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Johnny wasn't waiting up for Kerry. He wasn't.
There wasn't any need to worry about him. For all that Kerry still looked like he'd stepped right out of some jailbait twink porno, he wasn't actually helpless. Sure, he wasn't much of a fighter and he couldn't shoot straight because absolutely nothing about Kerry was straight, but he was mean. A knee to the dick, an elbow to the face, and a fucking bite if things went sideways, and Kerry could get any average guy off his back for long enough to run away. Wouldn't help him if he got in trouble with someone properly dangerous, but then if he did, he'd be just as fucked if he were a head taller or ten years older.
And anyway, Kerry was a kinky shit. If he ever got gangraped by a bunch of rough, sweaty bikers, he'd probably leave them his number and suggest they do it again some time. He had this whole thing for dangerous guys – tall, tough, older than him. Guys like Johnny, really, though Johnny was unfortunately aware he hadn't been the person to give Kerry that type, as flattering as that would have been. But Kerry had already found himself older, scary-looking guys to pick him up from school back when he'd still gone to school and lived with his parents, partly because he'd liked shocking his family, partly because that was just what got him hard. At least Johnny assumed so. He tried not to make it a habit to think about what got Kerry hard, because Kerry already talked too fucking much about that himself.
Point was, he wasn't worried about Kerry just because it was three in the fucking morning and Kerry still wasn't home – home being the topmost floor that still had a roof on a high-rise that had lost funding halfway through construction and was standing like a big ugly broken tooth in Night City's skyline while the corpo bureaucrats figured out who owed whom how much blood money. It was a squat, with the lower floors of the building occupied by a bunch of bums, but it was a pretty damn awesome squat, if Johnny said so himself. Big, great view over this mean bitch of a city they called home, and nobody nearby to complain when he and Ker decided that midnight was the perfect time to start jamming with their stolen amplifiers turned up to eleven. Maybe the bums downstairs would have liked to complain, but nobody gave a fuck about what they wanted. Not like anyone in Night City gave a shit about anyone else, and in this case it suited Johnny just fine.
And sure, he could have had the place to himself, but then Kerry would just move in with whatever dick he was riding that week, and Johnny liked having him nearby for when inspiration struck and he needed to play his new idea to Kerry right the fuck now. Even if that meant having to listen to Kerry ride his dicks one room over because the walls were paper-thin, or having Kerry barge in while he was getting some tail because Kerry somehow always had amazing ideas for songs just when Johnny was balls-deep in some wet little cunt. The jealous brat always hated it when Johnny paid attention to anyone but him, especially when he paid attention to them with his dick.
Johnny rolled over on the big, round mattress in the middle of the main room – his room, though Kerry spent more time here than in the smaller room next door where he kept his own mattress and what little stuff he owned. He stared up at the ceiling in the flickering glow of the neon lights from outside and tapped an impatient rhythm on his thigh. Fucking Kerry. Like a street cat that came and went as it pleased – not that Johnny ever told Kerry what he was up to or where he went when he stayed out all night, but that was different; Johnny wasn't a fucking kid with the prettiest dick-sucking lips outside of a whorehouse.
Kerry did show up eventually, his arrival announced when the rickety building hoist that saved them from forty flights of stairs every day crawled and clanked upwards. When he stepped into the room, he moved like he was a little drunk, a little high, nothing out of the ordinary. Fine. He was home. Johnny could finally go the fuck to sleep without snapping awake at every noise and grabbing his gun. He'd slept like shit ever since the war, with every random sound startling him awake unless he'd taken the right drugs to knock himself out, but he slept mildly less like shit when Kerry was nearby. Probably just habit after several months of living together, nothing more.
Except Kerry didn't stumble over to his own room to sleep off his high and whatever the fuck he'd been doing all night. No, Kerry, being the obnoxious little shit he was, stumbled right towards Johnny's mattress and then just about managed to kick off his sneakers before he sprawled down next to Johnny. He didn't quite touch Johnny beyond a light brush of their shoulders, but he was still impossibly close. Impossible to ignore.
Nothing too weird about this either – their squat didn't exactly have what you'd call heating (or windows on all sides), and on cold nights they either found themselves someone to warm their bed or they just slept next to each other. Frankly, Kerry was a much better bedwarmer than most of the women Johnny fucked – no cold feet, no sharp fingernails catching on his skin while he was asleep, no waking him up in the middle of the night to get up and take a piss. Kerry always slept like the dead, curled up against Johnny and passed out like a purring little furnace. It was really like having a particularly bitchy cat, if cats could play the guitar like a one-in-a-million talent. Not that Johnny ever told him that. It'd just go to his head, and Kerry already had too big an ego for his age.
So usually Johnny didn't mind Kerry crawling into his bed. But usually Kerry didn't smell like a fucking joytoy. Looked like it, too – his half grown-out hair a tousled mess like it had been getting grabbed all night, several hickeys blooming on his neck, his lips dark and pouty and a little parted. But it was mostly the smell. Johnny knew exactly what Kerry smelt like – fresh out of the shower, or sweat-drenched after a gig, or sleep-warm in the morning – and this didn't smell like Kerry, it smelt like whoever had rubbed his sweat and his come all over him. Marked him up like some animal staking its claim.
"Are you fucking kidding me, Ker?" Johnny snapped and sat up, grabbing Kerry by his shirt to drag him up with him. Kerry blinked sleepily, his eyes going wide in surprise; he'd clearly thought Johnny was already asleep.
"The fuck?" he mumbled, one hand half-heartedly going for Johnny's chrome wrist. Like he didn't know what Johnny's problem was. If Johnny had felt like being fair, he might have acknowledged that it wasn't exactly the first time they'd slept in one bed while smelling of whoever they'd fucked before, but fair wasn't really his style and right now it just pissed him off. Kerry spending the night with some dick and then coming home to him like his, what, his fucking wife? Sorry I'm late, honey, I ran into another scumbag to bend over for?
"You smell like a cheap rentboy," Johnny said and sneered. "Could at least fucking shower if you want to sleep in my bed."
Kerry's confusion was turning into annoyance now, that angry frown Johnny liked so much when it was directed at anyone else – Kerry had a temper behind that pretty face of his, and Johnny loved watching it explode in some gonk's face. He didn't like having it aimed at himself.
"Fuck off, Johnny, it's the middle of the night," Kerry said, trying to pull away and pry Johnny's chrome fingers off his shirt. "You don't have to be an asshole, I just wanna sleep."
"Yeah, me too, but someone had to go and wake me up." Never mind that he'd barely closed an eye before Kerry had arrived – no need for Kerry to know that. Maybe he'd feel a bit bad if he thought he'd woken Johnny, it'd do him some good. Up close Johnny could tell that there was some dried come smeared over Kerry's cheek, which he hadn't even bothered to wipe off before he'd stumbled home. It just ticked Johnny off even more, that Kerry was going to get this fucking mess all over Johnny's pillow.
Maybe he should have just shoved Kerry out of bed, told him to sleep in his own room or on the fucking floor, what the hell did Johnny care? Would have been the reasonable solution. But reasonable wasn't his style any more than fair, and if Kerry was being a little bitch, he could deal with the consequences of it.
So Johnny jumped out of bed, tightened his grip on Kerry's shirt and yanked him up onto his feet. It wasn't hard to move him around – Kerry was a lightweight in more ways than one, and right now he was tired on top of that. He stumbled to his feet, ratty socks sliding over the floor, and fell right against Johnny, who graciously caught him instead of letting him face-plant. Would have served him right. Johnny shifted his grip to the back of Kerry's neck – his ganic hand, because even now he didn't particularly want to hurt Kerry too much – and then started dragging him to the bathroom.
"What the fuck?" Kerry was complaining, trying half-heartedly to shake him off, but mostly coming along obediently. Their bathroom was actually halfway functional – a lot of the pipes had already been finished before the building had been abandoned, and everything that had been missing had been rigged up by some guy Kerry had hooked up with for a week. Johnny was pretty sure he'd only been fucking him to get their bathroom fixed up, but in this particular case he really hadn't minded. Only time in his life Kerry's love for dick had been useful in some way. It wasn't fancy, but at least they had hot water most of the time. Johnny hoped for Kerry's sake it was working tonight.
"Like you smell of fucking roses," Kerry grumbled, but he went quiet when Johnny shoved him into the bathroom and pulled his tank top over his head. All still like he was frightened or some shit when Johnny's hands moved on to his waistband, undoing his jeans and shoving them down. Probably not like Kerry had imagined this ever happening, the way he kept hitting on Johnny like he just wouldn't give up the hope that Johnny would wake up one morning and decide he'd try out sucking dick and fucking asses after all.
"Course you're not wearing underwear, fuck." Johnny made a face as he pulled the jeans all the way down and yanked Kerry's socks off his feet while he was at it. For a second he stayed down there, looked up those skinny, tan legs, at Kerry's soft cock, and even that was kinda pretty, not that Johnny had ever really thought cocks could be pretty. Kerry shifted his weight from one foot to the other, moved his hand like he was going to cover himself and then thought better of it and just gave Johnny a defiant stare. Johnny liked that almost as much as his angry frown.
"Something you want, Johnny?" Kerry's voice was sharper now, like the cool night air on his bare skin was finally waking him up. He sounded almost arrogant, like Johnny was the one who had some pathetic sexual obsession going on and not Kerry. Johnny smacked the side of Kerry's thigh hard, making him jump just as he got back up to his feet.
"Yeah, for you to take a fucking shower."
He should have left it at that, too. Maybe shoved Kerry into the shower cabin and then gone back to bed and hoped Kerry would be clean by the time he got back, instead of being a contrary little brat. But Kerry looked so utterly fucked, with bruises on his hips and hickeys down to his chest, and some part of Johnny, the part that was always low-key pissed off at the world anyway, just fucking snapped. Just as Kerry said "fine" and started to move of his own accord, Johnny grabbed him again – a fistful of his stupidly soft hair this time – and shoved him right into the shower. He followed him in, barefoot too and still in the jeans and tank top he hadn't bothered taking off before going to bed earlier, and turned on the water.
