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It wasn't exactly a secret that Johnny liked getting choked. Weirdly enough, it was among the first things Kerry actually found out about him, way back in the day when they'd only just met, in those first weeks of partying together, of Johnny crashing at Kerry's shitty place because he had nowhere to stay, of spending their days asleep on a too small bed and their nights drunk, high and still dreaming more about music than actually making any music together. Way before they'd started playing together in a band, way before Johnny had actually trusted him enough to open up about some of the shit that had happened to him during the war, way before they were actually friends, Kerry had playfully threatened to strangle him – he couldn't remember why, whether Johnny had stolen his drink or finished their pack of cigarettes or just said something dickish – and Johnny, Johnny who usually made a point of how very straight he was and how completely uninterested he was in having sex with Kerry, Johnny winked at him and said in the filthiest voice imaginable, "Who says I wouldn't like that?"
Kerry hadn't thought much of it. He'd been into it, sure, though more into the tone of Johnny's voice and the way he'd looked at Kerry just then than into the idea of choking him. He hadn't done that to anyone yet back then. He didn't see the point of getting fancy or kinky when he had a good enough time just finding himself a big, built guy to fuck his brains out – and for all that Kerry tried out just about every kink under the sun in the following decades, that never actually changed. He didn't need toys or handcuffs or pain or complicated roleplays to have a good time if he had a hot guy who knew what he was doing with his dick. And he was pretty sure Johnny knew what he was doing with his dick.
He wouldn't have made much of Johnny's throwaway comment, but over the years they knew each other, it kept coming up. There was that flirtatious conversation he overheard between Johnny and his output at the time, and how she'd giggled when he'd put her hand on his throat in a dark corner of a bar. Kerry had stormed off in a jealous huff instead of watching them for longer. There was that time Johnny joked about how he'd had to pay extra to get choked as hard as he liked, but Kerry had been too busy to tease him about paying for a hooker instead of thinking about the other thing. And one time Kerry had even walked in on Johnny getting ridden by some red-haired cunt who'd had her hands wrapped so tightly around his throat he'd been gasping and that – that Kerry had actually watched for a few moments, long enough for Johnny to notice him and stare back at him, not at all like he minded Kerry being there, like he minded Kerry seeing him. Maybe Kerry should have stayed, watched the whole show, watched Johnny come or pass out or whatever had been the goal of that. But by then, things had already been pretty fucking broken between them. By then, Kerry had stopped trying to get into Johnny's pants, had stopped hitting on him only to be humiliated and rejected over and over again. He'd liked to think he had finally grown up a bit, that at some point in his mid to late 20s, he'd finally given up on that stupid teenage torch he'd carried for Johnny for so many years. In truth, Kerry had known he would have jumped right into Johnny's bed the second Johnny would have offered, without any questions asked. He was pretty sure Johnny knew it, too. But at least Kerry wasn't fucking begging for it anymore.
So yeah, Kerry knew Johnny had a kink. There'd been a time when he'd found it kind of hilarious – big, mean macho Johnny who always needed to be in charge of everything, but rather than wanting to choke his partners, all he wanted was to get choked so hard he passed out in the middle of sex. There were times when the idea appealed to Kerry, if only to shut Johnny the fuck up, but mostly it didn't feature much in his fantasies. Fuck, all his fantasies were about Johnny wanting him. About Johnny touching him, grabbing him, not about Johnny being too out of it to do much because he could barely breathe. In Kerry's fantasies, he had Johnny on top of him, looking down at him, and Kerry was touching Johnny in just about any other place before he'd be in a hurry to touch his neck.
Stupid, pointless fantasies, all of them. Because Johnny was straight. So fucking straight he didn't even go for it all those times they'd shared a bed and woken up with their limbs entangled and their morning wood pressed against each other, so fucking straight he didn't even get a little bit curious when he was drunk and high out of his mind and Kerry kissed him – fuck, a few times Kerry could have maybe got away with more than that, but those had been the nights when Johnny had been half passed out and ... Kerry didn't want him like that. Not only because Johnny would be a bitch about it the next morning, but because Kerry was too damn proud to fuck someone who didn't want him. He didn't need that shit, not even from the guy he'd think of as the love of his life in particularly maudlin, depressed moments.
Johnny was straight, and then Johnny was dead. And then it didn't fucking matter anymore what he had or hadn't liked. None of it fucking mattered because all Johnny was then was a memory – a memory more and more people forgot about until it felt on some days like Kerry was the only person in the world who still remembered him. The only person who'd actually known him. And what he imagined then ... it was pathetic, but he mostly pictured Johnny coming back to life, suddenly appearing out of nowhere, telling him it had all been some elaborate ruse to get away from whoever was trying to kill him, that he'd been hiding with the nomads, travelling the world, whatever. In the first couple of years, Kerry had sometimes even believed it. Or tried to believe it when he was really fucking drunk. He'd imagined punching Johnny in the face for disappearing on him, he'd imagined kissing him, he'd imagined Johnny kissing him first like he had finally realised that he should have done that ages ago.
As the years passed, Kerry knew it was never going to happen. Johnny was dead and he wasn't going to come back, Kerry was never going to get another chance at all the things they'd never shared the first time around. Love of his fucking life. That sounded a lot better in shitty love songs written by people who'd actually been happy at some point than when the love of your life was an asshole who'd never wanted you and then died so you were left with nothing but a bunch of angry, depressing, though fucking amazing songs to write about him.
Point was, by the time Johnny did come back from the dead through a fucking miracle, first in the body of some godawfully dressed merc kid, then a few weeks later again in a new body that looked just like the old one, Kerry wasn't expecting it anymore. He had no fucking clue anymore what to think or feel or do about Johnny being back. He did still punch him, both times, because Johnny fucking deserved it. He didn't kiss him because he might have been old and sad and sentimental, but he still had his pride.
But the second time Johnny came back, with hair that was a bit too short for his liking and a new chrome arm that looked so much fancier than the old one ever had, with a wild grin on his face and an expression in his eyes that seemed drunk on an impossible success, when he told Kerry that he and V had found a way to save both their lives ... that day, or rather that night, so late Kerry had already been on his way to bed, that night Johnny actually kissed him. Like he'd stepped straight out of one of Kerry's stupid old fantasies. Part of Kerry wanted to be proud, part of Kerry wanted to say no, to make Johnny feel what it was like to get rejected by someone who meant so much to you ... but then they'd both always known that Kerry would never actually say no to Johnny. He couldn't. He didn't want to.
