Chapter Text
Johnny only had a vague memory of how he got the ring.
He had been smashed at that time because of Morgan Blackhand. Morgan Blackhand and his fucking news.
“Alt is alive, prisoner of the Arasaka Network. I’m planning a raid in that tower, one that could end the war and free your ex-girlfriend. Are you with me ?”
He had said yes, feeling hysterical: was there really a choice?
After that, he had drunk with Morgan, playing at being normal for about half an hour before the anxiety inside his veins became too much and he excused himself. Hunting down a nearby dealer he vaguely knew, but was positive wouldn’t sell him shit, he got two doses of Black Lace. It was enough to make the trip back to his place where he had better stuff.
Making his way back on foot had not been his choice: his car was programed not to let him drive if he wasn’t sober. Kerry had made him do it the last time he had crashed it. And seeing the state of the Porsche in the morning, Johnny had agreed, even though he regretted it bitterly most nights like this. The urge to drive fast and crash hard was making his skin crawl.
So on foot he was, wandering – stumbling, really – through Night-City’s streets. Every time he came across a bar he knew, which was often, he would get in and take one or two drinks before instinct screamed at him to move. Don’t stop now, or you’ll scatter like a million pieces of rainbow, the voice said. The same voice was also screaming things at him on repeat: you let her die, it’s your fault, gotta atone for your sins. You’ll die in here, that’s right, it’s how it was supposed to be. Johnny looked at his metal arm: “shut-up,” he screamed, “shut the fuck-up.”
Most of the time, The Hand was silent, but sometimes when he got into states like this, the cyberpsychosis that had nearly taken over him after the war would come back and bite his heels. He started running, fleeing whatever crazy thought he was having. His chest burned after a while, forcing him to stop and heave. He retched up because of the stress, the alcohol, the drugs, and the run. He was a mess.
With trembling fingers, he reached for a cigarette, and let two sticks drop on the pavement so much was he trembling. It took him too long to achieve lighting it, and the first inhale barely calmed him. There was light a few steps away, he went to it like a moth to a flame, trying to distract himself from the anxious thoughts in his head.
It was a jewelry shop. Johnny looked at the display: there were no prices under the products, and the rational part of his mind concluded he was in one of the good parts of town. Looking around, he vaguely recognized the avenue leading to Corpo-Plaza. He had been at the Atlantis, and making his way northwest, so all in all, he was on the right track. He felt proud of himself and laughed out loud.
The shop was actually open, like any good establishment in Night-City: a consumer didn’t like to wait. Mentally, Johnny tried to evaluate the prices. He knew about nothing regarding diamonds, but it calmed his mind to concentrate on it. Between the Lace and the focus on the jewels, Johnny calmed down a fraction. Enough for another thought to penetrate his mind. Kerry.
Johnny shivered. Fuck, Kerry. Kerry was gonna be so mad when Johnny went on that raid. He could just picture his sad angry face. Maybe he would even beg down on his knees for Johnny to stay with him. Kerry was pretty on his knees. With his dark almond eyes looking up at Johnny right before he took his cock in his mouth. The way his lips stretched around the girth. The noises he made when he relaxed his throat and let himself be used.
His eyes kept going back to a particular ring. It was delicate, the band very thin with engraved geometrical patterns. A mesh of silver and gold, like glittering stardust over a moonlit desert. It would look good around Kerry’s finger. Something possessive and desperate took control of Johnny, and he entered the shop.
When he woke up the next morning, snuggled against Kerry’s back, he had no memory of the ring, nor how he had gotten here. His head was killing him, which put him in a foul mood. But Kerry only laughed at his face and straddled him, jerking him until his cock was hard and then sitting on it. Johnny let him do all the work, watching with his mouth slightly open and breathy moans as Kerry's skin shone and glistened with sweat. He rode him with slow rolls of his hips, a lazy canter that felt way more sensual than it ought to be when you considered the fact none of them really knew how to make love. Fuck, sure, but that deep feeling of connection while pleasure fired between them? This was a recent development. One they didn’t talk about. Ever. Kerry’s skin was covered in marks; love bites that Johnny regularly repainted when they faded, scars which had nothing to do with Johnny, and others that did. The tattoo on his left arm was coming along fine, the pattern a mirror to the metal arm of his partner. Johnny loved to trace the geometric shapes with his fingers, his lips, his tongue. Right now though, he gripped Kerry’s wrists tightly, adding to the bruises of the previous times.
