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Oral Fixation

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For some reason, he was always here when the weather was bad.


It didn’t matter so much if it was raining, threatening to rain, or simply muggy, Jotaro would be there. It was like some menacing lawn gnome at best, a guard dog at worst. And most times, he would be caught smoking there on the porch while he waited for the mangaka to answer the door.


“Smoking isn’t good for you.”


Rohan’s whip-like voice brought Jotaro from his reverie, a disinterested glance backwards revealing that the mangaka had been standing beside him for a short while. His eyebrows rose up, vanishing into the brim of the cap. “Yeah,” he acquiesced, “I don’t smoke around the kids.”

“So you smoke around me instead?”


“I don’t. You’re just here now.”


“Just come inside.”


This was relatively routine. The smoking, however, had to stop. It was not a smell that suited Jotaro Kujo. It broke the image of him, made him both an enigma and even more human than before. It took his larger than life shoulders and shrunk him down into something compact enough to carry in his pocket. 


It was then Rohan realized why he didn’t care for it so much; it truly ruined the illusion of what he expected him to be.


(he wasn’t sure he could handle that much more.)


So he considered enacting a little plan, loosely. Perhaps it would be a bit like training a dog. If he could teach Kujo to acquiesce to something else, he could get him to quit entirely. Or at the very least, wean him from it. The routine was simple, after all. Sometimes fuck, sometimes talk, usually leave. He smoked before and after. His coat, however, was usually left on a hook where he’d appointed him to place it at least a dozen visits ago.


It didn’t take much. The cigarette pack slipped easily from the coat pocket and he dumped its contents into a drawer in the kitchen, quickly placing it back where it came from while Jotaro so helpfully washed up for the tea he’d offered.  It wasn’t the best plan, but it was a good set up for the plan. Or so he thought.

“... Rohan.”




Oh, how he despised this part.


It was now that the all-too-quiet man would either decide to lean in and take him on the table (what was with this feral giant and furniture?) or he would simply say he had to get back to work and leave him here, addled and all the more strange for enjoying the company of someone so ridiculously simple and emotionally constipated.

...Damn. He was leaving. Though there was something oddly warm in the way Jotaro regarded him, eyes crinkling even if his lips never so much as cracked a smile. It was all in his gaze, like some breath of affection in the arctic. Why was it this man always had a way to make him feel worse -- when he was being so obviously gentle? What a mess. He was a mess. He hated him.


There it was!

The biologist was reaching into his coat pocket as he was getting ready to leave, noticing the sudden stark lack of cigarettes. It delighted the mangaka to no end to see the normally stoic man have the quietest moment of panic, checking pockets in pants and coat for any strays.


Apparently Jotaro Kujo himself was more stressed than he was letting on if his nicotine routine getting interrupted was enough to send him into a tizzy.


Rohan took far too much delight in it.


“Ah. You usually have one before you go, don’t you?”


Immediately, he was given a suspicious look. Good.


“It’s fine.”


“I might have a pack laying around upstairs, if you want it.”


The bait was set. The man pursed his painfully gorgeous lips in a way that could only be described as pouty. Rohan hated that, too. Apparently it was acceptable, though, since he made an indicative gesture of acceptance.


At least until he was gesturing for Jotaro to follow him. The suspicion immediately returned.


Good. It meant he wasn’t stupid.


“Didn’t know you smoked.”


“Occasionally, for reference.”

Jotaro was giving him the look. The look of impassive judgement without comment that burned holes directly into the back of his head regardless. He didn’t have to say anything, he just knew that he didn’t approve in the slightest.


Rohan made a show of rummaging through his desk drawer, regardless of the fact that he’d palmed one of the cigarettes he’d stolen in his pocket. A single cigarette lifted in offering, and then pulled away as soon as the biologist made to reach for it was a greedy hand.


“I didn’t say it was for free.”


“...” Jotaro began to dig into his coat, and at the sound of change being jostled about he began to sputter immediately. “I didn’t mean for you to pay for it with MONEY you--!!” That startled him, apparently, as he froze in place.


Exasperation. Frustration. The cigarette waved, and Jotaro’s eyes followed it with a grunt. “I’ll just get another pack at the store,” the biologist lifted a hand, only to have it be grasped by a smaller one.


“Or if you suck me off, you can have this one for free.”


The sudden shift in conversational tone made Jotaro choke on spit.


Heaven’s Door wasn’t his only window into someone’s life. Jotaro Kujo in particular had a very expressive face, and Rohan took immense pleasure in watching it rocket through several stages of emotion within moments. Shock. Disbelief. Arousal. Irritation. These were the things he loved most about the stony man.


When he stopped acting like such a damn statue.

Going to swallow your pride, Kujo?


“If you wanted to have sex. This wasn’t necessary.”


Damn it.


“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rohan hummed, tucking the cigarette behind his ear. It was all rather unceremonious, as they often were, but it surprised him when the larger man shook off his coat and tossed it aside regardless.


-- and then proceeded to yank at his belt.


“I’ll have to remember this. Eager for nicotine.” His voice rose in a haughty taunt, though it largely went unacknowledged. If nothing else, Jotaro was efficient… and knew what he was doing. His throat vibrated against the fabric of his undergarments, humming roughly at some unknown thought. Those damn ocean eyes hadn’t broken contact with his, either.



Rohan Kishibe may have gotten a little in over his head.



In fact, if he didn’t know any better, he might think that Jotaro was enjoying this more than he would have enjoyed the cigarette. His fingers gripped the desk, heat from the other man’s mouth bringing him to a full erection in what felt like record time. It was methodical, shameless, as simple as Jotaro so painfully was himself.


Bravado drained from him as soon as he was swallowed whole, nose suddenly pressing up against the hilt -- the sharp intake of breath from the other man sent a lightning bolt down his spine. He was moaning already, the wet insides of the biologist’s mouth agonizingly tight and unafraid of the noises they produced. The tongue alone could have made him cum within minutes, but he was constrained by fingers wrapping tightly at the base of his shaft.




“Jotaro,” he rasped, fingers knocking the cap backwards as Rohan tried to weave them through his curls, gripping intensely. It didn’t deter the other man too much, however, a lewd intensity in how he sucked and swirled his tongue whenever he came up to breathe.


Not that he did much. His hips were starting to roll, but Jotaro’s iron grip on his cock kept him held down; it felt more like he was being used for pleasure instead of the other way around in this position. The quiet heat in which he focused on his actions contrasted with his own wild break down. Rohan could feel himself coming apart at the seams--


He wanted to cum.


“Mmh,” his voice rumbled hotly against the top of his dick, and Jotaro mercifully released him -- only to have the entirety of it crammed back in as release struck him without warning or so much as a ‘by your leave, sir.’


Surprisingly, he took it well, and didn’t bite Rohan’s whole dick off.


In fact, he seemed to take it too well, not gagging a single time throughout the tedious process; the haze of which left him breathless and panting afterwards, elbows propped up on the desk. His lips pulled away at a painful pace, the over sensitivity from post-release making it a touch sore.


“Jota--” Lips pressed against his own, distracting him; the salty bitterness of his own cum would have normally sent him flying into a rage, but it was also a decidedly new experience for him. He could say he knew what his seed tasted like in another man’s mouth now, as erotic as the conveyance was.




The other man took a few steps back, cigarette now delicately dangling from his mouth. He’d taken it while they had been kissing, and he was already moving away to grab at his coat.




“Just ask next time.”

Rohan Kishibe had to rethink the day’s decisions after that.