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    Thorn Wilde
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction that combine worlds created by the original content owner with names, places, characters, events, and incidents that are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, companies, events or locales are entirely coincidental. Authors are responsible for properly crediting Original Content creator for their creative works. Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
Stories in this Fandom are works of fan fiction. Any names or characters, businesses or places, events or incidents, are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Recognized characters, events, incidents belong to CD Projekt Red, Micheal Pondsmith and/or R. Talsorian Games.

This is a transformative work based on the setting and characters of the Cyberpunk tabletop RPG franchise and the video game Cyberpunk 2077. These elements belong to R. Talsorian Games and CD Projekt Red. The setting was invented by Mike Pondsmith.

Chase the Morning - 4. City of Dreams

Johnny and V go to Night City. They go see Kerry Eurodyne in concert, but Kerry's not as happy to see Johnny as Johnny had hoped.

Chapter named after Miracle of Sound's City of Dreams, which is actually about Cyberpunk 2077.

It’s been a couple of years since V was last in Night City. It was when he had his top surgery. That time, he was in and out in a matter of hours and left the city before nightfall since the family was camped nearby. This . . . this is different. The sun is getting low as they approach the city from the south, casting its skyscrapers and megatowers in a golden glow. As the sun dips below the horizon, its light is substituted for thousands of glowing neon signs and lit billboards. V can do nothing but stare. Johnny’s driving the old pickup. V’s motorbike is stashed under a tarp on the bed of the truck.

Yanna was concerned when V said he wanted to go to Night City, as was the rest of his family. Uncle Jon questioned his sanity. Bethany worried he’d get himself killed. Only Tommy remained serene about it all, pointing out to the others that V is a grown, twenty-four-year-old man and not, in fact, a child. Then he went to Johnny and told him in no uncertain terms that the whole family would hold him personally responsible if something bad happened to V. For a skinny, unassuming, middle-aged mechanic, Tommy can be terrifying.

Still, they all accepted it in the end, and Johnny and V left for Night City mid-morning four days later.

Now, Johnny drives the dirty pickup truck through Pacifica and along San Morro Bay. They enter Night City proper from the north-east and hang a right for Japantown to reach the hotel Johnny’s booked for them for the next couple of weeks until he can sort out other arrangements. The truck looks totally out of place here, between tall, sleek buildings and the swanky vehicles it shares the cherry tree-lined streets with. V points this out to Johnny, who laughs.

‘Don’t worry. Got a preem ride waiting for us. Just gotta pick it up tomorrow, then we can scrap this hunk of junk.’

As he steps out of the car, V is hit with a miasma of stale air and car exhaust. Though the buildings look clean and sleek right here, the streets are dirty—littered with trash left by the thousands of humans who walk this way every day.

He has never felt less worldly than he does stepping inside their hotel. Everything seems to be made of glass. It’s so clean and sleek, it feels almost alien. V feels out of place in his torn jeans and dusty leather vest. Johnny, while not dressed much better at the moment, strides in with complete confidence and checks them in at the front desk. V just stands gawking while he does.

‘C’mon,’ says Johnny, once they’re all checked in. He picks up his bag and his guitar case. ‘Quit starin’ like a gonk.’

V shakes his head. He shoulders his own bag and follows Johnny to the elevator. ‘I’ve just never been in a place like this before,’ he says. ‘Can you blame me for takin’ it in?’

Johnny laughs at him. ‘V, this place isn’t even that flashy. I mean, it’s nice, but this is mid-range.’ He presses the elevator panel. ‘Got us a suite, though. All those royalties I’ve been rackin’ up for the past six years oughta be used for somethin’.’

They take the elevator to the top floor. There are two doors here, and Johnny opens the one on the left. The lights go on automatically when they enter.

The first part of the suite is a kind of living area with a couch and two comfy chairs, a large TV on one wall, a small, round dining table with four chairs, and a corner holding a minibar and coffee machine. Since this is Japantown, the walls are decorated with ornate scrolls and there are little pots of bamboo in all the corners. Opposite the entrance there are floor-to-ceiling windows framing a glass door that leads out onto a balcony. V immediately puts his bag down and strides across the room to open the door and step outside.

A cool evening breeze hits his face. The buildings around them are taller than this one, so he can’t see very far, but the view he does have looks pretty spectacular to him. The height is dizzying, giving V a sense of vertigo as he looks down. Below, the streets are crawling with cars and people, tiny from up here. There are walkways between buildings, criss-crossing above the streets, also full of people. The sounds of traffic fill V’s ears—car horns beeping and engines revving. Even from up here, with a breeze blowing in from the Pacific between the tall buildings, he can still smell the air pollution and exhaust fumes from the street below. And once again, the lights. So many lights. A huge, red neon sign on a nearby building bathes the balcony in hues of crimson.

