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Polnareff laid in bed, crying, like he did most nights.
His boxers were pulled down, his limp penis held in one hand. He hadn’t been able to reach an orgasm. Hell, he hadn’t been able to orgasm since Sherry’s death.
His little sister’s murder haunted him, attacking him at the worst moments. Any time he attempted to pleasure himself, his mind would drift to thoughts of what his poor sister had gone through, leaving him weeping and soft. Even with women, as soon as their cries took on a fevered pitch, all he could think of was how Sherry had cried and begged while she was defiled. And how he had been unable to stop it.
But still, he was a strapping young man and his body had needs. So still he tried, hoping each time that he would finally be able to purge the compulsive, invasive thoughts that seemed intent on stealing any physical enjoyment from his life.
Sherry had been robbed of the chance to grow up, to have lovers, to experience passion. She’d been defiled, her innocence and her life taken.
Why should Polnareff be able to enjoy those things?
He choked back a sob and pulled up his boxers before sitting up and attempting to compose himself. He didn’t want to wake any of the others. He didn’t want to be seen like this. The idea of his friends finding him weeping in his underwear brought on a fresh wave of tears.
A knock sounded on his door. Polnareff ignored it, hoping that whomever it was would go away if he pretended to be asleep. He couldn’t face Kakyoin’s disdain, or Joseph’s bumbling attempts to care, or Avdol’s kind, sad eyes. Worst of all, perhaps, would be Jotaro. He could only imagine the look on Jotaro’s face. Disgust, perhaps. Anger. Polnareff couldn’t quite muffle the whimper that escaped him.
The knock sounded again, louder this time. Shit. If he didn’t answer the door, the knocking would surely wake up the others. Polnareff stood and padded across the room on bare feet, wiping his face with the back of his hand as he went. He opened the door.
Standing in the darkened hallway was the last person he wanted to see. Jotaro’s massive form took up most of the doorway. Even in his nondescript pajama bottoms and white tank top, he was still intimidating.
Jotaro stood there silently, glaring at Polnareff.
Polnareff looked at his toes. “Did I wake you?”
Jotaro grunted. “Nah. I got up to use the can.”
“Oh. Then what are you doing here?”
“I heard you crying.”
Polnareff’s cheeks burned. It wasn’t like Jotaro had never seen him cry before. He wasn’t very good at hiding his emotions. But there was something mortifying about being found sobbing alone in a dark bedroom. “Sorry.”
“What for?”
Polnareff just shrugged. He was sorry that anyone had to see him all splotchy-faced and tear-stained. He was especially sorry that it was Jotaro.
Jotaro let himself into the room, crossing to the bed and sitting on the edge. “Don’t be stupid. What’s going on?”
Polnareff couldn’t have been more shocked if he tried. He shut the door and turned to face Jotaro, still not making eye contact. “I...I had a nightmare.”
“A nightmare, huh?” Jotaro patted the mattress next to him, once.
As Polnareff lowered himself down to sit next to Jotaro, he worried that their combined bulk might break the bed. It didn’t. Apparently the bed was stronger than it looked, as it only let out a minor creak of protest. “Yeah. About...about my sister.”
Jotaro grunted. It was strange how a man of so few words could still communicate so clearly. That grunt said, “I understand and I’m sorry.”
Polnareff sighed. “Okay, it wasn’t a nightmare. Not exactly. I wasn’t sleeping.” He ran his hands over his face, unsure of why he was suddenly possessed to tell Jotaro about his problem. Maybe because the younger man was so quiet. Maybe Polnareff was just tired of keeping it inside. “I was trying to jerk off. But every time...my mind just fills up with all of these terrible things. It’s like a nightmare.”
Jotaro nodded, a nod that spoke of sympathy, not judgment.
“I haven’t been able to finish since Sherry was killed. Not even with women. The noises and faces they make…” Polnareff trailed off with a horrified shudder.
“Make you think of what the man with two right hands did to your sister.” Jotaro finished the thought.
Polnareff nodded, another pair of tears sliding down his nose to drop on to his bare legs.
“Maybe that’s your problem.” Jotaro shifted his weight slightly, so he was facing Polnareff in the dimness. “Women.”
Polnareff looked up at Jotaro, his eyes searching the younger man’s face. Seeing that Jotaro was serious, Polnareff chuckled nervously. “What do you mean?”
“Way I figure it,” Jotaro said, rubbing his chin. “A guy wouldn’t make those noises.”
“I mean, I guess you’re right but I don’t--” Polnareff’s words were cut off as Jotaro leaned forward and pressed their lips together.
