You will come back for me [Jojo's Bizarre Adventure - Dio Brando, Jonathan Joestar, 2/?]
Title: You will come back for me [2/?]
Fandom: Jojo's Bizarre Adventure
Characters: Dio Brando, Jonathan Joestar
Rating: NSFW
Chapter Wordcount: 5034
Total Wordcount: 9629
Warnings: slash, prostitution!AU
Notes:
1. after almost a month, I'm back with this
2. there's going to be one more chapter that will likely be the death of my inspiration
3. moral thanks to Mike and Phenrir since their live helped me stay up to finish this
Enjoy!
He had never felt at ease with lies - perhaps it was his education, perhaps it was his personality, but Jonathan couldn’t bear long with the idea of deceiving people, if he ever did. There was a voice in his head constantly nagging about how it was wrong, how he should be honest with everyone, and he wanted so deeply to be, but he had damned himself to a life of pretense since he first took that carriage, got himself involved with the turbid world of sodomy. Yet, against his own judgement, he kept piling falsehoods about his whereabouts, telling tales of researches for some papers in London for his degree. His father undoubtedly believed him, but he nonetheless noticed the way his manners at tables got calmer, and how he would sometimes startle almost at random.
«You can tell me» George once asked during dinner «is there something wrong?». Jonathan almost choked on the piece of steak he was munching and babbled, after hitting his chest with his fist «What do you mean?!».
His father laughed softly, composed as the gentleman he was and Jonathan still strived to be, and continued «Jojo, you can tell me if there is a girl on your mind».
«It’s not like that!» Jonathan defended himself. He had thought many times about the luck of being the son of an enlightened man like George Joestar, who had let him pursue his dreams and not bind him in an arranged marriage, instead leaving him to find the woman he would truly love. Marriage was something that Jonathan considered important, how couldn’t he? But in that very moment, the one in his mind wasn’t one he could, or would, marry for too many reasons that tormented his soul.
«If you don’t want to tell me, it’s fine, you’re an adult» George said «as long as it’s something a gentleman would do, I wouldn’t like to hear you’re the lover of a married woman, that’d be disgraceful».
Jonathan’s stomach threatened to close and not let any more food enter, but he did his best to smile and shrug away that consideration, until he could hide in his room and stare at the ceiling, ignoring the shame building as every night in his groin. All of what he feared the most was becoming a truth too tangible, feelings too real to be denied anymore, as tears got trapped in his eyelashes and blurred his sight, warm sperm stained his fingers and his voice still murmured under his breath Dio’s name. It was too easy to imagine his golden eyes preying on his body, to be thrilled by the image of his tongue licking his lips that have hungered on Jonathan’s erection until he couldn’t keep himself, to desire his hands feasting on his warmed skin, his flesh inside him.
That was what Jonathan’s life had become, hiding his steps to the brothel every week, masquerading behind homeworks he hadn’t got, solely for a thrill that had become an addiction, not that different from the needles Dio pierced his veins with. He didn’t know how to stop, he wished he could keep himself from going back to that place, but there was something predatory in Dio’s ways, like a gradual but harsh seduction, that lead Jonathan back in that trap over and over again. «You’re still as sensitive as a virgin, Jojo» Dio would mock him and squeeze his buttocks, digging his sharp nails and making Jonathan yelp in surprise with his rough ways, something he could never fully get used to. It didn’t help that Dio had next to no shame, especially when Jonathan lay on his back and let him ravage his arsehole with his tongue and moaning with the grossest indecency on the pillow. Jonathan was so ashamed to become so aroused and sensitive under the other’s expert touch, to become so submissive in his hands, knowing how much he would regret everything the morning after, he thought it was the same feeling of a wild night of alcohol and waking up with the aftertaste of any concoction that had poisoned himself with and a terrible migraine, even if he hadn’t experienced such a thing yet, but the aftertaste he would have in his mouth was the one of foul kisses, the taste of his own sweat, of Dio’s sweat, of the drops of his own semen trapped in Dio’s mouth, but the ecstasy he felt in his body as he pounded inside him and filled him, almost treating him as a female hooker, was unlike anything he could ever feel, fearing even that he could never feel that wonder again from the day he would eventually leave Dio to his destiny and follow the righteous path of an Englishman.
He feared the lack of sensations that Dio shocked him with, that was the plain truth. Jonathan feared the loss of a prostitute who made him his bitch, as the blonde would sometimes joke before making his stomach melt in pleasure for yet another night. He’d even pour his vulnerable heart in his hands, spill some of his secrets and fears for reasons that he couldn’t grasp, and hope that Dio would do the same with him, know that he could rely on him - why did he want to have such a relationship with someone as different and distant from him as Dio was, he shouldn’t have known him to begin with.
It was one of those nights, in which Jonathan couldn’t no more ignore his basic impulses, couldn’t feel satisfied with just his hand and his turbulent fantasies. The whole voyage from his house to the usual square where the carriage left him after taking him from the train station was filled with afterthoughts staring at the cold rain; it could have been easy to turn his heels and do something more productive with his friends, discussing university issues over a pint before lying about one’s sexual adventures, laughing and living the free life of a student before joining society as a full person, yet he was shielding himself from the rain and the stink, alone in the streets of the slums of London, hoping no one would ever notice him.
His steps had become mechanical, he didn’t have to check where to turn anymore, which wasn’t something he was proud of. He clinched on his coat and protected himself with the umbrella, eyes low on the slippery streets, bumping in strangers just as closed in their own world of troubles as he was.
He stood a mere block from the familiar door hiding the debauchery he indulged in, and he hadn’t got the guts to walk, knock on the door, ask for Dio to be free for a quarter of hour, all for him for fifteen minutes of what felt like Heaven - the thought made the pool of warm rise again in the lowest and softest part of his stomach. How could he go on with his life if he had such animalistic instincts to fulfill? If he really had to dissipate his money on sex, shouldn’t he be instead burying his head in a woman’s bosom, lose himself in her heat? Wouldn’t that be much better, wouldn’t have it been better if he had never overheard the maids and pursue his may it be damned curiosity?
