Work Text:
“Are you nervous?”
Was he nervous.
That would be a yes, but Josuke did not speak to confirm this. His heart pounded frantically in his chest. He was freshly showered, hair dried and styled with the hair products he kept in the hotel room, dressed in a borrowed light pink sweatshirt and gray sweatpants. While Jotaro’s clothes brought him a teeny bit of comfort, the underwear he’d packed in his school bag just for tonight was clinging to him too tightly. It was a little unfair that Jotaro was wearing his normal black sweater and white slacks, even if he did forgo the hat and belts. But Josuke asked for this, and it was Josuke's decision to wear the damn underwear anyway.
Sitting on the couch in Jotaro’s lap while having a serious conversation about ‘messing around’ (as Josuke put it, though Jotaro preferred ‘experimenting with your humiliation kink’ which sounded too scary and science-centric for Josuke’s liking) was really difficult, too. Mostly because cuddling up to Jotaro seemed to be an ingrained coping mechanism while discussing serious subjects. But no, Jotaro wouldn’t allow any of that— he held Josuke at arm’s length while they recapped Josuke’s newfound kinks, which were embarrassing and ‘we already talked about this, can’t we just skip ahead to the fun stuff?’
That cutting gaze, which seemed to see through Josuke even when he didn’t want to be translucent, was making him very nervous. Mounting anxiety made his skin prickle, his teeth clench.
“I know you are,” Jotaro told him, serious if not concerned. “But I’d like to hear you say it. You need to tell me how you feel. We talked about this.”
Nodding, Josuke sucked in a breath, shut his eyes. Steeling himself, he opened them again. “I’m nervous.”
Jotaro smiled softly. He pulled Josuke to him, holding him. His body was warm. So warm, it was easy to slip into a sense of ease the way one slips into a hot bath. This was familiar. Josuke was home.
“You’re not the only one,” Jotaro admitted, gently rubbing Josuke’s back. “So, why are you nervous?”
“It’s going to be different,” Josuke said sheepishly. “What I told you— all that stuff about what embarrasses me. I’m excited for you to use it. But I’m scared too, you know?”
“In the sense of not liking something I do?”
Call your stand, Josuke remembered Jotaro telling him. If anything goes wrong— call your stand. Though Josuke seriously doubted anything would go wrong, considering this was Jotaro and they already had a long discussion the night prior about safety during play— Josuke was still nervous that he might not realize it if something actually did go wrong.
“Maybe a little bit,” Josuke said softly. “I’m just— we’ve messed around like this before, and it was really good. But that was when you were praising me. It’s going to be so different, now. You said you’re going to act coldly and talk more. About all the stuff I’m ashamed of, I mean.” Josuke shrugged. “I don’t know how I’m gonna react to it. I don’t know if it will be good, or bad.”
“Well, you’re right,” Jotaro replied quietly. “It will be different, and there’s no way of knowing how you’ll react. It’s going to be hard for me, too. I’m not used to talking so much. But that’s why we’re going to try. I’m not saying everything will go well.” Josuke shifted in Jotaro’s lap to look up at him. Jotaro gave him a concerned frown. “It’s a trial and error process. Just make sure you call your stand immediately, as soon as you feel off or aren’t enjoying it. Don’t try to figure out if it’s wrong in the moment.”
“If anything happens, I’ll call Crazy D out and sock you,” Josuke agreed, leaning up to kiss that frown away. “Let’s start.”
Jotaro leaned away and smiled fondly at Josuke. Josuke was caught, but only for a moment by a flash of springy green moss trapped under ice in winter— a memory that most closely resembled Jotaro’s eyes.
“Let’s start,” agreed Jotaro firmly. “Stand up. Take off your clothes for me.”
Josuke gingerly pushed himself from the safety of Jotaro’s lap and stepped back. Swallowed. Stared down at Jotaro for a moment, who raised his eyebrows.
“You’d say that any old time,” Josuke said, toying with the hem of his sweatshirt. Testing limits. Pushing, just to see how far he could.
Jotaro’s eyes became colder. His smile faded.
“Did you not hear me, Josuke? Take off your clothes. Leave your underwear. I want to see what you brought for me today.”
Josuke. The inflection burrowed under Josuke’s skin. It was a tone that was only used by his grandfather when he was in trouble; a tone that reduced him to a little kid, shaking with indignation; a tone that made his body itch to obey a command out of learned fear of consequences. No N64. No friday night with friends.
His shirt was halfway over his head before he realized the hold that tone had over him.
