I didn't expect you to be such a tease. Trying to play the part of a mysterious casanova, are you? You're not good at it.
[Every word out of the man's mouth is a mystery waiting to be unwrapped-trick or not. Ploy or not. He can't be sure, but they've reach a point where JoJo would have long since stopped this nonsense if his goal was to-
Get whatever it is he wanted out of this interaction. Avoid going back to his room, maybe, for reasons Caesar can't possibly comprehend. Not that he has time to ponder more about the intricate thought processes that belongs to Joseph Joestar alone-not when there's a soft pressure against his lips, a reminder that the man is not weak-he's confident. He knows what he's doing. He's no innocent flower, no clueless mark around the fountain.
And he knows what those words will do to him-understands that the only regret he'll have is a future that can't be changed and-
Caesar owes him this. Owes him the sort of bizarre comfort that comes from laying with another person, even if it's only a one night stand. It's confirmed again and again and again when he feels the tug against his head. He gets it.
He understands and this night will be the end of it. There won't be any regrets from either party and-
Dwelling on that particular thought-on the fact he isn't upset there's a man under his body-that this man is spread out between his thighs-
He can't think about it. Doesn't. Presses his lips-soft and quick against his neck, ghosts over his collarbone, presses his fingers under his shirt and over his chest.
JoJo's more toned than he gave him credit for-that lazy nature of his just a ruse to avoid work when it doesn't suit him.
Well, Caesar plans to make him work now. He's picking up on kissing fast enough-unexpected and expected all the same and-
A hand falls from his chest and moves to the small of his back, pushing upwards to guide his hips upwards until they're pressed together and Caesar can easily grind against his body-a slow, steady rhythmic slide against his body.]
no subject
[Every word out of the man's mouth is a mystery waiting to be unwrapped-trick or not. Ploy or not. He can't be sure, but they've reach a point where JoJo would have long since stopped this nonsense if his goal was to-
Get whatever it is he wanted out of this interaction. Avoid going back to his room, maybe, for reasons Caesar can't possibly comprehend. Not that he has time to ponder more about the intricate thought processes that belongs to Joseph Joestar alone-not when there's a soft pressure against his lips, a reminder that the man is not weak-he's confident. He knows what he's doing. He's no innocent flower, no clueless mark around the fountain.
And he knows what those words will do to him-understands that the only regret he'll have is a future that can't be changed and-
Caesar owes him this. Owes him the sort of bizarre comfort that comes from laying with another person, even if it's only a one night stand. It's confirmed again and again and again when he feels the tug against his head. He gets it.
He understands and this night will be the end of it. There won't be any regrets from either party and-
Dwelling on that particular thought-on the fact he isn't upset there's a man under his body-that this man is spread out between his thighs-
He can't think about it. Doesn't. Presses his lips-soft and quick against his neck, ghosts over his collarbone, presses his fingers under his shirt and over his chest.
JoJo's more toned than he gave him credit for-that lazy nature of his just a ruse to avoid work when it doesn't suit him.
Well, Caesar plans to make him work now. He's picking up on kissing fast enough-unexpected and expected all the same and-
A hand falls from his chest and moves to the small of his back, pushing upwards to guide his hips upwards until they're pressed together and Caesar can easily grind against his body-a slow, steady rhythmic slide against his body.]