hating him into finding the good in him. You have seen all you needed to. The ride to the theater remains silent and you arrive, eyes looking up at the huge menu displayed on the wall behind the concession stand before your hand taps Johnny on the shoulder.

“I’m gonna run to the restroom.” He nods.

“Yeah, what do you want?” He gestures to the concessions.

Rummaging through your purse to hand him your credit card you scan your eyes over the menu.

“Uhh nachos and a medium pepsi.” You say while your hand is still held out waiting for his to take it. He grimaces at the sight of it.

“Take the card, Suh.” You go to grab his hand but he moves it from your vicinity, a frown forming upon your lips.

“I got it. Go.”

He flips you around, pushing you towards the restrooms before going to stand next to Jaehyun who’s waiting in line. You trail to the restroom and wash your hands hastily drying them before your eyes land on your face in the mirror. Right then your phone rings; the tone hits the walls of the restroom making it louder than you expect as your eyes read the name on the screen and your finger finds its path to the green button before you put it to your ear.

“Hey you.” You declare, adding a tinge of sultry to your voice nearly cringing when you depict it in your speech.

“Hey. How’s my favorite girl?” Mark’s voice fills your gut with butterflies and guilt all at once. The combination poisonous as it spreads to the top of your fucking skull.

“I’m alright. You done workin’?”

Your palm rubs against the counter to suppress the nerves his voice on the line induce.

“Yeah it got pretty slow so boss let me out early-”

His voice seems to fade out as the door of the restroom swings open and your neck looks up from your phone to the mirror to see who it is- expecting a stranger to walk in but Jaehyun’s eyes meet yours quickly as your lips form a thin line.

“What are you up to, baby?”

You hear the question and your senses feel like they have disconnected as he steps towards you, peering down at you while you look at the ceiling to maintain the loss of eye contact.

“Baby, you there?”

His neck cranes down, moving your hair out of the way purposely letting his fingertips graze the back of your neck.

“Y-yeah I’m actually at the theater.” You curse yourself for the way your neck automatically tilts at his touch, giving in while you struggle to remain aware of your boyfriend’s voice.

“Oh? You went alone?”

You nearly shake your head before you realize he can’t see you.

“No. I’m with Johnny and Jaehyun.” You exhale, nudging the man behind you with your elbow emitting a groan of agony from him.

“What are y’all gonna see?”

Jaehyun goes to lean on the tiled wall of the restroom, staring you down ambiguously.

“Johnny wanted me to come along so I just went along- I was actually working on a puzzle at home and now I’m in the restroom talking to you.” You ramble making your boyfriend chuckle.

“Cute. Tell the boys I say hello and let me know if you get home safe, alright?”

You hear the clicking of his car and come up with the conclusion he must be driving himself home from work now.

“Alright. Love you, bub.”

“Love you too, babe.”

The line cuts there as he hangs up and you let your hand fall from your ear, putting the phone away in your pocket. Jaehyun remains wordless with his arms crossed, jaw clenched for a reason you don’t know. Your brow raises as a way of saying ‘what was that?’

“The uh movie’s about to start.”

You nod, “I was just on my way out.”

The silence holds tension as you dry your damp palms on your jeans.

“Listen-I’m sorry, okay?-”

Your fingers fluff your hair out in the mirror idly while his eyes remain focused on you but you react in a way that shows you are not phased

“For what exactly? Making me feel guilty for feelings you have for me or being an asshole?” You spit shamelessly, recalling the way he spoke in the car.

“All of it. I shouldn’t intrude on what you and Mark have going on.” The look in his eyes shows sincerity, differing from the pompous attitude he held up in the car.

This is what you wanted so you nod; not adding or rejecting the words he says because it no longer matters. Not when you and his best friend are happily together and he cares for you much more than Jaehyun ever could because as he admitted in the car; lust is the only thing motivating him to feel anything for you. This condition was seamless, he’d leave you alone. This apology is now timelessly effective.

“Great. See ya out there.” Before he can say anything, you are out of his sight and he is left with the swinging sound of the door.

-

There’s a lot of things that come with being a girlfriend; a good one at that. There’s holding hands, gift-giving, and the occasional late-night phone conversations discussing what you would do the next time you met up with one another. Mark is one of the most affectionate people you’ve ever been with; attentive to your mood switches but never pestering you regarding the matter and when time permitted he’d fuck the absolute shit out of you. You were more than surprised with his performance given the way he usually came off gentle but you had come to find out that you judged so incorrectly.

You recall the first time it happened, laid on his bed and working on assignments since he insisted he felt most productive with you around and you obliged, taking your textbook over to his room, putting a good dent in your calculus homework until you heard him shuffling across the room to trail over to you with dark eyes, differing from the usual dark brown. His hand pushed your textbook closed, sliding it to the ground while your lips fell open in exasperation and his hand made its way to your thigh before you crane your neck up to look up from the book that was now splayed on the ground to peer up at him with a pout.

“What-”

Lips met yours and you immediately forgot about the textbook, letting your fingers tangle themselves in his bleached strands, moaning into his mouth giving the chance for his warm tongue to slide between your lips. You become aware of his hard-on rubbing your thigh, pulling away for a moment to look at him with curious eyes, a smirk decorating his slightly swollen lips.

“I don’t mean to be so straight forward but is it too early in our relationship for me to fuck you?”

Mark’s vulgar words ignite a heat in your tummy before it resides in between your legs as he presses himself between your legs.

“Nuh-uh.”

