Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/ works/9392495. Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Underage Category: M/M Fandom: ジョジョの奇妙な冒険_|_JoJo_no_Kimyou_na_Bouken_|_JoJo's_Bizarre_Adventure Relationship: Higashikata_Josuke/Kishibe_Rohan Additional Tags: Rough_Sex, Anal_Sex, Anal_Fingering, Slapping, Light_Dom/sub, Blood, Kink Negotiation, stands_but_in_a_sexy_way Series: Part 2 of don't_fight_me_now,_you_might_need_me_later Stats: Published: 2017-01-19 Words: 3117 ****** I Could Have You Up In Arms ****** by SpineAndSpite Summary “I haven’t bothered to delude myself into believing that I am a good and moral person. I’m not. I know that my power is astronomical and dangerous. I know I may very well have the most powerful stand in existence, apart from perhaps Jotaro Kujo’s.” Rohan's eyes rove slowly over Josuke, full of disdainful appreciation. “And yours. (Rohan likes to fight and Rohan likes to lose) Notes When I'm stressed I write porn and hooboy, is it a stressful time to be alive. This is a sequel of sorts to A_Ghost_When_I_Walk_In, although you'd probably be fine without reading it. The only real context you need is that Rohan likes to be slapped around in bed and Josuke feels kinda weird about it. I went ahead and threw the underage warning up there 'cause Josuke's age isn't ever mentioned, but this takes place awhile after the Kira incident so who knows. See the end of the work for more notes Rohan isn’t much of a moaner. Weird, since the dude usually can’t resist running his mouth.. But in bed--and on the couch, the floor, and that one time on his desk that he still hasn’t forgiven Josuke for initiating--he keeps it together surprisingly well. But then one summer evening Josuke plants a hand on the small of his back, holds him against the mattress, and drags a razor blade in a horizontal slice across his spine. A very shallow cut, but it’s so sharp the skin parts like he is unzipping it. Josuke’s stomach squirms. Rohan’s muscles bunch together, topography wrenched out of alignment as he releases a guttural shout into the pillow. It doesn’t sound like pain but it doesn’t sound much like pleasure either, and it scares Josuke so damn much that Crazy Diamond has the cut closed smoothly back up before the blood can even seep down past his waist. “Shit.” The tips of his fingers tingle. Rohan palms his hair out of his eyes. “Why did you stop?” “I, uh.” Josuke gnaws at his bottom lip, which is already sore from Rohan biting at it just a few minutes earlier. “I panicked, I guess?” He feels shivery and slightly sick, but his dick is totally fine with everything going on. His dick, Josuke knows, can be kind of an idiot. “You agreed,” Rohan reminds him. “I know that, okay!” Josuke drags in a breath. “Don’t try to back out.” “I’m gonna do it, just give me a second!” Rohan pouts, but he waits. Josuke puts the razor blade down on the bedspread. His palms are sweating so bad he’s liable to cut them open. He tries to settle his heartbeat. He gets why Rohan is into this--dopamine and danger and shit like that. Some people are turned on by pain. And some people get turned on by causing it. “You liked beating me up, didn’t you?” Rohan had once asked dispassionately over coffee, chin propped on his fist, a perfect jade lip print straddling the rim of his cup. His affectations remind Josuke of women from old movies who smoke cigarettes in holders and wear furs. He wonders if that means he, Josuke, isn’t actually into dudes, because Rohan wears makeup and feathers and jewelry. But then there are parts of him that are undeniably masculine--his skinny hips, the ball of his throat, the raspy stubble when he’s been in a frenzy of writing and gone days without showering. Also there’s his dick, which Josuke definitely likes so. Yeah. But his thought process is getting derailed. So okay, he had liked beating Rohan up, but that had been because he was an enemy. He deserved it. But this is a totally different situation and it is really fucking with his head. Because on the one hand, it’s Rohan, naked and stretched out on the bed, hair a messy tangle, eyeliner smudged to grey fog around his eyes, jade lipstick clinging to the corners of his mouth. And this all combines to a downright pavlovian response for Josuke at this point. As in pin to nearest surface, kiss until shuts the fuck up. But also he’s a little nauseas cause he’s about to cut him up. “It’s not like you’re going to sever my spinal cord with that tiny knife,” Rohan says. “And if you do you can just heal me before I die.” Josuke realizes that Rohan is trying to comfort him. He sucks at it. “I could, though,” Josuke finds himself saying. “I could kill you if I wanted to. I could--you know. Put