It was strange, kissing a man. Polnareff had never done it before. Jotaro was even bigger than he was, so there was no cupping of a delicate little face in his hands. No brush of long, soft hair on his cheek. It definitely felt different, but Polnareff realized quickly that he didn’t seem to care. Their kiss became deep and sloppy, Jotaro’s tongue pushing into the Frenchman’s mouth.
When Jotaro pulled back to breathe, Polnareff tried to collect himself. “Jotaro, what are you doing?”
Jotaro shrugged. “You’re hot. And you clearly need it.” He ran one hand over Polnareff’s pale chest, letting his palm trace the curves of the Frenchman’s pectorals. Truth be told, he’d wanted to do this since he met the strange, silver-haired man, but had been sure that his advances would be rebuked. Now he had a chance to help his friend take his mind off things and explore that pale body at the same time.
Polnareff’s dick leapt to attention almost painfully quickly. But what the hell was he thinking? Jotaro Kujo? Jotaro, who was always so standoffish with everyone? Jotaro, who barely spoke other than to insult people or make threats? Jotaro, who was moving his hands lower on Polnareff’s body…? Polnareff leaned back slightly to give Jotaro more to touch.
With a satisfied grunt, Jotaro slid off the bed to kneel between Polnareff’s knees. He tugged off the Frenchman’s boxers and tossed them unceremoniously aside. Without much in the way of preamble, he had his mouth on Polnareff’s dick. His tongue ran up Polnareff’s length, trailing saliva, before he took the head of it in his mouth. Working the upper half of the Frenchman’s dick with his lips and tongue, Jotaro wrapped his hand around its base, moving it in rhythm with the bobbing of his head. Then, removing his mouth, he ran his hand up over the head, drawing a sharp cry out of Polnareff. Jotaro continued stroking his hand up and down Polnareff’s cock as he took the other man’s balls in his mouth, sucking gently.
Polnareff ran one hand through Jotaro’s blue-black curls, only to have it swatted away. He settled on resting his hand on Jotaro’s shoulder while the younger man worked. He couldn’t help but be fascinated while he watched Jotaro’s head bobbing in his lap. Not only had he never suspected that Jotaro would do such a thing, not only to him but to anyone, but he’d never had someone suck his dick so...shamelessly. His cock and balls were covered in Jotaro’s spit, making every breath the younger man took a chill breeze across his sensitive flesh. It was obvious after a few minutes, though, that even with as good as it felt, this wasn’t going anywhere.
Jotaro pulled back, wiping the saliva off his chin with the back of his hand. He pushed Polnareff back on the bed with one firm palm on the older man’s shoulder. Once Polnareff laid back, Jotaro crawled on top of him.
They kissed, their tongues tangling together. Polnareff could taste his precum on Jotaro’s mouth. And he loved it. His tongue ran over Jotaro’s generous mouth, he even pulled the younger man’s lips into his mouth, nibbling and sucking.
Jotaro’s massive erection pressed against Polnareff’s through the thin fabric of his pajama pants. Polnareff bucked his hips, grinding against Jotaro’s body. Jotaro moved his kisses lower, sucking at the Frenchman’s pale neck hard enough to leave marks.
Polnareff’s hands chased up Jotaro’s sides, pushing the tank top out of the way. With a grunt, Jotaro pulled himself vertical and stripped his shirt off. After a moment’s thought, he struggled out of his pajama pants, too, leaving him kneeling between Polnareff’s legs in all his naked glory.
“You’ve never been with a guy before, have you?” Jotaro’s already low voice was gravelly with arousal.
Polnareff shook his head. He couldn’t deny the effect his friend was having on him, though. His cock was throbbing and Jotaro looked really, really good right now. After tasting himself on Jotaro’s lips, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to… “I want your cock in my mouth, Jotaro.”
Jotaro groaned, his dick visibly twitching. “I thought you’d never ask.” He pushed Polnareff, who had been beginning to sit up, back on the bed and positioned himself over the Frenchman’s face, one knee on each side of the older man’s head.
Polnareff looked up, wide-eyed. Jotaro’s member looked even bigger from this point of view. He wasn’t even sure he could get the thing in his mouth. But then Jotaro was stroking his bottom lip with one finger, coaxing his mouth open, pushing the head of his dick inside. Unfortunately, that was all that fit. When Jotaro pulled out of his mouth with a slight popping sound, Polnareff contented himself with licking the huge thing, getting it just as wet with saliva as his own.
