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It's addicting, Johnny thinks, being splayed out on his bed like this, chest exposed while Yuta straddles him. It's hard not to stare while Yuta works, brow furrowed in concentration. It's hard not to shudder involuntarily while Yuta strokes the cold black tattoo marker over Johnny's skin.
"Stop twitching," Yuta chides. "You should be used to this by now."
Johnny swallows thickly, moving to look up at the ceiling and not his roommate who's using him as a canvas to practice his body art. "It's cold," he grunts, trying to blame it all on anything else.
"It's always cold," Yuta retorts. "You're such a princess."
Johnny scoffs, closes his eyes and thinks of gardening with his grandma in the summer, barbequing with his dad, what he's going to buy his mom for her birthday this year. Anything to not get worked up just from words.
Johnny makes the mistake of peeking behind his eyelashes. Yuta bites his tongue between his teeth in concentration and Johnny briefly thinks about how it would feel on his skin instead of the marker. Yuta's hand burns where it's placed on Johnny's stomach as he leans over to finish the top of the piece on Johnny's chest. Johnny's thighs tense and Yuta only grunts and shakes his head.
It's a miracle Johnny isn't completely hard yet. Maybe it's because he's used to the routine of this, every few days Yuta asks to try a new design out and Johnny lets him, any place he wants to. The arm pieces don't require much effort on Johnny's part, but the chest and back pieces have always proven difficult. Yuta likes to sit on him, straddle his hips while he works. Johnny's tried to remind him that no future customer of his will let him do this, but Yuta shrugs it off because it's 'just practice anyway'.
He hopes Yuta will be done soon because Johnny doesn't know how much longer he can hold out for without completely embarrassing himself.
Yuta makes a pleased sound that comes from his throat and Johnny can picture the side smile that comes with it. He must be done, because Johnny no longer feels the marker on his skin and Yuta is sitting up completely, ass planted squarely on where Johnny's cock rests in his jeans.
Johnny's eyes shoot open, hands flying to Yuta's hips to--to stop him from doing anything more. Yuta doesn't acknowledge anything--he never does, only looks down at Johnny's chest with an appreciative smile. "I think this is my best one yet. I'm gonna take a pic to post to insta."
He takes his phone out and holds it above Johnny's chest. Johnny stares into the void in front of him, praying for... anything. Yuta's finger gently pushes Johnny's chin up and to the side, showing off the muscles in Johnny's neck and finally, he takes the photo.
Yuta grins, satisfied with the shot. He shoves his phone into his pocket and looks down at Johnny to admire his work again.
Johnny tries not to shiver when Yuta holds his sides, rubbing his thumb along the edges of the piece, so, so, so, damn close to Johnny's nipples.
"Johnny,"
Johnny slowly meets Yuta's gaze. He looks like he's trying not to laugh.
"I can't get up if you keep holding me here."
Johnny's hands fly off Yuta's hips as if they were on fire and Yuta laughs, climbing off Johnny's bed.
"Remember to let it dry a bit more, okay? Don't stain another good shirt."
Yuta's already out of Johnny's room by the time Johnny can even sigh. He hears the door close with a click and Johnny's hand automatically starts reaching down towards the zipper of his jeans.
Mornings were always peaceful until Yuta moved in. Now they're spent trying to cook a decent breakfast before class while Yuta practically corners him, slipping in between Johnny and the stove and pulling up Johnny's shirt to look at the chest piece from the day before.
"Really?" Johnny complains, spatula in hands. "When I'm trying to cook eggs?"
"Just be a normal person and eat toast ten minutes before you have to get to class, it's not hard," Yuta rolls his eyes and traces a finger over the soaring eagle on Johnny's chest. He'd gotten a good look at it in the mirror last night before bed and he had to admit--it really was some of Yuta's best work so far. Lots of little details. No wonder it had taken him so long.
"But I want eggs and to not have my shirt ripped off in the morning," Johnny could totally shove Yuta away if he really wanted to but instead he settles for leaning around him to make sure the eggs don't stick to the pan and burn.
"Please," Yuta scoffs and again rubs a little too close to one of Johnny's nipples. "Has anyone ever said you have really good nipples for piercings? They'd go really well with that tattoo too."
"Only you," multiple times. The thought of Yuta thinking about Johnny's body is electrifying in many ways.
"Well, I'm right," Yuta clicks his tongue and presses his thumb fully to Johnny's nipple.
Johnny yelps, has to consciously move backwards instead of forward like he wants to, to press Yuta into the counter, or stove, which would be incredibly dangerous. Yuta slips away with a laugh and Johnny's shirt falls back down.
