Masochism

by deathxcamp

Summary:

They were both way too drunk.

Smitty has a sexuality crisis/awakening after learning that John has his nipples pierced on the podcast.

Notes:

This started as “why doesn’t John have a nose ring” and ended as “why doesn’t John have all the piercings”. So yeah.

Enjoy I guess?

Chapter 1: The Podcast

Notes:

Also, this is by no means a fetishisation of mlm relationships and I am fully aware that Smit and John are just friends. I see characters in fics to be fictional versions of people rather than an accurate representation of them.

Love these boys tho <3

John had always been fascinated by piercings. Since high school he’s been constantly adorned with pieces of metal in almost every part of his body. He had hoops through both nostrils, almost every single ear piercing you could get, and a little silver ball sat on his tongue. He even had eyebrow and lip piercings at one point, though he didn’t wear them anymore. It was a unique aspect of him. The first thing you’d notice while catching a glance. He also had a few shitty stick and poke tattoos that he’d done himself as a stupid teenager.

Smitty had zero piercings or tattoos. The idea had crossed his mind a few times over the years, but, admittedly, he was too scared. John had told him that they hurt, and he had learned that his pain tolerance wasn’t too high.

While on Tyler’s podcast, when they were all way too drunk to filter themselves (not that they ever filtered themselves too much to begin with), Smitty learned another thing. Well, maybe a few things.

“So, John,” Tyler was reading off of his phone where he had a pre-prepared note full of questions for the two youtubers, “why do you have so many piercings?” he posed, gesturing his hand vaguely to the brunet’s face.

John took a minute to think, mindlessly tapping the rim of his half-full glass as he did so.

Smitty was staring at him, trying to memorise each individual piece of jewellery that sat in his best friend’s left ear. There was a snake crawling down the outer part, and a little heart was snuggled into his rook. He had an industrial bar at the top, and Smitty wondered how much that hurt. The rest of his ear was filled with little studs and hoops, all silver in colour. He knew he matched them for a reason. John was all about fashion and aesthetics.

“I guess I’m a bit of a masochist,” John finally replied, looking up at Smitty for a brief moment and then turning to the other two across the table. “What, like, you get off on it?” the room burst into laughter. Anthony followed it up with a joke about John masterbating while getting pierced, which made the group erupt in another fit of hysteria.

“No, no, not exactly. Sexually, yeah, but… I don’t know, there’s just something so satisfying about the pain to me. And you gotta admit it looks fucking sick, right?” John was talking a lot with his hands, something he did while drunk. He was looked around the room at his friends for confirmation.

Smitty was still processing what he said about sex. John was a very open person, especially while shitfaced. But was he being serious? Sometimes even Smitty had a hard time telling when John was joking or not.

Everyone was nodding in agreement to John’s last statement, all replying with some form of “fuckin’ dope dude,”, but Smitty decided that he was gonna be himself and try and get a rise out of his best friend. A regular hobby of his.

He got extra close to the mic and spoke in a slightly deeper but playful voice while side eyeing him, “yeah man, you look so sexy with all your piercings,”. John just smirked back at him, raising his hand for a high five.

If Anthony or Tyler recognised the rise in tension in the room, they appeared to ignore it. Tyler perked up and asked another question, “do you have any anywhere else?”

A mischievous glint appeared in John’s eyes and he just could not stop smiling.

After a moment of heavy silence Anthony sighed defeatedly, “where is it John?”. However, the brunet just stayed silent with that stupid smirk plastered on his face. Smitty was grinning at him now, “what? Do you have your dick pierced or something? You know you can’t show that on YouTube right?”

John looked over at him and raised his eyebrows suggestively, “you wanna find out?”. That caused Smitty to swallow thickly, before quickly resorting to their go-to high five situation when their jokes got too much. Holy shit. He was suddenly too hot underneath his shirt.

“Nah, but really, it is interesting,” John stood up and before anyone in the room could process what was happening, he whipped off his white shirt. Smitty’s eyes just about leapt out from his skull.

John had his nipples pierced.

“Oh my god,” was all that came out of Tyler’s mouth while Anthony had rolled back in his chair, letting out one of his signature belly laughs.

Smitty’s mouth went impossibly dry. In an oasis of pale skin sat two silver bars piercing two pinkish mountains. He was overcome with the desire to reach out and touch them, feel them underneath the pads of this fingers. His eyes wondered down where he noticed a delicate trail of soft brown hair that disappeared under the waistline of his jeans. The younger was bombarded with mental images of John beneath him, bare chested, nipples and jewellery on display before quickly shaking them away.

What the fuck?

In an attempt to gain an ounce of composure back, Smitty had to look away and drink a few gulps from his water glass. He should not be thinking about that. John was his best friend for fucks sake. And not to mention the fact that Smitty was very very straight. Like, extremely straight.

John was too preoccupied with the two laughing idiots across the table to notice his best friend’s existential crisis beside him. He absolutely loved his nipple piercings.

Smitty finally dared to look back up into John’s face and was met with playful eye contact from the elder like he was just dying to know what he thought of them. In order for his reaction to not look weird, he realised he needed to say something. His hands were shaking slightly as he brought the mic up to his mouth and gained enough strength to half-heartedly tell John to put his tits away before Tyler got demonetised. They all laughed and John slipped his shirt back on and sat down again, sending a huge grin towards Smitty.

At this point, Smitty was much too busy trying to stop all the blood rushing down to his dick to really focus on anything that was going on around him. It really didn’t help that John somehow immediately moved on to pegging.

Going around the table, John asked each of the guys if they would consider being pegged before going on a weird rant about pegging and the male g-spot. Smitty couldn’t help but wonder if he had any experience with that. And then he couldn’t help but feel arousal flow through every vein at the images of John being fucked from behind that his brain helpfully conjured up.

The last twenty minutes of the podcast felt like they dragged on for years. John was even worse than before, engaged in an extremely detailed conversation with Anthony about being ‘milked’ and having your asshole blown into. Smitty was having a hard time keeping his own horniness to a minimal, and John being very outwardly sexual was not helping. The youngest of the group was constantly trying to move away from masterbation and sex toys but ultimately to no avail. They were pretty much unhinged, especially John who was way too drunk for his own good.

After trying for the millionth time to make sure John was speaking into the microphone properly, the elder had seemingly had enough, “you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid,”. Smitty’s mouth fell open in shock as John stupidly continued, “you just keep pushing my mouth towards the phallic shaped object,”. The brunet may have dropped the microphone a little too quickly to not be slightly suspicious. His eagerness to cover his lap with his hands may not have helped either. Nobody seemed to notice and he hoped to whatever higher power that John or either of the idiots sat across from them didn’t bring it up.

Tyler couldn’t wrap the chaotic session up quick enough. After they had all said their goodbyes to one another with the plan of meeting back up at some point the next day, Smitty near enough sprinted to the first bathroom he saw from the lobby of the fancy hotel they were all staying at. He needed to get away from John for a second. They were sharing a room so the concept of privacy was basically non-existent.

By the time he rushed himself into one of the stalls, he’d managed to significantly calm himself and his dick down. Even though something deep inside him was protesting, he chalked the intimate feelings towards his best friend up to the copious amounts of alcohol they had all consumed before and during the podcast. After giving himself a half-assed pep-talk, he quickly exited the stall, washed his hands even though he never even unbuttoned his jeans, and returned to the lobby.

Waiting for him was a lanky brunet covered in metal.

“Was wondering where you ran off to,” the elder mumbled as he bumped into his shoulder cutely. Smitty couldn’t tell if he meant to do that or just stumbled over his own feet. “Oh, hey, was just…usin’ the…bathroom there,” The younger spluttered nervously, pointing back awkwardly toward the room he’d just come from. God, why was he acting like this?

“Thought we’d agreed to hold hands while we peed?” John spoke with a faux pout. Smitty managed a brief smile, thinking back to just a few minutes ago. “Sorry bud, next time,”

They made their way over to the elevators after deciding that trying to walk up the multiple flights of stairs in their condition was definitely a health hazard. The ride was unusually silent. Smitty was busy staring at the rings decorating John’s fingers and wondering if the metal would feel cold against his own.

Once they were back in their shared hotel room, John immediately flopped face first onto the nearest bed. “Oh, John, that’s my bed,” Smitty stood awkwardly behind him. “Don’t care,” he could hear the brunet mumble, his voice muffled by the white bedding. “O-kay,” the younger sighed.

He walked over to the little desk tucked into the corner and grabbed one of the clear glasses that sat there. He then went and filled the glass with water from the bathroom. “Hey,” Smitty gained the attention of the elder, “drink this,”, he offered the glass of water to him once he’d finally sat up. He felt like he was babysitting. Although he couldn’t deny the way his heart skipped a tiny beat at the soft smile and grateful thanks that he got from John.

Smitty’s mind then wandered back to John’s…odd behaviour during the podcast. That was weird, wasn’t it? And the way that he felt towards him was weird.

“Can I ask you something J? And you know you can tell me anything, you’re my best friend,” It was definitely the alcohol loosening his tongue that finally made him ask, “are you…gay?”

John was laying on his bed, star-fished on his back. The question didn’t seem to surprise him at all. He lifted his head just enough to see Smitty looking at him intently from his own bed across from him. “Mhm…bisexual,” he answered nonchalantly.

It was kinda obvious in his opinion. The nails, the clothes, the piercings, the rings.

Smitty was surprised for a moment, not so much from the answer but the casualness of it. And the fact that John hadn’t told him about it. That bit kinda hurt. But he also felt a rush of…excitement?  Like the knowledge that John liked men was going to change something.

“Can I paint your nails?” John asked before Smitty could even react to his confession. The other boy hesitated for a moment but nodded, his eyes diverting to John’s multicoloured nails gripping the duvet beneath him. John leapt up from his bed and stumbled over towards his bag, searching for the polish he kept in one of the pockets. “I only have black with me, but I think it’ll suit you,” the brunet explained as he held the small glass bottle of paint up triumphantly. He motioned for Smitty to scoot over on the bed and moved to sit across from him, both moving to sit criss-cross opposite from one another.

Without much warning, John took Smitty’s hand in his and uncapped the nail polish. Electricity shot down the younger’s spine at the touch. The accidental intimacy of the act surprised him. John delicately lifted his fingers and started to brush the small paintbrush over his short nails. “It’s gonna be a bit shit, ‘cause I’m drunk. But I’ll fix ‘em for you tomorrow,” John apologised, smiling and looking up into his best friend’s face. As he said it, black was smeared all over Smitty’s cuticle and the skin around it.

“Can I ask you something else John?” the Canadian was watching the American while he attempted to ‘paint’ his nails, a look of pure concentration plastered across his face. “Shoot,” the brunet replied, using his fingers to try and smudge away the paint that got on Smitty’s skin. In hindsight, maybe painting his nails while intoxicated wasn’t the best idea.

“How did you know that you liked guys?” Smitty timidly spoke, a little afraid of the answer he was going to receive.

John looked up at him, and really truly looked at him. He could see the apprehension and curiosity that plagued his cloudy mind. “By asking my best friend that same question a couple years ago. You don’t take a gay quiz online if you aren’t gay,” John raised an eyebrow, moving onto his other hand. “You already know the answer, you just gotta embrace it,”

Smitty stayed rather silent after that, watching John finish slathering his pinkie finger in nail polish. Once he was satisfied with his work, he put the brush back into the tiny pot and moved it to the bedside table. He didn’t want to be the one to stain the hotel’s sheets black.

John lifted both of Smitty’s hands and gently began to blow on the tips of his fingers, trying to dry the colour that he had haphazardly applied to all of them. He was right, he was definitely going to need to re-do them all again. But the colour looked good on the younger.

Smitty couldn’t help the way he stared at his lips. His brain then kicked into overdrive. Why was he feeling this way? Was it just the alcohol? But now that he’s thinking about it, he’s always felt a sense of overwhelming happiness and butterflies swarming in his stomach when he was around John, even over their frequent discord calls. Had he liked John for all these years? Is he gay?

“Hey,” John’s voice pulled him out of his racing thoughts. “Stop overthinking it. You don’t have to have an answer for every question right now,” the elder muttered quietly, seemingly able to read Smitty’s mind. That’s why they were best friends. And had been for so many years. John and Smitty were a package deal. One did not come without the other. Everyone knew that.

Smitty looked intently into John’s eyes, searching for something, though he wasn’t quite sure what it was. They both felt an almost magnetic pull towards one another.

“John,” his gaze flickered back down to the elder’s parted lips. “Yes Jaren?” John moved half an inch closer. “Is this a good idea?” the Canadian asked, his register barely above a whisper. He brought his hand up and lightly carded it through John’s longer brunet hair. It was softer than he imagined it would be, long strands falling gracefully and framing his face. “Fuck yeah,” the American replied quite enthusiastically, inching forward just a little bit more but still not touching the other man. He wanted Smitty to be the one to make the first move. They were close enough that they were breathing in the same oxygen.

Gathering all of his courage, Smitty moved to cup the elder’s cheek and finally connected their lips in a timid kiss. And just like that his whole world exploded behind his eyelids.

Although it felt cringey and cliché, kissing John felt like a puzzle piece had just clicked into the correct place in his brain. This is what he’d been searching for without even knowing it. John’s lips were slightly chapped, not in an unpleasant way though. Kissing a man was definitely different  but not bad . In fact, it was pretty fucking great.

It escalated when John opened his mouth the tiniest fraction, allowing Smitty to lick and explore with his tongue. They slotted into each other perfectly. Their movements were already synced to one another. Both were hot with desire flowing through their veins.

Craving more, John crawled forwards into Smitty’s inviting lap. The younger welcomed him instantly, wrapping his arms around his lower back to bring them impossibly closer to one another. Breathing in each other. They could both taste the remnants of alcohol on each other’s tongues.

Soon, just that wasn’t enough and Smitty’s wandering hands made their way underneath John’s shirt, dancing their way up his torso and finding his nipples. Smitty ran his thumb over the small erect nub, enjoying the small noise and shiver it elicited from his best friend. His thumb played with the tiny metal bar that sat there, his mouth swallowing the delicious whimpers and moans that the elder released from the contact. “Fuck, Smit ,” John moaned into his mouth when Smitty hit a particularly sensitive nerve. They broke apart for just a second, drinking in the thick atmosphere that hung between them. The feeling of lust hung thick like smoke in the air.

The younger desperately lifted John’s shirt up and over his head, throwing it to be forgotten somewhere on the hotel room floor. The same happened to his own. Leaning down, his mouth enveloped one of his nipples while he thumbed at the other. The cool metal bar felt alien to his warm tongue. John couldn’t contain the moans that easily slipped through his parted mouth. The sensation of his nipples being touched and played with was intoxicating. He assumed that the piercings made them more sensitive.

He slid his hands up to the back of his head, pulling the shorter brunet’s hair which forced Smitty to look up at him. “Wanna blow you,” the elder breathed out in a sort of desperate tone that will certainly be stuck in Smitty’s head for many months to come. The younger couldn’t agree quicker to his proposition. Any hints of apprehension or confusion around his sexuality had leapt out the window.