This man was his, Johnny thought, his to love, his to hurt, his, his, his. A growl started low in his throat and rose to a snarl as he sat up and unbalanced Kerry. Rolling them over, he took hold of Kerry’s thighs and held them open so he could properly fuck him. But even as their coupling became more urgent, the intense feeling of belonging, of absolute worship Johnny more and more often felt for Kerry stayed. Under him, the other man was probably oblivious of that, lost in a sea of pleasure as he arched and bowed with sounds of ecstasy pouring from his lips.
He was begging between moans for Johnny to keep going, keep fucking him, keep taking his body. As if he could have stopped now when Kerry was on the verge of offering him the mesmerizing tableau of his undoing. All because of Johnny. Kerry’s eyes were full of joyful tears as he came between two long whines, lips stretched over his teeth in a beatific smile.
Johnny curled over him, burying his face in the crook of his neck. He bit the skin to muffle the sounds of his own release as his lover held him through it. Then Kerry stroked his face and massaged his scalp as the endorphins diffused in their blood systems. His headache was nothing but a vague souvenir at the back of his head now, and Johnny just wanted to sleep again. Kerry pushed him a few moments later to go to the bathroom and came back cleaner, a smoke dangling on his lips.
“You were in a right state yesterday,” he whispered. Johnny opened an eye before burying his face in the pillow.
“Don’t remember,” he mumbled. It was partially a lie. He did remember what Blackhand had told him.
“Did something happen?” Kerry asked gently, but just thinking about it made Johnny antsy.
“Morgan Blackhand happened,” he still replied. He knew Kerry wouldn’t let it go otherwise. His partner laughed at that and nodded.
“What did he want?”
Johnny turned away from Kerry, looking out of the window to the skyscrapers lines he could see through the small opening. There was just a little square of foggy blue sky visible between them.
“He is planning a gig and he wants me on it.”
“You? Why you?” Kerry demanded, voice taking a worried edge immediately.
“‘Cause I'm good,” he replied, faking the cockiness that would hopefully derail Kerry. The man predictably scoffed.
“You’re not an edgerunner, he shouldn’t ask for you to come.”
That was a subject that came back regularly between them: the fact that Johnny would still sometimes join Rogue or other mercs for jobs, especially if it was to fuck with Arasaka. Johnny knew Kerry was worried and secretly hoped the reformation of the band would keep Johnny busy enough for him to let go of such activities entirely. But the truth was that the rockerboy needed it. Sometimes, screaming in a mic wasn’t enough to clean the rage and the helplessness he felt. And when that and therapy failed, he resorted to organized violence, which, he could admit, didn’t work either.
Actually, there was only one thing that worked: getting lost between Kerry’s loins. And wasn’t that a fucking surprise? No other men, or women even, had done the trick but the moment Kerry was naked and hard against him, all thoughts cleared from Johnny’s mind, like a magic trick.
Sometimes, the urge to run from that sensation still came over him: the need to fuck it up, to fuck Kerry up… But the way their relationship had progressed over the year and a half since Kerry’s fall had made it impossible. He craved it, craved him, even if he hated feeling so dependent.
“Is it dependence, or love?” Dr. Gayet had had the gall to ask not two weeks ago. Johnny had refused to answer, or even think about it. He wasn’t made for love, wasn't sure he was capable of it.
Kerry on the other hand was so full of it, it overflowed and poured into every crack of the armors of the people he met. It was infuriating, even more so when Johnny knew how little he loved himself.
Probably feeling like he wouldn’t obtain anything more from his lover at the moment, Kerry let the subject drop with a loud sigh, conveying his exasperation. It irked Johnny, but he resolutely closed his eyes, finding refuge in sleep again.
Later that day, as he was munching on Kerry’s cereals - which he had poured right over his coffee like an animal - a strange sensation came over him. A tingling, nagging feeling of weirdness. He looked for his samurai’s jacket and searched the pockets. And sure enough, he found a little velvet box.
Disbelieving laughter bubbled at the back of his throat. He brought it back to the kitchen counter and put it in front of him to better observe the box as he finished his midday breakfast. He let it rest like this as he showered and went back to it while he dried his hair. And once again when he was dressed in one of Kerry’s jeans.
