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Taeyong is sure that the last whine out of him can be heard past the door.
He's tried everything he can to get himself off, but it's just his luck that when he fractured his elbow it had to be on his dominant side. Not only can he not move his right hand, that side of his body is rendered useless. Even leaning on that side hurts too much.
And with how long he's been immobilized like this, he is starting to go a little crazy.
He bursts out of the bathroom, switching the light off and softening the closing of the door behind him with his foot. Then he's beelining for the kitchen, eager to get water and maybe even a sedative to calm himself down.
It’s only when he's turning the corner from the hallway to the bedrooms does he notice the flashes of light in the living room.
He finds Johnny sitting on the couch, only his laptop illuminating his face. Johnny is his roommate, and he's also a terrible workaholic.
“You're still up?”
It dawns too late on Taeyong that Johnny had probably heard him in the bathroom.
Not that they can keep their sex lives entirely separate — their bedrooms are a wall apart, after all. But he doubts that Johnny finds anything enticing in the sounds of his roommate struggling trying to get himself off.
“Yeah,” Johnny answers him, eyes following Taeyong over the screen of his laptop, watching him cross the room to the kitchen. “You okay? You seem out of breath.”
Taeyong feels himself go red hot at that and turns into the med cabinet just in time to hide it. He decides against the sedative and takes a painkiller for his arm instead, knowing it's inevitable that he accidentally rolls over onto it when he's in bed and makes matters worse.
“I'm fine,” he says. “Just can't sleep.”
“Is the arm bothering you?” Johnny asks, still not having turned his attention back to whatever work was so important to take care of at midnight.
“In a way, yeah.”
“Sounded pretty intense,” Johnny comments. “You sure it’s fine?”
Taeyong swallows, wondering how much Johnny really heard. At some point Taeyong felt so desperate that the moans were only resulting from frustration. Maybe Johnny was right — he was in pain.
“I'm… pent up, okay?” Taeyong admits with a groan. “It's been weeks because of this stupid thing.”
He doesn't know what's more humiliating — having to admit that he has been unsuccessfully trying to get himself off, or coming out to Johnny as some sort of insatiable beast that can’t hold it for a month. Not that it was far from the truth.
“Oh?” Johnny is seemingly struck by that. “You don’t mean…”
“So I'm dying, okay?” Taeyong is past the point of pride.
He chugs the rest of the water in his glass before abandoning the kitchen. But before Taeyong can slip past Johnny and away into his room to wallow in his own pity, Johnny stops him.
“Why don't you ask one of your idiots to come over and help you?” he asks.
Taeyong laughs at that.
“And trust that they’ll be careful?” he rolls his eyes. “It's not what I tend to ask for.”
Johnny noticeably quiets at that. Then he's shutting his laptop with a thud and sets it onto the coffee table in front of him.
“I can do it,” he says, definitively.
Taeyong nearly chokes on his response. “Do what?”
“Get you off,” Johnny says, patting the place on the couch next to him. “Come here?”
Taeyong can hardly believe the words but obeys them anyway.
His knees seem to move on their own accord, climbing onto the couch as if he's done this thousands of times. In response Johnny's hands are on his waist, helping stabilize him as he's maneuvered down onto the cushions.
Suddenly Taeyong is thinking that this might be the best idea they've ever had.
Not that he hasn’t thought about what it would be like, to look up at Johnny from under here. It's just that he tried really hard not to. He didn't want to be thinking about his roommate more than necessary. In fact, his lease was dependent on it.
“And why would you do that?” Taeyong is asking him, even though he’s already past the point of no return.
“Why?” Johnny moves to make space to accommodate him, nearly slipping off the couch just so he can do so. “Because you need it.”
“A pity orgasm?” Taeyong rolls his eyes again, for a moment forgetting that his arm is strapped against his chest and yanking to nudge Johnny. The sudden move reignites the pain, a quick reminder of what got him here in the first place.
“Not pity,” Johnny shakes his head when he sees him wince. His hand is on Taeyong's shoulder trying to hold him still, pressing him down into the couch. “You’re gorgeous. Why wouldn't I want to do this for you?”
