Archive of Our Own

Mark pulled off with a slightly sticky gasp —a thin milky streak running down the corner of his lip. Scraped it up with his thumb, licked the side. Surprised him a little when he smeared that thumb over Johnny’s mouth, not letting go until he licked the rest off. It’s salty, more sweat than milk. Johnny blinked, slow. The floodlights were really starting to bear down on him now, he’s starting to see dark patches and blurred out haloes even when his eyes were closed. Farther away, something’s playing, an old Shinee song. Light, precise movements brushed his neck, then his shoulder, Mark retaping his in-ear and repositioning the wire beneath his lightly damp shirt —three buttons done up before Johnny tells him he can do it himself. Mark lets go, hands still hanging there for a second. 

“Think you’re gonna be okay after this?”

“Yeah,” Johnny nodded, keeping his eyes down. These fucking lights. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna be okay.”

“Good,” He said. His hands just sort of naturally found their way to Johnny’s belt loops again, tugging at them absently. Flicked at his hip. “-hold it down for another forty minutes, okay? Then we head back. When we get back, it’s gonna be so good. Yeah. I’m gonna take care of you.”

You guys are so fucking embarrassing. Johnny looked over his shoulder. That wasn’t for them. Something else. It’s gonna get caught in the back again, if you don’t… The rest of them are huddled around in twos or threes, adjusting their own gear, laughing or pacing or discussing something too faint to hear. Doyoung was getting his bangs fixed by the door, slightly hunched over. Jungwoo’s doing something bizarre with his hands, Jaehyun’s staring at his chest again. Johnny turned back to him. 

“Yeah? You’re gonna take care of me?”

Mark grinned and reached lightning quick, squeezing that tender spot right between his groin and hip. Reflexes be damned. He felt it, sharp and hot, even after Mark let go. “I always take care of you.”

He got the side of Mark’s hip before they headed out.

…

It began as a mild discomfort, a warmish tingling beneath his chest that felt like faint bruising. This was a month ago.

Johnny sat at the far end of the table, brushing off the stray bits of tempura crumbs stuck to his chin before eating them off his thumb. The entire inside of his mouth was actually on fire from the cold-served Sichuanese chicken they’d ordered earlier —most if not all of the pieces half-submerged in dark gleaming chili oil that was more black than red, brightened only by the profusion of white sesame seeds, diced green onion and bright yellow peanut halves. The coldness of the meat disguised its true heat, the oil having seeped into every softened fibre of the damn chicken and it didn’t help that there were often several tiny pieces of broken bone inside the meat so you had to keep it even longer inside your mouth to pick them all out. Johnny had swallowed some bone shards too, earlier, he was pretty sure. Had swallowed down two huge mouthfuls of rice right after to ensure the going-down went smoothly. There was only so much his throat could handle these days.

So that was it. It had gotten so bad that the heat had travelled from his mouth down to the inside of his chest. Now it seemed to have spread out to the edges of his underarms and the warmish tingling feeling seemed to undulate against him in a way that felt almost… fluid. Like thick, heavy waves rushing and receding. He swallowed again, a strange, hollowed out pain starting to build in his gut. His vision was blurring. 

“Sorry, I think I’ve got something,” He gestured to his eye without looking up. He ignored the mildly startled looks some of the members gave him as he stood up and the slightly perturbed one his manager shot as he nudged his chair back in with a shaky heel and made his way to the far corner of the restaurant. 

It was a rush of lights, marbled gold-black carpet and busy elbows, all the voices narrowed down to a single blur behind his head and then he was pushing through two sets of dark, heavy doors into the Mens. 

Thankfully, no one else was inside.

Johnny pulled up the bottom of his loose white t-shirt to his throat and leaned in to press his chest closer to the mirror. He squinted, looking down, then forward. The sparse, muted lights made it harder to discern the actual colour of it, his bare skin fully suffused with their deepened golden glow set in either corner of the mirror. But they were there. Droplets. The smattering of droplets dotting his chest were nearly the same hue and seemed to be merely sweat. Johnny reached a hand up to swipe a finger across one reddened nipple and winced from the surprisingly sharp sting as more of it leaked out, running a swift crooked line down his finger.

He stuck the finger in his mouth.

Not sweat. It had no hint of salt in it all, in fact, it was— 

“Well, look at you,” His voice came in from behind as he grabbed a handful of Johnny’s ass, squeezing hard before sliding his hand over and dragging the blunt tip of his middle finger up the tightened crack. His days of being shy were over. Johnny tensed his grip against the counter. Mark’s mouth ghosted over the hairs along the side of his neck, breath tinged humid and sweet with the heady linger of red wine. “-always the show off.”

“Actually, I was —just checking —something.”

“Damn right you were,” Mark’s hand slid around his hip until it reached the base of his abdomen, digging his fingernails thinly into the tight divots of muscle before raking them slowly up his stomach until he flattened his palm against him, more warm than cold, and roughly smeared around the droplets against Johnny’s chest. He squeezed, more thrilling wetness spilling between his fingers. Laughed against his ear. “Messy up here, hm. Sweat? What’s got you so worked up, sweetheart?”

