Archive of Our Own

Johnny gets to the warehouse first, as he usually does. 

He spends the time he has getting everything ready. He'd been meeting Daniel here for a few weeks now, after they had agreed to teach each other their own techniques. Their two distinct styles of karate. Though it was tough at times. Daniel was so locked into his way of doing things. Wasn't as receptive as Miguel or Hawk or Aisha, or any of the other kids Johnny had taught over the past year.

It could be frustrating. Listening to him complain. Always having a lecture prepared about how karate wasn't violence. It was about control, about the dance, the discipline. Johnny could have said a big fuck you to all of that prima ballerina bullshit. But he had to admit he enjoyed it too. It was a thrill to mould Daniel, to dig his fingers into those small shoulders, those thin hips, correcting his form, showing him how to stand, to kick, to land a punch. He imagined Daniel like clay, something malleable, his skin turning to honey, to golden taffy, under Johnny's hands. 

It shouldn't feel as good as it does. But it does. It does.

Then there's the itch inside him. The one that's been building inside him all week.

He'd tried his hardest to ignore it, but it was always there. It reminds him of how it felt to go without booze the few times he tried to quit. A buzz in his veins, a constant hunger under his skin growing until it was impossible to ignore. Until he had to go out and get so wasted he couldn't see. Anything but to feel that hunger scraping at him, wanting to be noticed, to be fulfilled. 

It was like that, but different. 

Because Johnny didn't want to drink. He wanted Daniel's skin under his hands. Between his teeth.

Maybe it scared him a little sometimes. The craving that drilled down so deep he couldn't find the root of it anymore. But mostly he didn't think about it. Like booze and karate, he gave into the want. Let himself drift into the deep tide of it, to let himself want Daniel without questioning it. He'd felt it for too long anyway. A lot of things had changed since he was 17, but not Daniel. Even during the decades apart sometimes he was all Johnny thought about. Picking over their last match together, how differently it could have gone. Making himself so sick from it he wanted to drive through the Valley until he found him. Just looking for an excuse to get his hands on him again. Squeeze him tight. His skin so soft he should have been a girl. Not this skinny, long-legged thing that went fucking limp whenever Johnny got him up against his locker. Like he was surrendering to him. Turning Johnny so molten he didn't know if he wanted to punch Daniel or suck a claiming mark into his neck. 

The violence will always be a part of you, Kreese had said. Johnny just hadn't realised it would be a violence like this.

Daniel arrives a little while later, parking his cute rich boy car outside.

Johnny watches from just inside the door, his nerve endings lighting up at the sight of him.

In the driver's seat, Daniel checks his appearance in the mirror, patting his already perfect hair into place, then takes a tube of chapstick from his duffle. Applies it in the mirror as carefully as a chick would reapply lipstick after blowing Johnny on a date. 

He steps into the doorway as Daniel approaches.

"Hey," he says, trying to act as casual as possible.

"Well hi there," Daniel replies. 

He has his usual blue and black on. Perfect, clean trainers. He's so new and shiny, like he's never been dirtied up once in his life. But Johnny knows that's a lie. Knows it in his body and blood. Still remembers how it felt to push Daniel down to the ground and give him a mouthful of gravel, saying, "How'd you like that, pretty boy? Will you learn to shut the fuck up now?" Straddling him from behind as the guys crowded around, listening to Daniel whimper, beg to be let go. But Johnny wouldn't. Not until Bobby pulled at his shoulder and said, "Enough, he's had enough."

Daniel quirks an eyebrow at him. "Are you going to let me inside or are you planning to clock me right here in the open?"

Johnny steps aside. "No, come in. And I wouldn't just punch you."

"Oh, sure, mister 'the best defence is more offence.'"

Daniel slides past him, closer than he really needs to, filling Johnny's nose with his scent. He'd obviously showered before he drove here, which was dumb in a way, he was just going to sweat it all off, but he smelled good. Like coconut and green tea.

Pretty boy with his pretty smell. 

Daniel drops his duffel inside and looks at him.

"So what torment do you have planned for me today?"

"It's not torment, LaRusso. It's training. I'm training you to be strong."

"And you get no sadistic thrill from watching me struggle through it?"

Johnny shrugs. "Call it an added bonus."

Daniel rolls his eyes, but he's already unzipping his jacket, revealing the tanned slopes of his shoulders.

Johnny's mouth waters as he watches him. Daniel was always so soft and brown. Like a sugar cookie. One of the fancy ones Johnny would get as a kid when he still lived with his mom and Sid. When he'd lick it all over, using the rough of his tongue to pick up all the granules of sugar, before popping it in his mouth, snapping it between his teeth.

"You know," he says, "you shouldn't really speak to me that way."

Daniel lowers his eyes demurely. He's doing it to piss him off, but it still sets Johnny's blood on fire.

"Of course," he says softly. "I'm sorry, sensei."

Sensei. Shit. Johnny feels himself chub up in his jeans. It was that, or seeing Daniel's naked skin. Maybe both.

Their eyes meet. The air between them crackles. And Johnny feels the urge to get his hands around those soft shoulders and tug.

He used to feel urges like that in the time before. When they were teenagers. But back then he wanted to do it to hurt Daniel. Would suffer through classes thinking up juicy fantasies of popping Daniel's shoulder from its socket, his body going as taut as a wire as he shaped it in his head. He doesn't want to hurt Daniel in the same way now. But he does want to see his face contort, wants to twist that compact little body into various shapes. Wants to make him cry and sweat. See that mouth outline his name like it was something precious.

But he knows the tension between them could split at any moment. He had to draw it out. Couldn't risk scaring Daniel away.

So he forces himself to break eye contact. Adjusts his dick in his jeans as he turns away.

"First, you need to do 50 crunches for me. Then 50 push-ups. Then you can do five laps around the warehouse."

Daniel sighs. Long-suffering. Like he's been a victim all his life.

Johnny shoots him a look. "I'll add another five laps if you complain."

"I just can't believe you put all your students through this. Don't you prefer Mr Miyagi's ways to all this macho bullshit?" 

"That macho bullshit's gonna get us the trophy."

"No. That combined with the Miyagi-do teachings."

"Sure, but today it's about my methods. That's what we agreed."

Daniel looks dubious, but he does as he's told. "If you say so, sensei." 

Sensei again. He looks at Daniel, wants to see if he's smiling, if he's really fucking with Johnny, but he's already turned away to do his pansy stretches first as he usually does, putting his beautiful bird body on display.

Johnny watches him. Unabashed, open, where before he would always pretend to look at something else.

Daniel gives him a look. "Have you been doing those yoga stretches I showed you?"

"Yes," he says. "Obviously." 

But of course he hadn't. Why did Johnny need to be bendy anyway? That was Daniel's shit. Daniel was the dancer and Johnny was the fighter. That's why they worked so well together. Fucking yin and yang and all that bullshit. Except Johnny thinks it might actually be true.

Johnny gives him another couple of minutes, then interrupts him mid-stretch.

"So are you ready yet or do I have to put some fucking Barbara Streisand on to get you in the mood?"

Daniel rolls his eyes, stretching one last time. "No, I'm good. Let's get this over with."

Johnny puts Daniel through the usual gauntlet. What he had done with Miguel right at the beginning. What he put all the kids through. But Daniel obviously isn't made for it. He takes forever to do his crunches, then struggles with his push-ups as he always does. His thin arms weak, all twigs and glass, his forehead scrunched in focus. He wants to do it. Doesn't want to fail in front of Johnny, but he's not doing a great job. 

Usually Johnny would point out what he's doing wrong. Would tell him to stop and show him what he needs to do. 

Instead, he cracks open a beer and watches him. Enjoying the show a little more than he should.

He wanders over when it looks like Daniels about to collapse into the floor.

"You can do it. Come on, Mr LaRusso."

"I can't," Daniel says. Whines almost.

"Well that's disappointing." He lowers his voice. Lets it brush over Daniel like a rake. "You know I don't let little bitches in my dojo." 

