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[ Quiet for as long as Johnny's talking, V's calm despite it all. Tamps down on everything he's got whirling in his brain, every single question, every realization that he'd gotten closer to a truth that actually affects him. Robert had given him more information willingly in the short time he was around than Johnny ever has, when it comes to things like this.

Something to think on, and he's got a fair idea that Johnny's aware of that. Problem is, there really is so much to try and file down into a neat queue. It's a mess upstairs, stray thoughts colliding into some deeply-rooted beliefs that... what? Are based on Johnny's inability to just communicate how he feels? ]

Yeah. 's called communication. Grown-ass adults do it. Fuck, even ya teenage self could do it.

[ Except there's still the matter of something else Robert said. Both brows are raised now, and there's no grin anymore. Actually, he looks pretty fuckin' serious. ]

'You're not my type?'

[ Sorry, Johnny. He's going to quote that back at ya and not feel in any way bad about using it. ]

Really?

[ No, he's not unsure about that anymore. Mostly it's an invitation for Johnny to straighten that out, to lift that false belief from V's shoulders. ]

[And there it is. Johnny’s almost relieved that it’s coming up, now, because he knows that his preference to pretend it never happened is a pipe dream when it comes to this nomad. Might as well get it fucking over with, and he pushes down the dread born of a fear of royally screwing everything up. Nothing that he’d admit to openly, of course.

Shoulders stiffen incrementally. He plays a loud and annoying chord just to be loud and annoying about it. Anyone who knows Johnny can see it for what it is: shielding going up, just in case.]

Younger me’s stupid and has a big mouth. Fuck him.

[For throwing him under this bus.]

But you know what? Yeah, ‘you’re not my type’, AKA ‘it’s way too complicated and I don’t even wanna try to unravel it’.

Got any idea why that might’ve been, V? Back then and now? Use your fuckin’ imagination, I shouldn’t have to make a damn list.

[Take this onus off of him.]

[ The loud, annoying chord is grating, but nowhere near as grating as Johnny falling back on old habits. V can see the tension manifest in Johnny's shoulders, but he's beyond taking responsibility for that. Wanting to have a conversation shouldn't be a fucking strike against his name, and for a second he can feel the muscles across his back tense in response. Johnny Silverhand; still a pro at getting under his skin in less than a few words. ]

No.

[ For a second it's not clear what he's saying no to. The singular word carries across the space between them easily because V's tone is resolute. Fuck that. He's sat up straight now, the urge to get to his feet almost overwhelming. ]

They're not my thoughts or emotions. Why the fuck do I gotta use my imagination to try and understand what you're not tellin' me?

[ It still stings that Johnny left him to sit with that rejection presented in a lie. ]

'cause guess where all your shit lands when you won't give me a straight answer?

Yeah. On me. And before you say it... no, that wasn't your choice. But least you could do is be straight with me instead of just lyin'.

[He needs to ply patience, but he can’t. It’s hard when blame is (rightfully) being flung back in his face for doing something he thought was the best for the both of them. It’s hard when Johnny is an emotional creature at heart, and feeds off the tension in the air like it were actual oxygen. His jawline hardens and he forgets about the guitar altogether, hands falling off the strings and gripping his knees in a hard lean forward.]

I lied ‘cause I didn’t wanna deal with— [A hasty gesture at the space between them.] —this shit! Fuckin’ yelling at each other over somethin’ that’s just gonna go around in circles all night long!

[Feels like Alt, feels like Rogue already. Fuck, fuck.]

Jesus. [He leans back, this time, head craned up at the stars, exasperated and frustrated.] You’re not stupid, it’s so obvious that anyone should see it — so hell, maybe you’re turnin’ a blind eye on purpose, I don’t know. So fine, you want me to spell it out for you? Here goes!

I’m an engram of a dead asshole whose soul tried to erase yours and led to an expiration date on your life. How about that? Or what about the fact that we aren’t gonna see each other when this is all said and done? Me data on the Net, and you back to fighting against the clock in the world of the living. Or what about Kerry? Yeah, I’m sure he’ll take real well to the idea.

Not even just him, what about everyone else here that probably wants a piece of your ass? Plenty gonna fawn over you, V. Don’t need me muddyin’ it all up when you can just fucking…

[God. His cigarettes. Why did he leave them in the house? His tone lowers, losing its flame.]

Fucking be happy without any complications. Without any of the noise of me. What we got now isn’t enough?

