Work Text:
He killed it tonight. Johnny can't remember the last time he played without any hiccups. He hasn't fought anyone in the crowd and hasn't fought with Kerry backstage either. It was just a great gig with fans screaming his name and pledging to him that they'd bring corporations to their knees. It's days like these Johnny thinks he's actually making things change, one note at a time.
He stays at the bar after the gig for a short while, knowing he can get a few free drinks from whatever stranger feels generous tonight. He plans on leaving soon, thinking of the two dolls he met in the parking lot as he arrived. Two dolls lifting their tops to show him their goods. Two dolls he had to drag himself away from as he was already late, not before he could whisper in their ears to come join him backstage after the show. He doesn't plan on staying long, but drinks start piling up. One of the many things he can't say no to.
He eventually finds his way down the hall leading to the backstage area. Cig in one hand, a shot he stole from some gonk yelling incoherent praises at him in the other. He's not wasted, just a little drunk. Drunk enough for his need to unwind to have become more important than his need for booze. His mind wanders as he walks towards his prize of the night. What could two horny joytoys do on their own while waiting for him? The images alone stir his lower abdomen.
He slams the door open to announce his presence. The girls aren't naked. The girls aren't kissing. The girls aren't there. Propped up on the rickety table set under the mirror, ass sitting on the mess they let piled up before going on stage, Kerry's the only one there. Weird, he could've sworn he's seen him being dragged away the second they got off stage… by some douche that doesn't deserve to occupy Johnny's mind right now, especially as his gaze drifts down Kerry's arm. His hand rests between his legs, palming himself with filthy groans that only make his cock twitch because of all the dirty thoughts he had about those girls right before stumbling onto the scene. And no other reason but that one. It's a little pathetic to see, to be honest, Kerry touching himself backstage.
"Where're the girls?" he asks. He's seen Kerry in more compromising positions to be put off by the scene, but hopes his voice will make Kerry stop, maybe flush up a little with embarrassment. Always a good look on him.
"Huh?"
He barely reacts. His hand stills, but he keeps it pressed against his bulge that Johnny can perfectly see straining against his tight denim jeans. He turns to Johnny, but doesn't look at him. Hazy eyes he has trouble keeping open, matching a mouth he can't seem to close. He's high, out of his mind, in a way Johnny never saw before.
"The girls," he repeats, walking into the room and closing the door, "Where are they?"
He'd rather think about them, keep them in his mind. The second they leave, all he can think about is the current moment. Kerry's biting his lips to stiffen a moan that still comes out his mouth, wiggling on the table creaking under his weight. He's trying to satisfy his urges in the most discreet way he can, glassy eyes slowly locking on Johnny's.
"Dean told me to wait here," Kerry replies instead.
"Dean?" he spits with venom in his voice.
"Yeah, y'know? Dean."
Of course, he knows who that is. Kerry's new fuckboy. Some asshole with an annoying voice that Johnny can't seem to make fuck off, for once. He doesn't care about his friend's inputs long as they don't get in his way. Dean, though? Clingy fucker that really doesn't get he's not the most important thing in Kerry's life. Clingy fucker taking all of Kerry's time. Taking him away for dates in every corner of Night City but the places he likes best, dragging him out the second he gets off stage. He's even suggested the idea of Kerry leaving the shitty apartment he shares with Johnny for the shittier one he owns. Sure, Kerry doesn't seem to get bored of this one as fast as he usually does with the others. It doesn't make this input special, though.
"Left you all alone in here?" Johnny asks, walking the distance separating them until his thighs brush Kerry's knees. His friend shivers at the mere touch, throwing his head back against the mirror. A quiet groan bubbles up his throat. He tries not to but still shifts on the table, "Left you all alone like this?"
"Said to wait here while," he stops, cursing as his hips jerk against his palm. His head lolls against the cold mirror, the heat radiating from his body fogging up the glass, "While it kicks in."
"Think it kicked in alright," he chuckles, placing a hand on his thigh to watch him hold his breath, tense under him. He loves his reaction but quickly places that hand on the table instead. He's still Kerry, not some fan he can play with, then throw out, "What did you take, anyway?"
"Dunno," he shrugs, one hand seeking Johnny's while the other presses against his bulge. Lost in a pleasure from which Johnny would walk away, if not for those lewd groans that captivate him, "Dean gave it to me."
Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean.