He paused. Glanced at Jotaro.
Jotaro stared back at him with intent, hunger, and maybe even disdain. The expression made Josuke’s skin crawl with excitement.
He felt so, so small.
He bent to pull his pants off and away, followed shakily by his socks. He crossed his arms over his chest and gazed down at Jotaro, trying to act tough.
“Trying to hide from me?” Jotaro questioned, gesturing at Josuke’s posture.
“No,” said Josuke defiantly.
“Yes you are,” Jotaro shot back. “Don’t lie. Are you ashamed of your body?”
Hesitance wrapped a fist around Josuke’s throat. “No,” Josuke said, less prudently this time.
“You should be,” Jotaro said cruelly. The insult sent heat to Josuke’s groin and cheeks. “Wearing a G-string like some desperate high school brat. You’re making me feel old.”
Old. Right. They were 12 years apart in age. Josuke’s cheeks flushed further at the reminder. Here he was, a teen, barely old enough to drive a car, wearing a peach g-string thong that barely contained him for a man a decade older. How desperate could he be?
Nerves skittered along Josuke’s spine. His hands began to tremble as Jotaro rose from his seat and stalked around him.
Staring.
Scrutinizing.
Scowling.
Josuke swallowed. His shoulders rose protectively, but he didn’t dare cross his arms again. Jotaro came around to face him. Air gusted softly against Josuke’s bare skin, bringing the shock of chill with the comfort of sea-salt and spice— the same spice that clung to Josuke’s skin after he showered.
Jotaro captured Josuke’s hips in his broad grip. The hands that loved him, that treated him so carefully in the past pinched rudely at the fat padding his hips. Fat that was barely there, yet made Josuke squirm uncomfortably when it was touched. Fat that was normally avoided per Josuke’s request.
Josuke tried to shy away but Jotaro held fast with a low warning of, “Don’t.”
And Josuke didn’t.
“Your body isn’t suited for this. Not with these hips.” The fat was squeezed, pushed up, reminding Josuke of its frustrating propensity to remain despite all of his efforts. “You think this is a turn on?”
Josuke instinctively glanced down at Jotaro’s crotch. “I mean, you’re—”
“Josuke.”
There it was again, the disdain, the inflection. Jotaro stalked behind him. He shoved Josuke down, down onto his hands and knees. A socked foot batted his thighs apart. All of that cruel brutality went straight to Josuke’s groin, making him dizzy and weak.
The flat top of that foot pressed into the neat package trapped at Josuke’s navel. Not enough to bruise or hurt. No, this touch was definitely meant to be felt. To tease.
“I can’t believe you,” Jotaro remarked, disgusted. “Getting off on being told how fat you are. You’re so desperate, Josuke.”
Josuke’s ears buzzed like a shell had struck the earth and exploded next to him. His eyes unfocused.
Jotaro continued to rub him slowly. Lip-biting was Josuke’s only resort, he didn’t want to moan and bring more attention to how good he felt. Unfortunately his body betrayed his resilience. His hips twitched, and he was steadily becoming too swollen with need to stay still.
“You’re rubbing yourself all over me. Do you like my foot that much?” Jotaro asked. “I’m barely even touching your little cock and you’re already so hard. I bet you could cum from this. Yeah, you definitely could.”
That was right. So very right. Josuke loved Jotaro’s feet. It was a recent discovery he made after somehow talking Jotaro into mutual foot massages. He loved how strangely delicate they were when the man they supported was so threatening, how dainty the radial bones in them seemed, how even the slightest brush of fingertips made Jotaro laugh helplessly and jerk in Josuke’s grasp. He loved even more the low groan digging his thumbs into the arches elicited.
And the moan Josuke earned when he bit down on the ticklish inside—
Josuke’s throat was next to betray him, letting out a pitiful whine.
Jotaro stopped, kneeled, and placed his hands on both of Josuke’s ankles. There was intent in that. Jotaro was the only other person who knew about Josuke’s guiltiest pleasure, who knew touching Josuke’s feet was the catalyst for a feeling that skittered up into Josuke’s ears.
Josuke sucked in a futile steadying breath. And his cock— his cock throbbed, greedily and embarrassingly.
“What are you thinking about, Josuke?” Jotaro wondered. His derisive tone made Josuke shiver. “You’ve been quiet. Normally I can’t get you to shut up.”
Josuke didn’t respond, too drunk on anticipation to admit what he was thinking about. It was embarrassing to feel so strongly about touching, licking and biting feet.