Edited 2021-07-14 16:48 (UTC)

[ V's stunned into a heavy silence; once Johnny gets going he's not going to interrupt him. This is the closest he's gotten to a real answer since what feels like day dot, the closest to actually understanding what's bothering Johnny about it so much.

But every single thing that Johnny lists out is something V's already got a fucking answer too, and he'd have told Johnny that months ago if they'd just talked like this from the start.

What's loud in all of this is just how many other people Johnny's trying to drag in the way. Ker. Nameless other people that V has no clue where the older man's getting that idea from.

So, when Johnny's done, V just stares at him for a few seconds, tries hard to bite back the urge to let all his frustration pour out and stoke the metaphorical fire this argument is even more. But what's the point in that? If they're going to talk about it like fuck is V going to hold out on it now. ]

Are you fuckin' joking?

You think that 'cause Arasaka happened to both of us that's a reason to let 'em fuck this too?

Think I don't know time is fuckin' short? 'cause I'd rather spend it with people who're important to me in ways that are fuckin' real. Not pullin' away all the time, 'cause I know you feel the same fuckin' way when we touch.

Think that Ker doesn't already fuckin' know how I feel about ya? 'cause he does. Figured it out way before I did.

Don't want people to fawn over me, Johnny. But even if they do, what the fuck's that got to do with you and me?

[ He actually remembers to breathe, though it's a little belated. It's this moment he finally gets to his feet, paces a little because he's worked up to the point that he has to move. He doesn't speak again until he's stopped, but when he does he's looking at Johnny from over the top of the flames between them, the fire in his eyes more than enough to outshine the firepit below. ]

What happened to livin'? 'cause what this feels like is just existin' in these separate bubbles and I don't know why, but I know you know there's more.

[It’s almost too much to digest at once, V’s tirade bringing up points that are hard to argue against, but also missing a few of Johnny’s own altogether. And all of these thoughts are like a storm brewing, with not enough time between them to choose their words without making sure they don’t cut themselves on them — exactly what he had hoped to avoid.

But they’re in it now. And V’s last point hits like a dagger, and Johnny knows no other way to retort but to bite back.]

Hey, fuck you— [He stands to his feet, guitar left in the grass.] —for talkin’ to me about livin’, like I’ve got a mind to hold you back!

[He points a finger accusingly at V, tracking him with his eyes.]

I’d throw myself into oblivion for you a hundred times over if it guaranteed you even a shred of happiness! Said it to you before in no uncertain terms, and your gonk-ass still don’t get it!

[Fucking hell.]

I don’t give a damn about other people. Have a whole harem if you want. People who’ll love you and take care of you here — people who’ll help you forget about the shit circumstances we both come from. [Thumbing his chest—] Add me into that equation and it’s nothin’ but poison. Nothin’ but regret.

This shithole is all we’ve got before we’re split again. I’ve been happy just existing here with you, outside your head, when I couldn’t do that before. I’m not about to ruin it. Not about to go back to the Net, and you back to Night City, with you cursin’ my name. Hatin’ me for being a piece of shit.

[All of that fire out of him leaves him feeling frustratingly cold. His arms drop, and suddenly Johnny just looks tired.]

Look at us now, V. I mean, come on. [Johnny sits back down, frowning into the flames.] Fuck.

[ All this heat and V could still stand it hotter. That's the point, maybe. Johnny's pointing a finger at him and he bites down on his tongue not to yell back that's not what he meant. But, in the end, Johnny sagging over the other side of the fire is what forces him to calm down. To think about what he's saying before he says it.

He doesn't doubt Johnny's belief in what he's saying, but he can't just idly let this slip out of his hands. He won't. ]

Argue with you more than I argue with anybody else. That's nothin' new. You think that changes anythin'?

[ He's sure he doesn't have to explain it doesn't so he presses on. ]

What do ya think I'm askin' for? Some fairytale romance? Some different version of ya? What?

[ Exhaling heavily through his nose - not quite humor but not quite frustration either - V rounds the firepit and stops just short of the older man. ]

You're right. This is it, this place. All we got left. And yeah, I hate that. But... so far all I heard is you worryin' 'bout somethin' that might happen over somethin' that's gonna happen, don't matter if we want it to or not.

[ Their lack of proximity and his penchant for wanting to reach out to touch people's a hard urge to suppress, but he's not reached out for Johnny yet. Digging his hands into his pockets is a conscious move to restrain himself for now. ]

'sides, already curse ya name, Johnny. Regular, everyday thing I do already.

