Chapter Text
He can’t sleep. It’s not that he’s not tired; in fact, he’s exhausted. With everything that’s been going on lately, V feels like he could sleep for a week. Except he can’t, because his brain won’t stop its incessant thinking. He sits up, forearms resting on his knees and head bowed.
He knows Johnny’s not corporeal. When Johnny touches him and V can feel it, it’s a hallucination, the manifestation of the digital construct forcing neurons to fire in a way that convinces V’s body that he’s actually being touched. It’s not real. Rather, touching and being touched by Johnny is like a realtime, interactive BD.
So, in theory, they could fuck and they’d both feel it. V tries really, really hard to drown that thought before it bubbles up close enough to the surface that Johnny can hear it.
He fails.
‘Had no idea you felt that way about me,’ says Johnny, glitching into existence on the couch across the room. He’s leaning back, hands behind his head and legs crossed. ‘I’m flattered, but I already told you you’re not my type.’ He smirks.
‘Go eat a bag of dicks, Johnny,’ says V, looking away and trying desperately to ignore the dampness in his briefs. The situation is bad enough as it is, without Johnny picking up his stray thoughts.
Johnny leans forward, elbows on his knees, and looks at V over the top of his aviators. ‘Pretty sure the only dick you want me to eat is yours.’
V groans and covers his face, lying back down on his bed.
‘I mean, I’d be willing to try,’ Johnny continues, and V freezes, uncovering his face and raising himself up on his elbows so he can see Johnny’s face. Johnny shrugs. ‘Y’know, for science.’ In the blink of an eye, he’s glitched across the room and is squatting on the floor in front of V’s bed. The shades are gone.
‘Right.’ V laughs nervously. ‘For “science”.’ He looks away from Johnny’s penetrating gaze, but then Johnny puts his cybernetic hand on his thigh, and V jumps, meeting his eye again. ‘Okay, quit dickin’ around,’ he says.
‘What you want, isn’t it?’ says Johnny.
‘I don’t—’ V cuts himself off, because finishing that sentence would mean lying, and given that Johnny’s literally in his head, he’ll be able to tell. ‘It was just an idle thought,’ V mumbles, looking down at Johnny’s hand on his bare thigh. His touch feels so real, the metal cold on his flesh, though there’s an underlying buzz of static electricity.
‘Idle or not,’ says Johnny, ‘you want it enough that I heard it. Felt it, even. I mean, I don’t blame you for wanting a taste.’ He smirks, sliding his hand further up V’s thigh. ‘Surprised it took you this long, to be honest.’
His narcissism is somehow disarming, and V laughs, more genuinely than before. ‘You’re so fuckin’ full of yourself.’
‘Bet you wanna be full of me too,’ Johnny purrs. It’s cheesy enough that V rolls his eyes, though he can feel his face getting hot and the arousal build in his groin. ‘That’s what I thought,’ says Johnny with a grin. His hand moves further up, to the front of V’s briefs, a single finger running up the material to tease at V’s stiff cock. V moans in spite of himself.
But then the hand disappears and Johnny glitches back across the room to the couch. He flashes V that mean smirk.
‘What the fuck, Johnny?’ V snaps. ‘You can’t just—’
‘Oh, I can,’ says Johnny.
‘But . . .’ V sits up properly and folds his arms, fuming. ‘Fuckin’ tease . . .’
‘Hey, if you’re so turned on, why don’t you do somethin’ about it?’
‘Like I’d jerk off in front of you!’ V shoots back.
‘Choom, I’m always here,’ says Johnny.
‘Yeah, which is why I haven’t jacked off in like a month,’ V grumbles. Johnny just laughs at him. ‘Fuck you!’ V spits.
‘C’mon,’ Johnny coaxes. ‘Show me. Just take off your pants and touch yourself.’
V cocks an eyebrow at him. ‘Y’know, you’re getting really into this for someone who just said I’m not his type.’
‘You’re not,’ says Johnny, ‘but I’ve never been restricted to a type.’ Again, he glitches across the room, crouching on one knee and looking into V’s eyes. ‘Do it,’ he murmurs. ‘C’mon, show me. Lemme see you jerk off that little cock of yours.’
V feels himself blush, and he has to look away, tongue darting out to wet his lips, which suddenly feel so very dry.
He shouldn’t. They’re about to cross a line, from occasional flirtatious banter into new territory, and if they do there’s no going back. He knows he shouldn’t, but fuck, he wants to.