The first few moments it was always cold as fuck, and Kerry yelped when the spray hit him. Johnny, who only felt a couple of drops on his face and his hand, grinned to himself. Yeah, that should get through Kerry's booze and drug haze, actually wake him up properly for this. Whatever the hell this was going to be.
"Jesus, you fucking asshole, what the –" Kerry was sputtering, struggling a little while Johnny firmly held his head under the spray. He did stop complaining once the water turned warmer, even let out a little sigh like he was almost enjoying it now. Probably sore from bending over all night.
"Wouldn't have to be doing this if you'd just cleaned up by yourself," Johnny growled. From behind Kerry looked even worse – a bite mark on his shoulder, another one on the curve of that cute little handful of an ass. And between his cheeks … Johnny didn't even have to look too closely to see the come leaking out of him, slowly dripping down his thigh. With another growl he shoved Kerry's face against the tiles of the shower, making him gasp in discomfort even as he arched his back like all he wanted was to get fucked again.
"You're fucking filthy." Johnny let his chrome hand slide down over Kerry's now wet sides, smacked his ass lightly. "How many guys fucked you tonight, huh? You look like a cheap hooker that got passed around some army barracks."
Johnny only realised how much closer he'd come when the water hit his face, too, his hair, his shoulders, making his tank top cling to his chest. It made Kerry's skin gleam wetly, that fucking perfect, smooth skin, at least in all the places where he hadn't let some asshole rough him up for fun.
"The fuck do you care? I don't ask how many cunts you stick your dick in every night, if you can even manage more than one."
"You know I can. Half the time you listen by the door like a little creep." Johnny tightened his grip on Kerry's hair, made him gasp and arch his back even more, until he pressed his ass right against Johnny's chrome fingers. Of course Johnny could have stopped him, all those times Kerry had watched him fuck some chick, but somehow he never did. Somehow he always just met Kerry's eyes while he was pounding into whoever he was fucking that night, just because it was flattering, the way Kerry was looking at him, his dark eyes all wide and hungry, so obviously and desperately wishing he was the one on his hands and knees with Johnny's dick opening him up.
Johnny pulled Kerry's hips back, his chrome fingers covering one of the bruises so he didn't have to see it anymore. Kerry complied so easily, and this time it almost looked like he was doing it on purpose, stretching his back and sticking out his ass. Johnny had fucked actual strippers who didn't move like that. If Johnny had had his ganic hand down there, he would have pulled away, but it was just his chrome fingers, which had so much less sensation in them, so it wasn't too disgusting when he slid them down Kerry's crack and through the mess there. Still kind of gross, but almost fascinating in a way, the white come on Kerry's tan skin, the way he twitched when Johnny rubbed a little at it. So fucking sensitive still, despite getting pounded all night. Or maybe sensitive because of that.
"How many, Ker?" It didn't feel real somehow, the sound of the water on the tiles and on Kerry's back drowning out the noise of the city, in that strange half-dark that was only illuminated by what bit of the city's neon lights made it all the way into their dingy little bathroom. It didn't feel real, or he wouldn't have had his hand on Kerry's ass like this.
"A whole fucking football team, none of your damn business," Kerry snarled. His fingers were twitching against the wet tiles, those rough, nimble fingers Johnny could watch dancing over his axe for hours.
"Bullshit," Johnny growled, and shoved his index finger right into Kerry. He was such a mess it slid in as wetly as into any cunt, made Kerry gasp and flinch away from him like he hadn't had who knew how many strangers up there tonight. Like he hadn't been desperate to feel Johnny up there since the day they'd first met. "How many?"
"Three, fuck, what the …" Kerry sounded gratifyingly shocked, none of that deliberately casual bullshit like he was the coolest guy in the world instead of some brat with big dreams.
"Just three? Hell of a mess …" It was dripping out of Kerry when Johnny pulled out his finger. He pushed it back inside to scoop a bit more come out of Kerry. It definitely would have grossed him out if it hadn't been his chrome hand, and if the water from the shower hadn't washed it off his fingers and off Kerry's skin almost immediately, down the drain, to be forgotten the way Kerry forgot any guy he fucked half a day later. Except when he tried to date them, but even that rarely lasted longer than a week – half the time because Kerry, like any teenager who was only thinking with his dick, got distracted by the next pretty face or big cock he wanted to fuck, and half the time because Johnny couldn't stand the input of the week and made sure he stayed the hell away from Kerry. Because Kerry had shit taste in men, and someone had to keep an eye on him.
Usually not from this close. Close enough to check that he'd fingered those three guys' come right out of Kerry's tight little ass, and how the fuck was he still so tight after taking three dicks? The water down Kerry's thighs ran clear now, his hole all wet and clean and just a little reddened from everything he'd been up to earlier tonight. And somehow Johnny couldn't make himself stop. It was mesmerising, watching his gleaming chrome finger push in and out of that wet, smooth hole, what little sensation Johnny had in it just enough to feel Kerry tightening around it. It had always seemed kinda pointless to Johnny, fucking asses when you could fuck pussy, almost unnatural in a way, but Kerry took his finger like he was made for this, like this was the most obvious thing in the world. Took it so easily Johnny couldn't help but imagine what else he could take, what Johnny's cock would look like going in and out of him, and that was – he was not fucking Kerry.
Johnny rubbed his right hand over Kerry's side, the warm, wet skin, all clean now that the sweat and come had been rinsed off. Except maybe he'd still smell of those guys, once he was out of the shower, so Johnny reached for the cheap body wash they shared – something musky and manly that somehow smelt all different on Kerry's skin than it did on Johnny's. He kept his chrome hand right where it was, just poured some of the body wash over Kerry's back and started rubbing it into his skin, washing him with one hand while the still running water rinsed the suds right off Kerry's skin.
"Told you I wanted you clean, yeah?" Johnny said when Kerry gasped out a quiet protest, and it was just the water that made his own voice sound so breathless. He was drenched by now, jeans and tank top hanging heavy off his frame, wet hair in his face, but he couldn't spare a hand to brush it aside. He washed Ker's back and his sides and his ass, then stepped closer still so he could reach around him and wash his chest and his shoulders. He hadn't touched him this much in … ever, really. Even when Kerry climbed into his lap and Johnny was drunk and high enough to allow it, he usually just put an arm around that narrow waist and held him close while Kerry's hands wandered and wandered until Johnny slapped them away. Johnny had never taken his time to touch Kerry like this, to pet his surprisingly strong arms, to brush his thumb over those perky little nipples. He hesitated when his hand reached Kerry's stomach, the smooth skin below his navel because Kerry kept himself all clean-shaven for some unfathomable reason. Johnny didn't want to touch Kerry's cock any more than he wanted to touch any other guy's cock, but then he thought about some douchebag with his mouth on it, lapping pathetically at Kerry like a fucking dog – all those losers always looked like they couldn't believe their luck that someone that pretty was letting them get their paws all over him. Johnny didn't want some asswipe's spit on his Ker, so he rubbed the suds over that soft, pretty cock, too, over his balls, leaning in so close he could hear the surprised, eager gasp from Kerry's lips. He'd heard Kerry fuck, but he'd never been close enough to hear those sounds.
"So fucked out you're not even getting hard? Lucky me, huh," and Johnny was never going to admit that part of him was fucking insulted, because Kerry got hard for him at the drop of a hat, got hard when Johnny pulled him into a one-armed embrace on stage or when Johnny just sat close enough to him while they were drinking together. And now he had his finger up Kerry's ass and Kerry was soft in his hand, his dick barely twitching when Johnny gave it a squeeze.
"Wasn't exactly expecting tonight to be the night you'd suddenly decide you wanna get your hands all over me," Kerry snapped back, but he was too breathless to sound properly angry. He shifted a little, like he wanted to get away from him, and then he held still again when Johnny pushed his finger in deeper. Johnny knew his chrome hand was smooth enough that he wouldn't be hurting him, not really, but his finger was just hard enough to keep Kerry on his toes, to make him careful about how he moved around it. Again his tight, fucked little hole twitched around Johnny's finger, and suddenly Johnny needed to actually feel it. Needed it so badly he even bit back a retort that this wasn't about him touching Ker, it was about Ker being a filthy fucking slut who'd crawled come-covered into his bed – but Kerry just would have been a dick about that.
Johnny straightened up enough that he could see himself touch Kerry again, the chrome finger inside him, Kerry arching his back as Johnny rubbed his ganic thumb over the stretched rim. He felt that same urge to spread him open and get his face in there like he would with a cunt, and that – that he was sure as fuck not going to do. No matter how clean Kerry was, no matter how damn sure Johnny had made that there wasn't a drop of come left inside him, but Kerry would never ever let him live that down. Instead Johnny pulled out his finger and replaced it with two ganic ones, felt the heat of Ker's body around him and the way he twitched against the thicker intrusion, his hips bucking backwards and his fingers scrambling over the wet tiles.
"Jesus, Johnny," and the shocked disbelief in his voice was almost as good as seeing him like that, completely out of it and desperate. Of course Kerry wanted him as much as on any other day, because Kerry couldn't not want him. Of course Kerry was going crazy for him even when he couldn't get it up.
