starmark | IC Inbox | prismatica

[ It's a box. A wooden one, painted with the same purple and gold swirls that cover Star's skin.

(The was Adrian's input, technically. He stole his paints.)

When the hinged lid is opened, it plays a twee little musicbox song, whatever the Lunatian version of swan lake is, and a small glittery star spins in front of a mirror set in the lid. It's lined with a dark blue cloth and it's empty aside from three small haircombs, each decorated with a gold star. ]

If you're going to have things of your own, it only seems right that you should have somewhere to put them.

[ And because Star needed the earrings explained, he'll probably need help with the combs, too. Kakyoin turns his head, raising his hand to point out one he's wearing in his own hair. ]

Adrian has one, too. So you can match both of us. Do you want me to put them in for you?

Something that's just his...

[So whispers Jotaro, acting translator for his Stand as Star reverently examines the little box and its spinning charm, touching it with the very tip of his finger before turning his attention to the combs nestled within. Kakyoin isn't wrong that Star doesn't know what to do with them at first, but the demonstration gets him up to speed quickly; reaching into the box, Star retrieves one of the combs and pushes it into his hair in an identical position to Kakyoin's —

...albeit with none of the actual technical know-how needed to make it stay in place, which is why shortly after he lets it go, it droops and sags like it's about to tumble out again.]

Right, just yours. You'll have to choose where you want to keep it.

[ He's uncharacteristically fond, uncharacteristically patient as he watches Star struggle with the comb. Mostly because it's Star and he can't exactly get impatient with him. Partially because the longer this takes, the longer Jotaro has to suffer and wait and that's funny. ]

Not quite. [ He's about to do it for him, but then thinks better of it, placing his hand on Star's instead of the comb and guiding it up to the one in his own hair. Letting him feel the way the teeth are buried in the hair. ] You can practice with mine, if you like.

Fuck, Nori, I haven't even gotten to look at you yet...

[Read: he knows his boyfriend through and through and yes he knows this is stalling by now. Such is his suffering. Such is his commitment not to cheat and peek, too, but that's not the point.

Gingerly, Star touches the comb in Kakyoin's hair, investigating, then returns to his own and feels against his own hair like he's trying to analogize between one and the other. But then, after a thoughtful moment, Star shakes his head and offers the comb back to Kakyoin, lowering his head like an obedient puppy.

Ora, he says insistently, a pleading request.]

Because it's not your birthday.

[ He doesn't even deny it. But he does comb a hand through Star's hair while he investigates, trying to find a balance between bullying one half of his boyfriend and spoiling the other.

He has to wonder, because he has to wonder about all things, whether Star's giving up on putting in the comb himself has more to do with actually giving up or sharing Jotaro's impatience. Or perhaps impatience of his own, wanting Jotaro to see him. Or wanting Jotaro to see him, bringing him a thing he wants the way he always has.

Perhaps he just wants him to touch his hair.

Carefully, he takes a section of Star's hair and slides the comb into it, pinning it back. Then he takes another from the box, sliding the remaining two combs slowly into place. Pinning stars into the swirling void that is Star's hair. ]

There we go. [ And he rearranges himself just slightly. Rests his hands on Star's shoulders in a way that'll make himself easy to carry one-handed so the other hand can be used for the box. So that Star gets to show him to Jotaro, rather than just inviting Jotaro to turn. ] You can show Jotaro, if you like. Only if you want to. It's up to you whether or not you want to share.

[The noise Star makes as Kakyoin's deft fingers begin to sink the combs into his hair is perhaps best described as a purr; it's low and rough and self-satisfied, and Star's eyes fall closed as he seems to melt beneath the feeling of it, having gotten precisely what he wanted from the request.

Whenever he disappears, the combs won't follow, of course; his collar wouldn't either, and neither will the makeshift earrings. They'll tumble to the ground without a mop of hair to hold them, left behind after their owner has vanished. But that's a problem for another time, because right now Star has no intention of disappearing. Quite the contrary, he lets his new decorations get settled in, then sets the box aside and turns his attention fully to Kakyoin for a long, thoughtful moment.

