Work Text:
"Circuit Breaker"
Static. The familiar, tinging sensation that always arrived after his wires fried and his circuit boards singed. Vincent could feel the synthetic sinews under his muscles tense, then relax, and tense once more. The persistent headaches he endured had made an uneasy truce with him. Yet, it meant he still felt alive. He’d been warned that he might’ve had a year, or if not less, left until his brain became stew. Despite that, it’d been over a year and he hadn’t lost too much of his cognitive independence. An occasional nosebleed, a seizure here and there, or acute paralysis was the least of his concerns. The most awarded and gifted surgeons, and their more-so techie counterparts, ripperdocs, gave him props in being so lucky. Vincent didn’t think of it that way – more so, Johnny didn’t either, as the rockerboy lodged into his brain folds didn’t like to mull over the inevitable.
Viktor tended to burst into tears whenever Vincent went in for their bi-weekly appointments. He’d operated on Vincent as many times as the mercenary could count, but it didn’t make their time together any less gut-wrenching. Vincent’s brain scans were an awful amalgamation of dark spots and uncertainty. Most of his body, although inorganic from years of mid-grade and top-shelf implants, held pains that not even Viktor could remedy. His cybernetics; specifically, those involving his optics, were the most tenacious. There were days where Vincent could hardly see; an occupational death wish given that Vincent was still a mercenary, whilst other days he was overloaded with tears and glitches. Over the course of the last few months, his mantis arms would decide to unfurl at random, or decide not to work much at all. Vincent very much trusted his gun now rather than his implants. Not even the best ripperdocs in the city could figure that out. Night City favored the survivalist, not the ones who are technologically-challenged, and the mercenary had a cred to live up to. His name forever etched in the concrete hellscape that was Night City.
Vincent tried not to fret much in what his body couldn’t achieve anymore. If his circuits were to fry tomorrow, he’d be fine with it. There wasn’t a single merc in the Afterlife who didn’t know his name, let alone his drink of choice, and he had a name that wasn’t easily forgotten. Vincent made friends along the way; some near, whilst others beyond the living, and they would leave flowers for him at the Columbarium. His heart, however, had an input for one and only.
Vincent rolled over in a bed that was thrice the size he was used to; much more than his pitiful mattress back home. Next to him was his output, the rockerboy legend himself, Kerry Eurodyne, beautifully asleep. Vincent watched the gentle rise and fall of Kerry’s chest as he slept. He reached over to trail his fingers down the long, golden tresses of implanted metal along Kerry’s neck and collarbone. His fingertips reacted to the metal with a bit of a warm, buzzed-like feeling as it treaded along. His output was a deep sleeper especially after a night of drinking. Vincent had learned that after Kerry’s last tour in Prague left the man catatonic for damn near a week. He didn’t mind it, really, and it gave him some reflective moments. The large glass panes of Kerry’s villa invited the sun in a warm embrace over their bedroom. Last night’s escapades were revealed in the morning gaze; bottles of spilled liquor, the occasional guitar strewn here and there, and the party favors.
Kerry toured for weeks, if not months, at a time which left V indulged in his work far longer than either of them would’ve liked. There were only so many Tyger-claws and Animals to blast holes into before it became a chore. So, when Kerry was able to return home, they tended to rock on, and that much rocking on needed its vices. V wasn’t much as a partygoer as Kerry and he had a stamina the merc couldn’t compete with. The party favors helped in that regard.
The mercenary had stifled a laugh that stirred up with the memory. As much as Kerry complained that he was such an old man, he had V pinned in ways that the younger mercenary hadn’t thought possible. V flushed at the memory.
Kerry rolled over onto his side and V became silent again. On top of being a deep sleeper, he hated to be woken up before noon. The difference was like night and day; V reveled in the sunshine whilst Kerry yearned for night’s comfort. The mercenary slipped out of bed with a bit of reluctance. He wanted to embrace his lover, smell him deep, and try to remember how good it felt to be able to feel him yet, he couldn’t bear to think one day it’ll be all gone. His feet felt cold on the tiled floor as he had to maneuver around the bottles and paraphernalia. He found most of his clothes along the way as it trailed into the bathroom. He collected it up into his arms and discarded them into their shared laundry. The bathroom had seen its share of aftermaths as well; there was at least a bar’s worth of liquor lined up on the counter. An honorable mention of someone’s undergarments remained displayed proudly over the shower door. V sighed and moved most of the bottles onto the floor.
