Work Text:
Johnny has a mild fear of firsts.
Johnny loves award shows.
And tonight just so happens to be Johnny’s first award show as an aspiring director instead of a household name actor.
“I feel like I’m gonna throw up, Ken.” Johnny begins uncorking a bottle of wine. Kenshi does not move from his spot on Johhny’s couch but leans back with a content smile on his face.
“I don’t understand why you’re so nervous. You’re a natural,” Kenshi assures. He hears the cork pop, followed by the gentle sloshing of wine being poured into two glasses on the coffee table in front of him.
“You’re not really pre-gaming an award show right now, are you?”
Johnny laughs and Kenshi’s heart throbs.
“It’s just one glass,” Johhny says. “For now, at least. I even poured you one too. Let’s loosen up those bones, yeah?”
If Kenshi had eyes he’d roll them, but still, he extends a hand out in front of him for Johhny to place a glass in. Once Kenshi’s fingers curl firmly around the glass stem, Johnny takes it as his cue to safely clink their glasses together.
Kenshi’s slowly but surely becoming more accommodated to life without Sento. Of course, he’ll always keep it close by and it’s very handy in a fight, but the last thing he wants is for it to become a crutch. Plus, with all the time he’s been spending in public on Johnny’s arm, he doesn’t want to raise questions as to why he’s always seen with a sword strapped to his back. Johnny insisted that he could get away with it.
“Imagine the tabloids,” Johnny had said. “’Cage steps out with handsome, tattooed swordsman. Could this be Johnny’s newest rebound? Or just another sexy bodyguard?’”
“Can I take your blindfold off?” Johnny asks. “I bought you something.”
Kenshi takes a long sip of his wine and sits up.
“Go ahead.”
Johnny swiftly maneuvers around the coffee table and sets down his wine glass. Leaning forward slightly, he gently begins untying the blindfold he gifted Kenshi from what seems like eons ago. Kenshi’s hands find a familiar hold on Johnny’s slim waist.
“Hey now, Takahashi.”
“What?” Kenshi plays dumb. “Trying to get a feel for what you’re wearing.” He rubs his hands slowly up and down Johnny’s sides. “This feels nice.” Johnny preens.
“It was expensive! It better.”
He folds Kenshi’s blindfold a few times and sets it on the table behind him. In its place, he gently sets a thickly tinted pair of sunglasses.
“Oh? These are new.” Kenshi assesses. Johnny hums his agreement.
“Armani, baby. Only the best for my eye candy.”
“You’re so good to me.”
Kenshi pulls Johnny in by his belt loops and Johnny offers little resistance. He tenderly cups the back of Kenshi’s head and leans down low to capture his lips in a kiss. The kiss is chaste; Johnny pulls away first, but Kenshi keeps his hold on Johnny’s belt loops firm.
“You smell good too. Where are you going?” He begins to tug Johnny closer playfully.
“Hands off the merchandise. You’re gonna make us late for our limo,” Johnny chastises. Kenshi frowns but releases his grip. Johnny in turn catches his hands and lifts him to his feet. Once Kenshi is standing, Johnny unbuttons the first two buttons on Kenshi’s white silk dress shirt and pulls them open enough for the outer edges of Kenshi’s chest tattoos to peek through. Kenshi lets Johnny do as he pleases. The teal of his suit jacket and pants really bring out the red ink on his hands and chest. God, Johnny has great taste.
“I’ll have no qualms about your hands on me afterwards though. Maybe even during.”
-
Johnny is still a bundle of nerves when they get in the limousine, knee bouncing up and down in the back seat at a mile a minute. Kenshi slithers a hand over Johnny’s kneecap to anchor it, his thumb making gentle circles.
“You’re getting really worked up about this,” Kenshi states the obvious. Johnny heaves a long sigh in response.
“Yeah, I dunno why. I normally don’t get nervous before events like these.”
Kenshi closes the gap between them, slowly easing over the middle seat and reaching forward to slide the limousine partition window closed. Johnny gasps dramatically and places a hand against Kenshi’s chest.
