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It's really a dreadful sort of evening, Dio decides.
Any evening in the Joestar mansion is inherently a little dreadful, it's true, but tonight is one of the less bearable.
Outside, the rain hasn't let up since it has started pouring halfway through the grey autumn afternoon. The wind rattles the wooden window panes, hissing through the eaves in the stone slats of the mansion. The relentless hum of rain and the whine of wind is enough to drive Dio mad, if he wasn't already utterly irritated by George Joestar's incessant rambling over dinner.
"Of course, I spoke to Aberforth after the fact. A shrewd businessman, that one, but a loyal friend first," George says, sitting back in his chair with a look of satisfaction at the conclusion to his tale.
Dio absently stabs at a sliced potato on his plate, silver scraping against porcelain as he forces an interested smile and nod at the elder Joestar. He'd hardly been listening.
Across the table, Jonathan's eyes are alight with attention, having been hanging on every insipid word. Dio half considers kicking him under the table like he used to do when they were children - it would hurt much more now, he reasons - but he manages to refrain from the immature act, only setting his jaw and looking back at George.
"Oh, forgive me, my sons," George says, the moniker making Dio sneer behind his glass of wine. "I haven't the manners to ask about you. How are your studies?"
Jonathan sits up eagerly, and it's all Dio can do not to roll his eyes.
"Everything's going well, father. We're preparing research papers on artifacts from the recent Egypt shipment," he beams, and Dio hated the way his chest flutters at Jonathan's smile.
George nods in approval, as always, doting on his son. It made Dio sick, as it always did, knowing someone as vacant as Jonathan got to grow up amidst the silks and wines and arched hallways of luxury while he, Dio, struggled in the grimy London streets like a gutter rat.
"What about you, Dio?" Jonathan's voice interrupts, turning towards the other casually.
"What about me?" Dio asks dully, not bothering to so much as look in Jonathan's direction at what he knows is a painfully earnest expression.
Jonathan clears his throat, and Dio tightens his grip on his fork absently. "Well, I overheard you talk about the exam you have coming up. I'm sure - "
"Eavesdropping now, are we?" Dio interrupts, his voice smooth.
Jonathan's face turns a lovely shade of red. "No! I was just - "
George taps the side of his glass as if giving a toast, and both his dining companions turn to look.
"Come now, boys, surely we can have a civil conversation over dinner," he says.
For once, Dio and Jonathan agree with each other, eyes meeting in a silent and temporary stalemate agreement.
"I'm sorry, father," Jonathan says, and Dio bites the inside of his cheek to prevent a smirk. It's just like Jonathan to apologize for his outbursts. It would be adorable if it weren't so predicable.
"No, forgive me, father," Dio says, and Jonathan's look of surprise is priceless.
The legs of Dio's chair scrape against the marble floor harshly as he stands, taking small delight in the way Jonathan flinches away and a crestfallen expression crosses his face.
"You're quite right about my exam, Jojo. In fact, I should be studying for it right now. If you'll excuse me, father, I'll be retiring early to the library," Dio says said carefully, toeing the line between demand and polite request.
George smiles amicably. "Of course, Dio, by all means. Sleep well."
Dio doesn't bother to give the man a verbal response, only offering a tight lipped smile and a small nod. Jojo is still watching him with sad eyes, so of course Dio, in his most saccharine voice, adds, "Goodnight, Jojo."
It's perfect. String him along, let him wallow in his self-pity and moral quandaries. It's so easy to make Jonathan doubt himself, and although Dio usually prefers a challenge, it never ceases to be entertaining.
To Dio's surprise, Jojo suddenly sets his glass down.
"If it's alright, father, I think I'll join Dio. I'd like to get started on my paper."
Dio clenches his jaw and fists to prevent himself from throttling him across the table. The thought of Jonathan's face, red and wincing in pain across the white linen, is admittedly appealing, if utterly unobtainable. Instead, Dio settles for foolishly hoping George will deny his favorite son the simple request.
The old man's smile widens. "You know how much I appreciate how dedicated you both are to your studies. Of course, Jonathan."
It's all Dio can do not to glare daggers at the neatly creased back of Jonathan's shirt as he stands. His throat feels tight for a moment as he sees the muscles strain beneath the silk, lets himself imagine sinking his teeth into the perfect skin. The feeling vanishes immediately as Jonathan turns, facing away from his father, to give Dio an insufferably victorious look before brushing by him and into the hallway.
