#cyberwriting

Fuck.

Seriously, fuck.

It's been how long since you last slept? No, correction - it's been how long since you last slept in your own bed? And, no, that doesn't imply that you've been sleeping in other people's beds. Ha, just imagine! V, the slut of Night City - you wish!

Oh, no. You'll crash wherever you can: your car, in a dumpster, on Panem's shoulder after downing too many beers around the campfire. But being in your own bed? That's somewhat of a luxury, one that you're going to enjoy.

Well, it would be enjoyable if you could fall asleep. Why is it that your body is in absolute agony, even after a hot shower, and it can't shut off for just a few minutes? Maybe you're so used to sleeping in the literal dirt, that a comfortable mattress and blanket no longer eases you?

Okay, so you could stare at the wall, read a book, listen to music, possibly doomscoll your way through social media.

Or you could tire yourself out.

Yeah, a wank will either do one of two things: tire you out, or wake you up even more. Either way, you'll be satisfied, and you know damn-well it's been a while. A long fucking while.

It's hard to get a moment alone when you're doing dirty work for other people, trailing around the streets shooting whoever you've been paid to shoot, or hacking whichever idiot owes one of your clients' money. On top of that, you actually have a social life. Shocking, right? Some people genuinely want to hang out with you. Drinking is almost always involved, but hey, what else is there to do in this shithole of a city?

Cool, a wank it is.

Shrugging your clothes off, you leave them in a pile in the corner of your bed, and kick the covers down to your ankles. Through your lashes, you watch as you glide a hand down your body, the neon lights from the city highlighting every dip and curve that you meet. It's somewhat erotic, or as erotic as it can be in this cheap and 'cheerful' apartment.

You reach your core, and to no surprise, you're almost bone dry. Almost. It doesn't take much to start getting into the mindset, just a few flicks of your fingers, and soon your arousal begins taking over.

Deep breaths. Relax. This is probably going to be your only wank for a while, so allow those filthy emotions to take control, and follow the flow.

Your mind begins filling up with all kinds of erotic thoughts, including both strangers, and familiar faces. It's been way too long since you last enjoyed some action, as unfortunately, you're a busy woman with little to no effort for hookups. They sound nice on paper, but it's agony attempting to chat someone up at a bar, find out what they're into, then bring them all the way home, just to find out that they're awful in bed.

Almost as awful as this wank. Come on, relax. You haven't lost your touch, have you? Focus on those specific areas that you enjoy, and chalk up a pleasant fantasy to get yourself off to.

After a few moments, and a handful of deep breaths, you finally begin picturing an erotic scene in your head. Sure, you could find something to watch, but this is meant to be quick - a little something to tire you out.

And it would eventually tire you out, if a certain someone kept to himself, for once!

"Shit, V, you're meant to relax when you're doing this stuff."

"JOHNNY?!"

Your eyes dart open, and you're met with the sight of that smug bastard leaning against the wall beside your bed. His arms are crossed, one ankle resting against the other, and his signature sunglasses are hanging from his vest. The second that you cover yourself up, he rolls his eyes and comments, "what? It's not like I haven't seen you naked before?"

"That's different!" you snap. "Perving on me whilst I'm getting changed is totally different from this."

"Is it?" Johnny shrugs. "The way I see it, you're still naked, but you've got that frisky feeling flowing through your body..." Johnny gestures to your crotch, followed by letting out a soft sigh as he continues. "Well, you're meant to. Having a hard time getting wet, huh?"

"Fuck off, Johnny."

The devil vanishes, thinning out into thin air, and for a split second, you actually believe that the pest has left you alone. Until he's suddenly sitting opposite you in bed, his hands casually resting on his outstretched legs. His smug grin has mostly faded away, and if it wasn't for the occasional pixel jitter of his body, you'd believe he really was sitting opposite you in bed.

Johnny looks you up and down, and shakes his head at the sight. "Did you never learn how to do this stuff by yourself, V?" he asks with a disappointed sigh, and a sympathetic tone that could possibly be genuine.

