Canned Banana Bread

Your university experience had not been all you were hoping for. Your high school career had left much to be desired and the promise of a fresh start and new beginnings in college had been precisely what you had been looking for.  Your enthusiasm, however, had waned with the passing of the first semester. You were just as lonely as you had been before, even your roommate hardly talked to you and you felt yourself blur into the background of every lecture. 

While your peers always seemed to seamlessly fall into the places they belonged, you had always struggled to pull yourself out of your mind and find a space that had been carved out just for you. Even as a child, your reclusive ways had left you lacking in friends, that was something that had often been a point of concern for your somewhat overprotective parents.  But it wasn’t for lack of trying, they had signed you up for various organizations with other kids your age, none of which had ever resulted in lasting friendships and eventually they had come to the conclusion that you simply didn’t want friends.  That was not wholly the case, you did want friends, and you did want something that was beyond yourself, but you wanted it to be real. You wanted to be surrounded by people who understood you and all of your idiosyncrasies, but as it stood, you had never had such a connection bloom and college should have been your opportunity to change that, but as it was, change had not come and you were just as lonely as you always had been. So as the months wore on, your disillusionment set in and all seemed futile. Perhaps it was your destiny to lead a lonely life of books and research and ideas that were doomed to dissolve in the recesses of your mind. 

The winter blues caused you to sink further into your despair, the swirling skies that brought snow and sleet made any sort of solace you might found on long meditative walks around the courtyard to digest your malcontented feelings an impossibility, even the meager stroll from your dorm to your evening class was a punishing task that left your jacket flecked with tiny particles of ice and your face reddened from the thrashing wind.  You were further dismayed when you arrived at your lecture hall only to find out that your class had been canceled due to the inclement weather.  “An email would have been nice,” you scoffed, unable to hide your discontent as you crawled to the student center, not wanting to face the cold a second time, you decided it would be best to wait it out until dinner.  

You slinked quietly down the stairs into the nearly vacant hall; you hadn’t exactly expected the place to be teeming with life, but you also were not expecting there to be only one other soul in the entire room, a boy sitting before one of the large televisions with some video game flashing brightly on the screen.  He was someone who you had seen around campus before, though you had never been formally introduced to him. And while he was a reserved boy who usually kept to himself, his striking red hair made him almost impossible to miss, so, inadvertently as it may have been, he had carved out a spot for himself in your memory. 

You watched him silently as you crossed the room and found a spot at one of the many empty tables so that you could begin tackling your calculus homework; integration by parts, how dreadful. Your focus only lasted for a fraction of a minute until you instead drifted into a slight daydream as you observed the boy who was focused so diligently on his video game, “no Terence, I told you when you get to the tunnel you have to… great, we lost,” he said with a huff while leaning over the back of the couch, inadvertently meeting your gaze for the briefest of moments before hastily righting his position, but not without a hint of chagrin seeping through his violet eyes. It was then that perhaps the most inexplicable thing that had happened to you thus far during your college experience occurred, but a smile crawled over your face. Something about that redheaded boy ignited a feeling you had long abandoned.

You left your table and sashayed across the room to where he sat and leaned halfway over the back of the couch, all the while you could feel your heart rise into your throat, beating fast enough to make all your words come out raspy and muddled, “h-hi,” you mumbled, offering a coy wave in accompaniment with the hope that it would offset the nervous tremble in your voice. 

His eyes widened and a frown crawled across his face, an expression which left you somewhat unnerved in your more fragile state.  “Terence, I’m going to have to call you back later,” he said before removing his headset to grant you his full attention.

“You know,” you began, mustering a false sense of irritation to overlay any apprehension that may have been laden in your voice, “I was trying to study… I have a big test coming up and I was hoping to get some work done.” 

“Well, I am terribly sorry, miss, it really wasn’t my intention to disturb you.”

“Well, you should be sorry, it’s for Calc II, these integrals are no laughing matter,” you huffed, further feigning indignation.

“Well, perhaps it’s rather lucky for you that I took AP calculus in high school, perhaps I could be of assistance,” his tone was cool, far more suave than you had intended after how coarsely he’d handled his friend, “as long as you tell me the real reason you came over to talk to me.” 

Of all the things you would have conceived it likely for him to say, never in your wildest dreams had you thought he would be so bold and direct.  Instantly, all of the courage you had carefully mustered crumbled to pieces and you were left turning over what you could possibly say next in your head whilst you tried to conceal your florid face. “Oh, well, I-uh… I’m not sure, you just seemed different, if that’s the right word.” 

“Different?” He repeated the word contemplatively, his stoic exterior did not lend any insight into his thoughts. 

“I think so, I-uh, I’m not a particularly social person, but I like to think of myself as a good judge of character and, I don’t know, there’s something about you that strikes me as different from the rest.” 

His eyes narrowed, the purple of his irises darkening to an inky black, “I’d like to think I’m a bit more complicated than what one might gather at first glance.”

“I’m sure you are, but you asked for my reason and I told you,” you said, straightening your back and reassuming a bit of your lost confidence, “you don’t have to like my explanation, but I can you assure that it was meant as a compliment. I wouldn’t have said so otherwise.” 

“Is that so?” Any amount of pique he may have felt seemed to be allayed by your assurance, you could see it in his eyes, the soft, beguiling glow you’d seen from across the room had returned and, perhaps to your surprise, only seemed to gleam more intensely when viewed up close. 

“It is, you could say that I have a sixth sense about these things,” you simpered, offering a smile that quickly faded when you recalled the less than pleasant reality of your college experience, “you should know that I don’t really have a lot of friends, I keep to myself most of the time and, I guess I just kind of thought, or felt, that you might be different like me, I’m sorry if I offended you.” 

He leaned back into the coarse fabric of the couch, an almost frightening calm had overtaken him, it was strange that your remarks should have put him so at ease, “no, I suppose you aren’t far from the mark,” he sighed, a heavy exhale leaving his mouth, “I am not exactly known for my sociability either, so perhaps we do have something in common.”  There was a brief pause between you before he shifted slightly, “my name is Kakyoin by the way, Noriaki Kakyoin,” he said, a bit diffidently, but somehow the cloying shyness only seemed to entrance you further and you swallowed thickly before finding the ability to reply.

“Oh, right, I’d forgotten I didn’t even know your name, it’s nice to meet you Noriaki Kakyoin,” you replied, and in turn, you introduced yourself properly.  The interaction, however, only seemed to heighten the awkwardness that had blossomed between you. 

“Well, I suppose, as I am a man of my word, that I should help you study for calculus.” 