[Johnny presses his elbows to his knees, glancing up at V with only the fire to light the lines of his face. The years that’ve passed since he was a teen have sharpened his features, made them hard and piercing.]

I don’t know, kid. Be Robert Linder again? Couldn’t do that even if I tried for you.

[He’s been broken up into too many pieces since then. But he knows that’s not exactly V’s point, though he does wonder if it would have made things so much easier.]

Cursin’ my name today might be another story altogether tomorrow. Track record ain’t great. Got Rogue who’s dead. Got Alt who’s more AI than anything, now. Got you, with your fucked up brain. Everything I touch turns to shit, whether or not I got any control over it.

[His organic hand comes up to scrub his face.]

You know you’re… the most important person to me here, right? You can’t ask me to be selfish and risk fucking it all up.

Not askin' you to.

[ If Johnny remembers everything about his stint as Robert Linder: Round 2, V's already said what he meant. There was someone else, is someone else, and the only thing he misses deeply about that kid is that maybe he was happier. Had less of life's weight to drag around with him. That's what he'd want for Johnny, but he doesn't want any misunderstanding; Johnny's the other half of his soul, exactly as he is. ]

You'd be a different shape puzzle piece. Wouldn't fit the same way.

[ He doesn't really explain the context when he switches from thoughts to thoughts out loud. Dropping down next to Johnny, both hands are freed from his pockets, behave for the time being as he mulls over what he realizes is the vulnerability that they'd skirted the edge of so many times without V knowing exactly what it was. ]

If you'd had a choice, would you have done what the chip did?

[ He already knows the answer, but he's just putting this into perspective. There was no reason for them to get along, no reason for them to even be friends. But he knows the answer to this question as though it's etched into his soul like two sets of initials carved into a tree, like two names inked into his skin. It's been there since before Mikoshi. ]

You're takin' any choice I got away. Dontcha think we had enough choices taken away from us already?

If it was up to me, you never would’ve gone near the damn thing.

[But choice is a tricky thing, isn’t it? The most precious aspect a man or woman can possess, and the first thing that others want to steal away. Despite Johnny‘s rebel spirit, so much in his life had been defined by events gone spiraling out of his control. He had gotten so tired of it, fought against it with every fiber of his being, all the while pushing everyone away, building up his armor as his anger grew.

And now V’s just presenting another choice that he might not even be giving a chance, might be letting it die on the vine. Why? Because he’s scared of what might happen?

Yeah. He knows he is.]

And if we go through with it and it all goes to shit anyway?

[He glances aside at him, lowly-]

‘fraid to lose you before I have to.

If it does...

[ There's not much thought that's really behind the expression V's pulling. It's not so much contemplative as feeling like the last piece of grit just got pulled out of a wound. ]

Guess ya get to say 'I told ya so'? And I fuckin' hate it when ya say that.

[ A truth that's punctuated with a smile that's verging on conspiratorial of all things. But time's run out on his self-control, and whatever restraint he'd had when he sat down next to Johnny's evaporated.

Reaching up to slide a hand through dark hair, V's 'ganic fingers settle at the curve of Johnny's neck. The Synchrony is immediate, all that aching quickly replaced with the electricity of a simple touch. Bringing their foreheads together, V inhales deeply, calmly despite everything, and then tilts his chin up to capture Johnny's mouth with his own. ]

[What a gonk answer, his brain supplies, but for some reason it’s nearly the perfect thing to say. If it goes to hell, he can say he warned him, and the cycle’s just finished up another round — the ouroboros of Johnny’s life continues to eat its own damn tail. But V hasn’t got a lick of concern in him, might as well be saying “fuck it” if it does go pear-shaped, and— Christ, isn’t that what he’s been telling him to do this whole time? Live how he wants, fuck the consequences?

How funny that it takes V to remind Johnny Silverhand, of all people, of this one important to thing; that it takes someone else risking being selfish to allow him to do it, too.

It’s a bracing, freeing thought. But it doesn’t have time to even settle before V’s sliding fingers through his hair, foreheads nudging together and initiating a vibrant wave of Synchrony. Had it always been so eager, so fucking ready to envelop them both in a shared connection? He isn’t sure, and he doesn’t care.

V’s lips slot against his and Johnny’s reservations slide off of him, as though he never had them to begin with. For a moment, it’s a lingering, warm thing — not too exploratory, only existing, making his stomach coil in that pleasurable way. But then the rockerboy is splaying his hand against his seat to lean himself forward, to push himself into that kiss as if it belongs to him, like he could claim every atom of V’s with his lips alone.

