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Straddling my bike near the abandoned oil fields, I look out to where Johnny and I had our conversation, his words lingering. My chest feels tight. As I start the motorcycle and kick off, I resolve to come back here after it’s all over to place a proper gravestone, or hell maybe a whole fuckin’ statue.
Of all the heads I coulda popped up in, hella glad it was yours.
Back in my shithole apartment, at my tiny sink, I scrub off the dirt and grime from the day, gripping the edge so tightly, as if it’s the only thing holding me up.
“Killin’ for a smoke.”
By now my body no longer knee-jerk reacts to the sound of his voice near me, having had to get used to an all-of-a sudden husky voice when I’m suppose to be alone. Before, I’d reach for my gun and point, only to be aiming at Johnny’s technically-not-there chest. Now, I look up and smile at him as he leans against the bathroom door frame. Smiling at anything he says is something I don’t often do and he knows, so he takes this as confirmation and walks over to the couch where I leave the cigarettes he likes.
I don’t care to smoke out in public, in front of others.. it’s just not who I am, not who I am unless it’s for Johnny. My chest feels tight again. I put down the dirtied rag and walk over to the couch, sitting down and grabbing the pack off the table as I do.
At this point, I no longer give a fuck in what state of dress I’m in while Johnny’s outside of my head – he’s seen all manners of nudity I’ve been in and never really reacted save for a glance here and there. Don’t really mind, I know I’ve made myself a great body before I went and wrecked my brain. A pang of guilt. It used to be a common thought: good job, V, you fucked yourself up with a killer engram, but now it feels guilty saying that about Johnny, especially after the conversation earlier.
So being in my underwear and topless isn’t out of the norm while Johnny is around, especially not after a long fucking day, where all I want to do it feel nothing between me and the chilly air around me.
“Thank fuck.” He says as I take the first drag from the cigarette, I chuckle after I exhale still finding humor in how heavily he still revels in this addiction despite the fact he has no actual body. I glance over at him and take a drag before I ask, “can’t you ever fucking sit normally?” He’s sitting on the back of the couch, with his feet planted on the cushion – I know he isn’t technically making anything dirty, but it still bugs me that he can’t just fucking sit on this couch like a normal.. person..
Sighing, I close my eyes and lean my head back. “Of all the fucking things to stress about, it’s how I sit?” I give him a half-assed shrug as I take another drag, knowing that if I open my eyes I’ll feel that slightly dizzy, head-high I get when I smoke; my body still not fully used to the sudden bursts of nicotine.
It feels like a long while passes before I hear him go, “there? Fuckin’ happy?” I smile before I open my eyes, only to see him sitting next to me on the couch like a normal person, but in the most Johnny way possible: slightly slouched, legs splayed open and his arms resting on the back of the couch, effectively making one of his arms rest behind me at the nape of my neck. It’s not actually there, his arm.. but the hairs still rise at the back of my neck, sending goosebumps down the rest of my body.
My nipples are rock-fucking-hard, I notice. My mind jumbles as I come up with excuses for that and not letting myself rest on the real reason. I’m no longer smiling, but he is. My thoughts jumble even more, knowing full well he’s able to pick up bits and pieces of them. Is that why this smug asshole is smiling? Asshole.
“No. I’m not. Fuck off.” I say as I take the last pull off this cigarette. These kinds of thoughts have come up before, why my body reacts to him in certain situations, I chalk it up to how my brain is re-wiring itself, especially since Johnny probably really loves himself and would likely fuck himself if he could, so makes sense why my thoughts would entertain these kinds of feelings.
I reach over to the radio on the table and tune it to an oldies station, sometimes a tune from Johnny’s time plays and it puts him in a good mood, which then leeches into me, so I tune to it from time to time.
In the midnight hour, she cried more, more, more! 🎶
“Do you miss playing?” I ask as I turn to look at him, he’s bobbing his head to the song a little.
“Not as much as I miss smoking with my actual body.” Rolling my eyes, I grab another from the pack, taking a long drag as a way tp appease his indirect request. He leans his head back, now, sighing.
I could get a guitar and let you take over…”
“You’d do that?”
“I’m letting you go on a date with Rogue, aren’t I? Might as well.”
I’d sell my soul, for you, babe, for money to burn, for you. 🎶
Forgetting to shake off the ashes off the end of the cigarette after taking my latest drag, the ashes fall on my breast and instead of pain flaring up from the singe, pleasure blooms. Johnny’s head shoots up and looks over at me with an eyebrow raised. Looking back at him, we lock eyes and I realize this is a rare moment – we don’t do this, we don’t look at each other with this kind of intensity for this extended period of time.
He starts to look down, clearly looking at my pert breasts and the little red spot where the ashes fell, but I notice him looking further down now. This is when I realize my legs are also splayed out like his, not sure if it’s something I’ve adopted because of him, or a reaction to the bloom in pleasure.
