When the Bodies Hit the Floor

"Are you seriously going to start shit on Sixth Street territory?" V snorted, "And Mama Welles bar is on Valentino ground -- basically if you do anything stupid you'll end up in pieces scattered across Night City."

V's voice turned into a cold intense whisper, "That's assuming you survive whatever I DO TO YOU!" He hissed.

The thug snarled and pulled his weapon out, then gave an annoyed growl when he realized his weapon was deactivated and completely nonfunctional.

That's when everyone, myself included, noticed V didn't flinch or react to the unholstered weapon. The message was clear -- V didn't consider it or the thug holding it a threat.

"Yeah dumbass," V snickered, "I turned off your guns the second I got here including the sniper that you think is completely invisible... and if I wanted to, I got a couple goodies that would make him start gunning YOUR side down like wheat in a synth-corn field... assuming that I didn't feel like making your weapons explode and kill you."

The Scav Leader glared angrily at V who returned his stare with an ice cold indifference. V stepped into the thug's face.

"Now my friends were nice enough to give you a fifteen percent discount on your delivery charge so I'm going to offer you a one-time only deal on MY services

"Your services?"

"You've officially hired me to make sure you walk away from this meeting ALIVE. My rate is the difference between what you were originally charged versus the generous discount you just accepted like the still breathing smart man you are."

"Excuse me?"

"I'll let you walk away from this meeting still breathing if you pay them the full amount you originally agreed to -- call it a tax on the stupid."

The Scav Leader tried to pretend he was thinking about it but I noticed his friends were already backing up and away from him.

That message was equally clear. If the leader decided to die today he'd be dying alone.

"Give them the eddies." He finally snarled.

"What?"

"Are you deaf?" He snapped, "I said give them the fucking eddies."

"Nice, now tell your buddy behind you to stop grabbing his ass," V sneered, "I don't fuck scavengers."

I noticed one of the guys was indeed grabbing his ass like he was afraid to get prison-raped.

We stand watching the rest of the exchange before the scavengers leave, Hell it's like they're fleeing ahead of a storm or natural disaster.

A guy who looked like he'd stepped out of some old time western right down to the broad brimmed stetson breathed a sigh of relief.

"V, I don't know how you knew that we're here but thanks for the backup." He drawls.

Another woman was a little more bitchy, "V, what was in your head bringing a civilian to an illegal trade negotiation--Thank God she's not the real Ruth Dzang." She snapped.

"Yeah about that..." V sounded like a naughty school boy as opposed to the badass merc.

"You're fucking kidding me." Carol growled while her Nomad friends looked at me like I was a famous portrait.

Turns out Nomads are just as capable of being starstruck as anyone else.

V eventually got us out of there with some Nomad distilled moonshine which V assured me I should not drink if I ever want to see straight or perform sexually ever again.

I boldly demanded to drive, V looked at me with caution but sighed in resignation while I climbed behind the wheel and he slipped into the shotgun seat, starting the car with a push on the biometric start button.

The car purred happily and I guided us quickly out of the industrial park back onto the Night City streets.

"Not bad Ruth you have hidden depths," V chuckled.

Just because I'm a media personality

doesn't mean I don't have other skills."

OK I admit I may have also underestimated your ability to take care of yourself," V snorts, "I'm sure you could've handled that cyberpsycho on your own."

Fuck you, I'm totally going to reward you when we get somewhere out of the way," I snickered, "no way I'm bringing you back to my place it's a pigsty even if it's City Center."

"Really, where exactly?"

"I live downstairs from the Peralezes, Jefferson and Elizabeth are practically neighbors."

V shuddered, "Yeah I know the place,...hey I know -- activate the autopilot, that'll get us home."

What are you gonna do while the car drives itself

V reached over, running his hand into my lap and playing with the thick futa-cock tenting my crotch.

"Give you a blowjob maybe a handie."

I reached out and grabbed his head pulling him in for a hot kiss.

As sexy as I'd found him on the Totentanz dancefloor, he was hundreds of times sexier now that I knew what he was capable of.

He reached into my pants and unpacked my overheated sex. He dove face-first into my lap, inhaling my futa-cock into his warm mouth.

I grabbed his head and bucked my hips slamming my futa-cock deep inside his throat.

The GPS was bleeping incessant instructions that barely distracted me from the incredible blowjob I was receiving.

I gave up on trying to multitask, letting the car's GPS Autopilot take over driving through the night until the Caliburn swerved into Little China.

