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“Johnny,” V whines, canting his hips upward in an attempt to speed Johnny along. “Fuck me already, c’mon.”
A quiet rumble in Johnny’s chest is the only response V gets. He tries to flip over, the threat to do it himself already on his lips, but V finds he’s pinned in place, held down easily by the pressure of Johnny’s metal hand. All he can do is present himself like a particularly eager joytoy and hope for something more than fingers.
It makes V burn in a delightful way, the knowledge that he’s completely at Johnny’s mercy, and he can’t even find it in himself to be ashamed that Johnny knows exactly what he’s feeling.
“V,” Johnny says, close to his ear.
V bites his lower lip, teeth clacking against the ring pierced through it.
“V!” Johnny says again, more insistent, and V jerks awake, slick with sweat and so hard it’s giving him a headache.
His digital companion is leaned over him and grinning, metal hand braced against the wall so he’s crowding V into the mattress.
“Sweet dreams?” Johnny teases. “Bet they were, with you moanin’ my name so goddamn loud.”
V feels himself go beet red. He looks around, trying to find a way past Johnny and away from this conversation. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he mumbles.
Johnny’s flesh hand plants itself beside V’s head, one knee pulled up between V’s legs. “Don’t give me that shit, kid. I’m in your brain, remember? Saw the whole fuckin’ lurid affair.”
V squeezes his eyes closed, embarrassed beyond belief. “I can’t help what my unconscious mind comes up with, man. Been around you too much, you’re starting to bleed into my damn dreams, too.”
Johnny hums, eyes falling to half-mast as he crawls over V, close enough that his long hair brushes V’s cheeks. “Don’t want me to help you with that hard-on, then? ‘Cuz I’ll leave you high and dry, but I think me fuckin’ you’d be a better use of our time.”
V squints an eye open. “What’s your game, here?”
Johnny sits up abruptly, and V is surprised by the weight of the man atop his thighs. “No game. S’been fifty fuckin’ years since I got any and your hormones are so out of whack you’d stick your dick in anything that moved.” He grins again, rocks down against V’s bulge. “And I know you want it, but I ain’t givin’ you a damn thing ‘til you ask for it.”
“What, the moaning earlier wasn’t enough for you?” V asks, lifting himself onto his elbows.
Johnny’s hand darts out, slow enough that V could stop him if he wanted. He doesn’t.
Those long fingers twist into V’s messy hair, yanking his head back sharply and making him hiss. Cool metal wraps around his throat, not pressing, just resting. Johnny’s insufferable smirk is back in full force.
“You know you wanna,” he says.
V can’t deny how the rough treatment is making him feel, the molten hot desire burbling beneath his skin, but that rebellious nature in him demands more before he gives in. So he bares his teeth and decides to taunt Johnny.
“You even any good?” he spits. “Love to talk about your cock, but I know overcompensation when I see it. Bet your fuckin’ groupies laughed about you behind your back, had to go find a real man to- “
Johnny cuts off any further commentary by cutting off the oxygen flow to V’s brain, making the man gasp and scrabble at his metal wrist ineffectually.
“A fascinating thought experiment,” Johnny says drily. The hand in V’s hair untangles itself and drops into his lap, Johnny’s flesh fist closing around V’s cock in a tight grip. He leans in, bypassing V’s red face and speaking into his ear. “F’you wanna play like this, we can play like this. But I still gotta hear you say it.”
V sucks down air when he can breathe again, wheezing desperately over Johnny’s shoulder. After a moment he manages to say, “Obviously I fuckin’ want it, you- “
The hand tightens again and Johnny squeezes hard around V’s dick, making his nerves light up with a confused mix of agony and arousal.
“Fuckin’ slut, talkin’ to me like that to get my attention,” Johnny purrs. “You got this worthless little cocklet and think you got any room to insult me? Lucky I’m a forgiving man, I’ll let you make it up to me.”
V’s head spins as Johnny pulls away, giving him a moment to gasp, “J-Johnny- “
The pain registers after the crack hits V’s ears, and he realizes belatedly that Johnny just slapped him across the face. He blinks confusedly as his head lolls back around to face forward.
“Shut the fuck up. Don’t speak unless I ask you a direct question,” Johnny says.
He manhandles V onto his front, stripping him efficiently along the way. Johnny grinds his leather-clad cock against V’s ass, then winds back and slaps the pert flesh, leaving a red handprint behind.
“Hold yourself open for me, slut,” Johnny says.
V rushes to comply, spreading his asscheeks apart to expose his hole to Johnny. He arches his back to provide a better view and cranes his neck to the side to watch. He moans deep in his throat when Johnny spits on his asshole and unceremoniously pushes two fingers in.
