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Despite the fact that he did not really come in first place, Johnny felt like the winner. So what if some nobody called Hot Pants somehow finished an hour before. That’s not what the people really cared about. People wanted action, people wanted suspense and that’s what Johnny got them when he managed to just barely triumph over Diego. For just a moment, hearing the crowd cheer as he crossed the finish line, the sound of Silver Bullet’s hooves right behind him he was back in his prime again. On top of the world. Unable or unwilling to get his raging testosterone and adrenaline under control he pulled on Slow Dancer’s reins to get the old mare to rear up, which earned him some more love from the public, a few loud whistles cutting through the crisp air. Johnny’s head buzzed with excitement, drowning out everything that wasn’t the chanting of his old nickname which slowly picked up speed - “Jo-jo!, Jo-jo!”.
Under those circumstances it’s no wonder he completely forgot about the man who finished in 4th place, currently drilling a hole in his back with his piercing green eyes. Seems like not everybody wanted to share in the euphoria of Joekid’s comeback.
***
If Gyro hoped that his racing partner would quickly return back to his usual self once the dust had settled, those hopes were crushed pretty quickly. Johnny didn’t even spare as much as a glance in his direction ever since they walked into the saloon they planned to spend a night in. The spot wasn’t all that bad, relatively clean and relatively lively, there was even some guy, not half bad with a piano on a little stage, adding a nice ambience to the place. Despite both of them agreeing that they should get as much rest as possible before they start the next stage tomorrow, Johnny looked like rest was the furthest thing from his mind right now. He sat by a table near the bar, flanked by two young ladies one arm around one, leaning in to whisper something to the other. It must have been incredibly funny as the girls fell into a giggle fit as soon as he finished speaking.
“The 1872 Kentucky Derby?” – the girl with long dark haired gasped scooting over a bit closer to the man grabbing her waist – “But you must have been-“
“16, Yup.” – Johnny inhaled sharply through his nose trying to boast as nonchalantly as he could – “Youngest winner in history. Still have the trophy to prove it. Like thiiiiis big!” – he used the exaggerated gesture approximating the size of the thing as a smooth transition to put his other arm around the woman on his right. The three of them laughed loud enough to turn a few jealous heads.
“I’ve never even been on a horse before!” – the slightly tanner girl leaned on him a little, not showing any hesitation even when the man’s eyes shamelessly eyed her now more exposed cleavage – “It must be so difficult!” – eyelids fluttered.
The other girl, clearly feeling a little left out, chimed in.
“Me neither, Jojo! How do you even do it?”
Johnny’s cocky grin widened. He lifted his hand to motion to the bartender for a refill on his whiskey. The man rolled his eyes, but obliged, clearly used to rude customers trying to show off.
“I could teach you a thing or two about riding. If you two have an evening to spare, toots.” – he didn’t make it obvious at which one was the reply directed. The brunette and the tan one eyed each other behind his back, thinking that the young man wouldn’t notice, which he did. After all that’s exactly what he was hoping for. Playing a little into the rivalry between the girls was doing wonders for his ego. Nothing compared to the rush of being fought over. In his prime they would probably be slightly below his standards, but for a small town in the middle of nowhere and in his current condition he was prepared to settle. Shame about the hair though. Johnny had a thing for blondes.
“Do you have a third spot open?” – a voice from behind interrupted the flirting session. – “For the riding school that is.”
Johnny slowly turned his head towards the sound with an intimidating scowl on his face.
“Hey if you want an autograph you’ll have to…” – a smile that didn’t reach his eyes stretched across Gyro’s face as he stood in front of the three, arms crossed over his chest. Johnny’s expression quickly turned from threatening to annoyed - “Oh. It’s you. What do ya want?”
The Italian’s face soured for just a moment, clearly not appreciating Johnny’s dismissive tone, but he snapped back into character before anybody could notice.
“Just wondering if you plan on using that bed we got anytime soon? We got a race to run, Johnny.” – on the account of English not being his first language, the poor man didn’t immediately pick up on the obvious trap he laid for himself.
“Don’t you worry cowboy, I’ll be using that bed alright.” – the young jockey clicked his tongue obnoxiously, giving a knowing look to his adoring escort.
Gyro looked like he was about to punch him or throw up. Or both. If this is how Johnny always acted when getting even the faintest whiff of pussy it was a great decision to keep as far from women as possible. They were nothing but trouble as far as he was concerned, and it seems the prejudice was confirmed yet again.
“Funny.” – Gyro gritted his golden teeth – “Real funny, Johnny. You are one funny guy, you know that?”
Johnny clearly didn’t care for the venom in his friend’s voice, having delegated his decision making to his dick hours ago. Whatever kept him from getting laid had to go. Gyro had to go.
