the way you move
Johnny knows what people say about him when he walks down the hall. He recognizes the glances and the whispers and the sudden turning of heads as he passes. They all think he's a slut, and he doesn't care enough to validate their existence by telling them they're right. He just lets them assume, because that's always been more fun anyway.
"Evan," he says, leaning against the lockers, looking up at him through his eyelashes. "You're still going to tutor me in math tonight, right?" He bites his lip and watches the flush on Evan's neck spread almost to his cheeks.
"Yeah," he chokes out, nodding, grabbing the wrong book for his class.
"Great," Johnny says. "Can't wait."
--
Johnny moans as Evan presses into him, thick and full and making his back arch and his hands clutch at the sheets, knuckles turning white. He sets his pace, hard and fast, knocking the breath out of Johnny with each thrust, knocking little grunts from his chest.
(This is the part they both love, the breathless shove and pull, the press of their bodies on the bed. For Johnny, it's the only part he loves, the only thing he's here for. It's different for Evan, and it always will be.)
Johnny's hand moves into Evan's hair, tangling and pulling as he gasps, moaning out Evan's name, shuddering under him. Evan grabs Johnny's dick, strokes it in time with his thrusts so they're coming at the same time, riding it out together.
Evan rolls away when they're done, throwing his condom in the trash and Johnny's already up, getting dressed and walking towards the door.
"Thanks, babe, you were great today," he says, giving Evan a wink and a pat on the cheek before he's out the door, and Evan's barely caught his breath.
--
Stephane can't move.
Johnny has him by the hips with his hands and his mouth, pressed against a wall in the hallway leading to the locker rooms, sucking almost obscenely on Stephane's cock. Stephane's hand is in Johnny's hair, pulling when he feels Johnny's teeth and when he runs his tongue along the underside, into the slit. His knees are weak and his thighs are trembling, and he's certain he's about to collapse.
Johnny brings a hand up to cup Stephane's balls, rolling them in his hand and presses his tongue into the slit again, harder this time and Stephane loses it, crying out as his hips jerk slightly under Johnny's grasp. Watching Johnny's throat work as he swallows, watching the pleased expression on his face as he pulls off, presses a biting kiss to Stephane's hip-- it's kind of a lot for Stephane to handle, so he slides down the wall, breathing hard.
Conversely, Johnny stands, adjusting his appearance.
"Salut, Stephane," he murmurs in French, fixing his bangs. "A demain."
Stephane hopes it's a promise.
--
Tanith doesn't know how she got here.
Well, that's a lie, because she does know how she got here, she drove herself to school and then met Johnny in the chemistry lab early to talk about their project, she just doesn't know how she got here, on her back over a table with Johnny in between her legs, kissing up her thigh. His hand rubs out gentle circles on the bottom of her leg and she gasps when she feels his teeth sink into her skin, high and close to where her thigh meets hip.
He soothes the bite with his tongue, murmuring something into her leg as his thumb slides through the wetness and to her clit, barely touching but still making her body tense, her breath come quicker.
"Johnny," she says, out of breath, "I don't think this-" She breaks off in a moan as two fingers slide into her and his thumb presses harder, moving in a circle.
"Were you saying something, darling?" Johnny asks sweetly, moving his fingers slowly with his thumb, and Tanith shudders.
"I- I just- oh God." He's replaced his thumb with his mouth, using the wide, flat part of his tongue to lick, to taste her.
(Idly, she thinks that neither Charlie nor Evan were this good at doing this, and how unfair is that.)
He switches the places of his fingers and mouth, sucking as his thumb runs over her clit again, making her thighs tremble and her body shudder. She comes apart just like that and he pulls away, hand still working over her, making aftershocks shoot up her spine, making her tremble still. He finally pulls his hand away, looking down at her, smiling.
"Have a good day, Tanith," he says, wiping his wet chin, going to the sink to splash his face with water. "Give Charlie my regards."
--
"Johnny, I'd like a word with you, please."
Monsieur Joubert's voice is quiet, but the tone is demanding and makes Johnny shiver as he turns away with a nod, grinning.
The rest of the class files out as Johnny sits at his desk, waiting for Joubert to close the door, waiting for him to come and yell at him or something equally as hot.
"Why are you in this class?" Joubert asks him, and Johnny's eyebrow quirks up. He wipes the surprise off his face quickly, shrugging.
"I like French," he says, and Joubert nods.
"You are quite fluent, oui?"
"I suppose."
"Then there must be another reason you have chosen to take this class."
"Do you have a problem with me being in it?" Johnny asks, confused. He's never had a teacher complain about him before. He's never caused any problems in class. Just outside of them.
"No, no, I am glad to have you in it. It is good for at least one of my students to know what they're doing. You are just-" Joubert sighs, and Johnny leans forward, intrigued. He puts his hand on top of Joubert's gently, trying to draw his attention back.
"You are distracting," Joubert mutters, looking down at the desk, and Johnny nearly laughs in surprise.