Though when Johnny put Kerry's hands on his throat later that night, when they were in bed together, naked and sweaty and so fucking desperate for each other, Kerry didn't give him what he wanted. He slapped Johnny instead and he yanked on his hair and Johnny was so fucking into that, too, that he didn't even complain about not getting his throat squeezed. Kerry didn't want to give him an excuse. To let him claim he was just getting off on this because he liked getting choked, that he was so into that it even made up for screwing a guy. Nah, if Johnny was finally going to fuck him, he'd do it while admitting he wanted to. And Johnny did. Maybe not in so many words, but in everything they did to each other that night – that night and more than a few nights after that.
It felt surreal, finally having the one thing he'd always been so sure he'd never get, no matter how rich and famous and successful he might be. But then it also felt surreal that Johnny was alive again at all, so maybe Johnny wanting him now wasn't the weirdest thing about all this. It felt surreal that Johnny was actually friends – more than friends – with that colour-blind merc kid who'd saved his life, and even more so, that Kerry liked V, too. That he liked anyone he had to share Johnny's affection with. But here they were, a few weeks after Johnny's miraculous resurrection. Kerry dating V. Johnny living with V. Johnny fucking Kerry like they'd been doing that their whole lives, like it had never been this fucked up, giant, insurmountable obstacle between them. It felt like some kind of hallucination, but that didn't mean it wasn't also fucking amazing. Kerry kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for things to go to shit – Johnny deciding this was all too emotional and intimate for him, V deciding he wasn't willing to share his input anymore, the horrible news that something was still wrong with their brains and the chips in them after all – but for now ... for now Kerry was as close to happy as he'd been in a really long time.
He still didn't choke Johnny. Johnny tried again, once or twice, but he didn't actually seem to mind that Kerry preferred slapping him. Sometimes Kerry grabbed Johnny's throat, only holding on to it hard while Johnny fucked him, while Kerry rode his cock. He watched V choke Johnny, though. Watched how it drove him crazy and he came apart under V's hands like he barely needed anything else but that pressure on his throat. And unlike with that chick all those decades ago, Kerry didn't mind watching that, didn't mind seeing them together, didn't mind knowing that someone else could make Johnny feel this good. It stayed on his mind, but that didn't mean he'd planned any of what happened that night two months after Johnny's return to life.
V was out, working some merc job that Kerry hadn't bothered asking about. V usually told him if something funny or exciting happened during his gigs, and he usually asked Johnny for backup if he needed it, so if he just quietly took off, chances were he was doing something excruciatingly dull, hacking something or killing a few people, to afford his next designer jacket or save up for his next sports car.
Kerry still kind of missed him, especially since he and Johnny were at V's apartment. Technically V and Johnny's apartment, but Johnny split his time between their V's and Kerry's place, and apart from the guitar, the amps and the occasional leather jacket that was very obviously Johnny's, everything about V's fancy new apartment screamed street kid from Heywood who'd finally made it. In some ways, it reminded Kerry of the place he'd rented after his first successful album. It had been a long time ago, but he still vaguely remembered that thrill of being able to afford a bunch of shit he'd only ever dreamt of. It didn't make you happy in the long run, the pool and the expensive clothes and the fast cars, but for V it was all still new enough that he enjoyed it to the fullest. And hell, even once he tired of it ... V did in fact have other things in his life that made him happy. Kerry really hoped he still would, a few years down the line. Kerry certainly didn't plan on going anywhere.
So there they were at V's place, upstairs, Johnny playing with the cat while Kerry sat on the bed and looked through V's clothes that were strewn all over it. Kerry was smiling to himself – it wasn't exactly a rare sight. V owned more clothes after a few months of having money than Kerry owned after decades of it, and since he seemed to adore every single garish jacket and shirt, every overpriced pair of sneakers and every horribly patterned pair of leggings he owned, it sometimes took him forever to get dressed because he couldn't make up his mind. Usually he tidied up after himself, but he'd been in a hurry when he'd left earlier and so the place was a mess. Wasn't the first time Kerry had seen it like this. He found it endearing, to be honest. And it was still less messy than any place he and Johnny had ever lived in when they'd been young and kept their collective clothes in two shared piles of "so fucking filthy we really can't wear it again" and "kinda filthy but still acceptable, so let's not do laundry yet".
Most of the things V owned, Kerry wouldn't have worn in a million years – so much gold and neon and plastic and glitter. But he did have a few items that were clearly Johnny's influence: a pair of black jeans that looked like V had been poured into it, a proper rockerboy jacket that made him look like the kind of guy Kerry usually dated, some aviators that looked almost disturbingly like the kind Johnny liked to wear. Of course V never wore all of those things together, he'd inevitably combine them with something more ... more V. Kerry wouldn't have wanted it any different.
But another thing he found that day, looped into camouflage jeans in a shade of bright red that Kerry didn't think would camouflage V anywhere except on Jig-Jig Street, was a sturdy, black leather belt. Actual leather so it must have cost V a small fortune, with a heavy chrome buckle that wouldn't have looked amiss on Johnny. Hell, who knew, maybe it was one of Johnny's belts and V had simply borrowed it, the way they all borrowed clothes from each other. Kerry slowly pulled the belt from the loops, just as Nibbles jumped up from the floor and chased the toy Johnny had thrown a bit further than intended – at least Kerry hoped it was a toy and not who knew the fuck what – down the stairs. He didn't think he'd ever get over the sight of Nibbles making off with V's favourite electric-blue dildo, which unsurprisingly none of them had really tried to take from him, so it was simply one of Nibbles' toys now.
For a moment Johnny looked like he considered going after the cat, but then he clearly decided he was too comfortable, sitting there on the floor with his shirt and his boots off, a lazy smile clinging to his lips. He looked good. Relaxed. Not as fucking thin as he had towards the end, back in '23, when Kerry knew for a fact he'd barely eaten and mostly lived off coke and tequila. Which wasn't an unusual lifestyle for any of them back then, but it had grown worse with Johnny over time, even as Kerry had made his first attempts at clean living and doing yoga and taking care of himself (usually right before and right after he'd gone on a bad bender). Of course Johnny had still been strong, but kind of wiry and too lean, whereas he looked more solidly built now. More like he had when Kerry had met him, though older of course.
Kerry liked him better like this. Of course he hadn't said anything about it, except for teasing him a little about the new arm. Johnny would have probably found some way to turn it into a fight, or at least into a pointless argument that'd ruin the mood until they got drunk and made up. At least these days they usually made up by kissing each other breathless and bruising each other all over while fucking against the nearest wall, which was one hell of a step up from simply screaming at each other and then not talking for a week.