Fuck, he hates that name. Gonk fuck thinking himself more important than he actually is. Who in their right mind could leave Kerry like this? All high and needy and eager and fuck-
He looks down at Kerry, and the blurred devotion in his eyes. He doesn't look like he wants to wait for that douche any longer. Not now that Johnny's here. And maybe Johnny doesn't want him to wait for the input either, not the way he's staring at him, pretty eyes and flushed face, all his attention turned to him and him only.
"C'mon, Kerry," he calls, lifting him up by the collar of his distressed shirt, so he compliantly stands up, "Time to go home."
"Home?" he slurs, hands on his wrists, pressing against Johnny not to lose balance.
"Yeah, home."
"With you?"
Johnny opens his mouth but stops himself short of replying. It amuses him, how Kerry hangs to his words. He's waiting, still hopeful that something could happen. Fuck, he's sure he never looked at the input that way, never expected anything from that douche and his annoying voice. He can't let Kerry go with him, can't let him look at that asshole with those pretty eyes.
"Had someone else in mind?" he teases, grinning as he hears Kerry's words, hands squeezing his wrists.
"Nuh-huh, just you."
He loves hearing Kerry be this honest. Maybe a little too much. His cock gets the wrong message again. It only twitches at the desperation in his voice, but it forgets this voice is Kerry's. He'll drive him home and let him there before Kerry gets stupid thoughts in his head again, before he gets too hopeful again. He just doesn't want him to go with the input right now. Nothing more.
He pulls Kerry by the wrist, exiting the small room with their bags and cases still in there. The bar owner will probably take care of it. He keeps grabbing Kerry as they walk down the hallway. He can feel his sway and stumble behind him. He'd fall if it wasn't for Johnny's grip on him.
"There you are!" an annoying voice calls at the intersection between the backstage area, the stage, and the exit.
Johnny stops. He hates how fast he recognizes that voice. Dean's trotting their way. Kerry bumps into his friend, loses balance, presses against the wall not to fall over. Johnny lets go of his wrist the second Dean called, but Kerry's fingers still seek his contact, pulling at the helm of his shirt, mumbling his name in hushed tones.
"You all right?" he checks, turning towards Kerry, trapping him between the wall and his body. Trapping him out of Dean's sight.
"Head… spinning…" he tries, barely articulating, forcing Johnny to lean in close to hear his words.
"Gonna be alright, Ker," he soothes, pressing their foreheads together. Kerry's skin is burning his, "We're going home."
He can hear Dean's footsteps inching closer. The mere thought of his presence behind his back makes his skin crawl. He doesn't think Kerry even heard his voice. His eyes don't drift towards him. No. They drift down. Down at Johnny breathing his air. Down as his lips. Kerry tilts his head, losing contact with Johnny, who feels colder now that they're not touching each other. Maybe he just wants the warmth. Maybe he just found the right way to piss the input and make sure he never hears of him again. He leans down, breathes in Kerry's ear, who shivers under him.
"Y'know, I won't stop you if you kiss me right now," he promises, one hand resting against the wall as Kerry pulls him closer by the shirt.
"You won't?" he lets out in a desperate tone, keeping his lips apart though no other words come out of his mouth, leaning closer. And closer. And closer.
They've kissed before. Maybe too many times already. Kissing on stage, just to piss off a crowd that didn't deserve to hear them play, teeth hitting in the process. Kissing backstage, just to piss each other off, so quick they could pretend it never happened. They've kissed before, out of spite and anger, but that's not what Kerry's feeling right now. Lust and hope move him as their lips meet, pressing hard against Johnny, a hushed moan in the back of his throat. He wraps his arms around Johnny's shoulders as his tongue comes to lap his lips. He lets Kerry deepen the kiss and pull him close, his silver hand on the back of Kerry's neck. He can barely feel it but knows his heart races against his thumb. A sloppy kiss, messing with Kerry's altered mind even more. His hands go down, press against Johnny's back to push him close. Rutting against his thigh, breaking the kiss to throw his head back. He hits the wall hard, letting out a hiss, a mix of pain and pleasure.
Johnny can feel his hard cock against his leg, his own twitching at the noises he's making. With just a single kiss, he's so desperate, moaning Johnny's name. He'd indulge him if he wasn't Kerry. He can't do that to Kerry, letting him jizz his pants like a pathetic schoolboy daydreaming about his first crush. He grabs his hip, trying to stop him, but Kerry still looks for friction, groans sounding more painful the tighter Johnny squeezes. Still rubbing against Johnny in a daze he's never been in before. No matter all the things they took over the years. Frowning, growing quieter, but his hips still move. Johnny lets go. He doesn't want to hurt Kerry. Not like this. Not right now.
