Archive of Our Own

     “Let’s have a race.”

     “Come again?”

     “A race! There’s a small town up ahead where we can set up camp for the night; the first one to reach the edge of town wins.”

     Johnny couldn’t do anything but blink at his companion. Gyro, in return, simply adopted a grin that stretched from ear to ear, golden grills shining in the orange-purple light spilling across the sky. The sight was almost heartwarming to Johnny, if the man wasn’t currently proposing an idiotic idea that could only possibly end in exhausting their already-tired horses, one of them getting hurt, or both. Not to mention, they were already in the midst of a race, a very fucking important one at that, and didn’t necessarily have time to be messing around with this sort of trivial game. Diego Brando had won the previous stage, much to Johnny’s vehement chagrin, and the insult of it still stung fresh in his mind and sharpened his resolve to a razor point. 

     He remembered Diego vaguely from his childhood as a hand on his father’s English ranch: he was older than Johnny and had been just a fledgling jockey at the time, possessing the talent for riding but not much else. Then adolescence came around and with it, Diego had started racking up trophy upon trophy. It had never matched Johnny’s near-perfect winning ratio, but it had been close enough that had Johnny not been absolutely forced into an early retirement, he would have been worried about the other man surpassing him. Now that he finally had apparently done so, the memory was bittersweet. Johnny could care less about the race in the long run, but his competitive nature nonetheless made it hurt to see a former competitor overtake him so easily.

     But, on the other hand, pride was never something Johnny was good at shoving back into its hiding hole and Johnny would rather bare-ass sit on one of these damned desert cacti than let Gyro taunt him about declining the absurdly-pointless race proposal for the next three weeks. He could practically hear the insults now, calls of “chicken” and “yellow-belly” (newly-learned, but Johnny already regretted teaching the man that particular flavor of American slang) reverberating around in his head. Still, a race seemed childish and probably wasn’t a good idea in the first place, even if his pride and Gyro both were seemingly trying to goad him into agreeing. 

     The idea of suffering through an indefinite amount of time at a jeering Gyro’s side made him subtly bristle and clutch Slow Dancer’s reins tighter in his hands, but he hid his thorny annoyance behind a mask of indifference and breathed out a sigh to prepare for the onslaught of jabs to come.

     “A race,” Johnny deadpanned back to the patiently-waiting Gyro next to him, who had leaned forward to rest his forearms against the pommel of his saddle. Valkyrie’s reins were loose in the man’s hand as their horses continued a leisurely walking pace alongside one another. “You’ve got to be joking.”

     “Quite the opposite, I’m very serious.” Gyro put on his most dramatic ‘serious’ face to try and emphasize his point and Johnny rolled his eyes at the theatrics. The younger man did his best to ignore the deep frown and sulky eyes on his partner’s face and pulled Slow Dancer into a trot to break in front of Gyro. Gyro, in turn, sat up straighter and kicked his own horse into a trot, easily catching back up to the other man.

     “It’s childish. Not to mention, we don’t need to be wakin’ snakes out here when we’re already on our own for this stage. We should be focusing on the race, conserving our horses’ energy. We need to be in top shape by the time the next checkpoint rolls around,” Johnny spares a glance over at Gyro and catches the tail-end of an eye-roll, one that mimics his earlier one almost exactly. There’s a twinge of annoyance that runs through him at the sight. It’s like Gyro thinks he was the one being unreasonable here. If Johnny remembers right, it was Gyro who had been chapping his ass about the race when they had first started riding together, batting away his questions about Spin and belting out stupid (but amusing) songs. Now it’s like their positions had been reversed and he was taking care of a child. A full-grown, endlessly irritating one. “Bottom fact is, whether you like it or not, we don’t have time to waste on little things like that.”

     “Johnny, my dear friend, we’re going to be passing through that town regardless in order to rest for the night. We might as well have some fun in getting there. Plus, if we race there, we’ll get there faster , will we not?” Gyro is grinning again and Johnny continues to pointedly ignore him. “Come on, what happened to that fire - that determination and sense of adventure? Where did my little Johnny go?”

     “Never heard of him. But if you miss him so much, then put out a damn missing persons report.” Johnny snaps back, but there’s no venom behind it. Gyro frequently got on his nerves, but he could never find it in himself to stay mad at the man. Gyro took the liberty of chalking that up to his dashing good looks and charming wit. Johnny had retorted - like he always did - by saying that there was more charming wit coming out of a hog’s rear than Gyro Zeppeli’s mouth. Unfortunately for him, the insult had the exact opposite effect than the sting that was intended and Gyro had spent the rest of the night laughing about it. It still made Johnny’s ears burn when he thought about it, but the memory of his friend’s laughter made his insides twist strangely and brought a peculiar warmth to his belly that he didn’t exactly care to contemplate.

     Gyro is quiet and for those precious few seconds, Johnny is worried that the man took his words the wrong way. That is, until he opens his blasted mouth again. “Let’s make it more interesting then. I consider myself to be a gambling man, anyway," Johnny can only raise a sidelong eyebrow at him while Gyro takes to rubbing the palm of his hand smoothly against Valkyrie’s thick neck. “Whoever loses has to buy the room for the night, along with tomorrow’s breakfast.”

     “Gyro, I don’t have any money on me. You know that. I spent nearly every penny I had buying Slow Dancer."

     Gyro hums in thought. “I didn’t think about that. Well, then, I suppose another wager is in order. I’m sure we could both blow off a little steam, right? How about whoever loses...has to let the other fuck him.”

     Johnny damn near falls off his horse. “ What ? Absolutely not , Gyro, what the fuck ! What kind of damn-fool bet is that?”

     Gyro takes a moment to look over at his partner with an alarmingly neutral expression, as if he had proposed the most mundane reward imaginable. Johnny is having a hard time keeping his mouth closed, opening and closing his jaw like a fish out of water, and his freckled cheeks and ears are burning hot with a deep blush. Throughout his years, though, he’s grown to be incredibly good at reading people and he can see the vaguest hints of curiosity clawing at the edges of Johnny’s expression. He’s managed to hook him rather easily, now all he needs to do is drive it home.

     “What, are you afraid you’ll lose?”

     “ No , I just- How could you-”

     “You act like you’ve never slept with men before!”

     “I haven’t , you insufferable ass! I’m not...” Johnny works his mouth, but no words seem to be coming out. He grips Slow Dancer’s reins tighter so they start to imprint into his sweating palms and stares hard at the impassive man next to him. “Have you? Are you...?”

     “Of course I have! More than once, in fact, back in Napoli. I can’t believe you’ve never done it - I took you for a man of worldly pleasures.”

     Johnny fidgets in his saddle and tries to look anywhere but at Gyro, but there’s something akin to curious arousal kindling in his belly and he hates himself a little more for it. “Sure, I’ve been with plenty of women but, well… I don’t know how it is in Napoli , but you just can’t... do that here. With men, that is. It’s... weird . Folks around here don’t take kindly to that sort of thing; call it unnatural.”

     “There’s nothing ‘unnatural’ about it, Johnny. God gave us the parts, didn’t He? It’s just like making love to a woman, just a little bit different in the anatomy department."

     “It’s not about the parts , for Christ's sake, I just-”

     “Look, if you don’t want to, we can make a different wager. I’m not a man who forces others into things-” Gyro ignores the whiny ‘bullshit’ thrown at him and continues, throwing his hands up in a mock show of surrender. “-and if you’re uncomfortable with it, I won’t force you to participate. Hell, we don’t even have to race, I just thought it’d pass time in an interesting way. Not to mention, it’d be quite the unique experience for me going up against the former hot-shot jockey that won the Kentucky Derby at sixteen. Not many men alive today can say they’ve done that, I imagine, let alone win against him.”

