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Backseat Driver
by shalott
Walt had been on a slow burn all day, and by the time he pulled into Johnny's driveway he was ready to boil over. Six hours ago he'd been thinking he'd take the guy out for drinks after the job was done, get him out of the house for a while, and now all he wanted was to pop him one. He put the cruiser in park and reached over Johnny to lock his door, gritting his teeth at the way Johnny leaned way back to avoid his arm. "Okay, what the hell's the problem?"
"Problem?" Johnny gave him a look that clearly said he was nuts for being suspicious, and what could he possibly be thinking? It would've worked better if Walt wasn't used to seeing the same look every time he pulled over a drunk driver or picked up some kid with a nickel bag in his back pocket.
"You've been doing double-takes at me all day. What's going to happen that you don't want to tell me about?"
Johnny looked at the door.
"You can forget about getting out of this car until you talk," Walt said.
"Isn't that illegal or something? I'm pretty sure there's something in the Constitution about it."
"Yeah, call the sheriff's office, I'm sure they'll get right on it," Walt said. "Are you going to tell me or what?"
Johnny opened his mouth, closed it again. Cautiously, he reached out to the steering wheel. He'd barely touched it before he yanked his hand back. He pointed at the passenger door. "I'm going to get out of the car now."
It took a minute to convince him otherwise. Walt checked to make sure the cuffs were secure, then sat back again. "Just tell me already. What, am I going to die tomorrow?"
"Yeah, heart attack at 2pm, you should get over to the hospital and get checked out right now," Johnny said, tugging uselessly against the door handle.
"Funny how I don't believe you."
"You really don't want to know, trust me."
"I'll take my chances."
"I saw us having sex, okay?"
"Very funny," Walt said. "Just tell me what happens, all right? I can handle it."
"I'm not kidding. You and me, right here," Johnny looked at the clock, "ten minutes from now. Will you let me out or what?"
"So let me see if I got this. You saw us having sex in the car. So if I let you out, the sex doesn't happen. And that's what you didn't want to tell me about all day today, so end of conversation."
"Right."
"Nice try."
Johnny groaned and leaned his head against the window. "This is my life."
"Just tell me and you can get out of the car." Walt folded his arms and sat back. "And quit that." Johnny stopped thumping his head against the glass, but he still didn't start talking.
Walt checked his watch. Sarah and J. J. were over visiting her parents tonight, so he didn't have to call and let her know he'd be late. He thought about telling her Johnny's excuses and grinned. She'd get a kick out of the gay sex one, although at the same time, it made him a little nervous about what the real thing was. That one had been pretty desperate.
"Actually, I didn't see us having sex in the car this morning."
And hey, it hadn't even taken that long for him to break. Walt folded his arms and waited.
"I saw us having sex in a back room at someplace called Morton's."
Walt got a funny sinking sensation. "Morton's? The bar on Riverside?"
"I don't know, I've never been there." Johnny was staring at the clock in the dashboard with a resigned expression.
Okay, so Johnny had seen Walt taking him to Morton's and was throwing it in to make the sex thing believable. "I can't believe you think I'm going to fall for this," Walt said.
The problem was, he was starting to fall for it. It was the craziest thing he'd ever heard of, but it made a kind of warped sense. The situation with the three of them was crazy to begin with, and trying to make things work was tearing them apart. If he and Johnny actually -- well, Sarah would either kill them both, or all three of them would end up in a happily ever after three-way.
Yeah. In some psycho alternate reality.
"Eight more minutes," Johnny said.
"For a guy who's supposed to be getting laid in eight minutes, you don't look all that interested," Walt said.
"So you're asking me if I want to have sex with you?"
"No, I'm--" asking him if he wants to have sex with me, he finished mentally. Great. "Forget it." He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and watched the clock. Eight minutes. He could last eight minutes. Nothing was going to happen.
"Jesus God, yeah, harder."
"Yeah," Walt said, panting, and did his best, his dick rubbing up against Johnny's, their hands laced tight together. The handcuff key was somewhere on the floor and Johnny was still attached to the door handle, but they were managing. Thank god for reclining seats.
"Walt -- God -- oh man -- I'm -- "
And all of a sudden he was sliding a lot easier, Johnny's cock still pumping in his hand, and it took him about five seconds to start coming too. His arms got a little shaky, giving him trouble staying up, till Johnny pulled him down with his free hand. They tangled together on the seat a little awkwardly, dicks still trapped between their stomachs, wet and messy and fantastic.
After a while not moving, he caught his breath, found the keys, got Johnny unlocked. "So," he said, falling back into the driver's seat with a thump. Johnny was still lying flat on his back, staring at the roof of the car, looking dazed and completely fucked, which pretty much covered how Walt was feeling, too. "You want to tell me where this is going?"
Johnny took a deep breath and held out a hand. "Let's find out."
= End