Chase the Morning - 7. Taste in Men

V returns with a bottle of water and a cloth to find Johnny on his back, staring drowsily up at the ceiling. He passes him the bottle. ‘Here. Drink.’

Johnny takes the bottle, propping himself up on his elbow so he can drink. He drains half of it in one and hands it back to V. ‘Thanks.’

‘No problem.’ V gently cleans the cum off Johnny’s stomach, noting the other’s frown though he doesn’t protest, then tosses the cloth on the floor and lies down next to him. They don’t touch or kiss. They just lie there naked in comfortable, companionable silence.

Johnny’s the first to break it. ‘Maybe you should fuck Kerry.’

V laughs, turning his head to stare at him. ‘What?’

‘I’m serious. Bet he could do with a good dickin’. And you said yourself you thought he was hot.’

‘’Cause he is objectively hot. Have you seen his eyes?’

Johnny snorts. ‘Have I ever seen my best friend’s eyes? Yeah, choomba, I’ve seen his eyes.’

‘Fucking gorgeous eyes. Not to mention his ass.’

‘That too,’ Johnny agrees. ‘So what’s the problem?’

V shakes his head, pillowing it on his arms and joining Johnny in his ceiling-staring. ‘Other than the fact that he hates me? I’m thinkin’ Kerry Eurodyne gets plenty of cock. Don’t need me for that.’

‘Yeah, but I think he could benefit from your cock. Or, y’know . . .’ He nods to where V discarded the harness on the floor.

Frowning, V turns over on his side and props himself up on his elbow, studying Johnny’s face. It gives nothing away, but he doesn’t look like he’s kidding. ‘Where’s this comin’ from? Why you tryin’ to pimp me out, man?’

That rocks Johnny’s carefully constructed facade, and he meets V’s eye, looking surprised. ‘What? No, I—that’s not what I meant.’

‘No?’

‘No. I just . . .’ It’s strange to see Johnny flustered—a small, sadistic part of V is enjoying it. ‘I think you’d like each other. Think you’d be good for him.’

V smiles, in spite of himself. ‘So you want me to fix your friend for you?’

Johnny snorts. ‘That’s takin’ it a little far. Doubt Kerry’s particular brand of crazy can be fixed.’ He turns over on his side and covers V’s hand with his own. He makes it seem accidental but doesn’t remove it. ‘You just . . . fuck, this is weird . . . I guess you see people. You . . . get them. You get me. Kerry doesn’t, not really. He doesn’t understand—not anymore, anyway. I may be what he wants, but I’m not what he needs.’

V cocks his eyebrow. ‘You really care about ’im, don’t you?’

Johnny seems to hesitate for a moment before he finally shrugs. ‘Well, yeah. But never tell him I said that, it’ll just go to his head. For the record, I care about you too. Puts you in pretty exclusive company, y’know; there’s about five people on this entire planet I could say that about.’

V laughs, lying down on his back again, his hand slipping out from under Johnny’s. ‘Guess I’m honoured, then.’

‘You should be.’ Johnny sighs. ‘I, uh . . . I didn’t mean to make you feel used.’

‘Well, for a man who writes such beautiful lyrics, you’re shit at expressing yourself. But don’t worry. I never felt used.’

‘Good.’

For a while, V debates himself over whether to say what he’s thinking. Johnny seems to sense his indecisiveness. ‘What?’ he says.

V glances at him. ‘I think you may wanna stop insisting I’m not your output. I mean, this is casual and that’s great—I’m not lookin’ for romance here—but when two people have been sleepin’ together almost every night for going on a month, saying we’re “friends who mess around sometimes” is startin’ to feel a little dishonest.’

He thinks it’s probably a testament to how comfortable Johnny is with him now, how much he trusts V in spite of himself, that he doesn’t dismiss him entirely and go sleep in the other room. Instead, he frowns, wetting his bottom lip with his tongue. ‘Do we need to define it?’ he says finally.

‘I guess not,’ says V, ‘but people are askin’. And they’re gonna keep askin’, ’specially since you can’t keep your hands off me in public.’ He smirks.

‘Not my fault you’re so damn fuckable,’ says Johnny with a shrug. Then he sighs. ‘Fine. So you’re my output. Now what?’

V shrugs. ‘Now nothin’. Everything’s exactly the same, except you don’t have to get that panicked look in your eye every time someone asks if I’m your output.’

‘What panicked look? I do not panic!’

V laughs. ‘Whatever you say, man.’ Then he rolls over and kisses Johnny on the lips. ‘I’m gonna go get some more water. You want anything?’

Johnny shakes his head. ‘Nah, I’m good.’ He yawns. ‘Think I just need sleep.’

