Jesus isn't far behind, fucking him hard now, spurred on by every moan and every gasped word John offers. He comes, burying his face against John's neck to stifle the moan, always so conscious of the noise he makes even though it's all subconscious now, just old habits worn into him over the years.

Gently he slides John's legs off his shoulders to let him rest, but he stays where he is otherwise.