Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/ works/6414958. 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: Giorno_Giovanna/Jonathan_Joestar Character: Jonathan_Joestar, Dio_Brando, Giorno_Giovanna Additional Tags: Alternate_Universe, Incest, Somnophilia, Frottage, Blow_Jobs, Anal_Sex, Slow_Build, Shota Collections: Anonymous Stats: Published: 2016-03-31 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 6501 ****** Living in Suburbia ****** by Anonymous Summary Dio is a successful lawyer at age twenty-four; his son, Giorno, is seven years old. This is the year, 1992, he moved to Naples, Italy, only to discover his brother lived right across the street from him! The siblings had then reminisced over their 7 years apart; and despite their resplendent conversation, Dio neglects to mention Giorno. Jonathan remains blissfully unaware that he is an uncle, for quite some time; even after the occurrence of his first impromptu meeting with his nephew. It took place one day in the early evening, when he happened upon a little boy picking flowers from his front garden. Notes Things between Jonathan and Giorno don't get too heated until Giorno is 10, so yeah, huge underage warning for this fic. Please read knowing this, if you still even plan on reading at this point. I'm going to break this into two chapters, first will be, shall we say, the foreplay. Second will be the sin. *Obviously at some point Giorno started to do some... private research. Totally based a little off of this_song~. See the end of the work for more notes ***** Let the Foreplay Commence *****      The story blossoms in the year 1992, when the Joestar brothers have just moved in across the street from one another in a vibrant, lush neighborhood in Naples, Italy. George Joestar, their father, lives happily in England, alive and well along with their mothers.      Unfortunately, up until the age of twelve, Dio was forced to visit his vile stepfather, Dario Brando. At said age, the man died of a mysterious illness. Being a proud young man, Dio swore to never take his name, and would forever remain Dio Joestar. With George’s influence as his father throughout the rest of his childhood, and his mother’s soft presence, Dio grew to be a fine gentleman. He grew to be a serious young man, and soon enrolled in law school. With George as his father, much of his uncontrolled anger was quelled into determination to succeed. Jonathan, his darling, heart of gold bearing brother, was a gentleman through and through as well. He chose to dive head first into the study of archaeology.      However, before the boys headed for secondary education, much fun was to be had. At age 17, Dio had a fling with a woman, and she had a child - as a true gentleman, Dio took responsibility. To which the woman responded by fleeing in a fit of hysteria. He named his child Giorno - Giorno Joestar.      Years pass, and now at age of 24, Dio is a successful lawyer; his son is an adorable 7 years old. This is the year he moved to Naples, only to discover his brother lived right across the street! They had reminisced over their 7 years apart, as Jonathan had been busy with work and planning; despite their resplendent conversation, Dio neglects to mention Giorno. Jonathan remains blissfully unaware that he is an uncle, for quite some time; even after the occurrence of his first impromptu meeting with the child. It took place one night in the early evening, when he happened upon a little boy picking flowers in his front garden.       At first he was shocked, a little irked even, to find a child stealing his carefully grown roses. But when Danny comes bounding boisterously from the still open door, with ill-contained excitement, down the patio stairs to lick at the child’s face, he finds his anger melting rapidly. “Boy,” he starts, and is amused to see said boy jump in his kneeling position in front of a rose bush, obviously startled, his hand flying away from the dog’s perked ears he had been scratching seconds ago. “How long have you been in the sun?”      His question is met with silence, as the child only looks at him through unkempt, petal-ridden black hair with wide, ocean blue eyes. A moment passes, and Jonathan speaks once more, “I’ll be right back.”     A minute later, when he returns with a glass of iced water with a straw and finds the boy still in place as if a statue, he can’t help but feel guilty, knowing he had scared him. He offers the drink to the child with a reassuring smile, “I’m not mad. The roses are beautiful, aren’t they?” He tries, looking to the golden petals with fondness. His soft words work in calming the other, and the child nods, taking the drink and sipping at the colorful looped straw.      “I like yellow.”  Is what he finally gets in response, the kid’s voice quiet and hesitant.      “It’s a nice color. My brother’s hair is yellow, actually.” Jonathan says, looking from Danny then back to the boy, smiling softly at him. He realizes the kid is covered in grass streaks and there is dirt under his nails.      “My Papà’s hair is yellow, too.” There’s a slurping noise then, signaling the boy has finished his water. The little boy giggles then, at his ill manners. “Sorry.” He says, handing the cup back to Jonathan, who nods to the child,      “Don’t mention it. You should get back home, it’s getting late - does your Papà know you’re here in my garden?” Jonathan asks with a smile, hoping to remind the child that he was, indeed, trespassing. Though polite, he still needed to be taught a lesson. Silky black hair whips back and forth with the force of a shake to the boy’s head, a smile growing on his lips.      “Sorry for stealing your flowers.” He says softly, a few of the roses still grasped in his hand; then just like that, he runs off across the street, to Dio’s house. Jonathan huffs, thinking the boy is going to steal some of his brother’s flowers as well, but heads back inside with Danny anyway. He muses to himself, “His garden could do with a trim, anyway. Why not by the hands of a child?” *** **      The next time Jonathan sees Giorno, is, again, in the early evening a few days later. There’s a gentle knock at his door, and familiar, big blue eyes look up at him when he opens said door.      “Here!” The kid exclaims, shoving a stuffed toy up to Jonathan’s thighs. “This is for you, because I stole flowers. Papà said I should ‘pologize formly.”      “Formally?” Jonathan corrects with a grin, kneeling to delicately retrieve the gift. It’s a medium-sized lady bug plush, the colors a faded, metallic rainbow color. He recognizes them from the claw-machines at the general store. “Thank you very much, I humbly accept your apology.”      The little boy beams with a brilliant smile, wordless and picking at his oddly long fingernails nervously.      “Would you like to come inside and join me for tea? Are you thirsty?”      Instead of an actual answer, he gets a simple, “Yes please.”      And then he finds himself sitting on a pillow on the floor, the coffee table in front of his couch just a few feet away, drinking tea with the child and chatting. It is at that moment Jonathan realizes he does not know the boy’s name.      “My name is Jonathan, by the way. What should I call you?”      Giorno’s brow knits together upon hearing the man’s name. “Jona? J-Jona- Jonathan- Jonathan.” He tries, “I will call you Jona.” He pronounces it as ‘Jo- nuh.’ Jonathan can only chuckle at the unique nickname he’s been given, accepting it.      “Alright, Jona it is. But what are you named? What does your Papà call you by?”      “My Papà is always busy. I want to be a superhero, like on T.V.”      Jonathan quirks a brow, not hearing an answer to his question, before Giorno continues matter-of-factly, “People will call me Haruno. Because that’s what people see on the T.V.”      Jonathan nods thoughtfully, accepting the answer, though not believing it to be the boy’s real name. “A superhero, huh? You want to fight crime and bring justice?”      “Yes!” Giorno replies enthusiastically, jumping in his seat happily; though he knows it is rude, he can’t contain his excitement - his papà never gave him the time, or permission, to express his wishes.      A laugh escapes Jonathan then, “I like the way you think, little Haruno. There’s a lot of bad people out there who need to be proven wrong.”      Giorno nods, sipping carefully at his tea while Danny sits next to him, tail wagging and tongue lolling. ** ***      Another day, again at early evening, they are in the garden, picking weeds. Giorno helps Jonathan with a smile, and a growing affinity for both nature and the attention he receives from the older man builds within him - as again, his papà hadn’t the time or care to be with him.      When the majority of the weeds had been pulled and Giorno’s knees were sufficiently streaked with dirt, Jonathan stands and declares a job well done. (Though he will finish the rest himself, later.) Giorno returns the gloves Jonathan had given him, only for the man to shake his head, pressing the gloves back, “No, my little Haruno, these are yours now.” he says fondly, having had become increasingly aware of the child’s affectionate adoration for him.      Giorno stands, giddy with accomplishment, “Thank you!” He chimes, before launching himself at Jonathan’s legs for a hug. The man stumbles, letting out a gentle laugh as he pats the boy’s shoulder.      They’ve returned to the cooler interior of Jonathan’s home, drinking iced water through colorful looped-straws, when Jonathan offers to wash the dirt from Giorno. He explains the offer with the statement that he would feel incredibly rude to send the boy home in such a state of disarray. Giorno frowns, not seeing the point, as he had returned home in far messier conditions, but agrees anyway.      