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When he had worked for Arasaka getting laid had been easy; everyone in counterintelligence knew of V and his near flawless record, eager to ride both his coattails and himself to the top. Corporations followed Night City’s philosophy of true hedonism, and Arasaka was no different, with corporate parties having plenty of private rooms to spare and quiet approval of those who used their skills and sexual appeal to get to the top.
But here, deep within the Heywood District, the touch of another human being seems like a far off dream. No one wants a corpo in their bed, let alone the one adopted by Mama Well. And like fuck he was about to go to another district to get fucked, not when the Heywood joytoys wouldn’t take his money.
“ Maldito, ” Pepe had told him with a shrug and a shot of tequila. “No one wants to touch you in case you screw up their job too.” V had been ready to argue the ridiculousness of that belief but had remembered all the bags of gummy candies found atop the servers in Arasaka.
So here he is, alone in the shower with nothing but his hand and imagination. Which is fine, completely fine. He’s done this before. It’s just been a bit since he had a cock or tongue to help him along.
Running his fingertips across his chest V shivers, inhaling sharply and enjoying the rush of steam that fills his mouth. He lets his mind wander, trying to bring forth enough of an idea to get him off. Anything to get rid of the stress of, well, everything that’s happened since Konpeki. Jackie, T-bug, dying … He absolutely refuses to think of what came after that.
He starts with the chest. It’s always the chest that draws him in first, his short height putting him at odds with the typical Arasakan and corpo tallness. He thinks of well defined pecs, unable to decide if the muscle is from hard labor and had put their 10,000 hours in at the gym. Unable to decide, he goes for the middle ground, thinking of the dock workers who would spend their daily earnings to use the gym in the Tower. Pinching a nipple between his thumb and forefinger V stifles a groan, digging his teeth into his lower lip as the rest of his fingers trace over the curved scar just underneath.
Hand moving down farther he stops on the outer lips, forefinger and middle finger idly spreading himself as his fantasy continues to build: the chest tapered off into thick arms with biceps the size of his head, leading down to large hands that seemed to span for eternity. In his mind’s eye the chest presses against his back, one arm wrapping around his chest, the hand slotting itself just under his neck, fingertips toying with his pulse points, while the other drifts lower and covers his own hand, urging him to spread himself and work just a finger against his clit. V braces himself against the wall with one hand, body bending as he thinks of the calluses, of thick fingers slipping beneath his folds to tease his entrance, of tattoos that creep down the fingers and…
“Do you think Mama Welles would be alright with you getting off thinking about her dead son?”
Jesus fuckng wept. The fantasy fades and V is left there, finger left on his clit like a finger on a trigger. Raising his head he glares at the interruption: Johnny Silverhand. The rockerboy glares back, or at least V thinks he does. He can never tell with those huge ass sunglasses covering the hologram’s face.
“What the fuck do you want? Can’t even get a moment’s peace.” The omega blocker Misty had given him had only been used once, that first night that Johnny Silverhand had appeared in front of V. He’d chosen instead to suffer, to make the rockerboy suffer with him.
“What makes you think you deserve peace when you’re getting off to a dead guy?” Johnny’s tone is mocking and cruel, and V can see him just out of the corner of his eye as he paces around the small bathroom. His path includes the rest of the apartment when the door opens at V’s prompting. “You’re fucking pathetic.”
Johnny’s tone is mocking and cruel, and it feels like someone’s released a drop of hot oil inside of him. He’s reminded of the authoritative tones of his bosses at Arasake, of the doms he’d take home or find at the corporate parties. It was a dangerous kink to have but a heavy hand and an authoritative voice had always driven V up a wall. The finger on his clit twitches and V lets himself be pulled back into a fantasy.
Johnny’s ranting somewhere in the apartment but his words no longer matter. The chest against his back returns, slimmed down but still solid, and the hand on his throat is cold, guided by anger rather than passion. With two fingers on himself now V rubs harder, faster, and thinks of slim hips thrusting against his ass, taunting and teasing him with the best fuck of his life. If rumors are to be believed Johnny Silverhand was one hell of a lay, but groupies are groupies, so, grain of salt.
