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“Goood morning Cage Nation! It’s another beautiful day here at the Wu Shi academy and yours truly is waking up with the sun for another day of training! Sit back, grab your iced lattes and remember to stay hydrated because things are about to get thirsty!”
Johnny grins into the camera, tilting the phone to give a generous view of his bare chest. He makes sure to hold it so that it caught his abs and the barely visible trail of hair leading below the band of shorts slung low on his hips. Gotta give the fans what they want, right?
“On today’s menu, we have a one hour meditation session with master Xu, followed by a warm-up led by my man Master Yang, and then a two hour Jeet Kune Do class with the so-hot-he’s-almost-literally-on-fire Liu Kang! Expect many delicious selfies for all my loyal followers and steamy updates as I work these bad boys.”
He winks saucily into the camera, positioning his arm so his muscle’s flexed without it looking too intentional. The social media team he hired to keep him hot and trending—worth every goddamn penny. He’s learned how to work a phone camera so that he can always find the best light and the best poses to make him look amazing even when he has fuck all to work with.
He hears a disgruntled sound behind him and the smile on Johnny’s face widens.
“Someone’s about to sleep through our first class,” Johnny sing songs into the camera. “Wakey wakey, roomie!”
“I swear upon my ancestors that if you point that phone at me, I will break it and then every bone in your body,” Kenshi grumbles.
He throws the blanket over his head and rolls so he’s facing the wall and his back’s to Johnny.
Not to be deterred by his dick wad roommate (thankfully, a temporary arrangement), Johnny hops onto Kenshi’s bed, “accidentally” elbowing his roommate in the side. He hears Kenshi curse in Japanese beneath the covers but Johnny doesn’t give a shit: he gives his million dollar smile to the camera as he angles the phone so that most of his face takes up the screen. This right here is the money shot.
“Some people just can’t appreciate a beautiful morning.”
“Get off me!”
“Not until you tell the Cage Nation how starstruck you are to be bumping shoulders with Hollywood’s greatest martial artist.” Johnny’s cage’s expression becomes semi-serious as he continues, in a low voice, “A fallen star clawing his way back to the top. An ex-criminal longing to restore his family name to its former glory. Together, these two unlikely friends—!”
“We’re not friends!”
“—embark on a journey to save the earth from the greatest threat its known in a millennia—!”
Kenshi pushes the blanket off his face and glares into the camera. He then swats the phone out of Johnny’s hand.
“Hey! I was narrating our origin story!”
“You’ll be narrating your next trip to the emergency room if you don’t get off my bed in five seconds!”
“Aww, what’s the matter, Ken doll? Can’t stand that I’m always besting you?” Johnny teases.
He boops Kenshi in the nose, which only pisses off the other man more. Kenshi goes to slap Johnny’s hand and Johnny grabs Kenshi’s wrist, pinning Kenshi beneath him. Kenshi’s squirming only elicits a chuckle out of Johnny.
“Say sorry for almost breaking my phone and I might go easy on you in training today. How’s that sound, Takahashi?”
“Eat shit, Cage!”
“For a big, scary yakuza, you sure make it easy to top you!” Johnny teases, and wiggles his hips just to be an asshole.
“Five!”
“Are you seriously counting down? Real mature, Kenny!”
“Four! Says the idiot making us late for meditation class!”
“And what happens when you make it to one? You beg for mercy like a little bitch?”
With a scream of frustration, Kenshi kicks Johnny off of him and the two tumble off his sleeping mat. Johnny’s playfulness is immediately abandoned as he wrestles with Kenshi, refusing to let the other man pin him. The asshole ruined his exposition and it was going to be a bitch to edit it out of the final cut.
After much tumbling, hair pulling, and scraping at exposed flesh, Kenshi smirks down at Johnny, the two men panting heavily. With his dark hair mussed from their scrapping and his heavy breathing, Kenshi looks more like he just had his brains fucked out than the triumphant victor of a childish argument. It almost makes Kenshi look—God forbid the thought even crosses Johnny’s mind—fuckable.
“Honto ni bakayarou da ne,” Kenshi mocks.
Johnny’s Japanese is rusty as shit but he’s knows that fucker is calling him an idiot. All thoughts of Kenshi’s temporary “fuckability” fly out the window as Johnny tries to get out from under Kenshi. However, Kenshi has him pinned good and all Johnny’s struggling does is force his already low-riding shorts to pull down even lower.
Kenshi’s dark eyes flick down and his face goes bright red.
“Like what you see?” Johnny leers.
The sound of someone clearing their throat loudly causes the two men to scramble apart. Johnny quickly pulls up his shorts, putting on his best ‘diligent student’ face for whichever master has disrupted their fight. He hopes it’s not Master Wang. He swears that man is out to get him and all because Johnny hijacked his first lesson with Master Wang to teach his classmates how to create the perfect thirst trap for Insta. Wang was livid but Johnny was doing a real service to his fellow man: he gave valuable, life-improving tips with far more real world applications than Shaolin. Meet a hottie in a club and are they gonna be more impressed by a sexy social media profile or that you’ve mastered ancient breathing techniques and training stances? It’s a no-brainer to Johnny but Master Wang seemed to have missed that memo.
Johnny’s got seven excuses already prepared, each one to throw Kenshi under the bus. But when he notices it’s only Raiden, Johnny relaxes.
“Hey, Rai, what’s up?”
Raiden’s face is even redder than Kenshi’s and the younger man refuses to look at either of them. He mumbles, “Master Xu sent me to remind you it’s time to start meditation class.”
As Raiden flees from the room, Kenshi calls out, “It’s not what it looks like!”
Then, because Johnny woke up that morning and chose violence, Johnny calls out after Raiden, “It’s exactly what it looks like! I’m like catnip to him—Ken doll can’t keep his hands off me! It’s a real problem!”
When Johnny looks back at his roommate, Kenshi’s scowling.
“Serves you right. You almost broke my phone,” Johnny says.
Kenshi grabs his orange training robe to throw on over his sleep wear and storms out past Johnny, shoulder-checking the other man hard enough to nearly knock him off balance. Johnny flips off Kenshi’s backside.
Great. Now he has to deal with Kenshi’s mood swings all day.
What the fuck is up with that guy?
*
“Wait! Did you walk in on them fucking?!”
Raiden’s face flares and he shushes Kung Lao. Although they have yet to come across a monk who speaks their native dialect of Cantonese, there are enough people here who can understand them and Kung Lao’s crass choice of words deepens the blush on Raiden’s face. So help him, if he doesn’t die from walking in on whatever the hell Johnny and Kenshi were doing, Kung Lao’s lack of filter may just be the end of him.
“I think they were fighting again.”
“...it sure doesn’t sound like they were fighting…”
“I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” Raiden groans. Sure, he needed to vent but the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes this was a bad idea. Kung Lao has a habit of chasing after chaos, if not instigating it. “Is it too much to ask that they focus on their studies and put their conflict behind them?”
Meditation class was a write off. Every time Raiden was about to clear his head, he was distracted by Johnny mocking Kenshi or Kenshi threatening creative ways to permanently shut Johnny up. It got so bad that Master Xu stopped his lesson and snapped at both men to stop acting like three year olds. Physically separating them more than they already were somehow made the problem worse.
Then, there was Liu Kang’s Jeet Kune Do lesson. Liu Kang paired Johnny and Kenshi up again and Johnny became so insufferable after winning the first sparring session against Kenshi that Kenshi broke Johnny’s nose in the rematch. The rest of the class turned into a lecture about respecting fellow combatants during a friendly fight.
“The selected Earthrealm champion will be challenged by Outrealm’s crown princess should they advance that far,” Liu Kang reminded all of them. “It would reflect poorly on Earthrealm if our champion were to intentionally harm the princess in a show of strength. I expect better from all of you.”
That was the frustrating thing about Liu Kang—he never singled out the students who made an error but used the mistake as a “learning opportunity” for the entire class. On days like today, it wore on Raiden’s patience but he understood that in the long-run, the lesson was for everyone’s benefit.
Now, if only common sense could get through Johnny and Kenshi’s stubborn heads and make them act civil to each other for a day.
“I dunno,” Kung Lao mused, “maybe they should fuck and get it over with?”
Oh no. Raiden knows that look.
He grabs Kung Lao’s arm and tugs him back before the other man can enter into the canteen. “I don’t know what you’re planning but whatever it is, forget it.”
“I’m not planning anything,” Kung Lao says, innocently.
But Raiden’s not buying it. “Kung Lao.”
He enunciates each syllable of Kung Lao’s name, letting the other man know he doesn’t believe him. But Kung Lao’s grin only widens.
“Relax, I know what I’m doing.”