     Johnny chews at his bottom lip and stares down at the horn of his saddle, slowing his horse to a gradual stop. Gyro does the same next to him, following his lead and once again falling into a comfortable silence as he waits for a response. He hopes by appealing to the younger man’s ego it’ll be just the push he needs to get him to agree to the proposal. Not to mention, he’s definitely seen Johnny staring when Gyro takes the opportunity to strip down at night into more comfortable clothing. On those same nights, Gyro has more than once caught the other man sidling up to him cautiously when it gets colder in the dusky hours before sunrise, thinking he’s asleep. Lucky for Johnny, the Italian never called him out on it directly, but he was more than aware of the lingering touches and hushed whispers during the nights they spent camped together. 

     Just when he’s actually about to give up on the idea, Johnny nods his head twice and looks up at him with a newfound determination burning in his eyes that Gyro is used to seeing in the midst of battle against other Stand users. He feels a smirk coming onto his own lips.

     “Fine. You’re on. But you better include the room and breakfast in that bet, too, because I don’t plan on losing. And man , am I sick of rabbit."

     “Nyoho! Brave words coming from the man who’s lost to me before and undoubtedly will again!” Below him, Valkyrie stamps her hooves against the hard dirt impatiently, as if she’s suddenly sensed the competitive energy crackling in the air between the two men. Similarly, Slow Dancer nickers and whinnies to her own rider. “Seems like the horses are ready and willing, Johnny-boy! I hope you’re ready for me in every sense of the word.”

     “Hey, careful you don't fall off your high horse, Zeppeli, 'cause it's a long way down. Besides, I didn’t see you winning the Kentucky Derby at any point.”

     “I was too busy doing far more important things, like saving people’s lives and working for the royal family.”

     “And fucking men.” Johnny can’t help but smirk, pulling on Slow Dancer’s reins gently when she starts to stir too much.

     Gyro smirks back and lines Valkyrie up with the Appaloosa next to her. “Yes, and fucking men. I’m sure that by the end of tonight, you’ll be added to that list as well.”

     “In your dreams!” Gyro only winks back at him and the action makes Johnny’s heart race and his blush grow darker. The American clears his throat and glances around to make sure there’s no obstacles or other competitors around before looking back at his companion. “Alright, fine. Let’s get this over with - and we’re doing this fair or not at all. No steel balls, no Spin of any kind. On your mark.”

     “That’s the spirit.” Gyro grins wide at him and Jonny’s heart flutters in his chest. The American clears his throat and looks straight forward as he waits for Gyro’s signal, though it’s mostly to hide the blush spreading across his face.

     He honestly can’t believe he’s doing something so stupid. Johnny let himself played like a master-class fiddle, walking right into Gyro’s trap by letting his competitive disposition drive his decision making - something he was oft prone to doing, but was trying to get better about. It was one of those things where he was at least trying to get better about, but apparently he’d need to try harder.

     “Ready,” Gyro settled back into his saddle almost leisurely while Johnny tenses next to him, the younger wishing he had the use of his legs so he could easily fall back into his ingrained jockeying starting position. All Johnny could do instead was lean his chest close to Slow Dancer’s mane and grip her reins tighter. Gyro spares him a glance to make sure he’s ready before he continues. “Set… Go!”

     As soon as the word leaves his mouth, their respective horses are pushing forward like two streaks of lightning. Gyro kicks Valkyrie into a high-intensity sprint after she manages to gain momentum and briefly overtakes Johnny and Slow Dancer. The other duo easily keeps pace with them and the beating of hooves against the compacted dirt beneath them is all they can hear. Gyro hears blood rushing into his ears from the adrenaline rush and knows that no matter how experienced Johnny might be at riding, breaking out of the start is always tense. 

     He looks over at Slow Dancer to see how she (and Johnny) are faring, whose nostrils are flared as she accelerates, then looks back to the dusty path in front of them and the shadowed town breaking over the horizon. Both of their horses are burning through their stamina at a break-neck pace and he has to be careful not to overexert the beast beneath him. Gyro can tell Valkyrie’s breathing is getting harder and harder, gripping his reins and willing her to hold the gallop for just a bit longer. If he can just get an edge out in front of Johnny, they would be nigh uncatchable at this short of a distance to the town - less than a kilometer, he’d wager. The older appaloosa next to his horse is spirited and stubborn to give, though, he’ll give her that. Just like her rider.

     “Hope you aren’t getting tired, Johnny!” Gyro shouts over to the boy next to him, who shoots a focused and storm-dark glance back at him. “You haven’t reached that hotel bed, yet!”

     “As long as you’re still payin’, I’ll be fine, Zeppeli.” Johnny quips back before turning his eyes back to the dirt road. He whips his reins against Slow Dancer’s neck hard enough to startle the horse into a faster gallop and Gyro kicks his legs against Valkyrie’s sides to do the same. The two men continue for a couple hundred more yards but even Johnny is hyperaware of the horses’ sluggishness at this point. 

     Valkyrie’s hooves pound against the ground and Gyro moves easily atop her saddle with the force, directing the energy forward and spurring her to move ahead in the final stretch to the edge of the town that had just entered throwing distance. Beside him, Johnny attempted to snap Slow Dancer’s reins against her sides to catch up with Gyro’s horse, but the beat of her hooves suddenly falters and the two fall behind right as the men cross over the town’s outer limits. Gyro is worried for a split second that the appaloosa will either crash into the ground head-first or throw Johnny off due to the sudden stumble, but when he turns his head he sees Johnny leaning forward and whispering to her while he rubs her neck and slows her to a trot. Luckily the horse seems no more worse for wear than his own, albeit a little more fatigued, and as Gyro slows Valkyrie to a similar speed he can tell there’s no injury to her legs.

     Which means that now he’s sure Johnny and Slow Dancer are both alright, he can gloat.

     “Ha! So much for the riding genius of North America, eh? Perhaps I’ll enter the next Kentucky Derby and win it myself, if you’re the kind of high-bar competition that races.”

     “Shut up!” Johnny snaps, clearly more than a little frustrated he didn’t cross the town line first. He encourages Slow Dancer into a slow canter so he can ride past Gyro without granting him even a look. If he was anything besides stubborn and brash, it was being a complete sore loser. “Wasn’t even my fault, Slow Dancer hit a snag in the road. A fuckin’ crater the size of West Virginia was right in the middle of the road.”

     “Nyoho, Johnny, life is all about learning to overcome obstacles,” Gyro kicks Valkyrie into following Johnny’s lead, the two arriving upon some wooden hitching posts outside of what appears to be the town’s hotel. It looks older, but it’ll serve their purposes for the night while they and the horses both recover. Gyro can’t wait to feel the mattress against his sore back after nearly a week sleeping on the ground. “Don’t be irritated with me just because you don’t know how to navigate your horse over a hole.”

     Johnny only glares at the toothy smile Gyro offers as they stop their horses and the Italian dismounts Valkyrie to hitch her to the post. He rubs at her nose for a moment then trails his hand behind her ears to scratch there lovingly. She’s worked hard today and Gyro makes a mental note to buy her some apples and perhaps even some snow peas as a reward in the morning. He lingers at the horse’s side for a moment before Johnny clears his throat loudly and Gyro can’t help but laugh at the irritation he hears in the noise. He moves around the back of his horse slowly as to not startle her into kicking, patting her flank comfortingly before reaching Slow Dancer parked close to her other side. Gyro maneuvers himself in between the horses and takes the reins from Johnny (who basically throws the leather strips onto his head with a grunt) to hitch the appaloosa to the post. He raises an eyebrow after he’s done and throws a concerned-but-amused look up at the American.

     “Do you need help down?”

     “Shut the fuck up,” Johnny snaps again and Gyro raises his hands in a show of surrender. The sky blue eyes that meet his are dark and full of cold fire that seems to burn into his own irises and he can’t help but look away as he backs off to let Johnny dismount by himself. He idly wonders if the younger man’s Spin dismount has gotten any better from the last time he’s seen it. “Ah, shit!”