“It’s not…” He murmured, losing the rest of it under his breath. Mark’s other hand had travelled expeditiously between his tensed thighs from the back and was now firmly and intently massaging his balls through his jeans. Fuck . Here of all places…? His fingers pressed in a way that was nearly painful, then loosened to let the pleasure rush back in. It was intoxicating. Johnny found himself leaning harder into his touch, inadvertently backing into Mark’s own groin, feeling his surging eagerness all too plainly through those silky too-thin joggers. Johnny let out an aborted whine through gritted teeth, still eyeing the door. 

“I want to fuck you against this counter,” Mark muttered against his shoulder, teeth scraping the already damp fabric. It was a recent development. Johnny had never experienced anything splitting him back there, not even in the early days when a bunch of them got near blackout drunk at a bar near the dorms, and then Mark had gotten especially handsy in the shower last week and stuck in a finger raw. It hurt at first, hurt like bitter hell, actually, but he kept it in, then started to rub it slowly inside him until Johnny was jilting down on his hand fast enough that his back was going raw against the harsh outline of the wall tiles, feeling breathless as his cock trembled harder with each jolt. He had never come like that before. Ever. He was on his knees for nearly ten minutes. Serendipity at its finest. His face fell forward under the heated spray and he sucked weakly against Mark’s balls, moaning against him as Mark worked his fingers through the remaining foam in Johnny’s wet hair, tugging the knotted clumped strands free against the water. He worked in the conditioner not long after and by then Johnny was tasting precum along with the water coursing down his mouth from his lashes.

He needed to hold the towel rung and Mark’s arm to step out of the tub that day. 

After that, he needed Mark’s fingers at least every other day. The most Mark’s ever fit in is three. Mark says he’ll get his cock for Christmas. 

He lets Mark have this power trip. Small price to pay for the best fucking orgasms in his life.

Mark drags him backwards into one of the stalls and slams his ass down clanging onto the toilet seat, Johnny’s own ass slamming into Mark’s lap right after, the shock of muscle against muscle. Hardly a wince. Mark doesn’t even bother locking the door, it smacks the frame hard a few times before hanging in a slight gap. His hands immediately work off Johnny’s belt, yank the zipper all the way down and only pulls out his cock after fiddling around in his own backpocket —gritting curses under his breath as he uncrumpled a pale whitish wad in Johnny’s dark lap that Johnny soon realized was a single latex glove. Mark pulled it onto his left hand and spat in it, then fisted the head of Johnny’s leaking cock twice just to get it even wetter. Then his hand went past the base to reach down even further until Johnny flinched, feeling the cool wetness of his gloved fingers brush right against his hole. 

“Mar—

“-You want me to stop?” He asked. “You want me to stop —I’ll stop. I’ll stop right now.”

Silence. Johnny sighed, shaking his head. This guy. Fuck.

“That’s what I thought,” He could hear the grin in his voice. Mark kept rubbing at him there until it became too much and Johnny spread his thighs further, but not by much as his jeans were nearly still completely on, only his fly was open. Mark’s fingers pressed harder and then after two, three stilted jabs, one finger finally pushed in. Johnny let out a weak sigh of relief. It came out sounding more like a whine. 

Almost by instinct, Johnny began adjusting himself in Mark’s lap so his finger could get to where it needed to be. Once it was there, he let out pained, breathy moans through his teeth, inadvertently grinding his ass down into Mark’s hand. It’s the first time they’ve fucked today —he’d never admit this as fucking, just Mark’s fingers, but that’s how his body takes it —tight, fevered fucking against Mark’s hand alone —and the relief it gives him as Mark rubs over his prostate is enough to send tears to his eyes. 

“I’ve never met anyone as tight as you,” Mark whispered against his ear, working that finger even deeper into him. Grunted, almost in pain. “-think you’re even tighter than me. Mmfph. Fuck, baby. The way you’re squeezing me?”

“You know I haven’t done this a lot,” Johnny managed through tight breaths. His face felt hot. “Not since before—

“-Before me.”

“Before you,” He squeezed his eyes closed, he couldn’t help it. His head fell back, knocking into Mark’s mouth, hitting teeth. He only shivered, then let out an embarrassingly loud groan when Mark worked a second finger in and curled them tight right at the spot. He lets out feeble moans through his scarcely parted lips, feeling his mouth go numb as Mark latched his mouth onto the bare skin of his shoulder, his shirt now pulled lopsided, and jammed his fingers in deep, then fucked them rapidly until Johnny gasped hard, face ducked into top of the toilet paper dispenser. He barely registered Mark shimmying himself from under him, pushing him forward nearly into the stall door just to get off of him. Johnny was feeling orgasms inside of orgasms. He was having an orgasm onion and it was peeling itself and then reproducing little baby onions. There was a name for it, it wasn’t coming to him now. He was having fucking orgasm rigatoni.

