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(Ain't) Still Who I Used to Be

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Of course Diego was in the barn.

Johnny sat ramrod-straight in Slow Dancer’s saddle as he walked her in; Diego glanced up at him, expression all cool as he brushed Silver Bullet’s coat like he was the one looking down on Johnny.

“Kid.”

“Dio.”

Diego just turned back to his horse and ignored him as Johnny guided Slow Dancer into an open stall.  Johnny turned her to the feed bucket, undid her bridle and reins, dropped what he could off her saddle to buy time; but Diego didn’t leave, just came right up and rested his arms on top of the stall door instead.

“Don’t you got someplace to be?” Johnny snapped.

“No,” Diego said, and let himself in like he’d been invited.  “Want a hand?”

“Get outta here,” Johnny warned, backing Slow Dancer up a quick step, but Diego just reached out a gloved hand to her nose with a quiet shush that put her ears back to forward at the first touch.

“You’re spooking the horses,” Diego said quietly, and something squeezed in Johnny’s chest seeing him like that again.  “Don’t be prideful.”

“That’s rich, comin’ from you,” Johnny muttered.  “Turn your ass around.”

Diego actually did, boots scuffing straw-dust up off the floor as Johnny tried to let himself out of the saddle with some kind of grace.  God wasn’t having it today, though; one hand slipped and the other barely kept hold of the pommel and all of a sudden he was in Diego’s arms - his feet were dragging and Diego’s grip was tight around his ribs, Johnny’s own arm grabbing over Diego’s shoulders so his face was half-buried in the neck of Diego’s sweater.  His heart was pounding and he didn’t know if it was because he’d almost eaten dirt, or because Diego still smelled like home.

“It’s been a while,” Diego said into his hair, then chuckled.  “You got heavy.  You get fat, Joe Kid?”

Johnny hiked himself up some so he could glare at him proper.  “Why you gotta be such a turd all the time?”

“You’d get bored if I weren’t,” Diego grinned, and then kissed him.  Johnny grabbed him close, fingers fisted in Diego’s hair, all of him so aware of how small Diego felt against him now - Johnny had gotten tall at some point, and broad in the shoulders from hauling himself around, but Diego was still lean and compact like he’d been born to be the perfect jockey.  He backed Johnny up to thud him against the rough wood of the dividing wall, settling some of Johnny's weight against it so he could run a hand up his side. “Damn but I missed this,” Diego said against his lips, eyes half-lidded.

Johnny threw an arm over the wall to hold himself up, pushing Diego back enough he could breathe a little and get his brain working again.  “You tryin’ to get one over on me?”

All the softness fell out of Diego’s face.  “I’ll drop you right on this floor and you can crawl out, if you think that’s how low I am,” he said, voice quiet and dangerous.  “Nothing’s changed.”

Johnny let his eyes slide away.  “...You ain’t never been easy to read.  And I ain’t exactly how I used to be.”

“I can see that,” Diego said, and Johnny was just about to bristle until Diego’s hand squeezed over the muscle of Johnny’s shoulder appreciatively.  “You’ve finally put some meat on your bones.”

Johnny laughed, a loud bark of it that caught him by surprise and made Slow Dancer whicker.  He looped his arm over around behind Diego’s neck to pull his smirk in close again. “Get me somewhere I can put both hands on you.”

“You order me around again and I’ll put you in the trough,” Diego grinningly threatened against his mouth, then got an arm around the small of Johnny’s back and heaved him up with a grunt.  Johnny chased kisses up Diego’s jaw as Diego stumbled them out of the stall; he felt Diego’s body go tense as he passed under the bandage over the corner of his mouth, but before he could say anything Diego dropped him back on a pile of loose hay in a tucked-away corner.  He got right up on top of him before Johnny could even settle, knees on either side of Johnny’s hips and lips right back where they belonged. Diego’s hands were just the right amount of rough on him, groping over his chest and shoulders like he was looking for how wiry Johnny used to be under the muscle he had now, and Johnny grabbed right back at all the lean lines Diego had put right in reach.  Johnny opened his mouth to him and the pushiness of Diego’s tongue was the same but the split shape of it all different, the taste of him like always but the point of his teeth almost sharp enough to cut. It made Johnny's brain spin with more want than he even knew what to do with anymore, and when Diego’s hands fumbled down to his fly Johnny was right there with him.

