Chase the Morning - 6. Closer

Johnny texts Kerry the next morning to tell him he can’t make it to the studio later. It was naïve of him to think Kerry would just accept it, of course, as he calls a few minutes later.

‘What d’you mean, you can’t make it?’ he says gruffly, without so much as a hello.

Johnny rolls his eyes. ‘Good morning to you too.’ It’s noon, not morning at all, but hey. Rockerboy time. ‘I can’t make it ’cause somethin’ came up, like I said.’

‘Something came up?’

‘Yeah.’ Johnny sighs. ‘Gotta do a favour for V.’ Kerry says nothing, but Johnny can picture him grinding his teeth in irritation. ‘Gotta go see Rogue,’ Johnny continues. ‘V’s lookin’ for work and she owes me.’ He pauses, considering. ‘Well, maybe not me. But she owes Santiago.’

‘Your output wants to be a solo?’ Kerry asks.

‘Not my—’ Johnny begins automatically, then shakes his head. ‘Never mind. Anyway, that’s what I’m doin’, since you can’t just take my word for it when I say somethin’ else came up.’

‘Well, then . . .’ Kerry grumbles something unintelligible.

Johnny frowns. ‘Hopin’ he’ll get himself flatlined, aren’t you?’ he says coldly.

‘What?’ Kerry sounds horrified. ‘The fuck, Johnny? You really think I’m that petty?’

‘I think you’re a jealous bitch,’ says Johnny.

A brief silence follows before Kerry sighs and says, ‘It’s just . . . if we’re doin’ this, you gotta take it seriously, Johnny.’

‘Hey, I came to you, remember?’ Johnny says. ‘I take it seriously. I’m committed. Okay?’

‘Yeah. Okay.’ Another pause. ‘See you tomorrow, though?’

‘Yeah, definitely. I’ll come by at three or somethin’.’

‘Fine.’

They hang up just as V gets out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. ‘Kerry again?’ he asks.

‘Who the fuck else?’ Johnny shrugs. ‘Breakfast?’

‘Coffee first.’ V smacks Johnny’s ass as he walks by. ‘You know, I used to get up at dawn every day before I met you,’ he grumbles.

‘Well, nothin’ happens in NC before noon anyway,’ says Johnny and follows him out of the bedroom.

They leave the hotel around three, after breakfast and a nice fuck. Johnny figures there’s not much point in heading to the Atlantis straight away, so instead he takes V shopping. V protests—there’s nothing wrong with his clothes, he likes them, what’s he need new ones for?—but Johnny insists. ‘Style matters, V. You wanna make a good impression. Wanna be a merc, gotta look the part. ’Sides, wouldn’t hurt to get somethin’ a little sturdy, for protection.’

Johnny gets V a new synleather jacket with a ballistic fibre lining, a good, sturdy pair of cargo pants that are easy and comfortable to move in, and a pair of heavy duty combat boots. While V isn’t looking, he also picks up a pair of skinny jeans because he’s convinced V’s ass will look amazing in them—he’s pretty sure they’re the right size; saving those for later. Around five, after forcing V to change into his new outfit, they get in the car and head to the Atlantis.

Johnny walks inside like he owns the place, just as always, and heads to the bar. It looks more or less the same as it did six years ago, which is somehow comforting; some things always stay the same.

‘Johnny Silverhand!’ Ringo grins, slinging the towel he’d been wiping down the bar with over his shoulder. ‘Where the fuck you been?’

‘Been on the road for a while,’ Johnny says.

‘What can I get you? The usual?’

Johnny nods. ‘Sure.’ He turns to V. ‘Want anything?’

‘Yeah, I’ll have whatever you’re havin’,’ says V.

‘So what brings you here?’ Ringo aks, pouring two shots of tequila.

‘Actually, I’m lookin’ for Rogue.’

Ringo shakes his head. ‘Sorry, she ain’t here. Don’t come here much anymore, actually.’

Johnny stares. ‘What? She ain’t a solo anymore?’

‘No, she is. But she hangs at the Afterlife these days. Most of ’em do.’

‘Afterlife?’ Johnny frowns. ‘Never heard of it.’

‘Old mortuary. Got turned into a club few years back. Guess you were outta town.’ He passes them their drinks, and both Johnny and V down them in one.

‘So, where is it?’

‘Halfway ’tween the Bank Block and the East Marina.’

‘Thanks. Guess we’ll head there.’ Johnny steps back from the bar, touching V’s lower back. But then he hears a familiar voice.

