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V finds it by accident, really.
He’s not looking for it—not in the slightest—just thumbing through the crate of old screamsheets the vendor in Watson has. He’s done for the day but doesn’t want to go back to his apartment. Kerry is off in New York for the week to record some collaborative track, and fuck if he knows where Panam is. He doesn’t want to go home because it’s too quiet and too lonely, which means he’s just going to rot in his bed for the rest of the evening. So, he’s meandering around Watson looking for something to occupy his time.
He laughs to himself as his fingers graze over the worn, glossy pages of the sheets. He has no need for physical copies–he can get everything online. Hell, he gets blasted with the news every goddamn time he steps outside. But it's funny, seeing shit from before he was even born. One cover announces the newest cybertechnology in prosthetic arms, displaying something that looks a lot like Johnny’s silver arm. Another features a paparazzi shot of a scantily clad woman with some corpo asshole. He continues to flip through the box, until–
V’s hand stops.
It’s Kerry. Not Kerry as he knows him now, but from sometime in the 2030s? 2040s? He’s missing a lot of his current cyberware; he doesn’t even have his neck piece yet. His hair is cut short, but has grown out enough to start to curl at the nape of his neck. He still wears that dorky ass headband, but… nothing else except a very thin jockstrap.
The high quality image lets you see everything. The lines of his abdomen, the thick dark hair on his stomach. The details of his shoulder tattoos, the outline of his soft cock. He’s smirking, the corner of his lips upturned, making his mustache crooked. The title of the cover article is something stupid: Eurodyne’s New Package. A promotion for Kerry’s newest album. V should be furious at whatever publicist convinced Ker to do this, but—he’s so fucking turned on.
“Somethin’ caught your eye?” The vendor’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts. Inappropriate thoughts. V takes the screamsheet out of the bin, angling it downwards so the man can only see the cigarette ad on the back.
“Uh, yeah. Just this,” V manages to respond. He hopes they’re all priced the same, that he doesn’t have to show the old vendor the ridiculously risqué screamsheet of his boyfriend.
“That’ll just be 5 eddies—“
The vendor doesn’t even finish his sentence before V transfers him the €$s and turns on his heel.
***
V is not a perfect man. He’s done a lot of things in his life that he isn’t proud of.
He thinks about those things as he lies sprawled out on his bed, in a post-masturbation haze, Kerry’s screamsheet forgotten somewhere next to him. Does this make him a shitty output? He thinks about all the groupies who have probably jerked it to pictures of Kerry over the years.
He grabs the screamsheet and shoves it in the bottom drawer of his nightstand. He kicks it closed, almost a little too hard.
“You’re a pervert, V,” Johnny says from somewhere in his mind.
V flips him off.
***
Kerry comes back a week later.
He surprises V at his apartment, dropping all of his shit and grabbing him for a much needed kiss. They end up ordering pizza and cuddling on the couch. If you told V a year ago that he’d would end up being a cuddler, he’d laugh in your fucking face. Kerry tells V all about the bullshit he had to deal with while he was in New York while V absentmindedly plays with his soft silver hair. He runs his finger tips over the shaved sides of his head, thumbing at the cool chrome by his eyes. He can feel Kerry smile as he speaks.
“—and the last time I must’ve seen this guy was what, 40 years ago? When I was in my fuckin’ thirties?”
V’s stomach clenches as he thinks about the screamsheet shoved in the drawer across the room.
***
V’s rooting through bins and drawers trying to find a hard drive he needed for one of his gigs. Johnny is being wholly unhelpful and mostly insulting him instead of looking. He remembers having it, and it should’ve been on his desk but it’s not and it’s not in his safe room either. V’s almost turned the entire apartment upside down trying to find it, and there’s no way that he’d put it in one of the nightstand drawers but he checks anyways.
It’s not there, but neither is the screamsheet.
Kerry, that sneaky son of a bitch, V thinks. He’d be impressed with Kerry’s ability to snoop if he wasn’t so mortified. Not only did Kerry see his secret purchase, but he took it.
V goes to shove his hand in his pants pocket, and feels the cool metal of a hard drive.
