Chase the Morning - 1. Do It With a Rockstar

Johnny stares out the passenger side window, cigarette in hand. The window’s down, and he takes a drag, blowing smoke out into the passing wind. He hasn’t been back to Night City in years, but now they’re headed that way, he can’t help but miss the place. He wonders how much it’s changed. How much the people have changed.

As they enter California, they join up with another, smaller Aldecaldo group. There’s only a dozen or so of them and Johnny’s introduced to their leader, a woman named Yanna, who’s more than happy to cede her authority to Santiago. Johnny’s introduced to a number of her family members, but none of their names really register. As they get on the move again, he does make note of Yanna’s son, however.

The kid’s a good shot and a better mechanic. He always seems to be tinkering with something; usually his bike. Not half bad with computers either, as Johnny comes to learn. He’s barely out of his teens, by the looks of him. And he always seems to be watching. Not in a creepy way, just occasional curious glances.

Johnny dismisses him as just another fanboy at first. But then he hears him plucking the strings of an old, battered acoustic guitar in front of the fire one night. He’s not very good, but he’s got feeling, and he’s playing some old seventies rock song. It makes Johnny smile, and before he knows it, he’s sat down next to him.

‘You’ll wear out your thumb holdin’ the neck like that,’ he says.

The kid stops playing. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Here. Gimme.’ Johnny holds out his hand and the kid passes the guitar over. Johnny pulls it into his lap. ‘Look. You wanna grip it like this. Use your whole palm to support it. You’re movin’ your whole hand around every time you change chords, gonna wear you out. All you need’s your fingertips, keep the rest of your hand still.’ He passes the guitar back.

The kid takes it, tries to do what Johnny did. ‘Like this?’

‘No, no. Just, play a G major.’ The kid does as he’s told and Johnny covers his hand with his own, fitting his metal fingers on top, manipulating the younger man’s hand until the neck of the guitar is safely nestled in his palm.

‘My fingers are too short,’ the kid complains. ‘I won’t be able to reach.’

‘You will. Just takes practice, you’ll get there.’ Johnny pulls his hand away.

‘Okay.’ The kid looks at his hand, changes the G into a C. It’s slower and clumsier now, but once he gets it, it’ll take a lot less effort than the way he was doing it. ‘Thanks,’ he says, turning his head and smiling at Johnny.

‘You’re welcome.’ Johnny pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it. ‘What’s your name, kid?’

‘Vincent. But everyone just calls me V.’

‘Okay, V. Keep practicing, you’ll get it.’ He listens as V starts playing again, keeping half an eye on his left hand to make sure he’s still doing what he was told. Seems he takes instruction well.

#

The next several evenings Johnny spends in V’s company. Some nights, they jam together—one evening he’s feeling particularly charitable, Johnny lets V play his guitar; the kid treats it with the reverence it deserves and Johnny’s pleased—some, they just sit, having a drink and smoking; sometimes cigarettes, sometimes weed. They don’t talk much, just hang out, and Johnny finds himself enjoying V’s company.

One night, they’re sitting up on a rocky hill, overlooking the camp. They left their guitars down by the fire, opting for some peace and quiet. Johnny’s smoking. V’s just sitting there, leaning back on his hands. At last, he speaks.

‘So, you got anyone waiting back in Night City? Input? Output?’

Johnny scoffs, looking away. ‘No. There’s no one like that. Some friends, maybe. If they’re still my friends.’ He gives V a sidelong glance and finds the boy giving him a certain look. ‘Gonna stop ya right there, V. I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not usually inclined toward cock.’ Usually is the operative word here, but V doesn’t need to know that. He’s a cute kid, but the last thing Johnny needs right now is a groupie.

‘Well. Lucky my cock’s optional, then.’ V shrugs.

Johnny raises his eyebrow. ‘Wha—Oh. You’re . . . ?’

‘Yup.’ V plucks the cigarette from Johnny’s hand and takes a drag. ‘You want pussy, I can give you pussy. Haven’t had bottom surgery.’