John moved to nibble at the delicate skin below the Canadian’s jaw, leaving a trail of tiny red marks that signalled his possession. “You’re so hot,” he groaned out against the warm skin of the younger’s collarbone. Smitty only managed to moan lowly in reply. This whole situation was so bizarre to him. One moment he was questioning his entire life and the next he had his best friend shirtless in his lap.

He wasn’t complaining.

With a strong hand in the middle of his chest, John forced Smitty to lay down on the pristine bed. Their positioning meant that John was now firmly sat atop the younger’s lap, his eagerness clearly showing through his black jeans. He made sure to slowly grind his hips to feel Smitty twitch underneath him. The movement ripped a groan from the brunet below him.

The sight of the man beneath him, marked up and breaths heavy with desire only served to stoke the fire of lust that burned in the pit of John’s stomach. Expertly, he flicked the button of Smitty’s jeans open and unzipped them.

Shuffling backwards, John slid the other’s jeans and boxers down in one go, releasing his erection which casually curved towards his stomach. Saliva bubbled in his mouth at the reality of the situation. He was about to have his best friend’s dick in his mouth. It’s not like he had fantasised about this about a million times over the years or anything.

He started by sliding his hands up his pale thighs, the skin milky and soft underneath his palms. The thought of turning it red and purple with hickeys was very, very tempting but he was much too impatient for anymore foreplay. Hopefully, this wouldn’t be the last time he’ll be blessed by the pleasure of his naked best friend.

Smitty let out a soft moan as John took him into his hands. He experimented with a few beginning tugs, satisfied with the small noises each one dragged out of the younger. “So sensitive,” he purred, moving one hand to softly cup his balls.

After a few teasing kitten licks, he sucked the head of his cock into his mouth. Smitty let out a beautiful whimper as John’s tongue piercing bumped into his slit. “Shit,” he groaned lowly as John began to slide lower and lower, taking more of him into his wet mouth. The flesh was heavy and hot against this tongue. He began to work up a healthy rhythm of bobbing up and down while still holding the base for a little stability. He somehow knew exactly when to pay close attention to the veins running underneath his shaft or suck just the head that drove the other man crazy.

Smitty couldn’t comprehend what was happening most of the time, he just knew that his best friend was sucking him off and it felt fucking amazing . A hand snaked it’s way to rest atop the brunet’s head, twisting fingers into the long strands.

Smitty then made the grave mistake of looking down and the sight that met him almost made him pass out. Seeing John with his ethereal pink lips stretched around his cock, eyes dark and staring right back at him, multicoloured nails gripping and stroking at the rest of his length. It was enough to almost push him over the edge completely. He couldn’t help the guttural moan that escaped him, his head falling back and eyes closing from the crushing weight of trying to not let go.

The hand that was gripping John’s long locks tightened, sending a shiver down the elder’s spine. Subconsciously, Smitty’s hips bucked up softly, sending more cock down John’s throat than he was anticipating. Tears painfully stung at his eyes as he gagged around him. The younger jumped and immediately began apologising before John eagerly cut him off, “no no baby, want you to fuck my face,”. He could visibly see Smitty’s brain malfunction at his words before a smirk graced his features and his hand returned to its rightful place atop his head.

John easily slid off the bed and situated himself on his knees, a position he was quite familiar with. Now, the younger of the two was towering above him and this delightfully added to the dirtiness of it all. Looking down on John gave Smitty a reeling sense of power and dominance and as soon as his dick returned to the soft heaven of his mouth it was evident that something had definitely changed in their dynamic.

Smitty began to thrust his hips up and used the hand curled in John’s hair to simultaneously bring him down onto his cock. Stars erupted behind John’s eyes every time his tip hit the back of his throat. His jaw had gone completely slack, letting the other man take complete control of him. Dirty, lewd noises filled the otherwise respectable hotel room.

Suddenly, like a lightbulb had popped up above his head, Smitty was reminded of what John had said earlier during the podcast, about being a masochist. He seemed to really respond to his hair being pulled, every tightening of his fist earning a small whine from the back of his throat which sent heavenly vibrations through him. He decided to try and be more dominant with John, figuring some dirty talk was the first step. Fuck it.

“You like that huh?” He almost whispered while tugging the brunet hair tight. The loud moan John released from the contact seemed to answer him pretty clearly. That sent a wave of pride and lust cascading through Smitty’s body. Okay, that worked.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ love this, don’t you? Love having so much cock shoved down your throat you can’t breathe, huh baby?” Smitty sneered, emphasising his point by holding the elder down at the base of his dick for a few more seconds than usual before pulling him back up and continuing to thrust himself in and out of John’s slick mouth. All the brunet could do was moan and dig his nails into the pale boy’s thighs. The switch in the younger’s personality, his voice dropping an octave lower, only fuelled the pit of lust that burned deep within him.

The American was overwhelmed. Being used like this was his favourite hobby, but for Smitty to be the one using his mouth to get off and treating him like a total whore was a whole new experience. And he couldn’t get enough of it.

After a few more minutes of fucking John’s mouth, Smitty dragged him off his cock to allow the poor boy to breathe for a few moments. The elder looked absolutely destroyed. Eyes and cheeks wet with tears, hair sticking in all directions, lips reddened with spit and pre-come. He was panting, mouth parted delicately. “You look so pretty like this,” Smitty’s voice was softer than it had been before, yet still sent a wave of arousal washing over John.

Smitty lightly gripped the other’s chin with his fingers, forcefully lifting his face up. The power dynamics of their positioning made his brain go insane.  “I can’t decide if I wanna paint that pretty face or cum down your throat,” cockiness was laced through the younger’s voice as he ran the tip of his dick over beautiful pink lips.

John was in a state of complete awe. He would’ve never expected this from his Smitty. The Canadian had always been much more private about his sex life than the rest of the guys. For him to be this dominant was surprising. So surprising that he couldn’t even think straight enough to come up with a cocky reply. All he wanted was to please him.

“Beg for it,” Smitty spat at him, tugging his hair tighter and pulling his head backwards. He watched the elder’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed thickly with the request. “P-please Smit…need your cock in my mouth, want you to come wherever you want,” John whined. His usual snarky attitude was replaced with sincere desire. In an attempt to persuade Smitty to just get on with it and continue abusing his throat, the brunet gave the younger a few teasing licks across the tip of his dick. The taste of slightly salty pre-come was addicting.

John let his jaw hang open and the younger gladly accepted the implied invitation. He slowly slid himself in, letting the tongue piercing deliciously drag across the sensitive skin. He continued until John’s nose was perfectly nestled at the base of his pubic bone.

Smitty’s thrusts were even more intense than before, smitten with the feeling of wet heat. His intoxicated brain was hyper-focused on the desperate sounds that John was making, every vibration travelling through his shaft. It seemed as though this was as enjoyable for the elder as it was for him.

He didn’t dare close his eyes for too long, scared that if he did then he’d wake up and realise that this was just the best dream he’s ever had. The sight of John on his knees for him, wet cheeks and messy hair was going to be ingrained in his brain for a very long time. And he was more than okay with that.

Soon, the wildfire burning through his body became over powering. “I’m close baby,” Smitty whined as a warning, the other boy humming an affirmation. John had found a seam on the inside of his jeans that applied just the right amount of pressure against his too hard dick and he’d been working his hips against it for a solid minute. He was so close too.

Smitty’s hand tightened around brunet locks. He continued to roughly fuck the elder’s face, chasing the euphoria that was just within reach. “Your mouth is so good baby, like it was made for me,” he roughly whimpered. A few more movements of his hips were all it took before he unloaded deep down John’s throat. The elder swallowed and sucked around him, trying to drain every last drop of his cum. “Fuck,” Smitty groaned while his hips grinded into John’s face, riding the last of his high. The American wasn’t far behind, the delicious noises from above him spurring the tsunami of pleasure that soon crashed over him.

As soon as his soul had returned to his body, he pulled John up to wrap themselves into each other, pressing passionate kisses onto their lips “Holy,” -their mouths intertwined in a kiss- “shit,” Smitty panted, trying to regain control of his senses. The taste of himself on John’s tongue was intoxicating. They couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. John soon moved back down and was pre-occupied with painting the man’s neck in shades of red and purple.

“How should I get you off?” he whispered while his hand ran the length of John’s back towards his ass.

A light blush covered the elder’s cheeks which travelled down towards his chest. He ducked his head away from the younger’s eye contact. “Already…came,” he murmured, slightly embarrassed that he’d orgasmed without even being touched by other man.

“Wow, you came untouched? Fuck, that’s so hot,” Smitty groaned, bringing John down into another open kiss. Thinking of the man getting off on just sucking his dick made his brain explode. All he wanted to do was pin the other boy down and fuck him silly. The alcohol that was still very prominently flowing through both of their bodies disagreed though. Smitty just noticed that his head was spinning.

John gingerly got off of the younger and stumbled towards his bag. He managed to shuffle out of his jeans and stained boxers, slipping on a pair of pyjama shorts. They come down to just mid-thigh and they made his ass look great. Smitty toed off his jeans which were puddled at his feet and slipped his boxers back up. He simply sat and marvelled at the sight of John shirtless while the American eagerly downed the last of the water from earlier. How could he not have seen how beautiful he was. He was soft and rigid at the same time, both perfect and imperfect. The splattered freckles that were dotted across his back, the slope of his spine, the fading smily face that sat above his hip bone. It was like he had been blind and was seeing everything clearly for the first time.

John clambered back into bed, pressing a haphazard kiss to Smitty’s lips before inserting himself underneath the cool sheets. The younger swiftly followed. Chasing his lips with his own. He felt like he couldn’t breathe unless it was against John. They fell into a lazy kiss, both clearly exhausted but never wanting to be apart again. Eventually, they did stop, resigning to spooning instead. The skin-to-skin contact was enough to satisfy their animalistic desires.

“Next time, you should fuck me,” John purred, pressing himself back into the younger playfully. “Next time eh?” Smitty tried to sound as casual as he could, ignoring the way his dick twitched at the idea. They were still quite tipsy. Getting hard again would not be ideal. “Yeah…think it’d be f..un,” John yawned, clearly fighting his own body that desperately wanted to just pass out. Within seconds of him managing to get that sentence out Smitty listened as his breathing evened out, signalling that he had indeed fallen asleep.

Their legs were tangled with each other and Smitty’s arm was draped across John’s stomach. It felt safe. John’s skin was warm against his own and he would breathe out these soft sighs every once in a while that made the younger’s heart melt. The brunet was just so cute . He wondered if he had always felt this way and just never realised it.

If he was more sober he was sure he’d be freaking out right now. But somehow, having sex with his best friend felt like the most normal thing in the world. Was this just a natural step in their relationship? Was this eventually going to happen, no matter what? Everyone else seemed to think so. It was no secret that the two had been paired together often over the years and their constant sexual remarks towards each other didn’t help.

He fell asleep with his lips pressed against the back of John’s neck. And it felt right.

Chapter 2: Canada

Summary:

The morning after the podcast is an eventful one. And John visits Canada.

Notes:

This goes out to all the degenerates, me being the biggest of them all since I might just have to make this into a three-parter.

I hope I was able to properly convey the anxiety and hesitation that Smit feels because of his newfound sexuality, I wanted him to be both excited and nervous for his first time with another man. Heavily inspired by “I wish you were a girl” by 12 RODS (check it out bc we all need more gay 90s indie).

Anyway, hope you enjoy :)

“Wow, you two look like shit!,” Tyler helpfully bellowed out as the two boys approached them in the lobby.

“Thanks man,” Smitty mumbled, quite annoyed at how loud he was being. Pretty sure that was illegal after a night of drinking.

Once they got closer Tyler and Anthony shared a look with furrowed brows, seemingly having a silent conversation between just the two of them. Smitty and John were too hungover to care though.

John had a pair of sunglasses on even though they were still inside and Smitty had just realised that he was wearing his thrifted jacket with the wolves on the back of it. He must’ve picked it up without noticing. He wasn’t any better mind you, wearing one of John’s oversized black hoodies that had a few patches sewn onto it. It was just like them to show up wearing each other’s clothes after what happened last night.

“I’m so fucking hungry oh my god, need food right now,” Smitty groaned, feeling his nauseous stomach grumble from being empty for much too long. Agreeing to meet with their friends for brunch (since it was well past ‘morning’), they ventured out into the chilly Boston air.

They ended up meeting with Matt and Grizzy at a pleasant little cafe downtown that they had found. It was styled like an old 50’s diner. Normally, Smitty would think it was incredibly tacky but at the moment he was more concerned with consuming the greasiest food possible.

Once the boys were all sat down, Matt immediately gave them both a confused look. “What the fuck did you two get up to last night?” he asked, half concerned and half amused. Smitty gave him an irritated look. “What’re you talk’n ‘bout?” he sighed. Everyone was being very annoying this morning. John didn’t even have the energy to bother trying to reply.

“Well, you look rough as fuck, have hickeys all over your necks, and you’re…wearing each other’s clothes?” Matt pointed his knife at them accusingly, waving it between the two of them to make his point. Both boys fought a blush at the mention of the marks that they wore on each other. “Fuck off, we wear each other’s shit all the time,” John huffed while Smitty was busy trying to bury himself further into the thick fabric of the hoodie. “And we did Tyler’s podcast drunk as fuck!” he pointed at said man across the table from him.

“Yeah, but we didn’t ask for or see you suck each other’s necks,” Tyler added nonchalantly while scanning the menu beneath him. John rolled his eyes at that. Of course they couldn’t count on him not to snitch. “Does it even matter?” the four men looked at him like he insane. Clearly, it mattered a lot.

Smitty obviously wanted to tell his friends about their encounter but he wasn’t expecting to have to tell them less than a few hours after it happened. Or for it to be an interrogation like this. But, maybe this was to be expected. Their friend group were pretty blunt. And immature. And a lot of other choice words. He looked down at his hands in order to avoid the judging eyes of their friends. The smudged nail polish that was messily covering his short nails was already starting to chip away.

“Okay, okay, fine,” the elder sighed. Smitty looked at him incredulously. Was he really about to tell their friends about them having sex last night?

Apparently so. “We…may have hooked up last night after the podcast,” John admitted, his eyes trained on the very interesting table beneath him. The group of men all looked shocked, sharing expressions of surprise among themselves.

“Hooked up? What, like, you fucked?” Grizzy couldn’t help but ask, his jaw practically on the table at this point. All four men looked at the two of them expectingly, clearly desperate to know the answer.

After a few intense and slightly awkward moments of silence, John finally cracked. “Oh my god! If you really must know I gave Jaren a blow job, there, ya happy!?” John announced, maybe a bit too loud for a tiny Boston café. “Babe, please, too loud,” Smitty hissed, covering his face with his hands. The mortifying feeling of having everyone’s eyes on him was too much while he was this hungover.

“You just called John babe,” Anthony pointed out in a monotone drawl, as if he knew that Smitty didn’t exactly mean to do that in front of them. The younger just sighed defeatedly. He couldn’t win here. It felt like there was a jackhammer going off inside his head and now his friends were all over them about this?

