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The blonde groans, his whole body screaming at him to get rest. His blonde waves of hair dip towards his blue eyes, making him hastily shove his hand backwards through it to push it away from his face. It had been a long day at the Bureau- as were most days.
He reminisces the days that his life was about thinking about school and the hierarchy.
His mind hesitates on that word. He finds himself thinking about a familiar black haired boy with golden eyes. His inky black hair standing up in ruffled spikes, always messy in a way that Arlo couldn't help but find endearing. Honey eyes that always sparked a challenge with him, glowing a bright gold when he fought back.
The last time Arlo had checked on the Joker of Wellston, he had been shoved back. "Traitor," he had been called, the name branding him with a hot iron. The weight pressed against his back, digging into the arches if his spine. But he wasn't a traitor, was he? He was only a part of the Bureau.
Just as his aunt wanted.
But was it what he wanted?
Arlo sighs, a hand raking backwards through his hair. There was no point thinking of the past. It was just a shackle clasped around his neck, the weight if it brushing against his windpipe- an ignorable but mentally restricting reminder of his one sided...
what was John to him?
The raven haired boy held the key that locked the shackle around his neck. The number one enemy of the Bureau.
So could you imagine just how funny it was for him when the raven-haired boy suddenly appeared in his house?
Arlo's blue eyes grow wide, the whites showing between the iris and his golden lashes. He isn't sure if it's horror, terror, joy or anger that flashes through him when his eyes take in John's appearance. Maybe a mix of all of them.
But his body feels something unpleasant run through his veins, twisting and burrowing itself into his system.
"What are you doing here?" Arlo whispers, staring at the boy sitting in his bathroom. John's body pressed into the white porcelain of Arlo's bathtub, dripping crimson blood from a place he can't see underneath the boy's shirt.
One of his arms lay lazily across his leg, draped against the damp fabric of his shirt. The other clings to the edge of the tub, tense muscles giving away the obvious pain he's in.
John pays no mind to Arlo's horror-struck expression, offering the cocky smirk that was especially reserved for the people whose skin he enjoyed being under. Arlo wanted to kill himself for cracking when he saw it. Another part of him jostles when he sees him.
John is a wanted criminal. The public enemy of the authorities- a member of Spectres forces. Arlo is an officer. He thinks this as if he's reminding himself of what he really is. His aunt Val let him off months ago, forgiving his betrayal to the Bureau.
In return, Arlo swore that he would never do it again. He swore right there in her office that he would arrest all of them.
"Hey, Asslo," the boy says. His honey eyes glint with a rough challenge, lazy smirk spreading across his face. As if after all this time, a lousy nickname and easy smile would shove everything under the rug. John could pretend that they were nothing- they probably weren't, but he himself could never know of the effect he had on Arlo.
Arlo lunges forward, eyes flaring a bright azure blue. Golden aura erupts from his hands, pinning John's hands against the wall.
John's wrists fly up, pinned by the golden aura. They hit the pale blue tiles of the bathroom walls, warm flesh held against the cold stone.
"Did you miss me?" John asks, words sounding slurred. Blood drips from the corner of his mouth, painting a fluid streak downwards. His gold eyes are striking as always- beautiful and intimidating in a way that makes Arlo want to run away or worship the ground he stands on.
Now that Arlo studies his face, he can see that John's face is marked with small scars running across it, the pale lines resembling small crescent moons. He hates how effortlessly attractive John looks to him. His ruggedness a devastating charm to Arlo.
A complete change to Arlo's usually impeccable appearance
He takes a second too long to reply. "I'll arrest you," Arlo says, words sounding weak to even himself. They hover limply through the bathroom, pale blue tiles bouncing the words back at him.
"You won't," John whispers, his words barely making it from his mouth. Arlo trembles. He can't understand- he doesn't want to understand- the feeling that pulses through his chest. Why did John come here? Why?
Why could he just not arrest him?
"...Why?" the broken words slip from his mouth before he can think it through. Arlo's lucky, more or less. His quiet words fall to deaf ears, the boy in the bathtub passed out. A sudden fear grips Arlo, fingernails digging into his flesh from all sides. Arlo immediately moves forward, grabbing John by the arms to pull him out of the tub.
He gasps, feeling the wetness of John's shirt. He places his hand to the boy's chest, the palm coming back with a layer of scarlet. He doesn't even waste time pulling off his shirt, ignoring the way his heart stutters when he sees John's toned body.
