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Kenshi is a restless person. He’s never known peace, since that has always been considered a luxury in the type of life he’s led. He wasn’t as fortunate as some, who could sleep with their back turned towards the door. He was always on the edge, ready to move, ready to bark, ready to bite. Always one eye open as he was taught as a child.
Or, well, nowadays he tends to use his ears, but the point still stands.
No rest for the wicked, and even now, when he’s about as out of the game as one can be, he can’t relax. Weariness is a hard habit to grow out of, and Kenshi’s afraid that just one lapse in judgment could cost him his life. The yakuza is like a snake in tall grass. It bites your ankle when you least expect it.
And so he never rests. He always tries to be slicker than the beast so to say. He’s two steps ahead, doesn’t rush, and expects the unexpected. That has taken him far during his vigilante justice streak.
Kenshi always tried to follow that one rule: Fail to prepare, prepare to fail.
Still, there was one thing that even Kenshi could never prepare for, though, and that was the whim of Johnny Cage.
God, Johnny Cage. What could Kenshi ever do with that man who comes and goes as he pleases, always leaving him wanting more? It felt like whenever Kenshi had everything in order, that man came along to make him a mess again.
This time it happened on a moderately calm night. Kenshi lied on his back in his twin sized bed, blind fold off, eyelids shut, and just trying to listen to the sounds of the city outside to relax his mind and body. It had been one of those days, exhausting and frustrating, and Kenshi felt like he could sleep for at least a week. He couldn’t, though, because just when he finally felt his mind fuzzy up after hours of trying and failing to fall asleep, his phone's ringing broke the silence hanging around in the room.
Kenshi knew immediately that it was Johnny calling even before Siri announced it. That man had set a distinctive ringtone for his contact ages ago when they exchanged numbers, and Kenshi had grown to recognise it after just a few notes. He used to hear it almost daily when the two of them routinely shared calls, but that annoying jingle hadn’t played in a while. It had been a few months or so. Kenshi hadn’t exactly counted the days.
It wasn’t anything serious. No big fights or falling out. Recently Johnny had just excused himself, claiming that he had his hands full with directing and couldn’t spare time for anything else. Maybe there was some truth to it, but Kenshi knew that Johnny still regularly kept in touch with Kung Lao and Raiden like before. He didn’t think about it. Not too much, anyway.
There were just… things between them. One too many events and actions which neither one of them mentioned. Who knew that alcohol and two emotionally conflicted men do not mix together?
And so Kenshi was a little surprised when Johnny called him after almost complete radio silence. Briefly he considered just ignoring the call and going back to sleep, too exhausted to deal with whatever that man had come up with, but he knew that he wouldn’t do that. Instead he reached out and took his phone in his hand.
The call connected, and the only thing Kenshi could say was, “Johnny-” before he was already cut off by Johnny’s larger than life voice coming through the speaker, the sound echoing back from his bedroom walls.
“Heyyyy Kenshi, Kenny, Ken-man. How’s it going?”
Kenshi wasn’t an idiot. He recognised that overly sweet tone. Johnny wanted something from him. And despite never admitting it, it always worked on him. They both knew that. That’s why Johnny always used it.
“What is it?” Kenshi asked, cutting to the chase, and it took Johnny a record breaking one second to drop the act.
“Okay, listen. I’m about to board a plane, destination Tokyo, and I was just wondering if your apartment’s big enough to house two for a few days.”
Kenshi paused and he furrowed his brows as he tried to process Johnny’s words. “I- What?”
There was a beat of silence on Johnny’s side and at first Kenshi thought that he had heard the man wrong, before he then spoke up again. “Yeah. I’m doing some promo work for Mortal Kombat 2 in Tokyo and I was supposed to have a nice hotel suite reserved for me, but my booking’s suddenly all messed up and I’m basically down and out now.”
“Oh,” was all Kenshi said and he sat up on his bed. He felt a weird tinge in his chest he ignored the best he could.
He had no idea Johnny was already doing promotion for his movie. The last time they spoke, Johnny had mentioned that it was in pre-production. Why didn’t Johnny tell him he was coming to Tokyo?
To be fair, Kenshi hadn’t really put in any effort into reaching out either.
