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Holy Diver

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Television was really such a bore.

It was about 12:15pm on a Saturday afternoon and there was absolutely nothing interesting on. This seemingly small, insignificant event was chipping away at Diego Brando’s sanity. He had every single channel available to the American public, having shelled out for the top package, and yet not a single one of the 5000+ channels that the cable company boasted had something interesting on. Diego was willing to wager that at least 4000 of the channels he had flipped through were infomercials. He had no desire to own a Shake Weight, or Sauna Pants, or that abominable Snuggie. The other channels that weren’t currently dedicated to companies trying to goad him into purchasing inane products had what he considered to be incredibly shitty and distasteful movies, or television episodes that he had already seen before and had no intention of viewing again.

This riled Diego up even more. What the fuck was the point of paying all that extra money for “premium channels” when none of them ever showed anything of interest? It was Saturday, plenty of people were home relaxing, so why wasn’t this being taken into account?

Diego continued to click on the remote with increasing intensity, which became so loud that it earned a concerned look from the other person occupying the couch on that Saturday afternoon.

Johnny Joestar tilted his head and frowned. Though not outwardly visible on his face, anger and discontentment were radiating off of his partner in waves so intense he felt as if they were thick enough to cut through with a knife. He watched in muted amusement for a while, finally deciding to speak up after Diego began to use two thumbs to click a single button.

“Diego—”

“I’m busy right now,” was Diego’s quickly muttered response.

Click, click, click-click.

Johnny rolled his eyes. “You’re gonna break the damn remote. That’ll be the second one this month, dude.”

Diego slowly turned his head to look at Johnny. “And what do you care?” He kept clicking with one hand and used the other to point accusingly at his partner. “You don’t pay the cable bill. You don’t pay the fee for the extra remotes. You have no stake in this.”

“Dio, you ain’t even fuckin’ staying on the channels long enough to see what’s on. Just pick one already!”

“Hmph. It’s okay, Jojo, I don’t expect a bumpkin like you to have the same analytical abilities as myself.” Diego tapped his head, smirking. Johnny rolled his eyes again. He was immune to Diego’s jabs at this point. To Johnny’s immense displeasure, this man that he regrettably referred to as his significant other continued on with his spiel. “You don’t think critically. You’ll just watch anything put in front of you because the brains of you and your countrymen are so rotted by the media that you’ll willingly digest utter garbage if it means a few measly pumps of dopamine will be sent to your neurons. I’m putting an end to that, Joestar! This is for your own well-being!”

If Johnny rolled his eyes any more they would have spun and flew out of his head. Instead, he sighed and sank back further into the couch. “What’re your arm-chair psychology rates, Dio? I might start comin’ to you instead of my therapist.”

“Bugger off.”

“Eat shit.”

“Go to hell.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’re going to have to wait.”

Diego stuck out his tongue and wiggled it menacingly, eliciting a long, loud groan from Johnny. He avoided eye contact with his partner, cheeks flushing. That bastard.

Johnny’s embarrassment was thankfully soon cut off by a shout of “Eureka!” from Diego and the ceasing of his constant clickity-clack of that poor television remote. The silence was music to Johnny’s ears.  He glanced over to see what Diego had finally settled on, a small “pfft” escaping his lips once he saw what it actually was. The man who had been complaining about everything being too dull for consumption for the past hour had settled on some obscure nature documentary! “You’re such a damn nerd, Dio.” This was spoken with the utmost affection.

Diego grinned, chest swelling with pride. “Call me what you want, this is quality programming! There’s much to glean from this. It’s not every day you learn about the—” He paused to glance at the screen, returning his gaze to Johnny. “—Roti Island snake-necked turtle!” He genuinely looked extremely proud of himself for finding this. It was the most adorable thing on the planet.

“Whatever you say,” Johnny shook his head and scooted closer to Diego, tilting his head to rest on the other man’s shoulder. An arm snaked around to wrap around his waist, pulling him even closer. Johnny hummed in contentment. “What is it with you’n reptiles anyway?”

“I feel a connection with them.”

Johnny took this opportunity and ran with it. “Yeah, you’re pretty slimy n’ gross.”

Diego let out an amused huff. “Are you going to call me cold-blooded next?”

“Ya did it yerself.” Johnny looked up at his partner and flashed him a toothy smile, which Diego made the mistake of glancing down and seeing, his heart absolutely melting as a result. Damn Johnny Joestar and his boyish good looks. Admiring him from afar was so much different from actually seeing his freckled face up close. Diego’s stupid blood vessels betrayed him, his cheeks reddening at the sight. He quickly looked away and focused on the t.v. again. “Y-yes, whatever.”

