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It’s Autumn, and the corner lot is deserted. It isn’t that cold yet, but Johnny is shivering in worn out denim, stretched thin over the years, long before Sodapop even gave it to Ponyboy and even longer still since Ponyboy passed it on to him. Now his jean jacket is closer to denim paper, flapping in the breeze around his thin t-shirt and even thinner ribcage. His face and lips are red, chapped from the wind.
“You look alive,” Dallas says with an easy smile.
“Am I?”
Johnny shifts his gaze to the sky. It looks like lavender cotton candy spun across the melting pink sun. Another day that he probably won’t remember in a year, coming to a close.
“Today feels weird,” Johnny says. “Like a dream or somethin’.”
Dallas scoffs and flicks him in the back of the head.
“You think too much.”
Johnny flinches harder than the hurt, and swats at his hand.
“Yeah, well you don’t think enough.”
“I think!” Dallas protests.
Dallas comes up behind him, glancing around before looping his arms around Johnny’s waist and pressing their bodies together. He grins against the shell of Johnny’s ear and Johnny stiffens. The hot tickle of Dally’s breath makes him shiver. He tries to shrug him off but Dallas hugs him closer.
“C’mon, wanna know what I think?” Dallas goads. “Maybe this is a dream. Your dream, and you really miss me.”
Johnny tries to twist out of his arms, but Dallas just rides it out, grinding against him from behind.
“It’s not that kinda dream, Dally. Get off.”
“Oh, I’ll get off alright.”
“It’s not funny,” Johnny says.
He pulls Dally’s arms apart and turns around to look at him.
“You sound like a broad,” Dallas complains with a frown.
Johnny scowls, and looks up at Dallas from under his eyelashes; the angry eyes of a puppy about to snap his jaws.
“And you sound like an ass,” Johnny says.
Dallas raises an eyebrow.
“Oh yeah?”
Dally grabs his hips and leans down to try and get a taste of his neck, but Johnny tenses, shoulders up next to his ears so he can’t make contact with his skin.
“C’mon, don’t be such a chick.”
Johnny pushes his chest hard and Dallas takes a step back. He’s gotten less and less tolerant of Dally’s teasing over the years.
“Stop callin’ me a girl, would you?”
“Why? If somebody’s gotta be the girl it ain’t me.”
Johnny glares at him but doesn’t say anything.
“What?”
Johnny shoots him a serious look and crosses his arms. Dallas sighs.
“Okay, geeze,” he relents. “Lemme kiss you.”
Johnny stares at him for a long moment, decidedly unconvinced.
“Fine.”
Dallas hunches to kiss him on the mouth, one hand grazing his cheek, his other arm around the small of Johnny’s back. His tongue pushes inside that hot, wet hole, pulling a groan from the back of Johnny’s throat. His hand slips under Johnny’s jacket, grazing his hard nipples through his thin cotton shirt. Johnny gasps into his mouth and Dallas slides both hands down, squeezing the meat of ass.
“Just kissing,” Johnny reminds him.
“This is kissing.”
Dallas drops down to a squat, pressing his lips to Johnny’s chest before nuzzling his cock through his pants. He presses his cheek against the metal button on the front of Johnny’s jeans before looking up to make eye contact. Johnny stares at him. Dallas grins devilishly.
“I’m gonna kiss your dick.”
Johnny scrunches his eyes shut and buries his hands in Dally’s hair, grease sliding between his fingers. It makes him feel weird when Dallas says shit like that, especially out here where anyone could see. Even though no one is around and they’re hidden behind a pickup truck, what they’re doing is dangerous.
That’s probably what Dallas likes about it.
“What about what I want?”
Dallas sighs, and forces himself to stop. He finds he does better with Johnny when he doesn’t let his dick do all the talking. He hooks his fingers in Johnny’s belt loops.
“What do you want? Tell me what it is and I’ll give it to you.”
He’s been on his best behavior, and Johnny knows it. Johnny takes a breath, narrowing his eyes, trying to look tough and coming off like a kicked dog despite himself.
“Just kissing. Just like - like I said.”
Dallas slides one hand around Johnny’s thigh, squeezing it before cupping him through his pants, feeling Johnny’s erection swelling behind the denim.
“I know you want more than that.”
Johnny grips Dally’s shoulders with both hands.
“Get up,” he says.
Dally only lets Johnny talk to him like that. No one else. It’s exciting in a way he doesn’t want to think about too hard. He lifts himself up with his knees and smiles down at him.
“Why’re you being such a prude? I know you want me.”
“Just kissing,” Johnny warns. “Or I’m going home.”
The smile slides right off Dally’s face. Dallas thinks on it, and figures pushing won’t get him anywhere. He switches tactics.
“Please, Johnny. I’m so hard it hurts. Help me out here.”