That feeling dies when he sees the deep gouge torn across the boy's chest. He doesn't waste his time, running to grab bandages to help him. His brain tells him it's wrong. John was a wanted criminal- the public enemy of the bureau.
He was going to be a lead officer. He was destined to make his aunt proud .
So why were his hands moving to stop this criminal from dying? Why was his heart racing- shaking with the idea that John might die?
Why did the idea of John dying scare him so much?
...
John stirs, his dark lashes fluttering as he comes back to the earth. His eyes struggle to adjust, gold focusing and unfocusing on the world around him. His eyes make their way to the blonde sitting at his feet.
"So you're awake," Arlo says. His voice sounds thick. He clears it weakly, turning his face away from John's gaze. He can't understand why, but he doesn't want to show John how scared he was.
"You really chose to save me," John whispers, voice scratchy. He clears his own throat, coughing weakly.
Arlo turns to John. John freezes on the spot when he sees the rawness of Arlo's eyes. Arlo's gorgeous ocean eyes look back at him, the surface of his iris glittering with tears. John can't look away, Arlo's gaze pulling him into a mesmerising trance.
"I don't know why I did," Arlo says, his voice breaking. He looks back at John's eyes, trapped in his golden eyes like John was entranced by his own blue ones.
"Did you cry over me?"
The question slipped from John's lips before he could think. He wouldn't take them back though. He lets the question float through the air.
Arlo laughs weakly. He looks towards John, tears pearling at his lashes.
"What does it look like?" Arlo whispers.
His voice is so fragile, it could crack and splinter away to nothing with the slightest hit. Something delicate unravels inside of him, exposing itself to the raven-haired boy sitting in front of him.
John's hand slowly rises, reaching towards Arlo. The boy doesn't react, letting John move his hand behind his head.
Arlo's breath hitches.
"Is this ok?" John rasps. Arlo just nods, too stupefied to speak. The room's too quiet- his thoughts too loud to hear anything around him. Instead, he loses himself in John. His overwhelmingly gorgeous face. Eyes. Lips. Eyelashes. Eyebrows. The slope of his nose. The curve of his jawline.
"I need verbal consent," John whispers. The words gently tear at the thick silence that's spread through the room, a thick canvas that filtered everything but him and Arlo in the room. Arlo clears his throat, thick with emotion. "Y-yeah," he murmurs, falling into the endless chasm that's the gold of John's devastatingly gorgeous eyes.
An impossible to understand emotion crosses in John's eyes, the golden melting into something darker. His fingers tangle in Arlo's hair, intertwining with the flowing golden waves. Arlo inhales, a sharp, barely audible gasp escaping the light pink of his lips.
John's fingers tug on his hair, making a small sound escape from Arlo. Arlo immediately reacts, eyes widening. His cheeks flush with embarrassment, light pink blossoming across his cheeks like cherry blossoms in Spring.
The soft curve of John's lips tilt upwards. "Shut up," Arlo mutters, hand covering his face. His face burns behind it, smoldering the hand that flushes pink in front of his face. His whole body's on fire, the hand brushing his head connecting the burning fire that's blazing between them.
"I didn't say anything," John murmurs, lost in his own trance as his fingers comb through Arlo's hair. The golden waves are so soft- he cuts off his thoughts. Arlo was a traitor. He was working for the authorities. But John couldn't pull himself away, something about Arlo so magnetizing to him.
Arlo's hand moves.
John flinches as Arlo's hand suddenly brushes his. He feels the burning fire that's Arlo's hand. They're so warm as they graze his knuckles, Arlo's thumb brushing and tracing swirls across the bones. The bones are bruised and scarred from years of fighting. Arlo's brain brands with the dips of John's knuckles, his mind mapping out the grooves etched across John's hands.
"You missed me too, didn't you?" Arlo whispers, looking up to meet John's eyes.
John's dark hair hides his burning ears. Scarlet paints over his ears, small flames burning at the tips of them. He's grateful that his hair is long enough to cover them, hiding away his fluster so he can pretend to not be affected by him.
"Hmm," John murmurs, not giving Arlo the satisfaction of an answer.
Arlo doesn't take it. He moves, swinging both legs onto the bed. John's breath hitches, barley masking the gasp that escapes him.
Arlo gently grabs John's wrist, his fingers wrapping around the bone. He leans forward, pushing John's wrist above his head. John doesn't do anything but let his body be moved by Arlo. Arlo clears his throat softly, prompting John to look up.
"Are you fine with this?" he says, voice tender. Something fragile connects them both- something they've had since the first day they met. Something that's been battered, shattered and crushed between them. Something that still stood, albeit weakly, but it was still there between them.
