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Showing up in the middle of the night – or rather very early morning – to Kerry’s villa is not how V expected things to go, but he’s feeling a bit manic, his mind spinning with rampant anxiety-riddled thoughts. Johnny was feeling it, too – he’d been damn near vibrating with uncontrollable energy in the passenger seat of the V-Tech on the drive over. But after the last couple of days that they’ve had – and knowing that in just over twelve hours they’d be meeting with Hanako – the only thing V thinks will calm him right now is Kerry. Johnny steadfastly agrees.
Slinking in through the side door, V has every intention of quietly making his way upstairs and collapsing into Kerry’s bed, but he’s stopped short when he damn near runs into the man making his way down the same set of stairs. “V…?”
“H-hey,” the merc manages, wincing at his shaky voice. He tries to put on a smile but feels he just misses the mark and grimaces instead.
Approaching carefully, Kerry reaches out to his partner, gently tangling their hands together. Guitar-string calloused fingers brush soothingly over V’s tanned skin. “Everything okay?”
Shaking his head with jerky movements, V clears his throat and bounces onto his heels. “Fuck, I—I… I just needed to see you, Ker. I’m really freakin’ the fuck out about this whole Hanako thing. I—I’m gonna be meeting with her tomor—er, today. Later today. Haven’t slept, can’t sleep.”
Pressing in close, Kerry captures V’s lips in a gentle kiss, feeling some of the wired tension ebb out of his partner’s frame. They break apart but Kerry doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against V’s. “Everything’s gonna be okay, baby. You got this, you and Johnny both. ‘Sides, it’s just a conversation, right?”
“Y-yea, but it… it kinda feels like the beginning of the end, too, and I—I—” V cuts off, tries to take a deep breath, and falls short. It only registers a little too late that he’s slipping into a panic attack, worsened when he sees Johnny appear in the corner of his eyes, pacing frenetically, hands dug into his hair. He glitches out of existence for a moment, reappears, and then rounds on V, eyes wide and fearful. Then he disappears once again in a discordant burst of static.
The rocker seems to catch on near immediately to V’s faltering state. He had been privy to years and years of Johnny’s usually PTSD-induced panic attacks, had helped him along through many, at least when Johnny would let him. In this instance, the wild, crazed glint that appears in V’s eyes looks distinctly like Johnny, and when he opens his mouth, his voice has the same rough-edged quality it takes on when Johnny’s in control.
“Ker, I’m scared,” he starts, cutting off with a shaky inhale that only seems to heighten his panic.
Moving his hands to grip at V’s – Johnny’s? – his partner’s forearms, Kerry squeezes gently, applying what he hopes is a grounding pressure. “Johnny, baby, it’s gonna be okay. Everything’s gonna work out in the end, and it is just a conversation.”
“N-no,” Johnny grits out, trying to force a sudden onset of nausea back down. “V’s right, Ker. This does feel like the beginning of the end. This is—this is it. I—I’ll be gone, again. For fuckin’ good this time, and I—I don’t know what that means for me, Ker. And V, he—I—I just want him to be okay once I’m gone. I’m fuckin’ worried about him, Ker.”
Stepping a bit closer so their bodies are flush, Kerry cups Johnny’s face in his hands. It’s odd, because back when Johnny had been in his own body Kerry actually had an inch or two over him, so staring up at him – into eyes that aren’t brown but almost look brown in the lowlight – is a funny sensation. He strokes Johnny’s cheeks with his thumbs. “I’ve got V, baby. I’ll make sure he’ll be okay. I promise you.”
Finally managing to take a breath that doesn’t fall too shallow, Johnny brings his hands up to rest on Kerry’s waist. He’s still trembling, but those sky-blue eyes are magnetizing, and focusing on them is helping bring him back down. “I… I know. Fuck, I know. I’m so glad I told the kid to find you, Ker. Thank you.”
Smiling softly, Kerry strokes back Johnny’s hair and then pulls him for a soft kiss. “Me too, Johnny. And thank you, as well, for… fuck, for everything. I… I’m gonna miss you.”
That does it. The sweltering well of emotion boils over once more, though when Johnny lets out a shaky breath this time, it’s not from panic but from the unequivocal sense of loss he suddenly feels. The tears come far too easily – something he’s gonna blame on V – dripping down his cheeks and disappearing into his beard. “I’m gonna miss the fuck out of both of you. This isn’t… this isn’t fucking fair.”
The broken sob that rips out of Johnny makes Kerry’s heart ache. He gathers him close, hugs him so tight his ribs would creak if they weren’t fucking titanium. He strokes down his back, his other hand curling around the back of his head, fingers slipping through the long soft locks. “I know, sweetheart. I know…”
They stand like that for a while, Johnny sobbing against his shoulder, the overflow of every single fucking thing he’s felt for the last eight or so months hitting him like a goddamned freight train. At some point they sink to the ground but Kerry never once lets go or moves away, instead wraps around him like some sort of shield, as if he could protect V and Johnny both from everything that’s to come.
