Chapter Text
Moving to Night City with a hope and a dream and a handful of eddies in his pocket wasn’t the smartest idea he’s ever had, but Johnny's been making it work. In hindsight, he should’ve known making a name for himself as a mercenary in a foreign country wasn’t going to be easy, especially without a decent résumé to back him up. But when rent was due and the small-time gigs dried up and there was more dust than food on his shelves, he managed to find consistent work as a joytoy.
It isn’t always glamorous, and it’s barely enough to pay the bills sometimes, but it’s more than he can ask for when he was facing eviction just a few months prior. It hasn’t been all bad, all things considered. Johnny is lucky to have a decent number of regular clients he can tolerate, and he’s been able to get more high-paying gigs. He's even been invited to the Afterlife and had preliminary talks with Rogue and V about different jobs. He’s practically been handed the Holy Grail with an invite like that.
It’s through one of those chats that he learns something interesting from Rogue. See, one of Johnny's earliest and now most dependable clients is a man only known to him as Riley. They've met once a week, every week, for almost a full year, and the man is still an enigma to Johnny. Riley has never once talked about his personal life, but he’s got so much chrome that it puts Maelstrom to shame; decked out in gleaming white cyberware with one of the most expansive cyberdecks Johnny's ever heard of. Johnny had just assumed he was on Militech’s payroll until Rogue passed him a datashard unprompted.
It was full of information on Riley.
“I know he’s a client of yours,” Rogue had said when Johnny asked why she had the shard. “I also know you must not know him, or you wouldn’t be here. We’re the competition, after all.”
That was the moment Johnny realized Riley was the elusive Ghost, one of the most notorious fixers in NC and the hardest to pin down because no one knew what he looked like or what his name actually was. No one except Rogue, it seemed, and maybe a handful of other prominent fixers in the city. Ghost’s inner circle was so tight, there was heated debate on if he was even real. Johnny, with his low status in the edgerunning world, certainly never received any job opportunities from him.
Rogue graciously allowed him to keep the shard until their next meeting. Johnny poured over the data that evening; there was a lot of damning info, but nothing Johnny wouldn’t expect from someone of Ghost’s infamous prestige. The most surprising thing was learning of Ghost’s marriage and kids—three sons all older than Johnny with no great accomplishments to their names. He was almost embarrassed for Ghost, that his offspring couldn’t achieve anything noteworthy in three decades. It was then that Johnny got an idea. Tentative, and entirely contingent on Riley’s—Ghost’s—compliance, but an idea all the same.
Johnny was going to use Ghost to become the most sought-after merc that ever set foot in Night City.
His building’s lift is out. Again.
Johnny scowls and resigns himself to the ungodly amount of stairs between the ground floor and his flat. He bets the people that live in the Glen don’t have to deal with such shoddy management, but between his usual rent, a lack of any new clients, no significant gigs, his bike in the shop, and paying off his latest ripperdoc visit, the Glen is a pipe dream. They’d be able to smell the lack of eddies on him and have him escorted off the premises before he could even inquire about available units.
He finally makes it to his floor and sighs, one part relief and one part breathlessness. All he wants is a hot shower and something to eat, maybe watch a bit of the news after if he’s feeling particularly masochistic. Those plans for a lazy night in go out the window when he gets a message from Ghost. It’s just a time and an address, which Johnny knows immediately is the No-Tell Motel. And Johnny wants to meet up, he really does, but with his only vehicle out of commission and his meager bank account, he’s got no way to get there. He could always charge a little extra in order to get a Delamain, but Ghost really isn’t in the business of doing favors.
So, regretfully, he sends back can’t tonight
Too good to see me all of a sudden?
too broke
There’s a lull after that, where Johnny has nothing more to add and Ghost doesn’t seem inclined to say anything else. Johnny bites his lip as he fiddles with his phone. One of the first things he learned when he started this line of work is that you meet the client in a neutral location or you don’t meet them at all—there’s too much risk in someone knowing where you live when they may feel entitled to your body. And he’s followed that rule religiously, kept himself safe the best that he can, but, well... If his idea is going to turn into an actual plan, Ghost will have to know where he lives eventually.
