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The sight just outside the Nijimura household was gruesome. Jotaro was not fazed by it, of course, but Josuke had to force a numbed Okuyasu away from the house. Josuke and Koichi remained there by Jotaro’s request to keep Okuyasu occupied and attempt to comfort him. The young man didn’t seem to need any.
Jotaro could easily see past this, though. He signed off some documents and glanced over at the trio across the street, where Okuyasu stared blankly up at the telephone wire. The body wasn’t there anymore. It should’ve affected him somehow, brought tears, made his body shake. Jotaro knew how one’s body reacted when a close relative or friend was killed before their eyes.
Because he had felt it, too.
“Josuke, take Koichi home. There are some things I need to discuss with Okuyasu alone.”
Josuke raised a brow but didn’t question it. “Alright. Take care, Okuyasu, yeah? We’ll catch you later at school.”
“Huh? Oh—yeah. Alright. See ya later.”
Okuyasu didn’t flinch as Josuke patted his back, or when Koichi offered an awkward side-hug. They left, looking back over their shoulders every few steps between whispered words.
“Okuyasu.”
“Hold on,” he said. “I—I need to check on my dad…”
“He’s fine,” Jotaro said. “He hasn’t left his spot upstairs. He’s still looking at the photograph.”
“But I… I need to… Dad needs me,” he said. He swallowed thickly.
Jotaro nodded and followed Okuyasu inside the dark house and up the stairs. He kept his distance, watching from the doorway. From what Josuke had told him, Keicho Nijimura was harsh and abusive toward their father. What Jotaro witnessed with Okuyasu was far different than that: he knelt silently by his grotesquely shaped father. He watched him interestingly, then said a few quiet words that Jotaro wasn’t listening to. Okuyasu’s father looked at his son every few seconds, hiding the photograph on his chest when he did so. He clutched it tighter and tighter.
Okuyasu understood his father’s desire for solitude and stood. He exhaled slowly and turned around, stepping out of the attic next to Jotaro.
He leaned against the closed door with his eyes glued to the wooden stairs.
“Okuyasu.”
His head snapped up. He’d forgotten that Jotaro was there.
The older man leaned his weight on one side, his hip steadying him against the ball of the railing. For the first time his eyes locked in a gaze with Okuyasu’s. The poor boy’s eyes were moist where clear tears were ready to fall, but they didn’t. They were kept at bay by sheer will.
But in the center of that black holed iris, small as it may be, Jotaro saw the break. The crack in that young man’s soul was screaming for help, for something.
“I admire your bravery,” he said. Okuyasu’s jaw clenched—he was still trying to hold it in. “Okuyasu, I’d like to take you to dinner to discuss some things. Would that be alright?”
Okuyasu’s sparse eyebrows pulled inward toward his nose, and he blinked curiously.
“The Speedwagon Foundation would like to formally offer some services available to you and your father as victims of the arrow. I understand if you decline, but I think it’s best that you think it over first.”
Okuyasu was silent for quite a while. Jotaro shifted his weight to the other foot and waited a little longer before turning around to descend the stairs.
“Okay,” Okuyasu said at last. Jotaro turned his head and acknowledged Okuyasu’s answer, then continued on his way. “Oh, uh—let me show you out…”
It was a wonder how the boy could remember manners or etiquette at a time like this. But as Jotaro placed his hand on the doorknob to exit, there was a tug on his coat. He let go of the handle and turned around to a heartbreaking sight: Okuyasu’s tears had managed to escape, one at a time from each eye, falling down his sunken cheeks. Jotaro could tell he hadn’t been eating properly, probably not for some time. The bags beneath his eyes told him he wasn’t sleeping, either.
How could he sleep? Jotaro thought to himself. There was another tug, one in his chest. It brought him closer to Okuyasu, one step, then two. And then Jotaro’s wide arms opened and brought the boy’s face into his chest, where Okuyasu’s shaky shoulders slumped forward.
He was careful not to disturb the boy’s carefully shaped, albeit small, pompadour. Jotaro rubbed soft circles on the back of Okuyasu’s neck while warm tears stained through his white coat.
Jotaro wasn’t one to give hugs. He hardly ever gave one to his grandfather after he graduated high school and moved on to college. It must be some fatherly instinct, he thought. This boy is too young. He never deserved such heartache as this.