That’s all it takes for sounds of fabric tearing and you are trying to keep up with his rough kisses and quick hands that palm your breast through your shirt before he pulls it down to wrap his lips around your pert nipple and your lungs forget how to act while your back arches into his touch, forgetting how it felt to have someone pleasure you. His mouth meets yours in a searing kiss while his hands pull your white, lacey panties down before carelessly throwing them to the other side of the room and his lips trail kisses down to where you need the most attention, letting his warm breath meet your clit devoiding it of care as he sucks on the skin of your thighs surely leaving gifts for you to view later. Your whimpers are incessant as he continues his torture and his fingers brush down your slit making you shudder.

“Sensitive little thing aren’t you?”

“More please.” You plead.

His fingers rub against your entrance, coating your arousal evenly before slipping one inside of you emitting a sigh of relief from you while your back arches into his touch. It was too good that your hands found themselves going to grab at his wrist but his free hand caught them, smacking you away for you to seek shelter in the sheets around you. His lips press against your clit, softly kissing it while adding a finger to further the stretch, pumping them out at a quicker pace while the obscene sound of squelching meets the wall along with your mewls while you try not to moan too loudly. Your senses feel like they’re mushed as your vision blurs and your body vibrates as Mark hums against your pussy and before you can register it ecstasy thrums through you. Your teeth bite down on your index and you only realize when you open your eyes to peer down at your boyfriend who’s lip glistens with your release. He climbs up so his face is near yours again, your thumb gliding across his coated lips before you bring it to your mouth, giggling at nothing in particular while Mark’s gaze stays on your face. Your lips meet his for a moment before you move them down to his neck, licking and sucking at his tan skin while your hand goes to tug his length out of his shorts.  A sharp exhale from his lips encourages you to continue your movements as his skin heats up against yours and he pushes you away, pinning your wrists on either side of your head while you squeal at the swift motion but enjoy the firm grip he keeps on you.

“Tell me how bad you want me.” He whispers into your ear, letting the tip of his nose graze yours before sucking your bottom lip into his mouth.

Your hips rise to grind your center against his length and his body presses against you to halt your advances, feeling his bare length brush against you.

“Want you so bad.” You plead shamelessly.

Flipped onto your stomach in a split second you feel his tip glide across your slit deliciously before he slips himself into you without any warning and you feel like the air is too thin to breathe in, your mind foggy with pleasure as his hips set a sensual pace while your shallow gasps sound. Your head is buried into the pillow, muffling your sounds until you feel his hand hold your neck firmly while his other hand has its fingertips pressing into your waist.

“Wanna hear you.”

You grunt in response as his pace quickens and the obscene sounds of skin against skin hits the walls and his dick brushes your g-spot repeatedly making your eyes roll to the back of your head, pushing your ass up to him automatically giving into the heat you feel unfurl through your core. His hands never stop wandering as he accommodates you by gripping your upper arms to pull you against him all while his hard thrusts never falter. You were insane for ever doubting him for even a second, mentally apologizing for your fault; for even thinking of Jaehyun the way you did when you had something so good and healthy with Mark.

“M’ gonna cum.” You declare breathlessly, laying your head on Mark’s chest while he wraps an arm around you to keep your incapable body against him while his other hand goes to play with your clit forming stars in your vision.

“T-too good.”

A chuckle rumbles through his firm chest. “You’re not gonna take what I give you baby?”

The motherfucker knows you can’t respond while his cock is literally brushing your cervix.

“Want me to stop fucking you, hm?”

In fear of him halting his movements you muster words through your shallow pants.

“No! Please make me cum!”

His hands palm your breasts, adding to the stimulation and you swear you are on cloud nine when your vision goes out for a moment but it has no importance when the most brain-wracking orgasm thrums through you while he fucks you through it holding you tighter against him like he’s afraid you’ll disappear in thin air. Peppering gentle kisses on your neck, differing to the sins he committed on your body.

“Shit.” He says when he notices the wetness on his sheets. You come to, looking down at the moisture dripping down your thighs and the wet spots on the sheets, clenching around him in embarrassment.

“Fuck, I didn’t-” You began declaring an apology before his lips meet yours, straying soon after.

“That was so fucking hot.” He smiles, pressing his lips to yours again while his hands glide all over your sweaty body.

This is good. Things are good. You just had to learn how to ignore the looming thoughts of someone you swore could beat the standard your boyfriend reached.

-

Back at the shared apartment you mostly stayed in your room working on assignments that were not due for several weeks with the hopes of avoiding Jaehyun who became strangely cordial towards you with the reciprocation of that attitude from you. This new energy between you ignited a pain within you because his apology was sincere and he backed up his words with the way he interacted with you daily. Shutting your laptop closed, you pad your way to the kitchen for a drink of water, grabbing one from the fridge hastily before chugging down half the bottle. Shuffling is heard from down the hall making you turn to see where the sound is coming from to spot a head of wet hair that leads down a bare torso to a white towel obstructing your view of the rest of your roommate’s body; not that you had any reason to want to see any of it. Jaehyun is quick to enter his room, oblivious of your stunned figure standing in the kitchen losing your breath over the sight of him. Averting your gaze back to your water bottle, you sigh out in an attempt to clear your head. All this time you put all the frustration you had pent up for him towards hating him and it made sense then but now you were simply classified as a bitch if you were mean to him when he was so nice to you now. The door of his bedroom opens again making your neck turn towards the sound of his footsteps meeting his friendly grin with a similar expression.