«You look like a frightened chick» a too familiar voice startled him. Dio’s face was partially hidden behind a dark coat and scarf, which only enhanced the aura of mystery that had enchanted Jonathan, but at the same time was a subtle reminder that he still was human and suffered the cold and the rain - but clearly was more used to harsh weather, as he let the rain ruin his hair and didn’t shiver as much as Jonathan, who had the protection of the umbrella and probably heavier clothes, or at least better. Jonathan’s eyes averted the blonde’s gaze and replied with a low «I don’t like the rain».
«Yet you came all the way for me?» he snickered, adjusting his coat to show more of his face, his jawline playing hide-and-seek with the scarf «Too bad you came late, I’m already off».
«Oh, I see» was all that Jonathan could answer, knowing he was making a fool of himself; he was acting like a young maiden in front of her first crush, although he surely was more composed, but no less of a fool regardless. Clenching on the wooden stick protecting him with hands that he couldn’t almost feel anymore, he gulped and he cursed himself when the brain didn’t stop his mouth from asking «Would you be more at ease, if I lent you my umbrella?».
«Are you afraid I’d get a cold?».
«Well, you shouldn’t walk under such a heavy rain».
«This? Heavy rain?» Dio mocked him «You’re the frailest big guy I’ve ever met, you’re rather pathetic».
Jonathan grunted «Do you have to be so aggressive?».
«I like to torment you a bit, that’s all» he sneered, then added «I don’t need your pity, Jojo, I can walk by my own».
«Pity? I just offered you to walk a bit with some protection, I’m not pitying you».
Dio lost his smirk and stared at him with the sense of disdain that Jonathan sometimes felt from him, but shrugged the sensation as something to blame on his remorseful state, but in that moment couldn’t possibly be his guilt talking. True, he had met Dio in hopes of sex, but they hadn’t yet touched, let alone kissed, in those minutes in the cold and damp alleys. His lips felt strangely dry, in fact his throat felt dry at the realisation that he might have done something wrong to have such a reaction - or had Dio been always like this, and he had failed to notice until then?
«Where do you live, Dio?» Jonathan nonetheless asked «I can’t let you get worse in any way, it’s my duty as a gentleman».
Dio got back to his usual smug self, and despite his words, he stepped under the umbrella, and Jonathan felt overwhelmed by his size, even if they had pretty much the same body build; Dio’s aura was something unique that only he had, and made everyone feel weak, and Jonathan had been helplessly bewitched by it. Dio’s lips were drawn a mere little space from Jonathan’s ear, and his breath felt warm even then, prompting sparks in the aristocrat’s body when he whispered «And where is your gentleman’s duty, when you come here to get your arse ridden my me?». Jonathan’s face tingled and he defended himself with a weak «That’s not of your concern, it’s my problem». He was aware that excuse didn’t stand, Dio didn’t have to know how much the contradiction hurt him.
All Jonathan had known about houses was through his fortunate experience, having rooms for himself, countless spaces where to hide, an understanding that had to clash with the bleak comprehension of how much his life was different and how much he had to thank God to have given him such wealth, all because he saw the poverty of Dio’s house, a where everything, the cooking place, the bed, the wardrobe, a small library, a table and a couple of chairs occupied a humid, blighted space that was smaller than his bedroom; the air moisture was high enough to even be tasted and breathed, especially in such an evening, with drops that could have even entered through the ceiling, if there hadn’t been another house above them. It wasn’t in any way how he imagined Dio’s house to be, it showed a desolation that just didn’t click right with what Dio was in his eyes.
«Are you going to enter and take a drink, or are you going to bugger off?» Dio threw his coat on one of the chairs, and Jonathan couldn’t help but stare at his wet hair, even wilder than usual, and the way his clothes stuck to his muscles - it would have been easy to greet him goodbye and go back home, avoid his lust altogether, but it would have been just as easy to get close to Dio and tear his clothes off. But, he wondered, if he could stay for some minutes just for a drink, and then go away, without doing anything else, then he could go back home with a light heart, that’s what he told himself.
Dio lit the fireplace and from a shelf grabbed a bottle of liquor, took a gulp of the liquid and stared back at Jonathan as he entered the house and closed the door behind him and carefully took off his coat and left the umbrella to dry in a corner, before standing next to him and being handed the bottle from where Dio had just drunk. After some seconds, Dio grunted «What do you want, a glass? Just drink from the bottle, you fop».
Jonathan tentatively drew the bottle to his lips and let only a small amount of the liquid enter, nothing more than a sip; he had never drank something that foul and bitter-tasting, he was used to some wine at lunch or, at best, beer, but never drank anything stronger than that, and that cheap brandy made him gag and burn his throat for some moments, leaving an uncomfortable aftertaste. He handed the bottle back to Dio, who was smirking at his reaction, and they both sat down on the bed. He had never been so close to the blonde without touching him, it was frustrating beyond any belief, but somehow he was managing to keep his hands to himself, limited himself to some small talk…
Dio however hadn’t got any intention to keep quiet, and Jonathan didn’t put much effort in pushing him away when his lips prayed on his neck and licked his tanned skin, leaving a shaded mark. «Not now, Dio» he mumbled, before the other nibbled on his ear and made him moan and try to hide his lingering erection. Who was he fooling, why was he lying to himself? He wanted Dio to control him once again, that was the reason he had gone all the way to that hole, challenged the rain, took the chance to go to his home; who was deceiving, if not himself?
«Not now what, Jojo?» Dio mocked him «Are you still acting like you’re pure?». He grabbed his shirt and almost teared his buttons «You’re the most irritating client I’ve ever had, at least the others know they’re dirty old men».