Taeyong's breath catches at the words. Not that he hasn’t heard them before — in fact, it's one of the first things his partners ever tell him. He knows he's beautiful, but hearing it from his presumably straight roommate does something else to his brain entirely.
“Just try to hold still, so you don’t hurt yourself more,” Johnny says, his voice getting quieter.
He leans in slowly, and the lack of second thought makes Taeyong dizzy. Johnny's body cages him into the couch, and Taeyong already feels like he's in a haze, smelling the soap off Johnny's skin.
Johnny's mouth seems to be going for his neck, so he turns his head to give him access. It's exhilarating, wondering what Johnny is going to do to him.
But Johnny stops just before it can make contact with the skin, to move closer to Taeyong's ear.
“Should I kiss you first?”
Taeyong's eyes blink open, to focus on Johnny again. “Kiss?”
“To turn you on,” Johnny says. “You can't still be hard, right?”
“Right,” Taeyong is nodding, too eager. “Yeah, you should turn me on.”
Though Johnny is wrong, because he’s obviously already hard just from the weight of him on top.
But when their mouths meet Taeyong feels the sensation shoot straight through his skull. Johnny is an intentional kisser, holding Taeyong's face and guiding him to his soft lips. He's greedy with his tongue, already coming out to get a taste of Taeyong before disconnecting.
Johnny is the first to break their kiss, glancing down to check between their bodies where Taeyong's limp arm is resting across his chest.
“Still okay?”
“Yeah,” Taeyong nods, panting. “Don’t worry, just—”
Johnny chuckles at Taeyong's impatience, his hand making its slow way down Taeyong's body to cup his erection. He has already leaked into his boxers, mixing with remnants of lube that he hadn't properly wiped off himself in the bathroom. Johnny hand slips beneath the waistband, earning a cry from Taeyong as his hand circles his cock.
“That was quick.”
Taeyong is nodding again, feeling his head start to spin, so much that even biting down on his lip isn't enough to hold him back.
“Fuck, Johnny, that feels so good…” Taeyong says, his single good arm slipping around Johnny's back to hang on. It takes everything in him to keep himself from madly fucking his hips into the friction. “I might not last.”
Johnny's mouth comes down to kiss his skin again, arched smile pressing under his chin and descending down to the chest.
“Should I take longer then?” he asks.
Taeyong would have never thought that Johnny is like this in bed. So unexpectedly evil.
He has always known his roommate to be so practical — Johnny’s always been sort of perfect. Punctual, organized, and sometimes jarringly kind. But the way Johnny speaks to him now, how he slithers down his body towards where his hand is pumping him, there seems to be another Johnny hiding beneath the surface.
“Didn't think— you’d be the type to, ah, tease…” Taeyong utters.
“What did you think, then?” Johnny asks, his hand around Taeyong speeding up. “Did you think about it?”
“Fuck yes, I did,” Taeyong's own hips pick up pace to thrust into the heat, chasing his release. “Fuck, like that, yes—”
“You said you want to last, right?”
“No, I never said that!”
Johnny has the audacity to grin and slow down his strokes, watching Taeyong writhe in frustration. He laughs, and the sound makes Taeyong worry for the first time that he doesn't know what he's truly gotten himself into. For all he knew Johnny could be a complete sadist, ready to edge Taeyong until he collapsed into tears. Not that he would entirely mind.
“Johnny—” he whines his name again, squirming under him now as the pressure inside starts to build.
Johnny shakes his head, immobilizing Taeyong with a push on his good side, against the cushions. “Hey, I told you to be careful with your arm.”
“Fuck you.”
Johnny lowers himself until his mouth connects with Taeyong's neck again, nipping the skin right at the nape. A groan from him vibrates across Taeyong's throat, shivering as Johnny's tongue comes out to make contact. The squeeze of Johnny's fist tightens, now even more deliberately hurling Taeyong faster toward his end.
“You were driving me insane with those sounds,” Johnny says, his voice raspy now, quiet, letting Taeyong's cries fill the room. “You should have come to me sooner. I would have fucked you right there over the sink.”
“John—”
Taeyong can barely finish the uttering of his name before his back is arching like a bow and he comes, spilling into his boxers and over Johnny's hand until he comes to a stuttering finish.