"What are you looking at, Ker?" Johnny asked, his voice teasing. He leant back on his hands, as if to flaunt his bare chest, the tattoo crawling over his side, the flex of his abs. Vain shit. It'd be so fucking irritating if he wasn't actually that hot. Which had also been irritating once upon a time, but far less so now that Kerry got to touch him almost whenever he felt like it. He wrapped the belt around his hand, enjoying the sensation of the smooth leather against his skin. It was a really nice belt. He didn't think he'd ever noticed V wearing it.
"What do you think? Need me to stroke your ego?" Kerry replied, but he was smiling. It was so fucking nice these days, at least when neither of them was having a bad day and bitched for no reason. But when they were in a good mood – and that happened way more often now than it had for either of them in a long time – things were comfortable. Fun. Like they had been once upon a time when Kerry had just been a teenage brat with too much talent and big dreams and Johnny had been a fucked up vet who was still so relieved that he'd escaped the war alive that he'd wanted to live his life instead of throwing it away. They'd been on fire back then, in the best of ways. They were both a bit more chill now, but still ... really fucking good together.
"Not if you keep looking at me like that." Johnny smirked in that smug, arrogant way that shouldn't have been half as attractive as it was, but fuck, Kerry had long ago made peace with the fact that he had a type and his type was assholes. He didn't want nice and normal, it bored him to tears. V was probably the nicest guy he'd seriously dated in his entire life, and he made up for how damn sweet he was with Kerry – which Kerry still loved, even after several months together – by killing people for a living. So he probably still counted as some kind of asshole. Kerry looked down at the belt in his hand, the contrast of the black leather against his skin. It'd look even nicer against Johnny's paler skin, he thought just then. Johnny had always looked fucking incredible in black.
"You pouting because V had to go before sucking you off?" Johnny asked next. V had been adorably apologetic about it, partly because he'd spent so long picking his outfit. Kerry hadn't been mad exactly – not like the three of them hadn't spent the morning in bed long before they'd finally got up, eaten very late breakfast, fed the by then of course starved cat, and listened to Johnny rant for half an hour about how shitty V's planned job was and how much he hated it when V worked for corps and that he was definitely not, under no circumstances, coming with him. (He would, of course, have come with V if V had asked for backup, but V had the good sense not to point that out.)
Kerry looked up again, flexed his arm a little and made sure to draw Johnny's gaze to his hands before he replied.
"Nah. I got you here for that," he said, voice low. He knew that tone drove V fucking crazy. He was pretty damn sure it did the same to Johnny, who just hid it a bit better than V. V never tried to keep his emotions off his face, at least not around Kerry. Maybe, probably he did when he was out there being Night City's newest merc legend, but he'd never tried to downplay how much he liked Kerry, how much he wanted to be with him. Right now, Johnny wasn't trying to play it cool either, or if he was, he wasn't succeeding.
"Keep dreaming," he said, but his whole posture had shifted, tensed up in that way that meant he was this close to getting up and grabbing Kerry to do whatever the fuck he liked to him. And the way he was still leaning back, it was really damn obvious that he was already hard in his leather pants. Kerry licked his lips.
"Just come over here." He pulled the belt taut between his hands, watched Johnny watch him almost suspiciously. Probably wondering what the hell Kerry was planning. Would be too much to say that Kerry was planning anything at all, except that he really wanted to see that belt on Johnny. Maybe he should wrap it around his wrists, tie him up, except ... he still wanted those hands on him more than anything else. Not to mention that he knew for a fact that Johnny hated not being able to move.
Johnny tapped his foot on the floor, all nervous energy, like some big animal caught in a cage that didn't know what to do with itself, but eventually he clearly decided to go along with this, at least for now. When he rocked up onto his feet, Kerry almost told him to get back down on the floor, to get on his knees and crawl over to him, but ... fuck, for all that that would have been the hottest thing he'd ever seen in his life, he had a feeling Johnny wasn't turned on enough yet to let himself be talked into that. Fucking shame, all that macho pride nonsense of his. But Johnny did come over to him just like he'd been told, stopped right in front of Kerry between his spread knees, and when Kerry very pointedly looked down to the floor in front of him, Johnny actually got his ass down again. He didn't kneel, but sat on the floor, like they were just hanging out the way they'd used to, like Johnny wasn't hard and Kerry wasn't looking at him like he wanted to eat him alive.
Kerry left the belt in one hand and reached out with the other one to touch Johnny – ran his fingers through his hair first, scratching him lightly at the back of his head in a way that always reminded him of Nibbles, though he knew Johnny would just bitch if he compared them. It was hard not to, though, with the way Johnny relaxed his shoulders and leant his head against Kerry's hand. He stayed where he was while Kerry gently ran his fingertips over Johnny's temple, over his cheek and down to his chin, when he brushed his knuckles over Johnny's throat. He felt more than heard a sharp intake of breath before Johnny put both his hands on Kerry's thighs, squeezing firmly, but still not trying to do more than that. Actually behaving, like he was maybe curious to see what Kerry would do. When Kerry's fingers slid down to the hollow between Johnny's collarbones, he almost growled.
"Tease." There was no real anger in Johnny's eyes or his voice, though, even less so when Kerry smiled at him.
"Who says I'm teasing?" And suddenly, suddenly he had a really good idea what he wanted to do with that belt. For now he left it in his lap, moved both his hands to the chain around Johnny's neck. Those dog tags V had been wearing the first time they'd met. Now that Johnny had his own body again, the dog tags seemed to wander back and forth between Johnny and V. Back in the day, Kerry had stolen them plenty of times – hell, he didn't have to steal them because half the time Johnny put them on him in some kind of dumb, possessive gesture they'd never talked about, but that Kerry had always loved. He did take them now, carefully pulled them over Johnny's head and made sure not to let the chain catch on his hair. Johnny let him, just watched Kerry hungrily as he put them around his own neck. He wasn't wearing any of his own jewellery that day, none of those gold chains he usually liked, so it was just Johnny's dog tags resting there on his chest, same as when he'd been sixteen and cheeky and so fucking excited by the idea that Johnny wanted to mark him as his in any way.
"Kinda regretted not giving them to you before ..." Johnny's voice trailed off, he raised one hand to touch the dog tags on Kerry's chest. Before he'd died, but at that point they had been so far past weirdly romantic gestures that Johnny had always insisted didn't mean anything. Fuck, Kerry didn't want to think about that now, about losing Johnny, about having his fucking dog tags for decades and not having him. It had been bad enough how many of Johnny's rings and shirts he'd kept after his death.
