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"So, can you control when you shit?"
"That's an inappropriate question," Johnny says with a frown. But he didn't stop his routine sharpening of Gyro's hunting knife, and he didn't remove Gyro's arm from around his shoulder.
"So?"
Johnny breaks into a small smile. Gyro could ask some pretty weird questions sometimes, but he's glad that he's willing to ask. It's better than if he were to be delicate with the whole disability thing. "Yes. I couldn't at first, but I got some control over that area again."
Gyro's hand cups his shoulder. His thumb teases up under his sleeve and runs back and forth in a soothing line across his skin. Johnny's other shoulder is pressed up against the taller man's chest. One of his unfeeling legs is dangled over Gyro's.
That's another thing about Gyro, he's oddly comfortable with physical contact. He's all about warm embraces by the campfire and sleeping side by side. Johnny thought it was weird at first, but Gyro apologized and explained that in Italy, where he came from, it was normal for friends to be physically close like this. Johnny quickly grew to enjoy his foreign customs. It had been so long since he'd received so much as a pat on the back that the touch felt oddly exciting. Since his injury, most people looked at him like he carried the plague. No one had dared to touch him in two years.
"Does that mean your dick works too?"
Johnny snorts at the crude phrasing. "For pissing, or…?"
"Both."
"I can take a piss, but I'm not answering the other one."
Gyro had had a couple of servings of whisky, so was being extra Italian tonight. That means he's playing with Johnny's hair and trailing a hand down along his jawline.
"Well, I'm glad everything is in working order."
That also means that Gyro is tipping his chin up and leaning down to plant a kiss on his lips.
"You can hardly say "everything."" Johnny's face heats up. He's still not used to it when Gyro does that. It feels so wrong. It goes against everything he's been taught. It's scandalous. But Gyro keeps on insisting that it's a "friendly Italian custom ."
Johnny is a reasonably progressive person. He's not one to be insensitive to other cultures. Plus, it gets his heart racing in a funny way when Gyro does that. And he doesn't think he wants to give that up by telling Gyro to knock it off.
"Things could be worse. The essentials are working, right?"
Gyro's free hand, the one that isn't still cupping Johnny's face, creeps up his inner thigh. He can't feel it, but he watches as it goes.
Then Gyro bends down to kiss him again, and it's firm and deep, and there's just the faintest bit of tongue to it.
"G-Gyro," Johnny gasps when they break.
"Sorry, too much?"
"No…" he's forgotten all about the knife he was sharpening. He's thinking now only of Gyro's strong hand cupping his face, his lips that taste like alcohol, and the hand that he wishes he could feel on his thigh. "Um, we should probably go to bed now, don't you think?"
Bed is a place for more closeness. It's a place where Gyro usually spoons him, or he'll have his face nestled against Gyro's chest. Which is apparently another Italian custom between close friends. Their separate bedrolls had long since become one. Pushed together to create a double sleeping space.
"Yeah, you're right." Gyro dips down for one more peck.
Once the fire has been reduced to only glowing coals, and they're both tucked comfortably under the blankets, Gyro's friendly hands start to wander again. One of them slips under his shirt and begins thumbing over his nipple. Gyro's lips are all but attacking his neck.
"Hey, stop it." Johnny chuckles. "I'm not one of your fangirls, so knock it off."
"Do you really want me to stop?" Gyro whispers before taking his earlobe between his teeth.
Johnny holds his breath. Gyro's hand is moving further. Smoothing over his stomach and dipping down under the waistband of his pants. It rubs him through his boxers and he already feels himself getting hard.
"What are you doing?" He whispers back. And he doesn't know why they're whispering, but it feels appropriate.
"Making sure everything is in working order." Gyro is almost giggling as he speaks. Yeah, he's for sure had too much to drink.
Johnny ignores that thought and closes his eyes. He focuses on the feeling of his friend, his Italian friend, working him into full erection. And it's the best erection he's had in years. Because it's finally someone else who's touching him. It's Gyro who's touching him and kissing his neck while he does it, and he's biting and sucking a hickey into the crook of his shoulder.
"You're sure this is okay?"
"Of course, Johnny," Gyro whispers against his ear. It makes Johnny's heart flutter when he says his name so softly in that slight accent of his. "Me and all my friends totally do this back home."
Okay, assuming Gyro is telling the truth, that makes Johnny the slightest bit jealous. But he's Gyro's only American friend, so it must be different, right?
Gyro sits up. He's still under the blankets when he moves to straddle Johnny's hips. He hovers over him while he pulls down the blue starry pants, slowly. Johnny can feel his body heat under the shared blanket like the warmth of the sun on a summer day. Especially when Gyro leans down to pull him into another one of those deep tongue-entwined kisses. A kiss he could get lost in.