Breathing slowly, he opened it and scoffed internally at his own surprise. Of course, there was a fucking ring inside it. A delicate, thin engraved band of meshed silver and gold.
“Shit,” he muttered. Right at that moment, he heard the front door open and panicked, slightly. He took the ring out of the box and pushed it inside his jeans’ pocket before throwing the box in the trash and pouring the coffee filter over it.
Kerry was babbling about how Nancy was on his ass because they were still waiting for Johnny to approve the last version of their new single and why did she always go to Kerry about that and not Johnny directly? It evolved into one of their fights which weren't really fights. This was also new, Johnny mused, along with the never-ending conversations about taking the trash out, and dirty boxers lying around (Kerry’s battle), and the unwashed dishes in the sink or leaving without closing the windows (Johnny’s battle). And when had Kerry’s flat become his own?
Fuck, fuck, fuck, Johnny cursed internally as he continued to banter with Kerry about how it was Nancy they should replace, the slave driver. What the fuck had he done?
The ring stayed with him for a whole week. He toyed with it when he put his hands in his pockets and often felt the urge to check if it was still there. More than once, he saw Nancy look at him with suspicion. He tried to leave it at home, but the whole day he felt naked as if he could really feel the absence of the ring’s weight.
And every time he looked at Kerry, his skin turned clammy and anxiety spiked in his veins. This was crazy and he was absolutely not doing it. But then Kerry would smile at him. His corner smile, the one that was nearly invisible but lit his eyes with mischief. On stage, as they screamed in the same mic, he could practically feel the heat of his skin burning like a brand on his flesh. Kerry was always a fucking furnace, but on stage, he was like a sun: burning bright and hot. It made Johnny feel dizzy and, when his most vicious instincts kicked in, made him want to dim the light and the warmth. A few harsh words were all it usually took.
But recently, the perspective of seeing Kerry’s hurt expression was unbearable. And it frightened him. He used to care so little.
No, it was not true. He always cared, but he used to be able to bury it deep, so deep he could barely feel it. But since he went to therapy, it had become more and more complicated to ignore such things and it freaked Johnny out. He didn’t want to care, didn’t want to feel, didn’t want to love. Because with the feeling came others: loss, pain, heartbreak.
And he wasn’t sure he could endure them.
But as he looked at Kerry while they went over Archangel together on stage, the thought that maybe it was worth it floated through his mind. Kerry’s eyes raised, their gazes crossed and for a second that stretched into eternity, Johnny felt like gravity had taken leave on him as the realization hit him: too late. He was already in love. Had been for a while. Maybe since day one.
His fingers moved over the cords and he felt his body move like it was someone else’s. A part of his mind settled in the newfound knowledge like a cat in front of a fireplace, while another one continued to trash and fight it. And in the middle, Johnny continued playing, metal fingers pinching the cords to bring the riff to life. In the end, none of this mattered: he might be dead by the end of the summer.
A week turned into two, and Morgan Blackhand called him again. This time there were more people: Rogue, Thompson, and Spider Murphy to cite only a few. Blackhand outlined the parameters of the raid in broad lines, and Johnny could just tell he was leaving out some crucial intel. His suspicion got confirmed when the man asked him to stay afterward. Johnny felt like a misbehaving schoolboy called to the headmaster's office as he waited for the others to empty the room. Rogue gave him a look heavy with meaning, but Johnny had a hard time deciphering it.
He listened as Morgan told him about a bomb. Two bombs actually, but one that would be placed in his care. To be sent downward, to the Arasaka headquarter basement where it would detonate. It would make the tower crumble, but if it went off while underground, it shouldn’t harm anyone. The tower would be deserted of its employees, Blackhand explained. But Johnny’s mind was stuck on the use of “should”. Hypothetical.
Blackhand watched him intently, trying to evaluate his reaction. At his side, The Hand twitched and its rotors clicketed: It was all for it. Johnny had more reservations. But in the end, he nodded. It was what was expected of him. Kerry’s face, relaxed and deep in slumber, wafted through his mind. Johnny pushed it away firmly.
“I’ll do it,” he affirmed, and Blackhand smiled genially. He clasped Johnny’s shoulder, asked him not to tell anyone, stressing the words heavily, and let him go. In Johnny’s pocket, the ring burned.
