starmark | IC Inbox | prismatica

nori
you don't have to explain it
you don't have to be sorry

i'm
i'm trying to say i understand your feelings
and not just when people say "oh i understand" to be nice

i'm saying i get it
that i think i've felt what you felt
that i know what you're trying to say

i'm trying to say
that when you say you're scared
when you try to describe it
that now i know

that feeling you have when you're scared
if you say you're having that feeling then i'll know what you're feeling
i'll know what you're going through
so you're not going through it alone

Oh.

Sorry, you weren't unclear.
I just. Wanted you to know that it wasn't you. Not really.

But I suppose you can turn that back on me, can't you? It wasn't just not me, it never even happened. If it was as easy as saying that I don't need to worry about that kind of thing, it'd be fixed.

It's a little silly. Your thing is something real and I just. Thought if you saw me when I was really trying to look nice for you and I looked stupid you wouldn't want to see me again.

it's not silly
it just sounds like you need some go the fuck to sleep
we both do
just about different things

i need to go the fuck to sleep about saving everyone
and you need to go the fuck to sleep about keeping me

You might be right.
No. You are right.

It'd make more sense to trade, wouldn't it?
I mean, I don't know that I'd be any better at saving everyone.

But I don't think you'd ever need to worry too much about whether or not you want me around.

i think maybe i should just bite you
on the neck where you can't hide it
where your collar will rub it and you'll feel it

so you can't possibly think i don't want you
because there's my bite right there
proving you wrong

[ Type, delete. Type, delete. All the while his body slowly seems to be- not expanding, in the way that a cat doesn't really expand when its fur stands on end. But it moves subtly, a little at a time, slowly taking up more and more space, the entire-body version of puffing out his cheeks to pout.

It takes a while, but eventually, eventually, he slams his thumb down on the screen in a way that an anime would make really dramatic. ]

Do it.

Edited 2020-12-19 23:12 (UTC)

[Cute. Cute, cute, cute. And so Jotaro leans forward a little, moving slow and easy like a person who really is dealing with a testy cat or an overexpanded frog, and brushes Kakyoin's hood enough out of the way that he can move in and press his lips lightly against his neck.

He takes his time, nuzzling around until he finds the perfect spot a little in front of his ear and close to his pulse, and then drags his tongue over it in a silent expression of intent before setting his teeth against the wet mark.]

Hmm.

[It winds up being Kakyoin's only warning; a moment later he sets to work, alternating between nibbling bites and suction until gradually, a lovely wide bruise starts to form beneath the skin.]

[ He goes very still, teeth gritted so tight that the muscles in his neck tense with it. Braces for something that doesn't quite happen because Jotaro isn't a vampire and it isn't an instantaneous thing. It's slow and it's just sensation instead of pain. Sharp and then soft and then sharp and then whatever the opposite of crushing is, the feeling of expanding out in a forced way. He can feel the flesh becoming more tender as Jotaro works, breaking tiny blood vessels beneath the skin and coming closer and closer to breaking the skin itself but never quite doing it. ]

It better look nice.

[ He says, mostly because he knows he's going to make noise no matter what and maybe he can sneak it out using words as camouflage. ]

I'll be pissed if it's ugly.

Everything's pretty when it's on you.

[He mumbles without ever wholly breaking contact, taking the opportunity to kiss and soothe the bite before setting back to adding another layer of bruising on top of the first for good measure.]

Say you're mine. Say it out loud.

I already say it so much-

[ Well, kind of. A yours-thing. He doesn't say it properly, in the same way that fuck off back to sleep isn't saying anything properly. It's just saying things in the easiest way.

It'd be wrong to say it's painless, but it doesn't hurt. It's good. The pinch of Jotaro's teeth against increasingly tender skin. Each little broken capillary, snapping like Hierophant's threads.

It's going to leave a mark. Jotaro's right, that he won't be able to hide it entirely with the collar of any of his jackets. He's trading perfection for making it clear to anyone who looks that Jotaro loves him. That's a little exciting. ]

Yours. I'm yours. Your iris. Your Hierophant. Your Nori.

You don't say it like this.

