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"I know common sense doesn't come by you easily," Kenshi says, brows drawing low in trepidation, "but don't you think this is going a bit too far?"
Kenshi's standing by the door, having just walked in, Sento strapped to his shoulder still. In the turquoise monochrome of the sight his ancestors provide him, he sees Johnny across the hotel room, by the bed. He's gesturing with wide arms at a set of items on the bed that heats Kenshi's face up just to look, even more so now that he's just heard what Johnny's planning to do with them.
"Only if we get caught," Johnny says. He picks up one of the items; a bullet vibrator, small and about the size of his thumb, rolls it between his fingers with a grin. "And you pride yourself on your ability to maintain composure, don't you? You can take it."
"It's the concept of the damn thing," Kenshi grumbles, approaching in slow steps. When he finally gives the items a proper once over, his ass instinctively clenches at the sight of the ribbed dildo, nearly as thick as Johnny's cock. "The Empress invited us here as guests and good friends. It's disrespectful to do something so depraved on Sun Do's biggest festival, especially right under everyone's nose."
Johnny scoffs. "Again, as long as no one catches on, that doesn't really matter. I'm sure the whole event's fun on its own but don't you wanna spice things up?"
Kenshi huffs. He thinks they've 'spiced things up' enough already, what with the dozens of new sex toys Johnny's bought to come up with increasingly creative ways to torture him. It hasn't even been a week since Johnny stuck a blunt rod down his urethra, making his cock ache until he's reduced to whimpers and tears, begging for the permission to cum. Kenshi shivers at the memory.
Really, he should disagree, firmly, so Johnny knows that he means it seriously, (they have a push-and-pull dynamic; Kenshi arguing doesn't always mean that he actually doesn't want it and that's part of the fun) but the look on Johnny's face tempts him to abandon all his reservation and logic. The actor's eyes are wide, showing off those big browns that Kenshi swears shine brighter than most anyone else he'd ever seen, bottom lip tucked beneath his teeth. Eager and hoping and very much aroused. It'd make Kenshi feel cruel to crush his – extremely perverted – dreams.
"Fine. Just this once," Kenshi grumbles, sighing. He eyes the remote innocently sitting beside the dildo. It has two dials, presumably one to control the bullet vibrator and the other to control the dildo. He feels his cock twitch in his pants. "And don't put both on max at the same time unless you're sure there's no one else around."
Johnny grins from ear to ear. He sets the bullet vibrator back on the bed to cross the room and throw his arms around Kenshi's shoulders, squeezing him tight. "You indulge me so well, baby," he murmurs, breath ghosting over Kenshi's neck. "I'm gonna turn you into a wreck in front of all of our friends."
Kenshi gasps through his teeth, shudders again.
[]
It hasn't even been ten minutes, neither of the vibrators have been turned on, and Kenshi already feels like fleeing to the bathroom.
He's got the ribbed dildo up his ass, held inside by the clench of his own muscles and his tight boxers keeping it pressed inside. The tip, a bulbous head with ridges, digs right into his prostate, rubbing without even having to be turned on. Taped against the sensitive underside of his cock is the bullet vibrator, all firm and snug.
Walking is torturous. Kenshi isn't even sure if he's walking right or if he's waddling like someone who very obviously has something massive up his ass, but since neither Johnny nor anyone else has commented on his posture, he'll hope for the best and assume that he is.
But that's not even the worst of it. Sitting is. Not that he's already sat, he hasn't, but he can already tell. And he's going to have to in a few, because they're all gathered in the massive open-air courtyard reserved for big banquets in the Empress's palace to have brunch before all the festivities begin.
Johnny, that bastard, has been sneaking glances at him from the corner of his eye. Kenshi doesn't miss how he has one hand in his pocket, no doubt fiddling with that damned remote that he surprisingly hasn't clicked on yet.
The anticipation is worse, somehow. Or at least, Kenshi thinks so for now. He'll probably eat up his words when Johnny actually starts messing with him. His heart pounds like a drum, heavy in his chest and reverberating to his ears; his hands are clammy.
He's also half-hard. It's hidden, thankfully, by his red leather trench coat that he's decided to button up nearly all the way just for this. Fortunately, Sun Do is windy even as it approaches midday, so the heat isn't killing him as much as he thought it would.
Mileena's up ahead at the front, delivering what is sure to be a beautiful speech about solidarity between Earthrealm and Outworld, her first year as Empress, and the history of this particular festival, but Kenshi's barely able to grasp any of her words because he chances a look at Johnny again and notices that he's smirking now.
Johnny Cage smirking is never a good sign.
The speech ends and Kenshi already knows what's coming next. Mileena gestures to everyone to take their seats as Kitana calls for the palace staff to start serving food, arriving in beautifully arranged steaming plates.