Back at Kerry’s flat – his flat now, if he was being honest – he found his friend seated on the chair opposite the couch. He had his guitar in hand and music sheets covered in scratches and corrections spread on the low table and the floor around him. His tongue was stuck between his teeth as he went over a new riff, eyes lost in the creative trance. He had one leg on the chair, the other resting on the floor gently as he beat the rhythm. His warm brown skin was lit by the many colorful neons of Night-City through the window and the small lamp next to him. The rest of the flat was plunged in darkness, shrouding Kerry in an ethereal veil as he continued to play. Hearing Johnny’s keys hit the small bowl they kept by the entrance, Kerry lifted his face, eyes finding his lover’s and smiling softly.
“Hey,” he breathed, like talking any louder would be blasphemy. Johnny went to him like in a trance, each step pushing thoughts of Morgan Blackhand and Arasaka further away. By reflex, his hand searched his pocket and found the ring. He fell on his knees in front of Kerry and the man bent forward to brush his lips against his cheek.
“Hey,” He repeated.
“Hey,” Johnny replied, voice rough. He took Kerry’s hand from the neck of the guitar and brushed his thumb against the inside of his palm, forcing it open. Kerry watched him do it with a quizzical look but didn’t resist. He was so trusting, especially when it came to Johnny.
Gently, the man put the ring in the middle of his hand, metal fingers brushing his skin gently as he did so.
Kerry looked at the ring with a frown.
“That’s not one of mine,” he declared after looking at it closer. A strange chuckle escaped Johnny and he shook his head slightly at his own stupidity.
“No, it’s…” he stopped, retrieved the ring, and knew he would have to do this properly. Heart hammering in his chest, skin clammy as whole parts of him rebelled against the idea, against what he was about to do, he took Kerry’s hand in his again. He turned it so his palm was facing downward, nested inside his own. The Hand clicketed as it held the ring delicately between forefinger and thumb. Gently, he pushed it on Kerry’s ring finger. The man’s breath hitched and his hand spasmed as Johnny pushed the jewel to the end. It was a bit loose, because Johnny had bought it on a whim without the right measurement, but it still fit him. And not just because of the diameter. Because suddenly something settled in Johnny’s mind: this felt right, this felt fucking right! The possessive beast inside him purred and he couldn’t help but look at the way the ring caught the gentle light.
It lasted for a second before Kerry tensed, and sprang to his feet.
“No,” he said. It rang clear and loud in the silence of the room. “No,” he repeated, walking away from Johnny like he had the plague. His back hit the window pane leading to the balcony.
Still kneeling by the chair, the other man clenched his hand and refrained from laughing hysterically. No?
Kerry was breathing harshly, holding his hand to his chest like it had been burned. His eyes, when Johnny found the courage to look at them, were wide and panicked. Silence stretched between them and Johnny stayed where he was, still kneeling, hands limp on his thighs.
“Is this a joke?” Kerry finally asked, voice guarded, but his partner heard the hurt clear as day. Johnny shook his head and the other man uttered the softest gasp.
“It’s a joke,” Kerry still affirmed, like saying it would make it true. “You can’t do that, Johnny. You just can’t.”
He was looking at his hand as if leprosy was spreading on it and the kneeling man felt the comforting anger fill him. Was it so bad, so disgusting, to be offered marriage from Johnny Silverhand?
“It’s not a joke,” he rasped. He wished his voice had been stronger, but everything inside him was shaking, every alarm was blaring and contradictory messages were running inside his head. Louder than most was this one: see, even he doesn’t want you like this, you’re such a failure Johnny, no one can love you like this. Never thought he could say no, did you? You fucking, miserable piece of shit.
“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Kerry hissed, eyes filling with anger. “Do you even know what you’re asking me?” he insisted, clenching his fist.
“I know,” Johnny affirmed, and he was happy to note his voice had gained steel in the meantime.
“No, this is not something you want,” Kerry countered, “you’re high, you’re drunk, trashed. Tomorrow you’ll have forgotten about it.”
“I’m sober, and I won’t forget about it,” he declared and again felt the beast inside his chest roar. “I’m serious.” He added, guided by that force. His shaking receded: he wanted this, as crazy as it sounded.
They both stared at each other in silence, with one still kneeling by the chair and the other rigidly standing by the balcony. As if taking flight would be an option in this situation.
“Don’t do this to me, Johnny”, Kerry suddenly pleaded, anger dissolving to be replaced by anguish.