“You alright?” He says with a quirked brow. You nod quickly, picking up your water as a poor way to mask your fidgeting.

“Just dehydrated is all.”

He frowns, placing his hand on your forehead checking your temperature.

“What are you-”

“Feel sick at all? I know with school starting and all it’s anxiety inducing.”

The Med student in him rears its head as he takes his hand away from your forehead and glances at you intently waiting for a response while you stand with your mouth agape thinking of a coherent sentence because he’s so attractive and you are such a bad person and such a bad girlfriend.

“I-I’m alright, really. It’s very sweet of you to check.” You chuckle as a toothy smile spreads across his face and you swear you see his eyes glimmer in the kitchen's lighting. He spares you another smile before darting his eyes to a spot behind you before his gaze meets yours again.

“I’m making us dinner tonight-”

Your eyes widen and your cheeks flush at the way his words come out and he notices the look on your face at the way the words could be interpreted after he swore he was changing phases with you. No amount of him being a jerk would make you fall for him like an idiot-plus you are dating his best friend. Jaehyun shakes his head, scoffing at his words that he wishes he could erase from the air as he clears his throat to utter an apology to you a soft palm slaps his arm playfully.

“No way, what are you making?- Can I help?” You perk enthusiastically, looking up at him with wide eyes. He recalls that look in your eyes from New Years as you looked up at Mark with hazy eyes in your vulnerable intoxicated state but now you are fully sober and there is nothing to blame it on other than the sheer fact that you had no idea what effect you have on him. You had no clue what he was willing to put on the line for you- for just a taste-

“Jaehyun?” You repeated as he stood frozen, glaring at you with his dark eyes that blink incessantly as he snaps out of it.

“Sorry- brain’s lagging from all the studying- but why don’t you go wash up and I’ll handle dinner.”

Your lips form a frown as you become vigilant of his usual aura becoming invisible- usually he seemed so certain in all of his actions with all of the smart comments he’d shoot at you when the possibility of being cordial was never presented. The scolding water hitting your skin in the shower makes the thoughts in your head run wild. Was it a bit masochistic to say you prefer the way things were before? What was there to even talk about with him now? Climate change or the way the economy was ready to fail us all? A groan rattles through you as you slide your bare body down the tiled wall of the shower. Hating him was much more fun than this. Finally ending your pathetic excuse of a pity party you dress yourself in an oversized pullover that definitely belonged to Mark along with shorts before padding out of the steamy bathroom with your damp curls sticking to the nape of your neck. It seems Jaehyun had everything set up for dinner prior to informing you about it since the table is already set with two plates that consist of generous portions. Setting the last utensil down he looks up at you with raised brows.

“There you are. Feeling better?”

You forget what he is referring to and think you have been caught and that he somehow heard your thoughts in the shower causing you to stand rigid with wide eyes as he tilts his head awaiting an answer.

“Oh yeah. All good. Food looks great, by the way.” Your feet pad over to the chair pulling it out before sitting down feeling eyes burn a hole through your form. He takes that as his cue to take a seat across from you who struggles to meet his eyes, a visible wince evident when you finally do.

“I hope it’s not too spicy.”

You shake your head at his words, cutting a piece of the chicken on your plate and popping it into your mouth, eyes widening at how good the food is.

“No way this is actually good.”

An offended gasp comes from him. “You’re surprised I can conjure up a decent meal?”

A chuckle comes from you, hand coming up to cover your mouth. “Honestly?”

His eyes form a squint along with the appearance of the craters in his cheeks. “That would be preferred.”

“Surprised is an understatement.” You jab playfully.

The tension seems to wither away as you fork away at the contents on your plate, finishing most of it before you lean back in your seat absentmindedly watching the way his jaw clenches when he chews before your eyes catch the veins in his larger hands and you don’t realize that he’s watching you gnaw on your index finger while you blatantly gawk at his hands-he swears he’s imagining the far away look on your face because although he is focusing on being better towards you that changes none of the desires he holds for you but he’s determined to stray away from the asshole you coined him as. It’s not until he goes to stand up that your eyes move up to look him in the eye.

“Let me help with the dishes.” You softly declare through your pouty lips and he swears his knees buckle at the sight of them. You’re quick on your feet when you rise from your chair, taking his plate from his hands to trail over to the sink with them, running warm water over the plates and you turn to find him bringing over the cups. You quietly thank him as you let the sponge scrub against the porcelain while his warmth radiates on to you as he stands near you. The only thing that can be heard is the water's movement while you rinse the silverware of the soapy substance before setting them on the rack to dry all while you try to ignore the feeling of his eyes burning into your skin. You turn your neck to meet his eyes. He sports a grin on his face as he just gazes at you in silence.

“Thanks, I really appreciate it.”

Your damp hands forget about ever washing the dishes as your eyes blink multiple times and you are struggling to generate a response.

“Of course. Thanks for dinner.”

A silent nod is all he returns before he wishes you a goodnight, leaving you breathless as you soon hear the click of his shutting bedroom door.

You don’t remember Johnny drawing the blinds closed the night before, but he must have, because when you wake up, the room is completely dark. You’ll have to ask what brand of blackout curtains he has, because if someone told you it was still nighttime, you’d believe them.

Or, you would, if you didn’t smell the faintest hint of coffee.

Johnny’s side of the bed is empty, but still warm, so he can’t have been up for long. Groaning, you sit up and mentally assess your body. You’re sore all over, the sting on your ass especially prominent, but you relish in the ache. It’s been a while since you’ve had anything like that, so you can’t complain.