"It means so much to me when you two get along," George says, half to himself even as he looks at Dio.
Dio says nothing a he turns on his heel and sulks out of the dining room.
Dio's bored with his studies after only a hour or so, as he expected.
Inside the library, the maids have let the fire grates burn themselves down so as to keep the house warm throughout the night. The faint glow of the dying embers streaks across the red carpet of the library, the flickering red light in the windows the only source of light to be seen from outside the mansion.
Across the room, Jonathan stoops and pokes the fire carefully, rolling over the uppermost log to allow the fire to spread onto the untouched wood beneath. The flames blaze back to life, fully illuminating the library study once more as he goes back to his spot at one of the low desks.
Dio watches over the edge of his textbook, eyes tracing along Jonathan's every move.
Jonathan is, admittedly, all but delectable when he concentrates. His brows narrow just slightly, face a serene mask of thought. Sometimes he bites his lip when in a moment of intense concentration, and when he releases it the skin is flushed and swollen for a few tantalizing moments.
Dio had long since given up trying to pretend he didn't enjoy staring at Jonathan, especially in these intimate moments. But Dio was used to not getting, not having, so he watches from afar like a lecherous sort of predator, hungry and wanting.
Usually, he's quite good at waiting until he's locked away in his own bedchamber to indulge in whatever aspects of Jonathan he wishes. But maybe something is different tonight. Maybe a few sips too many at dinner, a few too many nights up late, but Dio decides it's worth it to make the evening a bit more interesting.
He starts simple. With a theatrical sigh, Dio slams his book shut.
Jonathan startles, nearly dropping the textbook he's holding. In his fright, though, he knocks the jar of pencils across the desk, sending them scattering across strewn papers as Jonathan looks around wildly. When he sees Dio staring at him with wicked amusement, his face relaxes, but Dio can see there's still a tense anger to his body, cautious as ever around him.
Simple is more than enough, it seems.
"Dio! You scared me," Jonathan says, as if even he didn't know Dio had done it on purpose.
"Yes, that much is obvious," Dio agrees unamusedly, standing and making his way over to the desk. He stoops to pick up the few pencils that had ended up on the wooden floor, handing them to Jonathan. "Or perhaps you are just a graceless klutz, yes?"
To his delight, Jonathan glares as he takes the pencils, his warm fingertips brushing Dio's. "At least I have enough grace to know how to close a book properly."
The bitterness in his voice is as intoxicating as wine, and Dio grins.
"Well done, Jojo. Expert at closing books. Maybe you'd like to gain a mastery in reading them now?"
Jonathan's jaw tightens as he starts to gather up his books. "Maybe you should consider working on your own study habits before critiquing mine. Last I recall, you aren't top of the class," he snaps, circling around the desk.
Dio throws his head back in a hearty laugh, thoroughly enjoying himself already.
"Last I checked, I wasn't wasting my life on a useless career," Dio replies. It's delightful, how easy it is to push Jonathan's buttons. Oh, yes, with Jonathan, simple is always enough.
Jonathan stands abruptly, palms flat and knuckles white against the table. His hair is mussed from fidgeting and Dio wants to grab him by it, thread his fingers through the dark locks while Jonathan chokes on his dick. The image tears through his mind unbidden and he clenches his jaw to push it back, to keep his mind and body in check. He can't show his hand, not now, not ever. Instead, he maintains his bored expression and relaxes further in his stance, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.
"Enjoy the rest of your evening, Dio," Jonathan says, and Dio's heart sinks. He knows it's petty, childish, still wanting to pick fights with his so-called brother, but as Jonathan turns his back, Dio follows, eyes boring into the back of his vest and calling, "I will, thank you, Jojo."
Jonathan keeps walking, and Dio continues, "In fact, I might drop by dear Erina's tomorrow."
Jonathan stops and Dio smirks. He may have given up his insipid pining for Erina years before, but Dio knew his gentleman's heart longed to protect her anyway, the maiden and the knight straight out of a storybook.
Jonathan whirls around on his heel, lips pulled back as he bares his teeth like a wild animal. Dio braces himself for the attack, the familiar rush of blows against his skin.