Before Raiden can protest further, Kung Lao switches to English and waves down Johnny. “Hey, Johnny! I heard they’re serving dumplings today!”
As Kung Lao bounds after their American friend, Raiden sighs.
So help him, this was not what he signed up for when he agreed to come to Wu Shi academy.
*
Throughout the rest of the week, the tension between Johnny and Kenshi escalates to the point where the two can hardly to stand to be alone together for more than a few seconds. Any time Johnny tries to make more videos in their shared room, Kenshi does everything in his power to disrupt the video and make the footage near unusable: from making rude hand gestures in the background to reading aloud the meditation manuals they were supposed to be studying to flat out spreading lies about the quality of Johnny’s filmography even though Johnny’s more than sure the man’s never seen a single one of his movies (a travesty, really). Johnny eventually gives up his morning updates because the lighting in most places at the academy is that awful at 5 am and the one time he tried, he was lectured by Master Wang about disrupting the harmony of the meditation space with his ‘self-indulgent narcissism’. Wang then had Johnny excused from his first class and made him clean toilets all morning to teach Johnny a lesson in humility.
Seriously, Wang has it out for him.
Johnny hasn’t made life any easier for Kenshi, either. As far as he’s concerned, Mr Stick-up-his-ass is the reason they can’t be friends: all Kenshi would talk about their first few weeks at the academy was the stupid sword Johnny brought (partly to rub in Kenshi’s face but also because Johnny looks pretty bad ass training with it) and any time Johnny tried to befriend Kenshi, Kenshi would insult Johnny’s maturity or personality and act like Johnny was the root of all his problems. All because Johnny didn’t want to give away a three million dollar sword (hell, as cool as Kenshi’s back story sounds, Johnny’s still half-convinced it’s a ruse to try and walk away with an antique weapon that predates the Edo period).So of course, Johnny terrorizes Kenshi at every opportunity in retaliation for Kenshi’s superior attitude. Kenshi gets angry and fights back. And the cycle continues.
So that’s how things stand now: any time Johnny enters a room, Kenshi leaves. Any time Kenshi’s around, Johnny finds an excuse to go somewhere else. The only time they spend together is when they have to retire to their room for curfew and when they’re in class together.
“Johnny! Over here!”
Johnny takes his bowl of pork bone soup and and grins as he catches sight of Kung Lao. His grin falters as he sees Kenshi sitting beside his friend.
Be cool, Cage. Don’t let that nose-breaking asshole get to you.
Deciding he is going to be the “better man”, Johnny’s all swagger as he walks over to their table and seats himself across from Kung Lao. Kenshi immediately mutters an excuse, grabs his tray of food, and leaves.
Good fucking riddance.
Johnny’s nose is still not quite healed and the bruising under his eyes makes it a nightmare to take any selfies and videos. But he’s got a good ‘story time’ to tell his fans and the gears in his head have already twisted the narrative so he can milk his injury for more likes. That’s just good show business.
“What’s up with Tattoo? Is he still bitching about me lending you Sento for your kenjutsu lesson this morning?”
When Johnny learned that Liu Kang had asked Kenshi to give private kenjutsu lessons to Raiden and Kung Lao—both of whom had little to no experience with swords—Johnny jumped at the chance to get under his roommate’s skin. What better way than to allow Kung Lao to use the sword for his biweekly sessions after Johnny made such a big stink about not letting anyone else handle Sento?
“He wasn’t happy about it,” Kung Lao says, though he seems more interested in his food than Kenshi’s current grievances as he noisily slurps some broth.
“Serves him right. He ruined my last morning skin care tutorial video. And everything else I’ve been filming.” Johnny pushes the veggies around in his soup bowl, his appetite waning as he continues to complain. “He acts like I’m the problem when he’s the one who needs to learn to chill. People love me. I’m the life of the party! I’m the guy you go to when you wanna have fun, have new experiences, or when your wife leaves you because you wasted all your money on a mansion in Malibu and a cool-ass sword and you need a wing man to take you for a night on the town!”
Kung Lao stops his slurping. He sets his bowl down and gives Johnny a serious look. “So what you’re saying is you wish Kenshi was more like you so he could be your wing man?”
“Not—no.” Johnny frowns. Okay, maybe he’s coming off as a little pathetic: coming out of a marriage that was dead in the water for the last year leading up to Cris walking out on him has made him a bit needy for companionship, wherever he can find it. Sharing a room with someone who hates him almost as much as his ex-wife is starting to feel like the relationship he just got out of. “I just wish he was less uptight. If he wasn’t such an uptight asshole, I bet we’d be friends.”
Johnny pops a carrot in his mouth and the boiled veggie practically melts on his tongue, infused with the savory flavors of the pork bone broth. It’s delicious but his heart’s not in the meal.
“Maybe there’s a reason he’s so ‘uptight’.”
At Kung Lao’s conspiratorial whisper, Johnny leans forward. “Well? What is it?”
“I don’t know if I should say anything…”
“Spill it, KL.”
Kung Lao bites his lip, seemingly conflicted. Johnny’s near ready to scream in frustration when Kung Lao finally asks, “When’s the last time you think Kenshi got laid?”
“Pfft, how the fuck should I know?” But Johnny gives it some thought: Kenshi’s not a bad-looking guy. Hell, Johnny would almost consider him the second hottest guy at Wu Shi, if he didn’t have the personality of a wet blanket. Johnny’s got eyes and can appreciate pretty people: what he can’t stand is anyone who takes everything too seriously and judges him for being the opposite of that. “With that sunny personality? I bet Mr Tragic Backstory’s not had his dick sucked in ages.”
Kung Lao plays with the remaining veggies in his soup and offers, casually, “Maybe someone should do something about that.”
Johnny stares at his friend. And then he bursts into laughter, loud enough that the monks at nearby tables give the pair dirty looks. After some loud shushes, Johnny reels in his laughter. “I mean, it’s an idea. Not a great one but we all gotta start somewhere, right?”
“How is this a bad plan?”
“Do you see any women around?” Johnny gestures to the monks sitting around them. “Hate to break it to you, Lao man, but this place is a certified Grade A meat sausage fest. Even if we could find a woman and pay her to give Kenny a ‘happy ending’, you’ve met Kenshi. He’ll scare her off after five seconds.”
Satisfied that he’s made his point, Johnny sips his soup.
“Right. Except, you’re missing one important detail: Kenshi likes men.”
Johnny chokes on his soup mid-swallow. He coughs and pounds his chest to get the rest of it down. After a few moments, he rasps out, “H-How do you know that?”
“Have you ever talked to your room mate? Or do you only speak to each other when you’re looking for a fight?”
It’s the latter. Johnny knows that. But he refuses to admit as much.
“We...talk sometimes.”
Kung Lao smirks. “Sure you do.”
“It’s his fault! If he would let all that BS with Sento go—!”
“—then you two would be fucking instead of fighting?” Kung Lao finishes.
Johnny startles. That is not what he was going to say. In fact, he is so sure he would never want to sleep with Kenshi. Sure, Johnny’s caught a glimpse of how much of Kenshi’s skin is inked and on any other man, it would be hot as fuck. And yeah, Johnny’s always had a thing for men with square jaws and dark eyes. And yes, the firmness of Kenshi’s ass has crossed Johnny’s thoughts enough times that it may as well occupy free real estate in his head.
Oh god. Oh no.
Johnny wants to fuck Kenshi.
He glances down miserably at his bowl of soup. Maybe if he holds his face in it long enough, he can drown himself and then waltz off to the afterlife pretending he never once thought about sleeping with—ugh—Kenshi Takahashi.
“Like I would ever want to fuck him,” Johnny lies. “I could have anyone in Hollywood—hell, the world. There’s no way I’d settle for Takahashi.”
“You’re not in Hollywood,” Kung Lao points out. “Be honest: if you had to sleep with someone at this academy, are you really going to find better than Kenshi?”
“Liu Kang, Raiden, you…I’d even take Master Wang over Takahashi.” Old, bitter Wang. Eh, Johnny’s got no issues with age. He likes a more ‘experienced’ partner. Plus, the hate sex would be hot and maybe Wang would stop singling Johnny out all the time. “Or a venomous snake. You know what, let’s go with half the animal kingdom and the half that would likely eat me.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” Kung Lao mutters. “Do you even remember the last time you had sex?”
Johnny snaps his mouth shut. If he gives the honest answer, no. It’s been that goddamn long. But Kung Lao doesn’t need to know that.
“I’ve had plenty of sex. With lots of attractive people,” Johnny says, refusing to answer Kung Lao. “And every one of them was hotter in every way than Takahashi.”
Kung Lao gives Johnny a look saying he’s not eating the bullshit Johnny’s serving. “I’m not saying you have to do it. I was merely offering a solution.”