     Apparently not, would be the answer to that question. Gyro can’t help but belt out a laugh as Johnny’s smaller frame falls gracelessly from his horse’s saddle, one leg almost getting stuck in its stirrup if it hadn’t been for Johnny’s downward momentum. He lands in a heap on the dirt ground with plentiful curses escaping his mouth and the horses both nicker and stamp their hooves anxiously. Gyro calms them down, still chuckling, as Johnny desperately tries to right himself.

     Eventually the other manages to sit straight up and Gyro takes enough pity on him lean down and pat the dirt off his hat and shoulders. As funny as it was, he knows Johnny is a prideful thing and has already had his ego bruised enough after the race so he quiets himself down and offers a hand. Johnny hesitates for a moment, eyeing his hand warily as if it had dog shit smeared on it, before he claps his own against it and allows himself to be pulled up into a half-standing position. 

     Honestly, he appreciated it when Gyro did this for him: artificially letting him ‘stand’ without mentioning the fact that he really wasn’t supporting any of his own weight, with Gyro’s arm around his waist while he draped his own across the man’s broad shoulders so the other hand could hold his. It wasn’t perfect, by any means, nor did it restore his faith that he’d be able to walk sooner than later, but sometimes Gyro would press his fingertips into his hip and focus his Spin there so Johnny could feel the sensation - however brief - of his feet dragging along against the dirt. The first time he had done that particular trick, Johnny had refused to talk to him the rest of the night, thinking the older man was mocking him. It was only after he explained that he hadn’t meant to upset Johnny did he allow him to do it again, as long as he warned him first. With all the time they had since spent with each other, verbal consent had turned into a simple nod, and then just an unspoken agreement. It was almost like they could now communicate on a certain wavelength that was all their own and sometimes no words were needed. 

     Johnny could never tell Gyro to his face, but he was grateful for the small shows of support. Johnny was even beginning to joke about his leg situation at this point and Gyro laughed with him comfortably by the campfire - something else he was grateful for: Gyro never danced around the subject like he was worried Johnny would be offended. Honestly, Johnny would have been more offended if Gyro had beaten around the bush, vaguely gesturing to his legs and refusing to let him do things on his own like every other damn person did. Yeah, he was still somewhat sore about the subject, but was slowly getting better about talking about it. He still hadn’t told Gyro the full story, though Gyro had already seen the bullet-shaped scar on his lower back, but Johnny didn’t really feel the need to. Gyro once told him that he would be content never knowing what happened if that were Johnny’s wish and the words almost made him cry. At least until Gyro got a cheeky grin and asked if he could control his shitting, to which the response was Johnny’s toothbrush suddenly flying straight at his head.

     “The horses were already tired, too,” Johnny mumbles as he throws an arm around Gyro’s shoulders and the other’s arm finds its way around his waist to support him. “So it’s not like it was an entirely fair competition.”

     “Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Gyro responds, pulling Johnny close to him and walking them towards the entrance of the hotel. “But I still won, dear Johnny.”

     “Once you win the Steel Ball Run, I’ll start to be impressed, but for now forget it .” Johnny sneers with a roll of his eyes as Gyro pushes the swinging door open with his shoulder and shuffles them inside. The lobby area is clean but sparse and there’s a single attendant standing at the desk idly reading the newspaper. The man’s eyes lift up from the paper on the counter as soon as he hears the doors close and he puts on the fakest smile Johnny has ever seen at the sight of the pair.

     “Hello, sirs. Can I help you?”

     “Any rooms available? We’ve been riding hard for a couple days and could use a decent night’s rest.”

     “We have one room available at the moment, but I’m afraid there’s only one bed.” The attendant raises his eyebrows slowly, as if he’s challenging Gyro to do anything other than bid him adieu and walk them both right back out the door.

     Gyro only flashes him a grin in return. “We’ll take it.”

     As Gyro lands a low kick against the door to their new room, Johnny still attached to his side, a cloud of dust kicks up from inside the room and both men have to hold a hand to their mouths to avoid being thrown into a coughing fit by the sudden assault on their lungs. There’s a rather small bed pushed up against the wall in the center of the room with a wardrobe nearby. From what Johnny can see through the dust particles floating past them, there seems to be a chair that has been shoved into the corner haphazardly but the room is otherwise sparse. A single oil lamp sits casually on the plain bedside table, the wood stained a dark brown and marred with various scratches and wear. The walls are a neutral cream colour with chips branching off the baseboard and Johnny has to remind himself not to turn his nose up at the sight. For a second, his heart aches for what afforded opulence he used to possess once upon a time, but quickly shoves those thoughts back down into the inconsequential crevices of his mind. The small rented room isn’t much, sure, but it’s still infinitely better than a worn bedroll and the hard dirt ground. 

     Still, Johnny can’t help but feel a dull spark of irritation in his gut at the sight of where they’ll be sleeping and the corner of his mouth pulls down into a tight frown. “This place is a shithole.”

     “Hey!” Gyro chastises from above him like he’s actually offended and he’s suddenly being pulled into the dusty room by the larger man. Johnny looks down at his limp feet and notices that the chipped wood floor is just as dirty as the rest of the room and that his shoes are leaving drag marks where the dust has been disturbed. Despite Johnny’s pointed glowering at the tracks, Gyro removes his arm from around his neck and sets him down on the bed. “It’s only for one night. Would you rather sleep outside with the horses?”

     “Honestly? Yeah,” Johnny mutters and does his best to settle into a comfortable sitting position on the bed, which is hard to do when the bed below him quite literally feels like a rock covered in a sheet. In fact, Johnny is pretty sure he’s laid on softer rocks. “You’ve got to be kidding, Gyro, look at this place! It looks like no one’s been here in years. This room ain’t worth the money we paid for it.”

     “So...we’re getting an untouched room, free of unsavory habitation or any sort of strange creepy-crawlies. I’m failing to see the problem here.” Gyro shrugs back with a smile, pushing the door shut. He rolls his shoulders before taking his hat off and throwing it onto the chair in the corner of the room. Another cloud of dust bellows out from under the brim, catching both men’s attention. “I suppose it could use a little dusting... But remember! Only one night.”

     Gyro sticks his index finger straight up to emphasize his point and Johnny glares coolly at it. If he notices the icy look, the Italian doesn’t say anything and doubles over to begin the process of shucking off his boots. Johnny watches him hop around on each foot as he takes the boots off and lets them fall to the floor with two soft ‘thunk’s. He briefly considers taking his own clothes off, as the lost wager (and the resulting sting of loss) has definitely not left his mind. It’d probably be better to get it over with sooner rather than later , he thinks resolutely and tries to will himself into action. But unfortunately, it’s not just his legs that are unresponsive: it’s like his whole body has frozen up at the recollection of his damn-fool agreement to the bet. He was so sure he would win and use that victory to annul the bet completely: no one would do anything to each other. But now that he’s lost, well... His heart skips a beat or several at the thought of what Gyro will undoubtedly do to him tonight and he isn’t sure if he’s excited or terrified.

     On one hand, he trusts Gyro and is in desperate need of some sort of outlet for the tension that’s built up between his shoulders over the past few weeks. Gyro is objectively attractive, too - not that Johnny has thought about it that much, certainly, nor has he felt bitterly jealous about it - so it’s not like he’ll be fucking an ugly man. It’s... that specific part that makes apprehension twist his guts into knots. Gyro is a man, just like him. If the Italian were a girl and if Johnny were the same man he’d been at 16, he would have at least propositioned Gyro by now, if not gone the whole nine yards. Reciprocation would have been key, though, because Johnny wasn’t necessarily a man who liked to make continued unwanted advances nor did he play chase with girls. Even the thought of chasing after sex had bored him. If they didn’t want him, there was always a long laundry list of other girls who would gladly jump in his bed for a night or two.