"Am I?" he preens, flashing his teeth. Joubert looks up, moving his hand out from under Johnny's, using it to grab him suddenly, hand around the back of his neck. Johnny tenses, but Joubert doesn't do anything except run his thumb over Johnny's lips, making them tingle.
"Yes," he says quietly, "You are."
--
Johnny's late to his tutoring session with Evan that day, because he does actually need help in math and they usually get pretty far into the session before Johnny throws their books to the side and kisses him. He has a test next week, though, so he really needs to study. So, Evan's pretty late when Johnny isn't ringing the doorbell until almost half an hour later than usual.
"Are you okay?" Evan asks, opening the door and ushering Johnny in. Johnny opens his mouth to respond, but Evan's mother interrupts.
"Is that you, Johnny? Would you like something to eat?"
"Yes, hello, Mrs. Lysacek, no I'm fine!" He calls back sweetly, and Evan pulls him upstairs before his mom can come out and talk to them.
Johnny tugs his arm free once they're in his room.
"A little more handsy than usual, Lysacek, I'm surprised," he says, his tone cutting. He gets his books out, putting them on the floor. "What's the matter, couldn't wait to get your paws on me? Get a girlfriend, jesus."
Evan furrows his brow at him, watching him get situated on the floor. "That's not-" Johnny holds up a hand to stop him.
"I don't care. Teach me this formula so I don't fail, please."
Evan nods silently, sitting down next to him to look through his book and explain it to him.
--
Evan was his first. His first everything, which was kind of weird, because they were at sleep away camp together when they were both 13 and another boy had snuck in some vodka in a water bottle. They all passed it around and got drunk enough to not remember anything the next day.
(That wasn't true, Evan still remembers. He remembers the feel of Johnny on his lap, his hands in his hair, tugging lightly and the taste of the vodka fading into something else, something purely Johnny.)
They both had enough hickeys, however, to assume that something had happened, and that made for a few awkward years. Evan seemed to get over it, though, and in the meantime, Johnny had spent his time kissing everyone else, graduating to more advanced things once they hit high school.
They'd run into each other at a party, both drunk again, of course and making out on Jeff's little sister's bed. Evan was being entirely too respectful, not even asking to take of Johnny's shirt. He seemed content just to kiss him and touch him everywhere and it was driving Johnny crazy.
He grew frustrated and almost yelled, "So are you going to fuck me or not?" which made Evan go a little pale but also flush and when Johnny pressed his hand to Evan's hard cock through his jeans he'd grinned at him, and Evan had been the first one to fuck him.
And the only one, so far.
--
It's nearly ten by the time Johnny pushes the book away, climbing into Evan's lap, hand going between them to fumble with the button, but Evan's hand catches Johnny's and he looks up at him.
"I want to know where you were," he says, and Johnny scoffs.
"Seriously?" he says, pulling his hand away. "I had things to do. What business is it of yours?"
Evan looks down, biting his lip, mumbling quietly. "I guess it's not."
"Thank you. Now please," Johnny says, tilting Evan's head back up with his hands, placing a kiss on his lips. He doesn't kiss anyone else, either, never on the mouth. "Fuck me. I've been thinking about it all day." Evan's breath hitches, and he slides Johnny's shirt off brushing the hair back from his face. Johnny kisses him again, hard and desperate and needy this time, hand curling in the collar of Evan's shirt.
"I nearly made Alexei blackout today," Johnny whispers, breath hot against Evan's ear, making him breathe a little harder.
(Evan hates it when Johnny talks about all the other people he sluts around with, it makes him inexplicably jealous. He knows they aren't dating; he's not brave enough to do that. But he had Johnny first, and Johnny kept coming to him, so by all rights, Johnny was his. Wasn't he?)
"All I could think about," Johnny says, biting at Evan's ear, getting his attention again, hand going to the button of his jeans again, sliding inside to stroke him. "Was you inside of me, getting rug burn from your hideous carpet on my knees, or maybe on my back or both. Can you do that tonight, baby?" Evan's brain short circuits as Johnny's hips rock down against his, slow pressure that makes him shudder.
"Can you fuck me twice?" Evan looks up at him, pupils blown, and Johnny's looking the same way at him, and this, Evan thinks as he pushes Johnny back on the floor, pulls off his tight jeans, this is why Johnny should just be his.
--
Evan's still half-hard by the time he's finished fucking Johnny on the floor and they're both breathing hard, Evan still bent over Johnny's back, face pressed into the back of his neck. Johnny's chest is heaving, his arms long gone out from under him. His face is pressed to the carpet, his eyes are closed and he can feel the throb on his shoulder where Evan bit him. He can feel Evan still hard inside of him and he wants to cry, because he's so tired, he just can't take anymore.
Evan pulls out slowly, making Johnny whine deep in his throat, clutch at the floor, shivering. Evan throws the condom in the trash and rolls away on his back on the floor, stretching an arm out to brush Johnny's hair away from his face. Johnny looks at him, cheeks pinking up, and Evan smiles, soft.
"Stay this time, okay?"
Johnny nods, and tells himself it's just the sex that's making him stay, nothing in the way Evan looks at him or smiles at him. He closes his eyes as Evan moves closer to him, barely touching, and they fall asleep, just like that.
