Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jotaro stared at the closed bedroom door in disbelief.

What the fuck had just happened? Well, he wasn’t an idiot, and he was right there, he knew what just happened, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t… shocked seemed too strong of a word. Disappointed – he identified the feeling as disappointment. At the swift change in Noriaki’s mood, first and foremost.

He would have thought Noriaki would be… happier? He certainly seemed fucking ecstatic, literally, what with how he cried out and writhed beneath him, and perfectly content right after they screwed as well. Jotaro knew it wouldn’t last, and that both of them would feel like shit before long, but he’d hoped it’d take longer. He wanted to steal as many contented, soft moments with the smaller man as he could, preferably with him in his arms.

It wasn’t like Jotaro had been completely oblivious to the way the cherry-obsessed man looked at him sometimes; he’d gotten enough lascivious looks and invitations ever since the Joestar genes kicked in and took full effect during puberty, sometimes to the point it could only be called straight-up harassment. So, he knew the look of want that sometimes glimmered in his best friend’s lavender eyes. But Jotaro also knew it was more than that. Because unlike those other people, there was an undeniable gentleness and affection accompanying those yearning stares – feelings so tender most people who knew Noriaki wouldn’t think the snarky asshole would be capable of them, and oh, the irony of that. It was affection he couldn’t help but return ever since their first encounter. And the depth of that affection would also astonish most people who looked at him.

He'd tried to fight it for the longest time. Up until a couple of weeks ago, actually. When he was 17 and woke up with sticky messes in his boxers and a lingering whisper of the images he’d seen – of red hair and lavender eyes and pink lips wrapped around his length – he could still convince himself it was nothing. He was a horny teenage boy, after all. Maybe he was a bit too old for that to happen, but it was whatever. Noriaki was just the closest friend he’d ever had, and he was objectively very pretty, especially for a guy. He also exuded that air of elegance and quiet power in everything he did, and of course Jotaro’s subconscious would replace the traditional Japanese women he usually felt drawn to with the only real person he’s ever known to exude that same aura he was looking for. But Noriaki wasn’t a woman, maybe a bit effeminate in the way he walked and talked and cared about his appearance, but not so much that anyone would forget he was a man. He sure as hell sounded like a man, and definitely looked like a man with his broad shoulders and athletic build, albeit with a strangely narrow waist. So, it was just that. Just his stupid horny teenage brain.

Then, slowly but surely, those subconscious thoughts started to become his waking thoughts. He would lie around reading illicit magazines, or even just staring at his ceiling and letting his mind drift, and suddenly found himself stroking his hard cock while fantasizing about his best friend. In those fantasies, the slimness of his waist didn’t seem so strange anymore. Instead, it was inviting Jotaro to grab it as he plunged himself into Noriaki from behind, over and over again, harder and harder, until the redhead was screaming out his name. Sometimes, he’d picture his long, wiry legs wrapped around his own waist as he held him up against the wall and thrust into his lithe body like that, pictured Noriaki stretching out his elegant neck as he threw his head back and moaned in that deep, sultry voice of his about how good Jotaro was fucking him. And sometimes – rarely though – he even wondered what it would be like if Noriaki was on top of him and moving inside him. Wondered what the weight of the redhead’s cock would feel like in his mouth, and how it’d taste. But he could still explain that away. He was simply curious. It started happening pretty much right after Noriaki returned and then came out to him, so the fact that that was an option at all was probably what triggered it. Jotaro still hadn’t found a girl he’d wanna fantasize about at this point – they were all just so fucking annoying, they made him so uncomfortable with their cloying and especially all the grabbing; he didn’t even want to think about what they’d do if he touched any of them, considering their shrieking when he simply talked, just to insult them to boot  – so his best friend would have to do.

Jotaro wasn’t gay just because his fantasies became more elaborate. They were starting to include more gentle kissing and soft caressing than rough fucking, but that was just because he was growing up and kinda wished for more than something to alleviate his perpetual horniness. Naturally he’d wonder what their first kiss would be like, and how it would happen, because he hadn’t even had his first kiss yet and he was 19 and they were in a foreign country and all they had was each other. He didn’t have an issue when others were gay, or bi, or whatever. Jotaro didn’t even bat an eye when Noriaki told him he liked men. It was sort of cute, how nervous he was and how anticlimactic the whole thing turned out to be. So, if he was gay, he would know. And daydreaming about where he’d take Noriaki for a first date was just practice for when he finally did find a woman he liked.

He almost couldn’t believe how good he’d gotten at lying to himself.

Because on some subconscious level, he’d always known that it wasn’t just this weird, abstract attraction he deluded himself into thinking it was, the kind that was born from persistent closeness to another person who happened to be attractive enough to make you wonder. Or at least he’d started to get it when he had stared down in horror at what he thought was the redhead’s mangled corpse. He’d never felt relief like he did when he gathered him up in his arms in despair and detected a faint heartbeat. His own injuries never even registered; his main priority had been to recover him and get him treated. Even then, it was touch-and-go for a while. His heart stopped more than once. The doctors from the Speedwagon Foundation said that if Noriaki hadn’t used one of Hierophant’s tentacles to wrap around his torso as a precaution, kinda like a bulletproof vest, Dio’s fist surely would have torn all the way through him. And if he hadn’t used that same tentacle as a makeshift plug, coiled it to keep the wound closed to the best of his ability, he would have bled out within seconds. That demonstration of his skill even in the direst of plights made a weirdly strong sense of pride flood him because it was just so like Noriaki; he wasn’t just a brilliant fighter, both mentally and physically. No, he also thought of pretty much every possible outcome for dangerous situations and took preemptive countermeasures, he always had a plan, and because of that, he saved their asses countless times. Of course, of course he would outsmart Dio and figure out the secret of The World and manage to survive what should have been a fatal wound.

However, there was also a sense of resentment at how little the redhead seemed to care about himself to openly challenge Dio like that all by himself. It was strangely selfless and selfish at the same time, a description that fit Noriaki well. Jotaro couldn’t help but dread the notion that the redhead had almost left him all alone again just to prove a point. The only reason the doctors could save him at all, with minimal lasting damage to boot, was because Joseph remembered a guy from his youth who’d, apparently, literally been blown to pieces and was rebuilt by ‘German science’. Jotaro was too desperate to care what that particular phrasing probably implied, and he never found out the specifics of the procedures either – there probably was a reason they were reluctant to use those techniques – but all that mattered to him was that Noriaki lived. When he was deemed stable enough and finally awoke from his medically induced coma a few weeks later, his lavender eyes fluttered open and looked him over in obvious concern before an exhausted, but relieved smile stretched over his face, like Jotaro was the one in the hospital bed, like it was him who had escaped death by the skin of his teeth – that’s when he could and should have admitted to himself what Noriaki Kakyoin truly meant to him. When he had to hold back ugly sobs, and couldn’t, and let himself truly wail for the first time since he was a child. But even if he couldn’t recognize, or acknowledge, the true nature of his feelings yet, there was one realization that hit him in the face like Dio’s road roller had been about to:

He’d never cared about a person as much as he cared about Noriaki, and he would never, ever leave his side again. He swore to himself that he’d always protect him and make him value himself just as much as Jotaro valued him, even if it was the last thing he did, so the redhead would never put himself in harm’s way like that again.

But it was only after a particularly nasty fight with Marina that he could finally admit to himself how deep it all ran. That he could put a name to the feeling and find the word to describe himself. Even if that feeling and that word still scared him.

She wasn’t exactly yelling, just talking loudly, upset and trying to get her point across. About how he couldn’t keep disappearing without telling her why or where or how long; he wasn’t in the Army, or CIA or anything like that and she knew that, so how classified could this info even be? Didn’t he realize that Jolyne was old enough to ask questions, and what position it put her in when she couldn’t answer when her father would be home, or where he even ran off to? Didn’t he care? What had happened to him to make him so closed off? And while her frustration was justified, in that moment, Jotaro desperately wished for Noriaki to be there, because Noriaki would understand. Not only because he was a Stand user, but simply because he just always did and always had. It was so refreshing to not have to explain himself over and over again, or even at all, because the other person just got him. And Marina, as well as she knew him, had never, ever been able to live up to that.

It wasn’t even that he didn’t love her. And he couldn’t regret her when she’d given him Jolyne. He just got irritated with everything she did because he knew he was a failure of a husband. He only resented her as much as he did, because he really resented himself for denying the truth for so long, for what seemed like no good reason when he allowed himself to ponder on it, and now he felt stuck in this marriage and this life. Marina was a fantastic partner, when she wanted to be, and an even better mother, and just a great woman all-around. She was kind, and patient, and rational, and she usually wasn’t overly loud or demanding either. Not because she’d given up, just because she was pretty self-sufficient and liked her independence. She was strong with or without him. That’s what made the revelation of what it was that he’d been keeping inside for so long even more overwhelming. He thought she deserved the world, and he loved her dearly. He just didn’t think he could give her the world or love her the way he should as her husband. And if he couldn’t love Marina, couldn’t love a woman as objectively wonderful and perfect for him as her, then… who could he possibly feel that way for? And that’s when he knew. Or, more accurately, when he couldn’t lie to himself anymore. His mind and heart were tearing down the walls he’d built and screaming the answer at him as soon as doubt opened that door just a smidge. It was inevitable, really.

It was inevitable for him to finally recognize how desperately in love he was with his best friend of nearly 9 years, and that he always had been, and that he always would be.

However, Jotaro, despite what it may look like to Noriaki, didn’t come here with ulterior motives. It wasn’t like he was planning on cheating on his wife today, or ever. He’d come to hang out with his best friend like they always did; it was just that when an opening presented itself to him, he couldn’t resist. He wanted him like he’d never wanted anything in his life. The guilt was already starting to eat him alive, but in the moment, his wife and kid were the farthest thing from his mind. There wasn’t anything except Noriaki on his mind at all. All of him was consumed by how much he needed him, and he needed him right now. It was the first time in a long time that he felt truly at ease. And it was like he said to the redhead: he couldn’t help but selfishly think – after everything they had to go through, didn’t they deserve that? To be on cloud nine together?

And that was just so like him, wasn’t it? Noriaki, even at his most ruthless, had an unwavering virtuous streak. Unlike Jotaro, who had always been a bastard like that, he supposed; he'd said it to Noriaki when he was 17, and it was still true. He’d simply graduated from stiffing restaurants on the bill, but he still didn’t consider anyone else when there was something he put his mind to. It wasn’t his brains or his ethics that curbed the impulse that told him to kill Steely Dan in a fit of rage, even if it would hurt his grandfather – it was Noriaki. Having the other crusaders, but especially the redhead around, as well as becoming a dad and wanting to set a good example for his daughter, made him temporarily forget what a piece of shit he really was deep down. It was unavoidable that his true nature would come bursting out at some point, he supposed. And he wanted Noriaki, and he didn’t care about consequences as long as he got him.

But then… where did it go wrong? Jotaro hadn’t asked if Noriaki had an idea why them sleeping together was so fucking intense because he himself didn’t know. He didn’t need to think about the answer. Something profound shifted in him the second their lips touched, and he knew exactly why. He just genuinely wanted to know what the other man thought. He knew the redhead held a lot of affection for him, and that he was attracted to him, but he didn’t know if it reached as far as he thought and hoped it did. He’d wanted to get an idea on the other man’s feelings, on whether this was just a one-time thing for him, or an affair, or if he could see more developing between them. Instead, he’d completely lost it and was now throwing him out.

So much for always understanding him.

Then again, it’s not like Jotaro didn’t get the guilt and the shame that probably clouded Noriaki’s judgment – he may be a bastard, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a conscience, and it didn’t mean that he thought his behavior towards his wife, his disregard of her, was anything other than fucking horrible. His mom would be appalled at what he’d done. Would she still think of him as her sweet boy? He imagined not.

What he didn’t get was the melodrama of it, booting him from his place and asking him to stay away without even so much as a talk. Noriaki was a drama queen, but not like that. He had feelings for Jotaro that went beyond carnal desire, or so Jotaro thought, so he’d assumed they’d have a conversation about it. Not that Jotaro particularly enjoyed talking about emotions, but he figured in this case, it was necessary. There was a chance he’d read the redhead wrong all along, but he needed to know for sure. He was at a loss, torn between wanting to stay and force Noriaki to at least discuss what happened between them, or listening to him and leaving. He figured he owed at least one person he cherished the respect of considering their needs, though, so he went to the guest bathroom to clean himself up as well as he could.

Good thing Marina and him didn’t really have sex anymore, he thought as he looked at himself in the mirror. Or was it? He didn’t want to keep this from her. He didn’t want to keep her trapped like this. Not when he knew he wanted to do it again, and again, for the rest of eternity, preferably. He studied the love bites on his torso and the red, angry slashes on his back and chest from when Noriaki was too lost in ecstasy to realize he was scratching him bloody. The memory made arousal flare up in him again; he could hear the water running in the main bathroom when he walked past it, and he had half a mind to just barge in there and convince the redhead that another round wouldn’t make a difference anymore anyway. He wanted to wrap himself up in him again, feel how his body moved under him, on top of him, pliant and wanton, none of his usual inhibitions holding him back. He wanted to hear the sounds he made as he was wrecked with pleasure, hear him cry out Jotaro’s name as he fell apart, wanted to drown in him and the endless ocean of passion they’d kept at bay so far and never even think about coming up for air. But he refrained. He simply washed the stickiness off his skin, and dodged Noriaki’s weird tabby he’d named Roxanne, of all names, meowing at him, almost accusingly, from her bed by the front door as he went back out for his clothes.

He started at the bedroom, where his boxers and pants and socks lay forgotten on the floor. He didn’t allow himself to look at the sheets that probably still held some of their shared warmth as he pulled them back on. He was walking past the door to the main bathroom, on his way to the living room to find his shirt, when he heard it. The unmistakable sound of someone crying.

Jotaro came to a sudden stop. Stood there, hesitating. Not sure what to do. Every instinct in him was screaming at him to open the door and find his best friend and comfort him. It was a strange impulse for him, to run towards displays of emotion instead of away from them, but not entirely new when it came to Noriaki, and good grief, he was such an idiot for not seeing why the redhead was an exception. He knew from experience that he usually even somewhat succeeded in making him feel better. But then again, he normally wasn’t the cause for it, so would this really be the right move? It wasn’t even funny, how far in over his head he was. He guessed he deserved it, though.

His eyes closed as he leaned his forehead against the wooden door. He took a few deep breaths. The shower stopped running, but the heart-wrenching sobs didn’t quiet down even a little; if anything, they seemed even louder without the splashing of water against tiles mixing in with them.

Fuck it. He made a promise at Noriaki’s bedside over 8 years ago. It might not mean much, in light of what he’d done to his vows, but that promise meant more to him than his vows ever did, as terrible as that was. And he was responsible for this. At least partially. So he would fix it.

“Nori?” He knocked on the door, even though he really wanted to tear it off its hinges and barge in. “Can I come in?”

A shuddering gasp echoed through the room, followed by a few choice cuss words. It brought a small smile to Jotaro’s face in spite of himself, because he couldn’t help but enjoy when Noriaki, who was so prim and proper in his everyday life, showed his true colors like that. Then suddenly, the door was yanked open, making him stumble forward from where he’d been leaning against it still, almost crashing into the smaller man.

“I told you to leave,” Noriaki hissed. The sight of him made Jotaro’s eyes widen.

He only had a towel wrapped around his waist, just like earlier, so his upper half was on full display. His skin was still glistening with droplets of water, trickling down his elegant neck and his collarbones, which were absolutely covered in bruises and bitemarks. Jotaro hadn’t even noticed he’d left so many of them, too caught up in the throes of passion. He continued following the beads of water dripping to his chest, over the scar that spoke of his seemingly endless resilience, and to his abs, before they got soaked up by the fluffy fabric of the towel. He was fucking breathtaking. But that wasn’t what shocked Jotaro; he'd gotten intimately familiar with how breathtaking his best friend truly was.

What shocked him was his face.

His skin was flushed, and his lips drawn in tight, and his eyes were swollen and puffy and rimmed with red. It was obvious he was trying to pull himself together, but a few stray tears were still running tracks down his cheeks; it sort of looked like they were following the path the faint scars marring them set. Unbelievably, they made the unusual lavender color of his irises sparkle even more beautifully than usual. And those mesmerizing eyes were looking at him with both so much anguish and so much disdain that he had to take a step back. He’d never been afraid of Noriaki, ever, but he was starting to understand how the redhead’s enemies must feel when he directed that gaze at them – minus the tears, obviously.

He was terrifying.

He was so excruciatingly perfect.

“Why are you still here?” His tone was pure venom, even if his voice was hoarse. Jotaro gulped before he answered.

“You were crying.” Very astute, he thought to himself. He already braced himself for Noriaki ripping him to shreds for that.

“And you think that I’d wanna… what? Fall into your arms? Let you sweep me off my feet? Bat my eyelashes at you as you carry me off into the sunset bridal style? Life’s not a fairytale just because you finally figured out you like dick.” He bellowed out a mix of a sob and that derisive laugh Jotaro had heard countless times before, the one that said ‘you’re nothing but a bug to me’, just never directed at him. The taller man’s stomach dropped at the raw anger on display before him.

“Nori – I’m –“

“Don’t call me that,” he forced out between clenched teeth. “It’s Kakyoin for you. I just betrayed every single one of my principles for you, do you understand that? Do you get how that makes me feel?”

“I know, I’m –“

“I’ve never hated myself as much as I hate myself right now. Not even when I couldn’t resist Dio’s manipulation. I can’t believe I gave into you that easily.”

“I’m so –“

“Do not say it!” Had he ever heard Noriaki yell before? Maybe in shock or pain when he was injured, sure, but never out of anger. His anger was cold fury, quiet and inconspicuous and somehow elegant in its deadliness. It wasn’t fiery, brutish wrath like Jotaro’s. He stared at the other man, wiping at the remnant of tears on his cheek, staring back at him with his bared teeth and his red, splotchy face and skin, still only wrapped in a towel, and Jotaro couldn’t believe that he’d lost his cool like that. It was frightening, realizing he had the power to do that, to make Noriaki relinquish control not just with mirth, not just with pleasure, but by making him so livid he’d crack that carefully composed façade.

“You’re not in the habit of blubbering meaningless shit, so don’t start now. What are you even sorry for? Sorry for cheating on your wife? Sorry for sleeping with me? Can you honestly say that you regret it?” Noriaki continued, his voice still hoarse but full of conviction, even though the line of his shoulders was trembling. Jotaro knew that he must hate that small sign of weakness. “Nothing you say could make this right. I always knew you were a selfish jerk but God –” He interrupted himself with a humorless chuckle, and a cruel smirk stretched his luscious lips wide. “Jerk doesn’t even begin to cover it. You’re the worst. And you’re probably confused why I’m not sobbing in gratitude that you finally fucked me, correct? Because we ‘deserve it’? You think we get a get-out-of-jail-free card for defeating Dio?” He sighed, taking a moment to gather his thoughts with a shake of his head. “You’re a sensational lay, I won’t lie, but looking at you is making my skin crawl, so just. Get the fuck out. Don’t make me say it again.”

He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Already, because it was the only way Jotaro knew how to cope, he could sense the embers of his own wrath begin to smolder, burning away at the pain and guilt. He had earned some of his ire, sure, but Noriaki wasn’t the only one suffering right now. Hell, neither of them was even the main casualty that would result from their fling. How was Noriaki any better than him? If Jotaro was a selfish jerk, if he was the worst, then Noriaki was the same. He wouldn’t let the redhead turn him into a scapegoat.

“Stop acting like I fucking – forced you into this,” Jotaro finally snapped back. He was going to erupt if he didn’t. Star was phasing in and out of existence, ready to protect his master as his fists clenched at his sides so he wouldn’t do something he’d regret. Funnily enough, it was the redhead’s voice in his head imploring him to calm down. “Seriously, fuck you, Kakyoin.” He spat out the name he hadn’t used in years, because they were closer than that, closer than last names and honorifics. But he’d never felt more distant from him than he did right now. The stark contrast between now and how things were just half an hour ago gave him whiplash. This wasn’t what he meant when he wanted to talk. He didn’t want to fight; yet the words just kept pouring out.

“Implying I’m… what? Worse than Dio? Really? What, I manipulated you into giving it up, is that what you’re saying? Why do you get to act like the fucking victim?” he snarled, unable to stop himself. “You were just as desperate for it as I was. Probably more. You were fucking – starving for it. It hardly took any convincing, I said less than ten words before you jumped me. You were slobbering all over me, and you begged me to fuck you. Fucking hell, you begged me to give it to you raw and come inside you! Or is that something you do with every man you sleep with?” Bile rose in Jotaro’s throat at the thought, at the idea that others could have seen and felt the man before him like he had, and his jealousy just fueled his rage more. His voice was getting louder with every word he spoke, but the heat of anger felt good. It was familiar. It wasn’t guilt or shame, and it wasn’t the devastating heartbreak threatening to consume him, and it nearly managed to melt the harsh cold those lavender irises watched him with. It made him almost forget that just a few minutes ago, they were cuddled up in bed together, skin on skin, sharing each other’s warmth and breath and that there’d been nothing but soft murmurs to disrupt the tranquil atmosphere and that he’d never been happier in his entire fucking life. And it helped that what he said was also true. Where the fuck did Noriaki get off, lashing out at him like this?

“I don’t remember you complaining,” Noriaki growled. He tried to push past Jotaro’s giant frame in the doorway, but Jotaro was stronger, and heavier, and this time, he wouldn’t let himself be moved. Before he knew what he was doing, he had grabbed the smaller man by his broad shoulders and leaned down so he could glare blue fire into the icy lavender gazing up at him.

“So… what? This was nothing special? Guy gives you bedroom eyes and you jump into bed with him without a second thought? You telling me you’re always this much of an easy slut?”

Both of their eyes widened as soon as the words left Jotaro’s mouth in a fuming gnarl. His arms went slack in shock at his own words, effectively releasing Noriaki. The taller man heard the resounding slap echo around the room before he registered his head whip to the side with its force, before the burn in his cheek and the ringing in his ears.

“Get the fuck out. Don’t ever come near me again.”

He tried to push past Jotaro again, and this time, Jotaro let him. He followed him as the redhead hurried away towards his room, still staring him with wide, imploring eyes. Panic was starting to claw at his throat, making it harder and harder to breathe.

“Nori, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean – you’re not a slut, you’re –“ Everything, he couldn’t say. The best thing that’s ever happened to me, along with Jolyne.

Noriaki turned abruptly to glare at him, pulling him down by the neck and clutching it hard so Jotaro couldn’t escape the look of hurt and disgust in them. Their faces were so close together that his breath was hitting his nose and his cheek. It smelled minty, like he’d just brushed his teeth. He’d probably tried to wash away any remnant of him that he could.

“I hate you.”

There was a sound somewhere. It was still ringing, but it was different from before. A shrill and painful noise, like someone was shrieking in the distance. What was that?

“I wish I’d never fucking met you.” Noriaki sounded like Jotaro felt, so far away and like he was choking on air and the heavy pressure in his chest. “I can’t believe you managed to fuck up even us. I thought you understood me better than anyone, but you don’t understand shit, do you?”

Jotaro felt his heart skip a couple of beats in shock before it started thumping hard against his ribcage. He was fighting the urge to gasp for air now, even as his body screamed at him to get more oxygen into his burning lungs. He grabbed Noriaki again; he didn’t even care anymore if his weakness was on display for everyone – or at least Noriaki – to see. The redhead flinched under his touch, as if burned.

“You don’t mean that. I – I do know you. I do, and you know it, please, Nori,” he managed to gasp out, even without air. “And you know me, better than anyone. I fucked up, Nori, please don’t do this, I really didn’t mean it, you know I didn’t. Please don’t make me leave. Not when –“ I only just realized what you mean to me. He wasn’t above begging at this point, he really wasn’t. The only thing he couldn’t seem to do was to summon the words he needed to say to make Noriaki understand just how big the chunk of his heart he occupied was.

The redhead surprisingly deflated after that. For a second there, he looked like he was about to say something else, no doubt another retort that would drive the knife in even deeper, but then his expression turned from cold-blooded murder to heavily exhausted in an instant.

“You know what I hate the most about you?” He chuckled bitterly. “You say that to me, you make me feel like an even bigger piece of trash, after you fucked me like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, and all I want right now is for you to hold me and make me feel better and tell me it’s going to be okay.”

Jotaro moved to comply, but Noriaki stopped him.

“Please just go. I already feel pathetic enough, don’t make this even harder.”

Jotaro stared at him for another moment, but his vision was blurred, unseeing, the ringing becoming louder and louder in his head. Oh, it was in his head. Right, that happened sometimes when he couldn’t deal with reality anymore. On autopilot, he let go. Went to put on the rest of his clothes in the living room as the redhead made his way into the bedroom, presumably to get dressed himself. He gathered his stuff and left without looking back. He could feel Star Platinum was trying to release, restless and confused, because his master was pissed off and hurting so badly, but there was no one to punch for it.

When he got back home, the sun had just come up and Marina was still sleeping. It hadn’t been that late when he left Nori- Kakyoin’s place, but it took some time for him to feel safe enough to drive, so he’d sat in his car for what felt like hours. And even after his senses returned to him, his emotions were still too raw for him to go home just yet, so he just drove around for a while. Inevitably, because that’s where he usually ended up, he found himself at the beach. He parked nearby, grabbed his emergency stash of cigarettes from the glove compartment, and got out, inhaling the familiar salty scent of the ocean. The sand crunched under his shoes as he walked up to the edge of the shore and sat down. His clothes needed to be washed anyway. He listened to the waves cresting and rippling against the nearby cliffs before they receded again, only to repeat the motion, over and over again. The sound and sight of it was soothing; he could lose himself in it without having to think too hard, and he needed to not think for a moment. He wished he could stop existing altogether for a minute. Not die, he wasn’t suicidal, but just… not be him. Just stop being Jotaro fucking Kujo. He lit up the first smoke of the night. He hadn’t smoked in a couple of years.

He felt the rush of nicotine and it made him dizzy but gave him comfort in its familiarity all the same. The night sky above him was cloudless; it wasn’t as spectacular as the one in the desert had been, but he could still see some stars and the moon and that, too, made him simmer down. The infinity stretching out above him and the vastness of the sea below always made him, and his issues, feel so insignificant, at least for a little while. Whenever he felt like the weight on his shoulders and in his chest was too much for him to carry, the sight of the stars sprinkling the darkness above him with light, the knowledge of unfathomable depths teeming with life yet to be discovered, reminded him that in the grand scheme of things, he didn’t matter all that much; and that relieved some of the pressure.

Jotaro let himself get lost in it. He didn’t know for how long he sat there. Long enough for his entire pack to run out and the stars to slowly vanish as the sky changed its hue. He didn’t even know what time it was when he left No- Kakyoin’s place, so he couldn’t give a good guess. It was the height of summer, just a couple of weeks until No-Kakyoin’s birthday too, so the sun rose fairly early in the morning – it was probably around 3 or 4am? It broke the spell, however, so he slowly gathered his bearings, closing his eyes and exhaling hard a few times before he opened them again. He wondered if anyone who looked at him right now would see the determination settling in him reflected on his face.

The thing was, Noriaki – damn it, he refused to call him Kakyoin again – was obviously in a lot of pain. When he thought back at how he looked, with his teeth on display and shaking like a leaf, all he could see was a wounded animal. And as a biologist, he knew that wounded animals tended to lash out something fierce. It caught him off guard though, so he didn’t exactly understand in that moment that that’s what was happening. He’d never, ever seen him like that. He’d seen him in plenty of scary situations, and he’d even seen him in emotional pain, especially during and shortly after the Death 13 incident, but it was nothing like that. Above all else, Noriaki Kakyoin was a man of logic and calm and reason and wisdom far beyond his years, so to Jotaro, it was jarring to witness him falling apart like he did.

And because Jotaro had never even come close to being the kind of man Noriaki was, instead of giving him a break, and recognizing that he wasn’t thinking clearly, he lashed back out. He let the wounded animal transform him into one in turn. And he had fucked up so bad in the process, he wasn’t sure how to fix it. Jotaro wasn’t patient or wise – he had brains; he knew that. He had a knack for remaining cool in the face of incredible danger as well. But he hardly knew how to control himself enough to successfully navigate meaningful relationships, despite what people might think when they looked at him. He knew how to appear indifferent, but the inside was a whole other story. The only one who’d ever gotten that, and accepted him for the mess he was, was Noriaki.

He wouldn’t let the self-doubt win this time. He knew Noriaki didn’t hate him; he knew he didn’t mean what he said either. He wouldn’t let the little voice in his head trying to convince him otherwise keep him away and give up. He’d do what he did best and fight. For him. He was a Joestar too, and he wasn’t only selfish, but stubborn as a mule when he set his sights on something he wanted. It was probably best to channel and employ Noriaki’s wisdom though, and let the redhead cool off for a while. It seemed smarter than going back while the wound was still this tender. He’d go see him before he went to Italy, he decided.

Italy. Marina and Jolyne.

That was another issue he had to think about. The cowardly part of him – that also existed, just like a whole range of other emotions – wanted to just return to his mediocre marriage and act like nothing had happened. Like he didn’t get buried under a ton of bricks the moment his lips touched another man’s. Not just another man’s – Noriaki’s. He could repress it like he had been for what was coming up on 9 years, and they’d all be miserable, but it was familiar and at least he wouldn’t hurt Marina even more, right?

He couldn’t even convince himself of that. And he for sure couldn’t justify trapping her in an unhappy marriage with what he knew about himself now. But should he tell her that he cheated on her? Or should he just ask for a divorce? It probably wouldn’t come as a surprise. Jotaro wouldn’t be shocked if she asked for one. Should he tell her that he wasn’t as straight as he’d assumed, maybe not even a little bit? He’d have to. If he ever found another partner, they’d have to meet eventually, and they’d meet Jolyne as well. Jotaro wouldn’t let himself think about how it would be even better if they already knew and loved his new partner. Not right now, not yet.

Then there was the matter of timing. He would be leaving for Italy a week from tomorrow. Would it be better to wait until he got back? The idea of having a reason to run away for a while after all was said and done was really tempting, though. It was the secret Joestar technique, after all. But more importantly, if he didn’t do it now, he’d probably end up postponing it indefinitely. Besides, he couldn’t go back to Noriaki and make empty apologies again. He’d have to show him, and Marina, and Jolyne, and himself, that he was done being a coward and that he was fully prepared to take responsibility for his actions. And deal with the consequences.

It was with this in mind that he took a proper shower when he got home and started a load of laundry while he was at it. He felt and looked like death warmed over, but that didn’t matter. A little sleep deprivation was nothing compared to fighting for your life with multiple stab wounds and lacerations that never got the chance to fully heal before they were either ripped open again, or got a few new additions.

He dressed carefully – simple sleeveless turtleneck, black of course, and white pants, a look that hopefully didn’t draw more attention to him than his hulking frame already did – and went to wake up Jolyne. Maybe cuddle her tiny baby self for a bit, that always made him feel better and she liked it as well. Calling her a baby and having her argue that she was five already, Dad, and she was old enough to decide if she wanted ice cream for breakfast or not. Taking her downstairs to make a mess of the kitchen under the guise of making pancakes. The hard conversations would come, and it would be sooner rather than later, but for right now, the only thing that mattered was his daughter.

He realized how soon ‘soon’ was going to be when they sat in Jolyne’s room doing crafts. She was standing there in her little smock, mulling over the set of acrylic paints that Noriaki had gotten her, staring between it and the canvas in front of her with her tongue sticking out. It was a painting of a butterfly; Noriaki had drawn the rough skeleton for it in pencil, so all she had to do was trace the lines and color it in. It was an involved task for someone who’d only learned how to walk about 4 years ago, but Jolyne loved a challenge and was stubborn enough to keep trying until she succeeded. She, too, was a Joestar at the end of the day. Marina and he were sitting on the floor crafting even more butterflies to stick to the frame the canvas would end up in, as per Jolyne’s instructions. The silence between them was tense, but he hoped Jolyne didn’t notice. It would become much more tense much sooner, he was afraid.

“Hey Dad?”

“Hm?” He looked up from where he’d been trying to cut out a purple wing without crumpling it. His fingers were not made for delicate work.

“Can you ask Nori to come by and help? I don’t remember much about which colors look good together.”

Discomfort made him feel like he’d swallowed lead. He tried to smile through it.

“Not today, baby, he’s busy. Maybe I can help?”

“You?” She looked him up and down, her tiny nose wrinkling and eyebrows furrowing. The judgment in her gaze would’ve been hurtful if it didn’t come from someone who was literally 3 feet tall. Marina snickered next to him but was obviously trying to control herself.

“Yes? Why not me?” Okay, so maybe he was a little bit hurt.

“Because you only wear black or white and you still dress like you did as a teenager! Nori told me! He said you had no taste.” She stood taller and widened her stance before she continued, one hand resting on her cocked hip and swinging around her brush with the other as she spoke in imitation of the man. “’Jolyne, your father is wonderful but never ever ask him for fashion advice, he thinks dolphin pins are the pinnacle of style.’”

Marina couldn’t stop the loud laugh she’d been struggling to restrain from bubbling up.

“He’s absolutely right! Noriaki is a really smart guy, isn’t he?” She smiled at her daughter, who was nodding emphatically and grinning at her mother, obviously pleased that she made her laugh.

Jotaro, however, was struggling to keep any emotion off his face as the two started… fucking gushing about the man he’d cheated on his wife with last night. Discomfort wasn’t strong enough of a word. The irony of it slapped almost as hard as Noriaki did, and it was more than he could deal with. He had to suppress a sigh of relief when they finally changed the subject.

They went to an action playground in the afternoon. Jolyne wanted Jotaro to take her to the water park, but no way in hell could he take his shirt off right now, so he made up some excuse about feeling a bit of a cold coming on, so he couldn’t risk it, and he’d take her to the beach when he got back from Italy. She pouted at the mention of him leaving again, but it was easy enough still to distract her with the ice cream she’d been begging him for this morning.

“Bit of a cold, huh?” Marina said as they watched their daughter run up to some kids her age to ask to play.

Jotaro just hummed as he watched a boy with pink hair – how was his hair pink? Did his parents let him dye it at that age? – shyly come up to his daughter and ask her something. Her eyes lit up and she nodded enthusiastically before grabbing him by the hand and pulling him towards the swings. He smiled at the display. She was so much better at making friends than he’d ever been; she had thankfully inherited some of the old man’s and his mom’s charm.

“And it doesn’t have anything to do with the nail marks on your arms and how there’d probably be more if you took off your shirt?”

Jotaro would have thought he’d used The World, but nothing around him was still like it was during time stops. Just his brain had come to a screeching halt. He’d forgotten how Noriaki had clung to his biceps as he fingered him open, and that that probably also left behind some evidence he hadn’t been looking for in the mirror.

Hesitantly, he darted his eyes to the side to see Marina watching him with her large, green eyes. Eyes just like their daughter’s. Weirdly enough, they didn’t look mad. They conveyed a strange mix of sadness and amusement.

“We’ll talk about this later,” she decided, and that was that. It was a silent, mutual agreement that they’d leave any arguments they could for after Jolyne had gone to bed, and that they’d do their damnedest not to wake her up with them either. She was already growing up with parents who didn’t love each other but were too chickenshit to admit it; they didn’t need to add that type of trauma as well.