Johnny steps out onto the balcony behind V, carrying two bottles of beer he must have gotten out of the minibar. He hands one to V and sips the other, leaning against the railing beside him. ‘Can’t believe I’ve actually missed this city,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘It’s been so long, but it hasn’t changed a bit.’

‘It sure is somethin’,’ V says, still staring. His eyes can’t take it all in. He steps back from the railing and takes a long swig of cold beer.

‘C’mon,’ says Johnny, doing the same. ‘Let’s look at the rest of the place.’

There are two bedrooms, one on each end of the living room, featuring double beds and generous closet space. Both have large ensuite bathrooms with massive bathtubs.

‘Figure we’ll only need one bedroom for the most part,’ says Johnny. ‘But, never hurts to be prepared. Maybe we’ll have guests.’ He grins.

‘Maybe,’ V agrees. He sips his beer.

‘So, what do you wanna do tonight?’ Johnny asks. ‘Anywhere you’d like to go?’

‘First of all, this is your city, so you’re supposed to show me around. Second, I’m not goin’ anywhere tonight. I’m about ready to flatline. I want a bath, and some food, and then I wanna sleep.’ An actual bath. V’s only ever had them in crappy motels before.

Johnny rolls his eyes and ruffles V’s hair. ‘Fine. You get your bath, princess. I’ll get us some room service or somethin’. Any preferences?’

V raises an eyebrow at him. ‘You’re askin’ me? I’m an omnivore, Johnny, you know that. ’Sides, I wouldn’t even know what they serve in a place like this.’

‘Fine, I’ll figure it out.’ Johnny looks at him with an odd kind of smile on his face. He grabs the back of V’s head, sliding his fingers into his hair, and kisses the top of his forehead. ‘Enjoy your bath.’ Then he leaves the bedroom.

V fills the tub up with hot water. He finishes his beer, leaving the empty bottle on the sink, rids himself of his dusty clothes, and gets in the tub. He grabs the fancy soap in the basket above him and washes off the sweat and grime from a whole day’s travel. Then he just leans back and closes his eyes. He’s almost fallen asleep when Johnny enters without knocking.

‘Food’s here,’ he says. He looks V over as the latter sits up straight in the tub, blinking in the light. ‘Could just eat you, though.’

‘Fuck off,’ says V. ‘I’m starvin’. Maybe after we’ve eaten. Maybe. If I don’t immediately go into a coma. Pass me a towel, would ya?’

‘Nah, think I’ll just stand here and watch.’ Johnny smirks, leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded over his chest.

V rolls his eyes and stands up, water cascading off his body. Stepping out of the tub, he grabs a towel off the rack and, standing a little closer to Johnny than necessary, shakes his head, causing water droplets from his hair to spray Johnny’s face.

‘Hey!’ Johnny says indignantly. He wipes his face with his hand.

‘That’s what you get for not helpin’.’ V shrugs and starts drying off.

‘Whatever.’ Johnny dries his hand on his tank top. ‘I checked the net and there’s a gig tomorrow night I thought we might go to. Old friend of mine’s playin’.’

‘Oh yeah?’ V wraps the towel around his waist. ‘Who?’

‘Kerry Eurodyne.’

‘Wow! Really?’ V grins. ‘That’s nova!’

Johnny cocks an eyebrow at him. ‘It is?’

‘Yeah, I love Eurodyne’s music. I’d really like to see him live. I’da thought his shows were all sold out, though?’

‘What, you forget who I am?’ Johnny asks, sounding vaguely insulted. ‘I can get us into any venue in the city. ’Sides, Kerry’s my best friend. You do know we started Samurai together, right?’

‘’Course I fuckin’ know,’ says V. ‘Still cool, though. I’m looking forward to it.’ He grins, and Johnny rolls his eyes.

‘Okay, enough jabber. We got sushi waitin’.’


Before Johnny left Night City with Santiago, he put everything that mattered into storage. Not that he owned much he cared about; mostly it’s just his record collection, his guitars (except for one he left with Kerry) and, of course, his car.