Pulling the covers up even more, you let out a heavy grumble as your head falls back onto the pillow. "Pfft, as if you could do any better," you huff, staring up at the strange stains that cover your ceiling.

Johnny lets out a cocky chuckle - then again, he's almost always being cocky. "I could," he mindlessly shrugs.

"Yeah, right. You strike me as one of those guys who bigs themselves up, only to later ask if the clit is even a real thing," you scoff.

"That's harsh, V. You know damn-well that I know where the clit is," Johnny replies.

Peering your head up to meet his gaze, you ask, "really? Are you sure?" before readjusting your pillow so you're leaning against the wall, the covers still pooling over your chest, attempting to keep some form of decency.

"Of course, I'm sure!" Johnny grumbles, and shakes his head at you. "Besides, I know that you know that I'd be good in bed," he states, despite almost stumbling over that mouthful of words.

You blankly stare at him, questioning where he's going with this. "Go on..."

"I can sense your thoughts... sometimes," Johnny shrugs, his gaze moving to look out of the window.

Another irritated grumble trails from your lips. "And my thoughts involve you?"

"You know that some of them do..." Johnny smirks as he looks back at you, a playful glisten in his eyes. With that, he vanishes; unfortunately, it's only for a few moments, and when he returns, Johnny is sitting closer to you on the other side of your bed. You're trapped between a wall, and a figment of your imagination... or the chip, depending on how you look at it.

"Come on, V. Don't act all innocent here," Johnny laughs, his sunglasses bouncing from the neckline of his vest as he chuckles at you.

"This chip in my head must be more broken than I thought," you sigh. Your fingertips move to glide over where the chip lies, just behind your ear. If only you could pop it out... well, you can, but at the cost of death? No, thanks.

"Ah, I see what you're doing here," Johnny laughs once more. He points a finger at you as he states, "you're trying to run from the truth!"

"What truth?" you scoff, rolling your eyes, and focusing on your bookshelf instead.

"That, if you could, you'd fuck me."

Instantly, your head darts back over to where Johnny is sitting. He's grinning, acting like a tiger that's ready to pounce, and unfortunately, you're his prey. "Yeah, I've seen some of those fantasies of yours, picturing me railing you, or having you sit on my face," Johnny continues, pushing as many of your buttons as he can.

The images flood your mind, ones that you've seen before. Shit, so this chip is more of a curse than you originally thought? How can he see those things? And better yet, what does he think of them?

Johnny vanishes again, and you're about to assume that he despises the way you view him, until he reappears... Johnny has made his way between your thighs, looking up at you with that same shit-eating grin. His hands are wrapped around your legs, palms gripping onto your covered thighs, and despite knowing that your mind is playing tricks on you, you can almost feel him.

"What? You going all shy on me? I know that did something to you, felt your cunt throb at my words. At least it's wet now," Johnny continues, his gaze flicking down to look at your covered crotch.

"You're more perverted than I thought," is all you can reply, speechless at Johnny sudden approach.

"Ah! See! You have thought about it!" Johnny laughs, meeting your gaze once more. "Well, V, if I could, I'd give you the fucking of a lifetime," he compliments.

Images continue flooding your mind, and you curse yourself for the position that you're in. "But you can't," you sigh, somewhat admitting that everything Johnny's said about your little crush on him is true.

"Not exactly, but I could at least help you out right now," Johnny suggests, his shoulders shrugging softly.

You raise a brow, and nervously laugh at the idea. "And how are you meant to do that? Not like you're physically here," you comment. Your hand goes to touch his, only for his form to jitter, reminding both of you of the position that you're in.

"Why don't you give me access? Pop one of those pills that Misty gave you, then lie back, and enjoy the ride," Johnny proposes, still looking up at you from between your thighs.

Hm, it's a good idea. Johnny would be in control, but then again... "But then I won't be here to enjoy it? Those pills give you full control, pushing me totally aside," you explain, knowing damn-well from experience that you're almost fully unaware of what Johnny gets up to when he's in the driver's seat.