The rest of the day went by Jotaro in a blur. They went home and made dinner together with Jolyne – Yakisoba, one of her favorites so long as they didn’t put too many vegetables in there – but he could barely eat and whatever he did manage to force down, he didn’t taste. Jolyne looked at him funny when he didn’t get seconds and thirds like he usually did but surprisingly didn’t comment. In that regard, she was more Noriaki’s daughter than his, or even Marina’s; she was way too smart for her age, way too observant, and most of all, she couldn’t let a single situation pass her by without snarking about it. And before he knew it, he had closed her bedroom door behind him quietly as she slept soundly on the other side of it.

He centered himself, breathing in and out steadily to calm his nerves, before he opened their bedroom door, finding Marina already sitting on the bed and waiting for him. She was illuminated by the soft light from the lamp on the bedside table, and she looked absolutely stunning, but it didn’t stir anything in him at all. She didn’t say anything, just looked up at him expectantly. Of course, she wasn’t going to make this easy on him.

“I was going to tell you. Either way, I mean. Tonight, most likely,” he began as he sat down next to her, a sizeable distance between them to reflect the emotional rift that had been growing over the last few years. Or, more accurately, the rift that had always been there.

“I didn’t want you to find out like… this. You deserve better than that.”

She remained quiet.

“I slept with someone else.”

She rolled her eyes at him. He frowned at the reaction. It was confusing, to say the least. The way she stared back could only be described as pitying.

“I know that already. With Noriaki, right?”

It was his turn to be quiet, mostly because he didn’t know what to say.

“I’ve known for a while,” she elaborated. “I actually confronted him about being in love with you a couple of years ago. Remember when he wouldn’t come by for months and you thought he was sick of you? He was just – embarrassed, I guess.” She shrugged. “I didn’t give him a hard time or anything, I just let him know that I knew.”

“He’s not – he’s not in love with me.” Really? That was his takeaway? Jotaro was astounded he had people who cared about him at all. Marina seemed to share the sentiment as she shot him a withering look. She didn’t argue or say anything else on the matter though.

“Well, more importantly, I’ve also known for a while that you’re in love with him.” A sad smile tugged up the corners of her lips.

How did she know that when he himself even…

“I kinda suspected from the start, to be honest. I know you two have that – that shared trauma from his accident on your road trip, but it’s more than that. Jean and Muhammad were with you too, right? And Muhammad also nearly died. And you’ve never looked at them the way you look at him.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “You’ve never looked at me that way, either. Maybe a little, after I gave birth to Jolyne, but…”

Jotaro couldn’t deal with the flurry of emotions festering in him. The strongest of them was probably shame, though. Shame and guilt and self-loathing. So, nothing new, but the intensity of it was overwhelming. He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. Hiding it in them. How was he supposed to look at her when he knew what she said was true? He might not have understood it himself back then, why he’d rather spend his days off with his best friend than his wife, but he’d hurt her nonetheless.

“If it makes you feel any better,” he mumbled into his palms, because he figured he should say something. “I didn’t know. I wasn’t leading you on intentionally. I really – I wanted this to work. I basically realized a few days ago. Or. That was when I could admit it to myself. I guess. I’m not that in tune with my… my feelings.”

She made a noise he didn’t quite know what to make of. It almost sounded like a chuckle.

“That’s one way to put it. You’re absolutely hopeless, Jotaro Kujo. But it is good to know, because I was starting to think you’re working so much just to avoid me, and that really wouldn’t be fair on Jolyne.” He watched her out of the corner of his eye. She was leaning back on her hands and looking up at the ceiling, so he couldn’t see her face. “It’s good to know you’re not turning into a deadbeat on purpose.”

Jotaro let her hurt him with that comment – he couldn’t protest, he knew, even if he did try his best.

“Not gonna lie, I don’t love the constant fighting, but… I do love you. Just not how you deserve.” He exhaled hard through his nose. “Haven’t had much time to think about it but the way I see it, if I can’t love you that way, there’s no way in hell I could love… any woman that way.”

That got a laugh out of her. It sounded kinda wet, but also genuine.

“Of course you’d say something weirdly sweet like that.” She shook her head. “I can’t even be mad at you, not really. And God, do I want to be mad at you. I wish,” she laughed again, “I wish I could hate both of you, to be honest. Just trash-talk you for the rest of my life to anyone who’ll listen. Keep Jolyne from you as much as I can just to punish you. Definitely never let him see her again. But unfortunately, you’re a great dad when you’re around, and she loves Noriaki, and he’s great with her.” She sighed.

“I can’t blame Noriaki either because he’s been pining for so long. God knows I probably would have lost control too. I can’t hate him. I can’t hate you either, because you never actually meant to hurt anyone, and having to hide that part of yourself away so well that you didn’t even see it must have been hard.” There was something prickling behind his eyelids, but there was no way in hell he would cry when she was the wronged party. It was, in all honesty, a worse punishment than if she’d yelled at him and threw him out, because he didn’t deserve her grace and compassion. Where was the woman who’d thrown a whole temper tantrum about him working just a few days ago when he actually wanted her to yell and throw stuff at him?

“How are you so… level-headed about this?” he wondered aloud.

“You still went behind my back, and it still hurts a lot,” she clarified after a beat of silence. “Of course, I was hoping I’d be wrong, but I’ve been expecting this for a long time. It’s not a shock. I’ve played through this exact scenario countless times in my head,” she explained. She didn’t give him a chance to interject before she went on. “And I’ve also long accepted that our marriage is over. We probably should have just kept a friendly coparenting relationship and never gotten married in the first place. Like I said, Noriaki is fantastic with Jolyne and she loves him so much, so he would have been a great step-parent. The world’s not kind on gay guys or young, single moms, but we would have managed. In fact…”

She opened her dresser drawer and pulled out a bunch of papers. Jotaro knew without looking what they were.

“I was suspecting you’d never ask, so I decided I might as well do it myself.”

That made Jotaro sit up and study her more carefully. She had that sad smile on her face again as she presented him with the papers, and a couple of tears were running down her face. He couldn’t help but mirror the smile, but he wouldn’t cry. He wasn’t the one who needed comforting right now. He accepted the paperwork but put it at the foot of the bed for the time-being.

“Marina…” Unconsciously, he opened his arms in invitation. She scooted closer and buried her face in his chest as he held her, stroking her back as she cried softly.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t – you’ll never know how much. And I’ll be sorry forever.”

“I know. It’s not okay. But it will be.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he repeated the thought that kept coming back to him.

She cracked up at his statement. Jotaro had forgotten what a weirdo she could be, laughing at him while tears were streaming down her face. He remembered her cackling while she was in labor because she remembered a joke from her favorite sitcom. She looked up at him, wiped the wetness from her eyes and smiled.

“You really don’t.”

Chapter Text

Noriaki waited with bated breath for the sound of the front door to close. It wasn’t until he heard it fall shut that he allowed himself to break down once again.

In his rational mind, he knew he was being unfair on Jotaro. It took two to tango, as the saying went. If he hadn’t known Jotaro was married, maybe then it would have been a different story, but he did. He knew, and he jumped into bed with him anyway – as Jotaro had rightly stated, at the first chance he got. Any convincing Jotaro had to perform was more charade than anything else, because he already knew the second he leaned in – or was it Jotaro, he’d definitely moved towards him – he still wasn’t sure, but the second their lips met, he knew deep down, there was no turning back for him. Consequences be damned. He was at least self-aware enough to understand that. And he hated himself for it, for his weakness. His self-loathing was at an all-time high.

So he lashed out, went for the throat, and got bitten in return.

He sunk down on his bed and looked at the floor-length mirror to the side. His reflection was blurry with the dying remains of tears still gathered on his lashes, but he studied it nonetheless; studied the bruises scattered all over him, either from gigantic hands grabbing him or a hot, open mouth sucking and biting at him like he was a feast. As if he wasn’t ashamed enough, he felt the ghost of arousal stir in him at the sight of Jotaro’s touch etched into his skin. He looked like his, and he knew Jotaro was out there carrying Noriaki’s marks, and he despised himself for liking it. He was absolutely vile. Maybe Jotaro had been right in his assessment of him. Maybe that’s why it hurt so fucking much to hear him say those words. He certainly looked and acted like a slut.

Noriaki wanted nothing more than to lay down and forget he existed, but his sheets were filthy, and he’d just spent a good amount of time on removing any and all remnants of the other man from himself. Laying down in an amalgamation of their combined bodily fluids would defeat the purpose of his efforts. He carefully stood on wobbly legs to strip the bedding, and nearly started weeping again when he removed his pillowcase and caught a whiff of Jotaro’s cologne lingering on it. He brought the fabric to his face and buried his nose in it, looking for comfort and safety in the familiar smell. His breath hitched before more sobs broke through.

He’d never cried this hard, he didn’t think; not even when he was nearly killed, or told that he’d been clinically dead, had he lost composure like this. Perhaps he would have if he could, back when Dio got him the first time in that abandoned alley in Cairo. Whatever this feeling was, he could say from his own experience that it was worse than death. It was torture, ten times more excruciating than Jotaro’s wedding day, because back then, at least, he had reckoned there’d never been a chance for them anyway. Grieving something you never had was painful, but not impossible to move on from, right?

Except it was impossible to move on from. Jotaro was impossible to move on from.

And now, they had slept together. He had hot, steamy, absurdly good, emotionally charged sex with the love of his life, and it somehow managed to mean nothing at all, except that Noriaki had shed and shredded the coat of righteousness he always wore along with his actual clothes. Yeah, maybe he really was a cheap whore. That’s what Dio had called him at one point, too; he could still hear the condescending tone of his voice cooing the insult at him like it was the sweetest secret shared between lovers.

Such an desperate little puppy, he heard the voice whisper, felt his cold imitation of breath against the back of his neck. Tell me, Noriaki, are you always this much of a cheap whore?

Noriaki’s grip on the pillow case tightened and he took another whiff, mostly just to bring himself back to the safety of the present. Dio wasn’t wrong, though. Back then, just like now, Noriaki had abandoned his principles too, if even for the fraction of a second, at the promise of friendship and survival. He’d surrendered so easily.

Was he really still that weak boy he believed he’d left behind? Persuaded into discarding his morals the second he was given a chance to fulfill his cravings, regardless of the fallout? In the moment, it didn’t matter that they were both revealing themselves for the nasty, despicable bastards they were. Thinking of Jotaro that way broke his heart more than if the other man had never given into his urges in the first place. Truly, realizing just what he was capable of, what both of them were capable of, given the right combination of events… it felt like something in Noriaki had died. The image of Jotaro he’d carried for nearly a decade, the image of himself, they had both been reshaped beyond recognition.

Disillusion, his brain helpfully provided. That’s what the feeling is called.

He didn’t have the energy to deal with this. He didn’t have the energy to walk to his linen closet either. Instead, he just lay down bare, on his equally bare mattress and curled up in his bare duvet, with the help of Hierophant tucking him in. The filthy bedding was on the floor for when he could bring himself to carry it to the laundry basket, but for now, he was still crying and clutching the pillowcase and trying to absorb as much of Jotaro’s scent as he could until finally, after what felt like hours, he fell into a fitful sleep.

It was still way too early when Noriaki woke up again. His sleep had, thankfully, been dreamless, most likely due to sheer exhaustion and the brevity of it. At least, he couldn’t remember any dreams, and he would take what he could get. But he knew it was early because the sun was just starting to rise, light shades of purple were still visible on the horizon. The light filtering in through the window stung in his puffy eyes, so he screwed them back shut and sent Hierophant to close the curtains. Not for the first time, and probably not for the last, he kind of wished he’d died in Egypt. Well – he didn’t actually want to die, but he sometimes wished he could escape all the crushing hardships life sometimes entailed.

He also wasn’t loving how much it still hurt, how overwhelmingly shitty everything felt, even after a not-so-good night’s sleep. Not only did his torso feel as hollowed out as it had after Dio’s attack; his head was pounding something fierce, like the worst hangover of his life, and his body was sore and aching all over. If he didn’t know better, he’d believe he was having a really, really bad pain day. Those had become a rather rare occurrence over the years, thanks to whatever medical procedures the Speedwagon Foundation had administered on him, but it would be just his luck if the soreness from last night mixed with the year-old aches; not to mention the heartbreak that was threatening to squash him under its weight. Perhaps, he thought bitterly, it would be more appropriate to assume that it was karma. He groaned and turned and buried his head back under his blanket, drawing the edges in tight around himself. The need to pee was getting strong, but his dejection was still stronger.

It wasn’t until he heard Roxanne meow pitifully outside of his bedroom door that he remembered he had responsibilities that didn’t care how fucked up he felt. Maybe cuddling with her could alleviate some of the anguish, he thought as he dragged himself out of bed with every ounce of willpower he could muster. He didn’t care that his own stomach was growling – he felt too sick to eat anyway – but his baby needed to be fed.

Noriaki opened the door and bent down to pat the ball of fur looking up at him. He would always swear to anyone who would listen that Roxanne had to be just as smart as them, because the only way he could interpret the look in her blue eyes was concern. Then again, it was probably wishful thinking and bone-aching loneliness that made him believe that.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured fondly as he scratched behind her ear. “Have you been waiting long?” His throat was dry, and his voice was still hoarse. He might as well pee and get some water, and maybe some pain killers, while he was up.

He filled the cat bowl and checked if Roxanne still had enough water first, because she was the only reason he was up to begin with, before he made his way to the bathroom. After washing his hands and his face to clear it of the disgusting, sticky snot that had dried on it, he looked into his medicine cabinet, lip between his teeth as he scanned the various pill bottles on display.

There was one in particular he was eyeing with interest.

Noriaki hadn’t taken his antidepressants in months, and he had honestly been fine without them. His worst symptoms had been consistently diminishing in frequency.

He hadn’t had any dissociative episodes or flashbacks in a while. Talking it through with a therapist and learning coping strategies to bring himself back to reality was a real lifesaver. His night terrors were getting few and far between and only really cropped up around mid-January anymore. It helped that he always had people around who understood. Jotaro stayed with him a lot, because it also helped him with his own nightmares, and then they usually all spent the week of the 16^th together, the two of them and Polnareff and Avdol. Sometimes Joseph came to visit as well, depending on how long he managed to stick around after Jolyne’s birthday. If he didn’t stay, he was back again for Jotaro’s birthday at the latest. If he could laugh right now, he’d chuckle like he always did at the irony of Jotaro, of all people, being born on Valentine's Day.

His anxiety was mostly under control, too. It was still nearly impossible for him to do anything without at least some sort of plan because he knew firsthand that thinking ahead could be the difference between life and death; but Hierophant hadn’t been summoned in his sleep in a long time to keep an eye out, and he stopped checking every nook and cranny of his apartment for enemy stand users whenever he returned home.

His confidence had slowly but surely recovered as well. He didn’t get self-conscious about his scars as much as he used to when he went shirtless for any reason; they’d become a symbol of his resilience, something he was proud of. He’d dared to venture into new artistic avenues, even if there was a chance he’d fail and get ridiculed out of the community and find a new profession. He didn’t care though, he had faith in his abilities as an artist and it would give him a chance to preserve Hierophant and his appreciation of him. His stand had saved his life, after all, more than once.

He was getting out of bed without too much trouble, keeping on top of his chores, and he had even gone on a couple of dates – dates that the redhead had hoped wouldn’t just end with him balls deep in some reasonably attractive guy whose name he wouldn’t remember a week later. Obviously, those hadn’t panned out, but he’d at least tried. He’d been enjoying his second chance at life the way he was supposed to, and not just pretending like he did.

So, he’d weaned himself off the medication. His psychiatrist agreed but had also said that if he ever felt like he needed them, to not hesitate to start again and give him a call. But remembering Marina, and what they’d done to her, he wouldn’t give himself the relief. Noriaki deserved this. He didn’t deserve to feel better at all. Some pain medication to get rid of this headache and general soreness might be fine, just so he could pretend to be a functional adult for the day, but the emotional hurt was something he’d just have to cope with. It was probably nowhere near what Marina would feel, assuming Jotaro wasn’t too much of a coward to tell her. Noriaki didn’t think he was, but he also never would have guessed that he’d sleep with his married best friend, so what did he know.

Fuck Jotaro, he thought to himself bitterly as he sat down on his couch and memories of passionate kisses and desperate groans echoed around him.

What if I want to do something unforgiveable?

He certainly succeeded. They both did. He truly couldn’t tell which of them was worse, but for the sake of his sanity, he figured he had to convince himself it was Jotaro. He was the married one after all, right? Even if Noriaki had only put up a sham of protest, Jotaro was still way more at fault. Noriaki assured Marina a few years back that he had no intention of ever pursuing her husband, despite the feelings she could so obviously tell he had for him. And technically, he hadn’t. In any case, that wasn’t as bad as breaking wedding vows. The fact that those wedding vows were only sworn because Jotaro was a decent man who wouldn’t let Marina face society’s particular brand of judgment for unmarried mothers didn’t matter. He was the one who pledged to stay faithful in front of his family, her family, and a God Noriaki didn’t believe in, and he didn’t. Noriaki had never made any such promises.

Roxanne had, apparently, finished eating and jumped up on his lap, and he started stroking her fur absentmindedly. Fuck him. He chuckled to himself. Fuck him he did, and of course he’d never had it better, had never been as delirious with pleasure as he was with him. Never knew he could feel that alive, that… complete. Stupid fucking idiot. He’d deluded himself into thinking that Jotaro debased them both like that, turned himself into an adulterer, made Noriaki an accomplice, because he actually loved him. But then he’d asked him why it felt that good, like he had no clue at all. In all probability, Jotaro was just curious about how gay sex felt when he realized that there was a reason he never had much interest in women. A reason, beyond how pushy some women acted towards him, that he never relished in their unrelenting attention like other guys his age would have. And since Noriaki was openly gay, and safe, and his best friend, and he’d apparently fantasized about him, what better person to experiment with? Kill two birds with one stone. Fulfill his repressed desires with a person he’d thought about before due to their perpetual proximity.

Except Noriaki hadn’t just given him his body, but his entire heart and soul along with it, and now he was just so, so empty. And all of that empty space was filled with guilt and shame and longing and still so much rotten, unbidden love. He knew he never should have allowed himself to specify the feeling, and it was biting him in the ass now that he caved and had given it a name after all.

He jumped in his seat, startling Roxanne off his lap, when the phone on the side table next to him rang.

It’s not Jotaro, he tried to tell himself, half so he’d stop being scared of answering, half so he wouldn’t be disappointed when it turned out he was right. He didn’t know what he would do if he heard the other man’s voice. Probably start crying again. His hand shook as he reached out for the receiver.

“Noriaki Kakyoin speaking.”

“Mon ami!” an exuberant voice shouted down the line, and Noriaki felt himself relax back into the cushions. As he’d suspected, he was a tiny bit disappointed, but Polnareff calling him right now had to be the best distraction he could have asked for. “How is my favorite petite cerise!”

“For the last time, I’m not small, Polnareff,” he couldn’t help but protest with a short laugh. “You’re just ridiculously buff. And you’re lucky I’m up at all, it’s freaking 7am here.”

“Ah, but we had a phone date? Did you forget?”

Shit. It was true. With their hectic schedules and difference in time zones, it was hard to find a decent time to speak, so Noriaki, who was a few hours behind Polnareff, offered to get up early every once in a while to catch up with his friend. Sometimes, Polnareff would stay up late in turn, so they both missed out on sleep and it was fair. When in the middle of projects, neither of them had a real weekend to fall back on either. Noriaki would probably have to head into the studio later. He was already dreading it, but maybe a little bit of Polnareff’s usual antics could distract him enough so he could function for the day.

“Of course I didn’t, do I ever forget anything,” Noriaki tried to joke. It fell flat.

“Actually, no, you don’t. Not when it means letting others down,” Polnareff mused. Noriaki’s heart skipped. Please, don’t let this be one of those rare instances the Frenchman chose to use his brain. Please. No one needed to know about this except him and Jotaro… and Marina, he supposed.

“If you forgot, how come you’re up already? You never get up earlier than 9 if you can help it.”

The redhead shrugged as if Polnareff could see it.

“Roxanne woke me,” he replied, a beat too late. Fuck, he really was off his game. Thankfully, it didn’t take much to distract Polnareff. Usually, mentioning his cat was enough. She was the only animal aside from Iggy who tolerated him and he loved her for it. A few times, he’d asked Noriaki to put her on the line, as if they could actually communicate. The redhead really loved the dumbass of a Frenchman.

But the universe had to conspire against him today, it seemed.

“Nori, stop dicking around. What’s wrong? I can hear it in your voice. You sound sick, except if you were sick, you would’ve whined about it already. Wait –“

No, no, no, why today, why did Polnareff choose to use his one singular braincell today, he knew he deserved it but why –

“Were you crying? You were, weren’t you?”

Time for Plan A, the one that involves the least amount of lying – insult the Frenchman enough that he goes from amused to offended and just hangs up.

“Man, Pol, look at you being such a good ‘lil detective!” he tried to croon in his most infuriatingly condescending voice. “Gee, if you keep that up, you might just finally beat Jolyne at Clue Junior! Think you can finally crack the case of the missing cake?”

“Poutain, for the last time, I let her win – no, you know what? I know what you’re doing. You’re not pissing me off and you’re not distracting me.”

“In that case, I’m hanging up. I was going to go back to bed anyway.” Sleeping was always a good, solid Plan B.

“Noriaki Kakyoin!”

Noriaki, who had just started moving the receiver towards the phone to actually hang up, stilled at the sound of Polnareff bellowing out his full name in what he’d dubbed his ‘serious voice.’ Okay, fine, carefully crafted half-truths it was. With a reluctant sigh, he started wracking his brain for an excuse that was both believable but not too close to the truth. Preferably something that had nothing to do with Jotaro at all.

“I’m just stressed,” he started, and before Polnareff could interject with disbelief at the vague excuse, he continued. “I am in way over my head with…” Jotaro, “my new project and it’s a lot of money on the line, so it has to do well and preferably sell for more than Mrs. Brown invested. She’s such a huge fan that she’d take a loss no problem, but, y’know… my ego couldn’t.” That wasn’t even a lie. While he didn’t think he’d mess up, there was still a chance he would.

“Oh yeah, that makes sense,” the Frenchman acknowledged, voice back to the light, airy timbre it usually adopted. Noriaki breathed a tiny sigh of relief through his nose.

“You know, except last time we talked, you were saying how you had this in the bag and your creative vision was flowing out of your fingertips or whatever artsy bullshit you spout when you think you’re being avant-garde but you’re really just a bourgeois nightmare.”

Okay, that stung. He was really using the braincell to its maximum capacity today apparently. Noriaki pursed his lips.

“And we’re back to me hanging up –“

“Is it Jotaro?” Polnareff cut right to the chase, huh? Rudely interrupting him while he was at it as well. Fucking French people. He missed Japan and how everyone there minded their own business. And was taught manners.

Well, Plan C failed as well. His shuddering exhale as he tried to keep his composure – dear God, just hearing his name made him wanna break down – should be answer enough. There was silence on the other end of the line. Noriaki knew it was Polnareff’s way of prompting him to talk.

“Yeah,” he finally admitted, because what was the point of lying? Polnareff knew he had feelings for their giant of a friend. No way in hell he’d tell him about last night, though. If he was being honest, something in him wanted to come clean just so he would be punished, but he was also way too ashamed to grant himself his own wish.

“Right, your Saturday Night Bro-Dates.” The redhead still didn’t understand why Polnareff insisted on calling it that – it wasn’t even original or clever. Maybe it was to drive home to him that it really wasn’t a date.

“Did something happen…?”

“Oh, no. No. Just – the usual. You know. Listening to him vent about Marina, ordering mediocre pizza and putting on a horror movie just to piss him off. Playing –“ fuck, why couldn’t he remember any video game names right now, except “Smash Bros.”

“Smash… bros? the other man echoed. His voice didn’t betray anything.

“Yes.”

“Smash bros.”

“That’s what I said. Do you need me to spell it, or…” His heart was pounding, and his hands were so sweaty that the receiver almost slipped from his grasp.

“That’s not – that’s really the name of a game? You’re not implying anything?”

That made Noriaki crack up, even if it sounded a bit hysterical and completely void of humor to his own ears. Right, Polnareff didn’t know anything about video games at all. Said it would distract him from the ladies, to which he always replied, what ladies? Like the Frenchman wasn’t just as down bad for Avdol as he was for Jotaro. And somehow, he still managed to be right on the money.

“Nori, are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, that was just – really funny. One of your better ones, definitely,” he reassured the other man. “The actual name is Super Smash Brothers.”

“That’s just marginally better. You’re both super. And bros.”

“Pol, stop.” He had to chuckle again despite himself. He remembered that’s why he loved Polnareff. He was unintentionally funny in his cluelessness, and his incessant cheerfulness always managed to be at least a little infectious, not to mention that he was loyal to a fault. Noriaki could take the piss out of him as much as he wanted and he either didn’t get it or forgave him easily. It wasn’t like he meant the insults anyway. He kept insults he truly meant in his head. And a lot of them were directed at himself anyway, so it wasn’t like he was being too arrogant or unfair.

“To quote the oaf, give me a break. He’s married, so I know nothing like that happened. The other stuff is true, but of course I know you didn’t smash.” It was Polnareff’s turn to laugh while Noriaki just replied with a non-committal hum that wouldn’t betray how his stomach coiled at the words. If he opened his mouth, he was sure more maniacal laughter would spill out, and then he’d probably start crying again and clue Polnareff in to how his joke aligned dead-on with reality.

“I just wish that you would finally move on,” the Frenchman continued with a sigh. “I love Jotaro, but you’re too great of a man to be pining for anyone like that, no matter who they are. Crying about him still after what? A million years?”

“Feels like it,” he mumbled. He noticed his hands were shaking now and grabbed the receiver more forcefully while making a fist with his free one.

“Funny thing is, I could have sworn that he –“

“He mentioned you’re both going to Italy. What’s going on there?” the redhead interrupted. He’d heard the same spiel over and over again for almost a decade now. More than half of one at least. Jotaro and Marina would be married for 6 years in a couple of months. I could have sworn he liked you too, he’d say, I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you, and a bunch of other stuff that would make his heart ache with unfulfilled potential before advising him to stop wasting his time on a married guy with a preschooler.

“He didn’t tell you? That’s odd. Well, you know how we’ve been theorizing about how Enyaba made all those stand users? The arrow?”

Thankfully, Polnareff finally, finally dropped the subject. Noriaki closed his eyes and listened to him explaining their mission in greater detail, occasionally interjecting with a question or a sound that indicated he was still paying attention. He wasn’t, he couldn’t even though he wanted to, but he was very good at pretending he was. He let the words echo around his empty head, adjusting his position so he could hug his knees to his equally empty chest.

“… and then Avdol stripped in the middle of the mall and jumped into the fountain at the mall with his chickens while singing Billy Jean at the top of his lungs.”

“That’s nice,” Noriaki mumbled with his eyes still shut, not catching anything the Frenchman said.

“Noriaki, you’re not listening to me! What the fuck is up with you?” Polnareff sounded both amused and exasperated.

“Hm?”

“I just told you Avdol went skinny-dipping in the mall fountain with his chickens and sang in public.”

“Oh.” The redhead’s eyes widened as understanding dawned on him. “Oh! I’m sorry, Pol, I –“ he grappled for another excuse. “Honestly, I’m just tired,” he finished lamely.

“Ah.”

“That’s super specific though, did you ever…?”

“Do you even have to ask?” The other man scoffed into the receiver on the other side of the ocean before he let out a long-suffering sigh. “What’s wrong? Seriously, Nori, you can talk to me. I’m not paying an arm and a leg for an international phone call for you to be this distracted, or for you to pretend you’re okay when you’re clearly not. Tell me.”

Noriaki swallowed hard. He grabbed the throw blanket draped over the back of his couch and clumsily wrapped himself in it in an attempt to shield himself from the barrage of conflicting emotions Polnareff’s demand elicited. It would be nice to talk to someone, it really would, if only for someone outside his head to tell him what a fuck-up he was, but he couldn’t. He could hardly stand to look at himself right now, or so much as think about what he did. Aside from the fact that there was no way Polnareff would keep this to himself, it wasn’t fair to burden his friend like that. Unlike Noriaki, his moral compass pointed him in the right direction without fail, even if his way of going about it escaped logic sometimes.

“It’s nothing. We just had a fight.” Back to vague but slightly more specific half-truths it was, he decided.

“You two? A fight?”

“Yes, we fight, Jean,” Noriaki retorted petulantly. The other man laughed incredulously.

“Since when?! You two share almost the same brain malfunction. How do you disagree on anything enough to fight about it?”

“Bold of you to talk about brains malfunctioning,” Noriaki quipped to an indignant shout from the other line. “I told him to stay with his family and not to go to Italy, and he didn’t like it,” he lied quickly instead of answering the question.

“I told him the same thing. That, and we’d all be gone for your birthday.” Noriaki dismissed his concern with a grunt as Polnareff went on. “I can handle this on my own or have Avdol join me when he’s done with his assignment if I need help, but the hee-marr wouldn’t hear it.”

Noriaki was silent for a moment before realization dawned on him.

“Wait, do you mean himār? Donkey?” He couldn’t help but snicker a little at the mispronunciation.

“Yes! Avdol’s been teaching me Arabic insults. Says it’s what you say instead of idiot. And that I get an A for effort, but the pronunciation is hard, man!”

They were both quiet for a moment before Polnareff spoke up again.

“Don’t worry about it, Nori. You two are so weirdly in tune, I’m sure you’ll make up in no time.”

And just like that, the topic of Jotaro was concluded, and the redhead felt the emptiness in his chest fill a little with the easy banter between him and the Frenchman, at least for the moment.

The rest of the week passed by in a haze. He took care of his cat, that’s what got him up in the mornings. Then he’d go and work on his Hierophant sculpture. The stand sometimes appeared and eyed what was going to be his facsimile with interest, and that, at least, made him smile a little. He’d remember to eat and drink when he felt close to passing out – as long as he didn’t pass out, he figured it was fine. When he got home, he’d shower and let mindless TV and too-easy video games and a bottle of wine dull his senses. Anything to keep himself from thinking or feeling too much. Because once he started thinking and feeling, he’d never stop. Empty was good, he’d decided. Emptiness was a heavy weight, but it wasn’t excruciatingly painful, so long as it remained void of anything. He could dupe himself into believing everything was fine.

Really, he mused as he secured the flat chisel against the stone, holding the tip of the tool with his thumb and pointer so it didn’t slip from its specific spot; he could almost pretend that it never happened. Radio silence from Jotaro was weird though, that small tidbit kind of shattered the illusion that nothing had changed. It had been six days, and he usually would have called sometime within six days. And tomorrow was Saturday. Noriaki’s heart started to sink at the thought that this would be the first Saturday night in years that he’d spend alone – okay, not really, but the first Saturday Jotaro was technically around that they didn’t spend together. When he missed their tradition, it was because Jotaro was on a mission or an expedition and he’d come see him right after Jolyne once he got back – sometimes before Jolyne, if the assignment was hard and he felt too wounded up or was too injured to face her without giving her some kind of trauma. Point was, it was strange that they hadn’t talked in so long. But before the misery could manage to unhinge its jaws and swallow him whole, he swung his hammer down with as much force as he could muster.

That was a mistake.

He howled more in shock than anything else when he realized he’d miscalculated, or perhaps his grip on the tool had slipped a little, but in any case, the hammer was coming down to hit his hand instead. Luckily, his good reflexes made him move quickly enough that he didn’t end up smashing the entire back of it dead-on, just his pinky and ring finger.

“Fuck.” He ignored the pain that was quickly starting to radiate down towards his palm and wrist and inspected the injured digits. Fucking hell, they were definitely broken. He wouldn’t be able to work on his sculpture like this.

The redhead sat down in a daze and, instead of thinking about perhaps looking for some ice, or even going to see a doctor, just kept staring at his hand. He tried not to focus too much on what the sensation of physical pain evoked in him, the way it made him tingle with something best forgotten.

Actions. There were actions he needed to take. He had to go the hospital. He wouldn’t be able to drive himself there, so he needed to call a cab. And he’d have to let Mrs. Brown know and take time off work. What a fucking joke.

The universe wasn’t done kicking him in the ass quite yet, though, because there was a knock on the door. It really could only be the old lady, because who else would come and see him at his studio? She’d probably be understanding, though. Probably. There were literally tens of thousands of dollars on the line for her. But she was loaded, and quite fond of him because he was polite and they’d been introduced by Joseph, and Joseph was apparently friends with her father. Maybe she would even take him to the ER.

“Just a minute,” he called out and went to get the door without another thought when he realized how long he’d been staring at it dumbly, opening it with his elbow as he cradled his hand in his uninjured palm. He was way too preoccupied with his rapidly swelling fingers to check who it was. When it swung open to reveal the man he’d developed a casual drinking habit over in the last week, his mind went blank and his body went numb. He couldn’t even feel his broken bones anymore.

“Noriaki, can I – fucking hell, what happened!”

Jotaro moved his frozen body gently aside to enter, and then carefully grabbed his wrist to inspect his injury. He began to feel himself melt in the places their skin touched. He vaguely remembered that he couldn’t and shouldn’t feel on fire with this man.

“Jesus fucking Christ, that’s broken, in more than one place I’d bet. What the fuck did you do?”

Noriaki regained his bearings enough to respond, albeit differently than Jotaro expected, probably.

“What the fuck are you doing – and here?” he hissed and yanked his hand out of his grip. The jerky movement hurt like a bitch, but he didn’t care, didn’t even flinch. Compared to everything else he’d endured in his 25 years of life, this was nothing to him, after all.

Jotaro looked down at him, his full lips pouty and his eyebrows scrunched together in a frown that was even deeper than usual.

“C’mon, I’ll take you to the doctor’s and if you still wanna complain after that, you can,” he grumbled. Noriaki chewed on the inside of his cheek in contemplation. On the one hand, he could just call a cab. It would probably take ages to get here though. This wasn’t New York, after all. It wasn’t even a big city, just near one. On the other hand… Jotaro kind of owed him. Noriaki owed him too, owed him what he was sure would be a very reluctant apology for what he said in the heat of the moment.

“Fine,” he relented. “Grab the keys and lock up behind us, they’re on the table over there.”

Jotaro did as he was told, and they fell into a silence so uncomfortable, it almost rivaled the one that followed his coming-out to his parents. He sure as hell wouldn’t be the one to break it, though. He couldn’t.

The redhead had a few days to calm down and rethink things, so he wasn’t as destroyed as he’d been right after. He had come down from his high and quite dramatic horse back to reality, where he was partially responsible for his best friend turning into an adulterer. As the other man had said, Jotaro didn’t make him do anything, and he hadn’t said or done anything to lead him on either. It was Noriaki who had decided that Jotaro finally understood he reciprocated his feelings, and that that was the reason he made a move. It was Noriaki who had lied to himself for his own selfish gain, had tricked himself into thinking it was okay to sleep with him because it was out of mutual love. It was Noriaki who had deluded himself into believing that the man was his and his alone. It was Noriaki who chose to conveniently forget that Jotaro was someone else’s, both on paper and in the eyes of everyone they knew.

All of this didn’t mean that Jotaro didn’t love him, of course. Once the redhead’s rage and insecurity had dissipated, he was unshakable in his conviction that Jotaro wanted to be with him in earnest, even if he didn’t get it himself yet and went about it the wrong way; but that didn’t change that the redhead was just as guilty of sullying what they could have had as Jotaro was. It didn’t do him much good to know though. It only made him mourn what could have been if they’d done things right, if Jotaro had understood before they kissed and fucked that the reason they hadn’t been able to resist anymore was because they – he – should have never resisted from the start. That was the other thing that made his heart freeze over in pain and made him want to drink himself into a stupor. They’d never get another chance to redo any of this or make amends.