“That…was an accident. I call him that all the time, it was force of habit,” he tried to clarify but they all knew it was too late. This would never end. “You haven’t called him that right after he sucked your dick though,” Matt was still being a snarky little shit. Smitty just glared at him with all the energy his tired, groggy brain could muster. All he wanted to do was inhale a fat stack of pancakes. Why couldn’t his friends just leave him alone?

“You’re so fucking annoying, you know that right?” Smitty huffed, directing it at Matt but everyone knew that it included them too. “Bro, I’m just stating the facts,” he shrugged, “we all knew you’d get together eventually,”.

“We’re not together,” Smitty sat with his arms crossed, looking like a spoilt toddler who had just heard the word ‘no’ for the first time. “Why don’t we all just shut the fuck up and order?” John suggested in his usual cynical manner. The rest of the boys at the table all agreed, none without mumbling stuff underneath their breath though.

Matt apparently didn’t receive the message clear enough at first that last night was not to be mentioned again since he tried to make blowjob jokes multiple times. A sharp elbow to the ribs from Anthony seemed to get the hint across pretty quickly though.

They managed to have a pretty uneventful breakfast after that. If anyone noticed that Smitty and John were uncharacteristically quiet, especially with one another, they didn’t mention it.

Once they had all finished their meals, the boys returned to the hotel that they were all sharing. Today was their last day in Boston, most catching flights back home tomorrow morning. They agreed to meet back for a last meal in the evening with some more people as a final send off. This was likely going to be the last time they all saw each other in person for a while. That was the shittiest part of their jobs, sometimes your best friends and co-workers lived in completely different states and/or countries. Which made trips like this all the more special.

“Hey, sorry about…that, Matt was being a dick,” were the first words out of John’s mouth once they were in their room. He honestly felt bad. Technically, they’d just been outed to their friends in a very odd manner. Not that it necessarily bothered him, he was mostly indifferent to officially coming out. People could figure it out for themselves. No, he was mostly worried about how Smitty felt about this.

“Oh…yeah no, it’s fine. They were gonna find out eventually. I kinda knew they’d be like that anyway,” Smitty shrugged and half-heartedly laughed it off. “I didn’t expect to tell them the morning after though,”

“Yeah,” John chuckled, mindlessly scratching the back of his neck. A nervous habit of his. “Look, I know how shitty it must be for you. This was your first…experience with a guy and now everyone knows and you must feel really confused and pressured and I’m really sorry for that. I obviously don’t wanna assume how you feel but I just want to say it’s okay to be unsure of stuff right now, like I said, you don’t have to have an answer to everything,” John’s voice suddenly had an air of seriousness to it while he word vomited his little speech. He wasn’t necessarily eloquent when it came to expressing himself.

Not that the guys would realise and be able to comprehend the gravity of the situation, but Smitty was straight until a few hours ago. Now he had no idea what was going on inside his head. He was obviously attracted to John, both in the context of being severely drunk and more sober. But did that apply to other men? Or was it John-specific? He couldn’t think of any other examples of being sexually or romantically attracted to another man but then again he had only just realised his connection to John. It was confusing.

“I just need you to know that you don’t owe anyone anything just now, not even me,” John gently took the younger’s hands in his own. It was comforting. Safe. “Thanks J,” Smitty hoped that his voice conveyed the sincerity that he felt. This was definitely overwhelming to say the least. To know that John understood how he felt was reassuring.

Smitty was still unsure of the implications for their friendship. Was last night a one-off? Did he want it to be? John had mentioned a ‘next time’. Did that mean John had felt this way for a while as well?

The mirror that hung on the off-white wall caught John’s eye. Looking at his somewhat disheveled appearance, he noticed the utter state of his neck. Red and purple bruises littered the skin down to his collarbones and he knew they went further than that. Smitty was the same. “Guess it was kind of obvious,” he laughed while gesturing to his neck. The younger flushed an embarrassing bright red. Were they really that horny that they forgot about the cardinal rule of leaving no evidence?

The American was nervously chewing his lip, waiting for the other man to initiate something. Anything. For some reason, the younger made him so incredibly nervous. He was usually never like this around other partners. It was kind of embarrassing, but he didn’t really care.

If he squinted, Smitty could make out the small hole beneath his bottom lip where a piercing used to be. Mesmerised, he slowly lifted his hand and ran his fingertip across the healed skin. It was such an innocent act of intimacy. Smitty’s eyes flickered back up into John’s gaze. He had been focused on the younger’s face, examining him. There it was again, the magnetic pull towards each other. This time when their lips met, it was gentle and soft, a complete juxtaposition to the raw passion and desire that consumed the both of them last night.

Kissing John in the day, without the intoxication, without the lustful desire felt so different. It felt like exploring a whole new universe. And it was. It was terrifying. The daylight that swept through the large hotel windows somehow solidified their newfound relationship. They could no longer hide behind the shadow of night and alcohol. Truthfully, it was never hidden at all.

“You taste like maple syrup,” John whispered once they had parted for air. “Exactly what I thought making out with a Canadian would be like,” he giggled, stroking a hand down his cheek.
“Well, ‘m glad I lived up to the name,” the younger grinned, his fingers mindlessly playing with John’s mop of brunet hair. Maybe they should’ve been doing this much sooner. Everything about this (whatever ‘this’ was) felt so familiar. Uncharted territory but easy.

“I feel like shit,” Smitty laughed, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against John’s. He could smell the touch of cologne that John had hurriedly misted himself with a few hours prior and the black coffee that he’d drank at the café. Although he wasn’t a lightweight by any means, he wasn’t used to excessively drinking for days on end. Which is what this trip had mainly revolved around. And it was catching up with him quick.

“Should we take a nap?” the elder murmured, practically holding Smitty up with his hands on his hips. “Those are the best 5 words I’ve heard in a while,” Smitty groaned, stumbling away from the other man and towards the bed they had shared last night. The bedding was still messy from their rushed morning. He shrugged off the hoodie and jeans he had chucked on only a couple hours ago, leaving him in only his boxers.

It was now John’s turn to stare. Unlike Smitty, he had always been aware of how beautiful his best friend was. There hadn’t been many times that he was allowed to openly gawk over the younger so he gladly used this opportunity to drink in all of his features. He desperately wanted to trace the jagged edges of his shoulder blades, the slight pudge of his stomach, the visible veins running through his arms. To John, he was magnificent.

John knew that he was probably in love with him. And maybe this was a bad idea. It could all go so horribly wrong. But he was selfish, and couldn’t help but imagine them being together. He had no idea if that was a possibility in Smitty’s mind. Would Jaren even want him? They worked as friends, so why change that?

It was John who was now the big spoon as they cuddled. Smitty’s bare skin was smooth against his own and he had to fight the urge to litter it with tiny kisses. He had to somewhat conceal his feelings. For Smitty’s sake. This was all so completely new for him. And although John was experienced with men, he’d only had one real boyfriend.

They innocently slept together for a few hours before they had to meet up with their friends for dinner. John ached to be away from Smitty, to not be able to hold his hand or sit on his lap. It genuinely hurt to not be able to openly express his affection. Once he had gotten a taste of the other man, he didn’t want to let it go. But he endured it. He tried to be present, to not fixate on how he had to go back to Washington tomorrow, on how he had to go back to his life without Smitty by his side. It didn’t really work. No matter how hard he tried, how many drinks he chugged, how many jokes he shared with others. Nothing could distract him from how miserable he felt knowing that they couldn’t be together. Not now. Maybe not ever. Could he continue to be around him casually now that he had felt him so intimately? Fuck, he thought, this was going to make their jobs so much harder.

The morning after was even worse. He had to choke back tears as they hugged goodbye on the sidewalk outside the hotel. John’s uber was waiting to take him to the airport, a place that was so unbearably lonely even though it was constantly buzzing with crowds. “Maybe…I could visit you? In Canada sometime? I’ve never been before,” the elder murmured, slightly muffled into the crook of Smitty’s neck. “That would be nice,” the younger sighed. Even though he was exhausted, sadness ripped through him like a tidal wave as he watched John disappear into the busy street.

He always found going home from a trip like this bittersweet. He embraced the thought of returning home, sleeping in his own bed with the warmth of Octavia to fill the empty sheets, yet, he felt profoundly upset that he had to leave his friends without the guarantee of seeing them again soon. As he sat on the plane, he couldn’t help but feel that something was missing. And that feeling was only amplified once he stepped inside his vacant house. He missed all his friends, but mainly the ease of being with John. The comfort and safety he felt when he was around him. It felt odd to feel that way towards a guy.

An ocean of confusing emotions crashed over him. Part of him wishes that that night with him and John never happened. If it didn’t, he and the American would still be just friends. There wouldn’t be an aching pit in his chest. He would still wholeheartedly believe that he was straight. And he definitely wouldn’t be lying awake at night, thinking about how John tasted on his tongue, and how he wished that he was next to him.

John did end up going to Canada the next summer. Smitty was beyond excited, but at the same time, a ball of nerves wound tightly around his stomach. They hadn’t spoken much about the ‘incident’, apart from a few dirty photos and rare late night phone calls. He wondered how they would interact with one another again. They were still unsure of what ‘they’ were. What if it was awkward? He couldn’t bear the thought of losing his best friend over this. The anxiety dried his throat and made his chest feel heavy as he glanced at the time every other minute.

However, all of his worries magically melted away once he laid eyes on the lanky brunet. His hair was now shaved into a shaggy, long mullet which Smitty thought suited him. Metal still poked out of every piece of his skin.

As soon as their eyes met John ran to him - actually ran to him - in the midst of the crowd of bored passengers. They crashed into a bone-crushing hug. He still smelt like coffee and cologne. Smitty was overcome with the desire to kiss him, feel his chapped lips against his again. He didn’t though. Instead, he balled his fists in his hoodie, pressing themselves together infinitely.

After they finally found the strength to let each other go, he lead John out to where he had parked an hour prior.

The ride back to his house was filled with their usual ramblings and quiet music. John was venting about some dickhead anti-masker on the plane and other annoying and cringe-worthy encounters he had had that day, passionately waving his hands around like he always did. This was the feeling that Smitty had been craving. The ease of it all. He couldn’t believe he ever thought it would be awkward between them. It was like they were never apart.

The rest of day was relatively uneventful since John was somewhat drained from all the travelling. They ended up on the couch after eating a greasy takeout dinner, Octavia cutely curled in her very own chair. She had been as excited as Smitty was to meet and be loved on by John. Soft, golden light from Smitty’s various artsy lamps engulfed the living room, making the room feel rich and warm. John complimented his interior design skills, especially his own painting that was framed and hung on one of the pristine white walls.

They were trying to watch the latest Marvel show, or at least Smitty was. John however was much more interested in seeing if he could rile up the younger. He had basically been sexually frustrated since last year, dying to get off with the other man. In person.

He started with resting his hand innocently next to his thigh. Smitty paid him no mind, engrossed in the superheroes darting across the screen. He then slowly moved his hand to sit on top of Smitty’s thigh, dangerously close to his junk. The younger glanced down at the contact, sucking in a shaky breath once it clicked what John was doing. The other played naïve though. Smitty decided that he’d see how far John was going to go. He resumed watching the TV, although now paying more close attention to the man sitting next to him.

Once John realised that the Canadian wasn’t going to react to his advances, his hand danced it’s way across to his objective. He gently rested his hand on Smitty’s dick, feeling it twitch underneath him with interest. “John,” the younger warned. The other man simply smirked. Smitty desperately tried to remain focused on the TV screen in front of them, determined to not lose the unspoken game that they had initiated. That was becoming increasingly difficult though as John began to lightly palm his growing erection. Teasing lil bastard. Every couple of moments Smitty moaned weakly, tiny sparks of pleasure shooting through his veins. He was already half-hard and getting more and more excited every second.

“You’re getting so worked up,” John purred against the shell of Smitty’s ear. Fuck, why was he so close all of a sudden? His warm breath fanned against the sensitive skin of his neck. Smitty could feel every ounce of blood in his body travel downwards. He was now panting in short breaths, every delicate move of John’s hand sending shivers down his spine. It felt like all the oxygen had been sucked from the air around them and he was struggling to breathe. He felt like he could pass out.

John whined lowly as he become engrossed in his actions, his own dick begging for attention. The show was long forgotten as both boys relished in the soft noises each were releasing. The elder inched forward, subtly using Smitty’s thigh to try and relieve the pressure in his pants. It was delicious.

“You’re so horny you’re trying to ride my thigh?” Smitty groaned lowly, his head falling back and his eyes closing. It was all too much. John’s hand on his cock, John pressing up against him. Adrenaline pumped through him, every touch electric. Fuck it. He finally caved, turning his head and meeting John’s lips in a flurry of passion. His hand gripped his cheek, pressing them together. It felt like an volcanic explosion of lust erupted within him. He was hungry for every inch of the other man.

The elder whimpered when Smitty dragged him onto his lap. It felt surreal to be in this position once again, more than a year later. Feeling each other. Tasting each other. Smitty rested his arms around John’s ass, using this leverage to experimentally grind up into him. “Shit,” the elder moaned into the other’s mouth. He locked his hands around Smitty’s head, rolling his hips down into his thrusts. This was one of the hottest things he’d ever experienced. Dry-humping his best friend. He made sure to mentally add it to the list of great pleasures in life.

After a few glorious minutes of riding him, John let out a desperate sort of whimper, “please,”. The sound was muffled by his mouth but Smitty heard him just fine. They broke apart for some much needed air. Every second that they spent apart felt like it was wasted. “If you want something you have to ask me for it,” The younger raised an eyebrow towards the man on top of him. He loved hearing his partners beg for him. Beg him to do all the dirty things that shouldn’t be said aloud.

John huffed, his cheeks tainted pink with embarrassment. He rolled his hips down into Smitty once again, trying to telepathically tell him what he so desperately needed. “Please Jare,” he pouted. Smitty tutted at him, gripping his hips tightly which effectively stopped his movements. The elder whined, annoyed that the Canadian was being so persistent. God, he was fucking hot though. His black hair was long enough that it curled against the nape of his neck and against his forehead, creating that effortlessly messy stoner look that he was so damn attracted to. And he didn’t want to admit it but his demand for him to actually ask for what he wanted did something to him. He was still so surprised at his dominance.

“I told you,” Smitty ran one of his hands up into John’s shaggy hair and gripped a handful, forcing his head back, “to beg,” he gritted out, his voice low and rough. The elder bit his lip in order to not moan like a little bitch at that. The hand that was in his hair disappeared, instead running down his back and lifting the fabric of the shirt he wore, skirting against slithers of exposed skin. Smitty’s eyes were huge and dark, staring at him like he wanted to devour him. And John would let him.