Johnny looks at him, then. Really looks. At the messy, purple-pink undercut growing dark at the roots and fingers stained with engine grease. At strong, bare arms with crude, home-made tattoos. At his smooth face, freckled and sunburnt, with wide, hazel eyes. Johnny always assumed V was just very young. ‘How old are you?’

‘Twenty-four,’ V replies. He smiles. ‘Bet you thought I was about eighteen, didn’t you? It’s the trans dude curse.’ He laughs. ‘That plus good genes equals forever baby-faced.’ He takes another drag before passing the cigarette back to Johnny. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not in love with you or nothin’.’ He gets up off the ground and stands up straight, sticking his hands in his pockets. ‘Just thought you might wanna have some fun. You can come by my tent later if you do. Third on the right from the garage.’ Then he walks off without waiting for a reply.

Johnny hangs back for a bit, finishing his cigarette. Then he goes to get a drink—shot of tequila because what else—and all the while he’s thinking. Johnny Silverhand is an expert at self-deception, but if he’s honest for once, he has to admit he was already attracted to V on some level. Beyond being kinda cute, he’s just . . . pleasant to be around. He’s chill and laid back in a way not many people in Johnny’s life have been. Johnny’s an intense person, and he surrounds himself with equally intense people, oftentimes with explosive results, and not always in a good way. V has a way of just allowing him to be. As the camp goes to sleep around him, Johnny makes up his mind.

He finds the tent easily enough, pulling the canvas aside to look in. A solar lantern illuminates the space, and V is sitting on a fairly sturdy-looking cot reading a screamsheet. His acoustic guitar is stashed against a crate, next to its case. V is wearing a t-shirt and boxer shorts, and when Johnny steps inside, he looks up and smiles. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey,’ Johnny replies.

‘You made up your mind.’

‘Yeah.’ Johnny takes a few steps closer, standing at the foot of the cot. V stands, dimming the light. Johnny makes note of strong, muscular thighs as he moves. They stand face to face for a few moments, neither of them making a move until V reaches out with his hand and cups Johnny’s jaw, then slides his fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.

Johnny surges forward, capturing V’s lips, and V tightens his grip, kissing him back. After a moment, he goes for Johnny’s throat, licking and sucking while he slides his hands up under Johnny’s tank top. V’s hands are warm on his skin. He moves them down again, taking a hold of Johnny’s belt and unbuckling it. Undoing the fly, he slides a hand down Johnny’s leather pants, taking him in hand. Johnny throws his head back with a hiss. He’s fucked a few of the women in the pack over the past few years, but it’s been a while now since anyone’s touched him. Now V wraps his hand around his cock, stroking slowly.

Pulling back, V meets Johnny’s eye. ‘Okay if I suck you off?’

Johnny laughs softly. ‘You really don’t need to ask permission for that.’

V shrugs one shoulder. ‘You seemed reluctant before. Just wanna be sure you want this.’

‘I want it,’ Johnny says simply. He reaches out and runs his right hand through V’s hair, down his neck and to his shoulder, pressing down, and V gets to his knees on the canvas floor.

Keeping his eyes fixed on Johnny, V pulls his pants down to his knees to reveal his cock. His eyes flick down for a moment to look at it, and he licks his lips before looking up at Johnny’s face again. He opens his mouth and, taking hold of Johnny’s dick, licks the length of it, from root to tip. The way he holds eye contact while he does this makes Johnny’s heart pound extra hard. It makes the whole thing somehow feel a lot more intimate than most other sexual experiences he’s had.

V sucks the tip of Johnny’s cock into his mouth, running his tongue over he head, before he takes him deeper. At this point, he breaks eye contact for obvious reasons. Johnny slides his fingers into V’s hair, tightening his fist a little, and V makes a soft ‘Mmf!’ sound around his cock. He grabs Johnny’s ass with both hands, squeezing the supple flesh and taking him deeper still. He’s good at this, and the fact that he seems to enjoy it turns Johnny on even more.