Jonathan takes a breath and the sound is like glass shattering against Dio's skin. He tries not to sneer.
"Dio...why?"
Dio rolls his eyes. "Why what, dearest Jojo?"
His sarcasm lashes out, acidic and cruel, and Jonathan looks as genuine as ever.
"Why can't we just get along? Why can't we be brothers, Dio?" Jonathan demands, taking a few steps forward. They're close, now, and Jonathan's voice is softer.
Dio's glare deepens, and a dozen thoughts flash through his head. I hate you. I love you. I want nothing to do with you. I want you.
He settles for a partial truth and gives Jonathan his most withering stare. "Jojo, the last thing I have ever considered you is a brother."
He doesn't mean it as an insult, not really. Dio knows he's a lot of things, and a liar is certainly one of them, but this time he hopes his honesty comes through. He thinks about continuing, imagining Jonathan's wide-eyed face as he described sleepless nights with only Jonathan's face in his mind, wanting to take him against the lockers of the rugby changing room, assuring him that he'd call him lover long before the word brother left his lips in earnest.
He doesn't get the chance, because without warning Jonathan slaps him.
Jonathan's palm makes contact with Dio's cheek, the slap echoing across the library hallways. Dio reels back a few steps, reaching up to press his fingertips to the stinging spot on his face. "How dare - !"
Jonathan's blue eyes are blown wide with anger and surprise, shocked at his own actions and frozen to the ground. "Dio, I - "
Dio doesn't hear the rest of Jonathan's apologetic sentence, doubtless all but apoplectic in its regret for his outburst. Instead, he feels a wave of hunger in his chest, a roar of passion like the ocean in his ear. Love and lust are complicated and messy.
But this? This, he can understand.
With a yell, he lunges forward, pinning Jonathan to a bookshelf before he can get away. He seizes both of his wrists, gripping them tight and pressing them into the shelves on either side of Jonathan's head.
Jonathan cries out in surprise and pain, meeting Dio's eyes.
Dio smirks. "And here I thought you knew better than to pick fights with me these days."
"Do you truly believe you can best me, Dio?" Jonathan asks.
The smirk morphs into a glare as Dio snarls. "Do you truly wish to find out, Jojo?"
His grip on Jonathan's wrists tightens enough to threaten injury, and Jonathan lets put a strangled whimper. It's pathetic and intoxicating all at once.
"Not going to hit me again?" Dio taunts. Their noses are nearly touching, and he can count the freckles across Jonathan's nose.
Jonathan looks uncertain now, and somewhere in the back of his mind Dio is suspicious. Jonathan's not a fighter, not unless he has to be, but to lose his irritating gentleman's posture even in the face of a tussle is unlike him, to say the least.
"Dio," he says, and now Dio can see his face is slightly flushed despite the lack of actual fisticuffs between them. "Let me go. Please."
Dio laughs dryly. "Giving up already?"
"No," Jonathan starts.
"Then what are you - " Dio's upper lip curls and he leans forward, only to cut himself off.
Jonathan's pressed himself as close to the bookshelf as possible, nearly concave against the indents. But as Dio leans in, hipbone brushing between Jonathan's legs, he feels the unmistakable sensation of Jonathan half-hard against him.
And suddenly they're playing an altogether different game. One where Dio undeniably has the upper hand.
He looks to Jonathan, and those blue eyes are wide, a silent plea to move on, to retreat and never speak of this again. But Dio knows Jonathan, and he knows there's a hunger behind the fear, a desperate want to give in. Maybe Jonathan himself doesn't even realize it's there, but he's not going to make the decision on his own.
Well, Dio's nothing if not helpful.
His lip curls into a smile and Jonathan trembles.
"Really, Jojo? Getting hard from me, Dio, pinning you to a bookcase?"
"No! No, it's only...I was thinking - "
Dio laughs, and Jonathan's feeble protests die on his tongue. Their faces are so close now, and Dio can smell the woodsy scent that Jonathan always wears, rich and intoxicating. He loosens his hold on the man's wrists, and Jonathan doesn't move.
"You're a horrible liar," Dio purrs. Curious, he runs his tongue over his lower lip, a brief flash of pink against peach.