‘That Johnny Silverhand I spy?’

He turns his head to see a woman with a long, dark braid. ‘Spider?’ Johnny grins. ‘Good to see you. How you been?’

‘Oh, y’know. Doin’ my thing, spinning my webs.’ She gives him an appraising look, pursing her lips.

‘Aren’t you glad to see me?’ Johnny asks.

‘Well, that remains to be seen. Who’s your friend? New output?’

Johnny pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. ‘He’s not—ugh, fuck it. This is V. A friend from the Aldecaldos.’

‘Good to meet you,’ says V, smiling.

‘Murphy,’ says Spider, shaking his hand. ‘Folks call me Spider.’

‘One of Night City’s most talented Netrunners,’ says Johnny.

‘Oh yeah?’ V smiles. ‘I’m kind of a tech enthusiast. What deck you got?’

‘Okay, you two nerds can compare notes later,’ says Johnny, rolling his eyes. He does that all the fucking time these days. ‘We gotta go see Rogue.’

‘Rogue? She ain’t here.’

‘Yeah, so I’ve heard, so we’re headed to the Afterlife.’

‘She won’t be happy to see you,’ says Spider.

‘I know. This ain’t for me.’

‘It’s for me,’ says V. ‘I’m lookin’ for work. Santiago suggested I use his and Johnny’s mutual contacts.’

‘Which pretty much means Rogue,’ Johnny adds.

‘Well,’ says Spider, ‘I’m meetin’ a contact of my own here in a few minutes, but good luck to you. You ever end up needing a skilled Netrunner on a job, V, ask Rogue to put you in touch.’ She turns to Johnny. ‘Still not sure if I’m happy to see you, but . . . I’m glad you’re not dead. Catch you later, I’m sure.’

‘Yeah, see ya.’ Johnny puts his hand on V’s lower back again and escorts him away from the bar.

‘Cute how you can’t keep your hands off me,’ V remarks. ‘You didn’t get enough this morning?’

Johnny removes his hand, shrugging nonchalantly. ‘Just makin’ sure you know where you’re goin’. This place can be a maze.’

‘Right.’ V smirks at him. ‘That’s all it is. Well, after you, then,’ he says, motioning for Johnny to take the lead, then lets his hand fall to the small of Johnny’s back and discreetly slide down to brush over his ass before he takes it back.

‘Tease,’ Johnny grumbles.

‘Hey, Johnny!’ It’s Spider’s voice again, and Johnny turns to see her making her way across the floor toward them. ‘Almost forgot.’ She steps close, speaking quietly in his ear. ‘Been doin’ some digging. Think I may have a lead on Alt.’ Johnny freezes, suddenly cold. ‘She’s definitely somewhere, and I’m gettin’ closer, but . . . keep gettin’ locked out. Stinks of Arasaka, but I got no idea how they’re doin’ it.’

Johnny wets his lips. ‘Not now,’ he murmurs. ‘I’ll call you later.’

‘Sure. Just thought you’d wanna know. It’s slow goin’, but I’m one step closer.’

‘Yeah. Good.’ Johnny nods, then turns to V again. ‘Let’s go, V.’

#

The Afterlife is easy enough to find. The two of them are greeted at the door by a tall, broad-shouldered bouncer who looks them over with cold cybernetic eyes. ‘Here for biz?’

‘Lookin’ for Rogue,’ says Johnny.

‘She know you?’

‘I’m her old pal Johnny,’ says Johnny, removing his shades and looking the man in the eye.

The bouncer’s left eyebrow cocks almost imperceptibly. ‘As in Silverhand? Who was with ’er on the Arasaka hit a few years back?’

‘Who hired her for the hit,’ Johnny corrects him. ‘That’d be me.’

The bouncer nods. ‘All right. Go on in.’ He looks V up and down as he passes. V tries not to feel offended when he says, ‘Keep an eye on yer pet. And careful with Rogue. Don’t wanna piss her off.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ says Johnny. ‘I know what I’m doin’.’

V isn’t convinced he does. Johnny seems almost nervous as they head down the steps—a hint of restless energy in his posture and the slightest flicker of anxiety in his eye. Whoever Rogue is, the two of them clearly have some kind of history. If she’s pissed, odds are they were close. Seems to V no one hates Johnny quite as much as the people who love him.

Johnny steps up to the bar and questions the bartender, who directs them to the next room, which he refers to as the Crypt.