Daniel shivers at that. But he doesn't tell Johnny to stop. Just continues to do his pathetic little push-ups, a rivulet of sweat dampening his neck. Johnny thinks about pressing his mouth there. Of sucking it up.

"You think I want a little pussy-ass bitch teaching our kids how to fight?" 

Daniel doesn't reply, so Johnny steps closer, fights the urge to shove his palm in the centre of his back and push him to the ground. 

"I said, is that what you want?" 

Daniel shakes his head. "No, sensei."

"Well finish them then and make it fast."

Johnny stands over him, drinking his beer, letting the condensation drip onto Daniel's soft skin.

Afterwards he watches as Daniel does his laps, his deer legs running as fast as they can.

He runs like he always did at school, loping around like a gazelle. Johnny and the guys used to laugh at him when he ran track. Standing around and cat-calling him, like they thought it was funny, straining at the leash to chase him. Because that's what Daniel had always done. He sparked that animal impulse to hunt. Had made all of them slobber for it, noses in the air like they were scenting his sweat.

When he's finally done, Daniel heads to his duffle across the room. His forehead and collar damp with sweat.

Johnny watches as he uncaps his water bottle and lifts it to his mouth, his eyes tracing the long line of Daniel's throat, the way he purses his lips. It sparks up a recent memory. One of those smutty backroom ones Johnny only tried to think about when he was jerking off at home. Pulling it out like a teenage boy with a dirty magazine under his mattress, the cover creased and corners well-thumbed.

The memory's of Daniel in his apartment a couple of weeks ago, looking up at him from between his legs. The light from outside had shone on his face, illuminating the way he nursed Johnny's cock like it was a milk bottle, his pink kitten tongue pressed up against his slit, licking up his precum. They'd been too tired to fuck when they got back, so Daniel had asked for that instead. Had asked so genuinely, like he needed a part of Johnny inside him. But once he had Johnny's cock in his mouth, Daniel had sat there for the longest time, just letting the weight of it rest on his tongue. Like he was relishing it. Not moving until Johnny fisted his hand through his hair - the tired, horny buzz under his skin growing louder - and told him to suck his dick already. Which he had. Using that tight, hungry throat in ways Johnny hadn't even experienced with past girlfriends.

The memory catapults him. Breaks through the last thin strings of restraint holding him back.

Daniel tenses as he feels Johnny come up behind him. Like a prey animal that freezes in place when it senses a predator.

But he doesn't try to pull away. He trembles, but he doesn't move a muscle. Doesn't try to slip away or ask Johnny what the fuck he's doing. And Johnny knows why. It's because he fucking wants this. He was waiting for Johnny to make a move. 

"Do you really think that was good enough," Johnny asks, keeping his voice low.

Daniel makes an exasperated noise. "I tried my best. Sorry I don't run my own classes like a sergeant major."

"You think that was hard? You don't even know what I could do to you."

This close, Johnny can smell Daniel again. The tang of his sweat, but under that, the expensive, sweet scent of his body wash. He smelled warm and faintly tropical. Like something that came from a fancy department store. Nothing like the basic, almost scentless motel soap Johnny used.

He leans in, dragging the tip of his nose against the skin at Daniel's nape.

Daniel tenses again, shoulders going taut.

"What are you doing?"

"Smelling you."

Daniel turns his head slightly. "Why?"

"Just want to. You smell good."

"You're so weird."

He says it as an insult, but it comes out as a tremor, quaking just as much as his skin.

"Turn around," Johnny says. 

Daniel does as he's told. In the dim light of the warehouse his eyes look almost black. And Johnny can tell he's getting hard. That he's not the only one affected by all of this. The tension, the proximity. Being alone like this for the first time in days.

"Do you still have it?"

"Have what?"

Johnny shuffles impatiently. Daniel always did this. Always had to resist at first, like he had no idea what Johnny was talking about.

Just part of the dance, Johnny thinks, the ritual between them.

"You know what I mean."

Daniel wavers for a moment, like he's on the cusp of denying it, of pushing past Johnny and telling him to fuck off. But then he brings his hand up and pulls at the neck of his tank, revealing a hickey that had been hidden by the fabric, smudged like paint into his collarbone.

It's faded now, brown and yellow at the edges, but in the centre it's still obscenely, pornographically purple.

"Do you know how hard it was to hide it?" Daniel asks.

But Johnny doesn't care. Just leans in to lick it, something that makes Daniel's breath hitch.

"It's hot," he says when he leans back, the sheen of his spit catching on the bruise. "You look fucking hot." 

Daniel meets his eyes. "We said we wouldn't do this again."

"No, you said that. I didn't agree to anything."

"Johnny, come on. What about the training?"

"What about it? You're shit at it anyway."

Daniel looks outraged, mouth opening. He's about to squawk, to argue, but he shuts up as soon as Johnny presses close. 

"How about this," Johnny says. "How about you be good for me and then you can suck my dick afterwards."

Daniel makes a bitchy face like he's about to say no thanks. Instead he gasps, quick and sharp, as Johnny takes his hand and presses it to the outline in his jeans. Where he's been as hard as a fucking rock ever since Daniel strolled in.

He swallows, looking down. "You really got hard just from watching me do some push-ups?"

"If that's what you want to call what you were doing back there, sure."

"Maybe I don't want to suck your dick."

Yeah, right. Johnny knows Daniel loved sucking his dick. That his mouth got all hot and frothy for it. 

"What do you want then? You want something for being good for me?"

Daniel starts to rub Johnny through the denim, biting down on his bottom lip.  

"Maybe you can put it to good use instead. Do some of the work for a change."

"Oh yeah? Fuck you."

Daniel sniffs, calling his bluff. "Forget it then." He tries to pull away, but Johnny grabs his wrist. Keeps him locked tight against his crotch, despite the warning look Daniel gives him. Like a dog that growls before it moves in to bite.

"Let me go," he says.

"Or what? What are you gonna do, LaRusso? You little fucking pussy."

That sets off fireworks behind those eyes. That dark, electric crackle.

There's a split second where Johnny thinks he's about to get his face smashed in. That Daniel's going to wrench his wrist free and punch Johnny right in the face. He prepares himself for it. The crack and the sting, the rush of blood down his lip. 

But Daniel doesn't punch him. As soon as Johnny loosens his grip, he manages to pull his wrist free, but he doesn't punch him.

Instead he twists his fingers into his shirt and pulls him in, their mouths crashing together in a kiss.

Finally, Johnny thinks, the hunger inside him cresting. Fucking finally.

The force of the kiss knocks Daniel back, his head cracking against the wall and Johnny has a split moment where he almost breaks the kiss, has to check Daniel's okay, what if he's fucking bleeding or something, but Daniel doesn't let him go. Keeps his fingers knotted in Johnny's t-shirt as he sucks on his bottom lip, a cracked noise sounding from his throat like something's broken inside of him.

And fuck, maybe Daniel had been feeling just as desperate for this as Johnny had. It was so hard to tell with Daniel, who always liked to pretend nothing bothered him. Who bolstered himself in icy walls like a typical Encino bitch. But maybe now, as Daniel bites into Johnny's mouth, his hands scrabbling at Johnny - first his shoulders, then his sides, then his arms, like he needed his hands on every inch of him - maybe he needs Johnny too.

The kiss deepens, Daniel's mouth opening to let in Johnny's tongue, his own, wet and slick, curling around it. But it's awkward, it hurts. Both of them wanting to be the one in charge, not wanting to relent, mouths snapping like it's a fight one of them has to win.

Luckily Johnny knows what to do.

He gets his hand under Daniel's shirt and presses against the soft skin of his lower stomach, just above his shorts.

The touch makes Daniel gasp. Like a button inside him has been pressed. Making his mouth immediately soften and lose its bite.

Bingo, Johnny thinks smugly.