Jonathan's eyes drop to the movement at Dio's mouth and linger before shifting back up to his eyes. Dio almost laughs; modest little Jojo, too much a gentleman to ask for what he wants. Dio grabs his jaw and pulls him into a kiss. He can hardly hold back his grin as Jonathan whimpers and falls into the embrace.
Jonathan kisses like he's in a romantic novel, all close-lipped chastity and virgin gentleness. It's endearing, but far from exciting. Dio pulls back, biting his lip again as he takes in the sight of Jonathan after one juvenile kiss: face flushed prettily in the firelight, lips full and parted in a thoroughly starstruck expression. He looks delicious, Dio decides, another smile slithering up his face.
Jonathan's breath is hot against Dio's face. He seems to have already forgotten his intention to escape. If Dio had known a kiss - his kiss - was all it took to make Jonathan Joestar fall apart, he'd have given it years ago.
"Dio...do that again?" Jonathan asks.
Dio laughs, and it's not as malicious as even he thought it would be.
"Your naïveté is really quite adorable, Jojo," he hums, and the flush on Jonathan's face darkens as his lips twist into a pouty frown.
"What do you mean?"
Dio rolls his eyes, stroking Jonathan's cheek and feeling immensely satisfied as his companion leans into the touch like a cat in heat.
"You kiss like a blushing virgin, Jojo."
Jonathan's eyes widen, his breath hitching. The soft gasp is warm against Dio's thumb as he traces his damp lower lip.
"Well, I haven't...that is to say, I've never..."
Dio's grin widens and he leans forward, resting his hipbones against Jonathan's, the latter's arousal very evident now. "Let's fix that, hm?"
Jonathan's pupils are so wide the blue of his eyes is hardly visible. He starts to speak, and Dio quickly swallows the sound with another messy kiss. Jonathan freezes as Dio's tongue brushes across his lips. Dio presses harder, and Jonathan gets the hint, letting out a soft moan as tongues and teeth clash inexpertly.
Dio quickly decides what Jonathan lacks in experience he makes up for in enthusiasm. He still tastes of wine as Dio guides him through the embrace.
This time, their parted lips are joined by a glistening rope of saliva, which only makes Jonathan look even more debauched. Dio growls without meaning to, and the blue of Jonathan's eyes flickers as his pupils grow somehow wider at the sound.
"You like it when I'm in control," Dio says. It's not a question, even if he knows Jonathan will deny it as such.
Seemingly coming to himself, Jonathan blinks and pushes at Dio's solid form, still trapping him against the shelves. "No. No! We can't...let me go, Dio."
His voice is quivering, and Dio pounces on the weakness, quickly seizing Jonathan’s wrists again. Jonathan lets out a strangled whimper.
"Now, Jojo, you're confusing me. Just a minute ago you were more than happy to have my tongue down your throat, and now you want to walk away?" Dio croons.
Jonathan's throat bobs again as he swallows, tasting where Dio still lingers. He tugs lightly against Dio, and it's hardly convincing. Jonathan is perfectly aware that Dio knows his heart isn't really in it - by now, they're an even match in combat, and Jonathan could escape if he really wanted to.
"Please, Dio."
"Please what, Jojo?"
Now Jonathan's glaring, like a disgruntled kitten. "You know what."
Dio grips Jonathan's wrists tighter still and tests the waters, rolling his hips against the others. Jonathan can't hold back his whimper, head falling back against the bookcase, and Dio know he's won.
"I'm afraid I don't, dear Jojo. But it does seems like you've got a little problem here. Is that what you'd like my help with, hm?"
"I don't - fuck!"
Another snap of Dio's hips tears the curse from Jonathan's mouth, hot like burning coals, the latter's voice high and strained as he tries not to give in.
"What was that?" Dio asks smoothly. This is the part he'll never get tired of, he thinks, the way Jonathan's face shows his internal struggles so clearly. It's like a performance, a private show just for him in the dying firelight of the library.
Jonathan takes a shaky breath. "Let my hands go. I won't run, I promise."
Dio raises an eyebrow, but he does as Jonathan requests, although not before noting the bruises starting to form on the skin of his wrists from his grip.
Jonathan slowly lowers his hands, fingers wiggling to get the circulation back. A few breathless moment of silence pass, Dio's hips still all but flush with Jonathan's.
