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Kerry pushed the bathroom door open, dark eyes immediately landing on the tall, lean man he was looking for. Johnny had a shoulder resting on the wall between the bathroom’s two stalls. A cigarette pack was in his hands, and Kerry watched silver fingers pluck a smoke out of the paper carton.
“Only one fuckin’ door locks,” Johnny complained, eyes leaving Kerry as he looked at the end of the cigarette he held between his lips. The lighter he pulled out of his pocket was struck several times; the flint sparked, but no flame was produced.
Kerry strode up to him, pulling out his own lighter, and lit the end of Johnny’s cigarette himself while the taller man tossed his spent lighter to the bathroom floor in annoyance. As the cherry burned bright orange and Johnny began to inhale, Kerry moved quickly, stealing the filter straight from Johnny’s lips and taking a hit for himself.
Rage flashed behind Johnny’s eyes, but only briefly as Kerry backed himself into the one stall with a working lock. “One’s all we need, right?” Kerry asked as Johnny squeezed himself into the stall. He pulled the cigarette away from his mouth so he could blow the smoke out toward Johnny. “Less you were hopin’ for some skeezy gloryhole sitch?” he teased before taking a second hit.
Johnny mirrored Kerry’s actions from before once the door was locked behind him, and he stole the cigarette from Kerry’s mouth before he was finished inhaling. He grabbed Kerry’s right hand without a word and pressed his palm into the seam of his leather pants, already impatient and half-hard. Kerry was half-hard himself from anticipation since he met Johnny’s eyes a minute ago, just as he was slipping into the filthy venue’s bathroom. If he’d waited longer, he’d have walked into the bathroom with a fully pitched tent in his jeans.
When he was certain Kerry wouldn’t pull his hand away, Johnny let go of his wrist and instead fumbled with the buckle on Kerry’s belt. Kerry did the same after palming Johnny’s cock through his pants, pretending that feeling Johnny growing harder wasn’t sending his head spinning.
Using both hands, unlike Johnny, Kerry moved up to tug open the button on Johnny’s pants and pull his zipper down. He then hooked his fingers into the waistband of Johnny’s boxers and shoved them and his leather pants down Johnny’s thighs, only far enough that his cock sprang free and no further. Meanwhile, Johnny hadn’t done quite as much. He’d simply shoved his right hand into Kerry’s jeans. He seemed to be frustratingly avoiding Kerry’s cock in favor of his balls, choosing to work him up that way instead.
Johnny watched Kerry spit into his right palm, and then he smeared it over the head of Johnny’s cock, causing a slight hitch in his breath. He pulled the cigarette away and blew smoke up between them, eyes never leaving Kerry’s hand as it stroked up and down his length, gliding effortlessly with the assistance of Kerry’s saliva. Moving carefully, Johnny stepped to Kerry’s right and leaned against the stall wall, staggering their legs as both men kept their hands on each other.
Before Johnny could bring the cigarette back to his mouth, Kerry snatched it again with his free hand and held it between his lips. In retaliation, Johnny gave a gentle squeeze, and Kerry felt his cock throb against the fabric of his underwear. He was already leaking and didn’t have the luxury of leather pants hiding any unfortunate stains, so Kerry pushed his jeans and boxers down, keeping the same modesty he had left Johnny with, his waistbands sitting around his mid-thigh.
Johnny’s heavy-lidded gaze switched from his own cock to Kerry’s, swollen and throbbing. Slowly, he teased the pads of his fingers up Kerry’s length to the tip and swirled the leaking precome around the head with his thumb, shooting sparks of pleasure down to the base of Kerry’s spine.
Johnny didn’t say anything, no tease about how eager Kerry seemed, and no praise about how pretty his cock was. Johnny was a talker in bed, always, and Kerry had the blessing of knowing that from first-hand experience. But this wasn’t sex— there was nothing intimate about what they were doing. This was stress relief; this was jacking off before a show to clear their heads.
He had to stifle a soft moan, covering it with a heavy exhale of smoke before he took the cigarette from his mouth and put it back between Johnny’s lips. Johnny watched his thumb tease over Kerry’s cockhead until then and lifted his darkened eyes up to meet Kerry’s. A pang in his chest shoved the air in Kerry’s lungs out, sounding something pitifully close to a whine; all he wanted to do was lean forward, knock the cigarette out of Johnny’s mouth, and lock his lips around his.