“You’re really annoying,” the American huffed, using all of his strength to look annoyed and not like he was about to fall apart. He really didn’t want the annoying brunet beneath him to know how much he was getting to him. The Canadian only grinned at him, using a hand on his chin to maintain their playful eye contact. “I know,” he smirked. He emphasised his statement by rolling John’s hips down onto his clothed erection, pressing himself into him. “Fuck me, please,” John moaned softly, neediness seeping through his voice. “Want you…please, need you inside of me,” he cried as the younger’s hand returned to his head and tugged his hair hard. Smitty felt his entire body jolt with excitement at those words.

The brunet’s beautiful neck was exposed, the skin just begging to be painted with shades of red and purple. So Smitty gave in, unleashing the primal urge to mark his territory. John whimpered as he felt sharp canines nipping at his neck and collarbones. At one point Smitty was considering abandoning all reason and ripping John’s clothes off right here. But he ultimately decided to at least pretend to be civilised. It was their first time together after all. “Bedroom,” Smitty managed to breathe out, his voice rugged and raw already.

It took all of their mental strength to stop, neither wanting to let go. They stumbled towards Smitty’s bedroom, unable to stop themselves from pressing each other against the various walls that they passed. It was rough. Deranged lust was coursing through both their systems. And they thrived off of it.

Once inside, John immediately fell onto the double bed, shoving his shirt over his head. “Fuck. I forgot how much I love your nipple piercings,” Smitty groaned upon the sight of silver metal. It was like they were calling to him. Begging him to touch them, kiss them. He stepped towards the bed, towering over John even though he was the shorter of the two. In seconds, his own shirt was on the floor and he was on top of the elder, feverishly attacking his lips. His hands roamed the valleys of his chest, stopping once they had found their prize. Pinching and rolling his nipples between his fingers. John whined into his mouth at the touch, desperately clawing at his back with his nails. The stings of pain drove both men crazy.

Finding the presence of clothing annoying, they somehow managed to get off of each other long enough to strip their jeans and underwear away, leaving both of them completely nude. Smitty was slightly awestruck at the sight of John naked. He’d only ever seen his full glory on a screen, and the real thing was so much better.

If John was anyone else the staring might have made him uncomfortable. Instead, he embraced it, seductively running his hand down the length of his abdomen and down towards his dick. “You’re so pretty J,” the younger sighed, watching as the American’s fingers delicately danced up and down the pinkish flesh. He truly was a work of art.

“All fours,” Smitty demanded. The brunet instantly scrambled to fulfil his wishes, situating himself on his hands and knees. Excitement and lust rushed through his veins as he sensed Smitty kneeling behind him. Every ghost of the younger’s hands sent shivers running up his spine. He heard the instantly recognisable sound of the uncapping of lube. Like a pavlovian dog, the sound made John’s muscles twitch with anticipation and his dick drip with pre-cum. God. he was a whore.

Smitty generously spread the gel across three digits, warming the coolness away. Nervous energy bubbled up in his chest. His entire being itched to touch John. Although every atom and magnet seemed to be pulling the two together, the younger was still plagued by anxiety and worry.

Some small part of him wanted to run away, hide from John and this newly discovered part of him. This feeling of needing to escape wasn’t new for him. Although he desperately wanted this, he couldn’t help but be scared. The thought of destroying this relationship terrified him. His clean hand smoothed up and down the soft skin of John’s thigh in an attempt to ground himself. He reminded himself that this was John, if anything were to separate them he doubted it would be sex. Taking a deep breath, he pushed past the hesitation that ate at his brain and teased one wet finger around the sensitive ring of muscle. He felt John’s whole body shiver from the sensation. And that tiny taste of power weirdly calmed him.

John let out a sort of crying yelp once Smitty pushed in. His body initially fought the intruder but it appeared to give in as the younger continued to push and explore. ‘Mhm-fuck!” the brunet whined as Smitty pressed against his prostate by accident. The man behind him was slightly surprised, “there?” pressing against the spot more meaningfully. John cried out, balling the sheets beneath him in his fists, too preoccupied in the pleasure to give the Canadian an answer.

Smitty gently pulled his finger out only to add another, experimenting by pumping his hand, thrusting both digits into the brunet. The action was absolutely mesmerising to watch, his fingers disappearing and reappearing. He fucked the American open, scissoring his fingers slightly. “Shit. Jare. God,” John’s voice was cracking, his words separated by creaking whines and moans. Smitty was transfixed on fingering him, earnestly thrusting his fingers, making sure to massage and drag against the bundle of nerves that tore John apart. The elder defeatedly fell onto his forearms and buried his head into the sheets. His back naturally arched, giving Smitty the most glorious view of his rounded ass.

“Wow,” the younger muttered mostly to himself as he worked a third finger into him. John seemed to eagerly accept, pushing himself back onto Smitty’s fingers. Every movement, every small flick of his wrist or bend of his fingers earned him a moan or a whine from the man in front of him. It was absolutely intoxicating.

“I’m gonna finish if we do this any longer,” John moaned weakly, pushing himself up and twisting his head to look at the man behind him. His messy bangs were slick with sweat. “And I want you to fuck me,” his eyes full with desire. It was all he ever wanted.

Smitty tore open a condom and hastily slid it on before uncapping the lube he had tossed aside before, slicking himself up with the cool gel. He closed his eyes and resisted the urge to moan from the long overdue pleasure of giving his dick attention. John had moved to be laying on his back, his legs spread obscenely. “You’re so hot,” the younger’s eyes flickered open to see John working his own cock with his hand, watching him with his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Smitty’s flushed at both the compliment and the obscene view. Watching John masterbate to him was…electrifying. It was better than any porn he’d ever seen. They jerked off together for a minute, both drinking in the scenes that lay in front of them. He was sure that he had somehow died and this was heaven.

Smitty settled himself between John’s spread legs, the view confronting him sending his brain spiralling. Fuck. This was it. It was finally happening. Once they stepped over this threshold there was no going back. Smitty chanced one more glance into the brunet’s eyes, searching for any hint of doubt or hesitation. Maybe John was doing the same. They both knew that this was the last chance to back out. This was the last possible second to stop, abandon this experiment and remain friends. Just ‘friends’. “Are you sure?” the younger posed the question he was currently asking himself, his voice barely above a whisper, almost as though he was worried that someone might hear him. When in fact he was just terrified of pushing past this final barrier. He imagined that putting his dick in his best friend was most likely way past the point of no return.

John entangled their fingers for a moment. “Yeah baby,” he reassured, voice unusually soft and calm. That helped. Knowing that John truly did want this. Want him. It’s like he knew exactly what was racing through his mind. “We don’t have to,” the younger shook his head at that. No, he definitely wanted this. This was all he’d been thinking about since that night in Boston. Every wet dream and fantasy since then involved John.

He gave John a quick kiss and returned to his position in between his spread legs. Taking himself into his hand, Smitty lined himself up against John’s hole and gently began to press forward, easing himself into the elder. “Fuck,” he groaned, watching the tip of his cock spread the American open. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. Of course, he had done anal before. But this was a guy. And it was John. John’s legs bracketing him, John’s face knitted in a sort of contorted emotion of pleasure and pain mixed together, his mouth open and John’s voice that moaned and whined at every little movement. Smitty halted, allowing both himself and the man beneath him to adjust. John hissed. No matter how much prep it always stung. He didn’t mind it though. Enjoyed it actually.

“More…please,” he whimpered, wiggling his ass into the mattress to prove it. “Jesus,” Smitty eagerly complied, sliding up to the hilt, burying himself in the man. John moaned unceremoniously, long and loud, desperate yet fulfilled. Both boys were panting, open-mouthed expressions of desire. John felt the other man’s hands on him, splaying across his abdomen and his thigh. It grounded him but also flooded his brain with overwhelming feelings of lust.

Smitty began to test the waters, relenting and pressing back in, building a rhythm of hips and force. Every thrust was met with warmth and gentle noise from above, hushed whines and whimpers. “You feel so fucking good,” the younger growled as he pulled out till the head and thrust back in. John was soft like velvet and warm like sun. His thrusts grew in tempo and strength as he explored the inside of his best friend.

It was a cosmically powerful experience. Every movement was heavenly, filled with passionate warmth and goodness. Every one of Smitty’s thrusts were perfectly aimed, dragging against the elder’s prostate. “Fuck!” John exclaimed as Smitty’s pace quickened. “Just like that, mhm yeah-shit Jaren,” his fists gripped the sheets beneath him as his body was used. It was everything and nothing like he had expected. He wanted to live inside this moment forever, with his best friend fucking him like his life depended on it. The skin where their hips met was surely going to be bruised by the morning.

“Taking all of me so well, my little cockslut,” Smitty groaned against the shell of his ear, nipping the sensitive skin underneath it. His tone was silky sweet even if the words weren’t. John moaned loudly at the degradation, taking his dick into his hand and hungrily pumping up and down. It was clear that both of them were close. Suddenly, the younger knocked John’s hand away and replaced it with his own, jerking him off in time with his desperate hips. It was magic. “Fuck, John,” Smitty groaned, his thrusts beginning to stutter as he neared the edge. At this point, the American had lost the ability to form coherent sentences, the only noise he was able to produce being a long moan which trailed off into a whimper. He was able to last a few more seconds before his mind went blank and his eyes rolled into the back of his head, covering Smitty’s fist and his stomach.

Watching another man cum while he was inside of said man was definitely something that the Canadian never thought he’d experience. Yet, here he was, desperately chasing his own orgasm. Oversensitivity made John’s muscles twitch, making his legs shake slightly and his ass clench. That felt heavenly for the younger who earnestly thrust a few more times before finishing himself. Time seemed to come to a standstill as they both drank in the heavy atmosphere of lust and sex. Raw passion faded into warm admiration. Both boys were panting heavily, trying to regain the use of their bodies.

“Holy shit,” Smitty exhaled as he finally pulled out, mirroring their previous sexual encounter. “Yeah,” the elder happily sighed, his eyes still closed. Opening them would take strength that he simply didn’t possess. He felt Smitty’s weight leave the bed and heard him stumble off somewhere. He wasn’t too concerned at the moment. His mind and body were still processing that he’d just had possibly some of the best sex he’d ever had. And it was with his formerly straight best friend.

Smitty returned, now with a warm washcloth that he used to gently wipe the spunk off of the elder’s stomach. He managed to pry his eyelids open, catching the younger’s caring gaze. That made a lazy smile grace his features. “Such a gentleman,” he complimented as he watched Smitty’s bare ass walk back to the en-suite. “Fuck off,” echoed from the other room, making him giggle. Even after fucking each other they were still just Smitty and John. Best buds.

When the younger returned again, he threw John a clean pair of boxers and they dressed in silence. It wasn’t awkward though. Far from it. The room, although it probably stunk of sweat and sex, felt like bathing in spring sunshine. Both felt like they were overflowing with warmth. Maybe it was love.

Smitty settled himself next to the brunet, John instantly snuggled up to him, attaching himself to him.

“You’re really good,” John sighed, voice wreaked with pleasure, “are you sure you haven’t fucked a guy before?,” he giggled. The younger laughed at that. John always had something to say. “I may have done a bit of research,” he smirked, tilting his head and capturing the other’s lips in a kiss. “What? Jerking off to gay porn?” the brunet replied with all the snark in the world. “Mmm maybe,” Smitty craned his neck to press his lips against the elder’s jawline. He didn’t exactly want to admit to John that yes, he had been scouring new…material for when he was alone with himself. And yes, the best videos were the ones with a long haired brunet being fucked.

“I’m not joking when I say that was good,” John mused. From the way Smitty acted in bed, he figured that he’s had much more experience than he’d ever let on to the others. He’d wrongly assumed that the Canadian was the more innocent of the group. Apparently, he was wrong.

“Thanks babe, if that was a compliment. If you were calling me a slut, then I’d have something else to say,” Smitty laughed. Maybe he was a little slutty. John definitely was. And it excited him. “You may be a slut but you’re good at it so,” John shrugged and lifted his head to look at the younger. They were both slightly sweaty from their previous ‘activity’ but neither could be bothered to get up and shower. John wasn’t even sure his legs would be able to move anyway. Good sex and jet lag would do that to you.

They shared one final kiss, this one slow and sweet, completely different from the others. Smitty wasn’t sure that friends with benefits- if that’s what this was- kissed like that. But he didn’t mind. All he knew was that being with John, here in his own bed, in his own home, felt complete. It felt normal.

They fell asleep promptly afterwards, legs tangled in knots and Smitty’s nose pressed into John’s long hair. It felt like a scene straight out of a rom-com. And it was everything they ever wanted.

Chapter 3: Canada, continued.

Summary:

Horny. Just…so very horny.

Notes:

Jeez, that escalated quickly.

Smitty is horny but very anxious. John is confused and also horny. Gay.

Enjoy!

(i hate myself)

John woke up late. Like, nearly 1 o’clock late. Back home, you were lucky to see him out of bed until late afternoon, so technically this was actually early for him. But he realised that normal human beings considered this ‘unhealthy’ which was why the other side of the bed was disappointingly cold.

He laid there for a moment, eyes closed, just breathing in the crisp air that filled the room. Even while inside, the change in environment was clear. The Canadian weather wasn’t drastically different from Washington, especially in Southern Ontario, yet, it held a distinct chill which made goosebumps rise from the brunet’s skin.

Or he could just be remembering the way Smitty touched him, relishing in the way their skin felt brushing against each other. John spent another few minutes just drinking in the scent of the other man that hung endlessly around him. The sheets, the pillows, the duvet. He wanted to bottle it up and live in it.

After a few more peaceful minutes, he begrudgingly shuffled out of bed, more goosebumps appearing on his exposed skin. He found a discarded hoodie and chucked it on, not stopping to question whether it actually belonged to him or not. The same with a pair of sweatpants. Sharing was never a problem between the two.

He could hear the distant blabber of the TV from downstairs. He offhandedly wondered how long he’s kept the other man waiting.

After quickly brushing his teeth and attempting to tame his unruly mullet, he finally made his way downstairs.

Smitty’s head turned as he heard the sound of footsteps behind him, his face erupting into a soft smile at the sight of the brunet. “Mornin’” his voice was still a little gravelly from sleep, “didn’t want to wake you, you looked too cute,”. John scoffed, “I guarantee you I did not look ‘cute’,” he griped as he flopped down onto the couch beside him. There was a half full mug of coffee sitting on the table in front of them, seemingly abandoned. He took a swig of the lukewarm liquid, hoping a jolt of caffeine might wake him up. Octavia, who was previously curled next to her owner, now demanded attention from the elder. Her fur was short but soft, and John adored the way she beamed at him. He should get a dog.

“Well, I thought you looked gorgeous,” Smitty grinned, leaning and pressing a short kiss to the brunet’s temple before rising up from the couch. “And when have I ever been wrong?” he shrugged with a smug smirk.

“You’re literally wrong all the time!” John whined as he watched the younger walk away towards the kitchen, Octavia eagerly following him. He had this stupid smile etched onto his face as he ran his hand over his dog’s head. “Shut the fuck up and let’s go get some breakfast, I’m fucking starving. Been waiting for ages for you,” he sarcastically rolled his eyes and grabbed Octavia’s leash from the kitchen counter. The young dog was filled with sudden excitement to be going somewhere.