You slip out of bed and pad over to the windows, squinting against the dark so you don’t trip and die. You find the control pad on the wall and tap it to turn it on, and then press the button to raise the blinds. The machinery whirs to life, a low hum breaking the silence of the room, and immediately, bright sunlight spills across the floor, blinding you temporarily. You find the blanket Johnny had lent you last night, and wrap it around your shoulders before making your careful way downstairs.

Johnny is in the kitchen, cooking, when you enter. He turns, seeing you out of the corner of his eye, and gives you a bright smile. He’s wearing a cute t-shirt and pajama shorts, and a dumb little blue apron.

“Good morning,” he says. “Would you like some coffee? I washed out the French press.” He nods at it, sitting on the counter. “Coffee is in the cupboard, and cream is in the fridge.”

“Oh, thank you,” you say, going to make yourself some. “What are you cooking? It smells nice.”

“Pancakes,” he says. “I hope that’s okay. You don’t have any allergies, do you?”

You laugh. “No, I don’t. Pancakes sound great.”

You slip into a seat, coffee percolating happily in the press, and watch him cook. You can see the lean muscles of his back even through his baby-pink t-shirt, and you watch the movement as he slides some finished pancakes onto a plate, stacking them high.

“Are you busy today?” he asks lightly as he pours more batter into the pan.

“Not terribly,” you say, pressing the coffee grounds down. “I mean, I should probably at least try to get some work done at some point, but there’s no rush. If you need me out of your hair, though, that’s fine.”

He flashes you a grin over his shoulder before turning back to his cooking. “No, please stay,” he says. “I don’t have anything that really needs doing. And I’d love the company.”

“Works for me,” you say, smiling back.

You chat a little as he finishes cooking, and fall into comfortable silence once he brings the food to the table and you start eating. You didn’t realize how hungry you were until you take the first bite—the K-bbq from last night seems so far away.

“These are so good,” you tell him when you get your wits about you again. “You definitely downplayed your cooking skills.”

“Oh, thank you,” he says, grinning. “Family recipe. Big secret.” You laugh at him as he wiggles his eyebrows.

You insist on helping him wash up after you’re done eating, clearing the counter and putting things away. When you’re done, he beckons you over, sitting down on one of the stools, and patting the one next to him, where your blanket is still draped where you left it. You obey, a little confused.

“Hey, um,” he begins. “So we should probably talk about last night.” You give him a nervous look, and he waves it off quickly. “No, no, I just—um. We did a lot of things that I didn’t really—ask if they were okay before I did them. I thought about it, but I didn’t want to ruin the mood and—well. It was a little irresponsible of me, so I apologize. I just wanted to make sure that I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“Johnny,” you say, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “If I didn’t like it, I would’ve told you so. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t okay with any of it.”

“I figured, I just wanted to check,” he says, looking a little sheepish. “I mean I did—I did call you a slut, which is a word my mother would beat my ass for saying if she knew. And she’s probably right.”

“You’re such an interesting person,” you comment, amused, and he blinks at you, at a loss. “Okay, so for the record—yes, I did like that, so stop worrying. But it’s just so funny to me, that you can be so—well, like that in the bedroom, but still manage to be so like this otherwise.”

“I try my best to be responsible,” he says, laughing a little. “I know I can get intense.”

“Well,” you say, resting your elbow on the counter and your cheek on your palm, “I like intense.”

“Yeah?” He looks at you, mischief now lurking behind his eyes. “I think we should talk about it. I want to know what you’re down for. Because—there’re a lot of things I want to try with you.”

You grin. “Like what?”

“I mean, so obviously you like getting smacked around and choked,” he starts, ticking it off on his fingers. “You like it when I call you a slut, but you also like it when I call you ‘babygirl’, which is fun.” You just smile. “And you like calling me daddy.”

“Mm, yes,” you say, your smile growing. You lean forward a little, scooting your stool closer to his. “But we already knew all that.”

He gives you a warning glance. “I can be very strict,” he prefaces. “I like to get really rough. It’s a system; it’s almost like a game. We make rules, and then if you don’t follow them, there’s consequences.”

“Yeah? What do you have in mind?”

He leans in and gives you a quick kiss. “Well, spanking for attitude. Choking if you still don’t fall in line. Orgasm delay; I’ll tie you up if you touch yourself without my permission. Handcuff you if you touch me without permission.”

“What, like this?” You sneak your hands onto his thighs, gripping lightly, reveling in the feeling of his strong quads beneath your palms.

He’s lifting you up in an instant, hands on your waist. You gasp a little as your ass thuds against the counter. Once you’re settled, he takes your wrists and pins them behind your back. “Yeah, like that,” he hisses. You hum, struggling against his hold just to test it. You’re strong, but he’s stronger.

“Hm,” you say, nonchalant. “Guess you’ll have to punish me, then.”

Johnny gives you an almost exasperated look, and then sighs and lets you go, moving to shuck off his shirt. Curious, you don’t move, choosing to watch him instead. You’re surprised when he twists up the shirt and holds it out. “Okay,” he says. “Hands.” You smile a little and offer him your wrists. Luckily, there’s a lot of t-shirt, so it’s easy for him to double-knot it with plenty to spare. He tugs experimentally, then asks, “Does it feel okay?”

You nod, smile growing, leaning forward into his space. “Green,” you murmur.