“Come on. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“Please don’t talk about— about feet,” Josuke mumbled. “Anything else, fine. But it’s— it’s super embarrassing.”
Jotaro did not share that reservation. “Oh, so I can talk about this little hole—“ the underwear slid aside. Jotaro’s thumb brushed over Josuke’s hole, making Josuke startle. “And that excited little cock of yours, but feet are off limits?”
Jotaro slid his other hand down Josuke’s ankle, his heel, and dragged his fingertips over the ticklish bridge of Josuke’s foot to his toes.
If white were a feeling instead of a color, blinding and hot, it would be in Josuke’s ears, in the palms of his hands, in the soles of his feet. His body heaved with the touch, making him ache to bury himself in something, to cum.
“Stop,” Josuke cried, despite absolutely not wanting Jotaro to stop, but so embarassed he wasn't sure what to do. “Don’t— don’t. It’s bad. It’s really— really bad, Jotaro, please—”
The touch ran back up his arch. Jotaro’s thumbs pressed against him in two different places, dragging, circling, both places just as dirty. This time Josuke couldn’t help the moan, or the jerk of hips. His want was too powerful.
“Bucking your hips like that,” Jotaro observed. “And yet you say you don’t want to be touched. Are you lying to me, Josuke?”
Josuke whined miserably. He was lying. And Jotaro knew it.
“You really are a child,” Jotaro told him. “A needy, whiny child.”
Josuke shook his head, pulling away, so embarassed he was nearly drunk off of his own shame.
“Don’t try to run away,” growled Jotaro, gripping both of Josuke’s ankles in a flash. Josuke stopped moving, hands extended awkwardly in front of him, breathing ragged. “Turn around and face me.”
Josuke froze. His cock jerked and he squeezed his eyes shut.
“Face. Me.”
Unwilling to disobey, Josuke turned on all fours, looking up. Jotaro glared hungrily back at him. Unable to withstand the weight of that expression, Josuke ducked his head again.
“No. Look at me. Sit up.”
His eyes met Jotaro’s, cool and fiercely uncaring. Rough hands forced Josuke’s back to arch, exposing his chest, his hard nipples. His groin extended awkwardly, making the muscles strain to contract. Every twitch was painstakingly obvious through damp peach fabric and felt to a great degree.
“This is your favorite part of your body, right?” Jotaro asked, pinching Josuke’s nipples. Josuke whined behind closed lips. He nodded.
“Lets talk about your cute little nipples, then. Hold them for me. Be lewd, Josuke. That’s all you’re good for, anyway.”
Was that really all he was good for? Sex. Pleasure. Josuke pinched his own nipples with a shiver and stayed like that, awkwardly holding his elbows out to his sides, cock giving a twitch that tugged at Josuke’s hole.
“They’re so sensitive. Aren’t they fun to show off?” Jotaro asked, staring, not touching.
Barely able to stand it, Josuke nodded, tongue thick and useless in his mouth. Jotaro leaned forward, brushing his fingertips along Josuke’s straining cock. Josuke’s eyes rolled back and closed tightly. His hips chased the teasing touch. He was completely drunk on overpowering salt and spice.
“And your cock,” Jotaro said. “It’s small enough to fit in your underwear. I’m impressed.”
Small. Jotaro said he was small. That couldn’t be true, could it? Josuke shook his head, but Jotaro’s big hand cupping the tip and middle of Josuke’s groin made him choke out a distressed moan. He wasn’t small but Jotaro made him feel that way. Yet Jotaro still wanted to touch him, and that thought sent sparks down to his toes.
“What’s wrong? Can’t talk?” Jotaro wondered, changing his grip to tease and arouse. Josuke sighed out of his nose. He wanted very badly to twist his fingers, because pinching them while Jotaro was only rubbing him with two fingers wasn’t going to make him cum. He was so close, but it wasn't enough.
“Oh— wait, I get it,” Jotaro said darkly. “If I recall, being gagged is a fantasy of yours. Are you playing pretend, Josuke?”
What? Josuke couldn’t nod, too stunned by the realization that Jotaro remembered how embarrassed Josuke was by his own fantasies. Not only had he remembered, but for him to bring it up now meant—
“Shake your head yes or no. We don’t have all goddamn night.”
Josuke shook his head yes.
Jotaro laughed derisively. “I’ll humor you, if only because I like making this cute little cock hard for me.”
Oh, demeaning. Josuke throbbed under Jotaro’s fingers and whimpered. That tone, it made him feel so stupid, so small, so tingly, so white-hot from the inside out.