More, more, more!! 🎶
My heartbeat starts to race, my breath catching.
But I’ve managed one thing for now. To not fuck this up, what we have.
I take one last drag off the cigarette before setting it down in the ashtray on the table. Johnny watches me as I do, lingering a few seconds on the cigarette slowly going out. My hand comes back, but straight to the tender spot on my breast. My nipples are still stiff and I lower my hand to one, twirling it between my fingers and then pinching it. That sudden pain causes Johnny’s head to snap back up to look at me in the face.
“Figures you’re into pain, you masochist.”
“Says the sadist,” I smirk, holding his gaze as I continue to play with my nipple. Before this whole situation, I used to enjoy myself often, letting myself find someone willing to have a little fun with whenever the urge came up. The opportunities were plenty, and still are.. I think of Judy and River.. but then I remember I’m not fully myself, either. My being intimate with others, means Johnny being involved and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that quite yet, but in thinking that I realized that one is plenty fun, especially if two are actually involved - mentally speaking.
“Finger yourself,” he demands in a tone deeper and huskier than normal, and I’m all too eager to oblige, my fingers giving my nipple one last pinch before trailing down my body and beneath the edge of my underwear and slipping a finger between my lips, only barely playing with my clit.
Can’t help it – I let out a giggle when I notice him adjust in his seat, pulling at the crotch the way people do when they get a boner. It’s amusing to me that he reacts like that, does he still remember how it feels to pop a boner and having to adjust for more space? Is it a reflex? Whatever it is, it turns me on even more, so I add another finger and start to fuck myself slowly, building myself up. He leans closer and whispers into my ear, “faster, V,” and his voice resonates in my head over and over. Closing my eyes and letting my head fall back, I start to fuck myself faster feeling myself getting wetter and wetter, alternating between fingering and rubbing my clit to edge myself faster.
“Shit. I need more,” I moan as I feel my walls contract a few times around my fingers, anticipating the incoming orgasm. He’s still close to me, his face inches from mine, but looking down at my hand and that’s when I notice his silver arm over mine – I can’t feel it literally on my arm, but I feel it in my head.. it’s such a fucking weird feeling. It’s like I can feel the pressure of his hand on mine without it actually being there – his hand drives mine in faster and harder and immediately it sends me off.
“Ah fuck, Johnny!” This surprises me. It’s almost embarrassing.. I’m not the kind of person to exclaim my partner’s name during sex, but god damn that was hot and that was what came out. But I’m still eager for more.
It doesn’t seem to phase him, at least. Maybe he’s heard it too many times to attribute any deeper meaning to it.. “Take off your underwear.” Usually him being so demanding annoys me, but not today. I slide them off and sit back down, until I see his hand tapping on my thigh and motions over to the bed. “Get on the bed and grab that toy I know you like.”
I used to hate my bed, the way it felt like I was being boxed in while I slept, the three walls feeling all too suffocating, but after realizing those enclosing walls were actually perfect for sex, my bed became an enjoyment. An old fling of mine once propped my suction dildo to one of the walls while having sex and started fucking herself with it and ever since then any time I need it, be it solo or partner play, I bust out that ingenious idea. The fact that Johnny knows this makes me throb. I.. WE.. never entertained the idea of having sex during this whole ordeal, but it’s almost like it’s a natural thing for us..
Grabbing the long hot pink dildo from the drawer under my bed, I suction it to the back wall. I turn around and notice Johnny standing at the edge of my bed looking down at me. It’s actually the perfect position for me to suck him off, him being the perfect height and the bed being tall enough and wish I could, “Me too. Fuck knows I need some head. Being in hell for decades really does your dickhead in, if you get me,” he whispers.
Chuckling, I straighten up, kneeling on my bed and coming up just barely tall enough to meet him eye to eye, “Earlier you said when you look at me.. you get the feeling of not wanting to fuck things up… What do you feel when you look at me now?” This takes him back a little, his eye widen and I’m not sure if it’s arousal or more, but he rubs at his crotch again.
“I see someone in need of a good fucking by me.” I blink and just like that, he’s on the bed kneeling next to me, poking at the dildo. “I’m thicker than this,” he complains, “but it’ll do.”
Imagining him thicker than my favorite toy gets me throbbing even more intensely, so I slip a finger down to my lips and start massaging my clit, letting myself moan. His silver hand comes up to grab at my breast, which I again feel like pressure but not rough enough like how I’d like. I fit perfectly in his hand, wondering if his dick would also fit perfectly in me.
“Are you going to fuck that dildo for me, or not?” He says with a smile on his face and with that, I go down on all fours and slowly back up until I’m wrapped around it. I missed this feeling, of feeling physically filled with someone else.. it’s a level of intimacy that I like to think is romantic but really it just fucking feels good to be fucked. I start fucking myself slowly on it, my breasts moving and my hair covering my face while I close my eyes and moan.