Suddenly, one cool hand is at Dio's neck while the other is against his chest, just above his heart, and it's Dio's turn to look at Jonathan with surprise.
Jonathan's fingers absently twist in the blond waves at the base of Dio's head.
"Alright, you can kiss me again. I'm ready."
Dio laughs, loud and surprised and utterly amused. It's so Jonathan, he knows, and really that makes everything he's about to do so much better.
"Oh, may I, Jojo?" he asks, in a mockery of an affectionate tone.
Jonathan bites his lip. "If you're going to make fun, I - "
Dio seizes his head with both hands and swallows whatever else Jonathan was going to say. Jonathan falls back against the bookshelf with the force of the kiss, another soft whimper escaping him. Dio ignores it, focusing on kissing his partner senseless. The less Jonathan thinks, (not that he does much, already) the better.
And Jonathan is so easy to sweep away. He's enamored, kissing back with clumsy enthusiasm, the hand on Dio's chest gripping his coat, fingers still in his hair. He anchors himself to him, as if to remind himself of where he is, and Dio suddenly pulls away.
Jonathan chases his lips for a moment. He stares at Dio like he hangs the moon each night, and for the first time Dio realizes he's seen the look before. Countless times, in fact, flushed after rugby matches, warm in the firelight across the dinner table.
"You really want me," Dio says, half-incredulous.
Jonathan sniffs. "I thought that much was clear."
Dio chuckles. "No, no, my dear Jojo. You don't want me just now. You've wanted me all this time, haven't you?"
The soft flush of exertion on Jonathan's cheeks roars back in full force, his entire face scarlet. He doesn't reply, and he doesn't need to. There's a rush of power that comes with his silent admission, and Dio grins.
"My, my, how scandalous. The George Joestar's son, pining after men," Dio continues.
Jonathan all but flinches, body tensing as if he'd been struck, but he stays close to Dio.
"Only you," he admits, eyes dropping to where his fingertips rest against Dio's lapel. It's honest and abashed and disgustingly endearing. Dio bites his tongue, tasting copper as he watches Jonathan's adam's apple bob beneath his skin. There's a warmth in his throat, a horrid urge to take Jonathan's cheek and hold him.
"Say something, Dio," Jonathan murmurs suddenly, eyes now fixed on Dio's collarbone. "Your silence make me nervous."
Dio only shakes his head, leaning in to nuzzle at the soft skin below Jonathan's ear. In any other circumstance, he'd have deemed it a repulsively affectionate gesture, but for Jonathan he'll make an exception.
"I've wanted you, too," he murmurs.
Jonathan lets out a soft sigh as the words ghost across his skin, gentle with breathless laughter. "You've had me."
"That, it seems I have," Dio agrees, before sinking his teeth into Jonathan's neck.
Jonathan lets out a strangled cry, a mix of pleasure and pain as Dio sucks at the tanned skin, knowing he'll leave a bruise Jonathan will have to explain away in rugby practice. Will he say it was a pretty girl? Erina? He feels dizzy at the notion that Jonathan might tell the truth, might admit Dio Brando kissed him stupid and marked him to prove it.
He pulls away, seeing the red mark starting to purple at the edges. Chuckling softly, he runs his tongue across the abused skin, and Jonathan sighs.
"What do you want, Jojo?" Dio hears himself ask, his words hot against Jonathan's neck.
"You," comes Jonathan's breathless and immediate reply, and Dio can't help the soft bark of laughter that escapes his lips. It's mocking and affectionate all at once, and Jonathan's blush only deepens.
"And how exactly do you want me?"
Jonathan leans in, wrapping his arms around Dio's neck. Their noses brush as he speaks.
"Will you make love to me?" he breathes.
The strangled innocence in his voice goes straight to Dio's abdomen, and he just barely catches the pathetic whimper that threatens to escape him.
A smile twists across his lips. "No," he hums.
Jonathan looks so, so confused. Dio savors the look of disappointment, the desperation that Jonathan fights back to say, "Oh. That's alright. I...I simply thought - "
His words are cut off with a cry as Dio's hands suddenly drop to his ass, pulling him in to grind their hips together, rough and demanding. Jonathan falls against him, trapped between his chest and the musty bookshelf. He breathes hard against Dio's neck as their erections press against each other, and Dio grins.
