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"Put it down," Johnny said.
Kerry was holding his gun. Johnny's gun, that was. The one he'd been toting around for a while by the time he'd died, the one Smasher had gotten a hold of and passed onto that prick Grayson. V had taken it back, and once they'd gotten Johnny a shiny new attractive body, V had passed the gun on back to Johnny. It felt right in his hand. It looked really wrong in Kerry's.
"Why?" Kerry asked. He tilted his head, all wide-eyed and pseudo-innocent, like he was six years old and not ninety-six. Johnny rolled his eyes. Seemed like the appropriate response in terms of maturity level.
"Because you're gonna hurt yourself," Johnny told him.
"What, you think I'm gonna drop it and shoot myself in the foot or something?"
"Fuck, I hope not," Johnny replied. "Thing'll take your whole damn leg off."
Kerry frowned. He eased the gun down to his side but he didn't actually put it down down. Then he put one foot up on the couch, in the space between Johnny's pretty thoroughly manspread thighs, and he tapped the muzzle of the gun against the top of his dumb tall boot.
"I've got great legs," Kerry said. "It'd be a shame to lose 'em."
Johnny reached out with his 'ganic hand and squeezed Kerry's calf over the boot leather.
"Let's say I agree about your "great" legs," Johnny said. He made semi-sarcastic airquotes with his chrome hand and Kerry made a face at him. "Put the gun down. They can stay attached."
Kerry did not, in point of fact, put the gun down. He leaned forward, one forearm against his propped-up thigh, and he pressed the gun's barrel up under Johnny's chin. Johnny gave him a withering look as he leaned his head back against the back of the couch.
"It is loaded?" Kerry asked him.
"It's always loaded," Johnny replied.
That did seem to give Kerry pause for thought, but he still did not put the gun down. He pressed the top of the barrel up harder so the sight dug in a little under Johnny's chin. Just enough for him to really feel it, like he felt his Adam's apple chafe against the muzzle as he swallowed.
"You know, it's not just my head you'll take off if you screw up," Johnny said. "It'll tear your fucking arm off."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. It's built for someone who can handle the recoil."
"And I can't?"
Johnny held up his chrome hand. He waved his chrome fingers at Kerry.
"You've got all that shit in your throat but pretty sure your hands are still the real deal," Johnny said.
Kerry raised his eyebrows. "Think you could tell the difference?" he asked.
"Sure."
"There's some real convincing synthetic shit out there."
"Your point?"
"You really think you can tell?"
"What, you're gonna tie a blindfold on me? Make me feel up a bunch of your corpo sellout chooms, tell you which ones got themselves a Mr. Studd?"
Kerry snorted. "Nah," he said. "Thought you could try out your synthskin whispering on me before you go grope the general population." He tilted his head the other way. He pressed a little harder at Johnny's throat as he dragged his shirt up over his abs and Johnny rolled his eyes again. "What, you lose your confidence someplace in the last four seconds?"
"Put the gun down and we'll talk."
"I don't wanna talk."
"You sure talk a lot for someone who doesn't want to."
Kerry mimed zipping his lips. He took his boot down from the couch and he pulled his tanktop off over his head with Johnny's gun still in his hand. Johnny was pretty sure someone was pulling the trigger before the night was through and it was looking like it was gonna be Kerry, but he just stretched his arms out along the back of the couch and watched Kerry toss his shirt away. It landed on the table and took a champagne flute half full of tequila over with it but it wasn't like Kerry would care.
Then Kerry leaned with his free hand on Johnny's 'ganic shoulder, planted one knee next to Johnny's left hip and straddled his thighs on the couch. Johnny raised his eyebrows at him. Kerry shrugged. So Johnny ran his 'ganic fingertips over one of Kerry's denim-clad thighs. He tapped them against his belt buckle. Then he tucked them underneath Kerry's waistband and he told him, "Real."
"So far so good," Kerry replied, so Johnny moved on. More accurately, he moved up. He walked his first two fingers up the center of Kerry's abdomen and then his chest, then spread his palm over the chrome.
"Obvious, but that's fake," he said. He tapped the chrome, then he spread his fingers and pressed the tips to Kerry's skin. "And that's real."