“Yeah, yeah. Piss off now would you? I can take care of myself.” – he turned his head back letting his partner know the conversation was over on his side. For a moment he was worried his prideful partner wouldn’t let up, but after a few tense seconds the sound of jingling spurs let him know that Gyro did in fact retreat. Not far though, as he sat at the other end of the bar, trying to get the already annoyed bartender’s attention by snapping his fingers. Johnny watched him carefully out of the corner of his eyes, shifting his gaze immediately when their eyes met for a split second. Was he still upset about the loss? Well it was high time to get over himself then, he lost because he was slower, simple as that. If he wanted to win he should just get better. Not like Gyro cut him any slack while training the spin, so why exactly should Johnny hold back while racing? He scoffed out loud, lost in his head for a moment.
“Something wrong, Jojo?” – ask one of the girls, lacking any context for the sudden sound.
Well whatever bothered Gyro it’s not like it was Johnny’s problem. He had better things to do than babysitting a grown man.
“All good, sugar.” – he replied, turning his head away from his partner completely, an overconfident look returning to his handsome face – “Now where were we?”
***
It was well after midnight already, but the drinks didn’t yet stop coming and the small circle of fans around the young jockey kept getting bigger. Johnny’s laugh could be heard all throughout the saloon as he was telling another crazy story about one of his many near death encounters on the harsh trail. Maybe giving himself a bit more credit than was due, but it’s not like there was someone here daring to dispute him.
“Oh Jojo you are so brave! And to do all that with lame legs!” – the tan girl he started to favour a bit over the others was almost sitting in his lap, one hand lazily drawing circles on his chest, slowly inching closer and closer to his abdomen. Even if she wasn’t exactly his type she certainly knew how to work a guy up – “And you really don’t feel anything down there?” – her voice dropped to a half whisper. It’s been a while since Johnny dabbled in the art of seduction, but he had enough experience to recognize that the courtship was soon coming to a very happy ending.
He matched her tone, moving a bit closer – “Well… Not quite. The most important parts still work as God intended. I can show you if you just-“
“Hey Johnnyyyy!” – suddenly his view got obstructed by Kansas City, or rather an inked depiction of it – “I really need your eyes on this!”
Gyro managed to squeeze a map right in between the pair, effectively separating them with a wall of paper. He was uncomfortably close while at it too, his chest pressed into the younger man’s back, arms on either side, chin resting at the top of his head. Like he wanted to make sure he was guarded on all sides. To top it all off he absolutely reeked of booze. Johnny was seething, stark contrast to the casual nonchalantness of the other man.
“So I’ve been thinking about which way we should go tomorrow and this river valley right here…“
“Gyro.” – the name spilled like bile from in between Johnny’s clenched teeth, but that did nothing to stop the other one’s chatter.
“…might be the perfect spot for a camp and most contestants will probably go there I’d say if we save our supplies right we could-”
“Gyro!” – this time he punctuated his words with a harsh tug on a strand of long, blonde hair, getting a yelp out of the Italian. Their faces were now at eye level, Gyro’s chin now nearly at Johnny’s shoulder. The younger man smiled at him and it was so much worse than if he simply looked angry. – “A word in private, please?”
A moment of tense silence passed.
“…Sure.”
Johnny mumbled a quick apology to his new companions as he wheeled himself into a more remote spot, leaving his taste of fame behind. As he turned back to get a last glimpse of the closest thing he had to the glory of his past he caught Gyro looking in the same direction. He looked so smug, like he won some argument, the bastard. Just what was his problem? If only starting a fist fight wasn’t this risky while paraplegic he would already be missing a few of those shiny golden teeth. When they were finally far enough from prying ears, Johnny made a sharp turn to face the other man, ceasing the opportunity to control the conversation.
“What the fuck was that shit?” – he half yelled half whispered
Gyro looked somewhat amused, like this whole thing was some elaborate gag they were doing.
“What? I’m just trying to get you back on track here, amico. The Steel Ball Run? Remember?” – he reached down to knock on Johnny’s head to amplify his words, but before he could the owner of said head grabbed his arm harshly enough to make him wince a little.
“Stop this. You saw I was having fun and you just had to ruin it, huh? Why? Johnny Joestar can’t have a good thing because the great Gyro Zeppeli is moping about his loss? You are such a child.”
The Italian’s mask dropped just a little, gaze hardening at the biting comment. He still tried to maintain a light hearted (and mean spirited) tone, though barely.
“You know this isn’t about that. I ain’t worried about a single stage when I know I will win the whole thing. It’s about you acting like a horned up fool at the slightest show of attention from some small town broad. Syphilis and long days in the saddle don’t mix well, you know?”
Johnny let out a low chuckle, trying to get his pent up rage under control without killing his only hope of winning the race.
“Spare me the doctor bullshit. What is this really about?”
