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The video was all over Twitter the morning after he took it. He’s not sure how it got leaked, he didn’t send it to a single person, but there it is. As soon as he opens the app the next morning, it’s all over his feed. His private messages have gone from hundreds of requests to almost fourteen thousand overnight.
Clicking on one of the first copies of the video posted, Johnnie is relieved that it’s blurry and the quality is awful. Maybe he can play it off, pretend that it’s just a really good impersonator. Something with nothing better to do than dress up as him and record themself masturbating. Sure, probably fine. He decides to go with that cover.
Then he sees the video get brighter. Someone’s edited it, fucked with the saturation, made it clearer. Every detail of his skin is showing. Every imperfection, every tattoo, every little detail. There’s no denying that it’s him. If that wasn’t enough, he forgot about the audio. He clicks the little button in the bottom right corner of the video and–yep, sure enough–that is his voice. A version of it, anyway. Higher, breathier, whinier. Still, undeniably him. There is no getting away with this. There is no playing it off. Although there’s not much shown in the video, it’s a black screen besides the half a second where he had slid his phone closer to his face for better audio quality (then again, you could only catch a glimpse of his hand in that little moment). That’s all it takes. Half a second. A few little frames and his life is completely ruined.
Sure, you can’t see anything happening. The camera never got to see his face, his lower half, the bottom of his shirt caught between his lips for better access, nothing. None of that is really needed, though. His voice does enough.
“Mh…” when the noises start, he cringes and closes out the tab. He slides the little button and turns his phone completely off, cutting the power to his laptop and putting them all away. He locks the door to his bedroom and slides under the blankets on his bed. His light was already off, curtains already closed, so he just lies there as the tears begin to form. Luckily, he falls asleep before any of them slide down his face.
· · ─── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ─── · ·
Unfortunately, it’s not the sunlight peeking through the tops of his curtains that wakes Jake up. It’s not the smell of someone cooking bacon in the kitchen, it’s not his alarm. It is his phone ringing.
Picking it up right away, he recognizes the ringtone as Tara’s. He doesn’t even have to check the number or see her face on the screen.
“JAKE.”
Trying to think of something smart to say, Jake uses his last brain cell (it bounces around in his head with the Mario theme playing) to sit up in bed. He tries to say, “what?” but it comes out more like, “uhhmu?” and Tara isn’t taking that for an answer.
“OPEN TWITTER.” Her voice is clearly urgent.
Why is she awake this early? Jake tries to check the time, but can’t figure out how to unlock his phone. Is he even holding his phone? He suddenly doesn’t remember picking it up.
“What time is it?” His voice is deeper and slurred with sleep.
“Dude, it doesn’t matter. Open Twitter right now.” Why is she so persistent? What does Twitter have to do with anything? Did his address get leaked or something? He sighs, wipes some of the crust from his eyes, and runs a hand through his messy hair. He mentally prepares to have the “we have to grab our shit and dip, like, now” talk with his roommate.
“Actually, Miss girl, it’s called X now. Take a chill pill–” he stops speaking when the video pops up onto his screen. At first, all he sees is a dark screen. He’s confused. He yawns, twists his back around and feels his spine pop a couple of times. “What am I looking at? I see nothing.”
“Just wait.” Tara requests facetime and he accepts, although he looks like he just crawled out of the bathroom garbage can.
“I’m waiting.” Jake yawns again. He checks the time. It’s a few minutes short of six in the morning.
“Turn the volume up.” Tara’s face pops up in the corner of his screen. She’s smiling like a maniac. She’s clearly been awake for a minute. She’s got half a face of makeup done, her hair is up in two buns, and she’s applying eyeliner with a heavy hand. She’s in her pajamas, but full of energy.
Sighing, Jake turns up the volume. His bedroom is suddenly filled with high-pitched, breathy whining. He quickly turns it down to a medium-ish level and stares at the screen, unbothered.