The man in question rose to his feet slowly and approached his friend, who evaded him to stand in the middle of the room, clearly not wanting to be caged against the wall. Johnny pushed the hurt away and opened his arms in a placating gesture.
“Not playing games, Ker.” He said slowly, “I just… We… We live together, we are part of the same band, we’re partner, you and I. We even have sex,” he cited, repeating the words Dr. Gayet, his therapist, had said to him at the beginning of the process, “So I thought we could…”
“Get hitched?!” Kerry finished for him with a note of hysteria. “You can’t even be on time for rehearsal, Johnny, and now you want to commit to me?! Fuck you!” he spat, anger returning with Kerry’s legendary mood swings. “Fuck you!” he repeated, before turning heels and practically running out of his own flat. Johnny stood there, trying to control his breathing and fight back the urge to scream in frustration and anger. Inside him, there was something like a shard of ice plunged deep into his heart.
Never had he thought Kerry could say no.
The night went and the sun rose again while Johnny laid in bed, watching the ceiling and oscillating between anxiety as the fear of rejection ate at him, and righteous anger. Kerry didn’t have any right of saying no, not when Johnny had fallen on his knees for him and laid everything bare to him.
He went out of the flat in search of one of his usual dealers and forgot about the whole thing for a few hours.
He was back at the flat by sunset but found it as empty as when he had left it. He sat on the couch and watched the city burn in the embers of another day’s end, feeling removed from his own body. Which was when he heard the door burst open and Kerry stumbled inside the flat in a right state. His eyes fell on Johnny immediately and he stood there, next to the closet of the entrance, brimming with a strange energy.
“Get up,” he ordered and Johnny obeyed like a puppet called by its master. They faced each other in the dimming light. The earth righted itself on its axis at that moment.
“Let's do it now, then,” Kerry continued, voice trembling even though he was fighting to contain it. Johnny didn’t ask what he was talking about, it would have been idiotic to do so.
“Afraid I might change my mind?” he still taunted, fervently trying to fall back on his feet.
“Will you?” Kerry challenged in a fierce voice. His whole body was tense like he was preparing for a fight.
“No,” was the easy reply. He wouldn’t. Not now, not ever.
“Then let’s go.” And Kerry turned on his heels. The ride down the building was silent as they stood on opposite sides of the elevator. Johnny glanced at him from under his lashes, trying to evaluate his state. He reeked of alcohol and cheap perfume, and there was a bite mark fading on the edge of his collarbone. It made The Hand spasm and Johnny tasted bile at the back of his throat.
“Where were you?” he asked in a breath as the numbers scrolled in the elevator. Kerry sent him a mean look as a warning. But Johnny refused to let it go. He approached his partner, his fucking fiancé, and his fingers lightly skimmed over the mark. “Fucked someone else on the eve of your wedding?” he accused and Kerry slapped his hand away, eyes alight with folly.
“Don’t,” he bit out, but Johnny couldn’t be reasoned with. He caged the other man in, pushing him against the lift’s wall, and exhaled against his lips.
“I’m gonna erase all of their marks Ker, cause by the end of this, you’ll be mine.”
“Is this why you’re doing it? To, what, make sure I belong to you?” Kerry hissed back, words like porcupine spikes.
“No,” Johnny growled, pressing in closer, “No I don’t need that, you belong with me anyway. Always did, always will and you know it.”
The other man didn’t deny it, but his eyes still searched Johnny’s face for answers.
“Why then?”
The truth was ineffable, so Johnny settled for the next best thing.
“Because I want to.”
“You want to marry me?” Kerry asked, needing confirmation.
“Yes.”
Silence. They breathed the same air, chests heaving against one another.
“Are we… Does this mean exclusivity?” Kerry asked with a frown.
“No. That’s not how we work.” And the smaller man nodded like he was reassured by this. Like it meant this was really Johnny and not some doppelganger born of the ether.
“Then what does this mean?” he asked instead, but the door chimed the next instant, and slid open, breaking the moment. They went to the Porsche in silence and Johnny drove them to the city hall. Kerry was looking at something on his phone in the meantime.
“I booked us, we will be on in thirty minutes,” he declared and Johnny snorted.
