starmark | IC Inbox | prismatica

...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.

Hey...

[He's still watching Kakyoin, still holding him possessively and making sure to shift his weight every so often just to make sure Kakyoin never turns too complacent, but a little bit of the hungry mirth melts away for a few seconds, replaced with cautious attentiveness. His hand skims against Kakyoin's hip, thumb stroking over the edge of the fabric where it's riding up.]

I want to touch you, Nori. Can I...?

[As though he isn't touching him already, but — it's not in him not to ask. Not when it's this early in...them doing this together. Maybe he won't always be so careful. Someday, they'll be familiar enough that there'll be more implicit ways of seeking permission.

For now, he needs to hear it. He needs to be sure.]

Unless you already got yourself ready before you got dressed up in that. It's gonna take some time to do it, otherwise.

Please.

[ It comes out less like a demand and more like a plea and he isn't sure which he was aiming for in the first place. And at first he doesn't quite catch on to what Jotaro is asking, because all he's really capable of hearing is touch and that stupid nickname

(and Jotaro's the only one who calls him by that stupid nickname. It's a secret thing. A secret thing for only them and it's precious.)

It's only when Jotaro mentions getting ready that he realises what they're discussing. And he can't turn redder, but he can bunch his hand in Jotaro's shirt and look away for just a moment, half considering using Hierophant to send messages again.

But no. He's trying. He's going to get better at this because it's annoying that Jotaro is better at something than he is. And maybe that means becoming more comfortable than he ever expected to need to be with discussing the mechanics of his own ass. ]

I can- I can use Hierophant for it, if you don't want to.

You — you mean like his —

[The thought stops short, stuttering faintly as for a second his collected exterior derails as it hits the mental image of Hierophant's tentacles, the same ones that had wound into his mouth and slid down his throat and worked their way between his muscle fibers — that, except into Kakyoin instead, just like this, where he could see it, and oh fuck there goes another kink he'd been vaguely aware of before but now it's slamming into him full force.

He swallows hard, feeling the heat collecting in his face, but manages to compose himself at length. He wants to see that, wants to watch, but Kakyoin qualified his statement with if you don't want to, and that's really the game-changer, isn't it.]

No. I want to. I want — I want you to know it's me.

[Emboldened, he lets his hand slide underneath the drape of Kakyoin's skirt for the first time, eyebrows raising as he finds skin, skin, and more skin beneath.]

We'll go slow. Just lean on me and relax.

Right. It's how I usually-

[ He trails off there, and he genuinely does mean to continue. It's just that halfway through trying to force himself into saying words, Jotaro's hand slides between the skirt of his dress and his body. Which is very distracting.

It's probably for the best. He might have been able to finish that sentence if he tried, but it wouldn't have been particularly good for his efforts to relax. Which is something he's not particularly naturally gifted at in the first place.

But Jotaro said so, so he can do it. Just like he can lean forward against him, shuffling to make himself more easily accessible. He breathes in as deeply as his lungs half-full of something that isn't air will allow him to and then out so far that he deflates against Jotaro. ][ ]

-I'll show you, sometime. Promise.

You're gonna kill me, just saying stuff like that.

[But Kakyoin leans on him, going more boneless than before, and it's comfortable to feel his warm weight pressed up against him while his own fingers go searching beneath the drape of his dress. The good news is, he's had practice with this, he knows what he's doing — albeit usually he's doing it during Iris, or with someone for whom idle aches and pains don't really make a difference in light of his accelerated healing factor, so there's still that element of needing to be careful, lest he move too fast or too rough.

But Kakyoin usually has Hierophant doing this, so he's done it before, and probably enough that...that it's not going to be a problem.

So he takes a breath, and he nuzzles against Kakyoin's head, and when he finds what he's looking for, he strokes there a little so that Kakyoin knows what's coming, a few seconds before his finger starts to nudge inside.]

You can...you can, um. Touch me too, if you...want. While I do this.