‘Okay.’ V brushes a strand of hair away from Johnny’s face and smiles. ‘Get some rest.’

#

Johnny feels oddly rested when he wakes up the next day. Checking the time, he realises he’s been asleep for twelve hours, which might explain that. Next to him, the bed is empty, but he can smell coffee and hears the TV on in the next room. Johnny gets out of bed. His ass is a little sore, but he’s had worse—V was gentle with him, all told.

The thought of what happened last night makes him blush. Of what he asked V to do to him. His cock, half hard from having just woken up, twitches with interest at the memory. He shakes his head to try and clear it. He’s got a powerful urge to piss, and he discovers there’s still a little dried cum on his belly, so he goes to the bathroom to take a leak and a shower. With hot water cascading down his tired body, Johnny takes his cock in his hand. He hasn’t really needed to jerk off in quite some time. Which isn’t to say he hasn’t been doing it, though not since they got to Night City. Still, it’s nice to take a moment to himself, much as he enjoys being with V. Sometimes, all you need is your own hand, even if that hand is made of metal.

Johnny comes quickly, silently, ejaculating on the tiles. He washes it off with water from the shower, then finishes cleaning up and gets out, wrapping a soft terrycloth towel around his waist.

He exits into the living room to find V sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and a sandwich. He must have been out to get breakfast. There’s another sandwich on a plate next to him. V looks up as Johnny enters.

‘Morning!’ He smiles. ‘How you feelin’?’ It’s an innocent enough question, and nothing in his expression or posture gives it away as anything else.

Johnny shrugs. ‘All right,’ he says nonchalantly. He picks up a mug and fills it with coffee from the machine, then sits at the table. He sips his coffee, has a bite out of the sandwich.

‘You goin’ to the studio today?’ V asks.

‘Yeah. Got any plans?’

V shrugs. ‘Prolly just go explorin’ again. Not much else to do until Rogue calls.’

Johnny nods. ‘Wanna go out tonight? Thought we could hit a club. Somethin’ a little different from the other places we’ve been to. Up for it?’

‘Sure.’ V smiles at him.

‘I’ll come pick you up when I’m done at Kerry’s.’ He glances at V. ‘Wear those skinny jeans I got you yesterday.’

V frowns. ‘What jeans?’

‘Check the bag in the bedroom.’ Johnny stands up and goes out onto the balcony for a smoke, coffee cup in hand. Tonight . . . tonight will be a good night, he decides.

#

Kerry puts down his guitar and yawns. ‘Think that’s all I got in me for today,’ he says. ‘Gettin’ tired.’ They’ve had a productive session, working on yet another new tune. Kerry’s got some lyrics in mind for this one. He’s planning on writing them down once Johnny’s left. Co-writing lyrics works better when you’ve got a starting point, he’s found.

‘Sure.’ Johnny stands and puts the DeLuze back in its case. He gives Kerry a sidelong glance. ‘Hey, Ker.’

‘Yeah?’

‘You get out much these days?’

‘Why?’

Johnny shrugs. ‘No reason. Just know you can be a shut-in if you don’t have anyone to get you off your ass.’

‘I get out,’ says Kerry, trying hard not to be offended, because if he’s honest with himself, Johnny’s right. ‘Went clubbing just last week. Same night I called you, actually.’

‘Wanna go out tonight?’ Johnny asks, closing the guitar case. ‘Thought we might hit up Dicky Twister.’

Kerry raises an eyebrow. ‘You wanna go to Dickie’s?’

‘Why not?’ says Johnny with a shrug. ‘Had fun last we went, didn’t we? Fuck, ’member that dancer?’ He shakes his head. ‘Seem to recall you found some hunk to take you home too.’

He’s right. Kerry did have a good time when they went to Dickie’s last, but that was at least seven years ago. Back when Johnny was seeing Alt. They’d had a fight and he wanted to get himself a piece of ass just to spite her. Kerry recalls his own disappointment when that piece of ass wasn’t his—closest he and Johnny ever got to actually fucking, outside of hormone-fuelled handjobs in their teens, has been the odd threesome where they shared a partner. That disappointment isn’t necessarily an experience he’s keen on repeating, but going out might be good for him. Last week, he went out with the guys from his backing band to celebrate the end of tour. They sat in some high-end VIP lounge surrounded by groupies, and Kerry had been distracted thinking about Johnny and his Samurai reunion idea. Dicky Twister is a dive, which means it’s full of real people. Real men, not star-struck groupies. Kerry would be lying if he said the thought didn’t appeal to him.

‘Fine,’ he says at last. ‘Let’s go to Dickie’s.’

‘Preem. See you there at nine?’