“I’m not backing off,” he told him lowly, but his friend shrugged, not wanting to voice the doubts that still lingered. They were going to do this like it was a dare between teenagers, it seemed. Kerry was obviously waiting for the moment he would break, not knowing how hard Johnny’s resolve actually was. He was going to do this, he needed to do this, and to do it now. Later might be too late.
They parked near the city hall and crossed the street in silence. The attendant welcomed them and walked them through the process. The ceremony was minimal since it was on such short notice. For years now, the city had adapted to the demand and made sure anyone could marry in less than an hour. Shotgun marriages were practically the norm, in a city like theirs. They completed the documents in silence, each in their own seat, and waited outside with a smoke. They kept glancing at each other but words seemed to have deserted Kerry. Johnny smirked at him, just to see his gaze cloud in anger. Then the attendant called them and led them through a corridor to a spacious room where the deputy of the mayor was tiredly looking over their forms.
“Everything is in order,” she said, “did you prepare rings?”
And to Johnny’s surprise, Kerry nodded. So he hadn’t just been getting trashed and fucked by others during that day, he had actually been planning for this. He took out a small box and opened it, revealing two simple bands. One was silver, the other gold, which he gave to Johnny.
“Right,” the officer said, and while she moved in position, Johnny took a look at the ring. It had today’s date engraved, but that was all. Basic rings, nothing fancy. Johnny closed his hand around it.
“Did you think about vows?” the deputy asked next and Kerry looked like a deer in headlights. Johnny laughed at his face and turned to the woman before nodding, which made his companion’s look of panic deepen.
Probably feeling the tension, the deputy nodded toward Johnny: “please, proceed first.”
Attitude artificially relaxed, Johnny turned toward Kerry and looked at him. This man was his best friend, his companion in all things, his partner in life. The only one left standing when everyone else had died, delat’ed, or crashed down. For that, and for everything else, he loved him, even if he couldn’t say the words. He loved him for his smiles, for the way he trusted him, for how he opposed him, for his constant struggle to keep up with him and meet him where he was. For the warmth of his skin, for the fire in his eyes, for the strength of his beating heart. For the love he so casually gave Johnny, even when he didn’t deserve it, or him.
“I vow to always come back to you. Whatever state I’m in, wherever I am, whomever I’m with… I’ll always, always, come back to you.”
The deputy waited, but then she understood Johnny wouldn’t say more, because he couldn’t, in all honesty, do more than that. She turned to Kerry. Kerry, who was breathing like he had run a marathon, whose eyes were wide and huge, whose mouth was trembling.
“I…” he stuttered, “I vow to always be there when you come back. To always love you. No matter what.” He finished, somewhat lamely, but Johnny smiled and winked at him, false cockiness giving the moment a breath. Again, the deputy waited for a bit before pinching her lips and clearing her throat. Without further comment, she guided them through the ritual words.
“I do,” Johnny said with a smirk, watching Kerry’s cheeks redden even through his dark completion.
“I do,” Kerry repeated with force, eyes defiant even though they were past the point of no return.
“You can exchange the rings,” the deputy indicated, writing something on her pad.
So Johnny did, he slid the golden band on the same finger he had put the engagement ring on, not twenty-four hours ago. And, with shaking fingers, Kerry did the same on his flesh hand – a departure from tradition, but fuck tradition, really – and Johnny closed his hand around it, like a sign he wouldn’t let it go. Kerry’s fingers brushed against his as he stepped back, mouth parted in wonder.
“Well, by the power invested to me by Night-City council, I declare you husband and husband.” And then she shrugged. “You can kiss.”
Johnny felt his devil-may-care mask slip at that moment. They looked at each other for a long second before he closed the distance between them. Kerry tilted his head back as Johnny’s fingers settled on his neck and ears. His eyes were dark, shining with a strange sort of reverence as he pushed up a fraction. And Johnny knew his gaze was probably reflecting the same expression. So he closed them and kissed Kerry. First a soft brush of lips, and then a gentle press. He felt his lover’s hands tangle in his hair to bring him closer, intensifying the contact for a second before he retreated. Johnny let his forehead fall against Kerry’s and the ghost of a smile wafted over his face.
“You need to sign up here, and here,” the attendant interrupted, lending them a pad. And if Johnny was completely honest, his hand trembled softly as he did so, but less than Kerry who had to do it twice, so much he shook.
They found themselves outside of the city hall in no time, lighting cigarettes as night settled over them. Kerry was looking at his hand and at the two rings pushed together like this was unreal, and Johnny could share the thought. He laughed gently and took Kerry’s hand in his.
