starmark | IC Inbox | prismatica

[It's such a surreal feeling, having one of Hierophant's tentacles literally just...ferry a couple of painkillers straight down his throat and into his stomach, without any necessity of swallowing of his own volition. It's likewise surreal that it keeps crawling out of his mouth like that, like he's the host to some kind of weird noodle alien, which on second thought is exactly what he is, but that doesn't make it any less weird.

Drinking, while lying down, isn't easy. Doing it without wanting to move his head is even harder, when he's also trying not to spill it all over the couch. Star frowns at them, then zips off to parts unknown; when he returns, it's with a bendy straw in tow.

Fuck, he's so tired. His whole body hurts. It's strange bliss to just hold perfectly still in a comfortable position and not move, lest something twinge and another ache spring up again.

Meanwhile, Star offers the straw to Kakyoin, watching intently through big eyes and dilated pupils.]

[ He keeps his hand in Jotaro's hair while he tries to drink. Not moving, not while it could distract him from the monumental task of it, but there. present. He's here. He's here.

He almost removes it to take the straw from Star. Almost, but Being under Star's gaze reminds him why it's there in the first place, and he puts down the glass instead. Takes Star's hand in his now-free one, brings it up to his lips before taking the straw. ]

Thank you.

[ He pauses for a moment as he puts the straw into the water, then looks up again, patting the floor next to him before he picks up the glass again and sets to work bringing it to Jotaro's lips. Hierophant is observing. There's no reason why Star can't, too. ]

Do you want to stay here? So you can tell me how to do it right.

[ Which is an uncomfortable admission of the fact that he might do something wrong, but it means that Star can have a defined task. An easy one. Just watch. Just watch and if he needs to be touching or not touching or anything else, just move his hands to where they ought to be. ]

[Exhausted and pliant and suggestible as he is, it feels good to try to reach for a drink, even if he originally isn't altogether that successful at it. It will be good for him, yes, but it's also what Kakyoin wants him to do. It's best when those two things align, at a time like this. It means he doesn't have to think about which reason holds more control over him; either way, the outcome is the same.

He gets his lips wet, mostly, and a little makes its way into his mouth, but it isn't until Kakyoin guides the straw up to his lips that he really gets a proper drink, and moans softly around the thin plastic from how good it feels to have the cool liquid rinsing his mouth and running down the back of his throat.

Obediently, he sips and sips, while Star settles in next to Kakyoin and watches them both intently. Jotaro still isn't sure he could make words even if he tried to, but Star didn't need words to divine his needs, and he'll make sure Kakyoin understands them if they appear, so it's all right.

It feels strange, not being fucked after so long of that just being a given status that he'd almost started taking for granted. Every so often his hips twitch back, just a fraction, like they're still trained to rock back into a stimulus that's no longer there.

Ora, Star pronounces solemnly, and pets against his side, his ribs, his shoulder, his hair. Star has the benefit of knowing exactly how Jotaro wants to be touched, even when he doesn't precisely know what he wants himself.

It feels good, and he sips his water, and slowly, at great length, he opens his still-glassy eyes.]

I knew you could. I knew.

[ The non-negotiable parts, the parts that have to come first no matter how Star insists that the rest is also important, are dealt with. A few painkillers to hopefully numb the ache of it all into something that can be lived with, make it scoot to the side and make itself smaller so there's room for everything else. Water to hopefully drive off the worst of the headache that's on the way.

Everything else, everything else is just the rest. Just whatever Star indicates for him to do. Whatever feels correct, as bad as he is at the 'feeling' part compared to the 'thinking and measuring and concluding' part. He follows Star's lead, bringing his hand back to Jotaro's side and resuming the same path he was stroking along before, through the last intense moments of his time in the machine. Draws his fingers over each rib, hopping between them like a stone skipping on the surface of a pond, then slides them backward so it's his palm that slides over Jotaro's hip, his fingers curling further back to graze over the flesh of his ass. As far as a little way down his thigh, where he slides his hand back further so his fingers curl around the back of it into the inner part before he sqeezes and withdraws his hand, bringing it up to his ribs to start again. Slow. Steady. A softer sort of rhythm than the one of the machine, but a return to rhythm nonetheless. Hierophant starts beating his heartbeat again as he waits for Jotaro to finish draining the glass. ]

Thank you. [ He says, eventually. ] For being so good for me.

