Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11257722.
  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:
      Kakyoin_Noriaki/Kujo_Jotaro
  Character:
      Kakyoin_Noriaki, Kujo_Jotaro
  Additional Tags:
      Inline_with_canon, No_Plot/Plotless, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot,
      First_Time, First_Kiss, Grinding, Making_Out, Anal_Fingering, Anal_Sex,
      Developing_Relationship, Awkward_First_Times, Hand_Jobs, Quiet_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-07-09 Words: 8872
****** Starstruck ******
by tastewithouttalent
Summary
     "Jotaro isn’t surprised when the door comes open, and when he turns
     his head to look he knows who he’ll see before his eyes have made
     sense of the shape backlit by the moonlight behind him." Jotaro can't
     sleep the night after meeting Kakyoin, and he gets an expected
     visitor.
Jotaro is awake when the door to his room opens.
He’s been lying still for almost an hour. He ducked out of dinner early, while
his grandfather and mother were still laughing bright delight at some of the
more entertaining stories Joseph’s friend Avdol had to offer; Jotaro thinks no
one would have noticed him leaving, if Holly hadn’t paused in what she was
saying to wish him a good night. Joseph had suggested he stay, that they catch
up on all the years that have made strangers of them; but Holly had leaned in
to distract him, and Jotaro is more grateful for that than he’ll ever admit
aloud. Thanks to her he stepped out uninterrupted, ducking through the doorway
and escaping to the moonlight span of the pathways that lead from one room to
the next so he could pad his way to his own room on near-silent feet.
He had hesitated in front of the guest room. There was still a light on on the
other side, the glow of illumination enough to press against the thin walls of
the room and silhouette a shadowy outline of the figure inside against the shut
door; Jotaro paused for a long span of breaths where he stood, his feet still
on the smooth wood of the walkway and his gaze holding to that figure. Their
visitor is still awake, Jotaro can see that from the outline of the sitting
figure on the other side of the door; it’s minimal enough information, to be
carried on the pattern of shadow and light to Jotaro’s awareness, but it’s
nonetheless enough to prickle the whole of his spine with self-consciousness,
to hunch his shoulders with the illicit feel of the knowledge. He thinks about
going in, about reaching to slide the door open and stepping through the
entrance and into the space that his mother so casually offered to their
unexpected guest; and then he looks away, and resumes his careful tread towards
his own room with his heart beating hard in his chest on the opportunity left
untaken.
He’s still thinking about it in his own room, as he slides the door shut and
goes through the process of undressing for bed in the dark rather than
bothering with turning a light on. He doesn’t need to see what he’s doing to
work through these basic steps, and his focus is occupied with the memory of
purple eyes and brilliant hair anyway. He can feel the soft strands of red hair
against his fingertips more clearly even than the dull ache of the injury that
came with his impetuous rescue; the bruise at his chest from the impact of the
other Stand’s attack is fading out of his attention while his heart still beats
with all the painful force of anxious anticipation between his ribs. He still
has the neatly-folded handkerchief in the inside pocket of his coat; in the
dark of his room he can’t read the carefully penned letters of the threat
written onto the cloth, all he can feel is the detailed embroidery laid into
the edges of the fabric. Jotaro stands in the middle of his room for long
minutes, running his fingers over that raised pattern and staring unseeing into
the shadows of his room while his mind wanders over too many emotions to count;
and finally he sets the handkerchief carefully atop his dresser, and sets his
hat atop it, and moves towards the futon laid out for him in the middle of the
floor.
He knows he won’t be able to sleep. His mind is still whirling, his head still
full of memories and thoughts too diverse and overwhelming to even put words
to, much less collect into some kind of reasonable order, but at least he can
lie down to give his body the rest it needs, even if his mind insists on
reliving every moment of the day in ever-more-vivid detail, even if his
imagination keeps padding back down the hall on silent feet to linger outside
the glow of their guest’s door. Jotaro lies flat on his back over his futon,
and stares wide-eyed at the dark of the ceiling over him; and he waits, for
dawn maybe, or perhaps for something else, if his thrumming heart is a sign of
what is to come more than his own overactive imagination.
He’s still there when his door draws open. He didn’t hear the footsteps
approaching down the pathway; the other must walk with absolute softness, or
perhaps he just approached so slowly that the giveaway rhythm of a more
ordinary pace was lost to the soft sounds of the garden outside. But Jotaro
isn’t surprised when the door comes open -- it feels more like an event he was
waiting for without knowing it, as if the rush of adrenaline in his veins has
been holding him in readiness for exactly this -- and when he turns his head to
look he knows who he’ll see before his eyes have made sense of the shape
backlit by the moonlight behind him.
Kakyoin stands in the doorway for a long moment. Jotaro doesn’t know what he’s
waiting for; an invitation, maybe, or maybe for his eyes to adjust to the
darker interior of the room before he steps inside. It doesn’t make a
difference to Jotaro; he can feel awareness of the moment like a weight pinning
him to reality, a force enough to knock all considerations from his thoughts
but this: that this is how it should be, that this is right in a way all the
threats and fighting of the morning never achieved, just as right as he felt
when he dropped to his knees and reached out to clasp his hands at the sides of
Kakyoin’s face to save the other’s life at the risk of his own. There’s nothing
to hesitate over, no need for logical reason; Jotaro can no more speak to the
rationale behind his reaction now than he could before, can no more predict his
next action than he can prevent himself from taking it. He just lies where he
is for a long moment, staring silently up at Kakyoin standing in the doorway of
his room; and then he turns onto his side, and pushes himself to sit upright,
and Kakyoin moves to step into the room and draw the door shut behind him in
the same action.