“You came here too…” Mark stared up at him dazedly, squatting along the bathroom tile. He brushed a finger up Johnny’s chest over his shirt. It was soaked. Johnny lifted it up and stared down. Even more whitish droplets, some of them were sliding down his stomach. Mark scraped some up and sucked in his finger. “Mm. Tastes milky.”

…

In the van, Mark is uncharacteristically clingy. He presses his face against Johnny’s throat, murmuring that it’s cold near the window when he’s nowhere near it, curling his arm into Johnny’s arm and then clasping his hands over Johnny’s hand, acting like he’s discovered his fingers for the first time. After he’s spent long enough tracing his finger over every wrinkle whorl over Johnny’s finger joints, he pushes Johnny’s hoodie sleeve up to his elbow and presses his mouth right against his forearm, leaving dampish mouth prints all over his arm. Johnny stares at everyone else in the van, but it seemed like they were just assuming Mark was drunk and thought Johnny’s arm was a water fountain. Jungwoo yawned. Jaehyun wasn’t even looking at them anymore, having what appeared to be a terribly productive silent conversation with the tinted windshield. Doyoung had already fallen asleep.

At one point, Mark just straight up pulled out Johnny’s hoodie and ducked his head inside his shirt, making Johnny flinch from the coldness of his face —making him flinch even harder when he felt his mouth latch tight onto his nipple. What the fuck. He smacked at Mark’s head through his hoodie —lightly, he didn’t want to give him a concussion or anything —but he kept smacking, but Mark just kept sucking. He might’ve started sucking even harder. Johnny rolled his eyes, leaning back against the headrest. He didn’t know what the fuck to do anymore.

A hard fart noise ripped from Johnny’s chest — fuckkkk , Mark was sucking hard . What the hell was wrong with him.

“Hug your baby —keep him quiet,” Yuta rolled his eyes, clearly over it and too swamped to deal with their bullshit. “Maybe try rubbing his belly or something?”

Johnny looked down and tried to find Mark’s stomach and found his crotch instead and tried squeezing his balls — lightly , lightly —he wasn’t trying to get his own kicked —to make him tone it down a little and surprise, surprise, Mark changed exactly nothing. He just kept on sucking like a fucking newborn. And then when he finally pulled off that nipple, he latched his mouth right onto the other one. Johnny stared out the window, trying to ignore the fact that he was two-thirds away from being fully hard. That two-thirds dipped to one quarter when he thought he heard Mark call him Mamma underneath his hoodie.

It was a miracle Mark didn’t try to violate him in the elevator, they’re the only ones in there. But he kept his hands to himself, staring at his feet and then when they were through the door, he went down the hall and went off to his own room.

So Johnny just went to his own too.

He waited until he could hear no more shuffling or voices in the kitchen and then slipped his hand beneath his boxers, loosely touching his cock in the dark. That whole stint in the washroom was so odd. Now that he was alone and at ease with his thoughts, Johnny felt around in there and realized he’d never even fucking ejaculated. It felt like he had, though. But he was dry in there, as dry as it was normal, thinly laced in crotch sweat, no traces at all of any thicker residue. All that happened was that stuff that shot out of his chest —his nipples , for chrissakes —and that had felt like a whole other thing entirely. Not quite like an orgasm, but something hotter and brighter, something like fucking thick syrupy lava running down his guts from the inside. 

He traced a finger against his slit until it became wet and then fisted the head, imagining it was Mark’s hand, his swift, skinny fingers just that right amount of foreign that made it so sexy and different. Mark had fucking magic hands. He secretly loved how small Mark’s hands were, it made him look that much more huge in his hand, and it was so cute when he used both hands to jerk him. Now that he’s leaking down his shaft, he could easily scrape some up and slip his other hand in the back, but strangely enough, he’s never been able to do that. He still doesn’t do that now. It feels too weird. He wanted Mark to do it, wanted Mark’s fingers in his…

The bed creaked. Johnny jolted and then he felt the covers move as a certain someone slipped in beside him, roughish stubbly calves rubbing against his, one slightly calloused hand slipping underneath his shirt to slide up and squeeze his chest. Mark moaned against his stomach though his shirt, climbing up until his face pressed into his neck. He inhaled and let out a low scratchy moan. 

“Mmh, crazy. I’m so crazy right now,” He mumbled, sounding all low and needy. Licked Johnny’s fucking collarbone. “I’m so crazy, like I need it, hyung. I need it right now, holy mmghhh…make it, hyung, make that milky milk milky nipple, make more for me, fuuuuuck… ”

“Mark, what the fuck are you talking about,” Johnny grunted, trying to shift his neck away from him, his mouth was way too hot and the hard press of his body was starting to make his legs hurt. This wasn’t sexy anymore. He didn’t even know if Mark was fully awake. He could be dreaming and thinking he landed a human-sized Baskin Robbins for all anyone knew. Mark had started licking his face now. “-holy fuck —get your fucking tongue off my fucking eyelid, what the fuck is wrong wi—

Mark grumbled some gibberish to himself and crawled down a little and got both hands around the neck of Johnny’s shirt, pulling weirdly until Johnny realized the guy was actually trying to fucking rip it from there and then he was pulling Mark’s hands off and pushing up the shirt to his own throat, then pulling the whole damn shirt off his head. Mark giggled low and slid down until his face was flat against his chest, one side of his chest and before Johnny could catch a breath —sucked that nipple right in, gently guzzling. He just stayed like that for several minutes. Reverse starfished on his chest, sucking his fucking nipple. 