[He blinks once, slowly — still not ready for words yet, but roused enough to follow along with what Kakyoin says and coherent enough to at least try to gather up a reply. He's been good; his cheeks flush from that. His eyelashes flutter every time Kakyoin's hand dips down against the inside of his thigh; he sighs around his straw when fingers pet up to count his ribs. There's a rhythm in his reactions, too, though he's not trying to place it there. It just feels natural, and he's not thinking about it altogether too much.

Sip after sip, he drinks his water, until the glass is empty and he's making faint slurping noises trying to get the last of it without moving. When it becomes apparent that the glass is empty, he slumps a little more contentedly against the couch cushions and nurses on the straw itself, glad just to have something in his mouth to focus on.

This is an interesting state of mind to find himself in, he thinks idly. His thoughts are slow and measured, but not disoriented or confused. He's not resisting talking or reluctant to do it; he just genuinely isn't ready to try to speak.

He feels calm, and the right kind of empty. He's all here, most of him, and sleepy-content, but he's not weighted down with the stress of ten thousand worries and his usually racing thoughts are, for once, blessedly silent.]

[ He thought that he'd withdraw the glass once the water was done, but Jotaro's lips stay pressed around the straw and for a little while it's confusing but- he thinks he understands. He thinks he kind of understands. While the straw is there, he doesn't need to have a reason to not be speaking right now. He just isn't. Can't. Words won't be coming out of him, because there's a straw, and that doesn't have to mean anything.

Maybe he's projecting, a little. Overthinking. Trying to understand Jotaro's behaviour by trying to figure out what the fuck he'd be thinking, if he were doing the same thing.

It'd be nice to be able to touch him with both hands, even if the straw, and thus the glass, and thus the hand holding the glass, is serving an important purpose. And so he takes the glass and its straw away and just tries to be quick to replace it. To press his thumb against Jotaro's lips again and push the tip of it inward. Forcing them to part just slightly. His other hand comes back up to Jotaro's hair, finger-combing it back into some sort of loose order. ]

[Oh. Oh. Kakyoin seems to understand, he thinks with a rush of warmth that floods his cheeks and turns them a grateful pink. He takes the empty cup away but then his thumb is at his lips, and it feels so right to just open his mouth and draw it in and suck lightly at the skin. It makes him feel connected, in just one more way that he wants to be connected to the person he loves so, so much. He feels like he'll burst from it, a little, and it contents him to have a way of showing it.

His gaze tracks up Kakyoin's arm, over his shoulder, past his chin. Finds his eyes. Looks at him with love and gratitude and heat, and tries to pour all of his thoughts into that look because he doesn't have the words to sound them instead.

He thinks a minute, slowly, and then a touch of something like mischief curls at the corners of his mouth, and in the next moment he wraps his tongue around Kakyoin's thumb, deliberately obscene in the way he fucks it like Hierophant's tentacles fucked his own tongue earlier, and tries to reassure him that he really is doing all right, he's just — quiet.]

[ Jotaro's eyes meet his. Slowly. Carefully. Like he needs to work his way up to it, the same way that he needs to work his way through careful, delicate touches until he can manage anything more. They find him. Eventually, they find him. And now he can't talk, either.

Jotaro's eyes look like eyes. He could be poetic about it, but there'd be no point. It's not as if anything he could compare them to would be something he preferred looking at. They look like the way most of the rest of him feels to Hierophant. Like threads, like a hundred thousand tiny threads of connective tissue, each a slightly different shade of blue-green determined for them by Miss Jolly's eyes and Mr. Joestar's eyes. Maybe the eyes of his Erina's Jonathan before they were red-brown and cruel. And they're dark. Heavy. Warm, despite the coolness of their colour.