"You didn't let me finish, darling," Dio says, and Jonathan keens. "I won't make love to you. But I will fuck you utterly senseless against this bookcase, alright?"
Dio takes pride in how casually he offers despite his own knotting, roaring arousal, and especially in the way Jonathan's eyes light up with arousal and fear and want as he gasps, "Yes. Yes, please, please."
Dio starts to work at the buttons of Jonathan's shirt casually. "I never thought I'd see the day Jonathan Joestar practically begged for my cock," he says absently. Despite the fact that his eyes are fixed on his task, he sees Jonathan's face flush even deeper, the crimson spreading down his neck like a glass of red wine spilled across a table linen.
Dio's seen Jonathan naked as the day he was born plenty of times. The broad expanse of his chest, toned and flushed, is nothing new. But now it's his, his to touch and taste and admire.
"I'm the only one to see you like this, aren't I?" Dio asks, unable to hide his smirk as he traces nonsensical patterns around Jonathan's pectorals. Jonathan inhales sharply, only managing a hiss of, "Yes," before Dio's lips are around his left nipple and he's covering his mouth to muffle his moan.
Lightning fast, Dio's hand snaps up to grab Jonathan's wrist with his unoccupied hand. He seizes the limb and pulls Jonathan's hand away just as he sinks his teeth into the tender flesh of his nipple, and Jonathan cries.
Dio laps at the stiff bud of Jonathan's nipple, leaving the bruised skin slick and messy. As he runs his tongue between Jonathan's pectorals - he's dreamt of that for years now, and it doesn't disappoint, Jonathan's chest puts any woman to shame - he feels calloused fingers thread into his hair. His teeth press into Jonathan's skin for a moment as he snarls, but before can yank himself away, Jonathan's pulled his head up to kiss him again. A shock of arousal darts down Dio's spine as it's Jonathan's tongue brushing at his lips now, demanding. Dio accepts, and he's certain Jonathan can feel his smile.
The soft linen of Jonathan's shirt hits the carpeted library floor with a soft thud as Dio runs his hands along Jonathan's arms to pull the piece of clothing away. His fingers dip into each curve and swell of his lover's muscles, and Jonathan shivers against him.
"Dio," he says softly, almost a whine.
"Yes, darling?" Dio replies, fighting back a grin as his lips dance over Jonathan's collarbone.
Fingers start to tug at Dio's tie. "I want to see you."
"You can see me just - "
There's a horrible tearing as Jonathan impatiently rips away the silky fabric, letting it fall from his fingertips and onto the ground. Before Dio can even react, Jonathan's got his shirt unbuttoned to his navel, calloused fingers catching at the thin material before running across bare skin greedily.
"Beautiful," Jonathan says, and Dio can feel himself preening as he leans closer, letting Jonathan admire him.
Jonathan's got that hopelessly romantic look in his eyes again as he drinks in the sight of Dio's half bared chest like a starving man.
Dio takes his left hand and pulls it to his cheek.
He tells himself it's to play into Jonathan's fantasy, to indulge in his childish dreams of true love and happily-ever-afters. He reminds himself he hates Jonathan, even as he presses kisses to his palm like a lover, as his mind wanders to doing the same thing on park benches and cobblestone streets.
But Dio's never been a patient man, and now isn't the time to be soft.
"I hope you've looked your fill," he says, and Jonathan's eyes have barely widened in their usual surprise before Dio's spinning him around, pressing his chest into the bookshelf with his own, looping his arms around Jonathan's waist to undo his trousers.
As Dio's fingers work over brass buttons, he feels Jonathan shake with a breathless laughter. He loves and hates the sound all at once, growling, "What's so funny?"
Jonathan turns his head, blue eyes meeting gold as he shyly murmurs, "I like seeing you like this. Desperate, I mean. Sometimes I forget you're as human as I am."
Dio snarls. "Don't insult me, Jojo," he says, before sinking his teeth into the skin around Jonathan's birthmark, sucking until the star fades into the bruised skin around it because here, Jonathan isn't George Joestar's heir. He's not a Joestar at all. He's Dio's, now and forever.
