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It’s a little hard to wrap your mind around the concept of your boyfriend being a god.
At first glance, you don’t think anyone would say he looks otherworldly or all that powerful (okay, ignoring his hammer-toned arms and jackpot genes that take your breath away). You know better; you’ve seen the elements do this kid’s bidding. It’s still a little weird that you have nearly infinite superpower energy game bullshit nicely contained within a totally smokin’ babe sitting on your lap.
You’re also a god? But thinking about it gives you a massive headache. You don’t want powers or the responsibility of creating a new universe, you want to get your mouth back on John’s because you seem to have stopped kissing and you cannot comprehend why.
“Dave, what are you thinking about?”
You blink a few times, having forgotten your shades aren’t on your face. “What?”
John’s smile still makes your heart thud. “I’m trying to make out with you and you’re just sitting here.”
“Okay right. I was contemplating the fact that the universe decided to give us of all people wild magic tricks is all, sorry.”
“Godtier powers aren’t magic tricks, Dave. They’re...” His lip gets captured by his teeth while he thinks. You pretend you weren’t staring at his mouth and search for his wandering eyes. “Okay, I don’t know how to describe them. But they’re cool and they’re much more complicated than magic tricks, which aren’t even really magic, they’re just tricks designed to make you think something magical is happening.”
“Y’know what would be a magical happening? If you’d kiss me again.”
“‘Kay.” You close your eyes and appreciate the pressure of his lips on yours. Later you’ll text Jade like “lol kissed john again can u believe” and she’ll tell you you’ve been together for months already and you’ll remind her you’ve waited for literally like half your life for this. Not that you’re like, fucking head over heels or anything. Nah.
Anyways, John’s lips. They are migrating from your mouth to your jaw, breath feather soft on your skin. His hands, previously resting on your shoulders, travel down your arms to your hips. One keeps going, fingertips briefly dipping under your shirt on their way up your side. No, that didn’t make you shiver. You play with his hair while he explores your throat, slowly, slowly like he’s trying to track the path your blood takes through your veins.
You make a noise when he pulls your shirt aside to leave a mark just under your collarbone, something between a sigh and a hum or maybe a moan and you just did it again. Your hands tighten in his hair then wander down, pulling him closer, moving him forwards and you back. Your hands slip easily under his shirt, flat against his stomach, as his lips meet your again. Your back hits the mattress and you settle into it, sensing the dips John’s weight makes.
He’s kissing you faster now, harder, it leaves you breathless and almost dizzy. He slows down for a second and breathes in while you breathe out, lips still on yours and- wait a minute, you are actually dizzy. You’re gasping the moment he pulls away. His grin rivals the Cheshire Cat’s.
You quickly recover from feeling so winded and oogle at him. “The fuck was that?”
“Magic tricks!” He’s so proud of himself.
“Oh my god, did you just like, suck the fuckin’ oxygen out of me or somethin’? You can do that?”
“Apparently! You got me thinking about it, talking about powers and shit, and the idea just kinda popped into my head, so I figured I’d see if I could do it.” He sits back and runs a hand through his hair. “I guess I probably should have asked first,” he tacks on sheepishly.
You think about it for a minute. “Nah, it’s okay. It’s just a weird feeling. Not bad. I think?” You smirk. “If you had an asphyxiation kink you coulda just told me.” You were just teasing, but he goes a little red aha. “You do, yeah?”
He nods.
“Golden. Can we just, appreciate the irony here for a second. The Heir of Breath gets off on not having breath. If you were anyone else that’d just be whatever but-”
“Okay, okay! I get it, shut up already,” he laughs. “I’m not the only one here with interesting kinks.”
“Piss off-” He snorts. “-don’t change the subject. I said I didn’t mind you being a breath vampire- or bampire- but if you wanna do that again, I should probably take this off.” You pat your chest where your binder is. He nods and clambers off of you so you can sit up and get your shirt off. As soon as that ordeal is sorted out, you throw your shirt back on (cause no thanks tits, not today) and climb right back into John’s lap. He rests his hands on your thighs and you bring his face to yours again.