‘Fuck, V,’ he murmurs. ‘You keep goin’ like that, I ain’t gonna last long.’

V pulls back a little, Johnny’s cock slipping out of his mouth with a wet pop, and looks up at him again, mischievous glint in his eye. ‘Well, the aim here is to make you come, y’know.’ Then he returns to his task, and Johnny tries very hard not to moan out loud; these tents are many things, but soundproof is not one of them.

V pulls Johnny’s hips toward him, and Johnny gets the hint and starts fucking V’s face with shallow thrusts. Suddenly, he feels a finger edging its way in between his cheeks. V pulls back enough to look up at his face, a question in his eye, though he keeps his mouth on Johnny’s cock. Johnny nods. ‘Keep going,’ he whispers.

There’s saliva on V’s chin, and now he gathers it up with his fingers and reaches around again, circling Johnny’s asshole lightly. Johnny grunts and thrusts deeper into V’s mouth. As V slowly sinks his finger inside, Johnny hisses, holding back a groan. ‘Go . . . go on,’ he manages to say, and V’s finger goes all the way in, searching. It’s not the best angle, but it still feels good. Johnny’s close. He can feel his balls begin to tighten. ‘V, I’m gonna . . . I’m about to come.’

V responds by opening his throat and swallowing him down, and Johnny comes with a stifled grunt, fingers tightening in V’s hair, his metal hand clenching at his side. He can feel V swallow around him. Finally, the younger man pulls his finger out of his ass and sits back, coughing a little and wiping drool off his chin. He flashes Johnny a smug grin, and Johnny gets the urge to wipe that grin off his face, so he grabs V’s arm and pulls him to his feet.

He kisses V, putting both arms around him this time and drawing him close. He can taste his own cum on V’s tongue, but that’s never bothered him. He pushes V back, sitting him down on the cot. Johnny gets to his knees and pulls V’s boxers down. He’s wearing a harness underneath, with a prosthetic penis.

‘Gimme a sec, I’ll take this off,’ V says. Johnny watches curiously as V removes the harness and lays it on top of a crate, prosthetic still attached. V follows his gaze. ‘Never been with a trans guy before, have you?’

Johnny shakes his head. ‘No, I have, but he had phalloplasty.’

V smirks. ‘Thought you said you weren’t “inclined toward cock”.’

Johnny shrugs. ‘Actually, I said “not usually inclined toward cock”.’ V laughs and Johnny looks up at his face, where his eyes glint in the low light. He slides his hands up V’s thighs; they’re as firm and muscular as they looked. Biker thighs, accustomed to gripping a machine that hurtles through the desert at a hundred miles per hour on a slow day. ‘Might even have made you one of the exceptions, if you’d had one,’ he finally admits.

‘Yeah?’ V wears a half smile. ‘Good to know. To be honest, I’ve been with enough guys who are so scared of their sexuality they can only fuck a dude if he has a cunt.’

‘I mean, I’d be lying if I said the cunt wasn’t a plus.’ Johnny pulls V’s legs apart to get at the thing in question. He trails the fingers of his right hand up the inside of V’s thigh, enjoying the way the breath catches in V’s throat as he nears his prize. He opens him up, sliding his middle finger inside. He looks up at V, eyebrow arched. ‘Wow, you’re really wet. Sucking me off turned you on this much?’

V bites his lip, looking self-conscious for the first time since Johnny’s known him. His freckled cheeks are flushed. ‘What can I say? I like sucking cock. And yours . . . I really like yours.’

Despite his recent orgasm, Johnny’s flaccid cock twitches a little at that. ‘Hm, wanna fuck you,’ he murmurs. ‘But I need some time before I can do that.’ So instead, he lowers his head and, spreading his labia apart with his fingers, sucks V’s clit into his mouth. It’s a good two inches long, more like a small dick than anything. He licks with his tongue and sucks on it, and V lets out a shaky breath.