He’s a panting mess again when the world finally spins to a stop around him, all pain and frustration for a moment completely forgotten.
“Y-you— “
“Hold on, catch your breath first,” Johnny swipes a strand of hair out of Taeyong's face, examining him intently.
Taeyong realizes he should probably feel an inkling of shame, some embarrassment at folding to seemingly the first person in his path. But all that Taeyong can think about is why have they not done this sooner.
“Did you mean it?” Taeyong asks, finding the words as soon as he regains the ability to speak again.
Johnny is wiping his hand off on a bunch of tissues, avoiding Taeyong's gaze. Taeyong's heart is still racing from his orgasm, now even more so from not knowing what Johnny's thinking.
Then, Johnny finally answers him. “I thought you'd like hearing it.”
Taeyong will not have that — his good hand reaches out a grabs a fistful of Johnny's shirt. He pulls him back on top of himself, demanding to keep his eyes on him. Johnny visibly swallows.
“Well, yeah, but did you mean it?” Taeyong insists. “That you'd fuck me?”
Johnny looks conflicted at first, his eyes jumping between Taeyong's. Then something in him seems to give as he breaks into a grin.
“Are you kidding?” he says with a dry laugh. “I’d die to fuck you.”
Taeyong tugs him in until Johnny's lips are connecting with his again. This kiss is breathless, with less finesse and more desperation. Taeyong can barely understand how he’s still so wired up after having gotten off already. He feels insatiable, feeling Johnny's groans rumble against his mouth.
All Johnny can do is plaster him down into the couch, carefully avoiding sandwiching the broken arm between their bodies. But Taeyong finds it difficult to stay completely immobile, not with how Johnny's mouth eats him alive. He rips away for a breath of air, feeling himself start to get intoxicated by his own greed.
“Get a condom,” Taeyong gasps.
“Taeyong, wait…” Johnny is catching his breath too, looking much more disheveled than Taeyong is used to seeing him. Taeyong really likes this version of Johnny. “You're literally injured. It's too risky…”
Taeyong can barely hear what he's saying to him — whether his words are reasonable or not, Taeyong is determined to get Johnny's cock inside him.
“Then go slow,” he says.
Johnny shakes his head, chuckling as he nevertheless gets up, taking the wad of tissues with him and disappearing into his room. Taeyong can't do much else but wait for him, not with one broken arm on his chest and a wet spot on his shorts.
When Johnny returns he's walking into the room while pulling his shirt over his head. Taeyong's brain short circuits for a moment.
“Had a feeling you'd be like this,” Johnny says, tossing the condom onto the coffee table as his hands go for Taeyong's bottoms. “Bossy.”
Taeyong lifts his hips up to help him be undressed, already having resigned to letting Johnny manhandle him however he wants.
“So you've thought about it too,” Taeyong teases him. His grin is quickly wiped off his face when Johnny's hands sneak up under his thighs, spreading his legs open.
“I was thinking about what you were doing to yourself in the bathroom,” Johnny's finger are dangerously close to his most sensitive place, spreading him apart. “Did you finger yourself?”
Taeyong is too embarrassed to admit that he has, unsuccessfully so. The angle felt all strange with his nondominant arm, and he could never get off from penetration alone. A part of him knows that he just couldn't commit all the way to it.
The other, louder part of him just wants Johnny to do it to him.
He doesn’t have to ask when he feels Johnny's fingers stroke over his entrance, already slicked with lube and probing their way inside. They slip in easily, beckoning Johnny in with little resistance, with Taeyong already so well prepared for him.
Johnny's free hand pushes Taeyong's leg up, pressing down into the thigh to spread him more. It's a lewd position, raising Taeyong's hips while trying to avoid moving the hurt side at all. But Johnny makes it work, like he makes everything work. Taeyong knew he'd be good at this as he feels Johnny's fingers push inside until his palm hits his bottom, curving his fingers to explore Taeyong's body.
Meanwhile Taeyong fights to stay still, knowing that one lost moment will have him forgetting he's hurt at all, trying to grab Johnny's neck and cling onto him. He breathes out steadily but it gets stifled down into a whine, quivering as he feels the pads of Johnny's fingers tease his prostate.