"Asshole," John whispers, tilting his head to the side.
His body can't deny how much he wants Arlo. A twisted part of him always wanted him no matter what he told himself. The days he tried to convince himself that it was just hatred for Arlo. How it was because of the hatred that he could never get the King's arrogant smirk out of his head. The way his blue eyes gleamed when they fought back.
"Answer my question, John," Arlo says, a suddenly powerful look taking over his face. John fights the urge to shudder, his defense threatening to come crumbling down around him. Arlo's threatening him to answer the same way John did earlier. It frustrates John how easily Arlo can get under his skin.
"Yes, I'm fine with this, asshat," John hisses, glaring at Arlo through his spiky black hair.
The blonde just grins. He pushes downwards, hand pinning John's arm flat against the pillow. "Such a brat," Arlo murmurs.
John rolls his eyes, golden orbs mesmerizing Arlo in ways that no hypnosis trick ever could. How easy it was for him to succumb to this.
Was it because he hadn't seen John in forever? The Joker was always attractive. Beyond any other person. It was unfair how beautiful John was sometimes. It was unfair how easily he could invade Arlo's mind, worming its way into the parts closest to Arlo and settling there without any warning.
That's just how John was. He would come and disappear. But never fully. He would always leave part of him behind in Arlo's brain.
He leans closer, blue eyes thieves that run across John's face, taking in every perfection and imperfection. Everything's perfect in Arlo's eyes, despite how much he tries to deny it. Maybe he just tells himself he denies it when he really came to terms with everything a while ago.
"Gorgeous."
John flushes underneath Arlo, ears on fire as he hears the words that slip from Arlo's lips. The blonde freezes as well, stopping for a second before he continues.
John scowls, hand gripping the arm that traps him. "Hurry up and get on with it won't you?" John says, tilting his head upwards. His warm breath brushes the curve of Arlo's jaw, always teasing, always reminding him that Arlo would never be able to reach him.
Except now he could. John was perfectly within reach, pinned underneath his own hands.
And Arlo was going to make sure that he took the chance.
Before he disappeared from him again.
"So demanding," Arlo grins. His free hand comes down to John's face. They brush the curve of his jaw, tracing over his high cheekbones before dipping along the sides of his face. John holds his breath, forcing his body to keep the defenses up. Arlo's hand slides up, pushing up the dark hair digging into John's eyes. John's eyes stare up at Arlo, emotions colliding with each other underneath the golden hues resting above.
"When I said I'm fine, I didn't mean you could tease me," John scowls, fighting vainly to maintain his higher ground. Where he was always unreachable. Someplace that no one around him could touch. Something vulnerable surfaces behind John's eyes, betraying whatever came out of his mouth.
Arlo leans down, pressing his lips down to John's.
A burning supernova passes through the both of them. John gasps, taken by shock from the force behind Arlo's kiss. His mouth opens, granting Arlo access to his mouth. John's eyes flutter shut, dark lashes veiling the molten gold between them. Arlo's tongue slips into John's mouth, teasing and brushing against John's.
John leans up, smashing his face against Arlo's. Arlo's hushed breathing echoes through his ears, his own pounding heartbeat mixing with the erratic heartbeat of Arlo's. Their tongues clash for power, equally stubborn to hold their ground.
Ground that John loses.
John gasps, breathing heavily for air when they part. A string of saliva connects the two of them, a reminder of the bond that sparked within them again. A fragile string, barely staying put. So easy to split by the smallest wrong movement between them.
John stares for a second before leaning up, stealing another kiss from Arlo.
Arlo stares down at John, a dumbfounded expression on his face.
His face is flushed pink, ears burning a deeper shade of the color. His face betrays his emotions, uncoverable need and wanting showing through his eyes.
"What's stopping you?" John whispers, his eyes always holding a challenge.
"Nothing anymore," Arlo replies. With that response, he connects their lips again. John's lips, slightly chapped, push against his own. He bites at the bottom lip, forcing John to grant him access.
His hips ground into John's eliciting another gasp from John. Their hips connect, pressure between them impossible to ignore. Another fire sparking from within. Their bodies are set ablaze, neither one of them minding if they burnt up with it. They waited too long for this. Longer than they cared to admit.
"Arlo," John says. His voice trembles, fighting for any shred of self control. It stays strong, fighting to not show any involuntary reaction. He breathes heavily, hips subconsciously rolling into Arlo's again.