Johnny can tell by now that he’s being manipulative, but he takes pity on him anyway. It’s kind of like training a dog. You’ve got to reward them if they show even the tiniest bit of changed behavior.
“Fine,” Johnny concedes. “Turn around.”
Dallas grins triumphantly, but the expression is short lived.
“For what?”
“You said you’d give me anything I want.”
Johnny sounds more sure than he knew he could. Dallas narrows his eyes and stares down at him. Johnny doesn’t budge. It’s too quiet, even for crickets. The air is so thin Johnny can see Dally’s breath in little puffs when he breathes out through his nose. Finally, Dallas rolls his eyes and relents, twisting around so he’s facing the brick wall. Johnny places his hands on Dally’s hips, tentative at first, then a little firmer. He presses up against him from behind, the way Dally always did to him, the denim seam digging into his ass. Dallas grins, grinding back against him.
“If this is a dream…” starts Johnny. “Then it’s yours. You sure you don’t wanna be the girl?”
Dally’s hips twitch as he grins into the cold brickwork. He likes it when Johnny tries to be tough. He unbuttons his pants and squeezes himself. This is one of the many reasons he never bothers with underwear.
“So that’s what you want?” Dallas squeezes himself again. “I’ll be a girl for ya, Johnnycake.”
Johnny’s eyes widen and his hips freeze in place. He wasn’t expecting things to go this way. He wanted to scare Dally a bit, wanted to make him uncomfortable in his own skin the way Dallas so often did to him, but it doesn’t feel right. Dally seems excited, downright pliable, and totally unruffled by Johnny’s attempts at teasing. Dallas likes this, the way he likes everything they do together. Johnny wonders for the first time, does Dally actually like me?
“Don’t stop now, Johnnycake. You’re gonna make me jizz in my pants. C’mon, show me how much you love me.”
Johnny’s eyebrows shoot halfway up his forehead. Dallas says a lot of things during sex that he never repeats in the light of day, but this one takes the cake.
“What?”
Dallas spins around like a tornado and Johnny squeezes his eyes shut. Dally curls his fingers through the belt loops of Johnny’s jeans and waits for him to open his eyes. Dallas bats his lashes, but the effect is ruined by shit-eating grin.
“Can I take out your dick?”
Dallas doesn’t usually ask permission for anything, from anyone, but he’s been trying, believe it or not, with Johnny, even if it is mostly in hopes that he’ll get laid.
Johnny jerks his head down in a nod. Dallas undoes his pants and pulls out his cock, pressing them together, smearing precum against Johnny’s belly when he circles them in his fist. His hips tremble as he strokes them off together.
It doesn’t take long. Johnny isn’t sure why. He cums with a groan, semen squirting over Dally’s cock and his closed fist. His forehead is resting on Dally’s chest while he catches his breath. Their eyes meet when Johnny pulls away, but Dallas doesn’t say anything.
Dally looks like he’s blushing, but when Johnny points it out he just says his cheeks are chapped pink from the cold. He tongues his bottom lip, then bites it, eyes staring down at Johnny like two black holes, trying to suck him in. Dallas doesn’t say anything for once; he doesn’t push.
Johnny makes up his mind on the spot. He tucks himself back into his pants and drops to his knees. He strokes his orgasm over Dally’s cock and then sucks it into his mouth.
It’s the first time he’s taken it upon himself to do something like this, without any pressure, without any coaching. Dally’s hips stutter forward and Johnny uses both hands to stop him, pinning him back against the wall. Dallas groans and his dick twitches.
When Johnny pulls off, Dally curls his hand into a fist. The cold air makes his cock jerk. He slams his fist against the bricks behind himself and squeezes his eyes shut.
“Fuck. Wasn’t I good today, Johnnycake?” His voice is low, barely a rumble in his chest. Johnny pulls his cock back into his hot mouth. “Fuuuck yeah. See how much I love you?”
Johnny’s eyes flick up to his face, sucking harder. Dallas scrapes his nails against Johnny’s scalp and tries to buck his hips, but Johnny holds him steadfast, hollowing his cheeks, rubbing the back of his throat against his cock head, over and over until Dallas cums.
The sun has set around them, or maybe the night has risen up, clawing its way into the sky from the ground up. Dallas offers him a hand and pulls him into a stand.
Johnny licks his lips; a little breathless, a little shy.
“Did you mean what you said?”
Dallas rolls his eyes, staring at the skyline. His fingers tickle Johnny’s palm before he threads threads them together.
“Course not.”
He squeezes Johnny’s hand and lets it go. It’s one thing to say it during sex, when he can blame hormones and sex brain, and another thing entirely to say it like this, with nothing but the moon between them. “Liar.” Dallas plasters Johnny’s face with his entire hand and pushes him away.
“Shut up.”
Johnny looks smug, but after today, he has the right.