     Except now, there was no line he could pick and choose from. Johnny hadn’t even touched a girl since he lost the use of his legs, let alone have any sort of sex. In fact, Gyro had been the first to even romantically accost him since his accident and the thought makes a surge of self-hatred and anger course through his veins. It figures that the first person to want to touch his useless fucking body was not only a man, but one of his friends that just wanted some casual, noncommital way to blow off steam. A far cry from the drooling slew of rich girls that wanted to not only hook up, but marry him and pop out a few kids along the way.

     Johnny shakes his head forcefully to clear his brain of those familiar, self-degrading thoughts but the residual anger and disappointment in himself makes him want to fuck Gyro even more. It’s stupid, petty, and reckless, but it’s also a way for him to be in control, he reckons, and to get back at his body for failing him. Even though he’d never admit it to anyone, least of all Gyro, Johnny often craves self-destruction when he lies awake at night. He wants to drink, smoke, and fuck until his body disintegrates and he returns to the earth that birthed him into this unforgiving world. At night, his bones ache to their very core and he wonders how it would feel to just collapse into the dirt and be left alone, if only for a little bit. It’s selfish - he’s selfish - but he’s been unwanted since the day his brother died, perhaps even before then. He wants to utterly destroy himself and the only reason he hasn’t done so yet - the only hope he has to cling to - is found within Gyro, who unfailingly hoists him out of the dirt he’s content to die in. Gyro makes him feel wanted , but Gyro more importantly makes him feel ; something Johnny hasn’t been able to do in a while.

     Gyro closes the only window in the room’s curtains before walking now-barefoot over to the bedside table and igniting the oil lamp with one swift movement. It casts a soft orange glow across the otherwise dark room and Johnny tenses. Was Gyro getting right down to business? Was this actually happening right now? Gyro lifts his head after he’s satisfied with the amount of light being put out from the lamp and glances at Johnny with an eyebrow raised.

     “You plan on wearing all those clothes tonight? You’re going to overheat.”

     Johnny purses his lips and tries not to look absolutely flustered. His apprehensiveness is back full-force and if he were able to, he’d sprint out of the room as fast as his legs could carry him. Instead, he can only clench his fists in the thin bed sheets and stare hard down at his knees. Eventually, after a few tense moments of silence in which Gyro stares at him expectantly, Johnny relents and grabs the lip of his knit hat to pull it off quickly. He throws it at the chair that Gyro’s own hat is resting on and it lands on top of Gyro’s with a soft flumping sound. Gyro chuckles and Johnny can feel his face burning red at the sound, but he’s not entirely sure why. He’s never been affected by Gyro’s laugh like this before, he’s pretty sure, so why is his heart fluttering rapidly in his chest now? Johnny bites at his lip and clutches the fingers of one hand tightly in the fabric of his pants to lift his leg up to rest on the opposite knee so he can start to pull his boots off.

     Without asking, Gyro kneels down and takes Johnny’s other foot in his hands to pull his boot off and Johnny is thankful that his legs don’t respond to his brain anymore because he’s absolutely sure he would have kicked the man squarely in the side of the head. Instead, he lets out an indignant yelp and reflexively smacks the boot that’s in his hand against Gyro’s arm. Gyro shrugs his shoulder up and back to try and brush off the majority of Johnny’s furious boot assault until he can pry the other boot off the younger man’s foot. He lets an irritated pout cross his face and grabs at Johnny’s wrist to halt his attack after he’s finished but the younger man hisses and pulls his arm back against his chest defensively.

     “Knock it off, I was just trying to help!” Gyro squawks.

     “If I need help, I’ll ask!” Johnny fires back automatically.

     Gyro rolls his eyes and stands, waving Johnny off flippantly and turning his back to him. He has to bite back a remark on the verge of rolling off his tongue pertaining to Johnny’s unwillingness to ever ask for help and instead works on undoing his belt. Gyro can feel Johnny’s eyes on his back, then on his hands as he works the leather strip free from the loops at his lower back. He smirks as he makes a rude gesture with one of his hands and hears Johnny scoff behind him, finally able to pull the belt off of his waist and tossing it at the chair.

     Johnny is still for a moment, eyes darting back down to glare intensely at the dull floorboards of the room. He then flicks his eyes back up to make sure Gyro isn’t watching before gripping the hem of his shirt to pull it up over his head as quickly as he can. He throws it off the end of the bed to land on the floor somewhere and falls backward until he hits the hard mattress. His fingers dig under the rim of his pants and he smoothly tugs them down to mid-thigh, something that’s taken quite a bit of practice to accomplish without much use of his lower body, but that he’s now able to do relatively easily. However, the anxiousness clawing at his chest prevents him from being proud and he feels the need to clear the air of the increased tension he’s sure he’s created in the room.

     “Gyro.”

     Gyro hums back in acknowledgement as he pulls his own shirt over his head and tosses it in the vague direction of the chair. Johnny lifts his head up from the bed and swallows hard at the sight of Gyro’s tan, muscled back. His arms where his shirt didn’t cover are slightly more tanned than the skin that’s been hidden and Johnny idly wonders if he himself has gained any inkling of a tan. It’s only when Gyro turns his head back to shoot him a quizzical look that Johnny remembers he’s got the man’s attention on him. The funny thing is, he doesn’t know exactly why he wanted said attention in the first place, especially because he’s in the process of taking off his pants. Johnny feels his face heat up at Gyro’s continued gaze and scrambles to find an intelligible sentence to spew out.

     “Help me with my pants.”

     Well, not exactly what he was going for. He feels the sudden urge to crawl under the sheets and never come back out but Gyro’s chuckle and the way he puts his hands on his hips almost playfully somehow keeps him from doing so. The other man saunters back over to the bed and towers over Johnny, who’s still lying on his back.

     “ Nyoho , finally relenting? Are you coming down with a fever or something of the like?”

     “Shut up and pull my pants off, idiot!”

     Gyro laughs outright this time as he grabs either of Johnny’s pant legs and pulls with one fluid motion. The pants give easily and come right off, but now Johnny is damn near naked in front of the other man, illuminated only by the warm candlelight. Yeah, this is definitely not ideal.

     Gyro doesn’t seem to notice his friend’s sudden and acute discomfort, along with the way he  tries to hide the front of himself after his pants are gone, because he turns back around and throws Johnny’s pants to the side carelessly. Johnny tries to avert his eyes as Gyro takes his own pants off, focusing intently on the cracked ceiling above the bed. Maybe sleeping with the horses wouldn’t be so bad. God, he sounds pathetic. It’s not like the two haven’t seen each other naked before: after a month spent together on the trail, there was very little that was now left up to the imagination. Getting a couple good looks at each other when they bathed in a shallow stream in the middle of fuck-all nowhere, however, was a little different than them fucking in a shitty hotel.

     Johnny closes his eyes and he feels the mattress dip next to him as Gyro climbs onto the bed. His heart beats faster and he suddenly feels a little dizzy - he might have to tell Gyro that he isn’t actually up for this, bet and pride be damned, because he’s pretty sure he’s going to throw up with the way his stomach is rolling nervously. He knows he’ll get made fun of for getting cold feet at this point, but the exhaustion combined with anxiety welling up behind his eyes makes him feel like he’s about to pass out. He opens his mouth to speak, eyes still closed, before he feels Gyro shift at his side and the weight of him settle into the bed - decidedly not making any move to climb on top of him. He snaps his eyes open and lets his head roll to the side and is suddenly met with the familiar view of Gyro’s back to him, his long hair splayed out on the pillow under his head.

     “Goodnight, Johnny.” Gyro mumbles contentedly and Johnny feels his eyes widen at the nonchalant way he says it.