“Okay, somebody’s nudes got leaked? What’s that got to do with me?” He’s not had anything to eat yet. He’s hangry and confused.
“Just wait.” Tara’s got this mischievous little smirk on her face that says she knows something that he doesn’t.
Jake scans his brain for the amount of fucks he gives about this. He comes back empty. There’s not a single person that he cares enough for to want to know about this. Unless it’s himself, Tara, or his sister, he does not give a single fuck. And he knows that none of them are dumb enough to record anything.
“Dude, it’s not even breakfast-time, what–” something flashes across the screen and he shuts his mouth. Skin, back to black, skin again, black nail polish, ‘LOVE’ spelled out in all caps spread across bony knuckles, and that fuckass Donnie Darko tattoo that he’s seen a million times. “Nah…”
Tara giggles from the other side of the phone. Jake’s eyes are the size of saucers. He thinks he’s just pissed himself. He reaches down to check, comes back empty-handed, but is almost positive that the piss will come sooner or later.
“It gets better.” Tara’s already seen the full thing, Jake is guessing.
After the phone is adjusted, the audio gets louder. Jake has to click the volume button twice more so his roommate doesn’t hear anything. He would actually kill himself if Johnnie found out that Jake was watching his leaked shit.
“Why would he–” Jake is cut off by a particularly high moan, and the undeniably sound of a lubricated fist speeding up.
“Shh, my favorite part is coming.” Tara finishes with her eyeliner and starts on something else. Jake doesn’t know the name of whatever she’s doing, it looks like she’s holding some kind of torture device for her eyeballs.
“That’s not the only thing that’s about to be coming–”
“Jake!” At first, Jake thinks it’s Tara scolding him. That’s not Tara’s voice. His hand flies to his mouth and he practically smacks himself in the face. This cannot be happening. He didn’t just hear that. Johnnie didn’t just say that, did he?
“Yep.” Tara looks directly into the camera and purses her lips, clearly stifling laughter. Jake has never been farther from laughing in his life. This is not a laughing matter at all. His best friend is masturbating while thinking about him.
Squelching noises. Jake looks back to the video. If his eyes could get any wider, they would. He turns the volume up a little to better hear the subtle noises.
Not only is his best friend jerking it to him, he’s fingering himself to him. Jake suddenly isn’t sure if he can finish this video. Tara seems to know exactly what he’s thinking, though, and she gives him a warning glare. Gulping, the video stays open.
“This is…” Jake feels sick. He shifts, pulling at his pajama bottoms. Tara seems to notice his visible discomfort.
“You can cut it off.” She finishes her makeup, closing all of her little containers and crossing her arms as she faces the camera.
“That was…” Jake is too stunned to speak. He doesn’t turn the video off, he can’t, he finishes it. Watches it all the way up to his roommate’s inevitable release. A breathy whine, a shaky exhale, and Jake knows that it’s over.
“That was disgusting.” Tara crosses her legs in her chair.
“Yeah. I’m hard.” Jake’s eyes don’t leave the screen as the video starts from the beginning.
Did he just say that out loud?
“Jake!” Tara covers her mouth like her ex-boyfriend has just said a slur or something. If he’s being completely honest, that might have been less awkward. “You’re lying.”
“What? You want proof?” Jake goes to tilt his phone down and Tara screams. It’s nothing she hasn’t seen before, but it’s the principal of it all. They’re friends. Just friends.
“Gross! Ew!”
“Mhm, I’m gonna go now, thanks for the enlightenment.” Jake doesn’t even let her say anything else. He hangs up the phone and turns it off, praying to whatever god exists that Twitter doesn’t continue playing once you’ve switched tabs. He never clicked off of that video.
Are there other versions? Is this real? He wants to assume that it’s AI or something, but he feels like it would be obvious. And who would spend money ruining Johnnie’s life like that? Who would waste time and energy to do something so evil? Everything in the video was accurate, down to the sound of Johnnie’s voice and the details of his tattoos. Nothing was out of place. It has to be real.