He doesn’t jump right into it. He just kisses you for a moment, the heat and gentle pressure of his hands burning your skin through your jeans. You try not to squirm around too much, your mind leaping ahead to his hands being all over you, yes thanks. There are so many clothes in the equation still, you start tugging at his shirt because John Egbert has a body that you appreciate and you’re gonna fucking appreciate it. He complies, snickering something about you being overly eager (as if he isn’t too), and catches you a little off-guard when your lips meet again.
You listen to him inhale.
It’s slower this time. You can feel him dragging the air out of your lungs, through your throat and mouth. You struggle against it on instinct, but he won’t yield. It’s strange , that’s for sure, and almost a little frightening because holy shit if he practiced he could probably do this to anyone just by thinking about it and that’s a pretty powerful weapon.
It’s also hot as fuck.
It’s fitting, John being able to literally steal your breath away. He owns your heart, why shouldn’t he own this too? The way that thought makes your blood run boiling hot is lethal. Does he know how tightly he has you wound around his finger? Goddamn.
You gasp for air the moment he withdraws, flooding your lungs, and moan on the first exhale. His face does no shoddy job of telling you how much this turns him on- his mouth is open and he’s breathing like he’s the one who just had his air cut off, and his eyes are heavy lidded and locked on you. Honestly, that makes you feel hotter than the actual breathplay.
“Again?”
You nod, but hold up a finger because you need a moment to collect yourself. “If I can’t speak then I can’t safeword so if I tap you twice it means stop. Just in case.”
“Okay, cool.”
The feeling makes your fingers and toes tingle. Somehow, being unable to breathe makes every point of contact between the two of you feel that much more intense. He goes slowly, hands gently roaming while he melds his mouth to yours and carefully cuts off your air supply. Correction- he doesn’t just cut it off, he fucking rips it from you. He speeds up as he gets braver, never pulls away long enough to give you a break and, holy, shit.
Your brain is fucking melting, your world spinning. Part of it is endorphins from kissing him and part of it is the burning in your lungs because you need to breathe, fuck you need to breathe, you don’t tap out because you fully trust him and honestly it feels kind of really good to be this overwhelmed and glued to him. Your chest burns your, blood burns, the pit of your stomach burns and his fingertips sliding under your shirt burn-
And then in a rush that would sweep you off your feet if you were standing, he breathes out. Or rather, breaths the air you need into you. That makes absolutely no sense physically, how he’d breathe out anything other than carbon dioxide, but the burning in your lungs is replaced by relief and you’re gasping and everything tingles. Your head wants to fall off and you can feel how wet you are.
That happened fast.
John’s hand comes to the side of your face, thumb tracing your lips. “Fuck, Dave.” His breath washes over you and you shiver. “You okay?”
“Uhhhhmmmhmmm yeah.” Aren’t the two of you eloquent. “Do that again, it’s fuckin’ weird.” You sound hoarse.
He giggles a little (that’s right ladies and gentlemen, he’s cute and he’s hot) but does as you demand, and this time you willingly give into him, you don’t fight it at all. Your hips are rocking and you don’t have the level of brain functioning required to control them.
It kind of a high and everything is intensified. The dizziness makes you feel loopy and out of it but also incredibly centered on the moment, like you couldn’t think about something else if you wanted to. You definitely don’t want to. You want nothing but John, John, John. John’s lips on yours, John’s hands under your shirt, John’s heat under your fingers, John’s breath.
Your breath is his now, if he takes it or gives it is his choice and you’re down with that, and wow these are some really cringey thoughts you need to get a fucking grip (but you can’t).
The next break he gives you has you practically collapsing against him, shaking and dizzy and panting “Jesus Christ John,” against his throat. He mumbles about how hot you are and slides his hands up your thighs, which draws your attention to how much clothing in your way. You fumble at his pants with shaky hands, desperate to get them off of him. You also press your hand against the bulge of his cock, for good measure. He really does like choking you, it seems.
“You ‘n I are wearin’ way too much.”
“Agreed.” He pushes your hands away and you focus on getting out of your own jeans. He’s freed of his by the time you’ve got yours around your knees, but you’re a little disoriented so you deserve to be cut some slack. He pulls you back onto him as you kick them onto the floor and you drive for his throat, sucking marks where he’ll be able to hide them with a little creativity. You slide your hand up his thigh and press your palm against his cock through his boxers. His hips lift into your touch.