“How is me shacking up with that asshole a solution?”
“Both of you have this built up negative energy,” Kung Lao explains.
He pauses for dramatic effect. And damn is it effective because now Johnny’s really curious if this is some ancient technique he’s never heard of.
“This energy, Chi, needs to be released somewhere,” Kung Lao continues. “It needs a positive output; if you keep fighting, you will continue to build up more negative energy and instead of being constructive, your interactions with Kenshi will continue to be destructive.”
“Ooh, is this some kind of Chinese Taoist philosophy?”
Johnny’s practiced some Tai Chi and he also hired a feng shui consultant when he had his mansion remodeled earlier this year. So he likes to think he knows a little bit about Chi.
“Yes,” Kung Lao says, with a solemn nod.
It makes sense. Johnny’s more familiar with Japanese history and philosophy than he is with Chinese philosophy but someone like Kung Lao, who grew up in China’s countryside, would definitely have more knowledge of this. “So sex would be a way to positively release all that built up energy.”
“Naturally.”
“I dunno about this…”
It could work. But that would all depend on whether Johnny can go more than a few seconds without wanting to punch Kenshi is his stupid sexy face.
Kung Lao pats him on the shoulder. “Don’t think too hard on it. It was only a suggestion.”
As Johnny mulls the idea in his head, Kung Lao points to his bowl of soup. “Are you going to finish that?”
*
“Takahashi.”
Silence. Minus the sounds of quiet, even breathing as Kenshi slept across the room from him. Johnny wouldn’t put it past the ex-Yakuza to be faking it.
“Hey, Takahashi. You up?”
Johnny glances across the room, laying on top of the covers in the sweltering heat. You’d think the academy would take mercy on its residents and install A/C in every room. How Kenshi can sleep in a long sleeve shirt and pants on a night like tonight is a mystery to Johnny.
“C’mon, Kenshi. I know you’re not sleeping.”
With a sigh of frustration, Kenshi rolls to his side, facing Johnny. Even in the dim moonlight streaming in the room, Johnny can see the glare on his face. “What could you possibly have to say to me this late at night?”
Here goes, Cage. Lay on the charm, let him know that he’s one of the lucky few with an exclusive VIP pass to Casa del Cage.
“What? A guy can’t ask his roommate a question?”
At Johnny’s snippy tone, Kenshi sneers, “Goodnight, Cage,” and rolls over so his back is facing his roommate.
FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK
“We should have sex,” Johnny blurts out, louder than he intended.
Kenshi jolts up at the same time Johnny does. The two men remain seated on their respective beds staring at each other, Kenshi’s face giving away his shock at Johnny’s proposition. If Johnny didn’t know better he’d swear Kenshi’s blushing.
“Why,” Kenshi asks slowly, “would we do that? We hate each other.”
“I mean, sure, you’re a total douchebag,” Johnny starts and the shock on Kenshi’s face morphs into quiet outrage, “and I’d rather fuck half the animal kingdom than you—don’t ask, it’s relevant—but I haven’t been laid in weeks,” way longer than that, “and you...probably haven’t had sex in forever,” likely accurate, “and I think if we banged it out—” Ha!Banged “—it would solve all our problems.”
Johnny glances over at Kenshi. The look on Kenshi’s face is halfway between bewilderment and exasperation. That’s...not always the best sign.
“...what?!”
Johnny tries again. “See, when a dude’s attracted to another dude—”
“I know what sex is, Cage,” Kenshi snaps at Johnny.
“You sure? Cuz, if not, I can always give you a demonstration.”
“I do not need a demonstration from you. Nor would I ever want one.”
“Right,” Johnny mocks, “cuz you’re not dying to get Caged. Don’t tell me that after spending an entire month in close quarters with this,” and Johnny gestures to himself, “you haven’t once fantasized about getting 9 inches of pure American dick in you.”
If Kenshi was annoyed before, he is now downright angry. “For your information, I have not. And if you must up-sell your ‘assets’, at least use a system of measurement that the rest of the world follows.”
“Parsecs?”
Kenshi makes a frustrated noise.
Okay. Someone’s not a Star Wars fan.
“It makes sense, when you think about it,” Johnny reasons. “We’ve got this...thing between us.”
Kenshi cocks a brow.
“Not a romantic thing, obviously,” Johnny adds, quickly. “But we’re always at each other’s throats. We keep fighting and it gets nowhere and then it repeats and gets worse and we’re building all this negative energy. You know, this...bad Chi.”
Great. Now Kenshi’s looking at Johnny as if he’s lost his mind.
“Anyway, we need to find a more constructive way to release it.”
That’s roughly how Kung Lao explained it but it’s starting to make less sense to Johnny.
“So your ‘solution’ to our fighting is sex,” Kenshi says, in a patronizing tone. “Not apologizing for the way you’ve treated me. Or for treating my family’s sacred blade like a display toy. Or for waking me up at 2 in the morning to proposition me because you haven’t had sex in a while.”
“Uh...yeah? My way’s more fun.”
Plus, Kenshi started all this so why should Johnny have to apologize?!
Kenshi’s glare is so livid that if looks could kill, Johnny would be dead ten times over. So, of course, Johnny says something to make it worse. “...don’t take this the wrong way, Ken doll, but the last time someone looked at me like that, I got laid.”
And that only makes Kenshi angrier. “For someone who thinks so highly of himself, you can be pretty stupid.”
“So you admit I’m ‘pretty’?”
Kenshi curses in a string of Japanese and Johnny definitely recognizes he’s being called a bastard, a motherfucker, and an idiot this time. But instead of lunging across the room, Kenshi shows some restraint and flops back down on the bed, turning away from Johnny. “Don’t wake me again.”
Johnny frowns at Kenshi’s backside but instead of poking the sleeping lion, he settles back down in his bed. Well, so much for that. Turns out that not even Kung Lao’s suggestion was an—
Wait.
Technically, Kenshi didn’t say ‘no’.
Johnny grins.
Time to commence operation: Seduce Kenshi Takahashi.
*
In the years they’ve known each other, Raiden’s learned that to be Kung Lao’s friend, one needs to have never-ending patience. He’s always told himself that Kung Lao’s desire to meddle was a mere ‘quirk’ that spawned from a place of good intentions. That there was nothing Kung Lao could dive headfirst into that, even when it backfired, Raiden would not wholly forgive his friend for his meddlesome ways. Kung Lao’s his ‘ride or die’ and Raiden wouldn’t trade what they have for all the riches in the world.
But as the scene in Liu Kang’s lesson unfolds before him, Raiden finds he’s questioning his choice in friends.
“I dropped my phone. Would you be a doll and grab it for me?” Johnny purrs.
He gingerly touches Kenshi’s forearm and gasps. “Oh wow, Ken doll. Have you been working out? These bad boys feel hard. Bet that’s not the only hard thing you got for me.”
Kenshi rips his arm out of Johnny’s grasp, his face beet red. He takes a step away from Johnny, too embarrassed to look at his sparring partner, and gestures towards the phone Johnny dropped.
“Pick it up yourself, Cage.”
Johnny then does so, making a big show of bending over in front of Kenshi. Kenshi looks as if he wishes someone would kill him on the spot.
This is only one of a number of odd flirtations Raiden’s had the misfortune of witnessing all morning.
“Kung Lao,” Raiden whispers and he slips into Cantonese, “is there a reason Johnny keeps acting that way with Kenshi?”
Kung Lao is choking back laughter, not even wilting under the questioning look Liu Kang casts in their direction. Raiden’s face heats up as he worries that Liu Kang must think he’s a co-conspirator in Kung Lao’s antics. So help him, if he doesn’t die from second hand embarrassment, he may need to murder Kung Lao later.
“Hey, at least they’re no longer at each other’s throats,” Kung Lao points out. “Is this not better?”
Raiden really can’t say if it is. At least when they were on the verge of killing each other, he didn’t have a front row seat to Johnny Cage’s bad pick up lines. And wow, were they terrible. Johnny’s always loved an audience and he seems hellbent on turning every lesson into an episode of his personal courtship of Kenshi. From, “Were you made by Mattel? Cuz you’re the only Ken doll I’d ever want to play with,” to “Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven? Cuz I’m pretty sure when they named you ‘Kenshi’, they really meant ‘Tenshi’ (and okay, that second one was kinda clever since apparently the Japanese word for “angel” is ‘tenshi’ and it left Kenshi more flustered than Raiden’s ever seen him), Raiden can only see these lines getting worse if someone doesn’t stop Johnny soon.
Maybe Raiden should do it, be the voice of reason so that they can finally get back to learning something, anything. But Raiden knows better than to interfere with other people’s personal lives, unlike some people in Raiden’s inner circle.