“Good.” He gives you the kiss you’re looking for, but deepens it, coaxing you to lean back. You don’t have your hands to support you, but he catches you, big palm braced against your spine. You kiss back, hungry, keeping your bound hands in your lap even though all you want to do is reach out and touch. You’re still hurting from last night, and you have a feeling Johnny will do fine at roughing you up on his own without any antagonizing.

You’re right. A few moments later, he’s lowering you onto your back, and then he stands, pulling your hips forward so he can pull your panties down. His tongue presses to your clit, swiping back and forth and then circling around it before breaking away with a kiss. You reach for him weakly, hands flexing against the t-shirt, an almost involuntary response.

Johnny doesn’t miss it. He slaps your hands, and then points. “Above your head. Keep them there, or you don’t get to come.”

“Yes, sir,” you say, shivering at his tone. You do as you’re told; your arms hang off the other side of the counter just a bit, but you don’t mind. Johnny, much to your relief, goes back to eating you out, pushing a spit-slick finger into your pussy. You sigh, and focus on the monumental task of keeping your hips still.

Johnny adds a second finger, then a third, and then a fourth, barely coming up for breath, his tongue flicking over your clit, sending waves of arousal across your body. He curls his fingers up slightly, and you moan out loud, shaking when he does it again, and again, and again.

He finally gives your clit a break, standing and running his free hand down your side. Goosebumps follow his touch even though you’re still wearing your big t-shirt. He scrunches up the material and pushes it high to expose your chest. His hand comes up to your tits, and he rolls one of your nipples under his thumb, smiling when you gasp. “Feel good, babygirl?” he asks.

“Yes, daddy,” you reply, narrowing your eyes at him. “Would feel better if you’d fuck me.”

He releases your chest in favor of taking your jaw in his hand, squeezing against the bone just a little. “Is that how you talk to me?”

“Only if you let me,” you say. He tightens his grip, jostling you a little. “I mean,” you amend, “no.”

“That’s what I thought,” he says, leaning in closer. “My little slut doesn’t ever talk like that to me, because she knows what happens if she does, isn’t that right? So that’s ‘no,’ what?”

“No, sir,” you correct, watching him wide-eyed.

“Good girl,” he says, releasing your jaw and standing back up. He pulls his fingers out of your pussy, licking them clean absently while he pulls his shorts down with the other hand. You find that you’re trembling, the ache in your pussy a pleasant reminder of last night, though it’s eclipsed by an overwhelming feeling of need when you realize it’s going to happen again.

Johnny fishes a small packet of lube and a condom out of the pocket of his shorts before casting them aside. You give him a scandalized look.

“Were you planning this?” you ask. Somehow, you can’t quite make your tone accusatory.

He just grins lazily. “I wouldn’t say planning,” he replies as he tears the condom open and rolls it on. “More just potentially anticipating. Hands, please. I’m going to redo them behind your back. I like to be prepared,” he continues. “You never know.”

“Indeed.” You offer up your wrists and he makes quick work of the knot, tugging you free and then helping you to your feet. He spins you around, fastening the twisted t-shirt back around your wrists where he has them pinned behind you. He’s fucking ridiculous, you think, staring down at the marble of the counter. The cartoon Robin Hood “spare coochie” meme pops into your head, and you stifle a laugh, feeling giddy. Spare marriage, sir? You make a mental note to send it to your best friend later—she’ll definitely clown you for it, but it’s kind of how you feel.

You feel Johnny’s hand on your waist, coaxing you to bend over, and the head of his cock against the entrance to your pussy. “Ready, baby?”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, though it trails to a sigh when he pushes in.

It’s a little mind-numbing, though you’re of the opinion that good sex always should be. You rest your cheek on the cool marble, letting your eyes flutter shut. Your hips bump against the edge of the counter, but you can barely feel the pain, focused more on Johnny’s hands and Johnny’s cock, the way he fucks you open like he’s trying to take you apart.

“ God , you feel good,” he forces out, and you whine softly at the praise. “My little slut takes me so well.”

“Daddy,” you reply, a little slurred from your lightheadedness. You wonder vaguely if he’d be willing to fuck you elsewhere in his penthouse—maybe on the sofa, or the dining table, so that every time he has guests over, he’s forced to confront the memory of you, burning behind his eyes, your voice ringing in his ears. You have a feeling he wouldn’t be opposed. You have a feeling he’d find the idea of it just as hot as you do.

You don’t bring it up now, though; you wouldn’t, even if you could—which is beside the point anyway, because you’re too busy moaning at the way he feels inside you, cock dragging against the spot that makes your legs weak and your heart pound. Another thing you’re finding you love about Johnny is that he’s vocal—he groans softly with each thrust, whispering senseless praise every few strokes. It makes you sure he knows you’re here, and that it’s you that’s making him feel this way, that he’s not imagining someone else, or, probably worse, thinking of no one at all, not even you. You’re not against being objectified, but there’s a difference between feeling used and feeling useless. Johnny nails the former perfectly, and it’s enough to make you feel like you could sink all the way down the many, many stories beneath you, heavy with desire.

“I’m close, daddy,” you find yourself whimpering, and you don’t even really know how you got there. It’s the everything about it, you suppose—the way he holds your wrists behind you, securing you in place, the way he’s fucking you hard enough to leave bruises, the way he so clearly wants you, the way this is all happening in the middle of his insanely expensive and uncommonly gorgeous kitchen. “Touch me, please.”

Johnny does, letting go of your waist to snake his hand around front and massage over your clit with his index and middle fingers. “I’m close, too,” he tells you, breath hot on your back. “I dreamed about you last night, baby. Wanted you even in my sleep. What am I supposed to do with that, huh?”