Once Johnny finally manages to wrangle himself back to some sort of sensibility, he takes a deep breath and leans back, bringing a hand to wipe at his eyes. “M’blamin’ V for that,” he mumbles, even if it’s only half-true. His heart is heavier than he’s felt in a long time – probably not since Alt died. That was probably the last time he’d actually cried like that, too, though in that instance he’d been entirely alone in his shitty little apartment and drunk out of his mind.
A hand cards through his hair once again, tucking the strands back to get a good look at Johnny’s face, somehow still recognizable despite it actually still being V. “Feel better?” Kerry asks softly.
The only response Johnny can muster is a nod, but he’s rewarded for it anyways with a soft kiss that quickly deepens. He brings a hand up, pulls Kerry closer once again, practically pulling the rocker into his lap. He’s suddenly in no rush, even if exhaustion is beginning to set in. He needs this – one last kiss, one of the many things he’d never been able to do before he died.
It seems that a part of Kerry needs it, too, because when they break apart there are tears glimmering in his eyes. He blinks them away quickly and dives back in, capturing Johnny’s mouth in another searing kiss, swallowing the groan that emits in response. The kisses quickly turn fervid, desperate, and before either one of them register what’s happening, they’re stumbling upstairs and stripping out of their clothing, only to fall into bed together.
Johnny brackets himself with his arms on either side of Kerry’s head, ruts against him, swallows the needy keen that slips out of the rocker. They break when Kerry suddenly pushes against his shoulder. “J—Johnny, wait, p-please,” he tries, doing his best to up his conviction.
It fails when Johnny hits him with a wide-eyed stare of desperation and desire. “Please, Ker, please. Let me take you, one last time, please,” he begs, practically sobs, sickeningly overwhelmed by everything he’s feeling.
“But V—”
“Wants it just as bad, promise,” Johnny pants. He wastes no more time and dives back in, reclaiming Kerry’s lips. Blessedly, the rocker concedes and melts against him, arms wrapping around his shoulders and dragging him even closer. As their lips meet again, a part of Kerry twangs with a profound sadness – he’s losing Johnny all over again. For good, this time, all over again. He muffles the sob that breaks forth by licking into Johnny’s mouth, feels him buck in response.
They move quickly, stripping all the way out of the rest of their clothing, and Johnny sits back, chest heaving, eyes that somehow manage to look brown in the dim early morning light studying Kerry closely, mapping every plane of flesh, every soft line that makes the rocker up. His hands ghost down his chest, trail along his chrome, reverent in their touch.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Ker,” Johnny rasps, a wetness to his voice that borders on more tears. He clears his throat, drags his eyes down the rocker’s body, following the movement of his hands as they slide across his abs. One moves further down, strokes along his cock, earning a whimper and shiver from the man beneath him for his trouble.
Reaching up, Kerry cards his fingers through Johnny’s hair. “C’mere,” he breathes, “not done kissing you yet.”
Never one to refuse, Johnny ducks back down, capturing his mouth once more. There’s something far more tender in the action and time seems to slow around them as they revel in the moment, of Johnny’s hand languidly stroking Kerry’s cock, of the way their lips slot together seamlessly, like they always have, like they always will. With V, with Johnny… two halves of the same whole, and the two men that Kerry has never loved more.
Feeling like he’s going to burst, Kerry has to pull back, take a deep breath. “Please,” he whispers, trying to find his voice. Johnny simply nods, sitting back just to reach for the lube that he flips open and coats his fingers with. His hand is trembling minutely; he tries not to think about it too hard.
Lube sufficiently warmed, Johnny’s other hand – the one with the ghost of a silver arm over it – finds purchase on Kerry’s thigh and hoists it up slightly. Kerry goes willingly, his body pliant beneath Johnny; all of the yoga he does sure as shit pays off. Johnny finds his entrance and slowly pushes a finger in, feeling Kerry tighten for just a moment before relaxing into the bed with a soft sigh.
Years of experience make working Kerry open a relatively easy task, which Johnny’s thankful for in that moment, because all he really wants is to feel the sensation of being buried deep in his best friend… best friend? Lover, more like, and the thought makes his heart launch into his throat. He has to pause to take a deep breath.
Kerry’s impatience kicks in, and he jerks his hips upwards slightly. “J,” comes his breathless voice, “what are you waiting for?”