“If this kills me, I am coming back to haunt you,” Raiden threatens.
Kung Lao claps him on the shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. “Good. I would be so lonely without you.”
Kung Lao’s sweet and honest admission makes Raiden’s face heat and he’s sure he’s blushing more furiously than Kenshi is from Johnny’s god awful flirting.
“May I be excused?” Kenshi asks, a note of desperation in his voice.
“Of course. But please, return quickly as there is a new technique I would like to teach the class,” Liu Kang says.
“Can I also be excused?” Johnny asks.
“Do not think of following me,” Kenshi hisses at Johnny.
“What? I gotta take a leak,” Johnny argues.
“You may go once Kenshi returns,” Liu Kang tells Johnny.
Kenshi scurries from the room. Johnny mumbles something under his breath, glancing forlornly towards the sliding door Kenshi left open. Kung Lao’s grinning like a mad man.
Oh, Raiden is so going to kill him.
*
The rest of the day goes much the same: Johnny flirts with Kenshi, Kenshi gets annoyed, and the cycle continues. By the time they’re in the showers to clean off the day’s sweat from training, Kenshi is so fed up with Johnny’s flirtations that he threatens to cut more than Johnny’s ego if Johnny even thinks of following him and Kung Lao into the communal showers.
Deciding not to risk another bout of Kenshi’s ire (Johnny’s nose is still healing, after all), Johnny’s left sitting on a wooden bench by himself in the changing area. Wearing only a bath towel slung around his hips, he picks at his cuticles and waits for the sound of the shower to stop running. Kung Lao left a minute ago to see if Raiden is finished his last class for the day so Johnny needs to wait for Kenshi to get out of the showers.
The shower stops running and Johnny stands up as soon as Kenshi enters the room. Kenshi, of course, looks gorgeous, his skin flush from the hot water. It makes the tattoos more stark on his skin and if Johnny was the kind of man who pined (he is not. Johnny Cage does not pine for anything), he would be longing to trace his tongue on every one of them, to lick the droplets trickling down Kenshi’s hard abs and catch them before they reach the towel wrapped around the other man’s waist.
Johnny tries not to gawk openly at his roommate and averts his gaze. There are a million more lines Johnny has ready for Kenshi but he’s gracious enough to save them for another time. There’s only so much failure Johnny can take in one day.
“The shower is free,” Kenshi says.
His voice is thick with something Johnny can’t quite place. Oh well. He can dissect it another time.
As Johnny walks by, Kenshi grabs his arm.
“If I have sex with you, will you stop embarrassing me in front of everyone at the academy?”
Johnny glances over in surprise at Kenshi, red-faced and staring at the stone floor. This...is unexpected. But also not because who wouldn’t want to have sex with the famous Johnny Cage?
Instead of taking the win for what it is, Johnny focuses on the accusation. “How am I embarrassing you?”
Kenshi lets go of Johnny’s arm.
“ ‘Is that Sento in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?’ ‘Hey, Kenshi, do you have any American in you? Would you like some?’ ‘If being sexy was a crime, you’d be my accomplice,” Kenshi glares at him. “No more, Cage.”
“You gotta admit, the one with ‘Tenshi’ was pretty good,” Johnny argues.
The deep flush in Kenshi’s cheeks, even as the other man shakes his head in exasperation, is all the evidence Johnny needs. Point 1 Cage.
“Against my better judgment, I believe you are...right,” and Kenshi almost chokes on the word, like admitting that Johnny is so so obviously right is a hard truth to swallow. Heh. Well, Kenshi’s in for it because Johnny has something else even harder for him to swallow. “Our fighting is not productive. It’s a distraction from why we are really here. So maybe we should try...your idea.”
“Ha! See, I told you—”
“Finish that sentence and I walk out that door and we never have this conversation again,” Kenshi warns.
Johnny snaps his mouth shut.
“Do we have a deal? No more bad pick up lines.”
Johnny sighs. His pick up lines are great! But if that’s what it takes, he’s gonna have to agree to it. “Okay. No more bad pick up lines.”
“This is one time only,” Kenshi says. “Never proposition me again.”
Joke’s on him because in Johnny’s experience, they always come back begging for more. “Deal.”
“And you swear that if I agree to this, you will not gloat about it afterwards?”
“Scouts honor.”
“I mean it, Cage. I do not want to hear you say something childish like, ‘Ha! I knew you wanted me to fuck you!’”
“...huh. Gotta be honest, wasn’t sure if you would bottom.”
Kenshi’s blush spreads down his neck. “That is not the point.”
“You’re kinda cute when you’re flustered,” Johnny teases. At the dirty look Kenshi gives him, Johnny says, “Alright, alright. Cross my heart and hope to die, Ken doll.”
“...I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”
“Babe, no one regrets getting Caged.”
Kenshi rolls his eyes.
With a cocky smirk, Johnny tugs Kenshi close. He wraps an arm around Kenshi’s waist, his hand resting above the towel’s edge. His other hand takes Kenshi’s chin, tilting the man’s face slightly upwards to accommodate for their 2 inch height difference. But as Johnny leans in to kiss Kenshi, Kenshi’s fingers press to Johnny’s lips.
“What are you doing?” Kenshi whispers, frantically.
Johnny’s confused. “...aren’t we gonna fuck?”
“Here?!” Kenshi darts his eyes frantically towards the door. “Anyone could walk in.”
“So?” It’s by no means the most risky place Johnny has ever had sex. “Everyone’s having dinner in the dining hall. Trust me: no one’s gonna walk in and if they did, it’s their fault if they see something they don’t wanna see.”
“How considerate,” Kenshi says, sarcastically. After a moment, he relaxes in Johnny’s grip but his fingers remain against the actor’s mouth. “But I suppose you’re right—about nobody walking in. You’re still a selfish asshole.”
“Who cares?” Johnny smirks. “You said I’m right. Twice.”
“They say a broken clock is right twice a day.”
Johnny grins and kisses Kenshi’s fingertips.
Kenshi swallows back a sound. When Johnny attempts a second time to lean in to kiss Kenshi’s mouth, Kenshi’s hand once more stops him.
“No kissing,” Kenshi says.
Johnny’s disappointment must be obvious because Kenshi elaborates, somewhat awkwardly, “I don’t kiss people I don’t have a more intimate connection with.”
Okay. Boundaries. Johnny can work with those. He personally loves kissing, loves tasting his partners as deeply as he loves to have his dick inside them. But if Kenshi doesn’t want it, Johnny won’t do it. For as “pushy” as his flirting may have been, Johnny will actually fuck off when someone tells him to and when it comes to consent, he will never cross a line that’s been drawn in the sand.
“No kissing your lips,” Johnny confirms. He drags his eyes appreciatively over Kenshi’s exposed skin, blood flowing to his dick as he drinks in all of Kenshi’s tattoos. “How about everywhere else?”
Kenshi seems more shy under Johnny’s gaze. “If you want to, you can.”
Good. Because Johnny’s been aching to taste Kenshi’s skin since Kenshi strolled in here.
Kenshi drops his hand and places it tentatively on Johnny’s towel-covered hip. Johnny then leans in and presses his lips to Kenshi’s jaw. The prickle of stubble sends a feral ache rippling low in his chest. It’s been so long since Johnny’s been with another man and he’s quickly reminded of what he’s been missing: hard lines instead of soft curves, a natural musky scent instead of the sweet fragrances women use to hide their odors. Kenshi smells freshly-showered—pine and mint—but there is something different about that, in a way Johnny longs for, compared to how Cris would smell after stepping out of a shower.
As Johnny kisses along Kenshi’s jawline, his hand grabs Kenshi’s ass through the towel. Kenshi makes something that sounds like a stifled gasp, his hips pressing into Johnny’s. He’s already half hard and Johnny’s only getting started.
“Gonna make you feel so good, Ken doll,” Johnny promises. The hand not kneading Kenshi’s ass fondles one of Kenshi’s pectorals. The green and red ink make an intricate pattern in the traditional irezumi Johnny’s only ever seen in pictures and he traces a swirl before thumbing at Kenshi’s nipple. The sound it elicits makes his dick twitch in the confines of his towel. “Gonna give it to you so hard, you’ll be feeling me for days after I’ve fucked you. Is that what you want?”
“Do you always talk this much when you’re having sex?”
Johnny rolls the nipple under his thumb and then pinches it between his thumb and forefinger. Kenshi bites his lip to hold back his reaction and Johnny smirks. Figures Mr Uptight would be loud in the ‘bedroom’.
“Are you telling me you don’t wanna hear how much I wanna fuck you?” Johnny whispers huskily. He gives Kenshi’s neck a playful nip and Kenshi shivers. Huh. So he likes a little teeth. “Sure, you can be an asshole but fuck if I don’t wanna pound you til you can’t walk straight, ream you til your ass feels like it’s being ripped in two. The next time you hear my name, you won’t remember me for my films but for the way you screamed it when taking my cock.”
