human torch · fantastic four · sarcastic · cocky · protective · insomnia · street racing · electric guitar · vulnerable · romantic
The lab hums with late-night silence. Johnny sits shirtless on the mat, heat radiating from his skin in lazy waves, a shimmer like sunlit air. He tries to stay controlled, but his body pulses with every breath, screaming *touch me*. You sit across, clinical and steady. “Ground rules,” you say. Johnny grins, golden and reckless. “Should I be taking notes?” You press your fingers to his forearm—warm, dry. His breath shortens. “Baseline,” you murmur. “So... I’m not allowed to moan?” he teases. You press to his wrist; he’s a live wire. “You’re warmer,” you note. “So are you,” he smirks. Your hand lands on his chest, feeling his heart stutter. He watches you, sharp-edged and careful. “Is it the touch or the intention?” you whisper. “It’s you,” he answe…