--
Monsieur Joubert can see the mark on Johnny's collarbone that he's tried his hardest to hide. It's just peeking out from under his collar, a bloom of dark purple and red, shaped like teeth and lust. Johnny keeps his gaze down the whole class period, wary of the way Joubert is staring at him. His fingers catch Johnny's arm as he's walking out the door, pulling him back in. Johnny holds up the 'one second' sign to Evan, who's waiting for him outside.
Joubert doesn't notice him and closes the door, turning to Johnny, who distances himself.
"How was your weekend?" Joubert asks softly, eying Johnny's neck.
"It was good. I studied for my math test," Johnny tells him, honestly a little confused. He needs to go, he still needs help studying, and he knows Evan will only wait for so long.
"Is that what they call it, these days?" Joubert laughs, walking closer to him slowly, reaching out to touch his chin gently, tilting his head up.
"Monsieur Joubert," Johnny says, breathing hard, looking around for any possible escape, still backing away. "I-"
"Call me Brian," Joubert says, moving closer still, making Johnny bump into the whiteboard, his thumb running over his lips again and Johnny is legitimately frightened, breath coming in quick pants--
(From outside, Evan can see the way Johnny winces when his back hits the marker holder on the whiteboard, how Joubert's hand cups his cheek, how he leans forward. Evan scoffs and tries to open the door to protest, but it's locked from the inside. No one can get in.)
Joubert turns at the noise and Johnny slips away, smiling nervously.
"Desole, Monsieur," Johnny says, hand on the door handle, looking out the small window into Evan's angry face. "More studying to do. See you tomorrow." And he's out the door quickly, before Joubert can grab him again.
--
"Working on teachers now, I see," Evan says once they're in his car, driving to his house. Johnny sets his jaw and turns to look out the window, breathing hard out of his nose.
"I really don't see how it's any of your business," he replies, voice cold, angry.
"Just don't be surprised when all of this comes back to bite you in the ass," Evan says, turning down the road to his house, and Johnny doesn't answer.
--
(Later, when Johnny's finally given up on studying and climbed into Evan's lap to kiss him hard, biting at his mouth to tell him he's still angry but needs this more than anything, Evan presses his thumb into the mark on his collarbone, making him hiss and claw at Evan's shoulders. Evan grins and pushes him up onto the bed, climbing in after him.)
--
The basketball team, (on which Evan is a starting forward), wins its first game and there's a big party at one of the player's houses to celebrate. Johnny's there, because he got a text from Evan, but he hasn't actually seen Evan, which is strange, because he assumed they were going to fuck. And Johnny is always up for a good fuck.
Instead, he wanders around, smiling mischievously over the rim of his cup at people, eyes glinting. He loves parties. They're the only place people don't judge him for fucking around, because they're all doing the same thing. No one can begrudge him his good time if they're all doing the same thing. He slips upstairs with a smile, trying to find a bathroom.
What he finds instead is Evan in someone's bedroom-- Ben's, he thinks idly, judging from the Star Wars posters-- and he's making out with Jeff on the bed, his hand disappearing under his shirt.
Johnny clears his throat loudly and when Evan just says, "Get out, occupado," still kissing Jeff's neck, Johnny can only make himself bite out, "Oh, sorry, didn't see you there."
He's gone before Evan can even look up and realize who he is.
--
Everything is hazy.
Johnny knows he and Evan aren't dating and probably never will be, and he knows Evan has had girlfriends before, but never while they've been fucking and it just-
It hurts more than Johnny expects it too. Probably because Jeff isn't a girl, and Evan's never showed any interest in any boy except for Johnny and okay, maybe he's a jealous bitch, but maybe he's just as possessive of Evan as Evan is of him.
Which is a different problem in itself, and he decides to solve it with alcohol. Lots of it.
"Ben," he purrs, sitting on the arm of Ben's chair, letting an arm drape across the back of it. It's not a secret that Ben has been known to check out the other guys in the locker room, and it's even less of a secret that he's hooked up with a few from different schools. He doesn't care, and neither does Johnny. All Johnny wants is a mouth and a cock, preferably one on the other, all night long.
Ben looks up at him and grins, and Johnny leans down, whispering into his ear.
"Let's find somewhere else, okay?" His fingers trace the collar of Ben's shirt, ghost over his adam's apple and collar bone, and Johnny can feel him shiver. He pulls away to look at him, and Ben smiles.
"Sounds like a plan."
--
Ben is eager and warm and kisses just how Johnny likes, the right mix of tongue and teeth and hands, pulling and pushing at his skin. He doesn't let him kiss him on the mouth, but Ben doesn't seem to mind, just kisses down his jaw and neck, not leaving marks because Johnny told him not to. His hand strokes and twists around Johnny's dick just right and he groans, hips moving into Ben's hand.
Ben moves down Johnny's body, kissing down his stomach and hip before taking Johnny into his mouth, hot and wet and just what Johnny needs. Johnny shudders, hand going to Ben's hair to card through it, pulling when he does something good. Ben sucks on the head like a pro, humming a little, making Johnny's nerves thrum pleasantly as he presses his tongue to the underside, into the slit.
