Archive of Our Own

He knew that Bob could feel it.

John didn’t know if everyone else could see it, but he knew that Bob could feel it. Bob had literally been straddling his cock, a smug smirk on his face. The same one that he had when John first pushed him against the wall in the vault. Except that time John hadn’t realized how damn beautiful Bob’s sweaty curls were or how kissable that stupid smirk was.

When he left the training room, John was sure that everyone thought he was just being a sore loser. He didn’t care. It was better for everyone to mistakenly assume that he was a sore loser than to know that he got a fucking boner. The last thing he needed was for everyone to know how he fantasized about tearing Bob’s pants open and shoving his cock inside him right then and there.

Thankfully, since he decided to leave early, he was the only one in the locker room. No one else would see when he stripped off his sweaty shorts, when he revealed the tent in his sticky boxers. Sticky from sweat, of course; not a drop of precum from the friction of Bob shifting on his crotch. Because it wasn’t sexual. Nothing about it was sexual. They were just two guys practicing their throws and grappling. Nothing gay about that.

“You’re supposed to wear a cup.”

John startled when Bob spoke, his shorts falling clean out of his hands. Thankfully, he still had his boxers on. Unfortunately, he’d yet to get in his cold shower so his erection was prominent as hell. If Bob noticed it—if, what a stupid thing to say, if; obviously Bob could see it—he didn’t say anything. He just leaned against the doorway, eyes slightly narrowed as he stared directly at John’s face. Maybe trying to think of a follow-up joke?

“I’m a super soldier,” said John, as if that were a good reason not to protect his precious jewels. “I don’t need a cup.”

“Hm.” Bob snorted and nodded toward John’s cock. Shit. “You probably wouldn’t have that if you had a cup between us. Would’ve been a barrier to stop the friction.”

“Shut the fuck up. Leave me alone.”

“What, you want some privacy to jack off? Or you gonna take a cold-ass shower and hope it goes away? Because I feel like that never really works out, does it? You just get horny again once you get out. Or you get frustrated and turn the water up so you can—”

A face-splitting grin tore apart Bob’s face when John slammed a hand against his collarbone and pushed him into the door. John glanced at Bob’s eyes but there was no gold in them. He wasn’t scared or threatened. He was exactly where he wanted to be.

“What the fuck do you want?” John snapped, trying to keep his voice low enough that the team wouldn’t hear them through the door. He was pretty sure it was soundproof, but he wouldn’t take his chances.

Bob glanced down at John’s cock and then back up to his eyes. “I could feel it.”

“So what?” He almost asked if Bob had followed him in there to make fun of him but then he stopped. All because of the teeny tiny bit of tongue that darted out to wet Bob’s lips. Because of the way his gaze kept shifting almost needily. Because he was infinitely stronger than John and he let John push him around. John swallowed hard. “You want it?”

“Want what?” asked Bob, as if he weren’t glancing at it every two seconds.

“My cock. Did you come in here to suck me off or what?”

“Do you want me to suck you off?”

Holy shit. It was like Bob’s whole demeanor changed. In the training room, he was throwing John around without hesitation. But there in the locker room, he’d completely surrendered himself. His blue eyes were wide and needy, his teeth clinging to his bottom lip. Somehow, John felt like he could have told Bob to do anything and he would have done it without a second of hesitation.

But John wasn’t an experienced dom by any means. He wasn’t even a dom at all, really. He’d once heard the term “service top” in passing and even though he’d only ever penetrated one person (and a woman at that), he felt like that described him the best. John wasn’t submissive but he liked to follow directions and do whatever he knew would make his partner feel the best.

Except Bob wasn’t his partner. Bob was just his teammate. His beautiful, submissive teammate who was apparently willing to do literally anything to feel more of the cock he’d accidentally aroused. So, maybe John could play at dominance just that once. Just because his cock was throbbing and he wanted it so badly and if he wasn’t misreading everything, Bob wanted it too.

“Get on your knees,” said John, and Bob did not hesitate. He locked the door shut behind him and then knelt on the floor in front of John, puppy dog eyes staring upward, begging for permission, face nuzzling toward John’s bulge. “Do it.”

“Do what?” Bob breathed, chest rising and falling heavily beneath his sweaty t-shirt.

“Whatever it is you want to do.”

Bob took a deep breath, his exhale warm on John’s exposed thigh. The moment seemed to last forever before he tucked his fingers in John’s waistband and pulled his boxers down. When John’s cock sprung free, Bob went still, and John’s heart started pounding. He regretted everything already. What was he thinking? What was Bob thinking? There was no way Bob would actually give him a blowjob, right?

Wrong.

A shudder ran through John’s spine when Bob spit into his palm and wrapped his hand around the base of John’s cock. He squeezed firmly but not hard, the side of his hand tickling John’s pubes. That was interesting. John always thought that his hair seemed unpleasant, but Bob was almost leaning into it, like he wanted to feel every strand.

His tongue reached John’s cock first, slowly licking up his slit. John couldn’t have tasted good, right? He’d just been working out for almost two hours. Maybe Bob was just going really far to make a joke about him tasting like sweaty musk? He almost opened his mouth to tell Bob to stop or maybe to apologize for the taste, but he had to snap his lips shut to muffle a moan instead.

Bob moved forward and wrapped his whole mouth around John’s cock. His cheeks were warm, his tongue tingling John with the way that it lapped up and down his slit. John reached instinctively for Bob’s hair, fingers twisting in his sweaty curls. Curls. Bob’s hair was always noticeably curly, but his curls were gorgeous in the humidity. John nearly complimented Bob only to get cut off again.

This time, Bob pulled off John’s cock completely and looked up. He licked some of the saliva off his lips and blinked up at John, cheeks slightly flushed. John almost expected the punchline but it never came. Rather than speak right away, he simply stared at John for long enough that it became concerning.

“Are you all right?”

“I—” Bob blinked and swallowed a lump in his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing hard. “I can’t deepthroat.”

What a silly thing to worry about. “Okay.”

“It’s just that usually when guys grab my hair, they try to pull me in all the way, but I can’t—”

“I won’t pull on you. You control where you’re at. All right?”

Bob nodded and took another deep breath, the warm air washing over John’s length in a wave. Then, just as suddenly as he’d pulled off, Bob dove back in. He sucked on John hard when he closed around him, tongue licking the underside of his shaft. John bit back a moan, squeezing Bob’s hair tight but staying careful not to pull on it.

He had no idea how many blowjobs Bob had given in the past. Maybe a lot, based on the way he’d phrased his confession. Maybe just a few, and he was a natural. Either way, it was the best goddamn blowjob John had ever received. Bob knew exactly what he was doing. Where to put his tongue, when to sink his teeth in, when to suck. And holy shit did he suck.

Every time even a drop of precum leaked from John’s tip, Bob immediately drank it down. Once or twice he even pulled back to lick John’s slit again which only made his body release more. He kept his right hand around John’s base, squeezing and massaging the part of his cock that his mouth couldn’t reach; his left arm wrapped around John’s right thigh for stability.

“Jesus Christ, Bobby.” John pulled on Bob’s hair just enough that he made himself briefly let go, concerned that he would accidentally pull Bob in too deep. “Gonna make me come.”