That was what he told himself.
They didn’t have dinner for a long while, given the numerous Stand users after them. Okuyasu bounced back to what could only be described as the boy’s ‘normal self’, or so it seemed to Jotaro. Josuke and Koichi’s kindness, their forgiving nature and friendship with Okuyasu was what he attributed it too. They never spoke about Jotaro’s consolation, or that Okuyasu had cried out his feelings.
As per Okuyasu’s request, Jotaro treated him to dinner at Tonio’s. Each course tasted refreshing and lingered on Jotaro’s tongue as he savored the combined flavors. He’d heard about the chef Stand user before, but never expected Tonio’s palette to be anywhere near his tastes.
Jotaro allowed Okuyasu to lead the conversation through the appetizer and main dishes. He talked about normal everyday things, like school or Koichi and Josuke. Sometimes he grumbled about not having a girlfriend, or not earning enough money to get lunch.
“What?”
Jotaro felt something strange in his belly. Discomfort—it bothered him immensely how this boy was still suffering. Especially since, he said, “The Foundation has been allotting you a certain dollar amount each month. Did the funds never come through?”
“Huh? Oh! That was you? Heh, I…” Okuyasu scratched his cheek. “I thought it might’ve been from you or your organization or whatever, but, uh, I’m not so smart you know? Anyway, I’ve been keepin’ that aside. For like, the house payment an’ all.”
Jotaro almost smiled, for there was some comfort in knowing that Okuyasu had access to the money if he really fell behind. Jotaro wanted him to take care of himself. But instead of vocalizing his thoughts, he shook his head and looked down at the chocolate dessert waiting on his plate.
A plump, juicy strawberry sat near the curved edge of the china plate. He’d already taken a bite of it. As he stared longer and harder at it, Jotaro realized that the pinch in the pit of his stomach was a different kind of discomfort altogether.
“It sucks that Josuke’s busy with Koichi today!”
Okuyasu’s sudden exclamation caught him off guard. He was a little thankful, readjusting himself in his seat as Tonio passed by to refill their waters.
“Why is that?” Jotaro asked. He cautiously took a bite of the chocolate cake.
“He said he’d help me memorize some history stuff for a test tomorrow, but he ditched me…”
“I can help you.”
Jotaro spoke the words faster than he thought them, and the delighted surprise in Okuyasu’s expression was well worth it.
He still couldn’t shake the tightness in his stomach when they got back to Okuyasu’s house. Okuyasu occupied the master bedroom since his father preferred to remain up in the attic. The spacious room was furnished only with a simple desk, a dresser, and a lonely futon.
Jotaro leaned over Okuyasu’s shoulder as he studied scribbled-down notes. Okuyasu’s characters bled into one another, but his quick pen strokes were far from childlike. Jotaro appreciated the extensive information Okuyasu jotted down in the side margins, too; he was clearly serious about his education, despite constantly claiming that he wasn’t very smart.
In fact, Jotaro thought the exact opposite about him.
Some of the kanji, just a few, were too messy for him to discern from afar. As he leaned closer to get a better look, his chest brushed against Okuyasu’s shoulder.
Okuyasu tensed up. His breathing halted, then he inhaled deeply. Okuyasu closed his eyes and thought about how Jotaro smelled like sea salt. About Jotaro’s dark tan that showed on his hand on the desk, skin that he wanted to taste. He opened his eyes and studied the thickness of Jotaro’s fingers, noting how white his nails were in comparison to the rough pigments around them. They were identically shaped and not very short, but Jotaro didn’t grow them very long either. Okuyasu looked at his own nails, chewed up and gnawed down as far as he could manage.
Jotaro has such healthy fingernails, he thought. And he’s been so nice to me… Why?
Jotaro was Josuke’s nephew. Josuke couldn’t heal himself if he were to get injured. It didn’t make sense in Okuyasu’s head why Jotaro would pay such close attention to him rather than his own uncle, who they’d all probably be dead without. Josuke was the most important asset of their team.
Yet Okuyasu gazed at the freshly shaven chin of Jotaro, thinking about that day his brother died. He didn’t know who Jotaro was at the time. Hell, he barely knew Josuke and Koichi—he’d tried to kill them after all. They offered him some consolation, too, he remembered. Mostly Josuke. Okuyasu understood why Koichi was salty on that day, though.
