[All of a sudden, Jotaro abruptly gains a new sense of clarity into the noises that come out of Adrian's throat when he's the one getting worked over, and where they originate, and why. He'd genuinely thought the thing about making him scream was just idle fucking around — hot fucking around, to be sure, but still, not altogether serious the way that dirty talk so often isn't.
But now he understands just how overwhelming it is, to be turned on and aching and entirely at the mercy of someone whose only goal is to make their partner feel good. There's so much to focus on, and he can't keep up. The mounting pleasure between his legs, the slick tongue lapping at his neck, the hard press of someone else's cock rubbing against his ass — in its own way, he feels as out of control and desperate as he'd been fighting Dio, only this time every ounce of sensation is pure pleasure instead of pain.
Good boy. Yeah, yeah, he is, he's good, he'll be good, he'll be anything.
But it's Adrian's bite that shoves him prematurely into an orgasm he isn't altogether ready for, a gurgling yowl ripping out of his throat as those teeth go in and in and he releases so hard it spatters the wall tiles.
Normally, when he gets himself off, it's efficient and brisk and he spends a minute or two suspended in afterglow before it's over, and he's back on his feet. This time, however, something's different; his head feels heavy and all the tension seems to release from his limbs, leaving him with a strange floating feeling and an unfocused, dreamy glaze to his green eyes.
It's fine. Adrian's got him. He doesn't have to worry; he doesn't have to do anything. His neck doesn't even hurt, not with how relaxed and sleepy-sated he is, and the noise he makes is halfway to a grumbly little purr himself, as he lets Adrian hold him up and lists his head to one side to make it easier for him to drink as much as he likes.]
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But now he understands just how overwhelming it is, to be turned on and aching and entirely at the mercy of someone whose only goal is to make their partner feel good. There's so much to focus on, and he can't keep up. The mounting pleasure between his legs, the slick tongue lapping at his neck, the hard press of someone else's cock rubbing against his ass — in its own way, he feels as out of control and desperate as he'd been fighting Dio, only this time every ounce of sensation is pure pleasure instead of pain.
Good boy. Yeah, yeah, he is, he's good, he'll be good, he'll be anything.
But it's Adrian's bite that shoves him prematurely into an orgasm he isn't altogether ready for, a gurgling yowl ripping out of his throat as those teeth go in and in and he releases so hard it spatters the wall tiles.
Normally, when he gets himself off, it's efficient and brisk and he spends a minute or two suspended in afterglow before it's over, and he's back on his feet. This time, however, something's different; his head feels heavy and all the tension seems to release from his limbs, leaving him with a strange floating feeling and an unfocused, dreamy glaze to his green eyes.
It's fine. Adrian's got him. He doesn't have to worry; he doesn't have to do anything. His neck doesn't even hurt, not with how relaxed and sleepy-sated he is, and the noise he makes is halfway to a grumbly little purr himself, as he lets Adrian hold him up and lists his head to one side to make it easier for him to drink as much as he likes.]