Johnny sighs and hopes his eggs aren't too burnt. He ignores the goosebumps on his skin and the heat in his stomach.
Johnny sits across from Ten during one of his afternoon breaks from class, placing his takeaway spicy crab poke bowl on the table. "'Sup."
"I saw Yuta's Instagram post last night," Ten doesn't even look up from his Ipad. Johnny can only see that he's sketching something.
Johnny breaks the seal on his poke bowl and is too delighted by the smell to really care about what Ten is saying. "So?"
Ten (dramatically) drops his drawing pen on the table with a scoff that borders between annoyed and disgusting. "So, you fucker, Yuta is literally sitting on your dick to take that photo and you still haven't fucked. I feel like you're blue balling me at this point and I'm the one who's getting laid regularly. Fuck."
"First of all," Johnny takes a blessed bite of his rice and spicy crab. He swings the fork dangerously close to Ten's Ipad. "You emphasized way too many points in that explanation for me to take you seriously, and second of all, that's just Yuta, he's always been like that, that doesn't mean--"
"Oh my god," Ten says weakly, clasping his hands together and pressing them against his forehead. "Feelings make you so dumb. This is so dumb. I've had enough."
"I think you're overreacting a little," in truth, Johnny's probably underreacting but it's a lot to take in, okay? Everyone's always joked about it but no one's ever come out and said 'Hey, Yuta wants to fuck you too' to his face like that. It's a lot.
"At least one of us is," Ten sighs and starts packing up his things. Johnny pouts at him because he doesn't want to be left to eat at the table alone, but Ten only rolls his eyes when he gets up. "Sorry, I gotta go to studio for a bit, but just--I don't know, think a little bit, maybe."
Johnny takes a wistful bite of his poke bowl and sighs. None of his meals are going according to plan today.
Dinner is pizza because Johnny is too lazy to make anything and there's a really good place a block down from his apartment. He orders an extra-large split down the middle with one side having his toppings and the other with Yuta's, since he'll definitely want some when he gets home from class later too.
Johnny stacks some slices on a plate and leaves the box on their kitchen counter. He splays out on the living room couch, plate on his stomach, and watches whatever rerun sitcom he comes across first.
"Pizza!" Yuta screeches the moment he comes through the door. His messy white hair is in a tiny ponytail from a long day's work and god, does he look good. Johnny remembers when Yuta first grew it out, first dyed it, then cut it and shaved the sides off to let the natural black show through. Artiste. Yuta with his cool hair and the real tattoos on his skin that he designed, with his navel piercing Johnny saw once and almost combusted on the spot. Yuta with his grey sweatpants and tank tops that somehow make him look sexy.
Yuta drops his bag on the kitchen floor and shoves a slice of pizza in his mouth before doing anything else. Sauce drips on his shirt and Yuta cleans it with his finger. Johnny still thinks it's attractive.
(Ten's right, feelings do make you dumb.)
Yuta hums with his mouth full. He turns to Johnny, who's still staring, and points a finger at him until he manages to fully chew and swallow. "When I'm done eating, I've got a new design I wanna try out."
"Already?" Usually there was some time between drawing sessions that Johnny could gather his wits about it and so that the previous one could wash off. "Do you need me to--"
Yuta shakes his head and takes another hearty bite of pizza. He'd probably been too busy to remember to eat that day. "This is a different body part, you can leave the chest piece until it fades."
Johnny shrugs. He knows not to get in between an artist and his needs. He places his empty plate on the coffee table and waits until Yuta gives him the green light.
Yuta burps, hits his fist with his chest and tilts his head towards Johnny's bedroom. "Bedroom," is all he says.
Johnny follows, even though he's weary. Usually arm or leg pieces they did on the sofa. Was Yuta already gonna try out a back design this time? At least there wouldn't be any danger of him sitting directly on Johnny's dick tonight.
"Lie down," Yuta orders. "On your back and take your shirt off."
Johnny sits down on his bed, puzzled, but he still obliges anyway, because he's weak-hearted. "I thought you said--"
Yuta shushes him. "Pants off."
Johnny's brain comes to a screeching halt. "What?"
Yuta sighs, as if Johnny's being difficult. "I don't wanna get any ink on your jeans. Besides, I've seen you in your underwear before. Remember that party where you got blackout drunk--"
"Okay," Johnny starts undoing his belt and the buttons of his jeans. He doesn't remember that party and he definitely does not want to hear about it. He takes a deep breath when he fully shucks off the last defense shielding him from Yuta and his dick. If Johnny gets even slightly hard at any point now, Yuta's going to notice.