In another second, his mind made up, Star moves — this time, catching hold of the forgotten ribbon ties lacing the sides of Kakyoin's dress shut and working them free eyelet by eyelet. Yet he never undoes them altogether; rather, it quickly becomes apparent that what Star's after in that moment is simply marring the previous perfection of Kakyoin's appearance — mostly leaving him intact, yet rendering it undeniable that hands have been on him, exploring him, enjoying the gift that he is.

And tease Star does — stroking Kakyoin's sides through the fabric, dipping beneath it in the front to trace shapes on the insides of his thighs, dipping to kiss at the bend in his knee and doing everything he can to muss and fluster him, wanting his final present beautifully disheveled before he ultimately shows him off to his master.]

[ It's not as if he didn't know that Star wanted to touch him. It's just that he didn't know Star wanted to touch him right this moment. He'd thought he'd want to go to Jotaro right away to present his gifts, not pause to-

-oh.

The realisation that this is Star making him better to show off hits at the same time as Star's lips touch his legs and air pulls into his lungs as a gasp and leaves them as the kind of exhale that catches in the throat and comes out too thick, pushing out of him with a soft noise that isn't quite voice but is more than just breath. Star doesn't want him put together, when Jotaro sees him. And maybe it's just because Jotaro prefers him messed up and flustered and a little out of his depth.

But maybe it's because that means that Jotaro doesn't get to see what he looked like at first, when he was perfect. So that can stay something that's only his. And he'll find some way later to word why that thought is so appealing to him but the point right now is just that it is. ]

Star- [ He's still bad at making actual word noises, at these kinds of times. It's embarrassing. It always feels like he'll say something wrong. But he wants to. He doesn't usually want to. He wants to encourage Star. He wants to make it clear to Jotaro that something's happening that he can't see. It's still difficult. It's still embarrassing. But Star won't judge him. Star won't even gently tease him about sounding stupid. Star probably isn't capable of thinking he sounds stupid.

His voice is still strained with the effort it takes to actually get words out of himself, even more than it's strained with arousal. The little whines that escape him as he tries to force himself to make words happen and keep track of the shapes Star is drawing against his thigh probably say more than the words he ends up with. But he manages. ] -good. You're so good.

He is good. He's a good boy.

[Fuck, fuck, that's his Stand making Kakyoin make those noises. That's Star, that's part of him and yet not altogether him, that's part of his soul guided by his will and yet autonomous in his own right, and when left to his own devices, what that part of him wants is to wreck Kakyoin into a disheveled mess that makes noises like that.

And it's true that Star is enjoying himself; he's taking his time, coaxing out those sounds, pulling Kakyoin's ribbon ties loose but not free and letting them hang haphazard against his legs, nibbling and kissing and encouraging a blush to blossom in his skin, and when he's finally content to pause, Star rises up to his feet and scoops Kakyoin up into the crook of just one arm — just one, because that's all it takes to lift him.

Oraora, he pronounces, looking to Kakyoin as if for confirmation and agreement, before retrieving his box and tipping his head toward the couch, intent on taking him over to put him on display.]

[ He tries his best to make more words, he really does, but Star's teeth graze lightly against the inside of his thigh and the noise that comes out of him is so embarrassing that all future noises have to be approved by the brain until further notice and the brain has so, so many other things to deal with right now.

By the time he lets Star lift him, lets him treat him as if he's something small and delicate that needs to be treated with the utmost care, he has to untangle his hands from his hair. His breaths come shallow and shaky and don't happen unless he holds his mouth open just a little. The flush on his face spreads from ear to each and down below the collar of the dress, reappearing on the backs of his hands, stretching down to his knuckles. He's soft, pliable, leaning against Star and folding himself neatly in the crook of his arm. It'd be incorrect to describe him as a mess, if only because a mess implies carelessness. Very little about this is careless. He's been methodically, carefully rendered imperfect.

This is, apparently, how Star wants Jotaro to see him. ]

Close your eyes. [ He says, and his voice doesn't sound quite as firm as it ought to. He's conveniently placed to kiss Star's jaw, just below his new stick-on earring. So he does that. ] You can open them when Star says so.

He's my Stand.

[The protest itself is a lot more irritable than any sentiment that Jotaro is actually feeling; mostly it's just sort of comical to be the one pushing back against Kakyoin's insistence on treating Star like he's an entirely separate person of his own, much less his co-conspirator in these particular suggestive shenanigans.