So, Noriaki knew he was going to have to atone for exploding like he did. For misconstruing everything to push all the blame onto Jotaro. For implying that Jotaro was as evil as Dio, and for saying he hated him and wished he’d never met him, when he couldn’t even fathom the concept, not really. The mere idea made his heart throb and ache. But his pride wouldn’t let him.

Noriaki knew he was a prideful man to the point it was probably a flaw, but he couldn’t be the one to take the first step. Especially not with this. Even with everything he’d realized over the last few days, he still found himself clinging to the heavily wavering notion that Jotaro was, somehow, more at fault than him whenever the insult popped into his head, said in the man’s deep, rumbling voice. He also caught himself thinking that Jotaro should know that he never meant it anyway, because Jotaro always knew. That was unfair of him to expect, he knew that – he himself wanted an apology for something he was pretty certain Jotaro didn’t mean. But again, he was a flawed man and in his better moments, he could accept that about himself instead of turning to all-consuming self-loathing.

The truth was that they’d hurt each other, badly, but what Jotaro had said to him was deeply triggering. It wasn’t just because it reminded him of Dio – after all, it wasn’t like he’d ever forget anything that happened involving the vampire. He could deal with that. It ripped him apart because it was also the same type of thing he’d been hearing half his life for being a man who liked other men, what with the stigma that still prevailed around homosexuality in general and especially since the 80’s. He remembered how devastated he was when he was 14 and figured out he liked boys and couldn’t even pretend to like girls, because he’d heard all the whispers and rumors about this new virus popping up over the Pacific that seemed to mostly infect boys and men like him. Back then, he was convinced it meant he’d either never experience love, or he’d die a horrible death, either from illness or because someone would consider his existence deviant and risky enough to end it. He looked somewhat foreign with his hair and eyes and was apparently quite obvious in his queerness. He didn’t even have to come out for people to try and bully him for being gay. Groups of guys would wait for him in dark alleyways he’d pass on his way home and try to either beat shit out of him or do something much, much worse. He was a fighter and always had been, but without Hierophant, who knew what would have happened to him? It wasn’t until word got around that the mode of contagion was blood-related that they left him alone. After that, no one would so much as come near him anymore.

If he apologized first, it almost felt like he was apologizing for who he was, for overcoming every dirty look and slur directed at him, every punch and kick that caught him off guard before he could give back twice as good, every fear he had to conquer just to come to terms with himself. And that made it hurt at least twice as bad, especially coming from the man currently guiding him to his car.

Not to mention that Noriaki had slept with Jotaro, and let his guard down like he did, because he loved him with all he had. He has loved him for a third of his short life. But Jotaro had to call him easy, a slut, and cheapen the experience which, to Noriaki, was nothing short of an expression of unfailing trust and devotion. He made him feel stupid, and even more dirty than he already did for essentially stooping so low as to become someone’s affair.

So, no. He wouldn’t take the first step. He was not going to say he’s sorry. Not unless he was offered something first. Until then, he would remain resentful about Jotaro dragging his character through the mud and slandering him like he did.

But Jotaro remained quiet as he opened the car door for him, and then when he started up the engine, and when he merged into the lane. He insisted on waiting with him until he got to see a doctor, and Noriaki saw his hand twitch dangerously close to his uninjured one while his fingers were put in a splint, but he never said a word, not even when he drove him home. It was driving Noriaki fucking crazy. It wasn’t until they reached the parking lot to his building’s complex, both of them in the middle of exiting the car, that he spoke.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Noriaki asked at the same time that Jotaro posed his own question.

“You didn’t do that on purpose, did you?”

Noriaki gaped at him. Now he understood why Jotaro hadn’t said anything. The other man probably knew that if he’d asked him that while on the road, he would’ve rather jumped from the moving car than let him take him to the ER, not to mention back home.

“Yes, Jotaro,” he replied sarcastically as he slammed the car door shut. “I broke my own fucking fingers and jeopardized my livelihood just for the fucking fun of it. Needed to cross it off my bucket list at some point, right?”

Jotaro followed him as he stalked away.

“I just – you know, with your mental health –“

Oh, he wasn’t serious. Noriaki spun around, and felt that cold fury from their fight return, the kind of anger that made his heart freeze over until it went numb and unlocked that cruelty he was capable of. Somewhere in the distance, his mind was screaming at him to shut up, that he’d regret this. He ignored it as he looked at the man who was shuffling in place awkwardly, almost like he was afraid. He wouldn’t find it cute. Not right now. Right now, he wanted to strangle him with Hierophant.

“Ah, we’re on this again? Kakyoin must’ve hurt himself because he’s crazy, right? Just a fucking lunatic after all! Mom and Dad, you were right, you hear that!” He cackled. The sound was bitter even to his own ears.

“And why do you think my mental health isn’t in a good place right now anyway, hm? Think you’re that important, you egotistical prick?” He stepped closer to the man, gazing up at his face through his lashes, intimidating enough that Jotaro seemed to hunch in on himself as if the redhead were much taller than him.

“I just thought… I mean –“ Jotaro stuttered before he inhaled a sharp breath. Noriaki was about to tear into him again, but he was curious to hear what he was going to say.

“I know mine isn’t,” he mumbled in response after a beat of silence, a quiet admission of something he very rarely would admit, and Noriaki felt all the fury and all the fight leave him in an instant. God, he was such an asshole.

“Fuck, Jojo –“ the nickname escaped him involuntarily, like it was second nature.

“Can we please just… talk? Somewhere private?”

He pursed his lips in contemplation – was it really a good idea to invite him upstairs? He was still so fucking angry – but he knew he didn’t really have a choice. He exhaled hard through his nose and nodded.

“Yeah. That’s a good idea. Come on.”

Chapter Text

Strained, loaded silence enveloped them as they took the elevator up to Noriaki’s apartment. There was as much physical distance between them as possible when two grown and rather tall, built men were stuffed together in what was essentially a tiny room, but the atmosphere was different from earlier. It wasn’t awkward because they didn’t know what to say to each other, Noriaki pondered; it was more like they had too much to say and didn’t know where to begin.

“It’s a mess,” the redhead warned unnecessarily as he unlocked the door. “Don’t you dare judge me.”

“Have I ever?” Jotaro rolled his eyes, and Noriaki swallowed hard. It was true. The most he’d ever done when Noriaki was too stuck in his own fucked up head was to clean up for him. Thankfully, it wasn’t as bad as it could get; mostly just some dirty dishes in the sink and some clothes strewn across the floor. Maybe some wine stains here and there. His PlayStation also wasn’t packed away as neatly as it usually was, a precaution so his cat didn’t get a chance to accidentally break it, but nothing had happened so far. He hadn’t even stumbled over the cables that connected it to the TV. All in all, it was nothing major, and most people probably wouldn’t think to even classify it as a mess, but Noriaki liked everything just so, especially when he had company over. The fact that he let Jotaro in at all – and had let him in when it was much, much worse, and had given up enough control of his environment to let him help put it back in order – spoke of how deep their connection truly was. Noriaki resolved to remember this, no matter what direction the conversation to come took.

Roxanne immediately came traipsing towards him as they took off their shoes in the entryway, meowing softly at him. He bent down to scratch her under her chin in greeting.

“Missed me, sweet girl?” he cooed softly, and she started purring. He felt the other man’s glare drilling a hole in his back. The discomfort made him habitually adopt his practiced persona, the Noriaki Kakyoin who was courteous, timid but engaging, a superficial pleasure to be around.

“Please, make yourself at home in the living room, I’ll be with you in a moment,” he politely instructed Jotaro without looking up at him. He busied himself with thoroughly washing his hands to the best of his ability with the splint, then filling Roxanne’s food and water bowl. Not to put off their discussion, nope, he just needed to take care of his pet like a responsible pet owner. Then, he thought about how nice it would be to have some really good tea again for a change, not the stuff that came from bags and tasted like paint water, and promptly decided to make some, the long, traditional way of course. He pulled the kyusu from the back of his cupboard while ignoring the teal eyes following his every move. As the water began boiling, he rummaged through his pantry for a pack of cookies he knew he bought a while ago and hadn’t eaten yet. While the tea steeped, he carefully arranged them on a decorative plate.

“I have some leftover shogayaki if you’re hungry, courtesy of your mother’s recipe,” he offered politely as he put the tray down. “I could warm that up for you right now. It’s quite good, though I’m afraid it’s not as delicious as Holly’s, but I’ve been craving some Japanese food and thought I’d give it a go. Or if you’d prefer something else, I have all the fixings to make  –“

Jotaro huffed a frustrated sigh, judging by the frown pulling his eyebrows together and turning the corners of his mouth down.

“Noriaki, please just sit down and quit stalling. And quit the polite honor student bullshit act. You're too old for that.”

They locked eyes and for a moment, it was like nothing had changed. But Noriaki knew that everything had changed. Jotaro’s left eyebrow was raised just slightly, barely visible under the brim of his hat, challenging him, and Noriaki set his wide mouth in a line that screamed defiance. Instead of complying, he glowered at his hands, paying close attention to every small detail as he set out their cups and dessert plates somewhat clumsily due to his slight handicap.

“Nori…”

“I told you not to call me that,” he retorted without any real heat. He could be rational. He always was. He wouldn’t start another fight after Jotaro had shown him a rare bout of weakness.

“Noriaki, look at me.”

“Why? So you can put weak-willed little me under your thrall again like – what is it you said – every man who makes bedroom eyes at me?” Noriaki could feel his upper lip curl in an angry snarl before the expression of rage turned into a smirk. Fuck rationality. He let his lids fall heavy over his eyes and finally met Jotaro’s stare. With precise and deliberate moves, he rolled out his shoulders, then arched his back and stretched his arms up with an exaggerated moan, briefly exposing his midriff.

“Man, I’m sorry, I’m just so tense. Think you can help with that?” He fluttered his eyelashes, looked down briefly and back up at Jotaro from underneath them in faux shyness, twisting one of his longer red strands around his finger for good measure. Jotaro visibly gulped.

“I mean… it’s been six whole days without sex. I haven’t had time to pick up anyone else, you know? So, since you're here, I thought maybe you could fuck me over this table. I don’t know what weird physics trick it is, but when I'm bent over it, it’s like guys just always find the perfect angle without even trying. Makes me cum so hard.” That was a lie, all of it, but Jotaro didn’t know that, and he felt a sick sense of satisfaction when he saw him go pale. Not even his hat could hide his reaction. But it wasn't enough yet.

“Or maybe the kitchen counter? I know it's not exactly decent and proper, but who cares, since I’m dropping the polite bullshit act. And then we could go at it in the tub. Saves us the cleanup, and saves the environment,” he suggested coyly, running his hand through his own hair and then started playing with his bangs as he slowly stepped forward. “If you’d like. I think you’d really enjoy that. I'm not sure what exactly you’ve pictured doing to me, but it's up to you. Would you rather give it to me from behind? Or would you prefer me bouncing on top of you and moaning about how fat your cock is?” he purred in his most seductive voice. He heard Jotaro inhale shakily. Good.

Never one to do things half-assed, the redhead sat down and scooted closer to the other man until he was right beside him. Painfully slowly, brushing up against his body as he shifted, he got on his knees and rested his temple on his thigh, letting the fingers of his good hand draw a path up and down the length of it, edging closer to the other man’s crotch with each swipe. He peered up at him with innocent, wide eyes, but never met the other man’s. Instead, he kept his focus on the redness creeping up his throat, on the slight heave of his broad chest.

“Or do you usually imagine me on my knees for you? All needy and begging for you to stuff me full of your dick? Oh, that got you off so good, even if you grumbled about it later.” He let his lower lip tremble and settle into a pout. He still refused to meet the other man’s indubitably hot glare, preferring to do his best impression of undressing him with his eyes, but he could hear his small, quiet gasps for air. His fingers had stopped their teasing dance and now he was gripping and squeezing at Jotaro’s inner thigh, almost at his groin but not quite, watching as his bulge grew and strained against his zipper.

“I know it gets me off when all the guys I fuck beg for more.”

Was he being petty? Sure. But he earned it.

“It’s my favorite game right after Final Fantasy VII. Making the biggest guys I can find beg and cry to be split open on my cock. Can’t even count how many it was anymore.” He furrowed his brow and pretended to deliberate on something.

“Hmm, speaking of guys begging for more. I guess you could always fuck my face, especially if you don’t wanna bother with prep. Can’t say I’m not used to it by now, and hey, you’ve had me, so I don’t have to tell you how good I am at sucking cock. Wait, did I deepthroat you? I’m so sorry that I don't remember, they just all blend together after a while.” He giggled and fluttered his eyelashes again and put on the sweetest, most apologetic smile he could muster. It contrasted with the harsh edge his voice had taken on beneath the sultry tone he’d adopted.

“Although, with how much of a slut I am, I probably don’t need any prep anyway, to be honest. Definitely keep the condom on this time though. Don’t wanna get any diseases from my whorish, loose ass after all.” His grip on the other man’s leg probably would have been bruising by now if it wasn’t hard as steel with muscle mass. As it was, Jotaro didn’t seem to notice, or at least didn’t betray any physical discomfort. The bulge in his pants had already started to deflate.

“For fuck’s sake, Noriaki. I’m not here to play fucking games.” Jotaro’s voice sounded strained, but it wasn’t with lust; it sounded uneasy. Noriaki decided to drop the act and put some distance between them, not-so-elegantly skidding away on his ass. He’d gotten his point across, he believed. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t take his sweet time responding to the other man though.

He didn’t join Jotaro on the couch, opting to sit cross-legged on the soft, green carpet instead. He wasn’t sure what would happen if they were cramped on his tiny couch together again. Part of him wanted to find out, but his upstairs brain had won this round, thankfully. There was a mix of apprehension and disgust keeping him from giving into his basic instincts, the ones that commanded he actually do everything he'd just described in detail. That same mix made him uncomfortable with the idea of getting close to Jotaro. Besides, he was Japanese, and he did value his culture, and sitting on a couch while serving and drinking some really good tea was damn-near blasphemous in his book. It wasn’t because he was still pissed beyond belief.

Okay, he was. Anger was still bubbling just below the surface of his skin. But this was the second instance of Jotaro displaying vulnerability in like, 20 minutes, so… He could be reasonable about his rage, barely contained as it was. He could.

“Then why are you here?” He took his cup of tea and sipped at it, trying to ignore the tension in the air as he took in the faint notes of something earthy without any bitterness corrupting the taste. He still got it. His mother would've been so proud if he hadn't turned out to be a massive fruit.

“I already said,” Jotaro sounded exasperated, “I wanted to talk. You agreed. So just… let's talk. Look at me. Please.”

With a heavy sigh, the redhead complied. Lavender met the ocean and… Why, why was he about to start wailing like a baby again? Why was it so easy for Jotaro to break him apart like that? He didn’t even do anything, for God’s sake. Perhaps his little spiel had done more to hurt him than the other man. He couldn’t get too lost in his musings though before Jotaro spoke up, still holding his gaze and definitely noticing the shimmer of liquid threatening to burst out.

“I’m sorry,” Jotaro declared solemnly, like it was more than an apology, like it was an invocation. Noriaki fought the urge to look away again. This was what he wanted, right?

“What are you sorry for, exactly?” He wasn’t softening yet, and his voice didn’t crack. It was just hoarse because he hadn’t used it in a few days except to talk to Roxanne and then the doctor. That was it.

“For what I said to you. You could’ve slept with hundreds of men, and you’re still not a slut. I was…” Jotaro grimaced and shifted in his seat a little. “I was jealous. At the thought that… others saw you like that. I –“

Noriaki’s pulse quickened when Jotaro took off his hat and ran his hand through his dark curls. It was a symbol, he instantly understood. That he wasn’t hiding himself away at all this time, not even a little bit, that he was about to lay all his cards on the table. As if to compensate, he broke the eye contact he had asked for. Noriaki didn’t blame him. He honestly didn’t know if he could keep it up himself.

“I got so angry because I want you all to myself,” Jotaro admitted, seemingly fascinated with the general vicinity of the redhead’s neck. “I hate that I wasn’t your first and only, and that you weren’t mine. I hate that everything happened like it did. That we couldn’t just enjoy it and you felt you had to kick me out to save some of your dignity. You’re too good of a man to be an affair.” He exhaled harshly and Noriaki was once again a little astounded by how well Jotaro sometimes got him. He opened his mouth to speak, but Jotaro held up a hand.

“Please, let me just get this all out, then you can say whatever you want.”

Noriaki nodded and the other man took that as his sign to continue.

“I hate that it took me so long to get it. Or, you know, to allow myself to get it.” A tiny, crooked smile appeared on his face right before he glanced back up.

“You freaking smartass knew all along though, didn’t you? Not like I could ever hide shit from you.”

Noriaki put down the teacup rattling in his shaky grip because he was pretty sure it would slip from his grasp with how sweaty his palms had become. It was only there as a pretense anyway.

“Knew what, exactly? Use your words, Jotaro.”                                                                       

Noriaki waited, full of apprehension and hopeful suspense. The air was charged with the open secret between them that was about to be unraveled. Something private, something like the language only they seemed to speak, something that only ever revealed itself in fleeting touches and little smiles and knowing looks and furtive glances and the synchronized beating of the hearts in their chests. The trembling of their hands, hidden in fists and released in bouts of inexplicable anger, the sequestered spill of sadness and longing down their faces behind closed doors where no one else would see. Something that never could be uttered before but now was kicking and screaming to be put into words. Something only the two of them could understand to its fullest extent, because of course they’d be the only ones who’d understand, because who else had it been carved into so thoroughly, so irrevocably? Even if they never acknowledged it, it wouldn’t ever fade away completely.

Jotaro got up from his seat to kneel beside Noriaki, but the redhead was too terrified to move or protest their sudden closeness. He let the other man envelop his uninjured hand with his much larger ones.

“That I’m in love with you, of course.”

Noriaki heard a hiccup. It took him a moment to realize he was the one who’d produced it. He didn’t think he’d cried as much as he did this week over the span of his entire life, and apparently, he wasn’t done yet. But who could blame him? It wasn’t weakness. It was relief. The kind of relief someone would feel who’d been buried under rubble for 8 long years, and had been almost crushed to death by the weight on his chest more than once, feeling utterly helpless and alone, because no matter what he did, he could never make it budge, and no matter how many people came by and tried to help, nobody could even nudge it aside a little. And now Jotaro had finally come along and lifted it off of him like it was nothing.

Something still felt off, somehow, but he shoved it aside. This, right here, was what he’d been aching for since he was 17 years old. Countless sleepless nights spent crying into his pillow, or numbly staring at the ceiling while his own mind tortured him with images and ideas of what could have been, and what their reality was, were finally being eradicated now. There was no way he was going to be anything other than happy. No way.

“Are those happy tears?” Jotaro asked like he’d read his mind. His own voice sounded suspiciously wet. He was such a bleeding heart, but no one would ever suspect it, because he rarely ever showed this side of himself to anyone other than Noriaki. And it had really taken the moron more than 8 fucking years to understand why that was.

“You really are so fucking dumb, you know?” the redhead replied with a teary laugh. Next, he punched him as hard as he could in his arm, making Jotaro yelp and gape at him in shock and confusion as he rubbed at the sore spot.

“That’s for making me wait so long.”

Jotaro snorted. “Fair.”

Then, he hesitantly lifted his hands to Noriaki’s cheeks, and when there wasn’t any protest, started wiping away the liquid gathering on them.

“Apparently, even Marina knew.”

The mention of her name made his heart lurch in his chest and his stomach drop to somewhere in the proximity of his jelly-like knees.

“You told her?”

“Of course I did,” Jotaro scoffed. His voice was soft when he elaborated. “It might not seem like it, considering… I did what I did with you. But I do respect and love her a lot. Fuck, she’s the mother of my child, how could I not? I just –“

“Don’t love her like that. I get it. I mean. I could have told you before you ever got hitched.” Noriaki rolled his eyes in a theatrical display of superiority; an obvious attempt at humor, something to lighten the heavy air that still clung to them.

Jotaro didn't bite. He tilted his head to the side in curiosity, dark curls bouncing with the movement. It was adorable. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because I can’t tell you you’re in love with me?” Noriaki chuckled incredulously. That man… He still looked confused, somehow, pursing his lips as if to ask why not?

“It wouldn’t have meant anything,” he went on to explain, just as he’d been telling himself for all this time whenever he considered starting that conversation. The places where Jotaro was still brushing his skin felt hot, but at least he’d stopped crying. “How’d she react?”

“Way too understanding. Made me feel even more like shit. What do you mean, it wouldn’t have meant anything? I would have appreciated the help.” Jotaro’s fingers dragged down his cheek and came to rest on his jaw. Noriaki leaned into the touch and reached up to settle his own palm against the back of the large hand cradling his face.

“It’s like when you tell a kid to apologize. If they’re not sorry, it’s just words. I wanted you to realize your feelings without my meddling, because otherwise, I'd always worry I'd coerced you somehow. I mean, that would be even more pathetic, if I don’t mean enough to you for you to get your head out of your ass on your own.” Before Jotaro could interrupt, no doubt in protest, he added, “besides, I can’t tell you you’re gay if you’re not ready to acknowledge it. You would have just kept denying it,” Noriaki elaborated. Jotaro nodded in understanding. “So, you two are…?”

“She’d already gotten in contact with a divorce lawyer before all of this happened. Had the papers in her fucking nightstand. She saw it coming for miles, I really forgot how smart she is,” Jotaro said with a sigh.

“She is. Smart, I mean. Did she tell you she came by and talked to me a few years ago because I – I had feelings for you?” Noriaki chuckled humorlessly, both at the memory and himself. Even now, he couldn’t say it. “She was really nice about it too. Made me feel even more pathetic. I’d been obvious enough for even your wife to get it and start pitying me, but you still didn’t. Either that, or you were purposefully being obtuse.”

“I –“ Jotaro pursed his lips. “I kinda did? I mean. I knew you liked me.” He pulled away one of his hands to rub at the back of his neck sheepishly. Noriaki just stared at him. His arms fell limp to his sides, and he flinched away from Jotaro’s touch, the burn of their skin touching suddenly unpleasant. His mind was blank except for a shrill screeching noise.

“You… you knew? So you were being obtuse on purpose. You –“

“I mean, I knew you were attracted to me sexually,” Jotaro interjected before Noriaki could get even more worked up. “Seen it enough times to recognize it. I just didn’t know why it didn’t bother me as much as it did with other people? I figured it’s because we’re friends and you genuinely like me as a person because you’re weird like that, and you just happened to want me physically as well. And… uh… it wasn’t… unwelcome.” He blushed. Jotaro fucking Kujo was blushing. Not from exertion, or – as he’d learned he did – from pleasure, but from embarrassment. Was Noriaki in a parallel universe?

Still, what he said rubbed him the wrong way. The idea that he wasn't enough for Jotaro to be honest with both of them and that he’d prefer living in denial… it was humiliating. Truthfully, it made anger freeze up his veins again. He could feel one of Hierophant's tentacles wrap around his ankle, maybe in comfort, maybe as a sign that he was ready for the fight to come and that he really, really wanted to cause bodily harm to the man in front of him for what he’d, apparently knowingly, put him through.

“So you – you fucking knew. You knew, you knew how much I – and God, you even made me your best man at your wedding and you – you just let me suffer, for nearly a decade, because you were too chickenshit to admit you wanted me too?” Noriaki’s voice was becoming uncharacteristically hysterical. But it took all of his strength to keep a semblance of composure, so he couldn’t care about that small sign of weakness. Ask before you assume, he told himself. That’s what adults do.

“I – okay. Please just listen. I’ll tell you what was going on in my brain, best I can tell. Dunno if I can explain it all that great, but give me a chance, please?”

He sounded so earnest. Noriaki pursed his lips before he nodded tersely. “This had better be a hell of a good argument, you motherfucker,” he spat venomously. Jotaro fidgeted nervously where he was perched.

“Do you know you’re genuinely terrifying?”

“I sure fucking hope so. You should be terrified. Speak, asshole, before I change my mind,” he gritted out between clenched teeth.

“So… basically, I mean, I’ve been – uh – thinking about you in… compromising positions for as long as we’ve known each other,” Jotaro admitted. Noriaki tried to form a fist with his injured hand because he forgot for a second and hissed at the sharp pain shooting through it. It was welcome in grounding him in the present, though. Just listen, he repeated to himself. You said you would. “And you probably wanting to do the same with me made it feel less creepy? And I could just tell myself it was only out of curiosity that I pictured you like that. Sure, it turned me on, but it was something that you would wanna do with me, not necessarily what I would wanna do if I had the chance. Does that make sense?”

It kind of did, in a weird way. Enough to calm him down to a point where he didn’t want to wail on him at least. He might have done the same thing at the time if remaining in the closet had ever been an option for him. But there was one thing that still didn’t make sense to him at all. He looked down at his lap and started scratching at the splint, just to get this energy out somehow, watching the motion but completely unseeing.

“Why couldn’t you – I mean. You didn’t really react weirdly or treat me differently. Not even for a second. You just said, ‘cool, would you rather watch sumo or a horror flick?’ and that was it. It took Polnareff longer to go back to treating me normally, and he’s bi, for Christ’s sake. He still prefers chicks, sure, but he’s been with guys before. Took him a while to understand that no, I really, really don’t feel attracted to women at all.”

Jotaro interrupted him, looking positively shocked. Or, as shocked as Jotaro could look.

“Wait, Polnareff’s bi? How come I didn’t know? Did you two –“

“What?” He startled, then let out a shocked bark of laughter. “Ha! No! God, Jotaro, what do you take me for? I have something called standards. Pretty high ones at that.” The words left something bitter in his mouth as his brain recalled those hurtful words Jotaro shouted at him.

He swallowed the taste before he went on. Jotaro had explained. He didn’t mean it. It was okay. “No offense to Pol, he's great, but he doesn’t even have eyebrows.”

It was Jotaro’s turn to laugh. The hand that had been resting against his jaw moved further back behind his ear, fingers tangling in the red hair at the base of his neck. Noriaki tried to keep his breathing under control as he recalled those fingers pulling on the long strands as he had his mouth stuffed full of cock. Now wasn’t the time.

“I’m flattered I meet your impossibly high standards of having eyebrows,” Jotaro brought him back to reality.

“Oh my God, you do. You have such good eyebrows.”

Scratching at his splint wasn’t cutting it anymore. Noriaki pulled Jotaro’s arm towards him by his wrist and started tracing idle patterns over Jotaro’s exposed forearm as he turned serious again. Because the carousel in his head, the one that’s been turning him this way and that forever as it told him he was nothing to Jotaro and he never would be, only to then convince him that he and Jotaro definitely belonged together, went absolutely haywire over the last few days – not to mention the emotional whiplash he was experiencing currently. He needed to know. He needed some semblance of certainty.

“I just keep coming back to how I can never seem to meet yours. Your standards. At least, not enough for you to wanna be with me for real, apparently.” His voice was so quiet, he’s sure Jotaro would have missed it if he hadn’t been leaning in further towards him.

“It’s because of the… you…” Since when did he, Noriaki Kakyoin, stutter? Maybe because he didn’t want the answer to his next question. Or to even think about the question. “You really think I’m some… manwhore, deep down, don’t you? Is it because of the Dio thing? I keep thinking that’s what it must be, right? The thing that makes me so undeserving that you’d rather pretend and make all of us miserable.” He took a deep, shaky breath and plowed on through the discomfort and nausea settling in his gut before Jotaro could interject. He needed to get this out. “I wouldn’t wanna be with someone like that either. Especially considering what’s at stake whenever you decide to trust someone enough to throw caution to the wind like we did. Which I never have so far, by the way, not when I had a choice.” He grimaced and felt Jotaro’s muscles tense under his touch at what he was alluding to. “Not that I owe you an explanation.”

“What? No, that’s not –“

“I told you Polnareff is bi, which I thought you knew, by the way, and your first instinct, your very first instinct,” Noriaki huffed sardonically, “was to assume we’d slept together.”

“No, no! Noriaki, no! I mean, you two are super close, it’s not like –“

“You need to understand something, Jotaro,” the redhead interrupted him. His nails dug into Jotaro’s forearm, but neither of them seemed to notice. “I need you to get it into your thick head that I’m not easy. I wasn’t when Dio got me and –“ he gulped, “stripped me of my dignity, when I was a 17-year-old kid and was both desperate for connection and scared out of my fucking mind, by the way. I wasn’t easy when I had sex with men other than you, because I’m a grown man with needs and had no chance with you anyway. I know you wish I would've waited like a good little boy and saved myself for when you finally came around, but I didn't, and that's okay. It doesn't make me a slut. And I understand why you might have thought so, but I sure as hell wasn’t being an easy slut when I allowed you to fuck me.” He took a moment to inhale deeply, and Jotaro took his chance to say something.

“I know you’re not, you –“

“You really fucking hurt me. You hurt me so much,” the redhead interrupted again, just to make sure he got his point across. He could feel tremors wracking his body and tightened his grip on Jotaro in response. It had to be painful by now, he vaguely wondered, but the taller man didn’t make a sound. Noriaki was experiencing too many sensations all at once, his mind was going a million miles a minute, and the way joy and rage and desperation and sadness and relief kept passing the staff back and forth as they raced through him wasn’t helping. In that moment, he really wished he’d gone back on his medication.

“Nori – it had nothing to do with… with any of that.” Jotaro returned his palms to the sides of his face, resuming his gentle stroking motions. “Or with you at all. If anything, you’re too good for me. I – look at me?”

He finally obeyed and raised his gaze to meet Jotaro’s, albeit reluctantly. His expression may remain the same, always so stoic, but those eyes always spoke volumes to how deeply he was feeling. How anyone could think he was some kind of immovable brute, he’d never understand. Their oceanic color was drowning him in a myriad of emotions he couldn’t even begin to decipher.

“It took me so long because I’ve never had an issue with gay people, you know? Of course you know. So why would I deny that I am – “ he exhaled through his mouth but plowed on after a brief moment of hesitation, “gay then? It didn’t make any sense. And then I started thinking.”

Noriaki waited patiently and kept running his fingers over Jotaro’s wrist and forearm, back and forth, back and forth, repetitive motions meant to soothe them both as the other man looked for the right words.

“It’s hard, being a Joestar. Sure, there’s the family fortune and I know better than to complain about my looks. But – and you gotta understand none of this is conscious – but there’s so many unspoken expectations, you can’t even imagine. About keeping the bloodline going, for one. That’s been a recurring theme ever since I was little, you know, because I’m an only child and I don’t have any cousins. On either side of the family. And Joestar men are chivalrous knights who love women and are popular with them. Gotta pass on that starshaped birthmark and the family curse that comes with it!” Jotaro went silent again after the snarky exclamation and Noriaki squeezed his hand in reassurance before resuming his ministrations.

“Not to mention the shit my dad used to spout about Kujo pride or honor or whatever. But it was okay until Egypt. People got confused a lot because I never asked out any of the girls who chased me, but they were so obnoxious that it wasn’t a serious question. I personally never wondered why I didn’t. The old man didn’t care all that much anymore, he hadn’t been around in years, and mom’s always been supportive no matter how horrible I was. But then it became about saving her, and then the whole world, and then the whole Joestar legacy thing became important again and it never mattered what I wanted. I didn’t want to be broken beyond repair at 17. I just wanted a quiet, normal life. But I had an obligation to fulfill.”

Jotaro looked so shattered for a second and seemed to need a moment to compose himself, and Noriaki felt his heart break for the teenager he used to be, for the man he was now. For both of them, really. Neither of them had asked for any of this.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d do anything to save my mom, I’d do it all over again, but – the weight. It’s still there. It’s unbearable sometimes. I sometimes wish I could give this power away, so someone else would have to save everyone over and over again. I just –“ His voice had started to quiver and he paused. Noriaki could see him struggling with the urge to close his eyes or avert them, and he was aware of how special and rare it was that Jotaro was laying himself bare like that. He squeezed in reassurance once more before continuing drawing on his skin, using more pressure now but still making sure to be as tender as the hands cradling his face, hoping to calm him and let him know through his touch that he was here and wasn’t going anywhere.

“I didn’t want to have to fight and carry even more, is what it boils down to, I figure. I didn’t want to be even more of a freak. Did you know I got bullied for being mixed pretty much my whole life until I started beating people up? And I don’t have to tell you how wonderfully accepting of gay men people are.” Noriaki snorted and nuzzled into Jotaro’s palm in understanding. “Hiding that additional weight away was easier than explaining, and eventually disappointing people because I failed to fulfill my obligations. Until it wasn’t anymore. I think, at least. I haven’t had my epiphany for that long, so I’m still not too sure myself, why I couldn’t just – let myself have this from the beginning. All I know for sure is that it was okay for others to be queer or whatever, but not for me. It’s not something that goes with being a Joestar. Or a Kujo, for that matter. Still not sure how my dad would react. But I don’t care anymore. I don’t. I love you too much to care.” Noriaki’s heart staggered in his chest and he felt a little lightheaded at the words. He leaned in closer to rest their foreheads together. Noriaki wrapped his arms around Jotaro’s neck before he consciously gave his body the command to move any of his limbs.

“I wish you’d told me before,” the redhead murmured. It was his turn to soothe the man before him now. It was his turn to take his vulnerability and answer it with unwavering support, like Jotaro had done for him so many times before. “I could have helped you carry it. You never had to do it alone.”

“You have your own stuff, Noriaki.”

“And you having yours never kept you from sharing my burdens, did it?”

Jotaro’s protest died on his tongue. Noriaki continued.

“And I’m sure that no one who really matters would make you struggle more for this. Not for feeling overwhelmed, and not for loving me. Or any man. No one would be disappointed, not because of that. It’s so stupid that you'd think that.”

Jotaro exhaled in that way he did when he tried not to laugh. “I expose my innermost fears to you, and you call me stupid. Nice. Just like you.”

The redhead shook his head with a scoff.

“I mean, if your family and our friends can accept me, why wouldn’t they do the same for you?”

“Same reason I couldn’t accept it for myself. It’s a non-issue if it’s literally anybody else. It’s different if it’s me.”

“No one would have been disappointed. And no one will be,” he repeated quietly. Their lips were so close, he could almost feel them touching when he moved his to speak. Their puffs of breath mingled between them as they synchronized. Noriaki noticed he’d been absentmindedly stroking the soft skin under his fingertips.

“What matters is how we move forward. And we’re here, and you love me. And I – well. I guess I don’t have to tell you.”

“It’d be nice to hear it anyway.” The words were said so quietly that Noriaki almost missed them despite their proximity, betraying how embarrassed Jotaro was to be asking for reassurance. The fact that he did it anyway made butterflies flap up a storm inside him, only cementing the sentiment Noriaki was about to share.

“Fine,” the redhead faked an exasperated sigh, belied by the small smile tugging at his mouth. This time, he didn’t struggle with the words at all.

“I love you.”

He heard Jotaro’s breath hitch and saw his face come alive.

“I love you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I could’ve spared everyone so much pain.”