But why Jotaro? Jotaro, who stayed longer. Who saw his father with the photograph. Jotaro Kujo, late 20’s, marine biology student, strongest known Stand user. Jotaro Kujo who saw so plainly through Okuyasu’s brave front.
He never really saw Jotaro until that moment when he finally acknowledged their brief connection that day. Something as simple as a hug, yet Okuyasu understood its meaning now. He knew that Jotaro had suffered a loss just as great.
Maybe that’s why I feel this way, Okuyasu thought. His warm face gave him away, flushing furiously as he recalled those strong arms around him and his face in a broad chest. He pressed his thighs together, hoping that Jotaro hadn’t noticed.
Jotaro did notice. He was explaining to Okuyasu an easier way to remember the chronological order of events, but hadn’t gotten a response when he asked if it made sense. He tried again, pointing to various terms, gesturing with his hands how to rearrange them.
Since he didn’t get a response the second time, he turned his head to find Okuyasu looking at his lap, avoiding Jotaro’s gaze. He squirmed in his seat and wasn’t listening to anything. Jotaro sighed. “Good grief…”
Okuyasu jumped at the sound of his voice, despite Jotaro’s rambling only moments before. When he turned his head he didn’t expect soft, thin lips waiting for him, or closed eyes veiled by the shadow of a looming hat. He exhaled slowly and leaned forward, inexperienced, puckering his lips only to have them sit unmoving atop Jotaro’s.
But Jotaro didn’t mind leading, and tilted his head as their mouths connected. He kept it sweet and short, afraid that he might give the poor boy a heart attack if he dove right into it.
“Okuyasu,” Jotaro said. Okuyasu looked away again. “It seems you’re having some trouble staying focused.” Jotaro casually gestured to the boy’s tightly clenched thighs. “Is there another problem I can… help you with?”
Okuyasu thought he might die of embarrassment. He squealed—a sound he wasn’t aware he could make—and covered his face shamefully.
“Ah—I, I’m so sorry Jotaro, I can’t help it though, y’know? Y-you’re old and Josuke’s nephew, I totally can’t it’s… It’s wrong,” Okuyasu said. He couldn’t differentiate between mockery and seduction and thus didn’t consider that Jotaro might’ve been serious. “I guess it’s just the teen hormones or somethin’.”
“Okuyasu.” He knelt next to the rickety old desk chair and put one hand on Okuyasu’s knee. “I’m sincerely offering my help… Tonio’s food didn’t only effect you, after all.”
The younger man let his fingers fall along his cheeks, stopping where they cupped his jaw. He blushed an innocent red and looked into Jotaro’s sunny-day blue eyes, searching for truth in that statement—for validation that his own desires were not as taboo as he thought.
With a half nod, Okuyasu consented. He stood when Jotaro took his hand and followed him toward the beat up futon.
They got naked quicker than Okuyasu would’ve liked. He still felt self-conscious about his scars—the ones on his face, on the back of his shoulders and thighs. He was ashamed of them, ashamed of the evidence that contained his abusive past.
But Jotaro would soon ease his troubles.
They pushed the futon against the wall where Jotaro’s back rested, and he pulled Okuyasu into his open lap. His large hands smoothed the hair down Okuyasu’s arms, gently prying the boy’s hands apart so he couldn’t hide his half-hard erection. Jotaro was careful not to immediately reach for it.
Instead, he continued to soothingly rub down Okuyasu’s arms, letting his hands venture a little lower until he intertwined their fingers. Okuyasu was shaking. Jotaro didn’t doubt that this was his first sexual encounter.
“You know,” he whispered, “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, Okuyasu. You’re very smart.”
He didn’t see the blush that dusted Okuyasu’s sharp cheekbones.
“And you’re very strong. I was lucky growing up, I realize that now, but you’ve persevered through so much, so much heartache.” Jotaro brought Okuyasu’s hands up to rest over his heart. “I’ve only known such fear and helplessness twice. Despair. Look at these hands, this rough skin…”
Jotaro’s face leaned forward as he studied Okuyasu’s fingers. The skin on his knuckles was a little dry, and one was oddly shaped. He must’ve broken it at some point.
“I’m going to touch you now, ok?”