John meant it as a warning but somehow, it spurred Bob on more. He increased his pace, bobbing back and forth and moving in deeper and deeper until John tugged him back because the way he winced said he definitely triggered his gag reflex. Tension twisted in John’s abdomen, building closer and closer to an inevitable release.

“I’m gonna come down your fucking throat if you don’t move,” said John. Again, intended as a warning, not a threat, though he wasn’t sure how his tone came across.

He actually snorted when all Bob did was hold up his left thumb. Apparently, Bob was fine where he was at. He would have been fine if John came down his throat. For some reason, that simple fact alone was so fucking hot to John that it made him lose control right then and there.

John twisted his left hand deeper in Bob’s hair, his right flying up to muffle the loud groan that accompanied his release. Hot jets of cum spilled out of him, pouring down the back of Bob’s throat. He wasn’t even finished when Bob started to move and for a second, he thought it was too much. Then Bob curled his tongue under John’s tip like a slide and kept sucking and swallowing until he was completely spent.

“Shit.” John gasped for air, in awe of the way Bob just kept on licking at his cock until every damn drop of cum was gone. As if the shower wasn’t right there for him to take advantage of. “You are goddamn incredible.”

The tiniest smile crossed Bob’s face for a fleeting second before he leaned back and sniffed. He wiped his face on his sleeve and stood up, stumbling backward slightly. John reached out to grab his wrist and Bob fully froze like he’d been attacked rather than supported. Before John could ask whether he was all right, Bob shook himself off and straightened up, knocking off John’s hand in the process.

“I should go,” said Bob, like everyone wouldn’t smell the cum on his breath. The thought that it was even a possibility almost aroused John all over again. He unlocked the door and grabbed the handle, still breathing heavily through his nose. “This never happened, right?”

For some reason, the question made John sad even though he knew that it was for the best. “Right.”

John’s cock was soft by the time he reached the shower, yet he still turned it on to cold. Maybe he didn’t need to shock his dick out of its horniness, but he needed to shock the rest of his body out of whatever the fuck had overtaken him.

It didn’t mean anything, he reminded himself. He’d jerked off with plenty of guys in the military and he’d never been attracted to them beyond that. Bob was just a mouth with a pretty face. A really pretty face.

And if John briefly wished he could put his lips on it instead of just his dick, no one ever had to know.

For something that never happened, John remembered it pretty damn well.

He got off on thinking about the blowjob an embarrassing number of times. Not that it was hard; even once was embarrassing considering he was asked to forget about it. Bob would probably think John was disgusting if he knew how often John thought about his warm mouth, his firm hand, and his unfairly fucking beautiful eyelashes.

At least, that was what John thought until the Thunderbolts’ next movie night about a week later. They’d barely spoken, both probably equally ashamed of what they’d done. John knew it was bad when Bob sat on the floor in front of him instead of his usual seat on the couch beside him. He felt weird enough about the encounter that he wasn’t even comfortable sharing furniture with John.

John focused so much of his attention on overthinking his every decision and trying to read Bob’s body language that he honestly didn’t even know what the movie was about. He also didn’t really notice when Alexei left because he was falling asleep in his chair. Or when Bucky left because he didn’t feel like a second movie. Or when Ava and Yelena left because they decided the sequel wasn’t worth finishing.

No, the thing that finally got John out of his own head was ironically the same thing that had put him in it: Bob. He jolted when Bob’s chin landed on his knee, the light scratch of his five o’clock shadow grazing the thin fabric of John’s sweatpants. Bob didn’t say a word, but his eyes expressed everything. His brow raised just slightly, his needy gaze pointed directly at John’s bulge.

“We’re in the common area,” was the first thought to leave John’s mouth. He wasn’t even entirely sure what he meant by it. Was risky a bad thing or was it kind of exciting, like the thought anyone could’ve overheard in the locker room? “And we were supposed to forget anything happened.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Bob, as if he wasn’t practically salivating at the sight of John’s hardening dick. Shit. How the hell was Bob getting him hard with just his eyes? “But it’s past midnight and they all said they were going to bed, so I don’t think they’re coming back.”

“And you’re telling me this why?” John didn’t know what answer he expected but it wasn’t Bob’s hand on the inside of his thigh. What happened to submissive Bob? He couldn’t resist the urge to try and wake that side of him again. John set his hand on Bob’s chin, voice embarrassingly shaky when he delivered his command. “If we do it here, you have to swallow every drop. We can’t make a mess.”

“I never spill.”

John glanced at the elevator, part of him still afraid that someone would walk in at any moment. But somehow his dick was louder than that voice of reason and so was Bob. He pulled his sweatpants under his balls, his half-hard cock fully open for Bob to see. The way he immediately licked his lips drove John fucking wild, not to mention his desperate gaze.

That time, rather than spit in his hand, Bob dove right in. He dragged his tongue all around John’s cock, barely pressing against his skin but fully wetting the outside of it. A pleasured shudder ran through John and he grabbed onto the couch cushions, twisting the material as he breathed through the increasingly intense sensation.

His hips just barely bucked to meet Bob’s mouth when Bob closed around his tip. Once again, he started with a good suck, swallowing whatever salty musk was on him for the day. That became one of the biggest things John thought about when he jacked off, somehow. The fact that Bob wanted him so badly when he must’ve tasted like sweaty man did it for him like crazy.

Bob was a little faster with that second blowjob. Less hesitant, more eager. He squeezed John’s base with his left hand, his right fingertips pressing into John’s thigh deeply enough to bruise. At least no one would be able to see it in that spot. He was very sure they would have questions if they could.

John stared at Bob while he worked, mesmerized by the way he moved. Though John wasn’t one to brag—anymore, usually, mostly because his self-confidence had gone down the shitter—his cock was not small. Never had been. And even though Bob didn’t take its whole length, he stretched his lips around its more impressive girth like it didn’t bother him at all. Maybe it didn’t. He was the one to initiate both blowjobs, after all. He must’ve enjoyed giving them.

At some point, John finally allowed himself to stop overthinking. He sank into the back of the couch, hips just moving with Bob as he worked his way forward and back across most of John’s length. His hand did the rest of the work, shifting along John’s base and tickling his pubes with each strong movement. Bob’s hand felt better than his own. He already knew what he’d picture next time he woke up hard.

“I’m close,” John groaned, and shit, was he moaning the whole time? He must’ve been. Surely the floors were too far apart for anyone to hear anything. Bob gave John the same quick thumbs up he had before but didn’t change his stride or even look up. A sudden switch in the position of Bob’s tongue accompanied by a light suck undid him. “Shit.”

Bob didn’t pull back that time. He kept his mouth closed around John’s cock the whole time he came, drinking up the river of cum like it was as easy to swallow as water. Maybe it was. John had never tried it before. It seemed like it should’ve been harder, though. Maybe it was something that needed practice?

As promised, Bob did not lose one drop of John’s release. A little bit trickled down his chin, mixing with smeared saliva, but the couch and the floor remained completely clean. Bob started to lift his hand to wipe the mess off, but John got there first, carefully pushing away the mixture with his thumb.