"Knew you'd still be greedy for more," Johnny mumbled. He leant in closer again until his face touched Kerry's neck, even though that put his head right under the shower spray again. He wasn't even sure Kerry could hear him all that well under the water, so he brought his lips closer to his ear, swept aside Kerry's messy, wet hair. "Would have thought three guys are enough even for you, but it doesn't fucking matter who else fucked you, not when it comes to me … It's always me you want, right, Ker? You want me to fuck you the way you were wishing it'd been me all night? The way you think about me every time you spread your legs for someone else? 'cos I know you do, I know how you pick them, big and mean, always just cheap replacements for me …"
"Not everything's about you, asshole," Kerry said, but he didn't sound like he was even convincing himself of that. "Fucking tease, you always just tease …"
Kerry was all but fucking himself on Johnny's fingers now, so eager, so sure that this was all he was getting. Johnny did tease him sometimes, though never like this. At most he let Kerry sit on his lap and felt him up a little and yeah, okay, sometimes he let Kerry kiss him because Kerry had the softest mouth in Night City and the sharpest little teeth, but that was just playing around. Doing Ker a favour, and then having some fun shoving him off when he got all worked up. Johnny hadn't meant to give him anything more than that tonight – no need to encourage Kerry and his pathetic crush this much, when Johnny had made it plenty clear that he didn't fuck guys. He didn't. Except the soaked, thick fabric of his jeans was almost painfully tight around his dick, and he wasn't entirely sure when he'd gone from half-mast to so hard that even the idea of not getting off tonight was unbearable.
He didn't fuck guys, didn't even like fucking asses when he was with women. But a hole was a hole when it came down to it, and there wasn't any hole in Night City more willing than Ker's, the way he kept clenching around Johnny's fingers like they were the best goddamn thing that had ever happened to him. Like he couldn't wait to milk his dick dry. If Johnny had been going to stop, he would have had to stop way before he'd gone this far, before he'd gotten himself worked up, too. Fucking Kerry. It was all his fault for pissing Johnny off like that.
Johnny shoved his fingers in harder, twisted them a little when it made Kerry jump and startle. Kerry's feet almost slipped on the tiles, but Johnny had his chrome arm wrapped tight around him to steady him. The pressure against Johnny's dick was almost unbearable, made him feel like he hadn't got laid in weeks rather than in a couple of hours, like he was going to burst out of his skin if he didn't get off. Once Kerry had regained his balance, Johnny covered his mouth with his chrome fingers, as hard as he could without bruising him.
"I don't want to hear a single word, you hear me? You say anything and I'll fucking stop. You get that?" He didn't let Kerry answer, but shoved two fingers into his mouth, mirroring the ganic fingers he already had inside his ass. Jesus, if he could have fucked Kerry from both ends at the same fucking time, he would. Wouldn't have any room left for other dicks if Johnny filled him up to the brim from both ends, the way Kerry clearly needed it. When Johnny pulled his fingers out of Kerry's ass, Kerry made a sound around the metal like some kind of wounded animal. He wanted to bottle it and turn it into a song. Fucking beautiful.
The denim was a bitch to open, as wet as it was, and Johnny cursed a blue streak against Kerry's shoulder because he needed both hands to get his dick out. He smacked Kerry's ass with it, watched it bounce off those perky cheeks, then rubbed it over his crack. He always loved that view, seeing the length of his dick against whatever tight body he was gonna bury it in. Somehow he could barely imagine that he'd even fit inside him, except Kerry clearly had no problem taking plenty of dick up his tight ass.
"Least you're already wet for me, huh?" Johnny laughed breathlessly while he rubbed his dick against Kerry's soft, slick skin.
"Water isn't lube, you –" Kerry interrupted his complaining when Johnny smacked his ass – with his hand rather than his cock this time – and just let out a small yelp.
"What did I tell you about shutting up? I mean it." Not that he minded Kerry bitching a little, that was just background noise, but he didn't want him to get fucking smug about this and ruin Johnny's buzz. As far as Johnny was concerned, his dick slid nicely enough over Kerry's wet skin, though that didn't change the fact that Kerry felt impossibly tight when Johnny pressed the thick tip of it against his hole. Tighter than any jailbait virgin he'd fucked, but when Johnny stroked gently over his side, Kerry let out a slow sigh and relaxed and it just took another little nudge for Johnny to slip into him. It was maddening, the tight heat, not half as slippery as Johnny usually liked and yet he somehow still felt like Kerry was made for this, made to take him in every fucking way Johnny liked.
It still made him take it slower than he usually would have, out of consideration for his own dick rather than for Kerry's ass. He slid into him inch by inch, one hand on Kerry's hip to keep him in place and the other in Kerry's hair, making him arch his back. Kerry was still making those quiet, breathless sounds, almost drowned out by the water, and he twitched around Johnny's cock like he couldn't believe just how big he felt.
"You're easier than any joytoy," Johnny said and leant in to mouth at Kerry's tense shoulder. Just fitted himself against that skinny body, his hips jerking hard as he slammed the last bit into him and made Kerry moan loudly. Should have been pathetic, how easy Kerry was, pushing back against Johnny's dick filling him up, moaning when Johnny rocked into him. For a second Johnny's vision went black with pleasure, that kind of overwhelming intensity he usually needed to get choked for. He could have just fucked him rough and hard like that, but he wanted to see.
"Don't fucking move," he said, his hands easily keeping Kerry's shivering body in place as he pulled back a bit, just far enough that he could see his cock sliding halfway out of Kerry and then back in – he looked too big for him, so big Johnny couldn't believe that Kerry wasn't in a world of pain right now, except Kerry was still moaning and tensing up and meeting every thrust as much as he could with Johnny gripping his hips tightly. No wonder he had bruises on his hips if that was his idea of holding still, and that rage ripped through Johnny again at the thought of some other bastard's hands on Kerry, some pathetic loser's smaller dick fucking him open and not being enough to fill Kerry up if he had to get himself three guys instead of one. Johnny wasn't going to need any help to wreck Kerry, to get him fucked out and satisfied.
Once again he covered the bruise on Kerry's hip, with his chrome fingers this time, and dug in until he felt Kerry twitching around him. He thought he hadn't wanted to bruise him up – unless it was to cover up all those other fucking marks. Just another way of cleaning Kerry up, really, removing all the filth those other guys had left on him. Their come, their sweat, their bruises, the very memory of them. So Johnny dug his fingers right into that bruise and fucked into Kerry again, pressing him flush against the shower wall this time. Kerry had to turn his head and for the first time since he'd dragged him into the shower, Johnny could see his face, or at least half of it – wet and flushed, water drops in his eyelashes like tears and a blissed out, eager smile on his parted lips like every filthy dream he'd ever had was coming true.
When Johnny moved his hand up, he could see the marks his fingers had left on Kerry's hips, newly reddened skin already changing the shape of that dark blue bruise – so he bit Kerry's shoulder next, right on top of a particularly dark hickey. The pain or maybe just the surprise made Kerry tighten around his cock like he wanted to rip it off, and Johnny's hips jerked forward of their own accord, desperate to feel more of that tight, perfect fucking body. He sucked on Kerry's soft skin, teeth worrying at the already bruised flesh, making Kerry moan and whimper and shiver like a fucking leaf. When he raised his head, he could see the imprint of his teeth over the bruise, and that sight alone made his dick twitch. He had to pull half out of him for a moment, take a deep breath and steady himself because he had no intention of coming like a teenager, but Kerry felt almost unbearably good around his dick.
"Not the first time you look this mauled," Johnny gasped against his skin. "You do that on purpose, hm? You want me to see what you get up to all the damn time?" Johnny pulled Kerry's wet hair to the side to nibble at another hickey on the back of his neck, and this time Kerry was a good boy and kept his mouth shut like he'd been told. Or maybe he just couldn't speak anymore, too busy moaning his throat sore. No wonder the kid couldn't carry a tune if he made that much noise every night. Johnny knew there were more hickeys all over his throat and his chest, in too many places he couldn't reach like this, not without pulling out of him and turning him over, and like hell was Johnny pulling his dick out now. Wasn't even sure Kerry would let him, the way he kept clenching around him like he wanted to keep Johnny inside him for good. Like a fucking vice, just in a good way, tighter than any pussy he'd ever fucked. And he'd fucked a lot of pussy over the years.
So Johnny wrapped his ganic fingers around Kerry's throat instead, adjusted his grip until the pressure of his thumb made Kerry gasp in pain, and then tightened his grip just so – just the way Johnny loved it, too, far more than he liked doing it to other people, but it was fucking worth it if he imagined the imprint of his fingers on Kerry's throat, and for the way Kerry moaned and squirmed and then started thrashing against him like he wanted to get away from him – as if Kerry would ever want to get away from him.
It took him a moment to realise that Kerry was actually struggling, that tense, slightly panicked intensity that got Johnny's dick hard like nothing else when someone choked him, but when he loosened his grip and nosed at Kerry's hair, Kerry snarled an angry "what the fuck?!" at him. Sounding like he'd actually minded rather than like he was just bitching for the sake of it. Not the kind of reaction Johnny had hoped for.
"What, don't like that?" Johnny rocked into him, a bit slower than before, and tried not to feel any kind of pathetic relief that it still made Kerry shudder in pleasure. "Was trying to be nice …"
"That your idea of being nice?" Kerry's voice sounded a little hoarse, always a bit too deep for such a pretty thing, and yeah, maybe Johnny had been a little bit into that since the day they'd met. The way a whole lot of things could get your dick hard for no good reason; it didn't mean shit. Johnny rolled his hips for a lazy, shallow thrust, the kind that made Kerry gasp softly, already mollified instead of complaining more.
"All right, Ker, all right, not gonna do that again, yeah?" Johnny kissed his neck instead, the soft skin right below his ear, then nibbled so very carefully on Kerry's earlobe. He still had his hand on Kerry's throat, just stroking it lightly now, feeling him relax under his fingers. "Just gonna fuck you the way you need it, the way you've been dying for it, yeah? And if you're good, I'll let you do that to me later … I mean, you wanna strangle me sometimes, right? Bet you do … Gets me off like few other things, you'll see …"
He could just imagine Kerry's fingers, slender and strong and calloused from the strings, pressing down on his throat, cutting him off until his vision blacked out, and just imagining it made him speed up his pace again, that and the way Kerry was once again meeting his every thrust. He grabbed Johnny's forearm with his left hand, just clung to it even as Johnny's hand slid lower, scratching over Kerry's chest, his stomach, all the way down to his cock – hardening a little, but still mostly soft, and it only twitched lightly when Johnny slapped it.
