starmark | IC Inbox | prismatica

[Kakyoin touches him like he's exquisite. Priceless. And the nice thing about being wrapped up like this is that on some level, he's already in the mindset of being put on display, so self-consciousness never really becomes a factor despite still being as bare as the day he was born. As each of Kakyoin's touches fades, Jotaro finds he seems to feel them all the more acutely, the echoes of contact lingering well afterward, like a pleasant memory to hold on to and enjoy.]

You're perfect.

[It's funny. He's the one tied up, but it's Kakyoin who needs the reassurance of praise right now, moreso than he does himself.

When the contact finally fully breaks, he does feel it like a pang in his chest. But he's not alone and he's not abandoned; Hierophant is exerting just the right amount of pressure around him, never so tight that he's pinned or abraded, but secure enough that if he needs the reassurance of feeling him, all he has to do is writhe and the comfortable resistance will be there.

And it's nice. Nice to just relax and feel good. Nice to think about Kakyoin coming back, and anticipate what will unfold when he gets there. There's nothing wrong with a little anticipation, so long as he's secure in the absence. It's fine to take a little breather and just linger in silence while he waits, knowing Hierophant is right there.

But he does open his eyes halfway to watch when Kakyoin comes back and starts undressing, and he rouses from his pleasant stupor long enough to lick his lips and pucker them into a wolf whistle once Kakyoin has rid himself of his clothes. And then, blessedly, deliciously, fingers glide over his skin again and run to the inside of his thigh, and when he shivers there's no mistaking that it's from pleasure and pleasure alone.]

Hi. Wasn't enough just to look at me, huh...

[That's not a yes, so he makes sure to nod a little once he's done, faintly encouraging.]

[ He splutters with indignation when Jotaro wolf whistles, and Hierophant swats him lightly. Rude.

Rude but easily forgiven. So easily forgiven when Jotaro looks like this, all the hard edges gone, just soft and loving and loved and aware of how loved he is. Hierophant tightens around Jotaro's legs, making his thighgs tighten around his hand, and he slides it up and down between them. Lets the sweat and the leftover of whatever Adrian used to prepare him for the machine deal with the worst of the friction, so his hand can glide over the skin without being too much. It was an offhand consideration, before. Something he'd seen in some magazine or another. The muscle of Jotaro's legs is harder than the girl's thighs in the magazine had looked. That makes him apprehensive.

But the way Jotaro shivers when he touches him is mesmerising. He's not sure. At the very least he should keep doing this, the touching part. ]

Did you want me to just look?

[ He doesn't bring his hand up as high as he could, still being careful, but he does squeeze Jotaro's thigh as he asks that. ]

I can just look, if you want me to.

[He laughs, delighted with Kakyoin's indignation; it turns into a gasp when Hierophant exacts his punishment for the transgression, and he can't help but rub his cheek against the blanket beneath him, so content with his circumstances even if Kakyoin's hands aren't actively on him at the moment.

And then, suddenly, they are. It's between his legs, rubbing, and the smooth slide is so suggestive of what he's thinking that Jotaro winds up biting his lip, already preoccupied with thinking about it. What a thought it is, generous in the consideration it has for how sore he is already, and just a little bit kinky in the necessities of the execution.

He swallows.]

No. Don't just look.

[Hierophant's already doing most of the work for him, but he tenses his thighs a little, adding a little squeeze to Kakyoin's hand where it's fitted snugly between them.]

Do that thing. Where you — you talk about me. You think out loud what you want to do. It turns you on, right? To talk about it?

You don't have to make it sound like I'm into the sound of my own voice.

[ He grumbles, but it sounds warm. Everything sounds warm. Jotaro isn't the only one whose sharp edges have become lost for the moment. He's still a little nervous about the- everything. But he wants this. He wants this and if he makes a mistake, someone will stop him before it gets out of hand.