“Takahashi Kenshi. In the backseat of a limousine? You nasty boy.”
Kenshi scoffs.
“We’re not going that far. I’m just trying to get you relax.”
“Oh.” Johnny sounds disappointed. Kenshi retracts his hand from Johnny’s knee and tilts his head indignantly.
“You seriously want me to fold you in the back of this limo on our way to an event? Johnny.” Very predictable behavior on Johnny’s end, but Kenshi still has the nerve to sound aggrieved. Johnny shrugs because, really, Kenshi has known him for long enough to know what Johnny was anticipating the moment they were granted a miniscule amount of privacy. Shame on him for expecting better.
“So that’s my bad. I’ll be good though!” Johnny promises. “You can kiss me now!” He leans forward, lips puckered exaggeratedly. Kenshi sighs but obliges Johnny’s request nonetheless. He keeps their first kiss innocent and closed mouth, moving his hand back to Johnny’s knee. Johnny is quick to move it higher on his leg, grabbing Kenshi’s wrist and moving his hand squarely on his upper thigh. Kenshi understands his message loud and clear, tilting his head to allow more access. Johnny holds Kenshi’s face with both hands, smoothing his thumbs back and forth over the stubble on Kenshi’s jaw, and leans back against the car door behind him. Kenshi hums and follows, settling both hands on Johnny’s hips. He teases Johnny’s bottom lip with the tip of his tongue and Johnny grants him easy admittance.
They kiss in the back seat of the limousine slowly and languidly until they feel the limousine slowing to a halt outside of the venue. Kenshi begins to pull back and Johnny chases after him. He allows Johnny to steal a few more quick kisses before sitting upright.
“Make yourself presentable, Cage.” Kenshi smooths down his shirt and suit jacket. “Does my hair look alright?”
Johnny sighs. “Would look better if you were naked.”
Kenshi laughs through his nose.
“Seriously though. How do I look?”
“I think you’re spending too much time with me,” Johnny jokes. “You’re as sexy as ever, Keanu. How do I look?” Kenshi angles his neck to face Johnny head on and makes the most impassive expression he can. He’s very good at that.
“Sorry. No more jokes.”
Johnny runs a quick hand through his hair before opening his door to dozens of flashing cameras. He steps fully out of the car, hand raised to shield his eyes from the blinding flashes. Johnny grins dazzlingly and wiggles his fingers at paps he recognizes. Reaching backwards, he extends his hand to Kenshi for him to step out as well.
“He pulled close enough to the curb, so you don’t have to take an extra step,” Johnny cautions. Kenshi exits the car with grace. Once he stands upright, Johnny lets go of his hand to offer him an elbow. Familiar with their routine, Kenshi slips his hand into the crook of Johnny’s arm and curls his fingers securely around Johnny’s bicep.
“Are there a lot of people? It sounds like a lot,” Kenshi comments. At moments like these he doesn’t miss his sight. Considering the number of people he hears, he can only imagine the number of cameras surrounding them. Kenshi can feel the prospective headache he would’ve gotten had he still had eyes. He fixes his face into a winning trophy husband smile just like how Johnny trained him. Johnny steals a glance to the side and whistles low.
“Damn you’re sexy. You really have your media smile down to a tee! I’m so proud of you.” He leans in to press a kiss to Kenshi’s cheek and the paparazzi go wild.
“You’re such a camera whore. You did that on purpose,” Kenshi comments. He hopes the sounds of cameras clicking and journalists calling their name is loud enough to mask his voice. Johnny shrugs his shoulders as if to say, “can you blame me?” and comically flexes the bicep Kenshi’s holding on to for the cameras. Kenshi snorts.
“Alright, alright. I’m done.”
Kenshi tunes out the paparazzi calling his and Johnny’s names, trying to garner their attention for a good photo. He instead focuses on Johnny confidently strutting across the red carpet with him on his arm.
“We’re about to encounter some steps, Ken,” Johnny warns. “There’s gonna be four. They’re not big though. Do you want me to step first and you follow, or you got it?” Affection blooms in Kenshi’s chest at Johnny’s thoughtful nature, even though it’s not the first time he’s exhibited this behavior.