“You really are so unbelievably full of yourself,” Kenshi says.
Johnny grins. “And you’re so unbelievably gorgeous. Can’t believe you’re letting me touch you like this.”
He pushes Kenshi against the wall of lockers with a gentle shove, half-surprised that Kenshi allows him to do that. Then he hooks two fingers into the towel at Kenshi’s waist and tugs. The damp cloth falls away, leaving Kenshi completely exposed. It’s not the first time Johnny’s seen him naked but it is the first time he’s been given permission to openly admire the other man. No furtive glances in the shower and the words of denial that would dance through his mind when he tried convincing himself Kenshi wasn’t one of the most attractive men he’s ever met.
Johnny gives a low whistle as he drags his eyes downward. Kenshi shifts his weight uncomfortably. He really shouldn’t be so self-conscious about his tattoos.
“Is this why you hide your tattoos, Ken doll?” he asks silkily. He traces a finger down Kenshi’s abdomen, stopping just shy of the hairs leading to the base of Kenshi’s full erection. Kenshi trembles beneath his touch. “Cuz you know how fucking wild I get seeing all this ink?”
He leans in and licks his tongue along Kenshi’s collarbone, following the pattern in the inked flesh. Kenshi swallows back a sound. “I get so hard thinking about you, about all the things I wanna do to you,” Johnny admits. “Thinking about your gorgeous irezumi and how it would taste to lick every inch—sorry, centimeter—of your tattoos.”
Johnny kisses his way up Kenshi’s neck. With his breath hot against the other man’s ear, Johnny continues, “Even when you’re pissed off at me, I think of how fuckable you are—imagine you glaring at me with those pretty eyes of yours when I beat myself off.”
It’s happened the few times Johnny’s managed to steal enough privacy to jerk off. He starts off thinking of past conquests and always ends up cumming to a pair of dark eyes and familiar scowl.
“Do you still want me to shut up, Ken doll?” Johnny purrs. “Or do you want me to keep telling you everything about you that makes me so hot for you?”
“I’m giving you permission to fuck me, Cage,” Kenshi says, irritably. He lays a hand on Johnny’s chest and pushes, making Johnny back up a step. “So far, all you’ve given me is a monologue. If I wanted to listen to you talk all night, I’d watch one of your terrible movies.”
Johnny’s about to tell Kenshi exactly where he can shove his shitty attitude (spoiler alert: with that stick up his ass) but then Kenshi’s ripping away the towel Johnny’s wearing and sinking to his knees. The sight of it alone—Kenshi’s eyes somehow both triumphant and defiant as they flit up to Johnny’s—as he grasps Johnny’s thick cock is enough to temporarily silence the actor. Then, Kenshi parts his lips and slides his mouth on Johnny’s dick, taking most of him easily. An admirable feat as Johnny wasn’t lying before about his “asset”.
A low groan rumbles in Johnny’s throat. The wet heat of Kenshi’s mouth is something he wasn’t expecting to feel this fucking good. It really has been so long since anyone’s sucked him off—he’s not even going to try and remember when Cris last did it—that it leaves Johnny lightheaded and shaky. He shifts to settle back against the wooden storage lockers and stares down as Kenshi moves his mouth on his dick. Fuck, is it hot.
Tangling his fingers in Kenshi’s dark hair, Johnny lets him know how much he’s enjoying this, earlier criticism for his ‘monologue’ be damned. “You look so good taking my dick, Ken doll. You sure you haven’t starred in adult films? Cuz you suck dick like a pornstar.”
Kenshi’s response is to suck Johnny off feverishly, like he’s been starving for the cock filling his mouth. And god, Johnny wants to believe that Kenshi’s been aching to have his throat fucked, that every time Kenshi’s given him one of his pointed looks, it was to silently demand, “Why haven’t you fucked me yet?” The loud slurps are quickly undoing him and Johnny knows he won’t be able to hold off on blowing his load for long. Not a concern: with how sex-deprived he’s been, he’s sure he has more than one orgasm in him tonight.
Kenshi pops his mouth off Johnny’s dick, globs of saliva dripping off his lips. Fuck, is it filthy, and Johnny’s here for it.
“If you want to see how good I am at taking dick, stop holding back,” Kenshi taunts.
Johnny doesn’t need to be told twice.
He tugs Kenshi by his hair and then shoves his cock in Kenshi’s mouth. There’s a loud squelch as he pushes in as deep as he can go, the head of his dick squeezing into the narrow canal of Kenshi’s throat. Kenshi manages to just avoid gagging and the sight that greets Johnny when he glances downward is so salacious, Johnny commits the moment to his collection of spank bank material: Kenshi’s nose is buried in his pubic hair, dark eyes glassy as they stare back up at him. Even in the unlikely scenario they never fuck again, Johnny knows he’ll be revisiting this experience later.
With Kenshi’s hands gripping Johnny’s hips, Johnny withdraws halfway and then thrusts back in.
“F-Fuck,” he gasps, his voice hitching.
He does it again, this time more forcibly, and Kenshi takes it like a dick sucking champion. Confident that he won’t choke the other man to death—and if he does, well, what a way to go—Johnny begins fucking Kenshi’s mouth for vigorously.
“You’re so—ah!—good at this, Ken doll,” Johnny praises, moving his hips forward with each thrust to hit that tight, narrow passage. “Bet you love sucking my dick, get off on knowing you’re the only one here who can—uh—make me feel this fucking good!”
The steady trill of pleasure building in his abdomen crescendos as Johnny hits the back of Kenshi’s throat repeatedly. It’s a sensory overload of the sound of his dick challenging Kenshi’s gag reflex, the loud moans that spill from Johnny’s parted lips, the feel of Kenshi’s hot mouth, and sight of tears slipping from Kenshi’s beautiful dark eyes as Kenshi powers through Johnny’s enthusiastic use of his mouth. All of it undoes the actor and Johnny cries out as he shoots a load of white-hot bliss down Kenshi’s eager throat.
With spots dancing in his vision, Johnny collapses back against the lockers. He fights to catch his breath and keep his footing, weak-kneed from the amazing blowjob Kenshi gave him. Through the haze of his post-ejaculation, Johnny blearily notes Kenshi’s coughing and wheezing.
Shit. He should have given him more of a warning.
Looking down at the ex-Yakuza still on his knees, Johnny gently pets Kenshi’s shower-damp hair. The soft gesture must startle the other man because he initially tenses but then relaxes under Johnny’s touch. The warmth of the moment contrasts starkly with the saliva spilling off Kenshi’s chin and glob of cum at the corner of his mouth: with his wet gaze and strained gasps, Kenshi looks debauched and fucked out. In Johnny’s eyes: perfect.
“Sorry bout that, doll,” Johnny says, “got a little bit too carried away at the end there.”
Catching the remaining jizz on his thumb, Johnny smears it across Kenshi’s lower lip. Kenshi’s tongue darts out to lick it clean and fuck if that wouldn’t get Johnny’s dick stirring again (damn his age, he’s not 19 anymore and needs a bit longer before he’ll be ready to ream Kenshi’s ass). Johnny’s fingers gingerly tilt Kenshi’s face upwards and he’s fighting every instinct telling him to drop down and kiss away what little breath Kenshi has regained, to lasciviously lick the inside of Kenshi’s mouth and moan at the lingering taste of himself. Few things get Johnny as hot as his musky brand on his partner’s tongue after he’s unloaded in their mouth.
“Would you believe me if I said that was the best head I’ve ever had?”
“I’d think you were full of shit,” Kenshi wheezes out.
Oh fuck, the raspy crack in his voice sounds delicious.
But Kenshi’s right: it wasn’t the best. Johnny’s been with actual pornstars, back when he was a nobody and more open to fucking anyone to fill his lonely nights between auditions. Now, he wouldn’t give two shits if he dated a pornstar but he’s sure it would be a PR nightmare and his agent would have strong opinions about it as his career’s in the midst of a revival.
“Top five at least.” Johnny scrunches his brows and then corrects, “Top three. And I’ve fucked more than my share of adult film stars.”
Kenshi makes a derisive sound. Johnny can’t be sure if he’s annoyed or just unimpressed.
Kenshi begins to stand but wobbles on his feet. Johnny immediately takes him by his arms to help him up and salivates as he catches sight of the thick, hard erection between Kenshi’s thighs. It glistens with pre-cum, drops of which stain the spot Kenshi had been kneeling moments before. Thinking of Kenshi on his knees, aching and leaking in reaction to the cock stuffing his mouth, fills Johnny with a smug confidence that can’t be healthy for his already over-sized ego.