“Mark. Mark, please,” Johnny muttered, semi-anxiously clapping the side of his head. Mark kept sucking. “-please, I need to fucking sleep.”

“Mgnshdkfnfkwlfnflmesldlhfekfnelfmels…”

“Great,” He said. “-fucking great.”

…

He woke with the bed feeling damp and hot beneath his arms. Johnny sucked in a breath through his nose and shifted to his side. Mark was gone. 

He slid his hand over to the empty side of the sheets. It was warmer than he expected. He yawned. Reached a hand down to feel himself around the crotch, beneath his pajamas, right against the rough, worn cotton of his boxers. He’s warm, dry. Johnny squinted, frowning. Come to think of it, the damp patches were oddly high up the bed, far closer to his pits than his ass. He ducked his face into it, inhaling. Didn’t smell like piss either.

A dim shadow fell over the bed, Mark staring down at him, the handle of his toothbrush sticking out the corner of his mouth, his mouth still smeared in pale bluish foam. He pulled out the toothbrush and set it messily on the nightstand.

“Fuck, already, baby?” Mark grinned, climbing onto his crotch through the rumpled covers. He leaned his face right against Johnny’s somewhat sticky chest, slightly frizzy morning hair tickling his skin. Made him suck in a tight breath when he licked a warm, hot stripe up to his throat. Johnny didn’t register it until Mark’s tongue brushed his nipple and then he pulled with his mouth and sucked. Was already half-hard as Mark sucked him down before he felt the warm trickle of something sliding down his stomach from his other nipple.

Milk. It really was milk. Holy shit. 

Mark sucked on, one hand slid down to squeeze gently at his balls as he licked the milk smearing over his lips. It was crazy how sexy he looked. He glanced up at him, mouth wet with froth and threads of spit. “So good of you to serve me breakfast in bed, mmh.”

All he had to do rub his finger over the other nipple a little and Johnny busted sticky beneath the sheets, he didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with him. He’s never come this fast, not even in fucking middle school. He felt himself twitch and get even stickier as Mark slid down to his stomach and start fucking licking him through the covers, mouth hot all over that wet patch. His hollowed out cheeks were making Johnny lightheaded, and all he did was giggle as Johnny pulled him up by his underarms so he could finally taste his fucking mouth.

“I like your milk, hyung,” Mark grinned, licking the space between his parted lips. “I like it so much, keep making it. Make more for me, baby. Please?”

“You think I can just make more…?”

Mark said nothing, ducking down to lick at the drying streaks that he missed. 

…

Mark likes to tease. Sometimes he’ll leave him like this —stripped down to his CK, soaked in sweat as Johnny tossed around, trying to find a position that hurt the least. Weekends were the worst. They’d have so much time. He’d get so filled up in there that he’d feel the stinging tickle of it as it trickled, two zigzagging milky lines ran down his stomach when he so much as got up onto his elbows. The white would thin for a moment before going solid white again as more milk spilled from his sore nipples. He could hear Mark in the shower, smell the steam filtering out from the gap in the door. It always felt like hours.

And then Mark would step out. Hair plastered to his forehead, parts of his chest and thighs flushed from the shower, water droplets rolling down his stomach as he crawled onto the bed. His legs left damp hot patches in the sheets as he crawled towards him, swollen cock already half-hard and leaking. He’d yank the sheets down to Johnny’s groin and just stare at him for a moment, licking his lips. Reach a finger over just to press it in an already swollen nipple and smile, twisting his fingernail into it as Johnny hissed from the sting. More milk spilled out down his stomach and collected into his already soaked waistband. Sometimes he’d do that for several minutes, tease and twist his stinging nipple until his stomach was laced in dozens of converging streaks of milk and just when Johnny’s eyes finally blurred with tears, Mark would lean in and lick it. 

He would never suck on it, that would finish him. Mark would lick the swollen, tender bud until Johnny was crying into the back of his fist, snot running into his mouth as his other hand trembled against Mark’s side, willing himself to stay down and take it. If Mark was feeling generous, he’d use one of his hands to massage the top of Johnny’s chest, right above the nipple and slow, but firm pressure would ease some more milk out of him, a fair bit more than just from licking. Mark still only licked, but at least the pressure in Johnny’s chest eased at a somewhat faster rate. Otherwise Mark licked and teased until Johnny couldn’t take it anymore and reached his own hand to his chest and pressed right down, too impatient to massage it.