you back together wrong.” Rohan rolls onto his back, rubbing at his temples. His headband is on the floor somewhere, crumpled up with the rest of their clothes. His eyes narrow to tiny slitted windows. “Is that what this is about? You’re afraid you’re going to snap and kill me?” He snorts. “Unless I talk about your awful hair I doubt I have much to worry about.” “Hey!” Josuke clenches a fist, repressing a familiar swoop of anger. “Don’t make jokes about shit like that. I’m just--gah, I don’t.” He rubs his forehead. “I don’t know how to describe it.” The thought probably hits them at the same time, but it’s Rohan who says, “Well. Isn’t it lucky that you don’t have to?” The wind shakes the shutters outside. This house may be big and fancy as fuck, but it’s old. It takes the water in the bathroom forever to get hot. “Do it,” Josuke says. Rohan does. He doesn’t ask Josuke if he’s sure or tell him to brace himself. He just flicks his fingers. The phantom shape of his stand emerges, and Josuke’s chest splits down the middle, the pages of his life unfurling like a stop- action flower. Rohan leans in close, mouth dimpling in concentration. Heaven’s Door comes along with paralysis, which is good, since it probably won’t do you any favors to move around while your insides have been transformed to paper and ink. But this is the first time Josuke’s ever had it used on him when he wasn’t in the middle of an honest-to-god crisis, and it feels...mostly like nothing. Numbness. Rohan’s eyes flick back and forth, fingers coming up to tap his chin. He is totally absorbed, the way he only is when he’s working on his manga. He snorts. “Well, well. You think I’m rude and irritating, but can’t keep your hands off me. I’m the best looking person you’ve ever seen.” His lips twitch. “I didn’t need to read you to know that.” Josuke flushes. “Just read the relevant stuff, god.” Rohan runs his fingers down the page. That Josuke feels as a rippling prickle, like when you’ve been sitting curled up for too long on one foot. Rohan makes a strangled sound of mingled outrage and amusement. “Creepy-hot? That’s what you called me? To...you told Okuyasu about us?” Josuke’s heart stutters against his ribs, which is a weird feeling when your ribs have been turned into pages and those pages are being clutched by a lunatic. “I told you not to look at anything but right now! I didn’t tell him on--.” “On purpose, yeah, I see that. Well, I suppose I can always remove his memories if it becomes an issue.” He taps the end of his pen to his mouth. Is it a part of his stand, or did he have one in bed with them? Rohan turns another page. “Interesting.” Josuke feels a tingly trepidation not dissimilar to watching a teacher hand back an exam he knows he bombed. Rohan closes him back up. That almost hurts, but not quite. “What the heck are you doing? Aren’t you gonna write it in?” Maybe Josuke had killed the mood enough that he doesn’t want to do it anymore. And he’s glad about that, okay. Not a little disappointed and a lot horny. Rohan subsides back into the clutch of his pillowy bed. “No reason to. You really want to do it. You’re just worried about what that means.” He settles back down against the pillows. “Is this going to be an existential crisis? Are you coming to grips with your place in the universe and the implications of your power?” There’s a sneer in his voice, because when isn’t there. Josuke feels a flash of heat, and he’s suddenly so pissed. Why is he here, why is he fucking this utter asshole? “Because I went through the same thing when I discovered Heaven’s Door.” “What same thing?” “A moral dilemma.” “What?! You were murdering people for their stories!” Rohan’s face creases in disgust. “I didn’t murder anyone. I never hurt anyone with it, just read their stories.” “Until Koichi.” “Until Koichi.” Rohan shifts on the bed, draws a leg up. Straightens it back out. “I got a bit overexcited with him.” “Yeah, no fucking kidding.” Now that they aren’t moving anymore, the sweat on Josuke’s back is beginning to cool. He tugs the blankets a little closer. Mood: basically ruined. “When I first discovered my stand, I had to ask myself what was more important: my manga, or the personal autonomy of others.” “Yeah, and we all know what you decided.” “I never said I didn’t.” Rohan’s voice has an obnoxiously reasonable edge; he’s so smug about his own terrible opinions. “I just haven’t bothered to delude myself into believing that I am a good and moral person. I’m not. I know that my power is astronomical and dangerous. I know I may very well have the most powerful stand in existence, apart from perhaps Jotaro Kujo’s.” His eyes rove slowly over Josuke, full of disdainful appreciation. “And yours.” Josuke feels