Okuyasu held his breath. Jotaro’s hands let go of his and he instantly became more nervous. He wanted them back because they brought comfort; but the older man eased his palms onto Okuyasu’s shoulders, massaging them to loosen the poor boy’s tension. It worked; Okuyasu closed his eyes and breathed easy again, even felt himself beginning to doze off.
Then Jotaro’s hands moved up to his neck muscles. Okuyasu sighed, his stomach warmed from the heat on his back—Jotaro was fully erect. He shivered as Jotaro kissed softly down his jaw and up one of his scars where he stopped at the center on his nose. Jotaro squeezed him closer, his hands now holding Okuyasu’s relatively small chest. It was strong and wide compared to most of the boys his age, but compared to Jotaro he felt very little. Still, the big hands began to massage them, and Okuyasu let out a high-pitched whine.
“Shh,” Jotaro cooed. “I’m not going to hurt you, baby. You are too precious for me to harm.”
Okuyasu blubbered something incoherent, clearly flustered by such a comment. He’d never been called baby by anyone, much less told he was precious.
Jotaro’s gentle touch was not something Okuyasu expected, either, as if the older man was holding himself back for the sake of Okuyasu. While he appreciated it, his aching dick didn’t, so he spread his legs a little wider and shyly nuzzled the side of Jotaro’s face.
Jotaro chuckled, pressing kisses to Okuyasu’s neck. The red skin beneath his lips burned hotly under gentle pecks here and there. His fingers circled Okuyasu’s erect nipples, not once touching them, only teasing. When Jotaro grazed his teeth along a vein in Okuyasu’s neck the boy arched his back, feeling his nipples tingle under Jotaro’s calloused palms. He moaned a little louder and hid his face against Jotaro’s round shoulder.
“It’s cute how shy you are, Okuyasu,” Jotaro mused. “You’ve never been this quiet before.”
“It’s j-just ‘cause you’re… t-touching me an’ all…”
“Mm. Is that so?”
Jotaro rushed his hands down Okuyasu’s tight abdomen, stopping at the junction between his hips and thighs. Okuyasu was especially sensitive there, where his skin caught goosebumps as Jotaro’s fingers kneaded the tough muscles. He rubbed his thighs in circles, always inching closer to the softest skin of Okuyasu’s inner thighs. He nipped the lobe of Okuyasu’s ear when he saw that the closer his hands got to his balls, the wider Okuyasu spread his legs.
Jotaro pressed himself against Okuyasu’s back and enjoyed his startled gasp. It would be a little fun, he thought, to have Okuyasu thinking that his large cock was going to be in that tight ass tonight.
But Jotaro, though he’d never admit it, cared deeply for this troubled young man, and did not want to halt future interactions like this by rushing to the main course. He could feel Okuyasu’s insecurities in his body’s reactions, knew his damaged history. Jotaro knew he had to go easy with the boy, soothe him, reassure him that he was loved and adored and precious.
He pressed again into Okuyasu’s arching back, but this time an approving hum came from the boy’s lips. With one hand Jotaro tilted Okuyasu’s face toward him and captured those parted lips, tasting the inside of his mouth. Like strawberries and chocolate, as Jotaro expected.
Jotaro moaned softly into the kiss, letting his free hand tease the innermost of Okuyasu’s thigh. The boy whimpered as his skin was rubbed harshly, then Jotaro’s hand cupped his balls and Okuyasu jumped. He broke the kiss with a shy look and his head fell back again.
“Ah–! J-Jotaro!”
“It’s okay, baby,” he whispered, kissing Okuyasu’s cheek. “I’ll make you feel good, okay?”
Okuyasu’s heart fluttered and he nodded without another word. Jotaro’s hand was hot on his tight balls, rubbing them with his fingers and squeezing the entire sack at long intervals. He breathed heavily, trying to keep quiet though it was unlikely that his father would come down to check on him.
Jotaro’s other hand moved to the base of Okuyasu’s cock. His thighs burned from how far apart they were stretched, after all, he was not so flexible. But Jotaro kept kissing down his neck, stopping at the thick muscle beside his shoulder to gnaw on it. Okuyasu grunted harshly, closing his eyes. Jotaro’s hand gripped the base tightly, moving only halfway up the shaft the first few strokes. Okuyasu brought his hands above his head, knocking off Jotaro’s hat. He buried his fingers in Jotaro’s thick hair; it was soft but coarse, and he tugged on it. Jotaro moaned softly by his ear.
