
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11492346.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      ジョジョの奇妙な冒険_|_JoJo_no_Kimyou_na_Bouken_|_JoJo's_Bizarre_Adventure
  Relationship:
      Kakyoin_Noriaki/Kujo_Jotaro
  Character:
      Kakyoin_Noriaki, Kujo_Jotaro
  Additional Tags:
      Established_Relationship, Inline_with_canon, Quiet_Sex, Semi-Public_Sex,
      No_Plot/Plotless, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Anal_Fingering, Anal
      Sex, Car_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-07-30 Words: 3265
****** Definite ******
by tastewithouttalent
Summary
     "Kakyoin lifts his head so he can rock back over the support of
     Jotaro’s lap, so he can tip his head and toss the fall of his hair
     back from his face. In the moonlight spilling through the windows of
     the jeep his hair looks like shadow, his skin looks like ivory."
     Kakyoin and Jotaro take the quiet hours of the night for their own
     use.
“Fuck,” Kakyoin groans, the sound of his voice coming hot against Jotaro’s ear
as his arm tightens against the other’s neck. “Jojo, god, right there.”
“Quiet,” Jotaro says, not for the first time in the last half hour. His heart
is racing as much on nerves as on anticipation; his fingers are bracing hard
against Kakyoin’s hip to hold the other steady over his lap. “Someone is going
to hear us.”
“They won’t,” Kakyoin says. Jotaro can feel the shift of the other’s lips
dragging against the curl of hair falling just over his ear. “Polnareff sleeps
like a rock and your grandfather snores loud enough he won’t hear anything but
himself.”
“Yeah,” Jotaro says, and slides slick fingers back so he can take another rough
stroke up and into Kakyoin over him. Kakyoin’s hand fists at his hair,
Kakyoin’s head drops forward to weight hard at Jotaro’s shoulder as he gasps an
inhale; Jotaro can feel the other’s thighs tense hard against his own. “What
about Avdol?”
“Avdol,” Kakyoin says into Jotaro’s jacket. His hand slides up into dark hair,
dragging up to curl against the back of the other’s head; his fingers brace
against Jotaro’s scalp, his grip tightens like he’s trying to hold the other in
place, as if Jotaro is going to go anywhere. When he laughs the sound of it
spills hot against the inside of Jotaro’s collar. “Avdol will pretend he didn’t
hear anything.”
Jotaro groans. “Kakyoin.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Kakyoin tells him, and lifts his head so he can rock back
over the support of Jotaro’s lap, so he can tip his head and toss the fall of
his hair back from his face. In the moonlight spilling through the windows of
the jeep his hair looks like shadow, his skin looks like ivory. “You’re not
going to stop now, are you?”
“Fuck,” Jotaro groans. “No.”
“That’s what I thought,” Kakyoin purrs, and slides his hand around from
Jotaro’s neck to press to the other’s cheek instead so he’s cradling Jotaro’s
face between his palms. His smile is hot enough that Jotaro can feel his cock
jerk in response even with his pants still fastened close over his hips. “Keep
going.”
Jotaro obeys. He was moving already, even without Kakyoin’s encouragement; it’s
hard to think of anything else, even of the dangers of the possible audience
they have several feet away by the dying fire, when he has his fingers sliding
into the heat of Kakyoin’s body to ease natural tension into pliant softness.
Kakyoin makes a soft noise over him as Jotaro’s fingers press up and into him,
his lips parting on a whimper of heat edging towards the shadow of a moan, and
Jotaro has to shut his eyes and duck his head just to remember how to breathe
as he strokes Kakyoin open around his fingers.
“Jojo,” Kakyoin gasps into Jotaro’s hair, one hand still tangling at the back
of the other’s head while his other drops down to press across Jotaro’s
shoulders like he’s urging the other in closer  against him. Jotaro’s fingers
drive up, Kakyoin’s body flexes; Jotaro can feel the jerk of reaction clench
tight around his paired fingers a moment before Kakyoin groans over an exhale.
“Fuck, like that.”
“Kakyoin,” Jotaro breathes, the sound of the other’s name on his lips enough to
carry the expression of all the tension in his chest at once. He presses his
thumb in against Kakyoin’s hip to hold the other still, and thrusts up hard
enough with his fingers that he can feel Kakyoin jolt up and against him with
the force, hard enough that he pushes another groan from Kakyoin’s throat
without consideration for the dangers of getting caught. It’s intoxicating all
by itself, the way Kakyoin is always intoxicating; Jotaro feels vaguely dizzy,
like he’s coming disconnected from the world, or maybe like the world itself is
slipping away and out of importance in comparison with the overwhelming reality
of Kakyoin over him.
