When I awoke, my vision blurred, and a bright round light hung over me, blasting into my eyes. Wincing and forcing my gaze to focus, Vik's face came into view on one side of me, Johnny's on the other. Both had cinched brows and were talking, but the words echoed in my ears before they finally tuned in.
"V, can you hear me?" Vik asked, waving his hand past my eyes to track their movement.
I squinted at Johnny, his form not appearing as glitchy as before—not at all. Reaching for him, Johnny took my hand, and I immediately felt his skin against mine. "Johnny, are you—are you really here?"
"I'd say it worked," Misty said from somewhere nearby.
Fuck. I'd said that out loud.
"Still in your head, Samurai. But seems pretty damn real, doesn't it?" Johnny wasn't wearing his Aviators and his dark eyes squinted down at me, a half-smile gracing his lips.
"V, you can obviously hear and see Johnny, but I need to know you're still here," Vik said, leaning into my field of vision and blocking Johnny, forcing our hands apart.
"Prick," Johnny breathed out.
Gulping, my throat like sandpaper, I nodded. "Yeah, Vik. I hear ya."
"Christ, V. It's not too late to reverse this. Ask, and I'll do it. Right now."
Johnny reappeared on the other side of me, both he and Vik in view. "We haven't gotten a chance to test run this thing yet, and he's already wantin' to zap me?"
"He's a concerned friend, Johnny. No one's flatlining anyone. I especially hope not me to myself." Groaning, I slowly sat up, only to have a hand on each of my shoulders—one of Vik's, one of Johnny's.
"Easy there. Your brain is still acclimating to the upgrade," Vik said, the skin between his eyes wrinkling.
"When Vik was working his magic, I did some research and thought you should know something, V," Misty's soft fluttery voice said from the other side of the room.
"Yeah? Hit me with it." I glanced down at Johnny's hand on my shoulder, his fingers kneading against my skin.
"With this change, you'll both be able to move simultaneously if you so wish. Both minds are present, but one is making the motions—or both. It can be disorienting, which is why you must keep a sort of neural handshake at all times." Misty frowned and picked some of the black fingernail polish from her thumb. "If you're listening, Johnny—you better not screw her over."
Johnny smirked, giving my shoulder one last squeeze before stepping back. "I'd tell you to ask her, 'Or what?' but it's not like she and I could really do anything to each other."
"Understood. I'll mentally slap him if he's not upholding his side of things." I grinned at Misty, giving a quick sidelong glance to Johnny, who saluted his middle finger.
"The pills will still work either way. Things start going south? You take them, V. Understand?" Vik wheeled away on his stool, hands pressing to the tops of his thighs.
Johnny crossed his arms and glared at Vik as he passed. "This guy seriously hates my fucking guts."
Nodding, I pushed to my feet and held my arms at my sides for balance. They felt—heavier—especially the left one. "Appreciate it, Vik. Everything. And Misty. Thanks, both of you."
"You have my number if you're confused or something doesn't feel right. Call me any time if you need me to help you navigate it." Misty scratched her cheek.
"And now I'm something to be goddamned navigated? Fucking rich." Johnny slipped his Aviators back on.
"Will do, Misty."
Johnny appeared behind me, brushing my hair over a shoulder to expose my ear. Pressing his lips to it, he whispered, "Get this body of ours home, Val. Got an idea on how to test this new chrome that I think you'll fuckin' dig." Grinning like a jackal, Johnny backpedaled away, waving his silver hand at me before glitching out entirely.
Before, whenever he'd disappear, only his memories were present in my mind, but now—his memories, his psyche, the weight of him, remained crystal clear. "Johnny?" No answer.
"Anything else I should know? I'm pretty tired." I jabbed my thumb in the direction of the exit.
"Just watch yourself, V. And I hope it helps." Vik turned his attention to the boxing match on his TV.
Misty didn't say anything and waved at me instead.
The entire walk home, I grew increasingly riled up, my insides twisting, an ache surging between my thighs. Samurai songs played on a loop in my mind, and I kept rubbing my fingers together, swearing I felt calluses I hadn't had in years forming on them. It didn't take me being in Johnny's mind at every waking moment to know precisely what he meant by this "test," and it had my power-walking shifting into a light sprint.
Standing in front of my Watson apartment door, I leaned on the doorframe, taking several deep breaths before standing upright. Swiping my hand over the lock, I stepped into an empty, quiet space, the door whooshing closed behind me.
"Johnny?" I asked out loud, squinting as I scanned, even taking a moment to check in the closet of all places.
When I neared my computer desk he appeared and stalked toward me, forcing my ass against the desk, sitting on it, and staring up at him with wide eyes. "Fucking finally," he growled out, slipping his hand to the back of my head.