Though he knew he shouldn’t have, John couldn’t stop himself from thinking Bob was beautiful. His stubble was scratchy but his skin was soft, his deep blue eyes wide and pleading like all he wanted was to be told he did a good job. But John didn’t give him that that night. There was a more pressing thought on his mind to get to.

“Can I do something for you?”

Bob blinked, eyes twitching like he genuinely didn’t expect the offer. John wasn’t sure whether that meant no one ever gave Bob anything in return or no one ever asked before they forced themselves on him. He didn’t think he wanted to know the answer. At least not yet.

“I, um—” Bob shook his head just slightly, tongue licking his lips like he was instinctively trying to cleanse himself of the evidence. “You don’t— You don’t have to. You don’t have to do anything for me.”

“But I want to,” said John. Truthfully, he didn’t understand the look that crossed Bob’s face. Maybe he had a problem with the fact that John had never given a blowjob before? “It’s not really fair that you’ve made me come twice and you haven’t come at all.”

“I mean, it’s not— you don’t owe me. I like sucking dick. It’s kind of my thing. I wanted to do it.”

“Okay, well, when I have sex, I like to make the other person feel good. That’s kind of my thing.”

It actually surprised him when Bob stood up. He pushed his hair out of his face, suddenly looking small in his oversized Animal Crossing hoodie. Sometimes John couldn’t believe that he was the Void that terrorized New York; the Sentry that kicked all their asses. On nights like that, it was impossible to see him as anything other than soft.

“Well, we’re not having sex, are we?” John almost argued that his dick was out but then he realized how weird it was to have an argument with his dick out and quickly tucked it back into his pants. “It’s just a blowjob.”

“Two blowjobs,” John pointed out, and Bob scoffed and rolled his eyes. He rubbed his hands under his eyes and then tugged his sweatshirt down. Over his thighs. John was not as stupid as people made him out to be. “You hard over there, Bobby?”

“It’s Bob,” he snapped. What the fuck had changed his mood so fast? John opened his mouth to apologize for whatever it was he did, but Bob spoke first. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now. What if somebody sees?”

“Oh, so you’re all right with someone seeing my cock but you’re not all right with someone seeing yours?”

Either he was completely wrong or that wasn’t the whole story. Bob looked down at himself and sniffed, then shook his head as he turned his gaze back to John. After all the months they’d spent living together, John accurately predicted that Bob’s response would be,

“I’m just tired, okay? It’s late.” He rubbed his hands under his eyes again in that way he did when he was anxious. He shoved his fingers through his hair, messing it up in a way that John was a little embarrassed to find adorable. “I would say another time, but I don’t— I don’t think we should do this again.”

John almost asked the question ‘Why not?’ but he caught himself before he could. Because Bob was right, of course. A blowjob was just a blowjob. It was barely even a hookup, let alone actual sex. He couldn’t just sit there and act desperate. From Bob’s perspective, John probably could’ve gotten the same experience from any random mouth on the street.

But he couldn’t have, of course. Bob wasn’t just a mouth (and if any men had told him he was, John would kill them and not hesitate), he was beautiful. He was skilled. He was so goddamn cute in his Animal Crossing hoodie and fuzzy pajama pants and all John wanted was to make him feel good.

It was a first with a man, actually. John always knew he was bisexual in theory, but his experimentation mostly involved traditionally “manly” men and that just wasn’t his type. But Bob? He had it all. A hot as hell body but s soft demeanor and long curls that belonged on a princess. That was the kind of man John wanted.

(Not that John wanted to date Bob specifically, of course. He was just infatuated after the blowjob and musing about the type of man he was attracted to who just so happened to be exactly Bob.)

“Whatever you think is best,” said John finally. He was pretty sure Bob wasn’t ‘just tired,’ but he didn’t have it in him to argue.

“I’m gonna go to bed.” Bob gestured toward the elevator and gave a smile that didn’t quite reach his lips. He was definitely upset. John didn’t understand why or in what way, but he was definitely upset about something. “Night, Walker.”

“Night, Bob.”

John didn’t even know how long he sat on the couch after Bob left. He didn’t even scroll on his phone for once, just stared at the blank TV like it could give him the answers that he needed.

Maybe he’d come on too strong. Or maybe Bob didn’t like that John asked for consent the way that he did. He might have said yes if John stuck to the dom-leaning behavior and just told Bob what he was going to do. Unless that would have just made things worse somehow?

The fact that most men complained about not understanding women confused John like nothing else. He would have gladly agreed to read the minds of a dozen women before he tried to guess even one thought in Bob’s head.

John groaned as his shoulders pressed deeper into the wall. Most of his weight was leaning against it, the arch of his body pointing his hard cock directly between Bob’s lips. Bob’s hair was twisted all around his fingers, beautiful curls tickling the sensitive skin in between them. The more times Bob sucked him off, the more little things John found to appreciate.

The way he moaned so softly in the back of his throat, proving he enjoyed every second of their connection. How his eyelids would flutter when he lost himself in a good spot, tongue shifting under John’s shaft as Bob breathed and sucked more slowly. John was particularly partial to the shine of Bob’s chin, glistening with the mess of saliva and precum that dripped all the way down his throat.

It was true that they’d agreed not to do it anymore but apparently John’s cock was just too good to resist because it was Bob himself who went looking for it one late night. After that, they came to an unspoken understanding that they’d opened a door they couldn’t close. John couldn’t even remember how many times Bob had blown him by then. Somewhere around ten? He was too caught up in the bliss of it to care.

“Holy shit,” John gasped, hands trembling in Bob’s hair. His hips bucked forward, a small spurt of cum escaping him before he could even give his warning. But Bob—beautiful, needy, cum-loving Bob—did not even skip a beat. He sucked suddenly, swallowing every drop. “I’m coming.”

Bob’s eyes rolled back as he drank down John’s release. He held firm initially, sucking until John had nothing left to give. As John’s body began to soften, Bob stayed on his knees, licking around his shaft and teasing his slit until John had to physically nudge Bob off because it was too overstimulating and he was about to get so loud he’d break the soundproof wall. It was intense enough that he actually had to wait a few seconds before he could pull his pants and underwear back up from the floor.

As usual, Bob brushed the back of his hand over his mouth and chin and slowly rose to his feet. As usual, Bob stared at John, breathing heavily, inevitably preparing whatever canned line he’d give before he ran. But John didn’t let him. He couldn’t explain what compelled him to do what he did, but it happened and there was no part of him that would ever, ever want to take it back.

He grabbed the front of Bob’s shirt and tugged him closer, not forcing him into a kiss but inviting him. Bob gave in faster than John expected, falling almost on his toes as he leaned into John’s arched body. The second Bob’s lips touched his, John knew that if the blowjobs were too hard to stop, the kiss made sure they were permanently fucked.

Truthfully, it was far from the tastiest kiss John had ever had. Bob tasted like cum mixed with nicotine and some kind of mint from the Zyn he had wedged in his lip. (Did he always have one in during their blowjobs? John had never noticed it on his dick, but he made sure to flick it playfully with his tongue.) But he didn’t care what Bob tasted like. He just cared that he was Bob.