It takes a moment for Jotaro’s eyes to adjust. The moonlight is a pale glow,
gentle to night-adjusted eyes; but it’s still enough to strip away his vision
with the return of the darkness as the door shuts. He blinks in an effort to
bring some clarity back to his surroundings, to return his awareness of the
movement around him, and in the renewed darkness he can hear the soft pad of
footsteps against the textured floor as Kakyoin draws closer to him. There’s
the rustle of fabric, the sound of soft cloth drawing over itself; and then
motion, air shifting against Jotaro’s skin as the still space of the room is
stirred by Kakyoin lifting a hand. Jotaro takes a breath, catches the
unfamiliar sweetness of someone else’s skin on his lips; and then fingertips
brush his hair, a touch slides to fit against the curls, and Jotaro sighs an
exhale so careful he can’t even hear the sound of it in the quiet of the room.
They stay like that for long seconds. Jotaro can feel his heart thrumming in
his chest, every beat hard and certain against his ribs as if to count time;
and against the side of his head Kakyoin’s fingers are tracing through his
hair, winding into the weight of it to stroke through the curls and drag gentle
across Jotaro’s scalp. His movements gain force with each passing breath, as
Jotaro remains utterly still for the careful grace of the other’s movement,
until Kakyoin’s hand is stroking through his hair from his forehead down and
around to the back of his neck, smoothing Jotaro’s hair back into clean waves
under his touch. Jotaro’s skin feels electric, like Kakyoin’s touch is stirring
heat to fill his veins with a sensitivity he’s never before known; and then
Kakyoin lifts his other hand, and touches his fingertips to Jotaro’s jawline,
and Jotaro fills his lungs and speaks.
“You don’t owe me anything,” he says, the words soft but clear as a bell in the
utter silence of his room. Kakyoin’s hand stills; Jotaro can feel the prints of
all four fingers against his skin, can feel the weight of Kakyoin’s thumb
hovering just over his cheekbone. He swallows the tension free of his throat
and blinks to bring his vision into focus on the shadowy outline of Kakyoin
kneeling in front of him. Jotaro can see the lines of the other’s face, now,
can parse out the angle of Kakyoin’s jaw and the fall of his hair from the
weight of lashes pooling shadow over his eyes. “That’s not what that was
about.”
There’s a breath of silence, a heartbeat of quiet to punctuate Jotaro’s words.
Then: “Do you want me to go?” Kakyoin asks. His voice is pitched low in
consideration of the hour and the thinness of the walls; the resonance of the
words in his throat makes them sound like velvet in Jotaro’s ears.
Jotaro’s throat closes tight; for a moment he can’t speak any kind of a
response at all, but his head shifts fractionally to the side, sketching out a
headshake he can’t quite complete before the racing speed of his heart stalls
him to immobility once again. His heart is racing in his chest until he can
hardly hear the sound of his breathing for the thud of his pulse in his ears.
“I don’t want you to think I have...expectations.”
Kakyoin makes a soft sound, a low rush of air Jotaro can feel eddy and curl
against his skin with how close they are. It’s not until the other shakes his
head that Jotaro understands it as the voiceless laugh it was, as the spill of
amusement from barely-upturned lips.
“That’s not what this is about,” Kakyoin murmurs, the words low and gentle,
like a secret; and then he slides his hand in to press to Jotaro’s cheek, and
tips his head in, and then his lips are touching Jotaro’s mouth, the contact
feather-light but as unhesitating as the fit of his hand against the other’s
skin. Jotaro stares at the outline of Kakyoin’s hair inches away from him,
feeling certain that he’s never been this close to another person, that he’s
never had someone so near he could feel their breathing against his skin.
Kakyoin’s mouth is very warm against Jotaro’s, his lips very gentle; they’re
softer than Jotaro expected lips to be, they shift and fit against the
unresisting angle of Jotaro’s like they’re settling themselves into place. Or
maybe it’s just Kakyoin, Jotaro thinks, maybe it’s only the other who has such
a breathlessly soft mouth, whose blood runs so warm Jotaro can feel the heat of
it with every beat of his heart; and then Kakyoin draws back, just by an inch,
and Jotaro blinks hard, as if the removal of that foreign friction is as
startling now as the first contact should have been.
“You can touch me too,” Kakyoin says. He’s still so close Jotaro can feel the
words shift at the other’s lips, like they’re offering contact with his own
again on the harsher consonants. When Kakyoin takes a breath Jotaro can feel
the rush of the air against his own mouth. “I don’t mind.” Kakyoin’s lashes
dip, his gaze skips up to Jotaro’s eyes; Jotaro can’t see him clearly, between
the shadows and the proximity, but he can see that motion as clearly as he can
feel the drag of Kakyoin’s thumb sliding across his cheek, as surely as he can
see the tip of the other’s head as he looks back down to Jotaro’s mouth.
“If you want to shut your eyes you can,” Kakyoin offers, the words soft but
perfectly clear from how close they are; and then he’s leaning back in, and his
mouth is pressing to Jotaro’s again, and Jotaro can feel his heart skipping
fast in his chest, can feel his breathing trying to struggle out of his control
as the heat in his veins uncurls out into a spill of adrenaline. He lifts a
hand from his side, reaching out over the tiny distance between himself and
Kakyoin; his fingers touch fabric, his palm pins the cloth of Kakyoin’s jacket
to the other’s skin. It’s just a touch, just the weight of Jotaro’s hand
closing against Kakyoin’s upper arm; but Kakyoin makes a sound against his
mouth, something low and hot that Jotaro can taste like steam on his tongue,
and Jotaro huffs a breath and he’s closing his eyes without thinking, reaching
out to press his other hand to Kakyoin in front of him as fast as he slides the
first up and over Kakyoin’s shoulder. Kakyoin’s hands in his hair slide back,
smoothing to curl and brace at the back of Jotaro’s neck, and under his fingers
Jotaro is finding the collar of Kakyoin’s coat, the soft of the other’s hair.
