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It's not like they had rehearsed it or anything. It just came so natural to them. Just one look from Johnny and then Daniel was spinning his whole body around, kicking that motherfucker in the head while Johnny swept his leg. And just like that, a thirty-four-year-old rift in the universe attached itself back together.
The last asshole is lying on the ground now. Earlier, Johnny pushed LaRusso out of the way and lunged at the other two because he knows that idiot so damn well. Always charging in head first like he's invincible. He most definitely isn't, and Johnny somehow has come to a point in his life that he hates seeing LaRusso bruised and battered, even if most of the times he's seen LaRusso in such a state his own hands and legs had done the battering.
LaRusso is just standing there now, hovering over the knocked out jerk, his hair a mess, his stupid bomber jacket torn in some places, and he's panting hard. He has a smile on his face though. “That was fun, right?” he says, clicking the last word in that weird but captivating way of his.
Johnny has never been this turned on in his life.
So, he grabs LaRusso’s arm and drags him outside, to the alley between the two buildings.
“Johnny, what the hell?”
“Shut the fuck up, LaRusso.”
Johnny slams him hard against the brick wall and doesn't even kiss him or anything. He just drops to his knees in front of him and unbuckles his pants.
LaRusso is trying to push him away, not very convincingly though. Johnny pulls his dick out of his boxers and it’s already completely hard.
“Jesus Christ, Johnny! It’s the middle of the day!” He hisses like he hasn’t thought about it too. Freaking LaRusso always playing it like he’s the saint and Johnny’s the degenerate. Johnny doesn’t mind. He can be an ace degenerate if he wants to.
“Then be quick about it, LaRusso,” he says and swallows him whole, his stubble grazing against LaRusso's skin. LaRusso lets out a gasping sound and bangs his head back against the wall, closing his eyes.
Johnny grabs his hips to keep him in place and starts bobbing his head up and down on him, trying to move his tongue along LaRusso’s cock as much as it's possible with his mouth full. He stretches his cheeks and tries to take in LaRusso as deep as he can.
LaRusso is making all kinds of small noises, shivering and writhing under Johnny's touch and Johnny feels that, fuck, he could come just like that, deepthroating LaRusso’s cock, his own dick straining against the zipper of his jeans. He’s so hard it actually hurts.
But he has to be quick about it too.
So, he pulls himself out of his jeans and looks up at LaRusso. Daniel is watching him now, his eyes glazed over. He holds his gaze and starts stroking his dick long and hard.
Somehow this is the last straw LaRusso needs, 'cause he grabs the back of Johnny’s head and fucks his face with a few, long thrusts before he shoves Johnny’s mouth deep onto his cock, his lips almost touching the skin at the base. He keeps him in place and explodes into Johnny’s mouth, hot liquid reaching the deepest parts of Johnny’s throat. Johnny tries to avoid a coughing fit, 'cause gag reflex is for pussies anyway, and gives his own dick a few last deep strokes, imagining someone could have walked in on them at any minute, and then he’s coming hard himself, his mind only half registering to guide it away from LaRusso’s three hundred dollar shoes.
LaRusso’s grip on him is still tight and he doesn’t let go until he's ridden the wave of his orgasm, his dick still pulsating in Johnny’s mouth.
When he’s done, he loosens his grip, puts his hand on Johnny's forehead and gently guides him away. LaRusso's dick is still leaking and Johnny drags his tongue across the tip, licking him clean, but he doesn’t have the time to linger as long as he would have liked, 'cause LaRusso is grabbing his shoulders and pulling him to his feet.
As soon as Johnny is on the same eye level, LaRusso shoves his tongue into Johnny’s mouth, circling it inside, swiping over everything he can. Johnny's own tongue, the insides of his cheeks, the roof of his mouth. He even drags his tongue over Johnny’s teeth.
“Like the way you taste, LaRusso?” Johnny mumbles, smiling into his mouth.
“Holy shit, Johnny,” LaRusso exhales breathlessly.
Johnny pulls away from him, that jerk smirk of his attached to his face.
“Let’s go find more guys to beat up.”