Would Johnny Silverhand be rough, V wondered. The type of man to pick up his input and toss them onto the bed, jumping on them before they even had the chance to sit up. V couldn’t imagine him as a kind lover, not after what he’d seen of the man; there would be no feather light kisses along the chest or sweet nothings whispered in the ear. He probably wouldn’t even stay until morning. But, the real question was this: Does Johnny Silverhand go down?
Silver hand, silver voice, but does he have a silver tongue? Even the thought of the man being bad at eating out is a turn on and V’s hips snap forward, fingers dropping from his clit to slide through his wet folds, teasing over his entrance. This isn’t the greatest angle for penetration but he isn’t some high school boy who thinks a tampon will cause an orgasm; he knows how to get himself off.
The heat inside him rises as he works his fingers against himself, legs starting to shake and for a moment V’s worried he won’t be able to support himself when he comes. He’s so close, so fucking close. Just a few more seconds. Keep yelling Johnny. He’s so close, it’s right fucking there-
“Are you seriously getting off on this right now?!” Johnny’s voice cuts through the illusion and he sounds so angry that it drives V right over the edge. With a groan he comes, body bending forward to brace against the shower wall. Pleasure rolls through his body and he can feel it down to his toes, muscles twitching just beneath the skin as they try to loosen up. Vaguely he’s aware of Johnny yelling in the background but right now V can’t bring himself to care.
“-Fucking knew all you corpos are just the same! Getting off to a dead guy twice over, fuck’s wrong with you!” V adjusts, leaning back to watch Johnny as he walks around the bathroom. If he was corporeal he’d no doubt be throwing things, clearing the bathroom sink of V’s beauty regime. Johnny can touch V, and visa versa, but everything else? Everything else makes it very obvious that the man isn’t real.
“Are you even listening to me?” Johnny steps into the shower stall, the water cutting through him. Idly, V wishes he could see him in the rain, or the shower itself. Does he have to take his arm off, V wonders. It’s an older model by at least fifty years and who the fuck knows when he got it installed.
He wonders if the arm vibrates.
Johnny slaps him.
“Hey! Dipshit! I’m talking to you!” V rubs his cheek where Johnny slapped him, hissing at the sting. “You going to get off on that too?”
“What’s the matter? You’d think Johnny Silverhand would want people to get off to the sound of his voice?” Any man that thought himself powerful enough to take on Arasaka and be considered a hero certainly had an ego that got off on something like that.
“Yeah, you know what? I do! Fans! Rockers! People fighting the system, not corpo suits who don’t know a fucking thing about passion.” V half walks through, half shoulders Johnny out of the way as he steps out of the shower, grabbing a towel and running it through his hair. Johnny follows him out and stomps across the room, standing in front of V as he sits on the bed.
“I don’t know Johnny. Pretty sure there’s tons of corpos on all levels who like your music, secretly believing in your ideals and wanting to fight the man. Hell, even the upper heads talked about you being right.” That gives Johnny pause and the rockerboy watches him, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair. V feels him watching him even as he drops the towel into his lap and leans back into the bed, grabbing two bottles of lube and a rather large dildo from the headboard.
It isn’t the largest V’s ever owned, oh no - that got lost when he lost his job and thus his apartment - but it isn’t a clit vibe either. Just a regular human-penis shaped dildo, it's only speciality being its ability to vibrate and the tube that runs through it, from the tip downwards, attached to a barrel and plunger. Pulling the top off the plunger he pours in one of the bottles of lube, the one that’s thick and white and as close as he can get to actual cum without finding the real thing.
“You’re shitting me.” Johnny’s voice breaks his train of thought and V looks up. Johnny stares back.
“I’m not. You know how many uppers came on my face, groaning ‘Johnny, Johnny, Johnny’ while Black Dog blared in the background. So many of them told me I could be one of your posers.” Not a fucking one had ever said he looked like Johnny Silverhand. He had the black hair and the long face and that’s about as far as appearances went. Judging by the look Johnny is sending him the lie isn’t sold.
V shrugs and opens the other bottle of lube, spreading it over his hand and the dildo.