"If that's how greedy you are while you can't even get it up, I don't even wanna know how crazy you'd go if you were hard, hm? Such an eager slut …" It was almost insulting, but Ker's cock still felt kinda nice in Johnny's hand, and in a way it almost made this hotter – that Kerry was whimpering like this just from Johnny's dick inside him, that he didn't even need anything else. Johnny wondered if Kerry would come just from that, when he was hard – it sounded like one of those made-up gay porn things, the kind of thing sleazy guys at sleazier bars told you in the hopes of convincing you to try it out just once. But if anyone was cock-hungry enough to come his brains out just from getting pounded like a whore, it was Kerry. And though Johnny had never really wanted to know more about what got Kerry off, he wanted, needed to know what that'd feel like. Could just picture it, that pretty cock coming all over his fingers, the sounds Kerry would make if he was already moaning like this now.
It was the last push he needed, maybe just the most he could take when Kerry still felt this good around him, squeezing around him during every thrust, his fingers curling around Johnny's, and all Johnny could do was bury his face against Kerry's neck so he wouldn't make as much of a racket as him when he came inside him, when Kerry's tight little hole kept milking his dick of every fucking drop he had in him like he just couldn't bear staying empty for long. Kerry's pulse was racing under Johnny's lips, his skin impossibly soft when Johnny kissed it lightly. Johnny felt fucking high on him – or probably just on the intensity of coming his brains out. A hole was a hole, he reminded himself, that was all this was. Just a quick fuck to make a point, and if making a point had made his dick feel good, that was just a bonus. A really damn good bonus.
Johnny reached past Kerry to turn off the water – small miracle it hadn't gone cold on them halfway through. He stroked Kerry's wet hair once again to the side so he could reach his neck better for another kiss while he waited for his own heart to stop trying to jump out of his chest. He still felt drunk on Kerry's skin, on those breathless, happy little moans. God, Kerry was going to be insufferable about this.
"Hold still," Johnny whispered into his ear, let his hands slide down Kerry's back and then took a moment to feel the way he was stretched around Johnny's cock. Looked fucking impossible, sure as hell didn't look like it should be fun, but Kerry just smiled that buzzed, post-coital smile Johnny usually just saw when Kerry came stumbling out of whatever dirty club bathroom he'd dragged some stranger into after a gig. Wasn't a bad look on him, really. Johnny had always thought it made him look stupid, but now that he'd put that smile there … It was like the difference between seeing another guy's come leaking out of Kerry's hole and watching his own cock as he slowly pulled it out of him, watching Kerry twitch and squirm and trying to relax until Johnny slipped all the way out of him, followed by a drop of his own come sliding lazily down Kerry's thigh. So much for cleaning him up. But this? This was a kind of filthy Johnny was very okay with.
Once again he felt that stupid urge to drop to his knees and get his face in there – he'd always liked tasting his own come dripping from a pussy he'd just fucked, so that had to be where that idea came from. It wasn't really about the taste, just about feeling how much he'd filled and messed up some pretty, greedy hole; the same thing that had pissed him off when it'd been other guys doing this to Kerry just got him going now, made him wish he could go for a second round right away, fuck right back into that wet mess he'd left. Kerry'd probably taste good, clean skin and a bit of fresh sweat, and as sensitive as he was, he'd go fucking crazy from Johnny's lips, his tongue, the scratch of his beard … The sounds he'd make from that would probably put all his moaning and whimpering up until now to shame, and it was so easy to imagine those strong fingers reaching back to grab Johnny's hair, pulling on it as he squirmed back while Johnny's tongue kept fucking him like the eager, insatiable slut he was …
Fuck. He was not going to eat Kerry's ass. He wasn't going to eat anyone's ass, because he wasn't into asses, goddammit. Just got some wires crossed in his head because he was thinking of pussy. Before he could do something that dumb on a whim, Johnny shoved one of his fingers back into Kerry – the ganic hand this time, rather than the chrome one like in the beginning. He'd only feel his own come, after all, nothing to be grossed out by, and he wanted to feel how it filled Kerry up if he already wasn't going to taste it.
"Just as messy as before," Kerry said, followed by a breathless laugh. He sounded as happy as after a gig or after a particularly good riff, as happy as when he and Johnny were jamming and somehow they both just got each other, taking every tune the other one came up with and turning it into something more, something better, something theirs, 'cos they played off each other the way they did with nobody else.
Or hell, maybe it was the other way around and music just made Kerry post-coital. Johnny sure as hell felt blissed out sometimes when they played together.
"Yeah, but it's my mess," Johnny growled, lips back on Kerry's neck, and his tone made Kerry clench around his fingers again. Greedy brat. "Think you can keep that inside you? You get my bed messy, you're the one who's sleeping on the wet spot."
"If there's a wet spot, I'm just gonna sleep on top of you," Kerry shot back, sounding way too fucking sure that Johnny would allow him to, except Johnny felt too fucked out himself to snap him out of it. He pulled his finger out slowly, watched as Kerry clenched obediently to keep Johnny's come inside him, even when Johnny gave his ass a firm smack. Once again he rubbed over his hole, could still barely believe how well Kerry had taken his dick just moments ago. Once again he was a heartbeat away from getting down to swipe his tongue over that reddened skin, but just then Kerry had to go and turn around to face him, finally looking up at Johnny. His eyes roamed over Johnny – the clingy, wet tank top, the equally soaked jeans with Johnny's dick still hanging out – and then settled on Johnny's face with that stupid, happy look in his eyes Johnny really didn't want to encourage. But all he did for now was touch Kerry's cheek and brush his thumb over those soft lips while he felt Kerry's left hand settle on his chest. Johnny grabbed his wrist – he was really just going to stop Kerry from feeling him up, because whatever this was, it wasn't … it wasn't whatever the hell Kerry was thinking now, the way he was looking at Johnny. Except Johnny didn't let go of him right away, but slid his grip up to Kerry's fingers instead and raised his hand to his lips. At least that made Kerry look surprised instead of irritatingly happy, especially once Johnny mouthed carefully at Kerry's calloused finger pads. Only part of his body that wasn't so soft it felt unreal. Johnny pressed a light kiss to each finger, but then Kerry looked like he was going to say something stupid and Johnny quickly dropped his hand.
"All right. Fucking hell, Ker, all I wanted was to get some sleep without you stinking up my bed," he grumbled and gave Kerry a light shove to make him step out of the shower. He looked down at himself and after a moment's consideration started stripping out of his soaked clothes. He had a feeling he'd regret just dropping them on the floor instead of hanging them up, but he really couldn't be fucking bothered right now. Not while watching Kerry dry himself off and get distracted halfway through because he was staring at Johnny, not with the way Kerry laughed when Johnny smacked him over the head with his wet tank top before he dropped it, not with the way Kerry moved when he leant back against the wall and just kept watching Johnny while he towelled off, too. It always felt kinda uncomfortable, the way Kerry stared at him like he was trying to eat him up with his eyes, as shameless as Johnny was about staring at a pair of tits, when Johnny really didn't have tits that would warrant that kind of staring. Though he figured his dick was more than worth staring at, especially for someone who thought about dicks as much as Kerry did. Probably the best he'd ever had, sure as hell the biggest, for all that he was apparently trying to get on every dick in Night City.
Still, Johnny didn't like getting stared at like that, so he grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the scavenged plastic box that passed for their bathroom cabinet. To his relief it was one of his rather than one of Ker's, because Kerry's pants were always too tight on him – Kerry on the other hand never hesitated to wear Johnny's, his sweatpants at home or his jeans when they went out, too loose on his narrow hips and only held up by a belt, but still looking like he was just begging someone to slip a hand in and grope his little ass. Not that Johnny thought about doing that, but a whole bunch of other guys always did, judging by the looks Kerry got when he swanned around in Johnny's clothes. You'd think that'd make people assume Kerry had an input and wasn't exactly on the market, but somehow that never stopped them from hitting on him. Maybe they could simply tell he was kind of a slut, input or no input.
Kerry looked a little bit disappointed when Johnny slipped into the sweatpants, though as far as Johnny was concerned he should consider himself lucky there wasn't a shirt lying around as well. Johnny didn't really like being naked, he hadn't since the war. It was one of those things that got stuck in your head after months of people throwing bombs at you – you never wanted to get caught with your pants literally down and your feet bare in the dirt. But this was all right, at least around Kerry, who'd probably seen him naked more often than any chick Johnny had fucked. Price of living together, and of Kerry being a voyeuristic creep who liked to "accidentally" wander in when Johnny was showering. Because the useless dick who'd fixed their bathroom hadn't built a fucking lock into the door. Johnny wouldn't put it past Kerry to have told him not to – he could be a manipulative little shit.
"Stop staring and let's get back to bed," Johnny said and walked past him. He didn't know why it caught him so much by surprise when Kerry hooked his fingers into his waistband and pulled him close, stepped right into Johnny's personal space like he had any business being there, and pressed his smooth, bare chest against Johnny's. He finally smelt right after the shower, just like himself and that shared body wash that was somehow even better on his skin. He didn't smell like Johnny, though, not after they'd left the water running the entire time, and Johnny was struck by how much he wanted to change that, get his sweat and his come all over Ker until he smelt like him. Maybe that'd actually do the job of keeping every guy in Night City who liked ass from putting his hands all over Kerry.
"What?" Johnny asked even as his hands moved of their own accord and came to rest on Kerry's hips, the right one covering a bruise he'd dug into it earlier. Kerry was still smiling, happy and kinda smug, and Johnny pressed two chrome fingers against those soft lips. "What I said still goes. Not a word, or you can sleep in your own bed."
"I'm really bad at shutting up," Kerry said against Johnny's fingers, his mouth quirking into that mischievous grin that had been one of the first things Johnny had ever seen of him, that day they'd first met in a guitar shop, about five minutes before they'd run from the cops together.