It was a cheat code Johnny had recently discovered. Certain touches he had found that made Daniel submit. A touch to his lower stomach. His neck. Being gripped by the back of his arms. He didn't know why, but it felt like Johnny had tripped over the secrets to Daniel's body. How to elicit the right reaction, get him hard, get him wet. Where Johnny only panicked and lashed out when he felt hemmed in, Daniel went soft all over.

Which he does now. Leaning back as Johnny tongues him open, resting his fingers gently against Johnny's back.

His eyes flutter open again when Johnny breaks the kiss. All black, glittering.

"You taste like beer and salami," he says, voicing rasping.

Johnny snorts. "That's what a real man tastes like."

He realises how ridiculous that sounds after he's said it, and he starts to laugh. Daniel laughs too, his nose scrunching up. And the sight makes something warm blossom in Johnny's chest. Cuts through the acrid heat of desire, warming the place tucked up behind his ribcage. He distracts himself by kissing his way down Daniel's neck, laving his tongue against the damp hollow of Daniel's throat.

"God, I hate you," Daniel sighs, even as he tips his head back to give Johnny better access.

Johnny just smiles as he bites at Daniel's shoulder. "Yeah, join the fucking club."

A tight pull of agony then, as Daniel gets his fingers in his hair and twists him back up.

"Jackass," he says. "I'm already club president."

They kiss again. All mouth and tongue. Spitty, no finesse. Making out like fucking teenagers. Johnny rutting his dick along Daniel's stomach. 

And Johnny knows he could probably come like this. Could come just from humping Daniel against the wall like a rabid dog. And maybe then he could get his hand in Daniel's pants and jerk him off. Watch him shiver and whine, get him to beg for it. Daniel had a thing for coming on Johnny's chest, like Johnny was a chick with a big rack or something, so he could let him do that if he was good.

But Johnny needs more. He needs Daniel naked. He needs all that skin under his hands. Needs to feel Daniel clenching around him.

So he gets his hands under Daniel's ass, and Daniel, the smart thing he is, gets the message. In one smooth movement, he hops up on the tips of his toes and wraps those long legs around Johnny's waist. Usually he hated this, hated when Johnny described him as delicate or small, but sometimes Johnny suspects he likes it. Likes that he feels smaller when Johnny gets his hands on him.

"Let me," Johnny says, his mouth on Daniel's neck, pressing him up against the wall.

Let me fuck you, he means, if he could find the words, if his mouth wasn't clogged with want.

Thankfully Daniel knows exactly what he means. 

Because somehow, in the press of their bodies, they understood each other. Could communicate sometimes without even speaking.

"Okay," Daniel, voice hitching as Johnny sucks on his skin. "Okay."

It's how they wind up at the back of the warehouse. Fucking on the mattress that Johnny kept out there. 

Daniel had made fun of Johnny for it. Keeping a mattress back here like a bum or something. But it had come in handy too. Not just for having somewhere to catch his breath between bouts of training - hey, Johnny wasn't as young as he used to be, okay? - but for having somewhere soft he could actually fuck Daniel. They had fucked once on the floor and Daniel had complained about his sore knees for days.

It's fast and frantic, like it always is. Johnny knows the rhythm of it now, after weeks of falling into it.

The first time had been a freak accident. A night of drinking that had ended in the two of them completely smashed, tucked up together and flirting at the bar. Once they found their way back to Johnny's car, Daniel had unzipped his dick - already hard, already wanting him - and had sucked it into his pouty mouth, Johnny almost blowing his load the second Daniel hollowed his cheeks around him. Had come after a couple of minutes away, which would have embarrassed him if the sight of Daniel swallowing his jizz hadn't made him half-hard again.

But it was something they could forget and move on from. It would just be a bit awkward for a while, that was all. Except a couple of days later after class, they had crashed together like magnets, making out on the floor of the dojo, until Johnny pushed himself between Daniel's legs and stripped him out of those tight fucking prick-tease leggings. He ate Daniel out like that, not realising how obsessed he was with Daniel's ass until it was right in front of him, Daniel's thighs clamped around his head. He'd never done something like that to a guy before, but he thought he did a good job. Had made Daniel come with his tongue buried inside him, Daniels hands in his hair, pulling at the roots as he tried not to cry.

But that was just a kind of aftermath, a weird echo of the first time, Johnny said to himself that night when he got home. Except then they fucked for the first time a week later. Daniel riding him in Johnny's shitty apartment, knees wedges between Johnny and the sides of his armchair, sweat glimmering on his chest, head thrown back like he was a fucking porn star, making Johnny shoot so long and hard he thought he might die.

It had been awkward as fuck afterwards and they both said that was it, out of their systems, they wouldn't do it anymore. At least not until a week later when Daniel was sitting on the edge of his kitchen counter, his legs wrapped around Johnny as he got his ass pounded.

Now what was it? Johnny had begun to lose the thread. All he knew was that he needed it. That somewhere between the first time and the fourth time and the ninth time and now, he had started to crave it.

Daniel lands on his back in the middle of the mattress. Johnny kneeling above him. The two of them quickly stripping their clothes away.

It's easy for Daniel. Easy to shimmy out of his tank top and shorts within seconds. His shoes landing somewhere over his head.

But Johnny struggles with his jeans. Gets the zipper caught against his hard-on, making him give out a strangled fuck.

Daniel rears up immediately, pushing Johnny's hands away so he can help.

"For god's sake, Johnny," he says as he gentles the zipper down. "Why did you wear jeans anyway?"

But Johnny doesn't answer him. As soon as his jeans are off and shoved to the edge of the mattress, he gets back between the cradle of Daniel's legs. Pushes him down again and kisses him, grinding up against his soft, naked body.

"Oh my god," Daniel whispers against his mouth, his dick blurting wet against Johnny's stomach.

He ruts up, obviously wanting to come, but Johnny breaks the kiss, spit stringing between them. 

"No, don't. Wanna be inside you when you come."

Daniel blinks up at him, looking dazed. "Okay," he says. "Yes." Then, "Okay, okay," like a broken record.

"Okay," Johnny mocks as he kneels up between his legs.

A flash of annoyance. "Don't make fun of me."

Johnny just smiles, rifling through a bag he keeps by the mattress to pull out the lube in its shiny purple packet.

Daniel liked being fucked with a special, expensive lube. Had wrinkled his nose when Johnny had first pulled out a packet of KY Jelly when they started fucking. It all does the same thing, Johnny had grumbled. No, it doesn't, he was told. And I won't let you put that anywhere near me. Except he hadn't been complaining 10 minutes later when Johnny had him on all fours, his cock sheathed inside him with that exact lube.

Daniel freezes when he sees the lube in Johnny's hand. "You were prepared for this?"

Johnny winks at him. "Of course I was. I'm not gonna risk chafing my dick."

"You're such an asshole. I'm not easy, you know."

Johnny pulls his t-shirt off. "Oh I know, baby. Took me 35 years to get inside you, didn't it?"

Daniel looks momentarily stunned. Then he frowns, like Johnny's teasing him again.

"Like you even wanted me back then."

"Maybe I did. Would see you hanging out at the beach with your long shiny hair, looking like a fucking girl. It was confusing."

Daniel flushes. "My hair was only a couple of inches longer than it is now, I didn't look like a girl."

"You were just always so fucking pretty."

And he had been. Johnny remembers seeing Daniel around Reseda one afternoon in the early 90s. His glossy dark hair swishing around his face, long legs in denim shorts that had barely covered his ass. Just one look at him had lit fire in his belly. One that simmered through him all afternoon, making him feel irritably sunburnt and horny, until he went to a bar that night and found a girl he could fuck. A pretty girl with short dark hair and tanned skin. He'd bought her a couple of drunks then fucked her in the bathroom, her legs pinned around him as he humped against her, biting into her shoulder as he came. She'd slapped him afterwards. Calling him an animal as she pulled up her underwear. She left him there in the cubicle, pants down around his ankles, and maybe it should have felt humiliating. He didn't even know if he'd made her come. But Johnny didn't care because he was dumb and drunk, and finally he could feel that wildfire staring to settle under his skin.

