Chapter Text
“No…” Johnny’s voice was leering and a little more angry than the conversation warranted, but that was Johnny, Gyro supposed. The half bottle of whiskey they’d split certainly didn't help.
“My arm is definitely thicker. I use my arms for damn well everything, you just use yours’ to-” he made a complicated and drunken gesture- “primp yourself and- and chuck your balls around.”
Gyro was still rustling in his bag as Johnny went on, feeling confident that his arm was bigger.
“It's cute that you think that, Joni, but I’m just bigger all around. There’s no way you’re bigger.” Johnny cringed at the turn of phrase, and watched as Gyro produced something from his bag at last. A spool of twine.
He raised his tawny eyebrows expectantly. “Okay?”
“To measure!” Gyro flashed an ugly, golden grin as he started forward with the string and a coal from the dying fire.
“We’ll mark the length around and see who’s really right.” He looked to Johnny, clearly expecting him to backtrack, but his expression remained subtly unimpressed from his spot by the fire. He flexed his bicep and waited.
Gyro swallowed dryly at the movement. He guessed he never paid super close attention to Johnny's arms. At least, not in a competitive spirit. Just in a queer way. Uhg. They were quite... thick.
Trying to keep his cocky demeanor, he leaned down to run the string around Johnny’s waiting bicep. Johnny’s pleasant earthy musk mixed with the smell of whiskey in his nose and he felt a pang of irritation at the girlish butterflies that fluttered in his gut.
Marking off where the twine overlapped, he handed the coal and string down to Johnny and got on his knees, presenting his own flexed bicep. Johnny seemed unphased as he wrapped the string around Gyro’s arm, which only served to irritate him more. Apparently he was the only one flustered by their proximity.
Gyro watched as the string lapped Gyro’s mark by a good few inches. Johnny just looked up with raised brows, a shit eating look on his face. He didn’t bother to make a mark, it was obvious who the ‘winner’ was.
Gyro slapped a hand around the string and coal against his arm, turning to hide his angry blush.
“Whatever. I’m still stronger than you.” It sounded whiny even to himself. He must be more drunk than he thought.
“Like hell you are, asshole. Maybe in your legs, but that’s a low fuckin bar to clear,” Johnny huffed low and indignant.
Gyro spun back around, an angry grin to match Johnny. Nobody had made him feel like an angry kid like this since… he was a kid.
“Oh yeah?” Gyro leaned down over Johnny, too mad and drunk to feel embarrassed by his posturing.
“Yeah, shithead. What, too scared for some arm wrestling?”
“Scared? Hardly.” Gyro strode around the log Johnny was leaning on and sat, plopping his elbow down with a huff. Johnny grabbed his legs to swing around and face him, slapping his right hand into Gyro’s waiting one.
“Ready?” Gyro asked. Johnny didn’t reply, just bit his lip and flexed, pressing down to start.
Gyro grunted and pushed back, feeling optimistic at first. Surely his age and time training would put him over the edge in terms of strength.
He started to sweat as his hand ached in Johnny’s vice of a grip. Johnny grit his teeth and grinned slightly, brow straining as he shifted Gyro's arm further down. When Gyro glanced up from their staining arms, Johnny was already looking at him, his face hardly strained at all. It made Gyro feel flush with anger and something else he didn't want to name.
“Cazzo you- uhg” Gyro shifted in his seat as he struggled more and more to keep his hand from being slammed back.
It wasn’t enough. He felt genuine shock as his arm gave out, Johnny slammed it down and held it there for a second, Then let go and let out a victorious whoop, throwing his arm up.
“Take that, you cocky asshole. I told you-” Gyro leaned forward and grabbed Johnny’s shoulders.
“Can it, figlio di puttana,” Gyro barked back at him.
“What the hell did you just say to me, you greenhorn son of a-” Johnny heaved himself over the log with his arms, knocking Gyro back into the dirt.
His head hit the ground hard as Johnny wound up and punched one good swing into his jaw. The pain was exhilarating. Gyro blocked the next punch with an open palm, leveraging his hips to knock Johnny back to the dirt and swing on top of him.
Gyro, in turn, landed a blow to Johnny’s pretty jaw and lip, eyes drawn to the way blood bloomed onto his full, blue lips. He wound up to hit again but stopped as Johnny hawked bloody spit straight into his face.
Once again, he found himself on the ground. This time, he was wrenched face down as Johnny’s thick bicep flexed around his neck, his other arm holding Gyro’s back by the elbow.
“Just-hahhh Just-” Johnny was panting as he gripped Gyro. “Just give up, tenderfoot asshole.”
Gyro stilled for a moment, and they both sat there for a moment, panting hard. Blood rushed loud in his ears, but not loud enough to cover the sound of Johnny’s breath against his sensitive ear. Fuck. He wasn’t sure if it was adrenaline or alcohol or pain that was making his heart feel so exhilarated. Probably all three.