Okuyasu enjoyed the sound and did it again.
Jotaro realized what he was doing and finally, finally stroked all the way up to the head of Okuyasu’s cock. The boy whined, arching his back at an impossible angle as that hardened thumb ghosted over his leaking slit. Jotaro rubbed his precum all around the head, then slowly dragged his hand back down, then up again. All the while he rolled Okuyasu’s balls in his hand, feeling the boy sink further down into the futon. Jotaro smiled a little, enjoying how easily poor Okuyasu was overstimulated.
“Hey,” he whispered. “Give me a kiss.”
Okuyasu tilted his head back and found Jotaro’s lips on him again. He whined as the older man’s hand moved faster, feeling the large cock behind him press against his spine. Jotaro was thrusting against him and matched it with the pace of his hand; Okuyasu’s balls tightened as their stimulation halted. Jotaro’s other hand was moving up his stomach and chest again, stopping at one of his nipples. Jotaro pinched it harder than before and Okuyasu yelped.
His open mouth allowed Jotaro’s tongue to enter, and he thought he might faint. It tasted salty just like he imagined, or maybe that was the perspiration dripping along Jotaro’s upper lip. Okuyasu’s chest clenched and his stomach felt hot and tight. His cock throbbed in Jotaro’s grip, and all of it was too much; Jotaro’s tongue tasting his mouth and the abused right nipple rubbing on Jotaro’s palm, and the other hand stroking him fast—fast. Jotaro hugged him closer, frotting against his back, and with a swallowed moan Okuyasu came. His hips tensed as he blew his load, caught nearly entirely in Jotaro’s palm. He’d covered the head of Okuyasu’s penis, causing a bit of an unpleasant dripping down his shaft.
With his mouth still hung open, Okuyasu breathed slowly to catch his breath. Jotaro’s kiss lingered, his taste, even though his teeth were now nipping gently at the sweaty skin on his shoulder. Okuyasu blinked rapidly, his chest heaving while he came down from his high.
The only problem was the still-hard dick in his back. He swallowed again and removed Jotaro’s hands from his body, turning around.
“J-Jotaro, can—can I?”
Jotaro laughed a little. Okuyasu studied his face, smooth, but angular. His eyebrows were thick and wide, but nicely combed. Okuyasu’s shyness returned.
How could someone so beautiful be attracted to him?
“Okuyasu.” That strong, deep voice pulled him from his thoughts, as always. “You don’t have to.”
“But—I want to. I mean, you did for me, so…”
“That doesn’t mean you have to.”
“But you’re still—oh my god, you’re huge!”
Okuyasu’s wide eyes made Jotaro laugh louder. The way he stared point blank at Jotaro’s heavy, needy cock was very amusing.
“You don’t have to.” Okuyasu swallowed. He really did want to, though his insecurities and lack of experience came crashing down on him again. “Next time.”
The boy flushed, his gaze returning to Jotaro’s blue eyes. “N-next time?”
“Yes. Unless you prefer this to be one-time only, it’s all up to you.”
“Ah—but I can never make decisions on my own! Big bro always did… B-but—“
He paused, glancing at the bare window across the room. The dusted pink on his cheeks came back again and he moved closer, leaning his head on Jotaro’s chest.
“I—I think I want to, again, s-someday. It was, uh, it was n-nice… feeling, and all…”
Jotaro smiled. After a moment he draped his arms over Okuyasu’s back and held him there. His painful erection gradually receded, and when he was sure his body wouldn’t have further urges, he scooted into a laying positon. Okuyasu shimmied onto his side, keeping his arms around Jotaro’s surprisingly slim hips.
His pompadour had come undone. Bobby pins fell to the floor or rested at one corner of the futon. Okuyasu didn’t object when Jotaro kissed his forehead, or ran his not-sticky fingers through his hair. It relaxed him, made him close his eyes and relive it all over again. He relived the comfort of Jotaro’s hug, his wide chest and strong arms, and he relived their dinner and their closeness.
Okuyasu buried his face in Jotaro’s chest. He hadn’t noticed how fuzzy it was before, but its warmth and silky texture welcomed him. For the first time ever, he felt completely understood. Loved.