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Johnny didn’t even realize the tension in his upper lip as it stiffened slow, his teeth biting down on the inside of his cheek and twisting his face into a sneer. Gyro smelled like campfire and coffee; the smoky, bitter smell trapped in his hair only made Johnny’s snarl curl tighter. He twisted his head away from the other man on top of him, aware only of the places where the other’s green lipstick was smudged all over his skin, knowing that it would be a complete nightmare to clean it off his jaw and neck and lips and chest.
“Enough…” Johnny growled, his hands pressing unconvincingly against Gyro’s bare chest. Gyro continued to press slow, soft kisses under the other’s jawline, pushing his knee another inch further between Johnny’s legs and up against the center seam of his jeans.
“Perché dovrei farlo, tesoro?” His whisper sent a chill straight up Johnny’s spine, right up to meet the tip of his tongue on his earlobe. It had been a few weeks since they had reached a race checkpoint, and probably even longer that they had been able to sleep in an actual bed. It made plenty of sense that they would be all over each other like this, and, really, Johnny wanted it too, but he desperately didn’t want Gyro to have the satisfaction of knowing that.
“You know I have no idea what you’re saying when you’re spoutin’ off all that dumbshit Italian.” His raspy voice caught in his throat when he felt Gyro’s calloused fingers running up the back of his neck underneath his hair, creeping between locks while the other hand explored the skin exposed under the hem of his shirt.
“Some people would have found this very sexy,” A hint of a gilded smile pressed against Johnny’s neck made his skin prickle again. “Can you perhaps try to be one of these people, cara mio?”
“We should be resting and not trying to go at each other like rabbits right now, is all I’m saying.”
“Oh, now, look from which pulpit this sermon is coming, yes?” Gyro picked his head up wearing that same shit-eating grin that he always had on when he knew he had the high ground in some ridiculous battle of wits, this time with green smudges colored outside of every line they belonged in. “Were you not the one that tried to jump me in the tent only two nights ago?”
Johnny squirmed under him, looking up at his partner’s broad chest and blonde locks spilling over his shoulders in the most uncomfortably beautiful way. Rolling his eyes, he pulled him back down by the back of his neck, yanking his face back to his collarbone so he couldn’t see his pale face turning red with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.
“You say the dumbest shit. Just… let’s get a move on, please.”
“With pleasure.”
The two were experienced at getting each other undressed and prepped, often in much less comfortable positions. Johnny laid back and let Gyro run his hands up his chest to push off his hooded top, taking his stocking cap with it and running his fingers through his hair. Gyro really liked to make a show of everything: kissing lips, unbuttoning jeans, interlocking fingers. Johnny really did feel like he valued every part of his body, even the parts he truly, truly couldn’t stand. Truly, it made him sick to his stomach.
It was hard enough that Johnny felt like a little kid underneath Gyro’s body mass without even mentioning how annoying it was when Gyro laid on top of him like this. While having the attention of a brainless Adonis lavished over him was certainly the opposite of a problem, Johnny couldn’t help but compare every square inch of skin that met skin. His thick, flaxen locks down to his waist; his own short and flat. His tanned, olive skin; his own pale and freckled, practically see-through. Gyro was the pinnacle of masculinity, with his stupid hairy chest and stupid sculpted arms and his stupid… well, maybe not all parts of him were stupid.
He could feel his self-loathing turn into arousal as the thoughts of Gyro’s body collided with Gyro’s hands reaching down the back of his underwear.
“Where are you now, polpetto?” Gyro crooned, his voice humming low in the back of his throat.
“All these names are driving me fuckin’ crazy,” Pushing Gyro back off him, Johnny was forced again to listen to his awful, adorable little giggle as he pulled off his own underwear, sitting all the way up to get it off his legs. “Take off your pants, stupid. What’s a polpotto even supposed to be?”
“It is a term of endearment, I suppose,” Gyro made a big show of standing up off the bed and turning his back towards Johnny with a sly grin over his shoulder, his hands working over his belt buckle without a care in the world, sliding off his chaps with his pants. “Though, come to think of it, I suppose you call them in English...” He bit the inside of his lip and twisted up his mouth into a half grin, likely suppressing another dumb laugh before joining Johnny back on the bed and running his fingers through his hair. “Meatballs?”
Johnny could only stare back at him in silence, his lips parted in awe, reaching down to pump himself a couple times if only to make sure he was really still there.
“Shit, Gyro, you really only got one oar in the water, huh?”
“Oh, oh, and I am the one with those terrible idioms and silly names!” Johnny couldn’t help but smile and chuckle a little bit as Gyro roared with laughter, embracing him tightly to his chest and rolling them both over so that Johnny was finally on top.
He’d never been vulnerable enough to be completely naked with someone and still finding reasons to laugh. It scared the shit out of him, but his heart was beating so loud he couldn’t even find it in him to mind.