He eventually breaks away to mutter against him—]

Don’t think I won’t take you up on it.

[ Too rooted in the moment to think outside of it, it takes V's brain a second to play catch up. Johnny's muttering something against his lips and his mind belatedly snaps it up.

In the end, what Johnny gets for his troubles is a deep 'mmhmm' and V's fingers trailing from the back of his neck, grazing the line of his jaw and eventually gripping his chin. Leaning back a fraction, V's brows pull together in a doubtful, hopefully infuriating manner. ]

Guess we'll see 'bout that.

[ It's all he's got to say, and for a man who's spent months trying to get to the bottom of what's going on by using words, he doesn't seem overly interested in them now. That's the thing about Synchrony; words aren't necessary. Instead he holds Johnny's gaze for an extended beat, as certain about this, about what they're doing, as he is that he's a nomad. Pretty fucking certain.

Just so happens that the Synchrony's a lot smoother for him to deal with when there's actual follow through. Easier still when he goes with it, and this time he's not shy about bringing their mouths back together.

The temptation to ask Johnny if this counts as a remote, secluded spot is dulled only by the fact that he's more interested in exploring the rockerboy's mouth than getting his ass dumped in the fire. A bright spark of humor ignites enough that it's likely just added to the mix of everything else the Synchrony is sharing, a singular, deep connection that feels so familiar.

But eventually V's hands wander, any thought of riling the other man up lost to the desire to touch; to slide up the thigh one's landed on and squeeze the slender hip the other's wrapped around. If they weren't sitting in the backyard, a complete lack of seating foresight withstanding, he'd be pulling Johnny deeper into his space without a second thought. ]

[Johnny might’ve wanted to make some kind of remark back, but the rockerboy’s also more interested in losing himself in their connection, now unhindered by his reticence. It has a way of making him feel whole again, something worth chasing after now that he’s allowed himself to do so — like being a single person, a singular soul, without the issue of invading the man’s neural network like a parasite.

A flicker of humor—must be V’s, he can feel his smile curved against his lips—and the sensation of wandering hands. The desire to touch and to feel ratchets up between them both, though it seems like the nomad’s a little more eager to quest and explore.

Johnny makes an amused noise from the back of his throat. V might be hinting for something more, but the rockerboy’s always been the bold one when it comes to what he wants. His own chrome hand lands at V’s hip, but his ‘ganic one starts at his lower torso, then slides right down the waist of his pants and flattens his palm against the nomad’s crotch. He applies just enough pressure to tease.

Pulling their mouths apart, Johnny speaks lowly; not like they’re that far apart to begin with.]

Someone’s eager. Should’ve said if you wanted me to fuck you by the fire — would’ve come more prepared.

[ A lack of surprise is quickly invaded by a tide of pleasure, a heady mix of unfettered arousal and the constant flow of Synchrony. It's less overwhelming but just as all-consuming, and V's only outward response for a brief second is to roll his hips forward into that pressure looking for more, thighs inching further apart as he does.

If he'd imagined what Johnny teasing him like this would sound like - and he has - it wasn't half as effective as the real thing, and the sharp inhale is evidence enough. Johnny keeps this up and V's not going to retain possession of the knowledge that fucking out here without some kind of lube's not going to feel all too preem tomorrow. His grip on the rational is tenuous at best right now anyway. ]

Fuckin' nomad, Johnny. 'course I wanna fuck by the fire.

[ Which is really all he's thinking about now, a one-track avenue to what his mind's only telling him is exactly what he wants. But eventually there's a thread of frustration amidst all that curiosity and arousal, a silent confession via Synchrony that Johnny's worked him up to this point already and V's less than satisfied about the fact they're not all up in each other's space. His body catches up less than a second later, starts to shift because he needs to move, wants to be closer to Johnny without seats getting in the way. ]

[Watching V get worked up, and so quickly, is its own kind of arousal. The kind that layers itself onto Johnny’s own, heady amongst their connection, pooling that familiar warmth all the way down to his groin. The way that V grinds into his hand like he’s asking for more, the way he’s clearly shifting against the odds of their awkward seating to just nudge as close as possible. Johnny wants to tease more of that out; he wants to dole out more without doling out too much, watch the look on the nomad’s face that he’s thought about before, but never got to see unfold first-hand.

Which means, with a crooked half-smile, Johnny’s only going to commit himself to being partially helpful. V tries to move closer, the older man remains exactly where he is. His fingers raise incrementally to undo the nomad’s pants’ button, giving him just enough leeway to dip his hand down his front, feeling down the length of his cock through the fabric of his underwear.