Then he feels something prodding at his backside. It's faint, because he doesn't have much feeling there, but he feels it. He bumps foreheads with Gyro in his rush to prop himself up on his elbows. When he does, sure enough, he sees that Gyro had his dick out. And it's hard. Which isn't all that unusual, and not something Johnny hasn't seen before, but what he definitely hadn't seen is Gyro's dick poking between his ass.
"What?" Gyro's hand pauses in the middle of jerking him off.
"What are you doing?" Johnny asks. He's been asking that a lot lately.
Gyro chuckles again. "Hey, don't worry, I wasn't gonna keep going without lube."
"You can't!"
"Why not?" Gyro's sloppy drunken smile turns to a frown.
"That's sodomy! It's illegal!"
"Eh," Gyro grunts. "Your laws are stupid." He reaches over to one of their packs, the one they usually keep food and utensils in, and pulls out a bottle. He opens it and the air is immediately filled with the aroma of olive oil.
"C'mon, Joh-nny," he says in a sing-song way. "I promise it won't hurt or anything. I'll be gentle."
Johnny gulps. He should really say no, it's a horrible, horrible thing to do, and if anyone knew his life would be ruined. More so than it already is. But Gyro's cock, big and rutting against him, hard, for him, eager to enter… And Gyro's flushed handsome face, and his hand jerking him off, and the sultry deep kisses that he desperately wants another of… well, nobody will know if they keep quiet about it.
He swallows thickly. "Um, do you do this in Italy too?"
"Totally! All the time!" Gyro nods enthusiastically. He makes a wide gesture with his olive-oil-covered hands for emphasis. "Yeah, it's like, you go to Napoli, and guys are doing this left and right!"
Johnny raises an inquisitive eyebrow. He's starting to become skeptical of Gyro's tales of his homeland. "Okay… but you can't tell anyone. Seriously. We could both get in big trouble for this."
"Yeah, yeah," Gyro waves a hand dismissively. Then that same hand dives down and starts prodding at his backside again, working him open.
"O-Oh, shit, that feels weird."
But Johnny bares with the skin crawling discomfort for a bit. Soon Gyro removes his fingers and they're replaced by something much bigger. He braces himself, and if he thought the fingers were odd, then he had no idea what was coming.
"G-Gyro!" He cries out. And now he's especially glad that they're out in the wildness with no one around.
Gyro pushed in quickly. So quick that he barely has time to register the discomfort of being stretched before something is being nudged inside of him that makes his head go fuzzy and his stomach pool with hot desire. His mind goes numb with bliss. The larger body above him smacks into him with every rough thrust. He gasps and groans into another one of Gyro's suffocating kisses. Gyro is groping and grinding against him aimlessly. His hands intertwine with Johnny's hair and they grab places he can't even feel. He kisses down Johnny's neck and stops to drag his teeth over his collarbone before dipping down further to lick one of his nipples.
Johnny has a hard time focusing on any of this because it's all just so much. Even factoring in his closeness with Gyro of recent times, he hadn't been this intimate with someone in a long time. He hadn't been intimate like this ever. Gyro fucks into him with such force that he feels as if he's being driven into the ground. He has the faintest worry that his ass and lower back are going to hurt like hell tomorrow, but he can't be bothered to care at the moment. He's so full, and that spot inside of him is being hit over and over. Gyro is relentless. All he can do is wrap his arms around him and bury his face in his shoulder as he lets out a slew of pathetic moans.
"Gyro, please, I wanna cum,"
Gyro's hands are on his leaking cock again. The heat builds and rises in his abdomen as Gyro jerks him. Threatening to boil over.
"Hurry up, Johnny, I want to feel you when you cum on my cock."
He probably would have finished soon enough anyway, he didn't need those filthy words in his ear, but God damn, did they make him spill in seconds.
It doesn't take Gyro long to follow. A couple more frantic jerks of his hips and he's reached climax too. He doesn't even bother to pull out. He comes right inside, and it's far enough up that Johnny can feel the warm stickiness of it.
Johnny wrinkled his nose. Post climax, it occurs to him that this might just be a little bit gross. He's going to be pissed, and probably embarrassed cleaning this up in the morning, that's for sure. But he can't be bothered with worrying about that either, because it's so warm under the blankets, and Gyro has pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, his nimble fingers have intertwined with his, and he's giggling like a lovesick schoolgirl.
Or like a drunkard.
"Johnny, you're like, the best, best friend I've ever had."
"Best friend…?"
"Yeah, you're the bestest friend a best friend could wish for."
"Right," Johnny smiles into the crook of his neck, "I like you too, Gyro."