Tongue tracing over the bruised area, Dio gets the last fastenings undone and Jonathan's pants and underthings fall to the ground. Jonathan makes an utterly darling sound, a mix between a sigh of relief as his cock is free from its confines and a cry of embarrassment as his lower half is forced into the open.
Without hesitation, Dio wraps a hand around Jonathan's dick. Jonathan gasps, veins throbbing beneath velvety skin. Dio traces each one with a religious reverence, worshipping the way Jonathan desperately tries not to fall apart.
And as love and hate are want to, everything happens so, so quickly.
Dio can't bring himself to care about his rushing fingers or his hasty touches. He knows, just as he's always known, that Jonathan is his, and he has an endless future to claim him in every imaginable way.
For now, though, he chooses the simplest option.
Jonathan lets out an intoxicating cry as Dio pushes into his tight heat, the sound swallowed by the wooden bookshelves all around but still ringing in his ears. Dio lets his head fall back with a soft sigh of pleasure at the impossible warmth, the way Jonathan's whimpering helplessly.
Dio runs a hand across Jonathan's exposed hipbone almost casually, and Jonathan shivers in his arms. He's a masterpiece in every way, tanned skin bared and glowing against dark leather and wood, the rush of adrenaline and blood coloring his cheeks and shoulders crimson. The crystal blue of his eyes is almost gone behind black pupils as his lolled head allows Dio to meet his eyes, and his parted mouth is trembling against the mixture of foreign pain and forbidden pleasure.
Dio shifts, and another gasp falls from Jonathan's lips. "Ah...quite honestly, dear Jojo, I don't think you've ever looked better."
Jonathan manages to focus on Dio's eyes and tries to say something, but Dio gives a few shallow thrusts that quickly shut him up and send his eyes rolling back into his head. "Don't ruin it."
Dio's always been the charismatic sort, saying and doing whatever he must to get his way. He twists words between his teeth to spin threads of lies and tricks, weaves a narrative that defines the world as he prefers.
And in this horrible moment of heat and want and hate and devotion, he lets the threads go to let Jonathan see him as he is.
That is to say, desperate for him.
Jonathan's a babbling mess as Dio bites at his neck again, over the already marred star birthmark, and takes him hard.
The bookcase creaks and the fire pops in the grate and Jonathan sobs.
"You're perfect," Dio hears himself say, hardly audible above the obscene sound of skin and Jonathan's cries. "Perfect when you're mine."
"Yours!" Jonathan says as he comes, trembling and untouched, the promise smoldering on his lips.
Dio follows, and it feels like an oath.
Jonathan's breath is shallow against Dio's throat as he lays boneless against him. The books on the third shelf down are ruined, but Dio can't bring himself to care, not when Jonathan is flushed and satisfied and all but naked against him.
It's moments like this, horrible moments, that Dio wonders if he's ever really hated Jonathan.
"Dio," Jonathan breathes, interrupting his revere, and Dio decides he'll never get tired of hearing his name like that, all wanting and dazed and content, from Jonathan.
And Jonathan's body is hot against Dio's half-bare chest, one hand finding its way between the silk to rest against his skin. Jonathan smiles softly as he feels a heartbeat underneath his fingertips.
Dio grips him tighter. He's keeping him, he decides. Now and forever.
"Dio?" Jonathan murmurs again, and Dio realizes he hadn't responded before.
"Yes, love?" Dio says without thinking. His regret at the tenderness in his voice is immediately incinerated by the blazing flush that comes to Jonathan's face. Even now, Dio can pull his strings so easily.
"Let me stay with you tonight?" Jonathan whispers, lashes low over his eyes, voice dripping with promise. It's the boldest he's been all night, and it's all Dio can do to hold back a growl.
Maybe Jonathan can pull his strings, too.
Stooping suddenly, Dio hooks his free arm under Jonathan's knees and lifts him into his arms. Jonathan cries out in surprise, hand fisting into the silk of his shirt once more. He smells of leather and smoke and sex and Dio wants him, wants him more than anything, wants him so much he's not sure if he's even understood the feeling of desire until now.
And Dio Brando always gets what he wants.
Jonathan's looking at him with the innocent bedroom eyes again, and Dio grins. The night is young, after all, and the idea of Jonathan sprawled out across his bedsheets like this is incredibly appealing.
"Oh, Jojo. Do you really think I'd let you go anywhere else?"