Cautiously, he brings his hand upward. A little softer, there. Not tremendously so, but less uncomfortably solid muscle. It might work. It seems worth- very worth, trying. ]

I want to- It'll be easier, right? If you don't have to- do. Anything. [ He swallows. It's always difficult, at first, to do this. Jotaro's right. He'll life it eventually. But it takes some working up to. It's always going to take some work. A deep breath, then attempt two. ]

You don't have to do anything. You've already done so much. You can just- you can just be here, and let me use you. [ His face scrunches up at that phrasing. He doesn't like it. He should think of something different, next time. But he tried it, and that's what matters. ] For a little while. I'll- I'll get off. Because of you. But you won't need to do a thing. Just be here.

I'm into the sound of your voice. You're into being a bastard.

[He's so good at making bastard sound like a pet name. An endearment. People have said darling with less affection than Jotaro Kujo purrs the word bastard in that moment.

But he understands Kakyoin's distaste with the phrase use you; even the way he says it betrays his disapproval, and Jotaro can tell. Kakyoin doesn't like him when he's different, and Jotaro likes it better when he's pleasing his partner. That kind of objectification, maybe, doesn't work well for either of them.]

Mm. Hey, try — try this.

[They have time. They have all the time in the world, to try whatever they need to, until they get it right.]

It'd be different if I were asleep, right? It'd be more...like a game. Trying to get away with it. Without waking me up, right? Not using me. Just...trying not to wake me up.

[ It sounded better in the magazine. When the person saying it wasn't him. When the person listening wasn't Jotaro. And he knows what he's aiming for. He's aiming for reassurance. A statement that Jotaro can't fail. That the reason he can't fail isn't irrelevance but the opposite. That no matter what happens, he's going to feel good and Jotaro is going to be the reason for it

Jotaro's version doesn't capture it all perfectly, either, but it's a better attempt ]

Yeah. That's better. You don't have to do anything, if you don't want. You can be asleep.

[ He withdraws his hand and shuffles onto his side. The positioning combined with their heights means that once he's in around the right place he's about eye to eye with Jotaro's nipples. But he's capable of looking up. Jotaro's capable of looking down. It's fine.

Slowly, cautiously, he pushes his hips forward. Starts to push against - against rather than into, just for the moment, just to be safe - the space between Jotaro's thighs. ]

A-and. [ Oh. Okay, yes, that's. Even that is something. A little more something than he was expecting, perhaps. He rests his forehead against Jotaro's chest for a second before looking up again. He wants to keep talking. Jotaro said he wants him to talk, so he wants to keep talking, even if every word makes him feel uselessly self-concious. It's okay. If he gets the words wrong, Jotaro will try to give him better ones. ] If you're awake, you can be here with me. But if you're asleep then- you can wake up later. And you'll know that- that you made me feel good. It was still you who did it.

...Yeah. I can't tell you I like it if I'm asleep...

[And oh, fuck, it's not perfect by any means but it still feels good, Kakyoin curled close and his body hot and the slick rhythm between his legs tantalizing without being overwhelming. That part, they've gotten right. That part is good.

They're workshopping the rest, but that's okay, too. They'll get there. They will.]

Did it...

[He sucks in a breath. Closes his eyes. Focuses on Kakyoin's rhythm, less perfect than the machine's, and so much better for it because it's human.]

Did it make you jealous? When you were watching me. Did you wish it was you...and not the machine...? I wished it was you —

A little. But-

[ Hierophant tightens in some places. Loosens in others. Moderates the pressure. He could tell Jotaro to press his thighs together, but even if he hasn't quite managed to find the right words for it yet there's something intoxicating to doing it for him. Arranging him nicely. Perfectly.

He sighs out a long breath as he pushes his hips forward. The next breath comes in shallow and leaves shorter and louder, about as close to a moan as a closed mouth can manage. ]

-fuck. [ Keep talking. He should keep talking. ] But it was- if it was me, I wouldn't have been able to see you in- in the same way. It'd be harder to commit it to- to remember how you look when you're like that, every detail of you. I wouldn't know.

