"Whenever Anyone Accuses Me Of Being Quiet I Scream In Their Fucking Ear!"

♥Cause Nothing's Better Than Some Smut To Start Your Saturday Morning♥

John had a difficult time staying patient, especially after Keith had teased him all morning. He bit into Keith’s shoulder, drawing a hiss out of him. It was the only way John could distract himself from thinking of the picture Keith had sent him a few hours ago.

At one point, John couldn’t hold back any longer, and he started moving his hips under Keith and fucking him quicker. Between the mattress creaking and Keith’s groaning, neither of them heard the door open downstairs.

“You dirty thing,” John murmured into Keith’s ear lovingly. His hand travelled from Keith’s cock, up his belly and his chest, then his neck and up to his lips. Keith stuck out his tongue and John slipped two fingers into his mouth. Keith sucked them obediently, and John buried his face into Keith’s back, unable to suppress his moan.

From the bottom of the stairs, Pete shouted up to them. “John? Keith? You guys home?”

John and Keith froze, icy panic setting in the both of them. Keith gripped John’s arm, terrified. They stayed absolutely still. John cleared his throat, calling back. “Uh, yeah, I’m home. What’s up?”

“Oh, great. My last class got cancelled today, thank fuck,” Pete shouted back. Downstairs, they heard him unzip his coat, then take his shoes off. “Where’s Keith?”

John slowly drew his fingers out of Keith’s mouth, then covered Keith’s mouth with his palm. He tightened his arm around Keith’s waist, and slowly started thrusting into Keith again. He called back down to Pete. “He’s taking a nap, I think.”

They heard Pete coming upstairs. Keith squirmed, unsure of whether or not he should flee. John stroked his thumb against Keith’s bruised hip to reassure him. Pete came up behind John’s door, knocking quickly. “Can I come in?”

“Not yet,” John struggled to keep his voice steady. Keith started fucking himself again, achingly slow, but quieter than if John did all the moving. “I just got out of the shower.”

“Oh, no problem,” Pete hummed. “Yeah, Keith’s bedroom door is shut, too. He must be sleeping. Let me know when he wakes up later. I was thinking we could see a movie later or something.”

John unwound his arm enough to start stroking Keith’s cock again, as fast as he could without making any wet skin noises. Keith whimpered into his palm, and John clamped his hand down even tighter over Keith’s mouth. Keith responded enthusiastically. “Ah – yeah, a movie sounds great.”

Pete thankfully stayed oblivious. “There’s that weird looking German movie that just came out, it’s all artsy and in black and white and shit. We talked about it in my cinema class and I think it’d really impress my prof if I wrote my final paper on it, y’know?”

“Actually, I’ve never heard of it,” John improvised quickly before he lost his breath. “Can you tell me about it?”

He could hear the smile in Pete’s voice behind the door. “Oh my god, so get this, so there’s this woman, right? And she’s fleeing the country after WWII I think, and she’s a journalist or whatever and she’s got PTSD so her memories are all fucked up? And the use of the non-linear narrative also gives us flash forwards to her daughter’s life after she goes on trial for a war crime and…”

After successfully setting Pete off on a tangent and distracting him for another five minutes or so, the two of them made the conscious, stupid, daring decision to sneakily finish right then and there. Keith’s hip movements had gone too erratic so John just kept him pinned tightly against him, stroking him with a tight grip until he felt a slick layer of sweat form on his back and smear onto John’s chest and stomach. The adrenaline rushing through both of them kept them electrified. Keith wriggled in John’s arms and his back arched suddenly. John held onto him tightly as Keith came in long spurts all over his thighs and the bed sheets.