Bob, who opened his mouth just enough to push his whole tongue inside John’s. Bob, who nibbled at John’s bottom lip. Bob, who grabbed John’s waist and moved his hips forward until the front of his sweats were pressed against John’s soft cock. John buried his hands in Bob’s hair, grasping it needily, silently begging him to stay.

He barely noticed when he started moving forward, too caught up in the passion of everything. Somehow, they moved from one wall to the other, Bob’s back hitting the surface hard. As the Sentry, he didn’t even flinch. He didn’t stop kissing John for even a second, his hands falling to give John’s ass a squeeze. It was the first time Bob had fully grabbed him there and all John could think was that he wanted more. He needed more.

John moved his lips to Bob’s cheek, leaving open-mouthed kisses all across Bob’s face. He worked his way to Bob’s neck and down to his collarbone, sucking hard on his sensitive skin. Could the Sentry get hickeys? It didn’t matter. Bob wore enough sweatshirts that he would be able to cover the mark easily. John dropped his hands from Bob’s hair, left hand on his waist, right hand moving to the bulge pressed against his leg.

For one second—one perfect, beautiful, blissful second—John’s hand pressed flat against Bob’s cock. He gently squeezed, felt Bob’s gasping exhale beside his ear, unmistakably pleased by the touch. Except the second John’s thumb found its way into Bob’s waistband, Bob grabbed John’s wrist and pushed him away.

“You all right?” asked John. Bob dodged his gaze when he nodded. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, it’s fine, I just—” Bob’s gaze shifted back and forth on the floor like he wasn’t sure what to say. Like he was planning for a lie rather than deciding how to word his genuine explanation. “I just wanted to suck you off.”

“And you did. Now, it’s my turn.”

“No, I mean I only wanted to suck you off. I don’t want anything in return.”

“You’re hard as shit right now,” John pointed out. Bob glanced down at his bulge and his face flushed bright pink as he rolled his eyes. “What are you going to do, go back to your room and jack off alone? Is that what you always do after we finish?”

“That’s none of your fucking business,” snapped Bob. His jaw quivered, the tiniest glint of gold in his eyes. John was pushing too hard. He needed to pull back. “Why do you give a fuck whether I get off? You got your blowjob, be happy about that.”

“I don’t know what kind of selfish, shitty men you’ve been with in the past but I’m not like them. You’re acting like you’re just a hole to me and you’re not. Let me blow you.”

“I’m not in the mood.” But he sniffed and brushed under his eyes and looked away and all of those were his tells for lying. Maybe Bob had trauma around being touched? Their first time, he’d explained the way men used to grab him and force him to deepthroat when it hurt him. Maybe that wasn’t the only way they’d abuse him. “Can you just stop pushing?”

“What about a handjob?” Bob shook his head without hesitation. The irritation was becoming clear on his face. “I’m not going to hurt you, Bob. If that’s what you’re afraid of, I swear to god, I would never—”

“No, it’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I already told you. I’m not in the mood. I’m not into this.” Not in the mood. There was no way ‘not in the mood’ was the excuse Bob was going with when John had literally felt his erection with his whole hand. Bob was very much ‘in the mood’ to get off, he just didn’t want John to touch him. “I have to go.”

“It’s not even midnight yet,” said John. Bob never left before midnight. Sometimes, when John was sitting down, he’d even just lean against the inside of John’s thigh and stare at him until he started to fall asleep. “Stay a little longer.”

“Why?”

“Because I—” If it was trauma that Bob was dealing with, John didn’t want to trigger him. Maybe he just needed more time to warm up to the idea of John touching him after whatever men had hurt him in the past. “I want to—”

There were no words to express the burning need in his chest. John set his hands back on Bob’s face and pulled him in for another kiss. That was what he wanted. Not sex. Not touching. Just Bob. He knew that it was wrong. Maybe John should have only viewed Bob as a hole. Maybe that was what Bob wanted. But John couldn’t do that. John wasn’t used to quick sex, he was used to goddamn marriage.

Bob softened into the second kiss, sinking back against the wall like he’d never tried to leave at all. He moved his hands to John’s waist and squeezed his soft skin tight, clinging to him like he wanted to stay there for the rest of his life. Like he hadn’t just rejected John two seconds earlier. Like they were more than just friends with benefits or whatever the fuck kind of label fit their arrangement.

He moaned against Bob’s lips, fingertips dragging across the back of Bob’s head. His hair was so soft, so perfect. If their whole thing wasn’t a secret and it wasn’t the most embarrassing thought John had ever considered, he might have thanked Ava for helping Bob learn how to care for it. He squeezed a few curls between his fingers, a smile finding its way to his lips as he licked the outside of Bob’s.

“Sorry,” Bob mumbled out of nowhere, forehead leaning against John’s.

“For what?” asked John.

“For…” His voice trailed off and when he picked it up, he definitely didn’t say what he’d originally intended. “I taste like cum and drugs.”

“It’s my cum. And no offense but that’s exactly what I would’ve expected you to taste like anyway.”

Bob snorted. “The drugs I get but the cum? Is that just because I just gave a blowjob or is that an all the time thing?”

“All the time,” John joked. He nuzzled his nose against Bob’s, resisting the urge to rub his leg against Bob’s clothed erection. Maybe he could loosen Bob up with some of the dominance he liked so much. “You’re such a good boy. I know I’m not the only guy whose cock you’re sucking.”

He was fishing for confirmation on whether that was true, but Bob didn’t give it. Instead, he tilted his chin upward and pushed their lips back together. Bob bit down on John’s bottom lip and pulled, chuckling when John grunted. John slowly dragged his hands down Bob’s back, feeling across his spine and his waist and finally his landing on his ass. He gave Bob’s cheeks a good squeeze and Bob didn’t even flinch. So, that wasn’t off limits. Interesting.

They kissed for a little longer before Bob rolled out of John’s grasp and headed for the door. He pushed his hands through his own hair, seemingly trying to flatten it after all the pulling John had done. He definitely needed to take a shower before bed. They both did.

“Next time?”

John’s question made Bob stop with one hand on the door. “You decide. I don’t like being in charge.”

“I think you do.” Being submissive got Bob off. There was no arguing with that. But it was a fact that he held more power and control over their relationship than John did. “But if you really won’t say then movie night. Meet here after.”

“Mmhm.” Bob turned the door handle but didn’t pull on it. He turned back to John and wet his lips before he said, “And I’m not, by the way.”

“You’re not what?”

“I’m not sucking anyone else’s cock. I haven’t been with anyone else since before Sentry.”

He was gone before John could think of a response. Somehow, the revelation alone gave him a second, tiny boner. Maybe Bob wasn’t his boyfriend or anything like that but at least for the time being, he was John’s. Nobody else’s.

John couldn’t sleep that night thinking about it. Of all the men in the world, Bob had chosen him to latch on to. Him. That should’ve been enough, but it wasn’t. Because if Bob hadn’t been with anyone else, no one had made him feel good in well over a year.

Knowing that made John ache to touch him even more.

The more times they got together, the more confident Bob grew, and the more dynamic his blowjobs became.