***
MESSAGES → KERRY EURODYNE
17:37 Kerry: Babyyy come over tonight? New ep of Watson Whore is supposed to be so bad it’s good :D Miss you <3
***
The drive to Kerry’s North Oak home is quiet, as usual. V always feels out of place driving up the winding roads of the neighborhood in his beat up Archer. But he doesn’t mind too much, because Kerry’s waiting for him at the top of the hill.
The house’s ridiculous security system lets him in automatically. V haphazardly throws his stuff on the floor of the entryway and calls out for Kerry. He hears the soft shuffle of movement as he shrugs off his jacket.
“Took you long enough.”
Kerry’s in his ridiculous monogrammed silk robe. He’s looking at V all soft and sweet, one arm tucked behind his back.
“Sorry Ker,” V mumbles, stepping forward so he can take Kerry’s face in his hands and kiss him gently. “Can I make it up to you?”
Kerry hums in feigned thought.
“When I was over at your place the other day, I was looking for something I thought I left there,” He says, ignoring V’s question. “I didn’t find what I was looking for, but what I did find was interesting…”
From behind his back, Kerry pulls out the screamsheet, a shit-eating grin on his face.
V feels his face heat up by about one thousand degrees. Kerry turns the pages and looks at one of the full spread shots, which is just as scandalous as the cover image.
“Goddamn I looked good,” Kerry hums, tapping his finger against the high definition shot of his abs. “Fans went batshit crazy when this dropped.”
“Ker, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable—“
“Uncomfortable?” Kerry yelps, eyebrows raised high. “You—you think I’m—oh, V.”
The screamsheet falls to the floor. He rests his hands on V’s shoulders, pulling him forward and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. V instinctually grasps Kerry’s waist, feeling the smooth silk against his fingertips.
“You’re adorable,” Kerry murmurs. V wants to refute that statement. “I’m flattered that my very stoic and serious output is all flustered because I discovered his spank bank consists of me in my thirties.”
V wants to curl up in a hole and die. The only thing that keeps him grounded is Kerry’s lips against his neck.
“Kerry…” V sighs, tilting his head to the side to give the other man more room.
“Fuck, I love it when you say my name like that,” Kerry groans before pressing his lips to V’s.
Always the egoist, Johnny says.
Go to hell, V replies.
They stand in the hallway kissing each other for a while. V loves kissing Kerry, loves feeling the gentle scrape of his beard against his own, feeling the weight of his body close to his. Sometimes they're rushed, sometimes they’re not. V’s hand dips under the fabric of Kerry’s robe, splaying his hand out over the chrome-split skin of his chest.
At some point Kerry grabs V’s wrists between them, guiding his hands down to the tie of his robe. V’s no gonk so he gets the idea, and Kerry kisses him harder as the merc fumbles with the knot. The robe finds its way to the floor, and V runs his hands down Kerry’s bare sides. They pull away for a moment, and V opens his eyes.
The thin fabric of a jockstrap covers Kerry’s half-hard cock. He’s smirking at V. V would be doubly embarrassed if it wasn’t so fucking hot.
“You’re awful,” V says instead.
“You love it,” Kerry replies.
They rush upstairs, Kerry smacking V on the ass. They always start playfully, teasing each other and making jokes, until Kerry starts to beg him to hurt him, to be rough. And V has spent his entire life fulfilling requests, so he does what he’s asked.
V fucks Kerry hard and fast. Kerry cusses him out, cries and yells, twists his hands in the sheets. V never says much during sex, but he can’t help but let out soft grunts for Kerry. So he knows how much V revels in him, how much he loves this. Kerry is mean in bed, but once he comes he gets all soft, tangling his limbs with V’s.
They lay in bed and kiss each other for a while. At some point Kerry gets tired and settles for resting his head on a pillow and staring at V. The merc runs his thumb over Kerry’s cheek, his cyberware a cold contrast to his flushed skin. V looks at the freckles and sun spots sprinkled across his cheekbone.
Beautiful, V thinks.
Johnny’s not dumb enough to interrupt, but if he did he’d pretend to retch.
“V,” Kerry whispers, his voice breaking the softness of their breathing. “I’m not–I’ll never look like that again.”
“So?” V replies. Kerry’s beard is rough against the pad of his thumb.
“So,” Kerry repeats. “You’re young, I’m old as fuck. Can’t be a hottie like I once was.”
V kisses his cheek.
“Don’t care about that Kerry. I like this one.”
Kerry smiles softly, the corners of his eyes wrinkling.