“Jesus Christ.” Johnny curses, apparently just now realizing what he was doing. “You’re sluttier than a fucking joytoy. Want to go out on the street before you start? See if you can get a couple more cocks to put in you?”
“Do you want to watch me get a couple more cocks?” Balancing on his knees V moves around until the dildo is under him, tip nestled against his entrance. He can feel his inner walls clench in anticipation of getting the thing inside him. “Or maybe you just want to watch me take this, watch me fuck myself open and pretend it’s you fucking me?”
The both of them groan in synchronization, their neural link spreading V’s arousal into the hologram. V didn’t know how far that link went but basic emotions could be felt, as could cigarettes. If they could share this then who knew what else could be shared. Once his head is clear Johnny waves him off, turning away to walk towards the tv. He plants his hands on his hips and V can feel his indecisiveness from here.
“Either come over here and watch or fuck off, you’re going to ruin my mood.” Fingering lightly at his clit V rocks against the dildo, feeling it slip inside just a tad. This draws another groan from Johnny and for a brief second V sees command prompts crossing his vision before they are immediately accepted. The sound of his computer chair sliding across the floor greets him and when he blinks it is in front of him, Johnny sitting in it like it’s a throne. He leans back in it, legs spread wide and flesh hand cupping his chin and, fuck, V’s never wanted to sit in someone’s lap and ride them this badly before.
“You better be better than some goddamn BD.” Johnny growls.
“You been in many BDs from the input’s side? That your secret, how badly you want to be fucked by someone?” V moves his hips again, edging himself against taking the whole thing in. “All those ‘net rumors about you and Eurodyne true, then? Always figured he’d be the bitch in that situation.”
“Christ, shut up and get on with it. Someone needs to put a gag on you.”
Rather than respond V rocks back, hands braced against the front of his thighs and sinks down onto the dildo, not stopping until the base, rubber balls touch his skin. He falls forward with a groan, bracing himself on his hands as his hips twitch into the full feeling inside of him. For his part, Johnny inhales sharply and out of the corner of his eye V sees his legs spread wider. Tauntingly V rolls his hips, relishing in the breathy moan that leaves Johnny.
“Fuck. How are you that loose?” Johnny’s voice sounds rough, deeper than normal and full of gravel. It’s a good sound on him and it drives V wild, hand darting off his thigh to place two fingers against his clit and rub furiously, hips rocking back to ride the dildo inside of him. It spears through him with ease, guided by both artificial and his own slick. He’d chosen it not only for the modifications but for the size as well; the length and width were just enough that he felt a burning stretch without having to worry about tearing his walls, making him think of partners who were well-endowed without being a danger.
“They not teach you about fucking vaginas in your age, old man? Still think tight and dry is the way to go?” He has no idea what sexual education was like at the beginning of the twenty-first century but the way he’s heard old people talk about sex makes him think it wasn’t very informative.
“I know how to fuck a vagina, Christ, but who just takes a dick like that like it’s nothing.” Johnny leans forward, elbows on his knees and hands tucked under his chin. “Look at me.”
V shakes his head, raising his hips up and slamming them back down, a noise between a yelp and a moan leaving him. He wants to go prone, face down, ass up, two hands on his hips, one flesh, one metal, and just be thoroughly fucked. He wants the cock inside him to be Johnny’s and judging by the noises leaving Johnny he does too.
“Look at me, V.” Johnny orders, and when V shakes his head he feels fingers lace through his hair, jerking his head up so that he has to look at Johnny before dissipating. Johnny frowns at that, glaring at his hand as if that will somehow fix the issue. Looking back at V Johnny taps a finger against his chin before scooting the chair closer until his knees bump against the bed.
“Lean back, I want to see you.” For a moment V is confused, because Johnny can clearly see him. It takes a small amount of mental guiding and projecting for V to understand, and once he does he leans back until his back is stretched, his chest puffed out and the blush there on display.
Like this, his all is on display. Johnny has a full view of his cunt and the dildo disappearing into it with each rise and drop of his hips. He wishes he could see what Johnny was seeing, feel what he was feeling, but the hologram is surprisingly stoic, the only emotions coming through the neurolink being a continuous loop from V’s own pleasure. Feeling how turned on he is only turns him on more, and he doesn’t want it to end.