“I’ve got it, Johnny. Thank you. You’re such a gentleman.”
Kenshi makes sure to match Johnny’s pace exactly as they ascend the steps.
The presence of fans, cameras, and general chaos seem to have sapped all the nervous energy from Johnny’s body. He carries himself with a sense of pride and the confidence of someone who has performed this act hundreds of times before, which isn’t far from the truth at all. Kenshi can vividly imagine him winking at passersby, waving at every camera he sees, and keeping his face always fixed for the perfect photo. He almost wishes he had strapped Sento to his back tonight so he could watch it happen.
Johnny begins to slow to a stop in front of a large, plain backdrop.
“Are you ready for pictures?” He asks. This is Johnny’s favorite part. “Well, ‘more pictures’ might be more accurate.” Kenshi laughs through his nose again.
“Just tell me where I’m supposed to be looking.” Kenshi forces himself to be more conscious of his posture, as he’s sure Johnny is doing the same.
“For this first one, face forward just like you’re doing right now.”
Kenshi smiles.
“This next camera is at your 2 o’ clock.”
Kenshi turns his head accordingly.
“Turn to your 11.”
Whatever Johnny says.
“Now face me and show off your side profile, just like I showed you.”
Kenshi’s great at taking orders.
“And we’re done! We can go and sit down now. Has anyone told you how unbelievably sexy you are?”
“If I said yes, would you get jealous?”
Johnny thinks to himself for a moment.
“Honestly? A little bit, yeah. You’re still super sexy, by the way. If I didn’t make that clear earlier.”
-
It’s a humbler award venue than what Johnny is accustomed to. The setup, however, is more favorable in Kenshi’s opinion once Johnny explains what they’re walking into.
“It’s not a theater-type set up which is odd. It’s spacious like a concert hall or an auditorium but instead of rows of seats they’ve got these little round tables for all the attendees.”
Kenshi hums in acknowledgement.
“Do we have tablemates?” Kenshi asks.
“Hold on a sec, sweetheart. I’m looking for our name cards.”
Johnny finds them quickly and is pleased to see that their table has been assigned to just the two of them. Frankly, any more people sitting here would have made it a crowd. He pulls out a chair for Kenshi before sitting down in his own.
“You’re sitting too far away,” Johnny complains. “I’m gonna just. Scooch my chair over a bit.”
From an eagle’s eye view, Johnny and Kenshi’s table looks significantly different from all the other attendees sitting across from each other at their quaint little tables. Johnny has relegated himself to the “top” as opposed to directly across from Kenshi.
“With as small as these tables are, I didn’t think sitting ‘too far’ from you was possible” Kenshi comments.
Johnny shrugs.
“I can’t help but like being all up underneath you, Ken.”
The lights in the audience hall dim quickly, forcing everyone who has yet to find their seats to find them quickly. Most conversations among the crowd cease, and the rest continue in hushed voices.
“You’ve got a camera coming up on your 6,” Johnny whispers against Kenshi’s ear. Kenshi swallows thickly and holds his hand out open faced on the table, signaling for Johnny to hold it. Johnny slides his hand into Kenshi’s like second nature as the camera person swings around from behind to film a candid scene of them from the front. Johnny squeezes Kenshi’s hand affectionately, only releasing the pressure once said camera person had moved a few tables away.
“We should be good for the rest of the night.” Johnny’s talking about photo opportunities. After a healthy number of events like these, Johnny’s noticed that most film crews prefer to get their shots and clips in at the beginning of the festivities when everyone is bright-eyed and fresh faced. While it looks like there’s still tons of bodies and flashing lights after an event, really, it’s significantly less. Most of what’s showing up on television is playing on the big screen in front of them anyways.
Kenshi lets his face relax.
“I don’t know how you do it, Johnny,” he murmurs. “All that smiling and posing has me exhausted.”
“You get used to it after a while,” Johnny confesses. His hand sneaks under the tablecloth, onto Kenshi’s knee and begins to tap an idle beat.