“Yes, I think that would be very helpful actually,” you said, tittering nervously as you went to retrieve your textbook and notes. 

You found a space on the couch beside him and handed him a stack of notes so thick that you internally lamented the poor trees that had to be cut down in the process.  “Your handwriting is terrible,” he said, a curious affectation to his voice from high you could not extrapolate whether he meant the remark in humor or not, “but I see where you’re going wrong,” he flipped to a blank page and began scrawling an array of letters, u, dv, v, du, “this is the always going to be the form you want to get the equation into, but the goal is to find derivatives that are going to make integration easier, so you’re usually going to want to avoid exponentials and trigonometric functions unless you know you can use a trig identity otherwise it isn’t going to simplify the equation, and sometimes, like in this case, they’re going to make you use integration by parts twice. It isn’t pretty, but it is doable, see? Now, you try,” he held out your pencil to you and, as you reached to take it, you felt your fingertips brush ever so slightly against his hand, it was a simple, innocuous touch, and you might have easily moved past it had you not seen the subtle flush creep across his face.

“Alright,” you said, a little sheepishly as you deliberately looked over his careful work and tried to replicate the steps on the subsequent problem. It was slow progress at best and you had to consult your notes more than once to make sure you were integrating properly, but eventually, you came up with a satisfactory solution and gestured for him to look it over.

“By George, she’s got it,” he said with a wide grin, “here, let’s try another.” 

You took up your pencil and ran through several more problems with considerably less trouble than before, in fact, it all at once came to you rather easily, and you managed to finish the remainder of your homework as well as the practice exam without much struggle. For the first time all semester, you actually felt confident about your upcoming exam, it almost seemed as though it truly had been an act of fate that you had been made to meet the way you did, “Noriaki, I seriously cannot thank you enough, you put this all into words better than my professor ever did!” For a moment you lost your head and did not realize the way you grabbed his shoulder so emphatically, immediately you pulled back with a heavy expression of chagrin, “sorry, I got a little too excited.” 

“Y-your fine, I’m glad to have helped.  So, if there’s nothing else, I should probably take my leave.” 

“No, stay!”  You interjected, probably a bit too zealously for your own good, but it captured your feelings enough, “I mean, you don’t have to go, not yet anyway.  I-I wouldn’t mind if you stayed, just to talk.” 

“Do you… do you really want me to?”

“Yes of course!  I… I told you that I don’t have a lot of friends, but when I saw you… I don’t know, I just felt like I could talk to you… I’d really like to get to know you better if you’ll let me, that is.”

“If you must know, I think you were right about that sixth sense you told me about earlier, I do indeed feel strangely connected to you.” 

“You feel it too! I knew there was something, why else would we both have been drawn here on so dismal a day?”

“Well, if you must know, my computer monitor broke this morning and I had promised to play with an old acquaintance I met in Egypt last year.” 

“See, and my class got cancelled, neither of us would have been here on any normal day, but here we are.”

“Are you saying this encounter was the work of fate?” 

“Perhaps it was, who’s to say? All I know is that I like talking with you, you make me feel less alone.”

Kakyoin let out a long sigh, constrained deeply in reflection as he leaned his head against the couch, “I can understand the feeling,” he began, his voice breaking slightly as he recalled the memories of his own lonely childhood, “I have been rather disinclined towards friendship before. I could never find someone out there who really understood me, I think at some point I gave up trying and resigned myself to this lonely life.” 

“I feel the same way,” you said, nodding your head to emphasize the sentiment, “I’ve always felt like that, I don’t think my parents ever understood. They were so worried about me when I went away to school.”

“I understand the feeling, my parents wanted me to stay at home but I needed my own space, it was time.”

“You know, I was starting to feel like they had been right, until today, I hadn’t met anyone that could even come close to being considered a friend. Even my roommate and I only share cursory information, I don’t even have her phone number.” 

“That’s still one step ahead of me, I don’t even have a roommate.”

“Oh, now don’t do that, don’t act like that’s some kind of sacrifice when you know you’re luckier than all of us, I’d love to have a room to myself.” 

“Well, it does have its benefits,” he admitted, a cheerful chuckle falling from his lips, “but it can be rather lonesome at times, sometimes too much so.” 

You nodded and let your body sink deeper into the couch, getting lost in the lines of his gentle face. There was something so brutally contradictory that someone with such a sweet appearance could harbor such agonizing sadness, and yet, perhaps the same could be said for you.  You lightly toyed with one of his cherry earrings that dangled tantalizingly close to your face, he turned and sent you a look of surprise which only served to hasten your rapidly beating heart, “s-sorry,” you mumbled barely audible above the sounds of people gathering upstairs for dinner, “I think they’re nice… your earrings.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“Do you like cherries?” You asked, a bit sheepish in your miserable attempt at flirtation. 

“Hm, I would have to say yes,” he said with a delightfully boyish smile that made your heart skip a beat.

“Well, I think it’s very cute,” you tried to match the smile on his face, but you couldn’t help but feel yours came off a little forced.

“Is that so?” You could discern the slightest of movements accompanied by a sly chuckle as he reached across the gap between you and tucked an errant strand of hair behind your ears. While you could not see the expression on your face, you were certain it must’ve existed somewhere between bewilderment and stupefaction.  

The pads of his delicate fingers were warm as they dragged ever so lightly across your cheek.  ‘This is it,’ you thought, an overwhelming number of thoughts cascading through your mind in an uncontrollable flurry, only to land gently on such a pathetic ideal, ‘this is what college is supposed to feel like.’  Such tender sentiments you felt had been relegated exclusively to novels and movies, but there you were, caught in a scene that seemed to have been perfectly scripted for you. 

He leaned in terribly close, so close that his features began to blur together under your heavy eyelashes, but he stopped short and met your eyes intently, “listen, I don’t want to overstep, but may I kiss you?” 

“Yes,” you whispered as your eyes fluttered shut when you felt him close the meager gap between you. His lips were only pressed to yours for a moment, but the plush sensation caused a warmth to spread throughout your entire body that could have melted any winter chill to a bright spring morning. You pulled back and looked at him, crimson stained both of your faces as reality set in.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for, it wasn’t my intention to—”

“Noriaki, kiss me again.” 

He complied eagerly. His lips collided with yours with greater vehemence, pulling you in further in such a way that made your head spin and any chatter in your brain cease. Your hands found purchase in his hair, the soft wavy tendrils of scarlet knitted gently between your fingers as his arms closed around your waist. 

The kiss broke somewhat unceremoniously, but both of you were left panting, frantically trying to regain the composure that had been lost along the way.  “They’re serving dinner, maybe we should…” he said with a vague gesture towards the stairs.

