I stood in the shower, my palms pressed to the resin wall in front of me. The hot water splashed over my neck, and the back of my head, soothing the aching muscles burning beneath my skin. No sooner had I closed my eyes, than the Relic malfunctioned, glitching my vision and making me cough. I lifted my hand to my lips, pulling back my palm to the sight of blood caking my fingers.

Fuck. That was new.

I grimaced and my vision blurred, head fuzzy, until darkness blasted through my mind, and I fell to the floor, landing on my shoulder, water splashing around me.

"Holy fuck, V," Johnny said from somewhere nearby.

As I blinked, trying to focus, his form appeared in glitches of blue, taking a knee beside me, reaching for my head, but I couldn't feel his touch.

"V," Johnny shouted, lowering his sunglasses and dipping his face in mine. "Don't you fucking die on me, Valorie. Wake. Up."

Valorie. He called me by the birth-given name I hadn't heard in over a decade—snatched it from my memories. I wanted to seethe at him for using it but could barely find the strength to lift my head, let alone exude anger.

Groaning and grunting, I pushed through the pain of the malfunction wave. "You—" I grimaced, curling into the fetal position. "—you—promised."

"Yeah?" Johnny snapped the fingers of his chrome hand in front of my face whenever my eyes tried to close of their own will. "That was before you tried to fucking drown yourself in an inch of water. You dead don't exactly help us figure this all out, does it?"

The wave finally started to ripple away, and I gritted my teeth, moving to sit up. "What'd ya plan to do anyway? Physically pick me up?"

Johnny held his hands out as I sat up, frustration boiling through him that he couldn't help me. "Don't be a smart ass. Me poppin' up kept you from passin' out dinnit?"

Staring up at him, I pressed my back to the wall and curled my knees to my chest. So strange, I was naked as the day I was born, drenched, everything on full display, and not only did it not bother me but didn't faze me in the slightest. "Yeah. Guess it did. Thanks, uh—thanks for that."

"Don't get all mushy on me now." He stood and motioned with his hand at me. "Get up. Come on, V."

Groaning in protest and using the wall as leverage, I forced myself to my feet. "There. I'm standing. Happy?"

He folded his arms. "Actually, yeah. Crisis fucking averted."

"Good because I, y'know, live to make you happy, Johnny." Glaring, I reached through him to flip off the water, turning for the towel hanging on the rack.

"You really need to get this out of your system before you say something like that to the wrong people." Johnny shook his head, ignoring my antics as he glitched from the shower to the couch.

"You cannot be talkin' 'bout what I think you are." I paused mid-way drying my hair with the towel.

"You're damn right I am." Johnny interlaced his fingers behind his head and leaned back, spreading his legs wide.

Fury spiraled up my spine and I threw the towel to the floor in a huff before throwing on a tank and shorts and storming to stand in front of him.

Johnny's eyes had been closed, but he lifted his head, opening one before sighing and letting his neck flop back, eyes shut again. "Here we fucking go."

"I almost died in the shower, and you still want me to work the turn tables?" I wiggled my hand over my crotch, raising a questioning, infuriated brow at him.

"Even more reason."

"I—" I threw my palms up, deciding the argument wasn't worth it. "Know what? Chill on the couch, watch the fucking holos, and do whatever you please. But me? I'm going to bed." Turning away, I headed for the mattress secured within the cubby-like wall in the corner.

"Good luck falling asleep," Johnny mumbled.

Pulling the covers back with an extra snap, I fluffed a pillow. "I'll do fine if someone stays outta my head."

His knees wiggled, and a crooked grin slid over his lips, his gaze cutting to me with his hands still behind his head. "I can help you, y'know?"

My stomach dipped, and I froze. "Excuse me?"

"I'm serious. I have a theory. We can call it an—exercise if you will. And sure as fuck beats the hell out of a 'Trust Fall.'" A wicked glint formed in his eyes, those knees continuing to waggle.

Slowly turning on my heel, I walked back to him with a single finger raised. "Lemme get this straight. You're suggesting finger-banging me. You? How the fuck would you even do that, Johnny?"

"Don't try to act like you haven't noticed how we've been able to have more fleeting touches lately." He removed his hands from his head and leaned forward, pressing his forearms to his knees.

I couldn't lie to him if I wanted to.

"Maybe…" I crossed my arms.

"It started when you first woke up with me in your head, remember?"

I clenched my jaw. "You mean when you tried to kill me?"

"Jesus, would you get over that?"

Shaking my head, I leaned forward, and with our faces an inch apart, said, "No."

"Fine." He glared back at me. "Whatever. Hold your grudge, but the important bit to remember is I was able to physically push you."

I winced, a memory of him pushing me to the floor when I tried to leave the apartment glitching through my mind, followed by him making me repeatedly bash my head against the window. He'd even managed to knock a bottle of pills from my hand and slap me to the ground.

"Look, I know it wasn't my finest fucking moment, but do you know what this means, V?"

I leaned back, staring at him wide-eyed and dropping my arms to my sides. "I hadn't put my guard up yet. My—mental guard."

"Uh-huh. I was able to gain partial control without any fucking pills. And my theory? It's because you let me."

"To willingly give you part control?" I wrapped my arms around myself and paced around the coffee table. "Trustin' you won't try to take over completely? That I may be unable to stop you if you did?"

Johnny nodded, making sure to look me in the eye every time I'd found the courage to glance at him. "Reason I said it'd be an exercise. And 'sides, you'd be gettin' the better end of the deal, wouldn't you say?"

Was I really going to do this? Let Johnny Silverhand try to use said hand…on me? If his theory was right—that we could both have simultaneous control—I was no scientist or ripperdoc or psyche specialist but—that had to mean something. Didn't it?