He started out just sucking on his knees but the longer their thing went on, the more positions he suggested. They tried a few but John’s favorite was laying down because of the way Bob would lick at John’s thighs and nuzzle his face all the way down John’s taint to his ass. Though, admittedly, he was still a little embarrassed to admit he loved all that and usually teased Bob a little when he got distracted munching on John’s balls.

That was how they were at that time; John laying on his back in his bed and Bob in between his thighs, sucking not on John’s cock but the skin at the base of it. John had joked before that Bob was going to get a hairball if he kept going at John’s bush the way he did and it was starting to seem increasingly realistic. It did feel good, though. Really good. The only thing was that despite how good it felt, John somehow had another thought on his mind.

Bob was fucking beautiful.

It was unbelievable how cute he looked while he was actively sucking cock. He was wearing a big cozy hoodie with Pokémon all over it and sweatpants that were just a little too short. His eyes were mostly closed, his nose and mouth buried at the side of John’s base, his tongue and throat working as he licked and sucked at the skin. His right hand slowly jerked John off, his left arm wrapped firmly around his leg.

John pushed a hand through Bob’s hair, tucking half of Bob’s curls behind his ear. He didn’t know why he loved playing with Bob’s hair so much, but he would have done it all day if he could have. His absolute favorite was holding Bob’s hair while he did his thing, John’s hands following his every move as he licked at John’s cock. It felt like heaven, like he could just close his eyes and stay there forever and he’d never be unhappy again.

After enough times, John had learned what Bob’s comfort zone for pulling was too. He gently tugged Bob toward his shaft, trying to wordlessly communicate that he was close, and Bob kissed his way up John’s length without question. He drew John’s tip between his lips, sucking lightly to swallow his beading precum before he moved his head down with ease. John moaned and threw his head back into the pillows, letting himself appreciate every little movement.

He didn’t know how Bob could tell when he was about to come, but he no longer felt the need to announce it. Bob dug his hands into John’s thighs and latched on hard right before John’s hips bucked and he spilled his release over Bob’s tongue. John combed his fingers through Bob’s hair, groaning loudly as his cock twitched between Bob’s lips.

When Bob pulled away, he did so slowly, his tongue dragging under John’s shaft. Whether he intended for John to see the way his cum trailed over his tongue, he wasn’t sure. But it was the hottest fucking thing he’d never imagined. John stared in awe even after Bob finally closed his and sat up on his knees. He started to brush the spit from his chin, but John beat him to the punch.

He sat up fast, legs still spread wide. John slid his thumb over Bob’s chin, simultaneously wiping him clean and pulling him in for a long, deep kiss. Bob started to push him away, but John quickly mumbled that he didn’t care, that he wouldn’t have tried to kiss Bob if the aftertaste of the blowjob bothered him. He was almost forty. He deserved to do something kind of kinky for once in his life.

“How did you get so good at that?” John asked between kisses, more rhetorical than serious. Bob shrugged and pushed his lips back towards John’s. His hands found John’s thighs and grasped them tight again, grounding himself as they shifted forward and back, kissing each other harder than friends with benefits probably should have. “C’mere.”

John moved forward, lips rarely breaking from Bob’s when he pushed him down on his back. He almost thought Bob would resist but instead, he lay back on the mattress, grabbed John’s neck, and pulled him down onto another kiss. John straddled Bob on his knees, his wet, softening cock hanging between them. He was completely naked and Bob was still swallowed by his cute sweatshirt, by his baggy pants.

Slow, John reminded himself. Bob was into him. He could feel his erection again, ironically similarly to the way Bob had felt his before that first time in the locker room. John gave Bob a little peck on his lips, a few on his cheek, then stopped at his jawline because even his neck was mostly covered by his hoodie. He stayed there for a little bit, sucking on Bob’s light stubble and stroking his opposite cheek with one hand.

Bob was completely relaxed against the mattress when John started to drag that hand downward. He wanted Bob to understand his intention, to be able to stop him at whichever point along the way he needed to. John expected that to be around his pelvis but shockingly, John got all the way between Bob’s legs and Bob didn’t even flinch. He stayed melted into the mattress, a breathy moan escaping his lips when John squeezed his bulge.

That one little pitchy sound made John lose his mind. He needed more of that. Desperately. John licked Bob’s cheek lightly and then sucked a pinch of skin between his lips. Bob moaned again, quiet but warm beside John’s face. He wrapped his arms around John’s neck, holding him down, hips leaning up into the touch when John started to tug on his clothed cock. Over the clothes was a good start. He could work with that.

He was gentle in massaging Bob’s dick, squeezing and releasing as he pulled at it. John kept a close eye on Bob’s face, watching to ensure that he didn’t show any signs of discomfort. Nothing. John slowly worked his hand upward until his thumb was inside Bob’s pants, its tip not entering but teasing the waistband of Bob’s underwear. Still nothing. Bob was okay with that. John kept his pace for a little bit, tugging at Bob’s cock, kissing at his jaw, soaking in the beautiful little sounds he let out.

And then he made his big mistake. He tried to slide his hand inside Bob’s pants—not his underwear, just his pants—and Bob tensed. Hard. He grabbed John’s wrist and pulled it out of his pants as he turned his face away, rejecting any further kisses. Okay. So, Bob was all right with two layers of clothes between him and John’s hand but that was it. John didn’t know what to do with that information.

“Are you all right?” asked John. Bob nodded but he didn’t turn back to John, didn’t speak a single word. “Was that—?”

“What are we doing?” His tone was confusing enough that John couldn’t tell whether he meant the question rhetorically or not. Bob sniffed as he turned back to John, eyes wide and glassy.

“We were making out. Not really sure what we’re doing now.”

“No, I mean, this— this is stupid.” John gave him a look to indicate that he didn’t know what the hell Bob was talking about. “You’re not gay.”

“I’m bi,” said John, confused by the comment. Was it not obvious? Did he need to kiss Bob again? Fondle his cock more?

The fact that John answered without a second of hesitation seemed to confuse Bob. Maybe that was going to be his excuse for stopping that night. Maybe he expected John to be unsure of himself so he could use it as a way to get out (by insisting John didn’t have to “pretend” he liked cock). The very idea that Bob might have been planning escape plans in advance broke John’s heart. How many men had he actually run from before?

Bob rolled out from under John and stood up and it just made the situation more awkward. John was butt-ass naked on his knees in bed while Bob stood over him, completely covered up. It was quite possibly one of the most vulnerable positions John had ever been in. Especially considering how much power Bob held. For the briefest second, he regretted everything. Then he saw the way Bob tugged at the front of his pants like a child uncomfortable in new clothes and remembered that at his core, he was still the same soft Bob he was before the serum.

“Do you not trust me?” John felt stupid after asking the question, more for his tone than his actual words.

“I don’t really trust men in general,” Bob admitted, chin quivering as he blinked at the floor, “but it’s not about that. I— I actually trust you more than anyone else I’ve slept with.”

“If this is trust, you must’ve been a mile away from the other guys when you fucked.”

“Why are you being an asshole? Do you know how many guys would kill to have an arrangement like ours? You’re getting all the blowjobs in the world with no strings—”

“But I don’t get you.”

It was too far. He knew it the moment the words left his mouth. They weren’t boyfriends or even good friends really. They were barely even friends with benefits since the transaction only ever went one way. Bob stared at him, wet his lips twice, then shook his head before he muttered, “You don’t want me.”