Frustrated by his growing arousal, he thrashed back again, throwing Johnny off guard. Taking advantage of the loosened grip, he twisted around until they faced each other in the dirt.
Too late, Gyro realised his mistake. Johnny was flushed beautifully, pupils blown and blue eyes dark. His lipstick was smudged with blood and his hat had fallen off, leaving his corn-silk hair tousled.
Three things occurred to him at that moment. One, Gyro was achingly hard in his pants. Two, he was completely, pathetically in love with Johnny. Three, Johnny was (seemingly unknowingly) hard, too, pressing against him where their legs tangled together.
“Johnny-”
“What. That's all it takes for you to give up?”
“Johnny.”
“You’re the one who started this whole bickerin’ in the first place, you-”
“Johnny!”
Johnny stopped, still breathing hard. He looked at Gyro and seemed to finally break from his angry haze. His intense blue gaze held Gyro’s for a moment. Gyro glanced down to where their bulges rubbed together, irrationally hoping his would go away before Johnny noticed.
He tried to think of a way to slither off without being caught, but Johnny followed his gaze down. Gyro looked back up and watched Johnny’s face pass through several emotions. Shock, anger, shock again, confusion, then embarrassment. He looked back up at Gyro. His face turned a brighter red, drunken eyes shifting around his face.
“I-I…” Johnny started.
Not meaning to, but still high off adrenaline and drunk all around, Gyro made the ill advised choice to grind his hips once. Johnny’s eyes slid shut and he moaned prettily.
Their eyes met again, still gripping each other's clothes painfully. Johnny’s now bashfully lustful gaze slipped down to Gyro’s lips. He licked them instinctually under Johnny's inspection, and was surprised when Johnny lunched forward to press their lips together.
It tasted bitter like iron and waxy lipstick. Johnny was forceful. Pinching their lips together between their teeth. Gyro tried to regain control by sliding his tongue between them, but Johnny just bit down as it entered, drawing blood from his lip and tongue.
Gyro withdrew and moaned a little too loudly, dick twitching where it was pressed into Johnny. He figured this was where Johnny would come to his senses and withdraw. Realize he'd been riding along with a queer this whole time. Maybe he'd pack up his shit and ride off, rightly so.
Instead, Johnny huffed and grinned again.
“I bet-” he panted twice, chest heaving. “-I bet… my dick is bigger than yours, too.” It was... the last thing Gyro expected him to say.
Their eyes locked again. Johnny looked as crazy as Gyro felt, pupils blown and cheeks ruddy. He looked nervous and a bit unsure, betraying his goading tone.
The tension of the gaze broke and they both reached for the others’ belts. Johnny’s pants were easier to pull down, but Gyro wasn’t wearing britches. Johnny’s lip curled at that, he looked as if he wanted to say something, but he was interrupted by Gyro grabbing his dick.
Gyro’s own cock twitched between them as he drank in Johnny’s star print boxers, light brown puff of hair, and cute pink cock. He felt out of his mind as he grabbed their members together. It still felt like a dream.
Johnny moaned, seeming to have immediately forgotten what they were doing in the pleasure. After a moment of Gyro rubbing, Johnny lifted a hand and spat into it, reaching down to join him.
“Looks like-” Johnny turned his face up into Gyro’s, pressing his forehead to Gyro’s brow.
“Looks like- hnnng- yours is bigger this time.” Gyro thought he could hear the sound of his restraint snapping. His blood all rushed in a whoosh from his brain straight to his cock.
He rolled them over roughly so he was propped over Johnny, an elbow by his head and a fist in his shirt, and kissed him hard again.
“You-” He panted between kisses- “you better watch what you say to me, Johnny.” He ground down against Johnny again and they both moaned into each others’ mouths, gasping for air.
Johnny reached up to fist his hand in the hair at the base of his neck, pulling him down to bite his lip hard while he wrenched Gyro’s hair. His eyes rolled back and he moaned higher pitched than a man ought to, his body sagged and he had to fight not to come right onto Johnny’s stomach.
Johnny breathed against his lips again, the smell of alcohol mingling hot between them.
“Or what? We already- hahh- established that I’m stronger than you…” Gyro opened his eyes and felt his heart throb in time with his cock at the expression on Johnny’s face. His eyes were half lidded and glazed over with drunken arousal. His lips were parted and bleeding from being punched and bitten, and were now a mix of red, blue, and Gyro’s own green.
Gyro leaned back, suddenly frantic to get their clothes off. Johnny, seeming about as drunk as Gyro felt, just giggled and lifted his arms and Gyro slid his shirt up. Gyro’s shirt went next, too drunk and lust crazed to care about the sound of a seem popping.