Kenshi clenches his fists (taking care into making sure that he doesn't clench his ass at the same time) and drags himself toward the grand table stretching from one end of the floor to the other. The dildo shifts with every step, shallowly fucking into him. He fights not to whimper.
All is sailing as smooth as it could possibly sail in a predicament like this. Kenshi thinks that Johnny might be saving the vibrations for later in the day, when they're walking down Sun Do's streets for the scheduled tour lead by Li Mei.
He's wrong as it turns out, because right as his hand touches his chair to pull it back, the dildo whirs to life.
Kenshi gasps, open-mouthed. He nearly doubles over the chair's backrest, both hands flying up to grip the frame, hard enough to make the wood crack. He knows it's at a low setting, likely a two or a three out of a deadly ten, but the shock might as well make it five. His head hangs low, swimming in arousal and the sort of panic deers experience when they accidentally find themselves ahead of headlights; he fights to keep his breathing steady.
"Kenshi?" Someone to his right asks him. Not Johnny, because Johnny's on his left, already taking his seat as if nothing is happening – that little shit. Kenshi turns his head and sees that it's Syzoth talking to him, frowning all worried-like. "Are you alright? You don't seem to be doing very well."
"Oh, yeah, Kenshi, what's going on?" Johnny chimes in. Kenshi can tell the worry is feigned – he's probably grinning on the inside – but to anyone else who doesn't know Johnny as much, the actor pulls off the part excellently. "You were doing just fine back in our room."
"I'm fine," Kenshi mutters, keeping steady as best he can. He manages a smile at the two of them, "Just – really hungry. I haven't eaten since yesterday's lunch, you see." It's a lie, he and Johnny had dinner together at a romantic spot Mileena told them about, but Syzoth doesn't need to know that.
Syzoth accepts the answer and perks up. "Oh," he says, relieved. "I see. I get like that as well sometimes."
"Yes," Kenshi says curtly as he yanks the chair back and forcefully sits down. The dildo sharply pushes further into him, digging into his prostate as it vibrates and vibrates and fucking vibrates. His legs shake beneath the table, knees weak and thighs tensing. He has to lean forward – elbows on the table and a fist pressed against his lips – to suppress the mewl threatening to escape.
When Syzoth finally looks away, pulled into a conversation with Ashrah, Johnny snickers.
"Turn it– off," Kenshi hisses to him. "Johnny, you little shit, turn it off."
"Already?" Johnny giggles. "Baby, this is barely anything."
Kenshi doesn't want to think about what the higher settings will be like. "Syzoth almost– almost fucking noticed."
"Well, control yourself then." Johnny shrugs, "I was real merciful to you, you know. I could've done this while you two were talkin'." Without warning, the bullet vibrator on Kenshi's cock starts up as well, at a setting a little bit higher than the dildo.
Kenshi lurches until his back is ramrod straight, thighs slamming shut to press against each other. His fist turns into an open palm against his mouth, muffling the hoarse noise he makes from the back of his throat. "Ngh–"
Kenshi heaves his breaths heavily, looks around to see if anyone besides Johnny notices but it seems like they're all either too engrossed in their conversations or chin-deep in their meals.
Johnny snickers. "So cute."
"Nh– Not both– Not– Not right now," Kenshi gasps, fighting to keep his voice level. "Johnny, goddamnit, please–"
Both vibrators click off. Kenshi huffs, almost panting, sagging back into his chair. He wipes a bead of sweat off his forehead. When he fully turns to Johnny, he wishes he still had his eyes so he can hand him the full force of his glare – but like this, he supposes an angry, pinched downturn of his eyebrows will have to do.
"What?" Johnny says, defensively amused. "You're being so dramatic, Ken. Surely it can't be that bad."
"You fucking try it next time then," Kenshi grumbles. "See how you'll do. I'll make you cum while you're walking to pay for all the shit you'll do today."
"Honey, the day's barely started, you don't even know what my plans are," tells Johnny.
Kenshi sneers. "No, but I know you."
Johnny bites his lip. "God, you look so sexy, all riled up like that. Try your best not to cum, by the way. For your sake. I've got some crazy punishments in mind if you do."
The dildo switches on again, a tick higher than before. Kenshi gasps.
A hand trails up the clothed flesh of his thigh, Johnny's arm practically forearm-deep into Kenshi's trench coat. Calloused fingers dance across his lap until they firmly brush against his bulge, feeling up against the vibrator taped there. Kenshi squirms, face hot. Johnny leans in close, his lips brushing against the shell of his ear, and whispers, "Though no matter what happens, I'll make you go fuckin' insane tonight, baby boy."
Kenshi whimpers. In his pants, his cock twitches.
Elder Gods help him.