“You told me a few nights ago that you have a really interesting fantasy,” Jotaro murmured, leaning close to Josuke so that he could feel Jotaro talk, the buzz in his chest. Salty spice tickled the insides of Josuke’s nose. “About me, Josuke. Isn't that right? You wake up in my bed, in this room, right here. We aren't dating, though. No. But you're still blindfolded, gag in your mouth, wrists and ankles tied together. Crazy Diamond isn't answering your call. ”
Not daring to open his mouth, Josuke pushed himself into Jotaro’s warmth.
“You don't even realize I'm in the room until I start to touch you. At first it's innocent. Just the backs of your knees, the crook of your neck, your ribs. By the time you realize I want your cock, it's already too late.”
Josuke whined and shivered, nodding his head feverishly, eyes shut so tight it nearly hurt.
“You can’t speak. You can only moan, or whimper. But it feels so good— and it could feel better, if only you could speak. If you could make my hand move just a little higher— and then it does—“
Jotaro moved his fingers up to tease just beneath the crown and Josuke screamed behind his closed lips.
“But do you deserve that kind of pleasure from me, Josuke?” Jotaro said, pulling his hand away. Josuke’s eyes shot open. He looked at Jotaro with desperation, with pain in his eyes, and he gasped for breath. Jotaro gave him a disdainful once-over.
Overwhelmed tears began to cloud Josuke’s vision.
“I know. It’s so unfair.” Jotaro sighed. “A pervert like you can’t be picky, can he? That’s not how it works.”
That derisive, pitying tone. It went straight to the ends of Josuke’s toes, fizzled out in his brain. He felt like he might pass out. His cock strained and jerked, denied and stiff.
A warm, broad hand cupped Josuke’s cheek. “How are you feeling?”
All Josuke could do was moan. His tongue wouldn’t work.
“You’re not an animal,” Jotaro scolded him. “Talk.”
“Good,” Josuke croaked, the word like saltwater taffy in his mouth. “So— sorry, ‘m sorry.”
“Sorry?” Jotaro asked coldly, thumbing over Josuke’s open lower lip. “You better be. Getting all excited over something so pathetic.”
Josuke’s tears became choking. “S—sorry,” Josuke whimpered. “My— my cock hurts.” He moaned. “It hurts so— so bad.”
“Poor, desperate, sex-drunk little Josuke,” Jotaro said condescendingly. “Can’t take a minute without your cock buried in something? Is that it?”
Josuke nodded fervently. He needed— he needed something only Jotaro could give him. Relief. Comfort. But no, Jotaro wasn’t giving him what he needed. Desperation made his fingers itch to rub his nipples.
“Can— Can I play with myself?” Josuke asked, blinking his teary eyes up at Jotaro.
For a moment, Jotaro’s facade cracked. His eyes softened, his lips parted. His thumb, wet with Josuke’s spit, smoothed over Josuke’s cheekbone instead.
He nodded once. “Don’t touch your cock. That’s mine. Anything else…”
Josuke twitched his stiff fingers, joints creaking, dragging a moan out of his chest at those first sparks of pleasure.
“My knees are killing me.” Jotaro stood. Was he leaving? No, he couldn’t leave. Could he? “Wait to follow until I tell you to move.”
Josuke whined, nodding frantically. “Okay. Okay, okay.” Was he being punished? Did he do something wrong? He couldn’t tell. All of his thoughts were like drops of water in a whirlpool, there wasn’t a handhold anywhere. Josuke’s throat felt tight. His cheeks were burning hot. Even his chest felt too warm.
Finally Jotaro’s voice broke the circling thoughts. “Come here.”
To the bed. Comfort. Soft blankets. Josuke clumsily stood, but froze at a click of the tongue.
“Did I say you could walk, Josuke?”
“No,” Josuke admitted hoarsely.
“Crawl,” Jotaro ordered.
And Josuke crawled. He crawled across the floor, aching from neglect, rubbed pink and raw, eyes blurry. He crawled onto the bed and curled up with his head in a warm lap, shaking. So turned-on he was mad with it.
“Josuke,” Jotaro murmured. He stroked through Josuke’s hair, tugging the locks occasionally as though Josuke were no more than a soft pillow. “You’re so overwhelmed from so little.”
Josuke nuzzled into the crotch beneath his cheek, ashamed, desperately needing to be touched. Maybe using his mouth would—
The hand in Josuke’s hair tightened, snapping that notion in half. It jerked Josuke’s head up. The pulling sensation was so painful— was he being bad? Why did it have to hurt? Why did it still feel so good? Josuke blinked rapidly, unable to make sense of anything.