There really was no defense but trying to push him away again, before giving it in and getting his hands on Dio’s mane and his tongue in his lover’s mouth, loosening his own restraints for that man that had bewitched him to the point of spitting on his own education. There was an urge that just couldn’t be kept in, once Dio was so close to him, and he could just devour him, tasting the drops of that terrible brandy and try to leave the marks of his hands on his pale flesh before Dio could leave his own, tear his clothes and leave him naked before Dio could.
The fabric of his briefs felt the most constrictive right before they were lowered to leave his genitals to the blonde’s expert touch, sighing whenever his thumb stroked against his glans and got stained with precum. «How do you want me, Jojo?» Dio breathed against his neck «Do you want to see me in the eyes while I fuck you, mh?», and jerked his hardness pulling the foreskin over the tip. Jonathan felt on edge, shaking with a week-long frustration begging to be released somewhere, on Dio’s fingers, in Dio’s mouth, on Dio’s stomach, as long as it was some part of Dio’s body, perfect in shape and muscles and yet splintered by scars which origin Jonathan had started to fantasise about, finding himself sickened by his own line of thoughts: the idea of his lover having to degrade himself to satisfy nobles with no consideration of the others’ wellbeing made him nauseous. He wanted to make Dio feel as good as he felt when the other run his tongue over his body, uncaring of the drops of sweats, not use him…
Something unknown snapped inside him, and he pushed the other once again, but this time his gesture had enough certitude to make Dio arch his eyebrow in confusion and ask «What are you planning, Jojo?». When he wanted to, Jonathan could clear his mind and be sure of his actions, and in reality he still wasn’t alright with his own paradoxical turmoil, a part of him still struggled to put some sense in him, but the part that wanted to be pleased and loved was stronger, and somehow, he had realised that he could do so much more, before lying again in his own bed and curse his own name.
«Lie down, Dio» he murmured with a soft voice. The blonde’s gaze was undecipherable, his mouth turned into an expressionless simper, but nonetheless he lay on his back, his clothes pulled over his body. Jonathan’s fingers still trembled, but he managed to undo the buttons of his shirt and kept himself from licking Dio’s dark nipples, instead caressing the hair between his pectorals, tracing to his navel and unfastening his belt and opening his trousers. The mere sight of his endowment in his undergarments sparked more excitement in his body, and he gasped when he lowered the fabric and saw Dio’s member still limp, and yet big enough to make him swallow. A question arose in his mind and he needed to ask it: «Can you still come?».
«What, you’re afraid I won’t like it?» Dio smirked,
«Yes, I don’t want you to suffer in any way».
«Such big words from a gentleman who likes it in the arse».
«I’m serious, Dio, I’m glad you’re willing to please me, but it wouldn’t be right to force you».
«Aren’t you already forcing me, Jojo?».
«You’ve approached me first tonight, and I asked you to lay down» he answered «but if there’s… anything you don’t want, you can tell me».
«It’s my job».
«You’re not working right now, Dio».
Dio furrowed his forehead, as if his pride had just been hit where it hurt the most. «Just get on with it» he hissed, rolling his hips closer to Jonathan. The brunette licked his lips, dry and still tasting of Dio’s ones and alcohol, and with a deep breath he placed his head over the blonde’s crotch, opened his mouth and gently sucked the naked tip. He had imagined to taste something bitter and gross, but if he thought over, of course Dio’s taste would be clearer, he had always seen him wash himself after his services. His mind had a glimpse of how many other men could have seen Dio, touched him, made him theirs, who could have mistreated him, who could have made love to him like Jonathan wanted to, and a sharp, unpleasant grip on his stomach made him realise he could be jealous, even if he knew it was stupid of him. He did his best to push those thoughts back in his mind and concentrated only on his mouth, on the way his tongue felt Dio harden and become warmer; his own erection swelled although unchecked, in need of his lover’s cruel hands, but all he could think of was the arousal he was sparking in Dio. His cheeks felt full as the other poked them with a shaft that hardened more and more, to the point of an uncomfortable instinct of nausea when it hit the back of his mouth, and he noticed drool was escaping from his mouth, down the stiff flesh, and he became aware of his own slurping, humid, disgusting sounds. He had never paid attention to the noises the blonde made whenever he sucked him, but hearing them amplified by his own orifice made him conscious of how much sex could become sloppy and vulgar, how much the gentleman side of him hated that knowledge, and yes, how much his lowest tendencies cherished that sinful mess.
The fingers of the prostitute pulled Jonathan’s dark hair, and his hands pushed the brunette’s head on the erection, making him gag and produce more ugly noises. «Amateur» Dio taunted him and tugged his head all the way up, leaving him with the lips wide open and tainted with saliva dripping out. Jonathan gasped, right before being pushed and tugged again, his skull used with no care and his dignity thrown away, he could barely move his tongue over the length that pressed in his throat, trying to violate it with every thrust, every strangled cry. Yet, his sense of lust spiked, his needs became more unbearable, and in a sense he was glad he could gratify Dio with all of his body, even if it mean degrading himself to lower standards than the other had to.
Suddenly, his head was free again, and Jonathan could straighten his back and wipe the spit from his mouth, having to rely on his thumb to clean himself. The only thing he could say was a low «Jesus Christ...» as he massaged his neck and gulped to soothe his numbness, and Dio kept his jeering gaze on him, commenting «You’re less frail than I expected you to be, I have to admit, Jojo».
«D-did you have to… use my mouth like that...».
«I’ve been gentle, be thankful for that».
A moment of silence, then Jonathan manifested a doubt that had been nagging him for a while and he couldn’t ignore anymore: «Do your other clients abuse you?».
Every trace of sarcasm disappeared from Dio’s face. «Why would you even care?».
«You have to do worst that this, haven’t you, Dio?».
He didn’t reply as Jonathan hoped he would, instead repeating «Why do you care, Jojo? I’m a whore, of course I’ve seen worse than pretty boys like you getting their arses fucked for the first time».
«Are they...» he hesitated «are they the ones who make those scars?».
«Tch, even if they did, has it got something to do with you?».
«No, but-».