He hesitates over the second, his fingers barely skimming the strands before he
draws back; but Kakyoin makes that sound again, and arches forward to pin
himself against Jotaro’s chest, so Jotaro returns his hand to where it was,
curling his fingers in to gently cup against the base of the other’s skull. His
heart is still racing in his chest, beating with frantic speed like Jotaro has
never known before in all the years of life he can remember; and then Kakyoin’s
fingers tense at the back of his neck, and Kakyoin’s lips shift against his,
and warm wet presses against Jotaro’s mouth.
Jotaro jerks back. He doesn’t intend to; it’s a reflexive response, a retreat
to safer ground while he reorients himself around this newest development.
Kakyoin gasps a breath against his mouth, sounding more rough and strained than
Jotaro has yet heard him tonight; his fingers tighten for a moment, like he’s
trying to pull Jotaro back in towards him, before they ease.
“Sorry,” he says, his voice a little more ragged, a little less smooth than it
was. “I was--” and then Jotaro is leaning in, closing the gap between them in a
single rushed motion, and Kakyoin’s words cut off to a muffled groan against
Jotaro’s mouth. He came in too fast, Jotaro realizes as soon as his lips crush
against Kakyoin’s with bruising force; but Kakyoin isn’t pulling away, he’s
just shifting his angle, doing something to ease back Jotaro’s clumsy effort
into something gentler as rapidly as he tips his head and parts his lips
against Jotaro’s again. Jotaro hesitates for a moment, uncertain in his action
and unwilling to admit it; and then he follows Kakyoin’s lead, and opens his
mouth fractionally to better fit against the other’s. Kakyoin’s mouth is hot,
the part of his lips intoxicating; Jotaro touches his tongue against the give
of them, testing the boundaries of the action, and Kakyoin matches him
immediately, pressing his tongue to Jotaro’s and licking against the heat of
the other’s mouth. Jotaro huffs surprise at the sudden friction, at the wet
heat filling his mouth and pressing against his lips; but Kakyoin’s hand at his
neck is sliding sideways, Kakyoin’s arm is looping around his shoulders, and
when Jotaro lets his hand fall from the other’s collar it’s only to catch at
the dip of Kakyoin’s waist to urge him in closer than he was. Kakyoin leans in,
bracing hard against Jotaro’s shoulders without breaking away from the dizzying
heat of the kiss; and then his knee presses against Jotaro’s thigh, his leg
slides over to bracket the other’s body, and when Jotaro’s hand tightens at
Kakyoin’s hip Kakyoin shifts himself sideways, and forward, and comes to settle
his weight directly atop Jotaro’s lap.
Jotaro’s whole body goes hot. He’s already radiant with warmth, the air inside
his room feels close and heavy with the heat; but he can feel the wave of
arousal rush through him, prickling up from the depths of his stomach to surge
through the whole of his body at once. The suggestion of the position is
startling in its intimacy, overwhelming in its immediacy; Jotaro can feel the
tension of Kakyoin’s thighs against his own, can feel the flex of muscle with
every motion the other takes against him. It catches his breath in his chest,
flushes his skin to heat; and then Kakyoin breaks away from the kiss to gasp
against his mouth, and tighten his knees, and when he rocks himself forward
Jotaro can feel the force grind hard against the resistance of his arousal.
“Oh,” Jotaro gasps, and drops his hands to grab at Kakyoin’s hips, to tighten
his fingers in a desperate attempt to brace the other still; but Kakyoin makes
that low sound again, the one deep down in his chest that Jotaro was catching
against his lips, and set free it sounds so much like a moan that Jotaro can
feel his cock jerk just with the hearing. His face heats with self-
consciousness, with the certainty that Kakyoin can feel his involuntary
response to the sound in the other’s throat; but Kakyoin isn’t pulling away,
he’s tightening his arm around Jotaro’s shoulders and pressing in again to
grind himself down onto the other’s lap. Jotaro’s breath rushes out of him,
pouring hot over Kakyoin’s parted lips, and Kakyoin whimpers some incoherent
noise and moves again, falling into the grace of a rhythm as he rocks himself
over Jotaro. He must be able to feel how hard Jotaro is, the layer of blankets
and the thin of Jotaro’s underwear can’t be offering any kind of barrier; but
then Jotaro can feel Kakyoin too, can feel the hard heat of the other’s cock
pressing in against his stomach with every forward motion Kakyoin takes against
him. Kakyoin is just as hard as he is, Jotaro realizes, he can feel the proof
of the other’s arousal dragging against him with each forward movement; and his
hand at Kakyoin’s hip eases, his palm slides sideways against the line of the
other’s pants. Kakyoin is breathing hard over him, his head ducking forward so
his hair falls against Jotaro’s face; and then Jotaro’s fingers catch at the
front of Kakyoin’s pants, his palm presses hard against the resistance of the
other’s arousal, and Kakyoin makes a noise like Jotaro has never heard before.
“Fuck,” Kakyoin groans, the sound still soft in consideration of the walls but
all the more resonant for that, dragging rough in the back of his throat until
it comes out shaking with heat. Jotaro’s breath catches audibly on shock, his
heart skips on want, and Kakyoin is leaning in again to crush his mouth to
Jotaro’s with a force that carries all the desperation of desire with it, this
time. He’s still rocking forward, his legs still flexing with the effort of
moving in against Jotaro under him; and Jotaro tightens his grip on Kakyoin’s
hip, and shuts his eyes, and grinds the weight of his palm in against the heat
of Kakyoin’s cock inside his clothes. He can feel the way Kakyoin’s body flexes
in a spasm of reaction, can feel the full-body shudder of arousal that runs
through the other, and he keeps moving, urged to greater effort by the
immediacy of Kakyoin’s response. Kakyoin is kissing him, hard, his mouth wet
and warm on Jotaro’s and his tongue tasting against the roof of Jotaro’s mouth
and the give of the other’s lips, and Jotaro lets him, turns his head up and
lets Kakyoin take what he wants while he keeps rubbing against the front of the
other’s pants. Kakyoin’s cock is straining the fabric, Jotaro can feel the
tension under his fingertips; if he slides up he can map out the curve of
Kakyoin’s length under his palm, can feel along the heat of Kakyoin’s shaft and
up against the softer heat at the head. Kakyoin is whimpering into his mouth,
his fingers are fisted in Jotaro’s hair and trembling with the force of his
hold, and Jotaro keeps moving, keeps sliding his hand up and back down to trace
against Kakyoin’s length, to press clumsy sensation against the other with each
motion. He’s falling into a rhythm for his movement, feeling his way from the
catch of Kakyoin’s breathing and the tension in the other’s legs; it would be
easier without the clothing in the way, he thinks distantly, if he could curl
his fingers in against Kakyoin’s cock and jerk up with the rough elegance he
has developed over years of seeking out his own pleasure alone. He wonders if
he should pause to locate the other’s fly, wonders if it will be too forward to
start unfastening Kakyoin’s pants so he can get a better angle; and then
Kakyoin pulls back with a gasp, and says, “Do you have any lotion?” with such
abrupt intensity that Jotaro’s movements stall in the first shock of confusion.