"I'll just have to wear them now," he said instead. The metal was warm from Johnny's skin, felt weirdly familiar even after all these decades. He touched Johnny's neck again, all bare now, without anything in the way. The skin was soft, at least in those places where stubble and his not exactly neatly groomed beard didn't make it scratchy, but it wasn't like Kerry minded that. He'd spent a good part of his life clean-shaven, but he'd always liked a bit of beard on his men. Even before he'd met Johnny, who wasn't in fact to blame for all his preferences.
"I'm not going to suck your dick, Ker, not even if you pet my throat a little ..." Johnny said, though it didn't sound entirely convincing. He hadn't in fact blown either of them yet, but fuck, he'd come really damn close more than a few times. Nuzzling Kerry's cock and his balls, rubbing his cheek against V's dick, a few times he'd even licked over their cocks like he'd entirely forgotten to hide how much he was starting to like the taste of their come. Kerry's especially. Was probably just a matter of time until Johnny would get carried away and just do what he clearly wanted to do. Kerry didn't think he needed to bother arguing with him about it.
"And what if I do more than that, hm?" Kerry smiled at him, saw that suspicious look in Johnny's eyes again – Johnny hated not knowing what Kerry was up to, at least if it involved him in any way rather than Kerry getting so high he did something stupid or starting a ridiculous bar fight for no apparent reason. For the briefest moment, Kerry squeezed Johnny's throat and then let go of him again before he'd even taken his breath away.
He took the belt into his hands again, rolling it out, letting it snap once between his hands while Johnny stared at his hands like he couldn't have looked away to save his life. Johnny had always liked his hands, even back when he'd sworn up and down how straight he was. Now that he'd given up on that, he barely even bothered to hide how much Kerry's hands turned him on.
"What are you going to –" Johnny just started to say when Kerry put the belt around the back of Johnny's neck, like a hook to pull him closer without actually fastening it all the way around his throat, and Johnny groaned quietly even as he shot Kerry an angry look.
"Don't even think about it," Johnny growled. His hands, still resting on Kerry's thighs, tightened their grip, held on to him so firmly that it almost hurt – at least the 'ganic one did, because Johnny was always so much more careful with his chrome, even now.
"Or what? You'll stop? Run off?" A few weeks ago, Kerry would have actually been worried about that, when he'd still been waiting all the time for Johnny to change his mind and leave them both rather than admit that he was actually enjoying how things were going between them. But now ... Johnny might need his alone time occasionally, and of course he was still a dick, but he rarely ever left once they got going even a little bit. Certainly not when he was so fucking hard his cock was straining against his clothes like that.
"Put you on your hands and knees and fuck you so hard you won't be able to take V when he comes home." Which they both knew wasn't much of a threat, and also pretty damn unlikely because Kerry had never been so fucked out he didn't want V to do him, too – though he'd sure as hell enjoy Johnny trying. And if that was where this went after all, Kerry would be the last one to complain about it. Still, he was at least going to try.
He let his fingertips brush over Johnny's throat when he moved, let him feel those string callouses that he knew for a fact Johnny liked so much, and then slowly pulled the other end of the belt through the buckle. He kept his eyes on Johnny's face, on those dark eyes watching him in an expression Kerry wasn't sure he'd know how to describe unless he put it into a song, into some kind of fucked up, vague metaphor that expressed everything between them better than any straightforward words ever could. Something about a black hole that'd almost destroyed him so many times in his life and that he kept being drawn back into, and who the fuck knew if that was madness or fate or something in between? A bit of both, maybe.
He moved slowly enough that Johnny could have stopped him easily if he'd wanted to, that he could have ducked out of the loop of the belt without trying too hard, that he could have grabbed Kerry's wrists and stopped him from moving, that he could in fact just have pushed Kerry down onto his back and had his way with him. But he didn't. He shifted a little where he was sitting, moved in fact up onto his knees like that was more comfortable somehow or made him feel like he could get away more easily, who the fuck even knew what was going on in Johnny's head at any given time? He jutted out his chin in something like defiance, like he was just daring Kerry to keep going, like he half expected him to chicken out and back off. As if Kerry had ever, ever backed off from Johnny. Johnny had tried a few times, like the damn idiot he was, as if teasing and provoking Kerry wouldn't just lead to Kerry going for it, and unsurprisingly each and every time had ended with Johnny laughing it off and pretending he hadn't meant anything by it, leaving Kerry behind all frustrated and horny and usually pretty damn mad at him.
So Kerry kept going, pulled the belt further through the buckle until the leather actually tightened around Johnny's neck, sitting against his skin snugly for now without choking him just yet. It looked fucking incredible – not just the black leather against Johnny's pale skin, but also the whole fucking picture of it: Johnny on his knees, but with a straight back, his throat bared and his eyes full of defiance, like he somehow thought he was in charge even with something far too close to a leash around his neck. Kerry wrapped the end of the belt around his fist, just to have a good, tight grip on it if Johnny tried something. For a few seconds, they simply stared at each other, like they both didn't quite believe what was happening, and then Johnny tried to move back just so – simply leaning his upper body backwards a fraction, enough to pull the belt taut between his neck and Kerry's hand.
Kerry considered going along with the movement just to be a little spiteful, but instead he held steady, allowed Johnny to pull the belt tighter until he gasped for breath and then actually choked himself with it, and almost immediately his hips jerked forward like he was too fucking desperate for friction to hold still. Kerry probably could have ordered him to take off his pants, figured Johnny might even obey for once in his life, but he rather liked seeing him like this, straining and desperate. He wrapped the belt one more time around his hand, shortening it so he dragged Johnny closer by it. There was a hazy, dizzy expression in Johnny's eyes, and somehow Kerry hadn't been prepared for just how much he liked seeing him like that. It was weirdly hot, to see Johnny so out of it, in a different way than when he got angry or possessive and rough.
After a few seconds, Kerry slipped two fingers between Johnny's neck and the belt to loosen it a little bit, just enough to let Johnny draw in a lungful of air that quickly turned into an excited laugh.
"Jesus, Kerry, can't you just use your hands? Instead of dragging me around on a ..." Johnny trailed off, like he didn't even want to say it, but he licked his lips as if he liked the idea even as it bruised his ego.
"A leash?" Kerry asked smugly and tugged on it lightly. Johnny moaned, tried to hide it by turning it into an irritated growl. It came out like a really fucking sexy mixture of both. Kerry leant back on the bed, spread his legs more so he could pull Johnny closer between them. He watched him resist just long enough to pull the belt taut around his neck again before he relented and moved closer, before he rubbed his cheek against the inside of Kerry's still clothed thigh, his breath quickening as he breathed in the scent of leather, and of Kerry himself, too. Kerry had pulled on some pants before breakfast, but he hadn't bothered to shower yet, and he figured after everything they had done last night, he probably smelt of all three of them, of their come and sweat, of Johnny's cigarettes and V's cologne.
