"Welcome to my humble abode," you said in a high-pitched tone, opening the front door to let your partner, Landon, into your apartment. His backpack hangs over one shoulder, and he has an unsure smile on his face. Always a little cutie. Odd, seeing a giant like him afraid to be impolite.
Even though you distinctly remember reminding him your boyfriend wouldn't be back from the gym for another hour, he still glanced around the room with a nervous twitch. You giggled and shut the door behind him, then skipped over to the couch.
You'd tried to make your home as presentable as possible before Landon came over. Dishes are clean. Laundry is put up. The wood-tiled floor is swept and mopped. Kicking Johnny out of the house was the most grueling chore.
You didn't think Landon would appreciate his partner's boyfriend eyeing him evilly from the other side of the couch, so you sent Johnny to the gym with Haz. You really wouldn't put it past Johnny to sit in between you guys like in those sitcoms where the dad is keeping his daughter away at a reasonable distance from the boy she brought home. Yeah, he would. You chuckled out loud, and Landon smiled. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing," you laughed, then cleared your throat. "Okay, down to business. Did you bring the questions?"
Landon fished through his backpack, now sitting on the floor by his feet, and pulled out the survey paper for your intimate social experiment. "Got 'em."
"So," you said, kicking your bare feet up onto the arm of the couch and smoothing your skirt. "How're we doing this? I ask a question first; you write my answers down, then you go, then I go again, I'm rambling, aren't I?"
He nodded shyly, "A little, yeah."
"Come on. Loosen up, Landon, I'm not gonna bite!"
He grinned but looked around the living room again. "Where's your boyfriend?"
"Johnny is not here, at the moment. And if he were, I'd deal with him," you promised.
Johnny sort of built up the reputation of being the tough boyfriend. He only punched one of your partners once. Okay, twice; the guy hugged you before he left, and Johnny wasn't pleased. You've put your foot down since that incident, telling your boyfriend this isn't the freaking middle ages and you're not his property. He's tried his best to comply after that.
You sent him away because if he knew what this experiment is about, Landon would go to the hospital with a broken jaw and Johnny would be charged with aggravated assault.
Clapping your hands together, you smiled at your partner then picked up your notebook and pen off the coffee table. "Should I start?"
Landon grabbed himself a sheet of paper and smiled. "Ladies first."
You picked up the purple colored sheet and read off the first question.
"Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common.' Um, by the looks of it... we have the same style in clothes, we both like the color red, and from the pattern on your backpack, we both like pizza. Did I get any of that wrong?"
"One. I like orange."
"No way," you exclaimed. "I never see you wear anything orange!"
He laughed heartily. "Who says I have to wear it to like it?"
"Alright, you got me there. Your turn."
Landon took the paper from you and sat back against the couch. "What would constitute a 'perfect' day for you?' Easy; all my classes canceled, my shift at work covered, and I get to sleep in all day and hang out with my friends all night long. How about you?"
"My idea of a perfect day... it's pouring outside, I have my favorite sweater on while drinking hot chocolate, and Johnny and I are snuggled under some covers, binge-watching Brooklyn 99."
The questions went back and forth; some so funny they had you clenching your sides and tears running down your face. Others were more introspective of who you and Landon were as a person, what you wanted in life, what your dreams and hopes and fears were. Your teacher wasn't kidding when she warned you'd have to dig deep and be open. You toughed it out. You needed to get a good grade on the social experiment, no matter what.
After finishing up the rest of the questions, you figured you had time to kill before Johnny showed up, so you played some more trivia questions. They were safe at the start: most embarrassing memory, a truth for a truth. Landon seemed to drop the scared act and loosened up. For a second, you almost thought you'd have to break out the alcohol.
"Can I ask a personal question?" Landon blurted out.
A personal question? What would he want to know about you that the questionnaire didn't cover? You nodded head apprehensively, keeping on a friendly smile. "Go ahead."
"Why are you with Johnny?"
"Why am I with my boyfriend?" you said biting the inside of your cheek. "Why do you want to know?"