[ He can't reach to kiss Jotaro's mouth. He kisses his chest instead. ]

I'll know now. When it is me. I'll know what it looks like from every angle.

[Kakyoin isn't the same height as him. He knows that, rationally. It's a fact, he's always known it. But he's never really thought about it, or its implications, until he's been trussed up and held still while Kakyoin moves against his body, kissing at his chest, and he's wanted so bad to tilt his face forward and kiss him and realized that he can't.

Adrian is the same height as him; he's been spoiled, he's gotten used to it. Kakyoin is shorter, and somehow he's never really considered how erotic a thing it could be, to be prevented from stealing kisses just by virtue of a difference in physical stature. It's denial in a completely unintended way, one that comes with lips on his pecs and shuddering breath in his throat, and it leaves him biting his lips because it's the only pressure on them he's going to be able to get until Kakyoin is done.

How strange that it's an experience not altogether different from being in the machine. At the mercy of someone else. Not his decision. What he gets, doesn't get, feels, doesn't feel — it's all Kakyoin's, and not his own. That much is still the same, and he moans as suddenly, suddenly, something clicks.]

Me. Me, talk about me. Not just — not just what you could say to anyone. It was good because — because it was you and me.

Okay. [ And then again, more firmly. ] Okay, yeah. I-

[ Slowly, he starts to move. Very slowly, because he needs to think. Just for a few more seconds. Just until he gathers momentum. ]

I wasn’t jealous. Not really. Because you welcomed me home. Because you had a cock inside you driving you crazy, and you still welcomed me home. And- fuck- how important must I be, for that? I bet you couldn’t even remember your own name, the way you sounded when you said it, but you knew who I was. I wouldn’t give that up to trade places with the machine. I wouldn’t give it up for anything.

[ He pulls his lips over Jotaro’s chest. Searches to mace sure that he isn’t going to catch a nipple before lightly dragging his teeth over the flesh of it. ]

You think I’m ever going to forget it? The way it sounds when you’re being fucked out of your mind but you still look at me and welcome me home like I’m the only thing that matters. You think I’m not going to be hearing it in my head every time I open the door, that I won’t have to drop everything and deal with it before I can focus on anything at all?

[Oh, fuck. This is it, isn't it? This is what was missing. This is what all the canned generic objectively sexy dirty talk couldn't even come close to replicating: the part that it's him. It's him that turns Kakyoin on. It's Kakyoin that he wants doing this to him. Who gives a damn about all the filth in the world when the most offhand word from Kakyoin has the power to get him going in an instant?]

L-Like that — oh, fuck, fuck...

[He squeezes his eyes shut, breathing hard, wishing for a kiss that he knows he won't get and letting his body heat up with arousal beneath Kakyoin's attentions. If it were more than this, if it were more physical, maybe he wouldn't be able to take it. But Kakyoin's voice plays purely to his mind, and right now that's arousal he can bear, losing himself easily in the lilt of his voice.]

I knew you. I was good for you, wasn't I? Good because you wanted me to. Just like you wanted...

Everything I wanted.

[ He's in unfamiliar territory, now, having broken away from the language of the magazine he took this whole situation from. Having to use his own words, instead of ones he's memorised and taken from someone else. He feels clumsy. Graceless. Vulnerable in a way that he still struggles to be. Even now. Even with Jotaro. And from the inside it feels ugly. A little pathetic. But-

-but the difference in Jotaro is instantaneous. Dramatic. Like the ugly, pathetic thing somehow feels a thousand times better for him than the perfect, polished thing ever could. And he doesn't understand it. Maybe he'll never understand it. But he can feel it. He can feel it in an incredibly literal sense, as Jotaro's thighs tense and twitch in ways that they hadn't before and it knocks most of the air out of his lungs. ]

Fuck-

[ Jotaro's arms don't really need to be bound anymore, do they? He doesn't need something that he can pull against to remember that he hasn't been left alone. Maybe it would even be nice, if he could touch him. Mostly, though, freeing up a little of Hierophant would help to resolve the kissing problem.