And so, with Johnny watching, V brings his hand to the front of his briefs, rubbing through the fabric, which is already damp. He takes a breath before hooking his thumbs into the waistband and pulling them down and off. Taking the short length of his cock between thumb and forefinger he slowly strokes, coaxing the hood back. He lets out a shaky breath and dips his fingers inside his cunt to gather up slick, then starts stroking again. He bites his lips, closes his eyes, tries to pretend Johnny isn’t there.
But then Johnny says, ‘Nuh-uh. Eyes on me.’ V opens them slowly and looks up. The way Johnny’s looking at him makes him shiver. His expression can be best described as smouldering. And when V strokes his cock again, Johnny lets out a slow breath and murmurs, ‘Fuck yeah.’
Of course. Johnny feels everything V feels, so that means he can feel this too. Curiosity getting the better of him, V breathlessly asks, ‘What’s it feel like?’
Johnny licks his lips, shakes his head. ‘Hard to explain. Like I’m bein’ touched too, but with a split-second delay.’
V snorts in spite of himself. ‘This is weird, man.’
‘Tell me about it,’ says Johnny. ‘’Specially since I normally got different parts than you.’ He places his hands on V’s knees, spreading his legs further apart. His ’ganic hand—weird way to think about it; nothing about Johnny’s organic—travels slowly up his thigh, stopping just shy of his weeping cunt. V’s breathing has grown laboured, his chest rising and falling with every breath. He stares down at Johnny’s hand.
‘Hey,’ Johnny murmurs. ‘Eyes up here.’ And as V looks up to meet the construct’s brown eyes, Johnny slides a finger inside him. V struggles hard not to close his eyes again.
‘Fuck!’ He and Johnny say the word at almost exactly the same time, Johnny’s voice just the blink of an eye behind. It’s not really there, but V can still feel Johnny’s finger inside him. And beyond that, he feels an echo of the tight heat of his cunt around it—as if he were touching himself, only not.
‘What the fuck?’ V murmurs weakly. ‘Fuck, what am I even feelin’?’
Johnny just shakes his head. He starts moving his finger in and out, searching, digging for V’s sweetspot, and he finds it. He adds a second digit, rubbing his fingertips against the wall of V’s cunt, and V sees a thousand stars. He can’t keep his eyes open anymore, can’t even think. If this feels this good . . . what might other things make him feel?
‘Could find out,’ says Johnny breathlessly, and V opens his eyes to look at him again. ‘I can hear everything you’re thinkin’ right now,’ Johnny adds. ‘Like we’re even more—’
‘—connected,’ V finishes. ‘Yeah. Well, what’re you waiting for?’ He tries not to sound impatient, not that it matters.
Johnny smirks at him, then slowly lowers his head to give V’s cock a generous lick with the flat of his tongue, and they both moan. V can taste . . . something. Not really pussy—more like the memory of pussy. The ghost of pussies past.
‘Stop,’ he breathes. ‘Wanna try somethin’.’ Johnny pulls his fingers out, looking at him expectantly. V reaches down between his legs, gathers slick on his index and middle fingers and brings them to his own lips, sucking them into his mouth.
‘Oh, fuck!’ Johnny groans. ‘You have any idea how much I love eating pussy? How fucking disappointed I’ve been that you don’t?’
‘Forgot what it actually tastes like, didn’t you?’ V says, licking his own fingers clean.
‘Well, not anymore,’ says Johnny, and then he dives in like a starving man, sticking his tongue deep inside V’s cunt.
It’s a little more tingly than when a flesh and blood person does it. Not that V’s complaining. It feels amazing. He arches his back, moaning out loud, eyes squeezed shut again. Unthinking, he twists his fingers into Johnny’s dark hair, pulls a little, and Johnny grunts. V can feel that too, faintly, like a sting that’s a few minutes old. ‘Fuck . . . Johnny . . .’ Johnny swirls his tongue around V’s dick and then sucks on it, continuing to flick the head with the tip of his tongue. V utters another loud groan. ‘I’m . . . Johnny, I’m gonna—’ He cries out, his entire body going taut.
Johnny cries out too, voice reverberating through V’s body. ‘What the fuck?’ Johnny groans, sitting back on his haunches and staring at V. ‘That was . . . that’s so fucking unfair, how come people with your anatomy get to feel like that? Get multiple of that?’
‘Johnny?’ says V.