Arlo looks at the ravenette beneath him, the wanting sparked inside him fighting to take over his very being. He's scared that he won't be able to hold it back. He's scared that he doesn't want to stop it.
"John, can I fuck you?"
The night was full of slipped words. Words that they've been wanting to say to each other for so long. Arlo didn't care if the words came out as a mistake. He wouldn't take them back now. He couldn't.
John's face flushes a bright red, body burning underneath his clothes.
John nods slowly. "Yeah," he breathes, eyes half lidded. His gold eyes darken, a matching wanting taking over him.
Arlo doesn't need another second. His hands move from John's pinned down wrists to the shirt John's wearing. It's borrowed from Arlo, slightly oversized. Arlo's fingers hover against John's sides, tracing the edges of his hips. John's breath stutters.
"Stop- teasing," John gasps. Arlo tugs John's shirt off in a fluid movement, revealing his toned body to Arlo.
Arlo can't do anything but just admire John. Healed, smooth skin stretching across lean muscles, defined abs staring back at him.
"Holy shit," Arlo whispers, the rare curse slipping from his lips.
John's body can only be described as divine, as though he was a marble statue of a god. Carved into perfection, toned muscles and lean body lying there just for him.
Arlo moves in a trace, fingers tracing over John's' abs.
"Like what you see?" John says, snapping Arlo out of it. He looks up, seeing the amusement in John's eyes. Arlo leans down, pressing his lips to John's abs.
John barely suppresses the squeak that tickles the back of his throat, the warm feeling of Arlo's mouth brushing his bare skin.
Arlo's lips trace over the toned muscle, mentally mapping out the slopes of John's warm flesh. Flesh that burns underneath him because of him. His lips move further up, tracing the middle groove that reaches John's pecs.
An involuntary moan escapes from John's hold.
He freezes, face flushing red with embarrassment.
His hands move over his mouth, digging into his lips to prevent more embarrassing noises from escaping him.
Arlo just continues, opening his mouth over John's nipple. John twitches, toes kicking out from the sudden warm feeling enveloping him.
"A-Arlo," he stutters, breathing uneven as he tries to control himself. The blonde just continues, tongue tracing around the bud. John jerks, hands moving down to tug at Arlo's hair. Arlo gasps, the pain at his skull unraveling something inside him.
He bites, abusing John's nipple with his mouth. His tongue whips out, tracing over the bud to soothe the stinging feeling running through John's body. John whimpers, body twitching in small involuntary spasms.
Arlo lifts his head, looking down at John's abused nipple. It's red and swollen, standing out against the tan of his flesh. John's eyes burn into Arlo's body from beneath his hand, his fingers jammed against his lips.
He slowly lowers it, voice shaking as he speaks. "Strip," John commands, head lifting to command Arlo. Arlo's hands obediently move to undo the buttons of his shirt. Buttons slip from their loops, unraveling the crisp white fabric that hid his body.
John's eyes don't leave Arlo's body. To him, Arlo's body is the most attractive thing his eyes have ever come across. Although it's not as toned as John's, it's well-muscled and lean. His hands reach out, brushing the ridges and dips of Arlo's body. Arlo twitches, John's warm hands traveling the land that's his body.
"John-" Arlo says, an embarrassing sound cutting him off. Arlo freezes before his hands whip out, grabbing John's wrists. His eyes have a crazed wanting running through them, sparking the feeling back in John.
He pins John's wrists over his head again, hands clenched around each other.
"Keep them there," Arlo orders, voice low and gravely. John's pupil's dilate, raw wanting for the blonde taking over this pride.
Arlo's hands travel to John's hips. They stay there for a few seconds, tracing the sides of his hips before they tug at the waistband of John's boxers. Black and simple. His eyes gaze at what lies underneath it. Arlo's lips slightly part, fixed on the bulge in John's boxers.
"Get on with it," John says thickly. Arlo tilts his head downwards, blonde hair falling over his eyes and masking the desire in them. "As you wish," Arlo replies. He tugs them down, his fingers brushing a straight line down the sides of John's hips as he does.
His eyes widened at the sight of John’s dick. It was fairly big, even only at half mast. A mushroom shade at the tip and tanned along the base. Two thin, but prominent veins along the underside.
Arlo flushes, embarrassment hitting him late now that everything was up in the air. John glares at Arlo from above, completely fine with it all. Arlo sighs, tugging his own boxers off in one clean swipe. His cock was fully hard, flushed red at the tip in what was probably eagerness. John's eyes widen at the size of Arlo. He wasn't small himself, in face John himself was a fair bit larger than normal. But Arlo...