But he closes his eyes anyway, because he knows how this game is played and the last thing he's going to be is a bad sport about it, and he waits patiently while Star brings his precious cargo around to arrange them both in front of Jotaro, just a few feet away — in perfect viewing range, but too far to reach out and touch.

That, too, is deliberate.

Ora, Star decides at last, and slowly Jotaro opens his eyes to the sight that he's already half-perceived through sound and touch, and his eyes don't stop at merely "open" but keep getting wider and wider as he winds up taking it all in.]

Holy shit.

[At least Kakyoin won't be alone in his hue; Jotaro's gone fairly red right along with him.]

Holy shit. You're — you're. Wow.

So he'll know when it's right for you to open them.

[ Star sets him down and he holds on, keeping one hand rested against him. Jotaro isn't going to be an asshole about this. He knows that. If Jotaro was going to react in any way other than positively then Star would have, too. Jotaro is going to look at him like he's beautiful and say nice things and it's still difficult.

For a split second he wants to run away and put on trousers and find someone who he doesn't like and make them feel stupid and worthless until he feels like himself again. But he can't, because he's holding on to Star. It's only a split second. The vulnerability only feels uncomfortable in tiny little fragments of time that end when Jotaro's eyes open.

There isn't really any time for self-doubt once Jotaro's eyes open, even before he speaks. ]

It's a special occasion. [ He offers as explanation, because it feels slightly less ridiculous in the moment than 'I thought it would make you happy'. ] I think Star likes it.

...Yeah...

[Unconsciously, he's sitting forward in his seat, eyes never leaving Kakyoin as he seems to naturally gravitate closer to him — at least, as much as he can without leaving his designated spot on the couch, from which he has not yet been authorized to move.]

Fuck, I'm — I don't want to say it wrong. What I think. How you look.

[Because that is very much not trousers and it's not a school uniform and it's not...masculine, but all the words he wants to use might come with connotations and he's not nearly artful enough — or coherent enough, even — to trust himself with all that right now.]

You're...so pretty.

I won't get mad. If you fuck it up. I- know.

[ He doesn't quite elaborate on what he knows. He knows what Jotaro means nine times out of ten, because extended periods of time spent around Jotaro have the side effect of quickly learning how to translate clumsy and earnest attempts at expression into something more easy to understand. He knows that Jotaro likes it, because Star liked it. He knows that Jotaro isn't going to judge him for something as stupid as this even if he didn't like it, because it's Jotaro.

Second by second, the self-consciousness fades. The same way it did with Star, before. Not quite to nothing, but to the point where it's a distant second to the fact that he seems to have developed a gravitational field that's slowly pulling Jotaro in. ]

I like how it looks. [ He admits, and it takes a lot of effort to do it but it's important. It's important that he tells Jotaro that. It's difficult, and he can't just get over his own instinct to judge himself and stop this and just look normal and get everything right. ] I feel ridiculous, but- I'll get over it. It's- [ -terrifying. Even just in front of Jotaro. It feels like opening himself up to rejection, even if he knows it won't come. ] -worth it. If you like it that much. For special occasions.

"Special" is right.

[He says, and sounds a little hoarse as he does, still leaning in, still pulled by the sight of him.]

I'll make you feel something other than ridiculous. If you want.

[As if to echo his master's thought, Star steps in close behind Kakyoin and presses himself up flush against him, one large hand coming down to rest on the flat of his thigh.]

Make you feel like you own the world. If you want.

[ Every last bit of air rushes out of his lungs as he leans back against Star, and he can feel every ridge of his chest against his back through the thin silk of the dress. ]

I can tell you with certainty that it's possible to feel both. Frequently.

[ It's tempting to reach out to Jotaro - he's just out of reach, of course. But if both of them reached forward his fingers would reach just past his elbow. He could pull him forward, against him, so he'd be trapped between the two of them. So safe.

But very much not how 'birthday' is meant to be performed. ]

He does have other presents, you know. It wasn't just- this. I did it properly.

[ He says that, but he does keep leaning into Star. Strokes his hand down his arm until it's resting on his, letting the material of the sleeve slide over the purple skin of it. ]

He and I both want the same thing right now, you know. That's not one or the other, either.