Johnny hadn't really questioned it at the time. Had just shoved it at the back of his mind. Like a box cluttered with memories hastily labelled "do not read", only to be examined every few years when he got really wasted and self-destructive.

He blinks the memory away when Daniel shoves his foot into his chest.

"I'm not pretty," he says, face pinched into a scowl.

"Oh no?" Johnny pushes his foot away and slides down between his legs. "Even though you have the prettiest little tits?"

Johnny grins at the way Daniel flushes. But Daniel swallows whatever rebuke he has when Johnny bites down.

Daniel was soft around his chest, almost almost like a woman, and Johnny loved biting him in the middle of all that marshmallow softness. He clamps his teeth down now, sucking a mark between Daniel's little tits as Daniel shudders.

When he finds his voice again, he moans his complaints.

"Not another one, Johnny. You know you're not supposed to-"

"Too bad," Johnny murmurs, licking at the hickey he's just sucked into his skin.  

"You're such an asshole, how am I supposed to keep hiding these?"

Johnny lowers his head again, this time sucking Daniel's nipple into his mouth, his hand coming up to cup him. He joked sometimes that Daniel could wear an A-cup, something Daniel hated, but that really turned Johnny on. 

"Not my problem," he says around the nub, pulling back to wet it with his tongue, getting it all tight and plump, before sucking on it again.

The suction makes Daniel jerks upwards, mouth open on a moan, and Johnny's dick pulses, his teeth scraping against the hard little nub. 

The thing was, everything about Daniel was delicious. Johnny would feast on his chest for hours if he could - wants to see if he could make Daniel come just from sucking his tits - and then on the inner flesh of his thighs, where he was as supple as a summer fruit.

Daniel had a mysterious scar there, on the inside of his right thigh. He had another, almost identical one on his shoulder. Two scars in the shape of a hungry mouth. Johnny doesn't ask where they're from - these intimate, teeth-shaped marks - but someone would have to bite down pretty fucking hard to leave a mark like that. And he thinks he knows. Thinks he's seen the matching puzzle piece in the tall asshole Kreese was working with now, who would smile at Daniel and make him go pale. The wide chomp of his grin matching the indent of Daniel's scars perfectly. 

He pushes down between Daniel's legs and licks at the scar now, making Daniel go as limp as a puppy. 

"Johnny," he gasps, "don't-"

Let me, he thinks. Let me make every piece of you mine.

Heart beating hard and fast, he gets his hands under Daniel's ass and spreads him open for his tongue. Revealing that forbidden little place that Johnny had obsessed over for weeks now, ever since he'd first seen it in the dojo that night.

Johnny thumbs at it, where Daniel's tight and dry, and his dick oozes at the sight.

He leans back, frothing up all the spit he has in his mouth. Daniel tenses at the sound, like he knows what Johnny's about to do. But he only shivers, vibrating down through his legs, when Johnny spits directly on the little pink sucker of his asshole. Johnny watches it drip against him, a sight so fucking dirty it makes his dick jump, then pushes in greedily, moaning as he spears his tongue inside.

Johnny would have thought it would be fucking gross to eat ass, but Daniel's was irresistible. Clean, soft, peachy. Tanned all over, even here. Almost hairless. Johnny sometimes wondered if he waxed, could laugh thinking about Daniel making an appointment on a Saturday morning to get his asshole waxed at some lucrative Encino clinic. But he tasted too good for it to be funny. He'd never admit it but Johnny was addicted to eating him out. Could come just from eating Daniel out and jacking himself off. Had done that once. On one memorable morning in his apartment. Eating Daniel out so sloppily his spit dripped down his chin and then blowing his load all over his hand and the floor.

He pulls out to lick at Daniel's rim, trying to coax it looser, get it ready for him. Once Daniel's suitably wet, he pushes inside again, burying his tongue right up to the root. Savouring the way Daniel quivers around him, the little noises he makes, how his thighs splay open in a slutty V.

He stops when Daniel suddenly pulls at his hair. A sharp tug that makes Johnny draw his tongue out and glare up at him.

"What the fuck?"

"Johnny," Daniel says, voice hoarse as he tugs at him, "need you, come on."

Johnny licks his bottom lip. Brushes his thumb against Daniel's hole, now spitty and loose.

"You need me? Say it again."

Daniel swallows, embarrassed. "I need your cock inside me."

And he does, Johnny can tell. Can tell from the hard slant of his dick against his belly. How his tits have nubbed up into bullet-hard points. How red his face is, the blush spreading down onto his chest, making him look blotchy and fevered.

He needed this. He needed Johnny. And wasn't that a fucking head trip.

Johnny pretends to think about it for a second. "I don't know. Maybe I just want to eat you out."

He says it like his dick isn't hard, like he isn't dying to be inside Daniel.

Daniel shakes his head. A frantic whip. "No, please. I need it. I need it."

Johnny usually bristles when people try to tell him what to do, but he does like it when Daniel gets desperate. When his voice is on the urge of cracking and he's begging Johnny for his dick. So different to the prim, prickly guy who taught karate with him. Who was always telling Johnny he was too loud, too coarse, too aggressive. That he needed to cool down. But here, under him, all he wanted was the aggressive Johnny. The one who could use his bulk to hold him down and fuck him. Use him like a doll that had been made to take his cock.

"I've got what you need," he says, grabbing the lube from next to the mattress. 

Except he's too eager with it, too fast, and it gloops out over his fingers messily, dripping between them.

"Shit," he says, smearing his hand against it, trying to wipe it up.

But Daniel, for once, doesn't care about the mess. Just pulls Johnny's wrist between his legs, his grip punishing. 

Johnny jerks a brow at him. "God, you do really need this, don't you?"

"Come on," Daniel says, thighs spread around his forearm. "It's been over a week."

Over a week since they last fucked, he means. Eight days, because Johnny had been counting.

And Johnny can't help but think, how did they get here? How had a drunken blow job, a frantic fuck, led to this? To the two of them counting down the days until they could be alone again, buried inside each other, covered in lube and spit and come, their bodies a twisted knot in the bedsheets or on the floor, any surface that could take them. How had it ended in Johnny feeling like he couldn't breathe unless he was fucking Daniel?

"Yeah, and whose fault is that?"

He slides two fingers into Daniel, right up to the knuckle without stopping, making Daniel gasp, his leg kicking out.

It's cruel, maybe. But Daniel deserves it. Deserves it for always freezing Johnny out. Acting like there was nothing between them, ignoring his texts, sailing past him in his car outside the dojo without stopping to talk to him. For going as long as possible before breaking down. Going home to his wife and his stupid house while Johnny paced his apartment, drooling, licking his wounds, wanting him so bad he could kill for it.

"I couldn't get away," Daniel says, when he catches his breath. "I told you."

"Sure, whatever."

"What do you expect me to do? Just drive over in the middle of the night and beg you to fuck me?"

"Might be nice. Nice thing to wake up to."

"You're crazy," Daniel says, but Johnny can tell he's thinking about it, the images flooding through his head.

"Could just, I don't know, fuck you in the hallway and send you home filled with my come."

"Oh my god," Daniel says, eyes clenching like he's in pain. "Oh my god."

"Yeah," Johnny says as he fucks his fingers into him. "Thought so."

He twists his wrist, trying to find that spot Daniel liked so much. The one that made him moan so hard it hurt. That juicy little g-spot buried inside of him. Johnny liked exploiting it as much as he could. Once made Daniel come just from tapping his fingers against it. Driving Daniel back from the dojo, when he pulled up into a dark, empty road and fingerbanged him in the backseat, just watching the emotions play out over his face as Johnny fucked three fingers into him, until Daniel came all over them, as awkward and virginal as a teenager.

Daniel rocks up when Johnny finds the spot, his dick mouth-wateringly hard against his belly. 

"Johnny, not so fast-"

"You can take it, you're a good boy."

Daniel shudders all over, the tip of his dick getting wet.

He likes that, likes being praised.

"Yeah, that's right, you're my good boy."