“Bob—”

“It’s better this way. Trust me.”

It wasn’t fucking fair that Bob was dressed and John wasn’t because when Bob ran out the door, there wasn’t a damn thing John could do about it. He watched in miserable silence, heart pounding as he threw his hands over his face and flopped back on the pillows. Nothing that Bob said or did made any sense. It was like a dozen puzzle pieces that he couldn’t fit together.

Bob did trust him. He trusted him more than other men that he’d been with, but he wouldn’t let John touch him. And thanks to anecdotes and stories, John already knew that Bob was far from a virgin and that he preferred bottoming—AKA, he’d let other men fully fuck him and yet John wasn’t even allowed to give him a slow handjob over his underwear.

Maybe it was a Sentry thing. He’d said that he hadn’t been with anybody else since before Sentry so maybe his body had changed in a way he didn’t like or wasn’t comfortable with. Or maybe he was afraid that he was too strong and could accidentally hurt John if they had actual sex? That kind of made sense.

Of course, the number one thought in John’s mind was just that Bob didn’t want John to touch him. That maybe he was only attracted to John’s cock and not the rest of him. But despite his feelings, logic told him that couldn’t be true. For one thing, Bob spent way too long making out with John to not be attracted to him on some level. For another, Bob had just said those four damning words before he left the room.

“You don’t want me.”

What did that mean? John had made it very, very clear that he did want Bob—at least on a physical level—so it had to be something internalized. For some reason, Bob genuinely believed that he was undesirable to John. Whether it was a specific thing holding him back or a general sense of self-loathing, John didn’t know. It hurt his heart either way. Bob had so much love to give (via sex and otherwise) and he didn’t think he deserved anything back.

If Bob would let him, John would have shown him all the love that no one else ever had.

There were a lot of reasons that John wanted Bob to open up. He wanted Bob to trust him, to feel safe with him. He wanted to make Bob feel good, to show him that he deserved everything he gave. And, honestly, he wanted to know just how far Bob was willing to go with the dom/sub shit when he was comfortable.

He was absolutely into it. There was no denying that. Bob had even admitted it once when John poked fun at him for how quickly he followed orders to drop to his knees, open his mouth, etc. But considering Bob’s hard boundary of not getting undressed, it was impossible to know what else he liked to do with it. Would he let John control his orgasms? Would he ride John’s cock on command?

John wanted to know more than he would ever admit. And the more glimpses Bob gave him, the more John yearned for more. That day, the reason it was all on John’s mind wasn’t just because he was horny, it was because Bob asked John to sit on him. John. Bob wanted John to sit on him. The whole idea of it felt embarrassing at first—Did he really want John’s fat ass on him?—but the more he thought about it, the hotter it became.

Not just sitting on Bob’s chest or pushing his cock in his mouth or having his taint sucked. It was the fact that he was in the dominant position at all. That Bob could throw him across the room without blinking and yet he wanted John on top of him. He wanted to pretend that John was stronger, to give John control over him that no one else in the world had.

Between that knowledge and the fact that he was in prime position to fuck Bob’s mouth, John came embarrassingly quickly. He spent himself directly down the back of Bob’s throat, gushing suddenly enough that Bob actually gagged. John immediately apologized and tried to move but Bob grabbed his shaft and sucked hard. It didn’t matter that John had only told him once to not lose a drop; Bob obeyed the command every time since.

“Jesus Christ, Bobby.” He didn’t know when ‘Bobby’ stopped sounding teasing and started sounding affectionate. Only that he couldn’t say it in front of the others anymore because he was afraid that it could give him away. John brushed his thumb over Bob’s chin. “You’re fucking amazing.”

Bob blushed and started to shake his head but before he could, John shifted down Bob’s body and leaned in to kiss him. He could once again feel Bob’s hard cock beneath his bare ass and he decided to tease a little, rocking back and forth over it. Bob moaned softly into John’s mouth, tongue sliding out of his own lips to fall between John’s. He dragged it over John’s bottom teeth, his lips curling into a smile.

John tucked Bob’s hair behind his ears, beard tickling Bob’s cheeks as he deepened the kiss to its absolute max. He couldn’t remember when they started making out so much and he didn’t care. Not when it felt so good. John pulled back and left a lasting soft kiss on Bob’s lips, then pecked the corner of his mouth as he started a line of kisses all the way along Bob’s cheekbone. It was perfect. It was everything he could’ve asked for.

And then he tasted salt.

Not sweat but a tear. One single tear sliding down Bob’s cheek. The second John moved back, Bob shoved his hand over his eye to wipe the water away. He forced a smile when John looked at him and tried to pull him back in for another kiss, but John resisted. He couldn’t keep kissing Bob while he was crying. Not without knowing why.

“Hey.” John wiped away a second tear when it fell, a pang burning in his chest when Bob turned away. He gently nudged Bob’s chin, trying to catch his glistening gaze. “What’s going on?”

“I—” In all honesty, John expected Bob to say that he’d crossed some line. That he was uncomfortable. That he didn’t want anything to do with John ever again. Instead, Bob looked right into John’s eyes for the briefest second and blurted, “I want you to fuck me so bad.”

He was crying because he wanted John to fuck him? That didn’t make any sense. Unless he felt guilty or bad about it? But he’d sucked John’s cock so many times that that didn’t make sense either. There had to be something John was still missing. He dragged his thumb under Bob’s eye, searching for the right words. He was pretty sure the ones he chose weren’t it.

“I’ll fuck you,” said John. Not because he wanted to—holy shit did he want to—but because Bob wanted him to. Because he wanted to do whatever it took to make Bob feel better. “If you want me to fuck you, I’ll fuck you.” A third tear slipped down Bob’s cheek and John wiped it away, his voice even softer when he asked, “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Bob bit down on his lip and sniffed as he nodded. “Can we go slow?”

“As slow as you need to.” He leaned back into give Bob a brief, soft kiss, then kissed one of the smudged tear tracks under his eyes. John didn’t understand what was bothering Bob, but he wanted to. He wanted to do whatever it took to make him feel safe. “Can I take your shirt off?”

“Okay.” He paused for just a second before he added, “I had surgery on my side.”

“From the car accident?”

Bob nodded. That wasn’t surprising. From what John knew about it, the accident was really bad. He took the hem of Bob’s sweatshirt into his hands and slowly pulled it upward, giving Bob as much time as possible to change his mind if he needed to. And also giving himself time to ogle because holy shit, Bob was gorgeous.

His abs were like a work of art, his pecs practically chiseled from stone. He had a few small scars scattered around his body but that didn’t surprise John at all. Bob wore t-shirts often so John was familiar with the marks inside his elbows and the variety of other small and not-so small scars scattered across his torso. But he wasn’t familiar with the harsh line on the outside of Bob’s right ribs or all the fainter marks around it.

