The Passenger

WARNING: This original story contains an obscene amount of bad language, poor grammar, and graphic sexual scenes. Read at your own risk. THIS STORY IS POSTED WITHOUT A BETA READER, SO PLEASE CURB ALL "CORRECTIONS" AS I KNOW I'M A TERRIBLE SPELLER ALREADY.


A/N: Helloooo... It's been ages since I wrote any original fiction, so I apologize if it seems a little contrived.

The story was originally inspired by "Passenger" by the Deftones/Maynard James Keenan... I'm a bad, bad girl. Shame on me.

There is very little plot here, though the story is a multi-chapter (still in progress), so expect nothing less than a good reason for two guys to start humping each other. Smut makes the world go round, after all!

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The Passenger
Chapter One

Sometimes, Johnny felt like life was like wandering through muddy water. Feet planted firmly in the muck, the brown, acrid liquid clogging his nostrils and filling his lungs with God knows what. A futile fight against an embarrassing death. Life, to him, was just being stuck at the bottom of blackness. Life was a slow, humorless murder. Maybe that's why he felt the lust of the wanderer stronger than most. There was something about the open road, the freedom of movement that gave him a thrill like nothing else. It made his feet tingle, his spine quiver, his mouth water. And as his hands gripped the steering wheel, he could feel every single detail beneath his palms. Gritty, old, pockmarked and ragged leather wheel. God, it felt sinful, and it made something in him ache. Wandering from coast to coast, never staying in one place longer than need be. The sad goodbyes he sometimes allowed, the quiet sneaking away in the middle of the night he preferred. He was someone, he was no one, and he had never felt more in control when he wasn't in control of anything.

It was beautiful, and something he treasured. A sharp column of light, ripping through the muddy water of life.

There were some places along the road he would stop; sometimes just to see, sometimes to settle for a time. He would rent a room, find a job, work long hours and feed himself. He would drink up every moment in each sleepy village, grind the sand on the wind between his teeth. Imprint the memory like photocopier and file it away for the days he felt nostalgic. Those moments were rare, but he preferred to have something to look back on, rather than lose himself in the sadness of having nothing to hold on to.

Sometimes he would even find himself a friend, several companions, or a lover. The latter were his favorite pastime when staying still. They were few and far between, though he was never without an offer. Johnny was handsome in his own opinion, a thought he assured himself held no ego. He was tall, muscles lean and filled with the strength of youth. His hair was shaggy and fly away, but framed his face in a way that most women would drool over, make them think of the dangerous doll; a sentinel that would protect them one moment, then ravish them until their blood burst forth from every pore. He was the object of so many fantasies, and they all knew nothing about him past his name. That truth gave him shivers of ecstasy. To be desired was one of the many things he gleefully wallowed in.

But the women, though beautiful and ugly and tempting and disgusting all the same, were not his favorites. Johnny prided himself on his open minded nature; one had to be to live the life he chose to. To limit yourself would admit defeat, to allow your life expectancy slaughter, and he knew from an early age that he was not one to lay down and die. So sometimes, in his moments of stillness, he would catch the eyes of the man at the end of the bar, or across the counter at the many roadside grease pits he would work in, and something would pass between them. An understanding, a gentle nod, a seductive smile. It was rare that he found a man open to his own desires, and while these were entertaining for the time, he much preferred those who would sweat and turn pale, worried that someone might catch on just by sitting too close. Johnny would laugh inside, go about his business, all the way projecting his message of relief throughout the hour or two his targets would remain.

His current count wasn't important, but Johnny couldn't remember the last time a man refused him.

Sure, some were hesitant. They would wring their hands, loosen their ties and stutter as he shut the heavy curtains of his Motel room. They would shiver, staring at him through red rimmed eyes, alcohol or cheap coffee on their breaths, asking him silly questions that had fairly obvious answers. Would it hurt? How do you do it? You won't tell, will you?

Johnny would smile through what had become redundant, shush their quivering fears, and show them the ecstasy they had been so very afraid of.

Now the wind whipped his shaggy haircut back behind his ears, blinding his peripheral behind his wide lens sunglasses, and he remembered the last time he had taken a man to his bed. It had been quite a while. The day was getting colder, colder than it should for such an early time, the promise of rain teasing the distant horizon. Johnny could taste the dampness at the back of his throat, and smiled against the chilling wind. He pushed the accelerator a little further down, enjoying the burst of speed, the sting against his exposed skin. Johnny always made it a point to drive with the top down, his shirt off. He loved the tingle and bite of a sunburn, despite the pain it would cause him later. He snorted a bit to himself at the thought that perhaps he had a masochistic streak.