For what it’s worth, Johnny chuckles. “Nothing, lover,” he purrs. The surprised expression on Kerry’s face and the way he shivers at the nickname delight Johnny, and he surges in to kiss him hard, stealing any errant questions from his lips. He works to slick his cock, making sure that the Jacob’s Ladder is sufficiently coated, enjoying the sensation. He’d never had anything pierced in his own body, though he certainly wished he’d considered it. Too little, too late, he supposes.
Lining himself up, and hiking Kerry’s thigh up just a little higher, Johnny pushes in. He groans as he does so, as his cock is swallowed by tight, hot walls. Kerry gives to him easily, his body fervently familiar with V’s, mewling beneath him at the sensation of being filled. Johnny sinks to the hilt and has to pause, catch his breath, at the overwhelming surge of emotion he suddenly feels in that moment. A ghost of a touch wraps around him, V’s voice echoing in his ear, a broken hitching sob, “I love you, I love you, I love you, both of you.”
It makes his eyes sting, and he squeezes them shut, bowing his head. A hand slides along his jaw, calloused fingers gently stroking his beard. When his eyes flutter open, Kerry’s bright blue ones are gleaming, filled with unshed tears. He figures he wears a similar expression.
“Sweetheart,” Kerry murmurs, the hand ghosting upwards to collect the tears that rebelliously fall on his thumb, brushing along Johnny’s bottom lashes. “What’s goin’ on?”
Bowing closer, Johnny rocks his hips, hears Kerry moan sweetly beneath him. “Talk later,” he huffs, trying to put his whole being into the moment, focus on the act. The hand on his cheek moves into his hair, tangles there, as he picks up a slow but steady pace – one that allows him to pull nearly all the way out before sinking back in. From Kerry’s soft sighs and musical moans, it’s obvious he’s more than enjoying it.
It's a lot more like lovemaking. The last time Johnny can remember experiencing this was also with Kerry over fifty years ago, shortly after Alt died – shortly after he tried to live out his stupid knight-in-shining-armor moment and fucked everything up instead. He tries to not dredge up the memory any further, buries his face in the crook of Kerry’s neck, traces the chrome with his tongue and nips gently at his skin.
One of Kerry’s hands is still tangled in his hair, the other clutched tight to his forearm, blunt nails digging into his flesh. He’s pliant beneath Johnny, willing to bend however the other man needs, surprisingly docile compared to his usual fiery passion and determination to chase as many orgasms as he can eek out at a time, either from himself or his partner.
It’s not long, though, before Johnny starts picking up the pace, rocking hard and finding a way to dive deeper, stroking Kerry’s prostate when he angles just right. Kerry’s arching beneath him, head pressed hard into the pillow, lips parted in ecstasy, moans and pants falling from them easily. Johnny works to take him apart while he chases his own orgasm.
There’s a breathy babble from the gorgeous rocker beneath Johnny, a discordant melody of, “fuck, fuck, fuck, Johnny, I—” and then he’s coming, hard, painting his abs with ropes of cum, hole pulling tight against Johnny’s cock. That’s all he needs to go flailing over the edge, breath hitching as he rolls his hips through the orgasm. His mind is whited out by the pleasure, of being with Kerry, of feeling whole.
Johnny manages to find his voice enough to utter a single word, broken and pleading. “Kerry,” he sobs, dropping his head down to Kerry’s shoulder, the waves of pleasure shuddering through his frame. In the back of his mind, he hears V make the same plea, can feel the way he sobs through the afterglow, and it makes his breath hitch again, throat constricting.
Arms wrap around him tightly, pulling him upwards. Johnny goes with, sliding out of his lover, wrapping his own arms around Kerry’s frame to hold him close. “I love you, Johnny,” Kerry whispers, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “I will always love you. Thank you for everything.”
Choking on his words, Johnny can only manage to nod at first. He’s already feeling himself recede, being yanked back into V’s mind, but he manages to blink his eyes open long enough to study Kerry’s gorgeous face, finally finding his voice somewhere in the process. “I fucking love you, Ker. Never forget.”
And then, he’s gone. When V blinks again, his eyes almost seem to shift, glowing crimson in the sunrise. Kerry smiles wistfully, stroking V’s cheek gently. “Hey, sweetheart.”
Heavy clarity settles on V’s shoulders, and he smiles sadly. “Hey, baby,” he murmurs before pressing a soft kiss to Kerry’s full lips. “Thank you. He… we both needed that, but Johnny especially.”
The shaky breath Kerry takes alludes to the whirlwind of emotion he’s feeling. “It felt like a goodbye,” he whispers.
“Because it was,” V confirms. He watches Kerry’s face crumple, and then the rocker is sobbing, ducking against V, holding him tight. His own tears come easily, pouring down his cheeks, as he holds his partner close.
They lay like that for a while, crying and mourning, until both eventually drift to sleep.