He did lean in, but in an attempt to evade those dangerous emotions and desires. Kerry leaned forward, weight braced on his left forearm, which found a spot to rest next to Johnny’s right shoulder, and closed his eyes. His forehead was dangerously close to resting on Johnny’s collarbone. Another shuddering sigh left him as Johnny finally began pumping his hand over Kerry’s cock, slow and languid— almost in a bored manner. Kerry didn’t care; it still felt like heaven. Everything Johnny did to him always felt like heaven, at least in the moment. Even if that moment was in a venue’s filthy public bathroom, and some gonk had just waltzed through the door to take the world’s longest piss at the trough urinal.
Kerry did his best to ignore the unwelcome visitor, focusing instead on the weight of Johnny’s cock in his hand and the thrums of pleasure shooting into his bloodstream with each pump of Johnny’s palm over his own length. On the other hand, Johnny found the situation amusing and let out a low chuckle; the deep sound filled Kerry’s head with desire despite their situation.
Johnny’s pace picked up finally, and Kerry bit back a moan, choking it back down his throat as his eyes slipped closed. He was trying to pretend they were anywhere but in the public bathroom at their next gig. Kerry was slowly sinking into that fantasy, and his head had hung forward far enough for his forehead to meet the flexing muscles in Johnny’s ‘ganic shoulder. He wasn’t immediately shrugged off, so Kerry took what he could get with Johnny and kept his head against his shoulder as he heard the uninvited guest finally stumble out of the bathroom.
His heart was beating in his ribs harder than whatever local band’s bass drum was kicking through the venue’s walls. Kerry swallowed hard and released a slow, shaky breath against Johnny’s neck, fighting the growing urge to lean in and suck on the skin over the taller man’s pulse. He was already testing the limits leaning forward onto Johnny like he was. This was not meant to be intimate; this was simply a means to getting off.
Kerry only let himself imagine what Johnny’s neck might taste like, picturing his tongue dragging slowly up Johnny’s neck to his ear and put a little more effort into jerking off his choom.
“Fuck,” Johnny exhaled, voice laced with cigarette smoke as his silver hand pulled the cigarette away from his mouth. His ‘ganic hand tightened around Kerry’s length but kept his strokes steady, rhythm perfect. Kerry fought not to buck his hips forward, feeling his thighs clench in his jeans, and repeated the same action for Johnny, twisting his palm over the head of Johnny’s cock before rubbing back down to the base. “Fuuuck,” Johnny’s eyes slipped closed, and his head fell back against the stall’s wall.
Kerry’s eyes were glued to Johnny’s throat as it stretched, and he could see the man’s adam’s apple bob up and down. The urge to suck on Johnny’s neck was back tenfold, but instead, Kerry bit into his bottom lip, dark eyes trailing up and down the line of Johnny’s throat to his jaw and face.
Johnny brought the cigarette filter back to his lips and inhaled, silver fingers glinting in the low bathroom fluorescents. Then, suddenly, Johnny’s eyes were on his, heavy-lidded and lust-filled. The cigarette was pulled from Johnny’s lips, and silver fingers pressed the filter to Kerry’s mouth. He could hardly think to inhale as Johnny’s right hand constricted around his cock again, and this time Kerry did buck lightly into Johnny’s palm, hips stuttering forward. Kerry didn’t give a shit that the last hit of nicotine he was sucking through the filter tasted like nothing but tar; he could barely think of anything besides Johnny’s palm gliding up and down his length.
Kerry inhaled until his lungs were at capacity before pulling his head away and lingering mentally in the sensations he was experiencing. When he opened his eyes again, Johnny had already tossed the cigarette butt into the toilet bowl. His cyber hand grabbed the fabric of Kerry’s vest at his side and tugged him one step over, repositioning the man so he was standing in front of Johnny, between his legs. Kerry exhaled the smoke as Johnny bent forward and pulled his shirt up, revealing most of his stomach. Kerry paused stroking Johnny’s cock long enough for the man to spit down onto it, then resumed, palm gliding easier with the added lubrication.
For the briefest moment, Kerry wanted to sabotage himself, condemn himself to blue balls until he could find a groupie after their gig just so he could lick Johnny’s spit off his cock and suck him off until the man came down his throat.
Johnny then withdrew his right hand from Kerry, immediately stopping his fantasy. Again he watched Johnny spit into his palm before doing the same and coating Kerry’s length in the same way from head to base.