“Where are we going?” John got up from the couch with a confused sort of look on his face. “There’s this spot down the street that has really good pastries,” Smitty explained while kneeling to attach Octavia’s leash. “Well, I will be expecting nothing but the best since you’re forcing me to go outside,” the brunet huffed as he struggled to shove his feet into his vans which he refused to untie. He was a very low-effort person, okay? Give him a break.

“Oh, don’t worry, if they don’t meet your exceedingly high expectations then I’ll give you…a handjob or something,” Smitty shrugged with a sly smile as he put on his own shoes (actually tying his laces like a normal person). John’s eyes widened slightly at the comment, his mouth falling open like a cartoon character. “They better be fucking awful then,” he mumbled which drew a hearty laugh from the younger.

Stepping out into the brisk Canadian air, they began walking downtown. The June sun shone down on them, instantly sweeping the two boys in its warmth. “How is the sun so hot but it’s still cold?” John whined. He could feel sweat brimming under his hoodie even though he was freezing just a few minutes ago. The other man shrugged nonchalantly, “I dunno. That’s Canada for ya,”. He looked over and smiled at John, radiating his own little sunbeams, “you’ll get used to it,” he playfully bumped into his shoulder.

John’s heart immediately skipped approximately 5 beats. He wasn’t quite sure what it was. Maybe it was the implication that John would be with him here more often. Or maybe it was the way his touch seemed to electrify him. He just knew that suddenly his chest was a bit too tight and he was lightheaded. Normally, this feeling terrified him. Made him want to run and keep on running. But this was oddly okay. He didn’t feel the need to escape.

Honestly, John couldn’t believe that any of this was real. It was only his second day here and it felt completely natural. Usually he didn’t adjust well to change. But he was simply at ease. Maybe it was how similar Canada felt to home. Maybe he was finally maturing from the dumb teenager he feels he’s been for far too long. Secretly, deep down, he knows it’s the man beside him, and the way their fingers subtly brushed against each other every once in a while while they walked.

He returned Smitty’s smile with his own toothy grin, showcasing his crooked bottom teeth which he hated.

It was quite the opposite to the younger. Everything about the brunet was…well, beautiful, at least to him. He couldn’t believe it took him this many years to realise that his adoration was so much more than friendly admiration. He really was quite oblivious. John had been an anchor for him for so many years as they filmed their silly videos. He was the one Smitty turned to when the imposter syndrome kicked in, or when he had a bad month with analytics. Somehow John always knew how to get him through the rough patches and reminded him why they even started this stupid career. And Smitty hoped that he had been that person for John too.

To anyone looking in, their interaction might’ve looked rather plain and uninteresting. Merely two friends walking their dog. However, they both knew that there was something happening between them.

Octavia sped ahead of them, quite familiar with the route to her and her owner’s favourite cafe. On the corner of the street sat a small French bakery which had clearly been there a long time judging by the vines of ivy that wrapped themselves around the yellowing building. The interior was similar, clearly taken care of but by no means modern. Smitty absolutely loved it. The smell of fresh bread and bitter coffee soaked over them both as soon as they stepped foot into the building.

Smitty lead his best friend over to the counter, chocolate eyes scanning the pastries on display. There was everything from cinnamon buns to tiny fruit tarts. John’s eyes were wide, gawking over the variety of treats for sale. “What’re you gettin’?” the brunet mumbled to the younger. The line was moving pretty quickly. He used to struggle with some social anxiety, terrified to engage with others. It was much better now, but his foreign surroundings amplified the pit of worry in his stomach. Smitty on the other hand was calm as ever, quietly mulling over his options. Their hands brushed against one another accidentally but John swore he saw the other smile softly. The touch worked to soothe the elder’s nerves a fraction. “Think…I’m just gonna grab a croissant. What do you want?” Smitty turned to him while softly brushing his thumb over his clenched hand. “Uh…the same,” John replied, conscious that they were next to be served. “Cool,” Smitty grinned, turning to the cashier now in front of them, “deux croissants s’il vous plait,” he beamed. The man beside him turned to him with a shocked expression as the cashier happily fulfilled their order. “Wha…” was all that made it’s way out of his mouth while he watched the younger interact with the older woman, a huge smile plastered across his face. “Merci!” Smitty waved and lead his two companions outside with the plain brown bag in hand.

“What? You think I wouldn’t bust out my high school level French to impress my date?” he laughed as he took a seat at a little metal table. “Welcome to Canada dude,” he winked at the man across from him who’s jaw hadn’t yet closed. “I just…was not expecting that at all,” John scoffed as he too sat down.

Honestly, he thought only Quebec spoke French which goes to show how much he knows about Canadian culture (thanks American education system!). For his best friend to suddenly speak another language was very surprising, especially considering he had never once mentioned it to him. And yes, John did admit that it was a tiny bit attractive too. “I didn’t know you were fluent,”

“Well, I wouldn’t say fluent. We all have to take it in school but Ontario isn’t that big on speaking it otherwise,” Smitty explained while ripping off a piece of his pastry and feeding it to Octavia, who had been patiently waiting at his feet. She always got the first bite. He smiled a wide toothy grin when she devoured it and instantly began begging for another. “No, no more hun, you’re gonna get too chunky,” the younger scolded, fighting every ounce of his being to not just give her the whole damn thing. She, being the incessantly smart girl she was, turned to the other man and broke out her cutest puppy dog eyes. “Don’t fall for it John,” Smitty laughed as he watched the brunet’s face fall with the immense guilt of not giving the dog the stupid croissant. “You fucker! Why are you making me say no to that face?!” he whined, pointing a finger at the Canadian. Octavia eventually figured out that she wasn’t getting any more pastry and relented to laying down between the two men, making sure they both heard her defeated sigh. Both started to laugh at how human-like pets were. “She’s dumb, she’ll forget all about it in two minutes,” Smitty said offhandedly, finally taking a bite for himself. John looked offended and through a mouthful of his own pastry he began defending the poor dog, “you’re one to talk, Mr. zero fuckin’ brain cells,” he rolled his eyes. Smitty held a hand over his heart and had a faux pout slapped on his face, “wow, you’re really gonna go there huh?”. They both smiled at each other, the type of smile that was too much teeth and searching eyes. “Well, am I wrong?” They just stared at each other with goofy smirks.

Their conversation turned to their plans for the rest of the week that John was visiting. There was so much that Smitty wanted to share with him. It wasn’t often that his American friends visited him here. He would always find himself flying down to sticky Tennessee for Tyler’s wild parties or LA for various creator events. There was an incredible botanical garden in Toronto that he knew John would adore. Maybe he would be inspired to paint. Smitty absolutely loved his art. It was a perfect representation of John- messy, unstructured, and wonderfully weird. Every time John shared a new piece, the younger would simply stare at it, drinking in every detail and colour. To somebody else it might’ve looked like a uncoordinated mess of paint. But to him, every one was a portrait, a physical representation of John’s emotions and they evolved with him. Smitty had always admired the American’s creativity. He’d always been talented with graphic design and his editing before he found his passion in art and fashion. It was amazing to see what his brain could come up with.

After carefully laying out some ideas for the next few days they decided they should make their way back to the house. Although it was a rather mundane afternoon it was nice. John enjoyed the slower pace. It was comfortable.

John was the first of the pair to step into the house and as soon as the door closed behind them he felt Smitty engulf him from behind. His long arms wrapped around his lower abdomen. “So…how were the croissants?” the younger purred against his neck, using his obnoxious french accent. John chuckled, leaning into the weight on his back. “Mhm,” he sighed, “I really wish I could say they were terrible…but they were pretty damn good,” he smiled widely even though the other man couldn’t see it. Smitty slyly snaked his hand down towards John’s crotch, lapping up the delicate sigh that escaped the elder from the touch. “That’s too bad,” the Canadian murmured into his ear, “Guess you won’t be needing that handjob then,” he suddenly wasn’t there anymore, the loss of contact drawing a small whine from the American. Oh wow. He was such a dick.

Smitty reappeared in front of him, his eyes holding the most bizarre emotion. Looking at him, it seemed as though the younger was hungry for him. You could almost physically see the lust seeping into his veins. No words were exchanged between the two but they both knew exactly what the other was thinking. John was the one to step towards the younger, crashing their lips together. It was desperate and frantic. They both wanted nothing more than to taste every fiber of the other’s being. Smitty’s hands automatically came up to cradle John’s face, pressing them together, while the elder’s dragged through his blackish hair and skirted the nape of his neck. Their hands were everywhere, almost as if one of them would float away if not for the other holding them down.

They kissed for what felt like hours, simply standing in the entrance way of the Canadian’s home. Smitty wanted to map John’s mouth in his head, exploring every rivet and counting every tooth. He wanted the feeling of his slightly chapped lips and the taste of coffee and pastry permanently burned into his brain. “Turn around,” the younger groaned, a lazy hoarseness gripping his voice in the way that only came about from heady lust. The American easily obeyed, curious as to what Smitty wanted.

Smitty’s fingers eagerly shoved the sweatpants and boxers John was wearing down to his thighs, releasing his hard cock. His hand delicately held him, astonished at the feeling of hot flesh and the wetness of pre-come that spilt onto the tips of his fingers. Holding another man like this was new and eye-opening. To feel John’s dick twitch and his body squirm with want. With pure need. It was the ultimate turn on. “Is this alright?” Smitty whispered into his neck, as if the American would ever be opposed to his touch. “Mhm,” John nodded, pressing himself back against the younger, hoping that that was all the confirmation that he needed.

Where had this sudden lust come from? John didn’t really care, his brain magically turning off all coherent thought. All he could think about was the younger’s hand, his touch so delicate yet powerful. He could do whatever he wanted and John would be grateful.

The Canadian swiped his hand in an up and down motion, relishing in the elder’s soft mewls of pleasure. “Yeah, that’s nice isn’t it?” Smitty mumbled against the shell of his ear. He gently licked and suckled the soft skin of his neck, creating small bruises with sharp teeth. “Mhm- fuck!” John moaned as Smitty’s thumb teased at his slit. His pace quickened, sliding up and down religiously. Smitty couldn’t help himself as he pressed his own erection against the elder’s ass. This was all just so dirty, jerking another man off only two minutes after they’d stepped in the door. But there was just some primal urge within him. He was overcome by it. It was like he was a horny teenager again. All he wanted to do was bend his best friend over the nearest piece of furniture and destroy him.

And of course, that’s what he decided to do.

Smitty gently lead John over to the couch with his hand still wrapped around his cock. “Wanna fuck you right here,” he growled, using his free hand to put pressure between his shoulder blades, forcing him to bend over the arm of the couch. John was almost too shocked to react to the situation, completely blindsided by this entire interaction. The man seemed to be operating solely on lust. And it was so hot.

“Smit…can’t- what about the dog?” John looked over to where Octavia had decided to lay down, seemingly oblivious to what the pair were up to. “Nothing she hasn’t seen before,” the younger grinned, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. John scoffed, “you regularly fuck people in front of your dog?”. “Not regularly,” Smitty replied nonchalantly, smacking the right side of his ass. John gasped at the sudden stinging pain. It felt like the wind had been completely knocked out of him. That was unexpected. “But enough,” the younger whispered into his ear again, now laying his weight on top of him. John could feel his clothed erection against his bare ass. He had to bite his lip to stop the moan that desperately wanted to be let out.

This was certainly not what he expected from his trip to visit his best friend. Although he had desperately hoped that they might fool around a little and end up ‘going all the way’, he wasn’t prepared for the fact that his closest friend for the last few years was bending him over a couch and about to rail him. On his second day here. The Smitty he knew, although he made crude jokes, cringed at any discussion of sex and self-pleasure. Now he realised that it was just because he was one kinky motherfucker. Seeing this side of him, the one that was dominant and insanely horny, was extraordinary. It only managed to further his attraction to him.

Not being able to see what the Canadian was doing behind him added a lewd mystery to the whole thing, and John couldn’t decide if it scared him or turned him on more. He jumped slightly as he felt two wet digits tease his hole. “You keep lube in the living room?” John tried to mock the other man but his sarcastic question turned into more of a high-pitched moan as Smitty plunged one digit inside of him, instantly working him open. “Only for special occasions,” the younger cockily answered, focused on fingering the American. He slowly added a second finger, pressing and scissoring them together. There was less resistance from John’s body than before but Smitty assumed that the more prep the better.

Calling back to their antics last night, Smitty eagerly yet gently explored him, searching for his prostate. At that point, John’s breathing had dissolved into airy panting. Every little movement sent shockwaves ricocheting through his bones. The younger adjusted his hand slightly and suddenly John jerked forward, letting out a wailing moan as a signal that he’d found it. Smitty continued to tease that sensitive spot, stroking with just enough pressure to draw out these beautiful needy whimpers from the other man.

In that moment, John was extremely grateful for the couch underneath him, because his knees had turned weak with pleasure, and he couldn’t bear the thought of trying to stand up. All he could feel was Smitty’s hands, one caressing the golden skin of his back beneath his hoodie and the other working it’s fingers inside him. It was all too much and not enough at the same time. “‘m ready, ‘m ready, please,” John whined, his fists balled in the pillows decorating the couch. The adrenaline coursing through his veins made him impatient. “Fuck me,” any apprehension he once felt had disappeared, just craving the other man. “’m clean, so don’t need a condom,” he mumbled, voice raspy and words jumbled with haste. He just needed Smitty to do something, anything. Right now. “Me too,” the younger agreed, both to his sexual health status and the yearning that was seeping off of the other man. His body ached to be inside him.

Truthfully, Smitty had no idea a person could be this horny. It was feverish and wild, consuming his mind and body like some kind of drug. Smitty happily shuffled his pants down, freeing his desperate erection. After a few preliminary strokes to lube up, the younger pressed his cock against the American and very easily slid inside him, slowly burying himself up to the hilt. It was as magical as it was the first time. Even more so now that they could feel every inch of each other. Every single atom was now shared between the two. They were fused together.

Smitty began to move, setting a steady pace with his proficient thrusts. Both boys couldn’t control the sounds that escaped them. It echoed throughout the room, the sexual symphony of skin meeting and feverish moans bouncing off of the walls. Smitty was now very appreciative of the fact that he lived in his own house rather than an apartment or with roommates. He had a feeling having very loud sex with your best friend in the living room might be off putting to any unfortunate bystanders. “Harder,” John managed to whine, his voice already strained. Smitty eagerly complied, driving his hips faster and stronger than before. The intense movement meant that the arm of the couch dig painfully into the elder’s hip bones. It was sure to add another hard to explain bruise to his collection. He embraced it though, knowing that the soreness only meant that he could relive their encounters much more vividly. Every mark he wore served as a reminder of Smitty.