He comes when Ben's hand slides under his balls, rolling them in his hand, his thumb maneuvering to the patch of skin just behind them, rubbing in circles. Johnny's toes curl and he moans, high pitched and quiet, like he doesn't usually let himself do this. He doesn't.
Johnny rolls over and slides down Ben's stomach, nipping at his belly button as his hand wrapped around him, stroking slow and tight, making Ben gasp.
He thumbs the head, pressing his thumbnail into the slit, just to see Ben shudder and shake, chuckling low in his throat.
"You're pretty hot like this, Agosto," Johnny teases, hand speeding up, and Ben arches off the bed. "Stretched out all pretty, panting. I'd come again just from looking at you, if I could," he murmurs into Ben's ear, biting just behind it.
"Come for me, beautiful," Johnny says, and Ben does, gasping as he arches, a hand curling in the sheets. Johnny smiles, rearranges Ben's air before pressing a kiss into it and sliding off the bed, putting his clothes back on.
"Bye beautiful," Johnny says with a wink, but he's fairly certain Ben doesn't hear him.
--
The next week, Monsieur Joubert gives Johnny detention for not doing his homework and being rowdy in class, and Johnny grins at him, biting his lip a little.
Later, Joubert pulls him into the closet off the French room, filled with textbooks and worksheets and lots of strange little French things. Johnny's never been in here, but he doesn't have time to dwell as Joubert pushes him against the wall, runs his thumb over his lips.
"No kissing," Johnny mutters, a hand coming up to grab Joubert's hair, pulling, "Mais baisez-moi. Sil-te-plais."
Joubert slides a hand up Johnny's shirt, pulls it off, presses his thumb to the nearly faded mark on his collar bone. It makes Johnny's breath catch in his throat, and he nearly stops this, backs away, but in the next moment Joubert's hand is palming him through his jeans, and he forgets how to think.
When Joubert pushes in, it feels wrong, Johnny feels wrong, not just because he's pressed against some wall in a school, getting fucked by his teacher. (Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows it's because it's not Evan doing this to him, and he's not sure he wants it like this anymore.) But Joubert presses just right and bites his collar bone, opposite of the previous mark and Johnny gasps, forgetting how to breathe again.
--
Evan approaches him at his locker, clearing his throat awkwardly.
"Are you coming for tutoring tonight?" He asks quietly, and Johnny closes his locker sharply.
"I don't know," he says, shrugging. "Are you sure Jeff doesn't need your help more?"
And Johnny doesn't let himself see the expression on Evan's face as he walks away.
--
Evan pulls Johnny into the equipment room roughly, shoving him against the shelves. Johnny winces, a bruise from an escapade earlier in the week stinging with the sharp contact.
"So you're allowed to slut around with whoever you want, let people fuck you, let teachers fuck you but I kiss one other person at a party and you freak out on me? What the fuck Johnny," Evan yells, pushing his shoulder, pushing him against the shelves again. "How the fuck is that fair?"
"I don't care what you do," Johnny says, trying to push past him, but Evan isn't having it and pins him hard be the shoulders.
"See, I think that's a lie," Evan says, anger practically pouring out of him. Johnny can't help but be a little turned on by how Evan's thigh is pressing between his legs, his arm across his chest. They haven't been this close in almost a week and a half, and Johnny hates himself as he hardens, Evan's breath against his cheek.
"What do you want from me, Johnny?" Evan murmurs, rocking just the slightest bit into his hips, pressing his forehead to Johnny's, tipping his head back.
"Right now?" Johnny breathes, "I want you to kiss me." He doesn't want to talk about Jeff and Evan and whether or not they fucked, and he really doesn't want to talk about what he's been doing in the meantime. Evan looks him in the eye, runs his thumb over Johnny's neck, making him shiver.
Evan leans in, presses his mouth to Johnny's almost hesitantly and it's not until Johnny makes a noise and brings a hand around to tangle in his hair that Evan starts kissing him properly. He kisses him until they're both breathless, until he has to pull away and look at Johnny's swollen lips.
"Kiss me again," Johnny whispers and Evan does, pressing forward, and Johnny wraps his legs around Evan's waist.
He moans as Evan's fingers slide in, stretching and brushing against the good spot inside of him that makes his back arch against the shelves and pull Evan's hair. He whimpers, kissing Evan again, wrapping his arms around his neck so Evan can swallow all the noises he makes.
--
The thing about Johnny is that he doesn't really let people get to know him. If he goes to a party, he shows up for the alcohol, stays for the sex and then jets out of there, going home to his spotless room and a mother who worries about the wrong things. He doesn't bring anyone home, and as far as his parents know, he's never been in a relationship with a boy or a girl. And that part isn't technically a lie, since he hasn't, but he just tells himself he doesn't want that drama, doesn't need it.
But maybe the truth is that he does want it a little, and need it even more or else why would he keep going to Evan? He's never made it a point to have an escapade with a person more than twice-- really, only more than once, but Joubert cornered him again and pinned him to the wall, and Johnny just couldn't say no to that.