"Closer," Kerry said, his own voice sounding more breathless than he'd expected. Another tug on the belt and Johnny obeyed, shifted closer until he pressed his face against Kerry's crotch, shuddering when Kerry let up enough to allow a deep, greedy breath. Kerry had been half-hard since he'd put the belt around Johnny's neck, but at this point he was aching from how much he wanted him as much as Johnny most likely was.
"Fuck, touch me," he added, not even trying on purpose to sound particularly bossy, but that didn't change how impatient the words came out. Johnny looked up in surprise as if he hadn't expected that – and Kerry figured he kind of understood why. He'd been on his knees for enough guys who'd liked to do the whole "you only get to touch me with your mouth, keep your hands to yourself" spiel. Kerry had gone along with it every now and then when the guy was hot and he was having a good time otherwise, but he'd never truly seen the point of fucking someone and not touching him.
"If you say so, Ker." Johnny did his best to sound indulgent, like he was doing Kerry a favour by obeying him, but he was too damn eager to make it sound believable when he ran his hands up over Kerry's bare sides, brushing his thumbs over the golden lines on his ribcage, and then back down to the waistband of his hastily pulled on pants. He hesitated, though, fucking tease that he was even now, until Kerry gave a hard tug on the leash that made Johnny gasp. Jesus, Kerry had half expected Johnny to be furious about him even trying to drag him around by it, but instead Johnny seemed as into it as he was into V's hands on his throat on other nights. He let himself be pulled closer, rubbed his cheek for a moment against Kerry's abs before he looked up at him again and opened his fly for him, then slowly pulled down Kerry's pants. Kerry raised his hips, in as much of a hurry here as Johnny, only reluctantly loosened his grip on the belt so Johnny could undress him all the way.
Johnny lingered for a moment, his 'ganic hand wrapped tightly around Kerry's now bare ankle, squeezing it like something of a threat. As if to remind him he could simply put him on his back, put Kerry's legs over his shoulders and fuck him any way he pleased, and he was only choosing to go along with Kerry's little game for now. It was, of course, the worst threat imaginable when Kerry would have been more than okay with that. Then Johnny bowed his head under the pull of the leash, nuzzled the inside of Kerry's thigh, the smooth, soft skin there. He'd helped Kerry shave the night before in the shower – or rather he'd done most of the work while Kerry had told him what to do, while Kerry had struggled to hold still under Johnny's hands and the razor and the playful threat that he might cut him. He hadn't, of course. For all that Johnny loved marking Kerry up with bruises and bites, he didn't actually like seeing him hurt, not even if it was just a scratch.
"Enjoying your work?" Kerry asked with a smile, dragging Johnny along his thigh by the belt until Johnny nosed at his balls, his breath hot and too fast against the equally smooth skin.
"Kind of ... But you should let it grow some time. I've never actually seen you hairy, bet it's pretty hot, too." Johnny sounded as turned on by the idea as he'd been while shaving Kerry last night, as he was by licking over the smooth skin of his balls. Kerry gasped, felt himself twitch and almost let go of the belt.
"Haven't done that in ... years, I think. Maybe I will. Might make you ask nicely, though." He tugged on the belt, grinned at Johnny's almost offended expression.
"I never ask nicely, fuck you." He still sounded friendly, though, more playful than actually pissed off. And he still didn't try to move away from where he was, not when Kerry once again wrapped the belt around his hand to shorten it, not when he reached for his cock with his other hand and gave himself a slow, firm stroke right in front of Johnny's face. Johnny was staring at his cock like he was still half trying to convince himself he wasn't actually into it – and failing miserably. The first time he'd jerked Kerry off, after Kerry had blown him and Johnny had needed a few minutes to remember how to move, he'd looked at it just like that. Had mumbled something that had sounded suspiciously like "how is even your cock so damn pretty?" against Kerry's neck while he'd held him from behind. Pretty. It wasn't really how Kerry thought of himself anymore these days. He'd been really damn pretty when he'd been younger, but he figured even with all the modern science in the world, ninety-four was too old for pretty. But Johnny clearly disagreed – he still called him that, sometimes mockingly, sometimes as an actual compliment, often enough as a weird mixture of both. Like he was somehow annoyed at Kerry for still being pretty – for apparently being harder to resist than he had been at sixteen or twenty-six.
"Didn't say you had to use words to ask nicely," Kerry said as he stroked himself again. His grip on the belt was so firm now that Johnny could barely move his head aside when Kerry let the trip of his cock brush over Johnny's bearded cheek, over his chin, then over the corner of his mouth. Finally Johnny looked up at Kerry's face again, and even after knowing him for so long, Kerry had trouble reading that expression in his eyes. He would have said ashamed if Johnny hadn't been the most shameless person he'd ever met, and still so fucking turned on, and defiant somehow, and at the same time almost pleading. He didn't know if what Johnny meant was that he wanted Kerry to keep pushing him instead of pulling away, but Kerry decided that that was how he wanted to interpret it. If Johnny had any trouble with that, well, he'd never been shy about complaining. But Johnny didn't complain when Kerry rubbed his cock over his lips this time, less carefully than before, and his hands tightened their grip on Kerry's hips to pull him closer. Still that weird expression in his eyes like he was daring Kerry to say something, to give him shit for this, but if there was one thing Kerry had learnt, it was that being smug at Johnny usually backfired. It was satisfying enough sometimes that Kerry did it anyway, just to make a damn point, but right now he didn't want to risk making him stop.
Johnny kept his mouth stubbornly closed, though, only ever parted his lips when they left Kerry's cock and he mouthed at his thighs instead. Kerry reached down to brush his fingertips over the soft skin right at the edge of the belt, which was still tight enough to be noticeable – probably enough to leave a red mark on him – but not tight enough to stop him from breathing. Not yet. And when Kerry pulled on the belt, ever so slowly cutting off Johnny's breath while his eyes went wide and hungry and impatient, his lips finally parted in a desperate gasp and then in an attempt to gasp again that entirely lacked the air he would have needed for it. That was when Kerry slipped his cock between Johnny's lips, just the tip to rest against Johnny's tongue, but after a moment's hesitation, Johnny actually opened up for him more, let himself be pulled closer to take Kerry in deeper.