“I did believe that you still hadn’t gotten it after… you know. I felt so horrible about it, and then I thought it didn’t even mean as much to you as I thought it did. As much as it meant to me. That’s why I lashed out like I did,” Noriaki admitted. “So, I’m also sorry. For assuming before asking, for putting all the blame on you, for comparing you to Dio, for saying I hate you. You’re – despite everything, you’re actually the best thing that’s ever happened to me. So, I’m sorry.” He snickered, a self-deprecating sound. “For being terrible in general. I don’t know why you would put up with me, you know better than anyone how truly fucking terrible I am.”

“You’re not – you know what, you are. You are fucking terrible. The real you is a self-righteous, rude, arrogant know-it-all, but guess what?”

Noriaki could feel Jotaro’s grin, even if their faces were too close together for him to see it beyond the way mirth lit up his eyes. His own lips stretched wider to match it.

“What?”

“I fucking love you for it.”

The redhead let out an embarrassing wheeze before he cracked up in earnest, letting his head sink down to Jotaro’s shoulder and burying his face in it as he shook with laughter.

“That was so cheesy. Oh my God. I actually think I don’t want you anymore. What’s the return policy on you?”

Jotaro grabbed him by his trembling shoulders and yanked him away so he could glare at him. Noriaki could tell he was trying to look disapproving, but there was a slight twitch at the corners of his mouth contradicting his attempt and giving him away.

“Thanks for proving my point.”

“It was my point to begin with!”

“You’re an insufferable smartass. Would you just shut up for once?” Jotaro was chuckling now. His eyes were sparkling, like early afternoon sunlight reflecting off the deep blue of the ocean, and Noriaki felt love swell inside of him, straining against his ribcage.

They still had a lot to talk about, a lot of difficult conversations and healing ahead of them, but right now? He would just let himself bask without remorse tinging his every action.

“Why don’t you make me?”

Despite being the one who issued the challenge, it was definitely Noriaki who made the first move, connecting his lips with the plush ones a few inches away from his own. Or maybe it was Jotaro who made the first move by being his own particular brand of asshole that Noriaki loved so much. Who cared anymore? He sure as fuck didn’t. He’s had enough of talking right this second, and he didn’t need to feel guilty about wanting this anymore.

Their kiss this time wasn’t as desperate as the first one had been. There was an undeniable passion in the way Noriaki cupped Jotaro’s chiseled face and Jotaro wrapped his bulky arms around his waist, in the way their lips moved against each other, the way Jotaro bit down gently and made Noriaki gasp, the way they let their tongues meet and taste each other, but it was more languid than before; less about making every second of this count because it would be the only and last time they could, and more infused with the kind of serenity that came with the knowledge that they could keep doing this, whenever they wanted, for as long as they wanted. Noriaki let his fingertips trail down from Jotaro’s face towards his neck and then his shoulders, down to his chest to where he could feel his heartbeat beneath his unbroken palm. He pulled back, only as much as he needed to so he could speak – or, more accurately, pant – against Jotaro’s lips.

“I fucking love you for it, too.”

Jotaro’s heart picked up its pace at that, he felt it, just as he’d suspected he would, and it made something hot flare up inside him. He smirked as he locked their lips together again, letting the heat beginning to thrum under his skin flow into the action as he coaxed Jotaro’s mouth open so he could explore it more thoroughly. The larger man broke the kiss once more to shift his palms towards the redhead’s chest, and then he pushed with a growl, making Noriaki topple backwards into the plush carpet with a yelp. Jotaro bullied his thighs apart to lie down between them, and another shot of arousal made an unbidden moan tumble from his throat.

The other man chucked at the sound and their mouths instantly reconnected in a feverish kiss, started moving against each other sloppily as their breathing turned heavy and gasping. Noriaki buried his fingers in Jotaro’s hair and pulled at the dark curls at the same time his hips bucked up to push the rapidly growing bulge in his pants against the one he could feel pressing against his pelvis. Smugness flooded him and made him grin against Jotaro’s lips when he both felt and heard him groan into his mouth. Almost in retaliation, it seemed, he ghosted his lips to the side of the redhead’s face and then down over his jaw while pulling the collar of his shirt down as much as he could. And then he bit down, hard, into the juncture where his neck met his shoulder.

Noriaki cried out, wrenching his head to the side as he pulled on the black hair in his grip more insistently and his hips jerked up forcefully, reacting of their own volition in response to the blaze of desire igniting in him, a feeling emanating from where he could feel Jotaro’s teeth digging into his flesh.

“Your hickeys are starting to fade,” he grunted. “Can’t have that.”

“It’s summer in Florida, Jojo,” Noriaki protested breathlessly even as he stretched his neck further to the side to allow Jotaro more room to work. “I can’t keep wearing scarves, even if they’re trendy. People were giving me weird looks all week.”

“Then don’t wear scarves.” His deep voice was muffled against the redhead’s soft skin. He felt his teeth drag over the tendons and back up towards his ear. The hot puffs of air and the sensation of plush lips murmuring the sultry suggestion against him made goosebumps break out all over his body.

“You’re so possessive, it’s – haah,” Noriaki moaned when Jotaro latched onto his pulse point and sucked like he was trying to coax the blood out of the artery there into his mouth.

“You don’t seem to have an issue with it,” Jotaro quipped before he continued his onslaught.

“Surprised that I don’t, to be honest, I’d kill anyone else who tried – oh, fuck…” Jotaro clamped down on his collarbone and the sudden ache made Noriaki squirm. He felt like his whole body was burning up, like he had the worst case of the flu but was so high on meds that he couldn’t feel anything except how overheated he was, how his clothes were stuck to him, uncomfortable and scratchy, and he needed them off, off, right now, needed sweat-slick skin against sweat-slick skin, they had so much time to make up for, and Jotaro was still gnawing and sucking at him like he was starving and Noriaki understood, he felt even more hungry than he did the first time, and –

And his fucking cat decided to jump on them in that exact moment. The taller man pulled away and sat back on his calves with a curse. Noriaki immediately felt colder without his body weight pressing against him and whined involuntarily before he noticed Jotaro clutching the forearm that had been holding him up on top of the redhead just a second ago.

“Roxanne, what the fuck,” he groused at the animal. She looked at him and just meowed, not feeling guilty at all, judging by the fact that she just kept staring. And that she was a cat.

“I’ll deal with you later,” he promised and sat up, taking Jotaro’s hand away to inspect the damage. The scratches weren’t deep, thankfully.

“Don’t be mad at her, for all she knows, I was attacking you.” He nodded at the animal solemnly. “Thanks for watching out for him.”

She meowed at the taller man and Noriaki gaped for a second before he started cackling. It wasn’t really comparable in quantity, but it almost felt like he was making up for all the crying with all the laughter he couldn’t control.

“If people only knew just how bizarre you are,” he commented with a chuckle and nudged the man to stand, much to his chagrin. “C’mon, we need to clean that,” Noriaki instructed. Jotaro grumbled but listened, and Noriaki got to his feet clumsily. It was harder than it looked when he couldn’t use both hands to prop himself up. He led the taller man to the bathroom and opened his medicine cabinet to look for ointment and bandages, put them down next to the sink, and instructed Jotaro to hold his slashed skin under the warm water to wash away any dirt.

“Good thing she got your arm and not your hand as well. Not sure I’m ready to go into public matching with you,” he joked as he opened the little bottle of disinfectant and got to work on patching Jotaro up. He was careful and gentle, and fussing more than he should, given that it was literally just a few scratches, but he couldn’t help it. He was tending to something with indescribable value to him, and he didn’t have to hide just how precious his best friend really was to him anymore. It was incredibly freeing. Even if the weight of Jotaro’s stare on him made him blush like a schoolgirl.

“Oh yeah. What happened? You told the doctor you accidentally hit yourself with a hammer?” Jotaro murmured and switched their roles, cradling Noriaki’s injured hand in his instead. He always put so much care into everything he did. It made the redhead dizzy and goosebumps break out over his forearm once more.

“I was sculpting, and I slipped.” The redhead shrugged. “You were there, she said it should be fine in a couple of weeks. I’ve had worse.”

He immediately regretted saying that when Jotaro’s face turned into stone, all hard lines and vacant eyes where they’d just been sparkling like the sea a moment ago. He reached up with his free hand, gently resting it against side of the taller man’s face.

“Hey, I’m here.” His thumbs traced over his high, defined cheekbones. “We’re all here. We’re okay,” he reassured him. Jotaro blinked at him, his features slowly softening again as he seemed to return to the present.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re okay.” His teal eyes flitted over Noriaki’s face, like he was checking him over, assuring himself that he was, in fact, right in front of him, alive and breathing. But while they drank each other in, the redhead watched as a crease formed between his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth turned down in a barely perceptible pout. Noriaki decided to stay quiet. Jotaro would speak when he was ready.

“…Are we okay?” he eventually asked.

The question, although short and simple, was so loaded and ambiguous that Noriaki was struggling to find an honest answer. He wanted to shout out that yes, of course they were okay, in every sense the question implied. But the truth was –

“I’m not sure.” Noriaki chewed on the inside of his cheek as he contemplated how to go on. He let his hand fall limp to his side and pulled the injured one out of Jotaro’s gentle grasp. Without conscious thought, he tried to clasp his fingers together, but when he remembered he couldn’t, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and started playing with the fabric instead, wrinkling it as he pulled and wrung it.

It seemed that it was Jotaro’s turn to keep mum and wait him out. He looked exhausted all of a sudden, the bags under his eyes were more prominent and the whites bloodshot. Noriaki understood. I know mine isn’t echoed in his head. They stood there like that, close enough to share breath but not touching, as he contemplated his next words.

“I think…” he began slowly. He kept his voice low. In the silent, terse atmosphere, anything louder than a whisper would shatter the suddenly palpable distance between them, and he needed that distance to contemplate his next words. He needed to use his brain over his heart or his dick for a moment.

 “You need help.”

Jotaro visibly bristled and took a step back. The expression adorning his handsome features was closed off, but he hadn’t stormed out of there yet, so Noriaki took that as a win. His socked feet suddenly became incredibly interesting, so he focused on them instead of the unfathomable depth of Jotaro's ocean irises.

“We both do. I thought I was okay, but I clearly still have some issues to resolve, and I intend on getting on that as soon as I can. But Jotaro, the whole clusterfuck that led us here needs to be broken down and worked through. You can’t do that on your own, and I can only help so much. This,” he gestured back and forth between them, “this is a symptom. I’d love to tell you that we can be together, and everything will be just fine from here on out, but that’s not how it works.”

A few beats, filled with the kind of stillness that made you wonder if time had frozen, and then, “does that mean you don’t want to be with me?”

Noriaki laughed, low and sad at how quickly the mood shifted again. He was so fucking sick of this. It was draining and he was becoming weary of it.

“Of course I want to be with you,” he reassured the mass of muscle and repressed feelings that constituted his best friend. His gaze drifted from the knitted pattern of his socks to the side, itemizing every piece of clutter in his field of vision. His hand formed a tight fist around the fabric of his shirt. It was probably stretched beyond repair by now. The taste of iron filled his mouth; he’d chewed too hard on the inside of his cheek. And suddenly, words came pouring out of his mouth, unbidden and uncensored.

“There’s nothing in the world that I want more. But if we’re being rational about this… you literally just separated from your wife. Not even a week ago. From what I understand, the papers aren’t even filed yet. It’s pathetic, but I’ve been pining and turning this over in my head for almost a decade. Jojo, I’ve had time to think this through thoroughly, to figure out if it’s just because we share trauma or if it’s just attraction or if there’s something more, so I know for sure what I want and feel. You, on the other hand –“

Large palms found his arms, making him jolt in surprise.

“I know what I want. I know for certain that I want you.”

“You only realized you could have feelings for me about, what? A couple of weeks ago? I know you’d never hurt me on purpose, but Jotaro,” Noriaki still had his head turned, blinking up at the popcorn ceiling, trying to find shapes in the texture. “I love you too much to fuck this up. Or to let you fuck this up. What’s a little more waiting compared to what could be a lifetime of happiness?”

One of the palms resting on his upper arm found his jaw and gently turned his head until he was looking at the other man’s collarbone, stubbornly refusing to meet the intense glare pressing down on him like a real, actual weight. Callouses scraped over his soft skin as Jotaro carefully pushed against his chin to make him peer up at his face.

“We’re not going to fuck this up,” the larger man promised in his deep timbre that never failed to calm Noriaki’s soul. He responded with a shuddering inhale. Was he overthinking this? No, he had valid concerns. But maybe… just maybe…

“I don’t know if we’re okay,” the redhead began. “But I am almost positive that we will be. Eventually.”

He erased the distance of the step Jotaro had taken with one of his own. His arms wrapped around the muscular man’s waist and he tilted his head up so he could keep looking at his beautiful face.

“If you’re willing, I’d be okay with pretending everything is fine for tonight. It’s definitely different this time. Who knows,” he chuckled. “Could be the first stride in the right direction.”

“I’ll have you any way I can,” Jotaro replied so sincerely, it made Noriaki’s heart squeeze. “But just so you know, I won’t be pretending.”

Noriaki needed his doubts to shut up. So he allowed the sweet words to sweep him off his feet and surged up on his toes so his lips could meld with the soft ones he’d been starting to miss against his. It had been about what, 15 minutes? And he couldn’t bear to keep his hands to himself. He was so royally fucked. No matter what he said, staying away from this man, now that he knew he could have him, would be the hardest thing he’d ever done.

The taste of Jotaro’s answering moan encouraged him to press their bodies even closer together and let his tongue slip out and against the other man’s. The wet slide was slow and sensual, and it made his spine tingle, and it was also over way sooner than he would have liked as Jotaro disconnected them to stare at his face.

Thick, calloused fingers moved to rest against the back of his neck, drawing feather-light lines up and down the sensitive skin, making Noriaki’s body shiver and his breath hitch and his arms around the other man tighten. A small smile shifted the usually stoic man’s features at the reaction.

“So sensitive,” he mumbled. “It’s so much fun. I wonder…”

He began to carefully card through the longer strands of red hair that reached down just past Noriaki’s shoulders. The fingers of his other hand twirled and played with what everyone had dubbed his hair noodle. His mullet might be gone, but his hair noodle was there to stay. Noriaki had to bite down the urge to purr like a cat as fingernails dragged over this scalp.

“Your hair’s getting longer.”

Noriaki smiled, not unkindly, but definitely with teasing undertones. “You wouldn’t know this because you don’t have taste except when it comes to choosing partners,” he stuck out his tongue briefly, “but people change their style from time to time. Definitely after high school.”

“Mhm…” Suddenly, Jotaro’s fingers clasped around the cherry-red strands of hair at the back of his head and pulled. Not too hard, but enough that Noriaki's head moved with the force and he felt a stinging in his roots. He couldn’t suppress the soft whine that escaped him in response to the sensation. If it wasn’t for his tight grasp on Jotaro’s waist, his legs would have buckled.

Yepp, his cock would be doing the rest of his thinking for tonight.

He watched as Jotaro’s pupils dilated, mirroring the heat he was sure was reflected in his own, heard how his lips parted on a sharp exhale.

“I kinda thought you’d like that. God, Noriaki, you’re so fucking perfect..”

And with that, he claimed Noriaki’s lips in a bruising kiss like they’d never been interrupted. His hands moved down to his ass and squeezed, and Noriaki let out a choked moan in response. His erection from earlier was returning rapidly, and he could feel his heartbeat accelerate with every brush of Jotaro’s tongue against his own.

Next thing he knew, Jotaro let go of his butt to wrap his huge arms around his back instead and started walking him backwards out of the bathroom. The redhead wasn’t too keen on getting another injury because they stumbled and tripped, but the other man wouldn’t let him pull away for even a second, and he put his trust into him that he’d keep him safe, just as he had so many times before, albeit in even more dire circumstances.

He was astonished at how natural and relaxing it felt to let go like that. It was so out of character for him, to let someone else take the reins and fully believe they’d do right by him, but perhaps this was what drew him to the man currently leading him blindly down the hallway towards his bedroom. The fact that he could depend on him beyond the shadow of a doubt and know everything would turn out okay.

“I love you,” he gasped against the lips still devouring his, right before he was pushed backwards onto his bed. Jotaro’s eyes widened and Noriaki knew exactly why. The other man took in the words, the sight of him splayed out on the midnight blue sheets, ready and wanting him, and obviously, it did something to him. He knew what it would do to him – no, what it did to him to see his best friend, the man he loved with all he had, so gone for him. Unsurprisingly, Jotaro was on him again in a second, peppering his face in kisses and making him honest-to-goodness giggle.

“I love you, too. Fuck, I love you so much.”

Noriaki sensed the walls in his heart crumbling down bit by bit with every instance Jotaro repeated those words in that rough voice of his. The cage that had held the sentiment inside himself for so long was being disassembled and tossed aside. He wanted to shout it from the rooftops. He wanted the whole world to know. It lit a desire in him that he was sure would never fully extinguish, and for the first time since he’d met the other man, he didn’t want it to. He wanted to be set ablaze by it.

“Make love to me,” the redhead heaved out. “Please, Jotaro, I need you. Please don’t judge me, and don’t reject me. Not now.”

Noriaki didn’t know where the wanton begging and unbridled need to be filled came from. Normally, he wouldn’t be caught dead losing control like this, and now, he couldn’t seem to stop. He understood why and how it happened last time, but he swore he would never allow another man to exert this much power over him. That was his takeaway from the whole Dio debacle. When he had sex, he derived most of his pleasure from reducing the men he brought back home to the same kind of pleading mess that he was quickly turning into, rather than the act itself.

But he wanted to give up power; he wanted to lose control. He wasn’t going to be ashamed of this, not this time. He wasn’t going to hold back. He’d decided to allow himself to act on his whims, all involving the man on top of him, and he would. If only for the time-being.

Jotaro growled and attacked his neck in response, just behind his ear. The sensation made a jolt pass through him and Noriaki wrapped his legs around Jotaro with a loud moan.

“Not ever, Nori,” he panted against the thin skin before he moved back to admire his face once again. Pretty, that's what he had been calling Noriaki since before they’d reached Egypt, at least when he wasn’t sober. He would look at him just like he was now.

“I’ll never judge you or reject you.”

Their mouths slotted together once more and Noriaki let his basest, most carnal instincts take over.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t perfect. The air still held remnants of unresolved tension and feelings between them, things they needed to settle that created distance, whether they liked it or not. However, the point of this, as he understood it, was to forget about that distance for now. Noriaki very obviously needed to stop thinking for a second, and Jotaro? Jotaro was more than happy to help him get to a place where his brain shut up for a change. He really was hopeless for this man; he would probably never entirely forgive himself for wasting years of their lives being ruled by his insecurities.

The thirst he had for Noriaki, now that it had been unlocked, felt like it couldn’t be quenched no matter how often he got to touch him. The desperation burning under his skin was different from the first time, Jotaro noticed vaguely as he unbuttoned Noriaki’s shirt. The first time had all the markings of being the last; like stumbling across an oasis in the dry desert heat, parched and exhausted, but knowing you wouldn't be able to stay at the fresh water source, so you took everything you could before you had to move on. This here was the first of many and therefore felt less greedy. It wasn't the same type of urgency. It wasn’t ‘we need to do this before we have time to regret it and then never do it again', it was ‘this could be the beginning of our lives together and I’m so ready for it.’ For Jotaro, there was also a side of ‘please don’t let me screw this up.’

Nevertheless, the urgency was still there, and…

“Did you have to wear a shirt with the smallest buttons to ever exist?” he grumbled, noting, again, that his hands were not made for delicate work. Noriaki laughed, the sound deep and rich yet clear as a bell, as he carded his hands through Jotaro’s black hair, making Jotaro shiver almost imperceptibly. His head was usually covered by a hat, and he liked it that way, but he’d have to reconsider his rigid stance on how necessary the accessory was, at least while he was alone with Noriaki. He would be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy having his hair played with like that. Everyone always assumed that the tough, big, stoic guy didn’t need or even want anyone to treat him with tenderness, but the truth was – he was human. He needed to be cared for every now and then just like everyone else.

Except for Noriaki Kakyoin. He just naturally seemed to get it, that Jotaro wasn’t gruff and quiet because he deemed himself above such things, but because he just didn’t know how to ask for them. It felt selfish. He got so much appreciation for things that basically just fell into his lap already, after all; his looks, his physical strength and his stand that gave him the ability to save the world from an evil flamboyant vampire and his remaining cultists, for example, got praised quite a lot. With that alone, he already got way more than most, and there were certainly more important things than his desire to just be held once in a while. And so, he never asked. But with Noriaki, he never had to.

He remembered, clear as day, when he had his first panic attack in the presence of the other man. He’d had them before, but with Jotaro being Jotaro, so unable to request or even identify whatever it was that he needed, he had never told anyone about them. What good would it have done? His loved ones couldn’t actually do anything about it other than worry, and they all had their own shit to deal with. It wasn’t like panic attacks were actually life-threatening, even if he felt like he was dying in the moment.

He wasn’t even sure if there was a specific thing that triggered it that time. It was close to moving day, his things had been packed up already for the most part – he figured there wasn’t something specific, and that’s what it was. The vague but terrifying realization that he was, in fact, moving, and thereby leaving his mother behind. All alone and unprotected. Vulnerable. His dad was never around, but even if he was, what would he be able to do if remnants of the Dio cultists decided to take revenge by hurting her? In their convoluted heads, she might be the reason he went on his quest to hunt down Dio in the first place. Hell, it wasn’t like they were entirely wrong to think that. He’d never forgive himself if he wasn’t there to protect her.

Noriaki had been in his room with him at the time – they were going over a list of things to get done before the big move, a clipboard in hand, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and talking a mile a minute as he scribbled down things he only remembered as he mentioned them. It was a gradual process in reality, but in that moment, it felt like one second, he was humming along and listening intently, going through his own mental checklist to see if there was something Noriaki might be missing, and the next, he suddenly forgot how to breathe. Cold hands grabbed him by his shoulders and at first, he flinched, ready to fight off the threat, but when he saw familiar fields of lavender blinking up at him, he luckily recognized who that touch belonged to. As Jotaro staggered, Noriaki’s hands proceeded to steady him as they guided his giant frame to sit down on the floor. His words were indiscernible, and his voice seemed far away, but it was there, along with the soft brush of those same cold hands up and down his back, the repetitive motion gentle and soothing. Breathe, he’d told him. And so he breathed. Slowly but surely, oxygen returned to his lungs and his brain. He was still trembling all over, still felt fear’s lax grip teasing along his throat, but he didn’t feel like he was dying anymore and so, he made to pull away – except Noriaki didn’t let him. Instead, he pulled him closer into his arms, hugging him and shushing him and continuing to grace him with his gentle touch, until Jotaro finally stopped trembling and fear’s embrace let go of him completely and Noriaki was the only thing that was left.

He also recalled being so fucking embarrassed – who was he to turn into a mess like that? Noriaki had nearly died, for fuck’s sake. He had been dead, actually, and here Jotaro was, acting like a big baby that didn’t want to leave his mommy. However, before he could even begin to downplay the whole ordeal, the other man gave him this look, like he knew exactly what he was about to do and was entirely unimpressed. So they just sat in silence that felt uncharacteristically awkward to Jotaro until Noriaki broke it by saying, “you realize we all get them, right? You’re allowed to be human, too.” And then, like he’d read his mind, the redhead added, “it’s okay that you’re worried about your mom. It doesn’t make you a bitch. But the Speedwagon Foundation will have people watching out for her 24/7, pretty much. If anything seems suspicious, she’ll be moved to a safehouse. She’ll be okay.” And Jotaro had trusted him, and he turned out to be right.

Ever since then, whenever they were having a difficult conversation, or Noriaki noticed something was bothering him, he had begun to soothe him with that same gentle touch before he had a chance to panic. It became an unconscious habit for both of them. Hell, he’d done it earlier despite being more upset with him than ever. Maybe, if he had learned to ask for these things, he would have realized sooner that the people in his life perhaps were willing to be there for him as unconditionally as he was willing to be there for them. He wasn’t exactly convinced that they would be, not once he admitted to them that he was one: getting divorced and two: in love with his male best friend, but Noriaki seemed to think so, and maybe, just maybe, it would be good for him to try and learn to trust the other man as whole-heartedly with this as he did with everything else. It had worked out for him when it came to everything else so far.

Those perpetually cold but tender hands clamped down on his much bigger ones and nudged them aside – at least the one that wasn’t injured, the other one just kinda touched him. “Let me, you’re taking too long,” the redhead murmured, tugging at the world’s tiniest buttons but equally as unsuccessful, clumsy with the inability to use both hands as he was used to. Jotaro watched the sad event in front of him unfolding and, his patience running thin, growled out a “fuck it” and just tore the shirt down the middle, those infuriating mini studs that had been holding it together flying everywhere.

“That was designer, you asshat! How would you like it if I ripped your designer clothes!” Noriaki cried out indignantly, but Jotaro barely heard him. He was too busy staring at the defined torso that just revealed itself to him, arms still caught in the shirt. His blood rushed south at the sight – scar or not, the man lying there on display was the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. Truthfully, the scar was just another reminder that Noriaki’s beauty ran deeper than skin, and that he was so much more than just beautiful. As much as he hated that Dio had left a permanent reminder of him on the redhead’s body, as much as he obviously wished he never got hurt to begin with, it did something to him to see the physical proof of Noriaki’s unshakeable and abundant resilience. People always called Jotaro strong, and physically – yeah, sure, he was stronger than Noriaki, but the truth was that mentally, emotionally, in every other sense someone could be strong, he was nothing compared to the red-haired man currently panting and beckoning for him.

“I need to feel your skin,” he declared softly and started tugging on Jotaro’s shirt. “Please, Jojo –“

“No need to ask,” he reassured him, his own tone just as mellow. He resented that he had to stop looking at the breathtaking creature on the bed for even a second as his shirt obscured his vision, but when it landed on the floor with a thud, and he watched Noriaki’s pupils dilate and his tongue poke out to lick at his lips, he figured it was worth it. With a smirk, he straddled the smaller man’s thighs, being careful to keep some of his considerable weight off of them before connecting their lips once more. Noriaki wasted no time pawing at the skin of his chest, skimming over his sides, stroking up and down his back.

“God, how are you even real,” he gasped against his mouth. “You’re literally the sexiest man alive, I swear to whatever’s up there.”

Jotaro chuckled. He wasn’t even surprised anymore that the comment made him feel even hotter instead of annoyed like it normally would, because the man currently gliding his tongue over his own could pretty much get away with anything. Not only that – he fucking liked it. He liked it when Noriaki looked at him like he was a piece of meat he couldn’t wait to get his hands on. He liked it, he wanted the other man just as much, and slowly but surely, he began to pick up on the fact that that was okay.

“Could ask you the same thing,” he dared to respond, just as breathless as the redhead. One of his hands slid down the length of Noriaki’s torso until it came to rest on his hip, dipping his fingers into the waistband of the pants hugging them. “Want these off?”

“Yes,” was his instant reply. Jotaro wasn’t sure if he was aware of it, but he was pouting and looking up at him with those lavender eyes already becoming glassy, and... he couldn't suppress his answering grin. His face muscles were getting more of a workout than his body. He vaguely wondered if that was what it would always be like with the redhead currently wiggling around to try and get the fabric off of himself. He was just so fucking adorable.

“Yes… what?” he teased, using the grip on his hip to pin him down. A barely repressed whine escaped Noriaki and the flush covering his face deepened. Interesting. Did he get off on Jotaro making him beg? His fiercely independent Nori?

“Yes, please,” he whimpered. His lavender eyes got hazier, just for a moment, and his next inhale was strained, and Jotaro could feel his thighs tremble a little from where he had them caged between his own knees. More of his blood rushed south and his dick was beginning to ache in the confines of his own pants. He leaned further to the side so he could speak directly in his ear.

“That’s more like it,” he rumbled, low and deep. A small moan close to his own ear was his reward. It was so fucking hard not to just rip off all of their clothes and bury himself inside Noriaki right then and there and bring them both the pleasure they so clearly craved, but – he wanted to both savor it, and have fun with it. Their first time had been so emotionally taxing, and not in the good way, and he promised himself that if he ever got the chance to do this again, he would do his damndest to overwrite the negative emotions he was sure Noriaki associated with the experience.

His lips trailed over his cheek to his jaw, to a spot he hadn’t tried his luck with yet, and he nipped experimentally. The action extracted the most uncharacteristic squeak that he had ever heard from the man below him. Even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t hold in the laugh that bubbled out of him. He buried his face in his neck to muffle the sound, but nothing would hide the shaking of his shoulders.

“Shut the fuck up,” Noriaki growled in his ear, but his tone was tinged with amusement.

“Make me,” Jotaro challenged, echoing Noriaki’s words from earlier, still grinning from ear to ear and wow, talk about uncharacteristic. His cheeks were really starting to hurt. Instead of giving the redhead the chance to retaliate though – still mirroring his earlier actions – he bit down on a spot he knew would make him jolt and moan from his previous explorations. Reducing the calm and composed redhead into a blabbering, squirming mess like this was quickly turning into his new favorite hobby. The taste of his skin and the smell of him, of just – Noriaki Kakyoin, no cologne or deodorant or soap covering it up – was making him dizzy with pure want.

With deliberate motions, he kissed and gnawed his way over to the redhead’s throat, letting his tongue flick out over his Adam’s apple, more pronounced than usual with the way Noriaki had thrown his head back and closed his eyes, huffing out gasps and sighs through his parted lips as Jotaro continued his path of destruction down to his collarbones and his chest to his nipples. Carefully, he took one of the nubs between his teeth and sucked. He was immediately rewarded when Noriaki groaned and his hips strained against Jotaro’s large palm still pinning him to the bed.

“Jojo,” he heard him sigh and felt his good hand bury itself in his hair while he continued to tease and play with the light pink bud. “Jojo,” he repeated when he changed sides with a tug to the midnight strands.

“Is there any part of you that’s not an erogenous zone?”

“When you're touching me? No.”

“I don’t think my nipples are as sensitive as yours, even if it's you touching them,” he mused with a grin he hid in Noriaki’s chest. He seriously couldn't remember ever having this much fun in bed.

“We’ll just have to see – Jojo!” he giggled when Jotaro moved to his side; he’d poked his tongue out and traced the ridges of his ribs and apparently, the redhead was –

“Ticklish, huh?” His grin, impossibly, widened, and he repeated the action, coaxing more of those high-pitched giggles out of the other man. It was fucking adorable.

“You’re adorable,” he decided to say out loud, turning his face up to gaze at Noriaki’s face. His own smile was still there; he was beginning to think it would never leave.

Lavender eyes peeked down to find his and he was scowling, but Jotaro did not miss the slight upturn of his lips that betrayed how he was just pretending to be upset.

“I’m a very manly man, fuck you.”

“Mhm, never said you weren’t. A very manly man about to fuck me indeed.” Jotaro sat back on his haunches, ignoring Noriaki’s snort, and let his hot gaze sweep over the body in front of him. From his angular, handsome face, to his throat and neck decorated with bruises from Jotaro’s lips, the broad line of his shoulders, his defined pecs… his scar made it so his abs didn’t appear obvious, he knew because the redhead had complained about that before, but he also knew there was strength hidden behind it. His waist was narrow, yes, but trimmed in a way a woman’s probably couldn’t be. The same went for his hips – wider than the average man’s, but still unmistakably a man’s, with the v-shaped muscles leading down to –

Jotaro swallowed thickly when he zeroed in on the hard cock making Noriaki’s pants tent. He must be a grower; he wasn’t exactly small, as Jotaro recalled and could clearly see even when he was still covered, and Jotaro had no idea how he fit into the tight jeans he favored without showing off his bulge. A surge of possessiveness went through his body at the idea that someone else would get a glimpse of it even accidentally. Noriaki Kakyoin, from this day on, was –

“Mine,” he growled and leaned back down to attack the body offered up to him with more vigor. He could feel the last vestiges of playfulness leave him, at least for the moment, as he started biting and sucking on his protruding hipbone, leaving yet another purple mark. He was going to lay claim to all of him. He would tattoo himself all over his skin. His hands fumbled with the button and zipper of those annoyingly tight pants, made even more snug due to the stiff length trying to fight its way out of them, and he cursed inwardly that Noriaki had chosen today, of all days, to wear the most infuriatingly stubborn clothing he had. When he finally got the zipper down without snagging it on something it shouldn’t snag on, lest they had to make another trip to the hospital, he heard a relieved sigh coming from above his head. As he worked the fabric down, he moved his lips back up and peppered kisses all over the scarred tissue he hadn’t had the chance to properly worship yet. He hated that it was there. He loved that the wound it used to be hadn’t taken Noriaki from him for good. There was no way to explain it, but he needed to give it its proper due. An appetizer before the main course, in a sense. A show of how much Jotaro loved every single part of the man splayed out underneath him, so that he wouldn’t even entertain the idea that the taller man didn’t adore every single part of him, good, bad, smooth, blemished, it didn’t matter. Just as he was beginning to get into it, however, Noriaki tugged on his hair once more, not in a way that suggested pleasure, more like he was trying to get his attention, and it made him stop dead in his tracks.

“Jojo,” he said softly. “Jojo, can you please – move on?”

Jotaro’s eyes darted up. The redhead wasn’t looking at him this time; instead, the lamp on his nightstand seemed to have suddenly become incredibly interesting.

“Does it hurt?” He may have asked, but he knew it didn’t. Noriaki remained quiet for a moment. The question was loaded with more than one meaning, and Noriaki understood.

“I just – I don’t want you to pay more attention to it than you have to.”

“Why?”

“I just don’t, okay?”

“Nori – you’re beautiful. I…”

“I don’t usually – I don’t care all that much,” the redhead interrupted, voice still soft and unsure. “I survived and I’m proud of that. But no one’s ever… well. It usually goes ignored.”

Jotaro crawled back up until they were face-to-face again, taking in the little specks of blue interspersed in the pale violet of his lover’s eyes – like forget-me-nots accidentally popping up in fields of lavender. His lover. That’s what he was. And he’d be damned if he didn’t make him feel loved.

“Noriaki,” he repeated his full name. The man in question turned his head, trying to break their staring-contest, but Jotaro brought up his hand and cradled the side of his face gently to keep it where it was. Eye-contact had never been easy for him, but as with everything, it was different with this man. He’d been so fucking stupid for far too long.

“Noriaki Kakyoin, I love you. I love…” way too many things came to mind, and he couldn’t articulate a single one of them, “all of you. I just wanna show you how much.”

“I don’t have much sensation there anyway.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It’s ugly. You can’t tell me it’s not,” Noriaki finally disclosed, revealing what Jotaro already knew his real issue was. “When you get down to it, when you ignore how it came to be and all that, that’s all it is.”

The taller man exhaled hard through his nose, a little huff to convey his annoyance.

“Don’t give me that tone. I’m the artist, I know way more about aesthetics than you.”

He was obviously teasing, trying to get the mood back, but Jotaro wasn’t having it.

“Nothing about you could possibly be ugly, Nori. Noriaki Kakyoin and ugly don’t go together. You’re ridiculously perfect.”

“And you’re cheesy as fuck. Since when are you cheesy as fuck?” The smile stretching those wide lips still held residues of insecurity, but it was genuine. Jotaro returned it. He felt his eyes crinkling and wondered the same thing Noriaki had just asked. When did he become this person? Well…

“Since this incredibly attractive redheaded dude tried to kill me on the stairs and then made my screaming fangirls shut the fuck up when he gave me his handkerchief with a death threat written on it like the dramatic king he is.”

Noriaki snorted indelicately and blushed immediately. It made Jotaro snicker.