Jotaro smiled faintly, letting go of the hair, earning a gasp. “Lie down on my legs. Bend your knees so your feet are in the air.”
Josuke laid down, happy to follow orders, but he was still confused. “Is—am I,” he swallowed thickly. “Was I b— bad?”
“For what?” Jotaro murmured. “You were embarrassed, so you sought me out to comfort you. This is a reward, Josuke. For being good.”
Josuke puzzled over what Jotaro could be leading them into before hands closed around his heel and a warm, wet tongue lapped up the ticklish inside. Excitement washed white-hot through Josuke’s chest. Finally. This was what he wanted.
“I’m the only one that will do this for you,” Jotaro whispered against his skin. “The only one. Don’t try going to anyone else.”
“I— I won’t,” Josuke moaned breathlessly. Teeth bit into the ball of his foot, the arch, making Josuke’s head spin. Jotaro deserved so much better— someone that wasn’t inexperienced, that was fit and pretty and didn’t request messed-up sexual favors. But clearly Jotaro didn’t want that. The same attention was given to the other foot, and the wet one was occupied with teasing strokes of fingertips, pressed of the thumb to the inner arch.
Jotaro didn’t seem to want anyone other than Josuke— wholly, completely, and in any way he could have him.
“Jotaro,” Josuke moaned hoarsely. “It— s’good—”
“I know,” Jotaro rumbled out the words against ticklish flesh. “You’re a sick pervert, Josuke.” Josuke shivered, the condescension digging into his core and pulling. Jotaro took two of Josuke’s toes into his mouth, making Josuke jolt. His tongue, it was— it was rubbing against him, slick and ticklish—
“Cumming,” Josuke gasped urgently. “Gonna— I’m cum— cumming.”
Jotaro immediately released him from his warm mouth, making Josuke let out a sob for the loss.
“Not yet,” Jotaro murmured. “Stay where you are, and get on your knees. Chest down, ass up. Come on.”
Yes. Josuke did as he was told, clumsy with excitement. Jotaro was finally going to fuck him. Clearly, there was no other explanation for that order.
Jotaro squeezed the hips in front of him and clicked his tongue in displeasure. He pulled the G-string down, down further, down to stretch between soft thighs, letting Josuke’s cock drop free. It settled into heavy twitches.
“Such a cute little cock, Josuke,” Jotaro remarked, taking it in hand to test its weight before letting it go again. Josuke gasped, bucked his hips. “And you’re wet all over. Did you stretch yourself out when you were in the shower? Were you getting your hole ready for me?”
Yes, yes he was. That was exactly what he’d done. Josuke desperately just wanted to rut against Jotaro’s pants, begging to be filled up, but doing so would invite punishment. Instead he just nodded frantically. His nose was starting to run from the tears. Sniffing made his head hurt but it was better than snotting everywhere.
“You need to learn how to be patient,” Jotaro said decisively. “I’m not going to fuck you tonight.”
“What?” Josuke was utterly shocked. Jotaro wasn’t going to? But—
“I said, I’m not going to fuck you.” Jotaro began circling Josuke’s hole with his fingertips. Two. Two fingertips. He frustratingly wasn’t touching Josuke anywhere else. “Instead, you’ll learn patience. Do you recognize this position?”
Josuke shook his head, at a loss, still reeling from rejection.
“It’s from another one of your fantasies. Maybe I have to remind you what this one’s about.”
Josuke’s brow furrowed. His brain chugged into motion, hissed, shuddered, and broke down with a near audible clanking.
“In this one,” Jotaro began. His other hand began to stroke Josuke’s back soothingly. “You’re bent over like this. Waiting for me to— how did you put it. Bury myself inside of you? Those were your words. You were trying to be so delicate about saying you wanted me to fuck you raw, Josuke. It was cute.”
Eyes closed, Josuke began to remember. He’s bent over someone's lap, ass in the air, hole exposed, cock dangling, damp and cold and too hot all at once. He knows it's Jotaro, knows those hands, warm and scarred. Josuke starts to wonder— what’s Jotaro thinking? And then he starts to hope when Jotaro gently brushes over his hole: Will he fuck me? Make me scream for him?
“I touch you, just like this. Not with the intention of stretching you open for me. No. Are you starting to remember now?”
Two fingers rim him, make him feel good, before they plunge inside. They don ’t thrust. They rub, soft at first, then harder, until Josuke’s whining, until his cock is swollen, dripping.