“This is what it’s really about, Johnny. We can’t afford those types of risks and distractions. When you get your second place reward you can live out your long retirement in a private brothel and get every disease you want for all I care, but right now I need you focused. Isn’t that why we agreed to help each other when we need it? So if you are still frisky we can-”
The younger man pulled on Gyro’s forearm, forcing him to come to his level. He looked panicked at the very implication of the quiet deal they struck on a particularly lonely night under the stars. His eyes darted around the room looking for any potential eavesdroppers. He only spoke after he made sure the coast was clear and even then it was barely audible.
“Do you really not see the difference between jacking a buddy off and having sex with an actual woman?”
For some reason those words seem to have more of an effect on Gyro than anything said previously. His usually animated face turned to stone. If this was a bit to him before, it clearly wasn’t anymore.
“Oh so that’s what we are calling it?” – his voice was uncharacteristically flat.
Johnny flinched at the sudden shift. Even though that was exactly what it obviously was, voicing it out loud like that felt wrong somehow. Like the definitive statement killed something unspoken about that night, didn’t leave any space for interpretation, for gray areas. Two buddies jacking each other off and that was that. It was too late to back out now.
“God, why do you care? You are such a queer.”
“I don’t care who sucks you off, monello.” – he snapped back, done with hiding his frustration – “I care about you forgetting why we are here, I care about you treating shit that people want to actively kill us over like some campfire story! Ranting without a care in the world about all we went through loud enough for half the town to hear. Whatever happened to low profile? To terrorists on our asses?”
“Just shut the fuck up, I don’t care!” – that one came out loud enough to earn them a couple curious glances. Johnny forced himself to speak softer, though with no less aggression. – “And if somebody somehow starts something with us, we will just take ‘em. Like we did before.”
Did that one victory, no not even a victory, a second place really go into his head this much? They eyed each other up, as if trying to get the other one to drop dead with just a stare. The first one to let his face relax was Gyro. He had a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
“…Oh? So you are saying you don’t care about being noticed? About the attention?”
On any other occasion Johnny would have immediately picked up the dangerous tone of his partner’s otherwise innocent words. But right now he was a man running on pure hormones, which severely impacted his ability to reason.
“Yeah. You deaf? So now if you could get the fuck out of my way and let me get back to my table. I left better company there.”
Without waiting for the answer he rolled past the tall man, stopping just ahead to turn his head around and add – “Also, I don’t know what is considered normal between two men in Italy, but don’t get all handsy like that with me in public ever again, got it? I ain’t no fag.”
And with that he disappeared into the crowd.
Gyro didn’t even try to get the last word in – another obvious red flag Johnny really shouldn’t have missed. But now all he could think about was trying to rebuild the social momentum he had just a couple of minutes ago, if it was even possible anymore.
When he returned to his table it was considerably less crowded. Luckily the two girls from the start must have really taken a liking to him as they were waiting for his return. Maybe he still had his foot in the door after all.
“Oh you are back!” – the brunette smiled sweetly at him – “What was all of that about?”
Johnny sighed, taking his place between them.
“Forgive him, he is just a bit… queer. That’s all.”
“That was Zeppeli, right? He finished the first stage in first place, right? I mean before the penalty.” – the tan one butted in.
Johnny furrowed his brow a little, unhappy with the direction of this conversation.
“Yes. We travel together for mutual convenience. He might be odd, but he is not a bad guy.”
“Oh I know that, I heard about the two of you.”
Heard? Two of them? For some reason the way she said it made his throat tighten just a little bit.
“What do you mean?”
The tan girl spun some of her hair around her finger, trying to seem unbothered despite the fact that she was clearly anxious to share some gossip.
“Well you know… How you are the only two contestants who stick together like that? How you always take odd detours? And with how friendships between cowboys go some people started saying that you two are-“
“I can assure you we are NOT.” – Johnny couldn’t bear to hear a single word about this, hoping his face wasn't as red as it felt.
The brunette on his other side hummed.
“Well if you weren’t such a charmer I would have believed it myself. You know he is European, they do all sorts of weird things over there. It’s a different culture.” – she tried to finish on a somewhat intellectual note.
The jockey felt some relief upon seeing just how easily the subject was seemingly dropped. The entire press of America was watching their every move for as long as they physically could and scandal sells best. Gyro can simply return to his country after the race is finished, leaving whatever potential messes behind. Johnny on the other hand, will have to live with whatever reputation the Steel Ball Run will bring him. And it better not be one of a pervert. In this very moment his brain made an unfortunate connection to the concept of perversion, forcing him to recall for a split second the feeling of a strong arm around his torso, the feeling of combined body heat contrasting with the cold night air, the sound of barely coherent italian spilling directly into his ear, the sound of his own uneven breathing. He barely managed to keep his composure in the face of the intrusive thought, subtly moving closer to the table to hide the main source of his embarrassment. If this ever happens again Johnny will be forced to take a long, hard (and overdue) look in the mirror. But this was no time for such terrifying self reflection, he might yet have the chance to quell his frustrations tonight without having to question everything if he plays his cards right.