“Can you stop looking at it?” Shit. John hadn’t even realized he was staring until Bob spoke, a crack in his trembling words. He choked back a sob and a harsh pang of guilt twisted in John’s gut. Was that what he was so ashamed of? His surgery scar? Bob gasped for air when he pulled the shirt the rest of the way over his head. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t…” John didn’t know how to express himself through words. He kissed the middle of Bob’s chest, then his stomach, the right in the middle of the surgery line on his ribs. Another sob escaped Bob as he threw his hands over his eyes. “I think you’re beautiful. Just so you know. I think you’re fucking beautiful.”

He could feel Bob shaking beneath him, so he made sure to move slowly. John kissed two more spots on Bob’s scar, moved by the way his stomach bounced slightly with each repressed feeling. Every second felt like a minute as he worked his way across Bob’s abdomen, his lips pressing closer and closer to Bob’s waistband with each small kiss.

To Bob’s credit, he let John slide his whole fingers inside the fabric. He let John grab his sweatpants and his underwear and start to pull them down. But the second John got even the briefest glimpse at his pubes, Bob suddenly dragged his legs back into himself like each one of John’s fingers was a knife.

“I’m sorry.” Bob sat up fast, tears dripping off his chin as he started to stand. “I can’t do this. I have to—”

“Don’t go.” John shoved himself up off the mattress, his arms sliding around Bob’s waist before he could even consider the consequences. Thankfully, Bob didn’t pull away. He just cried, eyes squeezing out more tears with each shaky breath. “Please don’t go, Bobby.”

“I can’t do it. I’m not ready.”

“We don’t have to do anything. Just let me hold you. Please.”

John rested his chin on Bob’s shoulder, taking long, slow, deep breaths to try and encourage him to do the same. It took a few for him to be able to speak again, to be able to lean back into John’s touch and nod. Once he did, John slowly pulled him down until they were laying on their sides, John’s mostly steady body spooning Bob’s trembling figure, holding him together the best he could.

“I’m sorry,” said Bob, the tears flowing fast down his bright pink cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re all right.” John kissed the top of Bob’s shoulder, trying desperately to steady him. He tucked a loose curl behind Bob’s ear and then hugged him tighter, holding him close to his chest. “Everything’s all right. We never have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“I want it so bad.”

“We can still do it when you’re ready.”

Bob shook his head, his face half turned into the pillow when he whispered, “You’re not gonna want me.”

“How could I not want you?” John kissed his shoulder again, then right in the crook of his neck. Bob had everything. He was kind, beautiful, fucking incredible with his mouth and his hands. He was funny, soft, so willing to stand up for others. He had everything. He was everything. John’s arm shifted against Bob’s ribs, and he questioned whether that was the source of everything. “Those scars are not your fault.”

He didn’t know whether Bob’s escaped sob was a relieved reaction or a distressed one. Either way, he didn’t say a single word. He just lay there, quietly crying in John’s arms. John rocked him back and forth just slightly, trying to help soothe him. It was hard when he didn’t understand what was wrong, when he had no idea what to say to make it better.

So, John just kept doing what he was doing. He held Bob tight, kissed him at least once a minute, whispered general reassurances in his ears. And, agonizingly slowly, Bob calmed down. His hands stopped shaking, his chest stopped catching, the tears stopped rolling down his cheeks. Before John knew it, Bob was fast asleep in his arms, and suddenly all John could think about was yet another question.

How could Bob trust John to watch over him while he slept, but he didn’t trust him to look at his body while he was awake? How did he know that John was a good person, that he wouldn’t take advantage of Bob and try to do something in his sleep? Bob had shared stories about fleeing men’s homes in the middle of the night. It didn’t even make sense that he could fall asleep with John of all people. An asshole. A murderer. Bob couldn’t trust him.

But he did. He was lying in John’s arms, undeniable proof that he did. Bob trusted him. Out of all the shitty men that he’d met in his life, Bob trusted John. The bar was probably pretty low but for some reason, that fact felt like an honor.

Bob had said before falling asleep, “You’re not gonna want me.” Maybe what he was really afraid of was that John would leave. That when he finally learned what it was Bob was hiding, he would throw Bob to the curb and spit in his face. Maybe other men had done that before. The very thought made him hold Bob tighter.

It didn’t matter how long it took, John decided. He would be there when Bob was ready.

John felt differently about Bob after that.

When they first started messing around, he’d wanted to reciprocate partially because he felt an obligation to. He’d done hand stuff with a couple of guys in the Army, and it was very much an exchange. If someone helped you get off, it went without saying that you would do the same for them. The fact that Bob didn’t want anything in return was confusing and awkward at best (he’d seen John’s cock so many times John lost count and John had never seen above his knees), and depressing at worst (John’s feelings about his body weren’t great and if Bob didn’t want John to touch him, that couldn’t have been a good sign).

But after Bob fell asleep in John’s arms, everything changed. He couldn’t stop noticing the curl of Bob’s hair even when they weren’t together that way. He fell in love with Bob’s little lopsided smile and the lines it carved into his face. It crossed a point where it wasn’t about John wanting to be even or fulfill his service top needs or get a deeper taste of domination. He just wanted to make Bob feel good. He wanted to see Bob, to please Bob, to know Bob.

John kissed Bob’s neck over and over, his left hand wrapped behind Bob’s ear and his right cupping Bob’s cock through his sweats. It was only the second time he’d managed to get Bob’s shirt off; the first time since that night. John was fully prepared for Bob to tap out at any second, savoring every moment he was allowed to pleasure Bob. And he was definitely doing something. John was stripped to his boxers and a white tank that Bob was this close to tearing in half.

Neither of them spoke when Bob set one hand on John’s jaw, lifted him back to his face, and pulled their mouths together. John loved the way that Bob fully engaged when he kissed, the way he flicked his tongue and left tiny bite marks on John’s bottom lip. Bob’s back arched against the wall when John squeezed and pulled on his cock, only to slowly, gently slide his hand toward Bob’s waistband, moving a centimeter a second to let Bob stop him if he needed to.

He didn’t.

Bob’s forehead pressed against John’s, lips falling open as he turned his gaze to stare at John’s hand. John froze for a second, unsure what to do, stuck with his fingers fully inside of Bob’s waistband. He kept his slow pace, barely moving downward. When he finally reached Bob’s cock, he swallowed hard and looked up to Bob’s eyes for permission. Bob gave the smallest nod and John moved with brief hesitation, fingers wrapping around Bob’s shaft.

It was big. Bigger than John expected despite feeling it through his pants. He could get his hand around it but only because his hand was big too. Bob’s hair was thinner than his down there, maybe even groomed in a way. John squeezed Bob’s cock lightly, savored the low whine that accompanied Bob’s exhale. He moved his hand up and down, exploring the way his palm felt on Bob’s cock; living for how quickly he was able to draw free a bead of precum from his tip.

John breathed heavily, breaths clashing against Bob’s as he sped up his hand. He was so close to making Bob feel what Bob had made him feel so many times. So close to seeing what he looked like when he came undone, to feeling the relief that he knew they both needed.

But then his hand slipped a little and his knuckles brushed against Bob’s thigh and suddenly, Bob grabbed John’s wrist and yanked it out of his briefs. He pushed John back with force that could’ve only been attributed to the Sentry, his chest visibly trembling.

He was hard. He was whining. He was clinging to John like he needed him more than life and he still pushed him off. Bob’s bare chest rose and fell as he stared at the floor, one hand outstretched to establish distance between them. John stood back, his own heart pounding.