"Don't I know it." Johnny snorted. "Just don't piss me off with any smug bullshit."
Kerry considered that for a moment, then shrugged like he didn't care either way and licked over the chrome tip of Johnny's index. Johnny only felt it as dull pressure, felt neither the warmth nor the wetness of Kerry's tongue, and wanting to feel it hit him like a punch in the gut. He'd seen Kerry suck dick, once or twice, backstage on his knees in front of some stranger, swallowing him so deep he should have choked on it but somehow didn't. One time Kerry had noticed him watching – if you could call "accidentally walking in on your shameless, slightly exhibitionist bandmate" watching –, had pulled off that guy's cock just far enough that he could meet Johnny's eyes while he kept going, his pretty lips wrapped around the tip, that same tongue Johnny could feel now licking over some useless little prick. Johnny had … he'd been too surprised move, that had been the only reason he'd stayed right there and kept watching until the guy had grunted like a fucking pig and come in Kerry's mouth, and Johnny had seen Kerry's throat move as he swallowed. If Johnny had started a fight with that same guy later that night and kicked his ass in the alley behind the bar, that had just been because he'd turned out to be some corpo prick slumming it on a night off, and Johnny would have punched his teeth in anyway, Kerry or no Kerry.
Johnny let his hand slide lower, thumb brushing over Kerry's hairless chin and down over his throat. He felt him tense then, saw a flicker of uncertainty going through his eyes. For a moment Johnny was torn between wanting to dig right into that, to remind Kerry of what they were and more importantly what they weren't, and hating that he'd made him flinch in the first place. In the end the latter won out, probably just because he felt kinda mellow from a good fuck, and now that his anger was simmering down, his body was remembering that it'd been tired earlier tonight and he'd wanted to get some fucking rest, not start a fight.
"C'mon, I told you I wasn't gonna do that again. I'm just touching. You like me touching you, right?" His tone was quiet and cajoling as he fit his palm against Kerry's soft throat, thumb covering the mark he'd put there earlier, his fingers hiding the hickey someone else had left. Kerry looked like he didn't quite believe him, but he still tipped his head back just so and bared his throat. Johnny felt a smile tug at his lips and ducked his head so Kerry wouldn't see. Yeah, Kerry could be mean when someone tried to fuck with him, but when it came to Johnny? Johnny wasn't just anyone. Johnny could probably have done whatever the fuck he liked to him and got away with it, and Kerry wouldn't have done more than bitched a little. Again Johnny felt the urge to push, to prod, to see just how far he could go and still have Kerry look at him like a lovesick puppy afterwards, because that was what Johnny always did. He probably could have choked Kerry senseless and still got him off, and the next time Kerry still would have crawled into his bed and begged for his cock. Pathetic fucking crush. Probably a good thing Kerry had it this bad for him and not for someone who'd actually want to hurt him.
But then Kerry got his left hand into Johnny's hair, fingers carefully combing through the wet strands, and all Johnny did for now was bend a little lower, shift his hand so he revealed that hickey again and then fit his teeth against it, nibbling on Kerry's already bruised skin until it felt like it was his again. It made him moan, of course, because what didn't, made him pull on Johnny's hair like he knew exactly how Johnny liked it. Maybe he did. He'd watched Johnny fuck often enough, no matter how often Johnny told him to knock it off. Probably knew exactly what got Johnny off, and he probably had no qualms at all using it to get what he wanted.
"You gonna do that for every single one of them?" Kerry asked, sounding like he was smiling again. Right now Johnny didn't mind it half as much as he should have, not while Kerry kept playing with his hair like that. "Might keep you busy for a while."
"Got a problem with that? 'cos if you tell me you're tired now, I'm gonna shove some uppers down your throat myself. Since you're the reason I'm awake at all." He bit Kerry's neck a little harder, making him yelp, and then looked up to find him grinning.
"Nah, I'm good. Really fucking good."
Johnny wanted to say something, probably something cruel, but before he could, Kerry had yanked him closer by his hair, so suddenly their noses bumped together awkwardly, and then Kerry was kissing him.
He'd tried that before, more than once, and a couple of times Johnny had even let him for a moment before he'd shoved him off – because he was high and in a good mood, because the chick Johnny was flirting with got all hot and bothered watching them make out a bit, sometimes just because Kerry was a persistent little shit and Johnny couldn't always be bothered to push him away immediately. But still, it had never lasted all that long before he'd put an end to it. And never before had it happened after Johnny had been balls-deep inside him with a front-row seat to the kind of sounds Kerry made when he was getting what he wanted. So despite all the times Kerry had tried to kiss him … it hadn't really felt like this.
Kerry's hand as still in Johnny's hair, the other coming to rest on Johnny's shoulder at the very edge of his chrome arm, that one spot high on his chest that was always tense and sore and that Kerry actually knew about and now rubbed his thumb over as he licked into Johnny's mouth. 'cos he knew exactly that Johnny would go all mellow against him if he did that, that he'd let Kerry deepen the kiss. So Johnny closed his eyes and let it happen – Kerry was a good kisser, at least when he was halfway sober like now, just the right mix of soft lips and teasing teeth, and when Johnny decided to stop messing around and licked into Kerry's mouth, Kerry opened up as eagerly for him there as he had while bending forward in the shower, immediately letting Johnny fuck into him. And Johnny did fuck his mouth as thoroughly as he'd thought about tonguing his ass earlier, made Kerry breathless without having to tighten his grip on his throat even the slightest bit. Might have ended up a little out of breath himself, too, by the time their lips parted. He had to laugh when he saw the dazed, turned on look on Kerry's face.
"Yeah, don't say anything," Johnny said and shook Kerry gently by the back of his neck. "I know you're gonna be jerking off to that for the rest of your life."
"Oh, to this? Not to the part where you fucked me, just to you kissing me?" Kerry grinned and nipped at Johnny's bottom lip. Johnny grimaced – he didn't wanna hear about what they'd just done, didn't want to think about it. It hadn't been about fucking Kerry, just about … not having him think about other people who'd fucked him. Without his anger or his hard-on distracting him, Johnny almost had to admit that it didn't make all that much sense, except nobody could force him to admit shit if he didn't want to. And he very much didn't want to.
"Or to both, what do I care. You wanna keep standing around in the bathroom like an idiot or you wanna go to bed?" He gave Kerry a light shove, hand on his chest, and then grabbed the back of his neck again to steer him along. He didn't bother to ask Kerry if he wanted to put something on, because Ker clearly enjoyed flaunting his naked ass at him. For once, Johnny didn't particularly mind getting an eyeful. Kerry looked good in the shine of the city lights, his skin still somewhat damp, and at least from behind he was only covered in bruises Johnny had left there. He had a spring in his step, too – a little tense, sure, still clenching that pretty ass to keep Johnny's come inside him, but nevertheless he moved with that same excitement as when they had a gig coming up. He kept glancing at Johnny over his shoulder, like he had to make sure Johnny was coming along, which was really stupid considering Johnny still had his hand on Kerry and shoved him every now and then when Kerry wasn't moving fast enough for his taste.
Johnny pushed him again once they reached the mattress, a little harder this time to make Kerry stumble and sprawl down on it with a gasp and a laugh. He looked so relaxed, like he spent every night naked in Johnny's bed, like any of this felt normal to him. Johnny still felt a bit like he was going to miss every other step, like he was off balance, like he'd taken some really weird drugs and the world was leaning off kilter just so. He'd never actually been on a ship in his whole life, but he imagined that was what it would feel like. It wasn't bad, just fucking disorienting. He didn't fuck men. He sure as hell didn't fuck Kerry, because they were friends and bandmates and Kerry had this stupid crush on Johnny that was never going to go anywhere because Johnny didn't do … whatever the fuck it was Kerry wanted them to do. Input shit. Johnny wasn't anybody's input and he wasn't gonna start now just because he and Ker were actually close, just because they actually had some kind of connection.
Kerry rolled onto his stomach, flaunting the curve of his ass while he grabbed Johnny's cigarettes from his jacket. Sometimes the kid had at least a little bit of sense and a good idea or two.
"You wanna keep standing there like an idiot or you wanna come to bed?" Kerry said, lips quirking into a teasing grin around the two cigarettes he was lighting between them. Smug brat, and at least that tore through whatever the fuck had been going on in Johnny's head. He sat down, smacked Kerry's ass hard enough to make him jump, and then grabbed one of the cigarettes before he lay down next to him. Nothing like a smoke after a good fuck and, fine, it had been a pretty good fuck. Kerry was clearly thinking the same thing, judging by that downright pornographic moan he let out while breathing out a lungful of smoke. And then he got comfortable against Johnny's right side, one leg thrown over Johnny's thigh, head resting on Johnny's shoulder while he stared into nothing and smoked. He was so damn warm, and his skin so soft, and his hair even softer where it tickled Johnny's chin. Johnny put his arm around him without letting himself think too much about it, and appreciated Kerry actually shutting his damn mouth while they enjoyed their cigarettes.
Eventually Kerry leant all the way over Johnny to put his cigarette out just a moment after Johnny had, in a grimy coffee cup neither of them was ever going to bother to rinse. The whole thing ended with Kerry sprawled out on top of Johnny, the length of his body pressed against his, and Johnny grunting in protest more out of general principle than because Kerry was actually too heavy.
"The fuck are you doing?" Johnny grumbled, arm wrapped around Kerry's slender waist now, his hand inevitably sliding back down to cup his ass. He'd never thought much of that skinny ass, no matter how often Kerry made a point of bending over in front of him in jeans that were just a bit too tight. He'd never really seen the appeal, but now he couldn't stop thinking about his cock pushing into it, about Kerry shivering and relaxing for him and taking him, about the way he'd gasped when Johnny had rubbed his finger over the stretched rim. Fuck. He was never going to forgive Kerry if he'd somehow given him a thing for ass-fucking.