“I think you—ah, fuck—I think you handled it just fine,” you reply through sharp inhales. You feel choked on your moans, even though there’s nothing blocking your airflow. In the back of your head, you wish there was, but it’s a bit too late for that now. “Lucky for you, I’m always on board.”

“Mm, good,” Johnny replies, voice low and strained. “We can make this a habit, if you want.”

You get an image of you, coming over to his place every week or so, only for him to fuck you into his mattress that night and then do it again in the morning. You shake, panting as you reply. “I’d like that,” you say, and he hums.

Your orgasm is fast approaching—your limbs feel like live wires, and the pressure in your pussy is building. You clench around Johnny’s cock without meaning to, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it. He settles for grinding against you, pressed so deep inside you wonder if you’ll be feeling it for the next month. His fingers are still circling your clit, fast and sweet, sparks of pleasure bursting across your skin with each movement.

You come with a cry, breath fogging the counter below your mouth. You hear Johnny moaning behind you as he fucks you shallowly through your orgasm, hips stuttering as he comes as well, hand never leaving your clit until you’re so overstimulated you have to push him away.

You both catch your breath for a second after he pulls out, and then you stand up gingerly, stretching your back as best you can. Johnny’s fingers find the t-shirt on your wrists, a little clumsy now in his post-orgasm haze. But nevertheless, you’re soon released, and you turn around so you can kiss him.

He smiles into the kiss, and then you’re both laughing, barefoot and (mostly) naked in his kitchen at eleven o’clock in the morning. It’s not the wildest thing you’ve ever done, even as a real adult, but there’s definitely something to be said for fucking twice in the span of less than twelve hours.

“You’re so much fun,” he says as his laughter subsides, grinning at you. “Finally, someone that matches my energy.”

“I think that’s just a nice way of saying, ‘why do you have the sex drive of a fifteen year old boy?’ but I’ll take it,” you reply, scooping your underwear up from the floor. “Good thing we cleaned up beforehand.”

“Yeah, I think… we may have broken something otherwise,” he agrees. “Okay.” He rolls the condom off and ties it before chucking it in the trash. “I have a few things to get done, but I can offer you a robe and a pair of shorts if you want them, and you can hang out by the pool while I finish up. Feel free to take a glass or two of wine, if you like. Or a bottle or two, I don’t mind. I’ll join you in an hour or so.”

“I don’t need the shorts,” you say, going over to the wine cooler and plucking up the least-expensive looking red you see. “Can I take this?” He nods, and you cradle it to your chest, following him out of the kitchen and back up the stairs. “If it’s alright with you. I’ll just skinny-dip. The robe would be nice, though.”

“You’re lucky we’re the tallest building in the area,” Johnny says. “I doubt anyone will see you, in any case.”

You shrug. “It’s not like they’d be able to make out my face anyway. I’ll be fine.”

He leads you into his bedroom, and disappears into his closet. You discard the t-shirt on his bed, and place your folded underwear on top of the stack of the rest of your clothes on the bookshelf.

“Here.” Johnny’s extending a fluffy black robe to you. “It’s a little cold out there, so I thought I’d go for function over style.”

“Thanks,” you say, giggling, and let him help you into it. You fasten the sash around your waist, following him out to the balcony.

“You can rinse off there,” he says, pointing at a shower stall in the back corner by the hot tub that you didn’t see the night before. “Hot tub controls are on the wall. There’s some wine glasses and a bottle opener in this cabinet here.” He opens one of the doors, and produces a silver wine opener. “I’ll be in my office, okay?”

“Okay.” You smile at him, accepting the wine opener. “Thank you.”

“No need.” He gives you a quick kiss on the cheek, and then heads back inside.

You head over to the lounge chairs that are on the side of the pool protected by the weather shelter, next to the outer wall. You put the bottle of wine on the ground, taking off your robe and draping it over a chair, and then take the bottle and the bottle opener to the hot tub. You put them on the side, and start the heat and jets in the tub, then hop into the shower really quick to rinse off the layer of sweat before making your swift way to the hot tub, shivering against the slight wind.

You sigh in appreciation as you sink under the warm water, reaching up to open your wine. You didn’t bother with a glass—you know you’re probably going to drink the whole thing, anyway. You sit like that, water just barely up to your chest, sipping the wine and surveying the city with half-lidded eyes.

Really, you don’t know how you got so lucky. Maybe I should half-stalk more hot guys for fun, you think to yourself, smiling. You never know. The next one could be the son of an oil tycoon, or a prince. If you can’t eat the rich, then… at least fuck them, right? And steal their wine.

By the time Johnny comes out onto the balcony, you’re about three-quarters of the way through the bottle of wine. Though the pancakes from this morning did something to buffer the effects of the alcohol at first, you definitely have a solid buzz going, and you giggle through your greeting smile when Johnny comes into view.

“Do you want some?” you ask, offering up the bottle. “Before I finish it?”

He grins, shaking his head. “No, I think I’ll need to drive you home, so I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Mmkay.” You tilt your head back, taking him in. He’s changed into a pair of swim shorts and nothing else, and though it’s not very sunny, he has sunglasses perched on the top of his head, blonde hair pushed back and falling over the frames. “Well, at least join me.”

“You don’t even have to ask.” He slips into the water beside you, moving close to kiss your cheekbone, the corner of your lips, your jaw.

“Work go okay?” you ask.

“Mm-hmm,” he says, resting his chin on your shoulder. His hair tickles your ear, and you laugh. “I’m all yours for the rest of the day.”