However, he wasn't interested in destroying the upholstery in his car. If he really was coming up on a storm, he would have to pull over soon to put the top back up on his convertible, but he couldn't bring himself to stop just yet. He was enjoying the wind too much, enjoying the thrill of speed. Besides, he wanted to get as much space between himself and the last pit stop as he could. He didn't exactly leave on bad terms, but the residents there hadn't quite trusted him as they should have. He wasn't entirely trustworthy, true, but their suspicion and slight disdain of him had ruffled his feathers, and he hated to be somewhere that made him angry. So his only answer was to drive until the anger abated, and move on to the next adventure.

He would pull over in thirty, maybe forty minutes, and put the top up. But he would leave his shirt off.

That decision was quickly pushed aside as he noticed the odd shape in the distance, standing just off the shoulder of the cracked, battered highway he was cruising along. He knew immediately that it was a hitchhiker; he didn't have to see the extended thumb to know it was there. He had been on the road long enough to recognize the blurry shadow for what it was. Johnny didn't even need to see the person to know that he was going to stop.

He knew the dangers of such a choice. He knew all the stories about roadside murderers, about psychos that would slit your throat as soon as they shut your passenger door. But, if he was anything, Johnny was one to indulge in the thrill. The idea of a madman, pocked and greasy, waving a large hunting knife at his jugular gave him a shiver. He grinned, and eased up on the gas.

To surprise Johnny was a rare thing, and this was no exception. As he came up on the lone hitchhiker, his grin widened. He knew it would be a man, or in this case, a young man. It wasn't often that a woman trekked along the open road alone, threw her thumb out and begged a ride from a stranger. It was too dangerous. But men? He saw more men on the side of the road than he could ever begin to count.

He eased the brake down, stopping the car right along side the man, and Johnny corrected himself again: young boy His face was fare, slightly red from walking in the sun. His hair was cut comfortably, somewhere between short and just out of regs, and a soft golden brown in color. It blew over his forehead on the breeze, accenting that baby face just right. Even his body looked young to Johnny; tall and lanky, just bordering on the fine muscle tone he himself had and took great pride in.

Caught between being a boy and a man. Johnny remembered the sensation well. However, every memory he held of his own youth did not prepare him for the way the boy moved. He was all liquid, smooth, confident as he leaned down to rest his arms against the passenger side car door. The motion wasn't necessary, the top was down after all, but it sure did cause a swell of interest in Johnny's gut.

The boy smiled at him, a lopsided grin that promised so many things. Johnny knew he was attracted to the boy, but even that couldn't have made him misinterpret those clear, sultry messages. He pulled himself together and managed to return the smile.

"Lookin' for a ride, Sailor?"

The boy smiled wider, lifting his hand to rest his chin on the palm, one hip jutting out. Good Lord, you could almost see the words: Take Me.

"Maybe. You got enough gas to last, friend?"

Oh man... Johnny shifted a little in his seat, a bit uncomfortable with where this was going. Sure, a quick bang in the back of his convertible would get the kicks, but he didn't like not having the upper hand. Usually it was him doing the smooth talking. This boy obviously had experience, and that worried him.

He smiled along anyway, deciding to play it safe... for now. He jerked his head to the side, "Watch yourself, Tiger. Kid could get in trouble chattin' up a stranger like that. Now c'mon. Help me put the top up and we'll head. Storm's comin'."

He felt the sigh rather than hear it as he opened his door and got out, working on the latches on his side of the vehicle that would allow the canvas top of the car to swing up. He glanced up to happily see the boy was doing as he was told, looking a little disappointed if not irritated. He probably wasn't used to his signals being flung back so quickly or efficiently. Pretty thing like that was probably spoiled rotten.

They latched the top to the front of the car, and Johnny got back behind the wheel. He waited patiently for his new passenger to stuff his single bag into the backseat - it was an old, battered and faded green Sea Bag. That made him grin on the inside, finding great humor in the first words he ever said to the kid. The one in question seemed less amused by the whole situation as he got into his seat, slamming the door with a little more force than necessary and sliding down the leather until he was hunched and his denim covered knees pressed against the dashboard.