He wasn’t sure if his apartment could even actually house two people. He had bought this place after his blinding and hadn’t exactly bothered with the interior, only purchasing the essentials. His bed wasn’t big enough for two without some very close-proximity cuddling, and Kenshi felt like the two of them weren’t in that stage.
Whatever stage they were in was a bit of a mystery. They were somewhere between friendship and two men who’s pinkies almost interlock when they walk side by side. A drunken kiss shared once continued with a handshake the next morning. They didn’t mention that part out loud.
Kenshi was fine with that. He actually preferred it that way. It was easier to keep his distance and concentrate on what was already on his plate when he didn’t pursue Johnny, though it was sometimes hard to ignore his feelings, especially when Johnny made everything so convoluted.
Ever since his divorce, Johnny had apparently started to experiment with his love life again. Kenshi wasn’t jealous, not by much anyway, but he was glad he could never see anything on a flat surface, because if he’d ever see a paparazzi picture of Johnny with one of his lucky dates in a headline, he’d probably crush his phone by accident.
Needless to say, things were complicated.
Apparently he had stayed quiet for too long, because he was then suddenly snapped out of his thoughts by Johnny’s pleading voice ringing through the speaker. “Come on, please, please, please. I promise I’ll pay back. I’ll, uh, do your laundry. How’s that, big guy?”
Kenshi couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at Johnny’s desperation. There was no way he could ever turn that man down.
“Are you okay with sleeping on the couch?” He then asked and could just hear the relief in Johnny’s sigh.
“Yes! Thank. God. You’re a lifesaver, Kenshi.”
Kenshi smiled at that. “I’ll see you later,” he promised and that was it. A little over 12 hours later Kenshi was waiting for Johnny at the Narita airport.
Johnny had made it clear to Kenshi that he didn’t have to meet him there, but Kenshi honestly felt like he’d burst if he just waited for Johnny’s arrival in his lonely apartment. He couldn’t fall asleep again after the late night phone call, which he knew was ridiculous. Johnny wasn’t in Tokyo to see him, after all, so the uncharacteristic nervousness wasn’t called for.
Still, Kenshi wanted to greet him. A friendly gesture if nothing else. It turned out to be a mistake, though, when he got inside the airport’s lobby. No weapons allowed, which meant no Sento, which meant total darkness in an unfamiliar ground.
Kenshi was getting used to the darkness. At first he had abused Sento’s powers more than necessary, always feeling a tinge of guilt when he relied on the blade more than his other senses. Over the past months, he had taken steps to slowly ease himself to total blindness, and he liked to think that he was doing a good job. Still, even then his heart did skip a beat every now and then when he opened his eyes in the morning and was met with nothing.
He always kept Sento nearby, somewhere within reach in case his ears and touch weren’t enough. But now, standing in a hall filled with people, noise and smells everywhere with no sight to guide him was slightly overwhelming to say the least. Kenshi hated how vulnerable it made him feel. No way to know who was where, nor if he was being watched or if he should be more alert. It felt like he was being surveillanced at all times.
Kenshi tried his best to ignore his nerves and listened to the pool of sounds, trying to pick up a familiar, endearingly obnoxious voice from the midst of it all.
A just reunited couple near him were catching up, a father was speaking to his daughter on the phone, and an announcement regarding a delayed flight rang across the large room. Nothing noteworthy.
Suddenly Kenshi heard fast footsteps behind him. His right hand automatically reached behind his back where Sento should be, and before he could even turn around, he felt a warm hand press against where his eyes used to be. An immediate rush of adrenaline washed through Kenshi’s body at the contact and it felt like hours of tension erupted all at once as he grabbed the hand, forcibly moving it away from his face, and then twisted it into a slightly unnatural pose as he himself turned on his heels. He heard a man groan, and before Kenshi could break his arm, he heard Johnny’s panicked voice.
“Ow! Ow! Shit, it’s me!”
Kenshi immediately let go of the hand, slightly stunned. Soon it turned into irritation, though, and he gave Johnny a small, gentle shove.
“What the hell was that? I almost sucker punched you,” he scolded. He heard Johnny let out a hum and imagined him rubbing his sore wrist.
“I missed you too,” the man muttered, clearly not too appreciative of Kenshi’s initial reaction. That made a small, amused smile creep on Kenshi’s face. It felt good to know that Johnny had missed him. A little selfishly so, maybe.