His words, too, aren’t that helpful or particularly conceding (or romantic — not that Johnny’s ever dealt too much in that). Amusement flickers in their bond, like a little bur thrown in just for the hell of it.]

Unless you got a bottle of lube in your back pocket, you’re not gettin’ fucked here. Don’t want you cursin’ my name in the morning from your ass bein’ railed too raw.

[ Of all the things to be running through V's head, old sayings aren't what he'd expecting. Don't bite the hand that-- nah, not that one. Something about giveth and taketh away-- fuck. A sentiment that makes it out into the space between them. ]

Fuck.

[ Johnny's forcing him to work for it and, truthfully, V likes that. Dips into his well of preferences and the shit that really turns him on. Doesn't mean it lacks the frustration that's on the up along with his stoked arousal already past just pooling in the bottom of his belly and instead heavy between his legs.

Feels good even through the thin layer of his boxers, and for a few seconds his forehead drops against Johnny's shoulder, the tangled-up-in-his-throat growled groan all he's capable of in return. Caught between wanting Johnny to keep going and wanting to drag the man inside, he lifts his head slowly, gaze catching brown eyes with the front-row seat.

He's not going to beg. That's not-- ]

Johnny, c'mon... [ a sharp breath in ] two seconds away from me flippin' this chair.

[You sure you don’t want to beg a little more, V? Sure, it might be early, but Johnny will never not like hearing it.

V dips his forehead onto the rockerboy’s shoulder, and he can hear the vibrations of a groan leave the man’s mouth. Johnny doesn’t do much different, other than move his fingers in the limited space V’s front allows, an incomplete half-stroke at best.

He tilts his head back just a little — words angled right into his ear, casual as they sound.]

Dunno, V, looks like you’re havin’ plenty of fun just like this.

[what an asshole]

[ The biggest asshole V knows. Nothing changes there.

Used to feeling out a dynamic and figuring out what works best, V's usually relaxed, laidback temperament doesn't necessarily translate through into his sex life. He's naturally more dominant than his personality might suggest; tenfold in this situation where he knows he's being teased. And fuck he loves it, but he also loves doing something about it.

It's why, despite knowing he might lose the hand in his pants, he gives Johnny no warning other than an unmaskable spike of tenacity before he moves. In the end he angles his hips back so the hand buried in his pants might slide free from the confines of fabric too restrictive to move around in. Gives him enough reassurance he's not about to snap the man's wrist when he does stand up. It's a look; pants hanging open, the outline of his dick faintly illuminated by firelight.

But he's not done there; fingers snag into Johnny's shirt collar to pull him up too. Not that they'd get far; V's too invested in pressing himself flush up against Johnny for a hungry kiss if he stands too, hands balling into fists in the fabric at the back of Johnny's shirt. ]

[Nearly always the dominant one himself, Johnny doesn’t mind getting tugged around now and again if it means a little fun. He likes it especially when V shows that fire in him — usually just in the doldrums of everyday merc life, but apparently when they’re getting handsy, too.

It’s why his breath hitches in his throat a little when V moves to stand. Johnny can’t even appreciate the shape of his dick starting to tent his boxers, either, because he’s pulled up to his feet and into another kiss, lips nearly bruising into each other.

His gem’s already glowing red beneath his dark shirt. It almost matches the fire, and he feels just as warm from it. But Johnny’s not done running his mouth, even when his hands clamp hard at the sides of V’s hips and he servers their kiss, teeth pulling back at a lower lip before it’s all said and done for good measure.]

Wanna hear what you want. Know you’ve probably thought about it before.

[If Johnny has, during late night, idle hours where he allowed his mind to wander to once-dangerous territory, then he’s sure V has, too.]

Can suck you off right here — hope your ass don’t fall in the flames. [He looks amused, even with his pupils blowing a little wider at the very thought.] Or we’ll take it inside and I’ll find somethin’ to bend you over on.

Edited 2021-07-15 13:47 (UTC)

[ Pulse thudding beneath the exposed skin of his neck, V sucks his bottom lip into his mouth as Johnny draws back. Prolongs the ache that Johnny'd left behind between his teeth. The other man's not wrong; V's fantasies have ranged from fleeting to full-blown, and the slow smirk that spreads across his expression might be confirmation of that. ]

Want me to stand on one leg while ya do?