Leaving V’s motorbike in the garage at the hotel, they drive the shitty old pickup to the discrete, secure storage facility. Johnny parks the truck outside, keys still in the ignition, with no intention of retrieving it. Let someone else have it. They enter the place, finding Johnny’s unit all the way in. He opens it with a key and a keypad. The space smells dusty, no one having been inside in six years. His things are stacked in storage boxes on shelves along the walls. He ignores those for now; no point in picking them up before he has a more permanent place to put them. Instead, he heads for the thing in the centre of the room, covered in a black canvas sheet. He pulls the sheet off.

V gasps as the car comes into view. ‘Fuck me, Johnny! Is that really your car?’

‘It really is,’ Johnny says proudly.

‘No fucking way! A 911 Turbo?’ V walks around the car, examining it excitedly. ‘Is it all original?’

Johnny nods. ‘Well, almost. Gave it some upgrades, y’know, for convenience. But the engine’s original, ’cept it runs on CHOOH².’

‘Oh, man . . .’ V looks like a kid at Christmas. ‘Can I take a look at it?’

‘Be my guest,’ says Johnny. ‘Just be careful with ’er.’

V opens up the engine compartment in the back, eyes lit up as he examines the inner workings of the Porsche. ‘This is fuckin’ nova, man. Preem ride don’t even begin to cover it . . .’

Johnny smiles, amused. It’s kind of cute how thrilled the kid is. He’s a mechanic, of course, so the chance to examine the engine of a vintage car like this one must be a real treat, but Johnny hadn’t expected him to be quite so childlike in his delight.

After a few minutes, though, Johnny says, ‘Okay, enough. You can geek out about it more later. Let’s go.’

‘Fine, fine,’ V says distractedly. ‘Just lemme—’

Johnny rolls his eyes. ‘V!’

‘All right, all right.’ V closes the hood again, grinning up at Johnny. ‘Can I drive?’

‘Fuck, no!’ says Johnny and gets in the driver’s seat.

They drive the car back to the hotel, filling up the tank along the way. Johnny delights in the feeling of the steering wheel in his hands. It’s been so long. It’s a fucking cliché for a man to be this in love with his car, but damn, if it ain’t the sweetest ride he’s ever had.

‘So, when’s this gig?’ V asks as they get out of the Porsche.

‘Doors at eight,’ says Johnny. ‘Plenty of time before then. Wanna catch some sights?’


They pull up outside The Hammer a little before eight. There’s a line around the block, but Johnny simply strides up to the entrance, bypassing the queue. ‘How you doin’?’ he says to the bouncer.

‘You on the list?’ the man asks gruffly, barely looking at them. He’s built like a brick shithouse, standing well over six feet tall on legs like tree trunks.

‘Prolly.’ Johnny shrugs. ‘Johnny Silverhand, plus one.’

The bouncer looks at him then. Johnny purposefully took off his jacket when they got out of the car and has it slung over his shoulder so his metal arm is fully visible. There’s no way anyone who knows who he is could mistake him for someone else. ‘No way!’ the bouncer says.

Johnny cocks an eyebrow at him. ‘You gonna let us in, or what?’

The bouncer doesn’t even look at the list. He just opens the door and lets Johnny and V inside without another word, stamping their wrists with V.I.P.

V laughs as they step inside. ‘You didn’t even try to get tickets, did you?’

‘No need. You know how many times I’ve played this venue?’ And as if to illustrate his point, as they round a corner they come face-to-face with a massive poster advertising Silverhand & Eurodyne, August 15th 2012.

‘Double bill,’ says V. ‘Nice.’

Johnny nods. ‘Yeah, we did that a lot after Samurai broke up. Universal signed us as kind of a package deal. Did guest appearances on each other’s records too.’

‘I knew about that bit,’ says V. He gives Johnny a sidelong glance. ‘Any reason why you didn’t just call Kerry to get us on the list?’

Johnny shrugs. ‘Not really. Wanted to surprise him. After the show, though. Let’s go get a drink now.’

They have a couple of beers while they wait. There’s a warm-up act that’s completely middle-of-the-road. Nothing to write home about, but they’re not completely shit at least. Once that’s done, Johnny drags V closer to the stage so they’ll have a decent view for the main attraction. They only have to wait a few minutes before the room is plunged into darkness again. An intro to a song Johnny hasn’t heard before starts playing. Then the stage lights come on, and there is Kerry. He takes the mic and starts to sing.

Kerry Eurodyne has evolved since Johnny last saw him play. His voice has matured more and has a slightly deeper quality to it. He’s clearly worked at it, with a vocal coach, maybe. His guitar playing is more confident too, his technique improved. Watching him, Johnny becomes more certain than ever about what he wants to do.