"Where are we going?"

"I'm getting fucked by Ruth Dzang for various reasons it's better if we don't do this at my downtown apartment -- besides I need to pet my kitty."

"Is that a euphemism for something kinky?"

"I have a cat."

"Yeah right," I snorted, "next you'll be telling me you've met Rache Bartmoss or Alt Cunningham."

"Yes and yes." He replied.

"You're kidding me?"

"There's a body in a coolbox out by the City's Landfill, if it's not Rache Bartmoss it's someone who had his personal cyberdeck."

"And Cunningham?"

"There's something out beyond The Black Wall, call it a ghost,...call it an artificial intelligence but it knows things only Alt Cunningham would know and it answers to her name so you tell me what it is?"

"You have a crazy life."

"It has been a topic of conversation lately."

The car steers us into an elevated lot and as we turn a corner I get the answer to my unasked question from before. There's more than a dozen vehicles and bikes parked in the lot.

I marveled at them as we parked and strolled towards the elevator.

A Delamain that actually says hello to us...

A truck that looks like it's been to Hell and back and made Hell its bitch in the process...

A gigantic gold roadster with Valentino decals plastered on...

A tarp covering something that could only be a Porsche 911...

"Are all of these yours?" I ask.

"Yep."

"Including that one?"

I point to a Rayfield Guinevere that looks suspiciously like the one Lizzy Wizzy drove to a premiere I attended six months ago... OK I crashed it but still...

"Trust me I earned that one the old fashioned way." He snickered.

"You know Lizzy Wizzy?, as in Lizzy Wizzy the pop star, you know her? Is she a friend?"

"Yes...no...OK technically she WAS a client but--...what do you call an on-demand fucktoy?" he paused, "Cause whatever that is is what I probably am to her," he says while gesturing towards an autographed poster as we step into a shockingly nice if a tad spartan apartment.

I finally see his kitty.

"Hey Nibbles I brought a friend so be nice." He coos at the feline who's glaring at me like I've invaded her space.

Bitch clearly knows how good she has it and she doesn't want competition from me. I can respect that.

I whistle as I take in the expensive painting on the wall, the live iguana that hisses at the cat and the toy AV floating about the apartment past the autographed posters of Lizzy Wizzy, Kerry Eurodyne and one of soon-to-be mayor Jefferson Peralez.

"Who the hell are you?" I ask genuinely mystified.

"Complicated and hopefully a little bit cute?" he says in the submissive voice I heard in the bathroom that's wildly different from the terrifying badass I saw earlier tonight.

Call me fucked up, but a guy who looks equally comfortable shopping in Jinguji or partying in Lizzie's Bar AND can take down a cyberpsycho in front of MaxTac, without batting a cosmetically enhanced eyelash -- sexually submitting to ME is kinda hot, as in barely contained my throbbing synth-erection hot.

Hall of fame or walk of shame I suddenly want a guy who some are already calling the next Morgan Blackhand to have a Ruth Dzang story to tell and I don't much care if its a erotic story or a cautionary tale but I'm gonna fuck this guy tonight and if I have anything to say about it, he'll remember sex with me even if I have record a filthy brain dance of the encounter.

Like I said before, Whores get paid and fucking a celebrity edgerunner seems like a good trade-off for almost getting my guts rearranged and not in the fun for the whole fucked up family kind of way.

I made the first move. I might as well give him the full Ruth Dzang Experience.

I come up behind him, I've already seen what he can do to people who try to jump him from behind so it's incredibly arousing when he LETS me grind my erection into his ass while pinching his nipples.

"I want to bury my cock in your mouth," I whisper and he moans in response.

"Yes ma'am," he says like the intern who brings me synth-coffee in the morning. Believe me, I don't enjoy his passive-aggressive subservience nearly as much as V's.

I kiss his neck and he turns quickly back into the bottom-boy I saw earlier tonight. I wonder which is the real V. The badass merc or the sexual submissive -- I doubt even he knows at this point.

He turns around and we makeout. He likes kissing. We consume each other's mouths like we're starving. I barely need to push him down for him to go to his knees, fingers scrambling to take out my futa-cock.

His warm mouth slides up the length coating it with his spit. His fingers work my own asshole and I'm horny for more than foreplay.

I grab his head and with a passionate groan, buck my hips, slamming my futa-cock deep down his throat which he takes without hesitation.