Josuke is made to receive, despite his pleading, despite his begging. Receiving and receiving and receiving, but never cumming. Not until he's nearly drained dry, leaking and panting in Jotaro's lap.
Jotaro was going to milk him.
He whimpered when he realized. His hole clenched up and fluttered beneath Jotaro’s fingertips. A cool thread of precum dripped from him. The weight of Jotaro’s stare was a suffocating wool blanket.
“Yeah, you remember,” Jotaro said. He plunged in, two fingers at once to the last knuckle, and immediately stilled as a sharp cry of ecstasy shuddered through the body in his lap. “I’m going to rub your stiff little cock from the inside. Make you drip it all out. Slowly.”
Jotaro crooked his fingers before moving, oscillating, and Josuke cried. He cried, and cried, wetting crisp white pants with more than just tears.
“That’s it. I bet that feels good. You’re dripping so much.” Josuke nuzzled Jotaro’s pants and moved his hips to make the rubbing more intense, entirely unable to hear the words spoken to him. “Quit— quit bucking your hips. Don't be greedy. You know I’m not going to touch your cock.”
His cock was heavy, he felt like he was swollen, balled up and pressurized, too hot, aching. The only relief was the pressure in his gut, the slow, steady churn of being made to release everything without climax.
“Please,” Josuke moaned, high and reedy. “Please. Please. Please. Let— let me cum.”
“Hold on for me. Just a little longer, Josuke.” Jotaro reached forward and played with one of Josuke’s tight nipples, earning a surprised, pleasantly tormented yelp. “You’re getting my pants dirty. Never thought I’d tolerate this from a brat like you.”
Josuke’s core tightened, he was sure Jotaro could feel it, the pulsing, aching need inside.
Jotaro laughed breathlessly. “Maybe my pants aren’t dirty enough.”
A fist wrapped around Josuke’s cock, shocking a harsh gasp from him.
“You can cum,” Jotaro murmured, pumping his fist. “It’s all right. Cum, Josuke.”
Josuke’s back tensed, his spine curled, arching to near breaking. His teeth grit and all at once, he drew up into a tight, throbbing ball. Jotaro’s hand caught on the crown of Josuke’s cock. Finally Josuke snapped. Snap— snap, snap— like a forest of twigs breaking within milliseconds in one loud echoing bang of movement.
Josuke cried out hoarsely. How many times, or for how long, he wasn’t sure. His own gasping moans brought him out of the trees.
Jotaro’s fist squeezed and released. His fingers kept pumping into Josuke, rubbing him just right with every throb. Soothing. Milking every last drop out of him.
Josuke felt— well, he felt dead. Brainless. Full-zombie. All he could do was exhale. Each exhale dragged his voice, colored with fading elation, out of him. He collapsed, and Jotaro let go with a surprised click of the tongue before smoothing his hands up to sweaty mid-back and down again.
Josuke wasn’t sure if he could produce any sounds other than ‘ungh’ ‘unh’ ‘muh’ and other variants of grunty-moans. Bending his knees to his chest felt so good. But his dick— oh it was swollen, all right. Raw and swollen.
Regardless Jotaro drew Josuke away from his knees and laid them out so that Josuke rested comfortably on top of him. He grabbed at the comforter and tossed it over their bodies. He curled an arm around Josuke’s waist.
“It’s over,” he said. “The scene’s over.”
Josuke moaned faintly. He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t. His tongue felt thick and too heavy. His eyes were narrowed. Everything was hazy.
“Are you all right?” Jotaro asked, bringing his hand to the slowing thump-thump thump-thump that could still be felt through a warm shoulder.
Josuke’s mouth worked. He frowned, eyes closing. “Mmhm,” he mumbled. He raised his arms slowly and hugged Jotaro.
Jotaro laughed. “Cold?”
Josuke shook his head. Opened his jaw with a slight crack.
Jotaro sighed, scratched his fingers through Josuke’s hair fondly before beginning to rub out his own hand, which was still wet from being inside—
Josuke blushed and captured that hand. He began gently massaging the hand and forearm with firm presses of his thumb, using Crazy Diamond to sort out the joints.
At first Jotaro looked down, surprised. When he felt the joints click back into order he groaned lowly in his throat. “Thanks.”
“I, um.” Josuke paused. “Do you want—?” Blushed more.
Jotaro furrowed his brow questioningly.
“Blowjob,” Josuke said pointedly.
“You don’t have to—“
“Please?” Josuke asked, looking up at Jotaro with big, hopeful eyes.