"Just showing you I'm not tired," Kerry said, throwing Johnny's own words back at him, and then he grabbed Johnny's chin and kissed him again. He tasted of Johnny's cigarettes now – Johnny imagined he usually did, because Kerry bummed cigarettes off him half the time, never had money to buy his own and probably wouldn't have bothered even if he had. Johnny knew he should have a talk with him, remind him that nothing had changed between them just because Johnny had had his dick up Kerry's ass one time, but for that he would have had to stop kissing him, and fuck if he was going to do that. He pulled on Kerry's damp hair, made him smile and gasp into the kiss, and then quickly rolled them over so he was on top of him. Johnny liked it better like that anyway, Kerry caught and trapped underneath him, squirming against him as eagerly as when he woke up with morning wood and wriggled around until Johnny kicked him out of bed to go jerk off in the bathroom. Maybe he wouldn't, tomorrow morning, maybe he'd put his hand on Ker's pretty cock and see what it felt like when it was hard … He didn't particularly want to jerk him off, just wanted to see the look on Kerry's face, wanted to see him go crazy for him again. It was flattering, was all, how fucking easy Kerry was for him. Couldn't blame a guy for enjoying that a little more than expected.
For now all he did was kiss Kerry until he was breathless again, and he couldn't help but relax under the touch of Kerry's strong hands on his back – feeling him up, sure, because of course Kerry took advantage of the situation, but also rubbing at the tense muscles between his shoulder blades, at his shoulder, too, all those places that were constantly tense and a little sore because of the weight of his chrome arm. He'd never talked to anyone about that but Kerry, all those nights they'd spent high, looking out over the city and talking for hours and hours like they'd never run out of things to say to each other. It was a weird feeling, the way Kerry always just seemed to get him. Oh, he bitched and he disagreed half the time, but he got him. And he listened no matter what Johnny talked about – joining the army to get out of that shitty little backwater he'd grown up in, regretting it before he'd even made it through basic, and then the war … Fuck, he'd even told Kerry about the day he'd lost his arm, and Johnny would have cut the other one off himself before he'd ever tell anyone else about that. But he'd told Kerry, and he complained about the way the weight made his body unbalanced and his back ache, and Kerry had teased him about being an old man and then he'd skidded over to sit behind Johnny and rubbed all the kinks and knots out of his tense muscles with those string-calloused hands Johnny could never get enough of. It had only been one year since they'd met, and most of the time Kerry was a fucking pain in his ass, but Kerry also knew him better than anyone else in the whole damn world.
Sometimes Johnny hated him for that. And sometimes, like now, it made him feel weirdly calm and comfortable. Was easier not to feel any of the other shit that made him want to scream his lungs out and punch something until his fists bled when he could feel this instead, this slight exasperation at Kerry feeling him up and the strange familiarity of those hands on his back. It made him feel like some things in the world maybe weren't completely fucked, and he was clearly getting maudlin as hell if he was thinking dumb shit like that.
Kerry could tell, too, because of course he could, and solved the problem by yanking on Johnny's hair and then biting his bottom lip too hard.
"If you're thinking about pussy right now, I'm going to slap you," Kerry said, grinning because they both knew Johnny had not in fact been thinking about pussy.
"I'm always thinking about pussy, you mind?" he said anyway, didn't bother to pull away in time when Kerry did slap him lightly. Johnny just caught his wrist, a little too tight because maybe Johnny did want to bruise him after all, wanted to see marks from his fingers on it, barely hidden by Kerry's leather bracelets tomorrow – that was, if he bothered putting them on at all instead of flaunting his bruises. Fuck, Johnny hoped he'd hide them. He really didn't need to think about fucking Kerry while they were out and about town together, while they were playing together or getting drunk in some shitty dive. Kerry would be unbearable if he ever caught Johnny staring at him, never mind actually getting distracted. Kerry would think it meant something, and then he'd get all weird about it. Johnny liked the way things were between them, he didn't want Kerry fucking it up just because he wanted Johnny to screw him again and whatever else he dreamt up in his fucked up little head when he got carried away.
"Even now?" Kerry asked, watching his hand in Johnny's grip and wriggling his fingers. Johnny should have just let go of him. He sure as fuck shouldn't have kissed them again, one after the other before he sucked Kerry's index finger into his mouth. He hadn't really taken his time when he'd kissed them in the shower, but now he did, let his tongue lick over each knuckle and over the rough callouses on the tip, because for all that Kerry spent most of his waking hours drunk, high or climbing on a dick, he somehow still managed to practise for a couple of hours every single day, too. More diligently than Johnny ever did, but then Johnny had a head start of a couple of years.
Kerry watched him like he was fucking hypnotised or something, holding perfectly still like he was afraid to breathe. Eventually he started moving his fingers again – index and middle finger in Johnny's mouth now, and Kerry pushed them in just a little further before he pulled them out again. Fucking Johnny's mouth with them, Johnny realised only a moment later, 'cos he hadn't even bothered to think about what he'd looked like. Kerry's cock was still mostly soft where it was pressed against Johnny's stomach, but once or twice it twitched weakly in interest. Johnny bit Ker's fingers hard, made him yelp and pull them out.
"Don't get your hopes up. I'm not sucking your dick." He wasn't sure if the idea was more or less off-putting than eating Kerry's ass, and decided probably more so. As much as he apparently enjoyed making Kerry squirm, the last damn thing he wanted was for him to think he was in charge on top of everything else. He really didn't need to give the kid those kinds of ideas. Kerry laughed, as if that hadn't been exactly what he'd been thinking of just now.
"You'd be shit at it anyway. Like fucking a virgin." The last word ended in a gasp when Johnny bit his lip hard.
"I know what you're doing, Kerry, and it's not gonna work. I'm not going to prove to you that I'm not shit at sucking dick," Johnny grumbled. Nevertheless he was weirdly aware of Kerry's cock now, in a way he hadn't quite been before, and before he could get any more dumb ideas he kissed his way down over Kerry's throat to focus on something else he'd been meaning to do. There was a bite mark right above the hollow of Kerry's throat, an inch below the marks Johnny's fingers had left there earlier – it wasn't quite as dark as some of the others, but still more visible than Johnny liked. Especially with those low-cut tanks Kerry liked to wear as much as Johnny did, that bruise would be impossible to miss tomorrow. Johnny didn't particularly feel like looking at it all day.
"Pity," Kerry mumbled, but he knew better than to try and insist. Or maybe he thought he was biding his time, the way he tightened his grip on Johnny's hair and bared his throat. Johnny nibbled at the bruised skin, carefully at first and then harder, nosed at the soft skin right above Kerry's pulse point. His heart wasn't racing as madly as it had earlier in the shower, but it was still beating too fast, and his breathing was quick and shallow the way it got after screaming his throat raw on stage or after running from the cops.
"Seriously, you tell them to do that to you or do you just bring it out in people?" Johnny said and licked over the hollow of Kerry's throat. His skin tasted good, shouldn't have tasted like anything at all, but somehow it got right to Johnny's head like actually decent coke, the kind they barely ever managed to get their hands on. Johnny always needed a little while to go again – because unlike Kerry, he wasn't a fucking teenager who needed a gangbang to wear himself out – but he was already thinking about it, already wondering what Kerry would feel like when Johnny fucked into his wet, messy hole a second time, if he'd be any less tight now.
"I clearly bring it out in people," Kerry said and sounded more smug than bothered in any way. Johnny continued nibbling on his throat, then slid lower still to the hickey on Kerry's chest, right above his perky, dark nipple. Took a little detour to it to worry at it with his teeth, just to see what kind of sound Kerry would make then (a very quiet little gasp while he pulled hard on Johnny's hair), and then he focused once again on biting at the bruise some other fucker had left on Kerry's skin.
"Having fun?" Kerry asked in that same smug tone that always made Johnny want to smack him over the head, though he settled for biting his nipple a bit harder.
"Not half as much as you. Think I can't feel your little dick twitching? Here I thought you were all done for the night …"
"It's not little, screw you," Kerry grumbled, which only made Johnny laugh against his skin. To be fair, it wasn't, just compared to Johnny's, but then most guys were. Still, no reason to be fair when he could tease Kerry instead.
"You gonna tell me you're a grower, actually? Cute." He was kissing Kerry's stomach now – flat and lean, abs twitching under his lips and the rasp of his beard. Which gave Johnny an idea, so he rubbed his cheek harder against the soft skin, until he could feel Kerry squirm in discomfort at the beard burn – not that he seemed to mind, the way he moaned and arched his hips up from the mattress, already so fucking eager again. Johnny grabbed him tightly by the hips to hold him down, making him struggle harder, and fuck, Johnny couldn't help but imagine Kerry squirming like that while he was clenching around Johnny's cock, while Johnny was fucking him maybe a little bit too hard, if there was even such a thing where Kerry was concerned.
It was kinda hot, he thought when he straightened up to look down at him, watching Kerry's cock fill a little, still no more than half-hard, but clearly getting interested. Again Johnny's mind came up with the stupidest fucking images, wondering what Kerry's skin would taste like there if Johnny just licked over it once or twice, the thought as insidious as it burrowed into his mind as wanting to lick his tight ass open. Fortunately he caught sight of another bite mark on the inside of Kerry's thigh that he hadn't seen before – good for him if he got those bastards who fucked him to go down on him, too, but it still pissed Johnny off. He dove down for another bite, his hands roughly keeping Kerry's legs spread, feeling those surprisingly strong thigh muscles twitch under his fingers when Johnny sucked his own mark right next to the older one. Kerry was holding on to his hair like a lifeline, yanked and pulled on it and that was the only reason Johnny ended up with his cheek against Kerry's dick, rubbing some beard burn into it, too, and maybe nosing at it for just a moment before his brain turned back on and he sat up, despite Kerry's hand in his hair.
