Lou's parents had a finished basement, with rough carpeting and the old couch from before they re-did their living room. There was a TV down there - black and white, yeah, but a TV all the same - and the old coffee table, made of heavy, scarred wood, sat heavily in between the couch and the TV. The walls were the cheap pineboard made to look like wood, and there were still the metal shelves lined with games and toys and all the old kid stuff from when Lou and his sisters were younger.

Johnny and Lou were sixteen, way past board games and toy soldiers (though, truth be told, the toy soldiers were still sometimes kind of fun), and mostly appreciated having access to the TV after Lou's parents went to bed and before Johnny's curfew. The couch was old and the cushions were somewhat stained and one had a tear in it, but it was comfortable and they didn't have to worry about it. They could just slouch back and put their feet on the coffee table (so long as they took their shoes off first), and one of the movie channels showed old Humphrey Bogart movies every Saturday night.

It was pretty cool.

And lately, after it was quiet upstairs, when Lou's parents were in bed, and Bogie's rough voice coming dimly from the TV in the background, Lou would slouch further down on the couch, carefully casual, and turn his head towards Johnny. That's all it would take, just Lou's dark eyes watching him, just inches from his own, and Johnny - he didn't really remember how it happened the first time, how he ever got the courage - Johnny would lean in - would have to lean in - and kiss him.

He was surprised how easy it was. He was surprised every time. His heart would be pounding, yeah, but it wasn't out of nervousness or fear. His heart would pound because Lou's hand would come up to brush the side of his face, curl around the back of his neck, and then Lou's mouth would open against his, and god, slipping his tongue in Lou's mouth just made Johnny's heart pound harder.

They'd been doing that for a few weeks now - just kissing and kissing, and Johnny didn't have to worry if his hand was sweaty when he braced himself on Louis' thigh, or if he wasn't doing it right, because it was easy. They were both new at this, and Johnny loved every move Lou made, every time Johnny felt Lou's tongue stroke against his own, every time Lou touched Johnny's thigh, his chest, his neck. It was all good, it was all so good, and it was great, it was perfect, all he wanted was more.

Tonight he just couldn't stop thinking about it. Sitting at the dinner table with Louis' parents asking about their schoolwork, Louis' sisters bickering and giggling across the table - it was torture, because all, all Johnny could think about was the way Louis' eyes were all dark as he looked at Johnny across the table, giving him an easy smile, rolling his eyes at his sisters' antics. All Johnny could think about then - all he'd been able to think about at all lately - was the couch, and the dim quiet, and the two of them together, not even able to hear the TV over the pounding of his heart.

Dinner lasted forever, and when they finally (finally) made their way down to the cellar, and the couch, and the quiet, Johnny felt excited and twitchy, his hands restless against his thighs as they settled down on the soft couch, unable to keep from looking sideways at Louis, over and over again. Lou didn't seem to mind - he kept doing that thing where he looked at Johnny, his eyes all dark and serious even though his mouth was curved in a smile. Lou clicked the TV on and as it warmed up, the shadowed black and white of Humphrey Bogart lurking in an alley, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, flickered slowly into view.

They both slid back a little on the couch, getting comfortable. As Louis shifted, his knee brushed against Johnny's and even just that set Johnny's blood thrumming, had him breathlessly waiting, tense. He tried to relax, tried to watch the movie, listening all the time for the quiet to descend upstairs, the heavy groan of the stairs that indicated Louis' parents were headed to bed and they were safe, and alone. And when he finally heard it, his heart kicked up a beat, even though nothing, absolutely nothing was happening, nothing had changed, and he and Louis were still carefully relaxed on the couch. They held that pose while the clock ticked way too loudly in the corner, while Bogart mumbled his way through a handful of lines, and God, Johnny couldn't take this, his heart was going to pound out of his chest, he couldn't -

Lou shifted on the couch beside him, turning just a little towards him. Just enough, and Johnny broke, reaching for his arms and kissing him, hungry and deep. Louis made a noise in his throat, and yeah, yeah, Johnny wasn't the only one who wanted this, who had been thinking about this.

He felt an enormous swell of affection for Louis, deep in his chest, for being there, for understanding, for wanting in just exactly the same way that Johnny wanted. Johnny was aching for this, couldn't breathe, but he didn't want to take his mouth away from Lou's. Lou's hand was warm and heavy high on Johnny's thigh, and Lou kept edging closer, closer on the couch, till they couldn’t get any closer.