‘They sure take the whole old morgue thing seriously, don’t they?’ V says as they start heading for the door the bartender pointed them toward.

‘Guess it’s all part of the gimmick. Makes the place seem sinister, that’s for sure.’

When they enter the Crypt, Johnny looks around for a second, then seems to catch sight of who he’s looking for. He swallows, working his jaw a little, before turning left with a purpose. V follows behind. He glances around as they walk. Everyone in here looks dangerous—some are wearing combat armour, nearly all are scarred, some are bruised and bloody, clearly just back from a job, their comrades passing them drinks and toasting their health.

Johnny stops before a booth and V comes to a halt next to him. In it sits a woman Johnny’s age with a mullethawk that can’t quite seem to decide if it’s green or blue and a black jacket of synleather and vinyl. She looks up when Johnny’s shadow falls across her table, not a hint of surprise in her glare.

‘Look who finally decided to show up,’ she says coldly.

Johnny folds his arms over his chest. He leans up against a column and puts on his Southern charm. When he responds, it sounds light and unconcerned, though V can tell his guard’s up. ‘What's wrong, did ya miss me?’ he drawls.

She scoffs, getting to her feet. ‘In your pathetic dreams. You run off and hide for six years—’

‘Oh, c’mon, you knew I was with Santiago!’

‘—and you’ve been in town more than a week now, but you didn’t even think to get in touch?’ She takes a breath as though to continue, but the moment passes and she sighs, shaking her head.

Johnny groans, throwing his hands in the air. ‘’Course you were followin’ me around!’

‘I wasn’t—ugh!’ She grimaces, folds her arms. ‘Just get it over with. What the hell do you want?’

‘A favour,’ says Johnny. ‘Not for me,’ he adds hurriedly when her expression darkens. ‘This is V. He’s one of Santiago’s Aldecaldos. He’s lookin’ for work.’

‘Hey.’ V gives her a lopsided smile. ‘How you doin’?’

‘V,’ she says. ‘That some kinda alias?’

‘Nickname, I guess,’ says V. ‘Name’s Vincent, but . . . only my mom calls me that.’

Rogue looks him up and down sceptically. ‘How old are you, kid?’

‘Twenty-four,’ says V, and her eyebrows rise toward her hairline. ‘I know, I don’t look it, bla bla bla.’

Rogue sighs. ‘Fine. Sit. You,’ she points at Johnny, ‘fuck off in the meantime.’

Johnny shrugs. ‘Fine.’ He heads for the bar.

‘So,’ says Rogue as they both sit down, all biz now, ‘Santiago’ll vouch for ya?’

‘Think so. It was his idea to look for mercenary work.’

‘And what are you doing in Night City? Why’d you leave the family?’

‘Wouldn’t say I left ’em, ’zactly,’ says V, shrugging. ‘Prolly go back eventually. But Johnny asked me along to see the city. He spends most days jamming with Kerry, so I need something to fill the time. Plus, a few eddies wouldn’t hurt.’

A look of surprise passes over Rogue’s face at the mention of Kerry’s name, but it is quickly replaced with the same air of professional detachment. ‘And what’re your talents?’ she asks.

‘Tech, mostly,’ says V. ‘Good at breakin’ in and slippin’ inside places unnoticed. And I know how to shoot. Also done my share of smuggling.’

Rogue nods. ‘Useful skills. But what do you do when the shit hits the fan?’

V grins. ‘Blow somethin’ up and run like hell.’

Rogue surprises him by laughing. ‘Well, I like your style, kid. But if we’re gonna work together, I gotta see you in action.’ She nods to herself, thinking. ‘Okay. Gonna make some calls, find us a gig. You take point, I tag along. Let’s see what you’re good for.’

#

Johnny’s on his third shot when V steps up to the bar next to him. ‘How’d it go?’

‘Went well,’ says V. ‘She’s gonna try me out. Find a gig for us to do together so she can see me in action.’

Johnny relaxes a little. He hadn’t even realised he was tense. Rogue’s a professional. No way’ll she let V do anything he can’t handle. ‘Okay, good.’ He drains his glass and gestures at the bartender for another.

V glances at the glasses on the counter. ‘Havin’ fun?’

Johnny shrugs. ‘Needed to take the edge off.’

V sits down on the bar stool next to him. ‘A lotta memories, huh?’

How is it V always knows when something’s bothering him? He’s usually so good at hiding it, but V’s never fooled. ‘Yeah,’ Johnny says, leaving it at that. The bartender passes him another shot and he downs it in one.