His cheeks reddened under your scrutinizing gaze. "He's, you know, a hothead. And you're an angel."
Woah, that escalated. "Johnnys not a hothead. He's defensive."
The front door slammed shut. Your head snapped in time to see Johnny throw his bag on the ground and storm into the living room. You bounded up, putting yourself in between him and Landon, who had his hand outstretched to pull you back.
"Call my girl an angel again, and I swear I'll kick your ass!" Johnny bellowed, trying to move around you to get to your partner.
"Johnny!" you gasped. "It was just a compliment!"
Landon picked up his backpack off the ground and headed for the door. "I'll see you later, Y/n."
"Landon don't go!" you called. Johnny held you by your waist until the door opened and shut again, leaving the two of you alone.
You shoved him off. "I can't believe you! No more, you hear me! You're not going to run off all the boys I bring from school."
"I just walked in on another man calling you an angel, and I have no right to upset?!"
"No!" You folded your arms across your heaving chest.
"You thank your lucky stars that this angel is still putting up with this because I'm sick of it! Maybe next, I'll go over to Landon's house!"
The chocolate of his irises darkened, and his jaw clamped shut. You've seen that look plenty of times to know you've pushed a button. You're in for it now. Before you could blink, your legs were swept out from under you and Johnny had you over his shoulder.
"Put me down!" You pounded on his sweaty back, kicking your legs. "Johnny, you put me down this instant!"
He walked all the way your shared bedroom, carrying your struggling weight like it was nothing, and tossed your back onto the bed, leaving your legs to dangle off the side. Johnny got down on his knees and pushed your skirt up on your hips and yanked your panties down to your ankles. He situated your calves on his shoulder, then placed his curly head in the middle of your thighs, blowing his hot breath on you.
You writhed as he teased you, kissing your inner thighs and swiping a flat tongue against your wetness. "Ugh... hate you... don't stop," you moaned, sensing his lips wrap around your stimulated clit and issuing a gentle suck.
Johnny hummed and held your hips down as your hips bucked into his face. It was torturous. He knew what he was doing to you, making you go mad with the teasing. It's his favorite type of punishment. And if you were honest, it's your favorite as well. You loved when he took control of you, pleasuring you to the point of pure exhaustion.
When his tongue finally entered you, you were chanting his name like a prayer, threading your fingers through his curls and pulling on fistfuls.
He pulled away, smirking as you wailed. "Still hate me?"
You whimpered, pulling him on top of you and slamming your lips on his, no doubt bruising them. You tasted yourself on his tongue. Unconsciously, your hips ground into Johnnys erection, trying to reach your release.
Johnny broke the kiss, tsking, "I don't think you deserve to come, angel."
We'll see about that. One of your hands let go of Johnnys shirt, trying to go down to take care of it yourself. He snatched your wrist and pinned it above your head. For good measure, he did the same to your other hand, imprisoning them in a one-handed grip.
"Motherfucker!" you cried out, rubbing your thighs together in hopes to create friction.
"Answer me, love. Do you hate me?"
His free hand found its way in the middle of your thighs, effortlessly slipping a finger into you, pumping it in and out in a slow rhythm. He groaned, "Fuck, you feel good."
When he added another finger, your bones turned to jelly. "Oh, sweet lord! Johnny!"
He nuzzled his head into your neck, marking your skin. "Whose angel are you?"
"I'm yours," you panted, almost sounding belligerent. "I'm gonna-I coming!"
Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, knocking the wind out of you. Johnny held you through it, waiting for your breath to come back before kissing your swollen lips. This argument is routine for you two. It's nothing Landon or anyone else could understand. As hot-tempered and obstinate as he could be, you knew you could handle it. Johnny would never think to harm you. Plus, he's a huge softie.
"I'm gonna take a shower. Want me to turn on Brooklyn 99 for you or do you wanna...?" He led off, raising a suggestive eyebrow.
You grinned and stripped off the rest of your clothes, heading for the bathroom.