[But he approves, and it's apparent; he finishes slowly, winding back down again from biting to nibbling to gently soothing the wounded skin with his tongue, careful and sweet. And of course kisses follow, one after another, like apologies for even the faintest of sting that was necessary to leave his mark there to begin with.]

Not for yourself. I already believe it; now it's your turn.

[He lifts his head up a little, nosing higher on Kakyoin's neck, before returning back down to the bruise and kissing it again.]

See? You must be mine. You've got my mark on you.

It is fairly damning evidence, isn't it?

[ He lets out a soft, contented sigh, handing off his phone to a waiting tendril so that he can wrap his arms around Jotaro. ]

You love me, you know. [ Not that it's particularly news to either of them, but it's a new thing for him to say. You love me. Certain. so certain. ] I could just tell you to fuck off back to sleep, and I bet you'd try.

[Gradually, he goes still beneath that embrace and the weight of those words both; it's like they're hanging in the air, hovering with unspoken promise, and he doesn't know for sure if he's reading the moment right or not, but if he is —]

Maybe.

[There are three statements that admission could possibly be answering, but only one that it makes sense to attach to. There's nothing maybe about the damning evidence, and Kakyoin must know better than to think he would ever say maybe to a conclusion about his adoration.

Which leaves just that last thing, I bet, and Jotaro means to lick his lips but really just winds up with the corner of the lower one caught behind his teeth, anticipatory.]

Dunno if it'd be that easy.

I didn't say it would be easy. I said you'd do it.

[ He does not, of course, know what he's doing. He isn't ready to implement any sort of plan, and if he was he probably wouldn't be doing it in a frog hoodie. He's not trying to initiate anything, really. He's just emboldened by the bite, clumsily figuring out the mechanics of hitting on his boyfriend. ]

You would. If I said that wanted you to. If I said you shouldn't be thinking about anything else but me.

...Yeah. Yeah, I would.

[Oh no, he thinks, and feels a flicker of mortifying interest crawl down his spine. Oh, no, he reflects, because all of a sudden this topic of conversation is veering in dangerous directions, and he likes it.]

If you said it. I would do it if you said — if you wanted me to.

I knew it.

[ The bite pulses with sensation as he tilts his head so he can kiss Jotaro. Not overwhelming, but there. Present. Inescapable. It's calming in a way he didn't expect to constantly feel it and remember why it's there, to never quite be allowed to forget that no matter what he thinks at any given point, the fact of the matter is that Jotaro loves him. He's smiling when he pulls back. ]

'I can do it if you ask me to'. [ He said that before, didn't he? Maybe he's said it more than once. ] I'll let you stay awake for now.

Wait...

[His cheeks are heating; he can feel that much as he settles his arms more snugly around Kakyoin again, keeping him balanced even while he shifts around however he pleases, and it does take him a minute to scrape together his thoughts, but that's all right. They have nothing but time, now, and his bite is blossoming on Kakyoin's throat, and he's not ready to let go of the shivery feeling thrilling through his veins, not quite yet.]

Please. Just a little. You don't have to do a lot, just —

[He chews his lip, expression softening beneath the heat in his eyes.]

I don't want to stop feeling like this yet. Please. Just a little more.

Oh.

[ Oh. ]

C'mere.

[ There's nothing in the world that can stop him in his tracks quite so completely as Jotaro Kujo asking something of him. He reaches up. Coils his arms around Jotaro's neck so he can pull their faces close together and only need to speak in a whisper. He kisses Jotaro again and when their lips separate, the room is threaded with hair-thin green tripwires. Nowhere in it but the little space that they're occupying where a person could move without breaking one of them. ]

You really don't need to think about anything but me, Jotaro. And I'm here. Where you can see me. So if you like, you don't need to think about anything at all.

[There's always a sort of music to the coaxing, in moments like this. He's not sure if that's just the influence of his father, teaching him to hear music in everything like he does, or if maybe he's just crazy or imagining it or something. But he can follow the music. Everything about Kakyoin right now is a symphony, the percussion of his kisses and the rich brass of his words and the strings of his breath washing over his skin.

