Chapter Text
This bar trip was a complete mistake.
Johnny needs to stop letting Raiden give him advice. Go to the bar, Johnny. Put yourself out there, Johnny. Stop hiding out in your mansion and be social, Johnny. It all sounded reasonable when Raiden presented the idea to him, but now he’s here. And he’s Johnny fucking Cage. And this isn’t working.
It’s only been a month since his and Sonya’s divorce, but it was a long time coming. Johnny doesn’t hate her—it’s impossible to hate Sonya. He understands. Years of not quite meshing right has a natural conclusion. Johnny’s a free agent now, free to flirt with strangers in bars if he wishes. The only thing in his way is his celebrity status. Despite sitting idly by the bar in the middle of nowhere, he’s signed four autographs and taken five selfies. He’s had even more people come up to him and ask, just to be sure, if he’s the Johnny Cage. Johnny normally relishes the attention, but this is not the time.
The bar is a small building on the outskirts of town. Not shady, but relatively private, with a delicious Shirley Temple (yes, Johnny still drinks Shirley Temples. Why mess with success?). It’s mostly wood on the inside, with a pool table and a jukebox, 80s music playing softly in the background. Johnny doesn’t know what he was expecting from this trip. To talk to someone other than Raiden and Kung Lao, probably. To spend his weekend without Cassie doing something other than work and watching action movies (she’d normally be over, but she wanted to spend time with friends. It’s the reality of having a teenage daughter, but Johnny would be lying if he said it didn’t sting).
The point is, this was a mistake. As soon as this shirley temple is gone, so is he.
He stirs the drink with his straw, watching the maraschino cherries bob up and down in the sparkling red concoction. Eyes from every corner of the room bore into him, whispers reaching the outskirts of his ears. People desperately toe the line between excitement over seeing a celebrity and basic human politeness. Again, this is normally a wonderful thing. Not now.
“I didn’t know people still drink Shirley Temples.”
Johnny starts to turn at the sound of the man’s voice, ready to tell him that Shirley Temples are for adults too, thank you very much. He opens his mouth, ready to let the guy have it, when he gets a good look at him. Shit. He’s handsome. Tall, with piercing brown eyes, a fitting black shirt, and hand tattoos. The man watches him with a slight smirk, an amused twinkle in his gaze. For the first time in a long time, Johnny fumbles for words.
Johnny’s bisexuality has always been a quiet thing. He’s known about himself for a long time, and it’s no secret to anyone. But he met Sonya in high school and hadn’t looked at anyone else since. Now he’s free to look at anyone he wants, and he’s completely tongue-tied. This man is clearly waiting for a reply. It has to be something witty and interesting. Hit him with that classic Cage charm.
“Fuck off, Shirley Temples are delicious.”
Shit.
A miracle has occurred in this bar. The man is still here. He lets out a surprised laugh.
“I wasn’t judging,” he explains. “It was an appreciation. You’re Johnny Cage, right?”
“How’d you guess?”
“The shades tipped me off. That and the fact that everyone here is whispering your name.”
“At least you said mine out loud.”
“I can do more than that.”
Johnny nearly chokes on his drink. He’s staying here, drink or not.
“Gonna need a name first.”
“Kenshi,” he says, taking a slow sip of his beer.
“Kenshi,” Johnny repeats. The name easily rolls off his tongue. “What brings you here?”
“The top-quality beer, obviously,” Kenshi snarks, raising his glass in a mock toast. “And the fact that every other song here is The Police. Cannot get enough of those guys.”
“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just take a jab at one of the best bands of the era.”
“Honestly though, work is tiring. Sometimes I need a break. Get out of the house.”
“What do you do for work?” Johnny asks.
Johnny assumed they were going to skip the small talk and make a beeline to his place, but this is nice. Better, even. It’s been a long time since he’s met someone new outside of work. Kenshi is witty. He talks to him like a person rather than a famous actor. Maybe Raiden had a point about a change of pace, and it wasn’t just something he read in one of his self-help books.
“I work at the Lin Kuei Martial Arts Center,” Kenshi answers. “Teaching kids self-defense. My son volunteers there sometimes too.”
“Oh, you have a kid? Mine’s in high school.”
“So is mine.”
It occurs to Johnny that a parent of a child usually means another parent of said child. Shit. Is he about to be an accomplice in infidelity? Johnny is many things, but he is not the other woman.
“I see that look,” Kenshi says with a small smile. “His mom and I have been split up for years. You are free to flirt with me.”
Relief floods through Johnny. He winks. “Good to know.”
An unspoken understanding passes between them. Johnny’s divorce was extremely public. After being Hollywood’s it couple, every tabloid in the country wanted to get their greasy hands on the story. And sure, Johnny is currently America’s most eligible bachelor, but getting named that a day after their divorce stung.