He sat back for a second to look at Johnny spread out on the ground. His hair fanned out against the grass and dirt, shining gold in the firelight. His chest was thick and well built- presumably from heavy use getting around.
His hair was either too fair to be seen in the dusk lighting, or non-existent. Gyro slid his hands up, feeling disembodied as he watched the way they spread up Johnny’s soft stomach and chest.
When his thumb ran over a pink nipple, Johnny flinched and moaned, his eyes shooting open.
“Ahhh…” Johnny breathed out, neck arched back.
Gyro grabbed his legs without thinking, hoisting them over his elbows and leaning down to bury his face in Johnny’s neck. He inhaled and moaned, then kissed him there. Vaguely, he thought of all the times he'd daydreamed about manhandling Johnny. It hardly compared to the warm, soft weight of him in Gyro's hands.
Johnny grabbed his hair again, too wasted to hold back from pulling it hard and clumsy by the roots. Gyro ground into him hard as they moaned and panted, the blood rushing in his ears and the heavy beating of his heart ratcheted louder and louder.
Suddenly, Johnny wrenched Gyro’s head back. Gyro moaned but didn't protest as he met Johnny’s half lidded gaze.
“Just get on with it now. Turn me over and-” he breathed hard, seeming more nervous than ever before- “and… and use me like a girl.” Johnny's eyes shifted around as he said it. Gyro was surprised by that. He had never imagined Johnny would let him do anything like this with him, much less… The thought of turning Johnny over and fucking him was sobering to say the least.
“You don't.. I don't think…” The fog of whiskey and lust lifted just enough for him to have a clear thought.
“Not when you’re- we’re… drunk. I don’t…” he trailed off and looked down at Johnny. Almost instantly his blue eyes filled with tears. He pushed himself up with his arms then shoved Gyro back hard onto his ass.
“Seriously!? I-I hic… I” He wiped his tears roughly with the backs of his hands. Gyro’s heart dropped as Johnny took a shuddering breath.
“I know I'm dead weight to you a-and I… I can’t do much r-round camp.. B- uhg” he let out a choked sob. “I'm not even good enough for you to fuck? Is it the legs? I- I can turn over and be quiet, I won’t hic- I won't make a peep-”
Gyro grabbed his shoulders and shook him roughly. His heart felt like it was on a runaway train every time Johnny cried.
“No! What?… Johnny please don't cry…” He gently grabbed his wrists, prying his hands from his eyes. His beaten, tear streaked face, eyes and lips now swollen from crying, made Gyro’s cock jump slightly where it hung awkwardly between them, despite the mood. He felt more upset with himself, then.
He grabbed Johnny’s face and wiped at his tears with his thumbs tenderly. “You have to know I don't see you that way, Johnny. I’ve stuck with you all this way, and you’ve saved my ass countless times. I just…”
A new wave of tears welled in Johnny’s eyes and Gyro couldn't help but to lean his forehead to Johnny’s. Johnny drew another shuddering breath.
Gyro started again, “I just thought… We're too drunk to be doing something like that. I couldn't stand it if you woke up and hated me for doing something queer to you while you’re intoxicated.”
Johnny blinked up at him, then shifted his gaze to the side, still looking horribly cute as he blushed pouted. “I’m the one who’s been leering at you like a faggot this whole way. If anything, I thought you'd be the one who’d toss me out for bein’ a queer.”
Johnny’s crude language shocked a chuckle out of him. Gyro reached down to tuck Johnny’s soft cock away, then his own. Johnny watched, looking shell shocked. A crush of affection overtook him and he reached back out to abruptly squeeze his arms around Johnny and loudly kiss his head. Just as abruptly, he withdrew and stood up.
He moved to get their blankets, but stopped when he felt a tug at his leg. He turned to see Johnny, still sitting with his legs tucked under him, not quite meeting his eyes.
“Don't… “ He took another shuddering breath. “I don't want to be alone-”
Gyro’s heart fluttered again. How Johnny’s mood went from fighting mad to… whatever this was, baffled him. His moods always swung like a pendulum, so he ought not to be shocked. He found it terribly cute, if not slightly terrifying.
“I’ll be right back.” He said, trying to sound soothing, but his voice cracked.
He felt unsteady and flustered still as he grabbed his brown blanket and Johnny’s starry one, then came back to where Johnny sat waiting. He laid down and pulled Johnny down next to him, tucking the blankets around them. He rolled to face away from Johnny.
“Hey Gyro?” He heard softly from behind him.
“Yeah?” he didn't move. Everything felt more still and surreal than it had since they began fighting.
“I-” A deep breath. “-I don't regret… holding you like that. I don’t care if that makes me… queer.”
Gyro’s heart felt like lead. He was probably still drunk. He sighed heavily.
“We’ll see if you still think that in the morning.” He expected a retort, but was only met with the sound of even breathing. Sleep found him just about as fast.