"Ohmygod," fell from John's lips like a curse and a utterance of thanks when he realised that Bobby was not, in fact, gonna fuck him. "You're gonna-" And then he just hitched his head back and opened his mouth to moan, instinctual, loud, and utterly wanton even as Bobby's tongue worked deeper and John wriggled a little, squirming under Bobby's grasp and care until he was undone with a grunting "-Fuck."

And then he was coming hard, spurting all over the goddamn kitchen cupboard, body shuddering and sweaty and flushed from the power of his orgasm, settling with clawed fingers against the counter-top to heave out breaths in the afterglow.