[ Full of heat, even his voice sounds deeper, barely a fraction about gravelly. 'course he's making some smartass comment because he can, because he wants to. But it's not overly clear which of those options he's intrigued by the most until he's hooking a thumb into the front of his boxers, tugging material down and out of the way. If he just so happens to graze the front of Johnny's pants with his knuckles as he does? Maybe that's just an added bonus. Clearly he doesn't care they're doing this in the backyard; shame's a waste of energy, he thinks. ]

Wanna watch ya suck me off.

[He might be playing it relatively cool, but beneath the leather of Johnny’s pants, his own cock is starting to throb. V’s knuckles brushing past that growing bulge doesn’t help matters, and he finds himself setting his jaw to hold in a noise that’d give away how sensitive he’s getting between his legs. The constant feedback loop of Synchrony probably makes it where he can’t hide anything, anyway, but not for a lack of trying.

At least V’s remark allows him to mask it with a retort launched right back.]

You can stand on your toes like a ballerina for all I care. Just appreciate the fact that I don’t mind gettin’ on my knees for you, smartass.

[Romantic words of endearment from the rockerboy as he stoops low, then properly onto the grass-gravel with his knees pressed into the ground. Despite his quip, his eyes are fittingly distracted by the sight of V’s dick hanging out right in front of him. Funnily enough, he can still appreciate the sturdy frame of his hips and thighs, too, despite what he’s about to do. As if he’s not already intimately familiar with the man’s body.

Johnny’s chrome arm snakes around the back of V’s thigh to hold him steady, and his other wraps around the base of his cock, encouraging him with a few preliminary strokes. If there’s any precome ready to eke out, he wants that taste on his tongue — wants to appreciate that salty tang as Johnny finally opens up to take him in.

Hand still at his root for now, his tongue slides beneath and along his shaft, and he purposefully, frustratingly, hums a note of approval.]

[ Still laughing at the retort even as the other man is dropping to his knees, that laugh dies in his throat the moment Johnny's fingers curl around his dick. It's a nova way to shut V up, and for a brief moment he sways before the muscles in his thighs tighten and stabilize. Chrome hand settling at one of Johnny's shoulders for balance, his organic hand cards through Johnny's hair, grips loosely.

Not a single one of his imagined fantasies featuring Johnny got close to this, and there's no hesitation on his part when he feels the wet heat of Johnny's tongue, an appreciative groan drawn up from his chest. He doesn't want to look away, doesn't want to miss a single second, but the urge to close his eyes and give himself over to the sensations tugs hard at him. ]

Shit, Johnny.

[ Tempting as it is to press further into the heat of the older man's mouth, he still has some sense of manners. Probably. Though he's convinced that it's not his fault Johnny blowing him feels like it does and looks like this. ]

[There’s a reason why Johnny likes drawing out pleasure with his mouth, despite not seeming like the type to get on his knees and let someone else stand over him — he likes the feeling of making his partner squirm with little more than his tongue, or the low vibrations of his throat. It feeds his ego, in a way, but it’s also because the seemingly flipped power dynamic turns him on, plain and simple.

‘Course, that’s a while ‘nother story if V starts fucking his mouth, but the other man seems to have a hold of his self-restraint for now. It gives him time to enjoy the sensation of V’s cock stiffening against his tongue, warm and wet, wet and warm, everything intermingling in a growing tide of shared feeling and emotion thanks to their sync.

Eventually, Johnny drops his hand to make room for taking V in fully, the heat of his mouth stimulating from tip to base, his tongue working the nomad’s length to suck him off in earnest. He hopes that V has good enough manners, too, to tell him when he’s on the verge of coming — because in classic Silverhand fashion, he doesn’t intend to let him finish just yet.]

[ It's a real sight even at the conclusion of dusk and aided by the unreliable flicker of the firelight. Every so often the harsh lines of Johnny's face are lit up amber, an on-off glow that gives V snippets of a top-down view. Pink of lips wrapped around his cock, and the nudge of Johnny's nose into dark curls.

If that wasn't enough, V's contending with the sync that adds a whole new element, and maybe it feels like they're cheating a system, feeling whole like this inside while being able to touch each other like this at the same time. V's good to keep cheating whatever system they have to. He can feel his pleasure and Johnny's, different shades but shared, and as that telltale sensation of being willingly dragged towards his climax really starts to ramp up, his fingers tighten in Johnny's hair. ]

'm close.

[ First words in a little while and his voice feels as raw as it sounds, hips straining under the weight of his manners until he can't help but move, to press them forward the next time Johnny's mouth is sliding down his cock. ]

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nsfw territory just bc of Johnny’s mouth lmao

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