[For Bobby] Honey, I Stashed the Porn Collection [NSFW]

[prodigalflame]

While they'd only been living in the same room for a while, it was clear to anyone that John was mildly messy. His clothes might be folded and stuffed in a drawer (not always the same drawer, or with the right things), but there were piles of books that only made sense to him, as well as associated music stuff over in the corner. He kept most of his marking in the study downstairs, deliberately trying to wall off 'work' from the more enjoyable things that happened in the bedroom. Mind, enjoying Bobby seemed to happen in every room of the house, so it was probably a futile quest.

Still, in the wardrobe there was a plastic storage container with a snap-lock top, the type people used to store socks, or spare handyman equipment (batteries, bolts and nails), and a million other little things.

The container was on the top shelf; it could have held anything, wasn't stuffed under the bed or anything private. But it was John's porn collection: a couple of DVDs, one military themed, one office themed, both involving taking the new guy out for something beyond a simple hazing, with some bondage and some rough fucking, based on the DVD covers; a bundle of spank mags which tended to show men and women in authoritative poses, the men in suit and tie, the women in uniform, and a few with riding crops or paddles or cuffs on a nearby chair or hooked in belts. There were a bunch of mags with men in submissive poses as well, or as part of a couple. But just as the more authoritative figures were softened by smirks or crooked grins or the hint of a smile, the submissive partner was typically being held or pinned, chin in the other's hand as a kiss was offered, a lot of full body contact. There were also a fair few shots with hands close around someone's neck as they kissed, and a lot of leather. Like, a lot.

(Both DVD covers featured boyishly handsome guys with blue eyes, not that that meant anything.)

And there were items, too, in the container: some rope, leather gloves, a riding crop, some padded leather cuffs with a loop to make them easier to fasten to whatever was handy, a ballgag, an eye-mask and a dildo. All of John's sexual history (and much of his fantasy life) laid out for anyone to see.

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[cold_blueeyes]

Bobby certainly wasn't looking for porn. He'd noticed that the door frame was lifting a little in the bathroom, probably due to the humidity, and he figured he'd just track down a hammer and hopefully a few finishing nails and tack it back down. It would need to be filled, sanded and repainted, but that was a larger project for another day. For now, he just wanted to stop the progress before it separated completely.

He'd remembered seeing that plastic container up on the shelf and pulled it down, hoping to find what he needed without having to go too far. When he set it on the bed and popped the lid, though, he made a soft sound of surprise. That was definitely not finishing nails. He glanced toward the door as if convinced that John would somehow magically be standing there, judging him for snooping, but when he proved to still be alone, he sank down on the bed next to the box, debating whether to explore the contents or respect John's privacy.

Curiosity won out without too much of a fight. It wasn't like he was going to judge John for having a porn stash, right? He just wanted to see if there was anything good, anything they could maybe share. As he pulled out the various items and set them on the bed, though, he started to feel a little nervous. Was this what John was into? Did he expect Bobby to do this stuff someday? What if he couldn't? What if John wouldn't continue to be satisfied by the boring, vanilla sex Bobby was into? What if he needed this...kink?

Regretting his snooping, Bobby started shoving the contents back into the box, heart pounding. He wished he'd never opened it, never poked through what really got John off.

[prodigalflame]

"Hey, sweetheart!" John called out from the front door, the moment he got in. Shutting the door with a bang, he felt oddly exhilarated: he'd led a good couple of tutorials today; a few kids had actually bothered to show up to his office hour to talk through the assignment, rather than just email for help the night before their paper was due; and he thought he'd finally nailed his rather tumultuous dissertation topic. Or so he thought. He had a plan now; he was the man with a plan and his supervisor was on board and he had the best damn boyfriend in the world, so fuck you, other people.