“I said you could flirt with me,” Kenshi teases.
“I’m coming up with a good line. Cut me some slack, it’s been a minute since I’ve done this.”
“I’ll help you out,” Kenshi says. His hand moves across the table and settles on top of Johnny’s. His palm is rough and warm, and Johnny imagines it resting on his face as their lips press together. Get it together, Johnny. That image will never be reality if he’s tongue-tied. “Okay, now tell me something.”
“Something?”
“Anything.”
Johnny swallows. He meets Kenshi’s gaze. He’s watching, waiting. Johnny wants to make him feel half of what he’s feeling.
“All this talk,” Johnny says, voice barely above a whisper. “And we’re still here. We should be halfway to my place by now.”
“I’m not some conquest, Cage. You have to earn me.”
There was a part of Johnny that expected this to be easy. He’s a celebrity, after all. But this is better. This is fun.
“I’ll earn you.” Johnny entwines his fingers with Kenshi’s. “Give me a chance to prove it, huh?”
“Sounds a bit like begging.”
“I’ll beg if you want me to.”
This, finally, causes Kenshi to falter. His eyes widen slightly.
“Shit,” he breathes.
“That enough for you, tough guy?”
“Yeah,” Kenshi whispers. “Yeah, um… can we go to your place? Like now?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Johnny doesn’t let go of his hand as they stand from the bar, leaving the drinks well and truly forgotten. They slink through the clusters of people and escape into the parking lot, where Johnny’s car sits a few paces away. Kenshi’s fingers are still entwined with him, and despite this being a rush to a hook-up, Johnny can’t help but feel an old warmth in his chest. The feeling has been a stranger for a long time, only knocking on his ribcage when he thinks of the past instead of the present. This feeling, here and now, is his to hold. It’s a candle flame, small and vulnerable, and he cradles it. With it, stronger, is excitement. He needs his mouth on Kenshi immediately.
Kenshi slides into the passenger seat as Johnny steps on the gas. Kenshi rests his head on his hand, and Johnny is trying his damnedest to pay attention to the road, but Kenshi’s staring. He’s staring, and Johnny feels seen. Johnny tries to speak, but his silver tongue feels like lead. He settles on keeping his eyes on the road and his thoughts on Kenshi.
They move down the city and onto the winding road, all the way to Johnny’s mansion up the hill. Johnny steps out of the car and inhales the crisp night air, and the click of the car door signals Kenshi’s exit as well. Kenshi smooths out his hair, and Johnny tentatively moves towards him. They’re here, and now what? God, it’s been too long.
Kenshi shuts Johnny’s racing mind up quickly. Before Johnny can string his thoughts together, Kenshi’s lips are pressed against his, hand in his hair. Johnny’s eyes widen. He’s warm pressed against him, and still tastes of beer. He returns the kiss when his brain stops short-circuiting, and wraps his arms around Kenshi’s waist. Kenshi walks forward, moving Johnny back to the door until he’s pressed against it, one free hand fumbling to press his hand against the scanner that will let them in. A telltale beep signals the door unlocking, and Johnny swings the door open.
Their lips are connected as they move up the stairs, tripping over each other’s feet, and nearly falling into the sofa. Kenshi chuckles against Johnny’s lips, and oh, that’s a good sound. They make it up to Johnny’s bedroom, where he slams the door behind them. Johnny’s back hits the mattress before he realizes, and he watches as Kenshi settles himself in between Johnny’s spread legs with wide eyes.
“You’re already hard?” Kenshi smirks.
“Cut me some slack,” Johnny huffs, but it comes out as more of a whine. “It’s been a while.”
“I’m messing with you.” Kenshi leans forward and kisses him, hand cradling his jaw. “I like it.”
This is too good. Johnny’s first steps back into sex and relationships should be clumsy, and hesitant. Instead, Johnny wants to dive headfirst into this feeling. He moves with grace against Kenshi; there’s something easy about this, them. Kenshi’s hands find the buttons of Johnny’s shirt. Johnny’s hand lands on his, guiding him as he undoes the buttons and slides the shirt off. Bare chest exposed, any hint of shyness immediately dissipates. Johnny looks up at Kenshi and winks, hands grabbing at Kenshi’s shirt and pulling it off as Kenshi kisses him, chest to chest.
Johnny’s hips move against Kenshi’s clothed cock as Kenshi’s lips trail down his neck. He moves to bite, but Johnny pushes him back slightly.
“No marks,” he scolds. “I’m famous, remember?”
“Right, gotta be ready for your close-up.”
“You’re teasing me, but it’s true.”
