Synchronous

The first time Johnny kisses him, it's hot and wet and he thinks maybe his chill could never be enough to bank the passion that boils through Johnny's veins for anything and everything he does. He is hot-headed, hot-tempered, hot hot hot and his skin feels like a furnace beneath Bobby's hands, but it's nothing compared to that mouth.

The first time Marie kisses him, it's sweet and cool like mint but not cold like Bobby is. It drains him, exhausts him and makes him ache in a way that has more to do with weakness than arousal, though Johnny has taught him that the two are often synchronous. But when it's over, the ache turns to frustration, and he finds himself clinging to Johnny when she's not around, eyes shut tight and body clenching and mouth latched onto the throbbing vein in his long throat.

Sometimes Bobby thinks he thinks too little and acts too much, but sometimes Bobby thinks he thinks too much and that he would rather be Johnny and act on instinct and passion, and maybe if Marie did that Bobby would be dead and much less frustrated.