Jotaro blinks hard, struggling to reorient himself back to the present moment
and the complexities of understanding human speech. It’s harder than it ought
to be and not at all aided by the fact that Kakyoin is still pressing close
against him, that he can feel every tremor of tension against the inside of the
other’s thigh pressing close against the heat of his cock. “What?”
“Lotion,” Kakyoin repeats. His arm around Jotaro’s neck eases, his hand slides
back to brace at the other’s shoulder; for a moment Jotaro is sure Kakyoin is
about to push up and off him, frustrated by Jotaro’s lack of understanding, but
Kakyoin just stays where he is, holding himself steady atop Jotaro’s lap and
looking down so his hair falls in a curtain around his face. “Or oil, maybe?”
“I have lotion,” Jotaro says, still not understanding what Kakyoin is getting
at. “It’s in the top dresser drawer. Or I can get oil from one of--”
“Lotion is fine,” Kakyoin says, cutting off Jotaro’s offer before he’s even
finished making it, and he’s getting up, then, pushing at Jotaro’s shoulder to
get to his feet in a single graceful action that makes Jotaro’s mouth go dry
just to see. Jotaro’s hands fall away, his grip easing as fast as Kakyoin
moves, and then Kakyoin is stepping away as easily as if he wasn’t just
grinding himself down onto Jotaro’s lap, as if Jotaro wasn’t just stroking over
the heat of his cock through his pants. Jotaro is left sitting atop his futon
empty-handed and bereft of contact as he watches Kakyoin move towards his
dresser and pull the top drawer open with as much casual unconcern as if it’s
his own. Kakyoin rummages through the contents for a moment, sliding items out
of the way until he finds the bottle of lotion back in the far corner for those
rare occasions Jotaro ever has to make use of it.
“Perfect,” Kakyoin declares, and then he’s pushing the drawer shut and coming
back to offer the bottle to Jotaro. Jotaro has no idea what he’s meant to do
with it but he takes it anyway, since Kakyoin is clearly expecting him to.
Kakyoin lets the bottle go, and lifts his hands to the front of his jacket, and
then he starts to unbutton the front of his coat without any sign of
hesitation.
“Get your fingers wet,” Kakyoin instructs Jotaro without looking up from his
clothes. He’s quick about the movement; even as Jotaro stares Kakyoin is
shrugging his jacket off his shoulders, folding it in on itself and turning to
lay it over the floor. His undershirt is pale in the minimal lighting; it makes
the shadows of his hair look darker by comparison. Jotaro can see the shift of
Kakyoin’s shoulders underneath the clinging fabric as the other sets his coat
on the floor. Kakyoin straightens and looks back over his shoulder; his gaze
meets Jotaro’s before the other has time to look away, but Kakyoin doesn’t
comment, just reaches for the hem of his shirt while he watches Jotaro’s face.
“And take your shirt off,” he suggests; and then he’s following his own advice,
stripping his shirt up and off his head to bare the expanse of his skin to the
other’s view. Jotaro stares at the motion of Kakyoin’s back, at the flex of his
arms as he pulls the shirt up and over his head; and then he looks back to the
bottle in his hands, and occupies himself with following Kakyoin’s instructions
with as much speed as the other, if somewhat less grace. His shirt he pulls off
carefully, working the collar free of his head without stretching the elastic
out of shape, and he shakes it right-side out before folding it and setting it
aside; by the time Jotaro is left in just his underwear under the cover of the
blanket still lying across his lap Kakyoin is urging his pants off his hips,
sliding the fabric down his legs and to his ankles so he can step free of it.
His briefs are dark, they cling to the curves and angles of his body like the
diffuse moonlight illuminating his shoulders; and then Kakyoin kicks his pants
aside to join his coat, and reaches for the waistband of his underwear, and
Jotaro looks away in a rush, even his curiosity not able to overcome his self-
consciousness at watching Kakyoin strip down to bare skin. He occupies himself
with the lotion instead, with working the lid of the bottle open and spilling
the liquid over his hands; it’s a harder process than it ought to be, with the
way adrenaline is shaking through his fingertips, and he’s only just closing
the lid again when the sound of footsteps against the floor indicates Kakyoin’s
return.
“Just one hand,” Kakyoin says, his voice calm and and level as if he knows
exactly what he’s doing, as if he’s done this dozens of times; Jotaro looks up
without thinking, his attention pulled unavoidably up to follow the sound of
the other’s words. Kakyoin is standing over him, his back to the door and the
light from outside glowing to a halo around him; but the shadows clinging to
his skin aren’t enough to hide the lines of his body, the breadth of his
shoulders or the length of his legs or the narrow angle of his hips leading
down to the strain of his cock flushing hard towards his stomach. Jotaro’s
breath rushes out of him at the visible proof of Kakyoin’s arousal, at the
curve of the other’s length and the weight of his balls and the soft, shadowed
curls against the base of his cock; but Kakyoin isn’t hesitating to give Jotaro
time to stare, isn’t lingering over returning to his original position. He’s
moving back in immediately, dropping to his knees at the edge of the futon and
reaching to brace himself at Jotaro’s shoulder, and when he leans in to
straddle the other’s lap Jotaro can feel his heart skip the faster in his chest
just with the simple grace of the action.