If the Canadian’s jackhammering thrusts weren’t enough to send John completely over the edge, the sudden sting of his hair being yanked certainly was. Smitty used his grip to tilt John’s head backwards, making his back arch beautifully. It really was a sight to behold. He was rough, just the way John liked it. He made sure to announce that fact to the younger, letting out these gasping, pleading moans every time their skin met. “Jesus,” Smitty groaned, “shit, you feel so good,”. John was hot and soft against him and it felt incredible. He was lost in the overwhelming pleasure of it all. He absolutely could get used to this. And although that thought was scary, he ignored it. He just kept moving, pushing and pulling. It was filthy and amazing.

The younger abandoned his grip from John’s hair, instead pulling both of his arms back towards him, lifting him off and away from the couch. He used the newfound leverage to pound his hips into him, the aggressive sound of skin colliding becoming louder with each thrust. A small squeak was all that could escape John’s mouth as his body was used. The tight grip left his wrists red. Long, low moans reverberated through his chest as his prostate was mercilessly drilled into. One of Smitty’s hands sneakily crept up towards John’s neck, his fingers gently gripping the sides of his throat. The elder let out a surprised whimper. “Is that okay?” Smitty breathed out, continuing to relentlessly drive his hips into the brunet. John hastily attempted to nod his head, letting out a series of strangled whimpers, trying his best to indicate that it was more than okay. This was the most intense feeling he’d ever experienced. Smitty seemed to reciprocate, making these hoarse grunts and moans every other thrust. They were now positioned back-to-chest, every ruthless movement jolting John’s body forward. Smitty’s other hand held onto his hip, trying to hold him in place. “So fucking good for me,” the younger lowly grunted, continuing to pound his hips into the other man. He wasn’t even in control of his words anymore, his brain solely focused on the task of fucking the brunet. He was an animal, mercilessly chasing his high.

Smitty’s grip on the brunet’s throat tightened as he began nearing his climax. The lack of oxygen made John’s brain fuzzy and his eyes burn with tears. “Fuck,” the younger moaned through gritted teeth, his rhythm beginning to stutter. “‘m close,” he groaned. While John couldn’t verbally respond, he tried to show his reciprocation with mousy squeaks. His hand managed to find its way down to his dick and it only took a few haphazard strokes before he was letting go, his orgasm crashing over him like a tsunami. Smitty wasn’t far behind, only lasting a few more seconds before he was burying himself deep and unloading inside the American. His mind and body were separate entities. It felt like he was floating as the waves of his climax washed over him. He heard John let out a half-choked moan as Smitty pulsed and twitched inside him. It was at that moment he realised his hand was still wrapped around the brunet’s throat, prompting him to let go and breathily apologise in his post-orgasm haze.

They stayed connected for a few long moments before rational thought returned to them and they realised what they’d just done. Smitty was red in the face as he gently pulled out and eagerly grabbed a handful of tissues to clean up the mess they’d made as best he could. They flopped on top of one another on the couch, completely and utterly spent.

Not only was the previous…activity completely and utterly unexpected but the very fact that they’d had sex twice shocked the elder. Before he left for this trip he was anxiously overthinking their entire relationship. He imagined that they might be dancing around one another, stepping on sexually tense eggshells. But it was nothing like that. In fact, they couldn’t seem to cope with the unbearable weight of their feelings and desires, letting every social norm or fear go in favour of being together. There were no awkward first dates, no simple, nervous kisses. No. They were all in. It was like they had spent the entire year between when they had first been together intimately till now building up their lust and they were now finally free to unleash it, taking every opportunity to touch and taste each other. They never wanted to waste another second.

“Jesus, definitely need to shower now,” Smitty huffed, their bodies clinging to each other with a slick layer of sweat and other bodily fluids. “We are pretty gross individuals right now,” John agreed, his face wrinkling up in disgust. There was no denying that they were pure degenerates. Who lets their best friend bend them over and fuck them in his living room? He remembered when a situation like this would have just existed in his head as just a really awesome wet dream. He definitely didn’t regret it though. Not one bit.

They clumsily made their way from the couch to the bathroom upstairs, giggling like two school kids the whole way. John was struggling to walk properly. And Smitty wouldn’t shut up about it. He had this stupid smug demeanour and John could see him smirking out of the corner of his eye. “I’m going to physically assault you if you don’t shut the fuck up,” the brunet warned as Smitty struggled to contain his laughter, snickering out loud for the fifth fucking time. “I really can’t help it, you should see yourself right now,” he replied. The American had one hand braced against the wall, walking down the hall with incredible delicacy. His legs felt like jelly, thigh muscles burning with every step. “Well it’s your fucking fault dumbass,” John huffed. The two bickered back and forth all the way to the bathroom. As soon as he realised what was happening Smitty was suddenly hit with a wave of anxiety, “are we uh…showering..together?” his hand came up to scratch the back of his neck nervously. He didn’t know why he felt almost shy all of a sudden. Showering shouldn’t be a big deal after what they’d just done.

“Ugh, yeah? Dude, you literally just had your dick inside me, I think it’s fine if we shower together. And plus, y’know, saving water and all that,” John quipped like it was obvious, already tossing his hoodie onto the floor. He shuffled out of his sweatpants too, comically hobbling over to the shower and turning it on, the entire room immediately flooded with the echo of running water. John eagerly stepped into the walk-in shower, leaving Smitty fully clothed outside. Steam had already began to fog up the glass and left the room heavy with humidity. The hot water felt angelic as John soaked his aching muscles. Smitty stood there, trying to muster up the courage to do something. Why was he so nervous? Why did that stupid brunet make him feel this way? He absolutely realised how dumb it was to be anxious to shower with his best friend after they had just had sex. But his brain made it impossible to move. He discreetly tried to calm down, taking a million hurried breaths and shaking his hands around like a mad man to get rid of the adrenaline bubbling up inside him. Deciding that he couldn’t stall out there much longer, the younger stripped his clothes and hesitantly stepped into the shower to join the other man.

The siege of red and purple marks scattered across his skin immediately drew Smitty’s attention. His hip bones, his chest, his neck. There was also already a slight impression of his fingers pressed into his throat. Smitty winced at the sight, his first thought was how painful that must’ve been. “Was I too rough?” he asked over the deafening thudding of water on porcelain, gesturing his hand to his own neck. He’d had slight experience in rougher sex with previous girls but nothing as intense as that. Maybe he got carried away? John grabbed his hand and pulled him in closer to himself, letting the shower splash over them both. “You were fine, I really really liked it. You honestly could have gone harder,” he winked, running his hand up Smitty’s arm. The younger flushed a light pink. Now that the horniness had died down he realised how unhinged they were. He didn’t understand how John could be so casual about it. But he knew he shouldn’t be embarrassed. It was hot as fuck. And the best, sluttiest sex he’s ever had.

The brunet’s wet bangs almost covered his eyes. He looked like a wet dog. That thought made a dumb smile creep onto Smitty’s face, which then made John smile. Cute. Standing there, naked and vulnerable, was quite liberating to be honest. They simply existed together. No lust. No sexual arousal. Just pure, safe intimacy.

They took it in turns to lather shampoo in the others’ hair, each relishing in the way they massaged their fingers against each other’s scalp. Next was body wash. It was sweet, hazelnuts and honey. Again, taking it in turns, they washed each other, soap suds cascading down their bodies. It was sensual but not lewd. Maybe even romantic. They wouldn’t dare say it out loud though. Just bros being bros.

“Oh thank god! You have conditioner!” John exclaimed, grabbing the slim bottle in celebration and squeezing some into his hand and gesturing for Smitty to turn around. “Of course, you didn’t think I was a 2-in-1 freak did you?” the Canadian laughed as John’s fingers raked the product through his longish hair. It felt really good. “Hey, I don’t know! You might’ve been a typical straight dude, I didn’t wanna judge,” the elder shrugged. Smitty ignored the way his stomach flipped at the word straight. Of course, his sexuality had been the only thing on his mind for the past year and he was still so unsure. And scared, if he was being honest. John made him feel something he’d never really experienced before. “Ouch,” Smitty pouted as he turned around to do the same for John, “that kinda hurts,” he moped as he began combing the conditioner through the brunet’s curly mop. “You definitely were that guy before you met me,” John sneered confidently. “You’re so fucking full of yourself,“ Smitty laughed, pushing him to the side so he could wash the conditioner out of his hair. “Ah, sounds a bit defensive to me, that tells me it’s true,” the brunet eyed him with a raised eyebrow. The younger only responded by lightly punching the idiot in the arm.

They finished up their shower and hurriedly dried off. They chased each other to the bedroom and spontaneously raced to see who could get dressed the quickest. ‘Dressed’ was a very loose definition since they each just put on a fresh pair of sweats and a hoodie. “So, what are we actually doing for the rest of the day?” John giggled after they were left standing like idiots in the middle of the room (he won btw). Beads of water dripped down his neck from his still-wet hair.

It was kind of jarring to have such raunchy sex in the middle of the day. Like, how was he supposed to function when all he could think about was his naked best friend? It didn’t help that Smitty’s hair was still damp and curly from their shower, which was both extremely cute and hot. Jesus, he thought, he could go for round two right now.

Smitty smiled and turned around to dig around in his desk drawers. “Well, since we’re going to Toronto tomorrow I thought we could just stay here and order pizza or something and fuck around,” he casually said before popping back up with something in his hand. “In the meantime though, I thought maybe…you could paint my nails for me? Properly this time?” the younger bashfully held up a bottle of sage green nail polish. John’s face lit up. “Fuck yeah!” he excitedly gestured for Smitty to come closer, hands outstretched to get a good look at the polish. “This is really cute, I like it,” the brunet complimented, impressed by Smitty’s choice. They sat down on the younger’s bed and faced each other, mimicking that night in Boston. John easily uncapped the tiny bottle and set it down on the bedside table. When he grabbed Smitty’s hand it sent tiny waves of electricity through his body, even though they’ve done so much more than hold hands. He watched as John started to delicately apply an even layer onto each nail. “It’s gonna look really patchy for now but I’m gonna do two coats,” the elder said, casually showcasing his self-taught expertise. He’d been painting his nails for a few years now and introducing Smitty to it was exciting. It looked good on him. It looked good on everyone in his opinion.

Surprisingly, It was much easier to paint someone’s nails when he wasn’t shitfaced. Smitty’s skin wasn’t splattered with colour and the polish was smooth and even. He quickly did all ten nails, allowing them to fully dry before starting the second coat. His own nails were a shade of light blue, perfectly complimenting the green Smitty had picked out. “There…we…go,” John beamed as he finished the last pinkie. Smitty held his hands up and admired the American’s work, a grin creeping onto his face. They were quite beautiful really. He didn’t remember the last time he used the word ‘beautiful’ to describe something about himself. “That green looks really good on you, compliments your eyes,” the brunet mused. He was happy with his job and it seemed as though Smitty was too. “I like them,” the younger smiled, slightly flushed from John’s praise. He wasn’t used to compliments. “You’re a much better artist sober,” the American let out a loud bubble of laughter. “Thanks, so kind of you to say,” he rolled his eyes but the grin plastering his face softened the edge of his sarcasm.

The rest of the day consisted of random TV shows, takeout pizza, and make out sessions. It was rather boring compared to the shenanigans that they’d usually partake in with the rest of the guys but the two preferred it that way. Of course they loved the wild nights out, crazy house parties, and other random drunkenness and debauchery. Random drunkenness was the reason this whole thing began. But this, this domestic, boring, lovely bliss was perfect for them.

Obviously the making out part was a new addition but both were growing quite fond of it. They would sit on the couch and kiss and touch and explore. How could they have gone so long without this? They may not know how to label what they were to each other but one thing was for sure; they needed this. Smitty needed the other man’s lips against his, to fuck his mouth with his tongue, see his painted nails as he gripped the elder’s shaggy hair. It was an insatiable desire. He’d never felt this way before and he never wanted to let it go.

“I think we’ve spent more time since I’ve been here making out than actually talking,” John chuckled as they took a much needed break for air. Smitty had already attached himself to the elder’s neck, taking his time to cover his pale skin in light kisses. “Mhm…is that a bad thing?” the Canadian mused, continuing to work his way down to John’s collarbones. “Not necessarily,” he said, running his fingers through the younger’s soft hair. “I guess we’re just making up for lost time,” he ducked down to capture the other man’s lips again.

If only their friends could see them like this. How would they react? Obviously it might be shocking and unexpected but actually, nobody would be all that surprised. They’d been openly flirting with each other for years. From the low-key compliments to the very graphic innuendos. It’s what they were known for. It’s just that their little joke had become real. It was only a matter of time. Everyone probably realised it before they did. But boy were they glad that they drank way too much in Boston.

Notes:

sorry this took so fucking long, university is hard. and yeah, maybe this is turning into a four parter bc i wrote too much sex and not enough plot, what are you gonna do about it? huh? yeah, that’s what i thought… fucking degenerates. (self report)

Chapter 4: Toronto baby!!

Summary:

Two boys go to Toronto and discover lots of things!

Notes:

Heyyyyy … how y’all doin …

lol

sorry for disappearing for THREE YEARS.
would you believe me if i said that ive had this going in my notes for those three years and just now decided to finally finish. but by finish i mean there’s gonna be another chapter DONT HATE ME i just rlly wanted to post this so.

hope you like a side of angst with your gay lovers!!!

Waking up the next day was different. For a start, it was still morning. A massive achievement for John, if he was honest. The second thing he noticed was that he was sore. Everywhere. His lower back, his hips, his thigh muscles. It felt like he had one giant bruise all over his body. He could manage though. It reminded him of Smitty. Every ache prompted his brain to conjure up a slideshow of the younger fucking him open with his perfect fingers. Bending him over and railing him. Choking him.

Maybe he shouldn’t be thinking about this. Scratch that, he definitely should not be thinking about that.

Smitty was still beside him, his mouth delicately parted and exhaling these soft sighs every other breath. He looked so cute. John desperately wanted to reach out and touch his pale skin. He needed to feel the smooth expanse of his chest, the rivets of his collarbones, grip his shoulders.

It was strange. Of course he had had feelings for other people he slept with, overwhelming feelings sometimes. But, this time he was obsessed. He’d perhaps been crushing on his best friend for years, but now? Now he truly and desperately ached for him. And now they were connected, physically and emotionally. Their newfound intimacy had opened up this entire new world of consciousness for John. He was so consumed by both peace and hunger. Both completely satisfied while also constantly needing more. Being around the younger was dizzying. There was this sense of calm and contentment that he felt. He felt the most ‘himself’ he’d ever felt, not needing to change any aspect of himself to make him seem more palatable. But there was also this incomprehensible noise of lust and need.

Damn. Smitty had a powerful dick. And the sex really was awesome too. They’d only been together twice, three times if you count Boston, and already they seemed to be perfectly in sync. Knew every corner of each other’s bodies and how to navigate them. And there was only more to explore, which John couldn’t explain how excited that fact made him.

John tentatively reached out and stroked a hand through Smitty’s dark hair. It was soft, but John already knew that since he’d done nothing but touch every inch of the boy since he’d got here. He wondered how he’d gone nearly ten years without touching him like this.

