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“Case dismissed,” and the gavel bangs.
Doyoung doesn’t feel a shred of satisfaction as he stands up and packs up his briefcase. He got the guy off on an evidence technicality in an explosive embezzlement scandal, his name will probably be in the papers for a couple of days until it all blows over, and Doyoung’s ready to go home and wash the fucking slime off of his skin. The only reason he took the case in the first place was because Taeyong asked him to as a favor because he got sentimental about his ex from university being in the headlines for something so heinous and he ‘can’t believe Johnny would ever do something so horrible’ even though he totally did it.
It’s not speculation, Johnny told him himself in private before he posted bail to wait for his trial on house arrest. The money is stashed offshore in multiple different bank accounts in a wide variety of places that’s honestly… kind of impressive. It’s also fucking annoying, but Doyoung hasn’t lost a case yet and he wasn’t going to lose his first one even if the smug bastard deserves to be behind bars.
“You really are the best money can buy, hm?” Johnny’s arm wraps around his back from behind as he stands up too, and Doyoung shrugs him off just as quickly.
“Do I have to remind you that I’m not being paid for this?”
“How about dinner then? I’m ~buying~,” Johnny says with an insufferable smirk in his voice that makes Doyoung want to fucking smack him.
Discreetly looking up at him from beneath his bangs as the prosecution storms out of the courtroom ahead of them, Doyoung hisses, “Can you at least wait to gloat until you’re not within spitting distance of a hundred reporters waiting for your statement?” Johnny wiggles his eyebrows at him, something he’s learned means ‘okay but what about the important part of what I said’ which is usually the least important. “And no, I’m not hungry.”
“Tomorrow?”
“No.”
“How about Saturday?”
“I’m never going to be hungry again,” Doyoung straightens his suit jacket out and takes a large step backward, away from his former client. “Lose my number and never contact me again, goodbye.”
Like snubbing Johnny would ever be enough to deter him.
Doyoung doesn’t have the energy to block Johnny even if he doesn’t answer a single text, or the one (two) drunken phone calls at 2am that have the most incoherent, pathetic voicemails attached to the timestamps. He ignores the fruit basket and the flowers and the chocolates (after eating one or two because it’s free chocolate, okay?), and every other thing he sends over the course of like two months. It seems like every other day he’s signing for a package or shredding an invite to something or other (he never reads them).
So why is it, the second Doyoung finds himself in a nightclub halfway across the country, the hand up his skirt belongs to the guy on the bottom of the list of people he wants to fuck? Regardless of whether or not they were eyefucking from across the club, it’s not an invitation for Johnny to get on the dance floor, and it’s absolutely not an invitation for him to bump the guy Doyoung was dancing with to the side so he can dance with him instead. But, whatever, Doyoung’s a little drunk and a lot of horny and Johnny’s hand feels nice creeping up his thigh. Leaning his head back against Johnny’s shoulder, he asks, “What are you, some kind of fucking stalker?”
“No idea what you’re talking about,” Johnny says as the music changes. It’s so unfortunate that Johnny is just the right kind of big to wrap around his back completely. “You don’t know me.”
They can just be random faces without names to each other tonight, and that suits Doyoung just fine. “Fine, but you’re not allowed to kiss me.”
Johnny’s fingertips slip beneath his panties as he laughs into the crown of Doyoung’s head, “Fine.”
He gets teased within an inch of his life for a ten minute club mix of a song released like 45 years ago, and it’s the most alive Doyoung’s felt in the same amount of time, easily. In the immortal words of Shelly Rogland, there’s no turning back from this party, and this is Johnny’s last opportunity to move him.
Johnny dips down and kitten licks the shell of Doyoung’s ear to get his attention, “You wanna fuck in my helicopter?”
Ethically, no. “Yeah I wanna fuck in your helicopter.”
Consider Doyoung moved.
Moving through the sky, strapped into a helicopter with the most stoic man Doyoung’s ever encountered piloting it. Not that he’s paying much attention with Johnny’s cock so deep it feels like he’s gonna die. Legs spread over Johnny’s, his chest to Doyoung’s back, too busy watching the city fly by in a blur of color to give a fuck that Johnny is leaving hickies on his neck. Groped and grabbed and fucked, listening to Johnny dirty talk over the headset. His ears pop when he cums with a shriek because turbulence pushes Johnny’s cock into his fucking lungs.
They fuck again in a hot tub in a hotel penthouse suite that costs more per night than Doyoung makes in a month, leaned over the side as Johnny plows him from behind. Then they smoke on the balcony in silence and he ends up riding dick on a sun chair so hard the damn thing breaks and sends them sprawling out on the stone tile, so to make it up to him Johnny fucks him on the nicest sheets on the biggest bed he’s ever been fucked on. And to round it out, Doyoung gets fucked in the shower feet off the floor and back to the tile because he refuses to pass out in a puddle of sweat and body fluids.
Doyoung bats Johnny’s hands away when he tries to help him, even if his legs are shaky and he feels like he’s gonna fall to the ground and wash down the drain. Maybe if Johnny weren’t so annoying he’d let him do anything other than stand in the corner of the shower while Doyoung takes his time washing his day away. He gets out by himself and takes a towel from the rack and ends up in bed pretty much immediately.