“Food, yes, that sounds good, let’s get food,” you stuttered, abashedly standing up and moving across the room to pack up all of your things, your mechanical actions were repeated by your new companion who took hasty inventory of his gaming equipment and carefully collected it all into his bag.  You met him at the threshold of the stairway, feeling suddenly diminished in your resolve to rejoin the rest of the world after leaving the quiet sanctuary where you’d watched hope blossom, but any apprehensions were quickly dashed when he took our hand in his.  The curl of his fingers between yours only solidified the blissful feeling that caused your heart to nearly leap out of your chest with each unsteady step up the stairs to the dining hall. 

And that feeling persisted as you got your food and acquired a small table, it was not lost on you that this was the first time you’d had a meal with someone outside of the times you’d worked on group projects, you were left feeling surprised by how pleasant and natural and normal it all felt. As you drifted seamlessly into a conversation about your majors, your interests, and other fatuous pleasantries, you recalled how long you had waited for something just like this.  As he spoke, you clung to every word he said, every minute expression he made, it all seemed to enchant you in a way that you had never been before.  Even after your meals had been completed, you found yourself accompanying him back to his dorm, perhaps had it been any other person, you would have stopped to ponder the implications, then carefully think it through until you were able to talk yourself out of taking such a step, but even the slightest touch of his hand in the cold, snowy night air was enough to ignite a feeling within you that you had never thought yourself capable of experiencing. 

He fumbled slightly with his keys on the threshold of his room, each second seemed to tick by like an hour as the metallic click of the lock disengaging reverberated shrilly in your ears. “So, this is my room,” he said shyly as he tentatively beckoned you inside. 

It was immaculately clean, you wouldn’t have expected a boy who lived on his own to keep his things so neat and orderly, there were only a few modest decorations, nothing extraneous save for a couple of errant game controllers and some of his school books stacked precariously on his desk. 

“I like it,” you said, tentatively taking a seat on the edge of his bed, “it feels like you.”

“Bleak?”  He said with a chuckle as he sat beside you, letting a hand graze over your shoulder as he did. 

“No, no, I didn’t mean… it’s very pragmatic.” 

“It seems like you’re trying to couch reality in something finer than it is,” he muttered, looking a bit dejected as he tucked one of his legs over the other. 

“I— maybe, but I like you are you are, you don’t have to change a thing,” you leaned across the space between you and pressed a tender kiss on his closed lips and that was all that was needed to end the conversation.

He looked at you with a fire in his eyes and a mere instant later, you were pinned to the mattress, his firm body holding you in place while he trapped you in a far more passionate kiss his tongue traced across your lips, seeking entry to your mouth. Your lips parted slightly, but that was all he needed to tangle his tongue with yours. You felt your body giving way, so desperate to feel more of him that your hips inadvertently rolled into his, the friction of your clothes became almost unbearable in the torrid haze that veiled the room. 

Any of your better senses had abandoned you, and it did not take long for you to peel your sweatshirt over your head and look up at him with innocent, hopeful eyes after he observed what you had done.  “You’re beautiful,” he crooned, cupping your breast over your bra and leaning down to kiss along the curve of your neck.

“Noriaki…” you groaned, desperate and passionate as you tried to keep yourself tethered to the earth, “god, I want— take this off.” 

Before he could react, your hands had scurried to the buttons of his shirt and carelessly undid them. Startled by your urgency, he was pulled back slightly but obliged your wishes nonetheless and discarded the unnecessary garment before holding himself over you. From your position beneath him you were privy to an excellent view of him, his lithe body was incredibly toned and his arms were surprisingly muscular, with your eyes you trailed down the firm definition of his abdomen and settled on the hem of his jeans.   

“Do you want to… go further?” He asked courteously.

“Y-yes,” you mewled, feeling how eagerly he pulled your pants down your legs until you were in nothing but your underwear.  You should have felt invariably excited by your desires being reciprocated, but all at once the room began to swelter and your head began to spin, vacillating between desire and rationality until your ragged breathing became impossible to conceal.  “Wait,” you breathed, his lips were unbearably hot against your skin and your addled mind could hardly muster a coherent thought, but a nagging inadequacy chewed through the enjoyment you had found in the titillating sensation of his body on yours, “I’ve never… I’ve never done this before.” 

Your face flushed a deep crimson, a tone rivaled only in brilliance by his hair as he leaned in and buried his head in the crook of your neck, “is that all you were worried about?” 

You nodded fervently as your hands gripped into the flesh of his shoulders, only slightly able to discern the faintest pink crawl across his shoulders, “I don’t want it to be disappointing for you if I’m… bad at it.” 

“You have nothing to worry about,” he purred with a hand traveling teasingly across your waist, “it’s my first time, too.” His gentle face looked up at you, a soft smile spread across his lips and his cheeks had been suffused with a rosy blush which made him look incredibly docile as he pressed a plush kiss against your cheek, “but we can stop, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“No! I want to,” you said, a heartfelt rebuke of the sentiment as you found the confidence to take his hand and guide his touch between your legs, “I really, really want to.”

His breath hitched as he traced along the dampened fabric of your panties, even from such a meager touch, he felt his erection strain against his pants. In an instant, you mustered the courage to palm over his growing bulge. The contact jolted him from his thoughts and he exhaled sharply. Perhaps emboldened by your brazen escalation, he pulled your panties to the side and let his fingers part your slick folds.  You inadvertently let out a lascivious groan as your body eagerly leaned into his careful ministrations. “You’re so wet,” he murmured as one of his long, slender fingers dipped inside of you, the pleasant stretch of your walls around his digit sent a wave of pleasure surging through you, “tell me if it’s too much.”

“No, keep going Noriaki, I want you,” the luscious hum of your voice only solidified his own need for you. Certainly, sex was something he’d thought about, but it was never something he needed, not until he felt the pull of your body, as though he’d been caught in your magnetic field and he was helpless to the power you exuded over him, ever pulling him closer until he fell directly into your arms.  There was no dialing back the unrelenting need that overcame him as he pulled his fingers from your and locked your body beneath his own. 

You looked up at him with wide eyes, you wouldn’t have expected him to take charge like that and the nearly brutish action made your heart race with excitement. Dexterous fingers hooked under the hem of your panties and with one fluid motion, the skimpy fabric was pulled down your legs and your dripping core was left entirely exposed.  His eyes glimmered like shards of amethyst, alight with the luster of sparkling stars as he looked at you, desirous and hungry, he positioned himself between your already trembling legs and took a moment to admire your dripping entrance, your pussy was so tender and puffy with need that even his meager touches as he spread your folds to glean a better view caused you to squirm unceremoniously.  His face hovered just above your cunt, a soft flush covered his face as he looked at you from such an unfamiliar position, “I want to make you feel good, just tell me what makes you feel the best,” he said before eagerly nestling his face between your thighs. 