“Get that thing away from me!” John snaps, unable to move very far due to Arlo's hold on his thighs. He fights the urge to moan, Arlo's fingers gently pressing against the soft flesh of his inner thighs. He forces his mind to stay focused on the problem literally in front of him. “It’s too.. You know. I’m not putting it inside me."
"What? You already agreed," Arlo scoffs. But his hands don't move from John's inner thighs. He looks upwards at John, his blue eyes meeting John's. They show his inner desire, betraying every sense of self-pride he had for himself. "Please?" Arlo whispers.
John stares back at Arlo. Then he hesitates. "Beg for it," he says, eyes glowing a faint burnt gold.
Arlo doesn't even hesitate. He was too close to his desire. He wasn't going to lose it again.
"Please let me fuck you, John."
John's face flushes a bright red, embarrassment giving way to his previous hesitation. "Fuck," John whispers, looking far away from Arlo.
"Is that a yes?" Arlo asks, eyeing the way John's dick twitched.
"Fine!" John snaps, "Just-Just be careful."
"Of course," Arlo whispers. His hands grip John's thighs, making the boy underneath him let out an involuntary whimper. A smirk forms on Arlo's face, satisfaction blooming across him. He pushes John's legs outwards, gently pushing John's legs further out with his own knees.
"...Have you been stretched down there?" Arlo asks, fingers heading down towards John's hole. John looks to the side, trying and miserably failing to hold onto the last shred of pride he had for himself. A pretty impossible thing considering he was laying spread out for his enemy.
"No," John mutters under his breath. He fights the urge to kick Arlo in the balls after seeing the look that crosses Arlo's face. Arlo shoves his fingers into Joh's mouth, making the boy splutter around them. "The fuck-"
He gasps as Arlo's fingers circle his rim, fingers lubricated by his own spit. John whimpers as Arlo's finger sinks into him, a burning feeling spreading from his ass. "It's alright," Arlo whispers, pressing a kiss to John's temple as he does so. John bites his lip as Arlo moves it, sliding it up and down to stretch him out.
"I'm putting in another one," Arlo says. John nods before another finger pressed next to the original one, the stinging feeling only intensifying as both fingers slide past his rim. A moan escapes his lips as Arlo wriggles his fingers, hitting something inside John.
"Wh-what the fuck," John chokes, brain seizing under the raw pleasure flaring through his veins.
John moans, louder again as Arlo begins to move his fingers. He doesn't even notice the third finger slip in, thrusting back and forth to make sure he was properly stretched out. John shoves his fist into his mouth, doing whatever he can to block out the noises.
"A-Arlo," John stutters, hips moving up and down to chase the feeling suddenly burning inside of him. "'m gonna-"
Arlo's fingers suddenly pull out.
"No, that's not fair!" John whines, hips bucking upwards to seek out the previous pleasure.
"You'll come on my dick only," Arlo whispers. His blue eyes flare for a second before they darken, desire and lust combating each other in the blue orbs. John's breath stutters, previous displeasure running away and replaced by his own wanting for the pleasure again.
Arlo's fingers tremble, reaching for the condoms in his nightstand. He grabs the package, ripping one open. John sits up, hand suddenly grabbing Arlo's wrist.
"Let me do it," John says. There's no room for negotiation in his tone.
Arlo nods, letting John take the rubber in his hand.
His cock twitches, leaking a trail of pre as John's fingers lightly brush the sides of his aching erection.
Arlo's chest heaves, seeking more for the contact that John had given him. Small seconds of relief left him yearning for so much more.
He gently lays John down again, grabbing a pillow and shoving it underneath John's hips. "I'll be gentle," Arlo soothes, hands brushing the sides of John's hips reassuringly. "You better," John mutters, gold eyes glazing over as he eyes Arlo. Arlo spits into his hand, stroking his dick a few times.
Arlo's hands tremble as he holds up John’s hips more, lining his hips to John's hole. This would be his first time, and John knew that nothing after this would never feel, or be, the same. Not after this cock. Arlo positioned the tip at his entrance, and John’s hole twitched at the touch. It was so warm, so foreign, and prodded there, smearing what felt like more precum. Or maybe it was the oil. Either way, Arlo glanced down at him again, as the tip hits up against his hole. And then began to push the tip in. He pushed in slowly, which John was grateful for.