"You're right," Kerry said. "That was obvious."
Johnny scoffed, then he moved on. He tapped his fingers over Kerry's collarbones, his shoulders, biceps, forearms, wrists. He brought up Kerry's left hand and pressed his own against it, palm to palm.
"Real," he said. "Is this meant to be hard?"
Kerry grinned. "No, but I can show you something that should be."
"Well, I walked right into that."
"I mean, you did say some dumb bullshit about checking guys out for Mr. Studds."
"That doesn't sound like me."
"So it's what, V throwing his voice?"
Johnny shrugged. He stretched his arms out along the couch back again.
"Yeah, who can say," he said, then he gestured briefly at Kerry. "So am I meant to feel you up over your pants or are you taking 'em off?" he asked.
Kerry gave him a vaguely skeptical look, but then he pushed himself back up off the couch. "Hey, untie my boots," he said, and he put his boot back on the couch between Johnny's thighs.
"Big flashy superstars can't even take their own shoes off?" Johnny said, but he still started on the buckles.
"What can I say, we get waited on hand and foot," he said. "You wanna peel me a grape?"
"You wanna kiss my ass?"
Kerry appeared to weigh that prospect for a second, but Johnny finished with the buckles and pulled Kerry's boot open. Kerry shuffled around to put the other one up next, and apparently forgot all about ass-kissing as he watched Johnny's fingers on his buckles and his laces.
He did the rest himself. Didn't take a whole lot of time, because it wasn't like he was bundled up in layers or whatever - he was wearing a pair of V's socks that were covered in bright green fucking parrots or some similar bird-shaped bullshit, and Johnny helped him pull those off. Then Kerry unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans with Johnny's gun still in his hand. A well-practiced shimmy of his hips and the admittedly baggy jeans hit the floor. He frowned at Johnny. Johnny guessed Kerry hadn't meant to take it so far. However, Johnny was as close to an expert as there was in the world at pushing Kerry's buttons.
"So you often get naked in your shitty open plan living room?" Johnny asked him.
"Sure, all the time," Kerry replied. "Every goddamn day. It's a motherfucking miracle I was wearing clothes when you got here. Okay?"
"Hey, don't get pissy with me 'cause you're insecure about your sexual enhancements."
Kerry stared at him for a second. For several seconds. "My sexual enhancements?" he said. He grabbed himself by the balls and shook his junk at Johnny. "Does this look fake to you?"
"Looks like the same old dick to me," Johnny admitted. "But this is not a visual inspection."
Kerry narrowed his eyes. "So what is it?" he asked.
Johnny stood. With Kerry standing there naked and barefoot, Johnny had a couple of inches on him. He was broader than him. Just generally bigger than him, not that Kerry had ever let himself get intimidated. But Johnny stepped in close and slipped his 'ganic hand to the back of Kerry's neck. He slid his fingers into Kerry's hair and gripped it. Pulled it a little. Made Kerry's eyes narrow even more. Then he put his chrome hand between Kerry's legs and gripped his balls. He squeezed a little as Kerry flinched, probably at least 50% because Johnny's chrome fingers were so damn cold.
Kerry dropped the gun. It bounced on the couch cushion and didn't go off, and Johnny turned and leaned to pick it up with his chrome hand still on Kerry's balls. He turned back to him, gun in hand, and rested the far side of the grip against Kerry's shoulder. Then he pressed the muzzle up into the soft skin under Kerry's chin.
"You like to play with guns?" Johnny asked him.
Kerry eyed him, like he wasn't sure what the correct answer was. Like he wasn't sure what would make him stop and what would make him take it further, or if Johnny was just being an ass.
"Not exactly," Kerry replied, kinda carefully.
"So you just wanna play with my gun?" Johnny asked.
He slid the gun down and pressed the muzzle flat to the chrome in Kerry's chest. He let go of his balls. He took a step back till his calves hit the couch and he held the gun there with the length of his outstretched 'ganic arm between them. Kerry's cock was not as soft as it had started out. Johnny's mouth twitched in something almost like a smile.