“Okay,” Kakyoin says, his voice low and warm against Jotaro’s hair as he tips
in towards the other in front of him. His fingers at Jotaro’s shoulder tighten,
his balance steadies over his knees; and then he’s reaching for the other’s
hand to close his fingers gently around Jotaro’s wrist and draw those lotion-
slick fingers in towards himself. Jotaro lets himself be urged, still lost as
to the ultimate goal of Kakyoin’s movement; and then Kakyoin pulls Jotaro down
towards the space between his thighs, and Jotaro has a sudden realization of
what the other intends.
“I need you to open me up,” Kakyoin says, his voice startlingly level for the
implication of the words. Jotaro’s gaze jumps up to the other’s face, his eyes
widening with the weight of his understanding; but Kakyoin is just looking down
at him, his expression unreadably calm even in the faint illumination from
outside. Jotaro can see the other’s lashes shift as he blinks. “Unless you want
me to do it myself.”
Jotaro has no idea how to do what Kakyoin is suggesting, has only the vaguest
idea of even what is necessary to achieve the end result that is becoming
abundantly obvious, now, even without Kakyoin ever putting words to it.
Probably he ought to let Kakyoin take over this step, or maybe suggest they try
something less involved than this particular pursuit tonight; but he’s shaking
his head, rejecting the idea of anything different as rapidly as the options
arise in his thoughts.
“No,” he says, and he tugs his wrist free of Kakyoin’s gentle hold so he can
reach out farther, can slide his hand back between the angle of the other’s
thighs. “I’ll do it.”
“Okay,” Kakyoin says, without showing any kind of surprise or desire to
protest. He lifts his free hand to Jotaro’s shoulder instead, lets his fingers
ghost against the other’s skin and trail up to the curl of dark against the
back of Jotaro’s neck. “Go slowly. Just one finger at first.”
Jotaro ducks his head in a nod, more grateful than he wants to admit for this
instruction. “Right,” he says, and then he moves fast, acting on Kakyoin’s
instructions at once. He brings his hand up to press to the heat between
Kakyoin’s legs -- his wrist skims the inside of the other’s thigh -- and then
his fingers are bumping hot skin, and over him Kakyoin hisses an inhale as
Jotaro’s lotion-slick fingers touch against him.
“There,” Kakyoin says; but Jotaro is moving already, pressing wet against the
tension of Kakyoin’s entrance. He can feel the flutter of the other’s reaction
against his fingertips, can feel the shudder of Kakyoin responding as fast as
he pushes; he doesn’t have to think about his movement at all, doesn’t have to
consciously urge his touch in closer. It’s instinctive, intuitive, a seeking
out of heat and pressure as Kakyoin’s body flexes and eases before him; and
then Jotaro is pushing in, and his finger is sinking past the other’s entrance,
and the breath is rushing out of his lungs as he feels Kakyoin open to his
touch.
“Ah,” Kakyoin breathes, “yes” but Jotaro doesn’t say anything at all, he thinks
he’s entirely forgotten how to put words to the haze of thoughts drifting
through his mind. He’s pushing into Kakyoin over him, his finger sliding deeper
with every increase of force, and Kakyoin is relaxing as rapidly, tightening
around Jotaro in reflexive tremors of tension before easing and letting the
other slide deeper. Jotaro fits the whole of his finger inside Kakyoin, pauses
for a moment to feel the tension of the other’s body around him; and then he
draws back by an inch, slow so Kakyoin has a chance to protest if he wants,
before he thrusts back up. The motion is faster this time, an easier stroke
than the first one he took; and over him Kakyoin huffs an exhale, like Jotaro’s
touch is urging the breath out of him, and ducks his head to press his forehead
against Jotaro’s. Jotaro can feel Kakyoin’s breathing against his mouth, can
feel the heat of the other’s exhales spilling hot over his lips, and he keeps
moving, sliding away before urging back up to open Kakyoin to the force of his
touch. Each stroke comes more easily, the slick of the lotion and the easing of
Kakyoin’s body making each thrust smoother than the one before it, until Jotaro
is moving with a steady rhythm to each press of his finger. His heart is
pounding in his chest, his breathing speeding as fast as Kakyoin’s with the
overwhelming awareness of the other’s body around him; and then Kakyoin takes a
breath, and says “I’m ready for another.”
Jotaro doesn’t even try to form words to his response. He just ducks his head,
offering the simple gesture of agreement as he draws his touch back and out of
the tension of Kakyoin’s body before he presses a second finger alongside the
first and touches back against the strain of the other’s entrance. Kakyoin
takes a breath, the sound catching on tension in the back of his throat, and
then he sighs himself into calm, and Jotaro presses up, and Kakyoin opens to
the strain of his touch, easing as smoothly as if he’s been doing this his
whole life. Jotaro’s heart is pounding in his chest, his fingers are sinking
deeper, and this time he keeps going without hesitating, pressing in with a
single long stroke to urge the whole of his fingers into Kakyoin. Kakyoin’s
shoulders flex, his lips part on a groan, but he doesn’t sound pained, and
Jotaro is moving without waiting for explicit encouragement. He has the rhythm
of it down, now, the slick upwards thrust and slow draw back, and even the
extra strain of two fingers doesn’t particularly change the basic form of the
action. His eyes are open but he’s not really looking at the shadowy form of
Kakyoin kneeling over him, his breathing is coming harder but he’s not thinking
about the ache of desire straining his cock so hard against his underwear; the
whole of his attention has narrowed to the slick heat against his fingers and
the tension of Kakyoin flexing and easing around his touch.