Slowly, the Canadian began to stir from his sleep, blearily opening his eyes a few times before settling on the man in his bed. He smiled tiredly as soon as he realised he was awake, reaching out a hand to ghost his fingers against John’s cheek. A subtle way to say ‘good morning’ as he battled his desire to go back to sleep. He knew he shouldn’t though, as they were travelling to Toronto today and he wanted to make a start on the two-hour journey.

After a few blissful moments relishing in the peaceful sanctuary of the bed together, both boys decided to get up and start their busy day.
Smitty had a full length mirror on one wall of his bedroom which caught John’s eye. The marks that adorned his pale skin were everywhere, ranging from purple hickeys to red handprints. Smitty was similar, minus the fingerprints on his neck. “Woah,” John murmured in awe, “we went a bit crazy,”

“Sorry,” Smitty bashfully apologised, madly blushing at the state of them both. “Just can’t help myself,” his voice was sultry and smooth as honey. “When I’m around you I lose control,”

That flustered John. Not just because of the way the brunet said it or the dirty implication, but also because the thought of someone actually finding him attractive, worthy of their attention and wanting to be around him, was quite foreign to him. Of course, if you saw him from the outside it seemed as though he oozed confidence. He’d been with countless men and women, but in all honesty he never felt wanted. Truly desired, inside and out. Struggling with insecurity made him latch on to unhealthy coping mechanisms; first it was food, then nicotine, before finally discovering his addition to pain. He’d dabbled with physical self-harm in high school, but quickly realised that was not an outlet to be abused. Instead, he decided to fill himself with tiny holes and metal, and that became both his identity and way to cope with not liking himself. His self expression was important to him now, especially since experimenting with sewing his own clothes.

 After making sure Octavia was settled at her babysitter’s house, along with her favourite treats, toys, and emotional support blanket, the two boys started off on their trek to Toronto. It wasn’t that bad of a drive, just lots of boring bits of open road. Jaren used to love driving him and his high school friends to Toronto. He’d made lots of great memories in that city that he was excited to share with his best friend.

“Why did we wait so long to do this?” the brunet commented offhandedly, eyes dreamily transfixed on the man driving.

“What? You visiting Canada or us being gay for each other?” Smitty snarkily replied, looking over at the other man. His right hand was resting on John’s thigh, idly stroking his thumb against the fabric of his jeans. He didn’t even really remember how it got there. The elder let out a hearty laugh, the real one that Smitty could never tire of hearing. “Both,” he replied, resting his hand on top of the younger’s, letting their fingers mingle for a moment before picking their hands up and placing them on his junk. “John!” Smitty yelled, looking over with a shocked expression for a split second before returning his eyes to the road. “You cannot seriously be horny right now,” he mumbled, shaking his head slightly but not bothering to move his hand away just yet. John wasn’t even hard but if he continued then they’d soon both have a problem. “I’m always fucking horny,” the elder laughed, “especially around you,” he smirked, bucking his hips up against the younger’s hand.

“John, stop,” Smitty warned, feeling his jeans becoming tighter. “Why?” the brunet mused, stupidly cocky as always. Holding Smitty’s hand hostage, he rolled his hips again, letting out a tiny moan just to see the younger’s reaction. “John- I fucking mean it,” the Canadian breathed shakily, “or I’m gonna have to pull over and make sure you can’t fucking walk for the rest of this trip,” he managed to grit out. “You know that’s not much of a punishment, right?” The elder giggled but relented, releasing his grip on the other’s hand. The Canadian hesitated before returning his hand to the brunet’s leg, as far away from his dick as possible. He craved the intimate touch but needed to focus on driving, not getting hard.

“You’re such a dickhead, you know that?” Smitty sighed. “You love it,” the elder smirked. “I’m not so sure I do,” he huffed, sneaking a glance over at the man beside him. The grin that crept onto his face told a different story though. He couldn’t help but smile every time he looked down and saw his green nails gripping the steering wheel.

The drive after that was pretty boring, but the kind of boring that makes you realise how much you’d miss it if it wasn’t there. John was in charge of the music and would go on tangents about this genre or that album and how Anthony Fantano was wrong to give so-and-so a measly 7.3 when they really deserved an 8.6. Smitty could only smile and nod, adding a supportive word here and there. Truthfully, he really didn’t care. But he cared so so deeply for the man sat beside him that he wanted to listen and take in every word. He knew that John felt the same about him, god knows the amount of times Jaren has ranted about his stupid hockey team to the elder. And he always nodded and smiled. It was so so easy to be around each other. There was no pressure, no need for small talk or awkward niceties. No hiding. It was always just them, the most authentic versions of themselves. Truthfully, he was the happiest he’s ever been.

Finally arriving at their hotel, the two boys grabbed their bags and headed inside.

“Do you think they were judging us for only booking one bed?” the Canadian sheepishly asked as he set his pristine duffel bag down in their room. John scoffed and rolled his eyes at the brunet’s nervousness. “I’m sure they forgot about the entire interaction as soon as we turned the corner,” he comforted. He completely understood why the younger man was anxious for others to perceive him as gay, but still, he couldn’t help the little pang of hurt that dug deep into his heart at Jaren’s shame. Like their newfound relationship, their feelings, was something dirty and disgusting. John knew it was selfish, but he couldn’t help the creeping feeling of self-doubt, questioning whether Smitty was more ashamed of being gay or being seen with him. John knew that he wasn’t exactly the model image of a ‘bring him back to your parents’ boyfriend, but he hoped that he wasn’t too off-putting to imagine a future with.

John recognised the shame though. He’d felt the same way about himself for much of his teenage years. Which was one of the reason he’d turned to the piercings and tattoos. Yes, they made people look at him funny. But at the same time, he’d found a version of himself that he could actually stand to look at in the mirror. He felt cool. Unique. Worthy. And that’s what made him comfortable enough to accept and own his sexuality and overall weirdness. He just hoped that Smitty could also learn to accept whatever was going on inside his head.

Deciding to distract the younger from his inner conflict, John approached the brunet, placing his hands on his hips. He slyly began kissing the sides of his exposed neck. Licking the delicate skin just below his ear lobe, taking the skin in between his sharp teeth. The younger sighed, reaching behind him to put a hand into the brunet’s hair, pulling ever so slightly. They each craved each other’s lips and Jaren spun around, smashing their faces together unceremoniously.

John pressed Jaren up against the wall and they kissed like they had been away from each other for weeks, even though it had only been maybe an hour or so since they’d last felt each other’s lips. The thrilling feeling of being in a hotel, somewhere new and exciting, made them go feral. It was almost like they had been transported back in time to that night in Boston, although everything was much different now.

They kissed for a few minutes, alternating between soft open-mouths and passionate tongues. They must’ve shared hundreds of kisses by now but somehow it never seemed to grow old. It also never failed to excite the both of them.

Smitty piped up “I had an idea,”, his eyes wide and bright. He casually walked them over to the bed, forcing the American to sit on the edge. John looked up at him, a bit puzzled, and went to stand up. But a firm hand on his shoulder pushed him back and told him to stay, and the Canadian in front of him graciously took his chin with his fingers, aiming their lips together tenderly. John immediately melted into the man and his touch, the gentle yet firm grip of his hand and soft, luscious lips. The younger pulled away much too soon and John opened his eyes, meeting with Jaren’s crotch. He (not so subtly) licked his lips in anticipation and looked up into the man’s face excitedly. However, he was blindsided by the brunet dropping to his knees on the grey carpeted floor.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned through gritted teeth. His best friend on his knees in front of him was possibly the hottest thing he’s ever seen. Immediately all the blood in his body rushed downwards. Smitty looked up at him from his seat on the floor, slowly moving his hand up one of the American’s thighs. Annoyingly they were still fully clothed. “Is this alright?” he asked while palming John’s half-hard cock through his jeans. “F-fuck. Of course it’s fucking alright Smit,” the brunet stuttered, shooting the man a look like he couldn’t believe he even needed to ask that question. “Been thinking about this since the car,” Smitty spoke with a low tone, his voice laced with a smirk. “Thought about getting in the room and just bending you over right there. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” John moaned and nodded his head desperately, his erection painfully straining against the denim of his pants. “But then I thought about playing with you first,” he flicked the button of John’s jeans open, delving into his boxers to delicately touch the man’s hot flesh with just his fingers.

“Fuck J,” the American whined, balling the sheets underneath him in his fists, “don’t…say shit like that,”. His cheeks were already flushed and his breathing was laboured. Smitty relished in making him feel this way. It made him feel powerful. The elder was like putty in his hands, waiting to be touched and moulded.

“What? I can’t say I wanna play with your pretty lil cock?” Smitty purred, gliding over the sensitive head of the man’s cock with the pads of his fingers. John moaned loudly in response, unsure if the younger’s dirty words or his actions were more to blame. Suddenly his hands were gone and the elder nearly cried at the loss of sensation. He opened his eyes to see the Canadian dragging his jeans and boxers down together. Jaren couldn’t help the noise he made when the other man’s hard cock sprung out of the fabric, ready and waiting for more. He never got tired of seeing him naked. It was just so beautiful, a master class in human perfection.

He reached out a curious hand, absolutely mesmerised. His grip was so gentle as he wrapped one hand around the base while lightly dancing up and down the solid member with his fingers. John whined and he couldn’t help twitching in both pleasure and desire for more. “God, I need you baby,”

“I wanna blow you,” the younger murmured, mimicking John’s words back in Boston. Everything seemed to go back to that one night. That was the moment that had forever altered the two men’s lives.

The American eyes widened in surprise but, like Jaren did back then, gave in immediately, moaning and nodding desperately. He couldn’t even manage a single coherent syllable, he just needed the other man.

Smitty delicately took John into his hand, admiring the hot, hard member. This was the first time he’d truly been up close and very personal like this. He had a penis staring right at him. His best friend’s nonetheless. For a few moments, he just sat and admired it. Pink, slender, and pretty, just like John. He held him in his hand for what felt like forever, trying to muster up the courage to move his mouth downwards.

The American had his eyes closed, focused on the hand gripping the base of his cock, but there was no other movement. He was confused, until he remembered that Smitty had never given a guy head before. He was probably shit-scared, not knowing what to do or where to start. “Hey, you don’t have to- ah!” he began but his sentence was cut off as the brunet at his feet suddenly lurched forward and shoved the head of his cock in his mouth. The wet, warm heaven that met him sucked all the air out of his lungs, leaving him gasping as the Canadian tentatively suckled and licked around the sensitive skin. John’s hand instinctively came to cradle the side of Smitty’s head. This made the brunet look up into the man’s face, intense and determined. He maintained eye contact as he hesitantly slid further down, stopping around halfway as a gag ripped through his body. It was heavenly to watch. John thought he might not last another second with Jaren looking at him, his eyes brimming with tears, and his tongue working his head.

The whole situation was rather…bizarre for the Canadian. The feeling of hard, hot flesh in his mouth was so foreign, yet, it was quite moreish. He’d wrapped one hand around the base of John’s member, while he paid more attention to the sensitive tip. He could only manage to slide halfway down before gagging, so he kept those moves to a minimum. He was desperately trying to remember all the little tricks that he enjoyed while receiving head and attempted to copy them. Tracing the thick veins, teasing the slit, lapping his tongue underneath the head. Whatever he was doing, John seemed to be enjoying it. His mouth was seemingly stuck partially open, moaning and panting “fuck,” every other breath.

“‘s good,” the elder managed to squeeze past his vocal cords, “you’re so good,”. That spurred the Canadian on, and he began to twist the hand gripping the rest of the man while his mouth and tongue were focused on the tip. He looked down and noticed the sinful combination of the green of his nails against the pink flesh. Sliding his hand up and down while his tongue played with the head of John’s cock was difficult, but god was it hot seeing the man above him fall apart. And John was doing exactly that. The ecstasy flowing through him was so intense that he had to comb his fingers through the brunet’s hair and hold on for dear life, almost as if his soul was trying to leap out of his body and ascend straight to heaven, and he needed to hold on to something to stay on the ground.

“I’m close baby, jus…keep going,” John panted, his hips slightly bucking up into the other man in excitement. Stars were beginning to cross his vision and his mind was blank, every fibre of his being concentrated wholly on the feeling of Jaren. The warmth of his mouth, the softness of his tongue against his flesh. It was intoxicating. He was convinced nothing felt better than this. Except maybe when Smitty ran his fingertips down his spine when they kissed. Or when he tugged at his hair when he’s railing him from behind. Or when they fall asleep tangled in one another. He was starting to see the common denominator here.

Smitty’s right hand began to pick up a quicker pace, desperate to fulfil his duty of getting the elder off. It was so strange to feel this way while he had someone else’s dick in his hand. And mouth. He felt an intense and overwhelming need to please the man above him, no matter what. He diligently sucked and stroked John, gazing up into his eyes.

There was only a few more seconds of movement before everything came to a standstill, and Smitty felt the odd sensation of warm liquid across his tongue and down his throat. He quickly swallowed his best friend’s load, making sure to lick every drop from around the head. The taste definitely wasn’t Michelin star quality or anything, but he felt like it was the polite thing to do. John let out a series of low moans as Smitty continued to lap at his sensitive flesh. When the Canadian finally stopped tongue fucking his cock, John pulled him up by his hair into a sloppy kiss, the salty taste of himself driving him even more crazy.

“You are amazing,” the American complimented while holding the brunet’s face in his hands, his voice low and soft while he took in the perfection in front of him. He couldn’t believe this was his life now. Spending each day loving and being loved by his best friend of however many years. The one he’s been a tiny bit secretly in love with. The one who is so annoying, beautiful, funny. His fantasies were truly coming to life, and in fact, this was better than anything he ever could’ve dreamed up.

The rest of the day consisted of regular touristy bullshit, walking around and ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the random pretty buildings, statues, or plants that they encountered. Smitty took tons of pictures of anything that was slightly interesting or nice looking, a secret little hobby of his. So yes, that meant a lot of his camera roll now consisted of John. John walking, John sitting, John laughing. The man was just so intriguing and pretty. He embodied a certain sense of beauty and uniqueness that made him a very good subject for his photos. It was a raw sense of being that seemed to brew underneath the American’s skin. He didn’t need to try very hard, or at all, really. He just was.

As they walked down a random street a particular storefront met John’s eye. The black exterior stuck out against the pale white brick that hugged it, and the large window was filled with plants and artsy, industrial lights. A classic tattoo shop. Smitty saw the way stars were dancing in John’s eyes, his mind racing at the thought of stepping inside. Reading his mind, “should we?” John grinned with an air of mischief as he had already started to pull them towards the shop. “What would you even get? You already have literally everything pierced!…the younger protested, flinging his arms up exasperated, “except your dick,” he joked. Not that he objected to the piercings. In fact he fucking loved them on the other man. They didn’t even feel foreign anymore, just an extension of him. You could tell him that the American was born with them and he wouldn’t disagree. But the fact remained that he had almost everything possible.

John only smirked at his comment. “No…no! No! You’re not piercing your dick. Please. No. I can’t deal with that. You’re not showing your penis to some random girl or…guy in there,” Smitty pleaded. He knew John was joking. But was he? A surprise cock piercing was so completely within the realm of insane that this crazy bastard inhabited. “Oooo someone’s jealous!” the brunet tutted in a stupid sing song voice, reaching for the door handle, “it’s not like it’s your dick,”.