‘Yeah?’
‘Shut up and fuck me already.’
Seems Johnny doesn’t need to be told twice. In an instant, he’s naked. V isn’t sure if he took off his clothes or just decided to be nude. Not that it matters. He scoots further up on the bed, spreading his legs apart, and Johnny kneels between them. He runs the cool metal of his cyberhand up and down V’s torso, to his throat, his neck, his cheek, then grabs a fistful of his hair. ‘Want me to fuck you?’
V nods. ‘Mhm.’
‘Want my cock?’
‘Yeah.’ V swallows.
‘Say it. Say you want my big cock.’
V looks down. It is indeed big. Somehow, he never thought Johnny was lying about his, in his own words, impressive cock. V licks his lips. ‘I . . . I want your big cock, Johnny. Please . . . just fuck me!’
Johnny lines himself up, presses inside with a groan, and V’s vision whites out for a moment. He can feel Johnny’s cock stretching him. As Johnny begins to move, it’s like a feedback loop of pleasure, building and building, more and more as he feels like he’s both fucking and being fucked, even if the latter is more pronounced. Johnny lies on top of him, seems to want maximum skin contact, covering him with his whole body, and V can feel his weight, as much as he knows he’s not really there. If this is a braindance, it’s the most realistic one he’s ever seen, and he’s been inside raw XBDs, for fuck’s sake. This . . . this is more real than any of them. This is as real as any sex he’s ever had, and he puts his arms around Johnny, slides a hand into his hair, and takes his mouth, somehow tasting himself on his tongue. Johnny kisses him back, and it’s that kiss that sends him sailing over the edge again. Lips, tongue, cock, cunt, his own and Johnny’s, both at the same time. It’s disorienting, making him dizzy, but in a good way. He can’t keep still, can’t shut up, pushes back on Johnny’s cock, moaning into his mouth.
‘Fuck, V . . .’ Johnny whispers. ‘I don’t . . . I dunno what . . . Fuck, I can’t!’
V doesn’t know if Johnny’s coming in the traditional sense, but his digital body certainly seems to think it is, and V can feel it too, inside his body and his mind both. He can’t think, can barely breathe, and he falls apart under Johnny, gasping his name.
Johnny’s movements come to a halt, time standing still for a few moments as he raises his head, gazes into V’s eyes and brushes his hair away from his sweaty forehead. Or tries to. The hair is still there, so V brushes it away himself before pulling Johnny down for another kiss.
Their lips have only barely touched before Johnny just . . . disappears. V makes a frustrated noise and sits up to find Johnny back on the couch, fully dressed and smoking a non-existent cigarette. ‘Smoke?’ Johnny says.
V sighs, shaking his head, but he still reaches for Evelyn’s cigarette case, taking one out and lighting it. He stands on shaky legs, walking naked to the window and looking out at the city lights. It’s not like he was expecting Johnny to stay and cuddle. Hell, it’s not like any of this is even real. Johnny just came inside him, but the only cum between his legs is his own slick. They can touch, they can fuck, but it leaves no marks. V may as well just have fucked his imaginary friend. For all he knows, that’s exactly what this was.
He leans his forehead against the cool glass, right next to the spot Johnny repeatedly bashed his head into a few weeks ago. That did leave a mark. That was real.
V feels a cool chrome hand on the back of his neck and goes rigid. He shudders, body suddenly on high alert, the urge to flinch away overwhelming as, for a brief moment, fear chokes him. But the hand just stays there, a heavy, reassuring presence tingling with static electricity, and gradually V relaxes. He can see Johnny reflected in the window, shades off, in his Samurai tank top rather than the kevlar. The rockerboy tonight, not the terrorist.
‘Shh. Not gonna hurt you again,’ says Johnny, sensing his anxiety, and V nods. Johnny steps closer, puts his mouth next to V’s ear and murmurs, ‘May fuck you again, though. That was fun.’
‘Yeah.’ V smiles. ‘Yeah, it was.’ And before Johnny can glitch away again, he turns his head and kisses him. Johnny lets him, and when V breaks the kiss, he stays there, hand on the nape of V’s neck, until V’s finished the cigarette. ‘Gonna take a shower,’ says V.
‘You should; you stink,’ says Johnny, suddenly back on the couch again. V just scoffs and heads for the bathroom. As he gets in the shower, he smiles to himself, though. Johnny said he might fuck him again. And as weird as it was, that’s something to look forward to.