ₖₐₜᵢₑ

“please, johnny. c’mon,” big doe eyes peer up into his as you shake his sleeve pathetically, jutting your lip out into a pout as the cherry on top. the bar was hazy with cigarette smoke and the uninhibited chatter of alcoholics and casual drinkers alike. it wasn't unlike the bars you'd typically frequent with the guys after filming, drowning the stunt-induced bruised ribs and scrapes from the day- or in your case, much to your chagrin, picking at bar food and sneaking olives from their drinks.

being the youngest, and the only girl no less, in a group of rowdy older men was usually fun, made you feel special- but being the sole person under the legal drinking age? not so much. johnny turns to you, finally facing your relentless begging and shakes his head with a smirk, and you're almost hopeful he’d give in.

the finger he'd previously been tracing the rim of his glass with was now raised to your lips, poking your bottom one back into place and dissipating your pout into a small frown, “and risk my career? no can-do, sweetheart.”

across the booth, pontius lets out a giggle that is certainly ornery and certainly pointed at you, “you're not winnin’ this one kid.”

you jut your tongue out at him childishly, flicking your middle finger in his direction. he just grasps his chest as he all but doubles over in laughter, already tipsy, and wipes a stray tear- “you wound me.”

you stamp your foot under the table childishly, johnny's smirk sweeps into a full blown grin peering down at you as you attempt to rationalize him buying a 20 year old a drink in a public bar. hands waving in a frenzied fashion, you're near-yelling now, "it's not like i've never drank before! i've been to house parties a-and raided my parents liquor cabi-"

his raucous laugh cuts you off, a heavy calloused hand grasps both your wrists simultaneously and gently lowers them to your lap, “then do that again! s’not happening.”

his attention swiftly turns back toward jeff on the other side of him, further discussing an idea for a stunt. your glower burns holes in the side of his head as you watch him raise his glass to his lips again, as if he were intentionally showboating his ‘over the age of 21’ privilege.

next to you bam flicks your arm with a chuckle, drawing your attention from johnny, “ya only got a few more months, what's the rush?”

at that your eyebrows furrow, and in a last-ditch effort to join in their fun you reach to snatch the beer from his hand, unfortunately unsuccessfully as he pulls it towards his chest, “nuh-uh! someone get the klepto a drink, she's on one.”

of course this pulls johnny’s focus toward him, only long enough to give him a pointed ‘nope,’ seemingly insistent that you suffer in your sober state watching the other guys have their fun; liquor splashing the red pleather table cloth as they nudge each other giddily, swapping appetizers, and comparing bruises with glazed over eyes.

a sigh leaves your lips, eyes drawing to your lap as you pick at loose denim threads on your skirt listlessly. it shouldn't matter so much to you, you know you could always go nuts on the mini bar in your hotel room later on mtv’s dime, but it did.

half listening to chris and steve-o’s tangent about dick-related stunts, your eyes find johnny beside you, slowly crawling over his features; dark, expressive eyes visible with the lack of his signature frames, tongue poking between his teeth as he snorts, somehow charming, at whatever tremaine is saying- you don't hear it, you aren't listening.

how can you when he's so- ugh.

you're less bothered by his stubborn insistence on not letting you drink, but you still desperately wanted it even as the anger ebbs away and is replaced by a subtle heat blooming in its place- deep in your chest.

your soft, manicured hands slowly come to a halt in your lap. the left softly thudding against the booth, resting for only a moment before it starts inching closer to johnny's jean-clad thigh next to you.

this was a bad idea, you knew that.

on one hand, he laughs in your face and pushes you away- humiliating.

on the other, he obliges. but, he's 34. you're only 20. sure your friends wouldn't bat an eye, some of ‘em would probably find it hot- but the media?

what if someone saw you? snapped a picture, sent it off to tmz wrapped in a pretty little bow, and now you're a whore and he's a predator.

even if nothing came of it, even if it stopped at groping your way into a drink.

was it worth it? you chewed your bottom lip in deliberation, scratching at the fabric of the booth seat, before internally shrugging- french-tipped fingers continuing their trek towards johnny's leg.