His tongue proved even more skillful than his hands as he eagerly lapped the arousal that flowed freely from your core. Perhaps a bit tentative in his actions, he dragged his tongue over your folds and quickly ventured to your aching clit, gently rolling his tongue over the sensitive bud before enveloping it between his lips and sucking gently.   The unusual sensation sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your entire body which caused your hips to writhe gracelessly into him.  You couldn’t see it, but you felt his lips curl into the slightest smirk, undoubtedly pleased that his efforts were pleasuring you. “Oh god, right there,” you squealed, a heat bubbling in your core as two fingers began stretching your tender cunt. The squelching sound of your wetness echoed louder than your sweet mewls in the quiet of the night, each skillful pump of his fingers bringing you closer to your inevitable peak.   “I’m going to— I think I’m— oh!” Any and all intelligible thoughts stopped there when the tension that had built up in your core snapped like a coil that had been too tightly wound and in an instant, your body was flooded with the white-hot blaze of satisfaction as you came, crying out his name and a litany of accolades. 

Kakyoin looked up at you with pupils blown wide in amorous desire and a self-satisfied grin on his face. Wordlessly, you eyed him as he undid his jeans, waiting with bated breath to catch a glimpse of everything the fabric had been concealing, in spite of your glorious orgasm, you felt the need to be connected with him begin to bloom intensely. Once he was free of any constraining garments, you were finally offered a full view of his cock, the length alone was daunting enough, but the extensive curve left the undeniable impression that taking all of him would prove to be a demanding task.

You sat up and wrapped your hands around his shaft, even your subtle touch caused him to twitch in your palms.  All he gave was a sharp exhale as you gave his cock a few pumps before taking the swollen tip in your mouth.  His brows furrowed together, the sensation of your warm mouth caused heat to pool in his pelvis and even from just your meager efforts, you could taste the piquant droplets of precum that spilled from his tender head. “T-that’s enough, “ he said, panting laboriously, “I want to make sure I’m pleasuring you.”

“Well, you’ve already made certain of that.” 

He gave you a wide smile in return, “all the same, this is more about you than it is about me.”

“Well in that case, who am I to defy such a noble ideal?” You simpered, bestowing a gentle kiss on his forehead as though you were despot venerating your most loyal subject. 

Kakyoin stood up somewhat awkwardly and fumbled with the top drawer of his dresser until found the stash of condoms he discreetly kept and tore open one of the little metallic packets.  “A bit presumptuous of you to have those on hand, don’t you think, were you expecting me to be this easy?”

“It’s not like that at all, I would simply prefer to be prepared for all situations.” He said, a subtle arrogance had built in his tone as he slowly unrolled the condom over his cock. 

“Well, maybe you have some kind of sixth sense as well,” you said with a wily little smile as you guided him back on top of you, the tip of his cocked prodded your entrance as he situated himself. Lightly, your hands settled on his shoulders as he eased himself into you, It took several slow, restrained thrusts for him to fully enter you. Even with all the preparation you had, it was still a tight fit, but the pleasant feeling of his length spreading your cunt was nothing short of bliss.  Inadvertently, you wrapped your legs around his slender waist to offer a more accommodating position, to allow yourself to feel every inch of him the way you were so desperate to. 

He began at an easy pace to help you adjust to his size, not wanting to push you beyond what you were ready for. The airy gasps that left you with each thrust hung musically in the air, lulling him into a simple security that he was certain could only be found in the magical connection that existed between you and him, bodies and souls intertwined so irrevocably that all the lonely years before faded away among the wreckage of time’s cruel indifference.

In spite of all his best intentions, it proved difficult to maintain such restraint with how eagerly your tight pussy pulled him in deeper, “you feel so good,” he whispered, a wistful intonation coating each word of praise as he drowned in the luscious feeling of fucking you.   Your hips rolled effortlessly in tandem with his, a stunning synchronicity that left Kakyoin gripping firmly to your waist to keep himself from cumming embarrassingly fast. 

“Noriaki, don’t stop, please,” you whined, nails clawing into his back with indecorous fervor as you moaned out his name like it was a sacred invocation. 

With the pleasure mounting, his movements became graceless and imprecise, the rougher rhythm only served to make your head swim and further suffuse desire through your tension-riddled body.  You knew that you wouldn’t be able to last much longer before coming undone and Kakyoin knew the same and he was determined to stave off his own release until he was absolutely certain that you had yours. “Cum for me,” he said, voice slightly strained for all of his efforts, but no less pleasant to your ears and each sweet word only brought you closer to orgasm, a string of profane squeals left your lips and your head craned back against the pillow and your back arched off the mattress to complete the wanton scene, further pushing your scalding, needy bodies against one another until the delirium of such ardor set it, “that’s it, let me hear you like this.”

“Yes Noriaki, yes!” You screamed, body writhing in ecstasy as your orgasm washed over you, brilliant and warm as your entire body became soft and pliant in his arms, with your face glazed with satisfaction. 

The moment that Kakyoin was certain of your climax, he sought his own, which did not attempt to elude him when he was finally able to focus on the way your walls had been clamped so tightly around him that it took little effort for him to find his own release, groaning sweet praises into the supple skin of your neck. 

Your florid faces gazed at each other in the aftermath, an air of unknowing pervaded the space as you went through the comparatively awkward task of getting cleaned up. Once you had made yourself halfway decent, you made an attempt to collect the remainder of your things, still tossing over the uncertainty over where you now stood with him.  “I suppose I should be going then,” you said, not without sounding a bit forlorn.

“No stay,” he replied in flagrant reproach of your suggestion as he approached you, “I mean, it’s gotten so late and the weather has gotten worse, it would be better if you stayed.”

“I don’t want to impose…”

He gave a long exhale and steadied his hands on either of your shoulders, “and I want you to stay… please stay with me.” 

You nodded softly as he drew you to his chest, petting your hair and leaving a kiss atop your head before handing you one of his shirts to wear to bed. The cotton fabric was soft on your skin and still smelled faintly like him. In fact, after all was said and done, it felt perfectly natural to curl up beside him, even in the cramped dorm bed. 

New York is cold in the winter; that fact was nothing if not ubiquitous, so you ought to have taken that into account when you and your husband, Jotaro Kujo, made your annual December trip for his grandparents’ holiday party. 