He grabs my hair – it doesn’t even register as something odd to me at first, until I realize it has to be. Both of my arms are supporting me below as I start fucking faster and harder, but I feel my hair being tugged and fucking hell it feels so good and he knows it. Hearing him moan makes me clench around the dildo harder, inching myself closer to another orgasm until I finally feel myself explode around it - the walls clenching so hard around it convulsing so hard I cry out, “I need more, Johnny..” I’m breathless, panting a little, but eager.
Coming down slowly from the orgasm, I reach down with one hand and rub my clit to make it last just a little longer.
“Let me feel how wet you are,” I look up at him and see that he’s looking at the wall where I’m pressed up against, my ass red and bruising from hitting against the wall as I fucked the dildo, his metallic arm resting on a cheek, rubbing it gently before slapping it. Hard. I detach from it and feel the wetness dripping down my leg a little as I reach further down and finger myself. The squishing and wet sounds I make bringing a smile to both of our faces.
An idea. I’m not sure how it might work out, really, but I want to try, so I sit fully up again and move away from the wall slightly, “Kneel in front of the wall,” I tell him and he looks at me a little confused, “Kneel in front of the wall where the dildo is and take off your pants. Let me fuck you.” Don’t have to ask twice before he reads my mind, perhaps literally, and between blinks has placed himself in front of the dildo zipping down his pants exposing a dick definitively thicker than what I’ve provided as a stand in. I make a mental note to get a bigger one to better match him next time I’m on Jig Jig street.
He’s stroking himself a little as I position myself again against the dildo, the tip barely inside. In truth, this is when I’d let the other person grab my hips and bring me to them, allowing them to do whatever they want with me, so I’m a little unsure of how to proceed in the seconds it takes him to speak up, “You’re going to fuck yourself harder and faster than last time, and when I tell you to go slow, you go slow. Don’t fucking think twice about it, just do what I say. Got it, V?” The intense throbbing I feel distracts me from being able to answer verbally, so I just nod my head. My walls are already clenching, like my body is begging for him to be inside already.
“Good,” he slaps my ass again and I feel him slowly push into me, or maybe I’m pushing onto the dildo – my brain starts to mush the actions together. Once I’m bottomed out I feel pressure on my hips, like he’s gripping me there and that’s all I need to start pounding myself harder and faster than the last time and it feels so much better. It fucking feels like he pounds deep into me with every thrust. It’s fucking insane.. I can feel what he feels and feel what I feel.. it’s such an intense pleasure.. and I’m rolling in the sensation that the technicalities don’t matter, whether he’s actually here or not it feels like he is and it sounds like he is: we’re both moaning and I can hear the slapping sound of his hand against my ass – wondering how deliciously painful it must feel to get slapped by his actual metal hand.
My orgasm takes a little longer to build this time, despite being sensitive from my first two, but knowing full well that this orgasm is going to be the best one yet, the one to make my knees buckle. Just as my walls start to clench, I feel my hair being pulled, “Slow, V” and I don’t think twice, I momentarily stop to bring myself just barely back from falling off the precipice. I slowly move forward, bringing the dildo almost fully out turn slightly around to look at his face. I need to see this. As I push back on the dildo slowly, I watch as he bites his lower lip suppressing a grunt. I ride it slowly for what feels like forever, the edge of my third orgasm being teased and I almost start to get angry from having to pull myself back a few times from falling..when he slaps my ass again,“widen your legs a little more, back up just a bit more and let your face hit the bed,” he’s trying to angle the dildo a little differently in me for the last few rounds, I figure. Fucking preem idea.
I do as I’m told and quickly fall forward letting my arms grip the sheets next to my head in anticipation, “Go hard. Now.” Burying my head into my bed to stifle my moan. Seconds after beginning to fuck the dildo as deeply as I could, I orgasm so hard I almost stop because the feeling is so intense. My walls are frantically contracting, my legs are trembling and I’m leaking so much right now, for sure my bed will have a wet spot.
The grip on my sheets slowly lets up as the orgasm finally starts to subside. The wet sound that I make when I come off the dildo is almost a turn on enough to get me started up again, but instead I turn around and lay down facing Johnny who is still kneeling. He’s zipping his pants back up and between a blink and the next, he’s sitting on the bed facing out, just above my head. There’s a pang in my stomach, like he has regrets and wants to ‘be done with this’ as fast as possible, not wanting to continue the intimacy, which is fair – that’s Johnny, and me too, really, but I sure as fuck don’t want to be considered a regret.
“I don’t,” he sighs, “I could kill for a fuckin’ smoke, though.” As often as I dislike the idea of someone picking up on my thoughts and feelings, getting fucked by someone who does turns out to be the best kind of sex.
Smiling, I get up and on my way to the pack of cigarettes on the table, I grab the Samurai jacket Rogue gave me and put it on.
I was shaking at the knees, could I come again please…woahoahhhh… THUNDERSTRUCK…. 🎶