“When was the last time the maid was here?”, he questioned and looked how much mess had accumulated.
Once enough space had been cleared over the double-sided sink did Vincent run hot water and scrubbed his face. His optics had begun to display his body stats; his temperature, heart rate, how much endorphins pumped in his circuits. Once he blinked, the stats disappeared and he was given an overview of his general health; normal. Yet what was going on up in his brain was far from normal. He reached to turn the water off and for a towel. He dried his face and when he looked back at his reflection did, he see the familiar glitch of Johnny appear in the corner. He acknowledged his rockerboy engram with a simple nod, and Johnny returned it with a generous ‘middle finger’. When V got drunk or high enough, Johnny had mentioned multiple times it made him want to shove iron in his skull. Befitting end, really, as V could say the same towards Johnny. He liked to be drunk. Not always did V wanted to be reminded that at any given moment he could drop dead, and liquor took the edge off just for a moment. It made their relationship even more quarrelsome when Kerry had V bent over like a joytoy on Jig-Jig Street. The latter made the rockerboy retch. Vincent knew of Kerry and Johnny’s relationship, much more than what he would’ve liked, and it didn’t phase him much either. As much as Johnny would’ve argued, he kept a love for Kerry as much as V did. Possibly not an unhinged, erotic kind of love, but a kind that left a lasting mark, even fifty-years later.
V tried to be conscious of Johnny’s feelings though. It wasn’t entirely his fault he was privy to V’s every waking moment – his thoughts, his actions, or his orgasms. The pills Misty gave to him in the beginning of V and Johnny’s uneasy confinement only worked for so long, and even then, Johnny would’ve felt it eventually. Just like V was acutely aware whenever his second passenger smoked, and extinguished the cigarette on his neurons, Johnny probably felt it every time V jerked off. Neither of them made it a discussion. In some way, V must’ve thought it was the only way Johnny could feel something besides taking his body for a joyride with Rogue.
V didn’t mind it either. Johnny had needs, even as an engram, and who was V to deny Johnny some kind of normalcy in their abnormal predicament. Rogue didn’t take too much joy in the arrangement at first and it took a lot of conversations between the both of them. However, the legendary fixer came around the more her, V, and Johnny worked their terms. For only a set number of hours could Johnny take over V’s fleshy husk, and absolutely nothing more than what was allotted. In return, V had no recourse in furthering his relationship with Kerry.
Static. There was an uncomfortable silence between the mercenary and the rockerboy engram. V waited on bated breath for Johnny to either say something, or abruptly decide to throw him around the bathroom for old time’s sake. However, the engram did neither, and in fact, Johnny glitched and reappeared at V’s side in the mirror. He lowered his aviators and look at V for a long time, longer than he ever has, and frowned. V kept his stare towards himself.
“You look like shit by the way.”, Silverhand commented and he pointed out the darkness around V’s eyes. “More shit than usual.”
The mercenary, not able to take Johnny in the slightest bit serious, broke his hardened stare and laughed towards the engram. Every morning did Johnny break the ice with a somewhat friendly insult. Even after a year of tribulations and fucked-up shit did Johnny poke at V’s circuit boards. It must’ve been surreal that they made it this far when initially their partnership was going to burn out within six months. Yet here V and Johnny were – waking up in a rockerboy’s penthouse with an infinite amount of booze, drugs, and street cred out of this world.
“And yet, the sun is shining and I’m still standin’.”, V replied and pointed towards his temple. “Hope we didn’t keep you up.”
Johnny turned his back to V and the mercenary saw the familiar glow of a cigarette lit. He could smell the musky tobacco as if he had smoked it himself. The rockerboy exhaled and shrugged his shoulders.
“Used to it, really.”, he agreed. “It’s like you’re a guitar with some fucked up strings.”
“Only the right pick can get you to make a note.”