Help, not resolve entirely, because Hierophant's face is smooth, cold, hard bone-plastic-chitin where it ought to be lips. But he can unloop himself from Jotaro's arms and form enough of himself to push his mask into Jotaro's face. ]

I could use him, you know. [ He says when he thinks he can manage words again. Fucking Jotaro's closed thighs with any kind of intensity would be- not too much, but defying the point. It feels so much better to just roll his hips slowly, let each little aroused movement of Jotaro's legs compound like rising water and slowly, inevitably, drag him under. ] I'm not jealous, but maybe he is. I could- I could use him like the machine. To hold you and fuck you and keep you just on the edge. He could be inside you, reading over every last nerve signal so he knows to the millisecond how long he can go before he needs to slow down.

You could welcome Adrian home, like that.

[It doesn't even matter that it's only a mask that comes in front of his mouth. It could be anything, really; what matters is that it's there, it's not just empty space, and he leans into it with almost desperate gratitude, parting his lips and moving them over Hierophant's mask like a lover lost in a particularly messy round of kisses. He laves his tongue against the bone and it doesn't matter; his lips come together and part again and it's fine if he doesn't have lips to kiss back. All that matters is that he's able to do something, he can show how much he wants this, there's an outlet for the passion and relief and pleasure and he can pour it all back out again as much as he wants.

And fuck, it's not stopping anytime soon. Not with Kakyoin's tight, pondering voice putting suggestions into his head, images of Hierophant working him over even more thoroughly than the machine because Hierophant can multitask, can be in twenty places at once and track down to the slightest sensation whether it's too much or not. This is what Hierophant was made for, albeit in a sensual sense never contemplated before now. To control, to manipulate, to direct.

Adrian could come home and see him like that. Adrian and Kakyoin, leaving him for each other like a gift — what a breath-stealing thought.]

Would he like it?

[What priorities he has. But there's some ambiguity there, still, and he realizes only belatedly that he needs to clarify it.]

Hierophant. Would Hierophant like it?

As long as he felt safe.

[ He's not sure if it's strange or not, that it always comes down to that. To feeling safe. For all of them, in different ways. ]

It would have to be here. Somewhere he knows. Somewhere where he's already spent a lot of time out in the open and nothing- nothing bad's happened. He might- might need Star around, I won't know without trying.

[ The topic of whether he would also want to tie Star up requires further consideration. Maybe he'd have reached an answer, if his movements hadn't lined up with Jotaro's in such a way as to completely clear any trace of thought from his head for a few seconds. A long moan escapes him, the sort that pulls out so much air that he needs to reconstitute himself with small, gasping breaths for a moment. the shape his too-wide mouth makes when he bites his lip gives the noises of it all an almost-musical whistling quality. It takes him a moment, both to start moving again and to start talking.

Carefully, even more carefully than Kakyoin did, Hierophant takes Jotaro's face in his hands. Like he's trying to hold the head of a dandelion without losing a single seed. He says nothing, because he doesn't like to, but the low mechanical humming he emits has the same constant, calm quality as a cat's purr. ]

He'd like it. He likes you. And he likes touching you. And he likes measuring things and detail work and- that's all it is. Loving you and touching you and measuring and altering the details.

Hi, Hierophant.

[I love this, he wants to say. All of it, yes, but this in particular. There's something profoundly intoxicating about the juxtaposition of all the filthy things happening to his body and the unparalleled tenderness of hands cupping his face. He wants to say I'd do anything for you, but it's not as though Kakyoin and Hierophant both don't already know that. He wants to say I can do it because you know I can, but he can't seem to string those words together.]

You like it inside me, don't you. Feels like home? Haah — so, so, okaeri, Hierophant. You can come home whenever you want.

[ He stops. He has to stop. He can't process that. Not while half of him is still rubbing slowly against Jotaro, building himself up to something that he wants, now, desperately, but-

-but not half as much as he's wanted to hear someone say that.