«Then fucking get on with it, before you piss me off» the blonde finally grunted. Jonathan closed his mouth and lost himself to adore Dio’s muscles, caressed his pectorals and abdominals, shivering when he perceived the strength hiding under that fair skin. He was impatient, Jonathan could feel it, and he was even more impatient than Dio was, despite fearing to hurt him further. He felt a great incertitude about what he should do in that situation, even if he had played it so many times, with the other’s slick fingers probing inside him, but in that moment the roles were reversed, and they weren’t in the brothel where all the necessary was at an arm’s distance, and there was nothing that could ease Dio’s arsehole but his not-as-skillful fingers and maybe his spit, that he was sure wasn’t enough.
He sank his index once Dio grunted impatient «Get on with it», and then silence fell, as Jonathan pushed his finger deeper, gradually, adding another to widen the hole. He hadn’t realised he was holding his breath until the other, whose gaze was lost into the ceiling, sighed restless and rolled again his hips against him, but then Jonathan held his breath on purpose, pulled out the fingers and positioning himself between Dio’s open legs, the tip of his erection so close to the other’s entrance.
And so he pushed, forced the muscles to stretch and open for him. He didn’t want to hurt Dio, and his stomach tightened when the blonde’s face frowned in discomfort as finally he managed to enter, feeling the friction and the heat swallow his tip. He pushed further with some struggle, the lack of lubrication made the friction harder to win, but bit by bit, he felt Dio’s soft walls cram around his girth, devour his erection and pulse around it terribly tight, reminding Jonathan of how much is was wrong on so many levels, and yet it sent waves after waves of pleasure. Was that how Dio felt whenever he possessed him and drove him to the edge? WIth the weight of being fully responsible of the other’s wellbeing and pleasure, as the sexual tension inevitably led to a marvelous loss of self?
«Fuck me hard, Jojo» Dio moaned «don’t just push your cock, use it, for fuck’s sake».
He didn’t reply, the prostitute would surely remark back that he couldn’t care less about being safe. Jonathan held his lover’s hips, and finally thrusted deep and quick, pulled out a little bit, and repeated the motion. «Harder» Dio grunted, and Jonathan obliged, and thrusted again and again, without realising he was already losing his self-control and winning against the protests of Dio’s used yet tight hole, as if it could feel the pride of his owner.
«Harder».
Jonathan’s breath grew heavier, and his stomach started to hit the other’s buttocks, he could only think of how much he loved Dio’s body subtly quivering only for him, his low voice begging him to keep going… it was something completely unknown, still filthy, but Jonathan’s curiosity and vice were just so much they overwhelmed anything else, there was just the two of them, their bodies, their lips kissing and biting; the desolation of that house, the societal and moral obligations, his own noble name were nothing in that moment.
There were tears in Jonathan’s eyes when he heard the blonde gasping, and the walls surrounding his member tightening rhythmically, and it was too much to bear; a never too familiar spasm conquer his body, and instinctively seized the other’s hips, feeling his warm flesh, and cried Dio’s name over and over in a lustful haze, and then his body felt tired and he could only fall over the other and catch his breath over his pounding chest. Sweat stuck his dark curls on his forehead and temples, and on the blonde’s bust, where his light hair offered some kind of dainty distraction in the afterglow; his member softened still inside the other’s hole, felt it spread and sticky with his own sperm, and somehow the surging guilt of realising how much he had lost himself to sodomy wasn’t as destructive as usual, his mind was enjoying that moment that wasn’t, for him, pure sex without anything else. Maybe it was because it had been more spontaneous, with Dio seducing him for something else than money, or maybe it was because he felt more complete, closer than ever to that man he had thought he was going to see only once in his life.
«Are… you alright, Dio?» Jonathan asked once his mind was clear enough to notice the other was still shaking, clearly not because the climax was still running in his body.
«Get off me, Jojo».
He moved away and murmured an apology for smothering him without meaning it, but Dio ignored it and grabbed the bottle to drink again; only then, Jonathan noticed the way his golden eyes seemed spent, his strong body worn out from stress and an excess of sensations, but he still grunted and pushed the heir away when he tried to comfort him. «I’m fine» he sighed, despite not looking fine at all «I told you I don’t want your pity».
«I don’t want to pity you» Jonathan answered. In a sense, that was a lie, they both knew his heart was filling with compassion the more he realised how much the life of the man he wanted with all his body and soul was full of decay, at the lowest point of society and uncaring for morals that probably had never helped him in life. «But please, Dio, let me help you» he continued «I can’t bear seeing you like this».
«Like what, addicted to booze and coke?» he slurred «You’re the third guy who has fucked me in the arse today, I’ve fucked another one in the arse, and this has been a calm day».
«Do you hate this life?».
«You think I like this hole, Jojo? I’m neck-deep in the debts that bastard of a father left me, I’ve got more spunk in my mouth than a woman will see in her life. I thought I could climb out of this place, become someone important» his voice became hoarse and low with loathing toward the whole world «gain all the fame and money, all the bitches, and instead I’m stuck here, drowning my delusions and babbling with a rich idiot blinded with love».
All Jonathan could do was to stare stunned, while his abdomen felt tortured with confusion and contrition over his ignorance about how Dio truly felt. His life hadn’t been absolutely perfect, but right then he felt like all those events he had regarded as true misfortunes were nothing more than some bad luck, and how he was truly blessed to be born from the Joestars. But Dio hadn’t got such luck, had to fight all his life, and in the end he was losing, and it was something Jonathan couldn’t bear to happen. But what could he do for him? He wanted to save him, but how?
The blonde handed him the bottle again and became his usual smirking self «Enough with sad stuff today, don’t you think, Jojo?».
The taste of the brandy was still strong, but somehow the tiredness made him ignore it. He wished to kiss Dio again with all, make love to him until dawn was due, ignore the fact he had to come back to his mansion and keep lying against all that he was taught to be right, but there was nothing much he could do, in the end, but to stay with him as better as he could. After all, the fact he had brought him to his home, seduced him even if he hadn’t to, not asked for money as he should have, it must have meant something, mustn’t it?