V raised an eyebrow at Johnny’s comparison. He waited for Johnny to elaborate but he didn’t and instead, glitched again out of V’s views, and probably somewhere where V couldn’t reach him. The mercenary continued with his morning routine; brushed his teeth, showered, and dressed for the day. By the time he finished, V could hear Kerry amongst the living. The mercenary walked back out into the bedroom and saw Kerry sat upright in bed with his head buried into his hands.
“Mornin’, sleeping beauty.”, V teased his rockerboy as he crossed the room, mindful of the mess along the way. He flopped back down on the bed which made Kerry reveal his scrunched-up face. The older man, in the nicest way possible, looked more like shit than what Johnny mentioned to V. The sunlight made it no better; he truly did reflect a night’s worth of alcohol and bad inhibitions. His five-o-clock shadow was deep and scruffy. The bags underneath his eyes looked like a deep, plum-like eyeshadow.
Yet, that was made V’s circuits melt. He leaned in to sneak a successful kiss from Kerry’s lips. The rockerboy pulled away for a moment to yawn, but V pulled him back in and stole another kiss, this time towards the cheek, then the lips, and back down towards the jaw. He tasted like cinnamon. The mix of cologne and last night’s booze Kerry bathed himself was a stark, harsh smell in contrast, but V enjoyed the assault on his senses.
“You didn’t close the shades.”, Kerry bemoaned, just as V fell into his lap. He looked down at his output in his lap and smiled gingerly. “You know I can’t stand the sun.”
“Ker…”, V began. “You aren’t a vampire – you won’t burn to a crisp if you wake up at a decent time.”
The rockerboy bent down further to seal V’s compliant with another hot, heavy kiss. He gathered more of V into the bed until the mercenary was practically curled into his lap like a cat. Their lips remained locked as a battle of fleshy dominance commenced with their tongues. V tried to break away first, but Kerry held him firm as it felt he was sucking the life from the mercenary. V held onto Kerry’s shoulders as an anchor as the rockerboy pulled him up to fully engulf him on the bed. The blanket that pooled around Kerry had fell dangerously low until V could make out the outline of his output’s input. Their kiss ceased with a long trail of salvia from their lips. V huffed and gazed at Kerry longingly. He felt Kerry’s plated hand caress him from his jaw then towards his ear.
“I’ve missed this.”, Kerry admitted. “Like fuck, V, this doesn’t get old.”
The mercenary said nothing, but just took in the sight. Kerry was beautiful, despite what his boyfriend would say otherwise, and he was relieved that today his optics decided not to act up. He made out all the fine lines, wrinkles, and blemishes that too much time on the big screen seemed to blur out. He loved imperfect Kerry; the Kerry that would hoot and holler if it meant it would make V laugh, or the musician that could write a thousand songs just for only one to be one V would sing back to him. Kerry had rebranded himself and Samurai, thanks to Johnny’s intervention, and it made him much more than an already legendary rocker. That persona millions of fans fried their vocal cords cheering for was all V’s.
“You need to stay home more, Ker.”, Vincent playfully chastised. “You’re getting up in age and how am I expected to keep house?”
Age meant nothing in 2078; nearly everyone could extend their life beyond the biological clock. What life couldn’t replicate, technology supplemented with artificial hearts, lungs, and even brains. Yet, V felt his chest sting when he thought that his life wasn’t something he could easily extend. He soured a bit and Kerry must’ve picked up on his discomfort. The rockerboy’s expression softened. He caressed Vincent’s face with both hands and lowered himself to touch foreheads. The mercenary sighed and embraced his boyfriend. Every touch and moment required this kind of tenderness in hopes that what afterlife may be waiting for V, it would be something he could take as a memento. Before, when V was still at the precipice of what to make of his end, was he offered a temporary stasis with Arasaka. Takemura urged him for many weeks until V had enough. He denied it many times, citing that there was still fame and glory to chase in Night City, and he would rather expire on his own terms. Eventually, Takemura and Arasaka rescinded their offer. Yet, V felt the weight of his decision hang heavy on his heart as he didn’t want to part ways with his friends, his output, and unironically Johnny. Just a few steps away did Johnny reappear in the corner of V’s eye with crossed arms, and a stare that could short-circuit an edgerunner like nothing.