“God,” Kakyoin breathes against Jotaro’s shoulder, “Jojo” and Jotaro’s skin
goes hot, his breathing strains into a faint groan at the back of his throat at
the sound of his name on Kakyoin’s lips. He pushes up harder without thinking,
the force of his movement carried on the flare of heat that surges through him,
and at his shoulder Kakyoin whimpers, at his hips Kakyoin’s knees flex and
tighten. Jotaro can feel the reaction in Kakyoin’s body around him, can feel
the pressure of Kakyoin clenching hard around the force of his touch, and then
Kakyoin says “That’s enough” and Jotaro stops dead, his heart hammering in his
chest and his fingers still half inside Kakyoin’s body. Kakyoin’s hand at
Jotaro’s shoulder tightens, he braces himself to push upright over his knees
against Jotaro’s hips, and it’s only as he’s lifting his head to shake his hair
back from his face that Jotaro collects himself enough to think to draw his
fingers back and out of the other.
“Lie down,” Kakyoin tells him, his voice still pitched soft in consideration of
their situation but no less certain for that. Jotaro obeys immediately, tipping
backwards even before Kakyoin’s hand at his shoulder urges him to; he ends up
lying diagonally across his futon, his hips atop the soft support of it and his
head and feet both over the edge, but he doesn’t pause to reorient himself and
Kakyoin doesn’t wait for him to. He’s rocking back over his heels, his weight
pressing back almost atop Jotaro’s knees as he tugs the blanket between them
aside; Jotaro can feel the heat radiating off the inside of Kakyoin’s thighs,
can feel the sweat-warmth of the other’s skin catching and clinging to his own.
He takes a breath, feeling dizzy and out of his depth, and then Kakyoin’s
fingers are touching at his waist, and gliding down to his hips, and Jotaro’s
whole body crests up to meet the friction of the other’s fingertips.
“Just a minute,” Kakyoin murmurs, his tone soft and soothing as his fingers
slide under the elastic of Jotaro’s underwear and draw the fabric down. Jotaro
is aware, distantly, of how clearly his arousal is standing against the thin of
the cloth, of the fact that Kakyoin’s motion is drawing away the last covering
he has for the whole of his body; but he’s aching with want, now, he can taste
Kakyoin on his lips and can feel Kakyoin against his fingers and even the self-
consciousness of having his desire laid bare is trivial compared with what
they’re about to do, with the satisfaction so great Jotaro can barely imagine
it. It seems an impossibility that this will proceed as it has been, that
Kakyoin will actually move in for the result they’ve been leading towards; but
Kakyoin is pulling the other’s clothing down his thighs, and Jotaro is drawing
his knees up to free his feet from the fabric, and so far there’s been no sign
at all of Kakyoin balking. Jotaro wonders how many times Kakyoin has done this
before, to be so calmly confident in his actions; and then there’s a hand
bracing at the blankets next to his waist, and Kakyoin is coming back in to
straddle Jotaro’s hips, and all the rest of Jotaro’s idle consideration
disintegrates to the overwhelming reality of the moment.
“Hold still,” Kakyoin instructs, his voice still that soft, careful volume. His
hand comes out to touch at Jotaro’s shoulder, his fingers curl to brace himself
in place against the other underneath him; Jotaro’s chest tightens on his
breathing, his whole body tenses until he can barely catch a breath. Over him
Kakyoin is ducking his head, his hair falling to curtain his face as he rocks
up over his knees to align himself over Jotaro’s hips, and when he lifts his
other hand from the futon it’s to reach between his legs to close his fingers
around Jotaro’s cock. Jotaro’s hips flex, his legs trying to buck him up and
into the heat of the other’s grip around him, but Kakyoin doesn’t comment on
this reflexive movement, just settles his hold at the base of Jotaro’s cock as
he angles himself back and down towards the other. His body presses against
Jotaro’s, slick-warm skin drags over the flushed head of Jotaro’s length; and
then Kakyoin’s grip tightens for a moment, and Kakyoin rocks himself back, and
the heat of his body slides down and onto Jotaro’s cock. Jotaro’s breath spills
from him, the force of his exhale hissing past teeth gritted on the need for
quiet as Kakyoin takes Jotaro’s cock into himself; but over him Kakyoin is
gusting an exhale too, Jotaro can feel the heat of it ruffle his hair as
Kakyoin slides himself into place.
“Oh fuck,” Kakyoin says, his voice strained on effort in the back of his
throat. His hold against Jotaro’s cock slides away, he reaches out to clutch at
the edge of the futon instead; but he’s not pulling away, he’s still pressing
himself down to take Jotaro farther into himself. Jotaro is gasping, his
thoughts spiraling away to dizziness as Kakyoin sinks down atop his lap; but
his gaze is fixed on Kakyoin’s face over him, on the shadows of the other’s
lashes and the part of his lips as he pants for air. Jotaro’s hands come up of
their own accord, reaching to clutch fingerprints hard into the angle of
Kakyoin’s hips over him; and then Kakyoin’s weight settles onto his lap, and
they both go still for a moment with Kakyoin tight around Jotaro’s length and
Jotaro pressing deep into the heat of Kakyoin’s body.