With a soft grunt of effort, Jotaro shifted his body so that his knees were on either side of Polnareff’s broad ribcage. His large hands reached down to caress Polnareff’s chest, moving over the broad shoulders, then back down to the bulging pectorals. He had always admired Polnareff’s pecs in that black shirt that left so little to the imagination. Jotaro wrapped one hand around his own cock and began rubbing it between Polnareff’s pecs, groaning at how good they felt. Curved but hard, so unlike a woman’s breasts. The Frenchman was apparently enjoying this attention; he had his head tossed back on the pillow, mussing up his silvery hair. Jotaro grinned and rubbed the head of his dick against one pale pink nipple, smearing Polnareff’s own saliva there. The Frenchman’s loud gasp melted into a moan of pleasure almost instantly.
Jotaro lifted his bulk off the bed, leaving Polnareff feeling suddenly cold and very, very frustrated. The younger man gestured with one hand, the other still cupping his cock. “Roll over.”
Confused, Polnareff did so. Jotaro returned to the bed and knelt behind the other man’s prone form. He tugged at Polnareff’s hips so that the Frenchman’s pale ass was in the air.
Polnareff felt exposed like this. He was glad that Jotaro couldn’t see how badly he was blushing.
Jotaro noted with pleasure that Polnareff was nearly hairless...everywhere. The small pink pucker of his asshole was clearly visible. He buried his face in Polnareff’s ass like he’d been wanting to for weeks. Polnareff gave a startled squawk and tensed.
“Relax.” Jotaro let his hot breath brush against the pink pucker in front of his mouth.
Polnareff was wholly unsure about this situation...until Jotaro’s tongue darted against his asshole. Suddenly, he hadn’t a care in the world aside from the hot, wet mouth that was licking and sucking at the most sensitive parts of him.
Jotaro started slowly, swirling his tongue over that sweet little pucker in gentle circles. Soon, Polnareff relaxed enough to allow Jotaro’s tongue inside, opening up like a blossom. Jotaro growled slightly, deep in his chest, as he pushed the tip of his tongue into the tight space. His dick throbbed painfully hard as Polnareff clenched around his tongue, a loud moan and a string of nonsense in French accompanying the movement, sounds that could never come from the throat of a woman.
Hoping to muffle the cries that were escaping him, Polnareff buried his face in the pillow. Mon dieu but Jotaro’s tongue felt amazing. He could feel his body relaxing, letting Jotaro in little by little. He gave a small yelp as Jotaro’s tongue was replaced by a finger, but it felt so good that soon he was moaning again.
Jotaro rolled over and put his face between Polnareff’s legs, once again taking the Frenchman’s cock in his mouth. From this angle, it was hard to move much, but that didn’t matter. He just wanted to make the next few minutes as pleasant as possible for the other man while he prepared him for what was coming next.
Polnareff shuddered and moaned as Jotaro’s mouth wrapped around his dick, the sensation of the younger man’s mouth keeping his mind occupied as a second finger joined the first inside him. The stretching sensation wasn’t terribly pleasant, but Jotaro’s mouth was. A third finger soon joined the others, forcing a desperate sort of cry out of Polnareff. He had no idea what Jotaro was doing back there, but Jotaro clearly knew what he was doing because it felt great. The large, callused fingers were brushing against his insides in a way that was making him weak in the knees.
Suddenly, Jotaro pulled away, removing his fingers and giving Polnareff’s pale pink asshole one last deep kiss. “On your back.” The younger man’s voice was strained with lust, his dick painfully hard. He wanted to be inside his friend, wanted to watch Polnareff’s face contort with pleasure.
Polnareff rolled over without hesitation. His cock was dripping with precum and it left a shining patch of the stuff on his stomach when he laid on his back. Jotaro was over him again, sucking at his nipples, their dicks brushing against each other in passing.
“Jean Pierre,” Jotaro breathed the words across one of Polnareff’s pale nipples.
Polnareff let out a deep moan. Jotaro had never called him by his first name, which he knew was the custom in Japan.
“Do you want it?” Jotaro reached between their torsos and caressed Polnareff’s cock with one hand.
“Mon dieu, êtes-tu sérieux? Yes!”
One of Jotaro’s hands ran down Polnareff’s side until it came to a stop at the Frenchman’s hip. His other hand grasped the base of his cock. Polnareff angled his hips, presenting that tight, pink hole for Jotaro. Jotaro pushed against it, afraid for a moment that he wouldn’t fit, that even with all of the stretching, the precum at his tip, and the saliva coating Polnareff’s ass he wouldn’t fit. Slowly, ever so slowly, Polnareff opened for him, stretching to let him inside.