This was always a mistake. 

Most of the time it just made it more painful, the pressure applied to the wrong spot and either nothing or very little came out. Sometimes it hurt so much Johnny ended up in fetal position, breathing hard against the humid sheets until Mark did something, anything. One time he pressed down at an angle and got milk in Mark’s eye. Fuck, I’m so sorry, he’d gasped, then hooking a leg to the back of his knee to keep Mark from leaving, unable to move his arms from the tight pain in his chest, begging for Mark to show him his face. Let me see it, just let me see it, he breathed, the edge of his toe brushing Mark’s elbow as the guy kneeled over him, fists still crushed over his affected eye, just let me see it, baby —then I can fix it, I can fix it—

Then Mark suddenly started laughing. It came out all garbled and gasping —almost as though he was sobbing. Johnny would’ve believed he was sobbing, except Mark’s mouth was pulled up into a wide, laughing smile, face all flushed and scrunched up around the eyes as his hands finally left his face. He just kept on laughing, face flung back to the ceiling. His arms loosely tucked against his stomach, then his knuckles brushing the sheets, then both hands sliding up until they held the sides of Johnny’s face as he leaned in and laughed into Johnny’s neck. He laughed so much, he turned the sheets beneath warm and sticky with drool, then when he finally caught some of his breath, Mark pressed loose, damp kisses into Johnny’s neck, then his shoulder, inhaling. He slid his hand over the back of Johnny’s own and interlocked their fingers together and pulled their hands up until they rested over one side of Johnny’s chest. Slowly, he guided their joined hands to massage that side in a gentle, slow counterclockwise motion. Not long after, Johnny felt the warm scrape of milk veering down his side, going straight into the bed. Soon, all the remaining milk eased out. Then they did the same thing for the other side. They didn’t try to save or catch any of it. They just lay there, letting it soak into the bed. 

You’ve got to stop worrying so much, Mark told him later, one arm loosely thrown over Johnny’s stomach, one leg tucked in between Johnny’s legs. They would shower later. Change the sheets later, breathe in their raw milk-spit-sweat smell a bit longer. Mark sighed into his nape, slightly raspy. You’re so hot. I mean, you’re so fucking hot. Kneed Johnny lightly in the ass. Stop worrying. No worry, be happy.

Johnny laughed a little at that. No worry, be happy. 

…

They do get around to using a pump eventually. It takes several days. Amazon is discreet in its packaging. In its personalized ads? Not so much. They think we’re actually having a fucking kid, Johnny muttered as he puts the fourth email of the week into Report Spam when Amazon starts pushing the whole newborn care package onto them —complete with pastel-toned bibs, matching pacifiers, a mountain of Disney-themed baby jumpers that came with their own crib toys and matching baby monitors and rows on rows of Enfamil A+ baby formula. And Huggies. So many fucking Huggies. It doesn’t help that he keeps getting their damn app ad on YouTube telling him that his heartbeat can calm the baby that Johnny literally doesn’t have. 

Let’s wait until April and confuse everybody, Mark laughed. Let’s buy one of everything and then get like, I don’t know. A Cabbage Patch Kid. He’s still giggling as he’s connecting the translucent tubes to the main control set —that resembles a small mint-coloured boom box —the whole thing already plugged into the socket beneath the nightstand. Johnny frowns as Mark hands him the two identical collection bottles already connected to the small suction funnels that were called “flanges” for some reason. He wondered what the Korean equivalent for that was. Maybe they just called it the same thing with Korean pronunciation. Fa-lung-gei-soo. He stared at the little bottles in his hands.

“They’re your nipples, hyung,” Mark reminded him, not without some mild amusement. “Only you know what fits your body best. Right?”

“Mommy, I can’t do it, do it for me,” He retorted semi-sarcastically and Mark flips him a pretty affectionate bird before repositioning the layered blankets so they were more snug around the base of his stomach —admiring the handmade heated rice cushion pressed beneath that was more there for a joke than anything. Mark had received that from one of his mother’s church friends —technically it was to soothe period cramps, but sometimes it just felt good to have something warm on your body. Plus, it smelled good. After heating it in the microwave for five 30-second intervals, it gave off the scent of steamed rice. Johnny would never admit it out loud, but he actually really liked it. He was planning on borrowing it from him after this and never giving it back. Somehow, he knew Mark wouldn’t mind. “-okay, how do you do this…”

Surprisingly, it wasn’t that hard. Johnny pressed one of the clear bendy flanges directly onto his nipple and almost immediately, a soft suction held it in place. It didn’t even feel that heavy —even with the little collection bottle hanging at the bottom. 

“Um…”

“What?” Johnny asked.

Mark did some loopy, jerky pointing with his finger and Johnny looked down. Oh. Whoops. Wrong nipple. 

He stuck it over the right one. The soft suction held it in place. He did the same with the other one. Looked up at Mark, nodding. 

“You ready, babe?” Mark smiled. “Okay, I’m starting with the lowest setting —lemme know if it’s good, or if you want it, uh.” He snorted softly. “Harder.”