Kerry nods. ‘Yeah, okay.’ He watches Johnny leave, trying not to look too closely at his ass. Trying not to hope, because there’s always that little part of him that thinks maybe if he just gets Johnny drunk enough, they’ll end up in bed together. And he hates it, both because getting someone drunk so they’ll fuck you is a shitty thing to do and because it’s never gonna happen, no matter how skezzed Johnny gets.

#

‘So, we’re going to a gay bar,’ V says. He sounds hesitant. ‘With Kerry.’

‘Yup.’ Johnny grins, drumming on the steering wheel with his fingers.

‘Kerry know I’m comin’?’ V asks.

Johnny just shrugs. It’s not like he told him, but Kerry knows he and V are kind of a package deal at the moment. If he gets the wrong idea, it’s one hundred percent not Johnny’s fault.

They pull up outside Dicky Twister and get out of the Porsche. Going inside, they pay the entrance fee and enter the club proper. It’s busy tonight, with plenty of guys dancing, drinking, and getting busy with each other in the corners while scantily clad men gyrate up on the catwalk. Johnny looks around and sees Kerry by the bar. Taking V by the wrist, he drags him over. ‘Hey, Ker!’ he half shouts over the din.

‘Johnny.’ Kerry squints at V. ‘And who are you again?’

Johnny snorts. He’s talked about V enough that Kerry knows exactly who he is.

But V just takes it in stride. ‘I’m V,’ he says, smiling genuinely. ‘How you doin’?’ He glances around the room and raises an eyebrow. ‘Quite the view from over here, huh?’

Kerry cracks half a smile at that, but seems to catch himself and forces his face back into a neutral expression. He’s being standoffish, but as Johnny turns to the bar to order drinks, he notes Kerry discreetly checking out V’s ass. He can’t blame him; V looks good tonight, dressed in those new skinny jeans and a grey t-shirt that’s loose at the collar and shows off his collar bones. Good. So far, everything’s going according to plan.

He hears V address Kerry. ‘I know I already said this, but I really loved the show last week. I’ve heard your music before, but never live. You really killed it. People do so much shit with vocals in the studio, so you can never know how good someone actually is from a recording, but, man, I fucking love your voice!’

‘Oh.’ Kerry pauses. ‘Um, thanks. That’s, uh . . . that’s real nice of you.’

V shrugs. ‘I only ever call it like I see it.’

‘He does too. Even when he’s wrong,’ says Johnny, turning around with two shots of tequila. He hands one to V. ‘Cheers.’

V grins and downs it in one. ‘Whoo!’ He coughs, grimacing. ‘That’s strong. What was that?’

‘Some random tequila. All the booze is stronger at Dickie’s,’ Johnny says and downs his too. ‘Ooh, I need another. You?’

‘Hit me!’ V grins. He turns to Kerry again, stepping closer so he won’t have to shout over the music, but Johnny can still hear. ‘Y’know, and sorry if this is forward, but I’d really love to jam some time. I mean, I suck, but Johnny’s been givin’ me some pointers on my guitar playin’. Your style is different, I’d love to see it up close.’

Johnny sees Kerry swallow. V’s mouth is right next to his ear. ‘Uh, yeah. Maybe.’

‘Nova.’ V accepts a second drink from Johnny and drains it immediately. ‘Okay, boys, I dunno about you, but I’m in a gay bar for the first time in my life, so I wanna dance!’ He turns and heads for the dance floor, swinging his hips. Johnny and Kerry watch him go.

‘He’s never been to a gay bar before?’ Kerry asks.

Johnny shakes his head. ‘’Parently not. Kid’s a nomad, he grew up in the Badlands. Says he’d been to NC, like, twice before I took him here.’ He leans closer. ‘I know he looks a little innocent, but trust me when I say, he is not.’

Kerry frowns. ‘How old is he, anyway? Looks barely outta high school.’

‘Well, pretty sure he never went to high school. But he’s twenty-four.’

‘What, really?’ Kerry scoffs and looks around the room. The club’s got everything from twinks to bears to muscle daddies. Athletic though he may be, V falls squarely in the twink category in this setting. ‘He’s gonna get eaten alive in here if he’s not careful.’

‘Yeah,’ Johnny agrees and grins. ‘Better go keep the wolves off him.’

Kerry nods. ‘Okay. Be there in a sec. I think I need another drink.’

Johnny heads for the dance floor, where he finds V already grinding with some Latino guy who dances far too well. Johnny grabs V by the hips and presses up against his back, murmuring in his ear, ‘Hey, pay attention to me.’

V laughs. ‘Fuck, you’re needy, Silverhand. Plenty of me to go ’round.’

Johnny sees Kerry approaching and lets go of V, turning to his friend instead. ‘See anythin’ you like? Aside from me, I mean?’ Johnny smirks.

Kerry narrows his eyes. ‘Why?’ he asks.