And so he toes off his shoes, pulls off his socks, and steps into the tub still clothed. He stands comfortably still as he lets Jonathan use a warm, soapy washcloth on his extremities. Though when he’s finally clean, and his feet are tickled, he falls into the tub. The water below sloshes about with his fit of laughter, splashing onto Jonathan’s face.      Giorno abruptly stops in the midst of his peals of laughter, looking to Jonathan with wide, worried eyes, “Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry.” He blubbers.      But Jonathan is laughing, grabbing a towel to wipe at his face, “No, no, that was funny.” He says, before standing and lifting Giorno out of the tub and wrapping him up tightly in a towel-burrito. He carries the bundle back to the living room, where he sits on the couch and stands Giorno in front of him. “You’re all wet now, and that’s just as bad as being filthy.” He says with a lopsided frown.      “It’s okay. He won’t be mad.” Giorno quips as he steps out of the towel in order to sit on it, being sure not to soak the carpet with his dripping shorts.      “Are you sure about that, little one?”      “Mhm!” Giorno smiles, picking absentmindedly at his nails.      “Alright, then.” Jonathan huffs with a slight grimace, the rudeness of his actions weighing on him. *** **      On another early evening, seemingly the only time Jonathan saw the boy, Giorno is almost hit by a speeding car. Had Jonathan not been checking his mail just then, he would not have been within earshot of the rumble that accompanied the fast-approaching engine.  He cringes at the mere thought of what might have happened, but luckily he was there to throw himself at the boy and tumble across the street with him in his arms. His embrace protects the boy as the car passes by with a strong gust of wind. Jonathan is rendered absolutely hysterical, tears immediately brimming and spilling from his crystal blue eyes. He sits up with Giorno still in his muscular arms,      “Where-- Where is your guardian? Your Papà? What were you thinking?”  He asks hastily, furiously checking the little boy for any scrapes or bruises, but there are none. He is only reminded of the sting of his own wounds as Giorno looks into his eyes with confusion and incredulity. When the boy remains silent, he shakes the other’s shoulders lightly, “Please, answer me, Haruno!”      Almost instantaneously, Giorno’s eyes glimmer with his own unshed tears, and he peeps quietly, almost inaudible, “But I... I want you to be my Papà.” His voice is high, tight with the fear of rejection, and hindered by sniffles. But Jonathan nods, cradling the seven year old boy in his arms, Danny barking in the background,      “As much as I can be, I will be.” Jonathan asserts, kissing the boy’s head softly. ** ***       As the weeks pass, and after spending nearly every evening together, their bond becomes stronger.      On one such evening, Jonathan buys a new tea, and, of course, shares the experience with his little friend. He lets Giorno add as much sugar as he wants - 3 cubes to be exact. He even brings out his favorite tea cups and plates, and declares a tea party.       Sitting on his usual pillow at the coffee table, Jonathan takes a sip first.      “Mm, it’s good!” He exclaims with a smile.      “It’s good?” Giorno asks, raising the plate and cup to his nose to smell when Jonathan nods. But when he goes to take the cup in his other hand, his hand gives out and he drops the porcelain. It clatters to the table, tea launching at Jonathan’s sleeve and hand.      “Ouch!” Jonathan exclaims, hastily putting his own cup and plate down to shake his hand. He looks to Giorno with concern, “Are you alright?”      Giorno nods with a pout, looking dejectedly at his spilt tea spreading across the coffee table and soaking into Jonathan’s sleeve. Jonathan laughs good-naturedly though, waving his dry hand,      “It’s alright, Haruno, really. It won’t stain at all.”      “I’m sad because I can’t have tea.” Giorno deadpans, pout returning with full force. Jonathan laughs again, more genuinely this time,      “Oh, I see. I can make you another cup, so don’t frown.” He says, swiping a thumb over the plump curl of Giorno’s cherry red lower lip.      Indeed, Giorno’s smile returns. Jonathan watches in surprise as the boy then stands and sits next to him, leaning over to start slurping the tea from the table.      “Oh, Haruno! You don’t need to do that!” He exclaims, laughing a little nervously. He sits seemingly ignored, but ceases all thought when his still wet hand is taken into small, softer hands. He jumps when he feels a silk-soft tongue wedge between his fingers, licking around until Giorno sucks his thumb into his warm mouth, his soft wet lips and tongue enveloping the digit eagerly. Jonathan flushes, yanking his hand away as though he’d been burned (again).      “I-I’ll just- wash it off, it’s fine. I’ll go fix you another cup of tea.” He stands up at once, briskly walking into the kitchen. He knows he shouldn’t be so ruffled by the action, especially when done by a child, but he most certainly is. *** **      A few days later, on a warm afternoon, he decides to visit his brother. Just to check in, and maybe even to tell him about his new little friend. He’s seated at the couch while Dio prepares tea, when lo and behold, Giorno opens the front door, a backpack in hand. He absolutely beams when he sees Jonathan, who looks at the boy as if he’s grown a third arm. Just as suddenly, Dio enters the room with tea, just in time to see Jonathan stand and Giorno fling himself at his brother’s legs, shouting an emphatic, “Jona!”      Jonathan kneels to give him a big hug, and Giorno asks to be picked up - the man obliges, standing with him in his arms, although still thoroughly confused. Did Haruno just break into his brother’s home? Was he friends with his brother as well? Was he-       “Jona?”  Dio parrots his son, looking from him to Jonathan with a look of utter confusion. “Jojo?” He asks, flabbergasted.      “Uhhh…” Jonathan mumbles unintelligibly, looking at Dio with mirrored confusion. The latter watches as Giorno plants a big, wet kiss to his brother’s cheek, and can’t help but laugh,      “Friends already, I see. And here I was, planning to introduce you.” He says with a grin.      Jonathan hugs Giorno tight then, things finally clicking into place. “He’s your son?! Why didn’t you tell me! He’s 7! Don’t tell me you didn’t ‘have the time’ in 7 years!” He sputters.      “Well, you were busy. I thought it could wait.” Dio huffs, indignant.      “For seven years? Okay.” Jonathan relents, miffed and slightly hurt that he wasn’t told sooner. Dio looks to Giorno then,      “Giorno, come sit down, let your Uncle Jonathan have a seat.”      “Giorno?”  Jonathan repeats, setting the boy down and watching him sit on the couch. “That’s his name?” He asks incredulously.      Dio takes a seat too, his brow furrowing, “What, don’t tell me you never got his name..?”      “Well, I did, sort of - I’ve been calling him Haruno, as he’s asked.” Jonathan sits too.      “Wha-..” Dio’s frown deepens, before he relaxes into an uninterested expression, “Whatever, I don’t even really care. Kids and their silly ideas.”      The three of them end up watching The Princess Bride. Dio is silent throughout his son and brother’s amused commentary, stewing in a pot of his own bitter jealousy that Giorno seemed to get along with Jonathan more than he, DIO, his father. ** ***      When Giorno’s 8th birthday rolls around, Dio is not surprised when he asks to spend the day with Jonathan - as the man had been very busy as of late. Dio agrees, albeit a bit grumpily. He asks his brother if he has April the 16th free, and Jonathan replies in the positive. And so the day is planned.      The day landed on a Thursday, and Dio happily lets the boy ditch school - he selfishly wants to make Giorno as happy as Jonathan does. When Jonathan arrives at 10am to pick him up, the boy is positively ecstatic, jumping up and down. The man leans down with a smile, “Are you wearing your swimsuit?” He asks, and Giorno nods, his black bangs clipped back out of his face with brightly colored ladybug clips, courtesy of his father.      “Let’s go, then!” He says with a cheery smile.      After eating a lovely breakfast, they depart. *** **      Giorno takes in the scenery with a litany of ‘Ooh’s’ and ‘Ahh’s,’ bewildered by the amount of trees they pass along the ride. Eventually, they head into a forest. Jonathan stops by a lake deep within the trees, Giorno is vibrating in his seat when he comes over to lift him out of the car.      They spend most of the next two hours in the water, catching frogs and tadpoles, all the while squishing their toes into the mushy ground.      After that, Jonathan carries him out of the lake, and lowers him onto a towel, stooping to tickle him. He revels in the tinkling sounds of his nephew’s hysterical laughter before wrapping him snugly in the towel he lies on. “Are you hungry?” He asks, and Giorno nods, shivering in the towel. Another shiver, this time of excitement, passes through his tiny body when he sees Jonathan reveal a chocolate pudding pie.      “That’s my favorite!” The boy exclaims, and digs in, with surprising manners, when he is offered a plate of the pie. ** ***      They go back to playing in the water another two hours, Giorno asking Jonathan to throw him into the water, lift him, carry him, play tag with him. When the cool breeze of dusk rolls in, he asks his uncle for one more thing, a faint blush dusting his cheeks: a kiss on the lips. When he puckers his own plush lips and makes kissy noises, Jonathan smiles and agrees, finding the request innocent enough.      