![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: Taking in the Sights
Title: Taking in the Sights
Author: Hannah R. Orlove
Fandom: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang/Jackass RPF
Pairing: Perry Von Shrike/Johnny Knoxville
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Takes place in the universe of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
powergeneration. Thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lasergirl for a short look-over. Title comes from the Barenaked Ladies song “Hello City.”
When Perry wants to drink, he doesn’t have to go anywhere; he’s got what he likes at home for when he wants to add some alcohol to his system. But when he wants to go out, he goes to one of two places.
Sometimes he’ll put on a clean pair of fine sheepskin gloves, adjust his tie, and go to a clean, well-lit bar with a very fine selection of scotch and microbrews where men come after work in finely tailored suits to drink quietly and chat with each other. He got a couple of his boyfriends there. He doesn’t get the urge to go there too often, usually when he wants someone introduced to him or to introduce another person to this particular aspect of Los Angeles’ life – it’s sort of a test to see what makes them loose their cool, if anything. It works fastest on Midwesterners.
Sometimes he won’t bother with gloves at all, wear a shirt just slightly too tight, and head farther downtown to a much less savory-to-the-mainstream establishment where men and women come to drink and dance when they don’t want the vast majority of the world staring at them. It’s not as good a place to pick people up, but Perry prefers to come here to mingle and relax in the other half of his freakishness rather than get laid.
The Kennel Club’s pretty busy tonight, lots of movement out on the floor and slam-bang conversations he catches snatches of as he walks past. The doorman knows him well and let him in with a wave and a smile. They don’t check to see if someone’s authorized to drive; ask one of the Club’s patrons for their license and they know exactly what you’re talking about, years of obedience training kicking in automatically. It’s not often the little pieces of plastic are asked for, anyway. Perry’s usually one of the best passers in here, and that breaks as soon as he flashes a grin or flexes his fingers. Even compared to him, there are weirder-looking normals at punk rock concerts, and even they look downright like Mormons next to some of the people out on the dance floor tonight. It all varies.
There’s a kid out on the floor dancing, or at least doing the full-body swinging that passes for it with people under twenty-five these days, who’s closer to Perry than most of the rest. He’s easy enough to spot and looks like a good passer. Not quite Perry’s type, a bit too much like he doesn’t know how to properly groom himself, and he’s clearly trying too hard, which is almost endearing in a very embarrassing way. He catches Perry’s eye and slowly looks him up and down and then smiles, breaking his own pass: teeth almost the same. It’s a small thing, really, so small Perry knows that’s not all. If it was, he wouldn’t have come in here. Then the kid looks off to the girl right next to him who wouldn’t be out-of-place in a reptile house and Perry looks away too. Brody’s here tonight, vacationing from Petaluma, and they get to talking about the rumors about the new types of psycho meds.
“Hey.” Perry turns around to see the kid standing there, still sporting that sharp grin. He’s got more of a twang than a drawl, and it sounds practiced – it’d be new, then, so he must not have been out here long. “Buy me a drink.”
Not a question. What the hell, this is California. “Aren’t we presumptuous.”
“Just helping to make your night more exciting.” Brody bids them good-night and disappears into the pack just as Perry waves a serving girl over and, after placing the order, takes the kid over to the bar. He looks about six feet, deep muscles up and down that aren’t quite fully exercised yet – Perry hates to admit he’s got a little bit of a thing for that. He isn’t really occupying his space, even when he chats and charms and spreads out along the bar itself. He’s effortlessly charming in the way that only comes after a lot of practice; passers are always like that.
He likes the attention Perry’s giving him, soaking it up, but he’s not doing anything with it: he likes the attention for its own sake. He’s young, but then there’s the way he’s not taking up his personal space and doesn’t move at all when Perry comes in closer. Very telling, if you know how to read it.
There wasn’t any pawing at each other in the Club, or the drive home, but once they got to Perry’s place it really got going, stroking through the kid’s short dark hair. “My name’s – my name’s Johnny,” he pants out hesitantly while he’s getting his ass groped through his jeans. Nice and soft.
“Perry,” he says, returning the favor while he moves to Johnny’s waist. He shifts his hands down to Johnny’s hips, and then slides them down and around to the front while he moves in closer to attempt a kiss just as his hands touch something that makes Johnny freeze. Given how nasty the scar feels under his fingerpads, especially under his fingerpads, he can’t blame him for being afraid of it.