“Sorry. How was the flight?” he then asked and raised a hand slightly as a sign that he was willing to carry some of Johnny’s luggage. Knowing the actor, there had to be at least three suitcases.
Johnny let out an exasperated, maybe a little dramatic sigh as he placed a suitcase handle into Kenshi’s palm. “Long. And boring,” he said, before then adding with a slightly cheerier tone, “But the destination was worth it.”
Kenshi hummed. He placed his free hand on Johnny’s shoulder and followed the man as they made their way out of the airport. Kenshi did have his white cane with him, now folded and tucked away. He knew how to use it, but he preferred not to when there was a chance. Being guided by Johnny felt more secure in a way he couldn’t exactly explain.
They were silent as they walked. Kenshi didn’t know how Johnny felt, but he himself was a little out of his element. It was that tricky feeling of time and distance making strong bonds feel like strangers. Water under the bridge. There was much to say, but Kenshi didn’t know how to pick his words.
“This isn’t your first time in Tokyo, right?” He then finally asked. He had never been that good with small talk.
“Nah,” Johnny responded. He turned right, and Kenshi followed. “I’ve done a few press tours here and paid a visit to some con, but those were ages ago. I’m really excited to see how the city’s changed since the last time.”
Kenshi smiled, positively surprised. “Really?” He asked, and knew that Johnny had turned his head to look at him, because suddenly the man’s voice was clearer.
“Yeah! I’ve actually been looking into stuff and made this little bucket list of sorts. Just some places I’d like to visit, you know?” He then paused before asking, “Think you could act as my local guide?”
Johnny sounded surprisingly enthusiastic. “Do you have time for that?” Kenshi asked with a slight raise of an eyebrow, and to his surprise, Johnny took his sweet time answering that question.
“What?” the man asked. Then there was another pause, and then, “Oh, yeah. The promo. Don’t worry about that. I have all the time in the world for the two of us.”
Johnny’s words made Kenshi feel a little funny, but his dismissive tone made him frown. He had figured that Johnny would be busy with work his entire stay.
“Are you sure?” He asked, slightly suspicious.
Johnny hummed approvingly. “Uh huh. I have it all figured out, and what I really need right now after a 12 hour flight is something other than airplane food in my system.”
Kenshi heard the sound of the airport’s sliding doors opening and soon enough he was met with a cool breeze as they stepped outside. He kept his hand on Johnny’s shoulder as the man stilled. A car’s engine started somewhere near them. It must have been a taxi Johnny flagged down.
“You poor thing,” Kenshi then said. “That first-class cuisine must have done a number on you.”
In response, Kenshi felt Johnny’s elbow gently bump into his ribs and heard the man defensively reply, “Hey, I flew business, thank you very much.”
Despite everything, it felt like Johnny hadn’t changed at all after their last encounter. He was still himself, witty and charming, and it should have felt good for Kenshi to know that Johnny was still comfortable enough around him to act like he did before, but it didn’t. No matter what, Kenshi felt a tension somewhere deep inside his gut.
It was the little things. The way he felt Johnny’s ankle touch his when they sat inside the taxi. The way Johnny’s hand grabbed Kenshi’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze when Kenshi gave him a small tour of his apartment. When he called Kenshi ‘Kendoll’. There was something that Kenshi couldn’t shake off. It felt like Johnny was putting up an act, though it may have been only in Kenshi’s mind.
Fortunately for him, it did ease off eventually. Slowly but surely they fell back into that same old dynamic after Johnny had finally settled into his apartment and they started touring around the parts of Tokyo Kenshi knew the best. He took Johnny to eat some street food, which was far from three michelin, but still seemed to satisfy the man. They roamed the smaller streets, walked and talked for who knows how long until their feet were sore and the sun was about to set.
It was fun. Kenshi enjoyed Johnny’s company when it was just the two of them and the actor could really drop his usual persona. Johnny carried himself well, but nothing was as endearing as hearing Johnny’s hiccupy laugh after an unfunny joke he himself had said.
Kenshi was slowly coming to terms with the fact that he may like Johnny more than he originally thought once he found himself smiling a bit too much at everything the man said. If only Johnny felt the same.
Eventually they ended up in a karaoke bar. A scruffy, cramped karaoke bar Kenshi had been a regular for years. He could never imagine Johnny in a place like that, but the man had been insistent, arguing that he also wanted to see the side of Tokyo Kenshi knew the best, deprived of all the sterile flashiness.