They stay like that for another few minutes. Jotaro doesn’t know how long he
continues; he thinks sometimes he might be happy to stay like this for the
whole moonlit hours they can take for themselves, thinks it might be enough to
have his fingers sliding up into Kakyoin over him and hearing the other’s
breathing catch without anything more than just this. But eventually Kakyoin
shifts, with the greater self-awareness he always shows in these late-night
trysts, and when he says “Jojo” against Jotaro’s ear Jotaro can feel the whole
of his body flex tight on anticipatory heat even before Kakyoin has clarified
with “That’s enough.”
Jotaro doesn’t say anything in response. He feels like he’s lost the ability to
speak, like his grasp on language has spilled through his slick fingers
sometime during the last few minutes of working Kakyoin open; all he can do now
is react, is move in silent obedience to the implication of the other’s words.
His fingers draw back with easy grace, slipping free of Kakyoin’s body with no
resistance beyond the brief, reflexive tension Kakyoin offers as he gasps with
their removal; and then Jotaro’s hands are free, and he’s reaching out to
bracket Kakyoin’s hips between his palms, to settle himself into greater
comfort against the front seat of the jeep while Kakyoin rocks back over
Jotaro’s thighs and lets his hand slide down the front of the other’s shirt and
to the buckle of his belt. Jotaro looks down to watch, to track the elegant
flex of Kakyoin’s fingers drawing his belt open and working against the
fastenings of his pants; and then Kakyoin is sliding his touch in and under
Jotaro’s clothes, and Jotaro has to shut his eyes against the rush of heat that
hits him, against the flush of arousal that surges through the whole of his
body as Kakyoin’s fingertips catch and slide against the rigid heat of his
cock. Jotaro’s hips jerk reflexively, his body canting up to meet the friction
of Kakyoin’s fingers at him; and Kakyoin huffs an exhale, sounding low and
satisfied already, and slides his touch up to draw Jotaro free of the weight of
his clothes.
The breath Jotaro takes catches in his throat, sticking itself into something
close to a gasp, but Kakyoin doesn’t give him time to collect himself. He’s
sliding forward instead, rocking himself closer in spite of the awkwardly
cramped space to press flush to Jotaro’s chest, to brace his knees tight
against Jotaro’s hips before he rocks forward and starts to settle himself onto
the other’s lap. Jotaro grabs at Kakyoin’s hips with desperate force,
tightening his fingers to clutch hard enough that he’s sure he’ll leave
shadowed bruises to hide under the weight of the other’s clothes; but Kakyoin
doesn’t so much as hiss protest, just gasps an exhale as if his blood is coming
alight as he slides down towards Jotaro beneath him. There’s a weight against
Jotaro’s length, slick skin catching and pressing against the head of his cock
as their bodies come together; and then Kakyoin’s fingers curl against the base
of Jotaro’s cock to hold him steady against the fraction, and when Kakyoin
rocks down again Jotaro can feel the slick heat of the other’s body giving way
to him as fast as Kakyoin moves. Jotaro’s thumbs dig in against Kakyoin’s skin,
Kakyoin’s breath spills over Jotaro’s hair; and then Jotaro bucks up, and
Kakyoin sinks down, and they slide together in a single breathless rush of
heat.
“Fuck,” Jotaro groans, caught off-guard by the sudden sensation the way he
always is. For a moment he can’t think about the need for quiet, or the risk of
getting caught, or even the uncomfortable position they’re tangled into on the
car seat; everything else fades out of importance in the first surge of
friction, in the first rush of heat as Kakyoin tenses against the resistance of
Jotaro’s cock inside him. Jotaro’s legs flex, his body tries to rock up for
motion he can’t possibly get in their current position but can’t help trying
for anyway. “Kakyoin.”
“God,” Kakyoin gasps, and his voice is raw heat, it’s melting to liquid in his
throat and running down Jotaro’s spine with the force of electricity. He eases
his hold from Jotaro’s cock, untangling himself from the bracing action as it
becomes unnecessary; his hand comes out instead, his fingers curling to a fist
in the dark curls at the back of Jotaro’s neck. When he ducks forward his hair
falls against Jotaro’s face, the weight of it drags ticklish sensation across
the other’s skin. “Yes” and he’s moving, rocking up without any delay to let
himself adjust to the stretch of Jotaro inside him or to let Jotaro acclimate
to the wet slide of heat around him. He’s just moving immediately, lifting
himself up by inches to slide back down onto Jotaro’s lap, and all Jotaro can
do is clutch at Kakyoin’s hips and gasp for air enough to keep him conscious of
the present moment.
