They’re in bed, seeing how high Johnny’s legs can go, when Daniel says, “Can I kiss it?”
Daniel’s got two fingers inside him and it’s just starting to get good, but Johnny rolls his eyes and says, “Fine, get up here, you big girl.”
Daniel flushes high on his cheeks. “No, I mean—can I put my mouth there?” His thumb curls around the edge of Johnny’s hole, so there’s no mistaking what he means.
That— That sounds really gay, and Johnny means that as someone who currently has his thighs thrown over another man’s shoulders and was really hoping to get a cock in him sometime this evening.
“Uh…you want to?” Johnny sounds more incredulous than he intended.
“Wanna make you feel good,” Daniel says like a total sap, before amply illustrating his point with a twist of his fingers that has Johnny’s toes curling.
“Put your mouth wherever you want it,” he says breathlessly.
He doesn’t feel entirely great about the choked, needy noise he emits when Daniel pulls out of him and lowers his legs. Johnny’s not sure when he turned into someone who lies there panting while cushions are rearranged to provide better access to his ass, but well, a lot of things have changed in his life lately.
The look in Daniel’s eyes is too heady as he hefts Johnny’s butt in his hands like a piece of fruit. Johnny’s a strange combination of turned on and confused; surely this view cannot be appealing? But Daniel’s expression is hungry as nips along the inside of Johnny’s thigh. Then he flicks a little look up at Johnny, a look Johnny recognizes: it’s the same smug certainty he used to like to project before going down on a girl. A look that says, I know what I’m doing. Which Johnny is pretty sure Daniel absolutely does not.
For some reason he starts to laugh.
Daniel lets out a sigh, but it’s the affectionate one, so it’s okay. “Something you need to get out of your system, Johnny? Go ahead.”
That actually hadn’t been where Johnny’s mind was, but now that Daniel’s mentioned it… “If only I’d known that if told you to kiss my ass, you’d take it literally…”
Wait, now he’s on a roll. “If I’d thought that by saying, ‘Eat shit, LaRusso,’ you’d—”
“Well now I’m starting not to want to.”
Daniel begins to rise.
“No, no, I’m sorry,” Johnny says, still laughing at his little put-upon face. This guy—so anxious to eat some ass! “Go ahead, stick your tongue up my butt.”
“No,” Daniel says with a sad shake of his head. “I think you have to ask nicely, now.”
Johnny makes a face. “This is ass-eating entrapment.”
“Jesus.” Daniel tries to maintain his serious demeanor, fails. Still he insists, “Ask for it.”
Johnny flops his head back against the mattress. How did he go from being moments away from getting railed to this?
Distantly, he’s aware that the Johnny of two months ago would be boggling at every aspect of that question.
But now he knows more than a little bit about Daniel and what he likes. He knows that Daniel likes to make him ask for what he wants; he likes to hear Johnny say it.
So he shoves aside the tattered remains of his pride and says, “Put your mouth on me.”
“Where?” Daniel drops a kiss to Johnny’s knee. “Here?”
Heat fills Johnny’s belly as he realizes what Daniel’s going to make him do. His cock, which had been suffering a bit from lack of attention, regains its interest in the proceedings in a big way.
“Oh, you fucker,” he says. He feels a sudden desperate urge to kiss Daniel then, and pushes up awkwardly. Daniel sprawls forward between Johnny’s spread thighs to meet his mouth. Johnny sucks on Daniel’s tongue and thinks about where he’s about to put it and then it’s like his mind is nothing but white light, his sense of shame lost without any shadows to hide in.
He breaks away from the kiss, puts his hand on the top of Daniel’s head, and gives it a push. “Get back down there.”
Daniel complies, but once he’s back between Johnny’s legs, he blinks up at him like he’s lost. He presses his lips to the back of Johnny’s thigh. “Here?”
“Lower,” Johnny says, because he’s not going to make it easy.
Daniel obediently drops, but only as far as the crease of Johnny’s hip. He inhales deeply, like he just loves the scent of him, like more than his own stupid expensive cologne he wants to be smelling eau de Johnny Lawrence, and Johnny feels his thighs begin to tremble. Especially since Daniel’s thumb is back in on the action, flirting with Johnny’s rim, stretching him a little again. Johnny hadn’t realized how empty he was feeling and now it’s all he can think about.