Neither one of them sang any karaoke there. They sat together in a secluded corner, just the two of them, a bit too close to each other, and drank. Johnny was babbling and Kenshi listened, as always.
“It was crazy, I’m telling you,” Johnny said, leaning slightly over the table like he usually did when amped. Kenshi had Sento strapped to his back and could finally see Johnny after the whole day of not being able to. The bar was the only place where he could have Sento within reach without unnecessary trouble.
They were drunk. Slightly drunk. Tipsy was the right word. Johnny slightly more than Kenshi, and if you thought that Johnny was loud when sober, just wait until he’s drunk. They earned a few mean side-eyes from other tables, but neither one of them really cared at this point.
“So I’m picking her up for dinner. It’s all casual and cool, we talk a little, and then she turns to me and asks ‘you’re paying, right?’,” Johnny narrated and Kenshi nodded along. Listening to the man babbling about some dinner date gone wrong wasn’t Kenshi’s preferred topic of conversation, but he mostly just ignored the implications of Johnny’s words and instead enjoyed his lively voice.
Johnny took a sip of his drink and continued, “And I was like, sure, yeah, I’ll pay for our food, no problem. And then she was just silent before saying that she wanted me to pay her for the whole evening. Like the whole deal.”
Johnny waved his hands around, trying to showcase just how baffled he felt then, and Kenshi furrowed his brow as he realized just what Johnny was saying.
“Wait. The whole date?” he asked in slight disbelief. Johnny nodded, and Kenshi’s confusion just grew, having to follow up with, “How much?”
Johnny paused for a few seconds, as if he was hesitating with his answer, before answering, “500 dollars.”
Kenshi rubbed his face with his hand. He couldn’t believe what Johnny was saying and felt a little offended, not sure on whose behalf.
“Why on Earth did you go out with her in the first place?”
Johnny sipped his drink before quickly defending himself, his tone casual. “I mean, I dunno if you’ve heard that I’ve been experimenting a little with my love life, but I have, and it feels like each and every encounter is worse than the last.”
Oh, Kenshi’s heard. He has definitely heard. It’s all the celebrity news talked about.
His grip on his glass unconsciously tightened ever so slightly. There was no denying that he was a little jealous. He didn’t like the feeling one bit.
“I wonder why that is,” Kenshi replied before he could stop himself. He saw Johnny’s eyebrows slowly knit together in confusion.
“Are you implying that I’m the problem? Because I assure you that I’m trying,” Johnny said. His tone wasn’t offended per se, but there was a clear, sore undertone. It wasn’t exactly what Kenshi had aimed for.
“No, that’s not it,” he started, paused and rubbed his nose bridge. It was horrible how much alcohol affected thinking, even when there was barely any in his body to begin with. The thoughts were there, but he had to really concentrate on assembling them into an idea. What had he actually meant by that?
“It’s the opposite,” Kenshi then continued, “Why do you pick people who charge you 5000 dollars for a night?”
Johnny let out a small, light scoff. “500 dollars,” he corrected, and it seemed like Kenshi’s unamused raise of an eyebrow told him more than words ever could. Johnny raised his hands slightly in the air.
“Hey, being freshly divorced and near bankruptcy isn’t exactly appealing. I’m working with what I can get.”
Kenshi let go of his glass before he’d break it with his grip. He wasn’t sure if that’s even possible, but he wasn’t about to find out now. Instead he tapped the table with two fingers.
“There are people who’d be more than ready to spend a night with you.”
“Who? You?” Johnny asked. It was clearly a jab, but Kenshi didn’t hesitate with his answer. He was honestly tired of beating around the bush.
“Maybe. Aren’t I doing that already?”
Then there was silence. Kenshi would have felt a sense of pride for rendering Johnny seemingly speechless any other time, but this wasn’t it. He wanted a reaction. Something that would indicate that Johnny remembered the kiss they shared. That Johnny’s fingers had dangled into his hair and his warm breath laced with alcohol had brushed against his lips. That it wasn’t just some hallucination caused by Madam Bo’s special tea.
Kenshi wished he still had his eyes so that he could see everything about Johnny. It felt like the sight Sento provided him wasn’t enough.