I tensed at first, recalling one of the last times Johnny had stalked toward me like that. But back then, the expression in his gaze was one of fury and confusion, this time—hope and lust. Relaxing into his touch, I smiled. "Miss me?"
He answered without words, crashing his lips against mine, his fingers bunching in my hair. I risked closing my eyes, fearing I'd lose his sense of touch, but it never flittered away, not even for a moment. Moaning, I slipped two fingers into his belt loops and pulled him toward me, fucking ravenous for him.
Johnny pulled away, breathing hard, his raven hair hanging in strands over his gaze. "Val, take your clothes off."
Leaning my back against the cool resin wall behind me, I bit my lip as I slipped my hands under the bottom of my shirt, starting to pull upward. Within a glitched burst, my hands became Johnny's, pulling the tank the rest of the way, his fingers grazing the sides of my breasts. I lifted my arms, and he tossed the shirt aside, slipping his organic hand behind me to undo the clasp of my bra with one flick. Letting the straps fall, I shimmied it away from my shoulders, sitting with my bare breasts on display for him, nipples puckering from the cool air.
Johnny chewed his bottom lip as he stared at me before massaging both breasts, groaning as he did it. It was a peculiar mixture of heat from his real hand and iciness from his chrome one, soft yet callused versus smooth but rough.
"Johnny, how are you—how are you doing this?" I managed to squeeze from my throat in between moans and sighs.
"Does it matter?" His tone took on a whole new form of gruffness.
It didn't. It really fucking didn't.
He made quick work of my pants, sliding them along with my underwear past my calves. I toed off my boots, kicking them away, and greedily reached for his vest. He snatched my hand in his, kissing my palm. "Wait. Close your eyes."
I whimpered at his command but obliged, spilling darkness over my vision. He slid his real hand to my inner thigh, the rough textures forged from years of guitar playing making the sensitive skin there shiver.
"Open your eyes, Val." He whispered against my cheek, his beard tickling my neck.
When I did, he stood in front of me fully nude—lean, toned muscle, scattered masculine hair over his chest and stomach. Was he feeding me memories of himself? He knew what I looked like naked from countless times in the shower, sleeping, getting dressed—but him? I hadn't a clue. And his cock?
I pushed out a breath as he pressed his hardened length against my thigh. "Fuck. You weren't kidding about it being impressive."
"I never joke about my cock, princess." He grinned and slid his hands to my ass, pulling me forward to the desk's edge and settling between my thighs.
Nerves suddenly prickling my skin, I wrapped my arms around Johnny's neck and played with his hair. "Seriously, how are you doin' this? Is there something I need to do to make this work?"
"All about memories." He brushed his knuckles down my cheek. "Neither of us knows what the other feels like, but if we dig into the past—I venture we can comingle them into the present moment. Understand?"
Fuck each other by drudging up memories of past lovers.
"You realize how fucking crazy this is, right?" My chest pumped up and down as I felt his tip teasing my entrance.
He smiled, grunting as he pushed in a little further. "Then it's perfect for us."
Too true.
I dug my nails into his shoulders. "Fuck me, Silverhand."
He plunged into me with a snarl, filling me to the hilt. My back arched and I gasped, random rolls of eddies, empty burrito wrappers, and a Max Doc toppling to the floor as he started pumping. With each thrust, the desk pounded against the wall, and I clenched around him, making him grunt.
"Fuck, Johnny. Fuck," I cried out, holding onto the back of his head and shoulder for dear life.
"That's right, Val. Scream my name loud enough for the fucking neighbors to hear." He curled a hand behind my neck, encouraging me to look at him. "I want them to know who you belong to."
I quirked a brow, unsure exactly what he'd meant by that.
"Because I'm sure as shit yours now." Johnny's grip tightened on my neck. "You hear me?"
Belonging to each other—as one.
Vigorously, I nodded. "Yeah, Johnny. I hear you."
He kissed me again, deep and rough, before pulling out and pointing at the couch. "Couch."
Hopping from the desk, I sauntered past him, biting my fingernail as I went with a sultry grin playing on my lips. He swatted my ass, and a few seconds later, I felt the sting he left behind. Spinning on my heel, I sunk to the couch, lay on my back, and watched him make his way over. His cock bounced freely as he walked, a predatory swagger in his step. He pointed at a bottle of alcohol resting on the table.
Grinning, I scooped it into my hand. "Want some?"
He nodded, lowering himself to the couch, resting a knee between my legs.
I tilted my head back and took a long swig, relishing the sweet burn coursing down my throat. Johnny moaned as the alcoholic sensation hit him moments later. He grabbed my foot and yanked me forward, flopping me fully to my back. Yelping, I rested the bottle on the floor as he drove into me again, his hips rolling with expertise.