Satisfied, Johnny snuggled closer to Diego and relaxed, focusing on the documentary playing before him. Before he knew it, he was laying with his head on the other man’s chest, Diego apparently having dozed off in the middle of the documentary. Typical. Johnny wasn’t even really paying attention anymore, his mind fixated on the steady thump of Diego’s resting heartbeat. It was up there with Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours as one of the top 10 most comforting sounds on the planet.

Johnny looked over the sleeping Diego with a fond gaze, admiring the peaceful expression on his face as he slept. Diego was at his most tolerable in this state. Johnny really could not stand Diego, and he meant that in the best of ways. The man exasperated him, but never to the point that Johnny resented him for it.

People, namely his best friend and confidant Gyro Zeppeli, often wondered aloud what Johnny saw in Diego. Diego Brando, asshole extraordinaire, the guy who always carried himself like he was the only person that mattered in the world, who talked to other people as if they were sewage and who openly referred to the human race as a flock of pigeons begging to be controlled.

Johnny knew better, though. Diego just needed to be understood, whether he wanted someone to or not. Nobody took the time to do so. Johnny, breaking his usual cynical character, invested a lot of time into this task. He knew something was off about Diego when he first met him, and he pressed and pressed until he finally uncovered the truth. The world had hurt Diego, just as it had harmed him, and he chose to respond to that trauma in his own way. Was he a bastard? Yes. But he was Johnny’s bastard.

“Jojo?” Johnny was snapped out of his thoughts by the quickening of Diego’s heartbeat as he roused himself from his short slumber.

“Mm?”

“How much did I miss?”

Johnny glanced up, a groggy Diego looking down at him through half-lidded eyes. He took this opportunity to shift himself up and press a kiss to Diego’s lips. The Englishman blinked. That woke him up.

“Lots. The turtles are gettin’ eaten by pigs, man. Shit’s fucked.”

Diego groaned and looked at the clock. It was about 1:45pm now. “I have to say, I think I’ve lost interest in these snap-neck—”

“Snake-necked.”

“—snake-necked… Wait.” Diego beamed down at Johnny. “You were paying attention!”

 Johnny tilted his head up and kissed Diego again. “Just caught the important parts.”

“You…” Diego couldn’t finish that sentence on account of Johnny’s eyes boring into him again. Diego brought two hands to cup the other man’s face and brought their lips together, Johnny huffing and nipping at his tongue as he did so.

Johnny’s hands grasped Diego’s sweater as Diego’s fingers tangled themselves in Johnny’s blond locks, pulling Johnny closer into him as the man moaned into his mouth.

The nature documentary was drowned out by the sighs coming out of the two boys, Diego’s hands having traveled further down his partner’s body. He rubbed circles onto his back, slowly making his way down to Johnny’s ass. Diego squeezed gently, and though Johnny couldn’t really feel that much of it, he appreciated the gesture.

Before he knew it, Johnny was being flipped onto his back, his head now resting on the opposite side of the couch while Diego hovered over him. Diego looked down, his eyebrow cocked in a silent question, to which Johnny nodded and blushed, an embarrassed smile spreading across his lips. His hair was spread out on the couch with some sticking to his forehead, his clothes barely hanging onto his small yet fit frame and his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Diego couldn’t take much more of this. The Englishman’s eyes dilated as he leaned down and kissed Johnny’s exposed shoulder, using a bit of teeth to nip and suck at the tender spot. His hands pushed Johnny’s shirt further up towards his neck, exposing his stomach and chest area, which earned a satisfied sigh in response. His fingers ran over the scars around Johnny’s pecs, squeezing at his nipples as he continued to dig his teeth into the man’s shoulder.

“You…”

Diego finally stopped nursing the hickey that was forming on Johnny’s shoulder to pull his sweatpants off, laughing at the starry underwear that lie underneath. They also happened to be sopping wet, the sight of which made Diego’s dick twitch in his trousers.

“What?”

“Your underwear.”

Johnny tried and failed to look upset. “There’s nothin’ wrong with my briefs!”

“Doesn’t matter, because they’re coming off anyway.” Johnny yelped as Diego yanked off the drenched underpants and flung them to the floor, revealing a pretty thick tuft of hair covering Johnny’s nether regions. He cooed and ran his fingers down to Johnny’s stomach, the American shuddering in response.

“Diego…”

Diego’s voice took on an uncharacteristically tender tone. “You look magnificent, Johnny,” he whispered. His fingers trailed downwards, using one to rub a ring around the other man’s opening. Johnny let out a strangled moan in response, his fingers going up to cover his eyes. “Shut up, dumbass…”

He shifted himself so that he was face to face with Johnny’s pussy. Johnny squirmed a bit in anticipation, peeking out from behind his fingers. “Hurry, please…”

Much to Johnny’s displeasure, Diego, maintaining eye contact, removed his finger, placing it into his own mouth and removing it with a pop. This was torture. Diego was torturing him. “What’s the rush, Jojo?” He reached up, slowly removing Johnny’s hands from their place around his eyes. “Don’t be so embarrassed, it’s just you and me.”