"blah blah blah bull, blah magicians hat, blah blah milk," you barely catch his sentence, still yapping away to jeff who’d just ordered another round of drinks for the table, as your fingers finally graze the outer sweep of his thigh.

“d’ya want some more fries?” bam nudges your arm, your hand shoots back into your lap and you turn to meet his eyes a little too quickly, a little too nervous.

his forehead creases between his brows, rubbing his hand up and down your arm slightly, “sorry, didn't mean to scare you- you good?”

“yeah, ‘m fine! i’m uh- i’m good on the fries,” he nods suspiciously but is too drunk to dwell on it so his hand slips away from your shoulder and he turns back to ryan.

now feeling more self conscious about your idea, and maybe even slightly more rushed to go through with it, you take a leap and gently place your hand on johnny's thigh.

he turns to you with a sweet, unknowing grin. his hand settles over yours and giving it a small reassuring squeeze before going to turn back to jeff and chris who has now joined their conversation.

except he doesn't get the chance, because the moment his eyes leave yours, your fingers wiggle free of his grasp and travel inward- anchoring on his inner thigh just high enough to not have innocent intentions.

you don't see it but his eyebrows raise before he even moves to face you. when he does, ones cocked slightly higher than the other and an incredulous smirk taking over his lips, “watcha doin’?”

your simper matches his boyish knowing look, eyes trailing up from where you hand meets his thigh to meet his- your thumb does a small stroke against his inseam, “nothin’.”

he hums, gives you a nod that says he doesn't believe you, and brings his glass to his lips with a steady hand.

his eyes never leave yours, adam’s apple bobbing as he finishes the glass and motions to jeff he needs another. and he definitely needed another if his intuition was right about the little game you we're trying to play.

“well,” your fingers tentatively knead into the soft flesh beneath them, “i was just wonderin’ if maybe you'd reconsider buying me that drink?”

the groan that leaves his throat is half disbelief and half something you can't fully place, like maybe he's giving in or maybe he likes it.

what gives him away is the subtle shift of his hips under your touch, trying to push closer or escape? even he wasn't sure.

“and what would make me do that?”

you huff out a sigh as pitiful as you can muster, playing it up as much as you can manage.

though it certainly doesn't feel like an act now.

“dunno, what would make you?” your fingertips edge dangerously close to the teeth of his zipper now, palm hovering over the forming erection he didn't even attempt to hide.

yet despite his obvious arousal, a boyish giggle leaves his lips and you smell the mixture of whiskey and albuterol on his breath as he teases, “you're a little pervert.”

a pretty blonde waitress places a fresh glass in front of him and your hand stutters against him for a moment, palm pressing down into the denim covering his bulge. he smiles unabashedly, staring you down as a small groan slips through his pearly grin and like a switch flipped your desperation for a drink has turned into desperation for him.

and he knows.

he sees it in the way your eyes glaze over, the way your lips part subtly, and the heave of your chest pauses for a moment at the sound.

but instead of giving in to exactly what you now want…

“alright you win,” he takes a quick swig of his drink then turns to jeff, “let me out?”

jeff nods and slides from the booth, drink sloshing in his hand slightly as he stands, and johnny follows suit. clasping his hands together he looks back down at you, at the almost disappointed furrow of your eyebrows despite finally getting what you asked for, and he loves it.

“what’ll it be, little lady?”

when you don't answer, simply staring up at him with a flushed face and a small pout, pontius lightly kicks your under the table giving you a bright smile, his own cheeks flushed from having his fair share of drinks and giggling as he speaks, “tell him what you want, before he changes his mind.”

“something strong.”

he whisks away toward the bar, and you take this moment to attempt to calm your racing heart. you shake your head slightly and pat your face, turning to bam in hopes of fizzling the tension built up in your muscles.