“God, I was so fucking dramatic, wasn’t I?” he commented sheepishly.

“What do you mean was?”

“Shut the fuck up, Mr. ‘Ohhh I’m such a bad delinquent'! I’m a normal amount of dramatic now!”

They were both barely containing their laughter at this point.

“If that didn’t seal the deal, it was when you announced yourself in the nurse’s office and you were –“ Jotaro was interrupted by his own laugh, “- you were sitting in the windowsill with that marionette. Where did you even get that?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I raided the theater department and that I wasn’t just carrying it around with me?”

“Oh my God, Nori. My school didn't even have a theater department.” He let his forehead fall down to the other man’s shoulder and tried to suppress his amusement, but he couldn’t keep himself from trembling with the effort. The sound of Noriaki’s own low chuckles traveled to his ear and made his breath hitch. He turned his head so it was buried in his neck once more, taking a deep whiff of that intoxicating scent he’d come to associate with him.

“You’re the fucking best,” he reaffirmed, voice still muffled, before he lifted his head to peek at the redhead. “I love you so fucking much.”

“No offense, but that’s pretty gay, dude.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake –“

Noriaki’s wide grin slowly changed into a more subdued, but happy smile.

“I love you, too,” he added. Jotaro’s stomach did a somersault at the ease and certainty with which he delivered the declaration. “Now, are you done somehow simultaneously mocking and raving over me?” The subdued smile turned flirtatious, and his lids became heavy as his gaze kept darting back down to Jotaro’s lips before he lifted it up to his eyes again. “There’s something else I’d prefer you do with your mouth.”

Jotaro brought their faces together until their lips were almost touching.

“Only if you admit that nothing about you is ugly.”

“Jojooo…” the redhead whined. “What do you care? Just suck my dick already.”

“Noriiii…” he mimicked his tone. “I care and I won’t let you walk around thinking anything about you is ugly.”

“Fine!” Noriaki conceded, doing nothing to hide his irritation. “My scar isn’t ugly, okay? I’m the hottest piece of ass you’ve ever laid your eyes on, so can you just please get on with it now?”

“Just because you really are the hottest piece of ass I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

Jotaro finally closed the remaining distance, small as it was, wasting no time invading Noriaki’s mouth with his tongue. His dick had deflated somewhat during their conversation, but with the wet slide and the way Noriaki sucked on his tongue briefly before biting on his lip, just to return to smoothing their tongues together, he was hard as a rock again in no time. His hand reached down, blindly searching for the waistband of his lover’s – his lover’s – pants that he’d started slipping off of him earlier. Noriaki bent his legs so he could push them down further past his knees, and he felt the man wiggle beneath him, no doubt trying to get them off completely. It went on for a bit and while Jotaro really fucking enjoyed the sensation of Nori squirming against him, it became clear that it wasn’t working.

“Jotaro, help?” he whimpered into his mouth when he remained unsuccessful and Jotaro complied, repeating his earlier ministrations and using his lips and teeth and tongue to guide himself down the beautiful body below him. He wasn’t taking as long as he did earlier, but he deliberately spent a little more time on the scar than anything else. Finally, he reached Noriaki’s unmarked hipbone and nibbled while taking a hold of his calves, pulling them closer and pushing the fabric off one after the other.

“You seriously couldn’t have picked worse clothes to wear today,” he grumbled into the little soft part of his abdomen, right above where he was fighting the constraints of the underwear he had yet to remove. His fingertips crawled under the elastic keeping them in place.

“God, who cares, just stop teasing me,” the redhead pleaded with him, once more grasping strands of his hair and pulling. Jotaro took pity. Okay, he was getting so aroused it was starting to hurt and he was running out of patience, but Noriaki didn’t need to know that. He scooted down lower on the bed and in one fell swoop, he freed the redhead of his underwear, finally laying him bare.

Teal found Noriaki’s pleading lavender irises, perceiving the desperation written all over his beautiful, bright red face. His breath was coming in strained puffs, lips swollen and kissed red and parted and his flushed chest was heaving and Jotaro was yet again struck by how utterly ethereal everything about this man was.

His focus wandered south to fixate on the hard length he’d just revealed, and it both confirmed his previous thought and turned his mouth dry all of a sudden. His own cock gave another painful throb and he reached down to squeeze at it, then quickly decided to open his belts and pull down his zipper to relieve some of the pressure.

“You’re just – “ Jotaro didn’t finish his sentence, deciding his mouth really did have better things to occupy itself with than talking. There was no thought in his brain as he started kissing up Noriaki’s legs, lathering the taut limbs with soft attention as he draped them over his shoulders before he buried his face between the soft insides of his thighs.

The skin there was silky and unblemished. It was practically begging Jotaro to leave his mark. So… he did – he bit down hard.

“Fuck!” Noriaki yelled out, his hips lifting slightly off the bed. Jotaro immediately pushed him back down with a hand on his abdomen, much like earlier, so he could lick over the spot he’d just sunk his teeth into, soothing the ache. His tongue trailed further up, and he gave an experimental lick to the balls just above the bite he’d just left. It tasted – okay. Like sweat and salt, mostly. Gingerly, he opened up more of his mouth and gave the velvety skin a tentative suck, and Noriaki’s legs spasmed.

“Jojo, fuck, please, please, stop teasing already –“ Noriaki began blabbering, his usually deep voice at least a couple of octaves higher than usual, and Jotaro smirked. It was a heady feeling, how he could make the man fall apart like that, make him beg for some sort of relief. He had the strongest stand in the world, but he’d never felt more powerful in his life.

The same was true for Noriaki, though. Jotaro was sure that there wasn’t anyone else who could coax this side out of him. The memories of their roles reversed resurfaced, the redhead on his knees with his cock stuffed in that wide mouth, and he definitely didn't fare any better.

He couldn’t fucking wait... For any of it, really.

So he leaned up until he was faced with Noriaki’s dick, laying swollen and dribbling against his stomach. His formerly dry mouth was suddenly flooded with saliva. He’d fantasized about this so much, whenever he was vulnerable and allowed himself to think of himself in this position. Fevered craving overflowed in his veins and he immediately licked a broad stripe up the length. It still tasted mostly of salt and sweat, but there was this underlying musk to it which was completely unfamiliar to him.

Jotaro couldn’t fucking wait for this either; couldn’t wait to get familiar with it.

He really was so fucking gay.

Noriaki squirmed and exhaled harshly above him. He chanced a look north, and their burning gazes connected – he was sure he must look every bit as ravenous as Noriaki currently did, probably more so, and it was in his hands to sate their appetite. And so he did.

Jotaro figured he should be more nervous about this. Maybe the nerves would catch up to him at some point. But really, it wasn’t rocket-science, was it? He was a man, too, and he knew what he liked, so… He pulled back the foreskin to reveal the flushed head of Noriaki’s cock, jerking it a couple of times while he did that, and let his thumb swipe over the dribbling tip. Noriaki moaned and Jotaro smiled, and then – well, he just replaced his thumb with his tongue, swirling it a little and tasting the precum coming from the slit when he pushed the tip of his tongue into it firmly. That, too, tasted salty, more so than sweat, but not like much else.

“Oh fuck Jojo,” he heard a groan and darted his eyes up. Noriaki was looking at the ceiling, panting even harder than before, the curve of his throat dotted with hickeys and bitemarks. Jotaro’s hickeys and bitemarks. With renewed energy, he repeated the action a couple of times and was rewarded with another pleasured sound. And then finally, he dared to open his mouth wider and engulf the tip in it, immediately following the action with a forceful suck.

The reaction he received was instantaneous. Noriaki’s thighs tensed around his head and his hips tried to lift off the bed once again, a deep, guttural noise resounding around them, but Jotaro was still keeping him fixed in his place. He had zero experience and no idea how sensitive his gag reflex might be, and he really didn’t want to find out the hard way and ruin the mood. Noriaki’s gaze drifted from the ceiling down to where Jotaro was positioned between his legs, the head of his cock still in his mouth, and he reacted with another moan.

“This is so fucking hot, you have no idea,” he choked out, carding his fingers through Jotaro’s dark curls. “I wish I could draw this. Or photograph it. I don’t think I have the talent to capture how good you look down there.”

The idea kicked loose something stormy in Jotaro’s stomach and he released Noriaki’s dick temporarily so he could speak. “Well… why don’t you?”

Noriaki gaped at him for a moment before he seemed to find his words. Jotaro could feel him twitch where he was stroking him almost absentmindedly. He raised a suggestive eyebrow.

“Seriously?”

He considered his proposition and… yeah, seriously. It wasn’t like Noriaki would show this to anyone. It would be just for them. There was, however, one possible flaw in this plan.

“Would it involve us getting out of this bed?”

“Afraid so.”

Jotaro nodded to himself. “Next time, then.” And with this, he sucked Noriaki’s dick back into his mouth without further ado, going farther down this time. He looked up through his eyelashes as he started bobbing his head, swallowing up more and more of Noriaki with each downwards motion until he could feel the head bump into the back of his throat. This was where he knew he’d be entering dangerous territory, and while he wasn’t nervous, he certainly wasn’t confident enough to try deepthroating his… whatever they were at this point. Not on his first try.

Hands were buried in his hair still, one injured and one whole, but they weren’t doing much more other than hold onto the strands or maybe comb through it. He had a feeling that Noriaki usually wasn’t this gentle, but he was grateful for it. They had all the time in the world to explore, right? However, he wouldn’t mind if…

He popped off for a second time. “You can pull my hair a little bit if you want.” He didn’t wait for an answer before resuming his ministrations. Sucking in his cheeks on the downward motion, letting his tongue sweep over the shaft whenever he went back up. Noriaki, apparently, had been waiting for permission because he was tugging on his hair now as he groaned out his pleasure every time he hit the back of Jotaro’s throat. He could feel his legs start to shake where they were resting over his shoulders and just seeing and hearing and feeling and – oh God, he might soon be tasting how much Noriaki was enjoying this, it made a moan bubble up in his own throat. Jotaro knew first-hand how good that felt, the vibrations against his sensitive head, so he wasn’t surprised when the redhead cried out and pulled with more force. Smirking on the inside, he repeated the same maneuver again and again until the long legs stretched out over his torso started jerking reflexively the closer he brought Noriaki to release.

“Jojo – Jojo, I’m gonna –“ His sentence remained unfinished. Jotaro locked his eyes with the lavender ones staring down at him, almost black now with the size of his pupils, almost like he was high, and he was in a way, and it was Jotaro who was responsible for wrecking this man and –

When Jotaro let loose an unbidden growl, that seemed to be the last straw for Noriaki.

“Fuck, Jojo – Jotaro –“ The redhead threw his head back with another loud cry, clenching his fists in Jotaro’s curls and suddenly, Jotaro’s mouth was flooded not with saliva, but with Noriaki’s release. It was thick and heavy and most importantly, a lot. He did his best to swallow everything, but when Noriaki’s hips eventually stopped fighting his restraining hand in an instinctual attempt to push himself in deeper, and he pulled back, he could still feel a few droplets dribbling down the corner of his lips. Without a second thought, he swiped it off with his thumb and cleaned said thumb with a quick swirl of his tongue. Noriaki watched him, absolutely transfixed by the movement, and cursed at the sight.

Jotaro suddenly became painfully aware of his own neglected dick when it pulsated in his boxer briefs, almost like it was saying, ‘hey, remember me?’ He chuckled at his own ridiculous thought, but yes, God, he looked at the ruins of the man trying to catch his breath, his legs still trembling slightly where they were propped up against him, and he was sure he’d never felt need like this.

“Jotaro, that was – mmmphh!” Noriaki, again, didn’t get to finish his sentence, because Jotaro’s urge to kiss him senseless was stronger than any arbitrary etiquette or even his curiosity at Noriaki’s assessment of his first blowjob ever. The redhead wrapped his toned legs and well-built arms around him as they bit and licked and sighed into each other’s mouth, using his strength and weight to roll them to their sides without interrupting their lip lock. Jotaro noticed his hands wander down, seizing the waistbands of both his pants and his underwear, and tug until his cock finally sprung completely free – an action Jotaro welcomed with a relieved groan. He was aching and leaking and he’d been hard for so long, it was starting to become uncomfortable, so it came as no surprise that his hips acted of their own volition and began fucking up into Noriaki’s fist as soon as it found his stiff length.

“I still want you inside of me,” the redhead panted. “Please, Jojo, do you think you could hold out until then?”

“Are you sure you won’t be too sensitive?” Even though everything in him was screaming at him to not give him the opportunity to overthink, Jotaro couldn’t help but ask.

“That’s the thing, baby,” Noriaki started in a low seductive voice, moving his lips until the were right by Jotaro’s ear. The nickname did something to him; it made goosebumps erupt all over his arms while a deep pang took residence in his gut. Nori’s arm stretched out behind him, reaching blindly for the nightstand.

“It will be even more intense like that, and I will love it even more… when I feel you that deeply.” He bit down on Jotaro’s earlobe and began attacking Jotaro’s neck, returning Jotaro’s favor from earlier, as he pressed the bottle of lube he’d just retrieved into his hand. Jotaro allowed him to play a little more, enjoying the sensations of Noriaki’s extremely talented mouth and tongue lapping at the skin of his throat and his clavicle, surely leaving a bruise or two of his own. But his cock was still throbbing and reminded him he was on a mission here.

Slowly but with stern determination, he disentangled himself from Noriaki’s embrace to roll back on top of the man instead, coaxing him to lie on his stomach this time while he kicked off the remaining fabric of his pants and underwear that got stuck somewhere around his knees. The redhead complied with a smile over his shoulder, spreading his legs willingly in unspoken encouragement. It was like second nature to Jotaro to capture those thin, smiling lips in another kiss, hoping to convey all the passion and desire he felt for his lover in that moment as he briefly warmed up the generous amount of lube slathered over his fingers. Noriaki broke the kiss with a sharp gasp when Jotaro pushed in the first in one go, just like Noriaki had told him to last time, but the larger man immediately reconnected them. Jotaro Kujo was nothing if not a fast learner, after all.

“Another,” Noriaki instructed him breathlessly after a few moments. It probably wasn’t enough prep to add another finger, but Jotaro felt like he was about to implode, and Noriaki asked for it, so he complied. To his credit, he tried to push it in more slowly to get the redhead used to the sensation, but despite just coming, it seemed like he was just as eager as Jotaro was. He rocked his ass up so Jotaro’s finger slipped in all the way and they moaned in unison, Noriaki due to the pleasure of being filled and Jotaro due to Noriaki’s greedy impatience. Greedy impatience for him.

The taller man started pumping his fingers in and out of his lover, and Noriaki began writhing restlessly in response.

“Uncomfortable?” he questioned, a low whisper close to the shell of his ear, and the redhead shook his head. His voice was thick with desire when he spoke.

“No, just – God, I’m so – it’s pathetic but I feel so fucking hungry, Jotaro, I,” he interrupted his prattling with a shout when Jotaro hit his sweet spot. Jotaro bucked into the side of his leg with a growl and curved his fingers just right, rejoicing in the fact that he remembered where it was, because Noriaki’s words, and the way the redhead started rubbing himself against the mattress, releasing one shameless moan after another while Jotaro attacked his prostate mercilessly, turned him on to a degree he didn’t think was even possible. His lips reunited with the other man’s, muffling his noises with his tongue.

“It’s not pathetic,” he panted against them after a moment. “I need you just as much.”

“Fuck,” Noriaki whined and jerked his hips back helplessly. “Fuck, say that again.”

“I need you, Noriaki,” Jotaro whispered. His mouth found Noriaki’s sweaty forehead, stroking back the wild cherry-red strands sticking to the skin, and he closed his eyes. “I need you so much.”

“Another, Jojo, hurry,” he gasped. “Need you inside me now, please.”

Jotaro indulged him wordlessly, shoving a third finger inside Noriaki and listening to him cry out in gratification. He pumped and scissored his fingers for a minute or so, and he thought that this probably really wasn’t enough prep this time, especially for his girth, but his lover grabbed his wrist and signaled for him to pull them out. He resisted for another moment, trying to soften Noriaki up more, but he was sweating with anticipation and the exertion of sheer self-restraint was taking its toll on him. Jotaro honestly wasn’t sure how long he could contain himself anymore anyway.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” he asked, just to double-check. Noriaki scrambled up until he was on his elbows and knees and looked behind him to meet Jotaro’s gaze with his own blazing glare. The image made his control almost slip.

“Fuck me already,” he rasped out. “No need for a rubber, unless you want one of course, but I want all of you from the start this time. I want it raw and rough.”

Composure? Self-restraint? Jotaro didn’t even have the words in his vocabulary anymore. They were deleted and replaced by the sweet sound of those filthy words reaching his brain in Noriaki’s deep voice.

The taller man barely noticed that the lube he coated his length in was somewhat cold still. He was hyperfocused on positioning himself behind Noriaki, dragging his eyes over the wild red mane and his long elegant neck, over the vast expanse of his smooth, muscular back, stopping briefly at that slim waist before he trailed them down to the supple and toned curves of his ass. Noriaki was a dream. Literally, Jotaro had dreamt about this so many times.

His hand gripped his shaft in one hand and one of the redhead’s buttocks in the other, stroking over the soft flesh before pulling it to the side a little. The head of his cock found the stretched rim and, while Noriaki requested rough, he still tried to be gentle when he finally pushed in.

The relief coursing through him when he got the friction he’d been desiring for what felt like hours was intense, but it paled in comparison to the indescribable feeling that came with the knowledge that he was inside of Noriaki Kakyoin’s body. Again. The first time should have been, by all accounts, a fluke, but here they were again, and it felt even more heavenly than he remembered. Noriaki sucked him in so eagerly, like he, too, was entirely too enraptured by the feeling of their bodies melting together like this. Judging by the noises he was making, Jotaro figured his assumption was correct – or he would, if he still maintained any of his higher brain functions necessary for forming coherent thoughts.

Instead, he let his instincts take over. Noriaki was wiggling his hips as he whimpered, thrusting his ass back in an obvious attempt to get Jotaro to move, so he complied. His hands grabbed onto the narrow waist presented to him – oh God, how many of his fantasies had revolved around this exact scenario – and he pulled almost all the way out, only to plunge himself back into that tight heat in one fell swoop.

“Fuck!” Noriaki muffled the yelled curse in his pillow. He turned his head to the side so he could look back at Jotaro with droopy eyes, a drop of sweat running down his temple, his cheeks flushed a deep pink, his red and swollen lips looking glossy where they were still covered in their shared spit. It was the most erotic visual Jotaro had ever seen. Still operating on basic instinct, he rammed into him again with more power than before.

Noriaki’s eyes screwed shut in response and his mouth opened on another shout. “More, Jojo, more!” he begged and –

And Jotaro's mind was entirely consumed by the smell and sight and sound of Noriaki as he began fucking into him at a brutal pace, his grip on his waist so tight it was sure to leave imprints of his hands. The redhead, in turn, arched his back further, knuckles turning white with how tightly he was grabbing the sheets in order to find something to ground him. With his spine curved like that, his ass went up a little higher, and Jotaro felt him clench around him like a vice on his next thrust inside even before he tried to dampen the volume of his scream with his pillow.

“There, like that, right there! Harder, Jojo, fuck me harder!”

What could Jotaro do, other than obey?

One of his large palms left the enticing curve of Noriaki’s waist to scratch up over his shoulder blades. He drifted past the hair that was plastered to the top of his clammy back and grabbed a fistful of cherry strands near the roots instead. On his next plunge inside, he yanked, the redhead’s beautiful face exposed to the humid air surrounding them now, and the way he cried out his name was like music to Jotaro’s ears. Some kind of possessive pride swelled up in him along with mind-numbing pleasure. The desire to mark Noriaki on the inside as well became overwhelming, but he had to hold off. Not yet, he told himself. Not yet.

Because, while their shared noises, of their skin slapping together and both of their groans and cries, echoed around them, Noriaki still hadn’t come, and Jotaro would rather die than leave him unsatisfied. He collected every ounce of the immeasurable amount of passion he’d felt for the smaller man for almost a decade and let it bleed into the way he rolled his hips to press into the plush flesh of his ass, into the way he surged into the velvet-smooth walls receiving his dick with a fiery-hot squeeze, becoming impossibly tighter when he dragged it over that sensitive spot.

“I love you,” Jotaro groaned out, his voice husky to his own ears. “Fuck, Nori, you’re so perfect –“

“Do I take you that well, Jojo?” Noriaki forced out before another shout tore from his throat.

“Shit, it’s like your ass was made to be fucked by me,” he replied and felt another strong clench around his length. He filed away the knowledge that Noriaki enjoyed dirty talk for later use before he continued. “Do you like that? When I make you mine like this?”

“Yes, Jojo, make me yours – ahh –“ The smaller man’s whine turned into a sob when Jotaro tugged on his hair, pulling his head back even farther, accompanied by his body clamping down on his dick again. The pressure in Jotaro’s gut was about to snap. He couldn’t take this anymore. But –

He stopped. Despite all his senses screaming at him, he pulled out. There was no way he’d come first. Besides, there was still one thing that would make this even better.

Ignoring Noriaki’s confused protests, he used his grasp on his waist to turn the redhead over.

“Jojo, what –“

Still holding onto him firmly, Jotaro sat down on his haunches, then pulled the other man up into a sitting position as well, and then on top of him. Noriaki seemed to get what was happening and quickly straddled Jotaro’s thighs more comfortably, reaching down to find Jotaro’s length.

“I wanted to see your face,” the taller man explained gruffly just as his lover sunk down on him, impaling himself on his shaft with a small cry. Jotaro shivered and clasped one hand around Noriaki’s hip, hooked his other arm around his back, pressing their chests flush together, Noriaki’s stiff length trapped between them and poking into his abs. The redhead, in turn, wrapped his arms around Jotaro’s neck, bringing their faces together as he began a steady up-and-down rhythm.

“You’re adorable,” Noriaki echoed his own words with a smirk and a throaty voice, followed by a drawn-out groan and a flex of his thighs around Jotaro’s waist when Jotaro thrust up at the same time the other man slid down his length.

“I can feel you even deeper like this,” his lover moaned, one part awe and one part syrupy desire dripping from the words, his breath hitting Jotaro’s lips before he brought them together in a sloppy, wet kiss. Familiar sparks traveled down his spine and he couldn’t suppress the grunts escaping him anymore. Frankly, he wasn’t even trying. The arm he’d slung across Noriaki’s back inched up slightly so he could grab his nape, tangle his fingers in sweaty red tresses, and keep their mouths locked. He started driving himself into him with steadily increasing force and swallowed his sobs and cries like the insatiable bastard he was while the smaller man continued to bounce on his lap.

“Jojo – I –“ Short nails dug into the meat of his shoulder blade where his good hand rested, and Noriaki tried to jerk his head back with closed eyes, but couldn’t thanks to Jotaro’s iron grip.

“Look at me,” Jotaro sighed. “Let me see you, Nori, please.”

It appeared like it took him some great effort to comply, but Noriaki’s lashes fluttered and the smallest sliver of lavender peeked out at his own teal irises. The sight was mesmerizing. Jotaro was completely enamored with the mess the smaller man had turned into, and he could feel his orgasm fighting the lid he tried to keep on it, and he was definitely losing. Gathering every bit of vestigial strength he could muster, he rutted up into Noriaki, frenzied and desperate, and Noriaki met every motion with the same energy.

“Jojo, Jojo,” he started chanting in steadily increasing volume. Judging by the way his lashes were fluttering and his refined features were contorting, he was obviously battling with the urge to screw his eyes shut once more.

“Come for me, Nori. Come on my cock. Let me feel how much you love it,” Jotaro rambled thoughtlessly, but it seemed to work because next thing he knew, he felt Noriaki tense up, legs shaking uncontrollably where they were wrapped around Jotaro, arms trembling as they scrambled for purchase against his shoulders, back arching and brow furrowing and his sinful mouth opening on a stuttered groan. His ass was keeping Jotaro’s length inside of him in a vice-like grip, and then, he felt warm, viscous liquid hit his abs and chest as Noriaki let out a scream of ecstasy, followed by a series of high-pitched moans and husky curses as he shuddered through his release in Jotaro’s hold, grinding and jerking wildly and fuck, even if he wanted to, he couldn’t put it off anymore. Jotaro followed, driving himself as deep inside his Nori as he could, his best friend, his love, as his own release hit him like a truck; wave after wave, making his toes curl, making him emit his own sounds of satisfaction, deep groans and whines he’d probably be embarrassed by later if he could just care, but he didn’t. Not when he erratically jerked up into the man on top of him, once, twice, and another, and another, filling him up to the brim with his cum, hearing him whisper filthy solicitations in his ear to mark him inside out, to make him his, to make him a mess, voice sultry and breathy and low as he told him to give him everything, every drop, and of course Jotaro listened.

Everything Noriaki Kakyoin wanted, Noriaki Kakyoin would get. At least, as far as Jotaro Kujo was concerned.

They both slowly came down from their highs, breath calming and heartrate returning to normal, but neither of them made any move to free himself from their intimate embrace. They kept hugging each other close and shared air and sweet kisses and sweeter words. After a while, Jotaro repositioned them so they both lay still intertwined, but more comfortably on the bed. The taller man couldn’t stop himself from brushing the red bangs out of his lover’s stunning face, quietly enraptured, while Noriaki, in turn, nuzzled into his palm and started leaving little pecks on his knuckles. If he were a different person, he was pretty sure he would cry over the tenderness of the gesture.

Instead, he only wished that Noriaki Kakyoin would want him forever.

Chapter Text

Noriaki woke up in a daze to something heavy constricting his movements. He wiggled around a little, trying to get the weight off of him. It was weird that he wasn’t alarmed, but something deep within him knew he was safe. Breathing, however, was becoming a little bit of an issue. His lungs couldn’t expand to their full capacity due to the pressure bearing down on them. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes to figure out what that thing on top of him was, and when he registered the head of dark curls resting on his chest, the previous night came back to him all at once.

Jotaro confessing his love for him.

Jotaro’s lips moving against his, messy and desperate and full of need.

Jotaro taking his time to worship the entirety of his body with his tongue and his teeth and turning Noriaki into a begging mess.

Jotaro taking his length into his mouth and lapping at it greedily like it was his last meal.

Jotaro pushing into him, joining their bodies, slipping in and out of him in rough but deliberate strokes, so precise and deep that Noriaki could have sworn he felt him in his bones.

Jotaro pinning him down and taking him so thoroughly, so passionately, but with so much underlying emotion that he was almost brought to tears.

Jotaro moving him into his lap so they could watch each other’s features contort in bliss, pulling him closer until Noriaki didn’t know where he began, and where Jotaro ended.

How they stared into each other’s eyes as they shook apart together, how Jotaro sunk himself inside as far as he could and filled Noriaki up with every ounce of desire he held for him. The sound of his name like a prayer resounding in his ear in his deep, pleasure-wrecked voice.

How afterwards, they’d laid on their sides facing each other, basking in the glow of being able to express their love for each other without a care, bodies still intertwined – they’d had to stay away from each other for so long, and now that they could be together in this way, they didn’t want to be apart for even a second.

They had to, eventually; the discomfort of sweat and cum drying on their chests and between Noriaki’s thighs was steadily beginning to overpower the enchanted atmosphere engulfing them. Jotaro insisted on carrying him to the bathroom, and just this once, Noriaki didn’t argue. He understood that the other man wasn’t doing it because he thought he was too weak or couldn’t look after himself. His desire to take care of him was an expression of love, not disrespect. If the redhead was being honest with himself, he wasn’t unhappy about Jotaro helping to hold him up as the showerhead washed away the bodily fluids sticking to their skin. His legs were still unsteady, whether from exertion or aftershocks of pleasure or just the overwhelming emotions welling up in him, he couldn’t tell. But Jotaro was there, stabilizing him. Their lips met, again and again, unhurried and soft, while they helped each other clean up. Jotaro took some time to knead his back, and even though Noriaki couldn’t remember ever feeling this relaxed and loose, he enjoyed the gentle touch he’d been craving for so long. He returned the gesture – he’d noticed how much Jotaro enjoyed when he played with his hair, so he lathered it in his own shampoo, massaging it in and scratching his scalp languidly, trying to tenderly untangle the knots in the curls. Jotaro sighed in contentment, a sound so low he could only identify it by the way the air hit his lips and the slight rumble vibrating against his chest.

When they were done – and Jotaro smelled like him, and oh God, if he hadn’t just come harder than he’d ever had in his life, twice, he knew he’d be hard again – they pulled the duvet that had been kicked to the foot of the bed up over their mess. Neither of them wanted to bother with changing the sheets right now. They lay down on top of it and huddled together under his throw blanket, arms wrapped around each other, and with a final confession of love, they fell asleep like that.

A wide, brilliant smile spread over his face, and he moved the arm that wasn’t currently being crushed under the bigger man’s weight so he could card his uninjured fingers through those tousled inky locks again. He took a moment to admire the sight of Jotaro slumbering peacefully, brows finally relaxed for a change, eyelashes casting long shadows over his cheeks. His lips were slightly parted; deep and regular huffs of breath hit his bare skin, and there was even a little bit of drool in the corner of his mouth. When he decided that he’d looked his fill – and also, that he needed oxygen and that his other arm needed blood lest it actually dies – he craned his neck down so he could place a kiss against Jotaro’s forehead.

“Jotaro…” he whispered and received only a grunt in response. The arms holding onto him tightened.

“Joooo-Joooo…” he tried again in an amused sing-song voice.

“Five more minutes,” the other man grumbled and turned his face to bury himself further into his chest. Noriaki felt a content warmth spread through him, and he couldn’t help but laugh at the juvenile display. Shit, he was a father. Noriaki knew for a fact that Jolyne acted exactly the same when she had to wake up for preschool from when he babysat to give Marina a break when Jotaro was gone. It shouldn’t be possible for this gigantic pile of muscle to be this adorable, yet here he was.

“I might not be alive in five more minutes if you don’t move. You’re kinda crushing me.”

“Oh. OH!” Jotaro quickly scrambled to get off of him. Noriaki’s lungs took in what felt like his first deep breath in forever and he was immediately hit with the scent of his own body wash and hair products mixed in with Jotaro’s unique smell. It made his mouth water.

“Thanks,” he rasped. He could feel his heartrate increase at the warmth radiating off the body next to him – Jotaro’s body next to him, bare and most importantly, his – and arousal started to swirl in his gut. Jotaro looked at his face for a moment before the redhead saw his gaze wander down, no doubt taking in the litany of hickeys and bitemarks and bruises he’d left behind, if the way they flitted from one place to the next was any indication.

“You look even better like this,” the other man declared, his voice still rough from sleep and… something else. It made a shiver run down Noriaki’s spine.

“Yeah?” His breathing was becoming labored. He could feel his cock swell already.

“Yeah.” A hand reached out to cradle his face. When their eyes met, he could see his own desire staring back at him from black pupils, surrounded by a ring of brilliant teal.

“Show me.”

Noriaki was sure that he would never get used to the sensation of Jotaro’s lips melding with his. It started out sluggish, both of them still fighting off the remnants of sleep, but with their thirst for each other overcoming them, it didn’t take long for their pace to become frenzied. Jotaro licked at the seam of his lips, and he opened up willingly, allowing him entrance. Morning breath was the furthest thing from his mind. The redhead was way too far gone already to notice anything other than the tantalizing wet slide of their mouths against one another, and the heady feeling of hands running down his shoulders towards the small of his back.

Jotaro pulled him closer against himself and Noriaki was suddenly set ablaze when he felt those ridiculously large palms meander further south to grab a hold of his ass. He was still so sore – he really didn’t bottom, ever, so he would need some time to get used to the sensation – but it didn’t matter when calloused fingers dug into the plush flesh and they began to move in sync to grind their stiffening lengths together. A moan fought its way out of him. Intuitively, the redhead hooked his leg around Jotaro’s thigh and launched his weight against him until Jotaro was on his back and he was lying down on top of him.

“Fuck, Nori,” Jotaro murmured weakly and groaned when the redhead in question rolled his hips in a way that made the heads of their dicks rub against one another more firmly.

“Yes, Jojo?” he asked sweetly. At the same time, he reached down and used his hands and his knees to spread the larger man’s thighs apart far enough to accommodate him.

“I want you,” came the winded reply, followed by another loud groan when the smaller man surged his hips forward again.

“You have me. I’m literally on top of you,” Noriaki replied cheekily, already breathless even though they’d only just begun. His good hand was still between them, so he wrapped it around both of them – as well as he could, at least, because Jotaro was girthy as hell and his own penis wasn’t anything to scoff at – and stroked the two of them, establishing a slow, teasing rhythm.

“No – I mean yes, fuck – but –“ Jotaro exhaled harshly when Noriaki’s thumb ran over his slit to gather the liquid accumulating at the tip, using Jotaro’s as well as his own precum to make the slide of his palm over them smoother.

“But what?” He buried his face in Jotaro’s neck, fully intending on returning the favor and marking every part of his body. Strong legs tensed around his own slimmer ones when he started sucking at his pulse point. Another sharp gasp escaped the other man, reverberating in his ear and making heat coil in his abdomen.

“I want you – want you to –“ Jotaro brought up one of his knees and hooked it around Noriaki’s waist, and –

Understanding dawned on the redhead. A pang went through him, and he suddenly felt hollow, but in the best possible way. He paused in his movements and pulled back so he could watch Jotaro’s face before he spoke up.

“Jojo… are you asking me to fuck you?”

The other man’s unfairly handsome face was tinged pink, and he seemed to find something to his left incredibly interesting all of a sudden. Noriaki looked on, mesmerized, when he finally gave him a terse nod and the blush on his cheeks deepened.

He couldn’t have suppressed the growl that ripped from his throat even if he’d tried. The sound got Jotaro’s attention, making him return his eyes to the man on top of him. Lavender eyes were regarding him with every ounce of hunger their owner felt, spreading from the small of his back up his spine until his mind and body were consumed with it.

“Are you sure?” He sounded incredibly gravelly to his own ears, like his vocal cords had been grated with sandpaper. His pulse was racing, and he was already starting to sweat at the mere thought – but surely, Jotaro would change his mind, Noriaki had fantasized about it, but he could never really believe that the man who had pretended to be straight all his life would –

“Fuck me, Noriaki.”

Huh. Well. Noriaki Kakyoin just learned that there was a new level of mind-numbingly horny he could reach, and that it was unlocked when those words left Jotaro Kujo’s lips and were directed at him. He didn’t need to be asked twice.

He smashed their lips together messily and let go of their dicks so he could scratch down a muscular leg, feeling the coarse hair catch against his trimmed fingernails until he reached the soft skin on the inside of Jotaro's thigh. His fingers danced further up again and skimmed over his balls and his taint until the first one reached his entrance. He started rubbing dry, taunting circles around the rim. Jotaro broke their kiss with a shuddering intake of air.

“Nori – please – no teasing.“

A broken moan slipped from Noriaki’s lips at the sound of stoic brick wall Jotaro fucking pleading for him to fill him up with his cock. The lube was still out, sitting on the bedside table, and he wasted no time grabbing it and slathering his fingers in copious amounts of the liquid, depositing the bottle where he could easily reach it should he need more. As impatient and desperately excited as he was, there was no way he would rush and make the experience uncomfortable for Jotaro.

“I’m assuming you’ve never done this before?” he checked, even if he knew the answer already.