“Sounds perfect,” you reply, bringing your opposite hand around to cup his cheek. “Have anything in mind?”

“Well,” Johnny says, kissing your palm and peeling away to lean back against the tub. “I was thinking lunch would be in order sometime soon. Maybe we could nap, if you want. And then I’d drive you home before dinner. I don’t want to keep you too long; I know you have shit to do.”

It’s unfortunate, but he’s right. As much as you want to stay longer, you know you have to sober up and get home to finish at least part of your project. Besides, you don’t want to overstay your welcome. “Yeah,” you say. “I do have shit to do.”

“Make no mistake,” he adds quickly. “I wouldn’t mind if you stayed. I just don’t want to keep you from your work.”

“Well, thank you.” You take another swig of wine, rolling the liquid around in your mouth. “I appreciate it.”

“So,” he continues. “We soak here for a little while longer, and then we eat and take a siesta, how’s that sound?”

“You’re a dork,” you inform him, but you nod. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

You sit together for a few minutes as you finish your bottle of wine, chatting and laughing.

“So,” you say when your wine bottle is empty. “Do you let all the pretty girls use your hot tub and drink your alcohol?”

Johnny laughs. “No,” he says, giving you his blinding smile. “Only the ones that surveil me for months at the gym.”

You swat him, but play along. “Ah, so I’m the first?” you ask. “Surely no one else is as crazy.”

“You never know,” he replies, still grinning. “You’d be surprised.”

“You have another stalker?” you ask, feigning shock and offense.

“You’re not a stalker,” he points out. “And no. You’re just not the first person to approach me at the gym.”

“I did no approaching. That was like, the main problem,” you say, and he laughs again.

“This is all to say, yes, I have had other girls over before, but not recently, and they usually left in the morning.” He spreads his hands. “So consider yourself special.”

“It’s considered.” He snorts and shoves you lightly, and you shove him back. He grabs your arm to stop you from doing it again, and somehow you end up nose to nose, wrestling in the water. You jut your chin forward so you can kiss him, but even kissing, you’re still grappling with each other. You break apart to giggle. Johnny’s sunglasses are askew on his head.

“All right,” he says once your mini fight has died down. He pushes himself out of the tub, getting to his feet. You watch, unabashed, as beads of water trickle down his perfect torso. “Let’s go see about some lunch.”

He offers you a hand, scooping up the empty wine bottle with the other, and you stand, now oddly self-conscious. It’s certainly not like he hasn’t seen you naked before—and quite recently, too—but still, you duck your head and hope Johnny isn’t looking too close.

The problem is, you’re a little drunk, and focusing super hard on how you look means you’re not focused on walking. You manage to trip over your own feet, and if Johnny wasn’t there to catch you, you’d probably have gone sprawling out across the concrete. Though the danger of you falling has passed, neither of you loosen your grip on the other’s arm.

“Sorry,” you say, hushed.

“Can’t blame you,” Johnny replies. “You’re a little drunk, aren’t you?”

You shrug one shoulder, giving him a coy look. “Maybe more than a little.”

He shakes his head and guides you backwards into a lounge chair. “D’you think lunch could wait just a few minutes?” He doesn’t really wait for an answer, though; he’s already covered your body with his, lips on your neck.

“What, was my clumsiness so enticing?” you ask, grinning. “You like it when girls trip themselves and almost fall to their deaths?”

“No, I like seeing you naked in my hot tub, drunk off my wine, swaying on my balcony,” he says, and that shuts you right up. “You know what I thought when I first walked out here and saw you? Giggling, beautiful tits—“ he squeezes one in his hand as if to punctuate his point, and you gasp. “—just barely visible, eyes not quite focused?”

“No, what?” you say, barely hearing your own words.

He looks up. “God, she’s beautiful,” he says, and smirks when you roll your eyes at him. “I thought we talked about rolling your eyes.”

“Okay, Christian Grey,” you say, and he smacks your thigh.

“I’m serious, any more attitude and I’ll be beating your ass black and blue, not eating you out.” His eyes are still dancing with laughter but his tone is firm. You quiet down, nodding. “That’s better.” He scoots down the lounge chair, spreading your legs and throwing one of them over his shoulder. By the time you’ve processed this change in position, he has his mouth on you. He sucks lightly on your clit, teeth barely grazing it, and you shudder involuntarily.

You watch the muscles in his back ripple as he bends deeper, and almost reach out to touch, but remember the rules. “Can I touch you, sir?” you ask, making your voice meek and small.

“Yes, baby,” he pulls away briefly to murmur.

You run a hand down his back, tracing lines up and down his spine, plucking his sunglasses off the crown of his head so they don’t get in the way, and holding his hair out of his eyes with your other hand. He hums his thanks around your clit, and the vibration makes you moan.

You’re a horny drunk as it is—an affliction that gets the better of you all the time—but something about the way Johnny was talking about it, how he liked that you were at his place, unsteady in your drunk-ness, how that turned him on... it just makes it worse. You’re so wet and so needy, and he’s barely done anything to you. Maybe it’s that he feels safe, even like this, or maybe it’s just that you like to be incapacitated and completely at the mercy of your partner, but all of it is making your head spin. Or maybe it’s just the pleasure mixing with the alcohol.

You’re glad he has a strong hand braced against your thigh, otherwise you’d be at risk of crushing his skull between your legs. Or maybe you’re just at risk of melting into a puddle of desire right here and now. Your limbs feel heavy, and all you can do is moan, Johnny’s tongue quickly pushing you close to the edge.