He kneels before the boy and holds out his hand, which Giorno takes, and pulls him close, telling him to close his eyes. The boy obliges, and without pause, Jonathan leans forward to press his lips softly to Giorno’s. It definitely lasts longer than it should have, with the younger wanting it to last as long as it possibly can. Jonathan is the one to pull away, feeling too hot and looking at Giorno with uncertainty - the latter’s cheeks are pink, and he’s smiling - showing off his canines before whispering a soft, “I love you, Uncle Jona.”      Jonathan melts into a smile as well, “I love you too, Haruno.” He is pulled into a hug then, and squeezed as tight as an eight year old can manage. He lifts the boy, leaving one arm wrapped around Giorno’s waist and moving his other to hold under the boy’s bottom. Giorno clings to him, legs around the man’s waist.      Jonathan rubs at the silky smooth skin of Giorno’s back and rocks him gently in his arms, “Now my angel, let’s get you home in time for the dinner I promised your Papà, before he throws a fit. I did promise him that.”      “M’kay.” Giorno replies with a drawl, his smile never leaving his lips as he nuzzles further into the crook Jonathan’s radiating neck. And, if Jonathan could have had the mind to notice, he would have taken note of something hard pressing into his abdomen where Giorno was pressed tight against him. *** **      By the time Giorno turns nine, an undeniable sexual tension has developed between the two. While Jonathan is too ashamed to acknowledge it, Giorno is set on embracing it and does his best to catch his Uncle’s attention whenever the opportunity arises. He visits Jonathan constantly, claiming his every free moment for himself; he greedily revels in owning Jonathan’s free time, and making the best of it.       During the precious moments when they’re alone, because Dio had made a sudden and rather unwelcome habit of visiting while Giorno was over, the boy demands to be cuddled and coddled. When he was feeling particularly lucky, he’d press kisses to Jonathan’s cheek, and if he felt like pushing it, he’d press them to his lips, cautiously making them linger. If he luck failed him, Jonathan would laugh nervously and turn away, saying dismissive things like, “You’re too sweet,” or, “Save some of your kisses for your Papà, hmm?” ** ***      When he turns ten, he has made it clear what he desires from his uncle. Whether or not those desires are reciprocated remain unclear to the young boy. ***** Let the Sin Begin ***** Chapter Summary *Let it be known that although Giorno is completely willing, this is still non-consensual stuff, because he is 10. Alright that is all, here comes the sin.      When he turns ten, he has made it clear what he desires from his uncle. Whether or not those desires are reciprocated remain unclear to the young boy.      On a lazy Saturday afternoon, when Giorno is visiting, Jonathan offers to give the boy a haircut.      “Hmm?” He smiles, playing with a lock of his straight black hair, “Alright, but not too short!” He chimes.      Jonathan is already grabbing the scissors, excited, “Really? I’ve always thought it a shame, that that unkempt hair of yours always hides your beautiful blue eyes.”      Giorno blushes, holding a towel up to catch the falling strands of hair as Jonathan snips away, “You think I’m beautiful?” He asks, voice just above a whisper.      “I mean your-- well, yes,” Jonathan allows, swallowing, “You are beautiful.”      When he’s done he leads Giorno into the bathroom, so that he can see himself in the mirror. “See, Haruno? You have lovely eyes.”      The boy smiles before looking up at Jonathan’s reflection, deep blue irises meeting crystal blue ones. “Just like yours.” He quips, pulling the other down to kiss his lips quickly. *** **      That night, he stays over. They rest together on the couch in the entertainment room, the T.V. still playing softly in the background. Giorno lays peacefully on Jonathan’s chest, the man under him is, presumably, asleep. His eyes are shut and his breathing shallow, soothing to the boy.     Unable to contain his impish curiosity, Giorno places a tentative kiss to the plump, dusky rose-colored lips of his uncle. After a second, he pulls away to watch for any sign of Jonathan waking. When there is none, he presses his lips to the other’s again, deeper this time. He thinks he sees the man’s eyes twitch, but he isn’t sure - and too simple minded to think that maybe, perhaps Jonathan might be pretending, he continues. However, Jonathan was indeed faking - sickeningly intrigued as to how far his nephew would dare to go.      He remains unmoving as Giorno goes further, straddling Jonathan’s hips and rubbing his prominent little erection against him. “Jona, I love you, Jona…” he whispers repeatedly, moaning sweetly and already panting, his hot breaths ghosting over Jonathan’s neck. The latter is excited, yet completely and utterly aghast with his steadily growing arousal. His own erection becomes a blatant issue, pressing desperately against his briefs.      