Kenshi’s hand ghosts over Johnny’s pants button, and he wastes no time in guiding his hand, pulling his pants and boxers along with them, Kenshi does the same to his, and Johnny finally eyes his cock. Long, hard, thick enough for Johnny to feel it, and it occurs to him that he’s never actually done this. And the nerves are back.
Kenshi must notice Johnny’s demeanor, because he places a hand on his cheek, a soft smile reaching his features.
“Hey,” he says. “You’re in good hands, I promise. Do you have lube?”
“Bedside table,” Johnny answers, voice strained with desire. “But, um. Can I blow you first? I really want to.”
“Like I’d say no,” Kenshi says, leaning back and lowering Johnny’s head, running a hand through his hair.
Johnny’s never sucked a dick, but he’s a fast learner, and is especially willing to learn with Kenshi. He presses his tongue on the tip, tasting the salty flavor. It’s different, but it’s good. He runs a hand along the shaft before licking the tip again. Johnny parts his lips and moves his head down—
And immediately gags, pulling away. Tears prick in the corners of his eyes.
“Hey,” Kenshi says. “Don’t hurt yourself.”
“I’m fine.” Johnny waves him off. “They don’t call me the mouth of Hollywood for nothing.”
“Pretty sure that’s not why they call you that.”
“It’s called earning my title, Kenshi.”
Johnny takes a deep breath and goes again, mouth widened against the thickness of Kenshi’s cock, bobbing his head in slow movements. It’s a lot, yes, but it’s good. Kenshi’s hand is in his hair just so. Johnny’s tongue swipes along the tip again, eliciting a small gasp from Kenshi. Johnny looks up at him, managing that Hollywood smile even around his cock.
He continues, moving his tongue, humming against Kenshi’s length. He falls into a comfortable rhythm, relishing the feeling of having Kenshi in control here. Johnny has no idea where this submission came from, but he loves it. It’s new, this is all new, and Johnny loves it.
“Hey.” Kenshi’s voice is strained. “Can you, um, stop? I want… I want to come in you.”
Johnny’s mouth is off his cock in seconds. He scrambles to the bedside table, grabs the lube, and presses it into Kenshi’s hand. Kenshi chuckles, opening the bottle and spreading it on his cock, hissing at the chill before handing it to Johnny. Johnny presses a finger against his entrance. It’s an odd intrusion, but not unwelcome. Gently, Kenshi moves Johnny’s finger and replaces it with his own, circling the entrance before pressing it inside. He moves slowly, curling it up.
Johnny gasps.
“That feel good?” Kenshi hums.
“Yeah,” Johnny breathes. “You can do another finger. Or your cock. I’m not picky.”
Kenshi presses another finger in, scissoring them inside and stretching Johnny open. Johnny would prefer his cock, but decides that Kenshi is in the right, prepping him and all of that. He tilts his head back, eyes lidded, allowing himself to drown in the feeling. He rocks his hips against Kenshi’s thick fingers, which Kenshi notices with a small smirk.
“Do you think you’re ready for me?” He asks.
“I’ve been ready.”
Kenshi removes his fingers, Johnny wincing at the sudden emptiness. He waits for Kenshi to take his hips and fuck him into oblivion. He does not. Instead, Kenshi leans back, legs parted slightly. Johnny raises his eyebrows.
“You can ride me, can’t you?” Kenshi teases. You’re strong… or what? Do you need a stunt double?”
It’s amazing how easily this man can push his buttons.
“I’ll show you stunt double,” Johnny huffs. Whatever that means.
He crawls forward and aligns himself with the tip of Kenshi’s cock, pressing it just slightly against his entrance. Johnny exhales as he sinks down, and God, he’s so full. Completely full of Kenshi. The thickness burns in a delicious way, filling him with a perfect kind of heat. He sinks down until he’s down to the base. The pleasure is far more than the pain, and Johnny is almost impressed with himself at how easy this is on the first try. Almost like he was made to take attractive stranger’s cocks, a thought that only turns him on more.
Johnny grinds a bit, adjusting himself to his size. Kenshi’s hands settle on Johnny’s hips, guiding him as he moves, coaxing him to go deeper, harder. If Kenshi can push buttons, Johnny can do the same. He stops. Kenshi frowns.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Oh, I’m fine,” Johnny says with mock boredom. “You’re just barely doing anything. Got bored.”
A low chuckle rises from Kenshi’s chest. Oh, Johnny is fucked. Just the plan. The grip on his hips hardens as Kenshi thrusts up into him, relentless. He hits that spot again and again, and Johnny is barely aware of the noises that escape his lips, but he knows they’re filthy. Johnny grips Kenshi’s shoulders for balance as he bounces on his cock, completely and utterly filled by him.
“Bored?” Kenshi repeats. “ Bored ? God, you’re a fucking brat. Are all movie stars like this, or is it just you?”
