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John B’s sitting on what JJ affectionately named the monster couch because not only is it the size of a giant, it was also apparently monstrously expensive. Not that anyone lets him see the price tags anymore. Not after he panicked because he spilled coffee on the like seven-thousand-dollar rug then refused to walk anywhere near it for like six weeks.
His therapist called it a trigger: JJ calls it fucking ridiculous.
Whatever.
JJ blanket waddles his way over to faceplant in John B’s lap, because he’s allowed to do that now, and also, it’s all John B’s fault anyway.
John B snorts at him. “Tired?” he asks and puts his hand in JJ’s hair.
“Like you don’t know,” JJ mutters, already softening as John B runs his thumb over his scar, tugs at his hair, and generally makes JJ want to melt into the monster sofa. “You and Sarah are loud, man.”
The hand pauses, and JJ whines. “No, we’re not,” John B says, the lie so bad JJ has to flip over just to call him on it.
“Dude.” He gives John B his best judgmental look. “Why do you think Pope stayed with his parents over spring break?”
“Because he missed them?”
JJ squeezes his eyes shut. “And Kie got a place with her girlfriend even though she spends all day here because…”
John B doesn’t say anything, and JJ waits for him to put the pieces together. When he does, he falls straight for the old Pogue tried and true. “We are not that loud,” he says.
Ah. Denial.
JJ groans and rolls off of him. Scrubbing his hair back into place, JJ squints balefully at what kept him up last night. “No, I am not that loud. You guys are like a freaking porno.”
“Oh, you’re not that loud? What about last Friday?”
“That was a joke. I had to embarrass Pope in front of his girlfriend.” He succeeded, too. Turns out, College-Pope has the worst taste in woman known to man. JJ was just helping a bro out.
“No but you’re always…” John B trails off. JJ waits for him to run down every time they’ve been in bed together and realize that while JJ may talk, he’s never actually noisy otherwise. The talking’s probably what threw him off, if JJ’s honest—and if he’s being honest with himself, he knows that’s more of an intentional move on his part, than not.
“Told you,” he says, and smiles at John B’s frustration. “I never make noise.”
Now, look. JJ really should know better than to dangle something that sounds like a challenge in front of Jonathan Booker I-Always-Get-My-Way Routledge. But the things that JJ knows and the things that he does have a large gap between them. At least this isn’t preemptive self-destruction, which he’s got a habit of doing as his therapist likes to point out. Granted, she’s nicer about it, says that he’s just trying to protect himself or whatever.
But this isn’t protective; this is fun.
John B gets this look about him, a narrow-eyed focused thing, like a seagull getting ready to dive for some unsuspecting Touron’s food. JJ sighs, feels a giddy stir in his stomach. “You’re really going to start this.”
John B juts his chin out. “Can’t handle it?” His hand trails up JJ’s back, lazy and sure. JJ fights down a shiver.
“I went through puberty at my dad’s house, dude. I’m quiet as the grave.”
John B just makes a scarce sound of acknowledgement, already pulling JJ closer, up onto his knees. His other hand wraps around the base of JJ’s neck, warm and tugging until their mouths meet.
And John B’s a good kisser, all soft but insistent, can really get a person lost in it. But JJ’s brain likes to hop around, from John B’s hands to the blanket twisted up underneath him, to the sun shining in the big bay window, to his fingers tangled in thick brown hair. Then it starts tracking things like the open space into the kitchen, the double-locked front door off to the left, the stairs, hell, a person could probably scramble through a window if they really tried. JJ could, if he needed to. You know, just in case someone busted in when he’s too busy making out and—
John B must be getting frustrated, because he starts kissing more aggressively, holding JJ’s head still and nipping at his bottom lip. That makes more noise, sure… but it’s all from John B.
Finally, they break apart. JJ fights to keep his face serious. “What’d I say?”
John B scowls at him. “Now you’re just being stubborn,” he says and shoves JJ down into the cushions when he starts laughing. Then John B’s just looking down at him while he’s snickering, with that stupid sappy expression he gets sometimes that JJ still can’t face head on without wanting to squirm. So, JJ closes his eyes and kisses him again instead.