“I can assure you, sugar, that what he and I have is a strictly professional, platonic-“
A loud, clean whistle coming from the other side of the room grabbed the attention of everyone present.
“Good evening signore e signori!”
The tall man on the little stage swayed slightly from one leg to the other. His hand ran through long, golden hair slicking them back, revealing a dreadfully familiar face with a shiny grin.
“I would like to dedicate this song to someone very, very important to me - my dear partner, Johnny Joestar.”
All the air left the lungs of the man in question along with the color in his face. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t dare.
“This one is for you Jojo!” – if anybody still had any doubt about who exactly was the dedication addressed to the man on stage helpfully pointed at the addressee with ruthlessness and precision of an executioner. All heads turn in unison towards him. – “Hit it Jimmy!”
The pianist Gyro apparently previously got acquainted with started playing the first notes with no remorse. Any hope Johnny had that somehow God will smite his tormentor down before he could start the torture proper gone in an instant with the first words of the song.
“Wasted days and wasted nights”
Oh God.
“I have left for you behind
For you don't belong to me
Your heart belongs to someone else”
Oh he was really putting his heart and soul into it too. Painfully accenting each word with dramatic gestures. Sick, sick, sick, sick, sick.
“Why should I keep loving you
When I know that you're not true?
And why should I call your name
When you're to blame
For making me blue?”
Oh why, why did Johnny have to leave his revolver in the room. The only equivalent response he could think of would be shooting himself in the head on the spot, leaving the cruel man he chose to race with for some delirious reason to deal with the aftermath.
“Don't you remember the day
That you went away and left me?”
Did Gyro’s voice just tremble? God where was he hiding those pipes? Did he actually come from a family of opera singers and not doctors? Maybe he became this good out of pure spite. Johnny was absolutely willing to believe that.
“I was so lonely
Prayed for you only”
There has to be some way out of this situation without resorting to suicide. If he shot Gyro with his nail bullets right now, could he be prosecuted? Do lawyers have clauses for stand use?
“My love”
The theatrical, sorrowful face Gyro managed to pull at the chorus, slightly trembling hand outstretched in his direction felt like getting punched in the gut. Over and over again. The man on stage meanwhile was using the instrumental break to do some crowd work.
“Now everyone, all together for the silver medalist! Second in the stage, first in my heart!”
Something finally snapped in the young man with the obvious taunt, a cold flame lit in his blue eyes. He made a decision, or rather let the wrath controlling his body make one. He paid no mind to the staring, the whispers, the occasional stifled laugh as he rolled himself closer and closer to the stage until he was finally noticed.
“There you are, Johnny boy! Wanna join me for the second verse!” – Gyro had his thumbs logged behind his belt, the gaudy beltbuckle pointing straight at Johnny as if he needed any more attention on him.
“Get down.”
“Don’t be shy, kid! Get on up here! Bask in the glory! Let’s have some fun, huh?”
“Get. Down.”
The Italian’s smile dropped a little as he took a longer look at the younger man’s face. He saw something in there that made him pause. He weighed his options for a second before looking up again, addressing the unwilling participants of their now very public feud.
“Well folks, looks like that’s gonna be it for tonight! Let’s put our hands together for Johnny Joestar, hm?” – A few slow claps echoed throughout the bar, dying down before ever picking up speed. Despite the lack of enthusiasm Gyro continued talking even as he followed his eerily silent partner back to their room. – “Good night Canon City! Let’s hope we WON’T be here tomorrow! Grazie e buonanotte!”
The door shut with a loud bang before he could finish bowing to the audience, leaving everyone in involuntary attendance in stunted silence. The room they entered was dark, illuminated slightly only by a lone street lamp outside and a faint glow coming from the hallway, slipping through the threshold. It was still a lot better than the pitch darkness of the desert. For example, if they were in the tent right now there would be no way for Gyro to see just what kind of a face Johnny was making, but now it wasn’t a problem at all. He could tell without any doubt that Johnny was really fucking pissed. Good.
“There. Hope you got enough attention till Kansas.”