“You’ll only— hah —you’ll only get, get this… top-notch treatment from me,” Johnny gasps, words completely failing him.
“Are you gonna let me come in you? Fill you up?”
“ Please .”
Kenshi’s hand finds Johnny’s cock, rubbing a finger along the tip before stroking once, then twice. Johnny’s thighs start to shake as the pleasure becomes overwhelming, a familiar yet different sort of heat pooling in his stomach. He throws his arms around Kenshi and buries his head in his shoulder as he comes with a whine, white, hot liquid coating Kenshi’s hand and their stomachs.
“I got you,” Kenshi whispers as Johnny’s shivers subside.
Kenshi groans low as he comes inside him, filling him up, the hot cum leaking out of Johnny. His head finds Johnny’s shoulder, and he rests it there. They stay like this, connected, chests rising and falling in the stillness of the room, before Kenshi pulls out. Johnny can’t help but mourn the loss.
“Goddamn,” Johnny breathes.
“Goddamn seconded.” Kenshi’s head falls back on the pillow. “Mind if I spend the night? I’m kinda exhausted.”
“Like I’d kick out the guy who just fucked me stupid. Man,” Johnny whistles. He’s tempted to lean into Kenshi, maybe cuddle or something, but this is a hookup. “I like men. I mean, I always knew, but now I double know. You know?”
“Glad I could clear that up,” Kenshi laughs.
Johnny can’t help it. He leans over and kisses Kenshi’s cheek.
“Always appreciate the charity work. It’s a good cause.”
“Fucking fellow bisexuals? That’s my kind of cause.”
Johnny snorts and flicks off the light. The room goes quiet as it darkens, and Johnny drifts off. The bar wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.
The next morning, Kenshi is gone, and a note is left on the bedside table. It stings a bit, but Johnny understands. This was just a fling—a fun fling, but a fling. He stretches, a sore feeling serving as a reminder as he reaches for the note.
Johnny,
Had to make it to my class. Thanks for the close-up
Johnny snorts. Totally cheesy. He reaches for his phone next, ready to do his morning doom-scroll.
His phone lights up with messages. Tens of them, all from different people. Johnny’s stomach drops.
Raiden: Hey Johnny, are you up? You should check the news
Hey, are you up yet? I know you sleep late, but you should really see this
(Link sent)
Kung Lao: They got your ass in 4k
Sonya: Hey. You should probably check the tabloids.
Johnny clicks the link from Raiden.
Breaking: Johnny Cage spotted with mysterious stranger outside of bar. New romance so soon?
There, crystal clear, is a shot of Kenshi and Johnny, hand in hand, walking out of the bar. Johnny’s clearly talking, and Kenshi is clearly smiling, and shit, that looks bad. Johnny didn’t even consider the possibility of someone snapping a picture. Too busy thinking with his dick. He dares to check Twitter. Sure enough, his name is trending, and everyone has an opinion.
He’s divorced! Let the guy get some dick
Wait Johnny Cage likes dudes?
It just feels too soon…
He’s totally disregarding Sonya Blade’s feelings! I’d be disgusted if I saw that so soon after my divorce
We need to respect everyone’s privacy here
(Fanfiction link)
Johnny’s heart sinks to his shoes. Shit. Shit. This is a PR nightmare. His phone starts to ring. It’s Raiden. He picks up.
“You’re awake!” Raiden exclaims. “Did you get my message? People are saying the worst things, I swear—”
“Yeah,” Johnny says, exhausted already. “I got your message.”
“What is it, then? Is he your new boyfriend or something?”
“Just some guy I met at the bar.”
Raiden gasps. “This is all my fault.”
“No, no,” Johnny waves his worries off. “It’s fine, I don’t regret it. Dude was hot. But how do we handle this?”
“I don’t know,” Raiden frets. “He’s just a hookup, right? So people are going to see you as some flirty manwhore moving on so quickly after Sonya.”
Johnny exhales, running a frustrated hand through his hair.
“How is that anyone’s business?”
“I don’t know, Johnny, it’s the internet.”
“True. But what if… what if he wasn’t a hookup?”
Johnny can practically hear Raiden frowning.
“Johnny…”
“What if he was my loving boyfriend who I met, and it was love at first sight, and I was so in love that I couldn’t help but have him?”
“That’s a fine idea,” Raiden says in a voice that implies it is a terrible idea. “But he isn’t.”
“He could be.”
This is it. Pretend to date Kenshi, and the media will be off his back for a bit. Once the chaos has died down, they’ll have a mutual breakup, followed by a poignant Instagram post about finding the right person at the wrong time. There’s only one thing left to do.
“I’ll call you back,” Johnny says. “There’s someone I need to talk to.”
“Johnny—”
Johnny picks up the phone and looks up the number for the Lin Kuei Martial Arts Center.