This time, with his eyes closed and back pressed to the couch, with John B caging him in in a way that feels covering rather than constricting, JJ’s breath gets caught up in the rhythm of the kiss. He’s still not moaning—and at this point, he won’t if he wants to ever look JB in the eye again, but his brain stays more focused on the feelings. Then John B gets a hand in his hair and tugs and—
“Nope. Doesn’t count,” JJ cuts off John B’s triumphant look. “It was pain, not pleasure.” And hardly even a sound, like, please. “Like you could poke me in the side, and I’d jump but that wouldn’t—”
John B growls and drags him in again. Fingers twist tight in JJ’s hair, and it’s expected this time, so why the hell does a tiny gasp escape when John B pulls?
“That definitely counted,” a voice floats in from the kitchen. They got something called open concept, apparently. John B and Kie insisted during the renovations.
JJ cranes his head up. “Oh, hey, Sarah Cameron.” She’s sitting on the counter in one of John B’s old shirts, a bowl of cereal in one hand, a crappy paperback in the other.
“Sup, not-boyfriend,” she says. JJ graduated from not-friend to not-boyfriend about when he and John B sat down together and, well… didn’t actually talk and define the relationship? They talked, for sure, about like fishing and family and some weird moon metaphors JJ’s still not sure where he was going with. John B roasted his driving skills; JJ called him a piss-poor surfer. They ended the night kissing. It doesn’t matter. They’ve never needed to explain what they mean to each other.
(But if Kie ever asks, they totally did.)
Sarah cocks her head at John B. “You alright, babe?”
JJ scrambles out from under John B’s bulk to grin at Sarah. “He’s just mad ‘cause I’m winning.”
“You’re not winning. I just have to—”
JJ snorts. “What, brainstorm? Admit it, B, you’ve got nothing on me.” He’s right and they both know it, so John B pokes him in the side. JJ yelps and grabs at his hand and Sarah—
“What about when you hold his wrists?” JJ freezes halfway in a headlock. They both stare at her. She blinks back, puts her book down. “You’ve seriously never tried that?”
Uh, no? Duh? Of course, they haven’t tried… Jesus, JJ can’t even think about it. That would be like… his brain kinda fuzzes over, the way it does when John B’s got his wrists held tight, when he’s got him held—
JJ shakes his head, hard. Not an answer, just trying to clear the haze.
John B raises a slow eyebrow at him, a ‘well?’, a ‘do you want to?’, and an ‘oh look I just won’ all tangled up together. JJ rubs his hands down his crossed legs and freaking stammers, what the hell. “Uh, well we didn’t, really, um…”
John B stills his hands, catches one wrist then the other. “Still good?” he asks, and JJ can’t look at him, just nods once, like please don’t make him ask. John B tightens his grip and JJ can already feel his pulse slowing, the tension dropping from his back, his shoulders, his mind. He always feels so dumb about this. Like, God, he chills out so fast he goes stupid with it. He’d hate the lack of control if it didn’t feel so damn nice.
Then John B leans in and kisses him.
For a second JJ’s not sure what’s happening because kissing’s good, right? Like it’s hot and fun and all, but holy shit he’s never felt so caught before? Like he can feel John B’s breath on his face, his nose bumping his cheek, every move of his mouth, and JJ can’t move, can hardly breathe and he—
JJ gasps for air. Loud. Overwhelmed. Needy.
He feels John B’s grin against his mouth and then he’s getting pushed into the back of the monstrous couch. John B’s insistent, consuming, and JJ’s completely dialed in to every movement, can’t feel anything else but the heat against him and the squeezing around his wrists. He can’t think, can’t overthink, can’t string a damn thought together. He doesn’t even realize he’d been moaning until John B pulls back with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“What were you saying, again? ‘I never—” John B stops, cuts right off which is good because JJ might explode if he kept teasing him. But then John B’s staring at him a little slack jawed, his hands tense around JJ’s wrists and JJ’s eyes flutter shut. “Holy shit, Sarah,” he hears over the rushing of his pulse. “He’s blushing.”
“What?” A clatter as Sarah’s bowl hits the countertop then a rush of bare feet on the floorboards. “Oh my God.” He hears from much closer.
JJ blinks his eyes open. They’re both staring at him. JJ shakes his head.
Sarah looks at him all cautious, perched out of their space on the arm of the monster couch. “You okay, JJ?”
“Yeah? I just—woah, B, you—” John B’s kissing down his neck, sloppy and hard. He bites down and JJ makes the most embarrassing sound of his life. John B doesn’t laugh at him though. No, John B gets this kinda wild look in his eyes and then JJ’s being kissed so hard he can’t catch his breath.
When John B lets him up, Sarah stares at her boyfriend. “This really does it for you, doesn’t it?”