He catches the kid’s face in his hand, has him look him in the eye. “You fuck me and I won’t care about it.”
This works, just like a charm, and it gets him going again, hands running around and under Perry’s shirt. “You got a bedroom around here?”
He doesn’t need any training to follow Perry on his heels, almost tearing off his clothes once he passes the threshold, and neither bothers to turn on the ceiling lights. “Hang on.” Johnny stops stripping for a moment before he gets that Perry’s going to the bathroom to get himself a condom instead of something more serious. He’s got that face, the one that Perry knows means he’s never done this before but wants to, even if there’s no way to tell if it’s out of desire, curiosity, or some mix.
It’s dim light coming from the bathroom, and it’s plenty to see how nasty and fresh – less than six years old – the scar is, from his navel to the end of the foreskin. He’s still not all the way hard; Perry can work with that. Never mind his own clothes for now, pin him down on the bed by the hips, those young and soft hips, and take the cock in his mouth and let his tongue do the work.
He can feel the scar up on the top, but not for long; it’s not on the cock itself, and he gets a set of images of exactly where everything was cut, snipped, and stitched up for later, vivid as though someone had just sent them over. But it’s a good cock, underneath the work, very smooth and actually a little bit savory. He rasps his tongue along the bottom, keeping his lips well closed over his teeth, and doesn’t smile even when he hears Johnny start to pant. He swallows around it, and Johnny makes a small little whine. Perry can feel it stiffening, the way it’s supposed to, and Johnny comes, like he’s supposed to. Johnny’s staring at him with that same bumfucked adoration everyone gives to their first cocksucker, panting hard. He tries not to feel too proud as he strips off the rest of his clothes. Johnny, to his credit, doesn’t stare long at Perry’s own ridged cock – the weird features to it coming out more strongly when he’s hard. There’s a reason he almost always bottoms. The last time he topped was twelve years ago come August and that was to teach a class-A fucker a lesson he’ll never forget. Not the best night of his life, not by a long shot.
In the meantime, he was kneeling over Johnny, a pair of fingers slipping in and out of his ass, Johnny getting hard again already. No reason to ask someone who makes that sort of face to do this, not when it’s going to freak them out enough that he’d need to hold them and tell them it’s perfectly normal to get freaked out about this sort of thing if you haven’t done it before. Thankfully, Perry’s been doing this to himself enough times that he doesn’t skip a beat when he pulls his fingers out, rolls the condom onto Johnny, and goes onto all fours.
What he lacks in skill, he makes up for in enthusiasm. He’s fucked before, he has some idea about what he’s doing more than bathroom walls, but Perry can tell it’s not a lot. “Haven’t you ever been with a man before? Angle down, not up. Harder.” Johnny’s one obedient little fucker, and does as he’s told, and that really gets it going.
His cock rips condoms when he tries to fuck with one on and other people’s skin when he’s not using protection. But it’s all he’s ever known, and he likes the way it catches against the palm of his hand when he reaches around to jerk off with Johnny now knowingly pounding away at him. He doesn’t get the sweet spot every time but often enough that he starts to purr out to him that it’s good, he’s doing great. He comes way too early for Perry and doesn’t pull out right away, but he’s just heavy enough that it actually feels kind of interesting when he jerks himself off the rest of the way with Johnny on top.
Teenagers always make him feel a little sentimental. He lets him lie there for a few minutes before he pushes him off, leans over his chest to get rid of the condom. Johnny’s still lying there when he gets back, looking somewhere between satisfied and scared. He followed Perry home, so Perry realizes it’s only his fault for this particular situation. “Where do you live?”
“On campus.” He gives the name, and it’s the same one all the young start-ups go to when they try to turn into respectable actors.
“Good luck with that. You want a taxi?” There’s no delicate way to do this, and Johnny gets that quick. Good for him. He’s also quick enough to ask Perry to cover his cab fare, and the way he does, with that same sharp grin from the bar, actually gets him the money.
Years later, Perry sees that grin on MTV in a seedy bar in Long Beach, getting subjected to all sorts of humiliation and pain and coming out the other side as happy as a puppy with two tails.
Perry smiles at that, finishes his seltzer, and heads back to his stakeout.