He curls his legs around Jotaro's. His arms around his waist. Buries his face somewhere in his abdomen. Above him, Hierophant's face doesn't shift being the patterns within his skin flicker like a cuttlefish trying to use its skin as a means of expression.

The words alone would be- would be enough. To bring his mind to a complete stop. Hierophant has a place where he's welcome. Where he's wanted. Where he's supposed to be. But more than that, it's the nature of the call and response. It's something you say to someone when you're seeing them for the hundredth time. The thousandth. When they're a constant. When they've always been there.

To Jotaro, Hierophant has always been there. And here he is, expressing it in the subtlest, most natural way. Like it's just the way things are. Like it's not something he should have ever needed to even try to achieve. ]

What the fuck.

[ It's muffled. He's talking into Jotaro's midsection, but it's a little more choked even than that should cause. Hierophant just keeps staring, unblinking, shades of green flickering madly over his skin but his hands perfectly steady. The noise he makes against Jotaro's abdomen is either a laugh or a sob. ]

You can't make me cry if you want me to get off. What the fuck.

Come up here, I'll do it. I'll get you off.

[That's actually the source of the problem, though, isn't it, that Jotaro is doing things and causing sexy meaningful emotional problems on purpose. That even tied up and exhausted he's still not altogether without resources. That it's still elating just to have his face held in Hierophant's careful hands while glowing alien eyes bore tenderly into his, and to know that the fluctuations in his patterns are a language all their own even if it's one that he can't yet comprehend.

There's no mistaking the wet feeling that presses against his bare abdomen where Kakyoin's face is, though. Maybe it's sweat. Maybe it's saliva. Maybe it's tears. There's no telling, but it really doesn't matter, does it?]

Show him what it does to me, Hierophant. Show him how it makes me feel when he lets me get him off.

[ Hierophant reacts before he consciously tells him to, while he's still caught on everything else and can't quite get his head around the implication.

Hierophant has always been there.

Delicately, he pulls Jotaro's head toward himself. Like he's aiming to kiss him, except that he passes through. Passes into him. His tendrils unravel around Jotaro as he pulls them in behind him. As he comes home.

He follows the paths that Kakyoin drew for him before, splitting and splitting and splitting through the whole of Jotaro's body. Attaching himself to nerve endings. Settling between fibres of muscle. Occupying every room of his house at once, because he doesn't want to waste anything.

Outside, exhaustion hits Kakyoin like a train. Then the sensation of his own gross wet face against Jotaro's gross wet stomach. His own arms and legs around Jotaro's, but he can feel them from both sides. His own desperation to come combined with the sensation of having had his orgasm torn out of him not so long ago. The incredibly weird cyclical sensation of his dick sliding out from between Jotaro's thighs while the echo of something slides free from his own.

He shuffles upward. When he's eye-level with Jotaro, his face is redder than it should be. His eyes brighter. ]

It's not hot, when you say it to him. [ He manages, engaging in what he will later deny is sulking. ] It's just- nice.

I know. M'sorry.

[He's not really all that sorry, but it seems like the right thing to say when Kakyoin is sulking. Like he ruined it a little by being nice instead of sexy, not a catastrophic kind of ruin but the lighter, funnier kind, like when a leg goes the wrong way while cuddling or somebody accidentally elbows somebody in the face. Like he ruined it in a way that proves it's okay to ruin things because there's nothing wrong with them being imperfect. Like it doesn't have to be perfect so long as it's them.

But he wasn't just talking dirty when he'd asked Hierophant what he'd asked. It feels important to be able to show Kakyoin like this, with the two of them working together, what he feels when they do this. How he loves knowing he's made a lover happy. How even being tired can be pleasurable, and how even when he's exhausted he still has room for this.

The angle is all wrong, now, with Kakyoin at his eye level, to continue what he'd been doing before. The height difference is just too much, the positioning just isn't right. But like this he can see into Kakyoin's eyes, can dip his head forward to kiss him when he wants, and with his arms unbound from Hierophant he's free to reach down and curl his fingers around Kakyoin's aching length, offering up his palm in implicit apology for the loss of his thighs.]