( Link to AO3 )
Fandom: Jojo's Bizarre Adventure
Characters: Dio Brando, Jonathan Joestar
Rating: NSFW
Chapter Wordcount: 5034
Total Wordcount: 9629
Warnings: slash, prostitution!AU
Notes:
1. after almost a month, I'm back with this
2. there's going to be one more chapter that will likely be the death of my inspiration
3. moral thanks to Mike and Phenrir since their live helped me stay up to finish this
Enjoy!
He had never felt at ease with lies - perhaps it was his education, perhaps it was his personality, but Jonathan couldn’t bear long with the idea of deceiving people, if he ever did. There was a voice in his head constantly nagging about how it was wrong, how he should be honest with everyone, and he wanted so deeply to be, but he had damned himself to a life of pretense since he first took that carriage, got himself involved with the turbid world of sodomy. Yet, against his own judgement, he kept piling falsehoods about his whereabouts, telling tales of researches for some papers in London for his degree. His father undoubtedly believed him, but he nonetheless noticed the way his manners at tables got calmer, and how he would sometimes startle almost at random.
«You can tell me» George once asked during dinner «is there something wrong?». Jonathan almost choked on the piece of steak he was munching and babbled, after hitting his chest with his fist «What do you mean?!».
His father laughed softly, composed as the gentleman he was and Jonathan still strived to be, and continued «Jojo, you can tell me if there is a girl on your mind».
«It’s not like that!» Jonathan defended himself. He had thought many times about the luck of being the son of an enlightened man like George Joestar, who had let him pursue his dreams and not bind him in an arranged marriage, instead leaving him to find the woman he would truly love. Marriage was something that Jonathan considered important, how couldn’t he? But in that very moment, the one in his mind wasn’t one he could, or would, marry for too many reasons that tormented his soul.
«If you don’t want to tell me, it’s fine, you’re an adult» George said «as long as it’s something a gentleman would do, I wouldn’t like to hear you’re the lover of a married woman, that’d be disgraceful».
Jonathan’s stomach threatened to close and not let any more food enter, but he did his best to smile and shrug away that consideration, until he could hide in his room and stare at the ceiling, ignoring the shame building as every night in his groin. All of what he feared the most was becoming a truth too tangible, feelings too real to be denied anymore, as tears got trapped in his eyelashes and blurred his sight, warm sperm stained his fingers and his voice still murmured under his breath Dio’s name. It was too easy to imagine his golden eyes preying on his body, to be thrilled by the image of his tongue licking his lips that have hungered on Jonathan’s erection until he couldn’t keep himself, to desire his hands feasting on his warmed skin, his flesh inside him.
That was what Jonathan’s life had become, hiding his steps to the brothel every week, masquerading behind homeworks he hadn’t got, solely for a thrill that had become an addiction, not that different from the needles Dio pierced his veins with. He didn’t know how to stop, he wished he could keep himself from going back to that place, but there was something predatory in Dio’s ways, like a gradual but harsh seduction, that lead Jonathan back in that trap over and over again. «You’re still as sensitive as a virgin, Jojo» Dio would mock him and squeeze his buttocks, digging his sharp nails and making Jonathan yelp in surprise with his rough ways, something he could never fully get used to. It didn’t help that Dio had next to no shame, especially when Jonathan lay on his back and let him ravage his arsehole with his tongue and moaning with the grossest indecency on the pillow. Jonathan was so ashamed to become so aroused and sensitive under the other’s expert touch, to become so submissive in his hands, knowing how much he would regret everything the morning after, he thought it was the same feeling of a wild night of alcohol and waking up with the aftertaste of any concoction that had poisoned himself with and a terrible migraine, even if he hadn’t experienced such a thing yet, but the aftertaste he would have in his mouth was the one of foul kisses, the taste of his own sweat, of Dio’s sweat, of the drops of his own semen trapped in Dio’s mouth, but the ecstasy he felt in his body as he pounded inside him and filled him, almost treating him as a female hooker, was unlike anything he could ever feel, fearing even that he could never feel that wonder again from the day he would eventually leave Dio to his destiny and follow the righteous path of an Englishman.
He feared the lack of sensations that Dio shocked him with, that was the plain truth. Jonathan feared the loss of a prostitute who made him his bitch, as the blonde would sometimes joke before making his stomach melt in pleasure for yet another night. He’d even pour his vulnerable heart in his hands, spill some of his secrets and fears for reasons that he couldn’t grasp, and hope that Dio would do the same with him, know that he could rely on him - why did he want to have such a relationship with someone as different and distant from him as Dio was, he shouldn’t have known him to begin with.
It was one of those nights, in which Jonathan couldn’t no more ignore his basic impulses, couldn’t feel satisfied with just his hand and his turbulent fantasies. The whole voyage from his house to the usual square where the carriage left him after taking him from the train station was filled with afterthoughts staring at the cold rain; it could have been easy to turn his heels and do something more productive with his friends, discussing university issues over a pint before lying about one’s sexual adventures, laughing and living the free life of a student before joining society as a full person, yet he was shielding himself from the rain and the stink, alone in the streets of the slums of London, hoping no one would ever notice him.
His steps had become mechanical, he didn’t have to check where to turn anymore, which wasn’t something he was proud of. He clinched on his coat and protected himself with the umbrella, eyes low on the slippery streets, bumping in strangers just as closed in their own world of troubles as he was.
He stood a mere block from the familiar door hiding the debauchery he indulged in, and he hadn’t got the guts to walk, knock on the door, ask for Dio to be free for a quarter of hour, all for him for fifteen minutes of what felt like Heaven - the thought made the pool of warm rise again in the lowest and softest part of his stomach. How could he go on with his life if he had such animalistic instincts to fulfill? If he really had to dissipate his money on sex, shouldn’t he be instead burying his head in a woman’s bosom, lose himself in her heat? Wouldn’t that be much better, wouldn’t have it been better if he had never overheard the maids and pursue his may it be damned curiosity?