“No. I’ve thought about – y’know, trying it on myself, but…” The embarrassed blush was back, and Noriaki would have cooed if the predictable confession wasn’t so incredibly sexy. Oh, Noriaki would make sure the other man knew what he had been missing out on due to his own misguided insecurities. And then he’d volunteer to help him make up for every time he denied himself. For the rest of his life, if possible.

“Okay, so, fair warning, it will probably be very weird and kinda uncomfortable at first. Don’t worry, it will feel good soon enough,” he explained as his finger returned to circling Jotaro’s rim, dripping wet this time.

“Tell me if it hurts though, okay? Don’t be brave. There’s rough sex and then there’s reckless endangerment,” he warned. Jotaro nodded in understanding, looking up with hooded eyes, never straying from Noriaki’s face. Noriaki couldn’t do anything other than return the gesture, carefully watching for signs of discomfort as he slowly, ever so slowly, breached that barrier.

Jotaro sucked in a sharp breath but didn’t look uneasy. Still, Noriaki wanted to double-check.

“Okay?”

Jotaro grunted.

“Gonna need you to use your words, tough guy,” Noriaki quipped, his tone tinged with humor.

“It’s a bit uncomfortable like you said, but doesn’t hurt,” Jotaro relented after a moment. The flush on his face spread down his neck towards his clavicle.

“Good. Let’s make it… not uncomfortable anymore.” Words failed him when he began moving his finger in and out of the tight heat. He felt punch-drunk when realization hit him that he’d be fucking into that tight heat soon. Usually, he liked to tease as much as he could, bring his partners to the brink before he finally granted them mercy, but considering it was Jotaro’s first time on the receiving end, coupled with his own eagerness, he immediately began looking for that spot that would make the man under him see stars.

It took a few tries, but when Jotaro’s eyes suddenly widened and he let loose a choked noise, the redhead knew he’d hit the jackpot. A wide smirk took over his face as he began rubbing the pad of his finger against it, not too hard but firm enough so the other man would feel it, and he was promptly rewarded with another strangled moan and a squirm.

“Holy – is that –“ Jotaro was panting as he looked up at him in wonder.

“Yeah. Good, isn’t it?” Noriaki chuckled lightly when Jotaro expressed his agreement with an earnest nod.

“Add another,” he demanded gruffly.

“Your wish is my command.”

He captured his lover in a kiss that he could only describe as filthy, tongues meeting outside their mouths before he took Jotaro’s between his lips and sucked it in, just to return to leisurely exploring the ridge behind his teeth and massaging the soft underside of the wet muscle while Jotaro probed his mouth in turn. He carefully introduced a second finger and greedily swallowed the muffled hum Jotaro emitted in response.

They continued to make out sloppily while Noriaki loosened Jotaro up. He stuck in his fingers as deep as he could and pulled them back out, over and over, mimicking the motion with his tongue in Jotaro’s mouth. He made sure to brush that spot that made the giant of a man tremble beneath him, made his large palms fly to his shoulders, made blunt fingernails dig into his own overheated flesh. For a moment, he was sure he could be sustained forever just from the pleasured sounds he kept releasing into his mouth. When Jotaro started fidgeting, he lifted his head momentarily to look at his face. He was met with clouded teal eyes, expressing an unspoken plea for more in their intensity. Silent understanding passed between them, and he returned his mouth to the other man’s. His cock was weeping, heavy and pulsing between his legs and trying to convince him that Jotaro was surely prepped enough by now for Noriaki to sink into him.

He ignored it for the most part, only giving himself relief in the form of resuming their earlier actions of rubbing their dicks together. As he rolled his pelvis against Jotaro’s, he adhered to Jotaro’s unvoiced request and added a third digit. Suddenly, Jotaro’s head jerked to the side. He screwed his eyes shut and emanated a loud keen that Noriaki didn’t think the other man could produce. It made his own unbidden moan reverberate in his throat. His teeth found the exposed skin of his neck at the same time he scissored his fingers, and Jotaro repeated the same sound and jolted. Noriaki was almost hysterical with need, and from the way Jotaro moved against him, helping him gyrate their sensitive heads together and essentially fucking himself on his fingers, he figured the other man was in a similar state of crazed longing.

“Nori,” Jotaro heaved out with great effort. “Nori, c’mon, I’m ready.”

“You sure?” God, please let him be sure, the redhead prayed. His dick was twitching.

“Fuck me already,” Jotaro urged, and Noriaki currently did not have the self-control to refuse him. Not that he wanted to. Still, the way Jotaro eroded any semblance of that sempiternal composure he prided himself in would have outraged him if he didn’t relish it so much.

Wordlessly, he grabbed the lube. He sat back on his calves and coated himself abundantly as he looked down at the man spread out on his bed. The rich olive skin of his chiseled torso was glistening with sweat, his sculpted chest rising and falling with the apparent effort it took to fill his lungs with oxygen. His gaze trailed down towards the hard length resting against his defined abs. He could still feel the phantoms of its shape moving inside of him, and it made something in his belly squeeze. His stomach tensed, Noriaki noticed, when he spread his well-built legs a little further and drew up his knees. They were trembling, just a little, and he used his injured but clean hand to smooth over his calf in a soothing gesture.

“Relax,” he murmured while he leaned back down until their foreheads were resting together, propping himself up on his elbows next to Jotaro’s head. He positioned himself between his strong thighs and guided his cock further south until it caught on the stretched and slick rim he’d just worked open. “We can stop anytime, okay? Just say the word,” he reassured him as he teased the head against the opening.

Jotaro’s ocean eyes stared into his pale lilac irises, and he nodded tersely. The ferocity in that glare was almost too much for the redhead. He was tempted to avert his gaze, to escape from the intensity, but he didn’t give in, keeping them locked instead as he began to carefully, slowly, plunge into his body.

“Fuuuuck…” he snarled as Jotaro’s tight heat squeezed his tip. Jotaro, in turn, was biting down hard on his lip, body taut and quivering, stare still fixed on Noriaki’s face. The furrow between his brows had deepened, and the redhead was temporarily distracted from the utter bliss overcoming his senses from his dick upwards by a notion of worry and apprehension.

“Are you okay?” he choked out. Jotaro inhaled shakily before he spoke.

“Yeah,” he croaked. “It’s just a lot. Keep going slowly.”

Noriaki did as instructed, inching into Jotaro’s hole bit by bit, stopping and gauging his reaction every now and then when he exhaled a particularly loud or harsh gasp or flexed his fingers more forcefully into his back. It took a while, and he almost busted a nut more than once because Jotaro clenched down on him hard whenever he tensed up, but eventually, he was buried to the hilt. He risked a quick look and growled at the sight of his thighs resting against his thick, firm ass. The root of his cock was just visible with the rest of it hidden inside Jotaro Kujo’s body. His head started to feel dizzy when he became aware of where he was and what he was doing. He wished he could tell his teenage self about this.

“Feels so…” Jotaro began to wheeze but trailed off.

“Weird? Full? Both?” Noriaki tried to provide through the lack of oxygen in his own body.

“Yeah. But… good. Can you move now?”

Instead of agreeing verbally, Noriaki pulled almost all the way out and forced himself back in tentatively, trying to give Jotaro the chance to get used to the sensation. It didn’t take long for him to start fidgeting.

“Yare yare, you can go fa- hah, faster than this,” he eventually grumbled, obviously trying to sound annoyed, but the effect was diminished when his voice broke. “I’m not made of porcelain.”

“As you wish, your majesty Lord Kujo of the Joestar clan.” Noriaki would have laughed, or maybe given a wittier response, but he was too busy increasing the pace with which he was fucking into him to use his intellect. Jotaro started emitting low grunts in time with his movements, and they sounded gratified instead of pained, so he decided to try to build up his momentum further. The sound of their skin slapping together became louder.

With what felt like his last ounce of brain capacity, he angled his hips slightly with every forward push until finally, he saw Jotaro’s eyes widen and his lips part on a sudden shout.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed and Noriaki beamed down at him before repeating the action with even more force. His compensation was the honor of hearing Jotaro Kujo let loose a loud cry and feeling his legs wrap around his waist. Electricity jolted up and down his spine with the feeling of his ass clenching tightly around him once more. Coupled with the thrill of knowing he could make this fortress of a man noisy, he couldn’t hold back his own long moan of the other man’s name. He rammed inside of him even harder. Jotaro convulsed beneath him, against him… God, eh was so perfect.

“Nori, more!” Jotaro whined, oh God, he whined, and then his eyes shut tightly and his grasp on Noriaki became bruising. He reveled in the feeling of being both his kite and his anchor. He almost didn’t hear Jotaro’s demand.

“So fucking bossy,” he chuckled when it registered in his brain, but complied. Of course, he complied. The pressure in his abdomen was steadily growing and becoming more and more difficult to brush off, but he needed Jotaro to come first. His stamina was normally way better than this but who could blame him for barely hanging on when he was balls-deep in the man he’d been dreaming about for almost a decade? He wondered if he’d ever get used to it. He couldn’t imagine he would.

He adjusted his position slightly to gain more traction while Jotaro tightened his legs around him and began pounding into the tight heat of his lover’s body as hard as he could. Jotaro cried out again, back arching, and there was no way he would last like this, not when he knocked staccato moans out of the man below with every drive into him. His hand reached down to grasp the impressive cock dribbling precum all over Jotaro’s abs and he started stroking in rhythm with his thrusts. The noises Jotaro was making were driving him insane, and paired with the squelching of lube and smack of his hipbones against Jotaro’s rear, he was barely holding on.

As it turned out, he didn’t need to. Jotaro’s entire body was shaking. He was clamping down on him so hard that he had trouble pulling out, so he decided to just grind against his sweet spot and continue jerking him with a tight, sure fist, and that was apparently the right call because next thing he knew, the man under him became rigid. Jotaro scrabbled for purchase against his back and his legs went taut where they were hugging Noriaki’s torso. He threw his head back, letting loose an uncharacteristic yell of ecstasy as he coated Noriaki’s fist and his own stomach with ropes of cum. The flow of his movements became erratic as he fucked a writhing Jotaro through his orgasm until, at last, the redhead followed, the pressure in his pelvis intensifying until it finally shattered. His body was overtaken by weightlessness as he spilled into his pliant lover with a drawn-out, guttural groan. They both continued to gasp into each other’s mouths as they rode out their orgasms, helpless and depraved in their release, until finally, everything except their heavy panting stilled and he collapsed on top of the other man, face buried in his neck.

Strong arms engulfed him in a tight embrace, one hand on the back of his head and the other resting on his waist. He heard a slight hitch of breath next to his ear when he extracted his softening cock, but other than that, there was nothing but their heavy breathing as they came down from their high.

“Holy fucking shit,” he eventually exclaimed. He felt Jotaro’s answering chuckle more than he heard it, a rumbling deep in his chest reverberating against his own.

“Agreed.” Thick, calloused fingers gently combed through his cherry-red tresses, and he had to suppress a purr. Actually, no, he didn’t. It wasn’t weird anymore like it used to be to bask in these small gestures, and so he let himself emit a quiet, pleased hum at the feeling. After a moment, he lifted his head so he could look the other man in the eye.

“So? What’s your verdict, doctor?”

“Wouldn’t mind a repeat at some point.” A rare, toothy grin stretched over Jotaro’s face. “Can’t believe this is the kinda stuff I’ve been missing out on.”

“Sex with women not all that fulfilling?” he teased, rubbing the tips of their noses together.

“Woman,” Jotaro corrected. “Singular. And it was okay, but nothing like this.”

Noriaki didn’t even hear the second part. He peered down at Jotaro with shock clearly written all over his features.

“Wait. Hang on. Do you mean to tell me that I’m only the second person you’ve ever slept with?”

The blush that had originally been dissipating from Jotaro’s cheeks quickly returned. Noriaki swore he could feel the heat they exuded against his own.

“So? Is that a bad thing?” He sounded defensive, and his previously somewhat relaxed brow quickly furrowed again. The redhead was quick to explain.

“I’m just surprised, is all. I just assumed that someone other than Marina would have caught your eye enough to at least wanna… y’know… relieve some teenage urges. You definitely didn’t lack opportunities. And you don’t fuck like someone who barely has any experience.”

“Thanks, I guess?” Jotaro smirked before he continued. “I made out with a couple of girls, but that was about it. And I only did it because it was the normal thing to do, y’know? Aside from the whole, you know,” he lifted the hand off Noriaki’s head to gesture between them, “they weren’t really my type.”

“Oh yeah? What is your type then?” Noriaki asked with a flirty lilt to his voice.

“Strong, smart and snarky as hell.”

“Why, thank you,” the redhead preened.

“Who says I’m talking about you? Y’know, there’s this really hot guy in my research group… Ow! Okay, of course I mean you!”

Jotaro full-on laughed as he rubbed at his side where he’d just been elbowed. Just a little, not enough to really hurt, but enough to get the point across. The sound made something warm and fuzzy bloom in Noriaki’s chest. It tapered off slowly and they were immersed in comfortable silence again. The redhead used it to bring their lips together again. After a few minutes of lazily making out, Jotaro suddenly pulled away to interrupt the kiss and lull in conversation. He looked somewhat nervous, Noriaki noted.

“How many people have you been with, then?” His tone was nervous, too, and his body language was fidgety where Noriaki could read its nonverbal communication against his own. Honestly, as soon as he heard the question, he felt the same. Why would Jotaro even ask that? It wasn’t like this subject wasn’t a touchy one.

“Why?” he countered apprehensively. This conversation could go horribly wrong fast. “Are you sure you wanna know, Jojo?”

“I think so. I don’t know why. I just feel… curious, I suppose.” The other man took a long, deep breath. “There’s this whole new side of you I’m getting to know now, and I wanna know everything about it. If that makes sense.”

It didn’t. Noriaki certainly didn’t need to know any details about Jotaro’s past sex life, even if he seemed to divulge them willingly enough. It didn’t matter, though. That was why it was in the past. And he definitely didn’t want to talk about his own sexual history, but he decided to indulge him nonetheless because he imagined expressing those thoughts couldn’t have been easy. Besides, his therapist would tell him that open and honest communication was the key to any healthy relationship. They’d probably have this conversation sooner or later anyway.

“I’m honestly not sure.” This would probably be easier if they weren’t looking at each other, he figured, so he scooted down slightly in order to hide his face in those impressive pecs before he continued. “I don’t keep count. I know it’s not like, a shocking amount. I’d usually stick to a friends with benefits kind of thing with one guy for a while and move on when I suspected they caught feelings or I got bored, but there’s times where I… hm.” He stopped to search for the right words. They stubbornly eluded him, so he supposed he had no choice but to improvise. Here goes nothing, he thought.

“Go on,” Jotaro encouraged him with his deep, calming voice as well as the soft circles he rubbed into that gap under his shoulder blades. “I won’t judge, I promise.”

“You know how I get these really, really bad phases where I don’t move from my bed for ages?”

“How could I forget? It scares the ever-living shit out of me when that happens.”

He nuzzled against Jotaro’s clavicle and pressed a soft kiss into the skin.

“And I thank you for always helping me out when I get like that. Most people would probably run far, far away.”

“Most people suck. Continue.”

“Well, when I get out of those… funks. Or like, depressive episodes, if you wanna be accurate. I tend to get a little – stir-crazy, I suppose? I just know that I start to have these needs and thoughts and I feel like I’ll explode if I don’t follow them. Including…”

“Sex.”

“Yes.” He finally dared to look up, but still couldn’t meet Jotaro’s eye, afraid of what he might find there. Instead, he fixed his stare on his impressive jawline. Sure, he’d promised he wouldn’t judge, but he already had, way before he even knew any of the details. “I’ll go months without any action, I’m completely numb and apathetic, and then I get these racing thoughts and cravings, almost like my body is trying to make up for lost time. That’s when I’ll resort to one-night stands, usually, until I find someone good enough to keep around.”

It sounded horrible when he put it like that, but that’s exactly how it was. He didn't even want to picture what Jotaro’s full face looked like right now. He was translating the slight twitch in his cheek as dismay. Instead of confronting it, he just plowed on with his dismantling of the image he’d been maintaining. Most of his mask had been chipped away by the other man over the years, but this was something he’d been keeping close to his chest. Most of the time, he didn't even want to admit it to himself.

“Basically, all I do in that time is fuck and make art. I don’t sleep, I barely eat. I feel like I’m on top of the world. My therapist said I’m lucky that’s all it is, actually,” he admitted with a bitter laugh. “Says she has clients who gambled away their homes and ruined their marriages with affairs, or turned psychotic and had to be hospitalized for months and all that shit. I’m able to maintain somewhat of a reasonable disposition, like, you know, practicing safe sex, and only driving a little above the speed limit, and not dropping all my savings on supplies for ideas I have that I’ll never be able to actualize. Like… I have a fucking film camera in my attic space that I’ve never used, for a really shitty TV pilot I wrote. I thought it was genius at the time. But I’ll at least leave enough for next month’s rent,” he tried to joke, but Jotaro looked far from amused.

“I thought you – didn’t you tell me you had anxiety once? And PTSD?”

“Yepp.”

“Was that a lie?”

“Nope.”

“So those are common symptoms of that?”

“Nope.”

“Then –“

“She called it manic depression,” he went on to clarify. “Except my mania is relatively mild and kinda rare, considering what it could be like, so you call it hypomania. Personally, I’m not so sure that diagnosis is accurate. I read up on the phenomenon though and… some of it is definitely true. I do get overly excited about things, and I don’t need as much sleep, and make more impulsive choices, and yes, I do get incredibly… needy, physically. I’m not a professional, and the pills and therapy did help, so…” he trailed off.

Jotaro was quiet for a long time. Kakyoin thought that if their roles were reversed, he would also need some time to process, so he wasn’t bothered at first, but the longer he remained quiet, the more he started to regret saying anything in the first place. He made to roll off of him, but Jotaro’s grip on him tightened, making it impossible for him to move.

“You’re judging me,” he eventually whispered.

“No, I’m just… putting the puzzle pieces in place, I suppose.” Jotaro was studying his face, he could see his gaze flit all over his features before their eyes finally met.

“It hasn’t been an issue in some time. And I get tested regularly, so you don’t have to worry about that,” he rushed to reassure the other man, who just shook his head.

“That’s not… you worry about that too much."

"That's the anxiety."

"I meant, I’m thinking back on all the times you’ve been weirdly hyper. Like, more hyper than usual. I never thought it was anything… pathological, I guess.”

Noriaki inched back up so he could connect their lips for a moment. “The worst part is the spiral of shame and self-hatred that follows, actually. It took some time to learn to not immediately fall back into a depressive episode, but I’m proud to say I’ve been managing quite well.”

Jotaro suddenly sat up, keeping his hold on Noriaki’s body, moving him to his lap. The redhead wrapped his legs around the other man on instinct. It was an intimate position, reminiscent of the previous night, and it made his heart swell.

“You’re fucking incredible, Nori,” Jotaro mumbled into his hairline before dropping a peck against his forehead. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known. The shit you’ve overcome, and the grace you do it with… fuck, I love you.”

Liquid heat gathered on his lash line, but he refused to let the drops fall. The words calmed something inside of him that had been screaming out for so long, it had become something of an almost imperceptible background noise; the kind you got so used to that you hardly even heard it anymore. He previously had no idea how much he needed Jotaro to express his acceptance of even the worst parts of him.

“I love you, too.” His voice cracked but he didn’t feel self-conscious about it. Their mouths met again, and they both poured as much feeling as they could into the way their lips shifted against each other. Before they could get too heated, Jotaro reluctantly disengaged.

“Shower time?” Noriaki smiled at the other man.

“Shower time. Together?” Jotaro suggested with a quirk of his thick eyebrow. The redhead chuckled.

“We’d just get distracted. Go ahead, get ready. I’ll use the guest bathroom and start breakfast. I’m sure you gotta get back soon, right?” He climbed off of Jotaro, wincing slightly at the discomfort shooting up his lower back. Jotaro did the same when he got off the bed, and they both laughed, somewhat embarrassed and a lot amused, when they noticed.

“I promised Jolyne I’d take her back to the action playground for a playdate with her new friends before I leave, and then I’ve got a 12-hour flight.” He groaned in frustration at the day ahead of him. Noriaki now had the knowledge necessary to distinguish his groans, and he grinned to himself at the realization.

“How is Jolyne so good at making friends? You're sure she's your daughter, right?”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing, but unless Marina had her tattooed inside the womb, she’s got the birthmark to prove it,” Jotaro deadpanned, which, in all honesty, made it even funnier to Noriaki. “Seriously though, I honestly didn’t think I’d be this sore. This was a bad idea.”

“You’ll be fine. Hot shower, some painkillers, you’ll be good as new,” he consoled the bigger man with a pat on his shoulder. All he got in return was a glare, and he threw his hands up in surrender.

“I’m in the same boat, no need to bite my head off!”

Jotaro scoffed, but he heard the playful undertones in the sound. The redhead beamed as he watched him traipse out of the room alongside him.

Noriaki made his way towards the guest bathroom. It was smaller, but so was he; if he himself struggled to fit in there, Jotaro would have even more trouble. He cleaned himself up quickly – he wasn’t nearly as messy as last night, after all, so it didn’t take as long, and wrapped himself in the green robe he’d brought along before exiting the bathroom. He could still hear the shower at the other end of the hall running and felt that same warmth from earlier inflate inside of him. It made him feel weightless.

He was humming one of his favorite Sting songs as he started a pot of coffee. It was one he used to associate with heartache and hopeless longing for the man who, from what he could hear, was currently blow-drying his hair, but he was more than ready to overwrite it with the blissful contentment flowing through him. He was so immersed in his task of whisking eggs in a bowl that he almost jumped out of his skin when he heard his phone ring. Who could be calling him right now? A quick glance at his clock told him it was really, really early, and it made his stomach sink because there was, in all likelihood, only one or two people who would be phoning him at this hour, and if it wasn’t planned, he feared the reason wasn’t good.

He hurried over and quickly picked up the receiver. His voice sounded breathless even to his own ears when he forced out a quick, nervous “hello?”

“Nori! Thank God you’re up! Have you seen Jotaro? I called his house last night and Marina said she didn’t know where he was but that he’d probably be there early in the morning. She actually sounded weird about it? Are they having problems? Anyway, doesn’t matter right now, when I tried again a few minutes ago he still wasn’t home. She told me to call you and that you’d probably know more than her anyway. Do you have any idea where he could be?” Polnareff was speaking at a mile a minute, rapidly enough for even Noriaki to struggle with following, and finished right at the same time that Jotaro entered the living room.

“You’re now literally a pain in my ass. You said something about pain killers? They weren’t anywhere obvious, and I didn’t wanna go through your stuff,” the grumpy man groused. Noriaki stared up at him with wide eyes, begging whatever entity he didn’t believe in that Polnareff hadn’t heard what he’d said, or that if he did, he wouldn’t make the connection.

“Hey, Polnareff, good morning,” he chirped just a tad too brightly at the same time the Frenchman inquired, “do you have a guy there? Oh my God, did you pick someone up?”

“What does he want?” Jotaro didn’t seem to care if Polnareff heard him, and really, it wasn’t that weird when he thought about it. Jotaro slept over at his place every now and then, after all. All he had to do was act normal and they wouldn’t arouse any suspicion.

“No, you idiot, Jojo is here.”

“Ohhhh! Oh, okay, I thought you two had a fight –“

“Here, talk to him!” he interrupted the other man and practically assaulted Jotaro with the receiver in his haste to get out of the conversation. Polnareff had a much, much harder time reading the nuances of Jotaro’s voice, so he would be far less conspicuous. Jotaro took it with a roll of his eyes, belied only by the small smile he couldn’t quite hide. He didn’t put it to his ear, though, instead opting to turn on the speaker. Noriaki made his way around the kitchen island to continue cooking.

“What do you want?” Jotaro blurted out, sounding just a little more gruff than usual. Polnareff, as predicted, didn’t pick up on it.

“Ah, mon ami, just some last-minute changes to our agenda –“

As the two men talked shop, Noriaki let their voices lull him back into a comfortable sense of peace. Not for the first time, he wondered if he’d made the right call when he rejected the Speedwagon Foundation’s job offer. He could be traveling with his friends and taking on enemies around the world just like old times. Especially with Avdol apparently joining them in Italy after all, the notion became more tempting. He had missed out on many adventures over the years, relegating himself to listening instead of participating. He’d felt overwhelming guilt more than once when one of them returned injured, and bitter regret when he became witness to the occasional inside jokes he wasn’t privy to.

However, when he remembered why exactly he’d turned the job down in the first place, those feelings quickly dissipated. He swore to himself, back in the hospital as he was recovering and slowly getting acquainted with this new body of his, that he would fulfill his dream of becoming an artist. It was what got him through the most grueling pain, through that humiliating period of not even being able to use the bathroom by himself, through intensive physical therapy. His determination to reach his goal sustained him in even his darkest moments. Besides, he could always pick up missions if he was so inclined, he was pretty certain; the Speedwagon Foundation would probably happily agree to accommodate him if he volunteered.

Which was what he was currently considering. From what he gathered, whatever they were up against sounded… menacing. And while all three men were smart and competent in their own ways, and he usually trusted Avdol to keep Polnareff out of trouble, and he knew Jotaro was more than capable of taking care of himself… something in his gut told him that this time, his particular talents might be required.

“Hey Pol?” he called out from where he was pulling out pans, interrupting the other two men’s previous conversation. “Think there’s room for me on this one?”

“What?” two voices called out in unison, one happily surprised, one shocked and concerned. He put down the cooking utensils on the counter and sauntered over to the couch, sitting sideways on Jotaro’s lap. His arm immediately wrapped around his waist and pulled him close.

“This sounds way more serious than the occasional straggling Dio cultist. You can handle those just fine, I’m aware. Plus, I broke my fingers and can’t work anyway, so I figured I might join and make sure you morons don’t die.”

While Polnareff squealed in delight, before his precious pea brain caught up with the fact that he’d just said he was injured and started a barrage of concerned inquiries, Jotaro grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him away far enough so he could stare at his face. Worry was etched into his unfairly handsome features, and the redhead raised his hand to massage the wrinkle between his eyebrows.

“You’re not going anywhere near this, Nori,” Jotaro suddenly exclaimed. The vehemence in his tone made him bristle. “I want you as far away from this shitshow as possible.”

“Excuse me, who died and made you boss?” The redhead found himself immediately irritated.

“You almost did!” Jotaro snapped. “I’m not going through that again, especially now! Fucking forget about it!”

“I can do what I want, Jojo, you don’t get to decide over me just because –“ he quickly clamped his mouth shut, thankfully realizing just in time that one, Polnareff was still on the line and two, that he was about to end this sentence with ‘we fucked’ which would lead to a shitstorm he did not want to deal with.

“What the hell is going on?” the Frenchman chimed in. “If Kak wants to tag along, who are you to tell him no, Joot? He’d probably be really helpful, and it’s been ages since we got the gang back together!”

“Exactly right, J.P.!”

“J.P.?” Jotaro mouthed at him. Noriaki couldn't help but smirk.

“Don’t be jealous, Pol and I have loads of nicknames for each other.”

“I'm not –“ the other man began to protest before Polnareff interjected.

“I swear to God, sometimes it’s like you two are the actual married couple. I’d tell you to fuck it out, but...”

“For God’s sake, Polnareff…” he said at the same time Jotaro huffed out an annoyed, “good freaking grief.”

An unbidden giggle tore itself from Noriaki’s mouth while Jotaro’s scowl just deepened. A muscle in his jaw was twitching.

“Don’t meddle in shit you know nothing about, Polnareff. Noriaki's not coming and that’s that,” Jotaro forced out between clenched teeth, veering the discussion back on its original course. While the redhead was thankful for that, he was quickly becoming more agitated.

“I’ll call you back in a few, okay Pol?” the redhead tried to placate his friend when he began to splutter indignantly on the other line and quickly hung up. He got off of Jotaro’s lap and plopped down on the sofa next to him instead.

“You have no right to tell me that I can’t come,” he said calmly, but definitively.

“Jolyne will be sad if we’re both gone.”

“So you stay. She’s your daughter. Be real here for a second.” He rolled his eyes at the weak excuse. Jotaro seemed to realize how stupid he’d sounded and decided to listen.

“Nori, please, you – you don’t know what it was like. I found your corpse. There was so much blood. You were – you looked so small. I thought you were dead. You were dead.” His oceanic eyes were pleading with him.

“I’m quite aware,” Noriaki replied cooly. “I’m the one it happened to. I’m the one all of the fucked-up shit Dio had up his sleeve happened to. And I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“Nori –“ Jotaro inhaled shakily and reached for his hand. He allowed him to take it and squeezed.

“Jotaro. Didn’t you just say how strong I am?”

The bigger man looked down and intertwined their fingers.

“You are,” he finally admitted quietly.

“I’m just asking you to trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

Instead of replying verbally, Jotaro just nodded hesitantly, then repeated the gesture more confidently. He leaned forward to press their lips together in a sweet, chaste kiss.

“I was so happy when you decided against involving yourself in this stand business any longer, and now you’re jumping back in,” the bigger man complained with an exasperated sigh.

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.” Noriaki shrugged his shoulders and scooched closer to his lover so he could reach over him and dial Polnareff’s familiar number. “Besides,” he added thoughtfully as the dial tone rang around them, “this way, we can celebrate my birthday together. I already have some ideas.” He stuck his tongue out and grinned devilishly, watching Jotaro’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard.

When Polnareff picked up, Noriaki was glad he wasn’t holding the receiver to his ear; the volume of his shriek was threatening to burst his eardrums even without the added proximity of the soundwaves.

“OH MY GOD. OH MY FUCKING GOD. I JUST PUT TWO AND TWO TOGETHER. YOU TWO ACTUALLY FUCKED, DIDN’T YOU?!”

With a groan, he slumped back into the soft cushions of his sofa and slung his arm over his eyes. Polnareff didn’t even give them the chance to deny his completely correct allegations, he just immediately tore into Jotaro. Noriaki decided that it would be best if he just kept out of the conversation. He would let Jotaro take care of this one.

Chapter Text

Noriaki sent Hierophant out to resume his cooking duties – he didn’t normally use his Stand this way, because he wasn’t his maid, but he was way too invested in listening to the conversation between his number one and number two favorite men in the world. He also thought that he’d likely just get distracted and burn whatever it was he was making anyway. Better to trust Hierophant. It wasn’t the first time, after all. When depression hit, he literally didn’t leave the bed unless he was about to piss his pants and sometimes, Hierophant would go and get him water and food even without prompting when he went too long without any sustenance.

“I swear on Sherry’s grave, I am going to kick your ass, Kujo! How fucking dare you! You’re not only a married man; you’re a father! That means something!”

“Polnareff, you’re not –“

“Never in a million years would I have thought you’d stoop this low, you vile bastard! Joseph perhaps, sure, but you? Have you no shame? And to drag Nori, of all people, into this! I will fuck you up, putain!”

“Polnareff –“

The Frenchman wasn’t giving an inch in his rant for Jotaro to interject. Noriaki could see his eye starting to twitch in annoyance.

“Ta gueule, connard! I mean, it’s not like I wasn’t expecting you two to get your act together at some point but not like this! Surely you must know by now how he feels about you, and that you’d take advantage of him like that?! Disgraceful! And – is he there? Is he listening? Of course he is, why am I asking! Noriaki Kakyoin!”

Noriaki jumped in his seat, startled at the increased volume, with his eyes wide and his brain slow to process Polnareff’s rapid ramblings.

“You know better than this! You’re supposed to be the smart one! Mon ami, you could have anyone you want, I’ve told you, time and time again, you’re too good for that piece of shit jackass who won’t see how perfect you are, and what do you do? You become his affair! Nom de dieu de merde! You two need to stop immediately or I will tell Marina! Don’t think I am bluffing about this! I know you don’t have the greatest sense of self-worth, Nori, but this is low even for you!”

Noriaki felt his jaw drop along with his stomach. His heart stopped for a second, just to start back up again with a considerable spike in his blood pressure. His vision became blurry. His ears started to ring, and his lungs seemingly forgot what their instinctive function was. He could hardly form a thought from the utter shock and hurt over what Polnareff just said. Unaware of what he was doing, he brought up his knees and hugged them to his chest, curling in on himself in an attempt to make himself as small as he felt in that moment.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Jotaro suddenly yelled down the line. His eyes were concerned though, trained on Noriaki unblinkingly, watching out for his reaction. A large, soothing hand landed on the bend of his knee. “Shut the fuck up, Polnareff, right now, and apologize to Noriaki immediately.”

“No! Why would I? I’m not wrong here! You two are!”

“We didn’t –“

“Jojo,” Noriaki whispered. He still wasn’t completely there, his body translating his emotional turmoil into too many physical symptoms to process, but he would be damned if he didn’t speak up for himself and let Jotaro fight his battles for him, well-meaning as the other man was. “Jojo, it’s fine. It’s good to know what you really think of me, Jean,” he said the last part a little louder so the man in question would hear him. “Perhaps I shouldn’t tag along after all.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Nori, why aren’t you –“ Jotaro started.

“It doesn’t matter,” the redhead rudely interrupted the other man once more. People really didn’t give Jotaro enough credit, he idly thought. He was more patient than him. Noriaki was just good at faking it. “It doesn’t matter who’s right, who’s wrong, who’s making assumptions, who said or did what, because now I know it was a mistake to ever trust you, Polnareff. I’ll be in my bedroom, so I don’t have to listen to this. Come get me when you’re done, okay?” He directed the last part at Jotaro, then reached over to disable the speaker function and stood on deceptively steady legs.

The smell of burned eggs began to fill the room. Hierophant didn’t have an expressive face, what with his beetle eyes and mask, and Noriaki remembered that at the end of the day, no matter how independent his Stand had become, he was just an extension of his soul and as his soul, he was as paralyzed as the redhead felt. He removed the pan from the stove and turned it off on his way out because he didn’t want to deal with a fire on top of everything else, and left the room, ignoring whatever it was Polnareff was yelling loud enough for him to perceive his voice even through the receiver.

Unfortunately, the walls in his apartment weren’t exactly soundproof. As he busied himself changing the bedding – getting rid of the proof of how correct Polnareff actually was in his allegations, again, because Noriaki would never fucking learn – he could still hear Jotaro’s end of the phone call. If he could find it in him, he would be impressed by how calmly Jotaro was handling this after his initial explosion. As it was, it was all he could do to keep the waterworks from overtaking him. God, how he fucking hated crying. He’d done enough of it this past week to last him a lifetime, and he was sick of it. He would have to look into getting his tear ducts removed, he mused, his inner voice dull as he covered the bed in a fresh sheet and expertly ignored the wetness gathering on his lashes.

“Polnareff – yeah you can stop trying to burst my eardrums with your apologies, he can’t hear you anymore... No, he went into his bedroom, and I’m sure as hell not getting him so you can hurt him even more with your blundering word vomit. I know you’re a fucking idiot but that was a new level of moronic, even for you… No, and it doesn’t matter if you were right, and we were having an affair, because what I do, and what Nori does, and my family life, none of it’s any of your fucking business!... I’m pretty sure he never asked you to try and protect him, much less talk sense into him. That’s fucking laughable coming from you… Stop being stupid, and I’ll stop calling you stupid, it’s that simple!… Shut up and while you’re at it, quit acting like you’re the king of upholding moral standards. You’re no one to preach... You literally just used his biggest insecurity against him, you fuckhead. He trusted you, and you threw that back in his face… I know you didn’t. Nori knows too, but he will need time. That was really, really bad, Polnareff. You can insult me all you want, I don’t give a shit, but if I ever get wind of you so much as breathing something other than sugar and spice and everything nice in his general direction, I won’t even need Star to end your existence. Got it?... Good. I’ll see you later.”