"Pop half of one, then," Johnny suggests with a tone that sounds like he's about to say 'duh!'

"You really think that would work?" you nervously ask, uncertain if the pills would even take effect, and if they did, would you still be aware of your surroundings?

"It's worth a shot. From the way those pills work, I should be able to assist your movements, but if you want me to back off, then just say the word, V."

Johnny's words are nothing but genuine, and the glisten to his eyes reassures it. You take a moment to think things through, and given how close you two have grown, you trust him.

Shuffling across in your bed, you reach down the side and blindly search for one of the pill bottles. The blue one comes into your grasp, and you pop the lid open, taking one of the pills out. "Hmm..." you hum as you wiggle the capsule open, exposing its powdery insides. You dab half of its contents onto the pad of your finger, and dispose of the leftovers back into the bottle.

"Fuck. Alright. Here goes nothing," you sigh, being careful not to accidentally blow the powder away. You dab it on your tongue, instantly shrivelling up at the foul taste, soon to be washed down with a glass of soda.

As you move back to lie against the wall, you notice that Johnny has moved to sit opposite you. He instantly crawls over before your back can hit the pillow, and grins as he comments, "this is the part where we start kissin', but we can't exactly do that, huh?"

"Are you just saying that to try and rile me up?" you grumble.

"Yeah, pretty much..." Johnny laughs. He vanishes from your vision, and mentally joins you in the driver's seat. Raising your hands, you notice that they're not quite yours; the left one is a sputtering vision of his silver hand, and both tug against your movements.

"My turn," Johnny mentally whispers to you. His signature chuckle can be heard echoing around your mind as Johnny slowly pulls the covers off your body, exposing you fully to him. "Shit, V. Can't tell you just how much I love your body," Johnny flirtatiously commends as his hands trail over you, kneading at every bump and crevice.

"These aren't even the best part," Johnny comments as he cups your breasts, in awe at the way they move. "You know what? I'm not sure which is my favourite part..." Johnny continues commenting as he dances over your waist, followed by squeezing your thighs.

"You tryna be a romantic for once, Johnny?" you question, and chuckle along with him.

"Me? A romantic? Shit, I could try. Just for you, though, V." Johnny pleasantly hums, and introduces his silver fingertips to your folds. His movements are slow, drawn out, as he figures out exactly what he's working with. He trails his fingertips over your folds, around your clit, and dips down to tease your entrance.

"Fuck," you both sign in unison as Johnny slowly inserts a single finger. He begins experimenting with the angle, seeing as he's doing this from your point of view, and once he's satisfied, he inserts another finger.

Instinctivly, you go to move, wanting instantly pleasure. However, you're stopped by Johnny. "Don't fight it, V. Let me work with you," Johnny comments, asking you to hand the reigns back.

You do so, and with a deep breath, you continue following Johnny at his pace. "That's it," Johnny praises as he begins slowly pumping his fingers in and out, not fast enough to get you going, but at a decent pace to start things off.

With his silverhand already at play, Johnny uses his other hand to start rubbing your clit, softly grinding against the bundle of nerves with the pad of his fingers. "Ah, feels good, doesn't it?" Johnny moans.

"Can you... feel this? Like, how is this for you?" you question.

"Yeah, kind of. It's like... I'm fingering you, but I can still feel what you're receiving. Guess this is easier for me as I know exactly what you need," Johnny explains. It makes sense for Johnny to feel exactly what you're feeling, seeing as you're sharing a body. Although, this is still... strange, pleasantly strange.

"Kind of like mutual masturbation, with a few bonuses," you laugh.

"Shit, yeah. I guess it is," Johnny laughs with you. Both of your laughter soon fades into soft whimpers as Johnny continues toying with you, only now, he's starting to get serious.

Johnny begins moving his fingers faster, and from the way that he's rubbing your clit, you can tell he's really trying to spur you on. "Fuck," Johnny moans. "The things I'd do to you, V. If only I could..." he groans.