His hands run down your back (you still have your shirt on, but it’s been pushed up a bit) to your hips. One keeps going, pushing into your boxers. His fingertips are so close to where you want them (fuck fuck fuck ). The other comes up to your throat, wraps around it, providing gentle pressure. Your throat vibrates with every noise you make, you’re sure he can feel it.
“This okay?” His eyes are such an intense color. You take a quick breather to dwell on how fuckening gay you are, just for a moment. You have to be self indulgent sometimes.
“Yup.”
That earned you an eye roll. “Okay. Good, because I don’t like that you can still talk.” That nearly makes you moan.
You let yourself be pulled down to kiss him, and relax into the feeling of the air leaving your body. His hand tightens around your throat, which makes you very aware of your heart pounding, your pulse rapid in places you don’t normally feel it. His fingers just barely brush your clit and you jerk. You’re throbbing for him.
When he pulls away, he doesn’t move his hand. Your brain can’t decide if it wants to focus on the hot pressure of the fingers around your throat or the ones sliding into you. You feel yourself clench around them and he moans. His dick twitches, you almost forgot you were in the middle of feeling him up.
You realize you aren’t going to last very long. Just the fact that it’s John touching you seems to get you there that much faster. You rock back onto his fingers, feel them easily press deeper into you (you’re practically dripping it’s not hard) and try to cry out even when you lack the air to do so.
John lets go of your throat only to tangle that hand in your hair and use it as a grip to yank your head down and get his mouth on yours again, sucking what feels like every last molecule of oxygen out of you. The burn is unbearable and you’re shaking so hard you feel like you’re going to collapse on top of him, you can’t even see straight your vision is going dark and around the edges and you can’t breathe can’t breathe can’t breathe it feels so good .
The sweetest air you’ve ever breathed floods your mouth and chest and nose, it tastes like John and feels like John and the only thing keeping your head up is his hand in your hair. You’re babbling before you can even breathe properly, voice rough and cracking and breathless. “ John fuck ffuck I- oh god I-” he crooks his fingers, hits you in the right spot and grinds the heel of his palm against your clit at the same time and you croon. “ Fuck fuck don’t stop please, please-” your voice gives out and dissolves into a whine.
His lips are millimeters from yours, not quite touching so you can feel his breath ghosting over you, and are drawn into him when he inhales. His hand tightens around your throat and your pulse runs wild under his fingertips. You choke on nothing, eyes watering and rolling back into your head holy fuck you’re gonna come, you’re gonna come you’re so close, just a little more you need to breathe- you need to breathe- you need John, you need him need air need his fingers in you need need need.
You can’t tell if you lose consciousness from lack of oxygen or if you just completely lose it from coming so hard, you don’t care you’re gone. You vaguely sense John tensing up under you, maybe hear your name in his mouth but you’re floating in space somewhere and radio signals aren’t going to be reaching you for a while. Leave a message after the beep.
The heartbeat thudding in your ears could belong to either of you. John’s chest rises and falls under yours. You don’t know how long you lie there for while your breath evens out. Your body is fuzzy and warm and your arms might be floating away for all you know. Eventually, John’s arm wraps around your waist and reality begins to make itself known again.
“Hey,” John murmurs. His eyes are bright and your hands made modern art of him, the medium his hair.
"Howdy.” Your voice is rough around the edges. You frown and rub your neck; attempting to clear your throat doesn’t help. You’re barely louder than a whisper. Y’really did a number on me.”
“Okay, stop talking, I’ll get you some water.” He makes like he’s going to get up and you very pointedly snuggle against his chest.
“No movin’.” John pets your hair and you practically purr. Suddenly you sit up, ignoring how you still feel floaty. “Didja come? I barely touched you.”
John’s laugh is self conscious. “Uh, yeah. Duh.”
“Why’s that a duh?”
He tips his head back and groans, pushing your head back down to his chest. “You’re hot, Dave. Leave me alone.”
Smug, you relax against him. You knew that already, but when he says it you feel warm. “Now I hafta find a way to use my powers to make fuckin’ you more interesting,” you mumble, voice straining. Maybe you could edge him for hours in the span of five minutes, or something. That’d be fun.
“I haven’t exhausted all the possibilities with mine yet, though. Heck, I’ve barely gotten started, I’m already coming up with more ideas.” You raise an eyebrow at him. John grins up at the ceiling.
“Oh yeah? Like what?”