(Which in itself is kind of exciting but Johnny has to body slam that thought out of his brain before it gets too much.)
Yuta smiles down at him. "Good," he makes a very obvious glance to Johnny's crotch, then back up to Johnny. "I like red."
Johnny stares up at the ceiling and wants to die. He's wearing red boxer briefs. There's nowhere to hide. He hopes whatever Yuta plans on doing that it's fast.
He feels the bed dip as Yuta climbs onto it, straddling Johnny's thighs.
At least it's not his dick, Johnny thinks. There's a click of the marker cap being taken off and Johnny flinches when he feels the cold tip of the marker stroke right over the hair below his belly button.
Johnny lifts his neck up to look down at Yuta, who nonchalantly blinks up at him.
"Is this okay?" Yuta draws another cool line with the marker, next to the first one.
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes--Johnny's dizzy. Yuta's hand rests on his hip, right on the waistband of Johnny's underwear.
"Johnny?"
"Yeah," Johnny croaks, his head hitting back down on the pillow so he can stare into the void of his ceiling again and try not to break. "Yeah, it's fine."
"I'm gonna lower your waistband a bit, so I have more room, okay?"
Inhale, exhale, don't go insane. Yuta's finger tucks in and gently pulls down Johnny's underwear until the waistband rests right above the top of the base of his cock, exposing the trail of hair that leads to it.
Johnny must be dreaming, because he swears Yuta just sighed in one of those good, not tired but excited ways, but it was so quiet--Johnny must've imagined it.
"What, uhm, what made you decide there?" Johnny tries not to jump when the marker presses into his skin again. He's almost surprised there aren't holes in the ceiling from how hard he's staring up at it.
Yuta, of all things to do, lies down, parting Johnny's legs slightly so he can fit between and see what he's doing up close. Which brings him in very close proximity to Johnny's dick. Very close. "Ten said no one can make a pelvic tattoo that doesn't look trashy, so I said challenge accepted."
"Ten, huh?" Johnny's brain clicks. At least it's still working. There's a lot of buzzing going up there at the moment.
"Yeah, he had a lot to say today," Yuta continues. The coldness of the marker sears into Johnny's burning skin. He almost whimpers when he feels Yuta's hand grip the inside of his thigh.
"Still good?" Yuta checks in.
Johnny sighs. He gives up. There's no way. Unless there's some sort of divine intervention, there's no way he's not going to get hard. "Yeah," his voice is hoarse.
"Good, you're always such a good model for me, Johnny."
Johnny flushes pink.
Yuta laughs and the hot air breezes over Johnny's clothed cock. If Yuta takes any notice, he doesn't let Johnny know. He simply continues drawing on Johnny's pelvis, free hand pressing into skin dangerously close to Johnny's waistband until he's done.
Johnny opens his eyes when he hears the cap of the marker get clicked back on.
"Done," Yuta sits up, though he's still squarely between Johnny's legs and Johnny misses the feeling even if it made him lose years off his life. "Can I take a picture?"
Johnny nods and Yuta smiles.
(He shouldn't trust that smile.)
Yuta pulls his phone out and takes a few photos before frowning. He looks up at Johnny, bottom lip pursed out. "It doesn't look great with the waistband in the shot. Can I take it off?"
Johnny stops breathing for a moment. This is it. He doesn't care anymore. He needs Yuta to touch him. "Yeah," he exhales.
Yuta puts his phone to the side for a moment and hooks his fingers into Johnny's underwear once more. Johnny doesn't know if it'd be worse if Yuta met his gaze while doing it--instead, he watches his own hands intensely as they pull down Johnny's underwear, exposing him completely.
Nothing springs out, because he's only half hard--but Johnny's too thankful too soon because once his underwear is pulled down to his knees, Yuta cups his cock, covering it with one hand while he takes a photo with the other.
Johnny swallows thickly, feeling himself start to fill out with just a simple touch.
"Careful," Yuta smirks, voice low. "I might not be able to cover you with just one hand if you get any harder."
That alone makes the heat rush south. Johnny sucks his bottom lip into his teeth.
Yuta tosses his phone to the side, without even reviewing the photos he took, and his hand circles the base of Johnny's growing cock. Johnny whimpers.
"We have to wait, Johnny, remember? Or it's gonna smudge."
It takes all of the inner strength and power that Johnny has not to buck upwards or search for more friction. His heel drags up and down his mattress.
Yuta smiles down at him. "You know, Ten did say--"
"Please, don't talk about Ten while you're hand is on my dick, Yuta." Johnny exhales. He's going insane. Yuta's hand is around his fucking dick.
