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The Life and Times of Johnny Sasaki	By : ktatters Category: +M through R > Metal Gear Views: 2068 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Metal Gear, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Life and Times of Johnny Sasaki
- 1
AN: Hey. Just noticed I never put this up here. It's a bit old now, but it seemed funny when I wrote it. Hopefully, it's still funny now.

Life, thought Johnny vaguely, was rather like a toilet. It didn't really matter which toilet exactly: it could be the fancy kind that made noises and had a built-in water fountain, or it could be just some dirty place in the back of a Russian gas station, because really, in the end, they were all the same. Every now and then, all the horrible little things, and it was the little things that really counted deep down, that had gone into you through your day or month or year or life, well, they were all flushed down the drain, never to be seen again.
Thirty minutes ago, he'd been reprimanded by Major Raikov himself and given prison duty. Twenty minutes ago, he'd tried feeding the prisoner. Ten minutes ago, he'd found himself on one of those life similes, hoping that those little things deep down inside hadn't been rotten. And now, he was standing around watching two men in a jail cell and wondering if he shouldn't go and get Major Raikov and give the prison duty back, as he was a man who'd definitely enjoy the show.
The Majors on this base were the most interesting people around, as far as Johnny was concerned. Raikov, for example. Like everyone else, he had some very definite views on Ocelots in general, and Major Ocelot in particular. Ocelots, according to Major Raikov, were extremely active creatures that didn't like men. They were hard to pin down, and tended to shoot first and ask questions later, if at all, because they were insufferable little know-it-all brats that wouldn't know beauty if it came over to them and punched them in the face. Johnny had it on very good authority that this was Major Raikov's favorite pick up technique. Ocelot hadn't responded to it, which must have been very insulting in the face of Raikov's stunning beauty. And that beauty was a fact of life.
There were a few facts that Johnny held self-evident. One: no gay man in his right mind would reject Major Raikov-- or at least, they wouldn't have before he'd hooked up with Colonel Volgin. Two: Major Ivan Raidenovich Raikov had obviously wanted Major Ocelot as his first choice on coming to the base. Three: while the Colonel had wanted many various bedmates before Raikov had come along, he'd also wanted good officers. Putting all of that together, despite all the rumours to the contrary, Johnny had assumed Major Raikov's plain accusation of Ocelot's straight-ness was, in fact, a fact.
This, perhaps, was the main reason why Johnny found it so obscenely fascinating to watch Major Ocelot, pinned beneath Johnny's prisoner like an errant butterfly, meekly asking Naked Snake whether or not this was as good for the injured warrior as for the cat himself.
Johnny wasted little time on thought. Colonel Volgin's base was stocked with gay men, all there for the express purpose of giving him something to do on cold Tuesday nights without too much effort. Major Raikov had taken it as a personal insult when he'd realized it, so everyone who'd been assigned to the base since Raikov had appeared had been straight. Still. There was a majority in force.
Johnny was not stupid. Johnny had a kid to raise, and that took money, especially in America.
Johnny pushed the camera so that it was pointing directly at the moving tableau in front of him before sticking his hand down his pants and letting Major Ocelot do the work.
Ah, the Major with the hair so blond it might have been dyed that way... Johnny licked his lips and watched. Major Ocelot was known for playing tricks with guns. His own guns, other men's guns-- why, he was the talk of the base for his ingenuity! And yet, somehow, Johnny could never have imagined that Ocelot could do such an ingenious little twisty-flickety action. It made Naked Snake's eyes cross, and it made Johnny gasp when he mimicked it. Johnny could only thank whatever it was looking after him that Ocelot didn't even notice.
There was some kind of whispering going on in the cell, Naked Snake mustering the strength to say something through the energy he was putting out on having his way with Ocelot. Ocelot shrugged, putting one arm around Snake and pulling the other man down into a kiss. As kisses went, it didn't look like it was one of those ones that made a soldier stand to attention, as it were, but Ocelot was combining it with another of his playful tricks that made the other man give an instant salute. Johnny couldn't quite achieve the same affect, and had to keep himself from sighing in disappointment, rubbing himself faster.
Snake looked like a rubber band, bouncing up and down on Ocelot. Johnny could only imagine himself the same way, sweat slick and dripping off his face onto Ocelot's. As for him, Ocelot was yelling something incomprehensible in triumph, and the whole thing had the strange effect of a child's toy instrument. Johnny wasn't quite sure what to think when he thought of young Johnny junior strumming Snake so that the man slapped down on Ocelot with a twang, so he just ignored the idea entirely.
Johnny's hand followed Snake's rhythm instead. It was a good rhythm. Not too fast, not too slow-- just right. He could almost feel the male Goldilocks-- who would really look better with more hair, and Johnny wondered if anyone had told him that?-- underneath him.
Of course, Johnny wasn't quite getting the same thing out of it that Ocelot or Snake were getting, with the thrusting in and out and the prostates and oh, all those wonderful things... it made Johnny think of his wife back at home, and that peculiar strap-on she'd obtained from the Russian Mafia on the the black market before he'd sent her to America...
Snake came for Ocelot in an explosion of poor taste, and Ocelot came for Snake in a frenzy of good. They lay like that for a moment or two while Johnny's eyes crushed closed as he imagined himself licking them clean and came for himself.
Johnny let himself slide to the floor, hands still cupping his balls, eyes rolled halfway back into his head, and started to imagine himself in Ocelot's position instead of his prisoner's.
He heard the door open and smiled lazily up at Ocelot, hands still moving. Ocelot didn't look at all surprised to see him there. Johnny wondered if the man would do him the favour of helping him with his still erect lower half.
"How did it look?" asked Ocelot mildly.
Johnny's easy smile widened, happy that Ocelot at least wasn't harbouring any hard feelings towards him, even if he wasn't up for riding him like a Snake.
Ocelot nodded and casually took the tape. "Good. Thank you for getting that on camera," he said. "This will make excellent viewing material. Not to mention blackmail. He's good, and I'm going to want more. You don't mind if I take this, do you?"
Ocelot smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. It was the sort of smile that one might get after showing a lemur to a particularly bloodthirsty hyena, making it perfectly clear that he wasn't going to accept any argument. Johnny might not have been consciously up to the general concept of reading facial expressions, but something in the depths of his subconscious told him what his answer ought to be, and, in what would by most people be considered a rare stroke of luck and perhaps even insight for Johnny, he was feeling quite good enough not to argue with the deep seated defensive instinct despite his original mercenary intentions for the tape.
Johnny nodded idly and propped himself up against the wall. Ocelot left. Johnny's eyes closed again and he basked in the gentle afterglow. He stayed that way for quite a few minutes, before he shot up, gun in hand, and rushed out to the empty prison cell.
Life, thought Johnny suddenly, was rather like a toilet. There was a lot of crap you had to deal with. Also, toilets, like lives, were all incredibly messy, since no one took enough care about any but their own, as though they thought some sort of fairy janitor came around to clean them up when no one was looking, leaving rubles on the seat for the next lucky, or unlucky, guy with stomach problems. And of course, there was the one unforgivable sin that worked just as well in the toilet as in life: forgetting to close the door behind you.
Why did life have to be so like a toilet?
Johnny pulled the alarm and thought despairingly about how exactly he was going to explain this to Raikov.
Shit.
- 1
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The Life and Times of Johnny Sasaki