“Well, well, what do we have here?”
Johnny wraps his hand around Kenshi’s dick, pressing his thumb to the beads slicking the tip. Kenshi gasps and leans into Johnny, hiding his face in the actor’s neck. Still unsteady after kneeling in such an uncomfortable position, Kenshi holds onto Johnny for balance and Johnny, being the opportunistic asshole he is, begins pumping his fist on Kenshi’s slicked shaft, rewarded with a moan stifled into his neck.
“Did I do that to you, Kenny?” Johnny teases through his stroking. “Did I make you so hot for my dick, you got all nice and full and fat for me?”
“S-Stop t-talking,” Kenshi says. Or, Johnny thinks he says as the words are muffled against his skin.
Kenshi’s hands are gripping Johnny’s arms so hard, he’s sure there will be crescent-shaped marks for him to admire later. Good. Johnny wants Kenshi to leave his mark on him. The bruises fade but the memory of them will leave a permanent indent in Johnny’s brain.
Johnny noses at Kenshi’s hair, breathes in the scent of his shampoo deeply. He’s caught whiffs of it before—some Japanese brand that smells of sandalwood—and now he doesn’t think he’ll ever smell sandalwood again without thinking of Kenshi.
“What’s the matter, Ken doll? Don’t like me telling you how good you’ve been? How you deserve a good fuck for being such a good boy?”
“Damnit, Cage, I told you to shut up!”
And then Kenshi’s mouth’s on his and nothing could’ve prepared Johnny for the burst of sparks when their lips touch. It’s like a dam breaking and Kenshi’s the flow of water pressing into the parted gates of Johnny’s mouth. It’s wet, it’s sloppy, it’s desperate and all Johnny can do is react, to match Kenshi in need as Kenshi claims his mouth. Johnny’s being kissed as if he’s the romantic lead of a shitty rom com and it’s the closing scene, the one where he throws all caution to the wind and confesses and his love interest grabs him in their arms to show him how badly they’ve wanted him, too. Fuck, does Johnny feel like a fool. He went his entire god damn career mastering the art of the final act kiss and here Kenshi is, showing him that he knows fuck all what it means to really kiss someone.
It’s also terrifying because this wasn’t in the script tonight.
Shit. What’s he gonna do?
Bury it, Johnny tells himself, sliding his hands down Kenshi’s back and kissing him with that same untamed ferocity Kenshi shows him. Fuck him, bury whatever this is, and never think about it again.
If there’s one thing Johnny’s learned to master, it’s lying to himself.
But fuck if Johnny isn’t living for the way this feels. It’s electric and hot and almost pornographic the way Kenshi’s tongue slides against Johnny’s, leaving his toes curling and his dick stirring once again. Eventually, Johnny’s lungs scream for much needed air and it forces the two men apart to collect their respective breaths.
Neither man looks at the other as they both pant heavily. After long, uncomfortable, awkward seconds of this, Johnny chances a glance at Kenshi but Kenshi seems somehow more embarrassed than he was earlier when they started.
What. The fuck. Was. That?!
“Do you have a condom?” Kenshi asks.
Johnny’s brain barely catches up with what Kenshi’s saying. “Condom?”
“We’re not doing this bareback.”
Oh.
Right.
That’s kind of important if this scene is going to play out to its natural conclusion.
Shaking himself out of whatever weird stupor he slipped into because of Kenshi—seriously, it should be illegal to kiss someone like that—Johnny chuckles. “Lucky for you, I’ve got one.”
He goes to the locker he was using and opens it. As he rifles around for his phone, he says, “But no lube. We’ll need to use the academy’s oil for…”
As a moan rips from Kenshi’s throat, Johnny’s voice trails off. He glances over his shoulder to see what is easily making it to his Top 10 hit list of Kenshi’s hottest moments. Prostrated on all fours on the wide bench Johnny had been sitting on earlier, Kenshi’s fucking a finger into himself, bent forward and ass hanging in the air. The bottle of lavender oil is on the floor—a muscle relaxant homemade by the monks at Wu Shi academy to be applied after rigorous training sessions—but Johnny likes to think they’ve discovered a better use for it. Oil smears Kenshi’s fingers as he pushes one in and out of himself and Johnny stands there, taking in the scenery as his dick throbs between his legs.
“K-Kore wa ii na…”
Kenshi sounds so dirty as he fucks himself, moaning to himself in Japanese, using phrases Johnny’s definitely heard in the few hentai films he’s watched. Johnny forgets what he’s supposed to be doing as he watches Kenshi push a second finger inside himself. The small whine Kenshi makes as he stretches himself is so hot, it somehow makes Johnny impossibly harder. Hell, Johnny may love to be center stage but he’s happy to be a spectator in the Kenshi Takahashi show and he’d have to be tragically heterosexual to not find this to be the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.
“Johnny,” Kenshi moans, “a-are you—ah—going to make me do everything myself?”
Johnny startles, nearly dropping his phone. It’s the first time Kenshi’s ever used his given name and even if it’s spoken in impatience, the tremor of need in Kenshi’s voice stirs Johnny into action. He practically tears his phone out of its case and snatches the condom that was tucked behind it.
“Sorry, Ken doll,” Johnny apologizes, setting the condom within reach once he’s behind Kenshi. He takes the bottle of lavender oil and drizzles some onto his hand. “I was distracted by the show.”
He peers down at Kenshi’s ass, at the tattoos that cover most of his cheeks. The amount of care and effort that went into the designs once again makes Johnny question how Kenshi could dislike them so much. Then, because he can’t resist, Johnny leans down and bites a red sakura inked in the middle of Kenshi’s left cheek. Kenshi’s response is a soft curse uttered in his native tongue.
“I can take things from here.”
Once Kenshi removes his hand, Johnny spreads Kenshi’s ass cheeks. He bites back an appreciative sound at the sight of the pink, puckered hole tucked within. Oil glosses around it, dribbles of it dripping down to the back of Kenshi’s balls and Johnny’s need no further invitation as he then pushes two of his fingers into Kenshi.
And fuuuuuuck is Kenshi tight.
“Jesus, Takahashi, when’s the last time you were fucked?” Johnny groans. The resistance is unimaginable compared to what Johnny had grown accustomed to with his previous partner. Johnny knows this will feel amazing for him but as he tries scissoring his fingers inside Kenshi, the part of him that occasional has a sensible thought worries that maybe he should just blow Kenshi instead.
“It’s...a lot harder to meet men in Japan willing to look past my tattoos,” Kenshi admits, quietly.
Ah.
Well, that explains why he’s so self-conscious about his tattoos.
“But you have done this before?”
Johnny presses in as far as his fingers will go, seeking that spot that will leave Kenshi quaking around his hand. He brushes against that sensitive bundle of nerves and Kenshi keens forward with a wanton groan.
“Obviously I—ugh—have,” Kenshi gasps out.
Kenshi gives a pitched mewl as Johnny pushes against that spot once more, his knees nearly giving out. It’s kind of endearing watching how easily Johnny can make him come undone.
Johnny adds a third finger and by this point, whatever patience Kenshi demonstrated before is gone. Johnny’s barely given time for Kenshi to adjust to the added intrusion before Kenshi’s snapping, “Are you going to fuck me or not, Cage?”
“Wow, someone’s demanding,” Johnny chuckles. Just to be an asshole, he pulls his fingers out most of the way so only the last knuckles are crooked inside Kenshi’s entrance and places his other hand on Kenshi’s thigh, preventing Kenshi from fucking back onto his fingers. “I don’t think I heard a ‘please’.”
Kenshi tries to move back and exhales in frustration.
Point 2 Cage.
“Why must you always be so difficult? Is it not enough that I agreed to this?”
“Sure, you agreed to this,” Johnny says, “but you haven’t once told me how much you wanted me. Kinda makes a guy feel unappreciated.”
Kenshi mumbles under his breath and Johnny doesn’t even try to figure out if it was in English or Japanese.
“C’mon, Ken doll,” Johnny murmurs, his voice as sweet as syrup. He thrusts his fingers into Kenshi, rewarded with a small groan. As he pushes his fingers in and out of Kenshi, he says, “Tell me how badly you want it. I wanna hear you say it.”
He licks a stripe along a pattern of leaves and then bites Kenshi’s right cheek harder than he had earlier. Kenshi chokes out a pleasured cry and Johnny laves at the indent his teeth left.
“Y-You’re an—ah—asshole,” Kenshi whimpers.
Johnny laughs and noses at the crease between Kenshi’s cheeks. If there wasn’t lavender oil dripping from Kenshi’s hole, Johnny would be tonguing the inside of it and giving Kenshi something to really moan about. He’s a veteran when it comes to ass eating.