The inhale Kakyoin takes is loud in the quiet of the room; Jotaro can feel the
vibration of it thrum through all the tension knotting his body to such strain,
can feel it purr down the length of his spine like electricity crackling itself
out into his veins. “Good,” Kakyoin says, and Jotaro doesn’t know if he’s
talking to himself or to Jotaro, and it doesn’t matter anyway because Kakyoin’s
moving, rocking himself up over his knees by an inch before sliding back down
over Jotaro’s length. Jotaro’s lips part, his breathing spills from him in a
helpless rush; his fingers at Kakyoin’s hips tighten, his nails digging in
against the give of the other’s skin. Kakyoin doesn’t protest this, maybe
doesn’t notice; he just holds himself steady at Jotaro’s shoulder, and leans in
to angle himself to a better position, and moves again, a little farther this
time, drawing up for almost a full stroke before sinking back down. Jotaro can
feel every flex of movement in Kakyoin’s body around and over him, can feel the
wet drag of skin-on-skin as he slides out of the other, as the head of his cock
pulls against Kakyoin’s inner walls, only for Kakyoin to sink back down with
another of those low groans that seem to come from the depth of his chest more
than anything more coherent. Jotaro can’t catch his breath, can’t think through
what he’s doing; but instinct is flexing his fingers, and reflex is tensing his
hips, and the next time Kakyoin draws up Jotaro bucks up to meet the other’s
downward slide, rocking up to thrust into the last inch of depth instead of
waiting for Kakyoin. He can feel the other clench around him, can hear the gust
of Kakyoin’s exhale, and “Oh,” Kakyoin groans, and he’s moving again, faster
this time, as if Jotaro’s motion has spurred him to greater force. It’s a slick
rhythm, easier now than it was, as if Kakyoin is relaxing into the strain even
more; and Jotaro stares up at him, at the forward tilt of the other’s shoulders
over him and the fall of Kakyoin’s hair curling against his jawline.
“Kakyoin,” Jotaro manages, finally, tasting the long pull of the vowels over
his tongue. “Fuck.”
“Yeah,” Kakyoin breathes, sounding as breathless as Jotaro feels; and he’s
lifting his hand from the futon under Jotaro’s shoulder to reach down for the
other’s hand instead. Jotaro thinks he needs to ease his hold, that it’s the
pressure of his grip Kakyoin is objecting to as the other’s fingers close
around his wrist, but Kakyoin pulls the other’s hold free entirely, drawing it
away from his skin while Jotaro’s fingers are going slack with confusion about
the other’s intentions. Kakyoin pulls hard to urge Jotaro’s hand down to his
hips, and it’s only as Jotaro’s fingers brush the hard heat of Kakyoin’s cock
that he realizes what the other wants. Kakyoin’s fingers curl in around his,
Kakyoin’s grip steadies Jotaro’s hand around the stiff curve of his arousal;
and then Kakyoin pulls up, urging Jotaro into a stroke up over the other’s
length.
“Like that,” Kakyoin says, almost gasping the words, and when he lets his hand
fall away Jotaro keeps moving, tightening his fingers into a better hold so he
can jerk up hard over the heat of the other’s cock. Kakyoin’s head tips back,
his throat tightening over a groan of heat, and Jotaro is the one who huffs an
exhale and moves again, stroking roughly to draw another of those sounds from
Kakyoin’s throat. Kakyoin rocks himself up again to move himself through
another thrust of Jotaro’s cock, to return them to the rhythm they briefly
paused, and Jotaro shifts to match him without thinking of it, the flex of his
hips and the pull of his arm falling into sync without any need for conscious
thought at all. He can feel Kakyoin tense around him with every drag of his
fingers over the flushed head of the other’s cock, can feel their rhythm coming
faster with every stroke he takes, with every movement of Kakyoin’s hips; in
the quiet of the room he can hear their panting breathing tangling together,
can hear the soft, wet sound of Kakyoin moving onto his cock and the quieter
slide of his fingers pulling up over Kakyoin’s own length. The air is going
hotter around them, the room seems to be filling with heat; Jotaro’s fingers
against Kakyoin’s hips are flexing so tight he’s sure he must be leaving
bruises but at his shoulder Kakyoin’s fingernails are digging into his skin and
he can barely feel the ache of it for the whole-body strain that is building in
him, aching low in his stomach and flexing against his thighs and stealing his
breathing to desperate anticipation.
“Fuck,” Jotaro says again, and “Kakyoin” like that will carry any meaning, like
he can offer anything at all other than his voice breaking over the heat
building in him like a wave, a tsunami cresting on the horizon to crash over
him whether he intends it to or not. Adrenaline is pumping through him with
every breath, winding tighter against the whole length of his spine, and he
knows he shouldn’t come yet, knows it’s too soon and he needs to last longer
and Kakyoin should finish first, but his balls are tightening and his breathing
is catching and Kakyoin is so tight around him, hot and slick and clenching
like he’s trying to test Jotaro’s patience, and--
“Oh god,” Kakyoin gasps, and his fingers seize at Jotaro’s shoulder, his mouth
falls open on the gust of his breathing. “Jotaro” and Jotaro can see pleasure
wash over Kakyoin’s face, can see it drop his mouth slack and tip his head back
and ripple through the whole of the other’s body in a single, helpless
convulsion as his cock jerks and spurts wet over Jotaro’s stomach. Jotaro gasps
an inhale, filling his lungs with the humid heat in the air as he stares up at
Kakyoin shuddering into orgasm over him; and then Kakyoin’s head drops forward,
his thighs at Jotaro’s hips tighten with the last reflexive tremor of pleasure,
and Jotaro is letting his hold on Kakyoin’s cock go as fast as the last of the
other’s orgasm spills over him, reaching out to clutch hard at Kakyoin’s hips
with complete disregard for the sticky mess smeared over his hand. Kakyoin
makes a low sound as Jotaro’s hands grip against him, something between a sigh
and a moan, and Jotaro sets his jaw and thrusts up hard, bucking his hips up
with the full force of his strength behind the motion. His cock sinks deep into
Kakyoin, his grip on the other’s hips drawing him down onto Jotaro’s length,
and Kakyoin does moan then, his legs tightening around Jotaro as he rocks up
with the force of the other’s movement. Jotaro pulls back, relaxing to the
floor for a moment before he takes another rough upward motion to drive into
the tension of Kakyoin’s body. His balls tighten, his chest flexes; and he
comes with what would be a shout, if he didn’t have his teeth clenched tight
against the sound to pull it into a hiss of effort instead. His cock pulses
with heat to fill Kakyoin over him, his legs flex and strain with sensation,
and as the first wave of pleasure rushes over and through him Jotaro lets his
head fall back, and lets his eyes shut, and lets himself pant huge lungfuls of
overheated air.