"Well, yeah," Kerry said. "I've been trying to play with your fucking gun since twenty minutes after we met."
"That long?"
"Oh, fuck you."
Johnny chuckled. He started moving the gun down, slowly, trailing the muzzle down the center of Kerry's chest and down over his abs.
"What's wrong, Ker?" he asked. "Can't decide if you should be turned on or pissed off?"
"I decided," Kerry said. "I can do both."
"That can be hot."
"Since when do you care what's hot about me?"
Johnny shrugged. He nudged the side of Kerry's stiffening dick with the barrel of the gun and watched it twitch.
"Since now," he said. "Since always. Fuck, does it matter?"
He looked back up at Kerry's face. Into Kerry's dumb blue eyes that made him look like some kind of a high-priced joytoy. He expected Kerry to tell him it matters, maybe say he was done with Johnny's bullshit, maybe tell him to leave, yell at him, whatever. But Kerry just let the frown drift off his face and then he shrugged.
"We gonna fuck?" Kerry asked, instead of any of the things Johnny had expected, and Johnny's heart gave a thud in his chest.
"What if we are?" he replied.
"Then I guess I'd say it's about time."
When Johnny kissed him, he still had the gun in his hand. He pressed it up under the side of Kerry's jaw, near to his pulse, as he grabbed him by the hair and kissed him hard. The truth was he had no idea when he'd realized that he was into Kerry. He'd told himself for so long and in so many ways that he wasn't, could never be, he was straight, whatever, that even if he'd been into him back then, he wouldn't've let himself know it. Now was different, though. Now was second chances, or fiftieth chances, a number as high as he could even count, and he didn't give a fuck what anybody thought except himself. Maybe V. Definitely Kerry.
So he kissed him, with the gun at Kerry's jaw. He pulled back and Kerry fucking growled at him, but Johnny just trailed the muzzle of the gun over Kerry's pretty recently-kissed lips. Kerry licked it and Johnny snorted, and he stepped away, moved behind him, cocked the gun so Kerry could hear it as he pressed it to the base of his skull. He saw him shiver.
"You trust me?" Johnny asked.
"Not really," Kerry replied.
"You want me to stop?"
Kerry shook his head. "Not really."
Johnny chuckled. He trailed the gun down Kerry's spine. He pressed it to his coccyx, at the indent there before the crack of his ass, then he pressed his chrome thumb between Kerry's cheeks and rubbed there at his hole. Kerry shivered again. Probably he could tell the difference between Johnny's hand and his Malorian, but it would give a pretty similar effect.
"I'd do you with the gun, but..."
"Yeah, as hot as that sounds, maybe find one with a nice smooth barrel first," Kerry replied.
"I've got ideas about that."
"You do?"
Kerry sounded pretty incredulous and Johnny wasn't sure if he liked that or not. So he just stepped in close, right up against Kerry's bare back, and told him, "Yeah, Ker, I do."
He wrapped one arm around Kerry's waist from behind him next, and he started to move. He guided him across the room, kinda awkward but he found it kinda funny, except for the fact that Kerry was naked. Kerry being naked wasn't funny. Kerry being naked was hot, but not even half as hot as when Johnny got where he was going and pressed Kerry down over the edge of the pool table. Johnny ran the gun down Kerry's back, from the nape of his neck to the crack of his ass. He spread Kerry's cheeks with his free hand and pressed the muzzle up against his hole, not for long, no intent, but enough to make Kerry groan out loud. Then Johnny put the gun down on the table.
There was probably lube around, someplace close, shoved down the back of a couch cushion or in the liquor cabinet with his six varieties of tequila, wherever, but Johnny wasn't about to go looking for it. He spread Kerry's cheeks with both hands and he spat against his hole, and Kerry cursed under his breath as Johnny slicked his rim with it.
"If you're gonna fuck me with that monster cock," Kerry said, "you're gonna need to loosen me up a little first."
"I got it covered," Johnny replied. "Were you always so goddamn impatient?"
"Pretty much."