Daniel flushes again. "Shut up."

"Hey," Johnny says, stabbing his fingers in deeper. "You're not in charge, remember? Here, with me, you're mine and I'll do what I want."

He slides a third finger into Daniel, stretching out the hot, tight clutch of his body around its blunt press.

"I'm gonna slick you up and fuck you and come inside of you and there's nothing you can do about it."

And yeah, that was a lie. Daniel could kick his ass if he really wanted to. But the fact he didn't was telling. Because Daniel liked being used by him, that was why. Maybe Johnny could take advantage of that one day. Could tie his wrists together and bind his legs, when he could really take his time with him. Eat him out for hours. Suck his dick. Then see how many times he could make him come on his fingers before he was crying and coming dry. Then, only then, would he slide into him. Use Daniel's body as his little fuck hole. Come inside him and then spread him open to watch it drip out. Take photos on his phone for him to open and look at whenever he wanted. 

The thought makes him sizzle. Makes him fuck Daniel harder, crooking his fingers hard against that spot.

Daniel rocks up against it, face clenching and then going lax, his mouth so pink and open.

"Get it in me," he says, "come on."

"Beg me again."

The eager look on Daniel's face melts into frustration, eyes flashing.

"I swear to god, Johnny, if you don't fuck me right now, I'll knock you out with one of those bricks and just ride your dick until I come."

Johnny arches his brows, impressed. "Fucking ruthless, okay. Maybe you do have a bit of Eagle-Fang in you."

Daniel scoffs, trying not to laugh. "I don't remember seeing that on the curriculum."

But Johnny can't wait any longer either. He drags his fingers out and slicks his dick up between the arch of Daniel's thighs. Gets the head of his dick in place, guiding it to Daniel's lubed, stretched, spit-soaked hole. Daniel's mouth dropping open as Johnny pushes inside. First, with resistance, Daniel instinctively clamping down, but then with the smooth, drippy glide that Johnny thinks might be the hottest thing he's ever felt.

It was heady. Getting to watch Daniel LaRusso dissolve into a slut. 

But not as heady as the way he felt on the inside, how he opened for Johnny's cock then immediately clenched down.

Greedy fucking boy, he thinks, stupid greedy slut.

"God, you are so-"

He doesn't get to finish because Daniel's wrapping his legs around his hips and pulling him the rest of the way inside. Into the heated, narrow line of him, where he's virgin tight even after all the times Johnny's fucked him over the last few months. Johnny tries not to make some dumb noise, go cross-eyed from how good it feels. But he thinks he does anyway. Moans in a way a girl would, all breathy and high.

He looks down at Daniel, balancing himself on his elbows.

"You really wanted this bad, huh?"

Daniel nods, all shame gone.

"Wanted it so bad," he mumbles, frowning as he clenches around Johnny, adjusting. "Fuck me, please."

The please pierces him. Makes Johnny feel big. Important.

So he does. He draws out - holding Daniel's impatient, jittering leg in his hand as he slicks his dick up with more lube - and pushes inside of him again. Breathing out as he sinks in, until his balls are resting against Daniel's ass. Without thinking he reaches down and squeezes it. Gives the soft flesh there a slap. It's barely a spank, more a tap, but it makes Daniel gasp and clench around him. Something to explore later, he thinks.

He fucks him like that. Getting Daniel's legs around his middle and arching him up so he can get every inch inside.

"Yeah, that's right," he says, wishing he could watch the way Daniel opens up for him. "You're so good."

It's a rough slide. Wet but hard, and it makes Daniel tremble, his dick still stiff because Johnny had discovered he likes the pain. Not too much, Johnny never wanted to hurt him bad, but just a little, just enough to make the pleasure feel even better.

It's something that makes Daniel cloudy. When it hurts a little. When Johnny pushes him around, uses him. Daniel described it as having clouds in his head, like everything was fuzzy, would even drool sometimes when Johnny was fucking him, his body growing soft and limp.

Not that Daniel's the only one affected. Johnny's so deep inside him he's almost drooling. Before they fell into this, Johnny never thought you could fuck another man this deep, like you could a woman. Always imagined men's bodies banging together like action figures, and would flinch. Nothing sounded worse. But Daniel's soft and gorgeous and tanned. Buttery-skinned all over. It was so easy to sink into him, to never want to pull out.

Johnny's concentration slips as he fucks Daniel, his eyes falling closed. 

It's a mistake.

Never let your fucking guard down, Lawrence he thinks. Because Daniel's a slippery, sneaky thing, and a second later he gets his leg around Johnny's hips. Manages to flip them over fast, so he's the one on top, using the advantage to push Johnny into the mattress.

He settles down again, his knees on either side of Johnny's hips, bracketing him in.

"Who's in charge now," he says with a smug smile.

Johnny glares up at him. "Fucking cheater," he says, hands straying to Daniel's waist even as he bares his teeth.

"What can I say, I learned from the best."

Johnny feels a lick of anger. Maybe he could flip them back. This time get Daniel on his hands and knees, where he'd have the least chance of slipping away. But he didn't mind that much. Johnny had always loved this position. And he loved seeing Daniel lose himself on top of him.

He watches as Daniel reaches behind him. A little frown between his eyes, as he gets his hand around Johnny's dick. Then, the catch in his throat as he guides it to the right place, slowly sinking down on it until his ass meets the sharp jut of Johnny's hips. 

It's easier this time. His body opening for Johnny with barely any resistance.

"Fuck," Johnny says, arching his neck back. 

"Yeah," Daniel replies, sounding breathless.

Johnny swallows, his sweaty fingers slipping on Daniel's waist. He marvels again at how small he was. How lithe. Imagines seeing the tip of his dick poke up through the skin at Daniel's stomach and the thought almost makes him come. 

Daniel must feel it because he clamps down punishingly. "Not yet," he says, "you can't do that yet."

And there he was. Trying to tell Johnny what to do again. Like he always did, everywhere else.

In a flash, Johnny gets his hand around Daniel's throat. 

"You telling me what to do? Don't think you're in charge because you're on top."

He digs his thumb against the fragile stem of him, right up against his hammering pulse.

They had only done this a couple of times before. Once, one night outside a bar, drunk and making out, Johnny pushing Daniel against the bricks. So revved up and turned on he had done it instinctively, thinking, you're mine. No one can do this to you but me. It had been dangerous, Johnny knew he shouldn't do shit like that when he'd been drinking. What if he was too rough, what if he hurt him? But Daniel had just stared at him, all wide eyes and panting mouth, leaning his neck into the cup of his hand. Coming a couple of minutes later while Johnny jerked him off, one hand down his pants, the other around his neck. The other time had been in bed, when Johnny had pushed him down against the covers, keeping him pinned with one hand against the back of his neck, while the other pulled his hips back to be fucked.

They hadn't talked about it, but they both liked it. Had both been waiting to do it again. 

"Johnny," Daniel says now, his voice muffled under Johnny's hand.

He sounds alarmed, but Johnny knows he isn't. At least not enough to ask him to stop. Because his dick was leaking, smearing wet across his skin, and his nipples were as hard as a chick's. Begging for a mouth, or clamps, or some other kinky shit Johnny thought about sometimes. 

He licks his teeth, fighting the urge to catch Daniel off guard and knock him down so he could fuck him into the floor. 

But Daniel liked having this, this thin shred of control. Hadn't yet been able to give himself to Johnny fully. So Johnny lets him have it. Keeps him perched there on his hips, his hole clenching around his cock like he wanted to milk it.

"Want to ride me?" he asks.

Daniel just nods. As much as he can with Johnny's hand tight around his throat.

"Well what are you waiting for, LaRusso? Do it then, get going."

He punctuates it with another spank. Harder, this time, where he knows Daniel's skin will blossom red.

And Daniel, for once in his fucking life, listens. Rocks down as much as he can, taking every inch of him inside.