The smell of bacon is long gone by now. Jake isn’t sure who cooked, Johnnie might have been awake earlier. He tends to stay up until ass o’clock in the morning and then sleep all day. He vaguely remembers making breakfast sandwiches for dinner last night. Johnnie ate two and went to his room. Did he record the video right after that? In his bedroom that very night?
There were leftovers, he probably heated one up and that’s what Jake was smelling when he woke up. All he smells now is the laundry in the corner of his room. He inhales again just for good measure, and the ghost of his cologne on yesterday’s t-shirt fills his nose. He’s trying to process what he’s just witnessed. His best friend, locked away in his room last night, recording himself getting his freak on and moaning Jake’s name like a pornstar. He vaguely wonders if this is the only time that it’s happened, or if it was some kind of publicity stunt. Maybe he did it as a joke.
Nah, he knew what he was doing. Jake’s name flew out of his mouth like it had happened a thousand times before. Messy, but practiced. Almost…natural. As if it was meant to be that way. Shaking the thought away quickly, he looks down at his pajama pants. He wasn’t lying to Tara, he’s got a little issue going on down there.
“Shit.”
His voice cuts through the silence. Johnnie can probably hear him from his bedroom across the apartment. Is he awake? He has to know what’s happened by now, right? That guy is chronically online. If Tara hasn’t called him by now, he’s sure that someone else has brought it to his attention.
Jake can imagine that conversation. ‘Hey, man! Sooo…your masturbation sesh just got leaked on Twitter! Get good, I guess?’
Jake would actually rather die than even leave his room right now. He doesn’t want to look at the notifications on his phone, either. Fuck that. He’s gonna stay right here until Johnnie decides to man up and apologize.
Does he need to apologize? He didn’t do anything…wrong? Was that wrong? He recorded himself jerking it to Jake and posted it on Twitter. Well, he didn’t post it, he had to have sent it somewhere, though, right? How else would it have gotten out? Hacked? Can you even hack into someone’s iCloud photos?
Jake wonders if Johnnie’s read fanfiction about the two of them. He knows that people write it. Hell, they’ve talked about it! Laughed it off like it was some big inside joke. Like they didn’t have any kind of feelings for each other. Jake thought that they didn’t. This changes everything.
All of that to say that Johnnie didn’t really do anything wrong besides recording himself. That was pretty fucking stupid, but it’s done. What’s done is done, he can’t take it back, it’s over. The world keeps spinning.
What’s he going to do about it?
Opening his phone again, Jake clicks on Twitter and pulls up the video. He scrolls, picks one with better quality, and shoves his hand down his boxers. He clicks the little speaker icon in the corner and Johnnie’s voice fills the room. He grips himself in his fist and feels tears welling up in his eyes at the sensation. The very thought of his best friend doing something like this…even just the thought of Johnnie thinking of Jake like this, it’s overwhelming. Not in a bad way, somehow.
Lazily sliding his hand up and down, it doesn’t take him long at all to click the volume a little higher and speed up.
Jake won’t lie, he lasted every bit of seven minutes. He’s not got off that quickly since he was like fourteen.
The guilt sets in after he’s turned everything off and changed his underwear, leaving the sticky mess in the pile next to his bedroom door for laundry day.
Jake is officially no better than Johnnie now.
He’s got to go into his room and say something. Would that be inappropriate? He can’t just waltz in there like he owns the place, although it was his apartment first and he still pays most of the rent, that would be awkward. Maybe he should just pretend like he doesn’t know what happened? Like he hasn’t even seen the video? That’s impossible, it’s everywhere. Johnnie knows that they’re both online all of the time. There is no avoiding that video. Fans are making Tiktoks about it now, linking the video in the comments and in their captions and everywhere else. Word has spread to Instagram, both of their Discord servers, and probably to every other social media platform by now. Jake would be caught in the lie so quickly. He’d rather just come forward about it.