     Gyro wasn’t going to fuck him even though he won the bet? Did he change his mind? Bitterness rose in his throat and even though he felt a little relieved, he couldn’t help but think that - just like everyone else in the past two years - Gyro didn’t want him. No girl wanted him and now the only friend he had wouldn’t even fuck him out of pity when he was the one who had wagered sex in the first place. Johnny apparently wasn’t worth even a casual fuck and that hurt more than anything. What made it worse was that he didn’t know why he was so upset that Gyro - specifically Gyro - wasn’t touching him when he almost just had a fit about the idea of letting a man fuck him. Had he seriously been looking forward to it, at least a little? Was the anxiety and nerves just some sort of fucked up arousal, just Johnny’s curiosity about the situation showing through the cracks?

     Johnny just closes his eyes again and pretends to already be asleep, only because he's pretty sure he’d start crying if he attempted to respond.

     As the early morning sunlight broke through the sheer window curtain to hit him directly in the face, Gyro let out a small groan and brought a hand up to shield his eyes from the offending light. He shifted his legs underneath the scratchy covers and attempted to roll onto his side so his back was to the light, when the thought suddenly emerged through his sleep-fogged brain that he was in fact not currently in his home in Italy nor was he in bed with the pretty girl that seemed to have pervaded his dreams throughout the night. Gyro spared a quick glance down at his front, more specifically his crotch, before breathing a sigh of relief and tilting his head to the side to gaze at the other human inhabiting the bed.

     He chuckled a low ‘ nyoho ’ under his breath at the sight of Johnny, sprawled out across the mattress with his mouth opened just enough to breathe out of and his face set in a serene peace that made Gyro deeply wish he didn’t have to wake the man up. He so rarely got to see Johnny like this: the boy was always up at the crack of dawn, regardless of whether he went to sleep before Gyro or not. Usually Gyro would wake up to find him practicing with his nail bullets, quick and precise cracks echoing off trees or rocks or whatever unfortunate object Johnny happened to exact his vengeance on that day. His face was always set in that stern look of steely determination, even when he wasn’t practicing his shots - because of that, it made seeing this calmer, tranquil expression all the more special.

     Yeah, maybe he didn’t have a voluptuous lady in bed with him on this particular occasion, but Gyro’s heart fluttered just the same at seeing his partner sleeping soundly. A smile came over his face and he threw the covers off himself, rolling onto his forearm and reaching his other hand out to gently hold onto Johnny’s shoulder.

     “Johnny,” Gyro mumbles, just barely above a whisper. He shakes Johnny’s shoulder a little more forcefully to try and rouse the younger man. “We have to get moving if we’re to hit the next checkpoint tomorrow.”

     Johnny’s face scrunches up into something resembling a kid refusing to wake up for school and Gyro finds that while he misses the even expression formerly on the man’s face, this look is nonetheless quite cute on him, too. The younger man pulls his arms closer into his body and turns his head away from Gyro, attempting to curl in on himself and draw his shoulder away from the other man’s firm grip.

     “Johnny-bo-oy,” Gyro singsongs, raising both eyebrows. He has four younger siblings, he’s more than experienced when it comes to waking up stubborn kids. Well, Johnny isn’t exactly a kid, nor is he Gyro’s blood-sibling, but he is stubborn. “We have to go. I’m not sure about you, but I’m itching to win this stage.”

     “Ngh,” Johnny half-whines and Gyro narrows his eyes mischievously. He pulls his hand off the younger’s shoulder and sits up onto his knees before positioning himself at the ready like a predator about to pounce on its prey. His fingers lock together before thrusting forward to jab into Johnny’s ribcage, right under armpits, and Johnny’s eyes fly open with an indignant squawk. “ Gyro ! What the hell are you doing?”

     Gyro just laughs in response, wiggling his fingers against Johnny’s bare skin as the other man squirms and yelps. Johnny is quickly left gasping for breath against Gyro’s incessant tickling assault against both sides of his torso and damn-near shrieks when the man’s wandering hands travel down to poke and push against his belly. 

     “Quit it, asshole!” Johnny manages out between gasping breaths, chest expanding and contracting quickly to try and get oxygen circulating into his lungs. Gyro doesn’t let up, though, and Johnny suddenly gets the urge to lash out against the man hovering over him. He fights the feeling down and instead lands a single jab of his fingers against the hard muscle of Gyro’s exposed side, willing his fingernails to start spinning in a silent warning.

     He tries to look as threatening as possible but Gyro seems nothing less than unaffected, only slapping Johnny’s hand away and rolling away from him to stand from the bed. He looks down at the glowering Kentuckian with an amused grin, a hint of his golden grills peeking out from between his lips. Johnny relents, tearing his glare away from Gyro to instead squint his eyes at the sunlight invading their room. He was still tired, God help him, but they were already running slightly behind schedule and couldn’t afford to rest for much longer.

     “You were tired last night, Johnny. You were snoring as soon as your head hit the pillow.” Gyro’s voice breaks Johnny out of his thoughts and he looks back over to the man, who seems to be stretching his arms over his head to try and work the sleep out of his joints. Johnny tries not to look at the hard ridges of muscle lining his back and shoulders and also tries not to think about last night. He fails on both accounts, though, and the remembrance of last night only serves to sour his mood immediately. 

     Johnny pulls himself into a sitting position wordlessly, eyebrows knitting together into a pout. Gyro notices his partner’s sudden gloominess and raises an eyebrow down at him as he tosses the man his knit cap from the nearby chair. The hat lands softly on Johnny’s legs, still under the covers, and Johnny grits his teeth at the lack of feeling. That, combined with the doubt and self-hatred stemming from Gyro’s outright rejection is almost enough to make him choke up again. He forces the lump in his throat down and clenches his fists into his hat.

     “Johnny?” Gyro sounds concerned at his lack of vocalization and Johnny hates himself just a little more for bringing that out. It was because of him that Gyro was not only behind in the race, but being mentally and physically held back. He was pretty sure Gyro spent more time trying to accommodate him and his damn useless legs than he did focusing on winning the race. Gyro sits at the end of the bed by where Johnny’s feet are, but he avoids all eye contact with the man. He doesn’t want to see pity, or concern, or any other emotion directed at him. All Johnny wants right now is to disappear into the bed forever; sink into the mattress until there’s nothing left of him that hints at his existence at all. “Johnny, what’s wrong? Are you feeling well?”

     “You went to sleep last night.” Johnny says casually, but there’s a tenseness to it that makes him wince at his own words. He was trying to stay calm and collected, but the raging storm of negative thoughts concerning last night was making his stupid voice betray him.

     “Yes?” Gyro confirms with a confused lilt to his voice that makes Johnny’s skin itch. ‘ Of course I did, Johnny. ’ He thinks bitterly to himself in his mind’s approximation of Gyro’s voice, which only serves to rile him up further. ‘ I’d never fuck you in a million years, not even if it were free. ’

     “You won the bet,” Johnny says simply, daring to cast a second-long glance at Gyro’s plainly confused gaze. He grips his hat tighter. “You said the winner would fuck the other. I just want you to know that I don’t blame you for not going through with it; I don’t know if I’d fuck me either, given the opportunity. You aren’t the first one, trust me. I just… I don’t want you to leave me behind, even though I can’t even be useful in getting you off. I’m not good at much when it comes to this race, but I want to finish what I - what we’ve started. I want to finish this race with you then I’ll let you be. You’ll never have to see me again, if you don’t want to. The last thing I want is to be a burden to anyone, especially the first friend I’ve had in two goddamn years.” 

     Johnny lets out a dry, humorless laugh but he feels tears prickling at his eyes. He didn’t mean to say so much, but his throat has a tendency to develop a mind of its own when he gets stuck in his feelings. The slight waver in his voice is almost enough to make him outwardly cringe - he’d be surprised if Gyro even stuck around after his emotional rambling, let alone the rest of the race. His stomach turns at the thought of being by himself throughout the remaining stages, without Gyro by his side to support him and lift him up. He’s really gotten attached to the man, which was probably his biggest mistake thus far. Gyro would only end up leaving him, just like everyone else had.