«You look like a frightened chick» a too familiar voice startled him. Dio’s face was partially hidden behind a dark coat and scarf, which only enhanced the aura of mystery that had enchanted Jonathan, but at the same time was a subtle reminder that he still was human and suffered the cold and the rain - but clearly was more used to harsh weather, as he let the rain ruin his hair and didn’t shiver as much as Jonathan, who had the protection of the umbrella and probably heavier clothes, or at least better. Jonathan’s eyes averted the blonde’s gaze and replied with a low «I don’t like the rain».
«Yet you came all the way for me?» he snickered, adjusting his coat to show more of his face, his jawline playing hide-and-seek with the scarf «Too bad you came late, I’m already off».
«Oh, I see» was all that Jonathan could answer, knowing he was making a fool of himself; he was acting like a young maiden in front of her first crush, although he surely was more composed, but no less of a fool regardless. Clenching on the wooden stick protecting him with hands that he couldn’t almost feel anymore, he gulped and he cursed himself when the brain didn’t stop his mouth from asking «Would you be more at ease, if I lent you my umbrella?».
«Are you afraid I’d get a cold?».
«Well, you shouldn’t walk under such a heavy rain».
«This? Heavy rain?» Dio mocked him «You’re the frailest big guy I’ve ever met, you’re rather pathetic».
Jonathan grunted «Do you have to be so aggressive?».
«I like to torment you a bit, that’s all» he sneered, then added «I don’t need your pity, Jojo, I can walk by my own».
«Pity? I just offered you to walk a bit with some protection, I’m not pitying you».
Dio lost his smirk and stared at him with the sense of disdain that Jonathan sometimes felt from him, but shrugged the sensation as something to blame on his remorseful state, but in that moment couldn’t possibly be his guilt talking. True, he had met Dio in hopes of sex, but they hadn’t yet touched, let alone kissed, in those minutes in the cold and damp alleys. His lips felt strangely dry, in fact his throat felt dry at the realisation that he might have done something wrong to have such a reaction - or had Dio been always like this, and he had failed to notice until then?
«Where do you live, Dio?» Jonathan nonetheless asked «I can’t let you get worse in any way, it’s my duty as a gentleman».
Dio got back to his usual smug self, and despite his words, he stepped under the umbrella, and Jonathan felt overwhelmed by his size, even if they had pretty much the same body build; Dio’s aura was something unique that only he had, and made everyone feel weak, and Jonathan had been helplessly bewitched by it. Dio’s lips were drawn a mere little space from Jonathan’s ear, and his breath felt warm even then, prompting sparks in the aristocrat’s body when he whispered «And where is your gentleman’s duty, when you come here to get your arse ridden my me?». Jonathan’s face tingled and he defended himself with a weak «That’s not of your concern, it’s my problem». He was aware that excuse didn’t stand, Dio didn’t have to know how much the contradiction hurt him.
All Jonathan had known about houses was through his fortunate experience, having rooms for himself, countless spaces where to hide, an understanding that had to clash with the bleak comprehension of how much his life was different and how much he had to thank God to have given him such wealth, all because he saw the poverty of Dio’s house, a where everything, the cooking place, the bed, the wardrobe, a small library, a table and a couple of chairs occupied a humid, blighted space that was smaller than his bedroom; the air moisture was high enough to even be tasted and breathed, especially in such an evening, with drops that could have even entered through the ceiling, if there hadn’t been another house above them. It wasn’t in any way how he imagined Dio’s house to be, it showed a desolation that just didn’t click right with what Dio was in his eyes.
«Are you going to enter and take a drink, or are you going to bugger off?» Dio threw his coat on one of the chairs, and Jonathan couldn’t help but stare at his wet hair, even wilder than usual, and the way his clothes stuck to his muscles - it would have been easy to greet him goodbye and go back home, avoid his lust altogether, but it would have been just as easy to get close to Dio and tear his clothes off. But, he wondered, if he could stay for some minutes just for a drink, and then go away, without doing anything else, then he could go back home with a light heart, that’s what he told himself.
Dio lit the fireplace and from a shelf grabbed a bottle of liquor, took a gulp of the liquid and stared back at Jonathan as he entered the house and closed the door behind him and carefully took off his coat and left the umbrella to dry in a corner, before standing next to him and being handed the bottle from where Dio had just drunk. After some seconds, Dio grunted «What do you want, a glass? Just drink from the bottle, you fop».
Jonathan tentatively drew the bottle to his lips and let only a small amount of the liquid enter, nothing more than a sip; he had never drank something that foul and bitter-tasting, he was used to some wine at lunch or, at best, beer, but never drank anything stronger than that, and that cheap brandy made him gag and burn his throat for some moments, leaving an uncomfortable aftertaste. He handed the bottle back to Dio, who was smirking at his reaction, and they both sat down on the bed. He had never been so close to the blonde without touching him, it was frustrating beyond any belief, but somehow he was managing to keep his hands to himself, limited himself to some small talk…
Dio however hadn’t got any intention to keep quiet, and Jonathan didn’t put much effort in pushing him away when his lips prayed on his neck and licked his tanned skin, leaving a shaded mark. «Not now, Dio» he mumbled, before the other nibbled on his ear and made him moan and try to hide his lingering erection. Who was he fooling, why was he lying to himself? He wanted Dio to control him once again, that was the reason he had gone all the way to that hole, challenged the rain, took the chance to go to his home; who was deceiving, if not himself?
«Not now what, Jojo?» Dio mocked him «Are you still acting like you’re pure?». He grabbed his shirt and almost teared his buttons «You’re the most irritating client I’ve ever had, at least the others know they’re dirty old men».
There really was no defense but trying to push him away again, before giving it in and getting his hands on Dio’s mane and his tongue in his lover’s mouth, loosening his own restraints for that man that had bewitched him to the point of spitting on his own education. There was an urge that just couldn’t be kept in, once Dio was so close to him, and he could just devour him, tasting the drops of that terrible brandy and try to leave the marks of his hands on his pale flesh before Dio could leave his own, tear his clothes and leave him naked before Dio could.