Sending Ghost his home address, he tacks on meet me here instead
A confirmation message comes through ten minutes later. Of course the bastard would make him wait, forcing Johnny to pace anxiously in between frantically picking up his messes while Ghost undoubtedly just smirks in whatever room he’s currently in. The acceptance has Johnny’s heart calming. Looking at his phone, he has enough time for that shower he wanted and hightails it to the bathroom after making a detour to grab some lingerie that he knows Ghost likes.
When he’s done and dressed up in a dark green bralette with matching panties, he exits the bathroom and stops dead at seeing Ghost casually lounging on his couch. It’s clear he’s been there for a while because he’s already found Johnny’s Lace stash and helped himself.
“Can’t afford a taxi, but you can buy Lace and lingerie, huh?”
Johnny takes the dig in stride, sitting next to Ghost and grabbing the Lace from him. He takes a deep drag and exhales right into Ghost’s face. “You know how it is. Some Tyger Claws wrecked my bike, I gotta keep a roof over my head, and I had to put a downpayment on my new Kiroshis.”
Ghost hums dismissively, taking the inhaler back. “Better be careful with the Claws if you ever want Wakako’s favor.”
Little comments like that from Ghost aren’t new when he deigns to learn about Johnny’s personal life. It’s the first time Johnny really thinks about it though, how Ghost wouldn’t know most of the things he’s said unless he was part of this world. Ghost hasn’t really been hiding anything; Johnny's just been too oblivious to put the pieces together on his own. Idly, he wonders how long that would’ve taken. Would he and Ghost have done this song and dance until Ghost moved on to younger and prettier ‘toys with Johnny being none the wiser?
He slides across the meager distance between them, straddling Ghost’s lap. “I’ve got a question for you,” he says, continuing when Ghost grunts. “We’ve met every week for almost a year. Isn’t it time we get serious? When are you gonna leave your wife?”
Ghost doesn’t even bother to ask how he knows about his wife. He just scoffs, venomous and derisive. “Leave my wife? Give up my house and half of what I own to shackle myself to a whore that can’t pay 50 eddies to get across town? Get fucking real, sweatheart.”
“You’re hurting my feelings,” Johnny says facetiously. He traces his thumb along the jagged scar spanning Ghost’s throat. He wishes, so intensely his fingers ache with it, that he could reopen the wound with his nails and ruin them both. But he keeps petting the scar instead, hypnotized by the fragile flesh that’s out of place on a body so dominated by chrome. “You know I’ve been talking to more fixers, getting more work. Only a matter of time until I’m outta the gutter.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Johnny bares his teeth. He’s going to make it to the top, with or without Ghost, but Ghost would expedite the process exponentially. And he’s not above using whatever means possible to get him there. “C’mon, Ghost,” he needles, nails digging into Ghost’s jaw. “You don’t need her.”
“And what can you give me that she can’t?” Ghost is being indulgent, which means he’s actually interested in the answer. Johnny smiles. Ghost may look down on him, but the fact that he keeps coming back means something.
“What can’t I? I told you: I’ve been talking to more fixers. You know V, yeah? The one that stormed ‘Saka tower by himself? He’s very interested in what I can bring to the table.”
Ghost clamps down on the wrist of the hand Johnny's still holding his jaw with, squeezing until it hurts. “I don’t know how you know, but you know. So you know that being a petty merc means fuck-all to me when I’ve got more useful ones on my payroll than you have years alive.”
“But they aren’t me.” Johnny starts placing teasing little kisses along Ghost’s throat and jaw until Ghost finally releases his death grip on Johnny’s wrist. “Think about how nice it will be to not have to haggle over cuts anymore. You’ll get to keep all the profits from a job.”
“Fine. More eddies in my pocket. What else?”
Johnny smiles against Ghost’s neck, kissing near his jugular vein to suppress the desire to sink his teeth in until he can tear it out. Ghost is playing into his hand and he doesn’t even know it. “We could have a baby.”
One second, Johnny is in Ghost’s lap. The next, he’s on his back on top of the couch cushions. “Why would I want my kid to have a whore for a mother?” Ghost growls, but he can’t keep his hands off of Johnny’s stomach.