It’s an awkward position. Jotaro’s feet are braced hard against the floor of
the jeep, his knees and angled out against the gearshift and the inside of the
door; the handle is digging into his thigh, he’s pretty sure he’ll have a
bruise or a knotted muscle there come the morning. And the roof is too close,
with Kakyoin on top of him like this; Kakyoin has to duck his head forward to
keep from hitting it with each upward motion he takes, and his shoulders are
tipped in over Jotaro to curve his back into a position that can be hardly more
comfortable than Jotaro’s own strained situation. But Kakyoin is moving anyway,
with complete disregard for the way his knee is wedged between Jotaro’s hip and
the inside of the car frame or the necessity of bracing himself at Jotaro’s
shoulder just to get enough upward motion to rock up and over the other, and
Jotaro is surprised to find how rapidly the inconveniences disintegrate into
unimportance in his awareness. Some part of him realizes the foolishness of
this: how bad an idea it is, how cramped their position is, how much better it
would be to be back in one of the hotel rooms or even the tangle of Jotaro’s
own sheets, all the way in Japan far behind them. But right at this moment the
only thing he finds he can really care about is the pant of Kakyoin’s breathing
against the side of his jaw, and the pull of those fingers at his hair, and the
fluid grace of Kakyoin over him, moving over the strain of Jotaro’s cock with a
all-in focus that is enough to make Jotaro’s thoughts go dizzy with desire just
from the awareness of it. He’s not sure Kakyoin is even aware of the press of
Jotaro’s hands at his hips, isn’t certain the other is conscious of any details
of where they are; he suspects the only thing Kakyoin is thinking about is the
weight of Jotaro’s cock in him, and the gasp of air in his lungs, and the
rising tide of arousal Jotaro can hear straining in the other’s throat with
every inhale he takes.
“God,” Kakyoin is gasping, now, whimpering far in the back of his throat as he
moves faster, as he finds a rhythm for the rocking motion of his hips that
Jotaro can feel jolt heat through him with every forward movement Kakyoin
takes. “Fuck, Jojo, you.” His breathing gives way to a groan, his body tenses
over Jotaro’s; Jotaro can feel the strain of Kakyoin’s body flexing around him,
can feel the ripple of adrenaline tighten and clench against his length as
Kakyoin gasps for air. “Fuck.”
“Kakyoin,” Jotaro says, offering the only word his dizzy mind can find; and he
eases his hold at Kakyoin’s hip, loosening his grip with a painful effort of
will so he can bring his hand down to curl around the heat of the other’s cock
instead. Kakyoin makes a low sound against Jotaro’s shoulder, something soft
and heavy and so dark Jotaro can feel it knot weight far down in the depth of
his stomach, and Jotaro moves at once, without needing to take any time at all
to collect himself. It’s pure reflex, he thinks, some part of him hardwired to
respond instantly to that sound in Kakyoin’s throat, and as he strokes up he
can feel the whole of Kakyoin’s body tense atop him, from the fingers that curl
to fist at his hair to the shudder of the other’s breathing at his shoulder to
the strain of Kakyoin’s thighs pressing at his hips.
Jotaro gasps a lungful of air, trying to fill his chest with oxygen enough to
counteract the heat that seems to be sweeping out over the whole of his
existence, and he moves again, with rough force too hasty to wait to match to
the rhythm Kakyoin has already set for his movement atop Jotaro’s lap. Kakyoin
groans again, louder this time, loud enough that Jotaro can hear the strain of
heat in the back of the other’s throat, but Jotaro doesn’t so much as glance
out towards the dying embers of the campfire and the shadowy figures of their
sleeping companions. He doesn’t care about getting caught anymore, not with his
breathing sticking on adrenaline and his heart hammering in his chest like
this; everything else is fading out of importance, everything is going distant
and hazy in comparison with the immediate reality of Kakyoin panting into his
shoulder and shuddering with waves of rising pleasure with every stroke of
Jotaro’s hand up over him. Kakyoin’s hips are moving reflexively, his legs
tensing and easing to rock himself against the resistance of Jotaro’s cock
inside him; the effort of any kind of up-and-down movement is lost, given over
to the simpler grace of grinding himself onto Jotaro’s lap, and Jotaro can’t
find it in himself to mind, can barely notice the loss of any greater friction.