For a while he just holds Jotaro's gaze. Stokes his hair. And then Jotaro smirks and tries to curl his tongue around his thumb and he can't do anything about that but laugh-sigh, withdrawing his thumb and wiping the end of it on Jotaro's nose. ]

What the fuck.

[ It's fond. Impossibly. Just heart would burst if it were any fonder. ]

[Kakyoin's reaction gets the first non-whimper noise out of him that he's made since he'd hit his brink in the machine — a faint rumbling thing that's almost a purr by mistake, from how he's trying to laugh and can't quite muster the effort it'd take to get the mirth out of his lungs. His expression is almost beatific; it's a shame he can't see himself, for how relaxed and open and gentle he looks. The usual worries and tension that add sharp angles to his features have been temporarily washed away, replaced by a healthy, sleepy glow that somehow manages to only bring out more of the classical beauty of his features.

He could be a statue if he wanted, nude and curly-haired and smiling like he's got a secret all to himself as he rests in contentment on his couch. He could be a statue, but he's not, and that's really sort of the whole point to begin with, isn't it.]

Nori.

[It's a whisper, but it's there. A sigh of a name, happy and pleased amid his comfortable aches and pains.]

Mmmback early...?

[NEVER LET IT BE SAID THAT JOTARO KUJO DOESN'T GET RIGHT DOWN TO THE OBSERVATIONS THAT MATTER least]

Was I not meant to be?

[ If he has any regrets at all about crashing Jotaro and Adrian's robot sex adventures, he's doing a really bad job of showing it. He's just laughing, still. All of this is ridiculous. His boyfriends are ridiculous. Beautiful, both of them, by every possible way of measuring, but ridiculous. The fact that he'd come home to find one of them like this.

He leans forward. Smushes Jotaro's stupid, beautiful face between his hands. Kisses him. ]

Yeah. Back early.

I didn't...know.

[Not that he sounds like he minds, but. Well, that contextualizes the startle reaction he'd had when the door had rattled open while he was still wrapped up in the machine, anyway. No one else could've gotten in to begin with, and Adrian would never have let anyone get that close if it hadn't been Kakyoin coming home. He didn't need to ask permission; it just made for a rather erotic surprise for the both of them.

He reflects on that a minute.]

...Sorry.

[Affectionate, needy, happy, he pushes his face against Kakyoin's palm.]

You don't...like it. Sorry.

[There is so much evidence here to the contrary it's astonishing. But he is still wearing Adrian's collar, hefty leather thing that it is. And there are some parts of their games that he knows don't sit well with Kakyoin, either.]

I don't.

[ He says it simply enough. Doesn't really argue against Jotaro's statement. There are things he'll still shut up and deal with if it's for Jotaro's sake, but the number of them is growing smaller by the day. Not because Jotaro isn't worth it, but because he wouldn't want anyone to shut up and deal with anything for his sake. And letting him decide that? That's worth it, too.

But he hasn't said anything he didn't want to say. He hasn't had anything he didn't want said to him said. The closest he's come to touching the collar was to slip Hierophant under it to test that it wasn't too tight. None of this is the sort of thing that needles its way under his skin and makes him apprehensive. ]

It's okay. As long as I can avoid the parts I don't like. Only do the parts I want to. That's good. I like the parts I did.

You did a lot.

[He sounds almost dreamy at that, leaning his head more heavily on Kakyoin's hand, letting his eyes flutter closed and open on a whim, however he feels like having them at any given moment. The endorphins are fading, the adrenaline wearing him down as it leaves him, but it's all right. Kakyoin is here, and his world is soft and warm, and he knows he's safe in the concrete reality of where he is, even if he's not wrapped up in a haze of ecstasy any longer.]