“Oh don’t mind me, kid.”, Johnny said with a bit of annoyance in his tone. “I’m not going to watch you get your strings plucked.”
V furrowed his brows. He finally realized what Johnny meant earlier and it made him seethe a bit that he didn’t catch it before. He was the guitar and Kerry was his guitar pick. He rolled his eyes and he gave Johnny the middle finger in his head. It prompted his rockerboy engram to cheese a smile before evaporating back to whatever brain fold he found most comfortable. Kerry raised up to look at V in the eyes.
“Johnny?”, the rockerboy questioned. “Or something else in that head of yours.”
V shook his head. He relaxed and ran his hands up and down Kerry’s toned arms. He used his fingers to trace along the tattoos etched upon tanned skin which earned him a huff of approval. It was little to no in-between on whether V should mention Johnny to Kerry. Some days, Kerry would fly into a heated binge over how much he hated Johnny’s guts, while other days, the poor rockerboy drank himself into tears when he remembered his ex-bandmate. If V always told Kerry that Johnny was present when they made love, he didn’t want to read Kerry’s demise from jumping out of a skyscraper. So, Vincent chose to lie, and it made no difference whether Kerry believed him or not when the mercenary laid hot and bothered underneath him.
“Nah, but if you’re looking to get your input off, you better hurry – I got a job today.”, V averted his eyes down towards Kerry’s waned erection. The rockerboy looked down and grinned sheepishly.
“When do you not have a job, eh?”, Kerry asked just as he began to peel V out of his clothes. “Take a day off for once.”
When I’m flatlined. V wanted to say but he resorted to silence as he allowed himself to be disrobed. “No, seriously, I have to delta before noon.”
“The job can wait, yeah? Spend some time with me.”, the rockerboy suggested as he threw the blanket off his backside. V stared at Kerry’s perfect nudity which made heat pool between his legs. “Even a guitarist gotta stop playin’.”
“I could ask the same for you too, Ker.”, V helped Kerry make the process easier by raising up and letting his shirt be thrown about.
“Six albums in a year? That’s preem.”, V said like a groupie with stars in their eyes. “But when’s the hiatus, huh?”
The rockerboy basked in the praise. The art block that once drove him to almost blowing up a bunch of popstars seemed to channel into musical enlightenment with V’s intervention. Kerry could write, produce, and go global with an album in a month’s time with as much effort it took to piss. In a way, it was almost inhumanely surreal that Kerry found his spark again.
“Yeah, and now I’m the king of the fucking charts.”, the rockerboy ran his hands along Vincent’s scarred body and he took special care to press where V’s implants laid nestled under the skin. “Another six albums and I might slow down.”
“Fuck, Ker, this job can’t wait…”, Vincent tried to plead. “You know it can’t – please let me go at a reasonable time.”
The mercenary squirmed a bit when he felt the implants shift underneath his skin. Kerry had a precise way when it came to making V melt; his fingers were as precise as a bullet to the dome. Unironic that V knew what that felt like. He would roll his knuckles underneath V’s armpits, down his sides, and over his belly button. The last spot made the mercenary’s hips buckle upwards. He could his synapses spark up the more Kerry wanted to massage his body.
“We got the time…”, the rockerboy ignored V’s request. “Nothing but time.”
Vincent would disagree, as much it would’ve pained him to admit, and Kerry knew it. They were lucky enough to have a full year without V turning into a vegetable, but what about the next one? V couldn’t focus on what his output was giving to him because of that singular thought; time wasn’t finite for them. The more he tried to push it back did it come back into mind.
“Kerry…”, V asked again. “Please…”
“What beautiful notes are ‘ya gonna make me today, huh?”, the older rockerboy teased, and then he dug his knuckle particularly deep into V’s hip. That earned him a strangled cry under V’s breath as the mercenary attempted to wring himself away from the touch. He found no mercy in Kerry’s torture and it wasn’t until his boyfriend made him completely nude did, he realize he wasn’t going to make it in time. Whenever Kerry got this obsessed with toying with V’s body did the mercenary know he was in line for a sore, yet happy body.