“I don’t think I would.” Kenshi finds Johnny’s hand underneath the table and intertwines their fingers together. “You were born for this sort of thing.”
“You think so?”
Kenshi smiles and hums his confirmation as the host begins their opening speech.
-
The host makes quick work of announcing winners for categories, and when Johnny’s name doesn’t get called, Kenshi takes it as his cue to stop pretending to care. Johnny insists he’s not too broken up about it.
“Everyone knows that the first film in a series is always for the arts and not the charts. Sequels are where it’s at.”
Kenshi’s never heard anything like that in his life but chooses not to comment on it. And now that he’s no longer sitting at attention, listening raptly for “Johnny Cage” to be announced by the host, Kenshi realizes just how bored he truly is. Having Johnny transcribe each scene that plays on the big screen in front of them is by no means terrible, but he’d love to do something else. Anything else, really.
Their hands are still clasped together under the table. Kenshi untangles their fingers to slide his hand against Johnny’s inner thigh and squeezes. Johnny smiles to himself but doesn’t take his eyes off the screen in front of him. Kenshi keeps his thumb braced while the tips of his other four fingers circle rhythmically on the inside of Johnny’s leg. Johnny’s cock stirs at the motion, but Johnny’s brain can’t resist a little teasing and a movie, so he remains focused on the clip that’s playing.
A few minutes of Kenshi’s ministrations leave Johnny, respectfully, half-hard. Kenshi trails his knuckles gently across the bulge that’s forming in the front of Johnny’s slacks and begins undoing the button at the top. Johnny steals a glance at Kenshi, whose face remains deceptively impassive. He leans in to whisper in Kenshi’s ear.
“You need me to unzip, or you got it?” Kenshi pops his fly open as soon as Johnny finishes his sentence and Johnny spreads his legs a bit.
“Someone’s bored,” Johnny snickers as Kenshi fishes his cock out of his boxers. Kenshi begins pumping him under the table at a slow, idle rhythm.
“Very. Do you want me to stop?” Kenshi whispers back. Johnny shakes his head no, trying to discreetly adjust his pants underneath the table so Kenshi can have more access. He’s risen to full hardness in no time and is beginning to leak precum profusely into the palm of Kenshi’s hand. Johnny leans forward to rest his elbows on the table and stifle a moan into his fist. Kenshi shushes him gently and pulls his hand away, wiping it off on the tablecloth.
“What? That’s it?” Johnny hisses with no real malice. Kenshi laughs to himself and folds his hands neatly in his lap. Johnny catches a glimpse of the tattoos on his fingers and knuckles in the dim light and his cock lurches.
“Just giving you a minute to cool off.”
One minute feels like twenty and Johnny’s hard on has not gone down in the slightest. Kenshi leans in and presses his lips against the shell of Johnny’s ear.
“Are there any cameras nearby?” Johnny resists the urge to permanently stain his reputation, to just get naked and spread eagle on this miniscule table he’s getting jerked off under and replies with a simple “no.” Kenshi pulls away and sticks his index and middle fingers in his mouth, slicking them with spit, before maneuvering them back into Johnny’s lap. Johnny wills himself to keep staring forward. If he looks at Kenshi, he’s going to ravage him.
Kenshi massages the head of Johnny’s dick in between his spit-slicked knuckles with slow, tantalizing, vertical motions. He hears the pace of Johnny’s breathing change as he’s trying to keep his composure. Once he feels the head has received enough attention, he drags his knuckles from tip to base, then curls all his fingers gently around the shaft and begins stroking Johnny proper. Johnny’s jaw drops open, as if to moan, but he quickly covers it with a hand. Kenshi sets a steady pace with his strokes, gripping more firmly on the downward strokes. He hears Johnny’s breathing quicken.
“Ken,” Johnny whispers.
Kenshi then releases his grip and folds his hands in his lap once more. Johnny winces, groaning quietly to himself. His cock jumps as if objecting to the lack of pressure.
“God, you fucking suck.”