The Ballad of Buck Ravers blasted through my mind with no aid from a record player. Whether I'd put it there or Johnny or both of us, it yet again didn't matter. The cerebral tweak worked. It fucking worked. So much left to explore—with what time I had left—would this truly extend it?
Our bodies soon glistened with sweat as Johnny maneuvered me in every position imaginable on the couch, not stopping to even let us breathe. I'd pushed him to his own back, crawling on top of him, riding him, rubbing my clit against his taut stomach.
"Fuck," Johnny groaned, grabbing my hips and closing his eyes.
I bunched my hands in my hair, rolling my hips atop him and sucking on my bottom lip.
His eyes flashed open, and he sat up, holding me in his lap, his chrome hand trailing up and down my spine. "Do you know how long it's been since I've been balls deep in a woman?"
"Fifty years? Give or take?" I gave him a wicked grin.
He smiled—a genuine smile before he bucked his hips, thrusting himself into me hard. "Cunt." Swatting his hands away, I crawled off him, and he caught one of my forearms, halting me as I started to walk away. "Where you goin'?"
His question held borderline fear laced within it. As if at this stage, after all we've done, the decisions we'd made, I somehow changed my mind.
"To the window. That's where you're gonna make me come one final time for the night." I raised a thin brow and tugged him toward me.
He chuckled and pressed his chest to my back, his cock brushing my ass. His arms wrapped around me from behind, and he nipped my cheek. "Oh, am I?"
Nodding, I pressed my hands to the window seal, the moonlit view of the Night City skyline twinkling in front of us. Bending forward, I tilted my ass, presenting it to him.
"Fuck," he breathed out, his hands curling around my waist. "Yes, ma'am."
He pounded into me, his grasp on my hips pulling me back each time he thrust forward. Our reflections blazed back at us in the window, the image glitching in and out as we both lent our memories, forcing them to be overwritten—the new ones we forged replacing them in real-time. He pulled me back, moving his chrome hand to my stomach and kissing my neck, gaze constantly snapping to us in the window.
I reached a hand behind me, curling it around his neck, still holding the seal as leverage. "That's us fucking, Johnny." I nudged my chin at the reflection.
He slipped his chrome fingers to my clit, pinching, flicking, and rubbing. "And it's one of the hottest damn things I've ever fuckin' seen."
Panting and moaning, I closed my eyes and let my head fall on his shoulder, crying out as the climax overtook me. The euphoria swirled in my stomach, making me see starbursts on the other side of my eyelids. Johnny seized behind me, his arms tightly wrapping my stomach and chest. He moaned into my hair, followed by a sigh.
"Shit," he breathed before pulling out of me.
I turned to face him with a smile, feeling woozy and content. "I know what you want right now."
He cocked an eyebrow at me, and I grazed a fingernail over his ass as I scooped the cig holder Judy had given me—the one that'd previously belonged to Evelyn Parker. The sight of her pale corpse still ate at me, and I hadn't seen much use in keeping the pack until now. Flipping it open, I removed a cigarette and grabbed the lighter before turning to a lounging Johnny on the couch.
"Oh, fuck yes," Johnny said, resting his head on the couch's back.
Flopping beside him, I slipped it between my lips, and paused with the lighter near it, waiting for his impatience to kick in.
Johnny's eyes flew open, and he stared at me. "If you don't smoke right now, I may never forgive you."
Laughing, I elbowed him in the side and lit up. "You can be such an asshole."
"I can be." He one-eyed squinted as he materialized his own fake cigarette, and we smoked together, with my lungs delivering the taste, my nose the smell, and my brain the nicotine effects. "I haven't told anyone this. Not a fucking soul, Val, but part of it is an act."
I snapped a glare at him. "An act? Bullshit."
"You can see into my mind. You tellin' me I'd fucking lie about something like that?" He blew smoke toward the ceiling.
"Good point. But why?"
He scooted closer to me, encouraging my head onto his shoulder. "Look, I've never gotten a fucking psych eval or anything, but far as I can tell? Defense mechanism. It's hard for the world to shit on you when you shit on it first—and big time."
"Makes sense." I reached forward to tap some ash into the tray. "Not sure what I'd do if you stopped calling me cunt though."
Johnny laughed, making my head bounce still resting on his shoulder. "That won't be happening. You're still a raging cunt, I'm a fucking dick and the bickerin' will never go away."
Grinning, I slid my hand to his thigh and squeezed. "We did it. Whatever this is. But one step closer to Mikoshi, I figure."
Johnny raised his fist, and I bumped mine against his. "Mikoshi, sure. But Val, I hope it buys you some time. I do." He pressed a kiss to the side of my head, and I melted into his side, lulled to sleep by sexual satiation, the unknown caring side of a rebel rock star, and the Night City skyline blazing neon through the window.