He is ashamed of himself, mortified even, when he finally accepts that yes, he is attracted to his brother’s son, his nephew; and yes, he was loving every single second of the attention being lavished upon him.      He has to restrain himself from making a noise or canting his hips when they both reach orgasm, miraculously at the same time - because admittedly, they were both virgins. Giorno doesn’t notice the hot wetness spreading in both his own and Jonathan’s briefs. He doesn’t even know what an orgasm is. He thinks he just peed a bit on his uncle in a wonderful moment of a strange, yet blissful good feeling.      He turns a bright red and hops off the couch, stumbling and practically running to the bathroom. He is even more shocked to find that his piss was a translucent white, and more… viscous than what usually came out of his prick.      On the couch, Jonathan sits up, and quietly makes his way to his room to clean up and change. When he lays back down on the couch, Haruno still in the bathroom, he is left to truly accept the depth of what had just transpired - what he had done, or rather, what Haruno had just done to him.      When Giorno finally returns, he turns off the T.V. before laying back on top of Jonathan. He kisses him once more on the lips, whispers a quick goodnight, and falls soundly asleep. ** ***      In the morning, things return to normal, the two not acknowledging what had transpired the night before. Jonathan stands in the kitchen, mixing pancake batter for a quick breakfast before Dio inevitably comes to pick the boy up for Sunday School. Church, of all things. Jonathan huffs a bitter laugh at the thought - he had been sinning so greatly recently. Surely if he had offered the join, the moment he stepped onto the consecrated grounds of the holy place, he would have burst into flames.      His morbid thoughts grind to a halt however, when he hears a giggle and feet slapping against the tile floor - his only warning before Giorno attaches himself to his leg in a vise-like grip. The man laughs softly, “What do you think you’re doing, my angel, hmm? Did you brush your teeth?” He wobbles his leg a bit, and Giorno is giggling, holding tighter, legs wrapped around Jonathan’s calf while he sits on the man’s foot.      “Mhm, I did! Lift me~” he demands, smiling. At that moment, Jonathan feels it, something hard and warm pressing against his ankle. The man’s mouth goes dry as he puts the bowl and whisk down. His heart is pounding, because really, what is he supposed to do? He decides to play dumb, unaware of how much Giorno knows about the body.      “Haruno, what’s that in your pocket?” He asks, leaning back against the counter. Giorno grins,      “Silly Uncle Jona, there are no pockets in pajama pants!” Giorno laughs, smiling against Jonathan’s leg.      “Then what is it that’s pressing against my ankle?” He quips, quirking a brow and already donning a knowing smile. The reaction he’d been waiting for is immediate - the boy’s cheek turn a deep shade of red as he shakes his head lightly before realizing that his unkempt bangs are no longer there to hide his face. And so he stands, turning away from Jonathan.      “I don’t know.” He admits, not entirely a lie, brilliant blue eyes wide with roguish uncertainty.      “Let me see, Haruno.” Jonathan offers, voice gentle, coaxing.      The boy turns to meet Jonathan’s soft gaze, and he flushes more, cheeks hotter than before. “I don’t know…” he repeats, anxious.      “Let me see, please?” Jonathan tries again, quieter but with more authority in his tone. Giorno bites his pink little lips, making them glow red, and clutching at the night shirt Jonathan let him borrow the night before.      “Okay…” he surrenders, and bends down, pulling his pajamas pants and small briefs down to his ankles. His blue, long-sleeved shirt only just long enough to cover his groin, where a very prominent erection presses against the soft fabric. Jonathan’s eyes fix on it, and he nervously wets his lips before kneeling and extending a hand, cuing Giorno to come closer. He steps out of the undergarments around his feet, placing a small hand over Jonathan’s, and lets himself be pulled closer.      His uncle rubs a thumb over his soft knuckles, giving him a pleasant smile before leaning to whisper hotly into his ear, “Lift your shirt up for me, Haruno.”      Giorno is obedient, and he does as he’s asked, using his free hand to tentatively lift his shirt, revealing his hard little cock. He’s breathing faster, he realizes, and he sighs, a soft, needy little noise. Jonathan’s cock twitches at the sound,      “Don’t fret, my angel. Let me take care of it for you.” He purrs.      “U-Uncle Jona,” Giorno interjects, suddenly guilty for what he did last night, “There- There’s something I--” he starts, before his uncle stops him,      “Shh, shhh…” the man coos, sitting back on his well-toned thighs, “Be still please, alright? Can you do that for me?”      