Rogue is going to flatline me. V winced at the thought. Nothing triggered Rogue’s fury more than tardiness, which unironically, V had inherited from Johnny. She meant well, really, and she could be placated with some intervention from her former rockerboy. Vincent didn’t want to test those waters, but the thought dissipated from his head when he was haphazardly flipped onto his stomach. His hips were raised up until his back was at a nice, curved arch. V had braced himself onto his arms to catch a glimpse of what Kerry was doing behind him.
The sun was up higher in the morning sky now. The warmth that beamed from the glass panes combined with the coolness of the sheets underneath them offered a sensual equilibrium V liked. Kerry kneeled behind him without an uttered word. He took in the sight of V like a painter does a subject. A set of hands rested on the back of V’s thighs and gingerly parted them until V felt he was at his limit. He wasn’t flexible at all and no cyber implant could make him so. His erection blossomed and hung dangerously low between his legs. Underneath him did V spot Kerry’s cock unfurled and glistened. Vincent swallowed hard as he kept his hips at the preferred height.
“Don’t take too long.”, Vincent heard himself say. He shot another glance at Kerry’s face; focused, yet full of salacious promise. The rockerboy gave him a quick, yet heavy-handed swat to his ass which prompted Vincent to hiss between his teeth.
“Hey now…”, Kerry huffed as he took note of Vincent’s impatience. “You’re in my bed, remember?”
V couldn’t forget if he tried. Kerry led their relationship with a tight leash. He was the older, and V, the younger, and it was more realistic that his older output set the ground rules. The rockerboy didn’t rush sex; it was one of the few things that Kerry said made life worth slowing down for. V just thought it was because Kerry was an old man and couldn’t keep up. Night City didn’t slow down, so why should he?
Vincent surrendered and buried his face into his arms. He wasn’t going to win this fight. He steeled himself for whatever Kerry was going to do next. His boyfriend obliged him with a nudge here, a pinch there, a poke wherever he saw fit. It wasn’t until V was oblivious to what was coming next did, he feel Kerry’s warm, wet breath between his ass did his circuits spark. He threw his head between his legs to catch Kerry’s devious glare, before he felt tongue flatten and lap at his hole. It was over; Vincent completely fell into Kerry’s arms just as the rockerboy nibbled at him. His cock hung with abandon and Vincent mewled his defeat.
His lips remained parted the more Kerry feasted. The sounds of him practically devouring Vincent’s asshole had him drooling. It was a dirty act that gave Kerry the aptitude to continue; his partner hardly having the breath to moan and cry. He intensified his actions as he spat and buried his face deeper into the wanton mess underneath him. His tongue lashed from side to side, then ventured inside, and finally his lips wove together to suck.
“Kerry….”, it was a long, strangled keen that escaped Vincent’s trembling lips. “…fuck…Ker….uh….”
The rockerboy grunted and swallowed more of his lover’s sensitive sex into his mouth. He pumped his own engorged cock in his other hand; the foreskin peeled down and exposing his sensitive head. Vincent humped his cock onto the bed underneath him with abandon; he no longer cared. He wanted this, and a lot more of it, until it made his optics fizzle out. Kerry ejected his tongue from the drenched hole in front of it and replaced it quickly with his plated fingers. The sudden sensation of cold metal into his warm orifice made Vincent gasp. One finger was easy enough, but it was joined by a second, then a third, until Vincent felt himself stuffed to the brim. Last night’s dalliance left him relatively empty, save for whatever may have remained of Kerry’s seed, but Vincent cared little for the prep work. He was lost in his pleasure.
“You sound so good, V.”, Kerry purred as he pumped his fingers deeper, and harder, more persistently into his lover. “Good fucking boy….”
Vincent almost came at the pet name. Kerry enjoyed the dirty talk, the roleplay, the act of it all. The mercenary indulged him as he heightened the tone of his moan. It was a learned skill; something Vincent had to spend a lot of nights in braindances to master. There was a trick with the vocal cords to get that whiny, almost shrill-like cry that stirred Kerry. The mercenary halted his grind just as Kerry held him there, fingers still up his ass, and he felt the tears well in his eyes.
“I need to know something, Vincent.”, the rockerboy mentioned hungrily. “Are you listenin’?”