Johnny pushed in too, couldn't help it, and when he finally lifted his head to take a gasping breath, he found he'd pushed Louis down on his back on the couch. Their legs were tangled awkwardly, but Louis' hands were hanging on tight to the back of Johnny's shirt, holding him close. "Lou," Johnny said, helplessly, his voice coming out hoarse and breathless. "I - "

"Yeah." Lou's voice had the same strained, yearning quality. "Yeah, just - "

Johnny's hips moved forward, pressing down against Lou. He was - hard. They both were, Johnny could feel it, and it made him blush, hotly, even as he moved his hips forward again, couldn't stop himself, it just felt so good. "Listen," he said, trying to catch his breath, "I don’t - you've got to -" He watched as Lou's eyes fluttered closed, his lashes dark against his cheeks.

"It's okay," Lou said, and he was shifting underneath Johnny, pressing up against him, making Johnny ache right where they were against each other. Lou's chest was heaving under his, Lou's quick breath hot against Johnny's mouth as he said, "God, it's okay, it's okay."

"Yeah," Johnny managed, "Yeah," and he lowered his mouth to Lou's again. They caught the rhythm of it, both of them, their bodies moving together on the soft, old couch, their mouths moving against each other, the quiet, frantic breaths they both kept taking, all of it moving together.

Johnny wanted, he wanted so very badly to just - God. "You -" he said hoarsely, because Lou's hips were moving so good under him, so very good, and if they weren't careful - "You - "

"Yeah," Lou said, and his hips kept moving, and Johnny bent his head, mouthing at the long line of Lou's neck, overwhelmed. Lou's head was thrown back, his eyes closed, as he gasped, seeming loud in the dim quiet of the cellar room, the TV still flickering in the background. "Yeah -"

Oh, this was too much, it was too much. Johnny wanted to stop, wanted it all, couldn't keep from thrusting down in rhythm to Lou's hips moving up, and up. Johnny was panting desperately against Lou's neck, trying to swallow his groans, trying to be quiet, hold back, hold on because -

"Oh god," he moaned helplessly, and Lou's warm hand slid over the back of his head, turning his mouth back to Lou's, muffling his moans against Lou's mouth. He couldn't stop, he couldn't stop, and Lou held him, his fingers digging tight into the back of Johnny's head and into his hip, as Johnny shook hard, coming in his jeans, up against Lou's hip.

Johnny sank down against Lou, feeling a wave of embarrassment mixed with gratefulness, trying to catch his breath.

"Wow." Lou's hands were still holding tight to Johnny, and he sounded tight and desperate and in awe. "Wow, Johhny, you just - "

"I - I'm -" Johnny's stuttered apology was cut off as Lou grasped his wrist, nudging him to the side a little and drawing Johnny's hand down to the front of his jeans.

"Please," Lou breathed, and, "Yeah," said Johnny, happily, because he wanted to. His hand was trembling just a little as he pressed it up against the front of Lou's jeans, the feel of Lou so hard under his hand sending a stutter of pleasure through his chest. "Yeah, okay, let -"

Lou had his eyes closed again, one hand tight on Johnny's shoulder, and Johnny moved his hand slowly over the front of Lou's jeans, curiously tracing the length of his hardness through the denim. He ran his hand up, the base of his palm landing firm low down, and Lou gave a ragged gasp, his fingers digging hard into Johnny's shoulder. "I - oh-" Louis panted out, and Johnny felt him pulsing under his hand, and his heart gave another lurch. God. Louis.

They lay there for a while - they had to, because Johnny was still shaking, couldn’t seem to stop shaking, and couldn’t seem to stop kissing Lou, slow now, Lou's lips opening softly against his, Lou's tongue tracing slowly over his lips like he was tasting him.

It was past Johnny's curfew by the time he managed to pull himself away and sit up, and the whole house felt quiet and dark as Louis walked him, careful and quiet to the front door, easing it open so that Johnny could slip out, leaning in to give him one last quick, fierce kiss before flashing him a grin and silently shutting the door between them.

Johnny stood there for just a handful of seconds on the stoop, breathing in the night, before he turned and made his way home.

~end~

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