“Bastard…” Johnny grit his teeth. “Just eat me out already.”

“As you command.” Diego returned to his position between Johnny’s legs and dove straight in, a surprised gasp forcing its way out of Johnny’s mouth as Diego ravished him with his serpentine tongue.

Obscene sucking noises were coming from down below as Diego ran his tongue up and down the length of Johnny’s opening, occasionally dipping in to lick down his walls. His tongue found his way past a certain bundle of nerves which caused Johnny to gasp again, the gasp making Diego give a short huff of laughter which gave an absolutely evil sensation in Johnny’s lower region.

Chaos truly erupted once Diego stopped lapping up his juices with his tongue and instead switched to pleasuring his clit, which Johnny was ashamed to admit made him moan like some two-bit porn-star as Diego licked it gently from side to side. A finger was inserted, stretching his vag out some more, then two, then three. The sensation of being stretched and his clit being sucked was almost too much to handle, with Johnny thinking he was about to come right there.

Then, Diego did something that would probably go down as one of his most evil and malicious actions ever committed towards Johnny. He could be so cruel.

He removed his fingers and instead focused his attention on licking Johnny’s vagina as a whole, licking slowly starting from the top of the clit’s hood to the bottom of the inner labia. It was agonizingly slow. Johnny really wished he could kick Diego for doing this, but his physical therapy unfortunately had not progressed that far.

“I… I’m go—Diego—”

Johnny climaxed, his entire upper body shuddering as Diego continued to move his tongue and make wet, incredibly hot sucking noises as he tongue-fucked him through the orgasm. He returned to dipping his tongue into Johnny’s now extremely sensitive vagina, Johnny shouting as he lapped up the come that seemingly wouldn’t stop flowing. He smirked as he did so, looking Johnny dead in the eyes, and the guy nearly came again just from the sight of the absolutely lecherous expression on Diego’s face.

“You goddamn—you’re a fucking asshole, I can’t stand you, you—” Johnny was half sighing, half shouting these expletives at him, which only spurred Diego into more passionately shoving his face between his thighs.

This cycle continued once more before Johnny was reduced to a shuddering, sweaty wreck above Diego, the other man smiling proudly as he wiped the excess juices from his lips with his tongue. Johnny screwed his eyes shut, refusing to look at any more of this. It was just too much. Diego was going to kill him.

“You taste really good, you know.”

Johnny could barely speak after what he had just been through, only gurgling in response.

Diego continued, brushing his hair back with his hand and resting a finger contemplatively on his chin. “You knew this was going to happen, weren’t you? You’ve been eating your fruits.”

“Shut up…”

The Englishman licked his lips again. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

Johnny opened his eyes again to see Diego gazing adoringly at him, like he was the only other person in the world. And to Diego, he might as well have been. There was never a man like his Johnny.

Johnny’s voice caught in his throat at the sight. Diego could really be so fucking corny, but that sure didn’t stop him from giggling involuntarily. He glanced downward, seeing Diego’s tent still loud and proud in his trousers. He pointed in its direction. “D’you want me to help you with that?”

“You don’t have to.” Diego motioned to his bulge. “I was just going to have a wank.”

“That ain’t fair,” Johnny propped himself up on his elbows, cheeks flushing. “I might as well return the favor.”

Diego leaned over and grabbed Johnny’s hand, squeezing it as he gave Johnny another, much shorter kiss. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Ya really don’t,” Johnny bit back with a toothy grin. After a moment of deliberation, he plopped himself down to the floor and moseyed on over to Diego, unzipping the other man’s trousers and taking his place between his legs.

 


 

Gyro Zeppeli strutted down the halls of the apartment complex, twirling his car keys rapidly around his finger. He had leant Johnny his Calc II notes and he’d be damned if he sacrificed another night of studying so that Johnny’s truant ass could mooch off his work some more. He knew Johnny didn’t really care for the subject, but he could at least haul his ass to class twice a week!

He hadn’t bothered to text him beforehand; when they shared a university apartment together Johnny was notorious for bursting into Gyro’s room unannounced whilst shouting at the top of his lungs. This, of course, ended when Diego appeared out of nowhere and practically ruined his life.

Gyro still felt pretty bitter about that, though he’d never admit it to anyone. It’s not like he and Johnny were dating or anything, but still… it hurt a lot more to see Johnny go than it probably normally should have for two friends. He didn’t like thinking about it too much. Considering the fact that he was about to walk into his enemy’s apartment, he resolved to put on a brave face and act civil, if only for Johnny’s sake.

Conveniently, the Brando residence’s door was swung wide open. It was a little weird, considering how much Johnny mentioned hating the draft that flowed throughout the building, but he didn’t dwell on it.