Vincent nodded and mumbled something under his breath. Whatever Kerry wanted to hear, he’d agree to it if it meant he would continue with those diligent digits inside him. When his output decided Vincent listened to him did he continue his ministrations.
“Admit something to me, babe.” Kerry began and he curled his fingers within V. The mercenary underneath him let out a strangled exhale and he jerked back. “He’s watching, isn’t he?”
Johnny. Vincent buried his face further into the sheets. The last person he wanted to think about was Johnny Silverhand. He knew his boyfriend had a slight obsession with Johnny, given they were in a band for so many years, and Kerry’s one-sided crush, but he didn’t want Johnny anywhere near them at the moment. Even if Johnny wasn’t exactly present in the room, he was in the back of Vincent’s mind most likely blocked out. His head started to ache and his eyes felt the familiar sting of whenever Johnny came into view.
The invisible rockerboy crouched down in front of V with his cigarette between his lips. The ash curled and dropped onto the floor although only Vincent could actually see it. Johnny blew his smoke over V and reached out to tangle his bionic arm into the merc’s disheveled hair. V looked up at those familiar aviators and couldn’t help but stifle his moan through grated teeth.
“Well, am I here, V?”, Johnny probed, almost maliciously, as if he wanted Kerry to know he was watching. “You aren’t my guitar string to pluck.”
“Fuck, come on.”, V argued back, in his head, as he wasn’t going to give Kerry the benefit of the doubt that Johnny was in front of him. “You told me you weren’t gonna watch.”
“I’m not. But, fuck, he’s practically asking me to.”
V shook his head. Johnny let go of his hair and reappeared on the other side of the bed. He extinguished his cigarette into the sheets and kicked his legs up. He lowered his aviators as if he was propped up to watch a movie at the drive-in.
“…No.”, Vincent lied, horribly, which didn’t placate Kerry’s pride. “Checked out.”
Kerry’s digits had grazed the deeper, more sensitive part of Vincent’s ass which made the mercenary go completely silent. He nudged it again, harder each time, until Vincent could only leave his mouth agape in the wondrous pleasure. His cock jumped until it was painfully engorged and pressed into the mattress.
“You’re lying.”, his superstar boyfriend said with a bit of annoyance. “But it’s preem, he’ll hear ya alright.”
Vincent was at the mercy of Kerry’s assault and he could practically feel every implant and wire under his skin fry in electric pleasure. He was a trembling mess with sweat rolling of his freshly showered body. His face flushed and warm. His fingers had dug so deep into the mattress, he was afraid his mantis arms were going to eject from his arms. It took a few more pumps of Kerry’s fingers deep in his ass to make him see stars. And at that point, his optics were completely blurred. He could make out Kerry as he was flipped back onto his back. When his vision normalized, his legs were bent, then pushed up towards either side of his face. Instinctively, he kept his arms up and behind his head in case his mantis arms decided to make an appearance.
The rockerboy above him was a sight to behold. His tatted, bronzed skin drenched in a thin layer of sweat. The way his gold-plated implants kept their glimmer made Vincent acutely aware that Kerry wasn’t just an ordinary rockstar, he was godly. The cock that stood upright and longed warningly for Vincent’s input glistened. Kerry looked down and beamed a smile towards his heavy cock. He stroked it slow, calculated almost, and made an effort to tease V. The mercenary swallowed and didn’t dare to utter anything else. Besides Kerry did he spot Johnny still laying there with his legs crossed and now a guitar between his arms. The engram began to pluck the opening notes of Chippin’ In.
“Look at me, babe.”, Kerry ushered for his boyfriend to look away from wherever Johnny may have appeared. “Don’t look at him.”
“I’m not.”, Vincent flatly denied. “Only you.”
The rockerboy rolled his eyes just as he closed the space between himself and the input underneath him. Vincent felt how heavy Kerry’s arousal was against him; his cock dwarfing his own by quite some length. Kerry grasped Vincent’s cock in-between his own and pumped tenderly which earned him a soft whine. He pumped, twisted, and worked over both of their manhoods until Vincent was a crying mess. An orgasm began to teeter right on the edge on V’s end. He didn’t hold the aforementioned stamina his lover did and he couldn’t hold much longer. Kerry stopped with an abrupt jerk to their cocks which made Vincent hiss at the interruption.