‘Hey! You know that video of you getting off to me? About that…’
The very thought makes him queasy. He sits on his bed. He’s not eaten today. It’s nearly noon, he’s been hiding in his room for six hours. He doubts that Johnnie’s eaten, either. Not since he microwaved their leftovers early this morning. He needs to get up and make them something to eat before his best friend falls too deep into not eating. He doesn’t want that, obviously. He’s worked hard as hell to get Johnnie healthy and mentally well. He’d like to keep him that way.
Sighing, Jake stands up and opens his bedroom door with a shaky hand. They had plans to film a Target video today. There goes that.
The creaky ass floorboards are his opp right now. He takes two steps, stops, and looks at Johnnie’s bedroom door. Closed and locked. Wonderful. Jake has the key, but that would be fucking insane. A complete invasion of privacy. Then again, what Johnnie did was arguably worse.
The fridge is stocked. They just went out for groceries a few days ago. He pulls out something that he knows Johnnie will eat. Sandwich materials. A safe food of his. They technically just had sandwiches last night, but he’ll change it up with different fillings. He grabs the sliced ham, cheese, mayonnaise, and lettuce. Hell if he’s slicing a tomato right now. Knowing him and how anxious he is at the moment, he’ll slip up and hurt himself. He doesn’t even think either of them likes tomatoes, anyway.
Jake can’t stand the silence, so he yells at his Alexa and tells her to play one of his random playlists. She starts playing something by A Perfect Circle and he’s satisfied. He clicks the volume button a few times and walks over to the counter, pulling the lettuce apart while the bread is toasting in the oven. When it beeps, he walks over to it and pulls the toast out with his bare hands. He sucks in a breath at his scorched fingertips and closes the oven when he’s got them out.
Mayonnaise is next. He slides the butterknife over his slices and makes sure Johnnie’s pieces have more than his. He will be shunned if he gives that man a dry ass sandwich. He learned that very early on in their relationship.
Halfway through putting his fourth piece of ham on Johnnie’s sandwich, he realizes that he should have just doordashed Wingstop or Chilli’s or something. That would have been a way better bribe than this. Sighing, he decides that he can’t stop now. He’s already pretty much finished the sandwiches. He adds the lunchmeat to his own bread and then some lettuce to both, closing them and putting them on their respective plates. He adds some cut up strawberries and peels a mandarin, splitting it between them. He doesn’t think that Johnnie is going to eat the fruit, but he’s going to try, either way. If he doesn’t eat it, Jake will finish it off.
The walk to Johnnie’s room is agonizing, but it goes by way too fast. He’s holding both plates. He realizes that the Alexa is still playing.
“Alexa, shut the fuck up.” Jake realizes that the door has been unlocked. Johnnie is awake and knows that Jake made him food. Well, he knows that the other man is awake, the food part is probably unclear. This is a morning ritual of theirs, but he doesn’t know if Johnnie even wants food at the moment. He probably feels all kinds of sick.
“I come bearing gifts…er…just open the door.” Jake’s never been the best in awkward situations, but he’s definitely above average. This, however, is different. This is his best friend. He’s never really had an awkward moment with Johnnie. It’s always been belly-laughing and hitting each other over the head with shit. And kissing. Well, once, but it wasn’t even serious.
“Johnnie-boy! Open the door, my darling,” he’s trying to be silly and lighthearted, as if he didn’t just jerk it to his best friend. As if his best friend didn’t jerk it to him. As if he’s not repressing his feelings for the welfare of said best friend.
“Go away.”
Finally, a sign of life. Jake was getting a little worried there.
“Afraid I cannot do that, my friend,” Jake smiles, relieved, and butts his forehead against the door (a signature move of Johnnie’s when he wants to hang out and Jake’s in his room). “Thou doth require sustenance! I can provide!”
“You sound fucking stupid.”