a simultaneous pulse of annoyance and satisfaction. “I could probably take over this country, if I wanted to,” Rohan goes on breezily. “The world, too, while we’re on the subject.” He examines a nick in one of his long jade fingernails. Josuke rolls his eyes. “Greeeaaat. Why don’t you go do that then.” Rohan makes a liquid noise of disgust. “Sounds like a lot of trouble for a lot of nothing. Still, good to keep my options open in case I ever get bored of drawing.” “The really scary thing is that I can’t tell if you’re joking,” Josuke mutters. “You like me,” Rohan goes on. “And you hate that you like me. You’re annoyed that I was the first person you ever kissed.” His mouth twitches. “You call me your boyfriend in your head.” Josuke flushes. He wants to deny it, but there’s no point. “You’re glad I’m on your side.” His eyes move down Josuke’s body, and even from here Josuke can hear his breathing change. “You don’t so much like hurting me as you like that I like it when you hurt me.” Nearly a whisper now. “Desperation turns you on. So does destruction.” Josuke’s stomach gives a complicated jolt. “Did Heaven’s Door tell you that?” “It didn’t need to. Watching you fight, it’s obvious.” His fingers trace the suggestions of a touch over Josuke’s ribs, sending shivery twitches over his skin. “You know users manifest stands that suit their personalities. Everyone sees Crazy Diamond and they think, what a selfless stand, what an asset to our community. Josuke Higashikata. What a good boy.” Josuke finds himself unable to move. He wonders if Rohan has used Heaven’s Door without him noticing. “But I see the other side of it. The part that wants to tear the world apart.” Rohan’s smile is nasty. “You like to punish people,” “So I should punish you?” Rohan’s eyes narrow. “If you aren’t too much of a coward to try.” God, Josuke is sick of this goddamn argument, and he doesn’t know what else Rohan is planning to say. Better to just give him what he wants. He hits him across the face. Rohan splutters and reels back. His hands go to his mouth, a single slash of crimson winding down his lips to his chin. For a moment his eyes are shocked and scared, and Josuke feels a sudden hot rush of shame. Crazy Diamond can fix this-- Rohan’s eyes sharpen and the next moment Josuke is flat on his back, warm weight pressing him to the bed, slender hands at his throat. Mania lights up Rohan's eyes, pinning Josuke down so well he doesn’t move even when he's release. Rohan licks his palm and reaches behind him, wrapping a hand around Josuke’s cock. Which he then sits straight down on. “Holy shit, Rohan! What the hell--!” Rohan throws his head back and shouts, a rough guttural cry at the ceiling. Again, it doesn’t sound like pain, but he can’t be feeling good, can he? They do this pretty often but that’s not how bodies work. Rohan’s head rolls on his neck, his hair ghosts into his eyes, lips bitten until they’re bleeding, sweat beading in the hollows of his ribs. “Don’t stop.” “You’ll hurt yourself, asshole!” Rohan’s smile is totally nuts, and again Josuke asks himself what the heck he’s doing here. Rohan might be gorgeous and good at sex, but Josuke isn’t sure that’s worth it. But Rohan rolls his hips with another cracking gasp, and Josuke reevaluates. Or, his dick does, and that’s what always ends up having the final say when it comes to Rohan. But that doesn’t mean he has to play by his rules. He grabs Rohan’s hips. Rohan gasps, bares his teeth, digs sharp nails into Josuke’s chest, but none of that matters, because Josuke is bigger than him, stronger, and he has a giant pink body builder in his brain. “Crazy Diamond!” His stand drags Rohan off him, repairing the damage he’s done to himself and restraining him at the same time. Rohan is pissed as fuck, writhing and sweaty. He’s calling Josuke some surprisingly inventive names. Well, maybe it isn’t that surprising. He is a writer. Josuke’s grinning. He can’t help it. What a brat. “Calm down, jeez. We’re not doing it without anything slippery, okay? It'll chafe my dick and I can’t heal myself.” Rohan snarls, “Well?” That sounds like agreement, but when Josuke goes for the lube in the dresser, Rohan kicks out with two legs. His eyes are hot and elated. Josuke gets it, sort of. Rohan doesn’t want it to be gentle or easy. He wants to fight, and he wants to lose. And Josuke’s the only person who can give him what he wants. Josuke grabs one of his ankles, pulling his leg out. Crazy Diamond puts weight on his arms, tipping him backward so he’s forced to spread the other leg to keep his balance. Rohan’s hair is stuck to his face, his eyes furiously bright. “Let go! Let me go you piece of--.” His words crack open onto a moan as Josuke shoves two fingers