In any case, Johnny doesn't make it a point to know people deeply. He doesn't need to know the name of a second grade teacher that gave them detention or how their first dog died or how when they were eight they were bowling and the ball went into the next person's lane and they got a strike. He doesn't want or need to know those things.
But with Evan, he does.
And he doesn't know at all how it happened. He figures it's the fact that Evan's also his tutor and really good at math and since he needs help with his math, he might as well get some sex out of it too, right? What's the point of being around a hot guy who wants in your pants all the time if you're not going to let him in? And it beats actually having to pay him for a tutor.
(Though, never once has Evan suggested that the sex is payment for his tutoring, and never has he once asked for payment. He's just helping out a friend, and there were unplanned benefits.)
Johnny just doesn't understand why Evan is different, and why he knows all this stupid stuff about him and why he knows that when he presses his thumb to the back of Evan's knee it makes him groan and his back arch. He's always been good at sex, he knows that, but he never really realized what it was like to fuck someone so much you know how to drive them crazy every time. And Johnny is certainly attracted to the thought of consistently good sex, instead of the chance game he plays all the time with random kids from his school.
So, Johnny doesn't understand why this thing with Evan is different, and he also can't understand why he doesn't seem to care that much.
--
"Johnny?" The voice is soft and hesitant, and it makes Johnny startle in the middle of the library, nearly throwing his book across the room. It's just Stephane, though, and Johnny sighs with relief, and then grins.
"Stephane," he purrs, always putting on a show. (Another thing about Evan: he doesn't care what Johnny looks like or acts like. Johnny can act terrible to him for their whole tutoring session, and Evan will just put up with it and then fuck him into the mattress in retaliation. Johnny honestly doesn't understand how anyone can do that.)
Stephane blushes slightly, like he can't really believe he's going to do what he's about to do.
"Wouldyouliketogotothepromwithme?" It's all a quiet rush of a whisper and Stephane is so red that Johnny has to laugh a little and say gently,
"What was that sweetie? I didn't quite hear you."
"Would you like to go to the prom with me?"
Johnny blinks. He hadn't been planning on going to prom. Well, at least, not with anyone. Mainly he'd figured that no one would ask him and what was the point of asking someone else? They'd probably just laugh and reject him because no one thought of Johnny as a real person with feelings. He was just Johnny, the guy who slept with everyone, and no one had ever stopped to think that maybe he'd want to slow dance with someone instead of getting fucked in the bathroom.
Johnny's been quiet for a long time, and Stephane just keeps looking more and more embarrassed.
"I'm sorry," he says miserably, "I just thought that perhaps you would- But I see I was wrong- I will just-"
"I'll go with you," Johnny interrupts him, holding up his hand. "But I'm not wearing a dress."
Stephane smiles at him, and for the first time in a long time, Johnny smiles back at him, for real.
--
Stephane shows up at Johnny's house ten minutes early, a white rose corsage in his hand, a smile on his face. Johnny thinks for a moment that maybe this is all some kind of joke, that he's going to get egged or rotten food thrown at him or something like that, but it's not. Stephane actually looks really happy to see him and escort him to a stupid school dance.
Someone has spiked the punch, thankfully, because Johnny doesn't know if he could handle the stares from everyone while sober. So, he gets a little tipsy and pulls Stephane close on the dance floor, wrapping his arms around his neck. Stephane presses their foreheads together and Johnny smiles at him, playing softly with his hair.
"I hope you got a hotel room," Johnny mumbles at him, and Stephane's face turns bright pink, and Johnny laughs, loud and happy.
--
(Evan sees them while dancing with Meryl. She looks great, dressed in a cute bronze number, but everyone knows she wants Charlie and Evan just brought her because his mother wouldn't stop hounding him. And she's hot, so whatever. He fights down a stab of jealousy when Johnny laughs. He's always loved Johnny's laugh.)
--
"Johnny, I don't-" Stephane breaks off in a gasp as Johnny's hand slides down his pants, palming through the underwear. "Johnny-" he pleads, his hips rolling. "Johnny, please-"
"I know, baby, I know," Johnny mumbles at him, pushing him back toward the bed so he can lay down and Johnny can get his mouth on him.
"Stop," Stephane manages, and Johnny looks up at him, confused. Stephane's hand is in his hair, and he's looking down at him and his dick is hard in Johnny's hand, but he doesn't want it.
"What?" Johnny asks, straightening up, angry. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing is wrong, I just- I would like to talk to you," Stephane tells him. "I would like to learn more about you before we- do this again."
Johnny stares at him. That's not what he does. He goes around and fucks people and makes bad choices and he most decidedly does not talk to them. Except for Evan, but that's different. He has to interact with Evan in a different way, it's just- it's not the same.
He sits on the bed, slowly taking off his jacket and sits back on the bed, against the pillows.
"What do you want to know?" Johnny asks, "I can't guarantee that you'll get an answer, but I'll try."