Johnny wants to watch, doesn't want to look away from how gorgeous Daniel looks, the smooth glide of his body as he fucked himself on Johnny's cock. But Johnny can't help but loses himself in it again. Mouth lolling open at how good it feels. How raw it is, animalistic. Johnny was used to going back to women's houses. Fucking them in their clean, floral-scented bedsheets and trying to be as gentle as he could. Showering afterwards and having to use their sweet-smelling body wash to scrub away the crust of dried spunk on his stomach and between his legs. Sneaking away in the early hours before they could wake up. But this smells different. It's the smell of rust and sweat, and beneath that, Daniel's pretty boy smell. Sex had never smelled like this before. It had never felt like this. He could be as hard as he wanted, didn't have to hold back, and Daniel fucking loved it. The rougher Johnny treated him, the more he came. 

Now, with Johnny's hand around his throat, his cock buried inside him, it doesn't take long.

Not long until he's growing still and coming all over himself.

With women Johnny never really knew. If they came. If they had enjoyed it. With Daniel it's obvious. He clenches hard like an elastic band gone taut and shoots all over the tanned plain of his belly, right up to his chest, near his chin.

It's hot as fuck. Maybe the hottest fucking thing Johnny's ever seen.

Daniel recovers for a moment, trembling on top of Johnny's dick, where he's still hard and aching inside of him.

Finally he fixes Johnny with those dark eyes, his chest heaving, skin glimmering in sweat and come.

"You now, Johnny," he murmurs. "Come inside me."

It comes out mangled. Half-plea, half-command, his thighs trembling around Johnny's bulk.

He was just so small. So agonisingly fucking breakable. 

"Is that what you want?" he asks. "You want my come?"

"Yeah, I want it."

"How bad do you want it?" 

Daniel swipes his tongue against his dry bottom lip. "So bad. I need it, Johnny, please." 

"I don't think you do." 

"I do, please." More frantic this time, Daniel's voice cracking. 

"Tell me then, fucking beg me for it."

So Daniel does. It all spilling out of him like he'd been bottling it up for weeks.

"Please Johnny, please come inside me. I need it so bad, I need it. I'll die if you don't come inside me-"

Johnny's restraint splits in two. Before Daniel can finish, he digs his fingers into those thin hips and fucks his dick up inside him, relishing the look on Daniel's face. How he gasps like he's been punched in the stomach But it's not enough. Johnny isn't deep enough inside him to come. So he reaches behind Daniel and gets his ass in his hands, spreads him open around his cock, so he can get every inch up into that needy, tight cunt. Not caring if he bruises him because Daniel's his to mark up anyway. He thrusts up once, twice. On the third thrust coming inside Daniel like he's been thinking about all week. Coming so deep, Daniel's bound to feel it. Right up in his guts, where he'll be dripping Johnny for days.

Maybe it was always leading to this, some part of him thinks, to be connected in this way.

He thought it would always be by blood, but maybe it was always meant to be something like this. This bone-deep graft, tying them together.

Johnny opens his eyes, and catches a look from Daniel. Heavy with something, some emotion, his eyes only half open as he stares down at Johnny. But Johnny's out of breath, heart racing so fast he thinks it's about to burst from his chest. Before he has a chance to thumb over Daniel's lip, ask him if he's okay, his hand slips from Daniel's throat, and like a puppet with cut strings, Daniel falls onto the mattress next to him, Johnny's soft cock slipping out of him in a way that makes him wince.

"Hey," he says, reaching out to palm Daniel's hip. "You okay?"

But Daniel doesn't answer. He's a goner, eyes closed, dark lashes brushing his cheek.

Johnny feels himself drift off as he looks at him. Suddenly exhausted, Daniel's skin warm under his hand.

When he blinks awake, they're both on their sides, Daniel's back to him. Asleep too, it looked like, his body rising and falling gently.

Some time must have passed because the sky's darkened outside and it's raining, the soft patter hitting the windows.

Johnny stretches, grimacing slightly at the dried crust of come on his lower belly. That would be a bitch to get off later when he got home. But he can't bring himself to care that much. Instead his eyes stray to Daniel again. All warm and soft next to him, and feels a sudden urge to press close, slip an arm around his waist. But he doesn't. Cuddling was girly shit after all.

So he watches him instead. Takes the quiet moment for what it is.

"Do you really sleep back here," Daniel murmurs suddenly, his voice soft and sleepy.

Johnny blinks. "I thought you were asleep."

"Not quite. This mattress sucks."

"My deepest apologies, your highness. And sometimes I do, yeah, when it's late."

Daniel hums again, sleepy, content, all breath.

Johnny wonders if this is what Amanda gets to experience every night. Lying in bed, watching her husband tick down, his face going softer, losing its lines, his voice going all cottony at the edges. Like all of his worries, everything that made him brittle, was melting away.

"Surprised you don't have a campfire back here. Making cowboy beans or something."

"Cowboy beans? Come on, man."

"I bet you wanted to be a cowboy when you were a kid."

And Johnny can hear the smile in his voice. How he's imagining it. 

"Cowboys are badass," he admits. "I wanted to be Flash Gordon too." 

"Of course you did. You were just like him. Dumb blonde hunk."

"You thought I was a hunk back then?"

"No comment."

Johnny continues to stare at the back of Daniel's neck. Imagines reaching out and stroking his fingers across the baby hairs at his nape.

They didn't really do the afterglow thing. As soon as they had fucked, and Daniel had come down from whatever cloudy place he always went to after coming, they were pulling their clothes on and parting ways. This was new - this cosy stretch of time afterwards where Johnny lay naked, letting the sex sweat cool on his skin - and he feels awkward suddenly. More naked than when he had been inside Daniel.

It comes out of him before he can stop it. "I was waiting to hear from you," he says.

A sleepy questioning noise in response. 

"This week. You know, like a text or something. Not that I care. I just thought, maybe you would have."

Daniel doesn't say anything for a moment. And Johnny cringes. He's about the back-pedal, to change the subject, but Daniel beats him to it.

"I'm sorry, it's just been crazy this week, I've had a lot going on."

"Yeah."

"I thought about you though."

Johnny pauses where he's picking at a loose thread in the bedsheet. "You did?"

"Yeah, you know. I think about you a lot."

Daniel says it casually enough, but he's lost that sleepy note to his voice. He's awake now, more alert. 

"What did you think about?"

"As if I'm going to tell you that."

"Oh yeah? Thought about how hot and sexy I am?"

Daniel snorts. "You're so full of it. Usually it's about how annoying you are. How you're going to get our kids killed."

Our kids. Something about that gets Johnny going. Has him thrumming like an engine, soft cock stiffening against his thigh. He suddenly wants to be inside Daniel again. Wants to slip between those long, bendy legs and drink up every empty space until he's fizzing up and foaming over.

He presses up behind him, snaking an arm around Daniel's middle.

"We could go again," he says, husky against his ear.

Daniel's back ripples as a shudder goes through him. "Right now? You must be joking."

"I'm not. And I think we should. I think we really, really should."

"We'll both be sore."

"It's just- I think you're the best fuck I've ever had."

And it was true. Johnny had fucked a lot of women over the years. Sometimes they were flings, half-hearted relationships that lasted years rather than days, like with Shannon. A lot of the time it was one-night stands. Women he'd picked up at bars. A few times when he forced himself to go to AA meetings. There was always a woman Johnny could lose himself in for a night. He'd done that a lot over the last three decades. Losing himself between a woman's thighs just so he didn't have to spend the night staring at his sad sack reflection, or doing something fucking stupid, like getting glassed in the face outside a shit bar for drinking too much and picking fights with the local meatheads.

Fighting and fucking. Those were the only two things Johnny had thought he was ever good at.

But Daniel was something else. It wasn't just about fucking, about scratching that itch under his skin.

Daniel made Johnny feel like he meant something.

"So romantic," Daniel says, voice huffy with laughter. "Make sure you never write me a Valentine's card."

"What about me? Was I good?"

"You want a rating out of 10?"

"I just want to know. Am I better than-"

Am I better than him, he wants to know, but he stops himself from saying that just in time.