Perhaps it was the balmy Florida air that made you forget the gales that blew through the streets of Manhattan and left everything tinged in shades of icy blue, but no matter the reason, forget it you did until the moment you stepped foot outside the airport and were reminded rather violently by a frigid squall of sleet that slashed against your cheeks and caused tears to prickle in your eyes. Your teeth chattered the entire time you waited for your car to pull up, clinging to Jotaro like a desperate child trying to find any semblance of warmth. 

“Aren’t you being a little dramatic?” He scoffed but took hold of you nonetheless, and allowed you to burrow against him and bury your face in his scarf. 

“Can you blame me? It’s freezing,” you murmured, though the sound was muffled by the azure wool.

“You do recall that we used to live here, don’t you? How aren’t you used to the cold by now?” He asked teasingly and blindly pinched your cheek beneath the knitted coverings.

“But it’s been so long since we moved,” you shivered, and nestled closer in an act of defiance.

“Only two years,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Feels longer than that,” you muttered, and peeked out from the haven of Jotaro’s scarf to glance at the city that unfurled around you like a shaky spindle in the frosty winter haze. New York was beautiful, and you had been loath to leave it two years ago, but Jotaro’s research in marine biology had necessitated the relocation to Florida. And so you, ever the supportive wife, had packed up your cozy Manhattan life and traded it for the muggy Florida air. 

Naturally, it wasn’t all bad; it had given Jotaro the chance to enroll in a doctoral program, and you had settled into the home in which you could see yourself raising a family, a dream you had long held in your heart since your marriage but had put on the back burner until Jotaro had finished his education. And of course, the warm winters were an added bonus, one you were especially grateful for each time you returned to your once beloved New York and relived the frigid weather. 

Finally, the private car sent by the Speedwagon Foundation rolled up to the curb, and a heavy door opened before you.

“Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Kujo,” the mild-mannered Speedwagon Foundation chauffeur greeted as you threw yourself inside the car. 

“Good afternoon to you, too, Roses,” you greeted brusquely, never ceasing your shivering and making dramatic efforts to warm yourself from the frigid air.

“She’s cold,” Jotaro responded coolly, as if clarifying your outré behavior.

“Yes, the snow came early this year,” the driver commented as he pulled away from the airport. “I was worried the storm would delay your flight, but I was so glad you got here without trouble. The madam will be so happy to see you both; she just loves when you come to visit,” he carried on nebulously in your direction, but you only responded with clattering teeth and muddled sounds of agreement. 

Outside, everything was covered in a fresh blanket of snow. The decorations that lined the streets seemed somewhat more idyllic beneath the chilly adornments. Yes, it was undeniably beautiful, and from the comfortable confines of the car, there was a part of you that missed the apartment that Jotaro’s grandparents had generously secured for you following your marriage. But it was only that kind of rosy-hued nostalgia that is so quintessential to the holiday season that filled you with wistful longing for the life you had since outgrown. Still, there was a melancholy in returning to a place that you had once called home. A curious paramnesia that struck each time you glanced down a familiar street, as if you were certain you would catch a spectral glimpse of your former self treading happily from the park to the cafe.  

It was always strange to account for the differences in the life you once had compared to where it ended up, even if, on the whole, you were satisfied, but before you could dwell on regrets that didn’t amount to much outside the city limits, you felt your car lurch forward, slowing as it prepared to stop.

The second your driver parked in front of your hotel, you raced inside, leaving behind you metal meanderings as well as Jotaro with the responsibility of tending to all the baggage. Naturally, you had already checked in and were waiting by the elevator before he made it inside with all of the suitcases in tow. 

“Did you really have to bring all of this stuff? We’re only going to be in town for a week,” he grumbled in that characteristically gruff manner. 

“Yes, I need all of this,” you affirmed, revolted that he would think any differently, “did you feel how cold it is out there? I need layers!”

He shook his head with an unobliging expression and handed you the smallest of your bags before he boarded the elevator. The walk to your room was silent, and even after that, only a few necessary words were spoken regarding the semantics of the following day’s event.

In truth, gatherings such as these always brought a certain tension to your relationship that caused you both to brood in silence while awaiting the day of the party. The Joestars’ holiday party was less an intimate gathering than the name might suggest and more so an elegant soirée filled with the who’s who of Manhattan society. 

It wasn’t as though you weren’t used to such upscale events, after having attended as Jotaro’s plus-one every year since your freshman year of college, you were rather used to the echelon of society his grandparents entertained, it was merely that neither you nor he were particularly interested in fraternizing with any of Joseph’s business fellows and perhaps would have preferred something that did not require a black tie dress code. 

This year felt particularly tense between you and Jotaro. You hadn’t so much as spoken it into words, but all the time he spent between school, work, and his travels for research had taken a toll on you. With classes now behind him and an impressive degree to show for it, you were hoping for a little reset with the respite of the holidays, but the preparations for the party have put a wrench in your plans.

You shivered the whole night through, clinging again to Jotaro as if your very survival depended upon it, and inadvertently rejecting all of his advances out of your reluctance to get undressed. He took the refusal in stride, though chagrined as he may have been over the lack of intimacy. With the busiest year of his life drawing to a close, he had intended to celebrate the spoils of his success inside his wife and rekindle the flame that had once burned within you, but he respected your wishes in spite of his own wants. He couldn’t help but wonder if his occupation had caused him to seem colder than the New York winter.

The next morning brought a bright, blistering sun, which made the snow glisten like diamonds under showroom lights. By all accounts, it was beautiful, like it had been plucked straight out of a Christmas movie in which the main character learns to find the love they once had for the holidays, but for all its Elysian beauty, you couldn’t banish the cold from your bones. So you suffered the entire walk along Fifth Avenue until you reached the storefront you were looking for, a small but well-regarded atelier from which you had ordered your dress in the summer. 

You picked up the parcel, wrapped in black fabric, and neglected to try it on out of wishing to avoid the insurmountable task of removing the multitude of layers you had to wear in order to avoid turning into an icicle. But that was a folly on your part, for that evening, when you were getting ready at the hotel, you found that the temperate vernal weather had prompted you to choose a sleeveless dress that now, beleaguered by the brumal conditions as you were, you had grown contemptuous of. 

Still, the dress was beautiful. Every year, Jotaro’s grandmother, Suzi Q, took you to have a dress made for the holiday party, and this year it was a stunning sapphire blue made of silk that seemed to glisten like waves on the ocean. 

However, by the time evening rolled around, you were predictably running late. Between color-matching Jotaro’s tie to your dress and desperately scouring your luggage for something to wear with your dress in order to mitigate the issue caused by your lack of sleeves. Ultimately, you hadn’t found anything befitting the elegance of your dress, so begrudgingly, you accepted your frozen fate as Jotaro all but pushed you out the door. 