“Johnny…” Taeyong can’t help but moan his name again, loving how it sounds coming out of his mouth. “Please, don't make me beg for your cock.”
“You're already saying please.”
The fingers slowly slide out so Johnny can take the same hand and push his boxers down to take out his cock. Taeyong mouth goes dry — he had a feeling that Johnny was hung; he walks like it. He watches him use the same slick of lube to stroke himself.
Taeyong can't handle the sight and reaches out his free hand to wrap around Johnny too. The weight of Johnny's cock in his palm makes him lightheaded, knowing it's undoubtedly about to change his life.
“Didn’t you say that's your bad hand?” Johnny can't help but tease him, even if he's starting to look a bit like he's losing it too.
“Then stop dragging it out and fuck me already,” Taeyong demands, having officially run out of patience. “Dammit, Johnny, you're killing me.”
“Fuck, okay, fuck…” Johnny's ripping the condom wrapper open, rolling the latex over his cock as efficiently as he can. “Lift your hips.”
He grabs one of Taeyong's many decorative couch pillows, tucking them under his ass to prop him up. He tries to lift Taeyong as carefully as he can, but Taeyong can feel the tension in him — how his shaky hands grab and squeeze, how he looks down at the sight of Taeyong lying in wait just for him.
“Ready? I'm gonna…”
He guides the head of his cock between Taeyong's legs until it brushes against the entrance. Taeyong feels Johnny hold a breath, his hand gripping his thigh even harder right as he pushes in. They both moan in unison, fixated on watching how Johnny slowly dips inside Taeyong, steadily moving his hips forward until he bottoms out.
“Oh God—” Taeyong throws his head back, trying to relax as much as he can. But the rest of his body is vibrating, his cock sprung up hard between their bodies again as he’s filled out. He needed this so, so fucking badly.
“Tell me if anything hurts, okay?” Johnny rasps, and Taeyong can barely hear the words through the static in his head. He just nods and floats off to another world when he feels Johnny start to move his hips.
Johnny moves out agonizingly slow, but every time he pushes back inside it feels like he goes deeper and deeper. He's holding himself up over Taeyong with a hand on either side of his head, his hips doing all the work and keeping the steady rhythm. Meanwhile his eyes are fixated on Taeyong's face, intently watching.
When Taeyong looks up and sees him looking, his heart catches. Johnny bites down on his bottom lip, speeding up almost involuntarily, his expressions letting go as he moans like he loves fucking Taeyong as much as the man under him loves getting fucked.
Through the blissed-out haze in his mind Taeyong wonders where the hell this Johnny has been all his life.
“I-I'm close…” Taeyong utters, barely getting the words out through his choked-up breaths. “Touch me—”
Johnny doesn't have to be asked twice — his hand is wrapping around Taeyong's cock again, earning himself a cry as he slowly strokes him back towards the edge.
“Can I go faster?” Johnny asks him, pulling out more and more with each thrust, forcing Taeyong to feel every bit of him.
Taeyong can barely think straight, completely owned by the man on top of him. He has no choice but to tremble in his answer, nodding frantically as he's pounded into the couch and thrown headfirst into his second orgasm of the night. He screams out as he comes, tensing around Johnny as his hips slam against his ass and he finishes too, filling the condom inside him. His strokes quickly slow down, moans quieting into breaths as he comes to a stop.
Johnny folds over to rest his forehead against Taeyong's, his arms starting to shake from holding himself up. Meanwhile Taeyong's eyes search for any sign of doubt on Johnny's face before closing the distance to kiss him again.
Johnny kisses him back with twice the commitment, tilting his head and breathing him in. He's not frantic anymore but slow, tired hands still clinging to him. Taeyong can feel the effort that it takes for him to pull away.
“Better?” he asks Taeyong, and though he knows he means his broken arm, Taeyong feels the word somewhere else.
“Yeah,” Taeyong nods, thinking for a moment. “You know, we’re going to have to talk about this.”
Johnny's expression turns serious at that but then a smile slips through again, tinted with hope.
“Yeah, we are,” he agrees.