Noriaki heard heavy footsteps approaching, followed by the creak of hinges when Jotaro hesitantly opened the door. He tried to make it seem like he wasn’t listening in and gathered the filthy bedding to put into his laundry basket. He could feel the weight of his laser-focused gaze boring into his back.

“You heard all of that, didn’t you?”

“Walls are thin. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk so much when it wasn’t about the ocean,” the redhead teased, albeit without looking back. He heard a low chuckle before he continued. “So I’m guessing we’re keeping this under wraps for now?”

“Well,” Jotaro started slowly. Noriaki felt strong arms gently wrapping around his waist from behind before they pulled him back into his lover’s solid chest. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and let himself melt into the contact. He still wasn’t sure what he was feeling, except hurt, and having the comfort of Jotaro’s touch did wonders for soothing the ache in his heart and dissolving the lump in his throat.

“He asked if we’re fucking behind Marina’s back or not, and I said no. Which technically isn’t a lie, except that first time that I immediately told her about. I didn’t mention I was getting divorced because that would have been as good as an admission of guilt and, uh – I’m not sure what you want. Whether you wanna –“

He trailed off, suddenly sounding insecure, no trace left of the righteous man who was admonishing Polnareff on his behalf with conviction and ease just a minute ago. Noriaki turned in his arms so he could look at him.

“Whether I want to what?” he prompted gently.

“Whether you want to be together for real. Like – I wouldn’t have known what to tell him if he asked follow-up questions, and I wasn’t going to decide for you. After last night’s discussion, I figured you might want to wait to put a label on us.”

Lavender irises pierced Jotaro’s oceanic eyes as Noriaki considered his answer for a moment. The uncertainty and worry reflecting in them was clear as day to him, even with his expression remaining seemingly unfazed. Quiet lingered in the air around them for a while, but he didn’t want to rush; this was too important for him to be anything less than transparent and concise. He did not want to deal with another misunderstanding.

“Look,” he eventually broke the silence clinging to the space around them. “I do want to be with you. For real. In a real, serious, mature adult relationship. Where you support me, and I support you, and we eventually move in together and we get joint bank accounts and all that jazz. It’s all I’ve wanted since I was 17 years old. But…” he paused to take a deep breath. Jotaro just kept focusing on his face, bestowing him with rapt attention. However, Noriaki noticed the corners of his mouth turn down just by a fraction when he pronounced the last word, the conjunction indicating that he wouldn’t like what he was about to say next.

“It’s just like I said last night. I want you to concentrate on yourself for now, on figuring out who you are and what you want and what issues you need to be working on. For yourself, not for me. Because I – I don’t want to wake up one day and have you up and leave me because you realized I’m not what you wanted after all.” He whispered the last part, glancing down at his feet.

“Nori,” he heard Jotaro sigh, his tone both pleading and full of compassion. One of his arms unwound from where it was coiled around his body and a warm, calloused hand grabbed him under his chin, gently prompting him to lift his head back up.

“Nori, you don’t have to be scared of that. I know for sure that I want you. You’ve been waiting for years for me to wake the fuck up already, so I can’t blame you for being suspicious, but you know me better than anyone in the world. Would I really do that to you?”

And Noriaki thought back to how they first met, how he helped him, a complete stranger who just tried to murder him, at the risk of his own life. There’d been no promises of a payoff, he just did it because he felt it was right. He remembered the boy who dropped everything to travel halfway across the world to fight a beast he hadn’t even heard about 24 hours prior, just to save his mother. Who befriended him and stuck by him despite his indubitably peculiar quirks, and even cherished him enough to open up to him and reveal his own. Who continuously put himself in harm’s way for the people he cared for so deeply, even if he didn't make it obvious. Who trusted him enough to put his and his grandfather’s life on the line, convinced Noriaki would come through for them.

He thought about the man who, yes, made mistakes, but owned up to them and always tried to better himself. Whether it was marrying the girl he accidentally knocked up because he knew that if he didn’t, she would be the one to suffer in the end, or cheating on her in an uncharacteristic lapse of judgment and accepting the consequences of his actions head-on. The man who lived for years refusing to accept his own true nature for fear of disappointing the people he loved and who loved him. Who was willing to make amends for unknowingly doing that at the expense of Noriaki’s happiness, not considering that he’d sacrificed his own happiness in the process as well. Who was horrified when he realized the extent of the pain he’d unwittingly caused him and never once thought about the pain he’d caused himself. Jotaro Kujo had many faults, and his abundant selflessness might just be one of them, but doing things half-assed wasn’t. When he was in, he was in wholeheartedly, and he was more than willing to put in the effort necessary to keep things afloat.

“I guess not,” the redhead conceded eventually.

“I can work on myself while being with you. It doesn’t have to be an either-or type of deal.”

“You haven’t even filed the papers yet, Jojo,” Noriaki protested weakly. “Like, not even the ones you’d need to be officially separated. That’s… that’s a morally grey area at best. People will think you just ran off with some twink and left your wife and kid behind.”

“Since when do you care what people think? Everyone who matters will know that isn’t true. That’s what counts.” Jotaro leaned down to rest his forehead against the redhead’s. “I’m not planning on abandoning them. I’m just not in a romantic relationship with Marina anymore. I haven't been for ages, but now it’s official. I’m still gonna be there as her friend and Jolyne’s dad.”

“You had better,” he threatened with a small smile. “I’ll be in a prime position to cut off your balls if you ditch Jolyne, and then I’ll leave your sorry ass because while Polnareff may think differently,” he grimaced for a second, “I’m not the kind of man who would entertain a deadbeat.”

“He didn’t mean it, Nori. You know that.” Jotaro left a small peck on his lips. “I’m not defending him, but I don’t want you to feel bad when you don’t have to.”

“He certainly is an imbecile and loses control way too easily, yeah,” Noriaki relented. “I guess he’ll take it back once he learns we’re not just… y’know… fucking around.”

Jotaro’s eyes took on a new sparkle when his words sunk in, paired with a cautious upturn of his lips.

“Does that mean what I think it means?”

“Yes, we can tell him we’re together. After we’ve cleared the air with Marina, though. We’ve been unfair enough to her. So… maybe not while we’re on this mission.”

Jotaro’s grin was all teeth and giddiness and it made him look brilliant. Noriaki was almost glad that he always looked so impassive, because if he walked around looking like that, there was no way in hell people would ever stop clamoring for his attention.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Jotaro went home shortly after that, leaving Noriaki to pack and get his affairs in order. He called the Speedwagon Foundation himself, using the direct line he’d been given a few years back and happy to note that it hadn’t been disconnected. As suspected, they were delighted to have him on this mission. Once he hung up, they faxed him all the documents detailing the case for him to peruse on the way to Italy.

He then told Mrs. Brown about his injury, and that on top of that, he had a family emergency, so he wouldn’t be able to finish her commission by the deadline she’d set, since he wasn’t sure how long that emergency would keep him away from Florida. She was very understanding – too understanding, if you asked him. He had always had vague suspicions that perhaps, she knew more than she let on, what with Joseph being like an uncle to her. If the stories were true, and Noriaki was pretty certain they were, her father had witnessed Joseph accomplish some incredible things.

When that was taken care of, he sat down on his bed with a sigh, looking at the clock. He had over 5 hours to go before Jotaro would pick him up for their flight. An uncanny bout of anxiety swept over him, like he was forgetting something really, really important, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was exactly. Instead of driving himself crazy, he decided to busy himself with laundry, so his dirty clothes and bedding didn’t mold over the time he was gone. He read over the case files while he waited for his machine to finish. And that still left him with 3 and a half hours to kill and nothing to do in the meantime.

Roxanne jumped on his lap and curled in on herself for a nap, and suddenly, he knew what it was. He was so preoccupied with everything that was happening that it managed to slip his mind that he had a living, breathing animal to take care of. How could he fail to remember the one thing that got him through this nightmare of a week, and so many other nightmarish weeks before that?

Distantly, he felt his breathing pick up in a panic. He didn’t know anyone who could take her in. Not for an undetermined amount of time at least. He didn’t have any real friends in the area, only acquaintances, and animal sitting services were too expensive and too unreliable and would also require him to set a fixed date for pickup and he didn't even know if they had room for her on such short notice.

Could he maybe take her with him? But no, that was extremely impractical. Hotels generally didn’t allow for pets, and besides, they might also be gone for days on end before returning to their base in Rome. Did the Speedwagon Foundation have someone who could take care of Roxanne? When he tried the direct line, it was busy. Panic was slowly overtaking his ability of producing coherent thoughts.

Before he knew what was happening, he picked up the receiver and dialed the Kujo household’s familiar number. It was so ingrained in him that he didn’t think twice about it. Or think at all. It wasn’t until a woman’s voice picked up that he realized what he’d done.

“Marina Kujo speaking.”

His throat was dry all of a sudden; he tried to swallow with no spit and only ended up coughing violently.

“Hello? Are you okay? Who’s this?” She sounded both concerned and apprehensive. He didn’t want to scare her, so he forced himself to speak through the panicked fog that was enveloping his brain.

“It’s Noriaki. Uhm.”

“Oh. Uh, hello.” Her voice mirrored his own unease at the unexpected conversation back at him. “Uhm, Jotaro is out with Jojo,” she added hastily, probably trying to end the conversation as quickly as possible. He couldn’t blame her.

“Right. Right, the playdate. Fuck,” he cursed quietly, bringing his hand up to drag over his face and card through his own hair.

“Is… is everything okay?”

Noriaki was stupefied for a second. Sure, she was kinda hesitant when she posed it, but he wasn’t expecting that question, or the underlying worry in it.

“Uhm – it’s silly.”

Silence. She wasn’t hanging up or cussing him out though. He took it as a prompt to continue. It didn’t mean he wasn’t sweating bullets right now. The discomfort was making him squirm in his seat, and then hiss when a sharp pain traveled up his lower back. Like he needed the reminder of what exactly he’d done with this woman’s husband.

“I need someone to watch my cat,” he finally blurted out unceremoniously when the lull began taking on hitherto unseen levels of unpleasantness.

Noriaki suppressed the urge to facepalm.

“Okay… so you called because you want Jotaro to watch your cat? Is that – is that some code? ‘Cause, well – he told me and I’m mostly okay with it, but this is a little –“ She was beginning to become more and more upset.

“No!” he rushed to interrupt her, louder than he’d intended but desperate to deny the wrong conclusion she’d come to. “Oh God. No. No, uh, I’m joining him and Polnareff in Italy and since there’s no telling for how long we’ll be gone, I can’t really… take her anywhere. I was hoping he’d know someone.”

The stillness that followed was so stark that he wasn’t sure if the line was still connected. It was the sharp intake of a deep breath that verified that it was.

“He’s taking you with him.” The statement was made monotonously, devoid of any emotion.

“Well – kinda, I suppose,” he confirmed, a little perplexed.

“You know that in 6 years together, I’ve barely gotten him to give me at least a vague idea of where it is he runs off to? He didn’t even tell me he was going to Italy specifically, he only said Europe. I wouldn’t even dream of asking him to tag along.”

It hit Noriaki like a ton of bricks – of course, that would be her takeaway. Where the fuck was his brain? First Roxanne, and now this?

“No, Marina, it’s not – it’s not a vacation or anything. It’s not like that.”

“Then tell me what it’s like, Noriaki. Tell me something, anything, please! He’s the father of my daughter.” After a beat, she added, “you owe me that much.”

His gut felt hollowed out when she said that. Because he knew she was right. So he scrambled for an explanation that wouldn’t reveal too much, but also didn’t insult her intelligence.

“You know how we met, correct?” he started, his words slow and calculated, in complete juxtaposition to how his mind was racing.

“Yeah. You tried to fight him, and he beat the shit out of you and then took you home to have Holly patch you up.”

“Exactly. Uhm, he never told you why I tried to fight him though, did he?”

“No. Like I said. He hardly tells me anything.”

“Okay. Okay, so – I can’t go into detail. Not because I don’t want to, but because it would have… consequences,” he clarified quickly before she could protest. “Consequences that could actually be detrimental to you and Jolyne. Jotaro isn’t saying nothing because he enjoys keeping this from you, and he’s not leaving all the time because he likes it either. I promise you this. It tears him apart that he can’t just be honest with you.”

She snorted at the irony of that – fair reaction, he reckoned. “Go on.”

“Long story short, I was in with a really bad crowd back then, but I didn’t want to be. You could say the… I guess you could call him the ringleader, he coerced me to join him against my will. Jotaro helped me out. Same for Polnareff. The… the guy, he sent me after him, and then Pol when I failed to – take Jotaro down,” he sugarcoated. He was pretty sure she knew what he meant anyway. “The guy isn’t a threat anymore,” he assured her, “but... well, there’s loose ends that need to be tied up.”

Noriaki really hoped he managed to somewhat assuage her, vagueness aside.

“… is Jotaro in danger?” That was her only question?

Jotaro was right. She was way too kind-hearted for this world. If he was at all interested in women, he would probably fight Jotaro for her. Well – assuming he wasn’t in love with him instead, that was.

“No,” he replied as confidently as he could. “No, don’t worry about him, he’s more than capable of handling himself. What’s happening in Italy would take forever if it was just Jotaro and Polnareff, though, so Avdol and I are coming to help them. You know all three of them work together and I don’t, but I was offered the same job a while back because I have the same qualifications they do. I chose to go into art instead, but I guess you could say I offered up my talents as an independent contractor.”

“…is he in the CIA? Wait. You couldn’t tell me even if he was. Nevermind.”

He chuckled despite himself. “He’s not in the CIA. I promise. It’s much lamer than that, and it’s nothing unsavory either. Basically, he's working with a company that Joseph has ties to that helped us out with that other guy. But the less people know, the better. I’m not even sure if Holly knows all the details.”

For a moment, all he could hear was Marina’s breathing. When she spoke up again, she was back to her normal composed self.

“You can leave Roxanne here. Jolyne loves her. She’ll be devastated that you’re both away, maybe it’ll help if she has her to cuddle with.”

Purple eyes widened in astonishment.

“Are – are you sure?”

Marina unexpectedly burst into giggles.

“I’m trusting you to protect my baby daddy, and you’re trusting me to protect your baby. How about that? We got a deal?”

“Yes! Oh my God, thank you! I –“ His voice cracked and he couldn’t go on. The lump in his throat was back, and it seemed like it brought friends. Noriaki felt his bottom lip wobble with emotion.

“Just bring her and her things by whenever. I’m assuming you’re taking the same flight?”

Her voice was strained, not in distress, more like she was on the verge of outright laughter. How in the hell did she sound amused right now? Perhaps, he considered, it was the relief of having at least something of a clue of what was happening to the man who fathered her child. Abruptly, he noticed how she’d never once referred to Jotaro as her husband during their whole conversation. He would have to chastise Jotaro at some point, when there weren’t any stand arrows to retrieve from God-knows-where in the Italian mob’s territory, for not just at least telling her something. If she had proven one thing, then it was that she could handle bad news like a champion.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be right over. I can’t thank you enough,” he almost whispered so she wouldn’t hear how hoarse he was; again, he was sure she could tell anyway.

Jotaro really did like the smart ones, after all.

It took him an unforeseen amount of time to get ready. First, he needed to find an outfit that would hide the abundance of marks Jotaro had left on him – Noriaki was surprised, but not unpleasantly so, at just how possessive the man was. He could relate. While he wasn’t as enthusiastic as him about biting his claim into the other man, the idea of him walking around carrying proof of who he belonged to on his skin, Noriaki himself carrying his own… It was enough to warm his heart and send waves of heat through his body.

Once he’d found a suitable outfit, he had to wrangle Roxanne into the seldom-used cat carrier and boy, did that take ages. She probably associated it with checkups at the vet, and like any rational animal, she hated the vet. The task was made more difficult because he couldn’t use both hands to grab her. Noriaki didn’t like to use Hierophant to help catch her because she couldn’t see him and therefore, got appropriately freaked out when she was hoisted into the air by nothing, but he eventually gave in. He’d treat her with some catnip to compensate.

Then he remembered he couldn’t drive – well he could, but police might disagree with him if they stopped him and saw he couldn’t hold onto the steering wheel with both hands. So he hoisted up all the necessities Roxanne would need in a bag slung over one arm, the bag he’d packed for Italy over the other, just in case Jotaro was home already. He picked up the carrier with his good hand after he grabbed the present he had been holding onto to give to Jolyne the next time he saw her, and made the trek to the Kujos’ house by foot.

When he saw the hair clip, he immediately thought of her. Jotaro would always grumble about the amount of money he was dropping on hair clips and necklaces and bracelets for a 5-year-old who wouldn’t be able to keep track of her own head if it wasn’t attached to her, but hey – it was his own hard-earned money and if he wanted to spoil his best friend’s daughter, it was nobody’s business but his own.

With a pang, he realized that if things went right from here on out, he would officially become Jolyne’s stepfather at some point. He would be lying if he denied how giddy the very notion made him. Noriaki had always hated kids with the fiery passion of a thousand burning suns. They were loud and gross and sticky, why were they always sticky?! Why did they come with a self-destruct button for the first three years of their lives? It didn’t make any sense. Not to mention the whole Death-13 debacle.

But Jolyne? Noriaki loved that particular kid to death. He would do anything to see her happy.

Including, but not limited to, handing over his beloved cat, and going away for God knows how long to make sure her father came back to her in one piece. And dropping a ridiculous amount of money on butterfly accessories until she couldn’t stand to see those things anymore, and then some. They were very much in fashion, currently, so the selection at his disposal was vast. The one he was bringing her along, though, was timeless – if she ever decided to get rid of her impressive collection when she grew out of this phase, he figured this might be one she could keep.

He arrived at the Kujo home a few minutes later. It wasn’t a far walk, thankfully, because the stuff he was carrying wasn’t exactly heavy, but it got heavy over time – especially Roxanne in her carrier. And then he almost turned tail because, in his harried state, he achieved the unthinkable feat of forgetting something that might be just as serious as forgetting Roxanne.

This would be the first time he’s seen this woman since he slept with her husband. And she knew. It was easier to remain cordial over the phone, but in person? Well. He supposed he would have to face her sooner or later. He’d hoped he wouldn’t literally only have a few days, though. Maybe a few years down the line. At Jolyne’s high school graduation.

However, Noriaki refused to be a coward. Never again, he’d sworn. So he pressed the doorbell and waited. He was practically buzzing out of his skin with nerves as he heard footsteps approaching the front door. When it swung open, his breath hitched. He was relatively certain he was close to fainting, but he forced himself to gasp oxygen back into his lungs and gritted his teeth in unshakeable determination.

It's okay to be scared, he reassured himself. You can be scared and do it anyway, Noriaki.

Marina was standing in the doorway, her big green eyes scanning him from head to toe. Analyzing, like she was judgment, and she was about to bring the hammer down. He only hoped it wouldn’t land in a hard swing against the back of his head.

“Noriaki,” she eventually broke the tense silence. He was right. talking on the phone had been awkward, but reasonably amicable. In person, however, the gaze she pierced him with was icy and hard. He understood; it was one thing to hear the person’s voice who your spouse cheated on you with. It was a whole other thing to see them. And here he was, frozen in spot like an idiot, nothing to say except, “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Marina.”

“Are you, though?” She tilted her head to the side curiously.

“I…” was the only thing he could stutter out, mind drawing a blank, because… she wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t sorry it happened; he was sorry for how it happened, and that she had to be hurt in the process.

“It’s fine, don’t bother,” she absolved him of the burden of finding a tactful reply, stepping to the side to make space for him to pass her. “Come in.”

“Ah, I mean, I can just hand you Roxanne and her stuff. I’m sure you’re busy,” the redhead babbled so fast, he wasn’t sure she could discern anything he said. She proved she could when she rolled her eyes and gestured her welcome in an exaggerated wave of her arm.

“Come in,” she repeated with a sigh, evidently aggravated. “I’m trying to be civil here, please don’t make it even harder.”

He nodded but kept his eyes averted in shame and did as he was told, toeing off his shoes in the entrance before he entered the bright, cozy home she’d been sharing with Jotaro for the past 6 years. Reminders of their relationship were everywhere – from the photographs of their wedding on the wall to the indentation where she had been wearing her ring. Like Jotaro, she’d taken it off already.

“Is it okay if I let her out now?” he asked quietly, receiving an absent-minded “yeah” as confirmation. He bent down and put the carrier on the ground, suppressing the urge to scrunch up his face in discomfort with the motion, and clumsily unlatched the lock. Roxanne came rushing out with a loud, accusatory “meow!” directed at him and shot past him to explore her temporary accommodations.

“I hope Jolyne won’t bug me about getting a cat after this,” Marina groused behind him as he straightened up. A small smile found its way onto his face.

“Knowing how she would love to keep every animal she lays her eyes on? I wouldn’t be surprised if I had to fight her to get mine back,” he chuckled and decided to turn around at last. Marina was still scrutinizing him. “I had to keep her from taking home a wild baby rat once when I took her to the park. She was about to put it in her pocket and everything. That was tough. Ever see a baby rat? They’re adorable. It wasn’t easy to convince her that they are veritable petri dishes of disease.”

“That sounds like her.” She shook her head. “I’m glad you’re so good with her.”

“Cutest kid in the world, it’s hard not to love her.” He shrugged, trying to play off the embarrassed blush spreading over his cheeks.

She kept quiet and gestured for him to follow her. He took a moment to wash his hands in the kitchen sink as she busied herself with the coffee machine, answering vaguely that he’d had an accident at work when she asked what happened. She put down two mugs at the table and sat, looking at him expectantly until he joined her. He added sugar and cream, but remained silent, waiting for her to break the awkward tension in the room.

“She’s the one good thing to come out of my marriage,” she eventually said into her coffee mug. “She’s the whole reason I got married in the first place. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make sure she’s happy and healthy.”

She inhaled deeply before she went on, “frankly, I’m not sad that my marriage is over. I’m really not, Noriaki. I grew up with parents who would have been better off divorced than whatever shitshow they put me and themselves through, and I wasn’t going to do that to Jolyne.”

Noriaki could sympathize with that, thinking of his parents in Japan and all the ‘let’s try and save our marriage and distract our kid from how we’re neglecting his emotional needs’ vacations they took together with a bitter taste in his mouth. He loved them, of course he did, no matter how strained their relationship was; but resisting the feelings of resentment he still held onto was hard.

“I haven’t loved Jotaro like that in a long, long time, and he never loved me in the first place. But there’s still that stigma, so I was honestly a little relieved when he told me he – well. I already had the documents drawn up by a lawyer a while ago, but I was hesitant to present them to him until he told me what he'd done. He’s so…” she paused as she searched for words. “He’s so broken, and I didn’t want to break him even more.”

A huff of laughter escaped Noriaki, but it held no traces of humor. She hummed curiously at his involuntary interruption, waiting for him to explain.

“Oh. It’s just funny because he tried so fucking hard to keep you from noticing he had issues, and I told him that all it would do is make it plain as day, and to talk to you, even if you may not understand everything.” The redhead took a large swallow of his coffee to buy some time and relieve the dryness in his throat.

“I don’t know if you think I may have been trying to sabotage your marriage or whatever, but I assure you, I was doing the exact opposite. So many of our fights were about this. We’re all broken, Marina, he’s just the one with the least physical scars to prove it, but I’d argue that’s exactly why he’s the one who’s suffering the most.”

“You make it sound like you went to war together.” She dragged a hand through her blonde hair, her brows furrowed. His eyes remained fixed on the mug in his hand as he nodded. It was one of two Jolyne had made for him for his birthday last year, green with clumsy cherries hand-painted on it; the other one was in his kitchen at home. He didn’t dare use it for fear of breaking it.

He contemplated her words. She had no clue and yet, she was right on the money, again, because they did go to war together. Those 50 days would forever stick with him. Back then, he hadn’t even realized that’s what it was – that it wasn’t just an aphorism when Joseph said they’d be going to war against the vampire. Smart as he was, he lacked the comprehensive skills to fully grasp that it wasn’t just his pride, but the whole world at stake.

“It’s not my place to tell you the details, but, well – it seems like he’s more willing to open up now. Or opening up to the idea of opening up, at least. If he wasn’t, we wouldn’t be here.” Another humorless chuckle escaped from between his lips. “Maybe now’s a good time to try and convince him again. I’ll give it a shot while we’re away.”

“That would be nice,” she relented. “I’m not counting on it though. I’m counting on you to do what’s best for Jolyne, and that’s all that matters to me at this point. She’s all that matters. I have no doubts that you’re going to officially be her stepfather soon, and you’re already the one adult in her life she may love almost or just as much as Jotaro and I, so I need you to put her first just like we do.”

“Marina…” he whispered. Tears started to well in his eyes. For once, he didn’t resent their presence.

“I’m not going to lie, I’m having a hard time trusting either of you. I may not be in love with him, but you two still betrayed me.” His chest felt tight, but he had no right – she wasn’t saying anything he wasn’t expecting. In fact, she was saying much less than he was expecting. He figured he’d get a major tongue-lashing at least, maybe slapped around a bit. He would’ve taken it without complaint.

“You wanna show me you’re sorry, you wanna earn my forgiveness? Keep on proving to me that you love her. Unconditionally. Prove to me that I don’t have to regret not cutting the two of you out of our lives.”

Wordlessly, he stretched out his hand, hesitating before he lay it on the back of hers. She allowed the contact, regarding him inquisitively. He squeezed once and nodded, and she returned the gesture, a silent understanding passing between them. It wasn’t new, but he vowed to do just that, and she heard it, no need to verbalize the sentiment. He mouthed a silent thank you at her. His voice would probably crack if he tried to use it right now anyway.

It was at that moment that there was a jingle at the door, the tell-tale sound of someone inserting their keys and twisting them. The loud, excited voice of the little girl they’d just talked about filtered through the air, and he couldn’t help but grin at her obvious happiness.

“And then, Ermes said, she told him, you’re not allowed to guard someone during freeze tag, because it’s unfair. You have to run around too so Anasui got angry, and he said that he wasn’t guarding, he just wanted to play with me and then he called Ermes a b– NORI!” she interrupted her monologue with a loud gasp, hurtling towards him. She jumped and he caught her in his arms with a laugh, squeezing her to his chest and burying his nose in her hair.

“Hey, Mini Jojo,” he muttered against her head and dropped a sweet little kiss against her forehead. “Sounds like you had quite the adventure!”

“It was so fun Nori! My new friends are awesome.” She grinned at him, one of her baby teeth missing and the beginning of an adult tooth poking out already. “Ana’s weird though. He’s always staring at me.”

“Ohhh, maybe he’s got a crush on you,” he teased, causing her to go quiet and glare at him with a deep frown. It made her look just like Jotaro. It was and always would be eerie.

He peered up at the man briefly, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed and ocean eyes darting between the redhead and his soon-to-be ex-wife.

“Everything… good?” he finally forced out, sounding and looking as awkward as the atmosphere around them became when his voice suddenly joined the mix.

“All good, I just needed someone to – oh, Jolyne! Guess who’s staying with you for a couple of weeks!”

Just then, his cat also came traipsing in, probably because she was nosy and decided to investigate the sudden commotion she wasn’t used to. Jolyne jumped from his lap with a squeal and practically lunged for the tabby, causing her to scram from the room as quickly as she’d appeared and Jolyne to whirl back towards him with a pout.

“She’s not used to a lot of noise and sudden movements. It scares her. You need to be gentle with her, okay?” he explained softly, and she nodded vigorously.

“Why’s she staying here?”

“He’s coming with me to work,” Jotaro piped up from where he was still perched in the doorway. “I need someone to help me so I can come back to you sooner, and Nori knows how. Is that okay?”

“You’re both leaving?!”

Jolyne’s pout only got more pronounced, and her eyes started to glisten. She looked towards her mother in her distress. Marina, for her part, was just smiling at her gently. “It’ll be okay, Jojo,” she reassured her. “They’ll be back fast. And in the meantime, you get to play with Roxanne. Speaking of…” She addressed Noriaki next. “Wanna show us what we need to do?”

Noriaki nodded and stood, taking Jolyne’s outstretched hand to lead her to the supplies he’d packed for Roxanne. He walked the two of them through the steps of taking care of a cat – which, honestly, didn’t include much other than filling up her bowels and cleaning her litter box. She was an indoor cat, so they wouldn’t even have to bother with letting her in and out of the house regularly, and she didn't lose a lot of fur either, so she was pretty easy to keep. Jotaro was hovering somewhere nearby the whole time, uneasiness radiating off of him, but the redhead paid him no mind as he took the supplies and set them up in a designated corner of the living room Marina pointed him to.

“Where are you going with my dad, Nori? He won’t tell me.” Jolyne attempted to whisper to him as they were kneeling on the living room floor together, unpacking the cat toys he’d brought. Because she was a child, though, and her whispers equaled something like breathy shouting, it was clearly audible for her parents as well. If her question didn’t fill him with dread at the prospect of having to be the one to answer it, he would probably laugh.

“Baby, that’s because he can’t tell you,” Noriaki expressed as delicately as he could, keeping his voice mellow.

“Is Daddy a spy? Wait, are you a spy? Like in that show?” Her big, green eyes widened to the size of saucers at the mere possibility.

“No.” He shook his head with a smile. “We’re not spies. But you know your great-grandpa Joseph?”

“Jiji,” she corrected him. He snickered. “So he’s a spy?”

“No. No spies. He knows some people who need help with something, but he’s too old to do it himself. They asked us to keep it a secret. And we promised to do that, so we can’t tell you. You wouldn’t want me to tell anyone your secrets, right? It wouldn’t be very nice. Does that make sense?”

“I guess…” she admitted reluctantly.

“Noriaki,” he heard Jotaro’s deep voice say behind him. He craned his neck slightly to the side to look at him. His face was set in his usual stoic façade, but his eyes were expressive like always, and they were swimming with adoration and gratitude. The corners of his lips turned up in response.

“See how easy it can be, Jotaro?” Marina scoffed. “You talk to her like a human being, and she acts like one.”

“I –“ Noriaki could see him gearing up for a fight. He narrowed his eyes at him in warning and he visibly deflated.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I…” They both simultaneously looked at Jolyne. Noriaki got it.

“Let’s leave mommy and daddy to talk, hm? How about we draw something together?” the redhead shout-whispered to the little girl in the same way she’d done it. She nodded and raised her arms, and he hoisted her up, less gracefully than usual due to his handicap, but securely nonetheless. He didn’t look back at the former couple as he carried her to her room.

Jolyne then also noticed his injury at last, but he quickly reassured her. She spent some time showing him all the art she’d made since the last time he’d seen her. The redhead didn’t have the heart to tell her that he’d already seen most of those, and she’d just forgotten, acting appropriately surprised and proud of her work instead. Her lines had gotten steadier, though, he noticed as they lay on her carpet with all the colored pencils she had in a shoebox and white sheets of paper, attached to clipboards so they could draw proper lines on a sturdy surface without puncturing the thin fibers.

He abandoned his own project for a while, just watching her tiny hands move pencil after pencil over the paper in front of her, creating a scene he couldn’t quite make out yet due to the way her arms were hiding it from his sight. She briefly looked at him, asking him about color schemes much like the last time he was here, and he explained the concept of complementary and analogous colors to her again in child-friendly terms.

“What’s good with red?”

“Green, for example. You can also use colors close to it like orange. But Jolyne,” he started, tone turning solemn, “you can combine any colors you want. That’s the whole point of art and being creative – just do what feels right and put it on paper, okay?”

She nodded her assent and returned to her work. After a moment, she piped up, “I just don’t want my art to look like Dad’s.”

Noriaki couldn’t hold in his snort if he tried. “Good point. Although, if it’s about marine animals, you’re better off asking him than me.”

“Oh! Did you know there’s about 2000 types of sea stars? And they can’t survive in fresh water! I asked Daddy to bring me one back as a pet, but he said no because it’s really hard to care for them. He thinks I’m too young,” she clarified with a spectacular attempt at an eyeroll, meaning she just ended up looking up at the ceiling. “But cats are easy! I think Roxanne will be happy here. I’ll play with her soooo much, and I’ll cuddle her, and give her treats… do cats get treats like dogs? Do you think she’ll let me tie a bow around her neck if I give her enough?”

The redhead smiled as the little girl chattered away and kept drawing, letting her voice wash over him. He knew that when she got like this, she didn’t really expect him to answer, she was just eager to share all the knowledge she had accumulated over her 5 years of life. It was fucking adorable, even if his ears protested the noise after some time and he worried she wasn’t breathing enough with how she would interrupt herself to heave in a desperate breath before she continued talking at a mile a minute.

Eventually, there was a knock at the door and Jotaro poked his head in. Jolyne finished her picture at the same time, exclaiming a cheerful “DONE!” as she almost ripped the paper in her haste to detach it from the clipboard.

“Woah, easy there, you worked too hard on that to get any tears in it!” He hastily grabbed the item from her and stopped dead in his tracks as he caught onto what she had drawn.

It was Jotaro, Marina and her, evidently in a park with a couple of ducklings in a pond, a motif to which she often resorted. What made him choked up about it was that this time, he was also there, holding her hand. His stick figure had red hair and wore a green shirt and green and yellow pants. She even used purple for the circles that made up his eyes.

“Do you like it?” she asked, suddenly anxious and meek as she regarded him with a tiny wrinkle between her eyebrows.

“I love it. A couple of years, and you’ll be better than me,” he praised in a thick voice through the foreign feeling he couldn’t swallow.

Jotaro took a few steps into the room and peeked down at his daughter’s work. For a second there, he almost seemed angry, until Noriaki caught a glimpse of the softness in the corner of his eyes, straightening the lines that were starting to form there and making him look almost as young as he’d been when they met.

“It’s beautiful, Jolyne,” he murmured and knelt so he could pat her head. She protested that he was ruining her hair, but it was weak and unconvincing, making it obvious that she was loving the attention. “Can I take it with me?”

“No,” she denied with enough confidence to leave her father reeling. He blinked at her, clearly at a loss for words. “It’s for Nori, not for you, so he won’t forget me when he’s away.”

“Like I’d ever forget you,” he objected and drew in a sharp breath. “Thank you, Jolyne. Truly, I love it and I’ll cherish it and make sure nothing happens to it.”

“Okay, good!” She grinned.

“That reminds me, I also have a present for you. I’ll be right back, okay?”

With quick and sure footsteps, he went to retrieve the butterfly clip he’d gotten her. He could hear the pitter-patter of her feet as she hurried to follow him, evidently excited at the prospect of a gift, but Jotaro’s gentle voice chided her to stay like he’d told her. He was glad for the intervention because he needed a few minutes to gather his bearings.

Of course, it had idly occurred to him that being with Jotaro was a package deal. There was no Jotaro without Jolyne. In his weak moments, he’d even let himself fantasize about this exact scenario – the three of them working together to raise the little girl and make sure she would grow up to be a happy, well-adjusted woman, with him as her stepfather. She already felt like his daughter more often than not, but he never let himself dwell on those feelings or thoughts because it was peculiar, to say the least. At his worst, he’d feel like a disrespectful, delusional ass.