At night, the decorations were even more beautiful than during the day. Millions of tiny lights glowed beneath the snow, twinkling like stars and reinforcing the belief you held previously that New York was meant to be seen at night. In truth, had it not been for the cold gusts of wind, you might’ve enjoyed the walk through the winter wonderland, but as it was, instead of admiring the decorations, you instead expended most of your effort in keeping vigilant for wayward patches of ice that threatened to make you, in your high heels, break an ankle. 

Though the walk had been less than five blocks, it felt nearly a mile and served to knock any sort of celebratory mood right out of you. But still, you mustered your best PR smile and adopted all the necessary poise and grace that these high society functions demanded. The atmosphere was immaculate, and at the center stood Joseph and Suzi, as sparkling and effervescent as they had been fifty years ago. Suzi stunned in emerald green, while Joseph wore a black suit that was tailored to his still remarkable physique with a poinsettia pinned to his lapel. 

When Suzi caught sight of you, she squeezed Joseph’s arm and hurriedly pulled him away from whatever congressman they’d been engaging with up until that point. She ran over in her habitual giddy fashion and wrapped her arms around both of your shoulders despite the significant height difference between her and Jotaro. 

“I’m so happy you two made it!” She cooed, squeezing your shoulders as she stood on her tiptoes to kiss Jotaro on the cheek. 

Joseph sauntered over, suave and commanding, and slapped his hand firmly on Jotaro’s shoulder. “How’s my favorite grandson?” He asked, beaming like a madman. 

“Perfectly well,” he said, a little annoyed, “though you should ask her the same.” He gave a little sideways nod in your direction and glanced keenly at you. 

“Oh, is that so? Did something unpleasant happen?” Joseph asked somewhat concernedly. 

“No, it’s just too cold outside,” you winced sheepishly and looked sternly back at your husband.

“I don’t think she’s stopped shivering since we stepped off the plane,” Jotaro continued and lightly pinched your arm where goosebumps formed, “it’s pretty damn adorable,” he chuckled, knowing it embarrassed you. 

“It is a little chilly,” you mumbled, trying to conceal your abashed demeanor, “I guess I’m not used to the cold anymore.”

“What kind of New Yorker can’t handle the cold?” Joseph asked with a hearty laugh as he patted your shoulders gently, “but it is great to see you both, especially with the great Newark of our graduation, Jotaro! A PhD, I always knew my grandson was smart!” He declared with a bleary, maudlin intonation.

“Good grief, old man, you aren’t going to cry, are you?” Jotaro muttered in disgust, but there was a hint of pride concealed within. 

Just as quickly as the waterworks had begun, Joseph shut them off and flipped to a state of joviality. “Then I propose we have a toast to family and to good fortune!” Through almost an act of magic, he summoned a waiter and handed out glasses of champagne. You drank to good health, to the holiday season, to Jotaro’s degree, to the hope of warmer weather, and whatever else Joseph felt inclined to include. 

The party carried on, and though the alcohol left you warm inside, Jotaro was undeniably frosty, making quips about your sudden intolerance to cold weather and unfitting wardrobe choices as you made your way through the throngs of partygoers until your social battery depleted into nothing, and it was time to leave. 

It was not as though you disliked these kinds of affairs. In fact, you’d grown accustomed to them and started to take them as a common occurrence in the Joestar household, but neither you nor your grumbly husband were social butterflies, and the novelty lost its luster rather quickly. So by nine pm, you were tugging on his shirt sleeve and asking to leave. 

He gave you that look that tacitly said, “it’s about damn time,” and slung his arm around your waist and made a hasty exit. A decade of parties had made the two of you rather adept at escaping unseen. Even Jotaro’s closest friends compared you to phantoms in the night with the way you had the tendency to silently vanish from any gathering. 

Outside on the avenue, the fresh dusting of snow made the entire world feel incomparably silent— in all the years you had lived in New York, you could never recall a time when it felt quiet. Flurries danced like tiny, glittering gems and melted upon your skin, which felt, for the first time since landing in the city, unbearably hot. 

Your eyes looked up and met Jotaro’s snowflakes clung delicately to his heavy eyelashes before fading into only a whisper of a memory as he blinked slowly. Sparkling cerulean called you home, beckoned all you wanted and more, until the narrow gap between you was closed with a kiss.

When again your lips parted, not even the hazy plumes of your breath in the freezing night air could make you feel anything less than ablaze. 

The moment you were within the privacy of your hotel, his hands were all over you, exploring every supple curve as if it were something entirely new to him. Each touch brought forth languid approval and left your body smoldering. Normally, he was not inclined to be so sentimental with his passions; he favored a direct, almost terse approach to romance that you had found a breath of fresh air at nineteen, but at the more stable age of twenty-eight, there were occasions on which you longed for that brilliant ardency one may find in the pages of a romance novel. 

His fingers crept to the nape of your neck, finding the zipper on your dress and undoing it in one easy motion. 

The sapphire fabric pooled around your feet in a glossy sea of satin, and you stepped free from its confines, dressed down to nothing but your slip. Even bereft of clothes, however, the heat between you was undeniable. 

Jotaro then ran his fingertips along the crease in your slip where the fabric draped along your hip, tracing a casual trajectory down your pelvis until he reached the apex of your center between your legs. He toyed with the hem of your slip, pinching the fabric between his thumb and forefinger, and lifted it slightly until he got a lacy view of your lingerie. 

You snatched the fabric from his hand and shot him a scowl, “do you think you deserve that?”

“Hmm?” He tilted his head in bemusement and glowered at the garment that restricted his access. 

“After the way you’ve been teasing me all day, like I’m not the best wife you’ve ever had!”

“Well, you are the only wife I’ve ever had, so I suppose that would be true.”

“You’re cute,” you jeered and dragged your fingers arduously along the razor edge of his jaw, “but I think if you want it, you had better beg for it, Dr. Kujo.”

“Hmph, I think you’re pushing your luck if you think I’m gonna beg to fuck my wife,” he scoffed, but his voice was full of an affected resolution you could see through like water. 

“Well, we’ll just have to see about that,” you smirked, and reached up to loosen his tie. Then, without faltering from your tender expression, you yanked him forward and pulled him into a deep, perfervid kiss. Your lips crashed onto his forcefully, and you were pleased to find that your vehemence was reciprocated in full. In the heat of the kiss, his tongue slipped from his mouth and glided against your bottom lip, seeking entry until your lips parted and access was granted. 