“didja see that? i won,” you fake a giddy clap and he laughs at you, amused by your antics.

he leans his face down to yours, eyes narrowing as he smiles, “i hope he comes back with water.”

you poke him hard in the ribs, earning a yelp, and stick your tongue out at him feeling the heat leave your body and a sense of normalcy coming back to you as you join in on his conversation with ryan and steve-o- picking at the fries in front of him and actually feeling a bit excited about getting that drink now.

when johnny arrives back at the table with your drink, as well as a couple shots so you could play catch-up with the rest of the guys, you down them quickly in attempt to shake off the weight of his eyes on you. his half-hearted conversation with pontius slowly halts as his attention is stuck on you, the shots and half of whatever fruity drink he'd picked out for you quickly hitting you and giving you a delightful buzzy glow.

“so, how's it feel,” you peek up at the sound of his voice, lips wrapped around your straw as you suck down the second half of your mixed beverage, “best you've ever had?”

you snort and smile hazily up at him, humming out what sounded like a ‘yes’, the innuendo striking a chord in your belly- veins thrumming and heart rate picking up a bit again, though not from nerves but arousal this time around.

but insecurity rears its ugly head just as it always does and your smile turns sheepish, setting your drink down you struggle to meet his gaze and your eyes fall to your lap.

you turn slightly in the booth and the words ooze out in a slightly slurred cadence, “johnny, d’ya really tink ‘m just a kid?”

his head bobs side to side in mock consideration and you lightly slap his chest, a genuine smile cracking through your unease, and he laughs, “nah, sweetheart. just think you're still young in all the ways it counts.”

“what's that s’posed to mean,” you absentmindedly lean your shoulder against his, the alcohol slowly turning you more loose and lifted.

he presses a kiss to the top of your head before throwing back the rest of his drink, the glass hitting the table just hard enough to startle you, “well for one, you're a lightweight.”

you slightly sway in your seat, bumping arms with bam who doesn't seem to notice in his drunken stupor, “nuh- hic -uh.”

“oh, uh-huh, kiddo.”

you grimace at the word, “quit callin’ me that.”

body sliding deeper into the booth seat, you glance up at him, “well, where else- hic -does it count?”

he sips the miller lite in his hand that seemingly appeared out of nowhere, “ mm, you can take a bit more than the rest of us, still got the energy for it.”

“pfft, please you guys aren't that old-”

“didn't say we were old-”

“did she call us old?” mock offence is written all over steve-o’s face as he flings a discarded straw in your direction.

“haha, no man-” he shakes his head, “but, not old, just more beat up from doin’ stupid shit longer than you have.”

“alright, well one more?”

his brow raises, “drink? no-”

you cut him off, shaking your head and grabbing his arm, “no another, uh, y’know- plus of me being young.”

resting his elbows on the table, lips pressing to the neck of his beer bottle, he side-eyes you and grins impishly.

your brow raises quizzically, “what?”

he laughs you off, waving his hand, but you catch it in the air and bring it to rest in your lap, “no. what is it?”

leaning in slowly, the look on his face is devilish and enticing all in one, and low enough for only you to hear he sighs, “well, i’m sure you can keep up a bit better im bed than half these fucks,” he uses his bottle to wave haphazardly in the other guys direction.

your face burns hot, and the soft thrum of arousal instantly pools directly into your panties.

a soft “hmm,” is all you can muster as you grab bams unguarded beer from table and take a swig. he's too out of it to notice, yelling at dunn for something you didn't care to listen to.

johnny notices your withdrawal and your shifting thighs against the booth seat and is on your case almost instantly with a short snicker that draws your eyes back to him, “what's with the little shy act?”

the way he leans in closer is almost imperceptible, but you feel his hand land on the soft flesh at the hem of your skirt and squeeze, “you’ve never been one to back down from something you want.”

his hand slides up the meat of your thigh, fingers grazing so close to where you needed him and you're sure if anyone cared enough to look in your direction- or were sober enough to notice, they'd see you flushed and sweating like a whore in church.

the tips of his fingers meet the edge of your panties under your skirt and your hands shoot down to grip his wrist, not moving him particularly closer or further away, and your eyes quickly scan the other guys all lost in their own worlds apart from jeff who’d been in the bathroom for so long now you're pretty sure he retired back to the hotel for the night.