The stretch burns, but V’s used to barely getting prepped so he grits his teeth through it and deals. Johnny’s fingers stutter when that thought crosses V’s mind, and without warning he changes tact entirely.
A short moment later, V gasps at the cold drizzle of lube directly on his hole, compounded by the metal fingers plunging back into him. With ease, Johnny finds V’s prostate, and the man cries out so loud he has to bite his pillow to avoid getting complaints from the neighbors. Johnny fingerfucks V relentlessly, two then three and V lets out a hoarse sob at four.
“S’like you got a fuckin’ cunt down here,” Johnny says. “Like you’re gushing for me. You want my cock that bad, baby? Want me to fuck you fulla my cum, leave your little pussy all sloppy and open?”
V wails as he comes on Johnny’s fingers, every muscle in his body seizing up as he nuts harder than he probably ever has in his life. Fat, salty tears drip from his eyes as Johnny keeps pumping his fingers in and out, not
perturbed in the slightest.
Johnny smacks V’s ass again. “Asked you a question.”
“W-what?” V ekes out, shuddering with overstimulation.
“C’mon, doll, we ain’t even to the main event yet and you’re already a fuckin’ mess.” Johnny laughs, then presses in deep, teasing his thumb at V’s puffy hole. “You think you’re ready for my cock?”
V gives a pitiful whimper, pushing back onto Johnny’s hand despite his body’s attempts to lay down and stay down. “Please,” he says, “Johnny, fuck me. Want you to, ah, to screw me ‘til I fuckin’ taste it. Fuckin’ ruin my hole, you b-bastard.”
Johnny groans, hunching over V’s trembling form to sink harsh teeth into his shoulder. He tugs his fingers free, fumbling to push his pants down enough to slick his cock while he bites down until copper blooms across his simulated tastebuds.
He sinks in to the hilt without preamble, punching a ragged moan from his own chest.
V bucks under him, his desperation flitting across Johnny’s mind for a moment before melding with his own rabid desire. He adjusts his stance, grabs V by the shoulder to haul him closer, and starts fucking V with all his might.
If he were in a different state of mind, if their pleasure wasn’t ricocheting between them in a dizzying feedback loop, Johnny might find V crying during sex hilarious. He probably will later, even, but in the moment his entire digital being is devoted to railing V to within an inch of his life.
“Fuck, V,” Johnny grunts. His hips hammer against V’s again and again. “Fuckin’ made to take cock. Gonna fuck you so hard you can’t sit for weeks, make your fuckin’ legs go numb.“
Johnny’s knee slips and his cock springs free of V’s hole, but in a flash he’s flipping the man over, pushing his knees up beside his head, and slamming back inside. He leans against V’s thighs for leverage, holding him down as they rut singlemindedly toward orgasm.
V’s painted fingernails sink into Johnny’s back, scoring lines down his shoulder blades. He keeps one hand there, but the other grasps Johnny by the back of the neck so V can mash their foreheads together.
“Gonna come,” Johnny says, the softest he’s sounded since waking V up.
V nods wildly, their sweaty foreheads sliding against each other. “Do it, Johnny, fuckin’ come in me. M-make me your fuckin’ bitch.”
Johnny’s eyes fly open. “Already are,” he says. “You’re all fuckin’ mine.”
V cries out as Johnny’s knuckles drag across his dick, sending him hurtling into a second orgasm that has his eyes rolling back into his head with its intensity. Distantly, he feels Johnny’s thrust pause, his fingers tighten around the meat of V’s thighs, but then for a moment nothing exists at all.
Johnny is hauling him to his feet when V snaps back to himself. They stumble around the corner and Johnny lets V sink to the ground while he turns on the shower. V turns his face into the heavenly spray, feeling about the same as he does after intensive surgery at Vik’s.
The patter of water is the only sound for a long, long time.
Then Johnny is helping V up again and giving him a cursory wipe down with the cleanest-looking towel, before slinging the both of them into bed.
V blinks at him blearily, mind sluggish with exhaustion. “Y’look naked ‘thout glasses,” he slurs out.
Johnny snorts derisively, but the gentle lines around his eyes betray him. “Go to sleep. I interrupted your REM cycle or whatever earlier.”
“Hold me?” V asks, and instantly wishes he could swallow the words back up.
But Johnny just looks at him for a quiet moment then, “Yeah. I can do that, V.”
V rolls onto his side and Johnny fills in the space behind him, slotting them together like it’s how they were made to be. Whether their situation is some kind of destiny or just a fucked-up surprise from the universe, V thinks, in this tender space, that Johnny is worth it.