‘Ah, fuck . . .’ he whispers, running his fingers through Johnny’s hair. ‘Fuck yeah . . .’

Johnny hooks V’s knees over his shoulders and slips a second finger inside him, and V’s thighs begin to shake. He must have been pretty close already, because it doesn’t take long before his hips buck and his body goes taut and he lets out muffled groans that tell Johnny he’s covering his own mouth with his hand so he won’t make too much noise.

Johnny sits back on his haunches and wipes his mouth, V’s legs slipping off his shoulders. He’s starting to get hard again now. Standing up, he sheds the rest of his clothing. He motions for V to get all the way up on the cot. Lying down next to him in the narrow space, he helps V get his shirt off, then rolls on top of him, kissing his lips. ‘That was hot,’ he whispers.

V laughs softly beneath him. ‘I came in like a minute.’

‘Yeah, but I like that. Shows how much you wanted it.’

‘Guess I was a little pent up,’ says V. ‘Haven’t been with anyone in a while.’

‘Me neither,’ says Johnny. He kisses V’s neck, lips trailing down the length of it to his shoulders and his chest. He finds the faint traces of surgical scars below V’s pecs, but it’s well done. He doubts he’d be able to tell if he didn’t already know. V’s nipples are a little bigger than most guys’ and the left one is pierced. Johnny tries licking the other one, but V shakes his head.

‘Sadly doesn’t do anythin’,’ he says. ‘Lost most feelin’ in them when I had my top surgery. Shame too, used to really turn me on.’

‘Now that is a tragedy,’ Johnny agrees. ‘So, what does get you goin’? Other than sucking dick?’ He smirks.

V gives a little smile and looks away. ‘Honestly? I just like bein’ touched. And kissed. Boring answer.’

‘Not boring,’ says Johnny, sliding his organic hand up V’s side, his abs and chest, to the side of his face and up into his hair. ‘Seemed to like it when I pulled your hair a little bit, though.’

‘Yeah, that was nice,’ V admits, meeting Johnny’s eye again. ‘Mostly, I just want you to fuck me, though.’

Johnny laughs. ‘Gonna need another minute, but I’m gettin’ there.’ He kisses V’s neck again, scrapes his teeth over his throat experimentally, and V gasps. ‘This okay?’ Johnny asks.

‘Mhm . . .’ V closes his eyes, a noticeable shiver going through his body as Johnny goes lower, sucking a bruise into the skin over his collarbone. He runs the cool metal of his left hand up the outside of V’s thigh. Not everyone likes that feeling, but V seems to. He leans into all Johnny’s touches and kisses, hungry for it. Johnny slips his right hand between V’s legs again, and feeling how pouring wet he is, along with the way V’s body responds to his touch, is all Johnny needs to get fully hard again.

‘Fuck, you’re hot,’ Johnny murmurs. ‘Think I’m ready. Got a condom?’

V nods, and Johnny raises himself up on his arms so V can roll to the side and reach into a box on the floor next to his cot, pulling out a condom. ‘Here.’ He lies back again.

Johnny puts on the condom, watching V as he does. The flush in his cheeks. The rise and fall of his chest. There’s anticipation and want and a little bit of impatience on V’s face, and as soon as the condom is on, Johnny positions himself between V’s legs and slides home. They both groan at the same time, a little louder than they should, and V laughs. Johnny cocks an eyebrow at him. ‘What?’

V shakes his head. ‘Nothin’. Just realised Johnny Silverhand just said I was hot. If someone told me two weeks ago I was gonna be fucked by a rock god, I would’ve asked what they’d been smokin’ and where I could get some.’

‘That why you wanted this? ’Cause I’m a rockstar?’ Johnny can’t explain to himself why that thought leaves a sinking feeling in his stomach. It’s why most people wanna fuck him, after all, and he’s always been fine with that.

