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Summary
A part of him knew his back would end up against the crumpled linen of Johnny’s bed with one hand over his mouth to keep quiet, the other twisted in the sheets.
He knew he’d have Johnny over him, perfect mouth suckling bruises against his neck, feeling hot and cold all over with sweat trickling out of every pore the deeper. He knew he’d feel like he was losing his goddamn mind the deeper Johnny’s fingers slid into him.
This isn’t the first time they’re doing this, and probably won’t be the last, not if Mark has any say in it.