“or am i reading this wrong?” he goes to move his hand back a few inches and your unrelenting grip gives him his answer, pulling his fingers back toward where you needed them. they trace small circles at the edge of the lacy fabric of your underwear, your head dipping towards his chest in anticipation and need.

he gets the message and wraps his free arm around your shoulders, his fingers venturing further toward your heat and you grind forward softly as he finally makes contact through the material, “johnny, please.”

shushing your sweet whimper of his name, his thumb presses firmer against the damp fabric, clicking his tongue when he finds you're already nice and wet for him.

the bar still buzzes around you, your own group only becoming more raucous and unruly, the thumping beat of some rock ballad droning on in the background but all you can focus on is the steady pace johnny has set on your clit.

feeling your slick pooling, coating his fingers through the fabric you let out a dry huff and johnny chuckles lowly into your ear. you can't help the involuntary push against his hand that slowly becomes more and more apparent as you teeter closer to the edge.

johnny pauses to push your panties to the side and you nearly whine at the loss of contact before you feel his fingers glide through your folds and sink into your waiting hole.

the low groan that leaves him at the wet warmth is near-pornographic, and you’re having trouble holding back the sweet mewls and murmurs of his name.

“johnny, more,” you keen, “please, more.”

much to your disdain, his fingers sink into you only one more time before he pulls away completely save for the arm wrapped around you.

“no, john-”

your complaint is cut short as you watch his mouth sheathe the fingers that were just inside of you, sucking them clean and popping his lips off with a face so full of satisfaction you aren't sure if you want to punch him or pull his dick oit of his pants and ride him right there.

“you're much too vocal to be an exhibitionist, princess,” he reache down only to pull your underwear back over your exposed center, patting it softly once he's done- your hips bucking at the brief contact.

though the man was a sadist, he couldn't torture you for too long and nodded his head toward the entrance of the bar, “lemme go pay my tab and we can, uh, finish this up in the privacy of my hotel room,” he winks and at your emphatic nod, helps you to stand and pulls you toward the bar without so much as a goodbye to your inebriated friends.

he makes quick work of sliding his card into the reader and hastily pulls you toward the front of the bar and out the doors.

the ride back is hell.

tension so thick you could slice through it like a hot knife in butter, a throbbing erection on his part, and a soaked passenger seat on yours. you could only rock against the seat to keep some semblance of sanity. when he noticed your desperate ministrations, his foot hit the gas like lead- his hand kneading his cock through his jeans, struggling to keep his eyes on the road.

reaching your room, the only room not shared between groups of two mtv was willing to pay for, was a god-send.

jamming the key into the slot at least four times before the door finally unlocked, you pushed through the door and barely made it three steps inside before johnny's mouth was on yours. tongue gliding over your teeth and tangling with your own as he walked you backwards toward the bed.

the back of your knees meet the mattress and you're all but knocked back onto the cushy white sheets, johnny only pausing your heated makeout for a moment to look down at you- eyes raking across every inch of your unfortunately still-clothed body.

“fuck,” you were so young, all smooth skin and soft plush places to grab onto and squeeze.

you’d be the picture of innocence to him if it weren't for the stunt you’d pulled at the bar and the gentle sway of your knees from intoxication.

hands settle on your waist, and you lift your hips in anticipation of being undressed, but he just pushes you back down- his palms sweep over the exposed skin of your waist where your shirt rode up, then slide down over the denim of your skirt to your supple thighs all while you just watch him growing hotter by the second

he squishes the pliant fat, watching it mold between his fingers, before working his hands down over your calves and to your ankles.

“you're so pretty for me like this,” he delicately raises one of your ankles to his lips, ghosting soft kisses from the sole of your foot, over your calf, and up to your knee.

you giggle blearily, his breath tickling against your skin, though you love the attention you’re growing restless. your own hand carefully slides down your stomach, popping the button of your skirt and pushing your hand under the waistband.

johnny just watches, your ankle still rested on his shoulder, as you clumsily grind yourself up against your hand- soft, unsatisfied pants slipping from your mouth. your eyes say what your voice cant manage- pleading with him to give you more.

he finally comes to hover over you, chest pressing against yours as he wraps a hand around your wrist and removes it from your pants, pressing it into the bed above you. with his free hand, he tugs on the bottom of your skirt.