The fabric of his briefs felt the most constrictive right before they were lowered to leave his genitals to the blonde’s expert touch, sighing whenever his thumb stroked against his glans and got stained with precum. «How do you want me, Jojo?» Dio breathed against his neck «Do you want to see me in the eyes while I fuck you, mh?», and jerked his hardness pulling the foreskin over the tip. Jonathan felt on edge, shaking with a week-long frustration begging to be released somewhere, on Dio’s fingers, in Dio’s mouth, on Dio’s stomach, as long as it was some part of Dio’s body, perfect in shape and muscles and yet splintered by scars which origin Jonathan had started to fantasise about, finding himself sickened by his own line of thoughts: the idea of his lover having to degrade himself to satisfy nobles with no consideration of the others’ wellbeing made him nauseous. He wanted to make Dio feel as good as he felt when the other run his tongue over his body, uncaring of the drops of sweats, not use him…
Something unknown snapped inside him, and he pushed the other once again, but this time his gesture had enough certitude to make Dio arch his eyebrow in confusion and ask «What are you planning, Jojo?». When he wanted to, Jonathan could clear his mind and be sure of his actions, and in reality he still wasn’t alright with his own paradoxical turmoil, a part of him still struggled to put some sense in him, but the part that wanted to be pleased and loved was stronger, and somehow, he had realised that he could do so much more, before lying again in his own bed and curse his own name.
«Lie down, Dio» he murmured with a soft voice. The blonde’s gaze was undecipherable, his mouth turned into an expressionless simper, but nonetheless he lay on his back, his clothes pulled over his body. Jonathan’s fingers still trembled, but he managed to undo the buttons of his shirt and kept himself from licking Dio’s dark nipples, instead caressing the hair between his pectorals, tracing to his navel and unfastening his belt and opening his trousers. The mere sight of his endowment in his undergarments sparked more excitement in his body, and he gasped when he lowered the fabric and saw Dio’s member still limp, and yet big enough to make him swallow. A question arose in his mind and he needed to ask it: «Can you still come?».
«What, you’re afraid I won’t like it?» Dio smirked,
«Yes, I don’t want you to suffer in any way».
«Such big words from a gentleman who likes it in the arse».
«I’m serious, Dio, I’m glad you’re willing to please me, but it wouldn’t be right to force you».
«Aren’t you already forcing me, Jojo?».
«You’ve approached me first tonight, and I asked you to lay down» he answered «but if there’s… anything you don’t want, you can tell me».
«It’s my job».
«You’re not working right now, Dio».
Dio furrowed his forehead, as if his pride had just been hit where it hurt the most. «Just get on with it» he hissed, rolling his hips closer to Jonathan. The brunette licked his lips, dry and still tasting of Dio’s ones and alcohol, and with a deep breath he placed his head over the blonde’s crotch, opened his mouth and gently sucked the naked tip. He had imagined to taste something bitter and gross, but if he thought over, of course Dio’s taste would be clearer, he had always seen him wash himself after his services. His mind had a glimpse of how many other men could have seen Dio, touched him, made him theirs, who could have mistreated him, who could have made love to him like Jonathan wanted to, and a sharp, unpleasant grip on his stomach made him realise he could be jealous, even if he knew it was stupid of him. He did his best to push those thoughts back in his mind and concentrated only on his mouth, on the way his tongue felt Dio harden and become warmer; his own erection swelled although unchecked, in need of his lover’s cruel hands, but all he could think of was the arousal he was sparking in Dio. His cheeks felt full as the other poked them with a shaft that hardened more and more, to the point of an uncomfortable instinct of nausea when it hit the back of his mouth, and he noticed drool was escaping from his mouth, down the stiff flesh, and he became aware of his own slurping, humid, disgusting sounds. He had never paid attention to the noises the blonde made whenever he sucked him, but hearing them amplified by his own orifice made him conscious of how much sex could become sloppy and vulgar, how much the gentleman side of him hated that knowledge, and yes, how much his lowest tendencies cherished that sinful mess.
The fingers of the prostitute pulled Jonathan’s dark hair, and his hands pushed the brunette’s head on the erection, making him gag and produce more ugly noises. «Amateur» Dio taunted him and tugged his head all the way up, leaving him with the lips wide open and tainted with saliva dripping out. Jonathan gasped, right before being pushed and tugged again, his skull used with no care and his dignity thrown away, he could barely move his tongue over the length that pressed in his throat, trying to violate it with every thrust, every strangled cry. Yet, his sense of lust spiked, his needs became more unbearable, and in a sense he was glad he could gratify Dio with all of his body, even if it mean degrading himself to lower standards than the other had to.
Suddenly, his head was free again, and Jonathan could straighten his back and wipe the spit from his mouth, having to rely on his thumb to clean himself. The only thing he could say was a low «Jesus Christ...» as he massaged his neck and gulped to soothe his numbness, and Dio kept his jeering gaze on him, commenting «You’re less frail than I expected you to be, I have to admit, Jojo».
«D-did you have to… use my mouth like that...».
«I’ve been gentle, be thankful for that».
A moment of silence, then Jonathan manifested a doubt that had been nagging him for a while and he couldn’t ignore anymore: «Do your other clients abuse you?».
Every trace of sarcasm disappeared from Dio’s face. «Why would you even care?».
«You have to do worst that this, haven’t you, Dio?».
He didn’t reply as Jonathan hoped he would, instead repeating «Why do you care, Jojo? I’m a whore, of course I’ve seen worse than pretty boys like you getting their arses fucked for the first time».
«Are they...» he hesitated «are they the ones who make those scars?».
«Tch, even if they did, has it got something to do with you?».
«No, but-».