--
Stephane starts by asking basic things: Johnny's favorite color (gold), his hobbies (sex and fashion, mostly together, and horses), how big his family is (one sibling, two parents), etc. He rewards each answer with a kiss that deepens as the answers get more detailed, and Johnny's had this little game figured out from the start. He can make up anything, and he knows Stephane will believe him.
But Johnny rethinks that plan as Stephane's hand sinks below his waistband as they kiss, and Johnny can't help but make a tiny noise into his mouth. This is all he wants. It always ever is.
"Why are you the way that you are?" Stephane asks, pulling back looking flushed and breathless. His cheeks are pink, and he seems a little embarrassed, like this is the only question he wants the answer to, and it's the only one Johnny can't answer.
He pulls away, getting off the bed and putting his jacket back on, heading towards the door.
"This was a good night, Stephane," he says, pausing at the door. "Thank you." And, for the first time in a long time, Johnny walks away and goes home.
--
"Did you have a good time at the prom, Johnny?" Evan asks him in math class the next school day, and Johnny turns to stare at him. They don't speak to each other in class. Sometimes they'll talk in the halls to confirm tutoring plans, or they'll text message each other, but there's never verbal communication in class.
"Yeah," Johnny answers, nodding, and Evan nods back, and that's all they say to each other the rest of the day.
--
"Did you let that French kid fuck you, too?" Evan asks, pushing Johnny down onto his bed when they enter his room that night. He takes off his jacket and his shirt while Johnny sits up, reaching for his belt. He doesn't answer. He likes the sex when Evan's jealous.
Evan climbs on top of him before Johnny can get his belt undone, and Evan has his wrists pinned above his head and all he can do is grind up against Evan's hips.
"He's Swiss," Johnny murmurs, and Evan laughs darkly, taking off his belt and using it to bind Johnny's wrists. This is strange. Usually Evan doesn't do this, he just waits for Johnny to give up on studying and take the lead, but this is new and different. And Johnny doesn't really mind that much.
"Tell me, Johnny," Evan says, voice low, mouth right by his ear. Johnny shivers involuntarily, and Evan bites just behind the shell. "I want to know if you screamed his name," he says, fingers working Johnny's buttons, pulling his pants down and pushing his shirt up.
"I want to know, Johnny, you need to tell me."
Evan's voice verges on desperate as his mouth moves down, mouthing Johnny's dick through the underwear, rubbing his tongue along the head. The muscles in Johnny's stomach tense and he whimpers, hips rolling up towards Evan's mouth, but he just pins them too, pressing back into the mattress. He peels down Johnny's underwear, and Johnny can't think as he slides his mouth, wet and hot and so so good, over him, taking him in and sucking hard until he's on edge and writhing and can't breathe. There's a sheen of sweat over Johnny's torso, and it's pooling in the dip between his collarbones and Evan leans up, licking it away.
"You gonna tell me, Johnny?" He asks, thumb gently brushing the skin just below his bellybutton, making him tense again.
"No," Johnny says, and that's all he gets out before Evan is pushing slick fingers into him, making him arch off the bed.
--
"Johnny," Evan murmurs later, when they're both laying in his bed, too wrecked to actually avoid cuddling. Johnny's wrists still burn from his belt and he knows he'll have bruises on his hips tomorrow, but he's too fucked out to care, right now.
"Yeah?" Johnny asks.
"When you said 'no,'" he trails off, leaving Johnny to fill in the rest.
It's silent for a long time. Johnny sits up, even though his body is screaming at him to lie back down. He puts his pants back on, pulls his shirt the right way.
"He didn't fuck me," Johnny says, back to Evan, staring at the Bulls poster opposite of them. "We didn't have sex at all."
He stands, but before he does, he thinks he feels Evan's fingertips brush his lower back, silently begging him to stay.
He doesn't look back as he walks out the door.
--
Johnny ignores both of them resolutely, and they don't pay him much mind until he starts failing his quizzes again in math. He just can't understand what the teacher is saying about cosine and weird formulas on his calculator, and he's pretty sure his calculator isn't even in the right mode but he doesn't know how to change it-- and it's just stupid.
(It doesn't matter, because Evan knows he's having trouble, but he's too afraid to say anything or offer to help. He doesn't want Johnny to hate him, so it seems like the best way is giving him space.)
Mr. Orser plops down Johnny's latest quiz, a big red 48 on the top, circled. He groans, putting his head down on his desk.
"Johnny, I can-" His head whips up, embarrassed. He's forgotten that Evan sits behind him and can probably watch him struggling. He must get a real laugh from that.
"Johnny, I can help you," he repeats, softly, and Johnny turns to look at him. Evan looks, apologetic or something, like he feels bad and while Johnny hates pity, he really needs help.
"Your house, tonight, seven," Johnny says, closing his book as the bell rings and stuffing it in his bag. He's out the door before Evan can say okay.
--
It's awkward.
Well, maybe not awkward, but it's tense in Evan's room, which seems smaller somehow, than Johnny remembers it. Even though that's ridiculous, because he's only not been in it for like, three weeks. Whatever, it doesn't matter. Johnny takes his usual spot on the floor, and Evan's across from him.