"Mind telling me what's happening here?" an annoying voice they both forgot about chips in. Dean's arm crossed, leaning against the wall, watching the scene. He isn't pissed. There's an irritating smile on his lips.
"Goin' home," Kerry mutters, eyes turning towards him, but his head doesn't move.
"Home?" he tsks, eyes flicking towards Johnny, before trying to ignore the hostility in the rockerboy's eyes, "But, babe… I had a surprise for you."
"Nuh-huh," Kerry fusses. His hands drift lower still, planting themselves into Johnny's back pockets, squeezing at his ass. He'll allow it, making an exaggerated groan just for the input's ears, "Goin' home."
Dean hesitates an instant. He's probably not used to Kerry telling him no yet. He probably didn't think Kerry'd get bored of him this fast. Poor asshole, did he really expect he'd ever get chosen over Johnny?
"Alright, fine," he gives in, yet takes Kerry by the arm, forces his hand out of Johnny's pocket, and tries dragging him away, "Let's go home. Lemme just update my friends, alright?"
"Your friends?" Kerry asks, compliantly stepping towards Dean, his other hand clutching at Johnny. He doesn't want to let go. Eyes only locked on Johnny. He doesn't look like he wants to go.
"Yeah, babe. Remember? My little surprise for you." he adds, his tone dropping flat, harsh. His fingers squeeze Kerry's arm. He tugs at it, tries to make him move faster, "They're gonna love you."
Confusion creeps into Kerry's eyes. His attention shifts back to the input, only for a second. Looking back at Johnny with an alarmed expression, taking another step towards Dean, yet clutching tighter at Johnny. He doesn't want to go. Johnny puts a stop to this, hand flat against the wall between the two other men. Dean halts and turns around. He rolls his eyes and finally lets go. However, he doesn't leave, stepping closer to Johnny, who's an inch away from punching him. He doesn't, knowing Kerry will take pity on his ass if he hurts him.
"You can join too, y'know?" Dean tells him, hand squeezing his shoulder made of Realskinn and metal, "The more, the merrier. Right, Kerry?"
He turns towards him at the sound of his voice but barely reacts. He doesn't register what's happening now, leaning back against the wall. Pathetic and lost.
"Wanna go home," he repeats to Johnny in a dulled and tired tone.
"We are, Ker," Johnny reassures, jerking out of the douche's grip.
"Fuck you are," Dean pipes in, hand reaching for Kerry's arm again.
He never touches him, thrown against the wall, a metal grip wrapped around his throat before he can do anything. A choked yelp escapes him, tangling feet thrashing around in fear.
"Get the clue, asshole," Johnny spits at him, "He's not coming with you."
He feels Kerry tug harder on his shirt, noticing he's taken a step towards the exit. He lets him go compliantly and lets Kerry drag him away. His fingers seek Kerry's. He'd rather have him holding his hand than breaking his shirt. Nothing more.
"Oh, so he's your input now, huh?" an annoying voice asks one of them; Johnny isn't sure which.
"You sure ain't anymore," he replies for both.
That makes Kerry chuckle, downright laugh, voice echoing in the hallway. The final nail on the coffin, Johnny is sure he'll never hear of the input anymore. The euphoria spreads to him, grinning like a madman. His hand feels a little sweaty against Kerry's palm.
He only lets go of Kerry as they reach his Porsche. He has a few steps to take towards the passenger side. Kerry will manage. He sits down behind the wheel, about to start the car until something gets in the way. Kerry's leg gets in the way. He clumsily tries to sit on his lap instead of going around the car and getting on the passenger seat. Clutching Johnny's shoulders tight, pressing against him to fit in the enclosed place. Johnny keeps his hands held up, hoping Kerry will move. He doesn't, stays straddling his lap, looking down at him with those hazy eyes.
"Fuck you doing, Ker?" he asks quietly. They're so close. He doesn't need to speak any louder.
"More," he mumbles, leaning to butt their foreheads, pressing closer to Johnny and fuck- Kerry's hips start moving, grinding on Johnny's lap. His friend shivers at the friction, "Wanna kiss… more."
Right, they were interrupted. Johnny forgot about that. Allowing Kerry to kiss him just to get rid of the other asshole in Kerry's life. He didn't expect Kerry to want more. He probably should've. Kerry wouldn't have been the first one to get addicted after tasting his lips. Still, letting Kerry kiss him now feels like going over a limit. There's no one in sight to piss off at the moment. And sure, Kerry's groans are exquisite right now, and his ass rubbing against him sure does nice things to his cock. But he's still Kerry. Both hands grip his hips to stop him, shaking his head at him, telling him to stop.