He knows Kerry sees him in the crowd. He notices on the third song when his guitar playing falters just a little bit, missing a note. The rest of the audience is oblivious to the slip-up, but Johnny knows this song well—he helped write it. V stands next to him, clearly digging the music, and fails to notice the look that passes between Johnny and his oldest friend.

V turns to look at Johnny, grinning. There’s that genuine childlike delight again, and V leans in close to his ear and says, ‘I love this song!’ Then someone nearby jostles him so he nearly loses his balance. V just laughs, but Johnny places himself behind him, putting his arms around his waist, and they watch the rest of the concert that way.

When the show’s over, they retreat upstairs to the VIP lounge and order another drink.

‘Man, that was a great show,’ says V, shaking his head and taking a sip of his bourbon. ‘Eurodyne can really play, can’t he?’

Johnny shrugs. ‘Yeah, he’s okay. Never be as good as me, though.’

V snorts. ‘You’re so fucking full of yourself. He’s got his own style. People don’t have to be like you in order to be good.’

No one’s like me,’ says Johnny smugly.

‘And thank fuck for that. Imagine the state of the world if there were two Johnny Silverhands walking around.’

Johnny’s about to respond when someone else says, ‘Johnny fucking Silverhand.’

He turns around, and there’s Kerry, staring him down with dark eyes. ‘Hey, Ker.’

Kerry shakes his head, his look incredulous. ‘That’s all you got to say for yourself? What the fuck are you doing here?’

Johnny would never admit it, but that stings a little. He keeps his mask up, cocky smirk in place. ‘Came to see the show.’

Kerry scoffs. ‘Right.’ He glances over at V. ‘And who’s this?’

‘This is V. He’s a friend from the Aldecaldos.’

V smiles. ‘Hey, great show, man. I had a blast.’

Kerry ignores this, turning his eyes back to Johnny. He looks beyond pissed, working his jaw. His dark eyes are full of fire. Now that Johnny sees him up close, he hasn’t changed a bit. Same style, same haircut, same stupid bandana. ‘C’mon, gotta talk to you. Your friend can wait here.’

Johnny sighs, drains his drink, and touches V’s bare forearm. ‘Hang out here for a bit, okay? I’ll be back soon.’

V grins, looking around the room. ‘Oh, I’m sure I can find something or someone to occupy me while you’re gone.’

Johnny rolls his eyes. ‘Slut!’ Then he lets go of V’s arm and follows Kerry toward the backstage entrance.

They don’t speak a word while they walk, but the moment the door to the dressing room is closed behind them, Kerry turns to Johnny, looking furious. ‘So, you’re back, huh?’

‘Yeah.’ Johnny slips his thumb into his belt hoop, cocking his hips. ‘I’m back.’

‘And you came here why, exactly?’

Johnny frowns. ‘What do you mean, why? I got back last night, saw you had a show today, wanted to see it.’ He heads for the couch in the corner. He takes his jacket off, depositing it on the armrest, and sits down, feet up on the table. Kerry remains standing, glaring at him. ‘Gotta say, not bad.’

Kerry laughs, entirely without humour. ‘“Not bad” . . .’ he repeats. Shaking his head, he goes over to the liquor cabinet. He pours himself a glass of something brown, downs it in one, then pours another, before sitting down at the opposite end of the couch. He doesn’t offer Johnny a drink. For a long time, neither of them says anything. Then Kerry speaks. ‘So, after all this time, you come back here with a “hey, Ker” and expect everything to be okay?’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake . . .’ Johnny runs his hand through his hair. ‘I came ’cause I wanted to see you, okay? God, I’m too sober for this . . .’ He reaches into his pocket for his cigarettes and lights one, more for something to do than because he actually wants to smoke it.

‘Right. You wanted to see me. After literally years without a word.’ Kerry takes a sip, then nods in the direction of the VIP lounge. ‘You’re fucking that little tarmac rat, aren’t you?’

Johnny sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘Ker . . .’

‘Just answer the goddamn question!’

With a shrug, Johnny decides to be truthful. ‘Yeah. Sometimes.’

Kerry scoffs, kicking the leg of the coffee table with the tip of his boot. ‘So what makes him so special?’

Johnny shrugs. ‘I like him, is all. You’d like him too, if you give him a chance.’

‘More’n you like me? He your output?’

Trying very hard not to roll his eyes, because this is a conversation he’s had way too many times, Johnny keeps his voice as level as he can. ‘No, Kerry. We’re friends and we occasionally mess around. Like people do.’