Jake bites his tongue. Jake bites his tongue so hard he can taste iron, actually. The salty substance fills his mouth and he stifles a laugh. He cannot make a joke about the video, it’s too early, Johnnie would be butthurt about it and never talk to him again. He’d move out.
“But, of course! Only the stupidest for thou, my dear,” debating going to get the spare key, Jake is interrupted by Johnnie groaning and the sound of feet shuffling against the carpet.
“I’ll open it if you stop talking like that.”
“Yes, right away, my good sir.” Jake bites his tongue again. “Yeah, sure, sorry.” The sandwiches are probably getting soggy with how much mayonnaise he put on Johnnie’s, this guy had better hurry the hell up.
The door creaks open and Jake’s first thought is that Johnnie looks like a wreck. There’s eyeliner all over his face. It’s clear that he’s lazily tried to wipe it off, but the streaks are still smudged in there. There are no lights on in his room. The window is closed and his blackout curtains are shut tight. The only light in the room is the Nintendo Switch on his bed. A birthday gift from Jake the year before. Minecraft music plays softly in the background.
“You look rough, man,” Jake slides into his room and sits on his bed, crossing his legs. Handing his roommate one of the plates, there’s a brief second where Johnnie looks a little less hopeless. In fact, he almost smiles. Almost.
“Thanks, I feel it.”
Johnnie sits on the other side of the bed. Far on the other side of the bed. Jake inches closer, not wanting things to be awkward between them going forward. He probably needs to confess what happened this morning, but he’s going to eat and let Johnnie eat first. Then again, he might lose his lunch if Jake waits until after. It’s hard to tell with Johnnie.
Grabbing the Switch, Jake clicks ‘save and exit world’ and turns it off so they can eat in silence. That might have been a mistake, but there’s not much he can do now.
“Thanks,” Johnnie has already taken three big bites of his sandwich. Jake takes an average bite of his and nibbles on a strawberry with it. The silence is deafening.
“So, uh, how’s the weather?” Jake looks to the window, realizes that he can’t see or hear outside, and looks back to the floor in defeat. Man, since when is the carpet in Johnnie’s room so dirty? He should probably get around to cleaning that or something.
“The weather?” Johnnie pauses eating and looks at him, swallowing his bite. He just stares for a second, not speaking.
Dirty ass carpet…should probably get like a green machine or something…carpet shampoo…gotta vacuum in here first, though…should probably try and convince Johnnie to let him tidy up a little while he’s out with a friend or something…then again–
“Jake.”
“Mhm?”
Eyes meet and glances are exchanged. Jake has still not taken another bite of his lunch. He feels like he’s the one that’s in trouble right now instead of the other way around. Johnnie’s not in trouble, necessarily, but he’s definitely in something.
“Did you see the video?”
“Can I shampoo your carpet?”
Jake bites his bottom lip to keep from laughing. They just stare at each other, motionless, wordless.
Hours pass. It’s not actually hours, it’s about a minute and a half, but it certainly feels like hours. Jake is trying to match Johnnie’s breathing patterns so he doesn’t make any more noise than he absolutely has to. He feels like an imposter. A stranger in his own apartment. He feels like he shouldn’t be in here. He feels like shit for even trying to fix this whole thing. He should just go back to his room.
“Just get out.”
“Wha–I didn’t even do anything! Your carpet’s dirty, man! It’s not my fault you starred in a self-directed porno and it got out!”
“That wasn’t the intention!” Johnnie doesn’t yell. His voice just rises slightly. He can’t yell unless it’s funny or unserious. He’s never deadass yelled at Jake.
“Then what were you doing? You knew better.” The words feel foreign and leave a nasty taste in Jake’s mouth. Sour, like a bad lemon. He feels like he’s lecturing the boy, scolding him for doing something that he wasn’t supposed to.
“I didnt’t–I was just–” Johnnie gets frustrated. He tosses his plate onto the bed beside him, finished with the meal anyway (no, he didn’t eat the fruit, much to Jake’s dismay), and covers his face with his hands. Jake makes eye contact with the Donnie Darko tattoo and his mind goes to the video. His voice, the vulgar sounds, Jake’s name slipping from his lips so effortlessly. He wants to hear it again, maybe in person this time.