"So," Evan says, opening his book. "What do you need help with?" Johnny laughs.
--
It's nearly eleven by the time Johnny moves his book to the side and climbs in Evan's lap. Evan catches Johnny by the hips, pulling him close, thumbs rubbing out circles on his hipbones as he looks up at him, waiting. Johnny leans down, pressing his forehead to Evan's. His hands go to Evan's face, fingers tracing his jaw and neck, thumbs running over his collarbones, curling in the neck of his stupid t-shirt. It's quiet for a long while before Evan says anything.
"Why didn't you sleep with him?"
(He's looking down as he asks it, watching the movement of his own thumbs. He knows it might make Johnny run, and he probably won't get a straight answer, but he needs to know. He needs to hear it from Johnny's mouth. He wants t know if he means something, anything like what Johnny means to him.)
Johnny takes in a shaky breath and closes his eyes, trying to push away, but Evan holds him tight, not letting him go.
"It's not going to kill you to answer me," Evan whispers, and Johnny lets out a small puff of air, all his breath going from his lungs in an instant.
"He wanted to know why I am the way I am," Johnny caves, and Evan's eyes flick up, searching for Johnny's.
"What did you say?" he asks, hands moving higher under Johnny's shirt, rubbing his ribs, making him shiver.
"I didn't answer," Johnny says, shrugging. "I just left. I can't respond to a question I don't know the answer to." And it's more than he's ever admitted to himself, much less to Evan, and why is it always Evan who gets to know these things. That doesn't seem fair to all his other fuck buddies, but Evan's never really just been his fuck buddy. They were friends at some point, and Evan's always helping him out with math and stuff, and okay, whatever, so maybe Evan's like, his best friend. Or his only friend. That's fine. At least he has one, right?
(Evan hasn't stopped moving his hands, exploring Johnny's body under his shirt, and he wants nothing more than to lean up and kiss him.)
"We kissed, though," Johnny says, like an afterthought, and Evan raises an eyebrow.
"So? Don't you kiss everyone?" and Johnny looks down at him, seeing him, really seeing him for the first time in weeks, and says,
"No. Just you."
It makes Evan's breath catch in his throat, makes him lean up, a hand going to the back of Johnny's neck and makes him pull Johnny down, so he can kiss him.
--
It's just what Johnny needs, that kiss, to make him realize that maybe he's in a little over his head. He can feel Evan's desperation in the way he's holding onto him, the way his hands won't let go of his sides and neck and hips. Johnny doesn't want him to let go. He breaks away to breathe, soft noises escaping as Evan's mouth moves down his neck, and he rocks his hips down, smiling at Evan's gasp.
"Did you miss me?" Johnny laughs as Evan fumbles with their pants, dissolving into a moan as Evan gets his hand around him, stroking. His hands curl in Evan's shirt, pulling it off so he can run his hands over his skin, play with his nipples, pull his own shirt off. They kiss again as Johnny moves to get his pants and underwear off, tugging Evan's off along the way and sitting in his lap again, grinding down. Evan's hand sneaks over Johnny, teasing at his entrance, and Johnny hadn't even noticed that he was getting his fingers wet. He gasps as Evan pushes one in, then two, crooking them, making Johnny arch and gasp and rock back down onto them.
(Evan watches as Johnny fucks himself on his hand. He's sure he could come just from this, just from watching Johnny's face as he hits his prostate over and over again. There's a sheen of sweat covering him, and Evan leans forward to kiss it off, mouth moving up his neck.)
"I think I love you," he mumbles in Johnny's ear, and he catches how Johnny stutters, how he groans softly and has to work harder to breathe.
"Shut the hell up and fuck me," Johnny says back, still rocking down onto his fingers. Evan pulls them out and fumbles around for a minute, but then he's pushing in and it's sweet sweet sweet, and Johnny lets his head fall back and his back arch as he presses his hips back and lets himself be filled.
--
Okay, Johnny thinks as he's laying beside Evan, who's fallen asleep in the bed, maybe this whole thing wouldn't be too bad.
He's been running from actual human connection for so long that he never stopped to think that maybe it could be good and work out for him. He never thought that he could have a physical and emotional connection with someone. He never really thought he could be completely happy, he supposes.
Evan snorts in his sleep, and Johnny glances over, examining at how peaceful Evan looks. He smiles softly to himself, brushing Evan's bangs out of his face.
He can do this. He's definitely going to try.
--
"Hey," Johnny says, approaching Evan at his locker on Monday. Evan hadn't answered any of Johnny's texts over the weekend, so they haven't really spoken and Johnny isn't sure what's going on.
Evan turns to Johnny and smiles, a little confused. "Do you need tutoring tonight?" he asks, sliding a book into his locker.
"No, no, I just-" Johnny laughs nervously and clears his throat. "Just wanted to talk to you?"
"Come ON, Lysadick, stop talking to that fag and get your ass going. We have practice!" One of Evan's basketball buddies is yelling, and Evan winces, slumping.
"Yeah, hang on!"