“I want to try something,” Johnny says suddenly and when V looks at him he sees that Johnny’s pupils are blown wide. It drives V wild, fingers working against himself quicker and hip movements growing sloppy.
“Turn it on.” Like a trigger word, something inside of V switches and suddenly he feels disjointed, like he’s reached a pleasant buzz and had just laid down. He watches as Johnny raises his hand so that it’s in front of his eyes, staring in disbelief as his own hand does the same, the control for the vibrations in his hand. His other hand drops down to the plunger and V can feel it, heavy in his hand. The feeling of not having control of any part of his body should scare him, that lasting worry that Johnny will go back on his word and take over his body for real, but right now, V can honestly say he trusts the rockerboy.
“I want you to close your eyes and listen to my voice. Keep doing what you’re doing, but listen to me, you got it?” Eyes snapping shut V nods, hips twitching eagerly.
“Wish I had a camera that could show you off to all of Night City, show you how much of a slut you are right now. You think people would start jerking it right there in the middle of the street, cops unable to do anything about it? Or maybe I’d just record it, keep it for myself to watch when I get a body. Yeah, we’ll go with that. Get a huge fucking tv and play that shit twenty-four-fucking-seven.
And I’d make you watch it. Watch yourself get off to my voice as I fuck you senseless, leave you in a mess on the floor once I was done. I’d take you there, too. Just all over the damn place.” The vibrator kicks on and V sobs, the sound turning into a keen when it shuts off and then starts again, this time at a different speed. Johnny makes sure to speed it each time V raises his hips, cutting it off when he goes down, leaving him unable to get the sensation against his clit. They repeat this for what feels like an eternity before finally, blessedly, Johnny doesn’t turn down the power when V goes full hilt. He stays like that for a few seconds, letting the vibrations rock through him.
A warm gust of air moves across his face and it takes all of V’s willpower not to open his eyes, to see Johnny right in front of him and pretend he’s flesh and blood.
“You know what I’d do when I was done?” The voice tickles in his ear and V shakes his head, trembling. “I’d - I didn’t tell you to stop moving,” V hadn’t even realized he’d stop moving, hips picking up the pace again as he waits for Johnny to continue.
“Never been a fan of condoms, you know. Too much work for a fuck that’s going to last for who knows how long. And watching my cum leak out when I’m done, knowing I filled them the fuck up, got them fucking sloppy for me? Most preem shit in the world, V.”
V feels his finger on the plunger twitch, just enough for the cock to leak inside of him, as he waits for Johnny to finish. He’s been called an eager, sloppy bitch before and right now is proving no different, because if Johnny doesn’t finish this, he will.
“So you know what I’ll do, V, when we get me a body and I get you alone? Or shit, right there in public? I’m going to bend you over and fuck you until you can’t fucking walk. I’m going to fuck you until you don’t remember your own damn name and all you can do is scream mine. And then when I’m done, I’m going to pull out and let as much leak as it can before I show you that Johnny Silverhand does, in fact, go down.” He ends his little speech with a snarl, the vibrator control falling from V’s hand as Johnny grabs a handful of his hair, pulling his neck and back at an angle. It forces V to take the dildo all the way and he chokes out a scream as he comes.
The hand still on the plunger presses in and V feels himself start to shake apart at the added pressure of the cum lube rushing inside him. If he hadn’t just come from Johnny’s voice alone he most definitely would have come from that.
Coming down from the high of his orgasm V waits. For what, he’s not sure. The sound of his breathing and the vibrator are the only things that he can hear, unless he focuses on the hustle and bustle of the outside world. It takes him a moment but eventually he’s able to move, lifting himself up to ease the dildo out of him. He shivers at the feeling of lube dripping down his thigh and takes a moment, eyes still closed, to imagine it’s the real thing.
Because he knows that when he opens his eyes the illusion will be ruined. He’ll be another sad fuck in Heywood who just got off to a hallucination.
Opening his eyes V sighs.
Johnny Silverhand is nowhere to be found.