"Not happening," he said and smacked the inside of Kerry's thigh hard. Kerry all but pouted, which should have looked fucking stupid, but ended up looking kinda hot in a slutty jailbait way. When the fuck had Kerry become hot? That's what Johnny got for thinking with his dick, for letting himself get carried away earlier. Of course he thought someone he'd fucked was hot, because now he looked at him and thought about the tight squeeze of Kerry's hole around his dick.
"No? You kinda owe me, I got you off and you didn't return the favour," Kerry said breathlessly. It was the kind of sleazy cajoling Johnny could respect – if it worked on women, no reason it shouldn't work on guys, right? – but it sure as fuck wasn't going to work on him.
"You didn't do shit, Ker, just stood there and took it like a little bitch. And we both know you had at least as much fun as I had." He considered touching Kerry's dick, just to feel it grow harder under his hand – a familiar enough feeling when it came to his own dick, but he idly wondered if Kerry's would feel any different. If he'd like the same things Johnny liked. "It's not my fault you got your balls drained before you came home, only got yourself to blame for fucking around like that."
"And it's not my fault you picked tonight of all nights to fuck me! It's really kind of a dick move, you know?" Kerry complained, not that he sounded all that bothered once Johnny nibbled at the hickey on his thigh again. He had nice thighs, lean muscle from all that jumping around on stage and running away when they got in trouble, or maybe just from squeezing them around the guys who fucked him. Another image Johnny hadn't really needed in his head, Kerry clinging to him with arms and legs while he took it, while he let Johnny fold him in two.
"I bet you would have preferred if I hadn't fucked you, sure." This time Johnny was more careful not to get his face against Kerry's dick again, but instead sat up once Kerry was pulling on his hair too insistently. He had his legs spread wide, his abs were tense – he sure as hell didn't look like a kid this way, but like a proper man, even though he still lied about his age to get into bars. It didn't put Johnny off half as much as it should have. When he ran his fingers over Kerry's stomach all the way down to the base of his cock, it twitched a little, and the next in a long line of stupid, impulsive decisions Johnny had made that night was that he wrapped his fingers around Kerry's cock and gave it a firm squeeze. It filled out right under his fingertips, definitely growing bigger and thicker, not that Johnny had any intentions of admitting that. Probably just looked bigger because there was no hair for it to hide in, just smooth, soft skin Johnny kinda wanted to rub his face against. Fuck.
"You're insatiable," he said, but found himself sounding more fond than irritated for once.
"Just 'cos you don't remember being my age," Kerry said, like Johnny was who knows how much older than him instead of just enough years to feel occasionally a bit protective and frequently a bit condescending.
"No, but I fuck jailbait often enough to know what that's like." Johnny rubbed his thumb over the head of Kerry's dick – as strange as it still was to touch another guy's cock, it was also far more familiar than anything else about this had been. Not that Johnny needed to jerk off often these days, but it wasn't exactly the kind of thing anyone forgot. And fuck if Kerry wasn't beautifully responsive again, gasping quietly, his hips immediately arching up from the bed. Johnny watched him more intently than he would have thought possible, watched the way his eyes widened, the way his pretty cock twitched in Johnny's fingers.
"See, I'm being nice," Johnny said and squeezed Kerry's cock just a bit too hard, making him gasp. "Returning the favour and all that."
The slide of his hand on Kerry's dick was really a bit too dry – talk about things that were never a problem with chicks, at least not once Johnny got them to spread their legs for him – so he leant down and spat wetly onto Kerry's dick to get it nice and slick when he rubbed over it again. Kerry stared at him like that was the hottest thing he'd seen tonight – probably was, since he hadn't actually seen much of Johnny earlier in the shower – so Johnny did it again, rubbed his spit into Kerry's skin and made him squirm.
"Don't need to blow you to get you wet enough for me." Kerry must have emptied his balls a couple of times tonight, but there was still a wet smear of pre-cum at the tip of his dick when Johnny petted it with his thumb, the soft skin over the hardness, and somehow that sensation was a million times more fascinating than Johnny would have ever thought possible. Probably would have felt just as nice under his lips …
Fuck, why did that thought keep coming back? Probably all Kerry's fault, because it felt like the only thing Kerry did all day was thinking about sucking dick. Bad influence on Johnny, that was all. But at least his hand slid smoothly over Kerry's cock now, which had the pleasant side effect of shutting up his smart mouth. Or more precisely it kept him from talking – it didn't stop those eager moans that left his lips now. They sounded different now from earlier when Johnny had been fucking him. A little quieter, but no less impatient.
He was arching up his hips, his body begging Johnny not to stop even now that he had stopped talking. Once again the thought occurred to Johnny that Kerry was really damn pretty like that. It wasn't that Johnny had never noticed before that Kerry was technically good-looking, and even if he hadn't, the fact that all those guys were falling over themselves to get to Kerry made it clear enough. But Johnny was nothing like those guys and he had never given a damn before about what Kerry did or didn't look like.
It almost made him angry, as if Kerry had somehow done something to him. Johnny had never thought this kind of thing about any guy before meeting Kerry and he'd been perfectly happy that way. It was just Kerry, Kerry with his surprisingly strong fingers and those intense eyes, and where the fuck did he get off suddenly making Johnny want to touch a dick? So he squeezed that dick harder as if he wanted to punish Kerry for this, though even as he did, he realised that Kerry was only enjoying it.
"You're fucking unbelievable," Johnny snapped. "I bet if I get you off now, you'll be ready to go again in no time. But you'd better enjoy this while it lasts, because I'm not going to do this again. You should already consider yourself lucky I'm touching you at all."
Kerry opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but the only sound that left it was another loud moan. Johnny bent down, for a second horribly tempted to nuzzle Kerry's pretty, hard cock, but fortunately he caught himself at the last moment and bit the inside of his spread thigh instead. It still brought him close enough to smell Kerry, his clean skin and that wet drop of pre-cum his thumb had smeared over his cock. He nosed at the spot he'd bitten and then buried his teeth in it once again. This time it made Kerry jump and his dick twitched between Johnny's fingers. Unlike before, Johnny wasn't covering up one of the other hickeys, but simply leaving his own mark on Kerry's skin. He had a feeling Kerry wouldn't particularly mind.
"So damn eager," Johnny mumbled against his skin, and then he forgot what he wanted to say because Kerry grabbed his hair hard and pulled. For a moment it seemed far too easy to let it happen, to just roll with it, let Kerry drag him around and push his cock into Johnny's mouth like that was something Johnny ever allowed. He'd already crossed so many lines tonight, what difference did one more make? But he knew it wasn't the same thing. He'd been in charge of all this, doing what he wanted and not what Kerry conjured up in his filthy little mind every time he jerked off to Johnny. He'd never hear the end of it if he let Kerry use him like those idiots he fucked every other day.
So Johnny just growled and bit Kerry's thigh hard again, grabbed his wrist with his chrome hand and twisted it until Kerry let go (not too hard, even now, because Kerry's hands were the last part of him he'd ever damage). Then he held it down on the bed while he jerked him off faster with his right hand. Even after everything else Kerry had been up to tonight, he was so close now – such a strange sensation to touch another hard dick, feeling it twitch under his fingers, and not feeling that same touch it on his own cock. It was distractingly hot, probably just basic sympathy because he knew how nice it felt to have one's dick touched, to have it stroked a little harder and a little faster when you were a few breaths away from coming all over yourself. Kerry was digging his fingers into the blanket, his eyes had been closed for a little while, but now he'd looked up and stared at Johnny like he couldn't believe this was really happening and that, too, was way hotter than it had any right to be. Only because it flattered his ego, it had nothing to do with the way Kerry's eyes went all wide and his soft lips parted like a goddamn invitation if only Johnny could get it up again. Kerry had to be great at sucking dick, as much time as he spent doing it. Practised it almost as much as playing the guitar, and Johnny knew how good Kerry was at that. If he hadn't got so distracted by that cute ass, he could have found out now, could have got up there and knelt over Kerry's face and fucked his throat until he choked on Johnny's cock, and that was probably the kind of choking even Kerry enjoyed.
Somehow it still took Johnny by surprise when Kerry came – maybe because he expected to feel it happening when he was touching a dick, feel his orgasm building and rippling through him, but with Kerry all he got was another twitch of that pretty cock and then his come spurting over Johnny's fingers. It wasn't that much after however many times Kerry must have come already tonight, but still enough that Johnny couldn't look away from the white mess on his fingers, the way it clung to his skin. So familiar, and so utterly weird when it wasn't his. And the fucking sounds Kerry made – softer somehow than when Johnny had been fucking him, so completely blissed out. Johnny could get used to hearing those sounds up close instead of second-hand through the wall while some other guy was balls-deep in his Kerry.
Oh shit. That was not the kind of thing he needed to be thinking. They weren't like that. Never had been, never would be.
"Jesus, I just cleaned you up and you're already a mess again," Johnny said, because even that was safer to think about than whatever direction his brain had just veered into.
"Your fault for getting me all … excited." Kerry's voice was beautifully breathless, even rougher than usual. It had taken Johnny by surprise when they'd first met – that deep, strong voice coming out of such a pretty young mouth. Right now Johnny just thought it was fucking hot, and since he really needed to stop thinking that Kerry was hot, he clearly needed to shut him up.
"When are you ever not excited." Johnny raised his hand, looked at it for a moment, at those sticky white streaks clinging to his skin, feeling just like his own come would have. He wondered if it'd taste the same too, smell the same, and before he could wonder about that too hard, he reached down and shoved his fingers into Kerry's mouth. Smeared some of the come over his chin and lips in the process and let him suck the rest off – which Kerry did, groaning hungrily the moment he could taste himself, and then he sucked so hard on Johnny's fingers Johnny really wished he could fuck his mouth right now.