But you can feel it now, yeah? How much I want you?

[ It's hard to find the places where one set of sensations ends and another begins. The sense of relief washing over him must be his own, he thinks at first. It would make sense. It hadn't seemed to important to get off until suddenly it was, until it was vitally important. Because Jotaro wants it, yes, but also because he's most of the way there now and to turn back would be so much more exhausting than to go just a little further.

But he knows what his own sense of relief feels like. It feels like picking up a stack of papers and tapping them on the desk so they're lined up properly. The sense of relief that washes over him feels like it genuinely is washing over him. Feels like the lightness of a body supported by water.

It's Jotaro. Jotaro is relieved to be touching his dick. That's a ridiculous thought to have to put together.

Belatedly, he realises that he broke contact with Jotaro when he shuffled upward. He wasn't supposed to do that. Belatedly, he starts to understand, on a physical level, how much Jotaro genuinely needs that contact. His hands are cold when he reaches out to touch Jotaro and then wrap his arms around his shoulders, because his hands are always cold, but he can feel the way that warmth ripples out from any point of contact between them. ]

Yeah.

[ His voice still sounds a little choked. A little put out, the way it always does after he's been angered and mollified in quick succession, like the sulking is useless now but it still has to work its way through him before it can be gone. But it's soft. Gasping, in a way that leaves him sounding like he's turned on by how annoyed he is. ]

He's not- he's not going to want to leave, you know. Because you said stupid shit to him. Because I love you.

This is so much better. This — it's so much better.

[And he's trying to focus on just how much better it is, as though that will somehow help to project it all the better through Hierophant and into Kakyoin himself. He tries to linger on how happy he is. Tries to let arousal rise freely and let it warm him. Tries to focus on moving his hand the little bit that he can, just to provide stimulation.

Maybe Hierophant is capable of showing Kakyoin just how much Jotaro needed to do this, to be a part of it. It's not that being an object is bad, exactly, in the moment; he likes to lose himself, too. But right now it's better to be grounded in the moment and beneath Kakyoin's hands, baring his throat in a completely different way.]

You could use him right now, if you wanted. Make me feel anything you wanted. Watch what it did to me from this close. Feel how I felt about it. Maybe he really is jealous that he didn't get to play with me. That's really what you like about it, isn't it? Getting to play. It's a game. It's fun.

[ It's not the first time Hierophant has been inside Jotaro, he knows on some level what to expect. It's not even the first time that they've tried using him like this, having him carry the information he picks up from Jotaro's nerves back home, letting him read electrical signals and translate them back into touch and pleasure. There are still things he's learning about it.

He doesn't like, for example, the sensation of having someone move their hand through his own hair the wrong way, like petting a cat backwards. But Jotaro does, and it's Jotaro's perception of the feeling that Hierophant dutifully passes back to him. So as he combs his fingers up from the back of Jotaro's neck into his hair, it's not the irritating sense of wrongness that he feels but the tingling of his scalp, the way that it makes him want to twist his neck back into the touch. And he's less cautious, when he can feel for himself if it's too much. When he can feel where the boundary is, he can move all the way up to it and know that he isn't going to cross it without choosing to. He can dig his fingertips and then short fingernails into Jotaro's scalp, measuring the pressure, measuring the sting of nails cutting into flesh, getting right to the border of too much and staying just at the correct side of it. All while Jotaro's hand moves just slightly, a single thing that he can't measure and predict and control.

Fuck. Fuck.

He wants to do this again. He wants to put Hierophant into Jotaro and touch him and measure for himself exactly what is correct and turn him into a solved game, until Jotaro inevitably finds some way to unsolve himself again. Fuck, he wants to put Hierophant inside him and just observe silently while Adrian works him over. So he can understand. So he knows how their games work and why they're good and how to follow the rules and how to break the word of them but adhere to the spirit and why it might be hot to do that and

And then Jotaro suggests that. ]

-you'd be- [ He swallows. ] -You'd be okay with that.