A warm feeling rises in your chest - nerves? Admiration? You're unsure, but it's definitely coming from Johnny. He's worked up, possibly more than you, and there's no harm in riling him up even more.

"Guess this is as good as it's going to get," you defeatedly sigh. Johnny grumbles with you, but continues working his magic, determined to leave a good first impression.

"That's fine," Johnny huffs. "I can make you cum using my fingers alone," he smugly comments. As much as you want to hit him back with a witty reply, your mind is hazy with pleasure, and you know that you'll be able to tease him about this later.

The sounds echoing around your room are lewd - wet and sloppy - along with soft mewls and moans flowing from your lips. Your thigh muscles are twitching every so often, and your eyes are barely open to watch them shake. Johnny wants to watch, he needs to see this - to watch you fall apart in his grasp, quite literally.

"Johnny," you cry out, feeling your orgasm approaching.

"Yeah, that's me," Johnny chuckles. "My name sounds so good coming from those pretty lips of yours. Come on, V, I want you to scream it as you cum."

Johnny's hands work faster, despite the faint ache coming from his wrists. Well, your wrists, but you don't want him to stop. In your mind, Johnny is mumbling sweet praise, and the closer you get to your orgasm, the less his words make sense. He's sputtering and stumbling, moaning with you, blabbering on about how pretty you look, how sweet you probably taste, how good you'd feel if he could actually fuck you.

"Shit! Fuck, I'm close. Johnny..." you whimper, barely able to keep your eyes open. Your chest is rising and falling heavily, practically gulping down air as intensity washes over you.

Your orgasm hits you like a train, fiercer than any climax that you've ever felt in your entire life. You're shaking, tossing and turning in bed as you continue crying that name.

"Johnny!"

When your pleasure finally relaxes, your mind is empty. Johnny seems to have vanished, washed away during your flood of pleasure. Instantly, you feel lonely, and let out a grumble as you wipe your hands off on your covers, unfazed by the mess that you're currently lying in.

Your moment alone doesn't last for long, as Johnny soon reappears beside you. He's leaning back against the wall, a cigarette in hand, and he's only wearing his leather pants, revealing his toned and tatted chest.

A smile appears on your lips as you ask, "why are you shirtless?"

"Thought it suited the moment," Johnny shrugs before taking a drag, despite not feeling any nicotine weave through his body.

"Oh, I see," you chuckle as you roll onto your side. "You're trying to play things out as if we just fucked."

"We kind of did," Johnny smirks, eyeing you up with a cheeky glisten dancing around his pupils. "Well, we did what we could."

"And now we've got to spend the rest of the night pillow talking," you tease with a fake groan, although the idea does sound nice.

"If that's what you want," Johnny smiles. You watch as he moves his silverhand off his lap, resting it on your bare thigh. Again, his pixel form jitters, reminding you of his lack of physical presence. However, that small gesture almost feels real. Genuine. Alive.

If only it were...

Why do you keep visiting this junkyard?

Despite the rain thundering down, and the gunky smell of trash and burning oil smothering your nose, you always end up sitting here.

Well, minutes ago, it wasn't raining. Minutes ago, you were sitting on the same piece of junk that you sat on when talking to Johnny about his grave. And then the rain began to fall, and you couldn't muster up the energy to simply walk back to your car.

Your car. Johnny's car. His Porsche, that you were fortunate enough to steal back, and Johnny gifted it to you with open arms, and a glisten in his eye.

"You know, if I were still amongst the living, I would fuck you in here," Johnny had once said, days after gifting you his wheels.

"Amongst the living?" you repeated with a laugh. "Now you really are starting to sound like a ghost."

What a way to avoid the elephant in the room.

Fuck.

Rain continues trailing over your face, and for once, you're unbothered by the feeling of wet clothes sticking to your skin. As you rest your head on your knees, a flicker of light catches your eye; despite the rain hammering down, pools of oil continue to burn, and part of you wonders if it's a sign.