Slurping sounds fill the apartment and I focus on the Lizzy Wizzy poster to keep from cumming like a virgin schoolgirl.

Bitch is winking knowingly at me. It's only a visual effects of the poster to make it look like she's smiling and waving but given her pricy vehicle in the parking space downstairs, I'm pretty certain she probably already knows V's mouth is a national fucking treasure and the feeling of his tongue, currently working up-and-down my length, is easily worth the expense of discarding a boutique supercar. His skilled blowjob,

better than a half dozen pocket pussies I've used and abused. I clutch his head to hold on for dear life. Dude's a prem-tier merc but sucks better than the pros on JigJig Street.

His blowjob brings me to the absolute peak. He even edges me, the son of a bitch. Teasing his tongue around the crown and head in a way that tells me he's given his fair share of blowjobs, either that or he's incredibly well-informed about my model of synth-cock.

Finally I explode, my futa-cock's release spewing loads of cream into his mouth. He strokes me through my clìmax while holding my gaze so I can watch the moment he swallows my discharge.

That's a pro-move and while The Moxx Girls certainly taught him a thing or two, I'm going to go ahead and assume that they didn't teach him EVERYTHING he knows.

He crawls onto the bed twitching his ass teasingly. I don't need drugs or implants to get me hard. One look at that ass practically begging for my hardness is all it takes.

Then I see it, a silicone plug. As anal toys go, it's a basic model for beginners. He sees what I'm looking at and smiles pointing to a bottle of lube on the pedestal.

I lubed the butt plug and gently pushed it inside of V. He moaned knowing what was coming. The butt plug stimulated his manhood. I watched as his enviably sized erection started twitching like a tuning fork. I stroked his shaft with teasing slowness.

"I've been waiting for this since I saw you at the club tonight," I hissed.

He snickered, I'd originally intended to fuck him and forget him and he knew it. Hell, he'd been looking forward to having a quick disposable fuck but fate had other plans.

He writhed on his back adjusting to the plug. I crawl over him and position him at the mouth of my own aroused sex. I pushed down, taking him inside, I don't know who's moan of pleasure is louder -- mine or his.

"Do it Babydoll," I moan, "so me how good you had to fuck Lizzy Wizzy that she gave you her car."

I started riding his stiffness, up-and-down. I reached up to grab my tits, groping them joyously gasping as V's decadent cock meat plowed deeply inside my depths.

"Actually she fucked ME," V grunted as his shaft pushed into my warmth, "...hard!"

V clutched my thighs, holding on to my thrashing hips. It felt like a live wire was sending pleasure signals straight to my synth-cock.

"I'll bet you took her cock like a good little slut," I grunted.

The fuck-hungry V rewarded my words with louder moans and cries, shutting his eyes to focus on his onrushing climax. I hit my own peak and my synth-cock erupted as I bucked my hips slamming myself down on V's shaft in a frenzy of desire.

I looked down on V's body, trembling underneath me, his erection still strong and hard even buried deep inside me. His belly was absolutely painted white with my creamy discharge. If only for one night, I owned his slutty femboy ass.

I drew lines in the mess with my finger before stuffing them into his mouth, I could feel his tongue working its way back and forth between my fingers cleaning them with the hunger of a true cumslut.

I rose off his stiffness on shaking legs putting my shaft at his lips and thrilled as his mouth opened automatically.

"Clean it off and give me another cum," I hissed.

He moaned as his tongue and lips cleaned me off. Soon enough I was the one moaning as his warm mouth had me back on the edge I'd just hurtled over minutes before.

"Oh yeah Baby," I moaned, "get me hard again,...hard enough to fuck the shit out of you."

I stroked his arousal and listened to his mewing and whines.

"That's what you want isn't it Babydoll?" I hissed in his ear.

"Make me cum," V whispered excitedly, "make me your cumslut."

"Not yet Babydoll,...I want my fun first."

"How much more fun do you need?" V gasped.

I didn't bother answering, my hands tracing his stiff length, rubbing his balls lightly. I slid in behind him, still caressing his manhood even as my own shaft-head lined up with his back entrance.

I let him feel my girlhood pushing past his defenses. I groaned as I lodged myself in his depths.

His hips twitched against me, at first as if he was fighting to escape my anal assault but eventually I realized he was riding my synth-cock himself.

"Fuck me V," I hissed, "ride my shaft."