«Then fucking get on with it, before you piss me off» the blonde finally grunted. Jonathan closed his mouth and lost himself to adore Dio’s muscles, caressed his pectorals and abdominals, shivering when he perceived the strength hiding under that fair skin. He was impatient, Jonathan could feel it, and he was even more impatient than Dio was, despite fearing to hurt him further. He felt a great incertitude about what he should do in that situation, even if he had played it so many times, with the other’s slick fingers probing inside him, but in that moment the roles were reversed, and they weren’t in the brothel where all the necessary was at an arm’s distance, and there was nothing that could ease Dio’s arsehole but his not-as-skillful fingers and maybe his spit, that he was sure wasn’t enough.
He sank his index once Dio grunted impatient «Get on with it», and then silence fell, as Jonathan pushed his finger deeper, gradually, adding another to widen the hole. He hadn’t realised he was holding his breath until the other, whose gaze was lost into the ceiling, sighed restless and rolled again his hips against him, but then Jonathan held his breath on purpose, pulled out the fingers and positioning himself between Dio’s open legs, the tip of his erection so close to the other’s entrance.
And so he pushed, forced the muscles to stretch and open for him. He didn’t want to hurt Dio, and his stomach tightened when the blonde’s face frowned in discomfort as finally he managed to enter, feeling the friction and the heat swallow his tip. He pushed further with some struggle, the lack of lubrication made the friction harder to win, but bit by bit, he felt Dio’s soft walls cram around his girth, devour his erection and pulse around it terribly tight, reminding Jonathan of how much is was wrong on so many levels, and yet it sent waves after waves of pleasure. Was that how Dio felt whenever he possessed him and drove him to the edge? WIth the weight of being fully responsible of the other’s wellbeing and pleasure, as the sexual tension inevitably led to a marvelous loss of self?
«Fuck me hard, Jojo» Dio moaned «don’t just push your cock, use it, for fuck’s sake».
He didn’t reply, the prostitute would surely remark back that he couldn’t care less about being safe. Jonathan held his lover’s hips, and finally thrusted deep and quick, pulled out a little bit, and repeated the motion. «Harder» Dio grunted, and Jonathan obliged, and thrusted again and again, without realising he was already losing his self-control and winning against the protests of Dio’s used yet tight hole, as if it could feel the pride of his owner.
«Harder».
Jonathan’s breath grew heavier, and his stomach started to hit the other’s buttocks, he could only think of how much he loved Dio’s body subtly quivering only for him, his low voice begging him to keep going… it was something completely unknown, still filthy, but Jonathan’s curiosity and vice were just so much they overwhelmed anything else, there was just the two of them, their bodies, their lips kissing and biting; the desolation of that house, the societal and moral obligations, his own noble name were nothing in that moment.
There were tears in Jonathan’s eyes when he heard the blonde gasping, and the walls surrounding his member tightening rhythmically, and it was too much to bear; a never too familiar spasm conquer his body, and instinctively seized the other’s hips, feeling his warm flesh, and cried Dio’s name over and over in a lustful haze, and then his body felt tired and he could only fall over the other and catch his breath over his pounding chest. Sweat stuck his dark curls on his forehead and temples, and on the blonde’s bust, where his light hair offered some kind of dainty distraction in the afterglow; his member softened still inside the other’s hole, felt it spread and sticky with his own sperm, and somehow the surging guilt of realising how much he had lost himself to sodomy wasn’t as destructive as usual, his mind was enjoying that moment that wasn’t, for him, pure sex without anything else. Maybe it was because it had been more spontaneous, with Dio seducing him for something else than money, or maybe it was because he felt more complete, closer than ever to that man he had thought he was going to see only once in his life.
«Are… you alright, Dio?» Jonathan asked once his mind was clear enough to notice the other was still shaking, clearly not because the climax was still running in his body.
«Get off me, Jojo».
He moved away and murmured an apology for smothering him without meaning it, but Dio ignored it and grabbed the bottle to drink again; only then, Jonathan noticed the way his golden eyes seemed spent, his strong body worn out from stress and an excess of sensations, but he still grunted and pushed the heir away when he tried to comfort him. «I’m fine» he sighed, despite not looking fine at all «I told you I don’t want your pity».
«I don’t want to pity you» Jonathan answered. In a sense, that was a lie, they both knew his heart was filling with compassion the more he realised how much the life of the man he wanted with all his body and soul was full of decay, at the lowest point of society and uncaring for morals that probably had never helped him in life. «But please, Dio, let me help you» he continued «I can’t bear seeing you like this».
«Like what, addicted to booze and coke?» he slurred «You’re the third guy who has fucked me in the arse today, I’ve fucked another one in the arse, and this has been a calm day».
«Do you hate this life?».
«You think I like this hole, Jojo? I’m neck-deep in the debts that bastard of a father left me, I’ve got more spunk in my mouth than a woman will see in her life. I thought I could climb out of this place, become someone important» his voice became hoarse and low with loathing toward the whole world «gain all the fame and money, all the bitches, and instead I’m stuck here, drowning my delusions and babbling with a rich idiot blinded with love».
All Jonathan could do was to stare stunned, while his abdomen felt tortured with confusion and contrition over his ignorance about how Dio truly felt. His life hadn’t been absolutely perfect, but right then he felt like all those events he had regarded as true misfortunes were nothing more than some bad luck, and how he was truly blessed to be born from the Joestars. But Dio hadn’t got such luck, had to fight all his life, and in the end he was losing, and it was something Jonathan couldn’t bear to happen. But what could he do for him? He wanted to save him, but how?
The blonde handed him the bottle again and became his usual smirking self «Enough with sad stuff today, don’t you think, Jojo?».
The taste of the brandy was still strong, but somehow the tiredness made him ignore it. He wished to kiss Dio again with all, make love to him until dawn was due, ignore the fact he had to come back to his mansion and keep lying against all that he was taught to be right, but there was nothing much he could do, in the end, but to stay with him as better as he could. After all, the fact he had brought him to his home, seduced him even if he hadn’t to, not asked for money as he should have, it must have meant something, mustn’t it?
( Link to AO3 )