The younger man gripped his wheelchair so tight he could feel the thinner metal parts bend just a little under the strain. The way that asshole carried himself right now, so cocksure, so condescending. Could he not stand even one evening of someone other than him in the spotlight? Did Johnny’s happiness irk him so much that he had to humiliate them both? What a selfish, cruel man stood before him, grinning gold. Gyro, ignorant to just how much contempt his partner’s body can hold, started to casually stroll towards their beds. As far as he was concerned this whole thing came to a rather funny conclusion and that was that. Not for Johnny though. Right as Gyro passed by him, he launched himself upwards using the armrests and grabbed the man by his collar, pulling him down to his level. He hoped to catch him off guard, to see the persona slip even if for just a second. But Gyro was still smiling, looking him straight in the eyes, as taunting as ever, seemingly unphased by the sudden motion. Unshakable in his belief that he did get the last word in tonight, another win for the Zeppeli. That expression was the final straw. Johnny was now ready to do just about anything to wipe it clean off that dumb face. His rage and sexual frustration fused into one very confusing, but very strong emotion and he let himself be carried by it. Damn it, damn it all. He yanked on the collar once more, this time even rougher, colliding their mouths together with zero regard for either’s comfort.
The first feeling was pain. Johnny’s upper lip busted, caught between their front teeth, the “Go! Go!” engraving dealing a particularly nasty blow. But Joestars don’t raise quitters, Johnny went in for more. He didn’t wanna let go of the other man’s shirt, the self conscious part fearing that once he does, Gyro will pull away, but after a moment he realized no force was struggling against him. In fact the Italian was leaning into it. Johnny, not willing to risk losing the dominance he was slowly building, grabbed the other man’s chin forcing him to open his jaw a bit wider, shoving his tongue in as deep as he could. Unsurprisingly he tasted mostly like cheap booze, but also tobacco, strong coffee and blood. Everytime Gyro tried to take even the slightest amount of control back Johnny would double down, until finally the Italian's will broke. That’s when Johnny finally pulled away, a reddish string of saliva connecting their lips. From the looks of it Gyro took some damage too, as blood seeped through in between his gills. Johnny got what he wanted, his partner now a stunned, flushed mess, nothing left of the arrogant man from just seconds ago, but now Johnny wanted more. For the humiliation he put him through, Johnny needed to see Gyro come completely undone.
“Stand up.” - Johnny’s voice was still a little breathy from the kiss, but commanding.
“Johnny…” - the response was barely audible.
“I said stand up.”
And he did, watching the man below’s every move closely like you would with a viper ready to strike at any moment. He flinched when a pair of rough hands undid his belt, but other than that did nothing to stop it from happening. Johnny didn’t really know where he was going with this nor did he particularly care. Whatever qualms he might have had about what he was about to do melting away in a wild fire raging within him. Gyro winced as his dick was manhandled with no sympathy in a struggle to get it out of the tight pants, but his quiet complaints fell on deaf ears. He was already quite hard, which made Johnny chuckle. Did he get like this just from the kiss or was he up there singing with a half mast? Either way it was pathetic, and that only emboldened Johnny further. He gave the shaft a few experimental tugs, eliciting a muffled whine out of its owner. Was this guy a virgin? Clearly all that confidence was just for show if he was sounding like this from some guy barely breathing on him.
By now nearly addicted to getting a reaction out of Gyro, Johnny went a step further, taking the head into his mouth. He was rewarded with a stifled moan as he sunk his lips further and further. The smell and taste were overwhelming, reminding him of the harsh trail they’ve been on. Which was a nice way of saying sweat, piss and leather. The weight on his tongue and the way in which he had to slack his jaw were uncomfortable and unfamiliar. A small price to pay for the view up, his partner biting into his hand, desperately avoiding eye contact as if looking down would kill him.
Johnny’s moves had no rhythm to it, his teeth scraping against Gyro on more than one occasion, but that was no problem. Johnny wasn’t here to give the other man pleasure, and he made it clear when Gyro reached out to gently guide the younger man’s head only to be swatted away. This was war and Johnny was winning. He won over his mentor again today. He noticed that the Italian’s hips started bucking a bit on their own, despite the tight grip Johnny had on them, signifying that despite his lack of care and experience Gyro was somehow still getting off to it, and getting off good. “Maybe even too good” - thought Johnny as he backed away quickly with a “pop”. He wasn’t gonna let that guy cum three minutes in. There must be no doubt, this isn’t lovemaking, this is retribution.
Gyro released a breath he must have been holding in for quite some time, finally daring to glance at Johnny, who was looking straight back at him, the same cold fire lit in his blue eyes as when he approached the stage. He still didn’t let go of his dick, which was now stained lipstick blue and blood red, pumping it with just enough speed to keep it on edge. It made him swallow out loud. Dio mio…
“Down.” - Johnny ordered.
His partner was quickly settling into this new dynamic, obediently kneeling in front of the wheelchair. Johnny wore an expression that would make a succubus blush.
“Get me off first.”
Gyro hesitated for a moment, still a little dizzy from the incredible developments happening over the last few minutes. The jockey had no patience for that, grabbing Gyro’s hair right at the scruff to force eye contact.