V puts his mouth close to Johnny’s ear and whispers, ‘C’mon. Let’s go home.’

With V’s warm breath on the skin of his neck, that sounds like the best idea ever. Johnny puts his hand on V’s thigh, sliding it upward. ‘Fine,’ he murmurs.

‘Preem.’ V stands up. ‘I’m driving.’

‘No, you’re not,’ says Johnny, wobbling a little as he stands.

‘Yes, I am. You just did four shots in like fifteen minutes. Either I drive or we walk.’ V holds out his hand. ‘Keys.’

Grumbling, Johnny reaches into his pocket and pulls out the keys, passing them to V, then follows him out of the club. V looks so small and helpless compared to everyone else in here. In his slightly drunken state, Johnny’s capable of admitting to himself that he’s worried about him. He knows V is stronger than he looks and that he has many talents. But the idea that he might get hurt gives Johnny a sick, ugly feeling in his stomach. He’d rather not examine too closely why that is.

He stares out the window as V drives them back to Japantown. The sky is dark, the city lit up in colourful neon. Johnny starts sobering up a little on the way and his mind starts to wander. First to Rogue, how he fucked that up . . . and then to Alt. Fucking Alt . . . why’d Spider have to mention her? Johnny’s managed to go quite some time without thinking about her in any meaningful way.

Does that mean he’s given up? The thought hits him like a bucket of ice. Has he given up on Alt? He risked his life for her. And when he found out her consciousness was still alive, just trapped in the Net, he promised himself he’d free her. That seems so long ago now. He’s suddenly overcome with that feeling, the one he hates more than anything. The one he feels whenever he thinks of Texas, or Arizona, or Mexico . . . or Alt. It sits in the pit of his stomach like a heavy stone, weighing him down, and he wants more than anything not to feel it.

They pull up to the hotel and V parks the car. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t ask Johnny what’s wrong. Johnny’s grateful for that. They stand in the elevator, shoulders brushing, but V doesn’t ask any questions or even touch him. Not until they’re back in the suite does he turn to Johnny and wordlessly kiss him, as if he knows exactly what Johnny needs. Maybe he does.

Johnny kisses him back, wraps his arms around him and holds on until they’re both breathless. Johnny kisses V’s neck, puts his mouth close to his ear and whispers, ‘V . . . I . . . I need—’ He pauses, not even sure what he wants to say. His mind is full of noise, of images, of pain. He needs to relieve it, needs to forget. Needs to not think and not feel. ‘Fuck me,’ he murmurs.

V pulls back, looking into his eyes for a long moment, like he’s studying him. ‘You sure?’ he asks finally.

Johnny swallows, then nods. ‘Yeah.’

V doesn’t smile. His usual playfulness has been replaced with something else; something intense. A smouldering, fierce sense of purpose. ‘Okay. Go wash up.’

Johnny goes to the bathroom, showers quickly, taking care to get himself clean. He knows how this goes, after all. It’s not his first rodeo, even if it’s been years. He keeps his focus on that; ignores those other thoughts and feelings, normally precariously held in place by cobwebs and duct tape. When he’s satisfied he’s clean, he leaves the bathroom naked.

He’s wholly unprepared for the sight that greets him. V is sitting on the bed, strap-on in place. It uses the same harness as the prosthetic he wears normally. It’s not huge, for which Johnny’s grateful, given where it’s going, but it looks fairly realistic. V looks beyond hot with his naked chest and strong, muscular thighs on display, that smouldering look still in place. On the nightstand sits a large bottle of lube. They’ve not needed it so far, as V gets plenty wet enough from even the slightest stimuli, but they will tonight.

‘Come here,’ says V, beckoning him over and standing up. Johnny does as he’s told, following V’s lead. V draws him in, kisses him on the lips, shoving his tongue roughly into his mouth. He’s controlling the kiss, holding Johnny’s face in both hands, and Johnny lets himself be swept up in it. V breaks the kiss, his hazel eyes staring into Johnny’s. ‘On your knees,’ he says at last. Johnny obeys, looking up at V, who presents him with the silicone cock. ‘Suck it,’ he says.

Johnny blinks. ‘But . . . you can’t even feel it. Why?’

‘Because I told you to,’ says V calmly. Who is this man? Has he been hiding inside that friendly, laid-back kid from the Badlands all along? Suddenly, everything from his posture to his tone of voice oozes dominance and authority.