Giorno swallows, nervous, and nods. He gasps when Jonathan pulls him closer, a reassuring hand on the small of his back, the other letting go of his hand and taking hold of his arousal. He squeaks when Jonathan lowers himself and takes his little prick into the warmth of his mouth. “Uncle Jona!” He mewls in a high voice, hips stuttering into the wet heat of the man’s mouth. Jonathan moans, bringing his head back and forth steadily and sucking softly. He’s already rock hard in his own briefs. When Giorno orgasms, he swallows it down gleefully. When he pulls away, licking his lips, Giorno is looking at him with lidded eyes, looking thoroughly debauched - cheeks pink and warm, and lips curved into a soft smile. The boy doesn’t know what to say, other than, “I love you, Uncle Jona.”      Jonathan pulls the boy into a hug, a hand falling to cup Giorno’s plush ass, and he says he loves him too. *** **      Months before Giorno turns eleven, uncle and nephew have spiraled into spending days in sinful embrace - it’s invariably Giorno who approaches the other, as Jonathan bears too much shame to do so himself. Though this doesn’t stop him when Giorno comes onto him, never denying the boy his desires.      One early morning, before the bus arrives to take Giorno to school, Jonathan is sitting in his favorite window-side armchair, reading, when he hears a quiet knock at his door. Of course when he opens said door, he finds Giorno smiling up at him, already having grown to be a lithe four foot nine,      “Can I come in?” The boy asks politely, “I wanted to see you before I go.”      “Of course, Haruno.” Jonathan smiles, stepping aside so the other can step in. Once the boy is safely inside, he closes the door and goes back to his chair, ignoring his book as Giorno steps in front of him. The boy takes off his backpack and coat, then his shoes and the rest of his clothing.      Jonathan sputters, “Wh-What--” He flails to close the open blinds behind him, cheeks burning.      “I want to blow you again.” Giorno purrs, falling to his knees before Jonathan’s legs and gently spreading the man’s knees. “Please, Uncle Jona?” Giorno begs, batting his thick, dark eyelashes. Jonathan turns away, eyes closed and cheeks hot, but he’s unbuckling his belt - the loud sound of his pants zipper filling the room as his cock steadily stiffens and rises.      Giorno immediately sets to noisily sucking him off, mewling and moaning over the taste of Jonathan in his mouth; he loves giving Jonathan blow jobs - even more than he loves sucking on candy. The older man bites into the knuckle of his index finger as he cries out and ejaculates, his climax intensified by the fact that Giorno is readily swallowing all he has to offer. But Giorno doesn’t stop bobbing his head, licking and kissing, all the while looking up at Jonathan with lidded eyes.     Jonathan easily becomes hard again quickly by the sight, and clutches desperately at the arms of the chair when Giorno climbs into his lap, grinding his hard little prick against Jonathan’s and making him cum again, this time with him, their seed combining on to the fabric of Jonathan’s shirt.      The man holds Giorno closer, his hands clasped over his hips; his nephew knows exactly what he wants - his kisses. He wraps his arms around Jonathan’s neck and leans in, eagerly letting him kiss and suck on his cherry red lips, opening his mouth to let him lick at his tongue. They kiss and kiss, until the sound of a bus stopping outside interrupts their reverie. Giorno quickly puts his clothes back on, kissing his uncle once more at the door before running off, his smile equally as bright as Jonathan’s.      It falls, however, when the bus takes off and he sees Dio across the street, arms crossed and a frown on his face.      “Oh, christ.” Jonathan curses to himself, as he watches Dio cross the street and come up to him. He makes sure to pull on a coat to hide the fresh stain there. Really wouldn’t want to explain that.      Jonathan smiles politely when the blond steps up to his door,      “Yes?” He asks, forgoing a proper greeting.      “I was wondering.” Dio starts,      “Hmm? What is it, brother?”      “Why does Giorno stop by in the morning so often? I’m just curious.” The blond asks, frown unwavering.      Jonathan visibly flushes at the words, and rightfully, Dio raises a brow.      “Well?” He pushes.      “Oh, well, you see-” Crystal blue eyes shift about nervously, “H-He’s actually having a hard time in school, you see, so I’ve been helping him with his homework. Summer break is fast approaching, as I’m sure you’re aware.”      “You help him with homework ...before school?” Dio asks, incredulous.      “Yes! He’s actually really embarrassed about it!” Jonathan breathes.      