“God—fuck!” Kerry hissed when Johnny suddenly picked up speed, igniting an urgent need for release in his lower belly. He didn’t want it to be over already, and suddenly all of his concentration was on not busting in Johnny’s hand right that second.
“C’mon, Ker. Don’t have all fuckin’ night,” Johnny teased, voice a deadly sound of heady venom.
“Fuck you,” Kerry panted, doing his best to keep pace with Johnny despite how quickly he was unraveling.
“Bet you wish you could,” Johnny smirked, but it slid off his pretty face when Kerry’s left hand moved from the stall wall near Johnny’s head to grip his throat. Instead of retaliating, pulling Kerry’s hand away, or pushing him off, the desperate noise Johnny made told Kerry that was precisely the reaction he was trying to prod from him.
“That’s all you got—?” Johnny asked him since Kerry had barely used any pressure. Before he could ask the full question, Kerry tightened his grip around Johnny’s throat, almost enough to cut off his air supply. He watched bliss settle onto his features as he did, eyes fluttering shut and lower lip sucked between his teeth.
“Shut up,” Kerry forced out, sounding similar to a growl despite how much he loved hearing Johnny’s voice.
Johnny let out a breathy whine from his constricted airways and tried retaliating with a faster pace. Kerry allowed it until he was brought right to the cusp of orgasm before he let go of Johnny’s cock and swatted his right hand away from himself. Immediate need and frustration filled his gut, cock twitching and balls aching for release. The following noise out of Johnny’s mouth was a similarly frustrated sigh. He lifted his hips off the wall, trying to get what friction he could by shoving his cock into Kerry’s hips in the absence of his hand.
Kerry thrust back hard enough to press Johnny flat against the wall, making the thin metal shudder. On autopilot, Kerry barely caught himself as he leaned in, wanting to shove his tongue into Johnny’s mouth and make him choke for real. Johnny’s lips parted as if he were expecting just that, as if he was also forsaking that one unspoken rule, that this was not intimacy and simply a mutual means to get off.
Maybe that was why he didn’t, because Johnny would have allowed it, possibly even wanted it. Maybe Kerry had a brief moment of clarity, knowing if he kissed Johnny, it would all be fucking over for him, and he would spiral as hard as any of Silverhand’s groupies. Whatever it was, Kerry took a half step back, enough to free both of their cocks from where they had been trapped between their bellies. His hand loosened around Johnny’s neck, and he heard the taller man gasp quietly while Kerry grabbed the base of his length and rubbed their heads together teasingly.
Johnny played along and kept his hands on Kerry’s hips, cool metal, and warm flesh kneading into his skin and gently pulling him forward as if suggesting Kerry rut against him. If they were on a couch, or bed, or fuck, even the floor, he would have. He would have wrapped both hands around Johnny’s throat and rocked his hips into Johnny’s until they both came between each other’s abdomens. At that moment, he had a different idea while standing between Johnny’s legs and holding him by the neck against the wall.
Kerry lifted his shirt up, exactly as Johnny had earlier, tucked the fabric into itself to keep it out of the way as he spit down onto his cock and hand, then pressed both of them together, stroking them slowly in unison.
Johnny exhaled in relief; his hips bucked lightly forward, impatient with Kerry’s gentle pace. Kerry bit back his groan, watching both their cocks in his right hand while his left thumb gently stroked through Johnny’s scratchy beard along his jaw.
“Fuck, man, c’mon,” Johnny breathed, and his hips bucked forward again, urging Kerry along. He gripped their cocks tighter so he wouldn’t lose hold of either of them and tightened his hand around Johnny’s throat.
“Needy fuckin’ bastard,” Kerry glanced up at his choom’s face and again was overtaken with the urge to kiss him as his tongue darted out to lick his lips.
“You’re just a goddamn cocktease,” Johnny argued back as best he could, and Kerry lowered his eyes from his face before he caved to that desire.
“You like it,” he mumbled, keeping his slow pace like he was paying Johnny back for the teasingly slow handjob minutes before. Johnny didn’t respond this time but instead slid his silver hand back around Kerry’s hip to grab a handful of ass and pull him closer.
Kerry only realized Johnny was changing his tactics as his right hand slid up Kerry’s side, and his thumb rubbed slow circles over Kerry’s nipple. He’d give a little to get a lot, and Kerry hated that it worked, and he subconsciously began pumping their cocks faster.