Nothing in his world but Kakyoin. Letting everything narrow down into something small, something manageable. Nothing around but this — and that's why, he realizes at length, that's why Hierophant is webbed around them like a kaleidoscope, to guard and surround that small, precious moment he's about to let himself live in, so that he knows he doesn't have to worry about anything outside of it.

Could he put himself the fuck to sleep right now, if he wanted? Maybe. Only because the environment is right for it; that's not something he could've done on his own.]

I like that I can feel you.

[His eyes are still open, but more unfocused now, more dusky.]

Don't even have to see.

Don't have to. But you like to look at me.

[ There's a part of him, he knows, that enjoys this too much. That's only too delighted to have this much control over Jotaro. That's cruel and wrong. Jotaro knows it, almost certainly, that he's a manipulative fuck who likes to control people. Jotaro will have taken that into account long before he brought any of this up.

Jotaro loves the worst parts of him, too. He wouldn't forget about them.

He's lucky, at times like this, to be able to reach just about anything in the surrounding few rooms. A long tendril ventures out to pick up his comb. When he loosens his arms from Jotaro's neck, it drops it into his waiting hands. He doesn't know if this is the correct thing. But he doesn't feel like questioning himself that much right now. It's something. It's something and if it doesn't work, he can go with something else. He knows exactly what he could do to ruin this and hurt Jotaro, the small, horrible, cruel thing inside him is telling him exactly how to do it. And that's freeing, because he also knows that any fuckup short of that is probably going to be okay. He doesn't have to doubt himself right now. ]

Help me fix my hair? [ He says, voice still not much louder than whisper, offering Jotaro the comb. It's silly, but it's something for Jotaro to do with his hands. Something simple and physical that can occupy both of them. ] The hood always fucks it up.

...Sure...sure, of course.

[That's asking a certain measure of focus from him that, left to his own devices, he might not want to offer up — content instead to just sink down into the quiet darkness behind his closed eyes and fixate on nothing but weight and heat and the sound of Kakyoin's voice. But that's the whole point, isn't it? It's not about what he wants. It's not his to decide; it's only up to him to do as he's told.

So he takes the comb when it's offered to him, his limbs feeling stupored and sluggish, but he gets one up to nudge the hood properly off of Kakyoin's head and the other to guide the comb up, sliding the teeth carefully into one thick swath of rumpled red hair.]

Like this?

Yeah.

[ Maybe he’ll figure it out eventually, that Jotaro isn’t like him. Doesn’t need to be doing something at any given time. For now, he hasn’t quite got his head around it. So comb it is. ]

Just like that. You’re so good to me

[Smoothly, slowly, he works the comb through Kakyoin's hair, not with any particular finesse or skill, but just with simple thoroughness — using it as much as an opportunity to feel the strands running along the lightly calloused skin of his fingertips as actually to straighten it out and set it back into place.

Stroke, stroke. There's a rhythm to this, too. It's lulling, pacifying. He can settle into it easily enough, and let the praise wash over him like a warm saltwater wave.]

I. Want to be good.

[He treads carefully, gingerly. Good boy is off the table, he knows that, but this much should still be all right.]

So if I do it wrong...then you should tell me.

I will.

[ It feels nice, even if it was just the first thing that occurred to him. The slow movement of the comb through his hair. The scrape and slight pull against his scalp. The rise and fall of Jotaro’s chest against his, and the echo of dull not-pain at his neck.

This isn’t meant to be for him, but it’s hard to deny how wanted he feels right now. ]

You’re doing right so far. Doing good. You’re so good.

You really are beautiful.

[He works the comb carefully, step by step, first down along the sweep of Kakyoin's jawline and then back from his temple, smoothing out the kinks and flyaways until he's naturally ended up at the back of his head. Now he has to ease the fallen hood out of the way more carefully, but a twinge of tactile memory reminds him of the unique pleasure of comb teeth running along the nape of one's neck, and he wastes no time in doing the same, running it again and again from the back of Kakyoin's head down along the curve of his neck to his shoulders, searching for a reaction.]

Even when it's fucked up by the hood, it's pretty.

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