"Your burning love for me?" Johnny questions as he finally appears, looking down at you from where you're sitting.

Rather than reply, you continue watching the flames. At first glance, it looks like they're fighting the rain, lashing out, doing everything in their power to continue burning. However, the longer you look, the more you come to realise that they're dancing in the rain, full of life and energy, unbothered by the downpour.

"Really, V? Come on..." Johnny chimes in, questioning why you're sitting by his make-shift gravestone - the gravestone that you engraved for him during one of your sappy heart to hearts.

Have you and Johnny talked about this? Of course. And nothing came of it, apart from shrugging some weight off your shoulders, and a handful of heavy tears as you cried yourself to sleep.

You and Johnny. What a sight that'd be. Two Samurai's of their own kind, taking Night City by storm.

Who knows? Maybe you would have blown yourself up on the same night that Johnny did. How romantic would that be?

'Punk Rock lovers blown to bits during Terrorist bombing.'

Yeah, real cute.

"I know," Johnny had said when you finally coughed up your confession. "And if things were different... If I were... alive, then I would have made us a thing the second I set my eyes on you."

Despite the sarcastic cunt that Mr. Silverhand can be, his words were nothing but pure and sincere. It turns out that Johnny really does have a heart, or did, but those emotions that he hides behind his thick walls have continued beyond death, all the way into that tiny chip, now bolted into your mind.

And as soon as you get rid of that chip, you get rid of Johnny, too.

You can't have it both ways. Either you have the chip removed, and live out the rest of your life, or you die within the next few months. But hey! At least you'll have Johnny by your side.

Now, Johnny sits beside you, resting his silver hand on your shoulder. "V?" he asks as he removes his sunglasses, and hooks them on the neckline of his vest.

"We would have been unstoppable," you mumble against your forearms.

Johnny pauses, your words replaying in his mind. A grin slips onto his lips as he lets out a chuckle, "yeah, and maybe that's exactly why we're meant to be apart."

Johnny receives nothing more than a sigh in response, and his grin fades away as sympathy appears. "The world ain't ready for a duo like us, so the Gods have separated us," Johnny explains, sharing his mindset on the situation.

This time, you're the one grinning as you peek up, and look at him. "The Gods? You're starting to sound like Misty," you say with a smile.

Johnny shares your expression. "Yeah? Good. I've always liked that girl," he responds. The hand on your shoulder slides down your back, resting on your waist, and as crazy as it sounds, you can feel his presence. Who knows what toll the chip may have on your body, but you're so fucking certain that Johnny is right there, physically comforting you.

"Anyway, if these things aren't meant to be, then they just aren't, V," Johnny continues.

As much as it sucks, he's right. "Yeah, yeah. I know," you grumble, changing the direction of your eyes to focus on the burning oil once more. "But it's nice to wallow in self-pity every once in a while."

Johnny slips his hand from your waist, and matches your position. His forearms come to rest on his knees, and he props his chin on top of his arms. "Yeah, I can understand that," Johnny says with a soft nod, his waves bouncing with his movement. You're drenched, soaked head to toe, and Johnny sitting here as dry as the desert - it makes sense, considering that he's not actually here.

"But don't wallow for too long. You're gonna catch a cold sitting out here," Johnny says as his eyes trail over to yours. His lips instantly turn up into a grin when he notices your express - you're blushing, but you're covering it up with a bastard grin, a look that says, "nobody can get through to me! ...except for you."

"Alright, Johnny."

He rolls his eyes at your dismissal. "I mean it, V. I don't wanna deal with your coughing and sneezing," Johnny moans. Oh, how similar you are - two bastards who pride themselves in being hard as stone, yet you're soft on each other.

"It almost sounds like you care about me," you sarcastically reply, despite knowing that, if given the chance, Johnny would blow up another building as some weird way of confessing his love for you.

Ah, he can read your thoughts. Something you often forget. The look in his eye says, "you know I would," but he steers away from that image and responds to your sarcasm. "Always have, V," Johnny says with nothing but sincerity and admiration in his voice.