"But I-," Kerry fusses, trying hard to think. The pieces slowly fall together. He frowns disappointedly, "You just- Dean's gone, huh?"
He sees Kerry's attention turning to the bar they played in, where the input probably is, drinking their break-up away. He hesitates, immobile on his lap, hands letting go of Johnny's shoulders. He tries to shift out of the car, but Johnny doesn't let him, his ganic hand pressing his thigh down. He knows that look; Kerry's taking pity on the douche. He can't let that happen.
"Let's go home first, yeah?" he tries, cupping his jaw to bring his attention back to him, quickly pressing their lips together, "Yeah?"
Who cares if they kiss right now? Kerry won't remember any of it tomorrow. Even if he does, he'll believe Johnny's story about how he must've imagined it all.
It works; Kerry's eyes lock onto his again before kissing him, grinding against him. He must be getting close already, moans filthy and desperate, uneven rhythm, and shaky hips. Or maybe that's just what Johnny hopes, as he himself feels his cock straining against his pants.
"Kerry," he calls, breaking the kiss just for the other man to trail his lips against his jaw and neck, "Passenger seat. Now."
His metal hand runs through his hair. He isn't sure if he wants to tug him off or pull him closer.
"Why?" he asks against his skin, teeth-replacing his lips, scraping his neck. Johnny pulls at his hair. Can't let him put marks on him. Can't let him have proof it actually happened tomorrow.
"People can see us."
"And?"
"And I don't want anyone else seeing you like this," he blurts out. The first thing that comes to mind before Kerry tries thinking again. The first thing that comes to mind because he knows it'll work on Kerry. The first thing that comes to mind because the words sound good on his tongue.
And Kerry complies, letting go of Johnny's belt. He hadn't even realized his friend had unbuckled it, too focused on the softness of his lips on his heated skin.
Driving him home quickly and letting him there, before getting stupid thoughts into their heads. The plan was simple and now assured to fail.
Kerry grabs his hand the second they're out of the car. Almost as if he could read Johnny's mind. Almost as if he knew he wanted to leave. Grabbing his hand and guiding him to their apartment. He's more balanced on his feet now, though still presses against the walls, jerking Johnny closer, urging him to pick up the pace. And Johnny lets him, lets Kerry guide him up. Taking the stairs as the elevator's out again. Lets him for the spark in his hazy eyes when he turns his head around to look at him. Pretty eyes glimmering with desire. Johnny has no option but to cave in a little deeper. If he wasn't Kerry, he would've already shoved him against the wall, whispering in his ear to suck him off right here and there. He won't, not with Kerry. They're almost home, anyway.
Johnny barely has time to close the door behind them, Kerry pinning him against it, palm flat against his chest. Johnny focuses on his breathing. He doesn't want his friend to know how fast his heart has started beating. How much those pretty glimmering eyes locked on his lips are affecting him. He can feel it, the situation slipping off his fingers. He's not in control anymore. Having to remind himself that this is Kerry. His best friend. Not some horny joytoy he can play with before throwing away. He's trying his best to act nice, only for Kerry to push the limits a little farther.
Lips back on his, pressing him harder onto the door. Kerry moans in his mouth, sending a shiver down Johnny's spine. Sparking dangerous wants and ideas. He quickly flips their positions, Kerry's back hitting the door in a loud thud. Maybe the neighbors heard.
"Ker. Ker," he calls.
He isn't used to being the voice of reason. He isn't used to losing control over the situation. Kerry's already trying to kiss him again, hands pressing against his back, pulling him closer, still hard against his thigh. Johnny pulls his hair before their lips can meet. The groan escaping Kerry's mouth makes his head spin. Makes whatever will he has left wane a little more. He can't. He shouldn't. Because Kerry isn't some joy toy. Because maybe he'll remember tomorrow. Because that'd mean something the following day. They're already hurting each other so much as friends. Being lovers would be a disaster. The inevitable break-up would force Kerry away. He'd leave, probably for good, having nothing left to keep dreaming on if he'd stay a little longer. He can't let him go. And yet… and yet…
And yet Kerry's hands creeping under his shirt feel warm on his skin. The soft whines as he pulls his hair harder make him shiver. If he keeps tugging, he'll lose his mind. His silver hand cups his jaw instead, tight, so his hazy gaze focuses on him.
"We oughta stop that, Ker," he mumbles, sounding so insincere.
"C'mon, Johnny," he asks in the same hushed tone, "Please."