So far, he could theoretically just return her to her parents when he felt overwhelmed; a few days and a couple of nights of babysitting a week while Jotaro was on assignment didn’t make him a father. Not even a proper father figure. Technically, he could take her and have fun days with her and let her stay up past her bedtime and give her all the ice cream she asked for, and he didn’t have to think twice about it, because he wouldn’t have to be there to deal with the consequences of such a break in her routine. Of course, he didn’t; he never sent her home, and he would adhere to Marina’s rules the best he could because he agreed that what she’d established was what was best for Jolyne, even if it meant he’d have to fight her stubborn streak every now and then. But he didn’t have to. He wasn’t obligated to care for her. There was no reason he would ever have to give up nights of sleep for her sake, or get up and cook and clean and entertain her when he was sick and barely hanging on himself, or put off buying something he wanted to afford something she wanted or needed instead, or change around plans to accommodate hers, and always keep on top of all the little things that people didn’t associate with having a child that was completely dependent on you.

But God, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want that. He wanted to obligate himself to caring and loving her as unconditionally as a parent, just like Marina had said earlier. Especially with Jotaro as his partner. He knew that the drawing didn’t mean that Jolyne saw him as a potential second father figure, but more than his conversation with her mother earlier, it awakened him to the fact that he could be. That he really, really wanted to be. If not now, then someday, when fresh wounds became old, forgotten scars and they could look back at the mess their lives used to be and laugh.

Without further ado, he got the accessory from his bag that was still in the hallway. He took a few shuddering breaths before he reentered Jolyne’s room with a quick knock. Jotaro and her were sitting on her bed, with her looking even tinier than usual being tucked into his side like she was. His heart melted to goo at the sight.

“Okay, listen,” he began as he joined them, and she freed herself from her father’s embrace to climb into his lap instead and got comfortable against him. He ignored how this little action made his chest squeeze and opened his palm to reveal the gift to her.

“Oh my God! Oh, it’s so pretty! Thank you Nori!” She engulfed him in a tight hug that cut off his breathing – damn Joestars, she was freakishly strong already – and started fidgeting restlessly. “Can you put it in my hair please?!”

He saved his lecture for the moment and did as she asked, clipping back her bangs with it and letting her admire herself in the nearby mirror.

“This is a special one. You have to take good care of it, okay?” he resumed when her eyes returned to him. “Look, it’s made from real silver. And you see the little stones that make up the eyes on its wings? Those are made from green jade. It’s a very important stone in Japan, where your dad and I grew up. It means wealth and power, but also harmony, eternity and virtue.”

She looked at him blankly. Right, those words probably meant nothing to her. She was five years old.

“It’s good luck,” Jotaro simplified. She ‘oh’d’ in understanding and cuddled deeper into Noriaki's chest. He wrapped his arms around her and locked gazes with the other man. He was close to bursting from all the love expanding in his body, and all he wanted to do right now was to kiss him, but not yet. In front of Jolyne, probably not ever.

“You wanna show your mom, kiddo?” Jotaro suggested and she leapt up with way too much energy, as little kids were prone to do, and sprinted through the house, yelling for her mom at the top of her lungs.

“Everything good?” Jotaro checked in a quiet, rasping voice, scooting a little closer to the redhead.

“I’m good. You?” Noriaki took a hold of his hand, focusing on their intertwined fingers before he lifted his head again.

“Perfect. You ready to go?”

“With you? Always.” He cooed at Jotaro’s answering blush. The bigger man looked at the door, checking for his daughter, and when he was sure she wasn’t lurking around the corner, he leaned in for a gentle kiss. Noriaki sighed into the sensation of their lips connecting, marveling at the way his soul seemed to settle.

A wide smirk then slowly revealed the white of Noriaki’s teeth and crinkled his eyes.

“Wanna share a room? Even if we’re not students anymore.”

Chapter Text

Someone was incessantly poking Noriaki in the ribs. He grunted and turned, trying to escape from the irritating sensation, and burrowed further into the familiar wall of muscle on his other side. Admittedly, in his sleepy state, he couldn’t really recall what that solid mass he cuddled into was, but it wasn’t anything malicious, and neither was the finger still digging into his side. If there was a threat, Hierophant would have already gone haywire. Whoever was trying to rip him from the land of dreams could wait.

When he heard a high giggle, his eyes flew open, and he sat up so quickly that he got dizzy.

“Nori!” She crawled into his lap and leaned into his chest.

“Morning, baby,” he croaked and cleared his throat to try and get rid of the scratchy feeling. He lifted his fingers in an unconscious habit to card through her sleep-mussed hair. “You okay?”

“Mhm.” She burrowed further into him, just like he’d just done a minute ago with –

Jotaro was groaning next to him and yanked the blanket over his head, no doubt trying to block out the noise and the bright lights of the morning sun.

The very early morning sun.

But alas, this was life with a 6-year-old. Almost 7!, she’d insist he say.

“I want pancakes,” her tiny voice demanded, although it was muffled by his shoulder as she fidgeted around. Noriaki was sure Jotaro appreciated the lower volume. A sideways glance told him that his chest was rising and falling in that tell-tale rhythm that signified that he was asleep.

Not on his watch.

“You know who makes the best pancakes?” he whispered to the little girl furtively. He cupped his hand next to his mouth for good measure to really sell it. She’d be much more likely to bite if she thought it was a secret.

“Mommy? But Mommy’s not picking me up until later,” she replied and pulled back so she could look at him with a frown. The same frown he was sure would be directed at him soon, just in a larger and more menacing version.

Well, menacing to everyone else. He had his ways of taming the alleged beast it belonged to.

“Yes, but she taught Daddy. You should ask him. I’m sure he would love for your face to be the first thing he sees, and he really loves making pancakes,” he egged her on.

“He said you’d say that, and not to listen to you.”

Motherfucker, Noriaki thought to himself and pursed his lips.

“Who’s smarter, me or him?”

“You,” she immediately replied, as quick as a bullet. He smirked. He hadn’t even taught her that, but it was always funny when she would inadvertently insult Jotaro like that. The man was tough enough to take it, thankfully. Besides – it wasn’t exactly a lie. Jotaro was smart as hell, otherwise Noriaki never would have fallen for him. It just so happened that Noriaki was a little bit smarter. He’d proven it in their fight against Dio, and then again when they went to Italy and he single-handedly saved their asses. At least, he tried to console himself, their close brush with death made Pol and Avdol pull their heads out of their asses. When they told the two of them that Jotaro and him were an item, their own new-found romance worked wonders in making Polnareff more laid-back about the whole thing, not to mention it was convenient in fending off too many questions and too much ribbing.

Jotaro could stop time, but neither he nor the others so much as considered that the weird series of events they were subjected to could have something to do with time manipulation. Sadly, he was all too intimately familiar with the terrifying way that type of ability made his skin crawl. In this case, though, it was fortunate that he’d never forget the feeling. The scar on his shoulder twinged as he remembered, but he banished the memories from his mind quickly, opting to focus on the present. More accurately, on the girl he had to cajole into leaving him alone and bothering her dad instead.

“So who is it you should listen to?”

Her bright green eyes lit up and she hurried to tumble off his lap, scrambling towards her father. Success.

“Daddy!” Noriaki watched her tiny elbow dig into Jotaro’s torso as she tried to climb over him and winced on his behalf. Her elbows and knees were fucking sharp – he’d gotten more bruises from simply trying to cuddle her than he could count. When she crawled on top of someone like that, it was bordering on outright violence.

“Jolyne, what’d I tell you?”

“Yeah, but Nori said I should listen to him and not to you. Can we make pancakes now? I’m staaaaarving,” she lamented dramatically.

“You’re paying for this later,” he mumbled in Japanese so that Jolyne wouldn’t understand – she had a rudimentary grasp of the language, and between him and Jotaro, she was getting better with each stay, but it still worked well enough when they wanted to discuss things privately around her.

They probably wouldn’t have that very convenient option for long anyway. She was extremely motivated to learn ever since they took her to Japan to see Holly and break the news of their relationship. He only wished that Joseph spoke Japanese well enough that he could have made all those lewd innuendos in a language the girl didn’t understand – or better yet, that he would have spared them all the nitty gritty of his brief fling with one Caesar Zeppeli altogether. He’d never seen Jotaro as livid as when Joseph accidentally taught Jolyne the word ‘handy-J’ and he had to come up with an explanation on the fly.

If Noriaki was being honest, however, he didn’t mind it one bit when Jotaro took his anger out on him later in bed. The Kujo residence was luckily more than big enough for them to remain undisturbed and also not disturb others in return. He almost entertained the idea of thanking the old man the next day.

“Can’t wait to see what you come up with,” he shot back with a smug grin. “Come on, your kid’s hungry,” he continued in English.

People would think that Jolyne got her dramatic side from Marina. Maybe even from watching Noriaki over the years. But anyone who had ever witnessed one Jotaro Kujo overtired and forced to get up anyway would immediately realize that neither presumption was true.

He grumbled the whole time. While he pushed the blankets off with way more force than necessary, just to make it clear how much it pissed him off that he had to do it; while he slid his feet into his slippers and stood, he kept muttering under his breath even as he threw Jolyne over his shoulder and carried her out like she weighed nothing, much to her squealing delight.

Noriaki supposed it would only be fair if he got up as well. It wasn’t like he could fall back asleep anyway. Besides, Marina would come get her sometime in the afternoon and he could always take a nap then. Frankly, he would be loath to miss too much of the time they had with the little girl. She was too entertaining for that.

And yes, obviously he loved her and all that jazz, but really, she was just so fucking funny without meaning to be, especially when she was hanging out with her father. No one could predict what smartass remark would come out of her mouth, and Noriaki lived for it. Those were the moments that filled him with the utmost joy, just knowing that he got to be a part of the system that shaped her mind and character.

The divorce had been finalized only a few weeks ago. It took a while to sort everything out, even with how amicable the whole process was. And God, was it amicable. Noriaki was still waiting for the other shoe to drop – Jotaro wasn’t a negligent or bad father by any means, so Marina had no leg to stand on if she attempted to deny him custody, but she could have used his relationship with Noriaki and the circumstances of their union against him. At the end of the day, he still cheated on her, and she could have cleaned house if she’d wanted to. Add to that the fact that he was in a same-sex relationship now, and most courts would look at him as more of a liability than the caring father he was.

She certainly had the power to make sure that the redhead couldn’t be anywhere near her daughter, and both Noriaki and Jotaro would have complied without hesitation – it would have meant that he’d have to stay somewhere else for the weeks he had her, and since it was a 50/50 split, he wouldn’t have held out much hope for their relationship to survive in the long run. He knew himself well enough to acknowledge that it would at the very least put a strain on it.

But Marina chose to do none of those things. The custody and alimony agreement were there just in case they ever became necessary for legal purposes, but there was never any issue in communication or coming to each other’s aid even outside of what they were obligated to do by law. Jotaro and Marina were wonderful co-parents, they remained a team, more so than before the divorce even; and Noriaki was beyond grateful that he got to have a part in raising Jolyne as well.

When he joined the other two in the kitchen, he couldn’t contain the burst of laughter that bubbled out of him. Jotaro was just… standing there, an empty mixing bowl set out on the counter in front of him, Jolyne rummaging through their pantry for ingredients. His eyes were narrowed into slits, close enough that he wouldn’t have been surprised if it turned out he was actually asleep. As Jolyne all but crawled into one of the cupboards, singing a song about flour she obviously made up herself because it made zero sense, he approached his boyfriend and set a cautious hand on his shoulder.

Jotaro visibly startled and Star Platinum appeared by his side instantly. When his suddenly wide eyes found Noriaki’s amused visage, he relaxed.

“Oh. It’s just you,” he murmured and brought up a hand to rub at his face. Noriaki cocked his head to the side as he took in his bleary appearance. He looked like death warmed over. Suddenly, he felt bad for forcing him awake.

“Sleep that bad?”

“Not great,” the bigger man admitted. He pulled Noriaki towards him, enveloping him in his arms in an embrace which the redhead returned without a second thought, and buried his nose in his cherry-red locks. “Usual nightmares from around this time. Yellow Temperance was f…freaking horrifying.”

The fact that he was willing to divulge even this much spoke to the strides he’d made in therapy over the last few months. Notwithstanding, it had been an uphill battle. First, he just didn’t click with the therapist the Foundation had assigned him. He’d explained to him that this was actually quite common, and that there was no shame in trying again with someone else, but he was about to give up on the whole concept altogether. It had taken Herculean efforts and a fuckton of patience for Noriaki to persuade him to give it another shot. Also, he enlisted Holly’s help in wearing him down. Between the two of them, Jotaro didn’t stand a chance.

“I get it,” he replied gently. One of his hands came up to soothingly run through Jotaro’s hair. “I’m sorry I made her wake you up. Go back to bed, I’ve got this.”

“You sure?” Jotaro looked down at him like he wanted to kiss him. Luckily, Noriaki could read the microscopic nuances in his expressions more or less perfectly, and he could be openly affectionate now, so he stood on his toes and gave him a couple of quick pecks.

“Absolutely. I’ll put away a plate for you, okay?”

“You’re the best,” Jotaro sighed as he traipsed back towards their bedroom. Noriaki quickly dismissed the buzz in his skull about how he was most definitely not the best, because if he was, he wouldn’t have made him get up in the first place. Instead, he focused on the other issue Jotaro had made tremendous progress on; his willingness to accept support when he wasn’t in a good space was another achievement Noriaki was indescribably thankful for.

His lavender eyes wandered around the kitchen and found the girl in his care peering up at him with her tiny button nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Why do you always have to kiss him?”

“Why wouldn’t I? I love him,” Noriaki replied simply as he hoisted her up into his arms. Truthfully, she was getting too big to be picked up and carried around and most of the time, she didn’t want to anyway, but he would grab the opportunity for as long as he could. She was growing up way too fast for his liking. “That’s only for grown-ups, though,” he added when that thought permeated his brain. “You’re not allowed to kiss anyone until you’re at least 16.”

“Hm. I don’t think I wanna kiss anyone ever. Anasui keeps trying to kiss me. He says he loves me, too,” she told him matter-of-factly and he was glad he hadn’t gotten his coffee yet because if he’d been drinking something, he would have done a rather spectacular spit take.

“He what?!”

“He keeps trying to kiss me,” she repeated, not realizing it wasn’t a literal lack of comprehension that made Noriaki ask. “I don’t love him though. I mean, I like being his friend and he’s fun to play with, but I don’t wanna kiss him.” She scrunched up her face. “It’s gross.”

“Maybe you’ll keep thinking it’s gross, or maybe not. You’ll see when you get a little older,” Noriaki explained carefully. “The important thing is, don’t ever let Anasui or anyone else make you do anything you don’t want to do. Whether it's a hug or a kiss, if you're uncomfortable, let them know.” He paused for a second. “And definitely not before you’re 18!”

“You just said 16!”

“I changed my mind.”

She regarded him for a moment and graced him with an overdramatic roll of her eyes instead of a verbal response. She’d gotten better at them. She really was just so snarky. So sarcastic. It almost brought a tear to his eye from the overwhelming feeling of pride that welled up in him.

They made a mess of the kitchen because Jolyne insisted on mixing everything together herself. Noriaki was demoted to measuring out the ingredients and handing them to her. Having her around had definitely mellowed out his clean-freak tendencies – he did insist on her help with scrubbing everything down after breakfast, though. He figured it was a good habit to encourage early on.

When Jotaro finally got up, way more refreshed than he looked earlier, they packed her up and drove to the Christmas market one town over. Her eyes twinkled in awe as she took in all the handmade ornaments and knick-knacks on sale, and she promptly declared that she would make and sell her own arts and crafts when she was all grown up. Just like you, Nori!

He figured she wasn’t entirely wrong in her assessment of his occupation, only instead of markets, he sold his art at galleries.

“Bye-bye, mini-Jojo!”

“Stop calling me that!” Jolyne complained from where her mom was assisting her with putting on her seatbelt. She was tall enough by now that she only needed a booster, not a full car seat. Those Joestars and the dominance of their giant genes.

“Yes, we all know you’re a mini-me. You’re too cool to be a mini-Jotaro.” Marina stuck out her tongue at the two men watching them from their yard.

“I’m very cool,” Jotaro groused, but Noriaki could see the corners of his mouth twitch. It made a fond smile stretch over his own face.

“You’re not cool,” Jolyne commented. “You’re weird. You only talk about fish.”

“Oh, but Jolyne, you have no idea how cool he was when we were kids.”

“Okay… if you say so…” She gave him a skeptical look that made him laugh.

“Remind me to tell you all about it.” He remembered the cigarette trick and the shotgunning of countless cans of beer. “Or maybe not. Maybe we’ll save that for when you’re a little older.”

“Nori, I’m almost 7. I’m in school now.”

“I’m aware.”

“You just don’t wanna admit that dad is lame.” She shrugged.

Marina turned to him with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, like she was saying, hey, you chose to put up with this. He took the out Jolyne gave him. Sometimes, it was best to just go along with it.

“Yupp. Guess you caught me.”

Jotaro huffed beside him, but remained silent otherwise, only stepping forward to give Jolyne one last hug before they drove away, almost bumping his head on the frame of the door in the process. They waved them off, and then turned towards each other once the car rounded the corner.

“What do you wanna do now?” The suggestive note in Jotaro’s voice didn’t go unnoticed.

“I wanna go to bed,” Noriaki replied boldly. Jotaro’s cheeks flushed and the redhead had to suppress a chuckle because… little did Jotaro know that he meant he wanted to nap.

He wanted to nap so badly.

Noriaki should have known better than to be purposely vague. It was okay though, because he forgot all about his exhaustion the second the door clicked shut behind them, and Jotaro shoved him up against it. He felt a pang in his gut, almost like emptiness, a hunger that wanted to be satiated, when his boyfriend stretched out his arms to cage him between them. Then he bent his neck down so he could leer at him with that dark, lecherous gaze. Noriaki's lips parted and he could feel his breathing pick up in anticipation. Jotaro glanced down at the soft of his mouth briefly, and he didn’t waste any time, promptly locking him into a searing kiss.

“Fuck,” he panted against Jotaro’s lips when they disconnected with a squelch, separated only by the fraction of an inch. From this close, he could have counted the dark, long eyelashes that were fanning over those deep teal irises. His pupils were blown wide as he took in Noriaki’s face with the same adoration he was sure was plastered all over his own. He wondered if Jotaro could see it as clearly as he could. At the very least, he felt that adoration expanding under his ribs and increasing his heartrate.

They blinked at each other in silent understanding before they moved towards each other at the same time. Jotaro’s tongue slipped against his when he opened up his mouth. The hot, wet sensation of it smoothing over and tangling with his own tongue sent tingles down his spine and made desire flare up in him like a flame threatening to consume him whole. Jotaro’ shifted his forearm resting against the door enough so that his fingers found his hair and he pulled; Noriaki couldn’t have held back the groan he let loose even if he’d tried. It only made Jotaro repeat the action, harder this time. The smaller man knew how much he loved it when he let the filthy noises he produced flow into him – that’s not to say he would fake it, there was no need to fake or exaggerate anything with his boyfriend, but whatever he gave him, Jotaro would swallow it up like a starving man.

Would they ever get used to each other’s touch? God, he hoped not.

Jotaro’s large palms wandered from where they were keeping him trapped down to his shoulders. Their kiss became more frantic as his touch traveled further south.

He was so lost in it that it almost came as a surprise when Jotaro grabbed his ass and squeezed. He yelped and bucked his hips forward, making their rapidly growing bulges bump against each other and both of them moan. Jotaro bit down on his lower lip and pulled him closer against him, only to propel him away again so his back bumped against the wall on the other side of the front door with a thud.

“Jojo,” he whimpered when the man pounced on him once more, only instead of reconnecting their lips, he swung him around and pinned him up against the tapestry, grinding his erection into his ass for a moment before he withdrew.

“Stay there and don’t move unless I tell you to.”

The low rumble of his voice in his ear caused his brain to short-circuit for a second. Noriaki wouldn’t even dare disobey. Not on purpose, at least. He couldn’t help it, however, when a spark shot through him and heightened the need swirling in his groin, and he pushed his ass back against the hardness pressing against it like it was an instinct ingrained in him. In a way, it was – but it was one only Jotaro could awaken.

“Noriaki…”

Jotaro’s tone held a warning. Part of him really wished to find out what would happen if he disregarded him, but another, bigger part couldn’t wait for the reward he would get for behaving.

“’m sorry,” he choked out. “I just want you s’much.”

He heard a growl. Then, he felt the roots of his hair sting when Jotaro grabbed onto the red strands once again, using his hold to turn his head to the side this time, smushing his cheek against the wall in the process. The redhead could see his lover’s face out of his peripheral like this, and the way he looked at him with so much hunger made it really, really hard to keep his hips from engaging in a desperate search for friction.

“Move up your arms.”

Noriaki did as he was told, and Jotaro stretched his shirt over his head, exposing his overheated skin to the air and making him shiver. Once the shirt was removed, the other man took it upon himself to return his arms to their position at his sides. Next thing to come off were his pants and underwear – Jotaro yanked them down in one go. He clasped the hollow of his knee to bend it up so he could get them all the way off.

As Noriaki stood there, on display for the elements and the man whose heavy gaze was boring into him, he heard the tell-tale rustle of Jotaro shedding his own clothes. He wanted to see him so badly – the way his skin was revealed little by little and glistened in the natural afternoon light flooding in through the stained-glass window; the ripples in his ridiculously fit body as he moved; what his hair might look like right now, not to mention his eyes. Those piercing eyes that had the power to both calm his heart and burn him up from the inside like nothing else.

At least he was allowed to feel it right now. Jotaro was quick in crowding him against the wall once more, so he could absorb the heat of his upper body against the back of his own, the hardness of his arousal in stark contrast with the soft flesh of his backside. His plush lips found the side of his neck and he started gnawing on it languidly, leaving a trail of wet kisses and soft bites down to his shoulder and back up his nape.

“Spread your legs,” he instructed quietly. The cooling sensation of the air he huffed out against the patches where his mouth had just smeared his saliva made Noriaki shudder. Without a second thought, he shuffled his feet apart until Jotaro stopped him with a firm hand on his hip. That very same hand traced a path to his stomach, down to his pelvis, and exerted pressure against it in a surprisingly gentle manner to make his ass curve out further.

“Well done,” he praised, his voice still calm and serene. His finger found the rim of his hole and began circling it. Noriaki felt himself exhale that ever-present, deep-seated tension and relax… only to shout out and tense back up in surprise when cold liquid was dribbled on his feverish skin.

“Did you – were you carrying lube with you?” he wheezed. His cock jumped and drooled a little at the idea and its implications, namely, that Jotaro had been envisioning this all day. Watching him with want and awaiting his opportunity to attack.

“Yepp. Been carrying it around in my pocket.”

“Were you – were you planning this?”

“Absolutely. Y’know I love how much I can count on you. And I promised you something this morning.” A sharp pain bloomed from the side of his neck that Jotaro hadn’t lavished with attention yet, and he let out another surprised shout that turned into an aroused whine.

“Shit… well… what are you waiti- oh fuck!”

His eyes fell shut as the unbidden curse tumbled from his mouth, an appropriate response to Jotaro pushing two of his thick fingers into him at once, if you asked him. He didn’t give him much time to adjust, either; instead, he chose to start moving the digits immediately, albeit at a snail’s pace. Which, frankly, made it worse because it wasn’t enough to offset the discomfort with pleasure. Noriaki needed more, and he needed it now.

“Please,” he gasped. His thighs flexed with the effort it took to keep himself from gyrating his hips and helping Jotaro along. “Jojo, please, don’t – just give it to me, fuck, please touch me –“

“I am touching you, Nori.” His calloused palm came down to spank his left ass cheek, not too hard but enough to make him shriek and for the slap to reverberate around them. His dick fucking throbbed as he clenched around the fingers laying infuriatingly immobile inside of him. He was getting impatient.

“Touch me there, you asshat!”

Noriaki craned his neck back as well as he could so he could glare at the other man. True, they both tremendously enjoyed these power plays. The redhead especially loved how it spoke volumes about his trust in Jotaro that he even entertained the idea of giving up control. But it was a glare that was supposed to remind him of just that. Yes, Jotaro was the one acting like he was in charge right now, yet it was still Noriaki’s party, it was Noriaki who allowed it. The larger man seemed to understand and relented, rubbing the pads of his fingers against his sweet spot and letting his other hand form a fist around Noriaki’s neglected dick to stroke him at the same time.

Noriaki’s entire body reacted with a lurch when he finally got some of that sweet relief he was yearning for.

“Fuck, yes, like that,” he moaned, his voice muffled from how he was pinned against the sturdy support of the wall. “Please, Jojo, I need more…”

Jotaro made quick work of prepping him after that. Noriaki suspected that it had less to do with his bitchiness at the slow pace and more with the fact that Jotaro himself must be aching by now – aside from occasionally grinding himself against Noriaki’s hip or thigh, he hadn’t gotten any friction either.

The redhead made to deepen the arch of his back further in invitation, but he was stopped when Jotaro enclosed his torso with his bulky arms and tugged him back.

“Not like this,” he rasped and whirled him around so they were face-to-face again at last. Noriaki got lost in the shimmering ocean of Jotaro’s eyes for a second, in the way his strong eyebrows furrowed, and he had the knowledge necessary by now to be able to tell that no, it wasn’t anger, it wasn’t exasperation – it was awe with which he was regarding him, like he was something precious and rare. And that, above all, was what made him so desperate for this man – sure, he was hotter than hell and funny in his own dry way, and intelligent enough to give Noriaki a run for his money, and he just got him, and when he didn’t, he at least tried to learn. But the way Jotaro so clearly loved him and appreciated him to his core, warts and all, and how fiercely he reciprocated those same feelings – that was what got him going like nothing else.

It sure as fuck was a bonus that he was so unbelievably sexy, though. He wasn’t going to lie about that.

Jotaro leaned in at the same time Noriaki stretched up and they claimed each other’s lips in a sloppy kiss, with way too much spit and teeth, and it was fucking perfect. Noriaki shifted so he could rest his forearms on the broad shoulders in front of him. He reached up until he could bury his hands in onyx strands of hair, using his grip to tilt his head so he could deepen the kiss even further. Jotaro moaned and slapped his palms against his ass again, both at once this time. Noriaki twitched; his craving for his lover was becoming almost unbearable. He longed for him, he needed him so badly. He rasped that exact sentiment into Jotaro’s mouth between harsh, ragged breaths.

The larger man’s grasp lowered to the back of his thighs and without further ado, he lifted him up like he was nothing. Jotaro was aware of what he was doing, and of how much this turned the redhead on, the display of all that power he stored in his body and how he opted to only use it for Noriaki’s pleasure. This time wasn’t an exception – the whine he emitted would have been embarrassing if Jotaro didn’t enjoy hearing what he did to him so much. As it was, it only fueled the fire on the verge of incinerating them both.

Noriaki clung to Jotaro, wrapping his long, toned legs around his waist as he was shoved more firmly into the solid surface behind him for leverage. One of Jotaro’s hands briefly let go of him so he could guide his cock to his stretched hole. A quick glance with hooded ocean eyes at his flushed face, the shadows his lashes cast over his cheeks, the heavy lids draping over lavender irises regarding him with wanton urgency, and he pushed in.

Noriaki threw his head back against the wall at the intrusion. His mouth hung open on a silent scream as gravity did the rest of the work for them and Jotaro’s length slipped inside of him in increments until he was buried to the hilt. The smaller man reveled in the stretch, even as tears pricked at his eyes – not from pain, no; it took Jotaro a while to understand that he wouldn’t cry from discomfort and just endure it, that he’d complain if something was wrong, and that any tears he shed during sex were a result of the sheer bliss his body didn’t know how to handle any other way. He couldn’t blame him, though – it wasn’t like he himself understood it completely at first, having never experienced the phenomenon before he slept with his now-boyfriend for the first time. Even if someone else had ever managed to induce the same depth of satisfaction in him, he wouldn’t have been able to let himself go enough to allow himself to cry from it.

Jotaro was different, though. He always had been, and he always would be.

“Fuck, Nori, how are you always this tight around me,” he heard the man in question groan against his shoulder, prompting him to open the eyes he hadn’t even realized he’d closed, and look at the mess of a man holding him up. He couldn’t see his expression, what with it currently being buried in his clavicle, but his hair was tousled and sweaty. When Noriaki let his long, elegant fingers lightly dig into his back, he could feel the same sheen of moisture, feel the muscle there jump at his touch from how oversensitive he was. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“I imagine it’s similar to what you do to me,” the redhead responded shakily through labored breaths. The dull ache of penetration was subsiding quickly, so he jerked his hips up and back down experimentally, feeling Jotaro move out and back inside him just a little. It coaxed a loud shout out of his lover.

“Okay?” Jotaro panted, his need becoming apparent in the way he almost whimpered the question.

“Move.”

Jotaro didn’t have to be told twice. He adjusted his grip so Noriaki was more secure in his embrace and withdrew his cock ever-so-slowly, dragging over his walls almost lazily. It nearly drove him insane, in the best way.

“Jojo,” he sighed out. The soft sound turned into a salacious moan when Jotaro thrust back inside of him in one fell swoop, still tender but with some bite behind the motion. He repeated the action a few times before it became obvious that the last vestiges of his self-control were vanishing quickly, swallowed up by the tight heat engulfing his length and the raunchy sounds spilling from Noriaki’s lips. With a grunt, he plunged into the smaller man hard, letting gravity complement the strength of his hips.

Noriaki’s eyes widened, and he cried out sharply. Jotaro managed to drive into his prostate at the perfect angle like that and the subsequent gratification caused an electric heat to scorch his nerve endings.

“Oh fuck, right there,” he whined. “Fuck me harder, please –“

Jotaro growled and put more force behind the momentum, practically ramming himself into the smaller man’s pliant body. He lifted his head so he could nibble at the soft hollow of Noriaki’s throat, heaving out his own rough and lewd noises.

“More, please,” he choked out. “Deeper, harder, please Jojo, I need you –“

“Like this?” he snarled. He started railing him in earnest, their skin smacking together hard enough that Noriaki was sure he’d have bruises on the back of his thighs. He was being jostled against the wall every time Jotaro pierced him, his pulsating dick bouncing in time with the rhythm of his thrusts.

His lover nosed a path to his earlobe and bit down on it harshly, making the redhead jolt and whimper. “Want me to fill you up? Want me so deep that you can feel me for days?”

“Yes,” Noriaki mewled. His chest was burning with the effort of gasping in oxygen, with the brunt of the air being forced out of his lungs and his diaphragm whenever Jotaro fucked into him. “Yes, want it, want you – only you –“

The hand that was still buried in Jotaro’s hair clenched and released. He raked his nails down the back of his neck, over his shoulders, and clawed into muscle shifting under his touch, stirring and squirming with the exertion of his pounding inside Noriaki, over and over and over again. The deference conveyed by his words, the possessiveness of the gesture, knowing this was his absolute favorite way of marking him – digging his nails into his skin until they pierced it and he felt the sting of his ownership – it made Jotaro tremble and a husky cry tear from his throat, soundwaves echoing lasciviously in Noriaki’s ear and mirrored by him as he convulsed around his lover.

“Oh fuck – Nori – I dunno how long I can hold back,” Jotaro admitted, immediately followed by another harsh groan from him when Noriaki clamped down on his length again.

“Me too,” he sobbed. “I’m so close, so close Jojo, please –“

Jotaro suddenly stopped the steady surge of his hips. Noriaki was about to seriously weep because he’d been almost there, but then he let his cock burrow into him as deep as it could possibly go and settled there. He started grinding, miniscule movements that put fluctuating but unending pressure on his sweet spot. Noriaki’s toes curled and his legs spasmed involuntarily where they were wrapped around the other man.

“Jojo… Jojo…” His nails sunk further into Jotaro’s skin, no doubt drawing blood, and tremors wracked through him. He felt goosebumps making his hair stand on end with how sensitive he was, how intense it felt.

“Cum, Noriaki,” the man murmured against the shell of his ear. Even in his lust-addled mind, Noriaki could tell Jotaro’s body was taut as a bowstring and ready to snap. “Cum on my cock and I’ll make you so fucking full.”

When he latched onto his neck and bit down violently, the tension inside of Noriaki gave way for searing, mind-numbing pleasure. He fell apart with a string of obscene wails as waves of euphoria overtook his senses. Distantly, he registered the ropes of cum shooting from his untouched dick and Jotaro’s movements stuttering before he released as well, still pressed deep inside of him, emitting his own chants of ecstasy, calling out his name.

It took a while for them to come down, but once they did, Jotaro was shaking too hard to keep supporting his weight. Noriaki disentangled himself and slid down the wall onto the cold, tiled floor, relishing the chill of the surface on his overheated skin.

“That was…” Jotaro started as he sat down next to Noriaki and pulled him into his side. Noriaki nestled himself into his large frame, marveling once more at how perfectly they fit together. Like pieces of a puzzle and all that jazz.

“… fucking incredible,” he finished after a brief pause. The redhead felt himself smile. He probably looked stupid, but he didn’t care; his boyfriend just fucked his brains out, he was allowed to be a little sluggish right now.

He tilted his head up and placed a soft kiss against the other man’s chiseled jaw. Jotaro dipped his own head in response, nuzzling into his hair and dropping a sweet peck against his forehead. Idly, he noted that his hair was plastered against his skin uncomfortably, that he was tacky all over from a combination of their sweat, and that he was covered in both of their cum and leaking onto the floor, but he was still too blissed out to give a shit. He’d clean later.

“Isn’t it always?” he teased when he finally regained his bearings enough to trust himself to speak. Jotaro chuckled and gave him a squeeze with the arm draped over his body. The vigor with which he fucked Noriaki within an inch of life made him damp with perspiration as well. The smaller man could see a drop of it run down the side of his face. He wanted to follow its path with his tongue. Maybe they could shower together.

“True. We’re pretty much incapable of having bad sex.”

“All thanks to me, obviously. I’m just that good.”

“That, you are.”

They grinned at each other like dumbasses, wide and happy and without a care in the world. Noriaki wished it could always be like this.

“I know what you mean though,” the redhead conceded. He lifted a still quivering arm to place his hand on his lover’s temple, letting his fingers spread out to scratch at his scalp. Jotaro’s eyes fluttered shut and he all but purred.

The notion suddenly reminded him of Roxanne, and how glad he was that she rarely ventured upstairs from her dominion in the basement. He distinctly recalled the second time they tried to sleep together, and she tore into Jotaro, quite literally. They didn’t want a repeat of that.

They stayed like that for a while, but eventually, Noriaki became too uncomfortable to ignore the mess Jotaro had made of his body. He nudged him delicately to get up, and Jotaro helped him find his feet. A look of worry crossed his face when Noriaki grimaced upon taking his first couple of steps, but he waved it off – the ache was one of emptiness rather than pain, and he savored it. Something else he never thought he’d so much as think, let alone experience.

In the end, they did wind up showering together. They didn’t do this often, because it would inevitably awaken urges in them they couldn’t always satisfy, but with the afterglow of their shared orgasms still giving them both a floaty, weightless tingle, it didn’t turn into anything erotic. Their passion was stored and simmering away quietly for now, replaced by soft touches and sighs and a profound sense of intimacy born of vulnerability rather than debauchery.

When they were clean, they finally fell into bed for that nap Noriaki so desperately needed. He was tucked into Jotaro’s side once more, the other man’s hand drawing patterns up and down his back. The sensation gave him a thrill, but more than that, it let him know he was there, that he was safe, that Noriaki was safe as well. They were here and together, and so disgustingly in love that even Holly had started teasing them about it, and if that wasn’t enough to calm his heart and let him fall into a peaceful slumber, he didn’t know what was.