Johnny moved his hands behind his knees and pulled his legs up to straddle Gyro’s waist, immediately moving down to kiss on his neck so he wouldn’t have to deal with his soft bedroom eyes staring back up at him from the pillow. He was so smitten with him it was almost embarrassing. Gyro got the picture pretty fast, prepping his fingers with some of the lube on the nightstand and getting his hands on Johnny in only a second.
“Can we relax?” Gyro giggled to himself as his fingers dipped into a more intimate location, prodding at Johnny who grumbled something incomprehensible in response. “Maybe I call you bacchettone now?”
“Fuck is that?”
“Ah, someone who is a little tense, who maybe has a hard time relaxing. Do you know what the term for this is in English?” Gyro’s finger pressed in, and Johnny’s fingers curled into a fist, pulling on some of Gyro’s chest hair as he breathed in through his teeth. He knew the answer. It was too poetic. He had to know already.
“You can’t always play the idiot foreigner, y’know.” Johnny exhaled and tried his best to relax around his finger as he slowly slipped another one in.
“Oh, come now, Johnny,” Gyro pouted his lips and made a kissy face up at him, in almost direct contrast to how tense Johnny was sitting up on top of him. “Just tell me, what is the name for this, or else I put my pants back on and I sleep.”
Finally relaxing a little as Gyro moved in deeper, Johnny let out a groan when he felt his fingers curl against the spot inside him that was aching for friction. “Tight-ass.”
The anger that built up inside him felt red hot deep in his pelvis when he saw Gyro bite his lips to keep from laughing. He gritted his teeth and moved his hands, pressing into his wrists to keep from falling off. It… it was pretty funny. But if he laughed, Gyro would too, and this didn’t seem like the time or place. Fortunately, Gyro pressed his fingers into him again, and whatever laugh that was going to come out burst into a moan that was louder than he expected it to be.
“Ugh!”
“That good, huh?”
“No, ugh…” Johnny pushed his hands against Gyro’s chest, hoping to try to angle his hips closer into his partner’s fingers. This was the only time he couldn’t handle his paralysis. The horse racing, the wheelchair, even the lack of ramps in front of buildings were small potatoes when Gyro was in control of where he put his hands. It was frankly unacceptable. “Could you just… I need a little more than what you’re giving me.”
“You are so serious, tesoro,” Gyro used his other hand to balance Johnny, running his fingers up his side and reveling in the goosebumps it sent down his arms. “All I want from you is that you are a little more cute when you ask for things.” He slid another finger in slowly, only up to the first knuckle and moved his other hand’s thumb up and over his obliques. “Can you do that for me, Johnny? Can you be cute?”
Johnny’s face was practically throbbing with how red it felt. He could feel the blush on him creep all the way down onto his shoulders and chest, his ears ringing, and he could finally understand what it meant to make someone’s blood boil. The only issue was that he couldn’t figure out where his anger turned itself to arousal; he could hardly figure out what it was about Gyro’s stupid sense of humor that made something deep inside his bones ignite.
“Can… Can you…” Gritting his teeth, Johnny steadied himself, holding Gyro’s wrist against his body, certain he would disappear if he removed it. “Can you get the lead out and fuck me already?”
Laughing deep in his belly, Gyro’s abs flexed and bounced the jockey on top of him, making Johnny scowl again. “It is impossible to say no to you, my Johnny.” Flipping him over, Gyro effortlessly caught Johnny in his arm, lowering him onto the bed below him in a quick swoop. Immediately, he went back to his gentle caresses and kisses all over his neck, slowly running his hands down toward his hips before Johnny grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled his head up to face his, tilting it up from where his lips once hovered over his navel.
“Ah?”
“Can you… do something… Different?” Johnny pushed himself up to a sitting position against the headboard, hearing it creak and thud against the wall when he did. He watched as Gyro shifted back onto his haunches like a cat before moving up to sit on his knees in between Johnny’s legs, reaching down to stroke himself once or twice as he gave him another grossly adoring look. Gyro licked his upper lip and let the silence linger before responding.
“Different? What kind of thing is it that you have in mind?”
“I don’t know,” Johnny could feel the heat rising to his face again, and he threw his head to the side, hopeful to get out of Gyro’s intense, direct gaze. “Shit. You’re just so… nice to me.” He reached back to scratch the crown of his head, ruffling his hair a bit. “Rough me up a bit, you know? Treat me… A little less nice.”
“Less nice?” Gyro purred and continued to slowly drag his hand up and down his own cock. “You want me to treat you… rough?”
“Not if you don’t want to…” Blue eyes darted back to where Gyro knelt in the slatted shadows of the blinds, yellow light blazing against his figure. Immediately, he tore his eyes away, overwhelmed by the attention he was still getting. “The hand holding and kissing and the touching and… It’s great, but don’t hold back, y’know?”