Johnny shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath, and opens his mouth. V slides the strap-on in between his lips. Johnny takes it in as far as he can get it, sucking and bobbing his head. It’s been a very long time since he’s sucked a dick, though of course, this one isn’t real, so he’s not sure if it counts. The taste is clinical, just silicone, but the further in he takes it, the more he can smell V’s arousal. He’d love to lick his cunt, but that doesn’t seem to be part of V’s plan. He glances up at V, who runs his fingers through Johnny’s hair, tightening his fist and pulling just a little bit. Johnny’s thrown back to the first time they fucked, in V’s tent back in the Aldecaldo camp, their situations reversed as V went down on him with boundless enthusiasm. The memory of V’s mouth and hands and the sounds he made makes Johnny hot, his cock twitching between his legs.

Soon, V pulls out of his mouth. ‘Get on the bed,’ he orders. ‘On your stomach.’

Once again, Johnny does what he’s asked, helplessly following V’s commands like a dog. He lies down nervously, pillowing his head on his arms. He feels V get up on the bed behind him. V’s hands run up his thighs to his ass, spreading his cheeks. Johnny shuts his eyes, breathing harder.

‘Look at this gorgeous ass,’ V murmurs, and then something warm and wet prods at Johnny’s hole. He arches his back, groaning as V starts eating him out. Johnny’s cock is fully hard now, rubbing against the sheets as he moves, pushing back on V’s hot tongue. It makes his hole twitch and sends shivers up his spine, and Johnny moans out loud. At this, Johnny’s a virgin. No one’s ever eaten his ass before. Behind him, V hums appreciatively, as if it’s the most delicious meal he’s ever had.

When V quits his ministrations, it’s both too soon and not soon enough. His tongue felt amazing, but Johnny wants to get fucked, and V knows it. He reaches for the lube, but before applying it, he lies down on top of Johnny, pressing him down into the mattress and kissing the back of his neck. He bites down, not very hard but hard enough, and Johnny groans at the delicious sting of it. He cranes his neck, trying to look behind him, and V meets him halfway, kissing him. Johnny’s already too far gone to care that the tongue he’s now sucking on was just inside his ass. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.

V pours lube down Johnny’s crack. It feels a little cold. He rubs his fingers against Johnny’s hole, gently prodding with blunt fingertips. He takes his time, slowly coaxing him open with one finger at a time. This sends him back to that first time too, when he let V finger his ass while he sucked him off. There aren’t a lot of people Johnny would trust enough to let them near his ass, even with just a finger, but he let V do it on his first try. What does that say about him? Or about V?

All thought is driven from his head as V finds his prostate, pressing down on it with his fingertips. Johnny sees stars. ‘Fuck!’ he grits out.

‘That’s it,’ says V softly. He leans down over Johnny, running his free hand up and down his side and pressing his lips to the back of his shoulder. ‘Open up for me. Lemme take care of you.’

Johnny gasps. The feeling is so intense, burning heat pooling in his groin. He grinds down into the mattress, both hands fisted in the sheets. ‘Ah . . . oh, god!’ His hips are moving of their own accord, until he’s fucking himself on V’s fingers. Johnny’s breath comes in short, sharp bursts, every other exhale a soft moan or whimper. He forgets to feel embarrassed. Forgets to feel anything but this.

V is relentless. He keeps rubbing that spot with his fingers as Johnny’s entire body begins to tremble, and he doesn’t let up. ‘Oh, I can feel it,’ V says. ‘You’re getting close, aren’t you, Johnny?’

Johnny just about manages to nod into the pillow, letting out a shaky, ‘Yeah . . .’ The word comes out almost like a whimper.

‘Mm, good. You gonna come on my fingers, hm?’

Johnny groans. ‘I . . .’ He feels like he’s on fire. The friction of the bedsheet against his cock isn’t enough to make him ejaculate, but something else is happening. Johnny’s thighs quiver. Heat is spreading from his ass through his entire being, and he cries out as pleasure takes him, carrying him away. Words cease to have meaning. Around him, the world slips away, the bedroom with its pretty crane tapestries plunged into darkness until only this remains; the bed under him and V over him, one hand on the nape of his neck, holding him still. All he hears is the sound of his own breathing, of blood rushing in his ears. He shuts his eyes and lets it happen, lets it take him until he feels like he’s falling apart, whimpering and almost sobbing into the pillow.