At that, Kerry seems to deflate. ‘Like people do . . .’ He looks up at Johnny, and his dark eyes are filled with some emotion Johnny can’t easily identify, nor does he want to. ‘You were gone for six years, Johnny. Six fuckin’ years, and you come back here and you’re fucking some kid—’ He cuts himself off, working his jaw. ‘You know what? Forget it.’ He drains his drink and stands up, turning away. ‘I should know better than to expect Johnny Silverhand to give a shit. Just get outta here.’

‘Ker. Stop.’ Johnny puts out the half-smoked cigarette, gets off the couch, and places his organic hand on Kerry’s shoulder. He squeezes, rubbing circles with his thumb. ‘I had a lot of shit to work through, I needed time to process. But I’m here now. And I wanna get the band back together, but I can’t do that without you. I could never do it without you. You know that.’

Kerry sags a little. ‘You’re a real shithead, you know that?’

‘It’s been said.’

Kerry laughs and turns around. He’s wearing that sad little puppy dog smile. ‘I missed you.’

‘Yeah. I actually missed you too, if you can believe that.’ And Johnny lets Kerry hug him. He even puts his arms around his friend in turn, holding him close for a little while. But then Kerry goes in for a kiss, and Johnny turns his face away. ‘Ker . . .’

‘Fuck.’ Kerry steps back. ‘Anyone but me, is that it?’

‘Fuck’s sake, Kerry, it’s not like that!’

‘Then what is it like?’

‘You never fucking change!’ Johnny throws up his hands. ‘I know you, Kerry. And as long as you keep carryin’ a torch like some gonk-ass teenager, I’m never gonna fuck you, so just get over it! Six years, and you’re still the same lovesick puppy. Tell me I’m wrong!’

Kerry says nothing. He stands there looking small, staring at his feet. His arms hang limp at his sides, his hands loosely clenched into fists.

‘Thought so.’ Johnny sighs, all his anger evaporating, because at the end of the day, this is just sad. ‘Look, it’s better this way. I’m goin’. Think about the band thing, and if you still wanna jam together, call me.’

‘Fine,’ is all Kerry says, and he still won’t look at Johnny.

‘It’s good to see you again,’ Johnny says softly. Then he picks his jacket up off the armrest, puts it on, and leaves.


‘So, that was Kerry Eurodyne.’ V leans back in the passenger seat of the 911, looking out at the passing Night City neon lights. ‘He’s hot.’

Johnny snorts. ‘Yeah, well, he hates your guts.’

V frowns, glancing at Johnny. ‘What? Why?’

‘’Cause we’re fucking.’

‘Oh.’ V returns his gaze to the passing lights. ‘So did you two have a thing, or . . . ?’

‘Nah, wasn’t like that. Or, it wasn’t like that for me.’ Johnny sighs. ‘Kerry’s my best friend, and we’d mess around sometimes when we were younger, but he had feelings for me so I broke it off ’cause I didn’t have feelings for him. And he can deal with it so long as he can pretend I’m straight.’

‘So why’d you tell him about me?’

‘I didn’t. He guessed. Wasn’t about to deny it.’

‘So you didn’t tell him I got a pussy?’

Johnny gives him a look of disbelief before turning his eyes back on the road. ‘The hell would I do that for? First of all, it’s none of his business, and I don’t randomly out people. And anyway, it doesn’t matter, you’re still a man.’

His words make V feel oddly validated, and he smiles.

‘You really think I’m that much of an asshole?’ Johnny grumbles, and V laughs.

‘I mean, you are an asshole,’ he points out. ‘That’s kinda part and parcel with you.’

‘Thanks,’ Johnny says sarcastically. ‘And fuck you too.’

Chuckling, V reaches over and squeezes the back of Johnny’s neck affectionately. ‘Maybe I should fuck you.’

Johnny utters a short, derisive laugh. ‘Yeah, no. I don’t bottom, even if you did have a cock to fuck me with.’

‘Well, firstly, I’ve got a perfectly good strap-on,’ says V. ‘And second, you’re not so fragile your masculinity’s threatened by a dick up your ass, are ya?’

Johnny scoffs. ‘Couldn’t threaten my masculinity if you tried, you brat.’

Leaning in close, V whispers in his ear, ‘Then what’re you scared of?’

With a small sense of triumph, V sees Johnny swallow and shift in his seat a little, the barest hint of pink entering his cheeks. ‘What would you even get out of it? Would it even do anything for you?’