Johnny clucked his tongue, then he figured he'd put his tongue to another use. And for a start, he kinda wondered how teasing Kerry's rim with the tip of his tongue was gonna help things, because Kerry just tightened the fuck up. But after that...Kerry stepped his feet a little wider apart, Kerry arched his back a little, and Johnny figured this wasn't so bad. Johnny's dick throbbing in his pants told him this really wasn't so bad. He stood up straight and he eased Kerry's hole open just a little way with the tips of both his thumbs. He spat again, made Kerry curse again, and pressed in just a little with his 'ganic thumb. Fuck, that was hot. It was gonna be hotter when he got his cock inside him.
Which he did, as it happened, pretty quickly after that. Kerry was a pro at deep breathing and all that meditative bullshit, and as Johnny pressed the tip of his dick against Kerry's asshole, he felt him starting to relax. It was still tight. It was really fucking tight. But Johnny pushed in, bit by bit, inch by inch, his breath catching, his clothes sticking to his too-hot skin, and fuck, he watched as Kerry took him. He watched himself stretch Kerry open, like Kerry had wanted since the day they'd met. Maybe Johnny had, too. Maybe he should've just gone ahead and done it. But they'd've fucked that up like they'd fucked up the rest of it, so maybe this was better, who knew.
He had to go slow. The lack of lube was an issue and the friction was pretty fucking high, but that didn't seem to matter too much except he had to go slow. He gripped Kerry's hips and he pushed in till he couldn't get in any further, and Kerry took a shaky breath and told him, "Jesus, Johnny, I thought you were just teasing me like always."
"Yeah, not so much this time," Johnny replied, and he flexed his hips to move inside him. Kerry made a strangled sort of sound that somehow sounded like he liked it nonetheless. Johnny sure did, so he did it again. And again. Again, till he was fucking him in earnest and Kerry tried to push back onto the length of him, like maybe he could take him deeper. Johnny liked that. Johnny liked all of it. It made his head swim like a bottle of booze, but in the good way. It made his pulse race. It made his breath catch and his muscles strain until Kerry came, real obviously, and made a mess of the pool table upholstery. Johnny gripped Kerry's hips even harder and finished maybe a minute or two after.
"That's gonna bruise," Kerry said, as Johnny moved his chrome hand.
"And you care about that?"
"Sure, I care," Kerry said. Johnny groaned as he pulled back, and pulled out, and Kerry turned to him. He leaned back against the edge of the table. Fuck, he looked good, his face all flushed and his cock starting to get soft. "It's hot. Maybe do it again sometime."
"Give me a drink and a smoke and I'll be good to go again."
Kerry snorted. "Now who's got the Mr. Studd?" he said, and his gaze dropped down real obviously between Johnny's thighs. He ran one fingertip along the length of him and made Johnny curse at how it felt on his too-sensitive skin. Then his face got serious. He looked back up at Johnny's face. "We are gonna do this again, right?"
"Like I said," Johnny replied. "I'll need a drink and a smoke. Then maybe I'll do you up against your dumb fucking windows or some shit."
"Or the hood of the car."
"Or the hood of the car."
"Or the hood of your car."
"Sure. The hood of my car."
"Or the bed. Maybe?"
Johnny laughed. He stepped in close. "Fucking revolutionary notion," he replied, then he cupped Kerry's jaw in his hands. He stroked the lines of chrome by Kerry's eyes with both his thumbs. Kerry looked down, like that embarrassed him somehow, so Johnny just kissed him till he had a blush on his face to go with it.
"Maybe all of the above," Johnny said, when he pulled back. He raised his eyebrows. "Maybe keep the boots on next time."
Kerry grinned. He looked pleased. He looked happy. Fuck, that shit looked good on him. Then he picked up the gun from the table. He handed it to Johnny with an expectant look on his face.
And okay, so when Johnny aimed at the wall and pulled the trigger, nothing happened. No overpriced guitars exploded in a hail of wood and metal hardware. The wall remained intact. Kerry raised his brows. Johnny smiled wryly.
"Always loaded?" Kerry said.
"Safety's on, Ker," Johnny replied. "I'm not that much of an asshole."
The look on Kerry's face said he wasn't sure. But Johnny was pretty sure that he was gonna give him a chance anyway.