“Here?” Daniel asks, swiping even lower and nipping at Johnny’s ass cheek. Johnny contemplates wearing the imprint of Daniel’s teeth there tomorrow. He shakes his head, the motion more frantic than he’d intended.
“No,” he says on a shuddering breath. “No, put your tongue in me. Lick my asshole.”
Daniel’s eyes go glassy. He’s practically shimmering with satisfaction. “Well, since you asked so politely,” he says, and lowers his head.
Johnny’s braced, his hands already clutching the sheets. But he feels the darting tip of Daniel’s tongue touch his rim and it still rips through him like lightning. Even fucking himself on three of Daniel’s fingers, on his cock, he had had no idea he was this sensitive here, that it would feel like this. The way a little feather-touch to a nipple can jolt him out of his body when someone’s got him going, the softest swipe of Daniel’s tongue feels like it’s opened a doorway to another dimension. Daniel licks and nuzzles and sucks, changing the depth and type of contact in a way that leaves him feeling wildly, ecstatically on edge, and then just when Johnny feels like he’s got a handle on it, Daniel slips a finger back inside, licks around where he’s stretching Johnny. Johnny can feel the hard finger and the soft tongue, feels his opening trembling frantically around them both and it’s— Not something his body was trained to feel, a sensation that seems like it shouldn’t be allowed; it can’t be permitted, anything this strange and this good, which of course makes it even better.
Distantly Johnny can hear himself unleashing a stream of absolute nonsense: incoherent whimpers and moans strung together with Daniel’s name and the word fuck. He still wants Daniel’s cock in him but when Daniel worms a second finger in beside the first and his stupid searching tongue, when he crooks it just so, Johnny can’t help himself: he makes a frantic grab for his dick and comes before he’s barely brushed the head.
“Oh fuck,” he says, shaking through it as Daniel strokes his thighs. “Get,” he pants as a tinge more verbal ability returns. “Get in me, now.”
Daniel’s just blinking at him, stunned. “But you already…”
God, he’s annoyingly respectful. “What do you want, an engraved invitation?” Johnny asks, looking down over his come-splattered belly. The last thing he wants is Daniel to get all precious; no, what he wants is to be fucked, for Daniel to use him.
Daniel stands and starts to mess around on the nightstand, responsible to the last, despite his visibly urgent need.
“You’re not going to knock me up, Danielle,” Johnny says. “Just get in here.”
The condom drops out of Daniel’s shaking hands. “Are you sure?”
Johnny gives him a look that screams are you fucking serious right now louder than if he’d shouted it.
He kicks the cushions away. Daniel’s barely slicked himself before Johnny hauls him up by the shoulders, practically yanks him into position. The push into his stretched and sensitized entrance feels incredible. His spent cock doesn’t stir, but there are still bursts of pleasure, strange and deep, and the elation of Daniel filling him, a relief he can’t yet fully explain.
He locks his legs around Daniel’s lower back and grips his arms, controlling the rhythm almost more than Daniel is. He’s all keyed up already, so it doesn’t take him long: a good half dozen thrusts and then he’s spilling in Johnny, intense and kind of shocking.
Daniel half-collapses, a not-unwelcome weight; but then, as if uncovering some precious well of inner strength, rolls over to lie gasping at Johnny’s side. He sounds undone. Johnny’s chest swells with pride.
He doesn’t know what it says about him that he loves the fact that he can feel Daniel’s come dripping down the inside of his leg, except that he’s kind of gross, but he knew that about himself already.
Daniel, on the other hand…
“Too good for gas station food but not too good for my asshole?” he asks, rolling to nuzzle against Daniel’s chin. He’s kind of afraid to discover what his breath smells like, but he also absolutely wants to know.
Daniel sighs: still the affectionate one. “What an equivalency,” he says. He turns, his lips hovering beside Johnny’s. “I can get up and brush my teeth,” he adds, and Johnny’s not sure if it’s a concession or a challenge.
Johnny kisses him firmly, just in case.
And like so many things he thought he’d hate, that he could never dream of doing, it’s fine. It’s sex and it’s bodies and it’s Daniel. Some long untapped part of him may actually like it. Love it, even.
“All right,” he says, “but I guess we really gotta stop calling Penis Breath ‘Penis Breath,’ we don’t have a leg to stand on.”
“Why—when have I ever—Johnny,” Daniel sputters, and now he’s mussed and exasperated, so Johnny has to kiss him again and again, just for good measure.
Then once more because he wants to, and because he can.