Said you knew I could do it.

[He sounds pleased. With himself, with Kakyoin, with doing as Adrian originally told him. Hold still and be good. He knows he did good, because Kakyoin told him so.]

And here I thought you weren’t paying attention.

[ It’s something of an adventure, pulling himself up onto the couch without breaking contact with Jotaro. It’s the kind of collection of movements that turn him into a thing made entirely of elbows. But eventually, finally, he manages it. Lies down next to Jotaro, body pulled back awkwardly so not to be touching him too much at once but here. Here. I’m here. ]

You know what’s funny? I came home early because it was too loud at the library. Thought I’d get more done here.

[He huffs, which would sound more indignant if he weren't so sleepy; as it is he just comes off kind of sulky-cute.]

Only a little distracted.

[He goes still as Kakyoin makes his way up onto the couch, not precisely tensing so much as just waiting, carefully, for the movement to finish. He doesn't wind up jostled, which is nice, and the stimulation isn't too much to bear. With Kakyoin so close, maybe he can roll over and snuggle up against him...soon. Not yet, but it's nice to know he can, when he's ready.]

You could've told me to be quiet. I would've.

I didn’t want you to.

[ It’s not exactly comfort, holding his weight on the very edge of the couch and trying to find a balance, a literal balance’ that allows him to avoid touching Jotaro too much and also avoid falling on the floor. But it’s nice. Nice to be lying next to him. Nice to be close.

He slides his hand down Jotaro’s face, over his neck, lifting his fingers over the collar to avoid touching it before placing them back down again over that birthmark to start stroking his shoulder. ]

It’s worth falling a little behind. To see you like this.

[That is nice. Nicer than he'd thought it would be, to feel Kakyoin's fingers petting him again. That had been maddening when he'd been in the machine, and in the best possible way. Feeling it again is a pleasant echo, and he shivers a little with contentment.]

You can see me like this anytime. I like it. Sometimes...

[He trails off, thinking, and at length closes his eyes and rubs his cheek against the cushion beneath it.]

Sometimes I need it. You know?

Yeah. [ He says, like he understands, when all he really understands is the he and Jotaro are very different people sometimes, and that being forced into a position of not having thoughts to occupy him is as vital for Jotaro as it is horrifying to him. ]

I can’t- [ His fingers don’t deliberately graze against the collar as he says that, but he’s threading his fingers back up into the hairs at the back of Jotaro’s neck and he misjudges the distance by a fraction of a millimetre. He doesn’t look disgusted. Doesn’t recoil. Just tries not to touch it again. ]

-not like Adrian does, anyway. But I can try sometime, if you like.

Nori.

[It's a thick collar. Thick enough that he almost doesn't feel that Kakyoin has even touched it at all, except that for a second there's a hitch in the sensation of fingers in his hair, and he realizes only belatedly why that might be.

It doesn't sit right with him, either — I can't, but I can try. It's not that he thinks it would be bad. It's just that probably, somehow, it wouldn't be right.]

Tell me about what you liked. The...parts. The good parts, that you liked.

[ He has no right to be the one flushing with embarrassment, right now, clean and dry and fully clothed and only slightly incredibly aroused. Even that’s starting to fade by now, in favour of the kind of fondness that doesn’t make demands the way arousal does but that still does very much think it a good idea to let his hands wander more than they maybe should.

And yet he is. He does. Flushes and has to force himself to hold Jotaro’s gaze ]

I liked- I liked that you were making noises. And that I got to decide if you kept making them. And that I could listen and watch you- really listen and watch, without sharing that attention with anything else.

And I liked- um.

[ There’s something more, but fuck if he can figure out how to say jt. ]

I liked that you were watching me. So. We both liked that.

[He sighs audibly without really meaning to, wholly unthinkingly, and it doesn't occur to him until afterward that that's precisely one of the things that Kakyoin just mentioned — fingers gliding over his skin, exploring, tugging noises out of him, and all because of Kakyoin's decisions...