"Better clean that up, told you I don't want come stains in my bed," he snapped at him, but he didn't sound half as unaffected as he would have liked. He couldn't look away from Kerry's face, those dark eyes filled with pleasure, his full lips wrapped tightly around Johnny's fingers as he sucked on them and licked them clean. He'd had girls at least as pretty as Kerry suck him off, he didn't know for the life of him why the view got to him so much, nor the low, humming moan Kerry let out like this was the best thing ever.
And then the brat bit his fingers, grinned when Johnny pulled them back, and just said, "more" – like he was in any position to ask for anything.
Johnny didn't mind indulging him, though. He swiped what bit of come remained off Kerry's still half-hard cock and his stomach, and then he reached back up to feed it to him, watching Kerry lick it off his fingers this time with almost delicate little movements like it was some kind of fancy delicious treat he had to savour.
Again he found himself wondering if they would taste the same, but he sure as hell wasn't going to lick it off Kerry's skin. He kept feeding his own come to Kerry, watching him lick and suck it greedily off Johnny's fingers. When he was all done, Kerry was smiling up at him, looking so damn relaxed and almost happy that for once Johnny didn't quite know what to say. He didn't want Kerry to get too happy, to assume that this was going to happen every night now, let alone that it meant something more than it did. For all that Kerry found himself a different stranger to fuck every night and never seemed particularly good at actually keeping even those guys he liked, Johnny knew that he had a bit of a childishly romantic streak. The last thing Johnny needed was for Kerry to start thinking that he was going to be his input now.
And yet for once Johnny wasn't in the mood to remind Kerry of that, to take those stupid ideas Kerry had at times and crush them before they would grow into something that might ruin things between them. For once all he wanted to do was savour this and deal with the fallout in the morning.
Maybe he was smiling slightly when he met Kerry's eyes, and before Kerry could get a chance to comment on that and probably say something stupid Johnny would have to get mad about, Johnny bore down on him, pressed him into the mattress and kissed him hard enough to make his breath catch.
Before that, Kerry had been giving as good as he got, but now Johnny barely gave him the opportunity to react. He grabbed Kerry's chin and after a moment's hesitation he shoved his thumb between Kerry's lips to force his mouth open – not that he really needed to force Kerry to do anything, when Kerry was so eager to obey him. That still didn't stop Johnny from holding his mouth open roughly and licking into it – and if that meant finally tasting Kerry's come, that definitely wasn't what Johnny had been planning.
He didn't taste as different Johnny might have expected, and yet different enough to make it unmistakably clear that it wasn't Johnny's own. It was as weird and as intoxicating as touching Kerry's dick had been, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. It probably should have disgusted him, but Kerry's strong fingers were back in his hair, holding Johnny close right where he wanted him like he had any business telling Johnny what to do. But Kerry had never been shy about what he wanted, he always swaggered in and went right for it. Johnny could respect that. He just never would have thought he'd be into it.
So he let Kerry pull on his hair and he let Kerry hook a leg around his hips, even as Kerry opened up for him so eagerly and let Johnny fuck his mouth with his tongue. Johnny kept licking into it, again and again like he was trying to clean up his mouth as thoroughly as Kerry had cleaned up this fingers. They were both breathing heavily by the time Johnny finally broke the kiss with a harsh bite. And still Kerry was smiling, his eyes wide open like he couldn't take them off Johnny.
For a moment there was something strange between, an odd kind of tension, like either of them was maybe going to say something they definitely shouldn't. Johnny kissed him again before that could happen, a much shorter, softer kiss this time. Kerry's fingers had relaxed a bit in his hair, instead of pulling on it he was now scratching lightly at Johnny's scalp, which felt oddly pleasant and somehow even a little soothing. After another moment Johnny decided to roll off him, suddenly needing to bring at least a bit of distance between them, as if that could make what had happened less real. Fortunately for him Kerry was so out of breath that he let him and so they both lay sprawled out on their backs, next to each other but not touching anymore except for where their arms brushed, both of them silently waiting for their heartbeats to slow down. Johnny could feel Kerry still staring at him, though, and after a while he glanced back at him. Kerry looked even more mauled than when he'd arrived earlier tonight – every hickey and bruise even more pronounced, with a few more added for good measure. The sight didn't bother Johnny anymore; after all they were his marks now.
Up in their high-rise the noise of the city sounded like the distant waves of the ocean, always there but never really loud, just like only a fraction of the city's neon lights made it into their rooms. It made for a strange, eerie sort of light, and though he'd seen Kerry in it plenty of times, it seemed different now. Not just because he was naked, but because Johnny knew what every inch of that body felt like against his. He should have looked away, because there really shouldn't have been anything all that exciting about looking at Kerry, but he found that he couldn't avert his gaze either.
Eventually – Johnny couldn't have said if one minute had passed or five – Kerry rolled onto his side and inched closer to him until he could press against him, the same way he had earlier while smoking his cigarette. His skin still felt impossibly warm, but his sweat was starting to cool on it. He smelt good, like fresh sweat and his own come, finally like both of them combined, and Johnny didn't like to dwell on just how much he liked the thought. It was simply the way Kerry smelt after a gig together, when they were both drenched in sweat and Johnny had slung an arm around his shoulders on stage, held him close until they'd both rubbed off on each other. Though Kerry usually didn't smell of come yet at that point of the night. Usually. Maybe after their next gig, Johnny would drag him backstage and change that, instead of leaving Kerry to some other bastard.
Kerry got far too comfortable now, throwing one leg over Johnny's once again and letting his head rest on Johnny's shoulder. Even with his breath starting to slow down, even now that he was gradually coming to his senses, Johnny still felt a strange urge to kiss him. He turned his head to the side like he was worried that Kerry could see that thought in his eyes.
"For fuck's sake, Kerry, so much for me getting some sleep," Johnny grumbled when the silence had stretched out for too long, when this whole thing started to feel like they were cuddling or something ridiculous like that. He felt more than heard Kerry laugh, and admittedly it hadn't sounded like a very convincing complaint.
"Fuck sleep when you can have this." Kerry's voice still had that lower, deeper timbre that made Johnny want in a way he never would have associated with Kerry of all people. It was just Kerry, this devilishly talented kid he'd met through sheer coincidence and who'd only managed to weasel his way into Johnny's life like that because the music they made together was so damn good. Half the time he didn't even like Kerry, let alone anything more than that. But the other half of the time, when he did like him … then it was like nothing else he'd ever had with anyone his whole life.
When Johnny didn't reply, Kerry fell quiet for long enough that Johnny almost started hoping he'd simply let the whole thing go. But unfortunately Kerry wasn't the type to let things go any more than Johnny was. On any other day, it was one of the things Johnny did like about him.
"So what happens now?" Kerry asked eventually – pretty much the exact sentence Johnny wanted to hear least.
"Nothing happens now. Except I finally get to sleep," Johnny replied, hoping against hope that Kerry could take a fucking hint.
"You know what I mean."
Johnny sighed deeply, trying to convey just how fucking inconvenient Kerry's dumb questions were. "Yeah, I know what you mean. The answer is still the same. Nothing happens now."
He'd tensed up, felt Kerry tense up against him at the same time, but they still hadn't moved away from each other. Johnny even still had his arm around him, if loosely. He still didn't want a fight, the kind of screaming row that would have woken up the neighbours if they'd had any. He just wanted to be comfortable and let Kerry's steady breath lull him to sleep, and fine, if that technically counted as cuddling, he could live with that as long as Kerry kept his damn mouth shut.
"Just don't make a big deal of this, all right?" Johnny said. "Fuck, you ask that with every guy you fucked once?"
"You're not just some –"
"Don't," Johnny snapped. But then he found his voice softening a fraction when he added, "Just don't ruin this, Ker. We'll just … see how it goes, yeah?"
He hazarded another glance at Kerry's eyes – dark and pathetically sad right now. It clearly wasn't the answer Kerry had hoped for, but it also couldn't have been the worst answer he'd expected. To be frank, Johnny was a little surprised by himself. Something about still being so close to Kerry, about knowing what that slender body felt like against his, about feeling Kerry's breath on his face and his calloused fingers on his chest, made him feel unusually mellow. It was probably just the fact that he'd come so hard inside him not too long ago. That was bound to put him in a good mood – never mind that Johnny usually had no problem at all being a dick to people he'd just fucked. He didn't want to consider any other possible explanations for why he wasn't putting his foot down about Kerry's idiotic crush more firmly.
"Yeah, okay," Kerry finally agreed, and Johnny let out another sigh. At least Kerry didn't seem to be in the mood for a fight either. In what seemed like a weirdly conciliatory gesture, he let his hand slide down to Johnny's crotch, groping him idly through the sweatpants.
"So what about you, hm? Wanna go again?"
Johnny had to laugh about that and smacked Kerry's hand away. Of course that was Kerry's idea of changing the subject. Johnny wasn't even sure if Kerry meant it this time, if he'd really be up for more, or if this was simply his way of agreeing to drop the whole thing for the time being.
"I said I wanted to sleep," Johnny said, still smiling, but then he added without even thinking about it, "In the morning, all right?"
Like he'd already made up his mind that they were going to do this again, that he was going to try out all the things he hadn't done yet tonight, like letting Kerry suck his cock and making Kerry choke him while he rode Johnny's dick and fucking Kerry against a wall in a dark corridor after they'd screamed their throats raw on stage and … This had been supposed to be a one time thing. Fuck, it hadn’t been supposed to happen at all.
"Works for me," Kerry just said and smiled. His hand came to rest on Johnny's stomach, his head back on his chest, his damp hair brushing against Johnny's chin. All comfortable, the way they'd slept together often enough on cold nights, except nothing like that at all.
Johnny should have taken it back right then and there, maybe thrown Kerry out of bed while he was at it. But the long day was catching up with him, and all those hours lying awake not waiting for Kerry to come home, and the simple fact was that he was too tired to deal with Kerry's stupid assumptions and misconceptions. Kerry had at least stopped talking about what had happened and for now that was good enough. Anything else Johnny could deal with tomorrow.
After letting Kerry suck him off, that was.