“Just let them suck my fucking milk, Mark, Jesus.”

He stuck out his tongue and pressed a few buttons and carefully turned a dial to what Johnny assumed was the lowest setting. A moment later, the machine was alive.

“Wait, wh-what if nothing comes out,” Johnny said suddenly, even as it had already begun whirring. He felt the change immediately —the suction against his nipples had become marginally stronger, still mostly gentle, though. Several seconds passed. The tubes remained translucent. He was starting to feel a little numb down there. “-oi, look. Look —nothing’s coming out. They’re sucking air. They’re sucking my fucking nipple air.”

“You need to relax, big man,” Mark said, crawling over to join him. He smoothed a hand over Johnny’s shoulder and then shifted it onto his chest right above the thrumming flange. Mark began to massage him there, doing slow, firm circles counterclockwise against his skin, humming lightly. Looked up at him. “There, does that feel good? You want me to go faster, or…? No? This is good? Alright,” He let out a faint chuckle. “Have I ever told you how much I love your chest, actually? I can’t stop staring at it sometimes. It’s so full and sexy. You just wanna bury your face in it. Mmh. Your nipples too, hyung. So dark and cute. And, um. I think your left one is slightly more sensitive, so if I really wanna make you come, all I have to do is…”

He leaned in and started kissing Johnny’s neck. Soft, slow wet kisses that made him feel heated shivers travel down his stomach and behind his ears. Mark’s hand had left his chest and now both were pressed against his nape, holding him there as he kissed down his throat and licked over his Adam’s apple, then kissing the space between his collarbones over and over, as though he was stalling for something. Then he began to kiss down the center of Johnny’s chest. 

He shifted his face until he was kissing the spot he was just massaging earlier and by now Johnny was breathing hard, head pressed back to the wall. Then Mark pressed the flat of his tongue right over the flange. 

“Fuck,” Johnny breathed through his teeth. He could feel his tongue right through it, the heat of it, the hot damp on his skin. Mark closed his mouth around the suctioned piece and began sucking on his nipple through the plastic. Johnny shifted himself beneath the blankets, feeling that familiar ache build between his legs, felt himself inevitably becoming hard. “-oh, my god, Mar—

“They said that it helps to see or think about your baby,” Mark murmured against him. He slipped his hands to either side of Johnny’s face and pulled down. His pupils have almost overtaken his whole iris. “Look at me. Look at your fucking baby.”

“You’re my baby…?” 

“Who’re you making all this milk for, huh?” 

He climbed into Johnny’s lap, thighs pressed hard against his thighs, the motion tearing off one of the flanges from his nipples. Mark laughed and picked it up, maneuvering his legs and the loosened tube so he wouldn’t step on it again with his knee, pressing it back onto Johnny’s nipple. He ducked his face in and began to lick over the nipple flange again, squeezing the flesh above it with his hand, slow and rhythmic. Johnny felt it before he saw it. A slight sting left his nipple and then mellowed out. The tube connected to it slowly became a solid, creamy white, at first just a brief length of frothy bubbles and then it filled out all the way. The bottom of the collection bottle began to turn white.

“I’m your baby, hyung,” He said. Both his palms rested over the skin right above the flanges, massaging slowly and firmly. Soon, the other tube filled with white too, somewhat slower than the right. “You make all this fucking milk for me. Just for me.”

Mark began to grind down against his lap and Johnny bit his lip as he shifted until Mark could fold it down over his cock nearly every time, somehow feeling even more turned on through the layers of heavy blankets piled over him.

“You know, the more I suck on it, the more you’ll make?” Mark murmured against his neck. “-yeah, your body adjusts to my needs now. Mine. You know what that means?” He let out a shaky little moan as Johnny brushed a finger over his wet tip, peeking out from his boxers. Squeezed his eyes shut, back arching. “Mmgh, mmh, it’s like you’re made for me. You’re made for me. I’m your fucking world now, hyung. You live for me.”

“Mar…” He lost the rest to a loose, heated exhale right as Mark crushed his cock with his ass again. “-fuck… ”  

The rice cushion had slid down until it was practically on his crotch and each time Mark’s ass went down it pressed the stiff cushion hard against his erection and Johnny thought with some regret that it was gonna get wet with his fluids and wondered briefly if the thing was washing machine friendly. He reached a hand down and pulled the cushion off his lap, and got both hands against Mark’s hips to drag him back to where he belonged. Soon, he had to release his hands to hold onto the collection bottles, they were nearly full.  

Mark pulled off one of the bottles and downed half of it immediately. A ring of white coated his mouth. He licked his lips. “That’s so good. I’ve never had so much at once, it’s crazy.”