[ It's not a question, really. He knows the answer, it doesn't need to be. He can feel how every cell of Jotaro moves as he says it. ]

It wouldn't- it wouldn't be like he was- fuck, I don't know. Like he was jacking off your insides or something. [ Ew. Ew. He regrets that the second it comes out of his mouth. But he has to say it. He has to actually let Jotaro know what he's suggesting, to know for sure that it'd be okay. ] He'd be fucking with your nerve signals. Making them send the wrong information to your brain. It'd fuck with Star.

[ He last used it to torture Dio, after all. To make him incapable of using a stand.

...which does mean, at least, that they have solid proof that Star can stop it. ]

I know what it means. What I'd be...giving you.

[Because really that's what this all boils down to, isn't it? This is the thing he's learned over time and come to embrace, that's part of what makes it all so addicting. Everything that happens to him when they play like this is something that he could stop with a word. He's a greater-than-equal participant, because everyone else doesn't have unfettered freedom to do what they want, but he has absolute freedom to make it stop.

And maybe it's not even that he's into the idea itself, so much, as it is just...

Just, look at what it does to Kakyoin when he suggests it. Look at what he can do to him, just from the suggestion alone. Saying it doesn't mean that they have to do it, or that they have to like it when they do. But he would trust Kakyoin to try it. He would put him in his hands that much.

Kakyoin trusts him like that, he thinks. Trusts him with anything. He knows how that feels, so naturally he wants Kakyoin to feel it, too.]

I turn into a wolf sometimes. I turn into a dragon and sing to you and it makes you hot. Is it that different, really? It's just something else Hierophant can do.

[He runs his thumb in a slow circle, deliberately tempting, not actually trying to distract Kakyoin, but that might just be the end result.]

He isn't going to hurt me. Tell me honestly. Would he ever hurt me?

No.

[ He whispers it on the in breath. And fuck. Fuck. He’s close, like this, even with Jotaro’s movements so small and restrained. It’s not quite like being edged, more just that other things keep seeming important. It’s something different, something that’s difficult to describe in one set of sensations. Being so close, while also being wrapped in the weight of post-orgasmic euphoria. Jotaro’s hang on him but the sensation of himself on Jotaro’s hand. ]

Never. He never would.

[ His hips twitch, it’s not particularly controlled, the way he moves against Jotaro’s hand. It’s not quite enough. But it’s good. It’s so good. ]

Not totay. I’m- fuck- distracted. I’d need to figure it out. How to do it safely. Practice.

[ For a moment, he leaves Jotaro with that thought. Practice. Like he needed to before, to figure out sucking dick. Use himself as a test subject and see if he can use Hierophant to write pleasure into his brain. Maybe he should let Jotaro observe, for safety’s sake. Maybe he should prevent him from observing, force him to imagine it instead. ]

Star’ll be able to feel it, I think. Not second-hand. If it’s affecting your head, it’ll affect him.

Not today.

[It's an echo. It's agreement. It's affirmation. It's even obedience. He leans into Kakyoin and kisses him like he's trying to swallow the words, ready now to be done with talking until he's sufficiently pushed Kakyoin over the edge.

But done with talking isn't the same as done with thinking, and he's certainly back to thinking now. With all his other thoughts so pleasantly cleared from his mind by the machine, there's all the space in the world for new ones to fill it. Hierophant, writhing around inside of him. Kakyoin, practicing because he can't stand not being perfect at anything, even when it's bizarro kinky sex bullshit. Hierophant, sliding inside Kakyoin the way he so easily slips into Jotar—

Oh.]

I'll show you distracted.

[Enough fucking around, he thinks, with flush in his cheeks and his breath caught in his lungs. Enough. It's enough. Now he just wants to see the look on Kakyoin's face when he comes.]

(no subject)

hierophany - 2021-03-16 02:59 (UTC) - Expand