There he sat and prettily pouted. Johnny had to resist the temptation to tweak his nose. Instead, he put the car into drive, and pulled back onto the highway. The rain started to fall not moments later, splattering against the windshield in beautiful rainbow patterns.

"So where ya headed?"

His inquiry was met with stony silence, and the jerk of a head. The kid stared out the passenger's window, brooding in a way only the young could manage.

"Not that I don't mind lookin' at ya kid, but if I wanted to talk to myself here I would have just brought myself a statue and sat it right where you're at."

There was still no response, so Johnny sighed, shifted his position a bit, increasing the car's speed. The boy tried to pass it off as though he didn't notice, but Johnny could see the way his thighs tensed when they hit a pothole, making the shocks jump in an uncomfortable way.

"Still not feelin' chatty? How about we turn it up a bit?"

Johnny pressed the accelerator to the floor, and the car jerked forward. He could hear the wind screech past the car, could nearly feel it against his bare skin. The boy next to him jumped upward, straightening his posture as he gripped the seat beneath him so tight his knuckles turned white. Johnny turned to face him, only to be faced with ice blue eyes, hard as stone, stubborn, refusing to give in. Johnny laughed, loudly.

If he wanted to play it that way, they would play it that way.

He turned the wheel sharply, veering the car into the other lane. The boy fell to the side, his shoulder ramming against the car window. Johnny swirved again, the tires hydroplaning across the puddles in the potholes. The boy slammed into him this time, hands grasping for anything to keep himself upright. They ended up on Johnny's legs, slipping and re-gripping, and it made his groin ache.

"Still want to be stubborn? Do ya?"

He looked at his charge again, satisfied when he saw that determination still rooted firmly. The color had changed a bit though. Instead of a stony blue, they had turned warm. Burning almost. They could melt a man with their bite. Johnny's smile was easy as he left one hand on the wheel, the other reaching up to adjust that haphazard haircut away from those beautiful eyes.

"That's what I thought."

Without warning, though Johnny knew it would come eventually, those soft, young lips were racing over his own. The speed and little control he had over the car made the kisses sloppy, desperate, with no structure or care. The boy's mouth was all over everything it could reach; his lips, his chin, his cheeks, his throat. He groaned, leaning back in his seat as that hot, young mouth latched onto his shoulder, nimble, experienced hands clawing at the button on his jeans.

He knew he shouldn't be doing this. Johnny had always had a very strict dogma for himself when it came to sex. He could sleep with anyone he wanted, except children. And though this kid was obviously no toddler, he wasn't 100% certain that he was legal at all. He was probably a runaway. And from the way that clever hand was working it's way into his boxers, he knew that the kid had done this many, many times.

He wondered, briefly, how many times he had done it at high speed.

Hot, moist breath surged in his ear as the boy finally spoke to him, "Pull over."

The thought made Johnny's cock stiffen considerably, but as always, he put common sense first when it came to this facet of his life. He kissed the boy full on, hard, commandingly on the mouth.

"Nuh uh, Princess. Don't know you well enough for that yet."

He could swear he heard a whimper, "Please? You won't regret it." that smart little mouth latched back on to his throat, sucking and biting in a way that almost made Johnny drive them into the ditch. Almost.

Instead he bucked his shoulder, nudged that seeking face away. The boy pouted some more, staring at him in a way that screamed for more. He wouldn't say it out loud, but he wanted Johnny in a bad way. And he could tell that it wasn't just as a way of payment for the ride.

Johnny smiled at him again, tucked some of that unruly hair behind the boy's ear.

"If you want it that bad... give me a taste test, Sweetheart. Make me want you."

Not that he didn't want the boy already; he couldn't stop thinking about bending that skinny little body over the hood of his car, slick skin wet with rain, and pounding away until the boy screamed mercy. But, of course, admitting that would mean defeat. And he wasn't ready to throw in the towel just yet.

His words sparked something primal in those blue eyes, turned them into Witch's Fire, and he knew he needed to do no more in the way of convincing. Without another sound uttered between them, that blond head dropped down, biting and licking at his belly, easing the way down to Johnny's throbbing erection.