Fuck, he's begging now. Begging with those pretty eyes. Begging while slowly rutting against his thigh. Begging in between quiet moans. He gives up. He wants it too bad. He wants Kerry too bad.
"Eh, why not, after all?" he wonders, usual bravado back in his voice, "Not like you'll remember any of it. Too wasted for that."
It's a lie; they both know it. The high has died down. Still affected, but conscious enough of their actions for Kerry's brain to recall later. A fucking lie they both agree on, Kerry discreetly nodding, a thankful smile on his lips. He's so pathetic. Johnny loathes himself for finding this look so attractive. He kisses him to make it disappear. He kisses him to seal the deal. He kisses him to feel his soft lips again. Maybe he also got a little addicted to their taste.
Addicted to his lips, like he's addicted to the groans escaping them. Muffled against his mouth that he quickly opens so that he can taste them with his tongue instead. Kerry presses him closer still, spreading his legs wider so that Johnny's thigh can fit perfectly between them, clutching at his shirt. His moans sound almost desperate now, fueling Johnny's desire.
He breaks the kiss too early for Kerry, throwing his arms around his shoulders instead, pulling him closer. His silver hand still cupping his jaw, he tilts Kerry's head to press his lips against his neck. His heart is racing under his mouth. Kerry tries to stiffen another moan as his teeth scrape the neck. He wants to mark Kerry everywhere where the skin shows. Just to make sure the next input gets the memo. He'll always come second in Kerry's life. Just so Kerry doesn't waste his time with the next gonk coming into their life. No other reason. He wants to mark Kerry but doesn't. Kerry can't remember what happened tomorrow. Johnny knows he won't let go the next day, seeing the bruises he put on his best friend, wondering how deep he can mark his skin until Kerry starts saying no. His tongue laps at his neck instead, nibbling at his ear. Kerry throws his head back harder against the door, groaning in earnest. Johnny wants to get on his knees for him, just to see how loud he can make Kerry moan.
He doesn't have the time to. Kerry lays both hands flat on his chest and gently pushes him away. Johnny complies, hooking a finger into one of the belt loops of his slim denim jeans deformed by his bulge. He stares down at it, grinning wildly as Kerry moves him towards the couch. The back of his knees hits the armrest. Kerry pecks at his lips before pushing him one final time, making him lose balance and fall down inelegantly. His ganic hand clutches the backrest of the sofa. He'd feel too small otherwise, with Kerry towering over him. He's already leaning down to kiss his neck while one hand creeps under Johnny's shirt. Fingernails gliding across his skin, carefully to slalom around the scars that have blossomed over the years. Johnny lets go of the backrest to lay down on the couch. He hopes the sound of the plastic leather muffles the soft groan escaping his lips. He doesn't need Kerry to know how much he enjoys it. How much he wants him. That'd go over his head, fuel that dumb inflated ego of his.
Kerry's lips slowly travel down, kissing his collarbone and chest. Johnny takes his shirt off, eager to feel Kerry's mouth lower. And lower. His abdomen tenses up as Kerry's lips find the left nipple he got pierced on a dare. Or at least he thinks it was a dare. All he could remember is waking up after blacking out with a sore chest, wearing his shirt as little as possible for the next week, the shafting making it impossible to focus on anything. His tongue gently plays with the chrome balls on either side of his erect bud, and fuck, he knows what he's doing. Johnny's cock strains against his pants. He can't take it anymore. He unbuckles his belt, fights with the button and opens the fly. His dick springs out, poking against Kerry's stomach. He stares down at it immediately before looking back into Johnny's eyes. The hungry glimmer in his friend's eyes makes him nod, his silver hand already running through his hair. He wants it. He wants him.
Johnny shifts on the couch, leaning against the backrest. He finishes taking his pants off while Kerry gets topless. He guides Kerry to his knees, right between his legs. His breath hitches his dick, making it twitch before his hungry eyes. Kerry looks up at him, explicitly licking his lips. His pretty eyes lock into his as his tongue comes gliding across his entire length. Johnny throws his head back, a shiver running up his spine. He can't look at Kerry right now, has to focus on anything else. There's a crack on the ceiling he could've sworn wasn't there before. Better to stare at it than focus on his lewd thoughts, and wonder how Kerry'd sound choking on his cock.