“lift up for me,” his fingers free your wrist, moving to assist his other hand to pull your skirt from your hips, and tosses them along with your underwear to the floor aimlessly.

after stripping you down completely, he rids himself of his own jeans and whatever choice of graphic tee he’d worn that day, leaving him in only his boxers.

he grasps at your hips again, squeezing and prodding his fingers into the soft weight, pulling you toward his body.

he lets out a low grunt as he grinds his clothed shaft through your folds, rutting softly and pressing into your clit in a way thats euphoric.

your hands find his shoulders to steady yourself despite being on your back, “johnny, need you,” you simper, “no more teasing, i need you.”

your eyes are glossy with tears, and your hips frantically move up to meet his. you look pathetic and beautiful and so perfect.

he eyes you like prey, a dull softness likened to affection muddled with sheer need in his dark irises. unrelenting, he keeps his hips paced against yours in a slow grind.

“beg.”

shockwaves shoot through your veins, groin rising to meet his as he finally pulls back making you cry out in defiance. you had never been more desperate, your arousal reaching a clawing, insatiable precipice.

“i said beg,” he snides, “beg for my cock,” his mouth had turned filthy and greedy, ploying with your aching desperation for his own entertainment and pleasure.

“please, johnny,” you hips rear upward again, yearning for his touch, “please, please fuck me.”

tears stream from the corners of your eyes, his thumb swiping over one- sucking it into his mouth, chest rumbling at the salt of your need. his hands finally push the low-slung elastic of his boxers down, allowing his cock to spring free against his abdomen.

it was solid, the head ruddy and leaky and so enticing you felt drool flooding your mouth.

with a few firm strokes he presses the head through your lips, slipping through your folds and skimming over your clit. he has to hold your shuddering hips still when he finally breaches your hole. so tight and warm and sucking him in he nearly collapses over you.

you can't help the sounds leaving your lips as he sheathes himself, filling you so perfectly as his head presses slowly into that spongy spot deep inside.

“oh, god,” your words come out ragged, grasping his wrist and pulling it up to your breast, he kneads at the flesh as he finally feels confident enough to move without immediately cumming deep in your guts.

his thrusts are fervent as he continues prodding the meat of your tit, hunching to meet your collarbone with his lips, leaving a slimy trail of opened mouth kisses up your next and to the side of your face- his breath hot in your ear.

over and over and over again he pushes into you, ushering closer to your climax but not close enough for how hard he's trying to hold back his own. his fingers trail down your belly, dipping at your navel, and pushing past your folds to meet your throbbing clit.

“fuck, please, ‘m so close johnny,” your chest sweels with every ragged breath, thighs tremoring with every buck of his hips and tentative circle of his fingers over your clit.

pleasure meets pain as you feel your muscles tighten around him, the overwhelming stimulation burning and throbbing as your slick spills out around his cock.

“let go, i’m right there with you,” his surges become sloppy, his strokes undignified, white-hot pleasure comes to a head as your orgasm shatters through you. hot spurts of liquid splash against johnny's abdomen as he rocks into you, groaning at the feeling.

when your moans turned to pained whines at the overstimulation, johnny pulls out of you and strokes himself frantically- his groans halting and turning to whimpers as he fucks into his own hand once, twice, then coats your belly in thick white ropes.

he crumples over you, head resting against your chest and your fingers instinctively come to run through his hair- further mussing up the gelled style, though neither of you could even begin to care how you looked in this moment.

your eyes cracked open as he slowly moves to lay beside you, turning you towards himself so your cheek presses against his chest.

he presses soft kisses to the top of your head, breathing in your scent, fingers ghosting up and down your spine.

you're beyond sober at this point, insecurity rushing back to you about what you’d just done. about how he wouldn't think about this nearly as deeply as you. how he thought you were still so young and how he'd surely never take you seriously.

“quit thinking so hard, you're giving me a headache,” he dips his head down, pulling your face by your chin when your eyes wouldn't meet his, “‘m not going anywhere tonight, we can talk in the morning- just rest. you need it.”