‘There you go, that’s it,’ V coaxes. Slowly, he pulls his fingers out, leaving Johnny feeling strangely empty. It takes a while for his body to stop shaking. Meanwhile, V lies down next to him, stroking his back and his hair. When Johnny finally manages to breathe normally, he turns his head, meeting V’s eye, and V kisses him gently. Johnny’s cock is still hard and aching under him. ‘Need anything?’ V asks softly. ‘Or should I just continue?’

‘Just—’ Johnny clears his throat, his voice hoarse. ‘Go on,’ he manages.

V flashes him a wicked grin. ‘As you wish.’ He sits up, reaching for the lube again and slicking up the strap-on. He gets on top of Johnny and pushes the tip against his hole. While not huge, it’s still bigger than V’s fingers, and Johnny groans as it breaches his ass.

‘Fuck . . .’ Johnny draws a deep breath and holds it.

‘Relax,’ says V softly. ‘That’s it, Johnny. You can take it.’

Johnny almost whimpers. ‘I . . . I can’t—!’

‘Shh.’ V leans down and softly kisses the nape of his neck. ‘You can. You’re so good, Johnny. You can take all of it.’ And with that, he slides in and bottoms out.

Trying to ignore how good that praise makes him feel, Johnny lets out a long, drawn-out, ‘Fuuuuck!’ His eyes are squeezed tight, his hands clenched into fists. It burns. V stays still for a little bit, letting him adjust.

‘You good?’ he asks.

Johnny nods, mustering up the ability to speak. ‘Yeah, I’m . . . keep goin’.’

V begins to move his hips. He holds Johnny down by his wrist as he fucks him, deep and hard, drawing pants and groans from Johnny’s lips. ‘Fuck, this is when I wish I had a real dick,’ he says breathlessly. ‘So I could feel your tight ass around it. But I’ll have to make do . . .’ He pulls almost all the way out and then slams back in, and Johnny cries out.

Johnny Silverhand isn’t good at letting go. He likes being in charge. Needs to be, because he learned at a young age that, in the end, all he has is himself. Relying on others is a weakness. Trust is a flaw. Surrender is unacceptable. But now, here, in this moment, Johnny surrenders. He lets V take him apart until he’s the only thing in the universe, losing himself in the intensity of V’s attentions. For one long, blissful moment while V fucks him, Johnny forgets all the reasons why he shouldn’t trust and shouldn’t surrender. With V pounding his ass, Johnny can just be.

He’s shaking again, his heart racing. His hair sticks to his sweaty forehead, and he’s utterly incapable of staying silent. V grabs his shoulders, pulling him up so he’s kneeling on the bed. Holding Johnny up with an arm around his chest, he grabs Johnny’s cock with his other hand and begins to stroke. ‘Come for me, Johnny,’ he whispers. ‘Be good and come for me.’

It happens humiliatingly quickly. Johnny’s so over-stimulated, riding so high it only takes about thirty seconds from V wraps his fingers around his cock until Johnny shoots all over his hand and the bedsheets underneath them. His orgasm, in contrast to the rest of the experience, is silent. Johnny holds his breath, releasing it in a short, hard exhale as he comes.

‘Fuck, yeah,’ V murmurs against his skin, kissing the back of his neck. ‘That’s it, Johnny.’ He lowers Johnny back down onto the bed, and Johnny’s shaking knees give out as he collapses. He grimaces when he feels the cooling puddle of cum on the sheets beneath his stomach. He’s still panting, his heart still racing.

Getting off him, V removes the harness and lies down next to him, stroking his back soothingly. He brushes the hair away from Johnny’s neck and peppers it with kisses. ‘You did great,’ he whispers.

Johnny’s beginning to come back to himself, grounded by V’s touch and his soothing voice. ‘Fuck, V,’ he mumbles. ‘The fuck you do to me?’

V laughs softly in his ear. ‘Well, let’s see . . . I ate you out and then made you come twice, first on my fingers and then on my cock.’

‘Your strap-on,’ Johnny corrects him.

‘Yeah, well, we make do with the equipment we’ve got,’ says V, frowning a little.

‘Sorry, that . . . that came out wrong.’ Johnny sighs, feeling boneless and relaxed. ‘I needed that.’ It feels weird—unsettling, even—to admit that he needs something from another person like this, but that makes it no less true.

‘I know,’ V replies. With a hand on the back of his neck, he coaxes Johnny to turn his head so they can see each other’s eyes, then kisses him softly on the lips. ‘Happy to oblige.’ He sits up again. ‘Gonna get us some water.’