Maybe Kerry can tell Johnny's trying to distract himself from his tongue. And maybe he feels irritated to be ignored like that. His mouth wraps around his cock, easily taking about half of him. He immediately hollows his cheeks and sets a rhythm making Johnny jolt at the sudden pleasure hitting him. He's so fucking good, moaning around his dick as he's bobbing his head. The tip of his cock keeps hitting the back of his throat, and Johnny can't help but wonder how warm and tight it must feel. He puts his hand flat against his skull and slowly pushes him further. He looks down, watching Kerry's reaction. And fuck, that's his best friend on his knees, slobbering on his cock. His best friend, whose pretty eyes water up as he breaches his throat. His best friend, just as fucked-up as he is, moaning at the feeling of choking on his dick. A dark chuckle escapes Johnny's lips. A wonderful noise, just like he imagined it sounding. He digs his nails into his scalp, the tight warmth wrapping around him making him lose all will. Sure, that's Kerry's mouth he's fucking, but he can't help himself anymore.
His hips start rolling as he keeps him in place, sliding into him at a slow pace at first, throwing his head back on the backrest of the couch. He's taking him so well, so easily. It's like he's made for his cock. Another groan bubbles up Kerry's chest, hitting his dick as it goes down his throat. He can't take it anymore. He tugs at his hair, only warning Kerry gets before he fucks his throat in earnest. Chasing a pleasure that built way too quick. He blames it on the alcohol, on the delightful thought he pissed the input off so bad he finally left. He blames it on Kerry's desperate and pathetic state, on the fact he agreed whatever happens tonight bears no consequences. He'll tell him he screamed too loud into the mic. That's why his throat feels so sore.
"Fuck, Ker! I'm-"
He doesn't finish his sentence. That's all Kerry gets for a warning. The climax hits him too fast, burying himself deep into his throat. Kerry stops moaning around his cock, but only the time he needs to swallow his cum. Almost greedily so. He pulls Kerry off his dick, watching him lick his lips, saliva dripping down his chin. He drags him back up and pulls him close. Kerry complies, coming to sit on his lap. Johnny plunges for his mouth, tasting himself on his lips. He usually hates it. He'd usually rather push them away than kiss them after getting his cock sucked. It's different now. It's Kerry's plush lips, all dark and puffy. It's Kerry's taste mixed with his. It's Kerry moaning against his mouth, wiggling above him. Johnny notices he's still got his pants on.
"Would ya look at that? You liked my cock that much, huh?" he teases against his ear, hand sliding between them to rub at the bulge still trapped under a layer of clothing, "You liked sucking me off so much you forgot all about yourself, huh?"
Kerry groans in response, bucking against his palm. So sensitive to his touch, seemingly so close with so little friction. Johnny presses their lips back together, eagerly swallowing his moans. He wants to make him come, just like that. He wants to see him come undone with nothing but words and caresses barely felt. Kerry's quick to grab his wrist. He shakes his head, so pathetic a gesture Johnny gets hard again.
"No? You don't wanna come?" he asked deviously, hearing his friend mumbles incoherently back, "Not yet, huh?"
He's not at all what Kerry wants. He knows it. By the way Kerry ruts against his palm. By the way his groans turn into whines. By the way his eyes tear up at the mere thought he wouldn't be allowed to come just yet. Allowed to. Fuck, Johnny really wants to push him a little further, see how long he can keep it going on. How long he can tease Kerry and tell him no. How long Kerry can remain obedient in his neediness. He'd keep going a little more if he wasn't desperate himself for Kerry.
He quickly unbuckles his belt and undoes the button. His hand slides down into his pants and underwear that Kerry rarely wears. His fingers brush against his cock. Kerry shivers above him, planting his fingernails into his shoulders while letting out a lewd groan. Johnny can't help but notice how wet his cock is.
"You already came, huh?" he says, unable to stop his voice from taking a hoarser tone, nor his own cock from twitching.
"Nah. Nah," Kerry mutters, hips bucking onto his palm. He shakes his head, biting his lips and throwing his head back.
Just precum, huh? Fuck, Johnny's losing his mind. Silver hand on the back of his neck, he pulls him close for a hungry kiss. Sure, he got his fair share of soaked panties and stained jeans. But never Kerry's. So desperate for him. So needy for him. So fucking wet for him. And he's barely touched him. And they're barely started. They should've done it so long ago. He should've let himself fall for Kerry a long time ago.
He quickly breaks the kiss at the thought, avoiding Kerry's gaze before he can try reading his mind. He can't, not with Kerry. Johnny knows he'll eventually let him crash on the ground like he always does with everyone else in his life. He can't do that to him. He can't let his best friend hope. He can't let him go but can't let himself hurt him either. He means too much to be another lover he'll eventually let down.
"Take off your pants, Ker," he orders, voice taking a sharper edge to veil the affection bubbling in his chest.