[ It's a miracle that there was any air left in him after that last exhale, but there's enough left that a soft noise pushes its way out of his throat. It's audible and muted, both qualities despite his best efforts. He tries to not force himself quiet. And he tries, for an entirely different set of reasons, to not make noise. And he fails at both. ]

Yeah. [ That's a word, right? It sounds like a word. It's probably a word, and he tries to copy what he did just then because if he does that it'll probably make more words. He inhales shallowly, feels out the shape of words in his mouth, and then tries and there's always some level of deliberation in everything he says but this is a little much, even for him. He has to make sure every sound is nice and soft and smooth, with rounded edges. ] Yeah, I want to.

[ He fumbles, actually fumbles, with Jotaro's belts. No Hierophant lookping underneath them to pull them free, not while he's making every effort not to tense himself. Just his own too-long hands, suddenly clumsy. But he keeps trying. Slowly but surely. ]

Do you really think I ever stop wanting to touch you?

Dunno. Maybe...sometimes you've got stuff to do.

[It's the most half-assed attempt at humor he's made in a while, but to his credit he's not really focusing on landing a solid joke at this point, not when he's caught up in every one of Kakyoin's shallow breaths and each sleek word that falls from his mouth and the little tremors he perceives but can't trace back to a source. Is he the one quaking or is it Kakyoin? Maybe it's both of them. Maybe it doesn't matter.

Slowly, slowly, he starts to work him up, trying not to get distracted by the feeling of Kakyoin's hands trying to get his pants open without immediate success, as though Kakyoin has ever done anything in his life without immediate success.]

There's gotta be sometime. That you don't want to.

Maybe- maybe when you piss me off.

[ The first belt only takes that one extra attempt before he can pull it loose, going quiet to listen to the soft hissing noise it makes as it moves through the buckle. The second is more trouble. The first attempt at it ends with Jotaro's finger moving and his own wrapping around the belt and clutching at it. Jotaro's face is in his hair. Solid, anchoring while the rest of him doesn't quite feel like he has control over it.

There isn't much air in the breath against his collarbone, and the press of lips that follows it isn't so much a kiss as it is something fevered seeking out something cooler.

Attempt two is a failure. Attempt three succeeds slowly, and he carefully pushes the belt through the buckle with the thumb of one hand and pulls it the rest of the way with the other. ]

Nah. When I piss you off...that's when you can't wait to get your hands on me.

[He has to go slowly at first, he reminds himself. He has to be careful, because they're on the floor instead of the couch and the couch instead of the bedroom and the bedroom is where he keeps the lube, and sure, he could always send Star after it, but only until an alternative notion occurs to him.

Not that he really wants to distract Kakyoin any more than he's distracted already, but — well. They've got time, and they've got the opportunity to be flexible. Kakyoin, in particular, is flexible as hell, but that's not the point, either.]

Hey. I need Hierophant after all.

[He breathes out slowly, feeling the way the moving air makes Kakyoin's hair feather against his skin.]

He can make it slick. Right?

So far as- so far as punching you could be considered having my hands on you.

[ Buttons and zippers are easier than belts, practically designed to open from clumsy fumbling in comparison. By the time he responds he’s bested both and one hand is down the front of his pants, rubbing slowly over the cloth of his underwear. ]

As long as he sticks around. [ A thin tendril pokes out from the collar of his dress as he speaks, stroking against Kakyoin’s own cheek almost tenderly before reaching out to drape its coils of cool, not-quite-damp unweight loosely around Jotaro’s shoulders. It moves slower after that, gradually winding its way down his arm and seeking out his fingers, apparently intent on joining them. He pauses his stroking in anticipation, trying mot to tense. ] It- goes away if he does.

Ohfuck...

[As the saying goes, turnabout really is fair play, and it's Jotaro's turn to get distracted as Kakyoin's fingers find their way into his pants; for all that he's been keeping a fairly cool head and concentrated bearing, he's utterly weak to the attention and it shows.]

Leave him out, then...Star's sticking around, anyway. Fair's fair...

[He closes his eyes, wrapped up in the competing sensations of friction beneath Kakyoin's palm and the whisper of Hierophant's tendril slithering down the length of his arm to make the hairs stand on end. It's not easy to rock up into him with Kakyoin's weight bearing down, but he tries to anyway, the reflex utterly thoughtless as his hips jerk and his breath catches.]

You can leave him on my shoulders when he's done.

IC Inbox | prismatica

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