Finally the blond nods, relenting. “I see… thank you for quelling my curiosity. I’ll leave you to your business then.” And Dio leaves, still suspicious - even though he has no idea what could really be going on, for even the idea that his brother and ten year old son being in a sexual relationship is something that he would never even consider. He thinks more along the lines of, “Are they having fun without me?” And really, they are. ** ***      Soon enough the day arrives where the question of anal sex comes knocking. Jonathan is baffled when Giorno brings it up, and rightfully afraid he might hurt the sweet boy. So he, geniusly, suggests and allows Giorno to fuck him, giving up his anal virginity to his little angel.      It’s certainly a strange sight for the man, on his elbows and knees on his bed, looking back at the boy, who has entered him and is grinding ecstatically against him. He blushes a furious red when his nephew’s balls slap against his own, and lets out a surprised moan when his prostate is hit repeatedly.     “Again…” he pleads, fingers clutching at the silken sheets of his bed, and is rewarded with harder thrusts. They both keen blissfully, and when Giorno reaches orgasm inside him, he cums too, a broken cry escaping him as his seed shoots over his abdomen. He is appalled to know just how exceedingly aroused he is by what they’ve just done.      They lay together, mostly naked on the bed, catching their breath. A minute later and Giorno is on top of him, giving him wet kisses and rolling his tongue against his. They make out long enough for the both of them to get hard once more, and Jonathan lets Giorno fuck his mouth while he jerks himself off. After that, they fall asleep cuddling. *** **      Of course, weeks later, when Jonathan is comfortable entering Giorno, they get caught. And by whom if not the one and only Dio Joestar - the boy’s father.      The two of them are on the couch just a few feet from the door, the blinds closed and the curtains drawn as they writhe together. Giorno is bouncing on Jonathan’s spread thighs, sitting on the large cock he’s become accustomed to, not wearing anything more than another of Jonathan’s shirts - a plaid button- up, open and showing off the delightful pink of his nipples. Jonathan is fully clothed beneath him, being the blushing prude he is, with only the hot length of his cock jutting from an open zipper and pushed aside briefs.      Dio is just outside the door, about to knock, as it’s past dusk and Giorno has things to take care of at home, when he hears his son’s muffled little pleas of, “More, ohh, yes Jona!” And Jonathan’s breathy, quieter moans of, “Yes, yes, Haruno-”      Dio’s face erupts into a raged flush at the sheer lewdness of the words he is hearing, and he hastily throws open the, surprisingly unlocked, door. He is utterly, completely flabbergasted by the scene before him, the noises having done nothing to prepare him - his own brother was fucking his son, a mere child! And they’re still at it, unaware of Dio’s swift, soundless entrance. He watches with an unblinking gaze, eyes as large as dish plates, as Jonathan’s cock slides in and out of Giorno. He’s pulled out of his incredulous daze when they both moan, reaching climax together before their lips meet in a heated kiss - Dio sputters then, bellowing;      “What in the BLUE HELL?!”      Jonathan all but screams, jumping a foot in his spot and pulling a blanket over Giorno’s shoulders and their lower halves. “D-D-D-Dio!” Jonathan rasps, stuttering in surprise.      In his lap, Giorno shrinks, because he knows that tone of voice very well, as that is the tone Dio uses when he is in very big trouble. He looks back at his father with glimmering, tear filled eyes, silent as he knows he should be.      Fortunately, Dio has a soft side for his family, and he visibly cools, calmly entering his brother’s home and closing the door behind him. “Jonathan. We need to talk.” He says, his voice clipped.      The other nods, lifting the boy off his lap and fixing himself under the blanket before standing, face an perpetuate shade of pink. He follows Dio to his room while Giorno is left on the couch, wondering what he had done wrong.      In his room, Jonathan is sweating like a sinner in church, practically shivering with how immoral he knows his actions to have been. His brother is staring him down, with arms crossed, and a deep frown etched into his features. “How long?” The blond demands.      “Near his birthday… I think.” Jonathan’s voice is quiet, unable to rise above a whisper.      “You think?  How do you not know how long you’ve been fucking my son?!” Dio’s voice climbs in volume, rage returning in full force.      “I-I don’t know! I- I-- oh, heavens..-” Jonathan passes out, and Dio is quick to catch him, not too surprised. When Jonathan comes to, he is in his bed, and Dio is still glaring at him with ever crossed arms.      “I’m taking Giorno home. Expect me in an hour or two.” He spits.      Jonathan nods, nauseated. It was going to be a long night... End Notes P.S. Shoutout to my proof-reader for helping me out! Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!