Fuck. It felt good because of course it did, not like having his cock in another guy's mouth ever lost its shine even after all these decades, but more than that still it was the view that drove Kerry crazy, that made it hard for him to pull himself together and stop himself from fucking deep into Johnny's mouth until he really couldn't breathe anymore. Johnny sucking his cock had never been his main fantasy – that had always been Johnny fucking him, in bed, against the wall, in the shower, backstage, sometimes even on stage because why the hell not? – but he'd thought about him enough over the years that he'd still fantasised about it plenty of times. He'd always pictured Johnny glaring at him angrily while doing it, like he somehow resented Kerry for making him do something so undeniably gay, but while there was still something defiant in Johnny's eyes now, Kerry wouldn't have called it angry. Of course, that could still come later, but Kerry refused to worry about that now.
He almost forgot to loosen the belt around Johnny's neck, only did that when Johnny made a pained, breathless sound and reached for the belt to loosen it himself – but he didn't pull off Kerry's cock, only breathed in deeply through his nose and then tightened his lips around Kerry again, sucking just a bit on him while he met Kerry's eyes. He was flushed from more than just the lack of air and the exertion, and somehow Kerry almost got off on the fact that Johnny felt embarrassed. He'd embarrassed Kerry plenty of times in their years together; it only seemed fair that he felt weird about something for once. Even if he felt weird about something as stupid as sucking Kerry's pretty cock.
"If I'd known all I needed to do to get you to blow me was put a leash around your neck, I would have done that years ago," Kerry said, still keeping his grip tight around the belt even now that he wasn't choking Johnny with it. He gave Johnny enough leeway to let him pull off his cock, though, at least for a moment.
"Go fuck yourself, Kerry. If you keep calling it a leash, I'll stop." Johnny's glare wasn't exactly half-hearted, but he didn't sound as pissed off as he probably wanted to. He certainly didn't fight it when Kerry nudged him closer again, when he pushed his cock into Johnny's mouth again while pulling the belt just a little bit tauter, just enough to make breathing hard for him. Johnny's hands were back on him, too, feeling up his thighs before he slipped them underneath Kerry's ass and hauled him closer like that. He couldn't take him in all that deep, not that Kerry would have expected him to, but he was actually trying – like he hated the idea of not being good in bed more than he hated the idea of sucking Kerry's cock like he loved every second of it. Or maybe he simply did love every second of it.
He was certainly groaning enough for Kerry to assume that, almost as loud as Kerry himself as he rocked into his mouth. He would have liked to draw it out more, to tease Johnny with this, to pull out and make Johnny strain for his cock, but the simple truth was that he felt too fucking good for any of that, and that games didn't actually seem more appealing than just this – having Johnny on his knees, barely able to breathe, barely able to think, doing his damnedest to suck Kerry off as best as he could while Kerry held on to the belt with one hand and grabbed Johnny's hair with the other. He knew Johnny loved that, knew how it made him gasp and twitch every damn time, and for a moment Johnny shifted as if he wanted to take his hands off Kerry and touch himself, but he seemed to think better of it at the last moment, squeezed Kerry's ass hard instead. Good. Kerry didn't want him to get off like this, as hot as that would be.
So he didn't try to draw it out, didn't even tease Johnny more about it, just let the wet heat of Johnny's mouth drive him out of his mind, the contrast between the 'ganic hand and the chrome one on his ass, the firm, strange pressure of one chrome finger at his hole while Johnny teased him there and sucked harder on his cock. Kerry's own breath caught in his throat, and he had to force himself not to close his eyes as he felt his orgasm build because, fuck, he wanted to keep looking at Johnny. He yanked on the belt to make Johnny look up, to make him meet his eyes while Johnny all but growled around his cock, and that was it, that was more than Kerry could take. He didn't even manage to warn Johnny before he came in his mouth, not that he was entirely sure if he would have bothered to. There was something so gratifying about that surprised look in his eyes, the way they went wide, the way he tried to pull back a bit instinctively and shuddered when he realised that he couldn't, that all he did was choke himself more on the belt while Kerry's come filled his mouth.
Johnny's eyes closed, and as the first drop of come spilt past his lips, Kerry loosened the belt around his neck with both hands – he hadn't expected Johnny to swallow, and his cock gave another weak twitch on Johnny's tongue when he could feel Johnny's throat working under his fingertips as he swallowed, once, twice, and then raised his head so Kerry's cock slipped out of his mouth.
Johnny didn't close his mouth right away, though, kept it open so Kerry could see that he still had some come in it, on his tongue and sticking to his teeth, Johnny's eyes dark with desire when he opened them again and looked up at Kerry. Even after more than ninety years, Kerry was pretty sure that was one of the hottest, if not the hottest thing he'd ever seen in his life. Johnny licked his lips, looked like he wanted to say something, but Kerry didn't give him the chance. He hooked his fingers into the belt around Johnny's neck and yanked him up by it so he could kiss him hard. He licked into Johnny's mouth to taste his own come there, groaned because his mind was still trying to catch up to the fact that this had really happened. Johnny moved his 'ganic hand to Kerry's cock, wet and still half-hard when he gave it a gentle squeeze while kissing Kerry back. It was too fucking much, but Kerry didn't stop him – didn't think he would have stopped Johnny from doing just about anything he wanted just now.
Eventually Johnny broke the kiss with a bite. He was still kneeling between Kerry's legs, though much closer now so their chests were pressed together, catching the warm metal of the dog tags between their bodies.
"Watch what you say next," Johnny said breathlessly, his lips moving against Kerry's. Still so concerned with his dumb masculinity or some bullshit. Kerry couldn't be bothered to care right now, couldn't be bothered to go out of his way to provoke him either. He ran his fingers through Johnny's hair, then gripped it again to make him moan. He pressed his shin against Johnny's crotch, felt through the leather how desperately hard Johnny was.
"Why? You won't leave like this ... You'll just do something I want you to do anyway."
Johnny gave him a sharp look, as if he was surprised. And sure, maybe Kerry could have kept this up, could have ordered him around a bit more. It might have been fun, putting Johnny on his back and riding him through the mattress the way he did with V sometimes, but Kerry didn't actually like Johnny holding himself back, in any way. Not even with a belt around his throat, not even when he could barely breathe. As if he understood, Johnny gave him a filthy smirk, then slapped Kerry's softening cock lightly.
"Aw, Ker, tired of pretending you don't just want to get fucked like always? Can't go half a day without a cock up your ass, can you ..." Kerry didn't bother pointing out that Johnny couldn't go half a day without sticking his cock into something, but then Kerry had long ago stopped giving a shit about what anyone might think of him for getting laid as much as he did or the way he did. Even before he'd known that Johnny didn't actually give a shit either; Johnny simply liked being an ass about it same as he was about everything else.
