Work Text:
Jotaro has heard Kakyoin’s voice rough with anger. He’d heard it tense with urgency, and the deep and coarse tones it takes when they are in battle, when he denounces their foe and commands his stand to thrash them to bits. He’s also heard it gentle, even and polite, or light and imploring, in the calm moments on trains and boats or in restaurants, poring over the menu or enlightening Jotaro and his companions with worldly knowledge.
But he has never, ever heard it like this.
Kakyoin’s voice is barely there, floating and breathy. Jotaro has to lean in and turn his ear just to hear him properly. It skids high in his throat and breaks when Jotaro snaps his hips just right, cracking into octaves higher, the sound pulled taut and trembling like a wire being plucked by Jotaro’s thumb.
Kakyoin sighs and moans again, the sound absolutely divine, and chills race down Jotaro’s spine and spark when they reach his tailbone. Jotaro grunts himself, unintentionally; the sound slipping out after being knocked loose by the effects of Kakyoin’s sweet noises.
It’s been countless times now that they’ve released tension like this once they’ve reached their lodgings along the trip, lips and hands and hips crashing into one another, hearts beating faster and mouths gasping for hot breath off each others’ skin until they’re sated. However, the feeling of urgency had subsided, after both of their brushes with death on the night of confronting Dio, and now on the night before their flight back to Japan, the nervous tension had dissolved to make way for something new.
It was now no longer urgency, but something like duty or indulgence that compelled Jotaro to throw himself upon Kakyoin like this. It felt right to shut the door behind him and wait for Kakyoin to get settled and wash his wounds and change his bandages before smoothly slipping his hand into his and pulling them together, kissing him until they both couldn’t breathe, because it had been the routine for a month now. But the scars on his skin no longer burned; now they simmered sweetly, and the ticking of the clock on the wall no longer felt sinister, but rather serene. There was no longer some awful, gaping maw of an emotion broiling deep beneath the surface of Jotaro’s affection and arousal for the other man.
He was now making love to him because that’s what he felt he had to do. It was not passion borne out of fear of the opportunity being stolen away forever, but now he was able to let himself linger over the softness of Kakyoin’s lips, the pulse in his neck against Jotaro’s tongue, to let their bodies meet slowly and deliberately instead of mindlessly and without delay.
When Jotaro thinks of a future of this, a life of every evening spent pulling off Kakyoin’s clothes and exploring him with his hands and brushing close to heaven with him before falling asleep against Kakyoin’s chest with his breath still coming short, his mind reels. It seems suddenly so clear to him now, why people make such complete and utter fools of themselves for love and sex. Of course they do, when it feels like this.
“Jojo,” Kakyoin gasps, the sound barely audible above slaps of sweaty skin and the creaking of the mattress. He repeats the name, again, and again, and Jotaro feels heat bloom through his body as he watches Kakyoin’s face go slack, head falling against the bed, mouth agape and eyes screwed shut as his legs tremble in Jotaro’s hands.
Jotaro usually doesn’t say anything during sex. His focus is on relieving the tension and making Kakyoin and himself feel good. That hasn’t changed, but now, he feels the freedom to speak as if learning to talk for the first time. His tongue quivers in his mouth for a moment, breath completely still as he looks down at beautiful, beautiful Kakyoin and thinks of all the things he could say.
“It’s good?” He grunts, quietly.
“Turn me over,” Kakyoin demands, moaning between each heaving breath.
Jotaro carefully backs away and his cock pops out of Kakyoin, soaking wet and bouncing up to slap his abs. He huffs and backs away, helping his lover turn to face down against the bed. Kakyoin, flipped over now, braces one leg against the floor and bends the other up to straddle the bed, hands supporting his front and turning slightly to watch Jotaro, whose heartbeat races furiously in his throat at the way Kakyoin tosses his hair off his neck.
He raises his own knee onto the bed with Kakyoin’s, fitting their forms together perfectly before he takes his cock in between his thumb and forefinger and searches for Kakyoin’s hole again, rocking his hips forward when he finds it. Kakyoin gasps and swears when his body spreads open for Jotaro’s cock, and the harsh whispers make him flush red.
One of the things Jotaro had been least prepared for when they’d begun doing this was how sex would actually feel. In a life spent completely oblivious to his own sexuality, and, only being encouraged to lust after women, he’d never lingered on the fantasy of penetrating a vagina just because the thought didn’t appeal to him. Although he masturbated, he didn’t imagine sex, and wasn’t intrigued by the idea of having his dick inside another human being until just a couple months ago, when he had been watching Kakyoin brush his teeth and was suddenly overwhelmed by the striking image of him on his knees, mouth stuffed with Jotaro’s cock.