For what wouldn't be the first of many times, Johnny felt himself surprised. He had already thought that the boy had had experience in doing these things, but the way that mouth slid over the head of his cock, all liquid and satin made him reconsider the original opinion. This kid was way more learned in these acts than anyone his age should be. Johnny wasn't able to dwell on those thoughts for long, however, as that slippery tongue dipped down, coating his dick in hot saliva. He groaned, shocked and pleased and terrified all at the same time as his erection was swallowed completely whole.

"Fuck... Oh fuck!" he nearly yelled, his hips bucking up of their own accord. His hands trembled on the steering wheel, not at all pleased with the way this was going. He had had his fair share of blow jobs, yes, but this... this was different somehow. He couldn't understand it, could hardly bare it, and was dangerously close to embarrassing himself and destroying whatever personal prowess he had built up for himself. To think, a kid could make him blow it within moments. The thought horrified him.

Thankfully, the boy buried in his lap seemed to know exactly what was going on in Johnny's mind, and perhaps took pity. Or maybe it was sadistic in its intentions, but he drew Johnny's cock slowly from his mouth, easing the explosion back fractions to toy and play. His long fingers glided up and down the dripping length, exploring in a way that hinted at childish fascination. His tongue lapped away, teasing and taunting, promising sweet release. Dangling the treat just out of reach.

"You little bastard.." Johnny hissed between his teeth, anger bubbling up when those blue eyes glanced up at him, the Devil staring at him from behind the irises. Oh, he would show him... he would show him...

His cock was swallowed again, tortured in the most awesome way that Johnny had no comparison for. This time, though, he would not allow this kid to take the upper hand from him again. He freed one hand from the wheel, burying his fingers in those soft, golden strands of hair, fisting them tightly. He was in control of this, and he would make damn sure the little shit knew it.

He could feel the gag reflex around his cock, reveled in the control he felt. Long fingers dug into his thigh and lower back, but that mouth didn't try to pull away. Instead, his ministrations increased. The boy fought back, pleasure against control, matching Johnny's efforts in and eye for an eye. Johnny growled loudly, and started thrusting into that hot cavern, hitting the back of the boy's throat, cursing and damning the little cocksucker into oblivion.

He wouldn't win. He would not be beaten!

Johnny shifted again, pressing his left knee into the steering wheel to keep control of the car, and shoved his middle finger into his mouth. He pulled it out, dripping with his own spit, and sought out the back waste band of the boy's blue jeans. They were baggy - thank god for the poor taste in clothes of America's youth - and Johnny was shockingly pleased to find that there was no underwear to hinder his progress. He was also thankful for the fact that the kid put up no resistance there. Narrow hips lifted up, granting Johnny the access he demanded. Without a second thought, Johnny found what he searched for, and buried his finger in to the second knuckle.

The boy beneath him wailed around his cock, his hands spasming, his throat swallowing hard. He lifted his hips higher, ass nearly rising above the dashboard and Johnny fucked his hole with his middle finger. Johnny knew he was hurting him, that same sweet, stinging pain that came with initial penetration, but he found he couldn't bring himself to care. Not when this had become a battle, a war between two bodies to prove who was more stubborn.

He shoved his finger in up to the last knuckle, wiggling it around and making the boy squeal. That sweet ass rubbed against his palm, effectively doing the fucking for him, and Johnny grinned in triumph when he felt it: that mouth faltered. Stuttered. Stopped for just a minute, and Johnny knew he had won.

He pushed hard against the boy's anus, forcing more in when he couldn't spare an inch, and the boy arched his head up. Johnny looked away from the road just for a minute, just to enjoy his victory. Those taunting blue eyes were screwed shut, tears of pleasure and pain streaking down flushed cheeks. His mouth was slick, wet with his own saliva that smeared across his chin. He bared his teeth, grinding them together as he tried in vain to hold back a tremor, a gasp, a cry. Then, Johnny felt that tight channel around him jerk, and he knew the boy was cumming for him.

The thought alone pushed Johnny over the edge. He grabbed his own cock, jerking it fast and hard, and blew his load. He paid careful attention to aim well, his juices splattering against the boy's throat. When he felt the hot liquid strike him, to Johnny's great pleasure, he turned his face back down, body still moving in spasms of his own orgasm, to take it all in the face. Just like Johnny wanted. And God, it felt damn good to get what he wanted.