Johnny sets his mouth in a hard line and his hand tightens on the strap of his bag. He steps closer, trapping Evan between his locker and the wall.
"You should probably make it a point to tell them that I can have you moaning my fag name in a matter of minutes," he says, low enough that no one else can hear. Evan can't look at him, and Johnny prefers it. He isn't sure he could stand to look at Evan right now anyway.
"He's all yours, boys," Johnny says to them, grinning, stepping away from Evan without another glance, turning to walk down the hallway and into the bathroom so no one can watch him cry.
--
The next week, they have a quiz in math, and Johnny is behind, again. He tries to understand what Mr. Orser is saying, but he just can't, his mind doesn't work that way or something and he can't stand it anymore.
He asks Tanith for help.
She tries to explain it to him, but that still doesn't work. The only person who can properly teach him math is Evan, but Johnny refuses to go down that road again. He's seen how it ends, and that's not what Johnny wants.
So, when Mr. Orser plops down a quiz with a big, red 53 circled on top and a note to see him after class, Johnny sighs.
"You were doing so well, Johnny," he says once they're alone. "What happened?"
"I guess my tutor and I discovered we were having some problems," Johnny answers, shrugging.
"Well, I think whatever those problems are, you need to fix them, because your grade is suffering. I don't want you to have to take this during summer school." Johnny gives him a small nod.
--
"Johnny?" Evan's voice is quiet, like he has to whisper even though they're the only ones in the hallway.
"What," Johnny replies, not looking at him. "do you want?"
"To help you with math," Evan says, and Johnny scoffs. "No really, Johnny," Evan continues, "I don't want you to fail or anything, and you seem to be having trouble and will you just let me help you?"
"Why? So you can feel better about your friends calling me a fag? News flash, Lysadick, they're right. I'm also a dirty slut, but I guess only you call me that when you're jealous," Johnny spits at him, slamming his locker closed. "I don't give a shit about your friends being douchebags or what names people call me or failing math. I care about you saying you think you love me to get in my pants. I might be a slut, Evan, but I have feelings. I'm a person."
Evan stares at him for a long time, brow furrowed. Johnny bristles.
"I didn't say that to get in your pants," Evan replies finally, voice soft. "I said it because I thought I loved you."
"Right, thought, in the heat of the moment, with my hand on your dick. It's a very common mistake to make, Evan," Johnny rolls his eyes. "But that's called lust, not love. Don't beat yourself up about it." And he turns and walks away, leaving Evan stranded by the lockers, looking hurt and confused and Johnny ignores the tightening in his own chest as the bell rings and people flood the hallway, separating them.
--
"Johnny, can we talk about this, please?"
Evan's voice is quiet in the phone, and Johnny rubs his temple. He hadn't gone to school that day, taken his first sick day ever because for once, he just didn't feel like having everyone stare at him.
"No," Johnny answers, just as quietly. He hangs up the phone and buries it in his drawer.
--
Everything hurts.
It sounds like a dramatization, or cliche or something from a really dumb teen movie, and Johnny hates himself for being this way, but he can't help it. Everything hurts. The ache in his chest is persistent, clawing and biting and tearing at him, making it so he can barely pay attention in class. He's never had much of an appetite, but now it's completely gone. The sight and smell of food makes him want to throw up, along with the sight of Evan.
Evan, who keeps trying to talk to him and apologize and say more things that don't matter. Johnny can't stand to look at him, can't stand to think about him, but he does anyway.
He looks like shit; thin and ragged with dark circles under his eyes. He's miserable, with no way out.
--
"Johnny I really need to talk to you," Evan says, cornering him in the hallway. Johnny looks up and immediately regrets it. The upheaval of his stomach is really not worth a glimpse of that nose or a whiff of Evan's gross cologne.
"What do you want?" he snaps, closing his locker.
"I just want you to listen. I just want you to know that I meant what I said. I mean it."
Johnny stares at him for a minute before scoffing, rolling his eyes and walking away.
"Even if you do mean it," Johnny answers, rolling his eyes. "Which, I doubt you do-- I wouldn't care. I don't care, Evan. I'm done. I'm just done with you."
Evan bites his lip, stays quiet for a minute and then nods.
"Okay," he whispers, voice hoarse, and turns on his heel, leaving Johnny in the hallway as the bell rings.
--
Johnny tries to forget.
He tries to forget the feeling of Evan pressed against him, his fingertips on his skin, the way he'd catch Evan looking at him while they were doing math homework. He can't forget the way Evan used to say his name with his eyes squeezed shut and his head tilted back. Johnny used to stare at his Adam's apple, watch it bob as Evan whimpered or gasped his name.
Johnny can't forget.
He can't forget any of these things, and his parents worry and Stephane worries, and even Johnny worries. He worries that he'll never get over this and never survive, because he and Evan weren't even in a relationship, so how can it hurt so much.
Still, he tries to forget. And each day he ignores the stares and the whispers and Evan's face, perpetually behind him, wanting wanting wanting.
And each day, he comes home and falls into bed and thinks himself into sleep.
word count: 8288
this fic was written based on a prompt found at skatingkink