Both of them couldn't believe it. John was getting fucked by his enemy-the traitor- and Arlo was fucking his enemy-the criminal. They both hated how much they wanted this. They've wanted it for so long- a part of themselves cast out and tossed away from how much they hated it. Whether they liked it or not, they found each other cruelly attractive.
The person he’s despised for so long - John couldn’t help but revel in the fact that Arlo’s fucking cock was getting pushed deep inside of him. So deep that it felt like his stomach was getting filled up. And then, after what seemed like forever, after inch after inch, Arlo bottomed out, and John could barely breathe from how full he was. It felt so intimate, the only sound being their ragged panting, and occasionally a slight grunt from John escaping him when he wasn’t quick enough to bite his lip shut.
Arlo watched him the entire time, waiting for the shorter male to give the go ahead. And John stays there, head buried in collecting himself and trying to clear the pain out of his body, for a little bit longer. And the entire time, Arlo’s hands touch him all over, his lips kiss his neck and chest possessively. His mouth closed over the flesh of John's toned body, sucking on the flesh to leave hickeys across his. Red and purple marks announcing to the world that John was his- at least for tonight.
Finally, John looks up at him, his face slightly flushed and breathing irregular. “Fuck me."
He stares at Arlo, eyes demanding a challenge. Half-closed eyelids burning with desire, a flaming wanting to be fucked by Arlo.
Arlo’s breath hitches at that sentence, but he doesn’t need to be told twice. He starts moving immediately, his hips snapping forwards in a slow, deep pace. The sound of flesh meeting flesh fills the silent room, accompanied only by the faint hum of the air conditioner John’s faintly pleasure-pained groans. Arlo's dick reaches places John didn't think could be reached- or that they existed inside him.
He switches gears, grabbing John’s thighs and pulling them tighter around his waist. John lets out a quiet moan, wrapping his legs around Arlo's waist. His hands lift subtly before they lay flat above his head again, twitching frantically for something-anything to hold onto. The angle changes so Arlo can thrust deeper, dick brushing against a place deep inside. John’s body suddenly curls and he lets out a small sharp moan, glaring at Arlo at the sudden explosion of white hot pleasure shooting through his body. “Ah!-- fuck, what the hell was that?!” he chokes out, his tan hands moving to grip Arlo’s chest, shoving or clinging, it was difficult to tell. Even for himself.
Arlo smirked slightly. “That, John, was your prostate,” he says, sweat glistening across his collarbones. He pulls his hips back and slams back in fluidly, causing John to gasp and choke, frantically shoving a hand into his mouth to muffle the moan threatening to escape from him again. Arlo grins, slamming into John again. John cries out, hand reaching out to grip arlo’s pec tightly enough to leave marks, even through his passive. Arlo groans softly at that, burying his face in john’s warm neck. The scent of John overtakes his system, hijacking his entire brain until he couldn't think straight. John’s legs tighten around his waist, pulling him in deeper with each thrust.
John's hole threatens to crush Arlo's dick, spasming frantically in beat with Arlo's thrusts. “Fucking hard bastard…” John gasps out, voice breaking slightly. That makes Arlo grin, flashing his trademark cocky grin, fingers digging into his thighs hard enough to bruise. John chokes, the feeling of Arlo's fingers pressing against his flesh making his hole pulse crazily.
The insults flow freely as Arlo continues to thrust roughly, the bed creaking audibly beneath the two. He hits John’s prostate head on with each move, making his back arch beautifully off the bed, muscles tensing and flexing. His mouth falls open into a small O despite his attempts to bite his bruised lip shut. He lets his mouth fall open, given up and succumbing to the raw pleasure Arlo's giving him.
His nails dig into Arlo’s back hard, leaving indents the blonde hopes stick with him for a while. John claws desperately, the pleasure making white spots appear in his vision. Arlo looks down at the ravenette beneath him, seeing how pretty, how free John looked underneath him, face flushed and lips parted as he made the most beautiful sounds solely for him. Small moans escape John's lips, his hips stuttering up and down as if confused on what to do.
Giving in to his desires, Arlo leans down and bites down on John's shoulder hard, muffling his own groan against John’s skin as he feels the shorter male’s muscles tighten around his dick, bordering on painful. John whines, hips desperately shoving against Arlo, fucking himself on Arlo's dick as pleasure builds in his core.
John’s entire body shudders beneath him, his eyes half lidded and gazing at Arlo with half lidded eyes. They're clouded by desire, slightly glassy from the tears pearling in them from raw pleasure spiking through him. “F-fuck you..” he manages to stammer out, voice slightly hoarse. Another moan escapes him as Arlo thrusts again, hitting his prostate.