in. It’s a pretty gross thing if you stop to think about it, but the feeling of Rohan stretched all warm and quivering around his fingers still gets him hot. The wild way he tosses his head and writhes in Crazy Diamond’s grip. “Relax, spaz.” Josuke presses deeper. Rohan’s cock twitches and his heel skids across the sheets. “This will make everything better.” Rohan’s expression is thunderous, but he looks so totally debauched that it’s just funny. “You make everything terrible you bastard, I hate you--ah!” “Liar.” If Rohan had bothered to read any further, he would have seen that Josuke’s very favorite thing is when he stops posturing and just lets himself feel good. Maybe it’s not very hardcore of him, but Josuke likes it when people are happy. Even shitheads like Rohan. “I’m gonna put it in now, okay?” “I hate you,” Rohan says again, but he lets Josuke hook an arm under his left knee and lift his leg. “I wish we’d never--ahh--never...never met--!” His back arches and his voice breaks as Josuke starts to fuck him. His eyes close and he finally surrenders himself to Crazy Diamond’s grip. The big stand brushes his bangs off his forehead with a tenderness that Josuke is glad no one else sees. Rohan bitches and moans like it’s his full time job, but Josuke knows for a fact that Rohan sleeps better when he isn’t alone, when there’s someone to chase the nightmares away. They don’t talk about the times Rohan wakes shivery with fear sweat, burying his face in Josuke’s neck and shaking, dry-eyed and haunted, until he is soothed back to sleep with slow fingers through his hair. Josuke knows he remembers to eat more often when there’s someone else to complain about being hungry. And he is considerably less anxious and easier to deal with when he’s had all the tension fucked out of him. “Jo-Josuke--.” Crazy Diamond releases him, fading, and Rohan twists his fingers into his own hair, eyes tearing. “Hold on--.” Josuke tries to still Rohan’s desperately bucking hips as he reconfigures himself, changing his grip to pull him forward and into his lap. The angle is better this way and he’s close enough to suck bites into Rohan’s neck. He’ll make Josuke heal the bruises before anyone sees, but they’re still fun to make. It’s always over pretty quick once Rohan stops fighting and lets Josuke focus on the tight, slick heat around his dick, the hard jolts in Rohan’s body as he slams up into him, the little flashes of pain when he bites at his mouth, kisses him in desperation to drown out his moans. Rohan comes with his back in a smooth arch, mouth open wide, and it’s gotta be the heat of the moment, but the way he shudders with aftershocks, letting out soft little cries as Josuke fucks him through it, fills him with a blurry but very real affection. Afterward, Rohan rolls onto his back and pushes his hair out of his eyes. The breeze shakes the curtains and a train whistles in the distance. It smells a little like rain. Their arms are pressed together, but other than that they aren’t touching. Rohan asks, “When do you have to--?” “Oh, uh. My mom’s on a trip for work. So. Whenever.” Rohan nods. He closes his eyes, taking a breath that seems to move his whole body. He’s sticky all up his front, cock softening against his hip, and Josuke wishes he had a goddamn camera. “What.” He doesn’t even open his eyes. Josuke stretches until his back cracks, toes stretching toward the foot of the bed. “Nothing.” He feels amazing. “Just...you look really good. Right now.” Rohan opens an eye. “I mean--you always look good.” Rohan laugh. Hell, he almost giggles. Josuke may have literally fucked his brains out. “I appreciate the flattery, but you’ve already got me in bed, so save it.” Josuke puts a tentative arm across his stomach. He’s still trying to figure this part out. Sometimes Rohan likes to be held afterward, but sometimes it seems to freak him out. Today he just makes a grumpy noise and settles back against Josuke’s chest. “I’m going to kick you out in a few minutes.” “Oh yea?” “Yeah. You aren’t staying. You drink all my coffee.” “Who’s gonna kick me out?” Josuke asks. “You and whose army?” But Rohan’s already asleep. -- "you could use my ribcage as a pillow it doesn't suit me i feel flimsy when i grin like at stretched out piece of skin you could beat the dust and lie to me i'll come clean in the end i really like the emerald round the edges of my bruises as they mend" End Notes It actually got kinda sweet there toward the end whoops. I, like Josuke, actually really do like it when everyone is happy and well- fucked. also, writing about gender from the perspective of a teenager in the nineties. orz. hit me up on tumblr at spine-and-spite. Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!