‘Well, aim of comin’ here was to get us all laid tonight, wasn’t it?’ Johnny shrugs.

Kerry frowns at him. ‘Thought you were with V.’

‘Yeah, we’re fucking, but we don’t need to go to a gay bar to do that.’ He drapes his arm over Kerry’s shoulder. ‘Variety’s the spice of life, choomba. Live it!’ He lets go and slaps Kerry’s ass. ‘Gotta go take a piss. Keep an eye on V, okay? Keep him outta trouble till I get back.’ He leaves the dance floor.

#

Kerry turns his eyes to the younger man with the purple hair. He looks like he’s having fun. He turns around in the arms of the man he’s dancing with, so his back is against the man’s front, pink and purple disco lights cascading over his body as he moves. Catching Kerry’s eye, he winks. ‘Get over here, Eurodyne!’ he calls.

Kerry moves closer. ‘Don’t say my name so loud, ya gonk. I’m tryna go incognito here.’

V laughs. ‘Yeah, good luck with that. Hate to be the one to tell you this, but you’re objectively the hottest guy in here. People are gonna notice and recognise you eventually.’

Kerry frowns and looks around. He’s definitely attracting a few stares. He should know better than to think he can go clubbing without getting recognised these days. He’s so sick of groupies . . . Then it hits him that V just called him the hottest guy in the room, and he turns his eyes back on the younger man.

‘Fuck ’em,’ says V, as if he’s reading Kerry’s mind. ‘Come dance with me instead.’

Kerry raises an eyebrow at him. ‘What d’you mean?’

‘I know that look,’ V says. ‘Seen it on Johnny’s face. Like he’s suspicious whenever someone’s interested in ’im ’cause he can’t be sure why. He’s been away long enough that folks in here may not recognise him, though. But you they’ll know. So, if one of ’em approaches you, you’ll be wonderin’ whether they’re groupies or actually into you. And if you want a groupie, you don’t need to go clubbin’ for that.’ V frees himself from his dance partner’s wandering hands and steps close to Kerry, putting his arms around his neck and whispering in his ear, ‘I ain’t a groupie. So, dance with me.’

Kid’s observant, Kerry’ll give him that. He slides his arms around V’s waist. He’s slim under the loose t-shirt, and a few inches shorter than Kerry. But his arms are muscular, and Kerry can tell through the tight jeans that his legs are too. V moves closer still, pressing his whole body up against Kerry. He smells like nice soap and clean sweat, and underneath there’s a hint of something else. Something a little bit like motor oil. He sways his hips to the music—boy’s got rhythm even if he’s not used to going dancing. Kerry lets his hands wander a little down over V’s hips and ass, and V looks up at him with a mischievous glint in his eye.

‘Whatcha doin’?’ he says innocently.

Kerry shrugs. ‘Dancin’ with a cute boy.’

V laughs. Behind him, Johnny appears again. He approaches, placing his hands on V’s hips and pressing up against his back. ‘You two behaving yourselves?’

Grinning, V looks over his shoulder. ‘Hey, Johnny. We are.’

‘Well, we can’t have that,’ says Johnny and captures V’s lips. Kerry feels a sudden surge of jealousy, and for a moment he’s not sure which of them he’s actually jealous of. He pushes the thought away, letting instinct take over, and reaches out. The person he grabs by the back of the neck is V, pulling him away from Johnny and kissing him. V’s kiss is sloppy and open-mouthed, and very enthusiastic. He tastes like tequila and cigarettes, and his tongue is hot and insistent. He slips a hand up into Kerry’s hair, cradling the back of his head. Kerry glances at Johnny, who’s still grinding against V’s ass and is now kissing his exposed neck. He meets Kerry’s eye with an obvious and smug smirk.

Cocky bastard. He fucking planned this! Kerry knows he should feel annoyed, maybe even insulted, that the fucker he still has ill-advised feelings for is trying to set him up with his own output. But Kerry can’t deny that V is hot, even if Kerry’s tended more toward beefcake in the past. V’s body feels good against his, and there’s something attractive and just sort of pleasant about his mannerisms and expressions. He’s also both attentive and observant, which is a huge turn-on. Now, he breaks the kiss and goes for Kerry’s throat instead.

Johnny puts his chin on V’s shoulder and leans close to Kerry, his breath hot on Kerry’s lips. He plants a hard, chaste peck on them, then whispers in his ear, ‘You’re welcome.’ Finally, he lets go of V and steps back, scanning the dance floor for someone else to play with. Kerry watches him for another two seconds before he turns his undivided attention on the man in his arms, forgetting all about Johnny for several long, blissful minutes of making out with a hot young nomad on the crowded dance floor at Dicky Twister.