“Are ya really deaf?” - Johnny whispered sharply, slowly moving his mouth closer to the other one’s ear - “Or do you need me to show you how, sugar?”
He bit the lobe, perhaps a little too hard as the noise Gyro made sounded more like pain than pleasure. It was beginning to be difficult to differentiate the two however. When he pulled his head away to see just how that would affect the previously proud man before him, he was suddenly grabbed by the face and pulled in for another kiss. He must have pushed his partner just a little too far, making the same mistake as Gyro did on the stage tonight. Underestimating your opponent. Without the benefit of surprise it was a lot harder for Johnny to dominate the bigger man, the vicious tounge fight for the top spot a lot more equal than before. That’s where, in desperation, Gyro decided to up his game just a bit more. Without breaking the kiss he found Johnny’s waist, snaking his hand under the blue shirt. He felt the boy breathe just a bit quicker as he slowly ran his fingers along the ribs. This might yet be his chance. When the same fingers found his nipple, Johnny suffered his first loss of the night, as he let out a half gasp half moan. He quickly broke the kiss covering his face in shame, but the damage was already done. The small battle was lost, Gyro regained his footing.
Quite literally as he slowly started to stand up, Johnny, unwilling to admit defeat, kissed the man again, holding onto his neck to keep them connected. And that was exactly what Gyro was hoping for. Using the grip Johnny already had on him as leverage he swiftly hoisted him up into the air, grabbing a fistfull of ass in the process. So it wasn’t just his perverted imagination on the road, that ass really was this nice. He was ready for his partner to fight back against being picked up without asking, but it seems like Johnny barely noticed the new position, stopping the kiss just for a moment to gasp for air, going right back in before he even had time to exhale. They stayed pressed against each other until Gyro broke them apart by throwing the other man on one of the shoddy beds damn near breaking it in half. The loud sound combined with Johnny’s grimace of pain gave the Italian pause.
“Shit, you okay? I mean we can stop if-”
“Wanna know why you lost today?”
The silence after felt heavy. It was impossible to break eye contact with Johnny even if Gyro wanted to. There was something demanding his full attention in those fiery blue eyes. Whatever Johnny saw in him as he was staring right back must have looked like a “Yes” as he continued talking.
“Because you wait for permission. Because you ask. If you really want something you should just take it. So take it, Gyro. Show me you are determined enough to win.”
And he did. The momentum they had rebuilt impressively quickly as the older man was halfway through removing whatever clothes kept them apart in a matter of seconds. Johnny’s breath quickened as he felt a familiar hand trace his outline through his underwear. This was nothing like the night they shared in that shoddy tent in the middle of nowhere, awkward and impersonal. Here, under the golden light coming from the window everything was exposed. It wasn’t just any hands, irrecognizable in the darkness, holding him like that, not just any mouth coming down to kiss his exposed neck and chest. It was all Gyro’s. And that thought aroused him even more. Normally he would stop and question the feeling, perhaps it would scare him enough to pull away completely, but it just so happened that he delegated his decision making to his dick hours ago. Whatever was getting him closer to cumming had to stay. Gyro had to stay.
“Get on with it.” - Johnny huffed, unable to assist in removing his own pants.
He only got a frustrated click of a tongue in response.
“So fucking impatient...”
Maybe he indeed was, because Gyro didn’t even have to finish talking before the last of Johnny’s clothes ended up on the floor. The taller one grabbed at his partner’s hips with such urgency that you’d think he’d die if their pelvises stayed separated for even a second more. Johnny bit his lip bloody to keep Gyro from hearing exactly how good the skin to skin contact down south felt. Johnny couldn’t recall the last time he was this turned on. Turned on enough to ignore all the implications of the fact that he was on his merry way to bottoming for a man for the first time in his life. In fact if there was a way to get even closer than penetration he would agree to do it in a heartbeat. He needed to be close to Gyro, as close as nature would let them.
And his partner absolutely could relate. The only thing that kept Gyro from rutting into the other man right there and then was the last sober part of his brain where he kept his medical degree blaring into his skull: “Rectal bleeding is not a good condition for a Jockey to have”. Keeping this important fun fact in mind he somehow willed himself to drop Johnny’s hips back onto the bed, turning around to rummage through their mixed up belongings for anything resembling lube. He could spot Johnny pouting out of the corner of his eye. Was he seriously giving him this pissed off look for not fucking him dry?
“Johnny, do you have any extra lamp oil? Or anything of the sort?”
“The fuck are you talking about?” - Johnny was clearly upset at the sudden pragmatic shift in tone.
“You know for the…” - Gyro demonstrated the act they were about to perform with his fingers.
Johnny snapped his head away like this was somehow the most scandalous thing to happen between them today.