It’s enough even as it is, the minimal movement and growing pressure as Kakyoin
comes closer to the brink, as his breath sticks and his grip tightens and his
speech goes incoherent: “Jojo, god, Jojo don’t stop, yes, please, fuck” as his
voice climbs in pitch and fades out to breathlessness. Jotaro’s heart is
pounding, he can hear the sound of it thundering in his ears, but he doesn’t
stop, doesn’t slow, doesn’t so much as hesitate for a breath to ease the haze
from his vision. Kakyoin is pressed so close against him all Jotaro can see is
the catch of the other’s hair at the back of his collar, the fall of crimson
locks tangling against the weight of the fabric. The other’s clothes are
pulling down by an inch, baring a tiny span of pale skin just under the fall of
red hair; Jotaro can’t stop staring at it, can’t stop watching the flex of
tension in Kakyoin’s shoulder pull and shift under the skin. He thinks he’s
never seen anything so beautiful, never seen anything so devastatingly perfect;
and then Kakyoin gasps a breath, and rocks himself back from Jotaro’s shoulder
and over the other’s lap, and Jotaro hisses an inhale as he looks up to see
Kakyoin’s face flushed with heat and going slack with pleasure.
Kakyoin’s eyes are shut, his lashes shadowing arcs across his cheekbones, his
lips parted and soft with the gasp of his breathing; he lets Jotaro’s shoulder
go to reach up over him, to brace his palm flat against the roof of the car
overhead. Jotaro stares up at him, watching Kakyoin’s forehead crease on rising
tension, watching Kakyoin’s throat work over some sound that goes unvoiced for
the strain building in him; and then Jotaro’s hand slides up, and Kakyoin’s
head goes back, and his voice breaks off over a sharp, desperate note of heat
as his entire body seizes tight around Jotaro’s. His fingers pull at Jotaro’s
hair, his thighs tense at Jotaro’s hips; and then he shudders, every part of
him giving way at once, and Jotaro’s the one who groans as Kakyoin quakes into
orgasm atop him. He can see Kakyoin’s expression go utterly soft with the first
wave of pleasure, can watch the aftershocks of sensation flicker in the part of
the other’s lips and the flutter of his lashes, and inside Kakyoin Jotaro’s
cock twitches with heat as the strain building in him reaches the edge of
inevitability and slips over. Jotaro’s hand at Kakyoin’s hip tightens, his
fingers dig in hard against the other’s skin, and when he bucks up it’s pure
reflex, the action drawn up out of him by the ache in his balls and the thud of
his racing heart. Kakyoin groans, and shudders, and tips himself forward
against Jotaro’s shoulder again; and Jotaro turns his head, and gasps a breath
against Kakyoin’s neck, and comes in a long spill of heat he can feel run
through him from the tips of his fingers all the way down through the ache in
his thighs. Kakyoin’s hand slides up into his hair, his fingers spread wide to
cradle the back of Jotaro’s head, and Jotaro lets his eyes shut, and lets his
breath go, and lets the force of his orgasm wash through and over him to leave
him slack and spent under Kakyoin kneeling atop his lap.
Jotaro doesn’t know how long it takes for his breathing to slow, for his sense
of their surroundings to come back with any level of clarity. Eventually he
eases his sticky grip on Kakyoin’s cock and settles his fingers in against the
other’s hip instead; after another moment he loosens his clean hand from
Kakyoin’s skin so he can reach up to touch his fingertips to the back of the
other’s head and stroke down against the curve of Kakyoin’s neck, to the top of
his shoulders where his hair catches at his collar and the bones of his spine
press close against his skin. Kakyoin huffs a breath at the touch of Jotaro’s
fingers, a tiny laugh against the other’s shoulder as Jotaro’s touch trails
against his skin, and he turns his head in until his mouth is brushing against
Jotaro’s throat. Jotaro shuts his eyes, feeling his heartbeat skip faster at
the touch of Kakyoin’s lips; when he draws his hand up it’s to touch under
Kakyoin’s ear, to drag against the weight of the other’s earrings before
sliding up to trace against the curve of Kakyoin’s hairline while he tries to
find words to offer to the quiet of the night around them.
Kakyoin shifts against him, adjusting his weight without trying to pull away;
Jotaro presses his hand to the dip of the other’s back, bracing him steady
while he slides himself forward by an inch to ease some of the pressure on
Kakyoin’s knees. “You’ll have bruises.”
“Yes,” Kakyoin agrees, sounding utterly unconcerned by this prospect. “I’m sure
I will.” Jotaro turns his head in fractionally closer; he can feel Kakyoin
smile against his skin, can feel Kakyoin shift closer to press his nose against
Jotaro’s pulse. “It’s worth it.”
Jotaro slides his fingers up into the long curl of Kakyoin’s hair to catch the
weight of it at his fingertips and smooth it back from the other’s face,
tracing the arch of Kakyoin’s cheekbone under his thumb as he goes. “Yeah.”
Even miles away from home, Jotaro can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be.
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