“It’s not that hard. Saying it, I mean. My dick, on the other hand…”
Johnny removes his fingers. Then he grabs Kenshi by the hips and positions himself so his shaft rubs against Kenshi’s asshole. With Kenshi’s tattooed ass cheeks sandwiching his cock, Johnny gently rolls his hips.
“You feel that, Ken doll?” Johnny groans. Each roll of his hips causes the tip of his cock to peek out from Kenshi’s pressed cheeks. Fuck, does Kenshi have a gorgeous ass. “You feel how fucking hard I am, how badly I want to be inside you?”
“Ah...ah…”
“H-Ha, I-I bet you’re dying to get my dick in you,” Johnny says, “wanna have your ass fucked as hard as I fucked your throat. A-All you gotta do is ask, sweetheart. J-Just ask and I’ll…”
Johnny bites back a groan, the slick from the oil and pre-cum making his rutting between Kenshi’s ass cheeks feel a bit too good. Shit, if Kenshi doesn’t tell him what he wants to hear soon, Johnny’s gonna be the one begging Kenshi to let him bury himself deep inside him.
Foolish man that he is, Johnny would rather make himself suffer than give in first.
But luck is on Johnny’s side. Just as he’s at the point of losing his mind over Kenshi’s stubbornness, Kenshi whispers the sweetest words in the English language. “P-Please fuck me, Johnny.”
Johnny can barely hear it over the sound of his own groaning. “What’s that, Ken doll?”
“Don’t make me say it again.”
Johnny stops his rutting, wide smirk on his lips. In his most charming voice, he asks, “Say what again?”
“I said ‘fuck me’,” Kenshi grits out. When Johnny doesn’t move, Kenshi rubs his ass on Johnny’s cock and utters another quiet, “please.”
Deciding he’s done being an asshole, Johnny retrieves the condom wrapper open and tears it open, then slides the condom onto his aching dick.
“Gonna fuck you so good, Ken doll,” Johnny promises.
“G-Get on with it,” Kenshi says, impatiently.
Johnny gives Kenshi’s ass cheek a loud slap, the pained yelp Kenshi makes cracking into a gratifying moan. Oh, if they ever do this again, Johnny is so making use of Kenshi’s pain kink.
With his dick wrapped and freshly lubricated, Johnny spreads Kenshi’s cheeks and presses his cock against Kenshi’s hole. He takes a moment to remind himself to go slow, no matter how good it feels. Then, with a small exhale, Johnny slowly pushes in.
“K-Kuso,” Kenshi gasps out, buckling forward.
“Fucking hell,” Johnny moans.
He grips Kenshi’s hips to keep the other man from collapsing on the bench but it’s so hard to focus on anything when Kenshi’s squeezing him so hard. Johnny’s half-convinced he’ll be forever lost in the warm, inviting heat constricting around his cock. He’s barely a few inches in and he can’t recall ever sleeping with anyone who has felt this tight, this amazing. It’s taking self-restraint Johnny didn’t think himself capable of possessing to not drive repeatedly into the ex-yakuza until he’s spent himself.
Giving some time for Kenshi to adjust, Johnny then pushes in a little more. Kenshi makes another strained sound and Johnny chokes back a moan, forcing himself to stop and wait again. The deeper he goes in, the better it feels. It’s dizzying how anyone can feel this good.
“You really are fucking tight,” Johnny remarks.
“I’m well aware,” Kenshi grunts out.
Kenshi trembles beneath his grip and soon grows impatient with Johnny’s pace. He begins to push back onto Johnny’s cock, to take the rest of him. Johnny has half a mind to stop him but he’s soon overwhelmed by the feeling of sliding into Kenshi and it’s not long before he’s bottomed out, buried as deep as he can possibly go.
“F-Fuck,” Johnny gasps, dropping his gaze to the point where he’s connected to Kenshi. Seeing the other man bent over beneath him, back arched and quivering around him, gives Johnny the kind of power high he’s been craving. All those confrontations and fights, frivolous grievances that became excuses to lash out at each other, was a front for what they really needed and Johnny’s not sure if he should be thanking Kung Lao or the Chinese philosophers who understood the vital importance of balancing opposing energies.
“Johnny,” Kenshi sighs, the actor’s name a plea as it spills off his tongue.
Johnny knows he’ll never get tired of the way Kenshi says his name.
Pulling out part way, Johnny pushes back into Kenshi again, groaning against the ever-present resistance. Kenshi whimpers as he takes all of Johnny once more and Johnny notes Kenshi’s white-knuckled grip as he clutches at the bench. For someone he regularly sleeps with, Johnny is still a lot to take in and while Johnny’s natural ‘gift’ is something he loves to brag about, he also doesn’t want to make this experience miserable for Kenshi. However, Kenshi insistently pushes back against Johnny’s cock as Johnny tries thrusting in again and he’s not even sure if Kenshi’s stubbornly persistent or a true masochist, but Kenshi obviously wants him to keep moving.
“Can’t you go faster?” Kenshi complains.
So Johnny does. This time, he pulls out and snaps his hips, shoving into Kenshi hard. The entire bench creaks and Kenshi makes a sound that’s half way between a cry and a moan, wobbling on his knees. With a smirk, Johnny does it again and Kenshi’s reaction overpowers Johnny’s gratified moans as he drives harder and harder into Kenshi.
“Oh f-fuck, Kenshi,” Johnny groans, his hips smacking loudly against Kenshi’s ass each time he thrusts into him, “F-Fuck, you feel so fucking—ah—amazing! So f-fucking good!”
He fucks into Kenshi so hard that the room is soon filled with the echoes of his and Kenshi’s sounds of pleasure and the bench rattling against the stone floor. It’s so good that Johnny doesn’t bother holding anything back, can’t give two shits if the entire academy hears him fucking Kenshi. Part of him wants everyone else to know that only he’s the one who can make Kenshi react like this, make Kenshi writhe and beg for it and prostrate himself in his desperation to be filled.
“J-Johnny,” Kenshi gasps and groans, pushing back to meet each one of Johnny’s thrusts. Kenshi whines into the bench something Johnny doesn’t understand. “M-Motto fukaku!”
“G-Gonna need to say that in—ah—English, sweetheart,” Johnny grunts out.
Johnny fucks into Kenshi harder, shaking the bench violently. It must take Kenshi a moment to translate—Johnny likes to think he’s fucking Kenshi so hard, making the poor guy forget his English—but soon Kenshi’s moaning, “Ah...ah...d-deeper.”
Johnny thinks of the best way to do that. He’s not sure if Kenshi’s as flexible as him so he pushes down against Kenshi’s back, pressing Kenshi’s chest into the bench into a bent-kneed downward facing dog pose. The angle deepens as Kenshi’s nearly folded in half and Johnny keeps a hand on Kenshi’s back, holding the other man down. He then pounds into him as deep as he can. It must be what Kenshi wanted because Kenshi’s moaning and gasping Johnny’s name, voice hitching with each drive of Johnny’s cock into Kenshi’s ass. Kenshi must be getting close and Johnny can already feel his second orgasm building.
Reaching around Kenshi with his free hand, Johnny begins pumping Kenshi’s slicked cock. Kenshi becomes louder, choking out a mix of Japanese and English words that Johnny can barely out. Hearing him losing himself in the way Johnny’s pleasuring him makes Johnny ache for his own release.
“Y-you sound so fucking hot, Ken doll,” Johnny gasps, beating Kenshi off in time with his thrusts, “s-so f-fucking—ah!—sexy when you say my name like that.”
“J-Johnny,” Kenshi cries out, voice thick and cracking, “K-Kimochi ii...so-so g-good, J-Johnny—”
Warm cum spills onto Johnny’s hand, Kenshi breaking into a strangled moan as he finishes. Johnny pumps a few more times, catching the rest of Kenshi’s cum on his fingers as he milks him dry. But the sounds Kenshi’s making, the cum dripping off Johnny’s fingers, and the walls that retract around Johnny’s cock become too overwhelming for Johnny to cling before the edge.
“K-Kenshi, I’m gonna—”
With a small whine, he cums hard, releasing into Kenshi’s pulsating warmth. His hips stutter as wave after wave of euphoria crashes over him, momentarily lost in a rhapsody only he can hear. Then, with a few weak thrusts, he empties himself and collapses onto the bench with Kenshi.
Both men say nothing for a good while, panting heavily in the aftermath of their fucking. At some point, Kenshi shifts onto his side, with his back to Johnny. Johnny shifts as well but he forgets how narrow the bench is and crashes onto the stone floor.
“Ow!”
“Johnny!”
Johnny blinks away the colors in his vision and rubs his head with his hand. He grimaces when he feels something sticky tangling into his hair and realizes belatedly that he used the hand he jerked Kenshi off with.