Diego let Johnny handle the buttons and shoved his gloves up under Johnny’s shirt instead, pushing it up to his collarbone and pawing greedy at his chest.  Johnny hadn’t thought much about what hauling himself around had done for his looks, but when Diego leaned down to kiss and lick under the curve of muscle under his nipple Johnny was damn thankful for whatever Diego saw.  He finally got Diego’s pants undone and, and that was not the same as when they’d fooled around behind the racetracks, his shaft wet and ridged and strange against Johnny’s palm.

Diego groaned against his skin and pushed into Johnny’s hand, and what the hell did it matter anyways; Johnny wrapped his fingers around him and stroked over him, and the stupid needy noises Diego made against his chest were just the same as they always had been.  “Come on, Diego, come on,” Johnny goaded as Diego started to thrust quick into his fingers, and it felt good to have his name in his mouth again like that, good to have Diego hurrying himself to a finish like it was a race.  “You make a mess on me and you’ll have hell to pay,” Johnny threatened when he felt Diego stiffen as he got close, and Diego half-laughed, half-panted against the hollow of Johnny’s throat.  He thrust quicker into Johnny’s hand, and Johnny reached down to cup his balls and - and there was soft wet there instead, and he dipped his fingers in and Diego jerked on top of him and moaned like - like Johnny didn’t even know what.  Diego came across his belly with a whine before Johnny could figure it out, hips jerking and everything slick and tight around Johnny’s fingers inside him, and the gasping weight of him was as good as it always had been.

Diego reached down between them and grabbed Johnny’s hand by the wrist, pulling his fingers out of him and slipping out of his grip to kiss down his chest.  Johnny panted and buried his fingers in Diego’s hair as Diego worked his way down, split tongue lapping his own come off Johnny’s skin as he traced the rocky lines of Johnny’s belly with his mouth.  He still had Johnny’s wrist in his hand, and he brought it up to his lips so he could lick Johnny’s fingers clean of his own juices; he watched Johnny as he did it, sliding that long tongue between and around his fingers, until Johnny thought he was liable to just die from it.  Johnny might not have been able to feel it anymore, but when Diego drew him hard and ready out of his pants and looked up at him all hungry, head of Johnny’s erection against the corner of his lips, he almost could’ve come right then and there.

Right until Diego opened his mouth, and then Johnny grabbed him by the hair to hold him back.  “Not with that mouthful of razors you got now,” he said quickly, heart pounding and erection not minding the idea nearly as much as it should.

Diego laughed and grinned, showing off his teeth, and then let his tongue loll out over his bottom lip, all long and wet and tantalizing.  “How about just my tongue?”

“Oh Lord,” Johnny breathed up at the ceiling, and then had to look down again because if he couldn’t feel it he was damn well going to see it.  Diego’s eyes were half-lidded, and he’d never looked prettier than when he kissed up the side of Johnny’s straining erection to curl his tongue under the head of it.  Johnny remembered what that felt like, so vivid he could almost feel it now as Diego kissed and licked over him until every inch of him was wet with it, Johnny’s entire body tight with wanting.  Diego’s hands slid up over his hips, sensation coming back more and more as they came up toward his waist and played over his belly, and Diego closed his lips around just the head of Johnny’s erection and sucked - Johnny could see his cheeks hollow with it, and orgasm kicked hard and sudden enough through him that Diego barely got his hand up to cover Johnny’s mouth in time to muffle his moan.  Johnny gasped against the leather covering Diego’s palm, body shaking and reeling, and he distantly heard Diego spit off to the side.

“What on earth have you been eating?  You taste awful,” Diego sniffed, and Johnny laughed loud enough to startle the horses.

“Whatever I can get my hands on, we’ve been dyin’ out there,” Johnny said on the tail end of it, still all loose and happier than he’d been in he didn’t know how long as he dragged Diego up to kiss him again.  All right, he did taste awful, but a few swipes of tongue and he let his eyes slip shut, too lazy with afterglow to care.

“You’re just going to go to sleep?” Diego chuckled and dropped himself onto the hay next to him.  “Typical.”

“I’m tired,” Johnny muttered.  “And Gyro ain’t gonna be back for a couple’a hours yet, may as well.”

Diego ran his hand across Johnny’s chest all slow and petting.  “You still mine, Johnny?” he asked like it didn't matter at all, or like maybe it was the only thing that did.

Johnny looked up at the cobwebby ceiling, trying to sort out what three years of confused and lonely hadn't managed to.  “...Ain't never stopped bein’,” he finally said. He jabbed Diego in the side. “Hey. Once this race is over, we gotta figure all this out.”

Diego made an agreeable noise, flicking hair back from where it had been stuck to Johnny’s forehead.  “If you insist.”