This is a one-time thing. He just gave in because Kerry was so desperate for him he started to beg. He's just indulging him because he won't remember it tomorrow. Nothing more.
Nothing more.
Kerry complies, getting off his lap. He kicks his shoes off, and gets naked, clutching at Johnny's knee not to fall over as he trips on one leg of his jeans. He watches him stumble around, a candid smile creeping up his lips. He brings him back on his lap, pulling him close by the chain adorning his neck, something he's almost sure the input gave him. His grip tightens around the necklace at the thought. He wants to break it, make sure Kerry never wears it again. Just so he never thinks about the input ever again. He quickly forgets about it all, Kerry's lips back on his. His hard cock pressed against Johnny's, eliciting a moan drowned into Silverhand's mouth as their tongues meet. He can still taste himself in Kerry's mouth, leaving the chain for the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Hungrily lapping at his lips and mouth, his ganic hand squeezes an asscheek. Kerry breaks the kiss, forehead pressed onto his. He's whining at this point, shifting on his lap.
Johnny's hand travels lower, teasing his ass. His smooth hole twitches against his digit. Rubbing against it until Kerry begs into his ear, hot breath tickling his neck. He grips his jaw for a quick kiss as Kerry fumbles around the couch. Moving a pillow, he finds a bottle of lube he badly closed the last time it was used. It drips on the plastic of the sofa, then on Johnny's chest as he snatches it from Kerry's hands. He'd love to see Kerry finger himself above him, biting his lip as he finds his sweet spot, trying his best not to come as Johnny orders him to keep going a little longer. Too bad he can't keep his hands off him. He has to touch Kerry, feel him twitch and shiver under his affections.
He coats his ganic fingers with a little too much lube. He really doesn't want to hurt him. Rubbing his fingers against his palm to warm the liquid a little before creeping back behind Kerry, poking at his hole and hearing him mew at the contact. He swallows two fingers easily, greedily. Kerry throws his head back, exposing his neck for Johnny to nibble at. He wants to mark him so badly, sink his teeth into the soft flesh until tasting copper on his tongue. He mumbles against his skin to distract himself from these thoughts.
"You're taking me so easily, Ker. You want it that bad, huh?"
Kerry moans in reply. His nails dig into Johnny's shoulders. He's holding his breath as Johnny presses deeper inside. He starts prodding around, looking for that sweet spot that'd make Kerry see stars. His tight hole wrapped around his fingers drives him insane, fingering him faster to hear him whine louder.
"Johnny… Wait… Johnny," Kerry fusses, out of breath, tensing up above him.
He doesn't wait. He doesn't stop. Going faster and faster, drunk on Kerry's shaky voice. Kerry jolts, both hands still gripping his shoulders. He keeps calling his name until nothing comes out of his mouth but incoherent mumbling. Johnny feels his cock twitch against his abdomen, cum painting his skin. Kerry goes lax into his arms, forehead pressed against his shoulder made of metal and Realskinn.
"Fuck, Ker. Did you-?" he laughs, nuzzling his hair drenched in sweat. He doesn't have to ask. He just wants to hear Kerry's breathless voice.
"I did. Yeah," he nods, slowly leaning back to look at Johnny, "Didn't even touch myself."
"Good," Johnny grins, watching Kerry's face light up at his praise. His dick is twitching back to life against him, "But we ain't done here just yet."
He quickly replaces his fingers for his cock, lining up Kerry and lowering him. He mews above him, mouth opening wider as his eyebrows furrowed. His fingers clutch at his shoulders as he sinks lower and lower. Kerry's so warm and tight. They let out the same shaky breath as Johnny bottoms out. Kerry still takes him so well, so easily. Fuck, he's really made for his cock. Johnny can't take it anymore, bucking into him. But the groan he hears doesn't sound as lewd. Quiet, almost pained. In his daze, he's forgotten he's much bigger than two little fingers.
"You're all right?" he worries. He wants to stop, but his ass is too great. He shallowly thrusts into him instead; that's the best he can do.
Kerry nods, eyes still closed. He seems to hold his breath, hold his moans. Johnny's silver hand rests against his cheek.
"Ker? You're all right?" he repeats in between groans.
"Hmm-hmm," Kerry nods, leaning down to rest his head against his shoulder. He's heaving in his ear, quiet moans sounding so loud now, "Yeah."
"I don't wanna-"
"C'mon, Johnny," he whines, lobe between his teeth, "Break me."