Yuta chuckles, a low rumble in his chest. "Alright, I'll make my mouth more useful then." Yuta dips down and before Johnny can register anything, licks the underside of his cock all the way to the head, flicking the slit.
Johnny gasps, lurching up to lean on his forearms so he can see without breaking his fucking neck.
"Is this okay?" Yuta whispers, breath hot on Johnny's cock, mocking the way he'd asked earlier in false innocence.
"Yuta," Johnny grunts, body singing now that he's finally being touched. "Please."
Yuta only tilts his head.
Johnny wilts, just a little bit. "Yes, please."
Yuta smiles and with no warning at all, he takes Johnny in his mouth as far as he can go.
Johnny makes a strangled noise and throws his head back, overwhelmed. The sounds Yuta makes are loud, lewd, wet. He takes his time, bobbing on Johnny's cock, letting spit pool down at the base where and letting his hand work where he can't quite reach with his mouth. He builds it up steadily, then slows it down and it's almost painful. Almost.
Johnny can't help himself--he whines. Yuta pulls off Johnny's cock, still holding the base with his hand, and licks his lips, staring at Johnny with hooded eyes like a cat about to pounce on its prey.
Yuta lets go and Johnny's wet cock bounces to hit his stomach, slightly smudging the still drying design Yuta had just drawn.
Yuta dips down and presses his lips to the neat nest of hair above Johnny's cock. He slowly crawls over him, pressing kisses to the skin not decorated in ink. Despite being so worked up, Johnny practically melts.
A kiss in the crook of his neck, on his jaw and Yuta brushes their noses together as if asking a question.
He looks a little shy like this, Johnny notices. There's a pink tinge to Yuta's cheeks he couldn't really see when--well.
Johnny answers by leaning in, pressing his lips to Yuta's and licking in when they part. It's soft at first, the kind of kiss that gives you butterflies and makes you feel like flying, despite the fact that Johnny can taste the saltiness of himself from earlier. They both part, smiling, and then it gets rougher.
It's the kind of kiss that gets your blood pumping, makes you want to tug each other's hair because somehow, you aren't close enough.
They only part to breathe to get Yuta's shirt off and they only part again when they realize he has to get up if he wants to get everything else off too.
"Where do you keep your lube and condoms?"
Johnny falls back on the bed, breathless. "First drawer."
Yuta tosses them onto the bed, nearly smacking Johnny in the chest and climbs back up, straddling Johnny's waist like it's his throne. It might as well be.
Yuta circles his thumb around Johnny's nipple, and Johnny's back arches involuntarily. Yuta laughs, tilting his head to the side, coy. "Can I fuck your mouth?"
It's hard not to groan audibly. "Fuck, get up here."
Yuta giggles, shifting upwards until his knees are on either side of Johnny's shoulders, cock hanging heavy in front of Johnny's face. He balances his arms on the headboard of the bed and Johnny reaches around from behind to gently stroke Yuta's cock before pressing it against his mouth.
Johnny parts his lips and Yuta slides into his mouth with a moan. Johnny relaxes his jaw as best he can and lets Yuta have free reign.
He thrusts slowly, at first, gentle. Johnny takes the liberty of feeling for the bottle of lube with his hands, uncapping it and trying his best to get most of it on his fingers without looking. A lot of it lands on his stomach, but he manages.
Johnny's cups Yuta's ass as he moves, a lubed finger circling his hole. It's easy when Yuta's going so slowly and taking his time. Johnny's able to slip a finger in no problem--he makes a noise in surprise and it vibrates in his throat. Yuta shudders but composes himself quickly. "You're not the only one who gets off after I practice on you."
Johnny fully groans then and that spurs Yuta on, rolling his hips with increased vigor. It's enough to make Johnny's eyes start to tear up. He grips Yuta's ass, encouraging him, while somehow managing to get a second finger in Yuta's already stretched hole.
Yuta falters, breath heavy and head hanging low. "Fuck," he pulls out of Johnny's mouth with a groan. "If I keep going, I'll come."
"Isn't that the point?" Johnny's voice is raw. He swallows a couple of times to get it back to normal.
Johnny slides his fingers out of Yuta's ass as he crawls backwards, back to straddling Johnny's waist. "Not tonight. I wanna fuck myself onto you until we both come. I'm not picky about the order, though."
Johnny chuckles, hands splaying across Yuta's thighs. He rubs up and down, appreciative. "Are you sure?" Maybe it comes out a little too soft.
Yuta's got the condom in his hand, ripped open when his smile falls ever so slightly. "Yeah? Are... you?"