Speaking of that boyfriend, John poked his head in the library. No Bobby. The kitchen. No Bobby, although John was mentally thinking of What To Cook For Dinner. "Where the hell are you?" he muttered to himself, before flinging his satchel through the doorway. It arched through the air, and landed with a thump on the couch. "He shoots and he scores..." John declared in triumph, with a bit of a fist-pump. Deciding Bobby must be upstairs, he scrambled up the stairs, bursting into the main bedroom. "Hey, I had the best-"

Then John all but skidded to a halt, seeing that Bobby was hurriedly trying to cover that box back up, and some of his good mood evaporated. "..day." He looked at his boyfriend, but there wasn't any shock on his face. After all, he was a grown up. What he'd done in the bedroom (and other people's bedrooms) for the last couple of years did not fill him with shame or guilt. Precisely the opposite: he'd wanted to be a tough guy, and he'd gotten very good at it. No complaints. It was Bobby who made him stuff those memories in his wardrobe and explore what it was like to be soft.

"We should probably talk about that," John suggested gently, coming over and easing himself to sit next to Bobby on the bed, one hand on Bobby's thigh. Because if anyone saw himself as Mr. Vanilla, it was Bobby Drake. His stash of porn and toys had probably given his boyfriend a fricking complex. "Because I figure you're probably worried." Better for him to say it, as Bobby would ever now probably declare he was fine, or something equally vacuous.

[cold_blueeyes]

Bobby swore in surprise at the sound of John's voice. "Uh, hey. I swear to god, I wasn't snooping," he said quickly, biting his lip.

The last thing he wanted to do was talk about what he'd just found, at least before he'd had time to even process it, but he sighed and nodded, avoiding meeting John's eyes. "Okay," he murmured. If John wanted to talk, though, he'd have to do the talking.

[prodigalflame]

John moved his arm from Bobby's thigh to around his shoulders, tugging him in for a squeezing hug. "Well, this is our bedroom, so I couldn't say you were snooping anyway." He teased, a bit sharply, because only Bobby could get embarrassed at looking at what was his own room, really. "I don't have anything to hide from you. What's mine is yours, and all that stuff." Communal living was definitely John's way to go, as long as he was in charge of the commune, anyway. The only thing that was really his was his lighter; he knew Bobby wasn't about to burn the house down, anyway. Freeze the house down? Whatever.

"So all this is yours, too. I mean, if you want." No pressure. Except Bobby couldn't be entirely apple pie and vanilla, could he? Not deep down. Not if he'd chosen John to be with. Picking up the crop, he drew it through a curled hand and gave an involuntary shiver at the feel of it across his palm. "I was Mr. Kinky Dominant Guy, back in New York. A lot of people liked me that way." And John had liked himself that way, which was why he'd been so worried (and still was, a little) at what a pushy little switch he'd become. "You should have seen the parties," he mused, shaking his head at the memory: "A bunch of college kids displaying what style of handcuffs they preferred, like our folks throwin' a tupperware thing."

He was being salacious here, wasn't he? A little? That was the fucking point, anyway. Open-minded and sexy and engaging and pushing Bobby just that little bit further. Comfort zones, after all, were for sissies. Drake had saved people's fucking lives, he could deal with a little kink.

[cold_blueeyes]

Bobby swallowed, glancing over at the stick in John's hand like it might transform into a venomous snake at any moment. "So...you, uh, like this stuff, huh?" he asked weakly, telling himself that there was nothing wrong with being a little open-minded. He'd never done any of that sort of thing, so how did he know for sure he wouldn't like it? Even if the thought of being tied up and hit turned his stomach into knots. "I mean..." he shrugged helplessly, "I guess we could try some of it sometime." He forced his gaze from the crop up to John's face, then forced a small smile for his benefit. "If you want that." If you need that.