Kenshi says nothing but turns toward Johnny and smirks. He lets enough time lapse between them that Johnny considers putting his junk away and praying he’s at least kind of soft before it’s time to leave the venue.
“Coming back to finish what you started?” Johnny asks breathily when he feels Kenshi’s hand wrap around him again. There’s no teasing this time; Kenshi sets a rhythm and fast, sucking the air out of Johnny’s lungs.
“Haven’t decided yet,” is Kenshi’s reply.
Something comedic that was released recently plays, indicated by the carefully muted laughter happening around them. Johnny’s leaned back in his chair, one hand resting clenched on top of the table, the other clamped over his mouth and nose. Kenshi works his wrist faster and Johnny starts to visibly squirm in his seat. Whatever the punchline is in the clip that’s being broadcasted finally lands judging by the uproar in the audience. Kenshi begins squeezing around Johnny’s head on the upstroke and all it takes is a few more pumps for Johnny to cum. Kenshi slowly strokes him through it, smiling to himself as he listens to Johnny’s poorly stifled whimpering. The laughter in the crowd dies conveniently as Johnny’s orgasm comes to an end.
Kenshi casually wipes off the cum coating his knuckles with the tablecloth while Johnny stares at him wordlessly.
“I can feel you staring at me.” He doesn’t try to hide his grin.
Johnny feels himself softening and attempts to discreetly tuck himself back into his pants with unsteady hands.
“You think you’re funny, huh? Just wait until I get you back in the limo.”
-
Johnny does everything except pick Kenshi up by the back of his neck and throw him into the limousine once they get outside. He manhandles Kenshi into the backseat, and none too gently closes the limo door behind him as he gets in. Kenshi doesn’t even have a chance to make a snarky comment about Johnny’s behavior before he’s pulled into a bruising kiss.
“Johnny-” Kenshi tries pulling away. Johnny roughly pulls him back in by his jacket lapels.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Johnny borderline growls in between kisses. Kenshi moans into Johnny’s mouth and kisses back before pulling away again.
“Jesus, Johnny- the partition.” Kenshi thrusts his hand around in the dimly lit limo searching for the sliding partition door.
“So, you’ll do what you did in there and then act all shy in here? Right.” Johnny rolls his eyes and slides the partition shut. “Now shut up and kiss me.” Kenshi obliges (he’s great at taking orders). They go from closed mouth kisses to tongues and teeth in less than seconds, biting and nipping at each other's lips just as much as kissing (if not more than).
Johnny finally breaks away, pushing Kenshi against the leather seat behind him before sliding down and kneeling on the car floor. Quick hands begin to undo Kenshi’s belt and pants zipper.
“You don’t waste any time, do you?” Kenshi remarks, finding a secure hold in Johnny’s hair. Johnny doesn’t reply and instead focuses on pulling Kenshi’s half hard cock out of his boxers and immediately swallowing it down to the base. Kenshi swears and his fingers curl tightly against Johnny’s scalp. He’s definitely not half hard anymore. Johnny pulls off with an obnoxious “pop” and looks up at Kenshi, both their lips parted and panting, both their faces flushed red. He revels in the sight for only a few seconds, then wraps his hand around the base of Kenshi’s dick and pumps slowly a few times before enveloping the head with his mouth. He circles Kenshi’s head deftly with his tongue, paying special attention to the tip and the pre-cum leaking from it. Kenshi whines low and steady like a drone.
“Don’t tease me.”
Johnny licks a long stripe from base to tip, takes Kenshi’s cock into his mouth again and sucks hard, letting his cheeks hollow to maximize suction. Kenshi makes a noise that could be considered anything between a sob and a moan. He moves his hands from Johnny’s scalp to cup the curve of his jaw, fingers bracing the back of his head and thrusts shallowly upwards. Johnny changes his position on the floor ever so slightly to give Kenshi a better angle to fuck his mouth at. Strong hands pry Kenshi’s thighs further apart. The sounds coming from Johnny’s mouth are obscene as he makes no attempt to stop the drool from accumulating as Kenshi propels in and out. Kenshi’s no better; he’s chanting Johnny’s name almost as if he’s scared he’s going to forget it.