Jotaro smiled. “You seem really out of it. Let’s just rest for a minute. Until you can form a complete sentence. Like, the fox ran into the woods. Or something.”
The enunciation of the silly sentence made Josuke giggle. "Take— take off your shirt."
Jotaro arched a brow at him. "Why?"
"Too hot."
"You are?"
"Nn. You are."
Seemingly unable to argue with that, Jotaro gently helped Josuke aside and shrugged out of his shirt. Josuke reached out and traced his favorite scar (yes, he had a favorite, even though Jotaro had so many and Josuke thought all of them were remarkable because Jotaro somehow survived them). It was the long, four-inch one just to the left of Jotaro's navel, jagged and fierce. Josuke liked it because he had a matching scar there. Not as big or as gnarly, nor did it have as cool a back story. But having matching scars— that was cool, right?
Jotaro didn't seem to mind the gentle probing of his body. If anything, he welcomed it.
Josuke rested his head on a warm, broad chest. None of Josuke's own disfiguring marks had been brought up while they were 'messing around.' Scars had been one of Josuke's boundaries, because the last thing he wanted to do was think about fighting stands while having sex. And Jotaro had completely respected him.
Smiling, Josuke nuzzled Jotaro's chest, beginning to drift sleepily. Jotaro gently stroked Josuke’s back while Josuke dozed peacefully. They stayed like that for a short while.
“Hey,” Jotaro said quietly, rousing the slumbering Josuke with a little shove, who looked up blearily. “That was—“ Jotaro shook his head. A soft, fond look stole over his face. Fondness for… what? Briefly Josuke was afraid he’d drooled on himself— that look was usually only reserved for ‘cute,’ otherwise known as silly and unmanly things.
“I love you,” Jotaro said. “You know that, right?”
“Oh,” Josuke said, relieved.
“What?” Jotaro’s tone sounded defensive.
Head shaking, Josuke mumbled, “I thought I drooled all over you, or something. You were making the face.”
“The face?”
“The one you make when I’ve done something gross. Usually you call it cute, but to me it’s gross.”
“Oh.” A smirk played on soft lips. “The face I make when you ask me to massage your feet at the end of a school day?”
Glaring, Josuke meekly thwapped the chest under his cheek. “That’s more of a I know your secret and I’m gonna use it against you face.”
Jotaro laughed through his nose, breathy and familiar. He was cute. Maybe Josuke was making the face, now.
“You always moan when I—“
“Shut up, shut up,” said Josuke at the same time Jotaro mused, “put them in my mouth.”
Jotaro arched his eyebrows at the pout he was getting. “Sorry,” he said. “You’re easy to tease.”
“Yeah, yeah. I love you, too,” Josuke muttered, reaching up to poke an unsuspecting nose, which twisted out of his reach to be replaced with a soft cheek and a sidelong glare. Sticking a finger in Jotaro’s cheek was just as good as booping his nose, though.
“Can I blow you now?” Josuke asked petulantly, digging his finger in hard enough to feel the edges of molars.
Jotaro gripped the offending wrist and pulled it away from him. “Now? Are you sure you’re up for it?”
“Yeah.” Josuke smiled. “I want to make you— y’know. Feel good. You’re always making me feel good. Time for a reward.”
‘Reward’ was accompanied by waggling eyebrows.
Jotaro narrowed his eyes, releasing the wrist to rub at his sore cheek. “Suppose it’s the least you could do after scarring the inside of my mouth with my own teeth.”
Josuke grinned up at him, then burrowed under the covers so that Jotaro couldn’t watch him.
“I see,” said Jotaro fondly to the lump of blankets, who was currently fiddling with a difficult pant button. “An hour of being humiliated equals being prodded in the gums and a blind blowjob. Seems unfair.”
“Life isn’t fair,” said the enmasse, making Jotaro laugh and then swallow that laugh as warm lips kissed the head of his cock.
This wasn’t so different from giving a blow job while his eyes were closed, Josuke reasoned. The taste and texture was the same, even if it was a little too stuffy beneath the covers. But whatever. Josuke wasn’t sure he could take being stared at right now. He’d put up with the humidity.
He worked his throat sore and raw, worked his tongue and cheeks until he couldn’t feel his lips. Jotaro appreciated him for it with moans and soft encouragement from the outside. It wasn’t long before the blanket was yanked away. Josuke squinted against the light. Jotaro’s brows were drawn, eyes lidded heavily, breath coming in short pants. His hips jerked and he tilted his head back. He didn’t break Josuke’s gaze— he was all sea-green eyes and sleepy good mornings and broad hands carrying a scarred, warm heart.