And Smitty famously had a knack for perfect timing because before he knew it he was blurting out “but I love your dick so much,” just as John opened the door to the tattoo shop, much to the confusion of the receptionist. His face must’ve looked like he’d been in a major beet juice related accident, as he flushed bright red from head to toe, hanging his head in shame and embarrassment. The American was trying so hard to stifle his laughter as he approached the bewildered receptionist. “Hi there! I was just wondering if you had any walk-in piercing appointments available?” his smile radiated through his warm voice.

“…yep, we do, what were you looking to get today?” the receptionist smiled back, snapping back to the most professional manner possible after hearing such a shocking comment. Smitty wanted to die. “Well, the only place I really have any free real estate is my belly button,” John laughed, gesturing to his fully pierced face and ears. “Amazing,” the purple-haired woman replied, “our piercer Adam should be able to do that for ya today,”. The American grinned, thanking her and taking a seat while she gathered the paperwork. Smitty was still standing, fascinated by the walls of jewellery on display. There were so, so many, lining the wall in almost floor to ceiling clear cases. There was everything from earrings to nipple bars. Some were flashy with big, sparkling stones and others were rather plain, small and delicate.

“Are you looking to get a piercing today too?” the kind-eyed receptionist, Lilly, asked while handing John his forms to fill in. “Oh me? oh no no. No, I’m.. I’m okay, thank you,” he sputtered, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. Could he be any more awkward?

He sauntered back to the blue plush couch where John was concentrating on the paperwork in front of him. “It would look good on you,” the elder spoke matter of factly to a question that hadn’t even been asked out loud. But Smitty should’ve known that he was reading his mind. “I don’t know…” he anxiously nibbled at his bottom lip. He would have never in a million years even considered getting piercing, until he met John. John had made him reconsider a lot of things.

“You’d look like Auston Mathews,” the American smirked, knowing that that was Smitty’s soft spot. He remembered once during their late night conversations the younger admitting that maybe ice hockey dudes could be slightly attractive. With their lean but muscular builds, broad shoulders, and violent tendencies. And John couldn’t argue against it. He could definitely see where the Canadian was coming from.

Smitty’s eyes lit up at that, picturing one of his favourite Leafs who sported a sleek dangly earring when he wasn’t on the ice. John could physically see the gears turning in the younger’s head, debating whether he should take the plunge or not. Obviously John thought he should. Piercings automatically made people at least 20% hotter, so Lord knows how attractive that would make the hottest man in the world.

“Would it be possible to do an ear piercing as well?” Smitty tentatively asked the receptionist, who smiled and nodded enthusiastically, fetching him the same paperwork to fill in. “I think that’ll look great on ya,” she added. The man shyly thanked her, not used to compliments from strangers, let alone cool tattoo shop receptionists.

Only a few minutes passed by before they were both called back into a room with a black massage bench in the middle. “Who’s up first?” the burly, bearded man, Adam, smiled. Smitty volunteered, figuring it would give him less time to overthink and back out. After double, triple, quadruple checking which was the ‘gay’ ear, he hopped up onto the chair and held his breath as the piercer prepared his tools. The clanking of metal and plastic being ripped was so loud, it felt like his brain was buzzing. Looking around, the room started spinning, and his body was fuzzy. Oh. That’s not great.

His mouth felt drier than the hottest desert while his armpits felt like a tsunami had washed over him. Cool, this was absolutely the best time and place to be having an anxious episode. He couldn’t help the way his eyes began darting around the room, frantically trying to focus on something, anything. They landed on the tall brunet sitting on the spare seat beside him and, for a moment, his mind relaxed. John was too busy talking with the piercer to notice the way Smitty was struggling to breathe normally, or the fact that his leg had started to bounce so viciously that he thought it might take off on its own. He tries to telepathically scream for help, which, by some miracle, his call is answered when John turns to look at him. Immediately filled with concern, the American reaches out a hand and grips Jaren’s thigh. The contact immediately serves to soothe him, further convincing Smitty of the magical properties John possesses. “You good?” John speaks lowly and calmly, careful to not overstimulate the poor guy anymore than he already was. Smitty nods, smiling weakly. “Can we get this over with please?” he begs, trying to be sarcastic but the tremble in his voice gave him away.

The piercing itself was fine. More painful than he expected, but bearable. Just. He was glad he was only doing one. It was the build up that made his heart rate spike and the feeling of sickness rush over him. The anxiety crept up his spine, making his limbs feel heavy and immovable. He didn’t remember when exactly he’d began to feel this way. Sometimes his anxiety was so horribly intense that he threw up. He’s glad he managed to get through this without chucking his breakfast up all over the place.

They switched places, John hopping up onto the plush black leather while Jaren sat down to collect himself. Adam then lowered the upper portion so that the brunet could lay down, hiking his baggy shirt up to expose his stomach. Smitty couldn’t look too closely or else he’d start noticing the faint hints of purple and pink splashed across his hips. The piercer then calmly clamped the skin above John’s belly button, expertly aligning the needle with the small purple dot of sharpie where he’d marked the perfect spot. Deep breath in, and it was done. John was casually talking and laughing without a care in the world while Jaren tried his best not to throw up. Thank god that was over.

After finishing up John’s piercing and beginning to clear down his workspace, Adam unknowingly and nonchalantly dropped a nuke in the form of an innocent question: “So how long have you two been together?”

“We’re not together,”

“About a year,”

Oh. Wow. That is extremely awkward.

Suddenly all the air was sucked out of the room. Poor Adam tried to move on, stuttering through the proper care regimes for each of the boys’ new piercings. Not that it mattered much, neither of them were listening anyway. Everything was shattered. There were a few beats of uncomfortable silence before the two men hurriedly thanked Adam for his work and left the room. They were both left to silently pay, a layer of thick tension hanging in the air, leaving Lilly very confused as to what happened while they were back there.

They both left a gracious tip and scurried out of the shop, hoping to run away from the awkwardness that hung over them like a angry storm cloud. But being outside didn’t help. Smitty’s ear stung when the cold Canadian air brushed against his fresh piercing. John looked like a puppy who’d just been kicked. “What the fuck was that…” the American breathed, mainly just to say something out loud.

How could a day change in a split second like that? A few hours ago, hell, a few minutes ago they were happy, blinded by love for each other, at least that’s what John wanted it to be, maybe it had just been lust this entire time. He didn’t know what hurt more: the fact that Smitty didn’t love him back or the fact that he’d just been using him for sex.

“I…We…” Jaren was lost for words, his brain working overtime to come up with something, anything to explain why he had said what he did. This was not a part of his plan. “This,” he waggled his finger between them to emphasise his point, “isn’t ‘together’, right?”. John’s face turned to thunder, brows furrowed and mouth agape. “Well, what the fuck would you call it?” his voice was a dagger, sharp and serious. He stared at the younger, seriously interested in what the fuck he had to say. How could even say that to his face?

“I don’t fucking know!” he exploded, his usual desire to avoid conflict at all cost abandoned. “You’re my best friend, and I’m not gay,” he couldn’t even look him in the eye, “so I don’t know what that means,” Smitty’s voice trailed off towards the end, shame seeping back into every word. “I…I can’t do this,” he felt so small. So weak. Why was this happening right now? He buried his face in his hands, looking for any way to escape the situation. His head hurt, his feet were about to give way, and his chest felt like it was on fire.

“…I wish you were a girl,”

He doesn’t really mean to say it. But he does. And God, the look on John’s face shatters every bone in his body. “Fuck. You.” Venom laces the words that John spits out at him, and with a turn of his heel, the brunet walked away, leaving the other stood right where his heart had been ripped out.

Smitty turns with a sigh, his head hung in disgust. At John, for being a man with perfection sewn into every fibre of his being. And at himself, for being so damn attracted to it.

If John were a girl, everything would be so much easier. He wouldn’t have to feel the stabbing sting of shame every time their fingers touched in public, or feel eyes looking at them like they were zoo animals. He could tell his parents he was madly, deeply in love with his soulmate and not stay up worrying about them inevitably meeting.

His chest felt unimaginably heavy as he trudged through the cold city streets. He doesn’t pay much attention to where he is or where he’s going. It doesn’t really matter. His brain is racing, and he can’t quite keep up. The pained look on John’s face has burned itself behind his eyelids, leaving him ashamed every time he blinks.

He spots an old favourite bar of his across the street and makes a beeline for it. Maybe he could drown his sorrows at the bottom of a bottle.

The interior is just how he remembered it; gaudy yet charming. It was the type of bar that still had one of those jukebox machines tucked away in the corner, along with a rusted dartboard and tacky cowboy decor. He slumped over the bar, immediately gaining the attention of the bartender. “Hey sugar,” she winked, bouncy ginger hair cascading onto her shoulders. “You look absolutely drained darlin’, what can I do to make that frown turn upside down,” she was obnoxiously chewing on a piece of gum while she looked at him with a mixture of pity and thinly veiled contempt. Could this bar get any more corny?

Not particularly in a sociable mood, Smitty ordered two vodka shots and a beer, whatever cheap bottle they had. A diabolical purchase for a Monday afternoon. He downed the two shots, shaking his head at the burn they left behind. Halfway through his beer, he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear and brushed against the small piece of metal he’d forgot was put there earlier that day.

Everything came rushing back. It took everything he had not to let out the sob that threatened to escape from his lungs.

John.

Perfect, incredible, unique John. The guy who’d say anything to make you laugh. The guy who was artistic, passionate, and made him feel alive. More alive and carefree than he’d ever felt before.

Fuck.

After downing another shot, he practically sprinted out the bar, heading to where he hoped the messy haired brunet would be. Along the way, he anxiously thought of his best friend wandering around a big foreign city, not knowing where to go and getting lost. How could he forgive himself if something horrible happened because he exploded like that?

Making it to the hotel, he dashed into the elevator, his foot tapping madly as it decided to purposefully take forever to close. He could’ve been halfway up the stairs by now. Sighing, he looked in the mirror behind him. His new jewellery was bright against his dark hair, the silver complimenting his eyes (or so John had said). His sage green nails stared at him, the smooth surface reminding him of John’s perfectly manicured nails. Everything traced back to him. He couldn’t deny that he had been moulded but the other man, and had been for many years. He wore things because John might think they were cool. He said things because John might laugh at them. His life was John.

He burst into the shared hotel room, his desperate look soothing for a moment as he saw the American curled up on the lone bed. There were empty food packets around him, suggesting he’d found comfort in his old friend. He looked up to see the Canadian stood there, lost. His face was slightly red, and Smitty could see the faint tear marks burned into his cheeks. Oh, god. What had he done?

Jaren stood there, stuck, his mind on a rampage. He wanted to scream at him, wanted to cry, wanted to beg for forgiveness. He couldn’t decide which. His mouth moved to speak multiple times, but he couldn’t figure out what to say or how to say it. John got up from the messy bed, coming and standing in front of the panicky man.

Smitty took a shaky breath, trying his best to gather his scattered thoughts. “You’ve ruined me John,” his face scrunched up, almost as if in physical pain. His chest heaved up and down with the intensity of his emotions. “How can I ever go back to my life, to myself, knowing I feel this way about a guy, about you?” he gestured meekly towards the man standing in front of him. “My best friend who I’ve known for like half my life at this point,” he looked away sheepishly, wringing his hands together. He was overflowing with anxiety.

“…I love you. I love you and it’s destroying me,”

He wanted to fall to his knees. What felt like a tsunami inside of him thrashed against his body, making his head numb and legs weak. He didn’t know if this degree of emotion was normal, but god, he did not want to be feeling it. Maybe years of locking his feelings in metaphorical boxes and throwing away the keys were taking it’s toll on him.

“I need you,” it came out as a whisper, his voice broken and desperate. It was strange to feel this pathetic. To be so deeply and madly in love that he felt like his life depended on the other man.

“I understand, I really really do, but I can’t do this,” John sighed, turning away slightly and bringing his fingers up to run over the crease in his forehead.

Smitty’s heart fell and shattered. He didn’t know how he was going to move on from this. They couldn’t just pretend this never happened. Maybe if they had just left it at a drunken kiss in Boston they could’ve forgotten about it, maybe they could have even joked about it once enough time had passed.

A terrifying future flashed before his eyes, of John slowly being phased out of his life. They called less and less, forced more laughs, and John’s voice painfully disappeared from his videos. His stomach churned at the mere thought of the shit-storm he’d have to deal with on videos, streams, and socials. Of course it paled in comparison to the thought of actually losing his best friend.

“I can’t do this if you won’t acknowledge me and this relationship. I’m not going to be your little fuck toy that you can come back to whenever you feel like it,” there was no malice in his voice, just calm, firmly establishing boundaries. He’s been through this shit countless times. ‘Straight’ boys had a thing for him (or did he have a thing for straight boys?).

“I’m not asking you to come out to the whole world or anything, and I completely get the pressure and stress you must be under, but you at least have to acknowledge to yourself that you like men,” John reached out to place his hand on Jaren’s face, cupping his cheek so gently. The Canadian melted into the touch, forgetting for a moment the less than lovely context of this little act of intimacy.

He wished it could be that easy. To accept this newly uncovered part of him. How do you do that? How do you admit that something you’ve been told is wrong your whole life is now suddenly something you are?

He desperately wanted to run away. To forget John exists, forget the nights they’ve spent in each others arms, ignore the times he’s been inside the other man and how good it felt. His mind latches onto the idea of finding a nice girl, getting married, having kids. A ‘normal’ life his parents would be proud of. But could he live with himself? Could he live with knowing he had been with another man, a man he had known for years, a man so integral to his life and his career and his success?

He opened his eyes, which he didn’t even remember closing in the first place, and was met with the face that was causing all of this turmoil. Looking into the dark blue eyes that he’d come to loving staring into late at night. He hung his head low, whispering, “I don’t know if I can accept this,” he looked up again, tears brimming in his eyes and a sad smile on his face “but…I would like to try?”

John’s heart sank a little. Both for realising that Jaren wasn’t in a position to accept himself and that their relationship might not last past this trip. He covered it up with a smile and raked his fingers through the man’s hair, whispering a short, “proud of you,” before kissing his forehead gently. If this was going to end he at least wanted to squeeze every last touch and kiss out of it. Selfishly he thought showering the other with affection might be the thing to change his mind. He doubted it, but a boy could dream.

They ended the confusing, painful night in bed, their bodies unusually distant. They talked about aliens, their friends, and their old selves. Smiling and laughing felt a bit different now, each trying not to let the other know that they’d felt the change in atmosphere. They both hoped it would work out, whatever way it was supposed to. John knew what he hoped would happen. Jaren wasn’t so sure.

Notes:

I hope it’s not too confusing to go from lovey dovey Smit to icky straight guy Smit. I just wanted him to have some big feelings about actually being labelled as ‘gay’ or being in an actual relationship with a man and that being public/pointed out.