Johnny removes himself from Kenshi’s grasp and crudely wipes his mouth clean with the back of his hand. Kenshi feels Johnny sit next to him and hears the rustling of fabric. He takes his cock, slick with Johnny’s spit, and strokes himself while he listens to Johnny undress.
“What’s next? We should be quick,” Kenshi advises.
“I’m gonna ride you.” Johnny struggles to get his shoe untied. He settles for forcefully pulling it off. “If I can get my fucking pants off.” He has one shoe on still, and only one leg removed from his pants and underwear, the other leg haphazardly bunched around his knee. Kenshi’s hands find Johnny’s hips as Johnny eases himself on top. One of Johnny’s hands has a firm grip on Kenshi’s lapel, the other wrapped around Kenshi’s dick as he lines himself up to sit down on it. Kenshi tucks his face into Johnny’s collarbone as he feels his head disappear into tight heat, and he begins pushing up into Johnny as he’s sinking down. Kenshi leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses from Johnny’s collar, up his neck, along his jaw, before ending at his lips while Johnny occupies himself with bottoming out. When Johnny’s ass finally meets Kenshi’s thighs, they can’t help but moan into each other’s mouths.
Kenshi’s hands firmly grip the underside of Johnny’s ass, helping Johnny up off his cock before he slams back down. Johnny sets a back breaking pace from the get-go, knees and quads working overtime bouncing on Kenshi’s cock. Kenshi’s breathing goes ragged, thrusting up to meet Johnny.
As if telepathically, they both simultaneously recognize the bends in the road they’re on. Johnny’s mansion isn’t even 10 minutes away.
“Kenshi we’re-”
“I know. I know.”
Kenshi wraps a strong arm around Johnny’s waist and all but slams him horizontally against the limo seats. He bunches the remainder of Johnny’s bottom half of clothing around Johnny’s ankle and pushes his legs back to where his knees reach his ears. Keeping his grip on the underside of Johnny’s thighs firm, Kenshi begins pistoning in and out of Johhny’s hole like a man possessed.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck Johnny, I’m so close,” Kenshi pants. Johnny wrestles clothing out of the way to fist his own cock furiously.
“You fuck so fucking good Ken doll, I’m right behind you.”
Kenshi cums with no warning, pressing his hips flush against Johnny’s ass as he rides out his orgasm. And as promised, Johnny isn’t too far behind. Feeling Kenshi empty himself into him pushes Johnny over the edge as he massacres his shirt with cum.
Kenshi pulls out and slumps against the seat behind him, feeling completely boneless. Johnny lets his legs relax and fall across Kenshi’s lap, careful to avoid his junk. There’s silence for the first time since they entered the limo as they catch their breath.
And then the realization hits.
“We didn’t think about this at all,” Johnny says as he examines the spunk cooling on his shirt. He hopes it washes out.
“You didn’t think about this at all,” Kenshi corrects. He gently moves Johnny’s legs out of the way so he can put his cock back in his pants. Johnny feels cum leak out of him and winces at not just the feeling of it, but the limo cleaning fee he’s gonna have to foot afterwards. The limo slows to a stop. They’re home, and Johnny is still in an incredible state of undress.
“Fucking hell.” He scrambles to slide his boxers and pants back up over his ass.
“If I had known this was going to happen, I would’ve brought Sento,” Kenshi jokes. “Maybe I could have been of some help.”
“Very funny,” Johnny deadpans. He fishes in his pocket for his wallet and pulls out a crisp $100 bill. He knocks on the partition door before sliding it open, and hands it to the chauffeur.
“Sorry about... uh. Everything. If you could do me a huge favor and bill me directly instead of my agent. It’d mean the world. Thanks so much.” The driver accepts the bill wordlessly and does not meet Johnny’s eyes.
“Ok Ken, time to get out. Let’s go, let’s go.”
-
The cleaning bill is $500. Johnny makes a mental note to either get his rocks off before events or to pack a few condoms in his wallet.