“Why won’t you let me touch you?” asked John. His heart couldn’t take it anymore. The push and pull without explanation was too much.

“I do let you touch me,” Bob argued. “Did you think you were holding someone else’s cock?”

“I know you know what I mean, Bobby. I never get to see you. Or feel you.” Bob nodded and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. It immediately fell back into place, and it took everything in John’s power not to reach for it and pull it back. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t.”

Bob sniffed, eyes brimming with tears when he looked up. “You said we could wait until I was ready.”

“We can. I’m not asking you to let me do anything, I’m asking you to tell me why I can’t.”

“I already told you. You won’t want me anymore and I don’t—” Bob shoved his hands over his eyes, his frustration as loud as his sadness. “I don’t want to lose you. I’m not ready to lose you.”

The sentiment meant everything to him. Bob’s fear of losing John was stronger than his desires. He let the other guys fuck him because he didn’t care about them, but he cared about John. What struck John the most was the fact that to hold back from the start, he must’ve genuinely wanted John the whole time. They were never just the blowjobs he claimed they were.

“It’s not up to you to decide whether I won’t want you,” said John. “That’s my decision and you’re not even giving me the chance to make it.”

“Because I know what you’ll say!” Bob snapped. A tear dropped down his cheek, and he quickly brushed it away, gesturing like the answer was obvious. “I know what people say.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I am not those shitty men? I’m not going to judge you for what’s happened to you.”

“But you did. You already did and you just fucking did it again.”

John stilled. “What?”

“You said—” Bob choked on his gasp and ran his hands under his eyes again. “You said my scars aren’t my fault.”

“They’re not.”

“Stop saying that.”

“I don’t want you to feel like what happened to you was your—”

“But it is. It— fuck. Fuck, come here.”

“What?”

“Come here.”

Bob reached his arm out toward John waving him to come back over. The moment he was close enough, Bob wrapped his right arm around John’s neck. He pulled their foreheads back together as his left hand guided John’s right back down his pants. But rather than push him in his briefs, Bob pulled John’s hand right past them until the sensation of soft cotton was traded for something else.

John slid his thumb up and down the rough lines on Bob’s thigh, over every bump and divot. They were knife cuts, definitely. He’d seen and felt enough injuries to know. There must have been dozens of them, some in straight lines and some cross-hatched against others. Some were shallow and others were rough, harsh, like someone had tried to push an entire blade through Bob’s flesh.

Like Bob had tried to push an entire blade through his flesh.

A sob caught in the back of Bob’s throat. The moment he pressed his face into the crook of John’s neck, John set his left hand on the back of Bob’s neck and gently stroked his hair. A tear fell down his own cheek as he squeezed Bob’s thigh in his right hand, like he could take away all of Bob’s pain with a simple touch.

It went without saying that it changed nothing for him. John kissed the side of Bob’s head and continued playing with his hair, his right thumb drawing soft circles into Bob’s thigh. He wanted Bob to know that it didn’t bother him to touch them, to hold them, to see them if Bob would let him.

“I never thought I’d feel like this about you,” John started quietly. Bob said nothing but his arms tightened around John. “I never thought I’d feel like this about anyone after Olivia, really. And Olivia is the only person I ever—” Loved, but it was too early to say that. “What I mean is I have no expectations. Whatever you’re into, whatever you look like, I don’t care. I’m here for you, not your body. Not that I don’t like your body, obviously I—”

“I know.” The way Bob chuckled into his neck made him smile. “I know what you mean. I’m sorry I—”

“No.” John cut him off before he could finish whatever his thought was because he had a feeling he knew where it would go. “Don’t ever apologize for being uncomfortable. You don’t have to show me if you’re uncomfortable. We can wait until you’re ready.”

Bob lifted his head slowly, cheeks dripping with tears. He laced his fingers around the back of John’s neck and looked directly into his eyes, his voice surprisingly level when he said, “I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?”

“I mean, you can move your hand to the left a couple inches if you want to check.” John snorted and did exactly that. He squeezed Bob’s bulge through his damp briefs, eliciting a gorgeously whispered, “Fuck.”

John kept his gaze on Bob’s face as he folded his fingers inside Bob’s briefs and started to tug them down with his sweatpants. “Tell me if you want me to stop. I’ll listen. I promise.”

“You’re okay.”

“So are you.”

Bob bit his lip and closed his eyes. They didn’t pop back open until John opened his hands and dropped Bob’s underwear around his ankles. He was beautiful, every bit of him. The only reason it was hard to look at the crisscrossed scars was because of how much pain was held in each one of them. They did nothing to diminish the slight, perfect curve of his hips or the beauty of the shape of his pelvis. John placed his hands on Bob’s hips and kissed his forehead, his nose, his lips. He moved down Bob’s neck, his chest, his belly, his pelvis, taking time to kiss along his ribs on the way.

Then he was on his knees, kissing both of Bob’s thighs, tending to his every scar as Bob’s fingers tugged on John’s hair the way John’s had done to his so many times. John glanced up at Bob’s face, waited for that little nod of permission before he drew Bob’s cock between his lips. He kept his hands on Bob’s thighs, his thumbs pressed into the flesh beneath his scars. To be honest, John didn’t really know what he was doing—he’d been with men in the Army, but they just did hand stuff, mostly—but the way Bob inhaled and rocked his hips said he was doing it right.

He bobbed his head rhythmically, used his tongue where it seemed appropriate. Bob squeezed his hair, the slight pull of it barely burning John’s scalp as he moved. John maintained his speed as Bob moved with him, as he let out the tiny whimpers of pleasure John had striven for for so long. Little drops of precum dripped over his tongue and it felt weird but in a good way; tasted better than any of his own cum he’d ever felt on Bob’s lips.

Then, just when John was hitting his stride, Bob grabbed the sides of John’s head and pulled him away from his cock just a second too late. A warm line of cum squeezed out on John’s tongue before Bob pulled back, whimpering the most gorgeous fucking whimper as spilled the rest of his release across John’s undershirt. John, unfazed, tugged it over his head and spit into it before he threw it on the floor.

Bob’s knees buckled and John reached his arms up to catch him, to lower him to the floor beside him. Without skipping a beat, John wrapped his arms around Bob and pulled him into his chest, kissing the top of his head and rubbing reassuring circles into his back while he caught his breath.

“Fuck, sorry. Sorry.” Bob clung to John in no one way, his hands squeezing wherever they would stick. He sounded genuinely upset and remorseful. Maybe other men had gotten mad at him for that before. “I didn’t mean to… fuck.”

“You’re good,” John reassured him, and it didn’t feel like a strong enough word. Something more like ‘perfect’ would have suited him better. He kissed Bob’s hairline, brushing his hair back from his eyes with one thumb. “You’re all right.”

Honestly, John didn’t care where or how Bob came. He was just glad that he was finally able to see it; that he was finally able to make Bob feel good the same way Bob always did for him. He smiled to himself as he sat back on his legs and pulled Bob into his lap, one more kiss falling from his lips to Bob temple.

Perfect, he thought to himself again. Everything about Bob was perfect.