“What she said,” JJ pants out.
“All my life JJ would do the most embarrassing shit and never once get flustered so yeah.” The grip on his wrists goes punishingly tight and JJ’s breathing hitches, changes. He kinda jerks his hips, can’t help it, not when getting held like this makes every other reaction go loose and obvious. God, John B looks like he wants to eat him alive. “This is fucking doing it for me.”
And JJ can’t take much more of that burning look without doing something he can’t come back from, like begging John B to freaking touch him already, so he surges forward and kisses John B again. This time JB’s getting rough, like borderline mean with it, and JJ doesn’t even care because he’s never been scared once John B’s got him grabbed like this.
And Jesus, JJ might not be like he was in high school, jumpy and twitching at every shadow, but his body remembers fear in a way that’s hard to break from. In a way that makes him too loud in public, and too quiet with his family. In a way John B’s knocking him right out of with every second he keeps holding tight.
Eyes closed and not quite sure when that happened, JJ tries to slow the kiss down into something softer, but then John B does something with his tongue that makes his brain drop right out. JJ full out whines, long, breathy, embarrassing as fuck. Oh God. Why. He pulls back and buries his face in John B’s shoulder.
“You alright, bubba?” John B asks, really asking even if JJ can hear the laugh creeping around the edges. JJ mumbles a string of something, who knows what, into John B’s hoodie. Then John B does laugh at him and tries to nudge him out of his hiding place. “Hey, look at me, Js,” he says and ugh, fine. “There you go.” John B smiles at him, all stupid and bright and fond and shit. He’s ridiculous. “Wanna see your face.” He presses a little kiss to his cheek, then one just below his eye, and JJ knows he’s in trouble because he might actually like this, then—
“He does look pretty cute all pink like that,” Sarah says, all teasing and shit and—
“Wait, wait.” JJ pulls back, squirms away from the light kisses to get a look at her. John B starts mouthing behind his ear because he’s stubborn like that. “You guys can’t gang up on me,” JJ says, voice all stupid and catching, because John B won’t let up and Sarah’s biting down on her smile, and every part of him is settling and relaxing and he doesn’t have walls against that. “That’s not fair.”
John B stops kissing him. JJ can’t see his face, but he can see Sarah’s and she’s got the look she gets right before she plunges the Pogues into a week-long prank war. And JJ’s known John B for over a decade, now—he can feel in his gut when the guy’s gonna start shit. Right now?
JJ’s in the danger zone.
But tucked up on the monstrous couch in the house they all own together, that danger reads as nothing more than a hot twist in his belly. He’s safe, you know? And if he still doesn’t quite know what to do with that feeling, that’s okay too. John B’s got him until his head and body sort it all out; got ‘em right by the wrists.
Sarah smiles, slow and innocent. “I didn’t do anything,” she says, and bites her lip again. Then, as John B pulls JJ closer, “I just pointed out how adorable you look.”
Oh God. “Now you’re just being mean,” JJ complains, ears burning. “JB control your girlf—“ John B bites down on his shoulder and JJ yelps. “Okay, no, control yourself, like damn.”
Sarah laughs, smirks. “He just likes you being sweet for him.”
And that’s… that’s… JJ clunks his head back against the wall unable to look at her, or John B. Sweet. He’s not—JJ can feel the heat rising in his face, almost lightheaded with it. He can’t think about it. Not when having his wrists held leaves him horribly, selfishly honest. Honest about stupid things like feelings and the fact that he maybe actually might like the idea of being sweet for—
The grip on his hands goes loose, but just as JJ’s blinking into the unmoored feeling, John B offers a quick squeeze. It’s fast, real fast, almost a spasm. JJ cranes his head back up in time to meet John B’s carefully blank face. His eyes are dark, all pupil. “Sarah,” he says, and damn his voice sounds wrecked, “If you don’t leave in the next few minutes, you’re gonna see a lot more of JJ than you want to.”
Oh.
“Shows what you know,” Sarah says and while JJ’s mind is still spinning in circles over that, she heads towards the stairs. She pauses just through the doorway. “Also, you should try pinning his hands over his head.”
John B makes a stupid sound of his own, then he’s putting both of JJ’s wrists in one hand, getting the other up and twisted through his hair.
“Your girlfriend’s crazy man,” JJ gasps out, between kisses.
John B shoves him flat against the monster sofa. “But she has damn good ideas,” he breathes and pins JJ’s arms above his head.