"Glad to hear your mind's made up. Now sit your ass down, V." Johnny patted the couch between his legs, spreading them wider.

With my heart booming in my chest, my stomach swirling into knots, I crossed the room and stood in front of him, staring down at the spot between his legs like it'd swallow me whole. "We're only doing this once, Johnny."

"Sure." A snarky grin tugged at his lips.

Glaring, I pointed at him. "I fucking mean it, Silverhand."

"Whatever you say, sweetcheeks. You're the boss. Now sit. Your ass. Down." He pointed between his thighs.

Gulping, I turned my back to him and slowly descended until my ass met with the couch.

"Scoot back," he whispered over my shoulder.

"But I won't be able to tell where you start and the couch ends."

Johnny chuckled behind me. "You know, for a closet sub, you sure as shit are horrible at taking directions."

Closet submissive. There really was nothing I could keep from this man. And it aroused me as much as it agitated the fuck out of me.

With a light growl, I slid back until Johnny told me to stop.

"Close your eyes and let me have control, V."

Doing as he asked, I tried to relax my mind, trailing my hand over my collarbone in repeated strokes.

I'd felt nothing behind me at first but soon felt the coarse brush of his beard against my ear. My eyes flew open and I gasped.

"It's never gonna fucking work if you freak out every time you can feel me."

If I could've elbowed him in the gut…

"You know what a colossal mind fuck it is doin' this, right?"

"And you're full of shit if you say you're not already enjoyin' it. And that was just my damn beard." A snicker fluttered from his lungs, his breath suddenly skirting my neck.

Closing my eyes again, I sunk into the couch, letting my muscles relax to the point of feeling like gelatin. I slid my fingers over my collarbones—back and forth—until the touch felt cool against my skin. I peeked an eye open, and a chrome arm reached over my shoulder—Johnny. Touching me. I still couldn't process how it was possible but didn't give a shit—not right now. We could rationalize it all later.

The feelings came and went in spurts, the feel of his leather vest pressed to my back, his leather-clad thighs pinching my thighs in exchange for the couch back and cushions when the feel of him would fade away. I gripped the couch's edge as his touch explored further south, his smooth chrome fingers tapping to the rhythm of Chippin' In against my stomach.

The fleeting touch of his nose scraping my cheek shimmered over my skin, and he sang lowly in my ear, "Can you feel it? Can you touch it? Get ready—" He slipped his hand into my shorts, making me gasp. "—'cause here we fuckin' go."

Despite the fucked up situation we were in, despite the craziness of what we were doing now, Johnny Silverhand singing one of my favorite Samurai songs behind me, with me nestled between his legs, had me on fire.

I whimpered as his finger slid over my clit, circling it. The on-and-off sensations were enough to drive me mad, but it felt too damn good to care. His other hand suddenly skirted my thigh, pulling my legs farther apart. Gasping, my mind not focused for that split second—the feel of him fluttered away. I opened my eyes, seeing my own hand fingering myself.

"Don't lose it. Not now, V," Johnny breathed out behind me. "Fucking concentrate."

Forcing my gaze on my arm, I stilled my mind again, remembering the bits of broken leather jagged against the exposed parts of my back, the smell of cigarette smoke wafting from his hair and clothes, and the smooth, cool chrome teasing my clit. My arm soon rested at my side, replaced by Johnny's, and he growled, plunging a finger inside me.

"I sing a Samurai song and you get sopping fuckin' wet?" He whispered against my jawline, still thrusting his finger in and out of me, adding a second, and making my back arch against him. "All the memories I can see and had no idea you were such a—fan."

Parts of me I kept buried deep—a past life I wanted to forget. Valorie's life.

"More," I cried out, the feel of him staying more frequent the more and more I gave into it—trusted him not to overpower me. The hardness of his cock straining in his pants suddenly pushed against my ass. My head fell back on his shoulder, and I risked lifting a hand to run it down the length of his silver arm. I could sense every rivet, every groove, and sharp edge. Fucking incredible.

Snarling, Johnny sucked my earlobe before biting it, pumping in and out of me with his fingers, circling my clit with a thumb. "We're so fucking close. Don't. Lose it."

We're so fucking close.

The realization was enough to send me straight over the damn edge as the euphoria claimed me in unending waves—my legs quivering, chest pulsing, and I cried out through it all with abandon, not giving a shit the neighbors could hear.

Johnny stiffened behind me, grunting. "Fuck."

Letting out a breath, I sulked into the couch—satiated and more exhausted than before. Sleep would come easy tonight, and I didn't want to admit he was fucking right—about all of it.

"Did you—" I started, noticing his hand still very much in my shorts, making languid strokes over my folds. "—did you feel all that?"

"Every last bit you let me. The whole fucking thing. Including your orgasm, which by the way, that is a mind fuck for a guy."

I rubbed my face, the fight to keep my mind relaxed taking its toll, and to my disappointment, the feel of him on me flickered away.

"I always knew you wanted to fuck a rock star," Johnny whispered over my shoulder, his voice gravelly.

And there we had it.

Groaning, I rolled my eyes and stood, adjusting my shorts. "Fuck you, Johnny. I knew I should've never—"

"But it worked," Johnny interrupted, lighting up a cigarette he let dangle between his lips.

I couldn't say it. I couldn't. Not right now, with the mix of lust, anger, and embarrassment I had swarming through me.

"G'night, pain in my ass," I said instead, turning for the bed and crawling into it.

Johnny chuckled and took a long drag from the cig. "G'night, greaser of my chrome." He raised his silver arm, wiggling his fingers at me—fingers that'd been inside me moments prior.

Growling, I shut off the light and pulled the covers over my head.