“Come on, let's celebrate,” before he pulled his husband toward the car.
They got trashed nearly to the point of forgetting the night and came back home between hiccups of laughter and loud moans as they ground against one another. Falling into bed, Kerry tried to get his hand on Johnny’s cock, but the man only rolled them over, covering Kerry in kisses. His lips rapidly found the mark on Kerry’s collarbone, which had taunted him the whole night as Kerry got more and more inebriated and his shirt slipped on his feverish skin. Now naked under him and writhing needily, the man was definitely Johnny’s, and his only. If only for tonight. His mouth sucked on the bruise, covering it with his own mark. He found others like this as he undressed his partner – his fucking husband! – and treated them the same way. If Kerry understood the process, he didn’t comment on it, only arched and keened like he should under Johnny’s tongue.
They got each other off messily, and Johnny only had the good sense to fetch two bottles of water before he fell asleep snuggled against Kerry. And wasn’t he taking good care of his husband, huh? Anticipating the hangover the morning would come with. He smiled to himself, and drifted off to sleep, holding Kerry in his arms.
He was awakened by Kerry practically running to the bathroom around eleven. Then he heard the retching sounds and scrunched his face as an echoing wave of nausea went through him. It passed slowly, as the headache made itself known. Johnny turned and took the water bottle, gulping its content in one go before getting up. In the bathroom, Kerry was running a shower. He had let the door open, by coincidence or by design, so Johnny invited himself. The man had his back to him, hands bracketing the showerhead and letting the warm water run over his hair, his shoulder, and along his back. With a muffled sound of tiredness, Johnny pressed against him, nuzzling his neck.
“Good morning, Husband,” he murmured, voice rough with unuse and too many cigarettes. He felt Kerry shiver against him before he turned his head slightly. A soft, disbelieving smile crept on his lips.
“Hey,” he greeted back before letting his head rest against his partner’s shoulder.
Slowly, Johnny let his hands roam over the expanse of his body as he nipped at Kerry’s neck, drinking the water off his skin. And his husband, lascivious in his arms, only moved to let him more room. He widened his stance when Johnny pushed against the inside of his calves, and obediently bent forward when the other man fell to his knees behind him to eat him out.
He gasped sweetly, moaned desperately, and keened needily as Johnny slowly unraveled him. His hand went to cover Johnny's flesh one, set over his hips. His fingers brushed on purpose against the ring snugly fit around his fourth digit. Then his hand drifted inward, jerked himself in cadence with his partner’s tongue over his ass. He came like this, against the shower wall, with Johnny still licking over his hole, two fingers pushed deep inside him, stroking his core.
Afterward, they dried just enough not to drip water everywhere and went back to the bed, ignoring everything else but each other. Kerry pushed Johnny on his back and slithered down his body, taking his cock in his mouth. The man arched back with a long groan, knowing it wouldn’t last long: making Kerry come on his tongue was such an aphrodisiac on its own. When he looked down, it was to see the golden rings glint on his old friend’s hand wrapped around his cock and he suddenly understood why people said married sex was different. There was certainly something at seeing the wedding band wrapped around Kerry’s finger as he brought Johnny off.
He panted, hand going to Kerry’s hair to push it aside. His metal arm then lowered so he could brush his thumb against his lover’s lips, red and shiny with spit. On the slide off, Kerry looked at him, brown eyes blown up by arousal, but there was something new inside them. A honesty of a new kind. He was not trying to hide anymore and Johnny suddenly realized that Kerry had always kept a part of himself from Johnny. But the thought was pushed aside the moment after when Kerry took him deep inside his throat and the other man groaned long and low, and came a minute later like this.
They drifted between states of sleepiness for a while, idly stroking each other’s skins, tracing patterns on their bodies, and sharing heat and kisses. Johnny just couldn’t get enough and Kerry just let him, giggling when Johnny tickled him and arching back when the touches turned hot again.
They stopped to eat, ordering something very fancy that came with an expensive bottle of champagne. They drank it naked, sprawled on the couch between games of Mario Kart. Kerry was a sore loser, so Johnny made it up to him by slithering up his body to make love to him once more. Because even he couldn’t have called it anything else. And really, it was worth it to see Kerry gasp and his face scrunch up in pained ecstasy as Johnny rocked inside him.