He wanted to know what Johnny thought without the intrusion of telepathy. He wanted to know if the man considered him a good enough candidate for himself. Obviously they had something, but maybe Johnny didn’t want Kenshi’s added baggage to his life. Johnny was free, fresh summer wind, sex on the beach. Kenshi was a rabid dog looking for a home. Not a match made in heaven, that’s for sure. He just wished he’d get some closure.
Then, eventually, Johnny finally spoke up.
“Wanna hear me sing karaoke?”
It felt like Kenshi’s brain short circuited at that moment, the only answer he could come up with being, “What?”
Johnny waved his hands in the air a bit as if proving a point. His tone was light, unbothered. “I’ll sing you a song,” he said, and Kenshi couldn’t even get a word in when Johnny had downed the rest of his drink and got up from his seat to make his way towards the stage far back.
Kenshi watched as Johnny’s figure slowly blended in with everything else dark blue in his field of vision. He remained seated, not really sure how to go on from this.
Soon enough the speakers of the karaoke machine came to life and a vaguely familiar tune started to play. A rhythmic drum, cowbell, brass. Was Johnny seriously about to sing Copacabana right now?
He was. And Kenshi had no idea how to feel as he listened to Johnny’s off-key singing start to ring across the bar. The corners of his lips were threatening to curve up in shocked amusement, but he also couldn’t believe that Johnny just excused himself out of their conversation to sing Copacabana of all songs.
For a moment there was only that. There was Johnny on that karaoke stage, a cheap microphone in his hand, singing about two young lovers at the Copa, and then there was Kenshi, who sat in his secluded corner and listened.
Kenshi had no idea what Johnny was even trying to convey with his song of choice. Was it a metaphor which the man loved to do? Was Johnny hinting that whatever they had would be doomed by the narrative? Too many questions and Kenshi was a bit too tipsy to think clearly.
Maybe it was time for him to finally accept that Johnny just was a man he could never fully understand and just listen to his singing.
The whole rest of the bar was fairly quiet as Johnny sang, and though Kenshi couldn’t see clearly all the way over where the man was, he liked to imagine that he was giving the song his everything. Maybe there was a limelight above him, making him shine like the star he was.
Kenshi tapped his finger on his glass to the beat of the drums, muttering along to the lyrics he remembered. When the song was over, a few people clapped in passing and Johnny said his thank yous into the mic before the footsteps of him leaving the stage were heard. Kenshi was already preparing for whatever he might do next, but all of that was thrown out the window when there was a sudden crash and a shout.
Kenshi stood up in an instant, wondering what the hell Johnny did this time. When he took a few steps closer to the sound of an argument brewing, the scene in front of him cleared. Johnny had somehow managed to bump into someone, making the stranger drop his drink to the ground. And now this man was holding Johnny by the collar of his shirt, his back turned towards Kenshi. Johnny’s hands were raised in defense.
“I can buy you a new drink, no big deal,” Kenshi heard Johnny say as he approached the two men. Kenshi put his hand on the aggressor's shoulder and pulled him away from Johnny, settling between them with his right hand grasping the hilt of Sento.
“Back off,” he ordered the other man in Japanese, not necessarily looking for a fight but ready for one anyway.
To his slight surprise, a few men near the bar stood up as soon as he did so. It didn't take much to figure out why, though, especially when he finally got a good look at the man he had shoved. It was a face he recognised.
“Takahashi,” Ikeda muttered as they faced each other, clearly not too pleased to see Kenshi. The feeling was mutual. How Kenshi had managed to spend so much time in a bar without either of the former associates noticing each other would probably always be a mystery, but it was safe to say that there was hostility between them ever since Kenshi’s departure from the yakuza.
Kenshi’s grip on Sento tightened, his breath calm but nerves through the roof. The comfortable state he had gotten himself lulled into was gone in an instant, replaced by suspense.
Ikeda continued to speak. “You’ve got a lot of nerve to show your face here,” the man said. Kenshi’s brows furrowed further.
“This isn’t yakuza territory the last time I checked,” he answered. It was the reason he had taken Johnny there in the first place. This bar had always been Kenshi’s safe haven back then, when it was a place for people like him without being tarnished by the venom the yakuza was.
“Times change,” Ikeda said, the tension clear in his voice, “The selfish, traitorous little streak you’ve been on lately has made quite the impact. People are on the edge, trying to gather up everything they can get.”