Arlo snorts at that. “I’m already doing that.” He then pulls his hips back. John whines angrily, trying to thrust his hips forward to fill himself again. His brain's just mush, only focused on getting back the pleasurable feeling of Arlo fucking him.
"N-No," John cries, tears streaming down his face as Arlo pins down his hips.
"Shh," Arlo soothes, his thumbs collecting the tears streaming down John's cheeks. "You can do it yourself," Arlo whispers. John stares at Arlo dumbly, brain refusing to figure out what Arlo meant. Arlo lifts John up by the hips, keeping their hips connected as he spins them around. He lands on his back, John perches on top of him.
A sharp moan escapes John as he sinks down on Arlo, dick hitting his prostate again. A groan escapes Arlo, the feeling of John's hole crushing his dick feeling like its too much. John lets out a hushed breath before he lifts himself, thighs trembling. Arlo's hands trace the sides of John's legs, feeling the quivering muscle as John sinks down on Arlo's dick.
John whines, bouncing on it. "That's it," Arlo whispers, watching through half-lidded eyes as John sniffles, lifting himself up and down. He fucks himself, legs pumping to desperately run after the feeling brewing in him. A choked moan escapes John, Arlo's cock making him see the stars. "A-Arlo," John moans, too far gone to think about muffling them anymore.
He falls forward, legs giving out. He starts sobbing, the feeling of pleasure starting to diminish inside him again. His legs go numb, the tingling feeling of pleasure taking over his ability to move. "N-No-Please-please," John stutters, legs trembling as he tries to lift himself again. His hands press against Arlo's chest, whole body trembling.
Arlo grins. "Beg for it," he whispers, blue eyes savoring John's crying face. John whimpers, hips weakly bucking as he tries to grind on Arlo, trying to bring back that feeling of white-hot pleasure. "Please-please-please-please-"
Any coherent thought that John had starts to vanish, replaced by the pure desire to finally-finally reach his climax.
Arlo's fingers dig into the flesh of John's hips, lifting John up. John gasps, eyes glowing with raw desire. Arlo spins them around, driving his cock deep into John again. John moans, back arching off of the bed.
"A-Arlo," John stutters, hips trying to buckle weakly. He whines, hands tearing at Arlo's back. Arlo groans, the feeling of John's nails raking against his back adding to the climbing feeling that had been rising inside him. John's hips lift to buck against Arlo's, movements snapping almost aggressively.
"Sh-shit-John-" Arlo moans loudly, hips stuttering desperately against John. He’s not usually quick to orgasm, but John’s pulsing hole around him, tightening every so often is too much, too good. He moves wildly, hips bucking to frantically chase that pleasure, losing the rhythm he had set.
John lets out a sound that's between a curse and a muted moan, whole body twitching frantically as Arlo slams into the spot that has him seeing stars.
Arlo’s eyes flicker with contentment at his reaction, and he starts fucking John with deep, punishing strokes that knock the breath out of John’s lungs with each move, send pulses and bursts of pleasure-pain thrumming through him. John’s mouth falls open in a silent scream, a thin trickle of saliva dripping down his chin as his eyes widen almost animalistically. “You fucking… ah!..” A single coherent thought sparks through his brain, the curse refusing to coherently escape his lips.
“What was that?” Arlo challenges, his voice low and mocking as he continues to pound into him ruthlessly. His hips slam into John's, making John jerk upwards desperately, able to do nothing but take it all. Sweat drips from Arlo's forehead onto his flushed face. “Can’t even curse right when I’m fucking you stupid?” he taunts. He reaches down suddenly, his warm, large hand wrapping firmly around John’s erection, jerking intime with his thrusts.
John’s eyes roll back, and he swears everything goes blank for a minute as Arlo strokes him roughly, back curving back and arching entirely off the bed as he lets out a loud unnerving moan. Arlo's hand wraps around his dick, pumping him in time with his stuttering thrusts. “Shit… fuck! You..nnh..” John curses, brain returning to mush.
“Can’t quite hear you,” Arlo practically purrs in response. “Say it again,” his thumb presses against john’s pulse point where he can feel it racing. “Tell me who you belong to.” John moans, Arlo's fingers pressing against his windpipe. "B-bastard-" John chokes, mind starting to blank from the pleasure he feels from Arlo's hands applying pleasureful pain.