     Even though Johnny wants Gyro to say something, anything - to tell him he’s stupid and worthless and leave him by himself, to confirm to him through an uncomfortable grimace that he wasn’t worth fucking - the man seems to be stunned into silence. He obviously wasn’t expecting to be dragged into Johnny’s emotional bullshit this early in the morning and Johnny almost feels bad about even bringing up the topic. He’s pretty sure he would have exploded had he kept it locked up, though.

     The tense silence was to be expected, if he were totally honest with himself. What Johnny didn’t expect, though, was Gyro suddenly breaking into a fit of laughter at the foot of the bed. Not uncomfortable laughter, not even mocking laughter: it was something warm and kind that made Johnny’s guts knot in his stomach and his heart flutter against his ribs. Even though he was glad Gyro didn’t seem to be angry or condescending, the genuine chuckling confused him to no end. The confusion quickly turned to irritation and he wished he could kick out at the man by his feet. He had to settle for balling his hat up and flinging it at Gyro’s head.

     “What the fuck is so funny?” Johnny snaps, something deep within him still clutching onto a sliver of doubt that Gyro wants anything to do with him. Gyro wipes a tear - Johnny can’t tell if it’s imaginary or not - from his eye and looks at Johnny with the most heartwarming expression he’d seen in a long time. It made him want to grab onto Gyro and never let go, even if the man wanted nothing to do with him after he had served whatever purpose he could be slotted into.

     “I-I did say that, didn’t I? That was the wager.” Gyro nods, snips of laughter breaking through his voice before disappearing altogether and leaving only a wide grin on his lips. “I didn’t think you took it that seriously! I was kidding, Johnny. I didn’t actually expect anything to happen.”

     “You what?” Johnny nearly had to hold onto his chin to prevent it from dropping into his lap. His eyes went wide with disbelief and he suddenly felt like the biggest fool on the planet. “You weren’t serious?”

     “I figured you wouldn’t be interested in such things after our conversation involving my love life.” Gyro winks at him, folding his legs under him and leaning back on his arms. “I only wagered it to make you blush.”

     “You’ve got to be fucking joking.” Johnny slaps his palm against his face and drags it downwards, clenching his eyes closed tightly to avoid having to look Gyro in the eye. Christ , how could he have been such an absolute idiot? It was such a Gyro thing to do, how did he not see this coming? Not only that, but how could he have taken it to heart and even rambled about his feelings when it was only a passing joke? He still wanted to sink into the mattress, but instead of it being out of self-hatred, it was now out of an acute embarrassment that would probably never pass.

     “I’m sorry! I didn’t know you would take it to heart, Johnny, and I certainly didn’t mean to make you think anything of it.” Gyro’s expression softened and his smile turned apologetic. “I wish you would have told me how you were feeling last night, that way you didn’t have to dwell on the ‘what if’s. I quite like having you around, Johnny, so you don’t have to worry on that front either. You can’t rid yourself of me that easily!”

     “So - let me get this straight,” Johnny takes a deep, steadying breath and finally manages to lock eyes with the man across from him. “You don’t hate me? And you didn’t, uh, act out on the bet because you didn’t think I would be interested and not because you think I’m not worthy? God, that’s not - I didn’t mean to phrase it like that, Christ , but you know what I mean, right?”

     Gyro chuckles softly. “To be quite honest, Johnny, I enjoy having you around - sometimes more than I care to admit. You’re stubborn and foolish at times, but kind and graceful to a fault. Not to mention pretty handsome. Without any exaggeration, I truly think that you’re one of the best men I know.” He rolls his head back to stare at the ceiling but a light blush dusts across his cheeks and Johnny swallows hard, his own heart full and racing in his chest. “I wouldn’t mind at all being intimate with you - in fact I think I’d enjoy it more than just about anything. I just didn’t think you’d feel the same way. So that’s...that’s why I didn’t take the bet seriously. I’m sorry for deceiving you - my goal wasn’t to make you feel like anything resembling ‘less than’.”

     “Y-You make it sound like I’m a damn lady in distress! I didn’t - I wasn’t thinkin’ I was ‘ less than ’ anything, I just-” A fierce blush had found its way across Johnny’s freckled cheeks and he reached up to hide his face in the crook of his arms in what he hoped would appear to be callous indifference. “-I just thought you could do better, is all.”

     “Oh, Johnny!” Gyro puts a hand up to his chest dramatically and adopts the most theatrical expression of shock Johnny has ever seen. The younger can’t help but grimace and try to drag himself away, but Gyro practically falls down on top of him to trap him against the bed despite his angry squawking. “You will always be my favourite boy! We’ve grown so close, I couldn’t imagine not having you next to me!”

     “Christ above, you’re heavy!” Johnny gasps out at the added weight and he’s pretty sure Gyro is doing his damndest to melt into the mattress underneath him because it feels like more weight is being added with each passing second. He flattens his hands against Gyro’s shoulders and attempts to push him off, but Gyro doesn’t budge. He’s suddenly very aware of each and every one of the larger man’s movements on top of him and the fact that Gyro is definitely nuzzling into his neck.

     “My poor Johnny, I’ve neglected you for far too long. I believe I know how to repay you, if you’d be so gracious as to let me try.”

     Johnny gives him a look, but reluctantly tilts his head back against the pillow and stills his hands at Gyro’s shoulders. Gyro takes this as an invitation and a smile crosses his slightly-chapped lips as he lays down a soft, almost experimental kiss against the side of Johnny’s neck, right above his collarbone. With a precarious situation like this, combined with his hotheaded counterpart, he figured it was best to test the waters before he dives in completely. Johnny tenses underneath him, predictably, but luckily doesn’t freak out and whack him across the head and Gyro places another kiss slightly higher up than the first. It’s almost like a way out before things get too intense, a nonverbal offer of escape silently whispered against the pale column of the younger’s neck. Johnny bites his lip in understanding, brain scrambling to make a decision, before he grabs each side of Gyro’s face to pull him up parallel with his own. Gyro has enough time to make a comically surprised expression - one that Johnny definitely would have laughed at in a different scenario - at the sudden movement before he’s being pulled down into a sloppy kiss.

     Honestly, for it being his first time kissing a man, Johnny can’t help but passively notice that it...it isn’t too bad. Gyro’s lips are slightly more chapped than any girl he’s ever kissed, but there’s something oddly charming about that - and obviously, the muscled arms caging him against the bed are a little different than what he’s used to. Despite that, Johnny quickly finds himself relaxing into the kiss and therefore allowing it to grow deeper and more playful on Gyro’s end as the other man chuckles into it during second-long breaks for air. Eventually, Gyro pulls back completely and Johnny damn-near whines at the loss. He tries to focus on the odd rope of spittle connecting their lips and Gyro’s grinning face rather than how absolutely, mortifyingly embarrassing the noise that escaped from his throat was.

     “Did you ever kiss the girls you were with, Johnny? Because I’m hardly impressed.”

     Johnny’s expression deadpans in milliseconds and Gyro laughs and blocks the half-hearted punch thrown at the side of his head.

     “Keep talkin’ and see where that gets you!”

     “Nowhere I’d like to be, I’m sure,” Gyro hums and lowers his upper body to hover over Johnny’s abdomen. He plants his hands steadily on the outside of Johnny’s ribcage and Johnny sucks in a soft breath at the sight. Alright, this was a little hot, if he were being totally honest with himself. Before he has the chance to unpack that, Gyro speaks again and he finds himself hooked on every word. “And where I’d like to be-” Gyro plants a smattering of kisses across Johnny’s chest and collarbones before moving his head slowly southward until he’s able to watch the quick, fluttering movements of Johnny’s abdominal muscles contract tensely with each kiss he places there. Gyro hesitates for a moment, kissing right above Johnny’s navel before reaching a hand up to hook his index finger in the waistband of Johnny’s drawers. “-is right about here.”