"Sure, so unless you want me to go and find myself some other cock to give me what I need ..." Kerry said breezily. They both knew it was an empty threat – Kerry didn't fuck around anymore and V was busy, which really left Johnny's cock as the only option right now. But that didn't stop the possessive growl that left Johnny's lips, and it didn't stop him from throwing Kerry back onto the bed and immediately moving up onto it himself, between Kerry's legs again. He groaned when the sudden movements pulled the belt taut again, but when Kerry started to loosen his grip on it, Johnny covered his hand with his and squeezed firmly.
"Don't fucking let go of that," he said, held Kerry's gaze until Kerry nodded and wrapped the end of the belt once more around his hand. Only then did Johnny seem satisfied – Kerry was pretty sure his neck must have been hurting at this point, but ... that was nothing some Bounce Back couldn't fix later, and Johnny didn't seem like he minded the least bit.
Johnny took a moment to look at Kerry, sprawled out on his back underneath him, relaxed except for the straining muscles in his right forearm from holding on to the belt. Johnny's gaze lingered on Kerry's cock for a few moments, like he was still a bit shocked by himself for sucking it, and then he clearly shoved that thought into some remote corner of his mind. His hands fumbled for a moment with his own fly, his movements hurried when he yanked his leather pants down over his ass to free his cock. Kerry almost ached a little in sympathy when he saw how hard Johnny was, the dampness at the tip of it, the light curl of his pubes from his sweat. Fuck, he probably smelt fantastic right now. Kerry was almost sad he didn't get to bury his face against Johnny's balls right now, but he could still do that after Johnny had fucked him. Unlike V, they didn't have anywhere to be today.
Kerry pulled Johnny closer by the belt, made him shuffle closer between his legs while Kerry spread them to let him. Johnny was groping himself, stroking his own cock like he couldn't fucking wait anymore, but he still let himself be dragged down into another biting kiss.
"Shouldn't have swallowed," Johnny mumbled and nipped at Kerry's lips again. "Should have just spat your come on your hole and fucked you with it, filled you up with both of us and eaten it out of you afterwards."
Kerry felt his cock twitch weakly, wrapped one leg around Johnny's hips like that would encourage him to hurry the fuck up. He wanted to say that he liked tasting his come in Johnny's mouth, that he had no fucking complaints at all right now, but the words seemed like too much of an effort just then, and so all he managed in a breathless voice was, "Next time then."
For a moment Johnny went rigid, raised his head and looked at Kerry in a way that made Kerry tense up just as much – he'd seen that expression too fucking often. Johnny becoming uncomfortable with something, Johnny about to have a fucking fit because he had an emotion he didn't like and didn't want to deal with, so he ran, he always ran. Or worse, he lashed out. But he didn't this time. His eyes went from Kerry's face to the dog tags on his chest – there had been times when Johnny had loved seeing Kerry wear them and others when it had pissed him off and he'd taken them back in a hissy fit, bitching at Kerry for assuming they meant something they didn't. Except these days, they did mean something. Fuck, they probably always had. None of Johnny's outputs had ever got away with wearing them even for an hour.
"If you can take it," Johnny said, the glare disappearing and making way to a filthy grin. He patted Kerry's chest, so dismissively it really shouldn't have been hot, and then spat in his own hand to slick up his cock. Then he made a face, not that Kerry was surprised. Johnny liked it wet when he fucked either of them, so instead of waiting for him to start whining, Kerry grabbed the lube from where they'd left it on the bed earlier this morning, poured some on Johnny's hand and some more on his cock, not caring how much of it he spilt. They'd both need a shower anyway. And fresh sheets.
"Always make such a mess, Ker," Johnny still said, but he sounded almost fond this time. Smeared the lube over his cock and then over Kerry's hole, rubbing it against his skin and then slipping two fingers inside him. He wasn't particularly gentle or careful about it, almost perfunctory, but then he really knew what Kerry could or couldn't take. That he didn't need to finger him for half an hour first – that Kerry would have ripped his head off if he'd tried. But even though Johnny didn't even try to tease Kerry now, and himself, Kerry still yanked on the belt again to make him hurry the fuck up. Johnny gasped, his cock twitching in his grip, but he did get on with it. Pulled Kerry close again by one thigh and then pressed his cock against Kerry's hole, barely taking the time to let him feel that before he started pushing in. Fuck, he was so fucking big. Not like Kerry had never had big cocks in his life, even bigger ones than Johnny's, but that didn't mean he didn't still really appreciate it. And Johnny was bigger than V, so the contrast always felt incredible. Kerry would never get tired of that feeling of it being too much at once, especially when Johnny didn't stop, didn't give him even a second to breathe while he pushed deeper inside him.
Seemed only fair that Kerry wouldn't let Johnny breathe either then. He looked up at Johnny, gave him a dirty smile, and pulled the belt tight again. Johnny growled and slammed into him the last bit, so sudden and hard it even hurt a little, in all the best fucking ways. Kerry wrapped his arms around Johnny, pulling him closer, putting both legs around him now, too, squirming up against him so Johnny wouldn't even think to stop. Not that he did, of course. He was fucking Kerry now like he couldn't have stopped even if he had wanted to, so hard the bed shook a little with each thrust.
"Don't let go, Ker," Johnny gasped against Kerry's cheek when the belt didn't quite choke him anymore without Kerry pulling on it, his voice raw, whether just from the pressure or because Johnny couldn't stop moaning. Kerry smiled a little to himself, bit back a comment about how much Johnny had clearly started to like his leash, and he did make sure to tighten his grip on the belt again, pressing the end against Johnny's back where he held on to him, pulling it taut again around his neck. It wasn't quite as tight as it could have been, because Kerry didn't actually want to go too far when he couldn't feel Johnny's throat under his hands, but apparently it was still enough pressure to make Johnny's hip stutter, to make his cock twitch inside Kerry. Kerry yanked lightly on the belt to make Johnny raise his head, just far enough that they could look at each other again, that he could see the wild, but also glazed expression in Johnny's eyes. As if barely being able to breathe only spurred him on more, only made him rougher, like he was desperately chasing his orgasm before he might pass out. Kerry had no intention of letting him pass out before he'd come.