“He~y Johnny, I’m here for m-my… my….. m—”

Gyro’s words died in his throat at the scene before him.

Unfortunately for the pair, the doorway had full view of the living room area that they currently occupied. Head having swiveled towards the door immediately at the sound of his voice, a petrified Johnny stared at Gyro, his lips still wrapped around the head of Diego’s—

Gyro covered his eyes with his hands, peeking through only enough so that he could sort of make out their shapes on the couch. He could at least see enough of them to register that Diego was fucking pissed.

“Is that bloody Zeppeli?!”

There was a wet >pop< as Johnny removed his mouth from his task, Diego apparently having gone limp at the sight of Gyro in his doorway. His face was contorted in rage, quickly tucking himself back into his trousers and hopping onto his feet. “What the fuck are you—”

Johnny was redder than Gyro had ever seen him, and at this point he was horrified to notice that his friend was also completely nude below the waist. He must have realized this, quickly grabbing a blanket from the couch and covering himself with it, eyes averted in shame. Gyro was the last person on the planet he would have wanted to see him in such an embarrassing position, and he meant that literally. He’d have even preferred his own bigot of a father to stroll in instead.

“Why are you here?!” Diego was marching over to Gyro, who was still traumatized at the sight of the other man’s penis in his crush’s mouth.

Diego was a deep shade of scarlet himself, an expression of pure hatred in his eyes as he poked a finger into Gyro’s chest. “How—you stole the keys, didn’t you?! I’ve been—"

“What?!” Gyro finally removed his hands from his face and lowered his gaze to level with Diego’s. Diego had balls, marching up to Gyro like he wanted to fight while being a full head shorter than the towering Italian. “You- you’re the one that left the freaking door open, you dumbass!”

Diego’s eyes widened.

“Ohhh my god,” Johnny groaned from the other side of the room, rubbing his temples. “Dio… when you took the trash out this morning…”

He retracted his finger from its place on Gyro’s chest. Yes, he did remember loudly complaining earlier that day about having to haul the trash out, and returning through the door still ranting and raving. “...Oh.”

Now it was Johnny’s turn to raise his voice. “The whole fucking building probably heard us, Diego!”

“Well, there isn’t much I can do about that now, is th—”

“You could have closed the fucking door!!” Johnny seemed more exasperated than genuinely angry, at least. He cracked a sheepish smile at Gyro, who was still standing awkwardly in the doorway, pointing at the backpack that lay on the floor nearby. “It’s in there. Sorry ‘bout all this, man. I’ll text you.”

Gyro noticed Diego’s eyebrow twitch at that. Still glaring daggers at the Englishman, Gyro reached down and unzipped Johnny’s starred backpack on the floor, retrieving his notebook with a huff.

“Johnny… Diego… I’ll be taking my leave.” Gyro saluted and stiffly walked out of the room, his boots clacking on the hallway tiles as he left. Diego could have sworn that he saw tears welling up in his eyes, but he decided that he didn’t really care. He slammed the door shut and returned to where Johnny still sat on the floor, exhaling as he plopped back down onto the couch.

“I’m, erm… I’m.” He sniffed. “I’m sor—I’m. I’m sorry. I apologize.”

There was silence for a few moments, then a deep laugh from the pits of Johnny’s stomach. He placed his hand on Diego’s knee and squeezed. “You’re somethin’ else, Dio.”

Diego blinked. “What?”

His boyfriend looked incredulously at him, though there was a more-than-obvious hint of amusement in his gaze. “You... never mind. Just start shuttin’ the damn door after ya go out, weirdo!”

“Hmph! As if I did that on purpose. Do I look like some sort of voyeur to you?”

“Don’t make me answer that.” Johnny shook his head and looked back up to Diego. “I ain’t really lookin’ forward to talkin’ to the landlady later, if I’m being honest with you. Prolly thinks I’m some sorta nympho now.”

Diego snorted. Johnny really was discovering new octaves earlier during their engagement. “Perhaps I’ll go in your place, then.”

“Real sweet of ya to offer, dumplin’.”

Don’t call me that.” Diego’s cheeks once again betrayed his words. He felt Johnny’s hands trail up his leg from his knee, squinting inquisitively. “…What are you doing?”

Now it was Johnny’s turn to blush. “Well… we haven’t really finished what we started, have we?”

This earned a scoff from Diego. “Yeah, because that buffoo—"

“Shh.” Johnny pressed a finger to his lips, batting his eyes at his partner. Damn him. “Lemme take care of you, yeah?”

Diego nodded and leaned back into the couch, breathing contentedly as Johnny went to work. Though the sight of that insufferable Italian had totally ruined his mood, there was at least one thing going on that afternoon that seemed to continue without interruption.

That fucking turtle documentary was still playing.