Kakyoin moves first. Jotaro can’t think clearly, can’t even imagine moving; the
most he can do is to open his eyes as Kakyoin shifts on his lap, his legs
flexing as he lifts himself up so Jotaro’s spent cock can slide out of him.
Jotaro huffs at the sensation, his body flexes with a last shudder of reaction
at the friction; but Kakyoin doesn’t pull away as Jotaro half-expected him to,
just resettles himself right back against Jotaro’s thighs so he can lean in and
against the other. Kakyoin’s chest bumps Jotaro’s, the other’s weight presses
down to pin Jotaro to the floor, and then Kakyoin’s fingers are sliding into
Jotaro’s hair, and Kakyoin’s mouth is aligning with Jotaro’s, and Jotaro’s
lashes dip down of their own accord as Kakyoin’s lips fit to his own. He opens
his mouth without any hesitation this time, offering the heat of his tongue as
fast as Kakyoin’s traces against the edge of his lips, and Kakyoin licks into
his mouth without pausing, tasting against the part of Jotaro’s lips and the
roof of his mouth and the warm wet of his tongue with languid attention.
Jotaro’s fingers flex at Kakyoin’s hips, his thumbs slide in against the dip of
the other’s pelvis, and Kakyoin makes a low sound against his tongue,
satisfaction so hot and clear that Jotaro can taste it all the way in the back
of his throat. Jotaro lets Kakyoin kiss him, feels the satisfaction of his
orgasm blending into the immediate pleasure of Kakyoin’s mouth working with
such thorough care against his own, until it’s not until Kakyoin pulls back
that Jotaro even thinks to open his eyes.
Kakyoin is still very close, so near Jotaro can see the dark of his lashes
framing the shadow of his eyes, can see the shift of the other’s mouth against
the rhythm of his breathing. He’s very beautiful from this close up, as
distractingly lovely as he was this morning when he came down the stairs to
school and stopped Jotaro’s heart at one and the same time. He’s softer, now,
with Dio’s influence stripped from the set of his jaw and the focus of his
eyes, and Jotaro feels undone all over again, dizzy with the heat in his veins
and the unbelievable reality of this beautiful almost-stranger pressing against
him with nothing but the evidence of their mutual pleasure between the heat of
their bodies.
“Thank you,” Jotaro blurts, without thinking through the words at all before he
gives them shape.
Kakyoin’s lashes dip, his mouth twitches. “What are you thanking me for?” he
asks, the words pulled taut against the smile starting at the corner of his
lips. “I enjoyed myself as much as you did.” His hand at Jotaro’s shoulder
slides down over the lines of the other’s chest and towards the flat of his
stomach. “I thought you would have noticed.”
Jotaro can feel his face go hotter at this explicit reminder of the liquid
drying sticky between his stomach and Kakyoin’s. He clears his throat in a
mostly-futile attempt to steady his voice. “That was my first time,” he
manages, keeping his voice from cracking with embarrassment only by letting it
go gruff in the back of his throat. “You helped me out.”
Kakyoin’s smile is spreading across the whole of his face, now; it makes Jotaro
feel more than a little lightheaded just by proximity. “Yes,” he says, and his
hand in Jotaro’s hair slides down to stroke through the strands. “Well, by that
logic, I ought to be thanking you too.”
It takes Jotaro a while to figure this out, partially because he’s distracted
by the shape of Kakyoin’s smile and partially because Kakyoin keeps running his
fingers through the other’s hair, and Jotaro’s thoughts keep scattering every
time Kakyoin’s nails catch and drag against his scalp. Even when he does piece
together the implication he has to think it over twice to make sure he’s
understood it correctly, and by then he can feel his forehead creasing onto
confusion at this apparent absurdity.
“What?” he says finally, fixing Kakyoin over him with a frown. “You mean you.”
“I’m a virgin, yes,” Kakyoin says; and then, with his smile breaking into a
brief flash of teeth for a moment, “or I was,” as his knees tighten against
Jotaro’s hips as if to remind him of their very recent shared history. “The
experience was well worth the loss.”
Jotaro blinks, so caught up in the impossibility of Kakyoin’s first statement
that he’s barely even flustered by the flirtatious weight of the second. “That
can’t have been your first time.”
“I assure you it was,” Kakyoin tells him. “Is it all that unbelievable?”
Jotaro shakes his head. “You sounded so--”
“Experienced?” Kakyoin suggests. He’s still smiling; he’s winding his fingers
in against the curls at the back of Jotaro’s neck, now, looping the strands
around his fingers before carefully sliding them free. “I’ve done significant
research.”
“You’ve researched sex?”
“Yes.” Kakyoin’s lashes dip, his gaze falls from his fingers winding through
Jotaro’s hair to the other’s face instead. In the dark of the room the color of
his eyes looks almost black, almost as shadowed as his dark-flushed lips. “It
was worth being prepared, wasn’t it?”
Jotaro closes his mouth and stares up at Kakyoin for a moment while he turns
this over in his mind. Kakyoin just watches him, waiting with what appears to
be endless patience, until finally Jotaro takes a breath to reply.
“What else have you studied?”
Kakyoin’s smile is brilliant, even in the dark of the room. “All kinds of
things,” he says, and leans in closer so his mouth is almost touching Jotaro’s.
“I’d love to practice them with you. We could be students together.”
Jotaro huffs an exhale and ducks his head into a jerky nod. “Yeah,” he says,
“okay” and then he’s lifting his chin as fast as Kakyoin tips his head, and
Kakyoin’s mouth is pressing against his even before he raises his hand to curl
in against the back of the other’s neck to brace him still.
Kakyoin’s smile against Jotaro’s mouth is as soft as the starlight outside.
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