Daniel freezes, as if he knows exactly what Johnny's going to say. And for a second Johnny thinks he might pull away. That he'll push Johnny's arm away and slip off the mattress. Daniel hated when Johnny brought up anything about that, anything about that man and their past. Would brick himself up. Go icy. Anything but answer Johnny's questions.

But he doesn't. After a tense moment he reaches for Johnny's hand. Rubs his thumb across scarred ridges of his knuckles. 

"You're the best I've ever had too," he says, so low Johnny barely hears it.

But he does. And it sets him on fire. Makes him so hard he hurts.

"Let me have you again, come on."

"Johnny, how can you get that hard that quickly-"

"I don't know, you just make me wild. Fucking crazy. I see you and I'm as hard as a fucking rock."

Daniel shivers, his nipples tensing into hard points when Johnny rubs the flat of his hand along his chest.

"I'll do all the work, just let me." 

"All the work? How come you never offer to do that when we're cleaning the dojo after class?"

Johnny feels the frustration build. Like he's on the verge of clawing his skin off and showing Daniel just how much he needs him. Maybe then Daniel would understand that there's a snarling hunger inside him that he can never silence. One that nips at him, that pinches, that bites. It's a hunger he can trace back, peeling all the years back like the skin on a fruit, until he gets to that night on the beach. To the first drop of want that hit Johnny square in the chest, just as Daniel's blood dripped into his fist. He was infected then. The hunger chewed its way in and had never let Johnny go.

"Christ," he says, "stop fucking talking. Just tell me you want this too."

Daniel shivers again, but he nods, and that's all Johnny needs. 

He presses Daniel down, rolling him over until he's face-down on the mattress, and slots into place on top of him. Gets the head of his dick at Daniel's opening, where he's soft and wet, already gaping open for him, and pushes back inside.

It's so easy it makes him dizzy, the soft, barely-there clench making his eyes cross.

"God," Daniel whines. "Johnny, Johnny-"

"Yeah," Johnny says, licking up the salt at the back of Daniel's neck.

He fucks him like that. Just barely. Hardly moves his hips as he pushes his dick inside. Moving forward an inch then back again, rocking into him at the pace of a lullaby. Groaning at how wet and loose Daniel feels, his hole like the sloppiest, sweetest pussy. 

"You always feel so fucking god," he groans.

"You too," Daniel sighs, punched out, pushing back against the sleepy rhythm. "Your dick is so good. I can't, I can't-"

Daniel's fingers are bunched up in the sheets by his head and Johnny reaches up to lace his fingers through them.

He doesn't know why he does it. But it feels right, suddenly. Romantic. Which was fucking stupid because this wasn't romance. This was just two guys fucking to get rid of some excess energy. It didn't mean anything.

But it hits Johnny then, that this might be the only way he can ever have him. These illicit meetings, under the guise of training together. The quick, spitfire fucks. Daniel fitting Johnny into slivers of his schedule when he could disappear for an hour or two. And maybe that would have satisfied Johnny a few months ago. But it doesn't now. He wants to be more than that. He wants to be more than a fuck. He wants to see Daniel wake up in the morning, his hair sticking up from the pillow. He wants to watch him make breakfast and get dressed in his dumb little outfits. He wants Daniel to cook eggs for him. He wants to drive him wherever he wants to go. He wants to train with him, be senseis together, then he wants them to go home and eat dinner and watch TV and he can make fun of Daniel for the girly wine he drinks. He wants them to argue just as much as they do now. But he wants it to end in a kiss. He wants to be the one who gets all of Daniel. He wants to be the only one.

Johnny noses at the back of Daniel's neck. Sucks a kiss behind his ear, where he knows Daniel's sensitive.

"I want to fuck you all the time," he whispers. "I want to take you back to my apartment and tie you up and keep you there."

Daniel shudders. "Johnny-"

"Yeah, want to be your dumb blonde hunk. That's what you said, right? I want to be that for you, all the time."

"Ungh-"

"Want you all to myself. Want you to be mine."

Daniel makes the highest noise. A keening. A wounded cry. "Want to be yours too," he says. "Wanna be yours too."

He doesn't sound like Daniel LaRusso when he says it. Not the pompous, prissy thing Johnny met that day in the autoshop all those months ago. He sounded broken, his Jersey accent thicker than he's heard it in years, all brittle at the edges like he's about to snap into pieces. 

But it's okay because Johnny will be there to put him back together again.

Daniel has always been his china boy.

"Johnny," Daniel says, thick, like he's swallowing a sob. "Please-"

And Johnny knows what he wants. He wants to be full again.

"Do it," he says, "you can come, baby, come on, come for me."

It doesn't take him long. Daniel comes, softer, this time. Stiffening under Johnny, fluttering around his dick, mouthing at the sheets.

At the same time, Johnny comes too. It hurts a little - Johnny isn't used to coming twice in such quick succession - but it feels right. Slotting his teeth against the skin at the back of Daniel's neck, the thought of Daniel going hope dripping two loads of him making him shake.

Johnny presses a kiss to the back of Daniel's neck. Thinks he's about to say something dumb, something dangerous. 

Daniel must sense it too, because he starts to squirm, obviously wanting to be let go. Johnny wants to pull him back. Has an insane urge to draw him back on his side and scoop up behind him. Hold him down. Keep him close. An animal instinct maybe. The urge to protect a mate.

But that was fucking stupid. Come drunk. So he lets Daniel go. 

Squirrely little thing, Daniel hops up almost immediately, though he's unsure on his feet and he wobbles as he stands. 

"I should go," he says. Decisively, like he might say at the end of one of his boring meetings.

Johnny just nods. "Sure, okay."

He suddenly wishes he had a cigarette. He always hated not having anything to do with his hands.

Daniel retrieves his duffel, walking naked across the warehouse, a beautiful stretch of tanned compact skin. 

When he walks back, he takes a pack of wet wipes out of the bag and reaches between his legs to clean the mess of come slipping down the inside of his thigh. It's hot, making something faint coil at the bottom of Johnny's stomach. 

"Hey," Daniel says, when he catches Johnny looking. "Don't watch."

"Does it hurt?"

"No, it's just messy."

He scrunches his nose as he says it, something that shouldn't be cute, but is.

They could use condoms when they fuck. It would be easier that way. Safer too probably. But neither of them have brought it up. Johnny liked it too much anyway. The feeling of sinking into Daniel without anything separating them. Feeling the inside of Daniel's body on his bare dick. Like the way he'd shove his fingers into Daniel's mouth when they were kids, to make him choke, but in a way that was so much better.

And he knew Daniel loved it too. Which was weird because Daniel was so precise and prissy about everything else. Was forever cleaning the dojo and refused to put anything that resembled fast food near his mouth. Yet Daniel still moaned, high and whoreish, when Johnny came inside of his mouth or his ass. The dirtiest fucking thing Johnny could even think of, and Daniel went crazy for it. 

It's always the responsible ones, he thinks. Of course Daniel would be a little freak. 

When Daniel's mopped up what he can, he disposes of the wet wipes in a ziploc bag, which he bundles into a side pocket of his duffel. 

He's in underwear and jeans, and is fiddling with a fresh t-shirt - one of those soft organic cotton ones he likes - when he looks at Johnny.

"We shouldn't do this anymore," he says.

This was part of the ritual too. The guilt. The admonishments. The promise that this would be the last time.

"Uh-huh."

"Johnny, I'm being serious."

"And what do you want me to do about it?"

"What do you mean?"

"You want me to agree, just say what you want to hear?" 

"No. But we should agree that we'll both try."

"Maybe I don't want to."

"Johnny...

"I like fucking you too much. It feels good. And you like it too."

"I do, but... it's wrong. You know it's wrong."

"It doesn't feel wrong. It feels right. Out of everything we've fucking done together, this is what feels right."

Daniel sighs. Waves his hand around jerkily. "This is what feels right to you? Fucking in an abandoned warehouse?"