“Let me hear ‘ya say it, boy.”, he huffed. He leaned forward to give Vincent a sloppy, wet kiss onto his lips which the younger man returned with a quick nip to the bottom lip. “My favorite words.”
Vincent beamed and laughed. Whenever Kerry was this deep and passionate in their lovemaking, it made him feel light-hearted. After all, it was all an act and Vincent was an excellent actor. The rockerboy waited a few moments more as Vincent laughed before he sunk his lips against him again. V felt tongue explore around his mouth and almost down his throat; his cock jumped at the depravity of it. When they disengaged did V nod his head.
“Fuck me.”, the phrase escaped V’s lips like a dirty secret. “Fuck me like a joytoy.”
Kerry grinned from ear to ear. To stroke a man’s erection was one thing, but his pride was another. The rockerboy took immense satisfaction in being the only input to make Vincent cum his brains out. He took one arm to pull Vincent’s ass onto his lap, and the other one curled around his neck. Vincent rested his legs on top of Kerry’s shoulders instead. He wanted to feel it deep. He yearned for Kerry to be inside him just as the rockerboy gave his output one more, hard tug to his erection.
“Fuck, V.”, Kerry began. “Cancel your entire week – I’m going to fuck you hard.”
Vincent threw his head back and tried to catch his breath. The dirty talk, the anticipation, and the voyeur on the other side of the bed was too much. He didn’t care how depraved he looked right now – all he wanted was his output to screw him brainless.
“Oh joy.”, Johnny commented. “You two are going at it like rabbits, huh?”
Vincent bit his lip hard enough to draw blood which must’ve made Johnny disappear for a moment, but when he thrashed his head over to the side did, he catch the legendary rocker still next to him. Johnny winked at him and continued to pluck tunes.
Kerry lined up the head of his cock to Vincent’s puckered hole. It took a bit of coaxing, but Kerry slid himself inside the input beneath him. V’s mouth hung low as a low, guttural groan came out his throat. His boyfriend had a size to him and no matter how much he was rimmed and tongued, it was always like hot iron. Vincent held his breath just as the grip around his throat tightened. He held on until Kerry took the initiative to buried himself completely inside; his cock sat comfortably on Vincent’s soft spot.
“Oh fuck….”, Vincent mewed. “Ker…I…”
His output hushed him with squeeze to his windpipe. He could only choke and sputter pitifully as Kerry adjusted himself to stab straight towards Vincent’s ecstasy. His cock showed no sympathy as Kerry rolled his hips at a punishing pace. Vincent could only cry and sob his pleasure as the older man atop of him pounded him. His legs left Kerry’s shoulders only to be folded on either side of his head again as Kerry made sure that the angle he fucked Vincent in was profound. He wasted no time making sure his girth rocked the mercenary into orgasm. Vincent’s cock laid against his stomach as his ass was slammed pliant. He dug his fingers into Kerry’s back until angry, reddened streaks beaded his back. He hung onto him just as Kerry pulled out his cock for but a moment – the head of it barely engulfed into Vincent’s ass, before it was rammed mercilessly back in. The action made Vincent cry hoarsely and tears flow freely forth.
He was no stranger to rough sex, but this time it was rougher, almost sadistic as Kerry went at him with no abandon. His eyes rolled back and the overlay of all his vitals blurred into one conundrum of unreadable code. He was going to come again, and it was coming hard. Kerry didn’t seem close at all, his hips still sending surges throughout Vincent’s circuits and wires.
“Attaboy…”, Kerry groaned and grabbed a fistful of V’s hair. “Watch me fuck you.”
V was forced to watch as Kerry fucked him. He must’ve looked a mess; his eyes tightened, mouth agape, his tongue lolled out the side of his mouth. The room felt like it had shrunk in size. He didn’t care about anything but that cock in his ass.
“Such a good fuckin’ slut you are.”, his input continued as he fucked him. His hips were beginning to buckle and his thrusts more haphazard. Kerry was close especially when he began to talk. “You want me to cum in you, huh?”
“You like being my personal fleshlight?”, the rockerboy continued. “Tight as fuck.”