He didn't actually need coaxing, few genuine bottom boys do. His boy-pussy hugged my girth as warmly and tightly as his mouth had earlier. Reaching around his wriggling and writhing hips, I grabbed his aroused sex rubbing the head with my stroking hand and thumb. Then painting his gasping lips with his own pre-cum.

"I'm gonna make you cum for me you manwhore," I yelled, his ass literally pulling another climax out of me.

Our flesh slapped together in a crude rhythmic beat, it took a moment to realize. V was humming quietly while we were rutting like animals, and he was actually following the beat. He was fucking me to Samurai's Like Supreme.

"I'm cumming you sweet little cumslut," I groaned as my last climax hit me hard. It felt like my brains were firing out of my synth-cock.

I passed out fading in and out of a dreamlike state where occasionally it seemed like my fucktoy crawled out of bed and onto the couch where he strummed a guitar. A Kerry Eurodyne tune, Bleed the Beat-- I think, though he dirtied the chord changes.

I called out to him groggily but he just smiled at me and told me to go back to bed lulling me to sleep with his lazy strumming. I was too sleepy to wonder why he was wearing sunglasses at night or why his voice sounded odd; like it was, yet was not, his own.

Whatever was going on with him he seemed back to normal when I woke up the following morning, whatever normal for a crossdressing mercenary is.

"You want some breakfast?" He asked me.

He's wearing more regular gear than last night; leather pants, boots and a dark undershirt that shows off a set of military dog tags finishing off his look with a dark long time-worn trench coat.

I look at the tags, they are old, practically antique with the name of their previous owner etched into the metallic surface.

"Robert John Linder,...why is that name familiar?" I ask, "Oh yeah that's Johnny Silverhand's real name -- you're a really big Samurai fanboy."

"Johnny's really changed my life, no argument there." He snickered and I got the impression he's laughing at some in-joke only HE understood or found incredibly hilarious.

"Ah, you do know how one-night stands are supposed to work?" I asked dryly.

"Yeah, fuck em and forget em, walk of shame, blah blah blah, -- let's eat," he chuckled, "there's a good little spot outside of The Glen with good comfort food and better coffee."

"Breakfast is a little more of a commitment that I'm used to from a fucktoy."

"It's a shitty street meat diner that has digestible coffee."

I get dressed and we head to the parking lot. I'm hoping we take the Porsche but instead V pulls me onto a beautifully restored Arch. I know nothing about motorcycles and even I know this is a masterpiece.

This time he drives it more comfortably, he's right, he is better on a motorcycle, weaving it and out of morning traffic like he's dancing with the meat wagons and bleary-eyed commuters.

We swerved into a parking space. The Arch was easily the nicest looking vehicle in the half empty lot. We strolled through the door and a weary waitress brightened smiling at V like HE was the celebrity.

"The usual?"

"Two double espressos, Jamaican blend and breakfast sandwiches."

I was expecting wham-bam-see you never so coffee and breakfast?...V was definitely going all out.

"So about last night's fun and games..." V started. I sip the coffee as I sighed.

"I absolutely was not attacked by a Maelstrom branded cyberpsycho... I did not witness an illegal goods trade between notorious nomads and violent gangsters and I did not have wildly inappropriate sexual intercourse with the number one up and comer at the Afterlife."

"Actually that last one is totally fine if you decide to discuss it publicly," V chuckles, "I'd downplay the Afterlife connection but that's because I know just how scary Rogue Amedaries can be when she's in Momma-Bear mode."

"Is this why we're having breakfast so you can remind me what a bad idea it might be to talk about,...well everything I saw?"

V's eyes glowed and I saw a huge file transfer hit my incoming messages

"What's this?"

"Notes on Arasaka's Secure Your Soul,...schematics for a prototype version of The Relic that I promise you ISN'T commercially available, and notes on Arasaka's proprietary database, Mikoshi."

"I thought that was a net runner urban myth?" I pause, "why are you giving me this?"

"Ruth, you seem like a decent journalist though I am judging by the three I know personally and one is my fixer the other is a retired rock star but at least Info-Flash seems like a place to tell the kinds of uncomfortable truths that journalists tend to be interested in."

"What's your point?"

"Once your post-nut clarity kicks in, eventually you'll start looking for answers to a host questions you won't admit are already nagging at you,

"You mean like who are you?... Where'd you really come from? How do you do what you do and know what you know?"

"And why Yorinobu Arasaka isn't trying very hard to find the guy he tried to blame for his father's untimely death."