Author: Hannah R. Orlove
Fandom: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang/Jackass RPF
Pairing: Perry Von Shrike/Johnny Knoxville
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Takes place in the universe of
powergeneration. Thanks to lasergirl for a short look-over. Title comes from the Barenaked Ladies song “Hello City.”When Perry wants to drink, he doesn’t have to go anywhere; he’s got what he likes at home for when he wants to add some alcohol to his system. But when he wants to go out, he goes to one of two places.
Sometimes he’ll put on a clean pair of fine sheepskin gloves, adjust his tie, and go to a clean, well-lit bar with a very fine selection of scotch and microbrews where men come after work in finely tailored suits to drink quietly and chat with each other. He got a couple of his boyfriends there. He doesn’t get the urge to go there too often, usually when he wants someone introduced to him or to introduce another person to this particular aspect of Los Angeles’ life – it’s sort of a test to see what makes them loose their cool, if anything. It works fastest on Midwesterners.
Sometimes he won’t bother with gloves at all, wear a shirt just slightly too tight, and head farther downtown to a much less savory-to-the-mainstream establishment where men and women come to drink and dance when they don’t want the vast majority of the world staring at them. It’s not as good a place to pick people up, but Perry prefers to come here to mingle and relax in the other half of his freakishness rather than get laid.
The Kennel Club’s pretty busy tonight, lots of movement out on the floor and slam-bang conversations he catches snatches of as he walks past. The doorman knows him well and let him in with a wave and a smile. They don’t check to see if someone’s authorized to drive; ask one of the Club’s patrons for their license and they know exactly what you’re talking about, years of obedience training kicking in automatically. It’s not often the little pieces of plastic are asked for, anyway. Perry’s usually one of the best passers in here, and that breaks as soon as he flashes a grin or flexes his fingers. Even compared to him, there are weirder-looking normals at punk rock concerts, and even they look downright like Mormons next to some of the people out on the dance floor tonight. It all varies.
There’s a kid out on the floor dancing, or at least doing the full-body swinging that passes for it with people under twenty-five these days, who’s closer to Perry than most of the rest. He’s easy enough to spot and looks like a good passer. Not quite Perry’s type, a bit too much like he doesn’t know how to properly groom himself, and he’s clearly trying too hard, which is almost endearing in a very embarrassing way. He catches Perry’s eye and slowly looks him up and down and then smiles, breaking his own pass: teeth almost the same. It’s a small thing, really, so small Perry knows that’s not all. If it was, he wouldn’t have come in here. Then the kid looks off to the girl right next to him who wouldn’t be out-of-place in a reptile house and Perry looks away too. Brody’s here tonight, vacationing from Petaluma, and they get to talking about the rumors about the new types of psycho meds.
“Hey.” Perry turns around to see the kid standing there, still sporting that sharp grin. He’s got more of a twang than a drawl, and it sounds practiced – it’d be new, then, so he must not have been out here long. “Buy me a drink.”
Not a question. What the hell, this is California. “Aren’t we presumptuous.”
“Just helping to make your night more exciting.” Brody bids them good-night and disappears into the pack just as Perry waves a serving girl over and, after placing the order, takes the kid over to the bar. He looks about six feet, deep muscles up and down that aren’t quite fully exercised yet – Perry hates to admit he’s got a little bit of a thing for that. He isn’t really occupying his space, even when he chats and charms and spreads out along the bar itself. He’s effortlessly charming in the way that only comes after a lot of practice; passers are always like that.
He likes the attention Perry’s giving him, soaking it up, but he’s not doing anything with it: he likes the attention for its own sake. He’s young, but then there’s the way he’s not taking up his personal space and doesn’t move at all when Perry comes in closer. Very telling, if you know how to read it.
There wasn’t any pawing at each other in the Club, or the drive home, but once they got to Perry’s place it really got going, stroking through the kid’s short dark hair. “My name’s – my name’s Johnny,” he pants out hesitantly while he’s getting his ass groped through his jeans. Nice and soft.
“Perry,” he says, returning the favor while he moves to Johnny’s waist. He shifts his hands down to Johnny’s hips, and then slides them down and around to the front while he moves in closer to attempt a kiss just as his hands touch something that makes Johnny freeze. Given how nasty the scar feels under his fingerpads, especially under his fingerpads, he can’t blame him for being afraid of it.