Slowly, Johnny eased the car down to a manageable speed, happy to see that an exit was coming up that promised food and lodgings. After that, he damn well deserved a hot shower, a good meal, and a comfortable bed. The boy sat back, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, his ass probably good and sore. Johnny watched him out of his peripheral, and damned the kid good under his breath when he saw those long fingers swiping away his orgasm from that flushed face, only to lick his fingertips dry. The visual alone made Johnny's spent cock twitch and whine for more.

This was getting dangerous.

Johnny hit his blinker, though there was no other cars on the road, slowing down even more so he wouldn't hit the exit at break neck speeds, his stomach tingling in glee when the roof of a combination Motel/Cafe came into view. It gave a loud grumble, demanding attention as soon as possible.

"We're not stopping here, are we?"

Johnny started, not at all expecting to hear words come from his companion. His impression was that their business was concluded, therefor pleasantries were not needed. Especially in such a friendly, familiar tone.

He grunted, and pulled into the gravel pit that served as a parking lot, "I'm stopping here. Whatever you do is up to you."

He cut the engine, and turned to open his door when he felt those tricky, warm hands on his other wrist. Johnny turned, stared at the boy's fingers, then trailed his line of sight up a slender arm, all the way to his face. Again, those eyes shocked him. That determination was still there, hinted with that desperation of their brief coupling only minutes before, but this time, he could see pleading. Honest to God begging.

"C'mon, man. Don't leave me hangin' here."

As innocent as the boy looked, he certainly didn't bring it out in his voice. The words felt more like accusation than anything, and Johnny hated himself for letting it get to him.

"What do you want from me, kid, huh? I got you a few miles down the road."

The boy plastered on that seductive smile, leaning forward so much Johnny instinctively pulled back. The boy didn't seem to care, and only grinned wider, "Maybe I want to go just a bit... further."

Johnny felt himself shudder inside, his thighs ached. Fuck...

"Nah, I don't think so, kid. You're a bit.." he let the words trail off, because the glare that the boy sent him almost made his bones freeze.

"You don't know jack shit, old man," old man? "Think you know me? Know my story? Think I'm some poor, helpless child runnin' away from The Man? Think again, Gramps," He leaned forward again, this time his hands taking liberties, touching places that shouldn't be touched, "You just proved that what you think I am makes no difference. Unless I imagined that little bit of foreplay."

Johnny couldn't believe it. Foreplay!? The damn brat was calling that foreplay? He knew damn well it wasn't fucking foreplay... But then, he supposed, that was the point. He was trying to push, to make him break... And God help him, Johnny could feel the tingle ride up his spine when he considered it.

Well, maybe he didn't have to give in completely... Life may be a slow descent into murder, but along the way that involved compromise.

"Tell you what, kiddo," he put extra emphasis on the word, glad to see the irritation flare in those pretty blue eyes, "I'll get a room. You can take a shower, clean your shit," his own eyes shot down to the boy's lap which was stained dark, damp from his own orgasm, "then we can both get the fuck on with our lives."

The boy snorted, and eased back. The closest he would get to an agreement, Johnny supposed. Without another word, and making sure to take the keys out of the ignition, he trotted across the gravel parking lot, glad for the cool rain dumping down on his shoulders, into the door that was clearly marked "Office". There he flirted with a homely girl behind the rutty wooden counter, and talked her into renting a room for ten days at nearly half the price. She gave him two keys, as per required, and he happily trotted outside without a backwards glance. He considered maybe slipping the woman a little extra... thanks... later on. She may haven't been a looker, but the poor thing probably didn't get the pick of the litter, either. She probably deserved a bit of a fling. Public service is what it was.

"We're room six." he said, opening the passenger door and waiting for the kid to get his bag. Johnny, personally, only had a small duffel of his own, and he dragged that over his shoulder, eager to get out of the rain, get the kid cleaned up, and out of his life. The sooner, the better.

The room was like every other roadside Motel room Johnny had ever been in. Small, musty, and full of comfortable, creeping shadows. There was only one bed, as requested, and probably crawling with the remains of the last patrons. It never bothered Johnny that he was basically sharing every inch of himself with strangers in this way. He had never really paid much attention to worries like that. He dropped his duffel on the prim, wooden table on the far side of the room, taking a seat in the strict wooden chair that matched. It creaked beneath him, but showed now sign of breaking, so that was good. He resolutely crossed his arms, staring at the boy that was now invading his space.