“Let me have some,” Johnny said. He blinked as Mark tipped the rest into his own mouth and then leaned in and dribbled it into Johnny’s mouth through his own. It mixed in with the taste of his spit, but Johnny could still taste the essence of it and he ignored the bit that trickled down his neck as Mark widened his mouth and deepened it into a kiss, all warm and frothy with the fresh milk, licking and sucking on his tongue before scraping his own tongue over Johnny’s mouth and then his chin, and the space right under his nostrils, trying to lick every drop of it off of him, not letting any of it go to waste.

“Take off your shirt, baby,” Johnny said, swallowing. Mark grinned, pulling it off from the front, leaning back on his arms. Johnny admired his tight little body for a moment, feeling insanely lucky. So sexy and all this was his right now. He unscrewed the cap off the remaining collection bottle and tipped it over Mark’s neck. The warm milk cascaded down his chest, thinning to rivulets down his stomach and wetting his waistband. He pushed Mark back against the bed and immediately started sucking it off of him. Felt his tiny little nipples quivering against his face as he licked in between them. Mark’s damp clothed cock getting anxious, twitching beneath his hand. Johnny groaned. His whole face was soon smeared with milk, warm and raw. “-holy fuck, you taste like heaven.”

Mark giggled, pajama legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. “Nah, baby. That’s all you.”

…

Johnny has a dream where Mark gets it instead. It was bound to happen. 

He’s sprawled on the floor of a barn, bits of straw and dirt sticking to his bare legs, legs that immediately spread themselves for him, one hand tentatively curled in between so that only some of his swollen, shiny hole is visible, tinier bits of straw stuck there too. Mark’s leaking even as Johnny crawls towards him, two fresh crooked lines of milk leaving his swollen nipples and trailing down his tanned abdomen, which is already drenched in numerous messy streaks of white. He takes Johnny’s hand and presses it to one side of his swelled chest and Johnny can feel the shift of the fluid in there and as more milk spills down under his palm, Mark whines for him to hurry up and drink.

I’ve made so much for you —look, hyung, look. Mmh, He mumbled, pulling Johnny’s face to his sticky, milk-smeared chest. You took so long and I’ve been leaking for over an hour, he sounded like he was gonna cry, voice turning impossibly nasal near the end. He tightened his raw, straw-stamped legs around Johnny’s waist, not letting him leave, grinding into his hip. You have to relieve me now —mmgh, hurts, it hurts so much because I’m so full, I’m so full for you, hyung —look, it’s still leaking, I’m still leaking because I want you so much…

The floor becomes a bed and soon Mark’s legs are all soaked and Johnny’s feeling down the front of them, thinking Mark came, not believing his eyes when he sees the thin streams of white running down his thighs. He grips the backs of Mark’s knees with one hand and pushes his legs up and sure enough, there’s milk pouring out of his hole, soaking right into the sheets. Holy hell. There’s so much of it, it’s soaked into his pubes and the colour of his cock and then Johnny realizes that’s milk too. Mark’s anxious cock is spurting milk onto his stomach, and as it rapidly loses hardness, the milk spills down his thigh and then Johnny sank his face down and drank up the milk that soaked between his legs, licking straight into his hole. 

The bed becomes a driveway. Granite bites into his chin as Johnny’s still eating him out, or drinking him out, more like, and soon it hurts too much to stay in that position, with the hard, uneven ground scraping into his arms, pressing sharply into his chest. He pulls himself up and he’s about to go down on Mark’s nipple again when he sees that Mark’s laughing, he’s giggling so wildly beneath him, pieces of granite in his bleached hair, there’s even milk dotting his lashes. Even his laughter feels strangely fluid and then he sees milk streaming down his nostrils, bubbling thickly down the corner of his mouth.

He wakes up right before milk starts pouring from his eyes.

“You getting anything in there?” Mark’s laughing as he’s kneeling on the bed later that day in just his boxers, Johnny’s mouth latched tight, sucking on his nipple. He’s sucking as hard as he can. He’s not getting a thing. “Whoaaaaa, slow down, you’re gonna suck the thing off! Hahahahaha…”

He pulled off, sighing. It really was just a dream. 

“Nothing?” Still laughing as Johnny’s sulky expression says it all. Mark shrugged. “Sorry, babes. I think you’re actually gonna have to give me a kid before anything happens.”

…

“You don’t think it’s weird or anything?”

Mark turned to him, leaning his elbows against the bridge barrier, later that night. 

“Sure, it’s weird,” He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like it, though.”

“Huh.”

“And anyways,” Mark continued. “-there’s plenty of weirder things out there. Glow in the dark mushrooms. Self-impregnating seahorses. That guy with four nipples.”

Johnny let out a hard laugh with that one.

…

“Galactorrhea is a milky nipple discharge,” Johnny frowned, reading off of his phone. It was the middle of the day. They were in the recording studio, waiting for Doyoung to finish up so they could eat. “-unrelated to the usual milk production in breastfeeding. It’s…okay, so it’s not necessarily a disease, but it could be a sign of another underlying condition.”

Mark’s sock foot stroked his knee along the couch. “Mmh, yeahhh, the underlying condition of being big sexy.”