So much for the peaceful afterglow.
Kenshi glances down at him in concern, leaning over him on the bench. To put the other man at ease, Johnny gives him a charming smile, “No worries, Ken doll. I now know the answer to that question I asked you earlier.”
“What are you talking about?” Kenshi furrows his brows. “Are you sure you’re not concussed?”
“Remember when I asked you if it hurt when you fell from heaven? Well, if it felt anything like that, it must’ve hurt like a bitch.”
Kenshi gives him an unimpressed look. With a sigh, he gets off the bench.
“Kenshi? Hey, Ken doll?” Johnny scrambles to his feet. “Where are you going? Would you leave an injured man dying on the street like that?”
“You’re fine, Cage.”
“Are you sure? Maybe you should check?”
Johnny’s voice muffles as a towel is tossed over his head. He tugs it off and is about to continue on a tirade of his non-existent injuries when he sees Kenshi standing by the entrance to the showers.
“We should get cleaned up before dinner ends,” Kenshi says.
It’s nonchalant but even Johnny catches the shift between them, the almost shyness at how Kenshi makes the invitation. It’s...actually kinda cute. Not that Johnny actually thinks Kenshi is cute. Hot and totally fuckable, sure, but still an asshole.
“Yeah,” Johnny agrees, trying not to seem too enthusiastic as he joins Kenshi, “I think they’re serving that soup you like. You know, the one with lotus root?”
Kenshi’s cheeks redden. “Yes. I do like that one.”
See, Kung Lao, Johnny thinks smugly. I notice stuff about Kenshi.
Just as the two are about to enter the showers, the changing room door slides open and Raiden nearly stumbles inside. He looks from Johnny to Kenshi wide-eyed, face bright red. “You two are still here?!”
...still?
Oh fuck.
*
Raiden’s not just going to kill Kung Lao. He’s going to harness the power of lightning to electrocute him and then shatter him to pieces so all that’s left is a pile of ash and bone. Or maybe he will tear a hole through his chest, rip Kung Lao in half, and then use an electrical current to smash those two halves together. It may be violent, sure, but somehow violence is the only way Raiden can save himself from further humiliating lectures that would not have occurred if Kung Lao could learn to mind his own damn business.
“—and this is why we advise that if you are to engage in any form of fraternization, you be mindful of the other students studying at Wu Shi academy and clean up after yourselves,” Liu Kang finishes. He pauses, glances around the room of mostly mortified students, and then asks, “Are there any questions?”
As Kung Lao’s hand shoots up, Raiden glares at his best friend and shakes his head vehemently. Of course, Kung Lao ignores him. “Master Liu Kang, do you know who’s used condom was found in the change room?”
Kung Lao barely manages to hide a smirk behind a look of pure innocence.
Oh, Raiden is so going to kill him after class.
“I do not. Nor will I ask the perpetrator to step forward,” Liu Kang answers, though the entire class catches how his gaze drifts to Johnny. Master Wang, who found the condom and complained to Liu Kang, has been standing at Liu Kang’s side and scowling at Johnny Cage since Liu Kang started his lecture. “All I ask is that everyone practice the etiquette I have laid out in today’s lesson during their stay at Wu Shi academy.”
Other students in the class have also been throwing murderous looks Johnny’s way and Raiden’s caught their frustrated whispers in Mandarin at once again being subjected to an embarrassing lecture because of their American classmate. To his credit, Kenshi at least has the humility to look as if he wants the earth to swallow him whole while he stands to the other side of Johnny. Johnny, however, has been more shameless, spending half the lecture looking bored and periodically checking his phone...until Master Wang snapped at him to pay attention. Now, he looks like he’s struggling to hold back a yawn.
“This isn’t fair, Master Liu Kang,” another student, Xiaodan, complains, “we all know who did it. Why not punish him?”
Almost everyone in the room glares pointedly at Johnny. Kenshi’s face gets redder as he suddenly finds a spot on the floor quite fascinating.
“Why’s everyone looking at me?” Johnny asks, unfazed. “It could’ve been anyone’s.”
There’s more angry murmurings in Mandarin and the students argue among each other. The next quarter of the hour is wasted as Liu Kang tries to calm the class down, which only happens after he agrees to speak in private to the students he ‘suspects’ were involved once the class is finished. Kung Lao fights back his laughter and Raiden mourns another lesson wasted on a pointless lecture.
Much later in the day, Raiden’s sitting beneath a plum blossom tree in the courtyard, reviewing notes he took on different Jeet Kune Do stances he needs to practice. He hopes that if he fills his head with useful information, he can force himself to forget everything that’s happened in the last 24 hours.
No such luck as Kung Lao plops down beside him. Raiden immediately stiffens.
“So, is this the part where you congratulate me for doing the impossible or do I need to give myself a standing ovation?” Kung Lao asks, slipping into their native Cantonese.
“You expect me to congratulate you?” Raiden demands. “For what? For the lesson Master Liu Kang gave us about the proper use and disposal of condoms? Or should I be congratulating you because I almost walked in on Cage and Takahashi having sex in the change room? I had to sit in the courtyard in my sweaty training robes waiting for them to finish so I could take a shower!”
Kung Lao laughs. “At least you can say your time at Wu Shi academy was memorable.”
“Not helping,” Raiden says, glaring at him.
Raiden tries to go back to his notes but Kung Lao plucks them out of his hands. At Raiden’s protest, Kung Lao ignores him and sets the notes on the grass beside him, well out of reach unless Raiden wants to lean across Kung Lao. The thought alone makes his chest feel strange, like something is fluttering inside it, so Raiden ignores the urge to retrieve his pilfered notes.
“You’re focusing on the immediate effects of my interference and not the long-term ones,” Kung Lao says. He nudges Raiden’s shoulder and points to the other side of courtyard. “Look and tell me what you see.”
Raiden glances in the direction Kung Lao’s pointing. Kenshi and Johnny are practicing the same Jeet Kune Do techniques Raiden’s studying in their mini sparring match. Johnny manages to trip Kenshi but instead of making a show of his victory and mocking the other man, Johnny extends a hand to help his roommate up. Kenshi’s cheeks are flushed as he accepts it and once he’s back on his feet, Johnny whispers something to Kenshi that deepens the blush. Kenshi rolls his eyes and the two go back to their practicing.
“They’re sparring and...not trying to kill each other,” Raiden remarks, surprised.
“And have they argued at all today?”
Raiden thinks back on all their lessons and can’t recall any arguing. Sure, Johnny had teased Kenshi a few times but there had definitely been a playfulness to it. Kenshi had made some dry remarks about Johnny but the intention had been in good humor and with no malice behind his words. Raiden had assumed that Johnny and Kenshi were only on their best behavior because of the private meeting they had with Liu Kang but in all the previous times Liu Kang had taken them aside, Johnny and Kenshi immediately went back to being at each other’s throats the moment Liu Kang left the room.
“They haven’t,” Raiden answers.
“See? It’s all coming together.”
“All coming to…” Suddenly, Raiden knows exactly what he did. “Kung Lao, you did not tell them that bullshit about ‘balancing opposing energies’?!”
“Hey, it worked for Chih-Ming and Meilin in our village!” Kung Lao says. “Remember how much those two used to argue? That’s all we’d hear every time we went to Madame Bo’s tea house!”
“It’s not your place to meddle with other people’s affairs,” Raiden scolds him. “Why would you even want to get involved?”
“I know I found it funny at first but it was getting annoying,” Kung Lao says. “Every time we went to class, Cage and Takahashi would fight. Every time we ate breakfast or lunch or dinner, those two would argue and try to get us to pick sides. I couldn’t take it anymore.”
Raiden shakes his head. He may disapprove of how involved Kung Lao got but he can’t argue that it was getting unbearable to be around his friends.
“Besides,” Kung Lao adds, quietly, “I know how important being at Wu Shi academy is to you. I thought if I could get them to stop ruining our classes, you’d be happier.”
Raiden’s cheeks warm at the soft admission. Kung Lao did this...for him?
“I...don’t know what to say.”
“No need to thank me, Rai. You know I’d do anything for you.” Standing up, Kung Lao grabs the notes he took from Raiden and dangles them over Raiden, grinning. “Just like I know you’d do anything for me. Mind if I review these at dinner?”
“What? No, I need those! What happened to yours?”
Raiden jumps to his feet and tries to get his notes back but Kung Lao hops out of reach.
“I spilled sweet and sour soup all over them at lunch. Don’t worry, I’ll give these back to you tonight.”
“Kung Lao, don’t you dare take those to the dining hall!” Raiden threatens. But Kung Lao’s already well on his way to the canteen. “Kung Lao!”
With a sigh, Raiden chases after him.