More of that, he decides eventually, and makes himself move just a little, to eliminate some of the careful distance Kakyoin has been maintaining between them, to make it so that accidents and mishaps in brushing up against each other are all but inevitable now.]

And. You started having fun, didn't you? After awhile. It was fun.

I don't want to hurt you.

[ Well. He blurts it out and it's true but it's a damning phrase in this context. So now he has to explain himself. Has to say more words as Jotaro draws closer and the fabric of his clothes brushes against his skin. ]

I just- maybe I liked that I could, even if I don't want to. That I could have turned it off and just left you stuck there. Or turned it on and never turned it back down again. Or just kept going and never let you finish until it started to fuck you up. I didn't want to, not that much. But I could have. I liked that I could have.

Does it scare you?

[It's still hard to want to move. It still feels like the most wonderful thing in the world would be to just hold still and not move an inch for a year. But he's close enough that he can tilt his head a little and his lips will find a small patch of Kakyoin's chin, near the corner of his mouth. He can reach a little and kiss him without trying too hard, and he does.]

You...when you say it like that. I think...

[And he does. He thinks. He thinks and thinks, and thinks he might know where this ends up.]

You don't like...the part that I like. I think you like the other half. The part that goes with the part I like. The part...that my part needs, to work. I think they go together.

A little. Not that I could. But that I liked that I could. And I didn't want to. But I wanted to know what would happen, if I did. If you'd stop me. If Star would, or Adrian. Maybe even if Hierophant would. And it's- funny, I suppose. That I can't manage the collar, but I can manage wanting to know what would happen if I hurt you.

[ He pauses. He shouldn't need Jotaro to talk to him about how fucked up he is right now. Except that Jotaro asked, and so he must want to know. Except that he probably wants to know that it was hot to see him get fucked a whole lot, not that it was hot to wonder who would stop him if he took it too far.

He kisses back, angling himself forward so Jotaro doesn't need to stretch to reach him. It means more accidental contact. More of the cold metal buttons of his jacket against Jotaro's fever-hot skin, of the slightly scratchy woolen fabric of it. But it means Jotaro doesn't have to move, and that's important too. ]

I don't want to hurt you. I swear I don't. That was why I had Hierophant inside you, so I'd know. But I still wanted to know. If I used Hierophant to measure how much it would take and just- left you not quite there the whole time, while I worked until you couldn't take it anymore. If I set it as high as it could go and left it there until someone made me stop. If I- fuck, just about anything. If anyone would stop me. If you'd get mad or if you'd ask me to stop or if you'd ask Star or Adrian to stop me for you. What it'd look like. I'm-

[ He doesn't know how to end that. 'Kind of messed up'? 'A fucking psychopath'? 'Okay with doing just about anything to you as long as it doesn't involve the trappings of you being something different from me'? ]

-so sorry. I love you. I swear I don't want to hurt you.

I really don't think you want to hurt anybody.

[It feels strange, tactile sensation against his skin that isn't Kakyoin's fingers. It's a lot of new things that all stand out just a little too sharp, metal and fabric, smooth and rough. It makes him squirm a little, still not ready for more than the occasional touch of it, but he's getting there slowly. That's progress.]

Just like I don't really want to be a dog. Just like Adrian didn't really abandon me in that thing, even though he wasn't right there watching. I think...

[He closes his eyes. Hums a little. Thinks about the words Kakyoin is saying between the words that come out of his mouth. Thinks about translating them, like he's so good at interpreting Jotaro's fumbling explanations himself, sometimes.]

I think maybe you get off on being trusted. That's why you think about what you could do with it. How far you could take it. 'Cause you're just...getting high, kind of, on realizing you have it to begin with.

[He licks his lips, remembering how dry they'd gotten, and how red.]

You would stopped if I'd asked you to. Right? But you loved that I didn't. You liked that it made me yours.

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