Eyes half-lidded, with a soft smile on his lips, Kerry touched his own chest as Johnny gripped his hips tighter and tighter. He couldn’t help himself, not when the sensations, and the fucking feelings they unlashed, coursed so sweetly in his veins. He felt high on Kerry.
He watched his lover take his own cock in his hand, and growled, slapping It away. He was going to make him come just like this. And Kerry obediently let his hand fall on the pillow, framing his flushed cheeks, his sweaty nape, and messed up hair. He was panting softly, sounds that became moans and then pleas as his peak came closer. Johnny wanted to hurt him, because it was just unbearable, all these feelings, all this pleasure, all this fucking love.
All his senses were focussed on the man under him, watching like in 4K as he tensed, as his breath hitched and surprise painted itself on his feverish face. And he came like this as Johnny continued to pound into him until his cries of pleasure turned plaintive. Then Johnny stopped, trembling, and slowly slipped out.
Still shaking, he made Kerry cling to him and transported him back to the bedroom, where he did it all over again.
But the time the sun set, Kerry was a mess. Well, Johnny was a mess too, but Kerry looked wrecked, well-fucked and his husband couldn’t help the satisfied expression that flowered over his lips at the picture he made. But Johnny was not finished. He wanted something else.
Kerry stilled and seemed to stop breathing when Johnny took their favorite toy out of the box under the bed. Lying on the sheets, Kerry made an aborted movement to take it but his partner kept it out of range. He knew of much Kerry loved using that on him, but today he needed the control. Needed to be in charge. Needed to say something without saying it. Reading his mood, Kerry relaxed against the pillow once more, blown-out eyes tracking his partner’s movements like a hawk. His breathing sped up again when he saw Johnny insert the toy inside himself. Poised above Kerry and bracketing his hips, the other man started rocking in the air with deep guttural moans. Kerry opened his mouth in a mirroring expression as if he could feel the pleasure himself. His hands twitched where they rested over Johnny’s thighs, thumb idly stroking the skin.
Johnny played with the settings of the vibrator for a while, closing his eyes to concentrate on the sensations. He heard his companion softly chant “fuck, fuck, fuck” under him and snorted.
“Johnny please,” Kerry begged after a minute or two. And yeah, his husband agreed with him: time to get to the main course. He still grimaced when he took out the toy and refused to look at his lover when he poured lube over his cock. Kerry, whose eyes shone with wonder, opened his mouth to say something, probably to ask Johnny if he was sure, but a glare from his partner made him preemptively shut up with a click of teeth.
When he sank on his partner’s cock, feeling the stretch keenly, Johnny let out a shuddering groan. Under him, Kerry was looking at him with wide eyes, hands spasming against his thighs and straining not to move an inch. A hand on Kerry’s chest, and the other around his own cock, he started riding him slowly. He had wanted to do this for a while but had been pretty sure Kerry was going to make it something more than it was. It was just a cock in his ass, nothing particular. The fact that it was the first time he was enjoying it for real was anecdotical.
Kerry sat up and embraced Johnny more fully, nuzzling against his chest as he followed his undulating movements. Fingers entangling in Kerry’s dark mane, Johnny tugged his head backward until he could kiss him and pumped his hips up faster.
Soon his legs were shaking between the exhaustion and the pleasure. With Kerry, he had learned how fucking great playing with his ass could be, and he just knew the angle to make sure his partner would hit the right spot. His breath was short, and his heart was racing but even though he jerked himself just right, he couldn’t seem to fall over the edge.
“Kerry… Please…” He breathed and felt the man respond with a moan. He tightened his arms for a second before his hands drifted under Johnny’s ass as he reclined. Feet pushing against the mattress, he rocked up and Johnny half sagged forward with a long moan.
“You gotta let go, Johnny,” Kerry whispered against his mouth a minute later, “Stop fighting it.” He added with such tenderness Johnny wanted to scoff at him. Closing his eyes he actually let himself feel it. Feel the pleasure and only that, feel the sparks wherever his skin skimmed against Kerry’s, feel their heartbeat synch up once again.
He arched back with a half-bitten shout and came. Kerry’s disbelieving soft laugh chimed like from far away, prompting Johnny to open an eye. He winked at him and slowly started moving again, changing the angle as to make it easier on himself. And once again brought Kerry off, deep inside him.