Vincent could only babble just as his hair was let go and he was heaving onto the mattress. Kerry was over him with the weight of his body nearly smothering what little air between them. Vincent felt teeth graze the side of his neck and he tossed his head to the side to allow those canines to bite down. He was obliged and the sting of being bit flourished from his neck.
“Cum, cum, cum…please….”, Vincent said hoarsely. “Fill me up, fuck, stuff me, fuck me, just cum….”
Within a couple, calculated thrusts did Vincent feel himself being filled. He arched his back off the mattress to feel the last of Kerry’s ejaculation deep in his bowels. The rockerboy above him shuddered and groaned heartily into his neck. That relentless, hardened cock in his ass bottomed out until Vincent felt Kerry empty. When Vincent caught his breath did he feel the afterglow settle in. Kerry still shivered on top of him for a while. V ran his hands up and down Kerry’s back and arms and felt how tense his lover was.
“V…”, he heard Kerry say. “Fuck…”
“I know I’m good.”, the mercenary chirped. “Need a sec, old man?”
That earned V another punishing thrust into his ass. He sighed and said nothing else. A few more moments passed between them both did Kerry disengage his cock from V’s ass. The sudden emptiness made the mercenary exhale, but the afterburn felt amazing. He brought his legs back down onto the mattress and could feel how they ached from being pressed in such a position. His boyfriend looked down at his handiwork and seemed satisfied in the result. He rubbed his spent cock along the flesh of V’s thigh before he hovered over V’s chest. The mercenary didn’t need to put two and two together as he opened his mouth dutifully; allowing Kerry to slip his cock between his lips. His cock tasted equally salty, and bitter, but nevertheless, he slurped and throated the cock in his mouth until Kerry saw fit to stop him.
“How’s that for a goddamn show?”, the rockerboy beamed as he rested himself on V’s other side. He slicked his hair back behind his ears just as the mercenary next to him covered his face with his arms.
“Mhm…”, was all V could hum. “Should I ask Johnny did he enjoy the show?”
Kerry scoffed and rolled onto his back. Johnny had reappeared somewhere on the balcony outside, looking onto Night City, not going ton be baited into engaging with Kerry’s hard-on for him.
“You told me he wasn’t watching.”, the rockerboy retorted.
“I lied.”
Kerry snickered. He knew if V was around, Johnny wasn’t far behind. He truly didn’t need to ask it, but it was all for the act. Vincent sat up and felt the ache in his shoulders and hips. There was no way he could make it to today’s job, even without their intense fuck, not how his body responded to him. At this rate, he would need to see Viktor a lot sooner than next week. Yet, he liked it. Aches and pains made life worth tolerating a bit longer.
“We should clean up.”, Vincent suggested as he pointed to the mess between his legs. “Or are we supposed to have a round two?”
The rockerboy shrugged his shoulders.
“How important is that new job?”, he asked V. “Six albums worth?”
Vincent shook his head.
“Nah, but let’s take a break.”
“Who’s the old man now, Vincent?”, Kerry got off the bed to walk into the bathroom. Vincent surrendered. That’s what he got for being a bully.
He glanced out towards the balcony where Johnny stood. He wrapped the blanket strewn about the bed around his waist and went to open the sliding door. He stood in Night City’s blazing sun with his engram leaning against the balcony’s railing. Their familiar silence was interrupted by the occasional blare of the sirens below them. Up here, Night City seemed so small, almost like a blip in the eye. Johnny lowered his aviators towards Vincent.
“Had enough?”, the former rockerboy suggested. ”Or can we delta out of here?”
Vincent looked back inside the penthouse and watched Kerry maneuver back and forth between their bedroom and the bathroom. He was dressing himself as he could hear the familiar conversation between Kerry and his executives echoed. Vincent had a pained smile across his face. As much as he wanted to tell Kerry what him and Johnny had planned, it was moments like this where he saw Kerry happy did, he not want to break the silence. In another life, they would be happy here in Night City – no Relic burning his neurons, and Kerry a global superstar with his hotshot merc boyfriend. Yet, that wasn’t the cards given, and the game was rigged from the start.
“Yeah man…”, Vincent scrubbed the back of his neck. “Let’s call Songbird.”