"I'm not talking about the scenery. I'm talking about you and me. If I'd known fucking you would feel a hundred times better than beating you up ever did, I would have done it a long time ago." 

That makes Daniel smile. "Cocky much?"

"Oh, come on. Like you weren't checking me out every time we bumped into each other." 

"I was usually marvelling at how insane you were. Definitely not thinking about sucking your dick."

He grins. But it fades when he thinks about the possibility of this really being the last time. Because Johnny knew he couldn't stop now. Not when he knew how good Daniel tasted, how he felt beneath him. It was right in a way nothing had ever felt right. Like Daniel slotted into some space in Johnny's life that he hadn't even realised was there until Daniel filled it.

"Do you actually want to stop? And don't feed me some bullshit line, I know when you're lying."

Daniel looks down at his hands. Chews on his nail for a moment.

"No," he says finally, so quiet Johnny can barely hear him.

Johnny sits up, leaning his elbows against his knees, the sheet pooling around his waist.

"Look, no one has to know. It's our business, no one else's."

"It's not that simple. I'm married. You're dating Miguel's mother-"

"Yeah, thanks for the PSA, I know that."

"I'm just saying. It's reckless of us. We both have a lot to lose by doing this."

Let them find out, Johnny thinks. Some self-destructive, stupid part of him says. 

"What's the alternative? We just stop? Try to stay away from each other outside of classes?"

Daniel shrugs. He looks so helpless. "I don't know."

"I won't stop wanting you."

It's awkward suddenly. Risks tipping the conversation into unknown territory. Where things like feelings were discussed. And if there was one thing that Johnny hated, that made him feel like a skinned animal, it was talking about how he felt.

So he eases the pressure. Hides behind jokes. 

"You could just say it's my payment."

Daniel stares at him blankly. "What?"

"You know, for teaching you not to be such a fucking pussy."

Daniel's expression hardens. Goes steely. And Johnny was much more used to that too, much more than that naked, vulnerable look.

"A fucking pussy?"

"You heard me."

Daniel leans in, smiling. "Well it must be hard knowing this fucking pussy is better at karate than you'll ever be."

Fire licks through Johnny. A shimmer of a past rage. 

He sits up quickly, too fast for Daniel to dodge the hand that whips out around his wrist, pulling him back to the mattress.

"Shut up," he says.

"Or what?"

"Or I'll make you."

Daniel's brow creeps up. The kind of sultry, flirty look that got them into this mess in the first place.

"Careful, tiger, even you can't get hard for a third time tonight."

Johnny licks across his bottom lip, head buzzing through the possibilities. 

"I could use something else. I could use my beer bottle on you."

Daniel sucks in a breath. Harsh, quick. He likes this, Johnny realises. The thought of Johnny pushing the neck of his bottle into him.

Christ, and it was a hot fucking thought. The image of him pressing Daniel down on his front again, but this time pulling his hips back, watching as he pushes the bottle inside of his loose, slutty hole.

"Or I could chain you up," Johnny continues. "Come back for you in the morning. Maybe you'll have learned your lesson by then."

Daniel shakes his head, but his eyes just get darker. "You wouldn't. You wouldn't leave me here all night."

And no, of course Johnny wouldn't. But Daniel didn't have to know that.

"Try me," he says. 

Daniel swallows, thick, like his throat's full of Johnny's dick.

"You know," he says, "you're lucky you have such a nice cock."

That takes Johnny by surprise, making him jerk back slightly.

"What?"

Daniel sighs. "It's true. No way would I have put up with you so long if you didn't."

He gives Johnny that sultry look again, biting down on his bottom lip.

"Even your come tastes good."

It's his undoing. Johnny's mouth opens, his grip loosens. And Daniel instantly slips away, giving him a sneaky little look. 

"Bitch," Johnny says when he realises. He'd been played.

Daniel shakes his head. That femme fatale look gone, the mischievous one back.

"You're too easy, Johnny. Always exploit your enemy's weakness, isn't that what you say?" 

"I'll get you back."

"Sure," he says, throwing Johnny's t-shirt into his face. "Now get up and get dressed, you slob."

Johnny does as he's told. The two of them dress in silence. Covering themselves,

Once they make their way outside, the rain's finally stopped, painting the road wet.

As Daniel puts his duffel back in his car, Johnny fumbles a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it. Inhales greedily.

When Daniel wanders back, he looks as awkward as Johnny feels, hands bunched in his pockets. 

It was always like this. When the sex haze dissipated. It's why they never usually hung around for long afterwards. It was suddenly embarrassing, the things they had said in the throes of it, how naked they had been, how wrapped up in each other. 

Daniel smiles faintly.

"You shouldn't smoke, you know. At your age it's bad for your chest."

"What are you going to do, tell the PTA?"

Daniel sighs, then plucks the cigarette from his mouth. He takes one drag of it, his lips touching the exact spot Johnny had his, and immediately scowls. Coughs like a schoolboy taking his first puff, and scrunches up his nose again.

It's cute. Really cute. Not that Johnny could ever admit that.

"God, these are disgusting. If you're going to smoke, at least buy a nice brand."

He doesn't wait for a reply, just brings the cigarette back to Johnny's mouth.

"I really should go. Before Amanda calls."

Johnny nods. They weren't much for making a big deal of saying goodbye, not when they'd see each other in a couple of days for the next round of classes anyway. But all of a sudden, Daniel presses in again. Rubs his smooth cheek against Johnny's like a cat.

"Be good," he says into his ear. His soft breath tickling the hairs at his temple.

And Johnny can translate. Knows that Daniel means, I'll be thinking of you. I'll miss you.

"Will you text me later?"

Daniel nods. "Yeah, after dinner."

"I'm free in a couple of days. If you wanted to, you know, work out again."

Daniel swallows. "Okay," he says after a moment. "I could do that. Make time in my schedule."

He freezes suddenly, like there's something he wants to say. But before Johnny can ask him what's wrong, Daniel ducks in to kiss him. It's a soft, quick thing with no intent behind it, but it still warms Johnny. Makes that space behind his ribs flutter again.

"Or maybe," he says when the kiss breaks, breathing into Daniel's mouth, "we could do something else."

Daniel opens his eyes, face dreamy. "Hmmm?"

"We could go watch a game again, get a beer. Or maybe we could, like, get fucking lunch or whatever."

"Lunch?" Daniel pulls back, a smile tugging at his lips. "Johnny Lawrence, are you asking me out on a date?"

Humiliation hits him like a brick.

"Fuck you," he says. "Just forget about it."

Daniel pulls him back in, looking contrite. "I didn't say I didn't want to. Just let me see what I can do, okay?"

"Cool. Yeah, that would be, whatever, fine, I mean." 

Daniel laughs a little, bunny teeth on display, before his mouth goes soft at the edges.

He plucks some imaginary fluff from Johnny's jacket then backs away.

"See you around, handsome."

That feeling in Johnny's chest goes red. Like a wound. Some fresh agony breaking out inside him. 

He doesn't want Daniel to go. He wants to ask him to stay, to come to his apartment, to spend the night. Not rush back to Amanda and the kids, back to his fortress in Encino, but to stay with him instead. Maybe then Johnny could fix what was wrong with them. Maybe then they could meld together and finally stitch up their wounds. Maybe then the hunger inside him would finally go to sleep. 

Be with me, he wants to say. Be with me.

But he doesn't. Because that's not how things worked.

So he just nods and flicks his cigarette away. Says, "See you, LaRusso," like he doesn't give a shit.

It's only when Daniel's driven away that he shakes the tremor from his fist. That he trusts himself to exhale, shakily, running his tongue along his teeth. Where he tastes blood from biting down on his bottom lip. 

He wants suddenly, out of nowhere, to cry. But he won't. Johnny Lawrence didn't fucking cry.

Get it together, Kreese's voice says in his head. There's no crying in this dojo.

He imagines his skin turning to steel. All his tears drying up, just an itch in his eyes.

He turns and heads back inside, to clean up before he goes home.