"That's not my name," Arlo teases, voice taunting and mocking. It's degrading as hell, making John hate the way the pleasure in his core build up, threatening to blow over any second. Every single fibre in his body was tingling - burning with sheer serotonin from the pleasure in his ass, his dick, his throat, his body. "You," he finally spits out, the word escaping his mouth like lava. He could've just ignored Arlo or overpowered him. But his body gave into his own pleasure, abandoning all of his pride. Probably since the second he chose to crash in Arlo's bathtub.
“Mm, there it is,” Arlo praised mockingly, rewarding him by pressing down on his prostate specifically with each thrust. John moans, his body jerking with overwhelming pleasure. His hips buck up desperately, meeting Arlo's hips in a messy and clashing rhythm. Arlo's hand remains around John’s throat gently but firmly, making him lightheaded with arousal and slight lack of oxygen. His mouth falls open again, gasping for air that isn’t coming. Tears of frustration and overwhelming pleasure prick at the corners of John's eyes as he tries to grasp onto the feeling of something, somewhere, but it’s all just too fucking much. He can’t concentrate, can’t concentrate on the lack of air.
“Are you gonna come for me, John?” Arlo whispers quietly, barely just a whisper in John's burning ears. Ah. that made sense, he was about to come. His body spasms again, frantically trying to lock onto something- anything- that would give him relief from the overwhelming pleasure and overstimulation hitting all of his senses.
John tried to curse at him, tried to save face with at least a sharp glare. But instead, his entire body tenses, toes curling as his orgasm hits him like a plane collision, crying out as ropes of cum spray everywhere, painting his tensed abs, Arlo’s hand in a translucent white.
Arlo groans again, chest desperately heaving as his entire body shudders with John’s as his hole tightens around the blonde’s dick painfully, making him practically trapped for a moment. John's hole practically crushes Arlo's dick, waves of internal muscle milking him for all that he's worth. His hand squeezes his neck hard for a moment, before quickly pulling back. John is clearly completely out of it, his eyes more whites than honey-brown, pupils rolled back to expose the whites, small tears still spilling down his cheeks. But Arlo’s not done here yet - he keeps fucking John through his orgasm, leaning down to bury his face back in John’s neck, breathing in deeply.
His pace begins to grow erratic as his cock swells inside john’s tight, pulsing hole. “Say my name,” Arlo chokes out, refusing to make eye contact as he stays firmly buried in the ravenettes neck. A stupid request- after all he knows so well that John won't ever belong to him. But it would be so nice to pretend. So nice to pretend that things could've been like this in another world. Where things wouldn't have to start on an impulse that the two of them would call a mistake the next day.
John could say no, he could tease Arlo just as he had done to him. But he wants to see the look on Arlo’s face as he gives him what he wants most. “Arlo...” he groans weakly, his free hand still squeezing the blonde’s with each thrust. He can feel the taller male’s entire body begin to tremble, his deep, steady breaths turning into sharp pants against his neck. Arlo slams into him one last time, holding deep as he begins to come hard inside him. He shudders roughly, his orgasm taking over his whole body.
Neither of them would ever admit the feelings that course through their bodies.
They stay like that for a few minutes, both lost in their own separate, yet together pleasures. Finally, Arlo pulls out with a hoarse groan and collapses onto the bed beside him. John breathes out heavily, trying to catch his breath, chest heaving as he comes down from his high, feeling ready to collapse after reaching the complete peak of pleasure he could reach.
“...fuck,” he mutters, voice hoarse and scratchy.
Arlo flops on the bed next to him, his white sheets crinkled and damp from sex. He stares at the blank wall white of his ceiling before his gaze makes its way to John. The way John's body is positioned, lean muscles tensed then relaxing. The way his chest rises and falls, the smooth, honey skin stretched over his abs. Small white crescent scars and grooves across his body. How Arlo longs to run his eyes-his hands- his tongue- across John's skin to remember every detail.
He will always have a one-sided attraction to John. And really, terrible mistakes lead to regret. He knows that tomorrow, he will go back to hating himself for John being stuck on his mind. The raven was like that- disappearing when he suddenly became close. Arlo had long ago lost the chance to be with him when he forced John to show his true self.
Now he was forced to repent for it all. A night of pleasure- the best night of his life- for it to be taken away from him forever. He closes his eyes, blue orbs greeting the darkness of his mind. His brain would always savor these memories. Even when John would disappear tomorrow as suddenly as he appeared, he would remember the feeling of their warm bodies tangled together.
John's half-lidded expression of ecstasy burns into the back of Arlo's eyelids, already compensating for his payment for his sins.
Valerie was wrong to give him a second chance- He would never be able to capture John.