Kenshi hummed. “Good.”
He drew Sento out of its sheath ever so slightly, not exposing the blade just quite yet. It still seemed to catch the eyes of Ikeda and the rest of the yakuza there. So much for the fun night out.
Johnny, still standing behind Kenshi, leaned closer, whispering to him, “What the hell’s going on? Are we about to fight?” Despite the language barrier, the man still seemed to read the room well enough to know when things didn’t look too good.
“Watch your back,” Kenshi murmured to him and then finally drew Sento out with one swift move. This wasn’t how he imagined the night to end, but when the first punch was thrown and the rest of Ikeda’s men sailed across the bar, there really was no other way around it.
They were heavily outnumbered. Two versus five, maybe six. It was hard to tell who was who as Kenshi spun around from enemy to enemy all the while trying to keep track of where Johnny was. The man had nothing to defend himself with, and though Kenshi knew that Johnny was a competent fighter, he couldn’t help but feel anxious. He himself had Sento, but he wasn’t the only one armed, and his movements were sloppy. It felt like Kenshi’s body was jet lagged, doing everything his mind ordered it to do with a few second delay, which wasn’t exactly optimal.
Kenshi used Sento to block man number one from stabbing him in the side with a pocket knife, and then kicked man number two charging towards him further away. He ducked a punch from man number three, but before he could slice his hand off, he had to dodge an oncoming chair flying past him.
“My bad!” came Johnny’s shout from the direction the chair had flown from. Well, at least the man was still alive and kicking.
In its own right, the fighting felt good. It always felt good to let loose and hit people with intent. It didn’t feel as good to destroy the furniture around, though, even if it was necessary. Kenshi made a mental note to pay the bar owner back later once all of this was cleared up.
Man number three picked up a bar stool near the counter, which Kenshi slashed through with a clean cut. Both sides of the stool dropped on the floor with a loud thud, and then man number four was already coming for Kenshi’s throat, giving him no time to rest.
The longer the fight went on, the less sense it made. At times it felt like the events around Kenshi were in slow motion and he knew that each and every one of his ancestors were disappointed in the way he fought. But the fact was that Kenshi was a drunk man fighting against a bunch of thugs with his American situationship in a karaoke bar, and at some point he just gave up on the right techniques and stabbed man number something in the leg with a broken bottle of gin. He’s pretty sure he rolled on the bar counter with someone at some point.
Then, suddenly, it just stopped. Kenshi was already ready for more, bloodied up Sento in a firm grip, but when no one else ran up to him, he realized that Johnny and him were the last ones standing. The bar was now empty aside from them and Ikeda and his men, who were now all lying on the floor.
Kenshi looked around and sheathed Sento before his gaze turned to Johnny. The man was standing a few meters away, his breath heavy and leaning on a table.
“Are you okay?” Kenshi asked. Johnny nodded and Kenshi let his shoulders relax, before following up with, “Are you hurt?”
Johnny shook his head. Kenshi saw a worn out yet happy grin stretched out on his face, his lips slightly parted as he took deep breaths in. His hair was a mess and it seemed like blood trickled down from his nose, pooling above his upper lip. Kenshi had the inexplicable urge to kiss him right there and then.
He opened his mouth, not sure what he was even going to say, but had to stop himself when he heard the sound of sirens approaching the bar. The police. Of course. Not a single moment of peace.
Kenshi didn’t waste time as he reached to grab Johnny’s forearm and led him across the empty bar towards the backdoor. Johnny let himself be pulled along as they rushed past the counter into the kitchen and through the door further back. Kenshi knew they were leaving behind quite the crime scene, his and Johnny’s DNA probably splattered all over across the floor and tables, but the last thing he wanted was for them to spend the night in jail.
They didn’t stop once out of the door. The night was chilly and dark, and the backdoor had led them to an alley lacking any street lights. Kenshi still had Sento’s guidance, but he felt how Johnny’s steps turned more hesitant as they ventured around the dark alleys. Kenshi’s hold on the man’s arm tightened slightly as he pulled him along until the sound of the sirens was far enough.
They stopped. Kenshi drew a deep breath in and let go.
He could still hear his heartbeat in his ears as the adrenaline rushed through him, making his muscles rigid and breath heavy. It felt like he should have a thousand things in his mind, but Kenshi could only think of one thing.
Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny.
By the time he turned to face Johnny, the man was already looking at him. No amount of discipline or mental strength could have ever stopped Kenshi from grabbing Johnny by both shoulders and pulling him in.
Johnny’s lips tasted like blood and whiskey, but besides those, Kenshi tasted a hint of mint from some gum he had chewed on earlier. Johnny’s lips were as soft as he remembered they were, and the hands wrapping around Kenshi felt as real as the first time.
The kiss was urgent, hasty, messy, all that. It wasn’t like in all of those romance movies, but that’s exactly why Kenshi liked it so much. When their lips finally parted, Kenshi felt a small puff of wind brush against him as Johnny exhaled.
There was a small moment of silence filled by their quiet panting and the distant sounds of the city. Then Johnny laughed.
It started as a light chuckle which soon turned into a full blown laugh, the man leaning on Kenshi with his full body as if his legs didn’t carry anymore as he did. Kenshi was a bit dumbfounded at first, but soon he felt all of his nerves unravel and he joined in.
“I'm sorry,” Kenshi muttered between his laughs when it felt like he could speak again. “This probably wasn’t what you expected from your trip to Tokyo.”
One of Johnny’s arms was wrapped around Kenshi tightly as he took in deep breaths and sighed. Kenshi felt how his body relaxed against him.
“This is much better. I haven’t had so much fun in a while,” Johnny admitted and Kenshi smirked. He then drew back a bit to take a good look at Johnny’s face, placing one hand on the man’s jaw to tilt his head slightly downwards. He didn’t care if this was something he shouldn’t do at this stage. He just wanted to know that Johnny really was okay.
“I hope you’re not too battered up for all that promo work you’re going to do,” he said as he inspected Johnny’s face. For all he could see, it looked fine. Same old Johnny.
Kenshi heard Johnny take a sharp breath in and he saw the small furrow of his eyebrow. Johnny reached to gently grab Kenshi’s wrist. “There is no promo, Kenshi,” he then confessed, and Kenshi paused. He did have his suspicions from the moment Johnny arrived in Japan. For a man who loved to talk about movies, Johnny didn’t mention his latest project even once the whole time they spent together.
Kenshi could only really ask one question.
“Then why are you here?”
Johnny casted his gaze down before he let out a small chuckle. “I guess I just missed you. I had to come up with some excuse to see you, you know?”
Kenshi was honestly speechless at that point. His hand stayed on Johnny’s cheek as he thought of something to say. He had been second guessing everything for a month, wondering if he could ever have a chance with Johnny, and that man had thought of a stupid excuse just to come see him. What is a man supposed to say at this point?
“Why?” Kenshi could finally muster up. “I thought you tried to distance yourself on purpose after things went too far at Madam Bo’s.”
Johnny looked up at Kenshi again with a small, apologetic and almost shy smile. “I panicked. I thought I messed up. I thought you didn’t like it or like me.”
Panicked. Johnny Cage panicked after a kiss. Oh Gods, what is Kenshi ever going to do with this man?
He didn’t respond. Instead he took one more good look at Johnny, trying his best to memorize everything about that ridiculously handsome face, and then grabbed Sento along with its scabbard and set it on the ground by his feet. Whatever he was going to do next wasn’t any of his ancestors’ business.
Kenshi then grabbed Johnny by both shoulders and slotted their lips together again all the while slowly backing them towards a nearby wall. Johnny let out a surprised hum, but the way his arms wrapped around Kenshi once more told him just enough.
Johnny’s back hit the wall and Kenshi pressed his body against his as he kept the kiss going. It was much more coordinated this time. Kenshi’s hands slid up to cradle Johnny’s face and he felt Johnny’s hands by his waist in return. At that moment Kenshi wanted everything Johnny had to offer. Their lips parted a few times for just a quick breather before they dived in again, neither one of them feeling that satisfaction yet.
When Kenshi felt Johnny’s hips grind against his a little experimentally, he groaned. Were they really going to do this right here, right now?
Once he felt just how hard Johnny was beneath his trousers and how he himself wasn’t far from a massive hard-on either, Kenshi knew they were doing it.
Kenshi’s hands slowly traveled down Johnny’s body, getting a good feel of the figure as he did. It seemed like that was doing it for the other man, who finally broke their kiss for good to groan out with a husky voice, “God, Kenshi.”