Your tongues tangled together in an ardent dance. Frequently, you would have let him lead, but today, you were not so inclined. So your fingers wound into his hair, grabbing fistfuls of raven locks and bending him to your will. 

The kiss broke, and Jotaro stared back at you, cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink and pupils blown as wide as dinner plates in his state of unbridled desire. 

Again, his hands reached for your hips, as if pulling you in would precipitate some semblance of control, but you only patted his hands away with a dissenting wag of your finger, “uh-uh,” you scolded, and pulled out one of the kitchen chairs, “if you had so much fun toying with me today, then I think it’s my turn to toy with you.” 

This time, he did not respond, but well aware of his precarious position, he gave only a small groan and glowered back at you, taking a small, hesitant step towards you.

“Take a seat, why don’t you?” You purred, leaning against the back of the chair with your ass sticking out just enough to make Jotaro capitulate to any of your demands. 

“Fine,” he grumbled, but did exactly as you had asked. 

“Good boy,” you tittered, and cupped his chin patronizingly. He only stared back at you, eyes focused and indignant, but deep in the pools of cyan there glittered something verging on desperation. 

You looked him up and down and noticed his pants straining against his erection. Fuck, it wasn’t like Jotaro to get worked up so easily; normally, he put forth more of a challenge. It must’ve been the sight of you in that dress that had him so wound up— maybe all the teasing was simply his version of foreplay. No matter, you intended to make him pay in spades. 

Softly at first, you palmed over his cock, feeling the muscle pulse gently beneath your touch. That only spurred you on, you massaged him more firmly until he hardened to full. Feeling somewhat merciful, you undid his belt enough to offer some slack. Immediately, his erection filled the empty space and pressed against the zipper, begging to be freed, but you were not so generous as to give him what he wanted so easily. 

You made your way back up to his chest, arduously dragging your hand away from the spot he wanted it most, and eventually finding purchase in his tie. You pulled the azure satin loose until it came undone in your hand. You studied the garment for a moment, dickering over your position, but ultimately, you considered it a rather propitious one and allowed your devilish idea to manifest. 

“Y’know, this really did look so pretty on you,” you mused in a deliberately coquettish voice, “but I can think of one way it would look even better.”

“What are you—?” His thought was cut short by the cool material covering his eyes until it was tied securely around his head. 

“There we go, just stunning~” you purred and dotted kisses down his jawline. 

“Is this really necessary?” He groaned, feigning bravado, but in your heightened state, you perceived the tiny tremor in his voice. 

“Oh, absolutely!” You declared rather sweetly, but any affectation of civility had been thrown from your mind. You wanted him moaning and begging and whimpering for you.

You perched yourself on his lap, grinding lightly against his cock, fully aware of how badly he wanted you, but putting on a display of innocence each time he hissed against your ear. Your hands pushed his suit coat from his shoulders, letting it fall into a heap on the ground, never minding the small fortune his grandfather had paid for it, and then took to unbuttoning his shirt. You had only gotten the first three undone before he began grumbling under his breath. 

“C’mon, would you get on with it already?” He snapped and dug his hands into your hips so that you could feel the fullness of his erection. 

Though it was undeniably arousing, you were after a titillating prize to let the mere thought of his enormous length inside you dissolve your reign.  So, you slapped his hands away to restore your control. “No touching,” you scolded, “this is my turn.”

He gave another groan of dissatisfaction but let you carry on. 

Your fingers glided between the rest of the buttons with ease, and in no time at all, his shirt was left hanging open, displaying his gorgeous, muscular physique. Your hands roved sensually over the firm expanse of his chest, then traced the definition of his abs. Beneath each loving touch, you felt heat blossom and a subtle, florid hue emerge in its wake. 

From your seat on his lap, you kissed along his broad chest, drawing slow, nonsensical patterns with your tongue until you reached his nipple. It was already pert from your efforts and the chilly air against your saliva. You flicked your tongue tentatively against the bud before taking it into your mouth. 

He let out a howl and bucked his hips upward, feeling the warmth of your still clothed sex grind against him in response.

Feeling rather vicious, you experimentally grazed your teeth on the tender skin of his nipple, hearing the sharp intake of breath that followed. You gave a dark chuckle, pausing briefly to watch him squirm in his seat like a wild animal, then bit down on the sensitive bundle. 

“Shit,” he yelped, immediately chasing it with a moan that he had tried desperately to stifle. God, he was losing it. He was losing it, and he knew it without question, but he’d be damned before he gave you the satisfaction of watching him fold so easily. 

So began the ruthless battle for dominance. Jotaro immediately disregarded your command and gripped harshly into the meat of your hips, pulling you down until the swell of his cock teased against your lacy underwear. 

You let out an inadvertent moan at the sensation, but immediately caught yourself before you were swept away by the growing need between your thighs. “I said no touching!” You chastised and immediately leapt from your spot so that you could stand over him with your hands on your hips, as if you were really, truly disappointed. Not that he could see you. “My, my, Jotaro, it seems you can even obey the simplest directions, how naughty indeed.”

“Oh, and here I thought I was being nice,” he simpered, but it was not quite as convincing as he had hoped. 

“Well, if you aren’t going to listen, I think I’ll have to take more drastic measures. Get up,” you demanded, and took his hand as an offering of assistance. He took it and stood to his feet without complaint. “Now, on the bed,” you continued. 

“Finally,” he said and reached up to remove the blindfold, but you again swatted his hands away. 

“This stays on, understand?”

He huffed slightly, but conceded and allowed you to direct him onto the bed, peeling off his shirt along the way.

You splayed his massive frame across the mattress, roaming the tips of your fingers over his muscles as you explored his body. Despite the many years since you had first been allowed to see him so intimately, you never failed to be awed by his presence. He was beautiful. Statuesque and sculpted like a Greek god. It may have been hackneyed, but it was true. No other descriptor seemed to fit him more accurately; it was as though he had been carved out of marble, but above all else, he was yours. 

“Arms up,” you ordered as you pulled the ribbon from your hair. Begrudgingly so, he followed suit, and the moment he did, you tied his wrists to the bed frame with your hair ribbon. It was a precarious restraint, and not a particularly secure one at that, but still, it seemed to suffice as you meant it.

“It’s adorable that you think you’re in control here, you know that?” Jotaro teased from beneath you.

“I’m not sure you realize your position, my love,” you replied mockingly, undeterred by his taunts.

“Hmph, I think our history would suggest the odds are in my favor,” he said and had the gall to smirk at you.

“Yeah, well, we’ll just have to see about that.”

