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Lavender Lingerie

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A smile on Jotaro's face is something never anticipated. But when it does come, it's a rarity, a gift, a comfort. It makes Polnareff melt with a certain adoration when it grows across his handsome face, lighting up his exhausted eyes. Polnareff stares for as long as it lingers, and then once it cruelly fades away, Polnareff grabs his wheel and pulls to swing himself and his wheelchair out of the way.

“Come on in, Jotaro,” he says, warmly, “Let me get some drinks in you.”


The interior of the seemingly abandoned countryside residence is unfamiliar to Jotaro. While Polnareff had approached the liquor cabinet to fetch that scotch that Jotaro mumbled about, Jotaro observed the few paintings hung on the walls, the decorative arrangement on one of the nearby tables. There's a couch and a matching armchair, a coffee table, a shelf bearing books, a rug, and various other pieces of furniture with the sole purpose of taking up empty space.

Soon, Polnareff returns to Jotaro's side, and hands him the auburn colored scotch with a tired smile, his own glass in hand.


Sometime later in the night, when drinks have been consumed and words have been said, Polnareff is once again reminded just how annoyingly creaky his old wooden-framed bed is. It groans with strain when Polnareff adjusts himself on top of Jotaro, who sits propped against the headboard, now lacking both his hat and that ridiculous white coat decorated by buttons of gold. Reaching up with a slight frustrated frown, Polnareff runs his thumb under the strap of the lavender babydoll he wore, the open satin cascading down his torso and showing a sliver of his belly.

It's a little different than last time. Polnareff isn't as muscular and broad as he once was; losing the majority of ability and motivation to work out had reduced his muscle mass considerably. Now his arms are lacking that impressive swell of power, and his stomach is soft. His chest isn't as pronounced, and his thighs are more slender. In the back of his mind, he's subconscious.

“You look amazing,” Jotaro says as he carefully rests his broad hands around Polnareff's thighs, in that tone of voice that is slightly different than the typical; touched by subtle awe and appreciation. Polnareff blushes. That makes him feel a little better.

“Good,” he quietly says, with a meek smile appearing on his scarred face. He draws an arm around Jotaro's neck, his partially cybernetic hand resting gently over his strong shoulder. Polnareff leans in to press a soft, lingering kiss to Jotaro's cheek, his eyes closing. He feels the tension in Jotaro's shoulders melt away.

“I'm sure I'll look even better without it all on,” Polnareff teases, to which Jotaro agrees with a grunt and a hand slipping into his lacy panties to firmly grope his ass.


Imprints of Polnareff's lipstick decorate Jotaro's cheeks and mouth. Gazing down at his stoic face, Polnareff finds it charming. He can't help but stare. Meanwhile, Jotaro's green eyes are trained down on where they're connected—he readjusts his hands cupped under Polnareff's ass, supporting the majority of his weight. With flexing of his arms, Jotaro keeps Polnareff raised while arching his hips up against him. Slowly pumping his shaft into his body, kept at an infuriatingly slow pace that Jotaro knows drives Polnareff crazy simply because he wants more, something faster and harder. But Jotaro values making this last.

His gaze had been fixed on his slick cock sliding in and out of Polnareff's flushed, pliant body, but now he trains it up on his grimacing face—the strained expression has his jagged pink scar wrinkling up slightly. Polnareff is motionless on top of him, his residual thighs open and resting atop the covers of the bed. He's propped back on his hands, arms rigid and trembling with the difficulty of supporting his weight—they've been like this, with Jotaro slowly fucking him, for too long. Though he doesn't ask to switch positions simply because he's close to coming.

Jotaro must have sensed this by his involuntary trembling and shaky breathing—he begins thrusting his hips up into him with more force. It has Polnareff's babydoll lingerie fluttering around his torso. The smacking of their skin fills the bedroom, joined by Polnareff's shocked gasp and following moan. Jotaro watches him tip his head back. He feels him clench up around his cock and it has him grunting. Jotaro snaps his hips up into him continuously, relentlessly, until Polnareff jerks his head up and watches with a grimacing face and a sharp exhale as his aching cock shot ropes of cum onto Jotaro's neck and face. Jotaro doesn't flinch.

Panting heavily, Polnareff stares dazedly at the sight of his ejaculation on Jotaro's cheek and jaw. Jotaro's eyes are intense, his cheeks tinted a dusty red. Polnareff tenses up when the other man rests him down on his hips, which has him taking the entirety of his shaft. Polnareff bites his lip. Jotaro reaches in-between his trembling thighs to grip his flushed cock.

Wordlessly, Jotaro keeps his lustful gaze trained on Polnareff's face as he begins pulling at his softening cock with a tight grip. Polnareff's thighs jerk, and then close around Jotaro's forearm. He grimaces and grunts, “Jotaro!”

“What?” Jotaro remarks blankly, teasingly, rolling his thumb across the dripping, reddened head of his cock. Polnareff lets out a breathless, strained moan and shakily opens his thighs again to look down and watch. Jotaro slowly pulls at his slick cock again and again, his foreskin enveloping the sensitive head repeatedly. Polnareff reaches out to clutch at Jotaro's wrist, gasping, “Too much! Jojo!”

“Alright,” Jotaro relents, with the slightest smile. He releases his soft shaft and squeezes his thigh instead. Letting out a deep, shaky exhale, Polnareff sweeps a hand down over his face and then clears his throat before saying firmly, a smirk growing on his lips, “Let me lay down, and then you can fuck me. We're not finished. Not even close.”