     Johnny lets out a shuddering breath, head lifting off the pillow to gaze down into Gyro’s bottle-green eyes with his own half-lidded cerulean ones. He can feel himself starting to get hard and he knows Gyro can see his outline through his pants, but the other man seems to be waiting on him for something. Johnny dimly realizes he’s asking permission to go further and he can only nod his approval. As aroused as this is making him there’s a nagging sense of curiosity there as well and he’s curious to see how Gyro goes about doing this - it’s unfamiliar territory, but he feels as comfortable as the situation will allow as long as Gyro there to guide him.

     Gyro grins wider up at him when he nods his head before he’s sitting up and hooking his hands into Johnny’s drawers, pulling the garment down easily and exposing him to the open air. He vaguely registers Johnny’s head falling back onto the pillow as the man pointedly avoids looking at him - likely out of embarrassment - but he’s far too occupied with tossing the article of clothing off to the side and taking a closer look at the dick in front of him. It’s half-hard and leaning heavily against Johnny’s thigh, occasionally twitching in interest when Gyro’s wandering hands get near. Gyro runs a hand over the heated skin, fingertips just barely grazing the semi-pronounced vein running from the underside of Johnny’s dick up to where his foreskin is half-covering his cockhead. Honestly, his dick was kind of cute. An average size, not overly thick, with a blunt head that he was eager to put his lips against. In all ways, it was like Johnny.

     “Are you gonna do anything or are you just gonna stare all day?” Johnny’s voice comes softly from above, though it’s laced with what sounds like anxiety. Gyro blinks himself out of his observation of Johnny’s dick and lets out a low whistle.

     “A man needs time to admire the good things in this world, Johnny. I was simply...admiring.” Gyro shoots him a toothy grin and Johnny groans, head falling back against the pillow again.

     “Well, you better hurry up or I’m gonna get soft. Nothin’ sexy about watching you stare at my dick and not doing anything about it- holy Christ -” Before he can even finish his sentence, Gyro’s face is back down by his crotch and the tip of his cock is in the man’s mouth. He has almost forgotten what this felt like, to have someone’s mouth enthusiastically on his dick, and Johnny is almost glad for it because it feels so much better than he remembers. Gyro’s mouth is wet and warm, his tongue clever and nimble against the underside of his cock as it slides upwards towards his slit. He wishes he could move his legs so he could wrap them around Gyro’s head and lock him in place, unable to keep a low moan from escaping his throat unchecked. He feels Gyro chuckle around him, a hand coming up to stroke Johnny’s shaft, and the vibration of it is almost enough to make him yell.

     It was still weird to think of a man doing these kinds of things to him, but this was Gyro - he trusted the man with his life, so why would his dick be any different? If they were going to die tomorrow, which they very well might, Johnny is almost certain at this point that he’d rather have gone out knowing Gyro feels the same way about him that he does about Gyro - the man had basically dispelled all his doubts and fears that had been festering in his mind for the past nine or so hours with a few sentences. Johnny can’t remember the last time someone had that profound of an effect on him, if ever. Not his father, not the throngs of women, certainly not his doctors - the last person to care for him, and to truly care about him, was Nicholas. Suddenly there’s a lump in Johnny’s throat and his fists tighten in the sheets below him. He wonders if Nicholas would be proud of him: a former so-called genius-jockey that got too full of himself and was shot as a result, becoming a paraplegic and entering into a race he’s likely to die in just to follow a man around - that already said he couldn’t fix his legs, idiot, there’s no hope just quit now while you’re alive - like a puppy. The same man who was now blowing him in a shitty motel room, two thousand miles from home.

     “Johnny?”

     Gyro’s soft voice brings him back to reality and Johnny hadn’t even realized that Gyro was now looking up at him with a worried expression, one hand on his flagging dick while the other rests comfortingly against his belly.

     “S-Sorry, got a little...caught up in the moment.” Johnny tries to laugh it off, but the forced laugh is downright pitiful and he realizes there’s a peculiar wetness on his cheeks that wasn’t there a few minutes ago.

     “Oh, Johnny,” Gyro lets go of his cock and Johnny almost feels guilty for ruining the moments with his stupid degrading thoughts until there’s a hand gently wiping away the tears on his cheeks. “If it’s too much, we can stop.”

     “No,” Johnny bites out quickly and he winces at his sharp tone. He does his damndest to soften his voice to something barely above a whisper. “Please. I want to. With you.”

     Gyro doesn't push him further, only letting a soft half-smile grace his lips before leaning in and pressing a kiss to each side of Johnny’s face. Johnny squeezes his eyes shut before he manages what he hopes is a reassuring smile back at Gyro, who seems satisfied for the moment and kisses his forehead. Then he pulls back, leaning down over the side of the bed to pull the nightstand drawer open and dig around inside. Johnny watches him curiously and sits up on his elbows to get a better view.

     “Gyro?”

     “Hold on!” There’s a few more seconds of Gyro rustling around in the drawer before he lets out an ‘aha!’ and holds up a bottle for Johnny to see. “Oil for the lamp. I’m sure they won’t miss a little.”

     Johnny suddenly realizes what else the oil could possibly be used for and his cock twitches in interest. He can feel his heart start to pound a little harder in his chest and he forces himself to relax as Gyro repositions himself between his legs, setting the bottle next to him on the bed and lifting Johnny’s unfeeling legs up to rest against his thighs for better access.

     “I would say that this is going to feel a little odd, but I’m not sure how much you can feel down here.” Gyro winks up at him, twisting the metal tin open and pouring a generous amount of oil onto his fingers.

     “I can feel my ass, idiot, how do you think I shit?” Johnny snaps back, but his eyes are entirely focused on Gyro’s oiled-up fingers. He hopes he doesn’t look as apprehensive as he feels, because he doesn’t want Gyro to stop but he’s been thrown entirely out of his comfort zone.

     “Well, then, I’d advise you to relax or this will be more uncomfortable than necessary.”

     Johnny breathes out a deep sigh through his nose and tries to relax his body as much as possible, tilting his head back to stare up at the room’s chipped ceiling. Perhaps if he didn’t look when Gyro - oh, that’s definitely a finger pushing into his ass . His jaw clenches at the feeling of Gyro inserting his finger but it doesn’t really hurt, it’s just uncomfortable. Gyro is watching his face like a hawk for any signs of pain or extreme discomfort and he prods his finger against Johnny’s walls momentarily. He soon decides that another finger can be inserted and presses it gently against Johnny’s hole as a warning before he starts pushing it in with the first one. Johnny lets out a strangled gasp and Gyro takes care to move his fingers slower as to not hurt him. Johnny’s hands are gripping the sheets again and Gyro leans his head down to plant a few more soothing kisses against the younger man’s chest before dragging his tongue to the side to lap over Johnny’s nipple, hoping to distract him from the strange sensation in his rear. 

     His tactics seem to work because after a few moments of working his fingers in and out of Johnny’s hole, he’s moaning and keening into the touch eagerly. It doesn’t take Gyro long to find his prostate, curling his fingers slightly downward and to the side, and he rubs his fingers against the small, sensitive nub. He almost laughs aloud because it just about sends Johnny through the roof.

     “ Holy shit ,” Johnny yelps, back arching and eyes wide, a small rivulet of drool slipping out from the side of his mouth. “What the fuck was that ?”

     “Your prostate, Johnny,” Gyro raises an eyebrow, experimentally rubbing his fingers against it once more. “You’ve never heard of a prostate?”

     “ No , why would I have heard of something in my-” Johnny’s cut off with his own yelp and a following moan, his cock now fully coaxed to hardness against his belly. Gyro smirks and gives it a teasing stroke.