“Say it again.”
Silence. Complete silence.
Jake is slow with him. He allows Johnnie time to comprehend what he’s asking.
“Huh?” Johnnie looks up from the floor and makes eye contact with the slightly younger man. He genuinely thinks that Jake wants him to repeat his little stuttering mess from a second ago. Jake has other plans, of course.
“The video. About…” he pretends to think for a second, “midway through. You said someone’s name. I want to hear it again.”
Now it’s Johnnie’s turn to be as still as possible and make as little noise as he possibly can. He just sits there, wide-eyed and staring into Jake’s soul with his bright blue orbs. The smirk on Jake’s face says that he knows what’s going on in the poor guy’s head. Confusion, yes, panic, also yes, but also interest. Johnnie’s curiosity will get the best of him, giving Jake exactly what he wants.
“Jake?” He asks, tilting his head a little. He looks like a scared dog.
“Well, yeah, but you didn’t say it like that.”
Johnnie’s face heats up and he looks down at the floor again. He thinks that Jake is making fun of him. Jake has nothing against him, the video is already out, so Johnnie doesn’t have to do anything he says. Jake has nothing to hold above his head.
“What the fuck?” Johnnie looks up at him, confused, and Jake tries his best to keep his face stern and serious. He is completely deadass right now. He wants Johnnie to repeat what he said in the video last night. Same exact tone, same exact manner.
“What’s wrong? You did it on camera last night. Too pussy to do it in front of me?”
It gets real quiet then, and Jake has inched so close that their thighs are touching. He reaches up to touch him, getting bold, and the older boy shies away. Johnnie scoots to the edge of the bed, Jake backs off of him.
“That’s fine,” Jake stands up and goes to wipe his hands on his boxers. He’s still only taken a single bite of his sandwich. “My bad, no hard feelings,” grabbing his plate, he starts to walk away. Johnnie catches his shirt sleeve before he’s even grabbed the doorknob.
“Okay.” He musters, speaking just above a whisper.
“Okay?” Jake asks, and sets his plate back on the bedside table.
“I’ll do it,” he’s barely audible. Humiliation all over his face, he sits back down on the bed. His t-shirt falls over the waistband of his boxers and he wraps his comforter around himself. The topsheet is halfway off of his full sized mattress and he’s staring at the ground again. Why did he do that? He doesn’t know why he did that. He doesn’t know why he didn’t just let Jake leave so things could go back to the way they were. What is he doing?
Sitting on the bed next to him, Jake makes sure that their thighs touch again. He presses his palm against Johnnie’s lower abdomen, tugging at his shirt to silently ask if it’s okay to take it off. Johnnie scoots closer to give permission. Pulling his shirt up, Jake slides his hand underneath and runs his fingers along the soft skin of his chest.
“Jake,” it’s breathy, sure, but not as whiny as Jake wants. He’s not satisfied.
“Mh?” But he doesn’t look at him, he just drags his fingers up and down, veering slightly to the right so he can sneakily get to his chest. He grazes his hand across the man’s nipple and Johnnie tenses up. Jake vaguely wonders when he’d been touched like this last.
“Dude.” Even farther from what Jake wants. He presses against his chest and pushes the man down onto the bed.
Gasping a little, Johnnie nervously grips onto the other’s arm. Jake snakes his hand down his stomach and tugs at his boxers. Johnnie nods frantically, but the younger man doesn't pull them down. In fact, he slides down and palms at him through the fabric. That earns a little flinch and another gasp. Jake hums and applies more pressure, but doesn’t do anything else. He just rests there, applying and reapplying various amounts of pressure.
When he finally gets a whine, the smirk from earlier returns. Jake tugs at the boy’s boxers a little more, pulling them down around Johnnie’s ankles. He lets them fall to the (dirty) carpet and kneels.