Gyro stayed in position, muscles tense, running one hand through his hair to sweep it out of his face. “I’ll do whatever it is you would like, tesoro. Especially because you ask me so nicely.”
--
Johnny’s fingernails clawed for purchase against Gyro’s massive forearm braced across his chest, his back pulling into an even deeper arch as he thrust into him from behind. Gyro’s other arm was holding him around his waist, bearing almost all of Johnny’s weight as he hung loose and whimpering in his grip, legs laid out on either side of his lap. Gyro had plenty of room to thrust up and into his partner, letting out a grunt with every stroke.
“I can’t reach… hah… the bed…!” Johnny could hardly form a full sentence with the speed at which Gyro was thrusting into him. His entire body weight was being held up against Gyro’s arms so he could bend him over and take him from behind and, honestly? It was hot.
Johnny could see himself in the full length mirror across from the bed, flushed and slack-jawed, blue lipstick smudged down to his chin and mixing with the equally bright green smudges all over his body. The motel’s oil lamps cast a flickering shadow over both of them in the new, weak darkness that the sun had left behind recently after its departure. His knuckles had gone white with how hard he was gripping Gyro’s arms, holding on for dear life in one of the most restrained positions he had ever been in. Despite his lack of control, he knew for a fact that he would go insane if he couldn’t have this, if he couldn’t have him, grunting low in his chest as he bent over and fucked him like an animal, holding him so tightly that he knew he was going to bruise from where his fingertips dug into his skin.
“Ah… Are you getting a good view, Johnny?” Gyro purred again, looking up through his eyebrows and flashing a golden grin at him through the mirror. Johnny’s cock stiffened even further at the sight, practically throbbing from inattention at this point. It felt like something out of a dream here; the smell of sex and firewood was intoxicating, and the heat of Gyro’s body against his was almost too much to bear. This was, of course, without even mentioning that Gyro hit the best spot possible every single time he pushed in. It was almost as if he was made to be here with him like this, maybe even made to be with Johnny no matter what. The riding, the corpse chasing, everything from frantic gambling to endless loops on the same path… It all made sense here and now.
That, of course, made Johnny sick. He couldn’t stand being close to anybody, and he certainly couldn’t stand even pretending like he was destined to be with someone. But at times like this, when it was just the two of them stripped down to their most vulnerable, their most whole… Well, he couldn’t help but wonder.
It was tough for his mind to even understand that, though, as he began to reach the breaking point, whining stupidly out of the back of his throat as he tried to form a request to encourage his lover to keep it up. One arm reached down to pump himself, chasing his release as he hung limp in Gyro’s arms, his moans getting louder and faster as he finally found exactly what to say, what he’d been trying to articulate, what he’d been searching for this whole time. He didn’t even need to think about it.
“Gyro!”
“Yes!” Gyro roared back, letting out another throaty laugh, this one huskier than any other one he’s used to tease Johnny in the past. Pulling himself back onto his haunches, he brought Johnny with him, scooping him underneath the backs of his knees and leaning him against his chest to ride out the last, few, blissful moments, thrusting upwards into him while he let his head roll back across his shoulder. He threw out another deep laugh in his chest and punctuated it with a loud spank against Johnny’s thigh.
Johnny spent first, followed closely by Gyro. His orgasm sang up the back of his spine and out of his mouth in a deep, round groan, his heart stopping for just a moment as he saw more stars than he could count. For the first time, Johnny enjoyed being held, enjoyed someone else having the control. He wasn’t limp or powerless in this position; he was fulfilled, amazed, cherished. For once in his life, he was cherished.
The crushing reality of life immediately weighed on him as Gyro laid him back out on the bed, chest heaving and wobbly, sweating from the exertion. Johnny tracked him with his eyes only as he watched him get up and wander towards the bathroom to grab a towel, his knees shaking ever so slightly as he did; the only sound he could hear were his thudding footfalls and both of their labored breathing. It was a miracle he was even able to walk at this point, Johnny thought to himself, thankful for once in his life that he didn’t have to try to make that decision.
Johnny turned his head away from Gyro to look through the slats in the blinds out at the darkened town. The moon shone weakly through the top, casting some of its pale light onto the bed so half-heartedly that Johnny almost felt sympathetic toward it. It was so easy to get caught up in an onslaught of those wild thoughts, those thoughts of love and destiny and fulfilment. None of it was real, none of it was lasting; Johnny furrowed his brow again and felt his upper lip slowly stiffening into a sneer at the thought that someone like him could have this for more than just a second or two.
It was only Gyro’s gentle hands and a kiss or two that seemed to bring him back out of his downward spiral. The night set in with Johnny wondering how much longer it would be until he spiraled out of control.