He wrapped the belt around his hand enough times that he ended up gripping it right at the back of Johnny's neck, holding on to it there firmly so he could keep him in place and make sure he choked him just right, just enough, never too much. He was aching from Johnny's thrusts, each one seemingly harder than the previous one, as fucking desperate as he usually got when Kerry had actually teased him. If he'd been worried about Johnny just lying there and letting him do all the work if Kerry indulged his little kink, fuck, he'd been worried for nothing. He wasn't sure he'd be able to walk later without limping. It was downright overwhelming so shortly after he'd come himself, the relentless stimulation that made his cock twitch some more while a few more drops of come leaked from it. Jesus, Johnny was going to be the death of him.
Johnny almost whimpered when Kerry adjusted his grip again, when he ended up with a few strands of hair gripped along with the belt, and the next time he pulled it really, properly tight, Johnny bucked against him like he'd finally fucking lost it, his eyes closing for a few moments and then opening again when Kerry let him draw in a desperate gasp of air that quickly turned into a moan as Johnny filled him up. He kept rocking into Kerry while he came, pressed his forehead against Kerry's and looked into his eyes as he did, before he finally leant down and kissed Kerry – just a light touch of his lips because he was too breathless to do more than that. They both were.
For a little while, Johnny stayed right there – his cock still inside of Kerry, Kerry's legs still wrapped around his hips, Kerry's palm pressing against the back of Johnny's neck now as they breathed against each other's lips. Kerry's heart was hammering so hard in his chest it almost hurt, and when he ran his thumb along the edge of the belt on Johnny's throat, he could feel his pulse race just as much right under the sweaty skin. Neither of them said a word, but that was probably for the better. Kerry still didn't dare to say half the things he felt when they were like this – he was pretty sure Johnny knew them anyway, no need to open himself up to mockery. And Johnny ... Johnny probably thought actually saying any of this out loud would cheapen it or some bullcrap. They were both far more likely to turn what was between them into a song than into a fucking conversation.
Kerry kissed the corner of Johnny's mouth, his cheek, his temple, smiled when Johnny groaned softly and then pulled out of him so damn slowly, stopping for a moment to rub his cock a few more times against Kerry's wet hole, smearing the come that trickled out of him over his skin. Johnny rubbed his fingers over it next, laughed when Kerry twitched away because of how overstimulated he felt.
"Aw, here I thought you always want more," Johnny teased, then smacked the inside of Kerry's thigh when Kerry just glared at him. They shifted around, sweaty limbs entangling as Johnny awkwardly shoved off his leather pants and then spread out on top of Kerry, the whole length of their bodies pressed together, his head resting on Kerry's chest. He was heavy, but Kerry didn't mind. It felt good, to be caught like that between him and the bed. It felt good, to put his arm around Johnny and hold him close and just feel him breathe against him. Johnny petted his side absent-mindedly, then let his fingers wander up over the golden lines to Kerry's chest. He touched the dog tags, warm from Kerry's skin and damp with his sweat. He kissed the skin right next to them, rubbed his cheek against it. Sometimes he really reminded Kerry of a cat. He'd told Johnny that once or twice, though he hadn't teased him about how fucking adorable he looked sometimes. V did, though, because he was utterly unafraid of Johnny glaring at him like he'd rip his head off.
Eventually, Kerry gently removed the belt from around Johnny's neck, where the leather stuck to his damp skin. Johnny's throat looked all red underneath, sore enough that Kerry wondered if he'd maybe bruise a little tomorrow. He rubbed over the skin carefully.
"Does it hurt?" he asked, his voice muffled against Johnny's hair. Johnny shrugged, then shook his head.
"'s the wrong word. Does your ass hurt?"
Kerry laughed softly, felt Johnny smile against his chest. "Okay, I know what you mean."
He kept caressing Johnny's chest, making him moan a few times when he rubbed over the reddened skin. Maybe he had overdone it a bit, but Johnny never put up with half-measures. Fuck, neither did Kerry. What was the point of doing anything unless you went all out? Johnny was relaxing on top of him now, stretched out and boneless, and Kerry loved feeling his weight. It would probably get uncomfortable sooner or later, but for now ... for now he wouldn't have wanted to move for anything.
"Here I thought you were never going to choke me ..." Johnny said after a while, still sounding like he was smiling. It made something tight in Kerry's chest how often he sounded like that these days. Like he was actually ... as close to happy as Johnny ever got. Like he wasn't resisting that feeling anymore, as if happiness was betraying his principles or whatever he'd told himself back in the day.
"I never said I wasn't going to do it." Kerry shrugged, as much as he could with Johnny on top of him. "Just didn't want to let you pretend it was the only reason you were fucking me."
"Vain shit." Johnny shook his head, but he was still playing with the dog tags on Kerry's chest. "You got the whole world wanting to fuck you and you still need me to tell you you're hot?"
"I don't give a shit about the whole world wanting to fuck me. I had enough people trying to fuck me even when I was sixteen and nobody knew who the fuck I was ..."
"Just as long as I want to fuck you?" Johnny sounded smug, but not actually pissed off. Of course he wasn't, he did always like having his ego stroked more than anything. Kerry didn't bother with a reply. Johnny knew it as well as he did. Kerry had fucked his way through Night City even back when Johnny had been alive, but they both knew he would have stopped if he could have had Johnny instead. There was no need to let Johnny rub it in now.
"If you still haven't noticed that I do, you're even dumber than you look, Ker," Johnny said. It was as close as he ever got to admitting anything. He was still rubbing his thumb over Kerry's chest, right next to the dog tags. They were both quiet for a while, Johnny petting his chest, Kerry playing with his hair. It was so fucking casual, so easy, like they'd been doing this for far longer than they had been. Maybe Johnny really had stopped being a bitch about this.
"Are you gonna use your hands next time?" Johnny asked eventually, shifting lightly against Kerry. Kerry laughed, pressed his fingers against the slowly forming bruises on Johnny's neck.
"Don't pretend you minded getting yanked around by that belt." Kerry's turn to sound smug, and Johnny didn't actually try to pretend otherwise.
All he said was, "I just like your hands."
He did. Always had, even long before they'd started fucking, long before Johnny had kissed his fingertips and sucked on them and rubbed his cheek against Kerry's palm. He sighed softly when Kerry moved his hand to the side of Johnny's throat, giving it the lightest squeeze, although the angle was of course too awkward to actually stop him from breathing.
"Next time, yeah," Kerry said. And he realised that he wasn't the least bit worried about whether there would be a next time, not with how things had been going between them, and with V, too. It didn't mean he'd stopped worrying entirely about Johnny's bullshit, because Johnny was still Johnny. He was just pretty sure that Johnny's bullshit wasn't actually going to ruin everything anymore.
Not even after getting dragged around by a goddamn leash.