He catches the kid’s face in his hand, has him look him in the eye. “You fuck me and I won’t care about it.”
This works, just like a charm, and it gets him going again, hands running around and under Perry’s shirt. “You got a bedroom around here?”
He doesn’t need any training to follow Perry on his heels, almost tearing off his clothes once he passes the threshold, and neither bothers to turn on the ceiling lights. “Hang on.” Johnny stops stripping for a moment before he gets that Perry’s going to the bathroom to get himself a condom instead of something more serious. He’s got that face, the one that Perry knows means he’s never done this before but wants to, even if there’s no way to tell if it’s out of desire, curiosity, or some mix.
It’s dim light coming from the bathroom, and it’s plenty to see how nasty and fresh – less than six years old – the scar is, from his navel to the end of the foreskin. He’s still not all the way hard; Perry can work with that. Never mind his own clothes for now, pin him down on the bed by the hips, those young and soft hips, and take the cock in his mouth and let his tongue do the work.
He can feel the scar up on the top, but not for long; it’s not on the cock itself, and he gets a set of images of exactly where everything was cut, snipped, and stitched up for later, vivid as though someone had just sent them over. But it’s a good cock, underneath the work, very smooth and actually a little bit savory. He rasps his tongue along the bottom, keeping his lips well closed over his teeth, and doesn’t smile even when he hears Johnny start to pant. He swallows around it, and Johnny makes a small little whine. Perry can feel it stiffening, the way it’s supposed to, and Johnny comes, like he’s supposed to. Johnny’s staring at him with that same bumfucked adoration everyone gives to their first cocksucker, panting hard. He tries not to feel too proud as he strips off the rest of his clothes. Johnny, to his credit, doesn’t stare long at Perry’s own ridged cock – the weird features to it coming out more strongly when he’s hard. There’s a reason he almost always bottoms. The last time he topped was twelve years ago come August and that was to teach a class-A fucker a lesson he’ll never forget. Not the best night of his life, not by a long shot.
In the meantime, he was kneeling over Johnny, a pair of fingers slipping in and out of his ass, Johnny getting hard again already. No reason to ask someone who makes that sort of face to do this, not when it’s going to freak them out enough that he’d need to hold them and tell them it’s perfectly normal to get freaked out about this sort of thing if you haven’t done it before. Thankfully, Perry’s been doing this to himself enough times that he doesn’t skip a beat when he pulls his fingers out, rolls the condom onto Johnny, and goes onto all fours.
What he lacks in skill, he makes up for in enthusiasm. He’s fucked before, he has some idea about what he’s doing more than bathroom walls, but Perry can tell it’s not a lot. “Haven’t you ever been with a man before? Angle down, not up. Harder.” Johnny’s one obedient little fucker, and does as he’s told, and that really gets it going.
His cock rips condoms when he tries to fuck with one on and other people’s skin when he’s not using protection. But it’s all he’s ever known, and he likes the way it catches against the palm of his hand when he reaches around to jerk off with Johnny now knowingly pounding away at him. He doesn’t get the sweet spot every time but often enough that he starts to purr out to him that it’s good, he’s doing great. He comes way too early for Perry and doesn’t pull out right away, but he’s just heavy enough that it actually feels kind of interesting when he jerks himself off the rest of the way with Johnny on top.
Teenagers always make him feel a little sentimental. He lets him lie there for a few minutes before he pushes him off, leans over his chest to get rid of the condom. Johnny’s still lying there when he gets back, looking somewhere between satisfied and scared. He followed Perry home, so Perry realizes it’s only his fault for this particular situation. “Where do you live?”
“On campus.” He gives the name, and it’s the same one all the young start-ups go to when they try to turn into respectable actors.
“Good luck with that. You want a taxi?” There’s no delicate way to do this, and Johnny gets that quick. Good for him. He’s also quick enough to ask Perry to cover his cab fare, and the way he does, with that same sharp grin from the bar, actually gets him the money.
Years later, Perry sees that grin on MTV in a seedy bar in Long Beach, getting subjected to all sorts of humiliation and pain and coming out the other side as happy as a puppy with two tails.
Perry smiles at that, finishes his seltzer, and heads back to his stakeout.
no subject
no subject
no subject
<3<3<3<3<3 =)
Emily
no subject
no subject
no subject