Oh, Johnny could just kiss the life out of him. "Yeah, I just meant--it must be tiring. You're doing a lot of the work, so I just thought--"
If Yuta was a cat, he'd be purring. "You're too sweet but I do like this pillow princess thing you have going on right now. Treat me well later, okay? I won't say no to a massage."
Johnny's already circling his thumbs into Yuta's skin. "Okay," he smiles.
Yuta coughs, smiling because Johnny's kind of gone and ruined the mood by being thoughtful but it all comes back around when Yuta's sliding the condom on Johnny's cock and lining himself up.
Johnny grips Yuta's waist as Yuta sinks down and the heat is so overwhelming they both stay still, taking deep breaths.
Eventually, Yuta shifts and that makes Johnny bottom out with a guttural groan, fingers digging into Yuta's skin. Yuta starts as he always does, gradually rolling his hips while his hands roam the expanse of Johnny's torso. He ghosts the pad of his thumb over Johnny's nipple, clearly learning that this is one of Johnny's weak spots and smirks when Johnny involuntarily arches into it.
Yuta lifts himself up slowly, sinking back down onto Johnny's cock at an excruciating pace that has Johnny's hips bucking upwards, begging for more. Johnny groans, chewing at his bottom lip incessantly until it's raw.
Yuta plumps his own lips out into a pout, leaning over Johnny's chest to lick over his lips gently, contrasting to how he grinds his heat onto Johnny. Yuta kisses his lips, the corner of his mouth, down his jaw until Johnny's chest. He circles his tongue around one of Johnny's nipples and sucks.
Johnny thinks he might explode. Heat pools in his stomach and his hips lift up almost frantically, skin slapping together when he matches Yuta's grinding. He has an iron grip on Yuta's waist and hips, kneading the skin between his fingers. "F-Fuck, Yuta," Johnny pants. "I'm--not much longer--fuck."
Yuta moves his mouth from one nipple to the other, seemingly not acknowledging Johnny's words. He rubs the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger and Johnny gasps, arms wrapping around Yuta to press him against his chest as Johnny thrusts upwards wildly.
He hears Yuta inhale sharply when Johnny hits his prostate but his mind is too sex-crazed and hazy to be able to concentrate on it properly. His last thrust is his hardest--Yuta cries out--and Johnny explodes and finally comes. He rocks into Yuta while the fog in his brain slowly lifts.
He's vaguely aware of two things, both wet--one, his chest, and a quick look down shows him that Yuta's mouth hangs open, drooling. Something clicks in Johnny's mind that makes him flush with pride--he must've hit Yuta's prostate more than he thought.
The second is the slow drip of something on Johnny's pelvis. Yuta sits up shakily--Johnny holds him with steady hands--notices the beginnings of purple bruises on Yuta's hips--and looks to where they're connected. The drawing Yuta had made was just a large black smudge on both their skin and on top of it--cum drips from Yuta's hole and along the length of Johnny's cock.
"Oh fuck," Johnny's voice is hoarse. "The condom broke."
Yuta lifts up fully and Johnny's cock falls out of him. He hangs his head low, looking down at himself as Johnny's spend drips out of him. With a surprised shake and whimper, Yuta paints Johnny's chest white with his own orgasm.
Johnny can't help but laugh when Yuta collapses on top of him, arms wrapping around his torso to hold him there. "Did you just--"
"Shut up, it was hot," Yuta groans. "God."
"Well," Johnny can't help himself, he tucks some of Yuta's hair behind his ear. "At least you can't get pregnant."
Yuta hums, cheek pressed to Johnny's chest. "Remember when I said treat me well later? Later is now."
Johnny laughs. "So, hitting your prostate so hard you start drooling isn't treating you well enough?"
Yuta flicks Johnny's nipple, not hard enough that it hurts but so it gets a reaction out of him--which it always does. "You got lucky, you were just supposed to be my pillow princess."
"I'm pretty sure pillow princesses are the ones who are supposed to be taken care of."
"Whatever," Yuta grumbles with the hint of a smile. Johnny grins just because he finally has the upper hand at least for a little bit. "I'm lying in spit, cum and marker smudge because of you and I can't promise I won't get horny again in the shower."
Johnny hums, starting to rise up from his bed so he can carry Yuta to the bathroom. "Does this mean I get to make my breakfast in peace now without you trying to strip me?"
Yuta cackles and that's all the answer that Johnny needs.
"At least wait until before or after I put the eggs on the stove, okay? I'm tired of burnt horny eggs in the morning."
"Fine."