“Fine, fine!” - he hissed, still avoiding eye contact - “I have some ointment for bug repelling. Would that sort of thing be good?”
Gyro paused for a moment.
“I mean I think so. Other than if we use it up tonight we might end up bitten all over by the end of next week.”
Oh no, what a tragedy that would be. Johnny tried to hold in a smile.
“You have five seconds to get back here, so don’t be picky.”
He could hear Gyro digging through the clutter even faster, clearly taking the time limit at least somewhat seriously. His increased effort paid off as he was back at Johnny’s side before even three seconds passed, two fingers already slick with lube. Without slowing down Gyro used his left hand to prop one of the pale, limp legs up on his forearm while the right hand quickly found the ring muscle. Johnny loudly sucked in air through clenched teeth at the intrusion. It didn’t exactly feel good at first, just sort of odd, but he could feel himself getting harder just from that. As if his body knew what was about to come before him. The tempo was unrelenting, definitely too rough for a virgin, but Gyro had his own frustrations to work out this evening as well. And he wasn’t gonna keep quiet about it either.
“Are you sure you are not a fag, kid? You kinda look like one right now.” - he pushed his fingers in deeper for emphasis.
Johnny looked ready to kill for the comment, mouth opened preparing to retort. The words turned into a wet choke as Gyro used the split second opportunity to shove the digits on his free hand into Johnny’s throat.
“Shhh! Shut up! I heard enough out of you for today, you little brat. Thinking you are hot shit, dismissing me like this. What the fuck was up with that?”
The younger man tried to bite the fingers which were spreading his lips a bit too wide for comfort. Gyro scratched his cheek from the inside, hard enough to sting. Johnny felt his eyes water from the helplessness and frustration. It was always like this, whenever a big enough emotion came so did the waterworks. This unfortunate trait was almost more embarrassing to him as his paraplegia. Suddenly all self doubt and most of the ego with it vanished in a bright flash as his partner finally managed to twist his fingers at just the right angle. He felt every single nerve in his body fire up in pleasure at the sensation. The groan he let out sounded like it came from somewhere deep in his chest. Gyro showed no sympathy for the nearly overstimulated man, only focused on getting the muscles relaxed enough to move on to the main event. And with the reactions he was eliciting it seemed like the time had nearly come. And if it didn’t then well, Johnny was a tough guy, he surely could handle a bumpy start. Gyro could see his partner shudder as he retracted the fingers and it made him smirk.
“You are one needy fuck, you know that? You’re lucky I ain’t cruel about it.”
Johnny’s response turned into a weak wheeze, throat still sore from the assault. As appealing as the prospect of teasing the man currently spread out below him some more was, Gyro couldn’t wait a moment longer either. He wasted no time grabbing Johnny’s waist hard enough to bruise to pull his lower body up with it. The half-dazed Johnny was suddenly hit by the reality of what was about to happen as he looked up to see his mentor lining them up, his own legs hanging on the strong arms holding him up. This was really happening. He threw his head back and closed his eyes shut, trying to brace for impact. But nothing could have prepared him for the way Gyro pushed into him in one precise motion, immediately setting an insane pace. Like he was trying to make up for his mediocre performance at the finish line earlier today. If Johnny was tearing up before now he was fully crying, the irregular gasps for air bringing out a hiccup too. A particularly loud sob escaping his parted lips when he felt the last inch make its way inside. Gyro had a crazed smile of a man who just discovered something new and slightly concerning about himself.
“Ohohoho Johnny, what the fuck are you doing to me?” - he sounded equally frightened and excited about the effect those tears and sounds had on him.
The bed creaked so loud it was a miracle they weren’t kicked out yet. With how frantic their movements and sweaty their bodies became Gyro had some trouble keeping a steady grip on his partner, having to quickly readjust the position every couple of thrusts, leaving red nailmarks on Johnny’s white thighs. On top of that he wouldn’t shut up for even a second constantly switching between singing praises and throwing curses in his native language. Johnny wasn’t keeping it quiet either. The moans he let out in between the sobs sounded more like war cries, trying to show that his fighting spirit has not yet been fucked out of him into the old mattress. His eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to control the tears, but it just made things worse.
“Hey, Johnny. Johnny!” - Gyro whistled sharply to get the other man’s attention quicker, which worked - “Yeah that’s it. Keep looking at me, kid. So you can later remember it’s nobody from that table back there who got you looking like this. Who is the only one who gets to do that, huh? Help me out here Johnny boy.”
Johnny just glared back at him, eyes ferocious like a wild animal.
“Come on, I really need to hear you say it. Say it or I will stop.”
The words weren’t empty as when he failed to answer for the second time Gyro stopped mid hip roll, making Johnny groan in desperation.
“Say it. Who is the only one who gets to do all this shit to you?”