“You wanna go again?” Johnny’s skin holds a lingering trace of damp from the shower as he climbs into bed behind Doyoung on the only clean side of the sheets.
It’s dark and Doyoung’s got his eyes closed because it’s almost four in the morning and if he doesn’t sleep now he’s gonna miss lunch with his mom and that’s completely fucking unacceptable. “How the fuck is your dick still hard?” Seriously, right up against Doyoung’s ass.
The lips on his neck are soft, the hand on his waist is gentle. “Because you drive me fucking crazy,” Johnny punctuates with a bite to already tender skin.
“That’s my problem?” Johnny moans and rocks his hips up against him in a couple of thrusts that make Doyoung’s cunt throb in pain. “That wasn’t an invitation, idiot. I’m going to bed, go jack off over there if you’re still horny.”
Doyoung pushes Johnny off of him, and he rolls away with an obnoxiously loud scream of fake pain, “So cruel!!”
“Don’t talk to me,” Doyoung hikes the duvet over his shoulder, “If you say another word I’m killing you.”
“Bu–”
Louder, “With my bare hands, now go use yours.” If he kicks Johnny on the thigh to make him scoot further away, then that’s just the consequence of managing to actually be too horny.
The worst part is that’s exactly what Johnny does, making the sheets rustle with the movement of his fist over his cock, whimpering quietly while Doyoung feels eyes boring into the back of his head. And it goes on, and on, and on for what has to be half an hour, desperately tugging at his dick, stopping every so often to grab for his tableside bottle of lotion with a repulsively loud pop to the cap so he doesn’t chafe. It’s annoying and it’s keeping Doyoung awake.
The fifth time's a targeted psy-op to get Doyoung on his back if that’s really the only way Johnny’s gonna fucking fall asleep, and the worst part is it’s working.
“Your dick’s gonna shrivel up and go extinct if you don’t give it a rest,” Doyoung looks over his shoulder, annoyed to see Johnny staring at him from the dark with big, glittering eyes.
“I can’t help it,” comes his miserable reply as he tosses the bottle over his shoulder and gets right back to it. “You fucking haunt me.”
“That’s a stupid thing to say to a stranger,” Doyoung deflects, because there’s no reason for him to start saying things like that. It’s a personal policy to not make any life altering decisions between the hours of 9pm through 5am, his anti-business hours.
It takes a second for Johnny to gloomily ask, “We’re still strangers?”
Doyoung laughs, sudden and incredulous as he makes the full turn to face Johnny. “You’re serious? Yes we’re still strangers, because all I did was a favor for Yongie.”
“I thought I was gonna go to jail for fucking ever when I got caught,” it’s weird that Johnny moans, but it’s also kind of hot and that sucks because Doyoung is so tired, but he’s also wet and it’s all this asshole’s fault.
Doyoung rolls his eyes, “You should’ve been put to work breaking rocks since you can’t fucking control yourself.”
“It’s my fault you looked fucking hot ripping my business partner to shreds on the stand?” Oh. “Do you have any idea how much self-control it took to not crawl under the table and shove my face between your legs when the judge threw my case out?”
Oh that’s not even fair. Fuck it. Doyoung gets onto his back and pulls the comforter down, legs spread as he holds his arms out for Johnny to get back in them, “If I’m not awake by nine I’m going to the police, I am so serious.” He’s not, but he's gotta go back to his hotel and get a change of clothes and somehow find a way to mitigate how Johnny mauled his neck.
His thighs are pinned to the bed in an instant, and Doyoung has to suffer watching Johnny wipe his dick off of lotion on the sheets. That aside, maybe he gets goosebumps when Johnny slides in slow with a moan Doyoung can only describe as grateful. “You f-feel so fucking good.”
Johnny grabs his hands and threads their fingers together to press them into the pillow above Doyoung’s head when something occurs to him. Their bodies are too close together like this, with Doyoung wrapping his legs around Johnny’s waist to get him even closer. “Hey,” he whispers into Johnny’s cheek, ghosting close to the corner of his lips before pulling back and almost laughing when breath shudders against his cheek.
“Yeah?”
Johnny isn’t even fucking him yet, he’s half laying on top of Doyoung like he’s savoring the feel of being inside him. Oh he’s hooked hooked, that’s kind of adorable. “How bad do you wanna kiss me?” Johnny moans a stupid little sound, dick throbbing cutely inside of him, so Doyoung chooses violence and clenches tight. “Aw baby, that bad?” Johnny whimpers and bites his lip and nods, and it’s the cutest thing Doyoung’s ever seen.
If Johnny’s gonna be sitting on all that money? Legally, it’s Doyoung’s.
“What would you do?”
“Anything.”
“You can start by fucking me instead of wasting my time.”
He agrees to the car.
He agrees to the apartment.
He agrees to the credit card.
And when Johnny drops Doyoung off a block away from where he’s meeting his mom for lunch in a brand new outfit, he agrees to be a good boy while he waits.
All for a kiss.
Idiot.