I love you, Josuke thought, letting his eyes flutter closed, happiness making him dizzy.
A loud, long moan left Jotaro. Josuke answered with his own moan. The muscles under his hands jumped and trembled. A mouthful of heat poured into him, running past his numb lips. He swallowed best he could but it was still a mess; just like Jotaro, who was twitching in Josuke’s mouth, shaking beneath him, clutching at the crumpled blankets with one hand, the other buried in the pillows beside him.
His eyes were lidded but still open. Reverent. Hazy and dewy with lust.
Josuke pulled off slowly. Jotaro’s long eyelashes fluttered, and the corner of his soft lips twitched. Being teased was one of his favorite things after pouring down Josuke’s throat, so Josuke took his time. He sucked the last bit of pleasure out for the fun of making such a beautiful man groan and whine behind his teeth.
Doing that was especially fun, every time.
“Stop, stop,” Jotaro gasped, pulling Josuke’s head away from him. “Christ. Fuck. You— fucking demon.”
Josuke grinned. He opened his mouth, showing his tongue, which was still wet with cum and spit. A broad, too-hot hand wrapped around Josuke’s bicep and jerked him forward, crushing the two of them together, noses, lips, and bodies crashing. Jotaro kissed hungrily, licking into Josuke's mouth like he owned it. Actually Jotaro kind-of did own it. And Josuke was fine with that.
“Ow,” Josuke moaned, drawing out the ‘w’ after Jotaro let him escape.
“Deserved it,” Jotaro managed through harsh breaths. Josuke cuddled up to Jotaro, wrapping gangly arms around his back.
“I love you,” Josuke said warmly. “So, so much. So much I could burst.”
“I love you, too.” Jotaro laid a kiss to the top of his head, a sated smile on his face. “But I’m not bursting over it. And you better not.”
Josuke snorted. “Maybe I will, just to piss you off.”
“Shame we’re not playing anymore,” Jotaro said.
They held each other, warm and cozy, before Jotaro’s planning brain kicked into high gear.
“So, we should shower,” Jotaro said, gently rousing Josuke, who had fallen into yet another doze. “But I’m all for curling up with you on the floor in there. I don’t know if your legs are going to work. Then we need water. Or maybe we need water first. Water, then shower.”
“Snacks?” Josuke asked hopefully.
“After the shower.” Jotaro tousled Josuke’s hair. “Of course you’re hungry.”
Josuke buried his face in Jotaro’s pecs, embarassed. “I mean.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” said Jotaro, rubbing Josuke’s back. “I'd be worried if you weren’t hungry. We were at it for a while.”
Josuke pulled away and yawned. “Mhm. You’re probably hungry too. Or you will be. All of that posturing and thinking. S’gotta wipe you out.”
“Maybe a little bit,” Jotaro muttered.
“But—“ Josuke leaned up and brushed noses with Jotaro. “Nap first?”
Jotaro kissed him soundly. “Whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want, huh?” Smiling against his lips, Josuke drew one finger down his sternum. “Can I have a cigarette?”
Tilting his head back, Jotaro glared and said, “What are you trying to do, enable me?”
“Maybe a little bit.”
“Christ. One cigarette. Between us.”
Star Platinum helpfully brought the cigarette carton and lighter to Jotaro— an old zippo that he’d picked up in India and kept for the past ten years. Jotaro took a cigarette from the carton. He wrapped his arm around the squirming Josuke in his lap to fit it between his lips. He flicked the lighter, a memorized gesture. Even while delirious with pain Jotaro could flick that lighter and catch the spark.
Josuke felt warm with affection. He kissed Jotaro’s chest, just to the left of his heart.
Clove-scented smoke drifted lazily towards the window. Jotaro passed the cigarette down to Josuke, but not before ashing it so stray flakes fell on his forehead.
Pouting around the butt, Josuke murmured, “Jerk.” He inhaled. Exhaled gray. “Hey.” He grinned. “We just indirectly kissed.”
Jotaro snorted out a laugh, plucking the cigarrette from Josuke’s mouth. He pulled deep, blew out smoke, and then leaned down.
“Never liked that highschool bullshit,” he said against Josuke lips.
Josuke snatched the cigarette from his hand, turned his head to take a drag, and leaned back in, laying claim to Jotaro. Jotaro surrendered easily. Sweet-scented smoke flowed between them, clinging to the insides of their bodies, heavy with the flavor tobacco and each-other.