He kneed him halfheartedly in the thigh. “Hey. Come on now, this could be serious. I could be down with something, yo, I could be down with—

Mark leap-crawled over and pulled his phone over so he could see it too. “Yeah, something something something menopause…but the condition can also happen to men and babies. Woah. Wait.” He blinked and then his eyes went big huge. “Babies? It can happen to babies…?”

He scrolled down rapidly with his thumb and stopped at a seemingly random spot. “-galactorrhea in newborns. Galactorrhea sometimes occurs in newborns. High maternal estrogen levels cross the placenta…into the baby's blood? This can cause…woah, what the fuck —enlargement of the baby's breast tissue, which may be associated with a milky nipple discharge.” He blinked rapidly, pausing. “-so, the mother can give it to the baby. That’s so weird.”

Johnny nodded, reading on. “This milky discharge is…temporary and goes away on its own. Ah, it says if  the discharge is persistent, the newborn should be evaluated by a healthcare professional. Yeah, that makes sense.”

Mark was quiet for a second. Then he let out a forced cough-laugh. “Okay, thank god, we can’t get pregnant, because like that shit is fucking crazy. Like woah. What the fuck.” 

“Yeah, hormones are a whole brain trip,” He agreed. Then Johnny narrowed his attention to the text bolded in light purple, the part pertaining to men. “-galactorrhea in males may be associated with testosterone deficiency, also known as hypogonadism. This usually happens along with breast enlargement… what —or tenderness, called gynecomastia. Erectile dysfunction—

“-Nahhh, baby, your dick’s working just fine,” Mark slid his hand over Johnny’s thigh and squeezed. He nearly gave him a full stroke through his pants from base to tip before Johnny smacked his hand off. Luckily, the sound engineers still had their backs turned. Mark just laughed. “-like you’ve got some CN Tower dick. Ain’t nothing bringing that big boy down.”

“-and a lack of desire for sex—

“-You don’t wanna fuck me today?”

“-are also associated with testosterone deficiency.”

Mark turned over to him, squinting. “Okay, be serious. Do you actually feel deficient in fucking testosterone?”

“Well, I don’t know, then why the fuck am I making milk—

“-Read the risk factors. Look, there’s risk factors right there.”

“Okay, okay, I’m reading it,” He muttered, feeling steam practically puttering out of his ears. “-anything that triggers the release of prolactin could increase the risk of…okay, so like certain medications or illicit drugs or herbal supplements…am I taking anything?” He thought for a moment. He had herbal tea maybe one time when he dropped by to visit Ten and Tylenol was a no-brainer. Advil, too. Plus, he hardly smoked anymore. Vape didn’t count. “-conditions that affect the pituitary gland —okay, how the fuck am I supposed to know …” Then his eyes zeroed in on the bullet point right after. “-excessive breast stimulation during sex.”

Mark barely made any comment.

“Excessive breast stimulation during sex,” He repeated, making sure each word was clear and distinct. “Did you hear what I just said?”

Mark nodded, eyes glued to his own phone. “Very heard. Very sexy.”

“Do you know what that means?”

Mark nodded again, humming. 

“I don’t think you know what that means.”

Mark made a series of noises that could’ve come straight out of Animal Crossing.

“It means you need to lay off these damn Jolly Ranchers,” Johnny drummed his hands loudly over his nipples through his shirt as Mark flattened his mouth hard, trying his absolute hardest not to laugh, still eyeing his phone. “-before you give me some kind of actual problem. Or I flood the floor. Whatever comes first.” 

“We could make a song out of this.”

Johnny leaned his head back against the couch, rolling his eyes through the ceiling. “Oh, my God. You are not making a song out of my fucking milky nipples.” 

“They would never know,” Mark countered. “-I wouldn’t actually say nipple —and the milk could be a metaphor. For like rebirth or life’s replenishment or like I don’t know…”

Silence. Then Johnny muttered something under his breath, purposely so the other couldn’t hear. 

“What?” Mark asked.

“I want credits on the fucking nipple song.”

“What’re you guys talking about?” They looked up. Doyoung was just leaving the recording booth, the glass door held open by one shoulder. “-I thought we were going to—

“-Nipple piercing,” Mark announced, practically unprovoked. “-hyung, I wanna get a nipple piercing. Mm, yeah. I think it would look sexy. Like so sexy. Do you think it would be sexy, hyung?”

Doyoung blinked at him. Then he turned to Johnny. “That’s his favourite word now, right? Sexy? Is it just me or is he using it all the time now?”

Johnny shrugged, mostly in agreement. 

“So, then, if you did,” Doyoung went on, sounding like he knew he was being trolled, but just resorted to letting it happen because honestly, whatever. “-would it be like just one or would it—

“-Both nipples,” Mark said. He suddenly sounded so serious about it. “-both nipples, I want both nipples, hyung. Sexy, sexy, sexy.” 

Johnny pushed Mark’s foot off his crotch, tilting his chest towards the armrest, positioning his arms so it hid most of it. It was fucking starting again. He could feel the damn trickle.