Johny shifted his weight between his feet as he stood with his shoulders glued to the graffitied wall, gently thrusting into the momentum of Kerry’s hand, trying to take more than Kerry was giving.
He had all of his concentration on running his palm and fingers up both of their lengths without losing his grip. He could already feel his orgasm building up again; between Johnny’s cock rubbing along the underside of his own and the needy, breathless whines escaping Johnny’s mouth, Kerry feared he couldn’t keep composed for much longer.
“ ‘M close,” Johnny rasped as if his panting wasn’t proof enough for Kerry. He bit back a response about how he was close, too; he could feel that coil tightening, threatening to snap. But he wanted Johnny to come first, wanted to watch it paint his hand as he pumped their cocks.
“Don’t— Ker, I’m so fuckin’—” Kerry gripped the sides of Johnny’s neck tighter, and the rest of his plea was swallowed by a pathetic gasp. Johnny wasn’t telling him as a courtesy, no. He was begging. That fact had a completely different wave of desire rolling down Kerry’s spine, and he pushed his hips into Johnny’s, the backs of his knuckles rubbing against Johnny’s abdomen.
“Fuck,” Johnny choked, and his ‘ganic hand left Kerry’s chest to cup the back of Kerry’s neck— an uncharacteristically intimate gesture of the man standing before him. Kerry knew he must have been misreading the action. He chanced a split-second look at Johnny’s face to try and gauge his intent but only saw Johnny quickly unraveling; gone were all his layers of masks, replaced with pure pleasure. His body had become less stable, his muscles quaking, and when Kerry looked down at their cocks, he did so just in time to see what he wanted.
White, sticky heat shot up and landed over Johnny’s stomach as the muscles beneath the skin tensed and contracted, his come coating the back of Kerry’s fingers as he worked himself and Johnny through Johnny’s orgasm. His left hand released Johnny’s neck, and the shuddering gasp Johnny drew into his lungs was precisely enough to force Kerry over the edge. His fingers gripped Johnny’s lean waist, pressing into his skin to keep himself steady as he came with a low growl.
“So fuckin’ good… Jesus fuckin’… Shit,” Johnny gulped when Kerry finally slowed and stopped before he became overstimulated. Johnny’s cock was still twitching as Kerry let them both go, and he watched it lull to the side as their mixed spend slowly slipped down Johnny’s waist.
Blindly, Johnny’s right hand reached down and felt for the toilet paper dispenser before ripping a couple dozen out and handing the end to Kerry.
“Clean your fuckin’ self up, asshole,” Kerry muttered, his voice lacking any malice despite his words. He used the end of the toilet paper wad Johnny had handed him to clean his right hand and his softening cock off before tucking himself back into his underwear and jeans.
“You fuckin’ aimed it at me, fuckin’ dick,” Johnny muttered, his tone a similar sound to Kerry’s, relaxed instead of angry. Kerry watched him mop their seed off his belly. He missed the toilet bowl when he tossed the used-up wad of toilet paper to the side, and neither man seemed to care as Johnny pulled his leather pants up his hips. He didn’t make any move to unlock the bathroom stall, instead leaning against the wall with his shoulders in the same place and his head thrown back as he blinked at the ceiling.
“Music’s stopped,” he noted mindlessly, and Kerry realized he could no longer hear their opening band’s bass drum through the walls.
Kerry didn’t respond and took the initiative, stepping around Johnny’s legs to unlock the stall door and squeeze out first. He made his way to the sink and the grimy mirror above it, double-checking that his clothes were straight and his hair wasn’t mussed. In the mirror, he watched Johnny leave the stall after him, not throwing a single glance in Kerry’s direction. He did pause at the bathroom door, which struck Kerry as odd, but Johnny still hadn’t looked his way or said anything. Johnny had opened his mouth, closed it, waited another few seconds, and silently walked out of the bathroom.
“Asshole,” Kerry muttered the insult under his breath while he returned to fixing his hair. It wasn’t unusual for Johnny to immediately forget what they did, and Kerry hadn’t been expecting anything different. At least he got off, Kerry figured, and they could both last another night without tearing each other’s throats out or hate-fucking on the tour bus. At least now Kerry could go on stage with a clear mind and not think about fucking Johnny Silverhand every five seconds.