You can’t even warn him before you come, shaking your way through it, curled forward and praying you’re not suffocating him. He presses kisses to your clit, your pussy, movements almost lazy while you slowly come down from it, gasping in breaths.

As soon as you can speak again, you push him to his feet. “Okay, now you,” you demand.

He smiles, stepping around your legs. “Put your feet up on the chair and tilt your head back.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, keeping eye contact. You cross one ankle over the other, dropping your head back onto the headrest, and stretching your mouth open. You stick your tongue out and raise your eyebrows a little at him.

“What a good girl.” He presses his thumb into your mouth; you let him bully a few fingers against the back of your throat. “You’re so—pliant, I think is the word I’m looking for. You always get like this when you drink?”

“Not always,” you answer around his fingers. “Depends on who I’m with. With you, probably yes.”

Satisfaction settles across his face. “Maybe we can test that out sometime,” he says, nonchalant, withdrawing his fingers. “Okay, want my cock?”

“Yes, daddy,” you reply.

He tugs down his shorts, just low enough that you have access, and shuffles forward a few more steps until the head is ghosting against the tip of your tongue. You hold very still, though all you want to do is stretch your tongue out and lick the precome beading at the tip. Gradually, he pushes his cock into your mouth until it’s all you can do not to gag. You hollow your cheeks as best you can, breathing harshly through your nose.

Johnny strokes your jaw with his thumb. “Good girl,” he repeats. “Gonna let me use your poor throat? Gonna let me fuck your face til I come?” You nod, trying to make little mm-hm noises around his cock. He gets the message. “Thank you, baby,” he all but coos, one hand going to grip your hair, tight and close to your scalp. You try to open your jaw a little wider. A tear leaks out of the corner of your eye, followed by another, and another, as Johnny pulls out fluidly and then shoves his cock right back down your throat.

You can’t help it after a minute or two—you’re gagging and your spit is thick and glistening on his cock when he slides it out of your mouth. It’s okay, though; you’re not really at risk of throwing up, You are still crying, though, more just a natural reaction from your body getting abused than anything else. Johnny doesn’t notice, or at least doesn’t acknowledge it. He yanks your head forward and you let your torso loll over the seat, closing your eyes.

“God,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “I tell you you’re good, and you’ll just let me do anything, huh?”

“Mm-hm,” you say, too drunk and too preoccupied to argue.

“Fuck,” he hisses out, and you moan around his cock. You feel like you’re floating in honey; though Johnny’s thrusts are sharp and fast, they feel slow, the wine numbing you to any pain. You know you’re messy—spit is dripping down your chin and mixing with your tears—but you can’t be bothered with it. Besides, Johnny thinks it’s hot, and that’s all that really matters.

Abruptly, he pulls out, leaving you heaving for breath. He keeps the one hand on your hair, so your face is tilted up towards him. He jacks himself off, groaning when he finally comes. You squeeze your eyes tight—come stings if you get it in your eyes, you know—and moan quietly when you feel it hit your brow bone, your cheek, your tongue.

Johnny cleans you off a bit with his fingers and you swipe at your face a little before looking up at him. He’s tucked himself back into his pants, and he’s flushed but smiling.

“Okay,” he says, breathless. “Now lunch.”

You laugh, taking his hand and getting to your feet. You sway, but it’s okay, because Johnny catches you.

* * *

After lunch, you both shower and curl up in Johnny’s bed for a much-needed nap. You fall asleep tucked closed to his chest and your nose full of the scent of his cologne.

You wake late to a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hey.” You blink your eyes open and see Johnny sitting up beside you. “I’m not trying to kick you out, please take your time. I just figured you’d wanna be getting home.”

You squint at the clock; it’s a little before three. “Yeah,” you whisper back. “I do. Thank you.”

He smiles and stands, going to raise the blinds. You follow him, grabbing your clothes and pulling them on, adjusting your dress as the shades click in place at the top of the windows.

“Got everything?” he asks.

“Yeah, I think so,” you reply, retrieving your phone from the bedside table. You’re still a little unsteady, but sobering by the minute, so you’re pretty sure you’re telling the truth.

“Well,” he says as he follows you down the stairs. “If you do happen to leave something behind, you have my number.”

“Yes.” You smile at him as you shrug your coat on, checking your pockets for your wallet and your keys.

You both pull on your shoes and head out into the hall, then back into the fancy elevator. You’re silent as you ride all the way down to the garage.

Johnny opens the passenger side door for you and shuts it once you’re settled. There’s almost a melancholy stillness in the car—the air seems a little tense. You watch your hands in your lap, not sure how to broach the subject. Will we see each other again?

Once you get into the city, you direct Johnny towards your building. It might not be wise to give him your address, but then again, he hasn’t done anything to give you pause, so you decide not to worry about it.

A few missed turns later, he pulls up along the curb, and turns his car off. There’s a beat of silence as you unbuckle your seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride,” you say softly. He nods. You open your door and stick your right leg out, and then turn back to him. “Will I see you again?”

“If you want,” Johnny says with a wide smile. He leans toward you and you take the opportunity to give him a goodbye kiss. “Text me anytime, baby,” he murmurs when you pull away, and you feel your cheeks heat up.

“Will do.” You get out of the car and shut the door, then bend down so you can wave goodbye through the window.

Johnny waves back, putting his car in drive. Right before he pulls away, he makes eye contact with you and gives you that same fucking wink.