     “Prostate glands are important, Johnny. They help facilitate a healthy sex life, as well as-”

     That’s right, anything involving the human body is a no-go around the Italian. Because every single time Johnny begins to forget that Gyro is a doctor, the idiot pipes up with some medical hoo-ha that makes him want to ram his own spurs into his ears. Johnny is still reeling from how much Gyro had to say about the kidneys after Johnny offhandedly mentioned a kid he knew had gotten kicked by a horse in the back and apparently died from it.

     “God, I don’t give a fuck what it does, just keep touching it,” Johnny interrupts and Gyro can do nothing but oblige, dutifully preparing his riding partner and pleasuring him to the best of his ability. The younger man almost cries when Gyro removes his fingers entirely, shooting a pleading look down at him.

     “You’re oiled up enough,” Gyro explains and sits back so he can easily take his drawers off without them catching on his feet. “I think we’re ready for the main act, as long as you’re still alright?”

     “Is it gonna feel like that did?” The question is stupid, he knows that, but Johnny is entirely unfamiliar with the act of sex involving two men. Not to mention, the fire-and-brimstone preachers and townsfolk alike back in Kentucky had always said sex between two men was not only sacriligous, but felt as if the fires of hell themselves were licking at you. Johnny once had gotten the belt from his father for asking how they could possibly know that, but he had learned his lesson after that. Don’t question the clergy. Or God.

     “It will after a few minutes,” Gyro responds patiently, as if he were talking about something as mundane as the weather. “But it might be uncomfortable or even painful at first. Tell me if it’s too much.”

     “Why do you keep saying that? I’m fine!”

     “Says the man who was crying earlier.” Gyro retorts, but there’s no venom in his words - just affection. He gets back up onto his knees between Johnny’s legs, holding onto the underside of Johnny’s thighs for leverage as he lines himself up and Christ , Johnny can tell he’s a lot bigger than a few fingers. Gyro’s cock is bigger than his own, he notices with a slightly bitter feeling in his gut but he pushes it down and tries to do as Gyro had instructed before. Relax, that’s all he had to do. Gyro would do the rest. Gyro would take care of him.

     Gyro asks if he’s ready, a hand on his own cock to press himself against Johnny’s ass, and the Kentuckian nods sharply. He just wants to get to the good part, this anxiety-inducing preparatory phase be damned. But he’s glad Gyro took the time to prepare him beforehand, because as the man presses the head of his cock past the ring of muscle his face contorts at the moderate burning sensation, almost as if his ass was being stretched too wide. His entire body tenses and Gyro hisses above him at the feeling of Johnny’s hole clenching almost painfully around him. He stills his movements, aware that the man under him is unconsciously trying to scoot away from the likely-intense pressure being put on his lower half and he doubles over until his chest and Johnny’s are touching. He rests his forearms on either side of Johnny’s head and shushes him gently, wishing he could somehow make this part more comfortable. Johnny hisses, bringing a hand to his mouth to bite on as Gyro slowly inches himself in to the hilt.

     “Shh, I know it hurts. You have to relax, then it’ll hurt less. Tell me when you’re ready and I’ll move.”

     “ Fuck ,” Johnny breathes, gritting his teeth together. It hurts, but not as much as he expected it to, and soon the pain is whisked away and replaced with just a sense of discomfort. It also helps that Gyro is whispering things in what he can only assume is Neapolitan - not simple Italian , Gyro constantly reminds him - and placing sweet, comforting kisses all over his face and chest. Eventually Johnny reaches up to snake his arms around Gyro’s neck and takes a shuddering breath. “Move.”

     Gyro does as he’s told, albeit as patiently and slowly as he can as to not hurt the other man, laying down soft kisses under Johnny’s jaw to detract from the discomfort he can tell he’s still feeling. One of Johnny’s hands grips Gyro’s shoulder to steady himself and he can only focus on the feeling of Gyro inside of him and keeping his breathing steady. His skin feels like it’s on fire where Gyro is touching him, his sides tingling as Gyro skims his hands up and down the length of his body. He’s vaguely aware that his cock is trapped against the muscle of his partner’s belly, the friction as Gyro imperturbably nudges his hips forward clashing with the ache in his ass and lighting up every sensory nerve in his body. Between the odd sensations down there and the fact that Gyro is still whispering some sweet nonsense into his skin as if he’d physically absorb the words being spoken, it’s almost too much.

     To his credit, Gyro manages to build up a steady pace and as soon as Johnny adjusts he detaches himself from the younger man’s clinging arms and sits back up on his knees. Johnny whines, unwilling to let Gyro go so soon, but Gyro shushes him and grabs onto the underside of Johnny’s thighs once more in a near-bruising grip. He almost feels guilty until he realizes that Johnny must not be able to feel it and kisses each knee before stilling his hips and throwing each leg over his respective shoulder. Johnny keens at the sudden change in position and Gyro can definitely feel the difference himself: he’s impossibly deep within Johnny now, able to acutely feel every involuntary clench and spasm around his dick. Johnny’s arms fall to his sides in a half-spread eagle position and Gyro wraps his arms around Johnny’s thighs to hold them tight against his body for better leverage. He moves his hips experimentally and Johnny damn near moans his name loud enough for the entire hotel to hear.

     “Gyro, fuck - Gyro , right there, I swear to God if you stop now-”

     “Shh!” Gyro hisses, but he’s more than amused at how loud Johnny is being. Honestly, if it wasn’t a matter of being forcibly evicted from the hotel should anyone hear them, it would be hotter than just about anything he can imagine. He didn’t take the Kentuckian as one who was necessarily quiet in bed, but he was acting like Gyro had just bought him from the brothel down the road. “You have to be quiet, Johnny!”

     Johnny throws an arm over his face and reaches his opposite hand down to stroke himself quickly, feeling his orgasm quickly approaching. Gyro pants and grunts above him with the exertion of maintaining those rhythmic, powerful thrusts that make Johnny just about scream. Gyro angles his thrusts downward suddenly and something within Johnny shatters into pieces, his eyes widening as he throws his head back and opens his mouth in a silent yell. Gyro watches as Johnny’s balls draw up tight to his body and his cock pulses in his hand as he shallowly, inconsistently thrusts up to meet it. Thick come splatters out onto Johnny’s upper thigh and belly and Gyro can’t help but run a few of his fingers through it curiously. The other man watches him through dazed, half-lidded eyes as he brings his fingers up and licks them clean, but Johnny can only groan in response and roll his head to the side. He’d make a comment questioning the hygienics of that action, but he’s entirely too spent. 

     Gyro pulls and tugs at Johnny’s hips harshly, entirely focused on his own pleasure now that Johnny’s come, and lets out a strangled moan as he finally forces himself to quickly pull out and furiously jerk himself to completion onto Johnny’s belly. He grits his teeth at the force of his orgasm and compels himself to keep his eyes open through the rocking waves of pleasure crashing through his body so he can see their come mix and slide down Johnny’s abdomen towards the sheets below him. 

     After it’s over and he’s left panting, a thin sheen of sweat covering both Johnny’s body and his own and serving to make things incredibly slick where their skin is touching, Gyro carefully lets Johnny’s legs down off his shoulders and falls to the side of him. Johnny doesn’t speak, head still turned away from him, and for a moment Gyro is left to worry whether or not he moved things to quickly between them. He’s about to ask if the other man is alright when blue eyes suddenly meet his own: they aren’t teary, thank God, but Johnny looks absolutely exhausted. Gyro can feel his expression softening, his heart absolutely overflowing with affection at the sight of a disheveled, sleepy-looking Johnny, and he’s pretty sure it’s going to burst in his chest when Johnny rolls onto his side and slings an arm around his chest.

     “So,” Gyro begins. “Do you come here often?”

     Johnny snorts next to him, burying his face in Gyro’s shoulder. Gyro opens his arm so the younger man can nestle himself closer. “You really know how to ruin a good moment.”

     “Nyoho! Perhaps I can teach you that as well, after I teach you how to ride your horse.”

     Gyro can only laugh when Johnny reaches up and slaps his chest.