Kenshi hummed as a response and moved his hips to meet Johnny’s grinding. Though the movement was a little awkward at first, once Kenshi’s hands settled on Johnny’s hips more firmly, they managed to set up something resembling a rhythm. It had no right to be as hot as it was.
Kenshi swallowed as he tried to stifle any sounds coming from him. He buried his face into Johnny’s neck, taking in his scent, feeling his hot body pressed against him and his hard cock rubbing desperately against his crotch, but it felt like it wasn’t enough.
“Talk to me,” Kenshi pleaded. Johnny groaned softly and complied.
“I always want you so much,” he murmured with a breathy voice in Kenshi's ear, “You’ve invaded my damn mind, Takahashi. I always panic, unsure what to do with the desire.”
Johnny’s confession just made Kenshi’s breath hitch and he felt his cock throb slightly against his thigh. His pants felt way too tight and restrictive, not giving him the amount of friction he needed. He grabbed Johnny’s hips tighter and pressed him more against himself. That earned a soft moan from Johnny, before the man continued to speak between his gasps.
“I freeze when I’m near you. I can’t think straight. I just spew out stupid shit in the hopes that you’ll find something amusing and I get to hear you laugh.”
Kenshi groaned again and pressed his mouth against Johnny's neck. He was whipped. There really was no denying.
Kenshi’s movements grew faster. He felt how Johnny lifted one of his legs and wrapped it around Kenshi’s, giving them more leverage and room to work with, and God did it feel good when he could finally feel how his erection rubbed against Johnny’s.
“No one else makes me feel that way. I just can’t let go of you,” Johnny nearly whined.
Kenshi wished they were somewhere else. He imagined how it would have been if he took Johnny to a nice restaurant instead, like all of his other dates, and then to his apartment. Instead of humping against each other in a rut in some alleyway, he could have caressed Johnny in bed.
At some point Kenshi’s hands had moved lower to grasp at Johnny’s ass and he kept the man’s hips pressed right into his as he moved. Kenshi was pretty sure he could cum just like this, but the sounds Johnny was making were desperate, almost displeased. Kenshi knew he wanted more, and after a few more seconds he moved his lips from Johnny’s neck just enough to ask with a murmur, “Turn around?”
He heard the shaky breath Johnny took in before the man hummed approvingly. Kenshi let go of him and took a step back, allowing Johnny to turn around to face the wall. When Kenshi pressed himself against Johnny again, Johnny pressed something small into his hand.
“Lube,” He offered. Kenshi felt his face heat up when he realized that Johnny had most likely been hoping for something like this.
“Of course,” Kenshi whispered as he then unbuttoned Johnny’s pants and lowered them slightly, just enough to grant access. Even now, in this state of mind, Kenshi knew that penetration was out of question. He just unzipped his pants and slicked his cock enough with lube before slowly pressing against the back of Johnny’s thighs.
When Kenshi finally slid between the tight space between Johnny’s thighs, he let out a long breath. Johnny made a similar sound once Kenshi’s fingers found his dick and took it into a semi-tight grasp. He moved his hips slowly, pushing between Johnny’s thighs all the while feeling the shape and size of him with his hand. Johnny was so perfect in this moment as he let out his small, breathy sounds and moved between Kenshi’s hips and hand. It all felt a bit too good to be true.
Kenshi had already been close to the edge and thrusting in between Johnny’s toned legs really didn’t help that case. He tried to keep the pace of his hand’s strokes matching with his own hips, but soon enough the pace faltered when he neared the edge.
Johnny was the one to spill first with a strangled moan, Kenshi following soon behind. They stayed like that for a moment longer until Kenshi then helped Johnny pull up his pants and tucked his own dick back in his pants.
They were silent, again. Kenshi really wished he could see Johnny in his blissed state now. He wanted to see the marks he left on the man.
When he felt Johnny place a hand on his cheek, he smiled and leaned into the touch slightly. Johnny spoke, his voice almost a whisper.
“I hope this means that we can share your bed,” he said and Kenshi ducked his head down slightly as he snorted softly.
“It does,” he confirmed.
Kenshi didn’t need any sight or the gift of telepathy to know that Johnny was smiling. And for the first time in a while, Kenshi felt a sense of peace.