[As if on cue, Star tugs Kakyoin a little more emphatically against him, inciting him to relax against the strong support that Star's own chest and body make.

But then the mention of other presents registers, and almost for the first time, Jotaro seems to register the combs in his Stand's hair, and the stick-on earrings gleaming on his lobes. Like it hadn't even occurred to him to look, so enraptured was he with the sight of Kakyoin presented in front of him.]

...Oh. You made him cute.

[Star grins at that, pleased and proud at the attention.]

See, Star? He wanted you to be pretty like he's pretty.

[And he is so pretty, Jotaro muses to himself, as he finally moves forward out of his seat, but only so that he can sink down onto his knees in front of Kakyoin, like an echo of what Star had done for him just minutes before.]

[ At Star's prompt he sets his weight against the stand's broad chest, not entirely sure he trusts his legs to be up to the task anymore.

They both want the same thing.

Which is a statement of the obvious, really. Star isn't quite Jotaro, no, but they're close enough. A venn diagram of a complete being, mostly overlapping with slivers of themselves at each side. Of course they would want the same thing.

It just doesn't feel so much like a statement of the obvious when that thing is him. It feels like a lot of other things.

A promise, for one.

Fuck. He barely even hears his precious acknowledgement that he did birthday right, because his mind hasn't quite moved on from that. It's only Jotaro finally approaching that snaps him back, and that doesn't exactly help. The front of the dress is starting to hang just a little oddly. ]

Should I try to guess what it is that you want?

I don't think it's that hard of a guess.

[This isn't, strictly speaking, supposed to be about him. This is supposed to be Star's birthday present, and on some level he realizes that he's intruding on that design of Kakyoin's. But still — still, at the end of the day, he's the master and Star is his Stand, not the other way around, and there's no treating Star as a completely independent entity. They're a package deal, the two of them together, and you can't take just half of them for long.]

I want to know what you want. Your reactions...that's the real gift, isn't it?

It's not meant to be what-

[ The complaint dies halfway through, and he just huffs. ] -you're really not going to make this easy, are you?

[ Because that's what it is, really. He wants it to be easier.

It's infuriating, because he knows full well that what Jotaro wants genuinely is to do what he wants. He, on the other hand, mostly just wants to avoid having to make a choice in an area he feels uneducated in. The same way he'd rather say that he's dressed like this because of the occasion rather than because he liked how it looked, pretend that it's out of his hands. If he's just doing what he's supposed to, then there's no chance of doing something wrong.

But it's not really fair to avoid that pressure by putting it onto Jotaro instead. He reaches down into Jotaro's hair, the same way he did when it was Star kneeling in front of him, just with a little more distance to reach. Pulls just slightly, making sure to have enough strands trapped between his fingers that it's a pressure on the scalp, rather than a tug, to be sure Jotaro is looking him in the eye.

(He can do this. Jotaro wants him to do this, so he can do this.) ]

I want to- fuck. [ Accurate, even if it's just him losing his nerve and having to try again. ] I want to ride you. And I want Star to stay here, and I want him to hold onto me and- [ It's difficult. His hand shakes slightly in Jotaro's hair. ] -I want him to move me on your dick, when my legs get tired.

[ Maybe there's a better way to word it, but that's what he can manage right now. He stops to breathe, loosening his grip on Jotaro's hair and leaning his head back against Star's chest, trying to will his face back to its normal colour. ]

...and I want you to promise to punch the dress clean, so I don't have to worry about how to wash it.

[Fuck if it isn't beautiful, the way that Kakyoin will always rise to the occasion, whether it's from spite or competitiveness or anything else. It's gorgeous, the way he's momentarily at a loss and then rallies to hide it, puts on a show of force with fingers in his hair and a stubborn set in his shoulders, and lets such absolute filth come falling out of his pretty upstanding mouth.

Fuck, it's hot to pressure Kakyoin into giving up and talking dirty. Now that's the real gift, without question.]

Oh. Are you keeping the dress on?

[Not even the supreme self-control of Jotaro Kujo can hide his desire or his anticipatory hunger at the thought. Forget unwrapping this particular present; it's unexpectedly hot, the thought of leaving all that on — reveling both in Kakyoin's inherent beauty, and in the prospect of leaving him a sated mess.]