He’d experienced a second puberty in an awful sort of way, having finally realized his feelings for men, for Kakyoin in particular, but his new fantasies were nothing compared to actually indulging in them. The first time Kakyoin had sat down on his cock, completely enveloping him in tight, silky-smooth heat, Jotaro had come immediately, much to Kakyoin’s amusement. He had expected pleasure, of course, and warmth, but it hadn’t really settled into his brain that what he’d be penetrating would be muscle, just like the rest of Kakyoin’s body. It would suck him in and Kakyoin would clench and twist his hips, and it would feel so alive, and it did, and Jotaro had felt a part deep inside of him that was already boiling explode.
He’s still not used to it. As he rocks his hips and pushes Kakyoin down against the bed, he still stutters and gasps at the feeling. It’s still surreal that he’d been possessed by lust for Kakyoin for what seemed like ages, completely hypnotised by the swing of his hips and the tight swell of his ass inside his pants in the brief moment he’d see them as Kakyoin got dressed in the mornings, and that now he was letting Jotaro fuck right up into it. He looks down and stares at his belly pressing against Kakyoin’s back above where he’s buried inside him, at Kakyoin’s cheeks pushed up against his own lap; he smacks his hips against them and feels where their balls are pressed to each other, and it still feels like a fantasy.
Jotaro moves his large hands down Kakyoin’s muscular back to wrap around his trim waist, bracing him before he starts humping into him a little faster, a little rougher. There's that noise again, Kakyoin struggling for air as his moans scatter high in his throat, settling into hushed whispers of oh, yes, and please, oh fuck. Jotaro’s balls grow tighter as orgasm threatens him.
Kakyoin’s arms suddenly scrabble backwards, searching. Jotaro watches with confusion as he finds Jotaro’s hand, pulling it up and against the back of his head.
“Pull my hair,” Kakyoin commands, voice thick with pleasure.
Jotaro’s too hypnotized to hesitate. He knows Kakyoin can take it; they aren’t afraid to get rougher in bed and that’s one of the things Jotaro loves the most about sex with a man, he finds. His fingers thread into sweaty crimson hair and grasp, then pull Kakyoin’s head up, baring his throat.
“Fuuuuuck, me,” Kakyoin groans, eyes closed and body going slack under Jotaro’s driving hips. Jotaro yanks his hair again, breathless at the way Kakyoin squeals and lets his legs fall open wider.
Fueled by bliss and ease, Jotaro’s eyelids flutter closed and he groans loudly, the first time he’d ever dared to. A moment later he’s balancing on the edge of euphoria, then crashing into it, moaning roughly, giving Kakyoin’s ass a heavy smack as he pumps it full of his come. By the way Kakyoin’s collapsed against the bed and gasping moans, he must be coming too, assisted by the friction between the mattress and his own erection.
He lets go of Kakyoin and braces his arms on either side of him, panting against his neck. Kakyoin lays with his head turned, eyes closed, also trying to catch his breath, face moist with perspiration. After Jotaro finds his ground, he braces his hand on Kakyoin’s ass and pulls back, sighing at the sight of his own semen dripping out of Kakyoin’s hole. He catches a running droplet and smears it back up, pushing it back into the tight ring of his ass.
Kakyoin yelps. “Hey,” he hisses harshly, looking back at Jotaro with annoyed eyes.
“Sorry,” Jotaro smiles, backing away and falling onto the bed beside his lover.
He’s smiling. Not that he doesn’t always feel great after making love to Kakyoin, but this time, he truly feels completely at ease for the first time. Dio is dead. His mother is expected to make a full recovery, all his friends are alive, and he doesn’t feel alone anymore for the first time in his life.
Not to mention, he’s in love.
He turns his head to the side. Kakyoin is looking at him, eyes sleepy. He smiles, reaching over to link his pinkie with Jotaro’s. His cheeks are pink.
Jotaro feels a lump in his throat. “Noriaki,” he says, hushed and tense.
“Mm?” Kakyoin looks up at him through his eyelashes.
“I love you,” he blurts.
Kakyoin’s eyes go round, then he breaks into a grin. “I love you too,” he gushes, rising and attacking Jotaro in a fierce hug.