Polnareff’s eyes went wide as Jotaro’s girth stretched him painfully. For a moment, all he could think about was the pain his sister must have experienced. He wondered morbidly if it had been worse than this, if she had suffered more before her life was snuffed out. His erection died as tears filled his eyes.
Jotaro stopped his thrusting, but didn’t back off. He had a feeling that he knew what was on Polnareff’s mind and he had nothing but sympathy for the man. He used one hand to turn the Frenchman’s face back toward his, propping his body on one elbow. “Jean Pierre, look at me.”
Polnareff opened his eyes hesitantly, expecting to see disappointment or loathing. The deep green eyes that met his were full of nothing but concern. Not pity, not disgust. Concern. And patience. And desire.
“You’re here, with me. You’re Jean Pierre Polnareff, one of the bravest and most noble men I’ve ever met.” Jotaro leaned in to kiss the tears from the Frenchman’s face. Polnareff moved to turn his face away again, but Jotaro held it firm. “No. Look at me. You’re here, with me. You’re Jean Pierre Polnareff, Stand user, fighter, and friend.”
Polnareff could feel his body responding to Jotaro’s voice. That deep voice and those eyes were keeping him grounded, not letting his mind wander down dark paths. Jotaro started to move again, slowly, tenderly. Polnareff could feel every inch of it sliding in and out of him. It wasn’t painful anymore and Jotaro was somehow hitting that same spot deep inside him that felt so, so good. His cock was growing hard again, trapped between Jotaro’s stomach and his own. The hills and valleys of their abs were rubbing up and down his dick, bringing him back to full erection.
Jotaro grunted softly. Polnareff was back with him, so hard between their bodies. And the Frenchman’s asshole was so tight. Jotaro didn’t know how much longer he could last, but it didn’t look like he’d have to. Polnareff was biting his lip with pleasure, his eyes still locked on Jotaro’s, as if looking away would lose him forever. Jotaro kept eye contact and kept talking in his low, thrumming voice, choked with the effort to not finish just yet.
“It’s just you and me here, Jean Pierre. Just you and me. You’re Jean Pierre Polnareff, brave and kind and sexy.” Jotaro grunted, his voice cutting out for a moment. “And I...I’m the man who’s going to make you cum.” His thrusts were getting frantic. “I’m going to make you cum so fucking hard, Jean Pierre. Let me. Let me make you cum.”
Polnareff let out a shout, deep and desperate. And he came. For the first time in so long, he felt his fluids pumping up through his dick, spurting out in glorious release. He dug his nails into Jotaro’s back, raking them down that muscular expanse, and came for what felt like an eternity, his asshole clenching around Jotaro’s girth with every spasm. Just as his head was starting to clear, he felt Jotaro finish, too, the massive cock inside him jumping and twitching. The younger man’s hot, thick load filled his insides with warmth and wetness.
Panting heavily, Jotaro pushed himself up, pulling his already softening dick out of Polnareff’s ass. He was covered in sweat and the other man’s cum, but it was so completely worth it for the view he had right now. Polnareff’s hair was a disaster, sticking up in every direction. The Frenchman’s face was slack, his normally pale lips reddened, his pupils blown so wide that the silver-blue irises were barely visible. Sweat sheened the pale skin, glistening in the dim light of the bedroom. The cloudy glimmer of cum coated the man’s stomach and even managed to get up between those magnificent pectorals.
Polnareff was dazed. He could feel Jotaro’s fluids leaking out of his sore ass onto the damp bedsheets, but he didn’t care. Jotaro was staring at him with a strange look in his eyes, but he didn’t care about that either. Jotaro had made him orgasm. Perhaps Jotaro had been right and he had just needed a man. Or perhaps it was more than that, because he doubted just any man could do what Jotaro had just done. Kept him focused. Chased the ghosts away. And there Jotaro was, kneeling between his legs, covered in his cum.
Polnareff was taken with a perverse desire. He sat up, a little shaky, and ran his tongue over Jotaro’s abs, through the coating of his own semen. Never having really tasted it before, he was surprised to find that, while it was salty and little bitter, it wasn’t altogether unpleasant.
Jotaro looked down questioningly.
Polnareff shrugged, a little nervously. “I was curious.” A slight pinkness touched his cheeks. “My cum definitely tastes better on your lips.”
“And here I was going to go shower off.” Jotaro looked down at Polnareff.
There was a question in Jotaro’s eyes, but Polnareff wasn’t immediately sure what it was. Then he smiled. “I could help. I made the mess, after all.”