“Wha–?” Johnnie looks confused. He glances down at his roommate to ask what he was doing, as if it wasn’t obvious, but he’s interrupted by Jake dragging his tongue from the boy’s inner thigh to the head of his dick.
“Jake!”
“There it is.”
That’s about how it sounded in the clip, but he’s still not satisfied. He wants more than that. More than the words, he wants the feeling. He wants the vision. Wants to see his eyes roll back and his mouth fall open. He wants to watch him waste a load all over his tummy.
Wrapping his hand around the base, Jake scoots up and takes him partially into his mouth. It’s not a lot, but it makes Johnnie squeeze his thighs together and wrap his legs around the taller male’s neck. Jake pauses, looks up at him, and takes the rest into his mouth in one go. It’s not too much, he’s average, but he can’t help the little groan that escapes him. The taste, the feeling, the knowledge that it’s Johnnie. It’s not just some twink he picked up, half drunk and looking for fun, it’s not Tara or any of his other various ex-girlfriends, it’s Johnnie. That’s the part that does it for him.
“Jake!” Johnnie’s legs are shaking with effort. He’s desperately trying to shove himself deeper into the other’s throat but there’s nothing else to push in. Jake’s nose is pressed against the hair below his navel. He runs his tongue along the bottom, feeling him almost as far as he can go. He pushes about an inch farther, somehow, and feels his tip press into his throat. That sends the boy stifling moans, snatching a pillow from the top of his bed and holding it against his face so he doesn’t make a lot of noise. They have neighbors, unfortunately. They already get noise complaints and angry texts from the owner.
“Shh,” Jake pulls off of him to quiet him down. “Shh, easy.”
“Please! Don’t–” Jake’s back down before he can beg him to continue. His hands grip and knead at Johnnie’s inner thighs, massaging the skin. He wants to leave marks, but he’s focused on getting him off first.
The taste isn’t horrible. Salty, bitter, but he’s had worse. He noses into his tummy again and starts pushing his head up and down. He knows that he’s not going to last, it’s been a while since Johnnie’s had any action, but he wants to make the most of it while he can.
“Oh, God–” The noises are vulgar. Pornographic, even. He didn’t expect Johnnie to be this loud. “Wait, I don’t wanna–” he stops to stutter and whine, then continues, “I’m gonna cum, slow down.”
That’s not happening. Jake takes it as encouragement to speed up, pulling back and swirling his tongue around the tip. He dips back down and groans again, knowing the vibrations feel good.
Johnnie, although he told Jake to slow down, doesn’t have any complaints. He reaches down and grabs a fistful of the guy's hair and urges him closer, shoving himself as far down his throat as he can. Jake wants to see it, feel it on his skin, he doesn’t want it down his throat. Not tonight, anyway. Tomorrow, maybe.
Pulling off of him, Jake replaces his mouth with his hand and furiously strokes him up and down. His grip is definitely stronger than the boy’s own.
Whining at the loss, Johnnie quickly forgets about it when he feels Jake touching him again. He picks up right where he left off on the built-up orgasm, spilling all over his hand and the bottom of his stomach. Jake smiles, watching it all unfold.
“Good boy,” it slips, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “Good boy, makin’ a mess all over yourself for me.”
Coming down from the high is the easy part. The covered-in-cum ‘what the fuck just happened?’ part is worse, but they get past it.
Jake wipes it off of him and rags him down, clearing some of the sweat from his thighs and face as well.
“Feel better?” He asks, once it’s over. “Got it out of your system?”
Johnnie doesn’t talk for a second. He rolls over and tugs his boxers back up and his shirt back down.
“I want a drink. You brought me a sandwich with no drink.”
“Ah, yes, your Diet Dr Kelp. Forgive me, sire.” Jake heads to the kitchen.
Johnnie throws a pillow at the back of his head and lays back down, exhausted.