battletendencies (
battletendencies) wrote in
kyouyasangels_inc2013-05-31 01:36 am
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get ready for a wild ride yo
[ It was a short and breezy ride from his place to his destination, his second favorite kind. The dying gurgle of the engine as he turned the key was enough of a sign that he should probably start checking the oil, but who has the time, right? He was about to get his hands dirty, dive deep to a road of no return but all that was good because he was going to show HIM a trick or two. You see JoJo wasn't much dedicated to anything, but if one thing made him feel accomplished was the expression on Caesar's face when he excelled at something he wasn't expected to be good at. All in all, it was a pretty decent arrangement. He was determined to win him ove-- I MEAN to get him! to SHOW him what a true fucking gentleman was! His douchebag smile was wide this time, beaming. A few steps and he was in front of the glass doors of one of those expensive as fuck hotels Caesar would usually spend his free time in. CHE, what a pretentious asshole! But that wouldn't last for long, no Signore!
He went in and with one quick look he'd check out the receptionist, wondered if Caesar had banged her yet because she was okay looking, not Suzie Q good looking but average italian broad with expensive heels and freshly manicured hands good looking, he figured he might have but then again maybe 'okay looking' wasn't nearly enough for that dick to play his game, good thing Joseph was probably the most attractive man in Western Europe.
BACKONTRACK-- He had to get pass her to make his move, because he had one and it was GOOD. When he was on his way over he spotted a small flower shop and he bit his lip at the thought of Caesar's reaction when he surprised him with a modest but beautiful bouquet, he could barely surpress the shit eating grin that was forming on his face. So with a little help of his old friend hamon (THANK YOU, GRANDAD JONATHAN) he managed to move a large vase that was being used as a centerpiece just by touching the table's smooth wooden surface , a few seconds and the thing would just drop to the ground and create enough of a diversion for him to make his way into the elevator. Just as he suspected in a second or two the receptionist let out a loud gasp and by that time he was already pressing number five.
As the numbers lit up one by one he started to feel a bit anxious... maybe even doubtful? Of what? you may ask well he was looking at the big picture. And even though his competitive nature and his boldness may have drove him into this he was still thinking about what normal people thought before this sort of life events. 'Is this the right jacket? does my ass look big? what if he hates the way my shirt clings shamelessly to my pecs?' at the last one he laughed because NO WAY JOSE, that just wouldn't happen- then the doors opened and he was pretty much stepping into the twilight zone. His palms were getting a sweaty and his steps became slower and slower until he was there.
Well this is it, he thought, this is how life ends, this is what happens when you die, there's a big, ridiculously ornamented door (it had a painting of a siren, for fuck's sake) and there's no way to know what lies ahead, unless you power through and bust it open. Or in this case gently knocking three times would do. ]
He went in and with one quick look he'd check out the receptionist, wondered if Caesar had banged her yet because she was okay looking, not Suzie Q good looking but average italian broad with expensive heels and freshly manicured hands good looking, he figured he might have but then again maybe 'okay looking' wasn't nearly enough for that dick to play his game, good thing Joseph was probably the most attractive man in Western Europe.
BACKONTRACK-- He had to get pass her to make his move, because he had one and it was GOOD. When he was on his way over he spotted a small flower shop and he bit his lip at the thought of Caesar's reaction when he surprised him with a modest but beautiful bouquet, he could barely surpress the shit eating grin that was forming on his face. So with a little help of his old friend hamon (THANK YOU, GRANDAD JONATHAN) he managed to move a large vase that was being used as a centerpiece just by touching the table's smooth wooden surface , a few seconds and the thing would just drop to the ground and create enough of a diversion for him to make his way into the elevator. Just as he suspected in a second or two the receptionist let out a loud gasp and by that time he was already pressing number five.
As the numbers lit up one by one he started to feel a bit anxious... maybe even doubtful? Of what? you may ask well he was looking at the big picture. And even though his competitive nature and his boldness may have drove him into this he was still thinking about what normal people thought before this sort of life events. 'Is this the right jacket? does my ass look big? what if he hates the way my shirt clings shamelessly to my pecs?' at the last one he laughed because NO WAY JOSE, that just wouldn't happen- then the doors opened and he was pretty much stepping into the twilight zone. His palms were getting a sweaty and his steps became slower and slower until he was there.
Well this is it, he thought, this is how life ends, this is what happens when you die, there's a big, ridiculously ornamented door (it had a painting of a siren, for fuck's sake) and there's no way to know what lies ahead, unless you power through and bust it open. Or in this case gently knocking three times would do. ]
mudamudamudamudaassssss (man this is poop warmed over)
He's got a white-knuckle grip on Jojo's shirt, fingers dragging roughly at the warm, tanned skin beneath, (not enough to bruise but, mama mia, wouldn't that be a sight to behold? Fingershaped purple marks, marking the already marked Joestar-- shitfuckmiodio, steady, man) that swipe of tongue yanks a gasp out of him, a groan, straight from his chest, out his mouth and through his bones, fingers giving an encouraging, desperate rake through brown locks. Then he does an irresistible, deeply satisfying something he didn't even know he wanted. He draws Joseph's fat, juicy bottom lip into his mouth and sucks.]
sorry this was so long whasdajdf
It seemed overbearing, the amount of control he was putting into not crossing any boundaries, not eating him in one bite, but then that fucker had to go there... so he slowly pressed his tongue inside Caesar's mouth. He took a deep fucking breath because he didn't expect it to be so inviting and warm and wet and then his pants felt even tighter.
So he did the unthinkable and shifted, just for the sake of finding some sort of comfort. However he seemed to have miscalculated since... well, his painful and nearly obvious hard-on had just fully been pressed against Caesar's crotch...
His eyes snapped open. ]
no sorries just complete and utter arousal and wet panties
The scorching, slick press of his tongue in Caesar's mouth is welcome, his own mouth crinkles in delight, followed by his lips sealing firmly over Jojo's; his tongue brushes against his. He's content, satisfied, with carding his fingers through Jojo's hair, exchanging sloppy, wet, lazy kisses, pulling away only to relieve the burning of his lungs, greedy for air.
He's content, he thinks through the haze, until Jojo shifts that juicy booty of his and their crotches meet. Hot, white pleasure skyrockets through his dick, enough to make his toes curl and drag a deep, throaty moan (kicking and screaming and aching raw in the back of Caesar's throat) rumble through his mouth. He squeezes his eyes shut, cheeks flushing, his mouth parting from Jojo's but never straying far, mere inches between their lips, and with a ragged gasp he says--]
Si guida pazzesco. [And brings his trembling mouth right to the delicate corner of Jojo's, tightening his fingers' grip and rolling his hips once in warning.
Don't you dare start what you can't finish, bambino.]