V smirks. ‘As it happens, much like you, my strap-on goes both ways. Also, I’d get the pleasure of knowing I fucked Johnny Silverhand in the ass.’

Johnny laughs, more genuinely now. ‘You’re such a gonk.’ He pauses, silent for a moment, then adds, ‘Let’s just get back. Then we’ll see.’

As soon as the door to their suite is shut behind them, V grabs Johnny by the lapels of his jacket and kisses him sloppily. Johnny kisses him back, putting his arms tightly around him. V slides both hands up under Johnny’s tank top, circling his nipples with his thumbs, and Johnny hisses. They got so used to being quiet back at camp that now that it no longer matters, they still keep their voices down when they start getting hot and heavy.

‘You should shower,’ V whispers in Johnny’s ear, flicking his tongue out to lick his earlobe.

‘What, I smell or somethin’?’

‘No,’ says V, ‘but I need you clean if I’m gonna eat you out.’

Johnny freezes at that. His hips, which had started to gyrate against V’s groin, go still, and his wandering hands stop moving. V pulls back, looking up at his face.

‘You okay?’ he asks, suddenly concerned. Did I just fuck this up?

Johnny doesn’t answer at first, simply extracting himself from V’s arms and stepping to the side. ‘I’m fine,’ he says finally.

‘I’m sorry,’ V says, taking a step back. ‘I, uh . . . I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just thought . . .’ He swallows. What is wrong with him? It’s unlike him to feel this insecure, but now it feels like a lot hinges on what he says next. ‘We don’t have to, you know,’ he says softly. ‘I’m cool with whatever. I just . . . wanted to make you feel good.’

‘Yeah,’ says Johnny, working his jaw. ‘I just haven’t, uh . . .’

‘If you haven’t done it before I totally get if it’s—’ V was about to say ‘scary’, but he knows Johnny well enough by now to know he wouldn’t admit to fear like that.

Johnny snorts. ‘What makes you think I haven’t done it before?’ he says, giving V a quick sideways glance. ‘Just . . . not in a while.’

‘Well, we don’t have to,’ V says again, daring to step a little closer. He reaches out and, when Johnny doesn’t move away, places his hand on his shoulder, squeezing. ‘We can do whatever you want, or nothin’ at all if you prefer.’

Johnny turns to him and grabs him by the shoulders, pushing him up against the wall. ‘Why you gotta be so fucking nice all the time?’ he growls. ‘It’s fucking unsettling . . .’

‘Fuck’s sake, Johnny.’ V wets his lip, looking up into the older man’s face, trying to read his expression and getting fuck-all for his trouble. ‘What do you want from me? I push, you pull away. I back off, you rush forward! Just . . . tell me what you want me to do.’ He looks away, staring at Johnny’s left shoulder, where metal meets flesh.

Johnny sighs and his head falls forward, his forehead pressed against V’s. He stays like that, silent, eyes closed, for several long seconds, then, ‘Just say you want me.’

V laughs softly. ‘What, that ain’t obvious? I want you, Johnny.’

Johnny captures V’s mouth in a searing kiss, shoving his tongue deep inside and grinding against him. ‘Might let you fuck me,’ he says, breaking the kiss for a moment. ‘But some other night.’

‘Okay,’ V agrees. ‘Some other night.’ He takes hold of Johnny’s belt and opens the buckle. ‘Want me to suck you off?’ he asks, just a little breathless.

Johnny nods. ‘Sure.’ V gets to his knees, pulls down Johnny’s pants and takes his cock into his mouth. This is good too. This is enough.

Night City looked pretty different in 2020 from how it looks in 2077. When the bomb was set off in 2023, it destroyed pretty much the entire city centre, but before that, Japantown, Little China, and so on were part of central Night City. What's called Heywood in 2077 was South Night City, and the area then known as Heywood was an industrial area around 2077's Santo Domingo. I'm trying to reflect this layout of the city in my descriptions going forward, so if you've played the video game and feel confused, that'd be why.

© 1988-2022 Micheal Pondsmith, R. Talsorian Games, CD Projekt Red; All Rights Reserved; Copyright © 2021 Thorn Wilde; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction that combine worlds created by the original content owner with names, places, characters, events, and incidents that are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, companies, events or locales are entirely coincidental. Authors are responsible for properly crediting Original Content creator for their creative works. Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
Stories in this Fandom are works of fan fiction. Any names or characters, businesses or places, events or incidents, are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Recognized characters, events, incidents belong to CD Projekt Red, Micheal Pondsmith and/or R. Talsorian Games.
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