[]
In the evening, they're gathered at the heart of Sun Do, where the city square sits, housing a stage decorated with exotic Outworld flora that'd been built just for this festival and food stands that line the frame of the pavement. There are performers in bright, colorful clothing on the stage, moving in tandem; dancing, flipping props, and a few especially talented ones do all of that while singing.
The audience aren't afforded seats; Kitana said that it's more commonplace to stand in events like these, so attendees can walk around and by themselves a nice treat, or join in on the dancing.
It's nice, Johnny thinks. He wonders if Outworld knows what Broadway is.
Amidst of all this is Kenshi, sweating so much you'd almost think he had gone for a swim. One of his hands curls around Johnny's bicep, squeezing hard enough to ache. He's trembling something fierce, hot breaths fanning against Johnny's neck, little muted noises spilling from the low of his chest.
Johnny's thumb slides the dial from seven up to eight on the dildo. Kenshi keens, though no one besides the two of them could hear over the cacophony of music and cheers. After a bit of consideration, Johnny also decides to flick the dial for the bullet vibrator up to nine.
"Johnny, Johnny, Johnny," Kenshi whimpers, high enough to almost be unrecognizable. Johnny loves it when he gets like this. His own cock is hard but he's taken off the jean jacket he'd been wearing and tied it around his waist, and that's been enough to hide his erection. "Too– Ungh– Too high, I'm–"
"Getting close? Again?" Johnny feigns a scoff, makes it sound sharp for the dramatic effect. "Goddamnit, Kenshi, I thought you'd do better than this."
"I can't–" Kenshi tries to growl, but it comes out more pathetically strained than anything, "Help it–"
"Ugh, well," Johnny shrugs, "I'm too lazy to turn it down, y'know? I mean, look, the show's just so entertaining, I don't want to miss even a second of it."
"Mmh, fuck's sake, Johnny–"
Johnny grins, slides his hand down to give Kenshi's ass a subtle grope. "You'll just have to wait until they're done."
"Nnnh–"
Kenshi keens, bringing up his free hand to muffle himself. His knees are shaking and he looks like he's doing all he can to keep himself up, so close to buckling over in front of all these people. Johnny smirks.
He catches the telltale signs of the performance coming to an end, the way the music curves and mellows down, the dancers slowly inching closer towards the edges of the stage, approaching the steps leading down. At the same time, Kenshi's moans become watery, panicked – a man right on the edge, fighting desperately to hold his orgasm at bay, a battle he might lose at any moment.
Johnny, of course, has barely actually been paying attention to the performers this entire time. How can he, really, when he has his gem of a boyfriend squirming and squealing, pressing up against him, smack-dab in the middle of this crowded square? It's a fantasy come to life, even better than the actual fantasy world they're standing in.
He watches Kenshi fall apart more and more with each fast breath, and wonders if he's actually going to break and cum right there. Kenshi can't even talk anymore, not after having been denied so many times throughout the day, Johnny constantly messing with the dials, and definitely not while he's this close to another imminent orgasm; he's all just sounds now, high and cute and unbelievably sexy.
"Nghhh-ah– Oh, fuck–!" Kenshi mewls, burying his face into Johnny's shoulders. He's about to cum. Coincidentally, the music stops right then and Johnny quickly thumbs down both dials – expecting Kenshi to loosen up and fall limp against him, but no such thing happens. Instead, Kenshi cries out, hips bucking and spasming before his legs give out. He drops to the floor, landing on his knees, sweaty forehead dropping against Johnny's hip.
Kenshi pants heavily and doesn't make an attempt to get back up. He's trembling like a leaf.
Johnny realizes; he's just given Kenshi a ruined orgasm.
Some of their friends – Kung Lao, Syzoth, and Ashrah – gather around them, concerned as they ask Kenshi's alright. Johnny assures them that he's got it under control; Kenshi, turns out, might be sick with something after all, he tells them. Once they've backed off (Johnny makes sure to ignore Raiden's stare boring into his back), Johnny smirks and helps Kenshi return to his feet.
"You came," Johnny says – a statement rather than a question – when they get to walking back to the hotel, "in front of everyone. Like a whore."
"It's your fault," spits Kenshi, pouting. And then he seems to remember what Johnny told him earlier that day and mutters, "You're.. You're punishing me the moment we're inside our room, aren't you?"
Johnny reaches a hand down to pinch Kenshi's ass. Kenshi jumps, moves a few steps quicker. No doubt he's glaring at him behind that blindfold.
"Mileena's gonna have to pay the hotel a noise complaint fine for us tonight by the time I'm done with you."
[]
"I hope Kenshi is alright," Syzoth says, later that night. "I'm not familiar with Earthrealm illnesses but that didn't seem like anything good."
Raiden scoffs and shakes his head. "Don't worry about him. It's.. Nothing serious."
"Does Johnny know how to take care of him in that state?"
"Oh, I'm sure he's 'taking care' of him very well right now."