“Not like I could do worse than your wife did. Gave you three sons, and what have they accomplished besides mediocrity?” Johnny arches his back, pushing his stomach harder into Ghost’s touch. “Me? I’ll give you an heir worthy of your name—I’ll give you as many as you want. We’ll build the greatest empire in Night City.”
“Thought you wanted to be a big shot merc. Now you’re saying you wanna be my little housewife?”
“I never said that.”
“You said you’d give me as many brats as I want. What if I want to keep you barefoot and bred all the time? Can’t be sneaking into places and fighting off 6th Street boys when you’re up the duff.” Ghost pauses to look Johnny up and down. “Means you’d have to stop being a whore too. No one else can touch my property.”
Another victorious grin spreads on Johnny’s face. “Does that mean you’re leaving the bitch? Because if I can’t work, how am I supposed to support us?” There’s no us yet, but Johnny rubs his stomach tenderly to drive home the point.
Ghost’s laugh isn’t kind by any stretch of the imagination. “Give me one kid that isn’t worthless and we’ll see.” He snaps his fingers and points at the bed across the room. “Now, be a good bitch and present.”
He gets over to the bed with as much grace as he can, getting on hands and knees with his back arched. Ghost hums as he approaches, pressing him down farther until his face and chest are touching the bedspread. He rips apart Johnny's panties with little effort, manipulating flesh until his pussy is exposed and spread. “There we go. Only part of you worth anything.”
The cool air makes Johnny shiver, as does Ghost’s eyes on him. Ghost usually isn’t so blatant about his staring, even though he knows his pussy drives Ghost crazy. All this time and Johnny still doesn’t know if their meeting was a happy accident or if Ghost sought him out based on his reputation, but times like these make him lean towards the latter. It’s a flattering thought, but also a terrifying one because Johnny’s never been able to find anything out about other joytoys Ghost has visited and he knows that the disappearance of a joytoy isn’t high on the list of priorities for the NCPD. If he was older and wiser, something like that might’ve given him pause, but he thinks their twisted parody of a relationship could be considered close enough to love that he doesn’t care. It doesn’t really matter either way, since Johnny has already made up his mind about this.
Two thick fingers tease his hole before plunging in his cunt. It’s a stretch, but it’s not as bad as it could be—Johnny’s learned to stretch himself beforehand if he wants to sit comfortably the next day whenever Ghost comes calling. He’s never shared this bit of information with Ghost because he knows Ghost is sadistic enough to start giving him no warning before he wants to meet and just start finding Johnny around town. He’d rather Ghost think he’s getting sloppy seconds, which he does when he inserts another finger and snorts. “All this talk about having my kids and you can’t even keep your cunt tight for me.”
“Sorry,” Johnny slurs out. He’s already feeling out of it, stuffed full with Ghost’s fingers, the degradation dancing along his veins like the Black Lace they took earlier.
“You will be,” Ghost says darkly. He twists his fingers just right and rubs Johnny’s clit with his thumb, making Johnny wail as he comes without warning, squirting all over the bed and Ghost’s hand. “I’ll make you regret every cock you’ve ever taken in this slutty pussy.”
Johnny has no doubt about that, dazed and riding the edge of overstimulation as Ghost removes his fingers and wipes his drenched hand along Johnny’s spine. He has a moment of anticipation and then Ghost’s cock is splitting him open without pause until every inch is buried inside. He didn’t even notice Ghost getting undressed.
“What’s the matter, baby?” Ghost taunts. “You wanna replace my wife, you gotta take everything I give you.” He says it like Johnny hasn’t been doing that, week after week. But the scorn just lights him up inside, a pleasant bath he can sink into as he sniffles and shakes when Ghost starts to thrust.
Ghost has always been too big, always skating the line of too much, carving out space in Johnny’s body when it refuses to cede willingly. Johnny loves it, even when he’s clawing and kicking at Ghost to try and get a second to breathe because it feels like there’s a cock in his fucking lungs. It’s one of the reasons Johnny has never turned Ghost down, even when it would’ve been in his best interest to do so. Ghost gives him what he needs, knows the limits of what he can take, pushes him beyond what he thought was possible until his body hums like a perfectly-tuned instrument.