‘What?’ V frowns. ‘No! I wanted it ’cause I like you and figured it’d be fun for us both. It’s just . . . funny.’

Johnny shakes his head, disbelieving. ‘How do you get away with being so goddamn earnest all the time?’

‘I dunno.’ V shrugs. ‘It’s a talent, I guess. Now, are we gonna yap all night or are you actually gonna fuck me?’

‘You little shit,’ Johnny says without malice, pulling back his hips and slamming back in, hard. The cot creaks beneath them, but it holds. V moans way too loudly, and Johnny quickly kisses him to muffle the sound. ‘Am I gonna have to gag you?’

V grins. ‘Or just kiss me more. That’ll probably do the trick.’

He barely has time to finish his sentence before Johnny starts moving. V bites his lip and wraps his legs around Johnny’s hips, and Johnny has his forehead pressed to V’s so they’re breathing the same air and he can kiss him whenever he starts to get too loud. It’s a pretty good arrangement, actually; Johnny finds he enjoys kissing V. V’s mouth is hot, his lips slightly chapped from all the time spent outdoors in the dusty Badlands, though still full and supple. Johnny likes the way he reacts to being kissed; the small, needy noises he makes. And there’s nothing timid about the way he kisses back. His mouth demands Johnny’s attention, and Johnny is happy to provide.

It’s not the only thing Johnny is happy to do. V’s cunt is warm and tight and feels so very good after the dry spell he’s had. What’s even better is the way it tightens around him as V gasps, ‘Coming!’ into Johnny’s mouth before kissing him harder. Johnny takes V’s hand, lacing their fingers together and pressing it into the mattress, picking up speed and fucking into him harder. He’s getting closer himself, and the second time V gasps and tightens like that, Johnny comes too, burying himself balls deep, then pumping his hips a few times before collapsing on V’s chest.

They lie there in silence for a little bit, V running his fingers lazily through Johnny’s hair. He lets out a satisfied sigh. ‘Not bad, Silverhand.’

Johnny props himself up on his elbow, staring down at V with his eyebrow cocked. ‘That all you got? “Not bad”?’

V laughs. ‘What were you expecting? I ain’t one of your groupies.’ He smiles. ‘And I think you like that.’

‘I do, actually,’ Johnny admits.

‘Good.’

And because they’re in bed and it feels like the thing to do, Johnny kisses V again, more sweetly than he normally kisses the people he fucks. Then he sits, disposing of the condom, and reaches for his clothes.

‘You can sleep here if you want,’ says V. His voice is soft and drowsy now.

‘Nah, don’t wanna crowd you. ’Sides, I need a smoke after that. Wanna join me?’

V chuckles. ‘Nah. Too tired. Think I’m about to conk out . . .’

Johnny looks at him and finds himself smiling. V looks thoroughly fucked out, which was, of course, the intention. ‘You’ll get cold,’ Johnny says and grabs the blanket that halfway fell off the cot while they went at it. He spreads it out over V, who hums sleepily.

‘Didn’t know you were such a mother hen.’

Johnny scoffs and starts pulling his clothes on. ‘Fine, I won’t be nice, then.’

But then he feels a hand touch his hip and he turns his head to look down at V, who smiles up at him. ‘Thanks.’

‘Yeah, no problem.’ Johnny gets the rest of his threads on, then reaches for V’s solar lantern and extinguishes it completely. ‘G’night, V.’

‘Night, Johnny,’ says V, stifling a yawn, and Johnny leaves the tent, pulling his cigarettes out of his pocket.

He lights one and takes a drag, blowing out a puff of smoke into the cool night air. He sets off toward his own tent. That was . . . weird. Johnny’s fucked a lot of people. He’s had angry sex, passionate sex, anonymous sex, rough sex and gentle sex. He’s had spectacular sex and utterly forgettable sex. This was, honestly, none of those things. It was good, though. Casual but companionable. If there is such a thing as just a friendly fuck, that’s what this was. And Johnny has to admit . . . he liked it.