I'm glad you said something. 'Cause I thought maybe you'd want to ride Star.

[He shuffles a little closer on his knees, close enough to lean in and mouth at Kakyoin's thigh, just below the hip where the slit in the dress splits to show bare skin.]

Or be in me while he's in you. Or lie down on top of me like you always do, while he takes you.

[He lets out a soft sigh, hot breath washing over flushed skin.]

So it's good that you said something. Or we might've fucked you any of those other ways, and not the way you want.

[ Jotaro is so much better at this than he is. Its annoying. He's going to have to find a mirror later and just rehearse saying these things until he can do it properly without losing his nerve or swallowing unthinkingly or trailing off.

Right now, though, he just lets out a shaky breath as Jotaro lists a lot of possibilities that he hadn't considered and he has to find an acceptable way to discuss the potential size of Star's dick.

(Realistically, he's aware it's a non-issue. These properties of stands can be altered with some thought. It doesn't feel like a non-issue when Star's arms are about as wide as his waist.) ]

Suggest that last one again, once it's Iris. [ Is what he settles on, and it's not perfect but it's as close as he's going to get with Jotaro's lips moving over his thigh. ]

I'm only keeping it on if I don't have to wash it. Promise to punch the dress, so I don't have to get changed and make you wait.

[ It's a half-hearted threat, because at most he'll just strip out of it right here. But he really does not want to have to figure out how to wash semen out of delicate fabric. ]

Don't take it off. I promise we'll punch the dress back.

[He shifts a little, moving off of his knees and getting his legs around so that he's sitting on the floor instead, which is a sacrifice of the ability to lean in and nuzzle against Kakyoin's hip, but which lets him recline back against the couch and open up space in his lap in exchange.]

C'mon. Come sit with me.

[More like sit on him, frankly, but the implication is there.]

It's not gonna work if you're tensed up. Especially since it isn't Iris right now.

Good.

[ The noise that escapes him when Jotaro moves away and the strands of his hair flow out from between his fingers can be best described as 'embarrassing' and second-best described as a whine and he has exactly enough dignity not to actively complain about it and not an inch more. He leans more into Star to try to offset the loss until Jotaro invites him into his lap.

He reaches down to take Star's hand before he moves closer, leading him forward and keeping him close. ]

Because I need to be able to wear it again at Iris. For Star.

[ He rests his other hand on Jotaro's shoulder to steady him as he sits facing him, knees flanking his hips. The ribbons pull themselves free of a few more eyelets with a quiet swishing sound as he lowers himself into Jotaro's lap, pulled loose by the motion. ]

Unless I find something else. I could let him pick something out.

You're spoiling him an awful lot lately.

[His hands move instinctively to help support Kakyoin as he lowers himself down, resting lightly on his sides to help guide him into place and settle him snugly in his lap. It's a position that does wonders for that expanse of leg that's begun to show, forcing the fabric to split even wider than it'd been when Kakyoin was standing. It also creates some undeniably satisfying friction every time Jotaro shifts and adjusts, to say nothing of the way there's nowhere to hide the bulge beginning to tent his pants when Kakyoin's right over top of it.]

Wear something easy to get open. He's precise, but he won't want to wait, either.

[He rocks his hips up, mostly just to lift Kakyoin and bring him back down again, a reminder of how they're arranged — as though either of them could hope to forget.]

Something that'll feel good on your skin. Silk, maybe.

Should I stop? Or maybe you're feeling left out. Maybe I should spoil you, too.

[ He's impressed with himself for managed two complete sentences there, because the feeling of the cloth of Jotaro's trousers against his bare skin is very distracting. Especially when Jotaro rocks his hips and he moves with him, over cloth and the bulge beneath the cloth and the hand rested on Jotaro's shoulder becomes fingernails clutching at him. ]

-Fuck, Jotaro.

[ It's not like he's averse to swearing, but it still catches him off guard when he does it without thinking. It's not enough to slow him down. He pulls Star forward further, beckoning him to sit behind him so he's trapped between the two of them. ]

I'll take you with me when I next look for something to wear. So he can help me choose without stealing anything.

IC Inbox | prismatica

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