Johnny Depp One Shots PART 2

Going For A Dry Land Sail PT1

"Johnny..."

"It's fine."

"It's not fine! What if I mess something up?"

"Then I'll fix it. And we try again."

For some reason during the lockdown with him not being able to work and hardly leaving the house Johnny decided to make a boat in the basement of the house he was staying at, he had never done anthing like this before but he said ''well i'll never know if i don't try it better than sitting around'', Johnny had got you involved too, You barely get out a stubborn huff as he turns you around by your shoulders, handing over a screwdriver and a couple screws. Normally, the task wouldn't be a big deal; Johnny says the screws have to be at a certain angle, or the wood can shift out of place. It was easy enough to follow his instruction to get the angle just right.

But, after more than a few glasses of bourbon that he keeps down here, it was difficult to even pay attention to where the screw is supposed to go. Holding the tool with both hands, you watch as Johnny sets the tip of the screw against the wood. "Alright, now just drive it in, and don't stop until it can't go anymore."

For some reason, his words elicit a blush, but now wasn't the time to start thinking dirty. Not when Johnny has trusted you with his boat (a fact in itself that had you wondering how much he's had to drink.) So, you pull all of your unsteady focus on the screw. Setting the tip of the screwdriver against it and twisting it in. The small metal piece curls against the wood, forcing its way through. And honestly, it wasn't so hard.

That confidence disappeared as soon as Johnny released the screw, and left you to do the rest yourself. There was a small spark of panic that had you glancing up at him. But he just smirks and nods, signaling for you to continue while he steps away to do something else.

So, you keep driving the screw into the wood. Stopping every few seconds to reassure yourself that the angle is still right before continuing to work. Your drunken mind kept focusing on other things, though; the soft country music in the background that you're sure nobody has ever heard of, the sawdust particles floating through the air. Worst of all, you can feel Johnny's eyes on you from behind. You're sure that if you looked back, you'd catch him staring at your ass or something.

And finally, after cranking the screwdriver one last time, the screw stopped turning. You straighten up before whipping around to Johnny, indeed watching his eyes flicker up, but you're too nervous to care. "Alright, it's in," you tell him, head gesturing to the boat.

He pushes himself off the workbench, eyes on you as he pads up, still wearing the mischievous half-smirk before leaning in and inspecting the screw. Johnny nods once, and you take that as a good sign before he raises his hand and presses it against the wood. Leans on it a couple times to test the strength, but the wood doesn't budge.

"Looks good," Johnny decides, and his smirk pulls into a smile when you look positively relieved. "See? Knew you'd be good at it."

That's when he leans in, eagerly pressing his lips against yours. That's probably what he's been waiting for this entire time, and you're more than happy to indulge in it. Johnny steps closer so his arms can wrap around your middle, hands smoothing over your hips and back. The sudden feel of him - hot and solid and all over you - prompts a moan that has Johnny grinning against your lips.

It might just be the drink, but that noise you just made gets him rock-hard in a second.

The kiss turns a bit sloppy, and when Johnny backs his head up, you find that you're panting against his lips. It's a little embarrassing; to get so caught up in it from just a single kiss (bourbon or not.) But Johnny has a certain twinkle in his eye. Knowing that you're flustered and finding a certain sick joy out of it.

"We gotta test the wood."

"Huh?"

"The wood," his head motions to the side, "we should test how good the screws hold."

Right now? Couldn't it wait until tomorrow? Your face forms a light frown, but before you could say anything about his bad timing, Johnny effortlessly spins you. Presses your back against the half-finished boat before leaning on it. Actually, leaning on you; his knees had pushed themselves between your legs so his hips were against yours. But still, the boat seems to be holding well.

Not that you cared. Because from this position, his cock is pressing against the seam of his pants, straining to get free. Grinding teasingly against you, and your body acts on its own volition by arching and keening up towards him. "Johnny..." You mumble out. It was hard to say anything more, because breathing suddenly became a major chore.

"Screws are looking good," he says. And that smirk. That damn cocky smirk. He knows how much he's winding you up and stringing you out before suddenly stopping and going back upstairs and-

He's kissing you again. Tongue lining your bottom lip and forcing you to breathe through your nose before moving down to your jawline. Down your neck and pausing for a moment to suck on the sensitive skin there before continuing to your collarbones. The slope of the boat makes it a bit awkward to be pinned against, so your hands grip his broad shoulders tight as he makes his way down.

"Make up your mind," you suddenly snap out. Johnny's dark eyes flicker up instantly. "Are we checking the screws or are you fucking me?"

He blinks once, and annoyingly, his eyes fill up with amusement. "Both," Gibbs shrugs.

Both?

Oh.

That small burst of frustration died away instantly, and your face heats up. "Here? C'mon..."

(IF YOU WANT PART 2 THEN CLICK THE LIKE BUTTON)