The kid was just looking around, really. Glancing from wall to wall. Taking in the decor. But it still pulled at a nerve somewhere in Johnny's head. He had offered his shower, and that was it. So why hadn't he gotten on with it, yet? What was he waiting for?

The boy seemed to know what was going through Johnny's head, so he smiled that sultry little smile again, "Just admiring the view. How about you?"

Again, that creeping, aching lust leeching its way up his bones. Johnny mentally shook himself. It wasn't a good idea. Not a good idea at all.

"Whatever. Go take a shower."

The boy shrugged, and stripped off his shirt, letting it drop to the floor with a wet thump. Next went his boots, and Johnny surged up out of his chair. The boy wasn't expecting the quick movement, nor the way Johnny was suddenly in front of him, hands tight on his bare, chilled shoulders.

Johnny was nearly a foot taller than him, and he used his height to his advantage. He loomed, glaring beneath dark brows, behind black hair, "Get undressed in the bathroom you little shit."

The boy was a cock tease, but he knew when he had worn out his welcome. Obediently he stepped back and scurried into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. Johnny heard the lock slip into place, and he exhaled heavily. Despite what it sounded like, Johnny wasn't angry. In fact, he was far from it. The boy was challenging him, true, but he was fairly certain the damn kid had no idea what he had almost done.

Johnny flopped down on the bed, running a hand through his hair, releasing another shuddering breath. Seeing that smooth, slightly sunburned skin, damp and shining in the shitty lighting... there was a soft trail of brown hair, going from his navel down into those baggy, soaked jeans. And Johnny had been wrong about his build - with his shirt off, it was obvious he had formed an opinion so soon. The boys body was taught, toned, nice definition all over the place. He was still too thin to have filled out completely, but what was there was damn tempting. And that was the problem. If Johnny hadn't stopped him from undressing, from baring all, he would have taken. He would have taken it all, without control, without concern. He would have taken every single inch for his own, rough, carnal, and dark. And that just wasn't Johnny's way.

"Fucking brat.." he muttered, scrubbing at his eyes and the two-day stubble that he had allowed to grow out. Never in his life, not even once, had he felt that sudden urge to posses. It had startled him, scared him even, and if he hadn't forced anger to the forefront, he would have...

No. He wouldn't allow it. Not then, not ever. No damn kid would push him over the edge like that. Not if he could help it.

His angry denials were cut short when he heard door to the bathroom click gently, signaling his companion's emergence. He dared a single look, eternally grateful that the boy had brought his stupid Sea Bag in the bathroom with him, and had put on dry clothes. Steam billowed out behind his head as the kid peeked out, a bit of wariness showing around his eyes. Apparently the shower had reminded him of his body's limits, and he was feeling the affects.

"Um... shower's free." he spoke softly, as if talking to an enraged lion. Trying so hard not to startle or provoke. Johnny choked back a groan. The demanding, rude little bastard was bad, but this meek thing was making his blood boil over.

"Fine. Get your shit and get out." he grumbled, pushing himself up to stand. The boy looked angrily at him, but said nothing at all. He ducked back into the bathroom, then reappeared, bag over his shoulder and headed for the door. He stopped, hand on the knob, and turned back to face Johnny with a sneer.

"Not like you could keep up, anyway."

The remark was catty, and entirely juvenile, so it was easy for Johnny to ignore it, to ignore the slam of the front door, the rattle of the cheap chain that hung from it. Damn thing didn't even have a latch, anymore, though you could see where one was, once upon a time.

He sighed again, and stripped down to nothing, dropping the wet clothes over the back of that rigid chair. He was halfway to the bathroom for his own shower when a metallic clink caught his attention. He turned around and saw his room key, sitting quietly on the chair seat. It had fallen out of his pocket.

Such a thing shouldn't have concerned him, sent a worried thrill up his spine. He should have turned around and went about that shower, but something deep inside his gut made him go back, made him dig through the pocket of his faded blue jeans.

"Fuck..." he muttered. The pocket where the room keys were, was empty. He glanced around on the floor, under the hem of the bed, but the second key wasn't there. He knew, immediately, that the little brat had taken it. He thought back, his stomach sinking miles. When he had gotten so close... gripped his shoulders... tried to scare him.

The little shit has snatched it right out of his pocket, and he hadn't even noticed.

Johnny was pissed, mad as hell, and hated himself when all he could do was admire, and smile.