[prodigalflame]

"Thanks," John told him, putting the crop down in his lap, getting some of the signals but not the whole story. He could tell that Bobby was uncomfortable, but you know, he'd been uncomfortable back in the day, and look at him now. "You know, these things take time. There might be stuff you like," he suggested. There might not. And more than this, positions and stuff too. Bobby was still a tapestry of touch and taste for John to learn. "...And it's good to not have secrets from you," he added, kissing his cheek. "But yeah, I liked it. I like sex. A lot. I like sex with you even more than a lot," he added, amused at the situation they'd found themselves in.

[cold_blueeyes]

"I like sex too," Bobby said softly. But this--this wasn't sex. This was being beaten and restrained and...this he wasn't sure he'd like. In fact, he was pretty sure he wouldn't like it, though he'd try to keep an open mind if it was important to John.

"So...how did you get into this...stuff?" he asked, turning the conversation away from him so he didn't have to keep pondering if he'd enjoy it.

[prodigalflame]

And John was all too happy to talk about himself. He dropped the crop back in the box, clearly comfortable with it in an almost offhand manner, like it was just another everyday household object, and leaned back a little on the bed, palms flat and fingers splayed behind him. "I fucked around," he said, simply. "And there was this girl who liked being tied up, so I tried it, and then there was this guy who liked being spanked, and I kind of...got a reputation for being kind but not nice. Or maybe it was for being nice but kind." Another shrug. "Anyway, people found that I was happy to do stuff, and I didn't really mind being...mean, if people wanted me to." Because of course a part of him had worn that like a badge of pride, but he'd always been very clear and careful with consent. People had to know what they were getting into, and they had to set boundaries. He didn't play around with any fools.

[cold_blueeyes]

"So...you just did it for other people? Because it was what they wanted?" Bobby could definitely relate to that kind of sentiment, and if that was the case it would be quite a relief, honestly.

[prodigalflame]

"Yes...and no," John admitted, honestly, unaware of the potential land mine he was wandering into. "You may not have noticed, but I'm not exactly the nicest of people at times. The rush of power, and...these people, knowing they were safe enough, but still just scared enough to make it fun." He cleared his throat and looked down at the carpet: "And it was easier doing it to people than admitting sometimes I wanted them to do it to me."

[cold_blueeyes]

So much for that moment of relief. "...Oh." He frowned, rubbing the palm of his hand absently against his knee. "So...does that mean you want...me to do that stuff to you?" God, he wasn't sure he even could. But on the other hand, again, if it was important to John, shouldn't he at least try?

[prodigalflame]

John heard reluctance there and interpreted it as a form of personal judgement, rather than Bobby's own discomfort. "Well. Maybe," he shrugged, shutting down a little. He got up off the bed, took the box, and slid it back under the mattress. Conversation mostly closed. "I mean, I'm not forcing you to do anything, but I...there's got to be something you're into. No-one is entirely vanilla," he grumbled, a little more cranky at himself than Bobby. "At least not in my experience." Because John was a Sex God, right?

[cold_blueeyes]

As far as Bobby knew, he was entirely vanilla, at least beyond his sexuality itself. There were those that would argue that simply being bi made him not vanilla, but whatever. He just liked plain, old, regular sex. Not that he wasn't willing to experiment, play and have fun and try new things, just--he wasn't into anything anyone would call kinky, that was all.

Of course, now that fact was clearly a disappointment to John. "Okay," he said softly. "We can try it." Because the last think he wanted to do was disappoint him.

[prodigalflame]

John managed not to make a face, although somehow he felt like he was being dismissed. Even at school, Bobby had been full of things he didn't say - now living with (and loving) the guy, that tendency seemed to be heightened after all the crap they'd been through. And John didn't want to drag it out because honestly, he didn't want Bobby to say the thing that reminded John he was apparently just some angry kinky weirdo or whatever-the-fuck.

"Thanks," he said, and kissed Bobby almost perfunctorily on his cheek on the way out, hand warm on Bobby's stomach in an attempt to either give or get reassurance. "C'mon, I'll go cook dinner." And neither of them was probably happy, but neither of them was actively angry or sad. Maybe it was an improvement.