“Give it to me,” Johnny whines, pushing back against Ghost. Trying to get him deeper despite the bit of pain—Ghost has trained him well in their time together. Every thrust is a delicious drag of Ghost’s thick cock along all of his most sensitive places, and Johnny almost feels bad for Ghost’s spurned wife, knowing Ghost is outsourcing the best dick in the city to a young joytoy. But then Ghost wraps a hand around his throat and brings them back-to-chest, his prick getting that much deeper, and all that sympathy gets tossed out the window.
Johnny clenches down just to hear Ghost groan, audible proof Ghost loves it as much as he does. Everything Ghost does ratchets that string of tension in his gut tighter until he’s right on the edge, ready to snap but not able to get there on his own.
“Ghost, please,” he begs, wound tight and aching. “Please, make me come. I’m so close—”
“Quiet, slut. I told you to take it,” Ghost snaps. He increases the pressure around Johnny's throat until he can’t take in a full breath, and delivers a stinging slap right to Johnny’s clit.
It’s just what Johnny needed. His orgasm rips through him, drenching the bed as Ghost continues to hammer all the right spots. He feels delirious and perfect, eyes tearing up when Ghost doesn’t stop and whining for more. The room is sweltering, the smell of sex all around them, every noise absolutely filthy. Johnny revels in it.
Ghost pulls out suddenly, pushing Johnny away with a sneer. “Nasty bitch. Clean up your mess.”
Johnny moves on shaky limbs, getting on his back so Ghost can feed him his cock. It’s a taste Johnny's grown accustomed to, even if he doesn’t particularly like it, but it’s certainly not the worst thing Ghost has ever made him do. He cleans Ghost with little kitten licks, swallowing cum and slick and pre before moving to his balls, licking them fully and lovingly because they’re going to give him what he wants. They’re the key to Johnny’s metaphorical seat at the table, full and heavy with potent sperm for him.
Ghost lets him worship for several long minutes, letting out a pleased sound when Johnny sucks both balls into his mouth and holds them there. When he pulls back, Johnny’s tear- and spit-covered face must be quite the sight because he pushes Johnny's knees to his chest and sinks right back in his wet pussy with a speed that would be labeled desperation if he were any other man.
Praise is rare from Ghost, a meager meal that Johnny gorges himself on each time it happens due to its scarcity, so it makes his toes curl when Ghost says,“This pussy takes me so well. Ready for me to fill it?”
Johnny nods frantically, beyond words because every new position feels better than the last somehow. An unexpected slap to the face has Johnny’s eyes opening with a gasp, unsure when he closed them.
“Look at me when I breed you, faggot. I want you to see exactly whose load is knocking you up.”
There could be no mistake about that for Johnny—Ghost is the only person he would ever let do this. But he keeps his eyes open since that’s what Ghost wants, and he’s been caving to Ghost’s whims the entire time they’ve known each other. Ghost’s thrusts get harder, noises escaping him before he can smother them. On the precipice of finishing, Ghost pinches Johnny’s clit roughly, and the orgasm that was lagging behind after two others in such a short time strikes like lightning. Johnny's eyes roll back, but he still knows the moment Ghost cums, hips flush together to shoot his load as deep as he possibly can. Realistically, Johnny can’t feel it, but he imagines he can: his body eagerly accepting Ghost’s sperm like the boon that it is.
Never one to trade pillow talk, Ghost is up and throwing on his clothes before Johnny can even feel his legs again. “Start packing. When you show me a positive test, I’ll send you an address.”
Then Ghost deltas while Johnny is still comprehending his words. When they sink in, he lets out a triumphant sound. He blindly reaches above him until he can snag a pillow and puts it under his hips to prop them up, having read that it helps with conception. He looks at his stomach and tries to imagine how it will look months from now. He doesn’t have a parental bone in his body, but he’ll learn. He pats his stomach gently. “We’re going to the top, you and me.”
His ticket to Night City’s aristocracy has finally arrived.