He doesn't have to tell him twice, certainly not with that voice taking a dirty edge. His hands spread his asscheeks as he fucks into him hard and fast. Johnny often likes to make it last, but it's impossible with Kerry. Kerry and his ass made for him. Kerry and his filthy moans, asking for more. And more. And faster. And more. Fuck, he's so close. He can't remember the last time he's reached the edge so quickly. Kerry tightens around him, throwing his body back to fuck himself on his cock. Hands on his chest, his fingernails dig into his skin. It's too much, way too much. Johnny's hand knots into Kerry's hair and tugs, forcing his body to arch back, exposing his neck.
It's too much, way too much. He bends towards him, kisses his throat. Harder with each thrust. His tongue replaces his lips, but it's still not enough to taste Kerry. His teeth scrape at his neck, and Kerry's hand pushes against his scalp, asking for more. A devious and forbidden hunger hits him, sending a shiver down his spine. It nudges itself in his groin. Feeling closer and closer, pounding into Kerry. He chases his own pleasure, feeling Kerry's hand between them, jerking himself to the rhythm of his thrusts.
He doesn't want that. He wants Kerry's whole body for himself. He needs to touch him more and more. He quickly swats his hand away to wrap his own fingers around his cock. Kerry doesn't protest long, finding a new pace fucking Johnny's hand. He goes slower, enjoying the way he squeezes his dick, twists his wrist. They kiss again, groans swallowed in the other's mouth. Kerry's still calling his name against his lips, his free hand trying to reach for his own nipple. Johnny still doesn't let him, pulling him close to kiss his chest. He nibbles at the bud, careful not to bite no matter how much he wants to. He tightens his grip around Kerry, feeling him tighten around his dick.
Kerry's moans take a higher pitch, whole body tensing again above Johnny. He stills, calling his name in between swears. Johnny grabs at his hips as he thrusts ever faster into him. It's getting hard to move; Kerry's so tight around his cock now. So tight, so warm. And those exquisite moans that'll haunt his dreams into the next life. He watches Kerry's eyes roll as he paints his inside, bucking with the waves of pleasure crashing over his mind. Pleasure crashing over their minds. Johnny doesn't want that high to end. Not right now. Not ever.
Kerry's head falls on his shoulder. He's out of breath, his naked body glimmering with sweat under the neon lights above them. Johnny's ganic hand brushes against his back. It twitches under his caresses, Kerry's still a moaning mess in his arms.
"You all right?" Johnny asks again, his bearded jaw rubbing against his hair.
Kerry nods, pathetically so. His lips move against his skin, but Johnny can't hear his words. He wants to kiss him, gently, adoringly. He wants to kiss his temple and hear Kerry giggle at the gesture. He wants Kerry to stay in his arms a little longer. And maybe a little longer. But he isn't a fool. He knows: once the afterglow has died down, they'll be back at each other's throat. Better not get those sticky feelings mixed up in their next fight. But right now… Right now, he hasn't had enough of Kerry. He rolls his hips, still inside of him, and earns a lewd whimper.
"Say, Ker," he calls, typical bravado dripping in his voice, "Want me to fuck your brains out a little more?"
They keep going on the couch. They keep going on their way to bed. They keep going in bed. Even after his begging turns into an incoherent mumble, Johnny keeps going. Even after Kerry asks to stop, yet keeps fucking himself on Johnny's cock. He keeps going until Kerry's brain turns to mush, unable to remember even his own name. Both because he can't get enough and because he needs this night to turn into muddled memories that Kerry can't remember the next day. He keeps going until Kerry goes numb in his arms, lips barely moving, all pliant and well-fucked. With his pretty eyes all glazed over and a hickey that Johnny couldn't help but suck into his skin. He'll tell him he invited someone over, some long-haired dude that sounded like an asshole. Someone he picked up from the bar after Dean broke up with him. He'll tell him he left the both of them at home and came back in the morning. Kerry'd believe it. Kerry always believes his lies.
He sits in bed a while longer, back against the wall, smoking away as Kerry curls up at his side. Knocked out, or just so tired he fell asleep, Johnny can't tell. He quietly kisses his temple as he crushes the cigarette against the night table. He has to leave to make his story believable. He has to leave, before Kerry wakes up and asks him to stay. He'd stay if Kerry begged just the right way. He can't let himself stay. Their relationship is already a disaster as is. He can't allow himself to fuck it up even more. Kerry's already enabling him so much to keep him as a friend. He knows himself, knows how far he would push Kerry as a lover. He's fucked-up, but not enough yet to hurt his best friend that bad. The sun will soon be rising, and all he can think about is finding a bar nearby still open and getting so wasted he himself forgets tonight ever happened.