[The breath isn't just knocked out of Caesar; it was stolen, absolutely and thoroughly, like Joseph had sucked it right out of his lungs and it takes a few stunned, silent moments for him to realize he's on his back and the warm, welcoming, yielding weight pressed hip to hip on top of him is none other than Joseph Joestar. This close, the distinct scent that belongs to him, the sharp scent of earth after a long overdue rain, wafts into his nose and infects him to the very core.
So you can't exactly blame him for blinking up at Jojo stupidly for a couple of seconds, mouth opening and closing, utterly lost for words, dazed as fuck. Jojo's voice always has a quality to it that can't be ignored; it always seems to pull Caesar back from the brink, whether in anger or exasperation or this time--
He leans his forehead against Jojo's, finds it a little slick with sweat, but strangely finds it a little endearing. The weather sure was hot but he'd aided in making that line of sweat at Jojo's hairline, he did that.]
I'm not so sure. I think there's another snack I could nibble on here and there.
[He retorts; it isn't the weight of the universe or the pride of his family lining his voice, it's...pure, unadulterated hesitance. Throwing more caution to the crisp, salty air, he places his hand at the small of Jojo's back and prays to every god out there, even a few made up ones, that the definite interest in his pants isn't obvious.
its beautimous no matter what length (...........)
So you can't exactly blame him for blinking up at Jojo stupidly for a couple of seconds, mouth opening and closing, utterly lost for words, dazed as fuck. Jojo's voice always has a quality to it that can't be ignored; it always seems to pull Caesar back from the brink, whether in anger or exasperation or this time--
He leans his forehead against Jojo's, finds it a little slick with sweat, but strangely finds it a little endearing. The weather sure was hot but he'd aided in making that line of sweat at Jojo's hairline, he did that.]
I'm not so sure. I think there's another snack I could nibble on here and there.
[He retorts; it isn't the weight of the universe or the pride of his family lining his voice, it's...pure, unadulterated hesitance. Throwing more caution to the crisp, salty air, he places his hand at the small of Jojo's back and prays to every god out there, even a few made up ones, that the definite interest in his pants isn't obvious.
Damn you Joseph Joestar...!!!]