With greater determination, you returned to your post, now granted an even more satisfactory position above him. You began to pepper kisses along his clavicle, then ventured up to his shoulders and over his arm. His muscles involuntarily tightened in response to the warmth of your mouth against his skin, but you carried on without minding his reactions, adoring him, loving him, worshiping him as though he were a god among men.  

You detoured momentarily and laid kiss after kiss on his brow, where a thin sheen of sweat had collected in the exertion of keeping himself as together as he could manage despite the way his desires ramped up each time your ass shifted against his groin. 

His skin was delightfully florid and hot to the touch, a dead giveaway that you would bring him to ruin expediently if you so desired. With a devious smirk, you poked his nose as if he were the cutest thing in the world, and perhaps to you, he was.

Then you made your way arduously down the entire length of his body, nipping your teeth against his tan skin until tiny, ruddy halos bloomed from your efforts. His breathing was already haggard, and he’d just about given up the charade of playing cool. 

You made it down to the hem of his slacks. After such painful teasing, his erection was obvious. The fabric was so taut that it took a considerable effort to undo his fly, but the moment you did, his conch sprang free from its confines and smacked eagerly against his abdomen. 

“Would you look at that,” you remarked, realizing the irony that, in his current position, he could not. You wrapped your fingers around his shaft, then squeezed the swollen head that was almost purple from neglect and, in turn, beaded little pearls of precum in tandem with your abbreviated strokes. 

“Come on,” he groaned, gritting his teeth as he spoke, “haven’t you punished me enough?”

“Hmm, you think so?” You simpered and leaned down and kissed the tip in a defiantly coquettish sort of way.

“Yeah,” he slurred, growing further agitated by the second.

“Then beg for it, Jotaro,” you said. Here you found the temerity, you couldn’t say, but you were more audacious than you had ever been. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he scoffed, but his pride dwindled into a shrill whimper as you pressed your tongue against the underside of the head of his cock.

“No,” you replied coldly between laving your tongue over the length of his shaft and venturing down to his balls, “I told you that I want you to beg for me.”

“And I told you— fuck!” He moaned at the moment your lips closed around his cock. You took as much of him as would fit into your mouth and fought back the urge to gag, which was no easy feat given his immense size and curve. Your efforts were only more valiant when his hips began to buck relentlessly in search of greater access to your tight, warm throat. 

His moans only grew in frequency and volume when you turned your attention to his balls, taking one gently into your mouth and then sucking on the delicate skin.

Fuck, he was so close, so achingly near release, but you kept him on the edge, refusing to let him finish, and he was wild and desperate, and god did he want to cum.

“Please,” he whimpered, a hardly audible little plea, but the desperation was palpable. You felt it more than you heard it. 

“What was that?” You asked in a voice that was slightly raspy from how his girth had spread your throat.

“Please,” he said again, louder and less abashed, “darling, please.”

“I like the sound of that,” you hummed and rewarded him with another firm suck. 

“Please! Please, darling, please, for the love of god, will you let me cum?”

“There, now was that so hard?” You tittered and threw him a proud smile.

“Yeah,” he glowered defiantly, but it didn’t override your victory. 

“Well, I think you’ve earned a little reward,” you snickered and made a move to resume your efforts, but blindly, he caught your shoulder and stopped you. 

“Wait, I want to fuck you.”

Something in the way he said it, determined and markedly lubricious, struck you to the core. You had been so lost in the thrill of dominating him that you’d almost forgotten about the pull of your own needs, but suddenly, they seemed more pressing than ever. 

“O-okay,” you said, feeling heat crawl across your cheeks at the thought, even though he was your husband, the prospect of making love to him never failed to fill you with butterflies. And it had been so dreadfully long since you’d been able to enjoy that luxury with him properly. 

Without so much as a second thought, you rolled off your panties and positioned yourself over him until his cock was lined up with your entrance. 

Slowly, you guided him inside you, astounded by how wet you already were despite the lack of stimulation, but still, in order to accommodate the fullness of his size, you brought your fingers to your clit and began to rub quick, rhythmic patterns over the little bud as you eased his length inside you. 

Warmth pooled in your core from his spreading you, but it only took a couple of easy glides for you to take him entirely. 

Immediately, your head fell back in wanton pleasure; even when he was not in control, his cock always managed to find that spot within you that left you shaking and moaning for him, and of course, each luscious sound you made only ramped up his already feral desire.

The blindfold only heightened his remaining senses; it was as though he was feeling everything at once. The perfect way your plush walls squeezed his cock, the pleasant weight of your body each time you took him to the hilt, he felt it all with an intensity that was so incredibly unexpected that all of his muscles tensed and he thrashed against the restraints until the ribbon tore to shreds under his strength. 

Then his hands were immediately on your hips, heavy, as he held firmly down on him while he fucked as deep into you as he could. He was so driven by pleasure and half mad from all the teasing that it only took a few more thrusts until he was spilling into you, groaning your name as if it were a prayer.

Once he had finished, he held you there for a moment, basking in those precious seconds with you still wrapped around him, but as soon as it was over, he pulled you off of him and jerked your entire body forward so that your cunt was perfectly aligned with his face. 

“Jotaro, you really don’t have to do that,” you said, and that was the truth. You had already enjoyed him so much that you were not the slightest bit concerned with any further pleasure.

“No, I do,” he replied, rasping his lips against your inner thighs before burying his face in your dripping cunt.

At that, your core immediately tensed. It was not just for the skill of his mouth, which was undeniably adept, but the knowledge that he was tasting himself as he ate you that seemed to cause your head to buzz with concupiscent delight. 

His tongue laved skillfully between your folds. The piquant mixture of his release and your arousal was something almost sacred, and Jotaro could not help but pull you down further until all he cared to breathe was you. The wet sounds filled the room, echoing louder than your lustful moans as you squirmed and jittered and writhed in your seat. It did not take much effort for your orgasm to follow his. Perhaps sooner than you would have liked, you were screaming out his name and cumming for him, just like he had hoped. 

Shaky and sensitive, you curled up beside him and removed the blindfold from his eyes. For several minutes, you remained wordlessly locked in his arms, but he broke the silence with a sudden softness that took you by surprise. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, fully earnest and devoid of any sarcasm or affected bravado, “I know that I haven’t been giving you the attention you deserve lately.”

“Jotaro, please don’t be sorry. I know how busy you’ve been with the classes you needed to finish your degree. I should have been more understanding of that back home.”

“Still, with such a perfect little wife, how could I ever neglect her?”

“And with such a perfect husband, how could I ever be dissatisfied?”

“Well, I’m intending to make up for it, starting tonight,” he said in a voice that was brimming with determination.