Johnny tried really hard to chase the pleasure himself, but with his limited mobility and the way they were positioned he was left completely at the mercy of the man currently hell bent on taking the last straps of dignity he had left.
“Gyro…” - the words barely escaped his mouth, drowned out by shame. Gyro smiled sadistically.
“Who? Speak up!”
Johnny wasn’t gonna let this arrogance go unpunished, but he couldn’t risk his orgasm either. He gathered the last of his strength to reach up and grab at Gyro’s hair, making him bend down.
“Gyro! Gyro fucking Zeppeli!” - he yelled - “Happy now? Don’t you dare stop now or I’ll kill you, asshole.”
The last of his words drowned out by a moan as Gyro started moving before he could even finish his threat. Something about the way Johnny pulled on his hair made him realize he is at the very edge. He wasn’t even able to throw jabs at the man below anymore, reduced to a panting mess himself. Not long from now.
“Johnny…Shit.” - he managed to get out - “I think I’ll-”
A sudden hot sting on the left side of his face sharpened all his senses. Johnny Joestar just slapped him.
“Don’t you fucking dare, Gyro. Not before me. You don’t get to finish before me.”
Not now, not ever.
Gyro was once again stunned into submission. His attention shifted away from chasing his own high to observing every single reaction the body he was rocking his hips into gave him. The way Johnny could throw commands one simply couldn’t say no to if he was determined enough was terrifying. Still, there was no place he’d rather be at than here and there is nothing he would rather be doing now than leading Johnny into the first dry orgasm of his life. It didn’t take long, pushed past a certain point Johnny was an open book in bed, very eager to share what exactly worked best. Another way in which his selfishness reared its ugly head. He came quietly, mouth agape, wet eyelashes fluttering, back arching in reflex. His partner followed as soon as he was sure his duty was fulfilled.
“Oh mio Johnny, avrei voluto che fosse andata diversamente. Ti amo.” - he whispered with a tenderness that didn’t fit the rest of the night as he rode out his orgasm with the last few gentler strokes.
Johnny felt the anger and pent up frustration completely evaporate from his body with the longest climax of his life. His mind slowly became unclouded enough to register that Gyro’s knees became too wobbly to hold their weight, the man putting him down with a lot more care than before right before flopping onto the bed right next to him.
Now Johnny could fully take the sight of the man he traveled hundreds of miles with, the man he made undone. Two shades of lipsticks mixed up with blood on his lips, the growing bruise on his cheek, the deep red lines marking the places Johnny gripped with his nails on his forearms. It made him feel stupid. It made him feel guilty. He really went too far. In more ways than one. He will be a lucky man if Gyro still wants to race together tomorrow. Gently removing an out of place strand of hair from his half asleep face was the closest thing to an apology Johnny could muster right now. He feared that if he spoke up, he wouldn't like the response. Even if he deserved it. Turns out he didn't have to.
“I’m sorry, Johnny.” - Gyro's voice was quiet, but honest to a fault.
He always was the braver of the two.
“It’s fine. Shit. I’m sorry too, Gyro.” - you could hear the tears Johnny had to swallow. You could hear the slight smile too.
The Italian smiled back, eyes still closed. The sight made Johnny's heart skip a beat. It must have been some crazy post orgasm glow working its magic, because he could swear right then that Gyro was the single most beautiful person he has ever seen in his life. Compelled by this unmatched beauty, he leaned in to press a soft kiss onto his temple, but stopped himself at the last moment. Somehow even after sharing his whole body with the man before him this felt too personal. A step too far, one that would risk the unspoken thing between them coming to light too early. The empty ache he felt in his heart as he pulled away told him a lot more about his true feelings than going through with the kiss ever would. But this was more than he was willing to process on a single night, his brain refusing to dwell any further on the topic. Just two buddies fucking each other crazy. And that was it.
After a moment of stillness Johnny was sure his partner fell asleep and he started to drift off too, but it seemed like Gyro wasn't quite done kicking yet.
“I was good though, right?”
Johnny wanted to get annoyed at the stupid question, but couldn't. Not with the dumb, pleading face his friend was making like he actually wanted to be graded on his performance. So he snickered instead.
“Let's just say you earned yourself a place in Johnny Joestar's riding school, cowboy. Congratulations.”
“Yippie...” - The triumphant whisper-yell smoothly transitioning into a snore.
Johnny didn't even realize he still held onto a smile long after Gyro actually fell asleep. How long was he staring at him like a creep for? He tried to quickly roll over to try and keep himself away from any more queer temptations, but the no mercy treatment his body received minutes ago really started to make itself known now. A dull pain spread throughout all of his muscles making any movement incredibly uncomfortable.
They really needed to come up with some other way to resolve conflicts first thing in the morning or they will never finish that damned race.