Johnny glanced up at him, his coal-dark eyes dancing with fire, tears catching in his lashes as he took Eugene deeper than anyone ever had, and Eugene slipped over the edge of the precipice. Falling back against the pillow, he shut his eyes as he gasped some wordless plea—a prayer, or maybe Johnny's name—and shuddered out his pleasure. Johnny wrung it from him with single-minded intent, working him over until Eugene was trembling and over-sensitive. It was only when Eugene begged him, one shaking hand tangled in his hair, that Johnny finally stopped, easing off with a satisfied smile, his arms folded over Eugene's hips as he stayed sprawled between his thighs like he belonged there.

"God," Eugene breathed.

"Say my name, not his."

"Johnny," Eugene corrected himself, and tried to sit up, reaching for him. "Did you finish? Let me . . ."

"No." Johnny rose, pushing Eugene flat to the mattress with one hand in the center of his chest. Eugene fell back willingly, unable to take his eyes from Johnny's face. "You stay there."

Johnny flattened himself to Eugene's body like a snake, capturing his mouth in a crushing kiss as he rolled their hips together. The overstimulation was enough to drag a sob from Eugene's chest as he wrapped his arms around Johnny's shoulders and held him there. Johnny growled and pressed his teeth to Eugene's throat, marking him between kisses. The bites would bruise; Eugene would carry them for days. That was what finally had him raising his voice, chanting Johnny's name on every exhalation, desperate curses escaping around his moans. His cries spurred Johnny to move faster, and Eugene pressed his knees to Johnny's hips, urging him on.

"Tell me you're mine," Johnny said into Eugene's neck.

"I'm yours," Eugene panted.

Johnny came with his teeth pressed to Eugene's jugular, sharp incisors biting deep and stopping just short of drawing blood. Eugene saw stars, close to coming a second time, lost in the feeling of skin on skin, the weight of Johnny's body on him and the smell of sex. Time passed dreamily, the night hot and sticky, until Johnny finally pushed himself to his elbows, smiling lazily down.

"Good?"

"Good," Eugene agreed breathlessly, stroking one hand down Johnny's bare back.

They lay side by side as their sweat cooled, the mess cleaned away with a careless swipe of Johnny’s undershirt, dropped back to the floor with the rest of their clothes. Eugene stretched out on his back, his hands folded over his chest, drifting in and out of near-consciousness. On the ceiling, the water stain inched ever lower. It had reached the wall, and was making its descent with long, spidery fingers. When it reached the headboard, it would crawl from the wall to the wood, creeping onto his face and smothering him infant-like in his bed. The idea kept him from dropping off to sleep entirely, his gaze fixed on finding patterns in the blackness. Parts of the stain looked like devilish, misshapen faces: mottled, twisted things leering down at him from the dark.